How to Raise a Dumb Wolf - Chapter 103

Les was actually quite nervous. The evidence lay in the way he kept adjusting the collar of his shirt, forever convinced that something about it was wrong.

This would be his first opportunity to dance with Aisha.

The first time he had seen Aisha attend a ball had been through Fawkes’s magic. He had still been in Beast then and could only watch helplessly as other men invited her to dance, unable to do anything. The second time had been in Vitas. They had already acknowledged each other as lovers, and he had been filled with sweetness, but he still could not expose his identity and could only watch Aisha leave once more. Finally, this time…

Seeing Aisha happily descend the stairs, Les hurried over and took her hand. They stood side by side, the midsummer dusk warm around them. After smiling at each other, they walked forward together.

The Free Arena held the ball in a grand hall within one of the luxurious residences belonging to its owner. It opened only for the post-tournament ball each year, so today the area was crowded with people and carriages, noisier than usual. Les and Aisha entered arm in arm and immediately saw Carter III in the distance. As this year’s World Tournament champion and a mysterious figure besides, he naturally attracted many people who wished to speak with him. A number of familiar-looking warriors and mages surrounded him.

Les had worried that Carter III might find such a situation difficult to handle, but now it was clear that he navigated it with effortless ease. He was, after all, the monarch an entire empire regarded as its greatest emperor. Carter III stood naturally among the crowd, smiling as he conversed with the others. When he spotted Les and Aisha from afar, he even raised his glass to them.

Aisha saw Les nod to Carter III, so she followed suit with a distant greeting before they moved on together.

At the appointed hour, the ball formally began. First, the owner of the Free Arena delivered a brief welcome. Then came expressions of gratitude to the competitors and everyone who had worked behind the scenes, followed, of course, by the presentation of small medals to the healers and volunteers who had contributed during the tournament. Like the victory flowers, the medals were intended as encouragement, so quite a number were awarded. Aisha received one because her innate magic was so useful and because she herself had worked with diligence and kindness. When she returned to Les with the little golden medal, she looked somewhat embarrassed.

“…We agreed that I would trade this for your victory flowers.” Aisha handed him the medal and smiled shyly. “…Although you already gave me all your flowers.”

Les accepted it. His throat went dry, and for a moment, he did not know what to say. He pressed his dry lips together and only looked back at Aisha after a long while.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Aisha smiled.

The hall briefly grew lively. Aisha turned and saw that the musicians were ready to play. Many people already waited on the dance floor for the dancing to begin. She paused, tugged Les’s sleeve, and asked, “Shall we dance?”

After several seconds, she added more softly, “I’m not very good at it, but you promised before… that you would teach me.”

Perhaps she feared troubling him, but Les heard her clearly. He nodded and gave a one-word answer.

“Yes.”

…

Though Aisha had attended balls before, this was her first time properly dancing. The fact that her partner was Les helped her relax. Les did not possess extensive experience either. He was a soldier and had spent long periods stationed far from home. The only occasions on which he had needed to dance were during his brief childhood in the cat emperor’s palace and the infrequent periods when he returned to Beast. Still, he had received more formal instruction than Aisha. He was not an excellent dancer, but he knew enough for etiquette and society.

The music began. Les’s throat shifted.

“Follow me.”

Aisha quickly nodded and lowered her gaze to their feet.

Because Les was leading, dancing was much easier for her. She did not need to worry that a wrong step would humiliate her in the middle of the floor, or that dancing badly would annoy or embarrass her partner. Les’s steps possessed the regulated precision and slight rigidity of a soldier, which made them especially easy for Aisha to learn. She carefully placed her feet where his toes had just moved away and slowly turned with him to the music. Their bodies were very close. Her hand rested on Les’s shoulder while his supported her back. Their joined palms shared warmth, and with the music surrounding them, an inexplicably romantic atmosphere gathered around the pair, making Aisha want to smile.

“…You are actually dancing quite well,” Les said.

“A-am I?”

Aisha turned beneath his hand and answered uncertainly. It was not that she knew nothing of dancing; she had simply never danced on a formal occasion and lacked confidence. His praise pleased her.

“Mm.” Les nodded, confirming that he meant it.

The music continued. Their initially rigid steps gradually fell into effortless harmony, and their breathing drew closer. Aisha slowly relaxed enough to gaze into Les’s eyes as they moved. Even when the music ended, neither separated at once.

“Shall we dance another?”

Still holding her arms around his neck, Aisha had grown enthusiastic now that she was accustomed to it.

Relieved that he would not have to part from her immediately, Les nodded. “All right.”

…

In the end, they danced several dances in succession. By the time they finally decided to stop, Aisha was tired. They left the dance floor and moved to the seating area.

“Shall I bring you a glass of water?”

Once Aisha sat down, Les paused and made the offer.

Aisha hesitated, slightly embarrassed to accept his help with something so trivial, but smiled and thanked him anyway. Les nodded and turned away. The drinks were some distance from where they sat, requiring him to walk across part of the room.

After Les left, Aisha sat alone and idly surveyed the ball. Since it followed the World Tournament, more warriors and mages attended than at an ordinary ball. Merely looking around revealed many men and women whose physiques were more powerful than average. In the distance, Aisha saw Tina dragging Hock back and forth. She did not know whether her mother was avoiding people who wanted to speak with her or doing something else, but the pair appeared quite happy, and Aisha could not help smiling. Only after they vanished from sight did she look elsewhere… Then her gaze suddenly stopped.

Aisha paused when she saw the darkfolk man standing in a corner.

Brandon stood alone in the shadows, leaning against a wall with his wings folded at his sides. He had chosen an inconspicuous position as far from the crowd as possible. Though he was tall, someone not paying attention might truly have overlooked him.

As a competitor who had reached the formal tournament and achieved a respectable record, Brandon was certainly eligible to attend the post-tournament ball. But throughout the competition, he had always kept to himself. He had barely interacted with the other competitors, including those of his own race, and had behaved like someone who thoroughly disliked social occasions. Aisha was therefore somewhat surprised to see him at the ball at all.

Brandon did not dance and seemed uninterested in the ball. He merely leaned against the wall and stared fixedly in one direction. Aisha instinctively followed his gaze, then paused again.

Perhaps it was coincidence, or perhaps she had misread him, but her eyes immediately found Elizabeth and Edward dancing together. They still lacked any sense of harmony. Elizabeth looked so nervous that she repeatedly stumbled, but Edward showed far less impatience than before and appeared much more tolerant of her mistakes.

Les returned with a glass of water. He handed it to Aisha and, seeing her stare in one direction, frowned in confusion.

“What is it?”

“I saw the darkfolk prince,” Aisha answered quickly.

As she spoke, she instinctively reached into the bag she carried and drew out her wand. She ordinarily kept it in the pocket of her Tower of Magic uniform, which had been specially made for mages and was broad enough to hold a wand. Today, however, she wore a formal gown. Since Aisha was a mage with unusual abilities whose innate magic was healing, she was not especially adept at combat magic. Brandon, who had achieved a respectable place in the World Tournament, plainly held the advantage in that regard.

Aisha therefore hesitated, looked at Les, and asked, “Could you wait here for a moment? I want to say a few words to him…”

Les paused. Though he did not know what she intended to say, he nodded his agreement. He could roughly guess that it concerned Aisha’s friend Elizabeth. The sickly princess’s wrist had been sealed by this darkfolk prince, and numerous other conflicts lay between them. Yet whenever Brandon won a match, he had continued presenting his flowers to her.

They did not understand what Brandon was thinking. Though the postwar tribunal had proven his innocence, the possibility remained that he posed a danger to Aisha. As a foreigner with no relationship to the princess, Les could not appropriately intervene in Elizabeth’s affairs. But if he remained nearby, he could protect Aisha.

After Les agreed, Aisha gave him a grateful smile. Then she took a deep breath and tried to calm the frightening unease in her heart. Only then did she grip the wand concealed behind her back and nervously walk toward Brandon.

Aisha questioned Elizabeth’s engagement because she saw no love between Elizabeth and Edward, and because Edward had previously treated her with arrogance. But Brandon’s behavior toward Elizabeth… seemed dangerous. This was not personal prejudice. The spell on Elizabeth’s wrist and what had happened in the palace at Dimska were both part of Brandon’s troubling history with her. Yet despite all that, he continued giving Elizabeth flowers. His behavior was almost impossible to comprehend.

The closer Aisha came, the faster her heart beat. Hearing her footsteps, Brandon turned with a frown.

Aisha hurriedly stopped. About two meters (roughly 6.6 feet) remained between them, but that was close enough for conversation. She tightened her grip on her wand, bit her lip, and summoned the courage to speak.

“…Hello.”

Several seconds passed. The matter was exceedingly difficult to phrase.

Aisha composed herself, squared her shoulders, and looked at Brandon with determination. She tried very hard to appear imposing, though the effect was limited.

“Prince Brandon, you were the one who sealed Elizabeth’s wrist… weren’t you? The war is over now. Could you please… undo the sealing magic?”