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Goblin Slayer - Volume 1 - Chapter 10




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Chapter 10 - Dozing

Even now, he remembered one time when his older sister had scolded him roundly. 

It was when he had made that girl, his old friend, cry. 

Why? Right… Because she was taking a trip to the city. She was going to stay at a farm. 

She’d been telling him all about it. He’d grown jealous. He couldn’t help himself. 

He didn’t know anything about life outside their village. He didn’t know the name of the mountains in the distance or anything that lay beyond them. 

He knew that if you followed the road long enough, you would come to a city, but what that meant, what kind of city it was, he didn’t know. 

At a younger age, he’d thought he would become an adventurer. He would leave the village, maybe slay a dragon or two, and then come home as a hero—a Platinum-ranked adventurer. 

Of course, after he’d seen a few more birthdays come and go, he had realized that was impossible. 

No—not impossible. 

But he would have to leave his sister. The sister who had raised him after their mother and father died. 

He could have become an adventurer. But he decided not to choose that path. 

That was why he’d been angry at his friend. 

As his sister led him home by the hand, she scolded him. 

“When you get angry at someone, you become a goblin!” and “You’re supposed to protect girls!” 

His sister was wise. 

It wasn’t that she had a great deal of knowledge, but her mind was sharp. Maybe the sharpest in the village. In fact, she earned her food by teaching the local children to read and write. Children were needed to work on their families’ farms, but literacy was important, too. 

In all things, she tried to impart to her little brother the importance of using his head. If you just keep thinking, she told him, you’ll come up with something eventually. 

His sister must have dreamed of going to the city to study. But she stayed in the village for his sake. So he would stay, too. For hers. 

To him, it was the obvious thing. 

When they got home, his sister made him a stew of milk and chicken meat. He loved his sister’s stew. He would ask for another bowl, and then another, but now he couldn’t remember how it had tasted. 

No doubt because that was the last time he’d had it before they came… 

 

He opened his eyes slowly. 

He raised himself off the reed mat and looked up at a familiar ceiling. 

His body still ached. He gradually stretched his limbs, then calmly took his clothes in hand. An unadorned hempen shirt. It was faded from repeated washings and smelled faintly of soap. The shirt kept him from burning in the sun. And it covered the scars that were all over his body. 

He pulled on the ordinary hempen shirt, then cotton gambeson. 

He went to put on his steel helmet and armor, then remembered he had given them to a shop to repair. 

He had no shield, either. It had taken a critical hit from that ogre. 

“…Hmph.” 

There was nothing to be done about it. He put his sword at his hip for a bare minimum of security. His field of view seemed exceptionally wide and bright, his head too light, and it unsettled him. 

“Good morning! You sure slept well!” The voice came at him like a surprise attack. 

It was that girl, his old friend, leaning into his room, her chest resting on the sill of the open window. 

A breeze blew into the room. He hadn’t felt the air of early summer on his bare skin like this in a long time. 

His friend was in her work clothes. A little sweat beaded on her forehead. From the light that poured in, he guessed the sun was already high in the sky. 

“Sorry,” he said, offering the laconic word in apology for oversleeping. It looked like she had already started in on caring for the animals. He had completely missed the chance to help. 

She waved it away, no hint of annoyance in her tone. “Oh, no, it’s fine. You need rest more than anything. I know you do, because otherwise, you would never miss your morning inspection. Did you sleep well?” 

“Yes.” 

“It looks like it’ll be a hot one today. Sure you won’t be too warm in those clothes?” 

“…Maybe you’re right,” he said with a slow nod. She was right. And really, the bulky cotton would get in the way while he was working. So he tore off the underarmor he had put on just moments before and tossed it on the bed. 

“Gosh, you don’t have to be so rough with it. You’ll tear it.” 

“I don’t care.” 

“Of course you don’t…” She gave a deep shrug and narrowed her eyes like she was babysitting some young boy. “Well, fine by me. I’m hungry. Uncle should be up by now. Let’s hurry and have breakfast.” 

“Fine,” he answered calmly and left his room. He strode down the hallway. 

The master of the house, already seated at the table in the dining area, went wide-eyed when he saw the figure in the doorway. 

“Good morning, sir.” 

“Ye…yeah. Morning.” 

He paid Uncle’s reaction no mind, but only gave a courteous nod and sat down across from him. Uncle shifted uncomfortably. 

“You’ve, uhh, you’re up rather late today…” 

“Yes.” He nodded firmly. “I overslept. I will do my inspection later.” 

“I see…” The acknowledgment came out almost as a groan. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, then furrowed his eyebrows. “You ought to…rest for a while. Can’t work if you don’t have your strength, right?” 

He was silent for a moment, then nodded. “True.” 

This was as close as they came to a conversation. 

He knew the owner of the farm was a good person. He treated the girl, his niece, like his own daughter. But he also knew the owner did not like him, or at least found him discomfiting. 

It was each person’s choice whom they liked and disliked. He certainly didn’t need to try to convince Uncle one way or the other. 

“Whew! Sorry it took so long! I’ll put out the food in a second, so dig in!” His old friend came running in moments later and began to set out dishes on the table. Cheese and bread and a creamy soup. All made fresh on the farm. He ate greedily, as always. When he had finished, he piled the empty plates, pushed his chair back noisily, and stood. 

“I’m going.” 

“What? Aw, shoot, time to make the deliveries already?” At his words, she began to clean up hurriedly. She stuffed a piece of bread into her mouth in a rather unbecoming way. Watching her, the owner of the farm pinched up his mouth reluctantly. 

“The cart again?” 

“Oh, Uncle, you’re such a worrywart. I keep telling you, I’m a lot stronger than I look…” 

“I’ll take them,” he said shortly. The girl and her uncle exchanged a look. Had he not been clear enough? 

“I will take them,” he repeated. She seemed confused, not quite looking at him, then she shook her head. 

“No, you…you don’t have to do that. You need to rest.” 

“My body will go soft,” he said calmly. “Besides, I have business at the Guild.” He knew he didn’t say much. He couldn’t remember if he had always been that way. But he knew that however brief he might be, she was always looking for ways to take care of him. 

All the more reason he should say clearly what he had to say. 

“It’s all right,” he said, and he left the dining area. 

He could hear her quick footsteps as she hurried after him. 

The cart was waiting just outside. The deliveries for the Adventurers Guild had been loaded up the night before. He tugged on the ropes to make sure everything was secure, then picked up the crossbar and began to push. 

The wheels creaked to life, rumbling along the gravel path. He could feel the weight in his arms. 

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Just as he reached the gate, she came running up, breathing hard. She peered at his face. 

“Yes.” He nodded shortly, then gave another push. 

The tree-lined road ran all the way to the city. He went slowly, one step after the next, feeling the earth under his feet. 

Just as she’d said, the day seemed likely to get hot. It was not yet noon, and already the sun’s rays were pounding down. He was perspiring within moments. He should’ve brought a hand towel. 

He was just figuring that if it didn’t get in his eyes no harm was done when something soft brushed his forehead. 

“What happened to getting some rest?” Her cheeks puffed out in annoyance as she dabbed at his forehead with her own handkerchief. “You collapsed the minute you got back and slept for days. Do you know how worried I was?” He pretended to think for a moment, then shook his head. Surely it wasn’t that important. 

“That was already three days ago.” 

“It was only three days ago! That’s why I said not to overdo it,” she said as she reached out and wiped his face. “You could barely stand up! You need to rest.” 

Still pulling the cart, he sighed. “You…” 

“Huh?” 

“…are a lot like your uncle.” 

She looked like she couldn’t quite decide whether that made her happy or angry. Either way, she didn’t seem prepared to back off. 

“It’s just a little overwork. You don’t have to worry about me,” he explained with a hint of annoyance. 

No. It wasn’t annoyance. He just hated to be reminded that he could barely look after his own health. 

But I need to be reminded. So that I won’t make the same mistake twice. 

“Is that what your Priestess friend told you?” Her voice had an edge to it. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and saw that her cheeks were still puffed a bit in a sulk. 

“No.” 

He gazed forward again and threw himself into another push of the cart. 

“Another party member said that.” 

“Hmm,” she said, mollified. “You’re adventuring with a lot of new people these days.” 

“We’ve only been on one quest.” 

“It sounds like you’re planning to go on more, then?” 

He couldn’t answer. He didn’t know what to say. 

It would be a lie to say he had no such intention. There were worse things. But would he go out of his way to invite them on his next quest…? 

At that moment, the wind came up. He closed his eyes, hearing the rustling of the branches and basking in the light that filtered through the leaves. 

They stopped talking. 

The breeze. Their footsteps. Their breath. The rumble of the wheels turning. 

A bird sang somewhere. A child shouted at play. The tumult of the city was still far off. 

“This is nice.” The murmur suddenly came from his lips. 

“What…?” 

“This is nicer than hunting goblins.” 

“Gee, you really know how to charm a girl.” 

“I see…” 

Apparently, he was still not communicating clearly. 

If you didn’t know what to say, it was better not to say anything. From the corner of his eye, he took in her confused expression. He kept pushing the cart in silence. 

“Heh-heh!” she laughed suddenly. Almost as if she herself hadn’t expected it. 

“What?” 

“Nothing!” 

“Really?” 

“Really.” 

She walked along, humming a tune he didn’t recognize. Still, he didn’t have to recognize it. She was happy. That was enough. 

They parked the cart at the back entrance and came into the lobby of the Guild. All was calm. It was almost noon, so of course most of the adventurers had already set out. Or maybe they were all up at the Capital, which had seen a good deal of trouble lately. He didn’t know. In the Guild Hall, there were a few quest givers filing paperwork and a few adventurers he knew cooling their heels, but that was it. Very few people seemed to be sitting around waiting for anyone, and the line to see Guild Girl was short. 

“Perfect,” his old friend said with a happy clap. “I won’t have to wait forever to get the signature I need. I’ll take care of that and be right back, but…you said you had something to do, too, didn’t you?” 

“Yes.” 

“Okay. Well, when you’re done, we can meet up here and go home together!” 

“All right.” 

He watched her run off smiling, then took a look around the lobby. 

He didn’t see who he was looking for. Maybe he was a little early. 

In that case, he would wait in his usual seat by the wall. He headed over with his characteristic bold stride… 

“Hrm…?” 

…and almost ran smack into a person sitting in the chair. That person looked up at him suspiciously. It was the spear-wielding adventurer. 

Spearman slumped in the chair, limbs akimbo, glaring openly at him. 

“Never seen anyone so fit but so pale. I don’t recognize your face. You new around here?” 

“No.” He shook his head once as he spoke. Of course, the man recognized him. And of course, he wasn’t new. 

But it seemed Spearman refused to believe it was really him without his usual armor. Spearman addressed him in the tone one might use with an unfamiliar colleague. 

“Guess you wouldn’t be. Adventurers who want to make money these days go to the Capital, huh?” he said. “You must be here for a break or something.” 

The newcomer nodded at “something,” and Spearman laughed. 

“Capital’s a rough place. I can see why you’d want to take a little time off.” With a nimble move, he straightened up and adjusted his grip on his spear. “I hear over there everyone’s worried about evil spirits or something. A battle to save the world? Sounds like a hell of a way to make a name for yourself.” 

“Aren’t you going there?” 

“Me? Don’t be ridiculous. The only thing I fight for is me. Not money and not the fate of the world. 

“Well,” Spearman amended, “me and…” He gave Guild Girl a significant look. 

When the newcomer let his gaze drift over to the front desk as well, he saw Guild Girl running around behind it like an excited puppy. Apparently, a crowd of adventurers wasn’t the only thing that kept the Guild busy. 

“…personal reasons,” Spearman finished. “I don’t need some motto, some rallying cry.” 

“Don’t you, now?” 

“I don’t.” So saying, Spearman flopped back in the chair. 

Both of them saw the sensuous Witch slinking toward them. 

“Well, see you,” Spearman said. “I’ve got a date with—or should I say in—some ruins. Wish me luck!” 

“I will.” He nodded quietly. 

“You’re a real people person,” Spearman said with a laugh, and: “That’s not all bad.” 

As the two of them left the room, Witch looked back at this “people person” and gave him a broad, meaningful wink and a laugh. 

“Take care, now,” she said. 

“I will.” 

And then he sat down in the newly empty chair. 

He stared vacantly up at the high ceiling of the Guild Hall. It was only now dawning on him that Spearman and Witch were in a party together. And here he’d thought he knew both of them rather well. 

“Um, Goblin Slayer, sir! Goblin Slayer, are you here, sir?!” 

This time, a hesitant voice. He shifted his gaze toward the sound but didn’t move his head, a habit from wearing his helmet for so long. 

He saw the apprentice boy from the workshop, standing there in a conspicuously grease-stained leather apron. 

“That’s me.” 

“Oh, thank goodness. I didn’t know who you were. The boss is asking for you. He says the work’s done.” 

“All right. I’ll be right there.” 

The Adventurers Guild wasn’t just for handing out quests; it hosted all kinds of entrepreneurial activity. Besides the offices, there was an inn, a tavern, an item shop, and an equipment shop. Of course, it wasn’t absolutely necessary to have stores like these be a part of the Guild building, not really. But as far as the state was concerned, it was convenient to keep the ruffians in one place as much as possible rather than have them wandering the city. 

When he stood up and walked off, it was to one of the workshops at the Guild. Through the building, into another room farther in. In front of a glowing forge stood an old man relentlessly swinging a hammer, working a sword that had just come out of the mold into a true, tempered weapon. 

Granted, it was a mass-production item that didn’t take too much to forge; nothing compared to the swords of legend. But then, too, the ability to forge essentially the same sword, over and over, with almost no variation, was a remarkable talent. 

“…You’re here.” The old man eyed him. The blacksmith’s facial hair was so full he could have passed for a dwarf. It might have been long hours at the forge that caused him to squint one eye nearly shut and open the other unnaturally wide. It was not an attractive look. 

“You place order after order but only for the cheapest goods. Tell me, how’m I supposed to fill my coffers that way?” 

“Sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry. Just be more careful with my products.” 

“I’ll try.” 

“Hrmph,” the old man muttered, “wouldn’t know a joke if it bit him in the… Hmph. Over here.” He beckoned. When Goblin Slayer approached, the smith thrust the armor and helmet at him. 

“Should be fine, but try ’em on to be sure. I’ll adjust them if need be. No charge.” 

“Thank you.” 

His dirty, bent, crushed armor had been made good as— Well, not as good as new, but as good as it had been before his encounter with the ogre. At the very least, he could trust it with his life once more. 

“And a scroll? Were you able to get one?” 

“You gave me the gold, so I’ll get you the goods. But scrolls are rare. And expensive.” The old man gave an angry snort and turned back to the forge. He pulled out the simple iron sword he had crafted, inspected it, then returned it to the fire with a cluck of his tongue. “When some adventurer finds one and comes to sell it, I’ll get it for you, but that’s as much as I can do.” 

“I know. That’s enough.” He passed a bag of gold coins to the apprentice, then walked to a corner of the workshop where he would be out of the way. 

The smith had even attached a new cotton-padded gambeson to wear for protection under his armor. How kind of him. 

Gloves, mail coat, armor, chest plate, and then the helmet. He put on the equipment mechanically, in his accustomed order. As he did so, he heard the puzzled voice of the apprentice boy. 

“Hey, boss. That guy’s a Silver-ranked adventurer, right?” 


“So I hear.” 

“Why’s he use that armor? If he wanted to move silently, we have mithril mail or…” 

“Don’t you know, boy?” 

“No, sir. Why not a good magical sword instead of a scroll or…” 

“Because only a munchkin would be dumb enough to take some enchanted blade to deal with goblins!” The smith struck the iron with all his strength, a clear sound ringing out as the hammer met the sword. 

“That is a man who knows his business.” 

 

Aren’t I popular today? he thought. As he came back from the workshop to the lobby, he saw someone rushing toward him. Tap-tap-tap footfalls were accompanied by the bouncing of a gorgeous chest and a face wreathed in a smile. 

“Goblin Slayer, sir!” Priestess waved as she bounded over to him. 

“Yes, what?” 

“Here, look at this!” 

She reached breathlessly into her sleeve and pulled out her rank tag. It was no longer porcelain white but a gleaming obsidian. 

Oh. Is that what this is about? 

He nodded to his beaming companion. “You’ve moved up from tenth rank to ninth.” 

“Yes, sir! I’ve been promoted!” The rank system adventurers lived by was based on the amount of good an adventurer had done in the world—some referred to this as “experience points” or the like, but it was, in essence, based on the rewards they had earned for hunting. Those who had earned a certain amount could be promoted in rank, pending a brief personal evaluation. There could hardly have been an issue with Priestess’s personality, so this promotion was effectively an acknowledgment of her growing strength. “I wasn’t sure they would give it to me, but I think that battle with the ogre counted for a lot…” She scratched one blushing cheek with her finger. 

“I see.” 

What’s an ogre again? 

Oh, right—it was that creature they’d encountered beneath the ruins, wasn’t it? He nodded. So their little expedition had been quite important, in the end. After a moment’s thought he added shortly: 

“Good for you.” 

“I owe it all to you, sir!” Her gaze, her beautiful eyes, bored into him. He caught his breath. What should he say? There was a long pause. 

“Not at all,” he finally squeaked out. “I didn’t do anything.” 

“You did so much!” she responded with a grin. “You saved me when we first met.” 

“But I couldn’t save your companions.” 

“True, but…” Her face stiffened for a moment. She couldn’t quite finish her sentence—understandably. 

Even he still remembered the awful scene all too clearly. Warrior, Wizard, Fighter, who had all lost everything. Her party had been trodden into the dust. 

Priestess swallowed but continued resolutely. “But you did save me. I want to at least thank you for that.” Then she smiled. On her face, the smile was like a fresh bloom. “So, thank you!” she said with a deep bow. Goblin Slayer, predictably, was at a loss for words. 

Priestess said she would go to the Temple and let the Mother Superior know about her promotion. He stood, watching her depart with her delicate steps and her hands wrapped tightly around her sounding staff. 

He was silent. 

He looked over at the front desk, where his old friend still seemed occupied with paperwork. 

“I’m going to unload the cart,” he said, and she waved in response. 

He left the foyer and headed for the entrance of the Guild Hall. He took the vegetables and produce from the cart one by one and set them near the entrance to the kitchen. Working under the hot sun, sweat began to bead on his forehead beneath his helmet in no time. 

But it was important to protect the head. He couldn’t let down his guard. That’s what he was thinking when: 

“Hey… You have a moment?” a cool voice called out suddenly from behind him. 

He put down his load and turned around slowly. 

“Orcbolg? What are you doing…?” It was High Elf Archer. Her long ears were standing straight up. 

“What, Beard-cutter is here? So he is! Should you be up and about yet?” 

“I heard you slumbered for three days…but you seem perfectly hale now.” 

“His footsteps give him away, don’t they?” the elf replied to the dwarf and the lizardman, who were lined up with her. It seemed the three had settled in the city after their goblin-slaying trip. 

Traditionally, adventurers had always been wanderers, changing their base of operations whenever it was convenient or necessary. 

“This is a nice place,” the elf said, “very comfortable. But what are you doing?” She leaned in with great interest. 

“I’m unloading this cart.” 

“Hmm… Wait, don’t tell me… You’re strapped for cash, so you took a job as a delivery boy.” 

“No,” he said annoyed. “Did you want something?” 

“Oh yeah. This guy, uh…” The elf trailed off meaningfully, jerking her thumb at Lizard Priest. The lizardman’s tongue flicked up to his nose and back. His hands fidgeted incessantly. 

“Milord Goblin Slayer, I… Hrm…” 

“What?” 

“I humbly request, some…haa…” 

“What is it?” Goblin Slayer asked. 

Dwarf Shaman interceded with a smirk. “Scaly here wants some cheese.” 

“He ought to just come out and say it,” High Elf Archer suggested, narrowing her eyes like a cat. The lizardman hissed at them, but the two seemed to pay him no mind. Perhaps they were pleased to have seen this side of their otherwise unflappable companion. It was normally the lizardman who was the mediator for the group. 

Goblin Slayer could see he wasn’t going to get out of this. They had been together for only one quest so far. There were too many things he didn’t know. 

“Will this do?” 

He opened one of the packages on the cart, pulled out a round of cheese, and tossed it to them. 

“Oh-ho!” The lizardman caught it, and his eyes rolled wide in his head. 

“You can pay the Guild for it.” 

“Yes, yes, understood, milord Goblin Slayer! Oh, sweet nectar! It is worth its weight in gold!” He was practically dancing. He opened his mouth and took a big bite of cheese. 

The elf gave a helpless smile. “I guess even the most serious guys have to let themselves go every once in a while,” she said. 

“I see.” Goblin Slayer nodded. He didn’t feel bad about it. He reached for the next item on the cart. 

He grabbed hold of the wooden crate, picked it up, set it down. Then the next and the next. It was simple work, but he didn’t dislike it. When he looked up from it a few crates later, though, there was the elf, still standing there. 

She shifted restlessly as she watched him at the repetitive job. 

“Wh-what? Should I not be here?” 

“No.” He shook his head slightly. “But it’s going to be hot today.” 

“Li…listen!” Her voice was a little too loud. Her ears bobbed up and down, up and down. 

“What now?” he asked with a sigh. 

“Um, we’re…we’re checking out some ruins now…” 

“Ruins.” 

“Yeah, like we went to on our last quest. Trying to figure out what the evil spirits are planning and everything…” 

“I see.” 

“But our party doesn’t have a good forward guard, right?” I mean, I’m a ranger; he’s a priest. Shorty is a spell caster. She played with her hair as she spoke and didn’t quite look at him. 

“Right,” he agreed. Everything she’d said was true. 

“So, I mean…” She trailed off and looked at the ground. He waited for her to continue. “I thought maybe…maybe we should talk to you…” 

He was silent. Was that it? He lifted another box without a word. 

The elf’s ears drooped, and he set the box back down. 

“I’ll think about it.” 

He could practically hear her ears spring up. “Right! Sure! You do that!” With a little wave, she set out for the front of the Guild Hall. The dwarf followed her, stroking his beard with one hand and pulling along the lizardman—still entranced by his delicious prize—with the other. 

“How about that, Beard-cutter? Life’s so hard for long-ears. She ought to just come out and ask you along!” 

“Quiet, dwarf. I’m not out of arrows yet.” 

“I’m quivering in me boots, lass.” It seemed the elf was not out of earshot. Goblin Slayer watched the two walk off, bickering loudly. 

Before he knew it, he was almost done unloading the cart. He let out a puff of breath and shook his helmet. The sun was high in the sky. It was nearly summer. 

Then… 

“Yaaah!” 

“Heeeeyah!” 

Suddenly, shouts rang out, accompanied by the clear tone of metal on metal. 

The sound of a sword fight. And it wasn’t sudden. He just hadn’t been paying attention. 

He craned his neck to find the source of the disturbance. It was coming from the plaza behind the Guild building—right in front of him. 

“Ha-ha-ha, you call that a strike? You couldn’t kill a goblin that way!” 

“Damn! He’s too big; he’s getting in my guard! Circle around right!” 

“All right, here we go!” 

A heavily armored warrior was wielding a great sword as easily as a matchstick and fending off thrusts from two young boys. One of the boys was the scout from the heavily armored warrior’s party, and the other…he was the rookie warrior who had been headed to the sewers. His movements had the broad character of an inexperienced Porcelain rank, but he was doing well in that he was trying to find the flow of combat. 

“Not a bad plan,” the overdressed warrior responded, “but it doesn’t work if you shout it to your opponent!” 

“Yrrrahhh?!” 

“Waaagh!” 

The gulf of experience and strength was simply too great. Warrior handled them easily. 

It seemed Goblin Slayer was a bit too conspicuous as he stood watching them train. 

“Well, if it isn’t Goblin Slayer,” said a low voice with more than a hint of suspicion. It was the woman in knight’s armor. As he recalled, she was also part of the armored warrior’s team. 

“Haven’t seen you for a few days,” he called. “I was starting to think that ogre put an end to you. But here you are, alive and well.” 

“Yes.” 

“…Is that how you talk to everyone you know?” 

“Yes.” 

“…I see…” Knight furrowed her brow as if she had a headache and gave a measured shake of her head. 

He didn’t think it was as strange as all that, but he kept it to himself. He did say, however, “I didn’t think that warrior was a member of your party.” 

“Oh. He’s not. We were doing some sparring with the kid here…” Apparently, they had noticed the other young warrior practicing his sword work nearby and invited him to join in. 

Most of the would-be warriors who came up from the country with a sword and a dream were self-taught in the use of their weapons. Even this one chance to train with a real adventurer might save the boy’s life someday. 

“Now I’ve just got to teach those girls to act like ladies…” 

Across from where the scout and the young swordsman were boldly facing down Warrior in his heavy armor, a cleric and druid girl were leaning against a low wall, watching the match with undisguised excitement. 

“And that meathead is probably getting tired about now. Maybe I ought to jump in,” Knight said, with a twisted bit of a grin. She hefted her huge shield and her sword—her pride and joy—and jumped over the wall and into the fray. “All right, now you’re in trouble! I thought I heard there were some mighty warriors here, but all I see are a couple of weaklings!” 

“Whaat? How can you even be a paladin talking like that?!” 

“Here’s my answer!” 

“Some training!” groaned Warrior, who always attacked from the front—this was why people liked him. His great sword spun like a hurricane, his huge shield stopping one blow after another. He danced away from each sharp retort and found an opening in return. Cleric and the druid girl were just coming to the aid of the hard-pressed young men when… 

“That knight can’t quite mind her own business, can she?” A laugh as clear as a bell followed. When had someone come up beside him? 

“Pardon the intrusion, my dear Goblin Slayer, but how about you drink this? It’s very hot out here…” She had come out the kitchen door. Now she offered him a cup. 

“Thanks,” he said, taking it. He gulped it down with one great slosh into his helmet. It was cold and sweet. 

“It’s got a bit of lemon and honey in it,” Guild Girl said. “It’s supposed to be good for fatigue.” He nodded in agreement. It might make a good addition to his field provisions. He would have to remember it. 

“There’s some talk these days about a new building that would be dedicated to that kind of training,” she said, nodding at the sparring party. 

“Oh?” He dabbed at the beads of liquid on his lips. 

“We could hire some retired adventurers to teach. So many beginners just don’t know anything at all.” If we could teach them even a little bit, maybe more of them would come home. She looked into the distance and smiled. Guild Girl had seen many adventurers come…and go. That it was only the paperwork she had to deal with didn’t soften the blow. It wasn’t hard to understand why she would want to help newcomers. 

“And…,” she added. “Even after you retire, you still have to live. Everyone needs something to fill the time.” 

“Is that right?” He gave the empty cup back to her. 

“Yes, it is,” she insisted with her usual peppy nod, her braids bouncing. “So you’d better take care of yourself, too, all right?” 

He was quiet a moment. “That seems to be everyone’s advice for me lately.” 

“I’m going to wait until you’re healed up before I give you any more quests. Maybe a month.” 

“Erk…” He groaned. 

“And next time you work till you collapse, six months.” 

“That would…be a problem.” 

“Wouldn’t it, though? So please learn your lesson this time.” She giggled. Then she told him she had finished the paperwork for his deliveries. He turned to go back into the Guild Hall, the shouts and clangs of the young adventurers flying at their mentor still sounding behind him. 

The girl, his old friend, was standing impatiently next to the cart. When she saw Goblin Slayer, her face lit up. He called to her quietly: 

“Shall we go home?” 

“Yes, let’s!” 

The cart was much lighter than it had been in the morning. 

When he got back to the farm, he found some sunbaked rocks and began building a stone wall. The foundations of a wall were already in place, but with goblins, you could never be too careful. Even Uncle grudgingly acknowledged the value of the wall, with the logic that it would help keep away wild animals. 

Goblin Slayer worked silently until, after the sun had passed its zenith, his old friend came with a basket on her arm. They sat on the grass together, eating sandwiches and drinking cold grape wine for lunch. Time passed at a leisurely pace. 

With the wall almost finished and the next day’s deliveries loaded on the cart, the sun began to sink below the horizon. His friend said she would get the food ready and went off, leaving him to wander the pastures aimlessly. The grass rustled softly in the early summer breeze. 

Above him shone two moons and a sky full of stars. The stars must have already been in their new places for the season, but he couldn’t tell. For him, the stars were just a way of orienting himself. When he was younger, his heart still afire with the tales of the old heroes, he had meant to learn the stories of the constellations. But now… 

“What is it?” He heard the footsteps faint in the grass behind him. He didn’t turn around. 

“Hmmm? Dinner’s on. But there’s no hurry. What are you thinking about?” As he looked up at the stars, she sat down next to him as easily as anything. He thought for a moment then sat down, too. His mail clinked just a little. 

“About the future.” 

“The future?” 

“Yes.” 

“Huh…” 

The conversation trailed off, and they fell silent, gazing into the sky. It wasn’t an unpleasant silence. It was a silence they welcomed; it was peaceful. The only sounds were the hush of the wind, the babble of the town drifting from far off, the insects, and their own breath. Each seemed to understand what the other wanted to say. 

He was human, after all. He would grow old, get hurt. When he was too tired, he would collapse. One day he would reach his limit. If he didn’t die first, the day when he could no longer kill goblins would inevitably come. 

And what would he do then? He didn’t know. 

He’s weaker than I’d realized, she thought, watching him from the corner of her eye. 

“I’m sorry.” 

The words sprang suddenly, spontaneously, from her lips. 

“For what?” He gave an uncharacteristic bob of his head. Perhaps because of his helmet, the gesture seemed oddly broad, childlike. 

“No…nothing. It’s nothing.” 

“You’re a strange one,” he muttered as she giggled. 

Is he pouting? It was a small thing, but it hadn’t changed since he was young. With that thought in mind, she pulled on his arm. 

“Erk…” He found his vision moving, and then the back of his head was resting against something soft. When he looked up, he saw the stars, two moons—and her eyes. 

“You’ll get oil on yourself.” 

“I don’t mind. These clothes can go in the laundry, and I can go in the bath.” 

“Is that right?” 

“It is.” She rested his head on her knees. She stroked his helmet as she leaned near and whispered, “Let’s think things over. We can take our time.” 

“Our time, huh…?” 

“Right. We have all the time in the world.” 

He felt strangely at ease, like a tightly drawn string that had finally loosened. When he closed his eyes, he still knew how she looked though he couldn’t see her. Just as she knew how he looked though his face was hidden. 

Dinner that night was stew. 

 

One lazy day followed another this way for almost a month. 

Somewhere, the battle between the adventurers and the evil spirits was growing more heated all the while… 

Then, suddenly, it was over. 

It was said that a single rookie had followed the guidance of a legendary sword, and at the end of their adventure had slain the demon king. That greenhorn—a young girl, as it happened—thus became the sixteenth Platinum-ranked adventurer in history. 

A great celebration was declared in the Capital, and even Goblin Slayer’s out-of-the-way city observed some festivities. 

Not that any of this had anything to do with him. 

He was interested only in the weather, the animals, the crops, and the people around him. Time passed at a leisurely pace. The days had the quality of an afternoon nap. 

But all things must end—often too soon. 

The end to his idyll appeared in the form of repulsive black blotches on the dew-drenched morning pastures. Trailing mud and excrement across the fields, they were unmistakable: small footprints. 



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