Goblin Slayer - Volume 11 - Chapter 1

Chapter 1 – A Pounding Heart

“I’m sick and tired of goblin slaying!” she announced, slamming a hand down on the round table. She being, of course, High Elf Archer. Her ears were thrust back as she made this proclamation; it garnered the attention of all the adventurers and servers in the tavern—but only for a second. They quickly went back to whatever they had been doing as if to say, Oh, it’s that elf again. 

All of which simply meant that the tavern at the Adventurers Guild this afternoon was having a perfectly normal day. 

“Are yeh, now? Bet we could find you a nice dragon to kill instead. Or maybe you’d like to become a bounty hunter?” 

“Not what I meant, short stack.” High Elf Archer waved a dismissive hand at Dwarf Shaman, who was sitting across from her with his chin on his hands, and who had been drinking for the better part of the afternoon. The elf drew a circle in the air with her pointer finger, ears twitching as she muttered something about how he just didn’t understand. “These days it’s been nothing but goblins, goblins, goblins, goblins, goblins, right?” 

“Well, he is Goblin Slayer…,” replied a petite human cleric also sitting across from High Elf Archer. She smiled awkwardly, fiddling with the cup in her hands, then glanced to one side. Beside her, silently polishing a dagger and a sword of a strange length with an old rag, sat an adventurer. This man, who wore a cheap-looking metal helmet and grimy leather armor and had a small, round shield strapped to his arm, was called Goblin Slayer. 

It wasn’t clear whether he had been listening to the conversation or not, but now he grunted, “Hrm.” Then he added: “I don’t see any particular problem with that.” 

“Ha-ha-ha, no problem, but also no particular stories of adventure, valor, or daring,” Lizard Priest said, taking a big bite of the wheel of cheese in his hand. He swallowed noisily, exclaiming over the flavor like the very picture of a dragon consuming a hero. 

Dwarf Shaman watched this elaborate show of mastication with a grin, then reached for one of the dishes still on the table. For lunch they had ordered bread, ground pork, and vegetables—all very familiar. As he stuffed a slice of bread slathered with pork into his mouth, Dwarf Shaman pushed the plate of vegetables closer to High Elf Archer. “Watch it, Beard-cutter. Your oil’ll get in the food.” 

“Sorry.” Goblin Slayer slid back a bit from the table but didn’t stop working. His sword was not a remarkable one, but a single oversight could result in a critical fumble. Heaven forbid the blade chip when he drew it out, or get stuck in its scabbard, or break in the first exchange of a fight. 

Lizard Priest, who had briefly ceased his cheese consumption, reached out with a knowing grunt. “Pardon,” he said as he snatched a small onion off the plate of vegetables and popped it in his mouth like candy to cleanse the palate. Priestess supposed the way he rolled his eyes in his head was because of the sharp flavor. 

Beast people don’t seem to eat many aromatic herbs, in my observation. 

Not that she was particularly inclined to eat a great deal of the little onions, herself. It wasn’t that she disliked them. She enjoyed popping them into her mouth; biting down; and feeling the delightful, vinegary flavor of the little pickled treats melting on her tongue. But a young woman, even an adventuring young woman, does start to worry about certain odors. That seemed to be why High Elf Archer was forever perfuming herself with some flowery smell of the forest. Not that Priestess was jealous of her—well, not too often. 

“I lost count after ten goblin-slaying expeditions,” High Elf Archer said with a cute little snort, waving a hand at Lizard Priest. “I’m starting to worry being with Orcbolg is going to make me forget there are other monsters.” 

“We did meet that vampire, and those sasquatches…,” Priestess said without much conviction. She herself wasn’t especially dissatisfied with the current situation—which was something else that seemed to annoy High Elf Archer. 

“Yeah, last winter,” the elf shot back. She took a few dainty sips of her watered-down wine, then sighed theatrically. “Did you know when we went out to that vineyard, some of the other adventurers got to fight demons and stuff?” 

“That doesn’t interest me,” came a mutter from Goblin Slayer. He must have finally been happy with the condition of his weapons because he put his sword back in its scabbard and his throwing knife back on his belt. High Elf Archer gave him a look: You’re literally just going to throw them away regardless. But he didn’t seem to notice. He said, “While the other adventurers are fighting their demons, it’s my role to take on the goblins.” 

“Why am I not surprised? To be fair, I guess it would be pretty weird if you were suddenly all, ‘Down with demons!’” High Elf Archer let out a defeated breath and slumped on the table; the amazing thing was that even that gesture looked elegant coming from her. 

“Feeling a little drunk?” Priestess asked, casually glancing into her friend’s wine cup, then pouring a bit more water into it. “I do have to admit, we’ve been doing a lot of perfectly ordinary goblin hunts recently.” 

“There’s nothing perfectly ordinary about doing nothing but goblin hunts!” 

“You think so?” 

“I know so!” 

Priestess cocked her head, still not quite convinced, and High Elf Archer looked helplessly up at the ceiling. Even this conversation had a familiar ring to it, and none of the others in the tavern paid them any mind. This strange adventurer and his party were just part of life in the frontier town now. Seeing how everyone else regarded them, even the novices who had registered just this spring soon took them in stride. Even if more than a few privately agreed it was strange to hunt nothing but goblins… 

“Ahh, but it’s a pleasure havin’ the long-eared lass here,” said Dwarf Shaman. “I never want for fine accompaniments to my wine.” 

Lizard Priest picked up Dwarf Shaman’s jar of fire wine and poured it liberally into the shaman’s cup. “I can only apologize that you must endure a lizardman pouring for you.” 

“Not t’worry. I’m afraid havin’ an elf wait on me might snap me out of this nice buzz. Might be funny but not much else.” He drained the cup with satisfaction, droplets splashing onto his beard—but then he squinted. Perhaps it was because High Elf Archer had suddenly looked up from their drinking party, her ears twitching. Her gaze was pointed toward the entrance of the Guild. A moment later, Goblin Slayer looked as well, followed by Lizard Priest and Priestess. 

Three adventurers tumbled through the door of the tavern, each with their own perspective on the situation: 

“Finally, finally home…” 

“Get ahold of yourself, you’re embarrassing us…!” 

“Ugh, I’m so hungry. I could hardly take another step!” 

The group consisted of a young warrior accompanied by a cleric of the Supreme God, as well as a hunter who hailed from the harefolk. All of them were covered in mud and blood. 

High Elf Archer frowned and let out a sound of dismay. Priestess, very much accustomed to this particular stench, just smiled slightly. 

“M-my goodness… Was it as bad as it looks?” Guild Girl said, for once emerging from behind the reception desk. She had too much experience of adventurers to let her smile slip, something Priestess admired very much. 

Calmed by Guild Girl’s unflappable demeanor, the warrior nodded firmly, even though he looked like he might collapse right there in the doorway. “It was rough, but we made it somehow. Those goblins are good and slain.” 

“Good work,” came a short murmur—from Goblin Slayer, of all people, provoking first astonishment and then a giggle from the cleric. 

“Good work, sure,” she said. “Great work. His club never hit anything but the air, and those sling-stones didn’t do much better!” 

“Eh, we pulled it out anyway,” Harefolk Hunter said nonchalantly. She (they were pretty sure she was a she) had mottled brown and white fur now, which at the moment was in some disarray, with flecks of dried blood spotting her coat. Priestess got up out of her chair, moistened her handkerchief at the tap, then went over to the three adventurers. “Once you’ve made your report, you’ll have to be sure to wash up properly, all right?” 

“Ooh, thanks for this,” Harefolk Hunter said as Priestess dabbed at her face and hair. 

“Look at her, acting all grown-up.” High Elf Archer chuckled. “I understand, though. You want to take care of people with less experience.” She spoke so softly that Priestess didn’t hear her. High Elf Archer wasn’t actually criticizing Priestess’s sweet-hearted, smile-inducing behavior. 

“Whatsoever we may think of our own goblin slaying, theirs certainly constitutes valor and daring,” Lizard Priest added with a laugh. 

“Ha-ha-ha, you’ve got that right!” Dwarf Shaman said. 

“Yo, tell us all about it when you have a few minutes!” Heavy Warrior called over the hubbub of the tavern. The scout boy and druid girl in his party, who were friends with the warrior and the cleric, didn’t appear especially worried. But they must have been happy nonetheless to see their friends come back home. They were smiling and waving. 

“You have a successful adventure, you treat everyone to a round—that’s the tradition! We’ll be waiting!” Female Knight added. 

“I like the sound of that!” Padfoot Waitress said, clapping her hands. “That means you’ll be ordering lots of different stuff tonight, right? Whoo-hoo!” 

“H-hey, we didn’t make that much money on it!” Amid this storm of praise and teasing and shouting, Warrior’s face went red; was it embarrassment or something else? All the adventurers, even those who didn’t know his name, were shouting to him. Some congratulated him on a job well done, others on his coming back alive, still others complained he had lost them a bet. “Dead pools,” gambling on who would bite the dust, were not precisely in good taste, but they were one of the superstitions here. After all, if the object of the bet was lucky, they would “win” by coming home alive. And since they had won, it was a nice excuse to demand a drink from them. 

And that was the Adventurers Guild: noisy but comfortable. 

“Lively place, this,” the harefolk girl remarked as Priestess continued to wipe her fluffy fur. 

“It certainly is,” Priestess said. “It’s always like this.” She herself had been suitably overwhelmed by the environment at first, but these days she was entirely used to it. That seemed a little sad to her sometimes, but there was unquestionably a happy side as well. And she felt genuine pride in the Steel rank tag that hung from her neck. “I’m sure those two will be happy, even if they aren’t going on an adventure today.” 

“They’re real adventurers. When it comes to goblin slaying, we hardly have the right to talk to the Frontier’s Strongest,” Cleric said with a half smile. 

Priestess understood the feeling, but still pursed her lips reprovingly. “I’m sorry, but I think Goblin Slayer is the Frontier’s Kindest, no? Here. Hold still.” 

“I think that’s a bit cruel, don’t you? …Oh, thank you.” Cleric was palpably relieved to have some of the dirt wiped off her hair and face. On the way home from the adventure, she recalled, the warrior and the scout had been so tired, she’d had to be the one to keep an eye out—and she was in the back row. 

Yes, you must be tired. 

Priestess worked gently at the layer of filth, kind and comforting to this exhausted young woman. 

“Oh yeah, yeah. Say, miss, may I tell you something?” Harefolk Hunter asked, her long ears twitching; she also suddenly had a piece of bread in her hand. 

“Yes, what is it?” Priestess replied, not pausing in her work. 

“Aw, nothin’ much,” Hunter said. “But over at the town gate, we ran into someone said they were lookin’ for you. They’re waitin’ right there.” 

“What?” Priestess looked at the door to discover a slim figure in an all-consuming overcoat. The neat curves of this person’s legs were visible under their tight-fitting leather pants. And at their hip hung a beautiful silver rapier, almost blinding in its brilliance. 

This person regarded the room full of chattering adventurers with what looked like a fond smile. When she noticed she had Priestess’s eye, she removed the overcoat, revealing rich locks of honey-colored hair. 

“Hello, and pardon me for being away for so long,” said the woman—once an adventurer, now a merchant. Priestess let out an exclamation of surprise and joy, abandoning her work on Cleric’s face and hurrying over to Female Merchant. She clasped her friend’s hand in her own for the first time in much too long. 

“What brings you here all of a sudden? None of your letters said you were coming…” 

Female Merchant didn’t let her pleasure show as openly as Priestess, but it was evident nonetheless that she was happy. “Ah, it’s a business matter, one that came up rather abruptly. I must be circumspect about separating my business and personal lives…” 

This reunion, of course, did not escape High Elf Archer, who exclaimed, “Well, haven’t seen you in a while! Don’t just stand there chatting; come over here! Orcbolg, put away your toys.” 

“Oh, I couldn’t… Look, you know me. Whenever anything happens, I just come crying to you…” Female Merchant sounded quite embarrassed, but she didn’t act it. She let Priestess lead her over to a seat. 

“Hrm,” Goblin Slayer grumbled, but after he had cleaned up his tools and items, the table turned out to be quite spacious. 

“This calls for one thing—more drinks! Yo-ho! Get this girl an ale!” Dwarf Shaman called out, and Lizard Priest added, “Bring some side dishes as well, whatever seems apt. And some cheese.” 

“I-I’m not very good with alcohol,” Female Merchant said as she was ushered into her seat. “Well, all right, thank you. An ale will do.” She didn’t sound very sure. 

Female Merchant probably knew her way around these sorts of situations. Priestess, on the other hand, had a feeling Female Merchant had spent some past life trading barbs with great merchant families or the scions of noble houses. Priestess had always been careful never to ask too much about Female Merchant’s former party members, but this much she had intuited. And how fortunate and wonderful a thing it was to have a proper chance to sit down all together and have a drink. 

“So what is this business you’re on?” Priestess asked, offering some bread and pork. 

“Yes, about that.” Female Merchant nodded. The dainty nibbles she took of the bread were befitting of a noble upbringing. Unlike High Elf Archer’s effortless grace, this was a studied decorum that made Priestess think of a princess. “As a matter of fact… Well, as a point of formality, I intend to go properly through the Guild.” With that little disclaimer out of the way, Female Merchant glanced around the room. The rest of the Adventurers Guild was so busy celebrating the return of some of their own that they weren’t paying any attention to this table. 

Female Merchant sucked in a breath, her shapely chest moving up and down, then said resolutely: “There’s a quest—an adventure—that I earnestly ask all of you to participate in.” 

Priestess knew immediately what Goblin Slayer would ask next. So, she presumed, did everyone else at this table. 

It could be only one thing… 

§ 

“So it is goblins.” 

“Yes, that’s the gist.” 

“When are you leaving? I’ll come with you.” 

They were seated in the Guild meeting room. Goblin Slayer sat across from Female Merchant; Priestess sat next to him stiff with anxiety. The soft sofa supported her modest behind quite nicely, while her slim legs reached down to the carpet, which was thick enough to swallow her shoes. The shelves all around them were lined with the trophies of great adventurers, mementos that looked down on them. 

Priestess reflected on how rarely she came in here, how disconnected she felt from this room. Almost the only times she visited were for promotion interviews. 

It was different for Goblin Slayer, sitting stolidly beside her, and her other companions. They were all Silver rank, the third-highest level an adventurer could achieve and the highest rank to be out in the field. They were entrusted with weighty assignments and frequently (Priestess imagined) met with important quest givers here in this room. 

But not her. She was still untried, lacking in experience. She could hardly be called a novice anymore, but she didn’t believe she quite counted as fully mature yet, either. And yet here she was with Goblin Slayer, privy to the details of this quest. Her Steel rank tag left her feeling hopelessly out of place. 

Especially with everyone else waiting downstairs… 

The presence of Female Merchant across from them prevented Priestess from shifting uncomfortably. She wanted to sit up straight as she listened so that she at least appeared like an adventurer who knew what she was doing. 

“As it happens, a large number of goblins have been sighted near the border with the country to the east.” 

“The east? That would be in the direction of the desert, wouldn’t it?” Guild Girl solicitously placed steaming cups on the tabletop as she listened to Female Merchant’s story. Guild Girl’s tea was one of Priestess’s little pleasures. She took a cup in both hands, blowing on it before taking a sip. The warmth filled her mouth. Female Merchant took a saucer with a practiced air, enjoying the tea with all the elegance she usually exuded. 

Only Goblin Slayer didn’t move. After a moment’s silence, he said simply, “Is that so?” 

Guild Girl, having taken a seat herself, tilted her head in puzzlement, causing her braids to bounce. “Oh?” she asked. “You don’t know it?” 

“I don’t,” he replied, crossing his arms and leaning, armor and all, back against the chair. “I’ve never left this country.” 

This was somewhat surprising—and at the same time, somewhat not. Priestess exchanged a look with Guild Girl, then her eyes met those of Female Merchant. None of them could imagine this strangest of adventurers prioritizing a trip to the border over the destruction of goblins near at hand. And most people naturally knew more about their own homes than about foreign lands, even if they had the means to find out about such places, which many didn’t. Was it not enough to be familiar with the environs of one’s village? Who cared what was beyond the mountains? 

Nonetheless, from a Silver-ranked adventurer, it was a mildly unusual pronouncement. 

“But if there are goblins, the matter is settled. What’s the situation?” Goblin Slayer asked. Priestess smiled as he leaned forward in the same as he always did. 

“They aren’t exactly a friendly nation,” Guild Girl said with a strained expression. She was cognizant that she was, first and foremost, a bureaucrat, a representative of her government. She had to choose her words carefully. “A number of different countries share our eastern border, but that particular nation…” Guild Girl admitted that there were at least roads that reached it, but then she shrugged. “It doesn’t have an Adventurers Guild.” 

Priestess made a sound of surprise. She had heard vaguely of the nation that lay on the far side of the shifting sands, but this detail was new to her. 

“They do have adventurers,” Guild Girl clarified. “Or at least, people who call themselves that.” 

What kind of place could it be? Priestess wondered, putting her index finger to her lips. A country with adventurers but without an Adventurers Guild. Over the past two or three years, she had gained much experience and learned many things, but the world was a vast place, and there was still much she didn’t know. 

Didn’t he say once something about there being so many people who knew more about the world than he did? Priestess nodded to herself, remembering something Goblin Slayer had previously said. But if so, one need only listen, look, remember, and learn. Hadn’t she learned from her friend, so much separated from her in age, the importance of retaining one’s sense of wonder at the unknown? 

“But why are relations with that country so bad…?” 

“We prefer the term ‘not good,’” Guild Girl said pointedly, but she smiled. Diplomacy, it seemed, was tricky. “Anyway, back in the time of the last king—their last king, not ours—people used to come and go between our countries much more freely.” 

But when possession of the throne changed, restrictions on foreigners in the country tightened. Disquieting rumors implied that soldiers were being levied, weapons and equipment gathered, and an army assembled. During the battle with the Demon Lord, some of the king’s soldiers allegedly slipped across the border into this nation, calling themselves mercenaries or a volunteer army or some such. 

A group of heroes, who all just happened to be in the same place at the same time, rose up to protect the people—Yeah, sure. It was awfully convenient that so many visitors with fine weaponry, horses, and obvious military training had been around just then. 

“Could it be just…” A pretext? Priestess was about to say, but wisely swallowed the words. 

Guild Girl smiled. Or rather…she pasted on a smile. Priestess nodded. “In any event, that’s the situation and the reason things aren’t very good between us…” 

“But the goblins are multiplying,” Female Merchant interrupted in a low voice. The clacking of her teacup somehow sounded like a sword being drawn. “And they’re starting to come into this country. We can’t let this go on,” she said before adding, “It has to be investigated.” She then shut her lips tight. 

Terror. Fear and hesitation. It would have been easy to see any of these things in the shaking of Female Merchant’s clenched fist. But Priestess had also seen the light flare in her eyes. Pale and cold, a chill flame. She thought she recognized it; she took a breath and let it out, expelling everything that clung inside her. 

Still, though… 

As she breathed, her head started to clear, began to work. A country with which relations were “not good.” A desert place with no Adventurers Guild. A land swirling with unsettling rumors. 

Goblins entering this nation’s territory. Going to investigate. Adventurers going to investigate. 

Her quest is…probably something else. 

It was something higher than just commerce. Probably higher even than Sword Maiden; much, much higher. An image of the royal entourage they’d met while delving the Dungeon of the Dead flickered through Priestess’s mind. 

In the past, she wasn’t sure, but she might have resented such a situation. But now, curiously, she didn’t. It helped that the quest giver was a cherished friend of hers. Someone who was almost—she was too embarrassed to say this aloud—like a little sister. Priestess knew of the girl’s painful past, and so she was filled with the desire to help, even if it gained her nothing. 

A big part of it was having accompanied Goblin Slayer on his negotiations with the Rogues Guild. There were things in the world best done in the shadows. Things best handled not by the clumsy intervention of a national government but by adventurers. Now that she thought about it, her very meeting with these rare and precious companions had arisen because of such an incident. 

It’s a kind of destiny. 

The thought made her feel a little easier. Diplomacy truly was a tricky subject. 

So when Priestess asked her question, she did it as politely as she could, as broadly as she was able. “Wouldn’t it be, ahem, the business of Gold-ranked adventurers to handle such a case?” 

Typically, it was those with the rank of Gold or above who handled matters of national import. Typically. 

“Indeed. I was simply hoping I might be able to ask you to act as my bodyguards while I travel there on a merchant mission.” Female Merchant’s stiff expression softened unmistakably. Embarrassment, perhaps. Almost shyness. As if to say that she wished to adventure with them again, even if only in the capacity of quest giver. 

I would be thrilled to think that was how she felt. Priestess nodded. Female Merchant let out a relieved breath. 

Guild Girl, though, quickly rained on this parade: “I’m afraid we certainly can’t send someone of Steel rank on such a mission,” she said. Priestess gulped. Female Merchant’s face was hard. Guild Girl, however, didn’t stop smiling as she ostentatiously straightened the paperwork Female Merchant had given her. Priestess figured this was what you called a difference in experience. After all, in terms of number of quests she had been a part of, Guild Girl stood head and shoulders above the others in the room. Female Merchant was used to these situations by now, but she was still the newest member of this group. And Priestess was only slightly more experienced than her. 

Priestess looked at the metal helmet beside her. Its owner grunted and said without further hesitation, “But this does involve goblins. So I’ll go.” 

“Of course,” Guild Girl replied with a gentle smile. “I’m not objecting to you, Goblin Slayer, sir.” 

“You don’t mind passing on this quest?” he asked Priestess. 

“Ahem, however, the quest giver specifically brought this quest to her,” Guild Girl explained. 

There was some uncomfortable hemming from Female Merchant. Priestess glanced over at her, but by then the expression was already gone from her face. Priestess wasn’t exactly distracted by the brief interlude, but nonetheless it took her a second to comprehend what Guild Girl said next. 

“As such, I believe this calls for a promotion interview!” She clapped her hands, grinning from ear to ear. This wasn’t her pasted-on smile but a real one. 

“Wha—?” Priestess blinked. “Promotion? You mean…to Sapphire?!” She jumped out of her seat before she knew what she was doing but then caught up with herself, blushed furiously, and promptly sat back down. 

Promotion from the eighth rank to the seventh. This was unquestionably her first step into the middle ranks. She would no longer be “a novice with a bit of experience,” but a real, established adventurer. Priestess unconsciously clutched at the rank tag at her neck. Her heart was pounding. 

“That’s right,” Guild Girl said. “You’ll be able to travel to such dangerous—” She stopped and cleared her throat. “I mean, less-than-stable areas as this quest requires.” 

Can I really do this? Priestess wondered. What should she do? What was the right answer? She spotted a flicker in Female Merchant’s eyes. “Uh, um…” 

Hoping for some kind of help, she turned to Goblin Slayer once more, but he grunted, “Hrm. In that case, I don’t believe I should decide whether you accept or not.” 

He was clearly planning to go regardless of her choice. That was just natural for him; Priestess felt it as a thump in her insides. No one was asking her whether she could do this. They weren’t telling her not to. Everything, all of it, was for her alone to decide. 

One could come up with any number of perspectives and reasons. But then… 

Protect, heal, save. 

She knew what she had hoped to do by going out into the world. She bit her lip, then drew a breath and said, “I…I’ll do it!” 

Priestess saw Guild Girl smile happily. Female Merchant’s eyes lit up. As for the expression on the face behind the visor of the helmet beside her, Priestess couldn’t guess. But the fluttering in her chest was enough for her. 

She knew what she wanted: to be an adventurer. 

§ 

“So please, tell us about the desert!” 

“Y-yes, sir, please…” 

Geez, talk about your ambushes…, Spearman thought, scratching his head. He had only just gotten back to the Guild from an adventure. Returning a withering what-about-it look to the glances from other adventurers, Spearman took stock of the situation. 

Standing in front of him bowing her head was the priestess from that weirdo’s party. Beside her, also bowing (he noted her excellent command of manners) was a girl he didn’t recognize, but who he assumed was a noble or the like. 

“Heh, heh,” Witch said from beside him, openly amused. This was the worst possible situation. 

Only choice is to charge in, then. 

For one thing, there was nothing less cool than trying to come up with an excuse to run away when a couple of girls asked you for help. And yet… Well. 

“Why don’cha ask, y’know, him?” That question bugged Spearman. In fact, he sort of felt compelled to ask. He wouldn’t be the one risking his life here, so it wasn’t appropriate for him to go heedlessly giving advice to another person’s party. 

“Well, you see…” Priestess scratched her cheek with embarrassment, not quite able to come up with the words. “He said we should ask you two…that you had more experience of other countries than he did.” 

Spearman gulped. He’d said that? Now Spearman’s back was really against the wall. That sonuva— But Spearman tempered his private annoyance. He could hardly call himself Silver rank if he wasn’t ready to at least try to look good for a less-experienced adventurer, especially a girl. Humility was all well and good, but a man with no confidence was a man you couldn’t rely on. Outward appearance and inward character, confidence and genuine ability, were two sides of the same coin. Spearman would hate to be without either of them. He was more than a little way from being called a great hero, but he had to be able to respond appropriately to this. 

And so with a glance at Guild Girl to make sure the object of his affections was watching, he nodded. “Let’s find somewhere to sit down. Wouldn’t be a good look for me to make a couple of young ladies stand around.” 

Pretending it was for his own benefit gave Spearman a fine excuse to transfer them to the bench in the waiting area. Witch followed along, smiling as if she knew everything, but it was too late to worry about her. It had been too late the moment he had swallowed his pride and asked her to help him read and write and to deal with magic spells. She had probably figured him out right then. 

Doesn’t mean I can go lookin’ lazy in front of her. In this respect, Spearman felt his thinking was different from that of the weirdo or even of Heavy Warrior. Or maybe they’d act different with some newbies around. 

He dismissed this fruitless line of thinking. He personally never expected to take on a pupil or disciple, or to usher a novice adventurer into his party in the name of educating them. Teaching the next generation, that was something he could think about decades from now when he had retired from active adventuring. Nothing more, nothing less. 

“So… The desert—that’s…what you wanted to…ask, about?” With Spearman absorbed in his own thoughts, it was Witch who started the conversation. She took out her pipe with a smooth, elegant motion, then tapped the end with a finger, lighting it. The violet smoke she exhaled, slow and luxurious, wrapped itself around her voluptuous body as if she had domesticated a breeze. In contrast, the two girls stiffened and squeezed their hands on their knees. 

At Spearman’s inquiry, the priestess girl said she was on her way from the novice ranks into the middle ones, but… 

Eh, I guess that’s about how it goes. Spearman suppressed a smile. If you were always just a little concerned as you went forward, it meant you were going about the right pace. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Priestess replied to Witch’s query. “But… Well, we really don’t know anything at all, so we don’t know what to ask first…” 

“I’ve heard it’s so hot that it’s recommended to bring something to block out the sunlight,” Female Merchant said. 

“Sure enough, it’d be a rough trip without something like that. Even with it, a god of sunstroke can still get its hands on you and kill you off.” Spearman said this with an intent to give them a little fright and received a gratifying “Huh?” from the girls, who looked at each other. 

“Um,” Priestess said hesitantly. “Do they have those there, even though there aren’t mountain passes?” 

Gods of sunstroke were widely believed to be a kind of demon that lived in high mountain passes. They clung, unable to be dislodged, to the backs of those who labored out in the heat. They would suck dry the spirit and vitality from the body until the victim grew faint and ultimately died. There was no agreement about what they were: the spirits of those who had died of starvation, evil ghosts from the depths of the earth, or perhaps something else entirely. 

Spearman had encountered these creatures once or twice. Back when he had acquired some metal armor for the first time and put it on without really thinking it through—back when he was less experienced than he was now. When he thought back, he remembered old mercenaries at the tavern in his hometown recounting with laughter how often knights, even in the military, would simply topple from their horses and die. 

“You ask me, they’re probably some sort of spirit of illness,” Spearman said, but then he made a motion with his hand as if to wave away the entire subject. Gods of sunstroke were no big deal if you knew how to deal with them. Eat some provisions, have a drink of water, and rest for a bit in the shade; that was all it took. Of course, there was no shade in the desert, so you had to be especially careful. “Anyway, it’s more than just hot, the desert,” he added. “Gets mighty cold at night.” 

“Cold?” Female Merchant said, blinking. She looked a little pale somehow. “You mean…as cold as the snowy mountain?” 

“Yes…” Witch nodded. “About that cold, I would…say.” Was Spearman the only one who noticed Female Merchant shiver at this? A bad memory, perhaps. Her fingers brushed a spot on the back of her neck. “And…so,” Witch went on with a sweetheart glance in Female Merchant’s direction, “you take a thin…light, cloth, you see? And cover yourself. From head…to toe.” 

“Not exposing any skin, that’s the smart play,” Spearman explained. “Nothing’s out in the open, nothing gets burned.” He glanced at the girls’ pretty faces. It would be a true shame for such pale, fine skin to swell and redden with sun or frost. 

Precious treasures ought to be protected. Spearman repeated for emphasis, “Top and bottom, remember. Have a nice, thin overgarment made. Something loose, made of hemp.” 

“What do you mean ‘and bottom’?” Priestess asked, puzzled. 

“It’s for reflection,” Spearman answered. 

Until they saw the way the sun sparkled off the sand for themselves, they would never understand. Priestess, though, put a finger to her lips and said, “I see. It really is like going to the snowy mountain…” 

Oh yeah… I guess she’s been to that mountain a couple of times. Spearman remembered she had joined that warrior and his cleric friend as part of their party on a trip to the snowy mountain. Well! Spearman felt himself smile a little. She really was gaining some experience. 

Fighting monsters wasn’t the only way to accumulate experience points. Personal growth meant more than just improved abilities or new skills. People who didn’t understand that had a tendency to rush ahead and wind up dead. But this girl, he saw that she was taking the true path and making a fine job of it. 

Even if she may not see it herself. And who could blame her, surrounded by Silvers like she was… 

“Is there anything else?” Spearman was pulled back to reality by the piercing, direct question. He realized Female Merchant was looking at him with eyes as clear as glass. As if the rapier at her hip wasn’t evidence enough, this look was proof that she was no callow child. She, no less than Priestess, had acquired some real experience. 

“Oh, sorry,” Spearman mumbled. There was much to teach them. “First off, quicksand. The only thing quick about it is how fast it’ll drag you under…” 

Then there was the wind to warn them about. The monsters that lived in the desert. How to travel. How to rest. The desert towns. Whatever questions Spearman couldn’t answer or whenever he forgot something, Witch would jump in with her own advice. It was all knowledge they had gained by going places they didn’t know and didn’t understand and simply failing again and again. 

He had no intention of giving all this up without a reward. Anyone who expected him to, didn’t understand the true value of this knowledge. But helping someone trying to go farther down the path, that was different. At least Spearman thought so. 

Female Merchant nodded along seriously, writing in a notebook with a pencil, providing a constant, scratching background noise to their conversation. Beside her, Priestess was repeating everything Spearman said quietly, committing it to memory. The only things they really had in common were their honey-colored eyes and their gold hair, yet, to Spearman, they came to look like sisters. He pictured them returning safely from their adventure… 

Yeah, I like that picture. 

Witch’s interest seemed suddenly piqued. She gave a motion of her pipe and exhaled some smoke. “Say. You, do you…not need to…write anything down?” 

“Oh, no, ma’am,” Priestess replied smoothly. “I wouldn’t want the information getting into anyone else’s hands. That could mean trouble.” 

Spearman looked up without a word. All he saw was the ceiling. 

“Is something the matter?” 

He didn’t worry about who had voiced the question. Maybe Female Merchant, maybe Priestess. Maybe both. 

“…Nah, never mind.” 

Well, he did mind, but… No, it was fine. He would just let it go. It wasn’t his responsibility. 

“Gygax!” Spearman cursed under his breath, then resumed telling the girls what he knew. Witch chuckled softly beside him, and it sounded to him like the laughter of some god. 

§ 

He’s working pretty late today, she thought, stilling the hand that was stirring the stew and gently stretching her arm. She looked past the canary in its cage, out the window. In the evening gloom, she could just see an orange light seeping out from the shed. 

He was there. Just knowing that brought a bit of a smile to her face. 

It was nothing unusual for him to come home late. He was often out on adventures, after all. Even on his days off—if they could be called that—he tended to go out, or at least help with chores around the farm. Her thought about “today” specifically was simply because he was cooped up in the shed. 

He’d been there all afternoon, ever since he had come home and then announced that he had something to investigate. He’d gone into the shed with a selection of the great many books he’d received some years ago. Most of them had been donated to the Adventurers Guild; she had even helped move them, but now… 

Books, huh? 

She was actually impressed he could read. She herself knew her letters; she had learned by stumbling imitation. Sums, too, she could handle some of. It came in handy around the farm. But reading a real book, that was difficult. Studying was hard. One could certainly survive without learning things, but to live better, she suspected learning was crucial. Take the meeting her uncle was attending tonight. One had to understand commerce. 

It’s got to be tough on him, she thought, then smiled at herself for acting as if it had nothing to do with her. At the moment, it didn’t. But how much longer would that be true? 

Her uncle was getting on in years. She tended to picture him as he had seemed to her in her younger days, but when she took an honest look at him now… 

Well, there were a lot of challenges. 

She let out a sigh and smacked herself on the cheeks. Time to get her perspective back. 

“All right!” 

With a purpose determined, it was best to move directly into action. Fretting and dragging your feet would eventually leave you paralyzed. That’s how it always was. 

She nodded to herself with conviction, then clawed through the shelves until she found their camping oven. A small cast-iron object, it was literally a portable cooking device made to be used when camping. She put some of the stew from the big pot into a smaller one and closed it with the lid, then took a couple of slices of bread. She made sure to grab a spoon, wine jar, and cup, and then, with the pot of stew dangling from her other hand, she went outside. 

Now, that’s a summer sky. She looked up at where the twin moons floated in a sea of stars. The breath she exhaled gave no hint of fogging but joined the cool breeze that swept through the humid air. The gentle murmur of the farm was all around her. In the distance, she could hear the mooing of some restless cows. If she strained her eyes to look down the road, she could see the lights of the town in the distance. 

She spent a moment drinking in the familiar scene, then pattered over to the shed. Squinting against the light that poured out from within, she pushed the door open gently to a quiet squeak of hinges. 

“…Hey, I’ve got dinner, okay?” 

“All right.” 

That was his entire answer. But for once, his voice didn’t sound muddled. 

The shelves were packed with items she couldn’t identify, and he sat at the far end of the little shed. He was turning the pages of some kind of book by the light of a lamp. 

He wasn’t wearing his armor or his helmet. The sight of him quietly but intensely engaged tugged on her heartstrings. Not wanting to disturb him, she entered and closed the door behind her as quietly as she could. 

“What’s that you’re reading?” 

“I’m researching about the desert.” 

The desert? It took her a second to understand the word, and she looked at him in puzzlement. The desert. Just desserts. Justice. Deserts. Ahh—the desert. 

She came to the end of this chain of associations—but she also came to the proper meaning of the word. She had never expected he would be researching anything other than goblins. Though when they had been small, of course, he had pestered his older sister with questions about all kinds of things. 

“I’ve found a book that appears to include stories from that country, but they’re mixed in with stories from a variety of other places,” he said, shaking his head as he flipped the pages. Magic lamps and spirits, a girl of cinders. “It’s like an old acquaintance of mine once told me…you will never know until you go and see things with your own eyes.” 

“You mean you’re going to the desert country next?” 

“I expect so.” 

“Huh…” 

Wonder what kind of place it is. 

She remembered hearing, long ago, that the desert was part of the country just over the eastern border and that there they rode donkeys with lumps on their backs or something… 

When she mumbled this aloud, he mumbled back, “Seems that’s true.” 

I was sure it was just a story… 

One thing a desert was sure to have was lots of sand. She frowned, trying to picture sand as far as the eye could see. She had never encountered anything of the sort, though, and the image in her mind’s eye wasn’t much more detailed than a child’s scribblings. Finally she abandoned the half-formed vision. She sat down heavily, leaning against his back. She felt him, firm and warm, behind her. “Your dinner’s gonna get cold.” 

“I know,” he said and a second later added, “I’ll eat it in a moment.” 

She thought about that for a second, then laughed; there was nothing she could do. They had known each other a long time, even if there were five years missing in the middle. She knew immediately that he was mulling something over intently. 

“Is it a tough place, this desert?” 

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve never been.” 

“Oh, that’s right,” she replied with a nod, and he responded in the affirmative. 

“It’s a whole other country. Your first time in another country. That’s amazing.” She clapped her hands, a show of innocent pleasure. She herself had never been to another country. It was really something. 

He did take me to see the elf village, though. 

She didn’t think that was exactly the same as a foreign country. A wonderful place, the sort of place some people might never see in their entire lifetime, and a cherished memory, certainly. But actually going to another nation to do what one was going to do—what was that if not an adventure? 

“You’ve never been there, either.” His words were short. They almost sounded like a grunt, like he was squeezing them out. “I thought it might be best to ask…if you minded or not.” 

“Oh…” 

I get it. So that was what he meant. Ages ago, she had gone to a town he had never been to. It had become a fight and the last she had seen of him for a long while. 

Now their positions were reversed. And that was why he seemed a little nervous. She smiled as she connected the dots. She turned, and before he could grunt at her, she had her arms around his head. 

“…What?” He sounded troubled. Somehow, she found it terribly amusing, and she mussed his hair enthusiastically. She was surprised to find he didn’t resist her but took the mussing like a docile puppy. 

“Hey. You want to be an adventurer, don’t you?” 

“…” 

There was no answer. But she didn’t really need to ask. 

“Then you have to adventure.” 

She pulled his head close and whispered the words into his ear. Once again, there wasn’t a response right away; she didn’t expect one. 

After a long moment, he asked, “…Is that so?” 

“Sure is,” she responded, then, nodding, added “Definitely” for emphasis. “And to help you on your adventure, I think you should eat the food I so thoughtfully made for you and then get a good night’s sleep before you set out.” 

“…Hrm,” he grunted but once again didn’t resist. She pulled the stewpot over to them, opened the lid, and shared the bread and stew with him. The stew had gone a little cold, but even so it was a labor of the heart. 

It always would be.