Goblin Slayer - Volume 11 - Chapter 5

Chapter 5 – Goblin Slayer In The Country Of Sand

“Are they gone?” 

“Looks like.” 

At this assurance from High Elf Archer, Goblin Slayer sat up on the rock shelf. Slick with the recent rain (the first in a long time, he assumed), the wet rock and sand combined to create a noticeable chill. And night was coming. It would be cold tonight, he was sure. 

As clear as the air might be, though, catching sight of the sand ship far in the distance was no easy task. Even at high noon, with the leather-and-crystal telescope he had gotten, it would have been impossible for Goblin Slayer. But the eyes of a high elf could perceive such things easily. The fact seemed to be lost on High Elf Archer, who stood with her ears flicking as if this were just another task. 

Goblin Slayer and the others had escaped the city under the cover of twilight and proceeded west, into the sand. A qanat, an underground tunnel, directed irrigation water to the surface, where it flowed like a river, mirrorlike; they simply had to follow it back to its source. 

And when they arrived there, the party discovered the stronghold castle rising as a great dark silhouette against the night. It stood magisterial upon a cliff of bedrock that rose above the river. At any other time it might have been beautiful, but at this moment it looked wicked and vile. 

“This whole area’s a hamada, all rocks, so we won’t want for hiding places,” Dwarf Shaman said, taking a delicate sip of his dwindling fire wine supply. Now that the sand ship was past, they had a moment to breathe. “Personally, I don’t know from desert ships, but that one certainly looked fancy enough for a king.” 

“Meaning our information was not mistaken.” Lizard Priest slowly unfurled himself from where he had been hunched in the shadows of the rocks, his huge form straightening up. “It seems our dear prime minister is most interested in this fortress and that he has been purchasing many a slave. 

“Or perhaps not,” he added in a murmur, drinking from a waterskin that seemed inordinately heavy for something that should have been filled with simple liquid. But it was only natural: Inside was a thick cheese made of water-buffalo milk. Lizard Priest all but squeezed it down his throat, smacking his lips and announcing, “Sweet nectar!” His eyes rolled in his head as he savored the treat, and then he glanced at Female Merchant. 

She had her hand on the silver sword at her hip and was crouched in a low stance; she looked very much like she had something she wanted to say. “And how, if I may ask, did things go for you?” Lizard Priest inquired. 

Female Merchant blinked, then said with some satisfaction, “…I heard the same thing. They’ve been taking more of everything into that stronghold—resources, weapons, provisions, slaves. But…” 

“Yes?” 

“But even in the city, no one seemed to think they had actually taken on more soldiers,” Female Merchant continued with a look of disquiet, and everyone fell silent. 

There were many possible explanations. For example, maybe it was not soldiers but slaves who would be doing the fighting. If the only intention was to give them spears and send a crowd of them rushing at the enemy, there was little difference between slaves and conscripted civilians. But Priestess had the distinct impression that there was more than this at work. When she looked at the dark, looming structure, she got that familiar prickle down her neck. 

She didn’t know whether it was a sort of revelation or simply a compulsive idea. But… 

“…The point is, they’re expanding operations in there.” She murmured just those few words, and the damp wind seemed to carry them away with the sand. 

“Yes,” Goblin Slayer said with a nod. “That at least seems to be the likely conclusion.” 

Gathering information wasn’t the only thing they had done after they’d split into three groups in the city. Every clue they had acquired since coming to this country pointed to this stronghold. The soldiers pretending to be bandits. The fact that those same soldiers appeared to be allied with a goblin horde. Goblins who had resources enough to support mounts and equipment for many fighters. It was a large-scale force. 

But death swirled in the desert. The sandstorms. The sand mantas. The baking sun. And then there was the lack of food and water. 

The Myrmidons would not overlook the goblins, either, most likely. 

The map they had received from the Myrmidon captain was remarkably detailed, and one look at it revealed all. There was nowhere in this area for such a large group of goblins to hide. Even bandits or a force of Chaos would have found it difficult. All the more so a group of impatient, undisciplined goblins. 

So where was their nest? 

“Thus one supposes that the key to the secret of the goblins must be somewhere in that fortress,” Lizard Priest said. 

“It is impossible to be certain. We won’t know until we get in there,” Goblin Slayer replied, then pulled the scroll of papyrus from his bag. High Elf Archer looked at it with keen interest as he unrolled it. “Whazzat?” 

“Plans,” he answered. He looked them over, and then, completely ignoring High Elf Archer’s exclamation of “Oh!,” he tore the paper into pieces and threw them away. The wind promptly caught the shreds of paper and carried them off. 

“Hey, I was still looking at that!” High Elf Archer whined. 

“I promised that I would show it to no one else and that after I had read it, I would destroy it.” 

High Elf Archer had no rebuttal, instead settling on a snort of displeasure. A second later, though, her ears stood on end and she stuck out her flat chest just as much as she could. “That’s fine! I memorized it in just that one glance!” 

“I see.” Goblin Slayer’s response was as mild as ever, provoking High Elf Archer to puff out her cheeks with a “Grr!” 

“Now, now,” Priestess said placatingly, even as she smiled a little. She found herself reflecting on how accustomed she had become to this sort of banter. On that first quest together, and indeed for some time after, she’d had a tendency to panic when Dwarf Shaman and High Elf Archer took jabs at each other. 

But it’s really a good sign. It means they’re not too nervous. 

Nervousness made the body tense up. You lost the ability to make instantaneous judgments. 

“Mm,” Priestess said to herself. Then she asked, “But how are we going to get in? Do we go right at it from the front?” 

“With my safe-conduct pass, I might be able to get them to admit me as a merchant…,” Female Merchant offered, but she didn’t look sure. She furrowed her well-formed eyebrows, her thumb resting against her lip as she worried at the nail. 

Lizard Priest continued the idea. “One cannot expect them to give outsiders, how shall we say, a guided tour of their facility. Especially outsiders from a hostile state.” 

Yes, there was the rub. This was different from simply marching into a goblin hole. This nest was tightly guarded. 

Goblin Slayer thought silently for a moment, then the metal helmet turned toward Lizard Priest. “What do you think?” 

“If we consider the annals of legendary heroes, we encounter a story in which some passed themselves off as members of the enemy army.” 

“And they were able to get in?” 

“It would seem they succeeded,” Lizard Priest said. “They fabricated a situation, then pretended to be in desperate circumstances in order to get important information to their comrades.” 

“Whatever we pretend to be, guests or soldiers or what have you, ’twon’t be easy to reach the keep, I should think,” Dwarf Shaman interjected, stroking his beard. 

“Indeed, indeed. And the worse for us, for the keep is not our objective…” Lizard Priest seemed even more serious than before. What they needed now were plans, ideas, and cards to play. They had to hope that these would emerge from the discussion. Lizard Priest understood that when a group was brainstorming, the worst thing one could do was to shoot down another’s idea. 

“What if we were to sneak in?” Goblin Slayer asked with a grunt. “Assuming we can.” 

“That would be ideal,” Lizard Priest said, rolling his eyes. “But it is a matter of how strict the guard is.” He thumped his tail against the ground, causing little puffs of sand to jump into the air. “That good, hard rain may prove a gift from heaven.” 

“Yes, you’re right…,” Priestess said and looked up at the sky. Until shortly before, it had been pouring such rain that one would never have believed this was a desert. Behind the curtain of precipitation, a person would have been nearly invisible no matter where they went. 

“Besides, I can’t imagine any goblin guards will be taking their work very seriously…,” Priestess added. She sounded hesitant but more engaged than usual. 

Yes, if this had been a goblin nest they had been talking about, it would all have been so simple. But a stronghold? …A fortress? In Priestess’s mind, she wasn’t sure what the difference was. She’d fought her way into more than one such place in her time, but… 

Fire, maybe…? 

No, no. She shook her head. There might be captives in there. They would have to be sure before they could consider using fire. Back to square one. 

“What sort of soldiers do you suppose are in there?” Priestess asked. 

“The ones we ran into at the border didn’t seem like much more than thieves or bandits, did they?” High Elf Archer said, waving a hand dismissively. She saw no reason to be overly concerned about people like that, but there were no guarantees that all the soldiers in that stronghold were so lax. One bad apple—or two or three—didn’t mean the whole bunch was rotten. 

“Right, then.” Dwarf Shaman, who had put on his thinking face, finally stopped fiddling with his wine jar and turned to High Elf Archer. Her ears sat back as she registered the nasty grin on his face. 

“We’re not pretending to be slaves again, Orcbolg! It’s not happening!” She pointed a lovely finger at him emphatically as she got to her feet. She was clearly trying to cover for Priestess and Female Merchant as well, but Dwarf Shaman merely shrugged. 

“Er, if it’s really necessary, then I could…,” Priestess began. 

“…Me too…,” Female Merchant added. 

But the high elf snapped, “No, you couldn’t! I know we talk about winning by any means necessary, but it’s better if we can win without resorting to any means!” Then, she added under her breath: “Besides, if we left Orcbolg to his own devices, he would come up with the worst stuff.” 

That, at least, Priestess understood in her bones. “Well, you’re not wrong…,” she said as evasively as she could. 

Even confronted with such orders and demands, though, Goblin Slayer only said what he always did: “Is that so?” He didn’t mind having to rethink his ideas, which was part of why everyone had taken him for their leader. There was no hierarchy in the party, but the ability to glance around at everyone and then render a decision was an important quality. Parties that simply nodded along to whatever their leader said and never questioned them, though, those parties didn’t last long. 

When, at length, he finally said what they had all been waiting for—“I have a plan”—they listened intently. Then they turned to see what the cheap-looking metal helmet was looking at. 

“…?” Female Merchant looked downright perplexed. Behind her was everything she had brought to do business with and all the party’s belongings, all on a herd of lumpy donkeys. 

§ 

“Heeeeeey! Open up! Open the gaaaaate!” 

The clear, insistent voice startled the dozing guard on the other side of the castle gate into wakefulness. He had become so transfixed by the unusual sight of the pouring rain that he must have drifted off. 

Crap. If anyone found out… He’d lose his head. In fact, that might be the best he could hope for. 

The soldier quickly picked up his spear, peeking out an arrow port in the side of the stronghold. He looked in the direction of the little bridge in front of the main gate—and then he thought he might choke. For standing there was a refined, beautiful young woman in some foreign outfit in a style he had never seen before. She was leading several camels, and a silver sword shone at her hip. It was as though she had walked out of a story. 

“Can’t you hear me? Open the gate!” the young woman repeated in her commanding voice. 

The guard was thoroughly intimidated, but he shouted back in a voice he hoped was just as threatening: “Wh-who or what are you?!” 

“Who or what?! That’s the rudest greeting I’ve ever heard my life!” 

The guard found that this rebuke stung more than being dressed down by his commanding officer. The young woman spread her arms as if she couldn’t believe she had to do this, but in her hand she pointedly displayed a safe-conduct pass. “I’ve come from the next country over to do business. I’ve also been granted permission to study your land. Don’t tell me you haven’t heard?” 

Before the soldier could focus his eyes in the darkness well enough to be sure of what she was holding, the woman put the pass away. Her neatly fitted clothing that emphasized her generous chest drew the guard’s gaze. He swallowed hard. 

Then the guard heard the voice of his commanding officer behind him. “What’s going on? Is something the matter?” He froze. He was surprised to realize, though, that this man, who had felt like a thorn in his side a moment before, suddenly seemed such a reassuring presence. 

“Yes, sir—I mean, no sir—I mean…” The guard maintained an obedient attitude, while attempting to foist all the responsibility on the officer. “There’s a foreign merchant woman outside, or so she claims, and I…I need orders, sir!” 

“Say what?” The officer had not been expecting this at all. 

Gods, if it isn’t one thing, it’s another! 

His subordinates were idiots, and his own superior officer, the captain, was forever getting these ideas into his head. Change stations. Change sleeping quarters. Change the patrol routes. And now there was a visitor, and he hadn’t deigned to tell anyone. It was trouble from hell to breakfast, and if it hadn’t been for his perquisites (which was how the man thought of the thieving he did on the side), he didn’t know how he would have coped. 

The officer had the guard move out of the way and looked out the arrow port himself. When he saw the lovely young woman standing there, he realized he could let out some of his frustrations on her. Nobody could complain if he did his job—so he would do his job to the letter. It was no affair of his what might happen because of it. If the imperious-looking young woman was inconvenienced by it, if that reprehensible commander found his plans stymied because of it, well, wouldn’t that be grand. 

“No, we haven’t heard,” the officer said. “You’ll just have to wait there until we can verify it.” 

“I see you up there!” the young noblewoman called out. It seemed she had seen clear through his little plan. Her voice was as sharp as an arrow as she said, “You think you can get out of this by feigning ignorance? This is a question of responsibility. You, what’s your name?” 

“Ahem, er, I— Hrm?” 

“I’ll have no choice but to report that I had to wait because you were too lazy to stay up to date on the latest communications.” Quite in contrast to the increasingly troubled officer, the young woman sounded calmer and calmer. Her voice was like a storm. And like a storm, just because it had calmed didn’t mean it was over. “Go ahead—verify with your superiors, send a post horse to the city, do whatever you like.” 

But do it knowing what’s likely to happen to your head as a result, eh? 

The officer could see the young woman smirking even through the curtain of night. He swallowed heavily. He glanced at the man who had been on guard, but he only stood up straighter and tried to look subordinate. Whatever happened, this guard was as likely as that girl to finger the officer as the one in charge. 

Damn them both to— 

In his heart, the officer roundly cursed the gods and the wind and the dice. But curse them as he might, it wouldn’t make things any better. 

To open the gate and let her through or not. The young woman was growing visibly more irate the longer she waited. There was no way to check who she was. The officer gritted his teeth. 

“What’s taking so long? Make up your mind,” the young woman demanded, scuffing the earth irritably with the toe of her boots. On closer inspection, the officer could see a tall, large-bodied man standing beside the young woman. A padfoot—no, the jaws that protruded from the scarf over his head were unmistakably those of a lizardman. 

She wasn’t alone. Of course not. Had she been by herself, they might have been able to handle her somehow. 

The officer hated trouble like this. He hated having to take time and effort to deal with things. And most of all, he hated having responsibility dumped on him. And then there was another consideration… 

At least if they just cut off my head, it’ll be over. But please don’t let me wind up in there! 

At last thinking purely of self-preservation, the officer shouted, “Open the gate!” 

“Yes sir, opening the gate!” his subordinate said gladly and began working a pulley to raise the double portcullises. 

Ahh, the hell with it! 

If push came to shove, he would just run for it, the officer thought, letting out a breath. 

§ 

“Thank you,” the female merchant said, smiling, as she led her camels through the now-open gate. As for the officer of the guard who stood there to usher her in, his face was frozen in a look of profound displeasure. So she slipped a golden coin into his hand as she walked past. She knew how business was done here. 

The officer blinked in momentary surprise, but his gaze softened a little, almost in spite of himself. Humans were driven by emotion, but not without occasional reference to the motivation of profit. If a person served for ages someplace where he could expect no benefits and no gain, of course he would become resentful. 

…I know that from experience. Female Merchant felt a bitter taste on the back of her tongue, but her noble upbringing helped her prevent it from showing on her face. If this place had been closer to the city—if it had been properly secret—things might have been different. Or had it been more thoroughly on the side of Chaos, ironically, discipline might have been tighter. But this man was still confident he could get away from the wrath of his superiors. So he was soft. 

Anyway… 

It was Female Merchant’s experiences in the palaces and noble places of the world that had allowed her to make these calculations. If she had only ever experienced life as an adventurer, this probably wouldn’t have gone so smoothly. 

“A-ahem, allow me to show you to your room, then…,” the officer said reluctantly, but Female Merchant stopped him. 

“That won’t be necessary. As I said, inspection is part of my mandate— If I simply spend all my time in my room, I won’t know if I’m getting my money’s worth on this investment.” Then she gave him a little smile. I know what I want, it said. I may be your ally, but I’m not your friend. 

Then there was… The officer looked up. There was the massive lizardman standing behind the young woman. 

Except it wasn’t. It was a Dragontooth Warrior, summoned with a deeply heartfelt prayer. Covered with a cloak and given a weapon to hold, it did a convincing impression of a brutish mercenary. Which was funny, considering that in the bedtime stories she’d heard as a girl, such creatures were only ever the surprisingly fragile servants of evil wizards. 

Strange, then, how doughty it appears to me now. 

She would never have been able to take on this “battle” alone. Forcing her hands and her voice not to shake, she said firmly, “Hence, perhaps you could show me to the garrison instead? I’m sure you must have requests regarding bedding, clothing, and food.” 

“M-ma’am. It’s…not a pretty place…” 

“As a sign of goodwill, I’ve brought tea and snacks for all the soldiers, if you know what I mean.” The woman glanced pointedly at the load on the camels. That would give the poor officer the convenient idea that whatever it was would be of benefit to him. 

“Er, ah, we—we’re very thankful, I’m sure… Ma’am?” 

“First, I’ll need somewhere to tie up these lumpy donkeys. Do you have a storehouse? Or perhaps a corral? Is it over here?” 

Even as she voiced the question, Female Merchant started walking on her slim legs. 

She appeared to be some kind of foreign noble. An investor in the stronghold, no less. This was getting better. And “tea and snacks”? The scales in the officer’s mind tipped crazily between the fear of the impertinent way he had treated her and the potential good she was offering him. 

The effect on him—to say nothing of his subordinate—was obvious as the officer hurried after her. People speak of “good guards” and “bad guards,” but things were simpler than that. 

Just convince them they have to make an important decision here and now. It was the oldest trick in the book. 

“You’ll have to forgive me, but it seems I’ll need your help a little longer yet,” Female Merchant said to the pitiful soldiers, then offered them her most ravishing smile. 

§ 

As the soldiers above were scrambling to give Female Merchant the reception she appeared to deserve, ripples were appearing on the river that ran, seemingly as wide as a sea, past the base of the bedrock on which the stronghold was built. The rain had stirred up the river and made it cloudy with mud, while night added its inky black touch. Nobody noticed the ripples or the hand that reached up and grabbed the rock face. 

A beautiful young elf woman emerged. Even if anyone had seen her, they wouldn’t have believed their eyes. Still less when she gave a kick and then flipped up onto the rocks, standing there proudly. “…It’s clear. I don’t sense anyone else around,” she said with a flick of her long ears. “Come on up.” 

There was a bit more splashing, and now some adventurers appeared. They didn’t seem wet at all despite the fact that they had just been underwater; nor did they seem to be gasping for breath. High Elf Archer reached down and helped up first Goblin Slayer, then Dwarf Shaman, then Priestess. Finally Lizard Priest emerged with the largest ripple of all, saying “Pardon me” as he dug his claws into the rock and scrambled up. 

“My oh my, never woulda believed a desert could flood.” Dwarf Shaman shook himself off like a great big dog and settled heavily on the rocks, curling up. The power of Breath, as established, kept them dry, but perhaps he still didn’t feel dry. 

“It might be smart to keep one of these around…” Priestess, for her part, was deep in thought. She liked to think she wasn’t too concerned about money, but still. If I really want to be the best adventurer I can be… Well, maybe a magic item or two wouldn’t go amiss. Perhaps once she reached Sapphire, the seventh rank. 

“Just so we’re clear, this weirdo’s choice of equipment is not typical.” 

“Er,” Priestess hiccupped at her surprise that High Elf Archer seemed to know what she was thinking. The elf was frowning openly, which bothered Priestess a little bit. She thought this ring had come in awfully handy more than once. 

“I mean it,” the high elf repeated, then turned to Goblin Slayer. “So what next?” 

“We sneak in.” 

“The question remains: How?” Goblin Slayer seemed so sure about this, but High Elf Archer only fixed him with a glare. He grunted under that helmet, then felt around in the dark, moving along the rock face. “I initially considered going in from wherever the toilets let out.” 

“Urgh,” High Elf Archer groaned, clearly hoping to be spared this fate. Maybe she was looking up at the boards supporting the fortress where it jutted out above their heads. 

“But it would prove foolish if the passage narrowed partway and we got stuck.” 

“Well, least Long-Ears doesn’t need to worry about that. Being an anvil as she is,” Dwarf Shaman said, then had to stifle his own laugh. 

High Elf Archer growled at him, and Priestess looked down red-faced at her own modest frame. 

“Speak for yourself, dwarf!” High Elf Archer snapped. “I might make it, but you’d be guaranteed to get stuck, being a barrel and all!” 

“Not to mention, y’never know when there might be scavengers in a toilet area,” Dwarf Shaman said, roundly ignoring High Elf Archer. He smiled nastily and looked up at High Elf Archer. “Wouldn’t open up that door if I were you, Long-Ears. Never know if there might be a giant corpse-eatin’ slug in there.” 

“You’d end up squishing it if you went in there yourself. Hmph.” High Elf Archer snorted but looked more or less satisfied, and this was the last of her objections. 

Priestess couldn’t see what Goblin Slayer was looking for, but everyone else seemed to be able to. “Here it is,” he said, his gloved hand grasping a gate set into the rock. Priestess leaned over carefully to see it; she discovered what looked like the door of a jail cell. It had a neat lock and clean hinges, suggesting it was meant to open and close instead of remaining fixed in place. Just one thing bothered her: The lock had no keyhole, at least not on the outside. 

“This isn’t…quite a normal door, is it?” Priestess said. “It leads right out onto the water anyway.” 

“Normal? Yes and no. One could conceivably use such a word to describe it…,” Lizard Priest whispered jovially, rolling his eyes in amusement. He stuck out his tongue and placed a clawed hand on the lock. “In any event, I do believe this is our mistress ranger’s moment to shine.” 

“Yeah, sure. But this isn’t my main class, okay? Outta the way.” High Elf Archer slid forward, and the others slid back into the space she had just occupied. She worked one slim arm between the bars, bent her wrist, and inserted a needle-thin twig into the keyhole. “Argh, man, what a pain,” she grumbled. 

“Quit whinin’,” Dwarf Shaman scolded her. “If y’have too much trouble, we’ll just bust it open. So relax, relax!” 

“You sound a little too relaxed!” High Elf Archer replied with a very un-high-elf-like puff of her cheeks, but after another moment’s work she nodded. “There. Got it. Let’s do this.” The lock released with a click, and she caught it in midair, happily pushing the barred door open. 

One step inside, and it was already like a gloomy cave. The floor had been smoothed and carved almost like flagstones, but it was clear that this tunnel had been bored out above the bedrock. Big stones stuck out here and there, and Dwarf Shaman sniffed at them with indignity. Dwarves would never have done such rough work. “Though it ain’t bad for some humans, I guess. I admire the effort, but—” 

“Urgh…” He was interrupted by a groan from High Elf Archer, who had taken point. 

Here in the tunnel, the fresh breeze that had blown off the river was replaced by a fetid stench. It seemed to be the odor of someone rotting away while they still lived, mixed with all kinds of filth. It almost seemed the reek of death itself. 

“Can’t expect much better of a prison, I s’pose,” Dwarf Shaman said. “Not meant to be a happy place.” 

There was a clatter, and Priestess realized the heavy thing that had just brushed against her ankles was a set of chains and manacles. She recoiled, only to find herself hemmed in by a protruding rock. She had no choice but to stand stock-still and make herself as small as possible while she waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. 

Dwarf Shaman spoke again: “Looks like it only goes one way. Makes sense, I guess.” 

“Yes,” Goblin Slayer replied briefly, then he produced a torch from his item pouch and struck a flint to it. There was a fwoosh and a glow of orange light, and they discovered that they were indeed inside a prison carved out of the stone. Stakes were pounded into the walls, chains attached to them. But what really drew Priestess’s attention was a space set high above everything else that looked like a shelf. 

It was the landing of a staircase carved in the rock, which extended up from the prison. But it didn’t go anywhere; it led instead to several wooden beams. Beyond the beams—below them—was empty space, except for some dangling straw ropes… 

“Oh…,” Priestess said, putting the pieces together. “They hung the prisoners from these bars…?!” And then threw away the bodies. She couldn’t quite bring herself to say this last part; she felt her throat close up. 

“Any castle will have something like this. The more so if it be by a lake or river.” Lizard Priest was trying to comfort her. He brought his hands together in a strange gesture. A beat later, Priestess clasped her own hands with some uncertainty and offered a short prayer. To Lizard Priest, perhaps it seemed a fitting burial that the bodies should be washed away to be eaten by the fish. Priestess couldn’t quite reconcile herself to the idea, but in any event they were alike in praying for the repose of the departed. 

While the two clerics interceded for the peace of the dead with their respective faiths, Goblin Slayer examined the floor. Piles of excrement, eating utensils, all dry: If the prisoners hadn’t been starved to death, the utensils certainly showed no sign of having been used. 

“I don’t think this place has been occupied for some time,” Goblin Slayer said. 

“Well, there sure isn’t anyone here now,” High Elf Archer replied. “Humans are so cruel. You hardly live for a century, but you’ll lock people up for most of that time.” 

“It’s punishment,” Goblin Slayer said softly from under his visor, shaking his head. “But what’s happening now is not a punishment—it’s a death sentence.” 

In any event, he had counted on there being no prisoners. That meant there would be no guards. They had waited long enough that Female Merchant probably had most of the soldiers in the palm of her hand. But she would only be able to keep them that way for so long. 

Goblin Slayer stood in front of the heavy iron door that separated the prison from the castle proper and said, “What do you think?” 

High Elf Archer, to whom he had been speaking, took a glance at the door and then clicked her tongue so elegantly it was almost a work of art. “Not happening, I don’t think. Even if I could manage, it would take a lot of time.” 

Yes, of course. Goblin Slayer nodded, then patted the door seals with his gloved hand. “How about the hinges, then?” 

“That’s dwarf business,” Dwarf Shaman said, coming over and spitting on his palms. “A moment, if you please.” 

“A moment” turned out to be hardly more than two minutes, and the door was off. This sort of thing would have been ridiculous to attempt in a dungeon or some old ruins, but that’s not where they were. There is a time and place for every idea, with all their various advantages and disadvantages. As removing the door was, in this case, better than picking the lock, the adventurers didn’t hesitate. 

“…” 

Then a great dark opening yawned before them. Priestess couldn’t stop thinking that it looked like a goblin den. 

§ 

“Hoh. There’s another one down,” Female Merchant muttered to herself as another of the guards in the guardhouse crumpled to the ground, unconscious. She felt a trickle of cold sweat running down her cheek. 

I’ve made a mistake. 

She couldn’t escape the thought. Especially not with the soldier glaring intimidatingly at her from where he sat across from her. 

“…What’s the matter? It’s your turn.” 

“…Don’t you think I know that?!” Puckering his face, the man grabbed the dagger lodged in the tabletop. He spread his hand on the table, then took a deep breath. “Twenty times before the sand in the glass runs out.” 

“Understood.” 

“Good! …H-hrah!” And he immediately began stabbing the knife up and down between his fingers. One slight misjudgment could have cost him a digit, but he couldn’t hesitate. A moment’s reluctance meant defeat. This game, mumbly peg, was all about speed and how many times you could stab the knife. It was better than stronghold roulette—in which you had six daggers, five of which were toys and one of which was real, and players stabbed at one another with them—but not by much. 

I’ve made a huge, huge mistake. 

Female Merchant struggled to keep her regret and anxiety off her face. She had only let the expression show once since she’d arrived at the stronghold. It wasn’t when she had given the tea and snacks to the soldiers at the guardhouse. It wasn’t when the soldiers had piled in for the goods, jostling and shoving to be first with all the enthusiasm of men who were perennially constrained by discipline. 

No, it was only the moment when one of the soldiers reached out and touched her by way of a prank. “Eek!” she had exclaimed like a little girl and slapped his hand away. That was the only time. 

By the time she regretted the lapse, it was already too late. Nobody enjoys hearing someone else be upset with them. The soldiers had been in high spirits, enjoying sweet treats such as they so rarely got and the lovely (if she might think it of herself as such) foreign lady. 

But the atmosphere changed instantly, and Female Merchant found herself the subject of many a suspicious stare. Maybe she shouldn’t have taken that step back at that moment, either. However… 

They just looked so much like goblins. 

She had suddenly found her ears full of whistling wind, much like a blizzard gale. The wind that intimated this was back where she had been earlier in the night. The friends, the further adventures, everything she had done up to this moment, had been nothing but a pleasant fantasy. She started to think maybe she was still trapped in that snowy waste… 

“?” 

Shf. She felt the Dragontooth Warrior shift behind her. She glanced in its direction, realizing her breath was coming fast and shallow. The Warrior, of course, was just a skeleton covered by a scarf and coat; there was no expression on its face. It had no will of its own, but simply obeyed its master’s command to protect this young woman. The steel sword it carried was just something she had scared up in town, a common weapon. But back then, she could never have imagined having someone to protect her. 

And since she had been rescued, her friends did much more than simply protect her. 

She took a deep breath. 

“Everything’s all right,” she said with a brave smile, gesturing the Dragontooth Warrior back. Then she said, “Let’s go about this like civilized folk,” and removed her overcoat. She was aware that the sweat made her shirt stick to her skin. She ignored the soldiers who stared at her (whether it be from shock or excitement, she didn’t care). With her right hand she drew an aluminum dagger; she spread her left on the table and then, with a smile like a blossoming flower, said, “How about a round of mumbly peg? Surely strong warriors like yourselves aren’t afraid, are you?” 

There was a clatter of gold and silver coins piling up on the table, and, well, you know the rest. 

Driven by intoxication and excitement, the soldiers didn’t start small but went right for this most dangerous game. A nerve-racking gamble. The onlooking soldiers swallowed heavily each time they stood up their knives. When one man stepped down, too afraid to go any farther, there would be a crowd shoving and exclaiming, “Outta the way, I’m next!” 

But gradually, their movements became less sure. Some grazed their fingers. One stabbed his palm. An odor of iron drifted through the room. And then finally, the soldiers began to drop away one by one, as if fainting with fatigue. Did the rest of the men notice the disturbance, fixated as they were on the opponents before them? She dearly hoped they wouldn’t—and she had to keep up the act to make sure they didn’t. After all, the perfume soaked into her clothes only invited drunkenness. In food, the medicinal taste might give it away—but who knew what a foreign woman’s perfume smelled like? They didn’t give it a second thought. Especially not when they were busy being delighted by an entertainment (and an appetite) they weren’t likely to encounter again anytime soon. The stimulation would get the drug into their systems quicker as well. 

“You’re next, li’l lady!” 

“Of course. Twenty times you went, yes?” Female Merchant stroked the rings with the spikes inside to stimulate her fingers, then focused her concentration. She pulled a handful of gold coins from her purse and tossed them on the table, then flipped the sandglass over. “I’ll do thirty times, then.” 

“Hngh…!” 

There was no way to be sure you would win at mumbly peg. The closest thing to a guarantee was to focus on three factors: coolheadedness, accuracy, and precision. Then you could only wait for an overtaxed opponent to lose a finger or cave under the pressure. 

Bah, what is it to me? 

If she lost a finger, so what? It was nothing compared with having a brand burned into the flesh of her neck. 

“Here I go.” 

Female Merchant licked her rose-colored lips with a pink tongue, then brought the dagger down. 

§ 

“Gods… Haven’t they ever heard of finishing what they started?” Dwarf Shaman complained, working his stubby arms and legs as he scrambled up the wooden tower that hugged the cliffside. “Cave” turned out to be very much the right word for the path that had been carved out of the bedrock; it contained several natural rents in the stone. Maybe it wasn’t so surprising that guards didn’t come down here. Priestess was taller and had longer arms than Dwarf Shaman, and even she found the path difficult to navigate. For a soldier in full armor, even one with training and stamina, to have to come here every day… 

“I can’t…say,” she remarked, forcing her breath to remain steady, “that they…seem to have been thinking of…people coming through here.” 

For the umpteenth time, she jumped for the scaffolding above, clung to it desperately, then dragged herself up. No one attacked them, even when she was seized by the need to crouch down and breathe. The air underground was relatively cool without the scorching heat of the desert, a small blessing. If hot air had whipped up another sandstorm down here, they could never have gone on. 

“Perhaps it was never their intention that people should do so,” Lizard Priest said, not sounding unduly overtaxed. He had a large body and much strength, as well as claws on his hands and feet. He was able to grasp handholds easily, climbing up as readily as a gecko. 

“What do you mean?” Priestess asked, and Lizard Priest replied, “Just as I said,” scratching his long nose with a claw. “Perhaps they wished to seal something away down here. Something they desired should not be seen or touched.” 

“I don’t care why they did it. It’s a pain in the neck,” High Elf Archer groused. Despite her open frustration, she worked her way up the wall with light, easy movements. Pa-pa-pa. She found footholds on the boards as easily as a stone skipping over water, putting a hand on her hip and bending at the waist. “I feel like I’m going to lose track of where we are.” She gave an annoyed flick of her ears. “It’s so hard to tell underground. And there’s that sound in the distance, like a banshee.” 

Priestess had noticed the same thing from the time they had come down here. Maybe it was just the wind passing through the crevices of the cave. But to her it sounded something like the rattle of a creature approaching death… 

I’m sure that’s the noise the wind must make when it blows through a person’s skeleton… 

It wasn’t a helpful thought, but she couldn’t resist it. Priestess shook her head. 

“Very well, but concentrate,” Goblin Slayer said, his precise, one-limb-at-a-time movements in direct contrast to High Elf Archer’s lightness of foot. He wore the heaviest equipment of anyone in the party, yet, he moved easily in it; a testament to his abilities as a scout. He would only fall if he was truly unlucky—or if High Elf Archer kicked him. Diligently avoiding the slim legs that danced just above his eyeline, he pulled himself up to the scaffolding. “There are traps.” 

“I know.” High Elf Archer sounded calm enough, but what spread out before her was no longer cave but practically a maze. For a while now—did the number increase as they moved upward?—they had been seeing artificial partitions. Walls reinforced with building stone, floors covered in paving stones. But something felt off about them. Some of the paving stones weren’t quite flush; others rattled when they were stepped on. 

“Here, let the dwarf have a look.” 

“Nah, don’t worry,” High Elf Archer said, full of caution. “Quicker to go around it than to have to disarm it.” She tapped her toes against the stone, and a flash of silver light jumped out of the floor. It was an array of long, sharp silver spikes, intended to skewer any careless passers-by. Obviously, anyone who rushed through here too carelessly would find themselves greeted only by a brutal death. High Elf Archer, drawing on all the grace of her people, slipped smoothly between the spikes. “…Huh!” she exclaimed with genuine pleasure. “All good. Let’s take it slow.” 

Now all they needed to do was trust her judgment, going exactly where she went to avoid the spikes. And indeed, no member of the party would doubt what High Elf Archer said. How could you adventure together if you didn’t trust one another? And even if she made a mistake, it wouldn’t be her fault. If a scout messed up, it would be just as much the failure of the one who chose to leave matters in the scout’s hands. If a scout’s job was to open treasure chests, it was the duty of the front row to deal with any monsters. And while they were doing that, the party’s spell casters might be just standing around, not chanting any spells, but their moment would come. 

Therefore, the best adventuring parties had no hierarchy of roles. The party lived and died together. 

“These things look like they would tear my dress if I so much as touched them…” Even so, it was especially difficult to get past the traps wearing a cleric’s vestments. It was so easy to say just slip past them, but if her dress caught on something and she fell, it would be as good as jumping into the trap. 

High Elf Archer giggled to see Priestess looking so serious as she worked her way along. “Don’t worry. You’ve got it way better than that bumbling barrel.” 

“And a barrel is better than an anvil! It’s called being well-muscled…!” 

If that was how it was, then it seemed the hardest time would be had by the one with the biggest body and longest tail… 

Eh, guess I’d better keep that to myself. Priestess smiled in spite of herself, looking down to hide the expression. She focused on moving delicately instead. 

The order was just as always. High Elf Archer and Goblin Slayer were on point, Priestess and Lizard Priest in the middle, with Dwarf Shaman bringing up the rear. That was why Priestess was so intent on not being the weak link, but as she worked her way through the forest of spikes… 

“…Is something wrong?” 

She saw that Goblin Slayer and High Elf Archer had both stopped and were crouching low. Priestess was not so inexperienced as to fail to understand what this signified. She quickly grasped her sounding staff with both hands, looking for a good place to stand as she prepared for whatever was coming. She steadied her breath, focused her concentration, preparing to pray whatever prayer might be required at any time. Dwarf Shaman and Lizard Priest likewise made ready; the whole party was set. The sword of a strange length gleamed, the yew-wood bow was pulled taut, the bag of catalysts was open, claws and tail were ready. 

“Watch the rear. There may be spikes back there, but we don’t want them getting around behind us.” 

Dwarf Shaman and Lizard Priest nodded and took up positions at the back, gazing out into the cave that opened behind the party. Priestess found herself in the middle of the group; she tried to position herself so she would be prepared no matter which direction the attack came from. 

“Can we deal with them here?” Goblin Slayer asked. 

“It seems unlikely,” Lizard Priest replied. “Spikes behind us. A single tunnel ahead. And too many of us. We can only hope their numbers are not too great.” 

“So we push our way through.” 

In that brief exchange, the party’s strategy was set. And then, in the darkness ahead, they saw them. They had hoped they wouldn’t encounter them. But had known they probably would. 

Small as children. Equipment that made them look like hideous caricatures of soldiers. And green skin. 

“Goblins?!” 

“GOORG?!” 

Neither side had expected or desired this random encounter. But the adventurers, ever anticipating battle, were just a step ahead of the goblins with their spears and helmets. 

“Let’s do it!” Goblin Slayer said, and then he dove in among them still crouching, even as High Elf Archer’s arrows began to fly. A bud-tipped bolt rocketed through space, passing by the metal helmet, heading directly for a goblin’s eyeball. 

“GOGGB?!?!” 

The arrow passed through the eye and into the brain, ending the creature’s life, but Goblin Slayer maintained his momentum. That was the first goblin, but it would certainly not be the last. 

“GOOROGB!!” 

“GOBBG! GRRBG!!” 

Goblins’ strength lay in their numbers. The awful squadron of soldiers with their motley collection of weapons poured out of the darkness. Without a moment’s hesitation, Goblin Slayer raised the sword in his right hand and flung it. 

“GGBGOOROG?!” 

It was downright slow compared with High Elf Archer’s arrows, but it was more than enough to kill a goblin. The blade lodged itself in the throat of the creature who’d had the overconfidence to try to lead the assault, sending him spinning backward. As the other goblins trod mercilessly upon the body, Goblin Slayer’s free hand was already picking up a spear from the ground. He raised the shield on his left arm, using the torch in that hand to dazzle the monsters, then struck upward with the spear. 

“GOBB?! BGR?!” 

Stab a monster through the neck and even if it didn’t die immediately, it would be out of the fight. He was reduced to coughing and choking. Goblin Slayer kicked aside the blood-frothing goblin, letting go of his spear and instead pulling his sword out of the body of the second goblin. “That makes three…,” he murmured inside his helmet, quickly appraising the number of his opponents. He could hear more footsteps down the hall. The number… 

Ten, maybe? 

Not that many of them that he could see, but if more came up behind there could be trouble. Getting through and out of here had to be their first priority. 

“Light!” 

“Yes, sir!” Priestess immediately assessed the strategic situation, and then, still facing forward, retreated several steps. 

“All clear in the back!” 

“Do what you will!” 

With Dwarf Shaman and Lizard Priest behind her, she focused on the two figures ahead of her on the front row, then let out her prayer in a rush of breath: “O Earth Mother, abounding in mercy, grant your sacred light to we who are lost in darkness!” 

A blinding flash illuminated the disgusting tunnel beneath the stronghold. 

“GBBOGOB?!” 

“GOG?! GGRGB?!” 

The goblins screeched and covered their eyes, stumbling back from the sacred light. Something a little farther ahead appeared to be slowing them down, and they found themselves caught in a bottleneck before they could get behind the partitions. Goblin Slayer closed the distance to them in a breath, kicking the nearest monster as hard as he could. The goblin sprawled on the ground, then bumped into something and lay prone. 

“GOORGB?!” 

The next instant, merciless blades sprang up from above and below, almost literally biting into the creature. The goblin’s death spasms sent its newly exposed blood and viscera spattering all over. It was such a brutal trap that Priestess flinched involuntarily. Was this what the goblins had been struggling to get past? 

For Goblin Slayer, though, it could hardly have been more helpful. “Four. There are traps.” 

“I think I made it clear that I knew that already!” 

“We’ll push forward.” 

“Arrrgh!” High Elf Archer added something elegant but uncharitable in the elvish language, then drew another arrow from her quiver. She gave it a kiss, and the bud blossomed, then wilted away, leaving a nut. She fired the nut-tipped arrow at a goblin, causing him to reel under the impact. 

“GOG?! GORGB?!” 

“GGOBB?!” 

As the nut-tipped arrow whirred past the goblin, it split open, spraying seeds. They struck the other goblins, who forgot what they were supposed to be doing and went running for cover. They might have had armor, but they were still just goblins. They didn’t welcome a challenge. 

“GOOBGB?!” 

Naturally, some of these thoroughly distracted creatures shortly found themselves cleaved in two by a sword. Goblin Slayer could not have cared less about how a goblin died. He was substantially more concerned about the pool of blood spreading across the stones, threatening his footing. 

“Six… Seven!” He was in among the goblins now, wielding weapons in both hands, striking out in every direction. The goblins’ eyes were scorched where seeds had battered them; there were traps behind them and enemies ahead. 

Their strength was in their numbers. They were no more intelligent or strong than cruel children. They wanted to hurt, they wanted to kill, but that was all they had. So now that they were stuck in a tunnel where they couldn’t make use of their only virtue… 

“This makes thirteen.” So he had underestimated by a few—it didn’t matter. They were the weakest monsters in the Four-Cornered World. Goblin Slayer slammed the sputtering torch into the final creature, ending its life. “Fool.” He uttered a single word of admonishment as he tossed the torch aside. To Priestess, it sounded like he was talking to someone who wasn’t present. 

“…I guess we got past them, at least.” For now, the main thing was to keep going forward. Priestess got her breathing under control, giving a rattle of her sounding staff. She offered a brief, private prayer for the repose of their souls, that the departed goblins might not lose their way after death. 

Death was the end. Best not hope for more than that. Even if they were goblins. 

“I sort of expected more of them…,” Priestess said. 

“I’d say there were plenty,” High Elf Archer replied with a frown. “What do we do with all these bodies? There’s too many to hide.” She had the decency to look somewhat abashed, but it didn’t stop her from going around plucking her arrows out of the corpses. Elves and elves alone could wield the bud-tipped shots. It would be one more thing to give them away—if the shouting and fighting hadn’t been enough. 

“I don’t think we’ll need to hide them,” Goblin Slayer said resentfully, gazing into the darkness beyond. He produced a fresh torch from his pouch, lighting it on the last embers of the one that lay on the floor. “We’re going straight ahead.” 

“Hmm…” Lizard Priest put a hand to his jaw thoughtfully, then rolled his eyes in his head as he figured it out. “I see. You have a nasty little plan of your own, haven’t you, milord Goblin Slayer?” 

“Nasty is nothing new for Orcbolg,” High Elf Archer said with a sigh of what might have been fatigue or perhaps just exasperation. She glanced back, sending a ripple through her hair. “How you doing back there? Think it was pretty quiet behind us, right?” 

“Yes, right!” Priestess nodded quickly. “I’m okay.” 

“Me too,” Dwarf Shaman said, putting away the battle-ax he had drawn Priestess knew not when. If the front line had been pressed too far back, it would have been their own back row that would have been pushed into the spikes. 

“Okay,” High Elf Archer replied easily but as if she recognized this responsibility. 

Dwarf Shaman narrowed his eyes and looked at the blood staining his boots. “They might be in cahoots with Chaos, but still… Is this what you normally find in a national fortress?” 

“It’s just the sort of thing they would come up with…thinking they were smarter than they are.” Goblin Slayer wasn’t exactly answering the question; in fact, he seemed to be talking to himself. Uncommonly for him—uncommonly indeed—he sounded profoundly irritated. “Using goblins as soldiers.” 

Goblin Slayer stuffed goblin viscera into the moving parts of the blade trap, disabling it. It was necessary in order to continue forward, but it didn’t look very pleasant. 

But the underground tunnel through which the party proceeded had something far more terrible in store for them. For the abyss in these depths was itself the very source of the death-rattle voice they had heard. 

“It means they think no more deeply than a goblin themselves.” 

§ 

What was happening in the dark underbelly of this stronghold? Perhaps the details were best left undisclosed. It was the typical image of a goblin nest’s inner sanctum. But in truth, it was even worse than that, for the young women chained there had been captured by human hands; bought and brought into this place. The hunks of meat that probably passed for food around here had all been dropped in by human hands. Some of the girls had had hamstrings or arm tendons cut; others had spikes driven through their ankles. 

But then there were those with unblemished skin and no injuries, who were missing only the light from their eyes. They were being husbanded. Not by goblins, obviously. This was a stone-hewed goblin breeding ground, made by human hands. 

“?” 

When the party kicked down the door and burst in, words failed Priestess. Her face didn’t reflect the cruelty of the scene, didn’t show revulsion—Instead, her expression seemed to ask, “Why?” The room was filled with cries of pain, supplication, despair—and the hopeless rattle of enervated souls that had echoed through the stronghold. 

The girls chained up here would soon be dead. Either their bodies would succumb or their spirits would. What could one possibly say in the face of this? What was there to say? 

“O Earth Mother, abounding in mercy, grant us peace to accept all things.” 

“Drink deep, sing loud, let the spirits lead you. Sing loud, step quick, and when to sleep they see you, may a jar of fire wine be in your dreams to greet you.” 

When Priestess opened her mouth, though, it was the words of a prayer that came out, followed shortly by Dwarf Shaman summoning his sprites. By the time the goblins looked up in surprise from their awful meals and more awful deeds, it was too late. They exclaimed in voices that were not voices, then started to stumble around as if sleepy before collapsing to the ground. 

Then Goblin Slayer and Lizard Priest made their entrance in one swift move. In a confined space like this, arrows would not be as effective as a sword or claws and fangs and tail. 

The two of them went after their prey with gusto, and made short work of the helpless monsters. It reminded Priestess of the chamber in some ruins long ago. The difference, if there was one, was that although the goblins were voiceless and stupefied, no one felt any sympathy for them this time. 

No wonder the goblins earlier had not seemed at the top of their game: They had still been enjoying the afterglow of their visit to this place. Priestess watched him with one eye as she continued to pray. His manner with his grimy leather armor was nonchalant; he would slash a throat in a businesslike manner, hold down the woken monster, switch his sword to his other hand. She had witnessed similar scenes many times over the course of her adventures with Goblin Slayer. 

And I’m afraid I’m almost…used to it, she thought suddenly. A chill ran through her at the notion. That would never do. She couldn’t quite say why, but she felt she must never get used to it. Yes, this was something that happened regularly. But that didn’t mean she should start to treat it as normal. 

“……!” Priestess bit her lip harder than usual and clung to her sounding staff. Then she knelt in the muck and embraced the imprisoned girls. Some of them had certainly been “used” just recently, but Priestess had no hesitation at all. Heedless of the filth that stained her vestments, she embraced each one of them, all of them, cleansing their bodies. 

As we know, Priestess had been granted the Purify miracle. One use, and it might have seen the entire task done in an instant. But that was not what miracles were for. They were meaningful only because Priestess herself wanted to do something to help these girls, brought them what comfort she could. Despite the vicious, bloody scene unfolding not far away, now as in the past, the silence was gentle and kind. Those who had survived this horrific breeding ground were now half in a trance rescued from their living hell. 

“…Sometimes I can’t believe the way humans behave.” The first thing to be heard in the room was a cold comment from High Elf Archer. She had her collar pulled up over her nose, perhaps to help block the smell, and Priestess couldn’t see her expression. 

Priestess opened her mouth at first, then closed it. Dwarf Shaman, for his part, heaved a sigh. “And what, Long-Ears? Y’mean humans are flat evil, so they should all just go down to destruction?” 

“I’m not saying that.” High Elf Archer put her ears back at the suspicious look he leveled at her; it wasn’t something an elf could speak to. 

“Just to be clear, this isn’t considered acceptable in this country, either.” 

“I didn’t say it!” she shot back. Soon they were arguing, but at least the tension had relaxed. But then, maybe there hadn’t been any tension to begin with. Priestess had just been fretting. Not about world peace or anything as lofty as that but just this simple thing: She wanted all to be well with her friends. 

“Good…” She hadn’t really meant to let the word out, but it seemed to reach High Elf Archer’s long ears. She awkwardly scratched a reddened cheek and said, as if in excuse: “Only humans talk in those sorts of absolutes anyway, right? Whoever did this, they’re the bad guy, right?” 

“It is, of course, natural to see responsibility on the battlefield as belonging not to the infantry, but to their commanders.” Lizard Priest spat some gore out of his mouth and onto the floor. He valued the opportunity to eat the heart of a powerful opponent—but goblins were no such adversaries. “I do agree it seems likely that some leader in league with the forces of Chaos stands over these.” 

“And yet, even that…what was it?” Goblin Slayer turned his head as if he might find the word floating in the air. “…That ogre thing, even he was better.” 

“Huh, you actually remembered it,” High Elf Archer said as she bit back a laugh, most likely intentionally. Goblin Slayer ignored her completely, instead grunting softly, “Whoever it is, they’re like the ones we faced at the harvest festival last year—amateurs who don’t understand how to handle goblins.” 

“Oh… You mean that dark elf.” Priestess found her thoughts darting back to the dark elf she’d encountered in town. She didn’t want to be prejudiced, but she also recognized that many dark elves were aligned with Chaos and would lash out against the Order in the world. She’d even heard rumors that it had been dark elves pulling the strings in the incident with the offertory wine. 

If it were to be the same thing here… 

…well, that wouldn’t be very good, she thought. Though she was sure it wasn’t the case. 

“Now we have to help these people…” No, not now. Priestess kept her thoughts moving. They were on enemy ground. She had to think. “It’s a question of how to help them, isn’t it?” 

“First, we link up with our quest giver.” Goblin Slayer threw away his sword, blunted with blood and gore, and picked up a goblin’s spear instead. He put it across his back and supplemented it with a gently curved saber that he put into the sheath at his hip. “We’ll be moving a lot of people, which is why we had to create a diversion.” 

“And if the girl doesn’t come out of this safe, we fail our quest.” Dwarf Shaman took a swig of wine seemingly as a palate cleanser, wiping the stray droplets from his beard with his arm. “We haven’t exactly been subtle, so the fact that we haven’t had any company seems like a good sign.” 

“My Dragontooth Warrior remains in fine health, so worry not,” Lizard Priest said as he picked up the young women easily, now only formerly captives but still asleep. Apparently, Priestess surmised, there was some sort of spiritual connection between a caster and their familiar. That would be so for a cleric who summoned a divine messenger, and Lizard Priest seemed to have the same connection to his Warrior. 

“Can you guide us along and carry the women at the same time?” 

“I won’t be able to look up the fine details of wherever we find ourselves, but if we need only a basic understanding, then I believe it should be possible.” If nothing else, he wasn’t going to be able to fight with all these women riding on his back. He rolled his eyes in his head, knowing he didn’t have to say that out loud. 

“That will be enough,” Goblin Slayer replied with a slight nod of his helmeted head, then he set out at a bold pace. His nonchalant stride was the same as ever, and elicited a helpless shrug and a shake of the head from High Elf Archer. “You need to scout ahead. I know you know how to do it, Orcbolg.” She accompanied him over to the door, the one opposite the entrance they’d come in by, and started inspecting it. 

It looked like they had a ways to go yet. Priestess thought she understood why the soldiers above had been so eager to seal this place away, peppering it with traps, hiding it deep underground. It would be hard to live a normal life knowing such a terrible place lay just beneath your feet. And worse, to live with the understanding that your actions were part of what enabled those goblins to do what they were doing. When a soldier had to come down here, the screams and cries of the women, the captives, would torment him—even if they were a direct result of what he had done, something he implicitly endorsed. 

I can’t imagine they wouldn’t feel that. If they didn’t… 

Then they were practically Non-Prayer Characters already. 

Priestess went around behind Lizard Priest, trying not to think about it as she helped settle the women on his back. “…Dragontooth Warrriors are pretty helpful, aren’t they?” She almost whispered the words. It was just idle chatter. There was no breeze down here to carry off the stagnant air. So they tried to talk and laugh to lighten the mood as best they could. 

“Ah, the good and bad of them depends on the caster. With enough talent, one’s strength can be as wide as the sky, as deep as the ocean, as endless as the earth.” Lizard Priest rolled his eyes in his head, receiving a relieved exhalation from Priestess. 

“I hope it will be given to me one day to have a messenger from the Earth Mother,” she said. 

“If your faith does not waver, then that day will come.” 

Priestess felt someone press on her back. Dwarf Shaman smiled at her as if to say Don’t worry about it. She turned her eyes forward to discover Goblin Slayer and High Elf Archer already had the door open and were waiting for the rest of them. 

My faith… 

She wondered, even still, if that was the right word for what she felt inside. That question had been with her ever since she had returned alive from her first adventure. But at the same time, there was this thought: Perhaps wondering is my faith. 

The things she had learned from the more experienced members of the temple, and all things she had been through so far, made her think so. She jogged after Goblin Slayer, to whom she felt just a little closer than before. She prayed for the repose of the dead, for the healing and ultimate happiness of the wounded women, and for the safety of her companions and friends. 

§ 

When he opened the door to the guardroom, it looked as if it was strewn with corpses. Guards were slumped on the ground, all of them asleep, although these weren’t healthful naps. Then there was the fact that they had been tied up with a rope. Only two people were still standing: Female Merchant, her shirt dark with sweat, and the Dragontooth Warrior in its long cloak. 

Goblin Slayer took all this in with a glance, then asked softly, “Are you all right?” 

“…Yes.” Female Merchant wiped some sweat away, then pulled on her jacket, which was hanging over the back of a chair. “Somehow.” 

That prompted a relieved exhalation of breath from Priestess. High Elf Archer smiled, too. This in turn caused Female Merchant to blush, almost as if she were embarrassed. “I’m sorry. It took me longer than I expected…” She sounded uncomfortable; she started absentmindedly adjusting her jacket to cover for herself. 

“Taking out an entire room full of guards all by yourself? Yeah, that’d take a while.” High Elf Archer let out a giggle. 

“Stop that,” Female Merchant objected meekly. “I was hardly by myself, and I didn’t really fight them…” 

“To win without fighting—isn’t that even better?” Priestess responded immediately. “Isn’t it?” she inquired of her companions before Female Merchant could argue again. 

“Hmm…,” Female Merchant said, defeated by this uncharacteristic tweak from Priestess. 

Dwarf Shaman wasn’t about to let her get away that easily. “They have the right of it, lass. Y’couldn’t have done better.” 

“Hoo-hoo, it seems my Dragontooth Warrior acquitted itself well also. Very good, very good.” 

Suddenly Dwarf Shaman and Lizard Priest, two Silver-ranked adventurers, were showering her with praise. 

True to his character, Goblin Slayer offered a much more subdued compliment… 

“It seems the effect of the perfume worked as intended,” he said as he inspected the soldiers’ bonds. That was endorsement enough, coming from him. 

“So, ahem,” Female Merchant said, glancing around aimlessly to hide her embarrassment. “What about you guys…?” 

“We’re safe, too,” Priestess added with a nod. Then she glanced in the direction of Lizard Priest. “Now we have to get them out…” 

The question is how to do it. 

It appeared Female Merchant had let the Dragontooth Warrior do the tying, but there was no way the soldiers in this room represented all the guards in the station. And then there were the goblins. They were being kept deep underground, but there was no guarantee they wouldn’t find their way to the surface. 

Most pressing of all, they were now carrying several prisoners. Escape was not going to be an easy task in these conditions. They would not be able to simply cart the women away as they had done in another fortress on a snowy mountain. They were in enemy territory this time and couldn’t expect to duck into a nearby town when they were out of the stronghold. 

Priestess looked like a student who had been given an especially challenging problem to solve. She could be heard muttering to herself under her breath. 

One answer came from High Elf Archer, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world: “Can’t we just grab a sand ship from the docks?” 

“There are docks?” 

“I remember them from the blueprint. I’m sure they’re there.” High Elf Archer put her hands on her hips and puffed out her chest proudly, then glanced in Goblin Slayer’s direction. “I assume that was your plan all along, right, Orcbolg?” 

“As far as it went.” There was a single nod of the cheap-looking metal helmet. 

Priestess was privately dumbstruck; she heaved a mental sigh. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised by now if he doesn’t let the rest of us in on his strategy. 

He was really, truly hopeless. 

And he would probably have to learn to realize it on his own, without her saying anything. 

“The women,” Goblin Slayer said with a nod at the rescued girls. “We’ll give them to the Dragontooth Warrior. Can you steer a ship?” 

Lizard Priest gave a thoughtful stroke of his chin and a roll of his eyes. “I should think so. When we were on the Master Myrmidon’s vessel, I observed the process. And what will our destination be?” 

“Show me the map the Myrmidon gave us.” 

“Of course. As you wish.” Lizard Priest produced the papyrus from his pack and unfurled it. This time everyone was able to take a look at it, including High Elf Archer. Even though none of them were cartographers, they could tell what an excellent map it was. Goblin Slayer noticed a place not far from the stronghold. “Are these ruins?” 

It was marked with an X and depicted what appeared to be a circle of stone pillars. The river passed right by it; it seemed to promise a place where they could rest. Old ruins being what they were, they would have to consider the possibility of running into monsters—but for a group of adventurers, that was just an occupational hazard. 

It looks like a good guidepost to head for amid all this confusion. 

“Then it is settled,” Lizard Priest said. “The Dragontooth Warrior shall find and prepare us a ship at the docks.” 

“We’ll head upstairs in the meantime.” Goblin Slayer rolled up the map and tossed it to Lizard Priest, who plucked it out of midair with his long claws. “Then we’ll escape, link up with the Warrior, and head for the ruins.” 

“Well then, time’s a-wastin’. Wouldn’t want them to get the drop on us because we were dawdling.” Dwarf Shaman was counting his remaining spells on his stubby fingers. “Let’s see, magic. I’ve only used Stupor the once, so I have three spells left.” 

“And I only summoned one Dragontooth Warrior,” Lizard Priest said. “I likewise have three left.” 

“I’ve used Holy Light and Silence, so I’ve just got one…,” Priestess said, and then stole a glance at Female Merchant. For a moment she didn’t understand why she was being looked at, but then she blinked and said, “…I haven’t used any spells. I have two left.” 

“Boy, this party has serious resources.” High Elf Archer giggled. Thirteen spells altogether, nine left right now. “Hey, you sure I can’t adopt you? You can handle the front row and use magic, it’s great.” 

Female Merchant, suddenly finding herself embraced and having her hair mussed by a high elf, said awkwardly, “Er, uh. I don’t think…I could. I don’t…” Her face turned beet red, and she looked down at the ground bashfully. “I mean, there’s a lot I have to do. In the capital.” One wasn’t sure whether to look at them like two friends separated by just a few years (well, they were separated by some years) or like a pair of very close sisters. 

With Priestess’s interjection of “She said she couldn’t, okay?” the amusing trio was complete. Their banter seemed downright incongruous amid the crowd of collapsed guards in this evil stronghold. 

Dwarf Shaman squinted as if he were looking at something particularly bright and said, “C’mon, Long-Ears.” But there was a touch of affection in his voice. “Scaly and I can probably both hack it on the front row if we need to. Anyway, Beard-cutter, what do we do about the goblins?” 

“The nest is below us,” Goblin Slayer observed bluntly. He pulled a waterskin out of his pouch and poured the contents through his visor, drinking deep before continuing. “It would take too long to find and destroy every individual. We need to eliminate them all in one fell swoop.” 

In other words, he was going to do just what he always did. He was Goblin Slayer. And he was going to slay goblins. 

“And that’s why we’re going up…,” Female Merchant said, finally free of her brief wrestle with High Elf Archer. She could feel a gaze on her from behind the visor of the helmet, and she nodded. 

“Just to be clear, what is the status of your quest?” 

“The prime minister of this country has allied himself with Chaos and is specifically working to increase the number of goblins in his lands. I’ve seen it with my own eyes,” Female Merchant replied. She knew what was happening. Chaos was budding here and preparing to burst forth. “My quest is complete. All that’s left is for me to report what I’ve seen.” 

“Then I will accompany you.” Goblin Slayer shoved the half-drained canteen back into his pouch. His voice became even more brusque, mechanical, and nonchalant as he said: “It’s good for our party to have ‘serious resources.’” 

Right. Female Merchant’s cheeks softened toward a smile. She was happy to hear him say that. 

Brief discussions followed, plans were laid, and preparations were promptly made. It was a council of war that doubled as a very short rest. 

Priestess realized she didn’t know how long it had been since they’d entered the fortress. It felt so long and yet so short at the same time. But in any event, time inexorably passed, and it was probably after midnight by now. 

Fatigue and excitement were equally dangerous. If you weren’t careful, you could miss the fact that you were tired at all. So after their conference, they drank some water, took some provisions, and spent some of their precious time in laughter. 

At length, Goblin Slayer said, “Let’s go,” and the five other adventurers got to their feet. Their destination: the uppermost floor of the stronghold. What might be waiting for them there, they didn’t know. Why didn’t they know? Because this was an adventure. 

“Oh, hang on just one second,” Female Merchant said as they were about to leave the guardroom. She jogged back from the door over to the Dragontooth Warrior carrying the rescued women. “I never thanked you for your help…” 

She took hold of the hood covering the Warrior’s head, pulling him down toward her, and stood on tiptoe; then her face disappeared into the hood. High Elf Archer let out a sound of surprise. Just for an instant, the silhouettes of Female Merchant and the Dragontooth Warrior overlapped. 

“…Sorry for the wait,” she said, returning to the party at the same quick jog. Her cheeks were flushed the slightest red. Priestess, who had witnessed a moment of the denouement, likewise felt her face burn a little. 

“Ha-ha-ha, that Dragontooth Warrior is a lucky fellow.” Lizard Priest let out a belly laugh, and Female Merchant’s face got even redder. “L-let’s get going!” she said pointedly and headed for the door, out into the hallways of the stronghold. 

The party followed her, still grinning until Dwarf Shaman whispered, “Just asking, but you’re not planning to kill the general or whoever it is that runs this place, are yeh?” 

“I don’t know who it is, but I doubt it will be necessary,” Goblin Slayer said, his words mercilessly cold. “If they are loyal to goblins, then we can expect only a fool.” 

§ 

They were given food. They were given a place to sleep. They were even given women. And yet, all this only increased their dissatisfaction. Here they were, forced to live in this grimy hole, while everyone else enjoyed themselves upstairs. That lot probably had much better food and far greater luxuries. They were probably sleeping away the hours, whether during the damnably hot “night” or the freezing “day.” 

In fact, the ones upstairs had taken away everything the goblins had fought so hard to win. Even the women. They were given the women, told they could do what they liked with them—but when they did, the ones upstairs shouted and whipped them. It was their right to do as they pleased with what was theirs! 

But what enraged them most of all was how the ones upstairs thought this was all enough to get the goblins to obey. They would make their pretty little arguments and strut and preen, when inside they were hardly different from the ones who lived down here. Strutting and preening were really the only talents they had. 

And they had been in such an uproar about a missing piece of paper! What did they do up there? 

To think, they looked down on the ones who lived here! Do this, do that, they said, and then when it was done they complained. If they were that desperate, they should do it themselves. 

And it all led to…this. 

The stables were empty. The bodies of his compatriots were strewn everywhere, the stench leading upstairs. The goblin howled with rage, quite ignoring the fact that he himself had escaped the carnage only because he had been shirking his duties. If any had been there who had understood the goblin tongue, they would certainly have winced at the sheer vulgarity of his language. 

They’ve angered us for the last time! 

Goblins were always angry, always lashing out. But as so often, this one was convinced that his anger was justified. He and the others had been wrongly tormented, which was why they had every right to rise up and take back what was theirs. 

They were the ones who had worked hardest in this stronghold, so they were the ones should stand atop the hierarchy. Not they, in fact, but him, this goblin thought as his shouting echoed away into the cavern. Those born and raised here, those brought in from outside—all of them should and would be enraged, should and would take up arms. They would overrun the stronghold overhead and the city nearby, all of it, taking it all and making it theirs. 

The dancing girl the soldiers had been raving about, and this princess or whoever she was—the goblins would take them. The soldiers were fools not to take them, but the goblins were different. 

And I should be on top of it all. 

Why? Because he would be the commander of this battle, of course. The others would be his loyal servants, like his hands and feet; they would go to die instead of him. No. In fact, unlike the fools who had been killed here, he wouldn’t make the same mistake. He would survive. He was sure of it. 

With a vile grin on his face, his loins stirred by this simple fantasy, the goblin gave a flourish of his sword— 

“GGOOOGOOGORRBB!!” 

—and the next instant, his brains were spattered by an iron chain that calmly caught him across the head, and his life ended. Someone stepped on his body as it collapsed, twitching: another, larger goblin. Being the biggest goblin down here, he knew it was he who should stand at the top, and he howled out his conviction. 

None of the other goblins objected. They were all united in their belief that they could use this big brute to their own ends. 

“GOOROGG!! GOORGGBBG!!” 

And thus the goblins poured out toward the surface. They ran through the underground passageways, disregarding those of their comrades stupid enough to be caught and killed by the traps—upward, ever upward. 

The guards in the guardhouse were the first of the victims. And the luckiest. They were tied up and asleep, so they were eviscerated by the enraged goblins without ever really knowing what was happening. 

“GORGB!! GOORGBB!!” 

Bah, humans aren’t so tough. 

No, look. They were eating something we’ve never seen. What is it, crap? 

There’s a smell. It smells like a female. A good smell. A new one. And it smells like our breeding slaves. 

Up. They’ve gone up. The bastards. We’ll drag them back down, beat them to bloody pulps. 

“GOORGBB!!” 

The goblins stripped the soldiers of their equipment, then, soaked with blood, let out a terrifying battle cry and surged forward. 

They would kill the humans, get the women back, and take what was rightfully theirs. 

Once they had started, they would not stop until they were dead: This was the way of goblins. 

§ 

“Wh-what the…?!” 

“It’s the goblins! Goblins are pouring up from the underground!” 

“Who was it who had the bright idea to use goblins anyway?!” 

Angry voices rang out, soon accompanied by the crash of swords, screaming and shouting, the sound of rending flesh, and the gibbering of monsters. 

There was no order; everyone simply rushed in with their swords. Some soldiers were still in civilian clothes, while others hurried to pull on their armor, and a few tried to get away in just their undergarments. 

Many of the death rattles that could be heard were obviously not human, but there were a few cries from the men, too. They had lived above a goblin nest without so much as posting a guard. This was the obvious outcome. 

In other words, it was sheer, unrelenting chaos. 

“Wh-who the hell are you?! Identify your squadron and—” 

“The goblins will soon attack from underground.” 

“Wh-what…?!” 

The accusatory question—issued by a man who did not yet understand the situation he was in—was met with a calm response from Goblin Slayer, who then hurried ahead with his party. They pushed through the corridors, past soldiers who ran by in desperate disarray, past others who tried to stop them—upward, ever upward. They stepped aside for only one group of people: soldiers who ran through shouting “We’re transporting the wounded! Everyone out of the way!” 

Priestess’s eyes were briefly drawn to the wounded man on the stretcher as they went by, but she quickly looked forward again and kept running. Whether they went to do battle or to escape, most of the soldiers were heading downward; she and her party were fighting the tide. 

Most of them ignored the grimy man with his diverse party and its motley assortment of equipment. If anyone had tried to talk to them, it probably would simply have been someone like before, someone who didn’t really understand what was going on. 

The soldiers would serve as a distraction for the goblins, while the goblins served as a distraction for the soldiers. Even though they were numerous and had held the advantage of surprise, the goblins were still just goblins. When the soldiers got their heads about them again, there was no way they could lose; this confusion would be cleared up soon enough. But it was more than enough to buy them a little time. 

“…I knew you were an expert on goblins,” Dwarf Shaman said, chuckling as they jogged along, “but you do come up with the nastiest ideas, Beard-cutter.” 

“It was not my knowledge that led to this idea,” Goblin Slayer replied, leaning against a wall to peek around a corner. Satisfied there was no trouble ahead, he waved to the others, and the party resumed running. 

The stronghold might have been devised to confuse invading enemies—but the people who worked there still had to do their jobs. What’s more, Goblin Slayer and his party were adventurers. Caverns, ruins, and mazes were their bread and butter. If one memorized the map before diving in, one simply would not get lost. “When surrounded by enemies, one need only turn oneself into a friend bringing them information, no?” 

Lizard Priest rolled his eyes merrily and thumped his tail on the ground. “I see, I see. My own suggestion has borne fruit, and it is a great victory for my allies.” With his great, twisting tail and the claws of his feet that beat into the paving stones, Lizard Priest looked, to put it modestly, like a true monster. The glare he fixed on the soldiers who went by was in fact one of amusement—but they didn’t know that. 

“Gotta say…I can’t help thinkin’ we must look a little odd for friends of theirs.” 

“I told you you should all have changed your clothes like I did,” High Elf Archer insisted, breezing past them. In the end, she was the least conspicuous of the lot of them. Was that because of her clothes? Or because her other party members included someone in grimy armor and a gigantic lizardman? 

“I think that would have made getting in here a lot easier all along,” she went on. 

“I thought you didn’t like disguises,” Goblin Slayer replied pointedly. 

“I don’t like being disguised as a slave!” She sounded genuinely annoyed. 

She does stand out, though, Priestess thought, huffing and puffing along at the rear of the party, where she had a perfect view of High Elf Archer’s beauty. High elves had an otherworldly quality to their appearance that no change of clothing could disguise. 

Priestess thought for a second, then on an impulse said: “Now, now, mustn’t have over-strong preferences.” 

“Hrgh?!” High Elf Archer, clearly not expecting this from Priestess, choked a little bit. 

“Hoh!” Dwarf Shaman’s eyes widened, impressed that she had gotten to the riposte before he had. “The lass’s right. You’ll be an anvil forever at this rate.” 

“Unbelievable…! My sweet, innocent girl is being corrupted by Orcbolg and his friends!” It was hard to tell if High Elf Archer was serious or not. She looked up at the ceiling dramatically. 

“I-I’m not being corrupted!” Priestess said, but no one engaged her further on the subject. 

If they wanted to get to the top floor, they would have to take the stairs. In front of them was a steep, tight spiral staircase. One wrong move could see them tumble off the side, and there was always the possibility that enemies—soldiers or goblins—could press them from above. Goblin Slayer and High Elf Archer on the front row were palpably prepared for combat, and Lizard Priest followed their lead. 

“Grr,” Priestess grumbled, puffing out her cheeks as they ran along. But there was nothing to be done. She gave up objecting further. 

“—…?” Priestess glanced over at Female Merchant, who was running as fast as she could, red-faced and short of breath but determined not to slow down the party. Priestess had been politely matching Female Merchant’s speed, but now her eyes were wide. I wasn’t paying close enough attention. 

When she thought about what Female Merchant had been through in her life, she could conclude only that the yammering of goblins must be a terrible thing for her. And as they ran through the stronghold, even at this moment the clangor of battle was all around, and so was the yelling of goblins. 

“Are you all right?” she asked her friend. 

“Er, ah—” Female Merchant looked around, not quite sure what to say. Then she steadied her breathing a bit and said simply and with what might have been a touch of envy, “You’re just…incredible.” 

“Um… You think so?” 

Priestess wasn’t so sure. It felt like all she could do just to follow the people ahead of her. And yet… 

If I’m incredible, I’m certainly not the only one. 

“I think that’s true of all of us,” she said. 

Including you. 

She took the hand of a woman who had become a first-rate merchant, making her way in a field Priestess could hardly imagine being a part of. Just as during the fight on the snowy mountain, her grip was gentle but firm. In return, she felt a hesitant interlacing of fingers and a squeeze, and it made her very happy. 

“Well, let’s keep pushing, then!” 

“Right!” 

And they went to head up the stairs giggling like girls, a sound most out of place here. 

The stairs twisted upward. It suggested that they were in one of the towers they had seen from the outside. When they finally reached the top of the staircase, they found themselves in a large chamber with windows on every side. A watchtower, perhaps. Goblin Slayer stuck his head out one of the windows and looked around. 

Wait… No, Priestess thought. Goblin Slayer seemed to be looking not so much around as up. 

“You’re thinking of going up there?” she asked. 

“Yes, on top of the roof,” Goblin Slayer said with a nod. “But the roof is at a very steep angle. How does the ceiling look?” 

“A bit high up there,” Dwarf Shaman grunted. “But if we could get to it, we could probably tease out a few stones and get outside.” 

“It’s settled, then… Go.” 

“Yes, sir.” Priestess promptly produced the Adventurer’s Toolkit from her bag, offering him that old standby, the grappling hook. 

Never leave home without it…! She’d picked up the Toolkit on a recommendation, and there had never been a time when she’d regretted having it. 

Goblin Slayer took the grappling hook, grasped the rope firmly, and spun the hook end before flinging it upward. It lodged between the rafters, and Goblin Slayer gave the dangling rope a tug or two to make sure it was secure. Now they just had to climb. 

Female Merchant was very new at this and, understandably, had some difficulty, but with the other five to pull her up together, there was no real trouble. Once in the rafters, Dwarf Shaman expertly pried loose a few of the ceiling boards, allowing them access to the roof proper. They found themselves in a perfectly arched vault of stone. 

“So y’want out, do you?” 

“Yes. At the highest point possible.” Goblin Slayer stared up at the stones at the very top of the arch. “There’s something called a keystone, isn’t there?” 

“Hold on, Orcbolg!” High Elf Archer cried. She had a bad feeling about this. Priestess likewise frowned. “You don’t mean to bring this whole stronghold down, do you?” 

“No,” Goblin Slayer replied with no apparent concern. He gave a slow shake of his helmeted head. “I won’t be the one to bring it down.” 

He was looking instead at Lizard Priest. 

§ 

Woooooooooooooooom… 

There was a howling as of a great assembly of spirits, an agonized wail trailing off. 

It was unlikely that most who heard the sound understood what it was. The goblins certainly couldn’t. And most of the soldiers probably didn’t. 

No, those who simply heard the sound wouldn’t have recognized what was happening—but those who saw it did. As well as those who felt the ensuing quake. 

The desert was moving. The sand whirled in the distant wastes like a cloud being born right on the ground. 

And it was coming closer. Ever closer. It drew nearer even as the maelstrom got larger and larger. 

Most people were too caught up in the maelstrom of goblins to notice the storm of sand, but all present felt an unmistakable vibration. Faint at first, it caused the particles of sand on the flagstones to jump up and down. Then the eating utensils on tables, cast-off weapons, and even furniture started to shake audibly, to fall and crash to the floor. 

Soldiers, whether fleeing from the goblins or still trying to resist them, stopped in their tracks. The thoughtless goblins were likewise stymied; they began to look around and gibber anxiously. 

And then the moment came. A great wave of sand crashed against the stronghold like a tempest. A massive dorsal fin, as tall as a tower, could be seen to protrude from within the spray. 

“It’s— It’s the sand mantaaaas!” someone shouted, but the sound was quickly swallowed by the advancing monsters. The school of huge fish, with outer shells like armor, ignored both humans and goblins and even the stronghold itself; none of it meant anything to them. 

First one, then another and another, crashed into the stronghold. It was simple: sand mantas worried about nothing, but simply went straight over or through anything in their path. 

It was only a matter of moments until the stronghold—famous and infamous in equal measure in this land—was reduced to ruins. 

§ 

“Eeeeeek!” Female Merchant couldn’t restrain a shout at all the shaking. Priestess held her tight. It was as if not just the guardhouse, but the entire fortress, was crying out in agony. 

“O Mapusaurus, ruler of the earth. Permit me to join your pack, howsoever briefly.” Lizard Priest concluded his invocation of the Communicate prayer, then shook his head almost in disbelief. “My goodness. Scales they may have, but to find myself whispering sweet nothings to a bunch of fish! One never dreamed it.” 

“Hrmph… I feel like that could describe a lot of things on this trip,” High Elf Archer grumbled. “Like the fact that their leader isn’t even here…” She opened her mouth as if to say more, but there was another great shaking, and a piece of roof came tumbling down from overhead. She swallowed her complaint to Lizard Priest and instead fired off at Goblin Slayer: “Hey, Orcbolg, what do you think you’re doing?!” 

“Going outside,” he said, kicking aside part of the demolished roof. An open space yawned before him, and suddenly, a cutting wind whipped through the area. Priestess squeezed her eyes shut with a little yelp, and when the wind subsided, she made another little sound. 

It’s crimson… 

It was daybreak in the desert. An indigo-blue sky was settling in the horizon. But beyond the dark sands came a red-tinged light. It spread gradually, like a flower blooming over the earth, turning everything scarlet. And indeed, a floral aroma came to them on the last gust of the rain-cleansed night wind. Priestess had seen countless dawns in her ten years and change, but never one so beautiful. 

No… 

That wasn’t quite right. Not quite true. She thought every daybreak must be beautiful. But people so rarely noticed them. So few took the time to really look… 

“Oops, yipes…” 

The feeling vanished as quickly as it had come. There was another great noise, and the tower gave another violent shake. They didn’t have much time now. 

She’d grabbed hold of Female Merchant when the shaking started; now she said, “Can you stand?” and helped her to her feet. 

“Orcbolg, just wait a minute!” 

“What is it?” He had one hand on the crumbling roof and one foot poised to step outside, but instead he looked in High Elf Archer’s direction. 

The elf, her ears about as far back as they could possibly go, marched toward him, heedless of the shaking. “What do you think you’re doing going out there?! Even if you made it down, this place is a mess, you’d just—” 

“What?” Goblin Slayer sounded genuinely shocked. He spoke in the same nonchalant tone as always, and yet, the response was surprising. The rest of the party found they couldn’t speak. They just looked straight at the cheap-looking metal helmet. “You said it yourself,” Goblin Slayer went on, still sounding perplexed, almost as if he couldn’t believe he had to explain this. “We’ll cross over the top of them.” 

Now it was High Elf Archer who seemed unbelieving, but she could hardly get the words out. “Wha—? We’ll wha—?” Her mouth worked open and shut, but Priestess remembered something High Elf Archer had said back in the tunnels. A little chatter about a hero who had done something of the sort. She seemed to remember that the hero had a name, very short and yet impressive, something one would remember their whole life. 

And he hadn’t forgotten this tiny detail. 

“…Gods,” Dwarf Shaman said finally. “The one thing I can always be sure of—life with you is never boring.” 

“Is that so?” 

“Falling Control, am I right? I’ll get it ready to go, just hold on.” 

“Thank you.” 

Dwarf Shaman took a swig of his wine to get himself fired up, then clapped his hands together to summon the earth sprites. The desert was a place of sunlight, moonlight, sand, and earth sprites, and gods of fire and wind. They would surely be willing to help this adventurer. 

“Come out, you gnomes, and let it go! Here it comes, but take it slow! Turn those buckets upside-down—set us gently on the ground!” 

Priestess thought she could hear faint laughter and sense tiny somethings dancing around in the air. At the same time, the skirt of her vestments billowed, and she rushed to push it down with one hand. The laughter, if she wasn’t imagining it, turned into something rich and joyous. 

“Well, I for one am rather heavy. If the yoke of the land’s power were not lightened up on my neck, it might well break me.” Priestess didn’t really follow, but Lizard Priest gave a great swing of his arms and took a step forward. “I know where my Dragontooth Warrior is, so no worries. Someone must be the first to cross the fishes…!” No sooner had he spoken than he gave a great screech and jumped into the school of sand mantas. Despite his huge size, he floated down onto a sand manta’s back with remarkable lightness, then he kicked off the scales on its back with his clawed feet, lunging again. 

“Argh! If I had a thousand lives, it wouldn’t be enough! …No fair! Wait for me!” High Elf Archer went leaping after him. With the grace of a leaf on the wind, with the enthusiasm of a bouncing ball, she got smaller and smaller in the distance. Perhaps for a high elf like her, walking across a school of sand mantas was no different from walking across a river. 

“Bah, hold up—If yeh get too far from me, the spell won’t hold!” Dwarf Shaman scrambled to follow them, jumping into the air. He moved from the back of one fish to the next like an overfilled balloon; it looked a bit dangerous. One wrong move could have seen him plummet to the ground, yet oddly, he never appeared to be in any real danger of falling. Maybe he was just used to this. But if anyone would have said so, he probably would have just laughed it off. 

“What do you want to do? Will you go next?” This was Goblin Slayer, standing guard at the rear as everyone else went ahead of him. This question seemed like a gesture of consideration for Priestess and Female Merchant. Though his expression was hidden behind his visor, as ever, and they couldn’t be sure. 

“…No. It’s all right.” Priestess looked at Female Merchant, still in her arms. It took her a second, but she nodded firmly. “We’ll go together.” 

“…Will you?” 

“We certainly will.” 

“I see,” Goblin Slayer said with a nod. “Very well.” 

He put his sword (when had he picked up a new one?) in its sheath, then kicked off the wall and leaped into space. Now it was just Priestess and Female Merchant. There was the roar of the storm, inducing a continual creaking and swaying in the tower. It wouldn’t be long before the place came down on their heads. There was no time to lose, no room for failure. And yet somehow, Priestess was calm. Her heart was undisturbed, even warm. It felt like it was already floating, like it beat in time with the world around it. 

“…Shall we?” she asked. 

“Yes!” Female Merchant nodded and clasped Priestess’s hand extra tightly. “Let’s go!” 

And so, hand in hand, they walked to the edge of the tall tower. They shared a look, then they both took a deep breath. 

“Here we…” 

“…go!” 

And then the girls jumped, trusting themselves to the sky, to the adventure. 

The air rushed past them, blowing their hair about wildly. Priestess simply pressed her cap to her head with the same hand that held her sounding staff. And then they could see it through the whipping sand, the fast-approaching back of a giant fish. 

“Yaaahhh!” 

They both kicked off the creature, and to their amazement found themselves hurtling through the air again. It was like they were passing through the night and to the source of day. The sun gleamed ahead of them, the rose-tinted world spread out below. The young women looked at each other. They started laughing. Somehow, they couldn’t help it. 

“Ah, ah-ha-ha-ha…ha-ha-ha!” 

“Hee-hee…!” 

They stepped lightly as if clicking together the heels of a pair of silver slippers—or perhaps ruby. 

§ 

If only that had been the end of it. 

“GOOROOGBB!!!” 

When the roaring came from overhead, one goblin started running like his life depended on it. A size bigger than the others, he had long ago abandoned his chain. Now he wore a horned helmet and an overcoat along with some armor, and he carried a halberd he didn’t know how to use. He owed it all to having been the first to rush into the opulent room and start stealing everything he could find. He had no intention of sharing any of it with the ones who came after him looking for leftovers. Then he had taken a glance outside and promptly decided to run. 

He wasn’t like those other fools—the ones who would fight a soldier, enjoy tormenting them, and then be cut down by another guard while they were having their way with the first one. All those others were riffraff and trash; of course they would die. Not him. Indeed, he hardly believed he could die. 

The others had never helped him. Not once; in fact, they had laughed at him and mocked him. Let them die. Perhaps that’s what he was thinking. 

Whatever the case, he raced down into the dungeons, with their protective layer of thick bedrock, faster than the stronghold above him could collapse. He was still enraged at the thought of the people who had forced him down into this filthy hole. But now wasn’t the time. He had a goal, and he would reach it before any of those other idiots overtook him. 

He clutched a single piece of paper so hard it was practically destroyed in his grip: a single piece of paper. He had just so happened to pick it up the same time he had acquired his beloved helmet; it looked like a picture, a diagram. Probably one of those “maps.” He grinned at his own intelligence. He was smart; that’s how he knew what it was. 

This here was the underground tunnels. And deep within them, there was some kind of mark. He just had to go there. There was treasure there, he was sure. Maybe women. Possibly food. Whatever it was, it would be good. 

That was all that filled his head, just those good things and how he was going to get them. He never wondered why the humans had forced the goblins down here and filled the place with traps. It would be a true fool who expected any kind of serious reflection from goblins. They simply went for what was in front of them, stole it, used it until it no longer interested them, and then moved on to the next thing. 

That’s how goblins are. 

§ 

Thankfully, the sand ship didn’t capsize when the adventuring party came tumbling down onto the deck from above. Although it rocked noticeably along the sandline. 

This truly was a military-grade vessel: Even with the entire party aboard, along with the former captives and the Dragontooth Warrior, it ran light and easy over the sand. 

“I swear, I can’t believe this!” On board, High Elf Archer looked just as excited and just as angry as ever. She glared fiercely at the metal helmet, fixing it with a long, slim finger. “First the water, splash!, then the flour, bash!, and now an entire stronghold, crash! Unreal!” 

“I believe I’ve done more than that.” 

“Not what I mean!” 

The others watched the exchange with evident relief. There must have been a sense that it was finally over. They knew perfectly well that High Elf Archer’s anger was itself a sort of game. 

Dwarf Shaman captained the ship, the sails billowing as he pointed the craft toward the ruins and off it went along the sand. Priestess finally let go of Female Merchant’s hand and went to tend to the rescued women, offering them first aid and protection from the sun. She cleansed their bodies again, daubed antibacterial ointments on their wounds, and bandaged them as best she could. The Dragontooth Warrior, to her surprise, creaked over to help her, which she found oddly heartening. 

“It’s best not to act in haste at a time like this,” Lizard Priest said lightly, sitting himself down and looking around in every direction. Appearing quite comfortable, he produced a lump of cheese from his bag of provisions. Come to think of it, it was morning already. They had worked all night, and Priestess placed a hand on her belly. She discovered she was quite hungry. 

“Or else it might appear that we’re fleeing the scene,” Lizard Priest added, taking a bite out of his cheese. Priestess, eager for a meal of her own, rifled through her bag. 

The fish and drink that I had at the tavern were so tasty. 

She thought she could have eaten quite a bit more of it had there been time. For now, though, she pulled out the baked goods, breaking them up with a strike of a wooden mallet. Otherwise it was difficult to share the hard-baked provisions. 

“When the circle of our pursuers widens enough, we can either drive deeper inside…” 

“…Or punch through a thin part of the circle and get back to our home.” 

“Just so, just so,” Lizard Priest said with a nod of his long neck. As he declared his food to be sweet nectar, Priestess took a bite of her own. The baked goods were sitting on a handkerchief; she shared some with Female Merchant, who also took a bite. Or more specifically, who took delicate nibbles befitting a woman of refinement or possibly a squirrel. It was cute. When Priestess couldn’t help a giggle, Female Merchant said, “What?” and looked at her in puzzlement. 

“Oh nothing,” Priestess replied and took another bite. It was wonderful sustenance for her tired body. She noticed that Goblin Slayer had likewise taken some of his dried meat from his item pouch and was nonchalantly stuffing it into his helmet. High Elf Archer was munching on some dried fruits, and Dwarf Shaman was having a swig of his wine. Everything felt relaxed, almost lazy on board the ship. Priestess had learned over the course of these two years that the hours after an adventure were often deliberately thus. 

Most of the stories end with the heroes finishing the fight and getting the treasure. 

But if you were an adventurer, then after it was all over, you had to get home. You had to figure out how to carry your mountain of loot, and sometimes you were tired or even sleepy. Come to think of it, Priestess had never even seen “loot” to speak of so far… 

“Heeey, gonna reach the ruins shortly,” Dwarf Shaman called out. “Might be easier to get a rest once we disembark.” 

“You’re not piloting drunk, are you? I don’t want to end up beached just because you were too soused to remember how to steer,” High Elf Archer chided the dwarf before adding, “Steer—that is what you do with a ship, right?” She didn’t really know. 

“We won’t, and I’m not,” Dwarf Shaman shot back. As they argued, the sand ship arrived alongside the ruins with a spray of dust. Yes, they would certainly be able to make a landing here. As they got off the ship, they found the ground remarkably solid underfoot. “Mm…,” High Elf Archer sniffed at the air. “I smell grass.” 

“It is sometimes postulated that the desert was once a land of great abundance,” Lizard Priest said, hopping heavily off the ship, only swaying a little as he landed. 

The area was ringed by a number of round pillars; it did indeed look like a place that might have been a temple many ages ago. Now it was buried in rock and rubble, offering only hints of its former glory. 

Goblin Slayer quickly surveyed the area and said, “It’ll serve to keep us out of the sun while we take a few hours’ rest.” He sounded relieved. 

One thing was true: They had been at work since last night. None of them would say it, but they were all clearly spent. Thankfully, there was water flowing nearby. They could drink some fresh water, wash themselves, and rest until evening. Then they could go back to the capital city or some other town. Their adventure was over. They could just rest and— 

“Hey,” High Elf Archer said sharply, interrupting Priestess’s intended relaxation. “Do you smell something weird?” 

“…?” Priestess raised her head, sniffing. “I’m not sure…” 

“Sure it ain’t the grass and flowers y’mentioned?” Dwarf Shaman asked. 

“No, I’m sure of it,” she replied. “We’ve smelled it before, remember? The first time the three of us adventured together!” 

Priestess didn’t know what that meant exactly, but Dwarf Shaman and Lizard Priest seemed to understand. Their expressions tightened, and Lizard Priest made sure he had a catalyst—a dragon’s tooth—in his hand. 

“Sulfur again? Ugh, don’t tell me it’s more demons?! I’ve had just about enough…!” Dwarf Shaman cried, then took a swig of wine and wiped the droplets out of his beard. It might have looked like a touch of desperation, but maybe it was just what he needed to fire himself up. 

“Demons?” Goblin Slayer said. He didn’t seem more certain about what was going on than Priestess felt, but his sword was already in his hand. Taking her cue from him, she got up and clutched her sounding staff, brushing the crumbs of the baked goods off her knees with her hand. 

Demons… 

She had faced one before, down in the depths of that most terrible dungeon. She would never forget it. “You mean…another of those things that’s just an arm?” 

“We once battled a lesser demon, back before we met your two honored selves. And once or twice more after that.” Lizard Priest had bared his fangs; he looked downright eager. “This one hasn’t even diamond eyes. Ha-ha-ha, a straight fight…!” 

“And you sound happy about this why? I’d be just as happy never to fight another demon in my life, you know!” High Elf Archer seemed exasperated, but she jumped up to the top of one of the stone pillars with the same lightness as if she were running across a branch. If they were going to need her arrows, a high vantage point would be to their benefit. 

“Hmm, now,” Lizard Priest said, watching her and shaking his head. “Strange— Demons don’t typically come out while the sun is high in the sky. And demons are not the only things that might smell of sulfur.” 

“Then what do you think—?” Priestess started to ask, but then a massive earthquake assaulted the ruins, and the open area (perhaps once an altar) began to crumble away beneath them. 

The first thing they saw from the resulting gaping hole was a flash of gold. Something came flying out, almost as if overflowing: enough gold and silver and equipment to dazzle the eye. And sitting upon the mountain of treasure was a creature like something out of a bad joke. Its outspread wings darkened the sky. Its scales were harder than steel. Its claws and fangs were sharper and deadlier than many a famous blade carried by many a storied knight. Its breath, a sulfurous miasma, seemed to scorch the sky, and its intelligence made even the elves seem like children. 

“GOOROGGOBOG!!” 

Poised triumphantly on its back was a hideous goblin—the weakest monster in the world bestriding a massive, deep-red body. Anyone who had words in the Four-Cornered World, even the youngest child, would have recognized it. 

Ask what was the strongest person or beast in the world, and the answer would be immediate: 

“A red dragon!” 

As if in response, there came a great roar that rent the air from the dungeon up to the sky.