Goblin Slayer - Volume 13 - Chapter 2

Chapter 2 - Dungeon Master's Guide

“I think we should have a dungeon exploration contest!” Guild Girl said, clapping her hands. All five adventurers had a different reaction. Priestess blinked, High Elf Archer looked at Guild Girl blankly, Dwarf Shaman drank some wine, and Lizard Priest’s eyes spun in his head.

As for Goblin Slayer, he only said, “I see,” and nodded. Then he added, “What is a dungeon exploration contest?”

They were on the second floor of the Adventurers Guild, in a reception room flooded with rich late-morning sunlight. The six of them—Guild Girl and the five adventurers she had summoned, Goblin Slayer and his party—gathered amid a panoply of trophies from notable adventurers’ successful hunts, namely monster skulls and other bits and bobs.

Priestess alone looked a little nervous, but suddenly a smile spread across her face as she thought about how nostalgic the room was. Then again, maybe nostalgic wasn’t quite the right word. For one thing, she hadn’t actually been in the room back then. It had been spring, several years ago, when a consultation had been held here about going into some ruins that had been occupied by a vampire. Goblin Slayer had been called in as an expert on goblins, while Priestess had waited awkwardly downstairs.

Other adventurers who had registered at the same time had talked to her, though, and Witch, one of the more experienced adventurers, had offered some comforting words. In the end, Priestess managed to get her emotions under control. So strictly speaking, she didn’t know exactly what had been discussed or how the adventure had been decided upon. But she knew for certain that this party had formed on that day, at that time, in this place.

And now I’m here, too.

She still felt pitifully immature and inexperienced, but she was here, and that fact alone made her heart dance. She fought to keep herself from positively breaking into a grin, but she saw High Elf Archer glance in her direction. The high elf’s gorgeous eyes seemed to see straight through to her childish feelings, and Priestess averted her gaze so as not to notice her prized—but much older—friend grinning like a cat.

Even though Priestess suspected that was exactly what the elf was doing.

“I’m not sure you should be saying ‘I see’ when you don’t see at all,” High Elf Archer said to Goblin Slayer, her voice a mixture of teasing, exasperation, and resignation. She followed it up with a giggle like the ringing of a bell.

It would naturally have to be Dwarf Shaman who shot back at her; even Priestess wasn’t worried by their bickering anymore. “So do you know what’s going on, eh?” he asked.

“I do, but… Hmmm.”

Priestess knew how this would go: The two of them would start arguing, Lizard Priest would intervene, and then they would get their explanation. She would watch the whole thing with a smile, while Goblin Slayer sat silently as if none of it had anything to do with him.

“Okay, you explain!”

“Huh? Wh-what? Me?!”

Thus, she felt completely ambushed when High Elf Archer clapped her on the shoulder with an amazingly nimble move. Priestess squeaked, but there was nowhere to hide. She was all too aware that her party mates and Guild Girl were all looking at her.

She somehow suppressed the urge to puff out her cheeks in annoyance. It would be so childish. No complaining, either. She didn’t want them to think she was just a petulant girl. She was a proper member of a party she shared with several Silvers, which had been summoned to a room in the Adventurers Guild.

And I’m going to act like it! She clenched a mental fist and promised herself she would speak as fluently as she was able.

“You’re referring to the story of the battle that the Lady Archbishop and the five other heroes fought a bit over ten years ago, right?”

Truth be told, there were so many songs and stories about the event by now that it was hard to discern what had really happened. Was it a battle with some evil adventurers, or a friendly rivalry, or perhaps something else? The only ones who knew for sure were those who had been there, but there was one fact Priestess was certain of: that the adventurers had been competing in a brutal contest to explore the dungeon.

“Yes, that’s exactly right.”

Priestess let out a breath of relief when Guild Girl smiled and confirmed her story. She’d had her lips tight like an acolyte faced with a question from their Mother Superior.

Terribly childish.

I wonder if they noticed, she thought.

Guild Girl didn’t appear to think anything was amiss, however. “But did you know that contest goes back long before those adventurers?”

“Really?” Priestess asked. They didn’t learn much about such older things at the Temple of the Earth Mother. Perhaps this was history—or perhaps myth.

“I have heard talk of such things myself,” Lizard Priest said blithely, tapping a claw against his chin. He had positioned his massive frame near a window; maybe it was easier for him to stand than to try to use a chair. Then again, maybe this wasn’t about his tail—maybe he merely found it pleasant to bask in the sunlight.

“…Oh, it was nothing, just an event in some town somewhere,” he responded to Priestess’s questioning look with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I believe it involved a particularly notorious dungeon full of deadly traps—yes? No?”

“It sounds like it was hardly more than gambling,” Guild Girl said.

“Yes, but like gambling, it’s exciting, and you might even make a little money,” Dwarf Shaman put in.

“I won’t deny those aspects, but I’ve got a proper, respectable competition in mind,” Guild Girl said, somewhat sharply. Her face still had that pasted-on smile. Of course, maybe it was long acquaintance that enabled them to tell that it was pasted on. Guild Girl coughed sweetly, then assumed an inscrutable expression before continuing. “New registrants increase in early spring, so I’d like to give aspiring adventurers a chance to experience the job before they sign up.”

“Isn’t that what the training facility is for?” High Elf Archer asked, raising a pointed finger. “And that went up just the other day, right?”

“I know time flows a bit differently for elves, so I hate to have to say this,” Guild Girl began, “but that was a full two years ago.”

“Huh.” Even that disinterested response seemed elegant coming from the high elf.

“In any event, that facility is for people who have already become adventurers, and most importantly, it’s for people who think they need training.”

The facility had gotten safely underway, but in Guild Girl’s mind, it wasn’t yet truly fulfilling its purpose. Many people didn’t much value training and study, and even if they did decide to go to the training ground, there were even fewer people who could impart real, meaningful understanding.

Some people think that’s all you need in a tutorial, but I’m not so sure…, thought Guild Girl.

“So this is a sort of screening process?” High Elf Archer asked.

“Maybe you could say it’s a way of getting them in the right frame of mind. It’s still just an idea, something I’m testing out.”

Best of all, it gives us something to celebrate before the winter.

The long winter. Adventurers might stay busy, but for those who had to simply go to ground, the wintertime could be awfully boring. Maybe they could have something exciting to talk about during the winter season, to help them look forward to spring when they could become adventurers. Something to warm the cold days.

Priestess felt a prickle in her heart at the talk of ignorant novices. But the prickle turned into a wry smile when Goblin Slayer said in his dispassionate way: “So what does this have to do with me?” He was so blunt; it would have been easy to take him the wrong way, but he truly meant exactly what he said.

“Excuse me,” Priestess started, holding up her pointer finger and pursing her lips as she emphasized each word. “I’m not very fond of the way you said that.”

“Is that so?”

“You have to be careful of your tone, otherwise you’re prone to misunderstandings.”

“Hmm,” Goblin Slayer grunted from inside his metal helmet. “At the very least, though, this doesn’t appear to be a goblin hunt.”

Priestess sighed. High Elf Archer looked at the ceiling as if she couldn’t believe she was hearing this, while the two men grinned at each other.

Guild Girl took these adventurers, with whom she had been working for the past two or three years, to task. “I said I might ask for your help at the winter festival this year.” Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten, she seemed to be saying. She leaned forward slightly, fixing each of them with a withering look.

“Yes,” Goblin Slayer replied with a firm nod. “That I remember.”

“And that’s what this is about.”

“It’s about that?”

Guild Girl replied, “It is,” one final time. She almost seemed to be pouting—or maybe reprimanding him—or maybe just teasing him. Girlishness and maturity mingled in her expression in the best possible way.

So even she acts like that sometimes, Priestess thought, somehow happy to realize it. After all, Guild Girl was one of the beautiful, grown-up women Priestess so admired. It tickled her to realize she had a sweet, girlish side, too.

“If we’re going to make this work for aspiring and low-level adventurers, there’s going to have to be supervision.”

“By me?” Goblin Slayer asked.

“That’s right.” Guild Girl grinned broadly. Strictly speaking, she seemed to mean by all of you, but that was just a detail. “How would you like to try your hand at being a Dungeon Master?”

§

There was much to do to prepare for winter, so it was a very busy time of year, but things were different as the winter solstice approached. The solstice marked when the farm would hunker down and pass the season, so it was risky to be too busy during that time. Nonetheless, there remained many things to attend to, which was why she and her uncle found themselves peeking into the storehouse that day.

“Looks like we’ve got plenty of sausage,” she said.

“Bacon, too,” her uncle replied, letting out a breath and wiping some sweat from his forehead. “I think we’ll manage. I hope.”

When it came to farming and animal husbandry, it was never possible to be completely certain that everything would be all right. One relied on the mercy of the Earth Mother, the shifting weather, and the gods’ dice. It had been a long winter last year; they would be in trouble if that happened again this year.

Pigs could be left to their own devices and would be ready for slaughter within about a year, but cows took more work. Even pigs, though, needed enough nuts to grow fat. And if the pigs and cows couldn’t grow, it would impact the farmers’ own lives as well. Even supposing they made it through somehow—getting back on their feet and going on to the next thing would be hard.

We were able to offer the wine safely, so things should be okay… Hopefully.

Her awareness of the situation was vague; she hadn’t really been involved in all the hubbub that had persisted from the end of summer through the autumn. And then there was—well. Talk of marriage. They could set that aside for now.

“Erk…” The thought made Cow Girl’s face flush. She shook her head vigorously. There were other things to prioritize today. She looked around as if searching for an escape and found the ceiling of the storehouse, the rafters. “I wonder how the snow will be this year.”

“No telling. Hopefully the roof’ll hold…” But maybe he ought to reinforce it, just to be sure. Her uncle frowned, looking up at the diligently tied rafters. Whether he repaired them or reinforced them, this was the last moment at which to do it. And the farm had no other men to help out—to be fair, if they asked him, he would probably help.

“I’ll be the one to take care of the winter work this year.”

“What?” He had beaten her to the punch; Cow Girl’s voice cracked from confusion. She looked over at her uncle to see a sour expression on his face. She had an inkling of why—but she just waved her hand and laughed. “I’m telling you—it’ll be fine. Nothing weird is going to happen this year.”

“Can’t be so sure.” Her uncle sighed and shook his head.

The terrible things that had happened last winter—well, she didn’t much care to remember them. She understood why he was worried, but she wondered if he was overdoing it. I’m sure it’ll be fine, she thought. She appreciated his concern, but nonetheless, a wry smile crossed her face.

Suddenly, they heard footsteps at the entrance to the shed, and Cow Girl’s feeble smile turned into a real one.

“I’m back.” Lit by the sun behind him was an adventurer in a cheap-looking metal helmet and grimy leather armor. They were as used to him as he was strange.

Cow Girl immediately jogged up to him, beaming, and said, “Welcome back! You’re early—I thought today was going to be another adventure for you.”

“I thought there would be a goblin hunt, but that wasn’t the case.”

Huh. She nodded. It was good to have work, but it was best if it wasn’t goblins. She’d had that conversation with him once—when had it been?

He’d been gone all morning, leading her to expect that they wouldn’t see him for a few days. What a lovely mistake.

Anyway, all right. They had enough provisions even if he wasn’t able to go on an adventure all winter. To repeat, one never knew what might happen. Thus, one had to be prepared for anything. Not that I can really picture him just kicking back at home…

“So you’re back.” While Cow Girl stood entertaining her idle thoughts, her uncle greeted the newcomer with an exaggerated nod. Then he looked up at the ceiling and said somewhat brusquely—almost too brusquely, “I guess even adventurers must find themselves with time to kill over the winter. Help me reinforce the roof.”

“Yes, sir.”

He was nothing if not direct. Her uncle watched the helmet bob up and down with an inscrutable expression, then sighed. “Let’s have something to eat first. We can worry about the roof after that.”

“Yes, sir.”

She knew that if her uncle hadn’t said anything, he would have set to work immediately.

Was that Uncle being nice?

The thought made Cow Girl happy somehow. Her uncle let out another sigh, indicated that he would be going ahead back to the house, and then left the storeroom.

“Sure thing!” Cow Girl called after him, and then, still smiling, sat herself down on a barrel. “It’s winter already. Something warm for lunch might be nice. Let me guess—you want stew?”

“Yes,” he said, nodding. “That would be good.”

“Coming right up.” Cow Girl giggled deep in her throat, her face glowing with happiness. It was such a simple exchange but so pleasant. He was so busy, after all, and even when he was here on the farm, he spent most of his time working. She cherished the brief moments they had together. Like this one: She was sure that once he was done eating, he would get right to work on the roof…

As for Cow Girl, she wouldn’t exactly be able to stand around and talk while she was making lunch. So this moment, when she could sit and pepper him with chatter as he stood silently by her, was important.

“…That reminds me.”

“Hmm?”

Unexpectedly, he spoke, and that, too, was important; she perked up her ears.

“I may not be able to join you for the winter solstice this year.”

“What? Why not?!” She jumped to her feet before she realized what she was doing. She clapped her hands over her mouth—her voice had been, well, not louder than she’d meant, but pretty loud.

“I’ve been asked to help with something,” he replied dispassionately, oblivious to how she was feeling. For crying out loud. Cow Girl puffed out her cheeks.

“Something more important than the winter solstice festival?” she pressed.

“Well…” When she looked closely at him, she could see him stumbling over his words behind his helmet. Finally, he said softly, “Apparently they need some help and input from adventurers in order to hold the solstice event.” Once he had successfully gotten this out, he seemed to think perhaps it wasn’t enough, for he added, “The Adventurers Guild asked me to help.”

Hmm… So that was it. Cow Girl made a sound indicating she understood. Last year was with me, and the year before that, he was with that girl… So it would make sense that he was with the receptionist from the Guild this year—it was her turn, so to speak. Hrrm…

Well, I guess I could let this go, she decided after crossing her arms and studying him intently. It was good to see him taking someone up on something other than goblin hunting. Besides, how could she not let him? It was so unusual to see him hesitant, unsure, even slightly flustered as he tried to explain himself.

“What kind of help do they need?” she asked.

“I don’t really know,” he answered, so softly it was almost a whisper. She was sure he really meant it. “So I must be as ready as possible… At least, I think.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” she said, smiling. “It’s so you to take this so seriously.” He simply wasn’t the kind to charge in recklessly and with no plan. “And it all starts with a good meal!”

“Yes,” he said with his usual brusque nod. “Thank you.”

“Just leave it to me!”

How could she hold back now?

§

The first thing he had to do was light the lamp. The shed filled with a soft orange glow, accompanied by the crackling of the wick. Back in the village—no, in fact, even now—candles and oil had been expensive luxuries. His sister would have disapproved of his staying up so late, but the fortunate thing about having money was that one did not have to worry about the time.

He walked past the shelves of items—his old friend called them messy, but in his mind, they were rather organized—until he reached the far end of the shed. There he set down his cargo at his work desk, seated himself, and exhaled. Now he had to think of what to do next.

The lights in the main house were already out. His friend and the farm owner must already have been asleep.

He was going to help the Adventurers Guild with the winter festival… Now that he thought about it, he realized what a ridiculous idea it was. He was going to help? He was going to help the Guild? He’d hardly imagined his friend and her uncle would believe him, but their response was surprising. At least to him.

While eating the dinner his old friend had prepared, he’d told them—briefly, but carefully in his own way—all about it. She’d smiled and said, “Give it your best shot!” while the farm owner had growled, “Make sure you do a decent job.” Neither of them had doubted for a second that the Guild had in fact made this request of him.

A decent job, he thought. What exactly was that?

He grunted softly. His metal helmet, to which he should have been so accustomed, felt desperately heavy. Not that he wished to take it off. He had never once in his life done a “decent job” of anything. When he looked back, he could see that it had always been that way. To improvise with whatever was at hand in the moment was far better than to come up with a brilliant idea after everything was over.

That didn’t mean, however, that whatever one improvised was always the best that could be done. In retrospect, he frequently discovered that he had made mistaken choices. He should have done that instead—or maybe this. There must have been a better way. He could have been more skillful.

Could have moved faster, fought harder, rescued captives, prevented casualties, and still killed the goblins.

There were always flaws in his technique, gaps, imperfections. That he had managed to survive for so long despite that must have been a gift of Fate—or perhaps Chance. Above all, he must not begin to think that his abilities made him better than others. He must not fall prey to the idea that those who had been captured or even killed were less worthy than he.

His older sister hadn’t been in the wrong. Nor had the other people of his village. Nor any of the other victims, not even one. To believe he himself had done well was overweening pride.

To someone with such a mindset, what a tremendous goal it seemed to “do a decent job”!

But I must do it.

Everything in the world came down to this: Do or do not. He repeated this teaching of his master to himself, then cleaned the surface of his desk by shoving everything off it. He pushed equipment in various states of maintenance to one side, and in their place, he opened a collection of maps. He’d borrowed them from the receptionist woman at the Guild for the purposes of the current endeavor; they showed the location and interior plan of some ruins.

There were many ancient battlefields near this site; that is to say, places where battles had been fought in the Age of the Gods. There was no telling how many ruined castles slumbered under the terrain here, either. The entrances to such wrecks were discovered rarely (and yet, it must be said, more often than you’d think). Someone might dig up a buried entryway, or a Rock Eater or the like might unearth it accidentally.

One such disused relic, relatively close to town, had been selected for this occasion. It had been discovered sometime before, and adventurers had already thoroughly explored the site—it was a spent ruin, as it were. That wasn’t unusual. The famous Dungeon of the Dead had been similar.

I don’t remember this place, Goblin Slayer thought. He looked at the map, drawn in careful brushstrokes, and grunted. Well, he could hardly be expected to remember every single crumbling ruin he’d visited, just as he wouldn’t remember every individual goblin hunt. And the number of goblin hunts he’d been on paled in comparison to the number of goblin hunts all the adventurers in the world had collectively undertaken. That was not even to include quests and adventures involving every other type of monster there was. Some anonymous adventurers had challenged these ruins, fought their way through them, explored them, and mapped them out.

Making them a perfect place to set some traps and play at being adventurers, I suppose.

A memory flashed through his mind of a day he’d run and played in the woods, a rough-hewn stick in his hand. Had she been there that day? She must have been there sometimes. It was a simple, unremarkable, fuzzy memory. To the extent that he could recognize his own self, perhaps it was no longer a memory but rather a fantasy based on the memory.

He spared a smile for it, then returned his eyes to the map.

A perfectly ordinary dungeon. Halls and chambers. Hidden doors and rooms; that was good. Close to town—also good. Wouldn’t be too hard to tell if there were any monsters inside. Very few would think to erase their footprints.

What about goblins?

What about goblins, indeed. They wouldn’t attack until someone reached the entrance—probably not even then. The attack would come slightly later. They preferred to draw their prey in and strike where it was hard to advance and hard to retreat.

As for the dungeon walls, they were probably stone. That would make it hard to dig through them and get behind a party. There were limits, even to the sizzling of bacon.

That made traps the first thing, then. Not something that would hit at a goblin’s height, but something a human would feel. For example…

A pendulum that comes down from above.

He nodded his metal helmet, then from the items he’d swept aside, he picked out a sand tray. Next, he took a stylus and began sketching out on the sand everything that came to mind. He could finalize his ideas on papyrus or parchment later. For now, all that mattered was getting the ideas out.

A log. A stone. Or perhaps a stolen weapon or some such. A stake. Even a pot or pan might do. That would serve as the pendulum. It would be a classic booby trap: not something that took a person out of the fight, but something that was draining.

Still, it was ostensibly goblins that were setting the trap.

I doubt they would consider dwarves or rheas in their calculations.

No, goblins would be obsessed with imagining themselves striking a blow against the “big guys,” and that was where their thinking would stop. Thus, the opportunity would be at one’s feet. Crouch down, or crawl, or even just move carefully, and the trap could easily be avoided.

It wasn’t particularly elaborate, but novice adventurers wouldn’t expect it. They might picture themselves going toe-to-toe in a desperate battle with a deadly monster—but they probably never imagined themselves down on all fours, trying to untie a string. Even on the off chance one of them noticed the trap, only a hunter would be likely to know how to neutralize it.

The goblins would be overjoyed to watch the adventurers worry and puzzle over the trap. They would cackle away. The adventurers always ridiculed goblins as stupid, but look at the goblins leading them around by the nose! Now they knew who was on top and who wasn’t.

It is we who will kill, and they who will die.

The goblins wouldn’t register the danger they were in by the simple fact that their nest had been invaded. He himself, however, must not forget that fact. For he had come to hunt the goblins.

Is this a goblin nest? Goblin Slayer’s hand suddenly stopped, and the scratching of the stylus in the sand ceased. Perhaps it was a wizard or an evil dragon hiding down here. He considered it for a second, then gave up the thought.

It was a foolish idea.

There were endless adventures in the world. Some involved goblins and some didn’t, the latter clearly being the more numerous.

I should approach this as a goblin hunt, he thought. That was all he knew. He didn’t want to become one of those fools who was eager to talk of things he knew nothing about.

Yes: He was Goblin Slayer. He was not an adventurer, or at least he didn’t think of himself that way. There were much better role models out there for aspiring adventurers. Heavy Warrior, Spearman, and the other Silvers. Or perhaps…

The hero of whom I hear rumors.

But there was no need to invoke such extraordinary people. There was that warrior, the one who’d had his hands full trying to use his club, and his friend; or the boy wizard and his companion who swore they were going to defeat a dragon. Above all, there were the party members who had been so good as to work with him—including that priestess. Such people were more than suited to serve as exemplars of adventuring.

So why had he been chosen? It was the receptionist woman who had chosen him.

Merely because she’s partial to me, then. The thought set his mind somewhat at ease. It wasn’t that he took her feelings lightly. He simply wasn’t accustomed to people expecting much of him.

A boy who’d just delved his first dungeon was more of a hero than he was, more of an adventurer. So this swirl of thoughts he was getting lost in—it hardly mattered. This wasn’t like facing the unknown. He knew that much.

This is more like an illness.

Something that bubbled suddenly to the surface after a long time of doing the same thing over and over. It wasn’t anxiety, nor lack of confidence. It was more like a voice that whispered in his ear that he was helpless and worthless.

People appeared and disappeared in flashes of light in his mind’s eye, coming and going like froth in a quick-running stream. It was something that happened periodically, and that made it nothing more than another flare-up. He knew how to deal with them.

Goblins, that was the point. If he encountered any, he would smash them. Goblins had made a nest in his own mind. In that case…

Do or do not.

Those were the only choices. There could be no others.

Goblin Slayer took in a breath and let it out. Air, suffused with dust and the smell of oil, filled his lungs. There were maps in front of him. He had a broad idea. A goblin nest. Very well.

“I will go see it for myself, then.”

It was just the same as always.

§

“Roads go ever on and on, over rock and under tree, by caves where never sun has shone, by streams that never find the sea…”

High Elf Archer was in a mood so good it seemed like it must come around only about once every two thousand years. Well, such jollity had been scarce these last few years, but that was all right. The rolls of the dice averaged out over the course of an almost eternal lifetime. More notably, on the lips of a high elf, even a rhea’s little ditty sounded elegant.

“Another of those old tunes?” Dwarf Shaman groaned. “Can’t imagine anyone else even remembers ’em anymore.”

“Huh, I think a good song stays good no matter how old it is.” High Elf Archer twirled around where she walked at the head of the line, sending her long hair billowing. She smiled and started to walk backward.

The sunlight was subdued and the plains green. This was an adventure all its own, on the cusp between summer and winter, another year nearing its end. Elves truly were made for the great outdoors, not for cities of stone. Hustle and bustle could make the heart leap, but nothing was so comfortable as a gust of wind carrying birdsong.

She could feel the grass under her tall boots as she went along lightly. The weak sunlight brushed her skin. She took it all in with a breath, filling her modest chest, and then she laughed gaily. “You could do with learning a song or two yourself,” she said, bounding up beside Priestess, moving almost as quickly as her own giggle. “It’s an old adventuring custom. Doesn’t matter if you’re a good singer—an adventurer with no songs is, well…”

“G-gee, really?” Priestess said, somewhat intimidated to find this inhuman beauty right next to her so suddenly.

“Really!” High Elf Archer replied, quite oblivious to the possibility that she was the source of the young woman’s befuddlement. “Nothing’s worse than just marching around looking like a big, grim adventurer all the time, with nothing in your head but how to hunt goblins!”

“Can’t deny the logic, but don’t you go listening to her,” Dwarf Shaman cautioned, chuckling himself over High Elf Archer’s little swipe at the man who now walked at the head of their formation. “Long-Ears here has an awful lot of years behind her but not much common sense to show for it!”

“Shut your mouth—the forest is a much bigger place than down in the dirt where you live.”

“If sheer size be the determining factor, then one must say those who live in the ocean know more about the world than any of us,” Lizard Priest quipped, quite unperturbed by the ongoing argument. Business as usual.

This lighthearted—one might say peaceful—atmosphere had kept up ever since they’d left town. Their destination wasn’t far off, after all. This was practically a day trip.

Maybe calling it a picnic would be going too far, Priestess thought. She also couldn’t help noticing it might have been more agreeable had the season been early spring. But so it went.

Of course, they couldn’t afford to get too caught up in the merriment. It always happened: You took one step outside of town and ran smack into a dragon. The pips of the dice were unfathomable to the minds of people. In truth, even High Elf Archer, who was thoroughly enjoying herself, was keeping a vigilant watch in every direction, including above them, and listening closely. Priestess knew her other companions were likewise keeping their eyes peeled.

No, bad! Priestess admonished herself for getting distracted—but she was also pleased to be able to relax with the others. There was always an air of anxiety when leaving on an adventure, but today, she didn’t feel it. That was largely because…

“We were lucky to get perfect weather today,” Guild Girl said, grinning. “Rain would have ruined everything. I have to admit, I never expected you to take me up on this.”

“I see,” replied a quiet, almost mechanical voice. It rang hollow inside the metal helmet. “However, I believe this was our agreement.”

“Yes, it was!”

Guild Girl was especially bubbly today, but that made sense to Priestess. The receptionist was wearing an embroidered shirt edged with lace (a blouse—was that the word?) and long leather pants. A leather bag hung from her shoulder, no doubt packed with useful items. She was wearing a thick overgarment as well. Her hair was in its usual braid, but it seemed lighter and looser today. The overall effect made her look lively and adventurous, a feeling completely different from that conveyed by her usual Guild employee uniform.

It wasn’t exactly an outfit to wear out on the town, but it looked refined and pretty. Guild Girl was a daughter of the nobility—just like their friend who had become a merchant, although also somehow different…

I wish I could be like them, Priestess thought, quietly letting out a breath. Never mind that she had always been taught to value frugality or that her own savings wouldn’t get her anywhere near such clothing even if she hadn’t. And it probably wouldn’t look good on me even if I managed to get some.

Back when she had first become an adventurer, she had truly been a child; she liked to think she’d matured at least a little bit by now. But even so, she still felt so young.

“Different things look good on different people,” Guild Girl said. Priestess didn’t think she’d read her mind, but she couldn’t be sure. Guild Girl turned back and gave her a bright, easygoing smile, but Priestess was envious of that, too. “Personally, I wish I could wear adorable dresses like you. And you have that lovely golden hair.”

“Er, a-adorable? I—I don’t…” …don’t think so. She couldn’t help thinking it felt wrong to grow even more humble when someone tried to compliment her. So after a long moment’s hesitation, Priestess swallowed heavily and finally managed: “Th-thank you very…m-much…”

“No, thank you. Besides, worrying about who’s prettier seems a little silly when there’s a high elf around.”

High Elf Archer’s ears twitched where she walked, framed by the spreading glory of nature, and she gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “Nah, I’m pretty average by elf standards.”

“That’s not very heartening to hear.” Guild Girl sighed; then her eyes met Priestess’s, and they both broke out giggling. They were helpless, being compared with this almost supernatural beauty. Their friend, so much older than they, seemed apt to look good in whatever she wore—she could be pretty or cute or whatever she wanted.

The woman in question, still in excellent spirits, looked as if she might start humming again. “So the place for this…dungeon exploration contest or whatever it was. Is it far away? Or are we almost there?”

“Er—,” Guild Girl started, but it was Goblin Slayer who answered brusquely, “It’s close.”

“Close?” High Elf Archer said, her ears twitching. “How close is close? A couple hours? A couple days?”

“Could be a couple years!” Dwarf Shaman interjected, earning himself a glare and a “Pipe down!” from the elf.

In fact, it was indeed close, as Goblin Slayer had said. Even Priestess, who spent the rest of the walk listening to the elf and the dwarf argue, could recognize it. There, just over the next hill or two, stood a yawning entrance. The very hill must have been a moss-covered funerary mound. Among the vines and grass roots, she could glimpse a square clearing—a gate standing open, though nearly buried in fresh earth. It leaned over with grime and with many years, but it had once been of pure-white stone construction.

Was this…a temple? Priestess wondered. That was what it looked like to her, even from a distance. Maybe she would be able to make out some details when they got a little closer.

“Oh! There it is. That’s it—I can see it!” Guild Girl called, squinting and finding the place a moment after Priestess did. Priestess felt a touch of surprise to realize she had spotted it before Guild Girl; she blinked several times.

High Elf Archer and Dwarf Shaman surveyed the area even as they argued. They must have noticed. Lizard Priest, of course, and Goblin Slayer, too, had excellent scouting skills and sharp gazes. So even things that might not normally have bothered a person, they would—no, no, maybe it was just coincidence.

“Experience does tell, doesn’t it?” Lizard Priest said, lazily turning his long neck to glance at Priestess and sounding as if he could read her thoughts. “Often is it said that looking is not the same as seeing—it matters greatly whether one knows what one is observing.”

I get it…I think? Priestess thought—although she only barely understood—and looked once more toward the ruins. If she wasn’t used to this, would it simply have looked as if one corner of the hill had caved in slightly? She felt as if she would have noticed it even back when she had first started adventuring—but it was just that, a feeling. Maybe that means I could stand to have a little more self-confidence…

She put her finger to her lips and lost herself in thought for a moment before she nodded a couple of times and clenched her fist. She would be confident in herself. That’s precisely what she would do. That was the answer. A lack of confidence was one of her weaknesses. Take that recent riddle contest—she’d been successful, hadn’t she? She had to take pride in her small but steady victories.

All right, I’m going to give it my best shot…! she told herself, then nodded firmly once again.

“Perhaps we should conceal the entrance.” Goblin Slayer, showing no evident concern about the state of the rest of his party, strode forward. Priestess, perfectly used to this, pattered along behind him like a small bird, while Guild Girl rushed to follow them.

Goblin Slayer approached the entrance of the ruins—the temple—and knelt down, almost in a posture of prayer, but of course, that wasn’t what he was doing; Priestess knew at a glance that he was taking a careful look around. For her part, she quickly made the holy sigil with her hand, then likewise started investigating the area.

They were quiet; they were careful. There were no footprints, no awful smells such as of waste, filth, or fornication.

“I don’t see any sign of goblins,” Priestess said softly.

“Nor do I,” Goblin Slayer replied with a nod of his helmeted head. Priestess was well aware that High Elf Archer must be scowling behind, as if to say: There it is! This was an important step, though, and Priestess didn’t think it should seem that unusual.

“Er, what’s this about hiding the entrance?” Guild Girl ventured. She didn’t seem to have fully grasped the significance of their conversation. She had placed her hands on her knees and bent forward to peer into the ruins, as if afraid of getting her clothes dirty. The fact that she didn’t so much as wobble despite her distinctly unstable posture was testament to her everyday efforts to keep herself fit. Priestess seemed to remember Guild Girl telling her once that physical exercise was crucial to the maintenance of beauty and health.

Meanwhile Goblin Slayer, still hunting around on the ground, replied simply, “Goblin nests aren’t always so easy to find.”

“Ahem, no. No, we’re not doing that,” Guild Girl said, her smile still gentle but her tone thoroughly negative; she shook a finger at him. “If they quit without even finding the way in, it defeats the point.”

“That happens sometimes.”

“I suppose it may, but this is not going to be one of them.”

“I see” was the brief response, and then he got slowly to his feet. He gave a quiet grunt. “So this will begin inside.”

“That’s right.” He hadn’t really been talking to Guild Girl, but she didn’t seem to realize that. She put one hand on her hip and pointedly raised a finger on the other, looking as satisfied as a teacher with an obedient student.

Priestess was unable to hold back a giggle at the sight of Guild Girl and Goblin Slayer confronted with each other. “Um,” she said, hoping to mask the sound, “in that case, we’re going to need a scout…”

“You called?” High Elf Archer said, rushing past almost before her voice could reach Priestess’s ears. She went with long, light steps, almost like she was skipping, all but dancing into the entryway. A moment later—it wasn’t actually that much longer—Dwarf Shaman came trotting behind her.

“Pretty old place,” High Elf Archer observed. “Think it was a temple or something?”

“Careful what yeh call old, lassie—it might be younger than you.”

“That’s your subjective opinion. We need to be objective, here.”

An elf’s sharp senses were perfect for scouting around, and there was no one in the world who knew more about buildings and architecture than a dwarf. Even as they bantered, Priestess knew they were looking carefully for any signs of traps or monsters.

“Even so… I mean, it certainly is old.” Priestess let out a breath, glad to let the other two handle this, and looked at the ruins. The way the hole sat open, smack in the middle of the hill, she was surer than ever that the hill itself was a temple and this was the entrance. The gate, supported by a series of round pillars, was buried in fresh earth. Any door it once had was long lost, the way inside marked by a series of white paving stones spidered with small cracks.

Are they leading downward…? If so, then the temple must descend deep, making it bigger than it looked. It was even possible this hadn’t originally been an entrance but a window long, long ago. Priestess wondered how a structure that had once been on the surface could end up a ruin buried underground. Perhaps her own world would be buried centuries hence.

But then, there are things that will survive on the surface all those hundreds of years. Mountains and trees and the like. Perhaps some especially ancient castles and temples, as well. Maybe a priest of the God of Knowledge might know. Or perhaps no one cared enough. The Four-Cornered World is full of mysteries…

In any event, though, she needed to get a light ready. Unlike their companions, the three humans couldn’t see in the dark.

“I’ll get a lantern out!” Guild Girl said excitedly, beginning to dig through her bag, but Priestess said, “Oh, don’t worry; I’ve got it,” and lit a torch. Having the torch and flint tucked along the outside for easy access was a little idea she’d come up with. Nothing to brag about—just something that had occurred to her as she adventured.

“You’re quite used to this, aren’t you?” Guild Girl said.

“Yes, ma’am,” Priestess replied, hoping she didn’t sound too boastful or pleased with herself. She could feel Lizard Priest silently watching her as she jumped into action. How must she look to him? And not just to him, but to Guild Girl and Goblin Slayer as well? Priestess didn’t know, but the thought left her feeling oddly self-conscious, so she decided to try changing the subject. “S-speaking of lanterns, what will we do if one breaks?”

“What do you mean by that?” Guild Girl asked.

“Oh, just that there will be a lot of people participating, right?” Priestess, with her sounding staff in her right hand and the torch in her left, made a broad gesture. “I’m sure someone will break something or drop their equipment.”

“Ah…” Guild Girl blinked and frowned—maybe the possibility hadn’t occurred to her before, or maybe she’d considered it and had been unable to come up with any ideas—but a second later, a truly beautiful smile blossomed on her face. “Maybe they can pay for it themselves?”

“Maybe…”

“Practically speaking, we don’t want people to become accustomed to us providing everything for them free of charge, now do we?” Guild Girl had no qualms about stating this bluntly. Priestess felt a little funny about it, but she had to admit she could understand where Guild Girl was coming from. One wouldn’t want people to believe that adventurers ordinarily had everything given to them. Nor that adventuring was a completely safe pursuit where success was guaranteed.

But then, do we want people getting injured or even killed? Presumably not—but it was a tricky balance to strike.

“Don’t think I see any monsters around anyway,” High Elf Archer said.

“Goodness…,” Lizard Priest offered.

“And trap-free, to boot. Can’t vouch for what might be deeper in, I guess, but these ruins seem spent, all right,” Dwarf Shaman said.

“Does it look like we could set some traps of our own?” Goblin Slayer asked his companions as they returned. How much did he grasp?

“S’pose it’d depend on what kind,” Dwarf Shaman replied.

“That’s a good point,” Guild Girl added, then thought for a moment. “Anything that won’t destroy the ruins, I guess.”

“Anything that won’t destroy the ruins…,” Priestess repeated uneasily, and she was quick to add, “I—I think we should go with traps that will be obvious, too…”

“Hrm…,” Goblin Slayer grunted. Priestess felt relief rush through her small chest. She knew that if she said something, he would think seriously about it. So she thought it would be fine. Probably. Most likely.

“This is all a bit vague,” Dwarf Shaman grumbled, stroking his beard. “Hasn’t anyone got anything else to say?”

“I was thinking we would start with something simple.”

“Examples, Beard-cutter. We need concrete ideas.”

“The ground around the entranceway is still dirt, isn’t it?” came the question from under the metal helmet.

“’Tis,” Dwarf Shaman confirmed. “And I think we could get away with pulling up those paving stones.”

Goblin Slayer went on: “In that case, I suggest a hole large enough for one leg, covered by two boards with nails in them. When someone steps on it, they trap the leg and—”

“No,” Guild Girl said before he could get any further—still smiling.

Goblin Slayer’s helmet shifted slightly. “When coated with poison, a trap like that can ensnare even a tiger or bear.”

“We’re dealing with would-be adventurers, not big game.”

“…To be clear, I don’t intend to poison the trap.”

“That doesn’t make it okay.”

High Elf Archer was nodding assiduously: Yeah, definitely. Not cool. What’s he thinking?

“I see,” Goblin Slayer answered quietly. Then he grunted, as if this was proving more difficult than he anticipated, and placed a hand on the wall. After a moment of intense thought, the helmet turned toward Guild Girl and offered what Goblin Slayer evidently thought was an inspired suggestion. “What if I don’t put nails in the boards, then?”

“Ummm…” Guild Girl cocked her head. Priestess was impressed by how her smile never slipped. I couldn’t do that, she thought.

In any case, though, Guild Girl was no expert when it came to traps and couldn’t come up with a further objection. Then again, maybe she could, but she had no way of knowing if it was a valid one. She sighed, said something about how it was a good thing she’d come along, and then nodded in resignation. “Well, I suppose that’s all right…”

“Good.”

It was not, in fact, good, Priestess thought, frowning. Still, that trap…, she reflected. It wouldn’t do any harm remembering it, setting aside the question of whether it was appropriate for a friendly game involving novice adventurers.

A bear trap. A bear trap. She mumbled the process for making it to herself several times, then shook her head. “Come to think of it, those traps you set back during the harvest festival…” What were they again? she thought. She gestured in the air with her staff and torch, spinning them in circles. “The things where the spikes come in from the side… Are they a variety of the same kind of trap?”

“It’s a simple but convenient device. Useful in hunting,” Goblin Slayer said with his typical brevity. He thought for a moment, grunted “Hrm,” then turned his helmeted head toward Priestess. “If you’re interested, I’ll teach you how to make them.”

“Yes, please!”

High Elf Archer looked up at the ceiling, but if she was praying, it probably didn’t reach the Earth Mother—for she must have been covering her face, too.

As exasperated as High Elf Archer was by this exchange between master and student, Guild Girl was listening intently. Dwarf Shaman and Lizard Priest looked on with amusement.

“Devious trick, eh?” said the dwarf.

“We lizardmen have been known to do something similar.”

“You’ve got to be kidding!” Dwarf Shaman burst out.

Lizard Priest, though, replied, “Hardly,” with a flick of his tongue. “We live among the swamps, you see. We find a nice pond or a ford at a stream, and deep in the mud we plant a stake…”

“So it goes clean through the foot of anything that steps in the water? Ugh, no more, please. You’re makin’ me ill…”

“Heh—heh-heh. He who quails on the battlefield will not survive its rigors, will he not?”

You know, I feel like we used a similar kind of trap back on the snowy mountain, Priestess thought, even as she committed Goblin Slayer’s words to memory. There had been a pond in a cave on that mountain, which they had discovered when they broke into the goblins’ ritual site. Priestess glanced down at her feet; she was wearing her favorite white boots. I guess adventurers really do need to be thoughtful about their footwear.

Goblin Slayer was. Not that the shoes she had on were a bad choice.

“However,” Lizard Priest added, rolling his eyes in his head and seeming to respond to Priestess’s anxiety, though he probably hadn’t noticed it, “this is an adventure—a monster hunt. To have it serve as a training exercise for young adventurers on top of all that might be a bit much…”

“Anyway, not sure goblins would be clever enough to dream up this trap,” Dwarf Shaman said.

“They wouldn’t,” Goblin Slayer replied flatly. “But we should act as if they would.”

“We did run into one once. A trap like this, that is,” Priestess said, nodding. Even on that tragic first adventure of hers, a goblin hunt—bursting through the wall behind the party was certainly a kind of trap. There was a big difference between approaching the situation knowing that might happen and not knowing it.

Goblin Slayer began muttering: “We could also have a trap that will spring if the rope is carelessly cut. And if they should avoid that trap, there could be a pit right after it.” Maybe an automatic bow trap, too. Ideally, the trap would be set into the wall, but if need be, they could create an artificial mound of dirt and bury it there. The pit trap didn’t have to be too deep—just deep enough to immobilize someone. The victim would be thoroughly distracted, and their friends would focus on trying to get them out. The chances they would notice a pile of dirt with an unusual arrow slit were not good.

“I s’pose we could pull up the paving stones, dig the pit trap underneath, and then put ’em back—they’d never notice.”

“…If they ran into all those traps at once, don’t you think they’d just go home?” High Elf Archer said, clearly annoyed. “I sure would!”

Presumably she wanted to imply that adventures shouldn’t consist solely of traps. Goblin Slayer’s response—“Of course”—seemed to be referring to something entirely different. “The important question is how we exhaust them by the time they reach the enemy but also make it impossible for them to escape. It would defeat the purpose if they were able to leave.” High Elf Archer’s pointy ears drooped farther and farther with every word Goblin Slayer said.

Priestess honestly found it kind of cute how the elf’s ears continually angled downward. Sure, the whole thing seems a little mean-spirited… But it could potentially be helpful, and she didn’t think they had anything to lose by hearing Goblin Slayer out.

“A simple barrage might also be effective,” he continued. “Unlike with traps, they may choose to soldier on in the face of simple exhaustion. And when they get deeper in—”

“Um, may I say something?” Guild Girl asked, hesitantly raising her hand and interrupting the lecture. She looked unsure of herself but also quite serious; she really wanted them to understand what she had to offer. “I was hoping our would-be adventurers would leave the experience thinking, ‘That was tough and scary sometimes but also kind of fun.’ However, when it comes to ‘educating’ them by injury, trauma, or humiliation…,” Guild Girl continued before concluding, “I’d, well, rather not go down that route.”

“Hrm…”

“I was thinking of something a little, you know…softer. Gentler. Kid gloves.”

Goblin Slayer grunted quietly, then fell silent for a long time. In his memory, he was trapped at the bottom of a melted water column, his master pitching snowballs full of rocks at him and cackling. That was quite early on in his training, so he had no doubt that his master had in fact been taking it easy on him.

In other words, he thought, I won’t be allowed to tie them up and throw them in freezing snowmelt.

He nodded his helmeted head. “Then I’ll reconsider.”

“Please do.” Guild Girl bowed to them, far more deeply than one might ever have expected from a noble. With any other adventurer—Spearman, for example—it would have been enough to ensure absolute and unyielding effort.

“Yes. So much for traps… Next is monsters.” But he was Goblin Slayer, and his response was no more elaborate than usual. “Shall we say goblins?”