Goblin Slayer - Volume 14 - Chapter 1

Chapter 1 - To What Shall We Compare The Heart?

“You think Orcbolg’s been acting funny?”

“Orcb—? Er, yes. I do.”

Cow Girl was thrown off for a second by the nickname—she never could seem to get used to it, no matter how many times she heard it—but then she nodded.

They were at the tavern just before noon: The adventurers had cleared out, there were no other customers, and the whole place was uncommonly quiet. Under the circumstances, even the high elf—who looked beautiful simply grunting “hmm” and grabbing a handful of leafy vegetables—didn’t really stand out. The only people around to see her were Cow Girl and Priestess, along with Padfoot Waitress, who was pretending to take her time cleaning but was really catching a surreptitious break.

The elf’s pointed ears gave away that she was less interested in the conversation than she was in soaking up the sunlight, so it was Priestess who, after taking a sip of soup with a thoughtful expression, nodded and said, “Do you think it has to do with the dungeon exploration contest, then?”

“Yeah, seems like,” High Elf Archer replied.

So I was right.

Cow Girl let out a sigh. It hadn’t just been her overthinking things; the other women in his own party had noticed it, too. Was this a bit of a serious problem?

Or should we be happy that he’s turned a little softer?

Maybe the fact that she was even asking the question showed how far gone she was, as well.

“Come on, it’s not like acting weird is something Orcbolg just started doing today,” High Elf Archer groused, flicking her long ears and nibbling on the vegetables. The mercurial emotions of mortals must have seemed so trivial to an immortal creature like her. Or perhaps she’d learned to see even these little ripples in the heart the way a human would.

That was why (would it be fair to say that?) she circled one finger in the air and smiled. “Goblins, goblins, goblins. So he’s started to get away from his favorite topic a little. Shouldn’t we be happy about that?”

“Do you think we can be?” Cow Girl asked, cocking her head uneasily.

“Sure I do!” the elf replied immediately. It seemed the anxiety she’d felt just a moment before had vanished completely.

The instantaneous shift almost blinded Cow Girl; she squinted and replied, “Ummm, right, then. I’ll be happy. Happy, happy…”

“The question is what to do about it, isn’t it?” Priestess volunteered. She was sucking on her spoon (most unladylike) and twiddling her fingers in thought. “The issue is, we don’t know what caused it. I mean, sometimes you can get depressed for no reason, but…”

“You don’t think he was just too busy?” Perhaps bored of nibbling on leaves, High Elf Archer was now chewing on some diced carrots. She seemed very pleased that other long-eared vegetable lovers had recently joined them. The harefolk was one thing, but Priestess sometimes felt the new elf occasionally looked askance at her vegetables…

“She’s just shy!” High Elf Archer had exclaimed, completely unbothered. Nothing solves a problem like giving it time.

“Think about it. There was the kerfuffle with the wine, then he went to the desert, then the three guys went off somewhere, and then he helped out with the dungeon exploration contest,” High Elf Archer said, counting on her fingers; indeed, he had been getting around quite a bit lately. And a fair amount of what he’d been doing was virtually unrelated to goblins. “I’m sure it just got to be too much for Orcbolg.”

“I don’t know… I kind of like that he’s doing so many different things,” Cow Girl said.

“So…do we ask him to rest for a while, then?” Priestess suggested.

“If he’d just stay on our farm… I’d like that.” Cow Girl’s smile took on a touch of self-deprecation to hear herself repeat the same words. It would make her happy—but she couldn’t ignore the part of her that knew of what he dreamed. Once he settled down, someone as tired as he was might not get up again. She knew he of all people would keep on walking—but she couldn’t help thinking, What if…?

“I guess maybe I wouldn’t want that after all,” she murmured.

“You… You wouldn’t?” said Priestess. She didn’t seem to grasp what Cow Girl was feeling and only cocked her head in confusion.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Cow Girl waved it away. “I guess I just wanted to figure out if there was anything I could do for him. That’s why I wanted to talk to you two.”

“Hmmm…,” Priestess murmured.

“Sure,” said High Elf Archer as if it were perfectly simple. “It’s not that hard.”

“It isn’t?”

“If his body is tired, he should rest. If his heart is tired, he should do something fun. It’s as simple as that.”

“Ah!” Even the somewhat perplexed Priestess nodded when she heard this explanation. “You’re right. It’s one thing if doing something ridiculous or outrageous will be of any benefit, but it’s not usually that straightforward.”

Cow Girl giggled to hear her invoke those familiar words with such a studious expression. Priestess shot her a questioning look, but— Oh, never mind. Today was…well, it wasn’t a bad day by any means, but it wasn’t exactly exhilarating, either. She couldn’t seem to make herself focus on work around the farm. And yet, she couldn’t work up the excitement to come do anything in town, either. Instead, as a sort of escape, she’d invited the girls out on the pretext of asking for advice. (Although, of course, she really did want advice.)

She didn’t quite have the courage yet to call them friends, not even just in her own mind.

But being able to see them and talk to them makes this meal worthwhile.

“Let me tell you what that means,” High Elf Archer said in a lovely voice, as if she’d read Cow Girl’s thoughts. The high elf, whose blood ran back to the Age of the Gods, sat there holding her half-eaten carrot and smiling a smile as bright and warm as the morning sun. “We just have to take him somewhere—on a proper adventure.”

§

“So where’re y’off to this time?”

“…” Goblin Slayer grunted softly. “Me?”

“See anyone else here?”

The light that drifted in through the window of the cramped workshop glittered with floating dust. He didn’t see the apprentice, who would normally have been bustling around doing grunt work. Maybe he’d been sent on an errand, or perhaps he was eating lunch. Goblin Slayer could hardly imagine how other people spent their days.

Thus, after a moment’s thought, he took the items he’d purchased—his preparations—and put them in his pouch. Before noon, after noon. It would be time to get going soon; he couldn’t dawdle here. He took some gold coins from his money pouch and placed them on the counter, then shook his helmeted head from side to side. “Nowhere special,” he said in his typical dispassionate tone, and then recognizing that this was not enough, he added, “Goblin hunting, I expect.”

“Hmm.” The workshop boss, not sounding very interested, rested his chin on his hands. The coins shone dully in the light, but although he glanced down at them, he didn’t touch them. Instead, he fixed his gaze on the helmeted face in front of him. “Never changes, does it?”

“Mm.” Goblin Slayer nodded.

No, it never changed, nor did he have the slightest intention of changing it.

Goblins were weak. Say what you would about them, they were the weakest of monsters, hardly threatening. In terms of the danger they posed, even the largest-scale goblin infestation would mean the potential destruction of only perhaps a single village. They were nothing compared to dragons, demons, trolls, or dark elves.

He had been to the Dungeon of the Dead, to the snowy mountain, to the desert; he had faced down a dragon and been a facilitator for the dungeon exploration contest. The world was overflowing with threats, dangers—and adventures—he couldn’t even imagine.

But none of this made him any less content with his role, which was to slay goblins.

Goblin Slayer had a thought. “How is the girl doing?”

“Which girl?”

“The one with the black onyx.”

“Ah, her…” The boss, chin still resting on his hands, looked disinterestedly out the window at the sleepy midday streets. “She comes by to get oil and whatever else. A real regular by now.” He then added brusquely, “Not that I’m going to lower the price for her.”

Goblin Slayer’s only response to this was: “I see.”

The boss’s one good eye turned and fixed Goblin Slayer with a stare. “Hope she doesn’t pick up all of somebody’s bad habits.”

“I try to buy only what I will need.”

“For goblin slaying.” The boss spat the words out, sighed pointedly, then shrugged elaborately, provoking a series of cracks from his stiff joints. He swept the coins on the counter toward him, after which the man felt the gaze upon him was somehow softer than it had been before. Or perhaps—softer than it had been the first time he’d come into this shop. “What, haven’t y’anywhere you’d like to go?”

“Hmm.” The truth was, he’d never thought about it. He had no plans to go anywhere. Well, if there was a quest, if goblins appeared, that would be different—but that wasn’t something that could be planned.

Somewhere he wanted to go… He wondered if in fact there had ever been such a place for him. Beyond the borders of his country, perhaps? The desert. The elf village. The old ruins. All places he had never even dreamed of.

And were there any hopes or desires within his own self?

“Ah,” he said as a place he had never seen manifested itself in his mind. A place that had never been anything but a dream to him. Someplace he had heard of time and again in bedtime stories but which he had never once believed he would really visit. “Beyond the northern mountains.”

§

“Beyond the mountains?” Guild Girl asked, her voice bouncing like a ball as she abandoned any attempt to keep the fluttering of her heart from her tone.

“Yes.” The helmeted head nodded. It looked rather out of place on the street at noon—the street full of ordinary sights.

He wore grimy leather armor and a cheap-looking metal helmet. On his arm was a small, round shield, and at his hip was a sword of a strange length. One wondered what had happened to the shimmering Silver-ranked adventurer who’d helped out with the dungeon exploration contest.

It was hardly an outfit to wear on a date, even if that date was just going shopping with a young woman. Guild Girl had planned in advance for this day, made sure her request for leave was in early, and gone home specifically to change clothes, and now here beside her was…

I guess we don’t exactly look like a pair.

Her in her clean white blouse, him in his armor covered in dark-red stains of unknown provenance—it wasn’t a good look. Even her hair, which she’d gone out of her way to comb and braid, looked comical beside the tattered tassel on top of his helmet.

But she liked him just fine this way and felt no displeasure at the situation.

“Beyond the mountains. You mean the dark country of night that extends across a lonely wilderness?”

“Yes.”

She couldn’t resist a chuckle at this most characteristic of responses.

I might laugh it off as just machismo if I didn’t know that famous story.

It was a tale that had once caused many a pulse to race but which fewer and fewer people now knew. A barbarian of the north, a usurper, pirates, mercenaries, generals…and a king.

This macho man had cut his way through many enemies, conquered a mountain of treasure, and ultimately possessed many thrones. It was the sort of legend one could carve only when the light of civilization did not yet burn brightly, and an iron sword was all one needed to bend the world to one’s will. The story of a great man that would make a fine tale to tell to any boy.

And even this man beside me was once a boy who dreamed of being an adventurer, wasn’t he?

It was such a sweet thought that Guild Girl couldn’t help smiling; it was enough to make her want to give him a hug. Whether or not she would restrain herself—maybe that was the difference between her and his old friend who lived on the farm.

“Hmm…” Enjoying the feeling of his words rolling around in her head, she spotted a shop selling accessories. A profusion of colorful ties. She would pick a few. She wondered which might match her hair. “Which do you like best, Goblin Slayer?”

“…Me?”

“Yes, you.” Had it been unfair for her to ask not which one would look good on her but which one he liked? No, no, she thought. That’s called strategy. It wasn’t fair for her to fret about his thoughts. Let him fret about what she thought a little.

Scarlet. Pink. Black and white. One dark green, another blue. Even purple might be nice, she mused.

He studied the ties from behind his visor, taking care that they not be blown away by the gusts, which had begun mingling the breeze of fall and the wind of winter. The shopkeeper shot them a less-than-welcoming glance, but Guild Girl let it roll right off her back. She couldn’t have cared less at that moment.

“I don’t know much about colors,” Goblin Slayer said but took one of the ties in his gloved hand. She looked closely at it.

“White, you think?”

“Your usual hair tie is yellow, and the Guild uniform is black. I thought something close to that might be good.”

Oh, for crying out loud…!

She could almost have laughed at herself for how little it took to get her heart racing. To know that he saw her at “usual” times, knew and remembered her, and was considering that in his decision.

Still, though… Guild Girl tried to keep her feet on the ground as she pointedly pursed her lips. “I asked which color you like.”

“Hrm…” He grunted, then went silent—and, after some thought, finally concluded: “I don’t dislike white.”

“I suppose I’ll accept that for today.” She laughed wholeheartedly and took the white hair tie in her hand. “I’ll take this, please.”

Goblin Slayer nodded, passing some silver coins to the shopkeeper. The total lack of hesitation was one of his charms.

“Thank you very much,” Guild Girl said, hugging the hair tie to her chest and smiling at him. “My goodness, though… The north. You’ve never been beyond the snowy mountain yet, have you?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Not yet.” He sounded as if he believed he never would, either.

“Hmm.” Pouting again. She didn’t think the way he’d said that was very fair. “What would you do if I said you could go?” She trotted out ahead of him, then spun to face him. In the corner of her vision, she saw her braid flutter like a tail.

Goblin Slayer came to a halt without even his customary grunt—just stopped cold. Right in the middle of the crowd. Passersby shot the two of them suspicious looks, then swerved around them. He took a step forward, as if forced ahead by the silence itself. “Can I go?”

“I’m asking whether you want to.”

He grunted softly: “Hrm…” Then he fell silent again and stilled. She could tell at a glance that he was thinking.

I wonder what his face looks like right now—behind that visor. Was he expectant? Did he think this excursion would be fun?

No, no—she’d known him for years. She knew what he was thinking about. His party members (though he still seemed somewhat reluctant to call them that). His farm.

And, she had no doubt, goblins.

None of that had changed in all their years together. But certain things had.

He thinks about something other than just goblins now.

Changes could be either good or bad. But Guild Girl thought this was a change for the better. Someone who had never changed before was making the attempt to become the slightest bit different.

And how can that not be a good thing?

After a long moment, the answer finally came: “…If it’s indeed possible.”

It was far too passive to call it a promising response. Guild Girl took a breath, let it out, and looked at the ground. No matter what expression she brought to bear on him next, it would take courage. She mustered up her nerve, then almost jumped forward and reached out to take his gloved hand in hers. “In that case, I have just the adventure for you!”

I hope I can get my smile under control by the time we eat lunch!

§

“The north, you say… Hmm, hmm.” Lizard Priest shivered and huffed to himself.

It was the next day, in a corner of the waiting area of the Adventurers Guild. The five adventurers sat on a bench, conferring about the quest. It was nothing like the plain sheets of parchment they normally saw—which was to say, the goblin-slaying quests. It was lavishly decorated, the text studded with elaborate, ornamental script; even the ink somehow seemed to be of higher-than-average quality. Notably, it appeared the quest had never even been on the bulletin board; there wasn’t so much as a pinhole in the paper.

All of which meant…

“This is a quest fit for Silver-ranked adventurers!” High Elf Archer exclaimed, puffing out her slim chest. Lizard Priest might have been thinking about how cold the journey would be, but the elf seemed in high spirits. “I think it’s a great idea. An uncommonly excellent choice coming from you, Orcbolg!”

“I see.” The helmeted head nodded.

The high elf grinned like a mischievous child and said, “I’ll take it—we’ll take it. I’m going on this quest, by hook or by crook!”

“You don’t even know what the quest is about!” Dwarf Shaman, ignoring the elf’s triumphant (but still elegant) gesture with her fingers, grabbed the paper in his own thick hand. It took him a moment to parse the letters that danced across the page, but finally he said: “Survey the northern frontier?”

“Yes.” The helmet nodded again. “I don’t fully understand it myself, but there was something about a battle, reconciliation, and an alliance… It seems the area recently became part of this country’s territory.”

“Hoh.” Dwarf Shaman stroked his beard, his face darkening. “So there was some fighting.”

“Er, um.” Priestess placed a slim pointer finger to her lips and looked up at the ceiling. “Major battles with other nations ceased after the reign of the previous king,” she said. At least, that was how she seemed to remember it. “There was the situation with the Dungeon of the Dead, and then—you remember, the Demon Lord appeared. I believe it was around that time.”

“Don’t you think it was basically payback for all those wars?” High Elf Archer said with a touch of sarcasm. Sometimes all you could do with humans was laugh at them.

Plagues and zombies had enveloped the land—a terrible threat, all culminating in a tremendous battle with the forces of Chaos. Well, admittedly, humans couldn’t have denied that it was the result of their own insatiable appetites.

Having said that…

Priestess didn’t know much about restoring the resources of an exhausted country, but she knew it couldn’t be easy. Observations and surveys like this would be an important part of that process. “Are they sure they want to entrust something like that to us?” That was what concerned her.

“Yep,” Dwarf Shaman said, shifting in his seat, leaning toward her and handing her the paper. She thanked him and took it; even a quick glance made clear the beauty of the penmanship, an immediate and obvious difference from the average quest. Priestess, however, showed no sign of anxiety or lack of confidence. Perhaps she felt such emotions—just a little—but if so, they didn’t make it into her expression.

All one saw in her face were questions—and answers. It was like she was proceeding through a dungeon, testing the floor with a ten-foot pole.

Dwarf Shaman, heartened by the growth he saw in his companion (which he was sure Priestess herself hadn’t yet noticed), gave a hearty laugh. “Eh, leave the politicking to the more important people,” he said. People could always have a drink and understand each other, so long as no one was bent on starting a fight. To a dwarf like Dwarf Shaman, this conviction was perfectly natural; he accepted it without any discomfort.

Goblin Slayer appeared to agree, for he extended a gloved hand and pointed to something on the paper. “It appears they wish to establish an Adventurers Guild there eventually, as well.”

“Huh. And they want us to go have a look first, eh? Well.” Glug. Dwarf Shaman took a swallow of the fire wine at his hip, licking the stray drops out of his beard. “Sounds like they want to show us off.”

“I don’t know anything about that,” Goblin Slayer said. However, it was clear what this unusual adventurer most likely did understand. As someone who held to the basic precepts of a scout—including “know what you need to know”—he must have figured it out.

These five adventurers—the strange-looking warrior, the cleric of a foreign religion, the dwarf, the elf, and the lizardman—would have to look like a most unusual party to the northerners.

Yet, they seem to want to say, we are indeed adventurers.

Silver-ranked adventurers at that—and no doubt they would be expected to act like it. That much, even Beard-cutter here surely grasped. Dwarf Shaman was certain of it. I s’pose you could call that growth, too, after a fashion, he thought. They should probably take the quest. Only a truly old person would try to hold back youth when it was finally stepping out into the world.

“Much as it pains me to agree with the anvil, I’d take this job, too.”

“I’m no happier than you are, having to go along with a barrel.”

“Oh! I-I’m going, too!” Priestess raised a small hand quickly, already ignoring the jabbering argument beginning between the elf and the dwarf. Maybe she didn’t feel she needed to intervene, or maybe she was simply used to it by now. “What about you—are you all right?” In any event, her considerate gaze now settled on…

“Mmmm…” His face was blue as if from worry—well, bluish-green—well, it had always been that color, thanks to his scales. Lizard Priest stretched out his long neck. “Ahem, they say that the one who gives in to fear is far from a naga, so I suppose I must go. Yes, I suppose I have no choice, but…” A sigh escaped his great jaws, and he rolled his eyes in his head. “Verily, it must be cold indeed beyond the mountains to the north.” One could hear in his voice as he forced the words out how profoundly he meant them.

Priestess stifled a laugh at the lizardman’s tragic act. All of them understood perfectly well that for him, the chill was a real matter of life and death.

The elf, of course, had an easy answer to this. “What if you bought a new cloak? And maybe some kind of magic equipment?!” She was going to snow-clad mountains but seemed altogether unconcerned about the cold—a very high elf sort of detachment.

Lizard Priest crossed his arms, nonplussed by her sanguine attitude, and grunted. “I cannot rely overmuch on equipment. As one who seeks to be a fearsome naga—”

“C’mon, that’s the same thinking that got your ancestors wiped out by the cold.”

“Gnrrr…” Lizard Priest was apparently unable to come up with any other rejoinder.

“Ahhh, leave the man alone,” Dwarf Shaman said, but even he was wearing a wry smile. It wasn’t often, after all, that their lizardman was to be seen hanging his head, at a loss for words. High Elf Archer poked his scales playfully, amused by the unusual sight.

Priestess found Dwarf Shaman looking at her as if to say, Do something about this. So she offered, “I’ve been granted a new miracle; perhaps it might help a little…”

She’d secretly been wondering when to tell them about it. It seemed like it would be childish to sound too proud of it, yet at the same time, to mention it too casually would seem disrespectful. Besides, she did want them to congratulate her for it… Maybe that was what made her such a child.

“That’s awesome!” High Elf Archer exclaimed, casting away Priestess’s hesitation in a couple of words. Her curiosity focused on the young cleric quicker than a leaf danced in the autumn wind. “So when was this? When did this happen?”

“It was…just after the dungeon exploration contest.” Priestess scratched her cheek shyly as her elder friend leaned in. She was a little embarrassed, but she was also joyful—and she’d resolved to stop trying to be humble when it wasn’t warranted. The words she ultimately came up with were thank you, and she was sure that was the right thing to say. “It felt like…like the Earth Mother spoke to me.”

After that experience, she had stayed in the temple and purified herself, observed several days of silence, and finally…

Finally?

This word that welled up within her—could it be attributed to inexperience or to the fact that the austerities were such that any ordinary person would have found them difficult?

I wonder which.

It was hard to feel confident when she didn’t know the answer. At length, she decided taking a step forward was better than doing nothing. “Be everything else as it may, I’ve been granted a miracle… It feels like the Earth Mother acknowledged me.”

“Well, that’s great. Congratulations!” It was wonderful; the elf couldn’t have seemed more pleased if it had been she herself who had been blessed with this divine gift. She gave Priestess a big hug, and the younger girl felt her heart leap at the verdant smell of the forest that wafted from the elf’s slim body.

“Thank you,” Priestess repeated, graciously accepting the embrace.

Goblin Slayer watched the two happy women intently, then finally said, “…Me, I’ve only heard of what’s beyond the northern mountains in stories.” His tone was somber; no doubt he’d been thinking about this utterance very carefully. The helmeted head turned toward Lizard Priest, and he added dispassionately, “I would like to go on this quest, but I won’t force you to come along.”

Lizard Priest didn’t respond immediately. The party shared a glance; then Dwarf Shaman started: “You heard the man. Beard-cutter says he wants to go beyond the mountains to the north, to the land of darkness and deep night.”

“Gee, just that description sounds depressing.” High Elf Archer whistled. “But if he wants to go, who am I to deny him?”

The two of them smiled like kids who were in on a joke. Priestess seemed to share their sentiment; she stared at Lizard Priest, whose head was bowed. After what seemed a long time, he exhaled heavily and said, “I suppose I am left without a choice. Nagas, after all, do not flee.”

“Is that so?”

“Indeed it is.” Lizard Priest nodded without much enthusiasm. Priestess was secretly relieved. I’m much happier with all of us going together, she thought. It seemed best to her.

The adventurer called Goblin Slayer, the one she respected and sought to imitate, was certainly…different. But he was also becoming different, changing bit by bit. He’d helped run the dungeon exploration contest. He’d suggested they go on a proper adventure. And now he wanted to journey to the far-northern reaches. If helping him do so would repay even a fraction of her debt to him…

But that wasn’t all. Of course it wasn’t.

“All of us going on an adventure together—this’ll be fun!” Priestess said.

“Now you’re getting it!” High Elf Archer’s eyes sparkled like stars.

This was how adventures were supposed to be.

§

Ahem. However.

“Hrm… Where did I put it…?”

Getting ready for an adventure could be a real struggle. At the moment, Priestess was in her room on the second floor of the Guild building, turning the place upside down.

Failing to prepare for an adventure was no different from preparing to fail—that much, Priestess had learned on her very first quest. To make the same mistake twice would be disrespectful to her first party members. If they’d all survived, if they had all been together now, no doubt they’d be laughing, trading banter, getting ready to go with her.

“No doubt”… Am I sure about that?

It was just a possibility. No matter how vividly she imagined it, it could only ever be a fantasy.

Priestess shook her head, then grabbed her traveling bag from where it sat on the corner of a shelf. “Oof… It’s a little dusty…”

Equipment and the like suffered even when it was only left to sit, unused. Always be prepared had a nice ring to it, but keeping every single piece of your equipment fighting fit at all times was a tall order.

I’ve heard that adventurers who travel a lot just buy what they need when they need it and then sell it afterward, Priestess reflected. That sounded like a waste to her, but that choice meant she had to care for her belongings so they would be ready when she needed them.

“I hope it’s not bug-eaten or anything…”

She pulled a winter ensemble out of the bag: heavy cloak, tall boots, and so on. She had a sentimental attachment to them; they were nice items she’d bought when she’d wanted to look good for her promotion exam. Once winter was over, there’d been nothing for it but to put them away, but their moment had come again.

“I’ll be asking a lot of you,” she told them. Then she nodded in satisfaction, gathered up the outfit, and headed downstairs, outside, so she wouldn’t be a nuisance. She found a nice, sunny spot behind the Guild in which to set up shop. She spread out a cloth and laid the equipment on it. The cloak, the boots, the rope and hook. She made sure she wouldn’t be leaving home without the contents of her Adventurer’s Toolkit.

Because they would be going somewhere not only cold but far away, she wanted to make sure she inspected all her equipment, not just the cold-weather gear. The last thing she wanted was to toss the grappling hook only to have the rope snap and send her plunging. To be fair, Dwarf Shaman would probably save her with a Falling Control spell, but still…

Don’t let your guard down, act without hesitation, and don’t use up your spells. That’s what he would say.

Fate and Chance between them were impossible to avoid, but one could give oneself the best possible odds.

“Now to air them out… The problem is these thick clothes.” Just letting them sit in the sun would be a good start, but it would pay to go the extra mile. Priestess stood and took the back entrance to the kitchen—she had asked for help ahead of time.

“Ah, you’re here.” As soon as she came to the door, she was welcomed by Padfoot Waitress with a beaming smile.

Even just a quick peek into the kitchen, where the rhea chef bustled busily around, was enough to get her a face full of steam. She smiled—the delicious aroma alone was relaxing—and bowed her head. “Yes, thank you. Sorry for the trouble.”

“Aw, don’t mention it. I mean, you’re a real regular around here, right? I can at least do this much for you.” Padfoot Waitress turned toward the chef and shouted, “I’m stepping out for a second, okay?” before trotting over to the stove. She grabbed a giant stewpot in her arms as if it weighed nothing at all. “Okay, let’s go! Outside, right?”

Priestess’s eyes briefly went wide, but then she managed, “Oh, yes!” and nodded. “This way, please!” It took her a second; she’d been trying to figure out how she could carry the pot herself or at least help.

She led her friend over to a great communal washbasin set up against the outside wall, which they politely borrowed. They carried it clatteringly back to where Priestess had set up her equipment…

“All right, and…there!”

“Okay, here goes!” said Padfoot Waitress, and then she poured the boiling contents of the stewpot into the washbasin. The murky, gray liquid was lye, made with ash. It smelled, but not like cooking; the girls looked at each other and giggled. “Life is tough for you adventurers. You do this every time you go off somewhere?” Padfoot Waitress asked. Then she added under her breath, “I sure couldn’t handle it.”

The padfoot looked at the items scattered around the cloth. A grappling hook and pitons, devices that could be strapped to one’s shoes to prevent slipping on snowy paths, and many other things one rarely encountered in daily life. She leaned forward, taking a good look; she seemed just like a child eagerly exploring the wares of a shop.

Priestess (dimly aware of Padfoot Waitress’s tail wagging in her peripheral vision) nodded. “I’m worried about bugs. The longer you leave things sitting, the more work they need when you take them out.”

“Yeah, fleas are so gross.”

“I’m concerned about lice, too.”

The girls shared a firm nod. Better to put in the effort to clean the items than to take along any unwanted little stowaways. Nobody wanted to be bitten by bugs—but that went double for young ladies at a certain time in their lives.

Thus it was only natural that their conversation should turn in that direction. “Nobles put dark stuff under their eyes, right?” Padfoot Waitress asked, gesturing with a padded paw.

“That’s right,” Priestess said.

“What’s it called again? Eyebrow black? Eye shadow? I hear that face-whitening powder mixed with rouge and pulverized malachite keeps bugs away, too.”

“That sounds expensive…”

“Better believe it. I probably couldn’t afford that stuff if I worked my whole life.”

The cosmetics in question were immaterial to the padfoot girl and her cleric friend. They might be taken with the idea of the stuff, but they would never get their hands on it. Anyway, it wouldn’t be very amenable to sweaty kitchen work, and a bit of adventuring would surely take it right off.

Then again, I’ve heard padfoots don’t sweat very much, Priestess thought. Still, any cosmetics would probably run with all the steam in the kitchen. The two of them smiled at each other as if to say, Oh well.

“Okay, I’d better be getting back,” Padfoot Waitress said.

“Sure thing… And thank you!” Priestess pressed a silver coin she’d had ready into the fuzzy paw that waved at her. Preparing lye took time and effort as well, and it was only fair to compensate the woman for that.

Priestess watched her friend head back to work, then breathed. “Okay!”

She pulled off her boots and socks and rolled up the hem of her robe, then tied up her sleeves, eager to get started. Then she took the winter clothes and tossed them into the barrel of lye. Finally, she hopped into the barrel with her bare feet and started stomping on the laundry.

“Mmmm…” The steaming lye was pleasantly warm, salving her weary toes.

But oops—she didn’t have time to stand there. She started working her feet up and down, sploosh, sploosh. “Hup! And hup…”

Maybe I should have offered to do everyone else’s equipment while I was at it.

Hmm, should she have? She wasn’t even sure the other members of her party had winter outfits stashed away. As experienced adventurers, they probably knew how to handle themselves when it came to things like that.

I should ask Goblin Slayer.

Priestess nodded to herself even as she worked her feet; then she glanced up at a window on the second floor of the Guild: High Elf Archer’s room, which constantly looked as if a tornado had gone through it. She wasn’t sure if any winter preparations were happening in that disaster zone, but… I should crash the place and find out, she thought. Then she nodded again, bravely, full of determination, a sense of mission, and a grim resolution. Whereupon…

“Oh, ugh…”

“You can’t get careless just because the new adventurers aren’t watching. Sigh… I thought we were done getting so dirty now that we’ve left the sewers, but I guess not.”

“Aw, can’t say as I mind much, y’know?”

Priestess heard three somewhat exasperated but ultimately lively voices. She glanced over and, indeed, saw three of her friends. A boy and a girl dressed in ordinary day clothes, accompanied by someone with a pair of bouncing white ears. They each carried an armload of blood- and mud-stained equipment.

“Another successful day?” Priestess called, smiling, partly teasing but partly sincerely appreciative.

“You know it. I let Masher do the talking…or mashing or whatever!” the boy said, swinging an invisible club. Priestess was well aware that the young man had perfected the art of using both the club and the sword at once. He’s really come a long way, she thought—but then she chuckled at herself. She wasn’t going to let herself get so caught up in being the More Experienced Colleague that she started to act condescending.

“Sorry about this,” Priestess said, glancing down at her feet in embarrassment. “I’ll be done in a few minutes…” Then she picked up the pace of her stomping.

The girl wearing the sigil of the Supreme God jabbed her friend—who’d gotten a little distracted by Priestess’s bare feet—with her elbow and smiled. “Don’t worry about it. We’re only running late because somebody was dragging his feet. We can wait our turn.”

“Hoo-ee, those are winter clothes. Goin’ back to the mountains, are ye?” the white-furred rabbit-girl asked, peering at Priestess’s laundry. It seemed they’d only just been there. Once again, Priestess found herself—without really meaning to—watching the harefolk girl’s ears bob up and down.

“The mountains?” Priestess asked. The harefolk girl leaned forward: ears, back, behind, and the round, poofy tail situated right on top of it. “Beyond them, actually.”

“Hoo-ee… Nother long trip. Me, I’ve never been out that far,” the girl said easily; it sounded like she didn’t know much more about the north than Priestess did. So much for Priestess’s (admittedly already slim) hope that the harefolk might be able to give her some information about what to expect. “I heard it was real scary round those parts—I’ve been told to stay away or the roughnecks might get me.”

“R-roughnecks? You mean, like, bad people?”

“I tried to get ’em to tell me, but they’d just go on about gettin’ robbed. Point is, well, I guess you oughtta keep your distance.”

Apparently, these were strong people of some kind. Priestess blinked, still stuck on the unfamiliar word. It seemed the harefolk had heard this from her grandfather. So had this been a long time ago? But then again, harefolk generations seemed to pass awfully swiftly, so…?

“Damn, you’re so lucky. I wanna go somewhere like that,” the young man said, gazing up into the blue sky. “I’d love to hit up, you know, like, Neverwinter on the north of the Sword Coast or whatever…”

“I don’t think we’re going anywhere quite that famous…” Priestess smiled a little at the names, all-but-forgotten realms spoken of in fairy tales. She didn’t think they were exactly unexplored lands, even if she’d heard of them only in stories.

“Yeah, but didn’t that dark elf ranger do his adventuring up north?” the boy asked.

“Dummy, that’s just one of the sagas,” the cleric girl said with a sniff. “You very, very rarely encounter a good dark elf.”

“I guess not…,” Priestess said. She’d encountered dark elves herself at the harvest festival, in the desert, and indirectly in connection with the offertory wine. Maybe I just don’t know that many elves, she thought. She was getting closer and closer to High Elf Archer, but she didn’t know much about the young scout woman.

A good dark elf. The incredible ranger with the two-handed style was just a legend—again, a fairy tale. Yes: It was precisely because he was a fairy-tale character that he was able to go to the places he did. Her, though, she wasn’t going anywhere like that—at least, she didn’t think so. Maybe she just didn’t know it.

“If we went anywhere near Icewind Dale, the only thing that would happen is we’d be hit with Horror and die,” the cleric girl said, her ruthlessly realistic assessment of the situation crushing the boy’s innocent hopes.

“Yeah, but if ye’re going at the nation’s own behest… Well, that’s practically a Gold-level adventure, ain’t it?” the harefolk girl said.

The sharp edge of that reality brought Priestess to a screeching halt. The water splashed as she froze in mid-stomp on the laundry.

“N-n-no…” Her voice was shaking. “I really d-don’t…think so… I don’t think…”

It wasn’t that she hadn’t been aware of the idea. In fact, she had been aware of it and had been trying very hard not to think about it. She, at least, didn’t fit the description. She was doing the best she could as a member of her party, but she still had a long way to go with her strength and abilities.

Priestess took a deep breath to calm herself, then silently began working the clothes again. Her friends, however, weren’t about to let her get away that easily.

“You’re Sapphire, though, aren’t you?”

“She sure is!”

“Urgh…” All she could do was stare intently at the ground. She knew the boy and girl were smirking at her, but grumbling about it wouldn’t gain her anything.

“Oh, that reminds me!” The harefolk girl, off on her own planet as usual, clapped her furry hands. “As long as you’re headin’ that way, miss, you think I could ask you to do a little job for me?”

“A job…?” Priestess looked at her even as she continued working the clothes underfoot.

“Uh-huh!” The white ears bobbed again. “I wrote a letter. I’d like to get it, and a bit of cargo, over to the mountains.”

“A letter? Okay. But… What’s this about cargo?” Priestess didn’t necessarily object—in fact, she was perfectly happy to take the job—but what was this about? She cocked her head, and Harefolk Hunter chuckled, almost with embarrassment, before riffling through her belongings. And why did the girl and boy with her look so happy?

“Here! This is it!” the hunter exclaimed, proudly displaying the item she’d finally come up with: a troll fang.

§

“…So you’ll be going away again, then.”

“Yes, sir.” Goblin Slayer nodded ambivalently. “I believe it will be quite a distance.”

“I see,” was all the owner of the farm, seated across from him, said; then he nodded—more firmly and confidently than Goblin Slayer—and let out a breath.

They were in the dining room of the farm’s main house. It was a little too early to use the word evening, but it felt a bit late for afternoon. When Goblin Slayer had gotten back from town, he’d found the owner of the farm before his friend. He was sitting in a chair, evidently resting after having done his work in the fields.

Goblin Slayer had pulled out a chair for himself as well, but when he sat down, the other man greeted him with only, “You’re back?” That was the attitude he always took with Goblin Slayer, but that was exactly why Goblin Slayer was a little concerned by it. He wasn’t sure what to say. Or rather, what the owner was trying to say.

Ultimately, still not sure himself, Goblin Slayer had told the owner about the new quest. And the result…

“Well, it’s not my job to tell you what to do.”

…had been those few simple words. Goblin Slayer grunted behind the visor of his helmet, not quite sure how to take them.

The owner glanced at him, although he probably didn’t register Goblin Slayer’s discomfort. “It’s your work. And when a man starts a job, it’s irresponsible to object.”

“I see… You think so, sir?”

“I sure do,” the farm owner said quietly, nodding. “It’s up to you to take care of it and do the best you can with it.”

“…Yes, sir.”

“But make sure you tell the girl what you’re up to.”

“I intend to.”

“Thought so.” The owner smiled faintly, then got slowly to his feet. As a yeoman, an independent farmer, his legs were still strong, and his step was still sprightly. Nonetheless, the shadow of old age seemed to hover around him; he looked tired somehow.

He departed the dining area, going somewhere else in the house and leaving Goblin Slayer by himself. Goblin Slayer, who had never once fully understood all the emotions accumulated within himself.

Think. That was all he could do.

The girl…

She would probably be bringing the cows back to the barn about now. And taking care of the camel, perhaps. Whatever she was doing, he should go and talk to her. Very few things got better for being put off.

Goblin Slayer’s chair clattered as he stood. As he left the house, he could hear the canary chirping behind him. He shut the door, blocking out the sound, then took a breath.

The world was a gruesome red-black, the color of deep twilight. It was already getting quite cold. When he exhaled, the breath fogged as it escaped through the slats of his visor.

Ah…

A year already. A year since he had gotten that young woman caught up in a goblin hunt. How much had he really moved forward in that time?

He followed the white fog of his breath with his eyes as it drifted into the sky shimmering against the darkening blue. Flying above, higher than the clouds but lower than the stars, was a single sparrowhawk.

How long ago had it been since his heart had last raced to the stories of that great sage? He couldn’t quite remember now whether he’d heard them from his sister or sung by a bard. So many of the stories he’d heard and imagined again and again in his youth were ancient, patchy.

He’d been to the elf village. Visited the capital. Delved the Dungeon of the Dead. Braved the eastern desert. And now he was going to go beyond the mountains to the north. He’d always wanted to. Always assumed he never would. Always, from his youth. He’d understood even then that he would live out his whole life in that tiny speck of a village. Had he even once imagined that things might turn out like this? He wasn’t—

“Huh? When’d you get back?” His old friend came walking toward him, her smile obscured by her own fogging breath. “Welcome home!” she said with an energy that belied how tired she must have felt after doing her day’s work.

“Yes,” he said, nodding. “I’m back.”

The two of them weren’t quick to return to the main house. Instead, they stood for a moment in silence, their shadows stretching out in the red light of dusk, and then they started walking.

They were heading for the fence that surrounded the farm. Cow Girl leaned on it, as she’d done once long before, in a place that was not here. It had seemed so easy to hop over when she was small, yet somehow as an adult, she found she couldn’t do it.

“I wonder why,” she said.

“I don’t know.” Goblin Slayer shook his head. He really didn’t know. When he was a child, he’d assumed adults could do anything, and yet…

What can I do?

Just looking at the sun as it sank beyond the horizon on the far side of the square put the thought in his head. The fact that just a few months before, he’d been headed beyond that horizon seemed impossible…

No. The sun sets in the west.

The exact opposite of the direction he’d gone. Behind his visor, he very nearly smiled at his own stupidity. It gave him the push he needed to speak.

“I’ll be traveling far away again.”

“On an adventure?”

“That’s how it seems to me.” He nodded—she was almost looking up into his visor—and then he peered once more toward the horizon. The very edge of the Four-Cornered World. He’d once gone to a tower that had nearly allowed him to touch it. But so what? It wasn’t as if doing so would have unveiled to him all the secrets of the world.

And anyway, that hadn’t been his adventure. This one would be. Even if he still felt a substantial internal resistance to calling it so.

“It’ll be beyond the mountains to the north,” he said.

“Hmm!” His old friend kicked the air. Then, suddenly, she turned to him, and her red hair in the dying sunlight made her appear to be wreathed in flames. Her eyes, shining like jewels, focused keenly on him through his visor. How many times had he looked her right in the eye like this? Even though he thought he lacked the courage.

“Are you waiting for me to give you permission to go again?”

“…”

She certainly wasted no time. And when had she started doing that? He felt as if she’d been that way since they were young… And certainly since they had been reunited. It was she who understood him, better than anyone else, better than he understood himself. He could hide nothing from her, nor did he wish to.

“Yes,” he said with a nod. The honest answer. He’d tried to look big once already and had regretted it. Once was enough. “I know I’m pathetic.”

“I guess so…”

She refused to deny it, but she smiled a little uneasily and repeated, “I guess so. Pathetic, and troublesome, and maybe not very cool-looking.”

“…”

“But… Mm. I like that, I think. I like you.”

He had to inhale deeply to get himself breathing again. “Is that…so?”

“It sure is.” His old friend gave a gentle kick—the way she began so many of her movements—and hopped down from the fence. She landed lightly next to him and placed her hand over his own gloved one. He turned his helmet and found her looking at him from so close that he was afraid he might bump into her with his visor.

“See you real soon. Is that good enough?”

“…”

Her eyes were so close. Her breath seemed like it might float past his visor and into his helmet. Her cheeks were red.

“Yes… I think so.”

“Good!”

The sun in the sky was sinking past twilight, but the smile on her face was as bright as the dawn as she nodded at him. “Don’t forget a souvenir, okay? I’ll be looking forward to finding out what you bring me. But, uh, no animals this time, all right?”

“A souvenir?”

“I guess we’d better eat dinner first, huh? Ha-ha, gotta do things in the right order.”

She was already trotting toward the main house, pulling him along. Wanting to be sure he kept up with her, Goblin Slayer took the first of many steps forward.