Goblin Slayer - Volume 14 - Chapter 2

Chapter 2 - Over The Misty Mountains

“All right, then—have a safe trip!”

It had been three days since the good-natured hare-wife had sent them on their way with those words, and Goblin Slayer’s party was now in the middle of a blizzard. Or, to be more precise, they were working their way along a most unwelcoming mountain path carved into the craggy cliffside of a peak beset with ice and snow.

The path was so narrow that they had to cling to the mountainside as they went. The wind gusted mercilessly, assailing them with such clouds of debris that they didn’t know if they were in a blizzard or a dust storm.

They went along, all but sliding their feet, unwilling to look down but unable to see anything ahead of them on account of the elements. It seemed as if the breath froze the moment it left their mouths—though they couldn’t quite be sure if it was really happening or if it only felt like it was.

If we aren’t careful, we could die here…! Priestess found herself thinking, and the other members of the party were likely contemplating something similar. After all, what they were walking on hardly qualified as a road; it was more of a narrow track across the top of a cliff, with only a bottomless drop waiting below. It couldn’t be perfectly vertical, but the fact that there were times when it seemed like it was spoke to how difficult the going was. If one was to slip, one would be assaulted by rocks and snow and ice, and it would only be a question of how long life and limb lasted after that. But the horror of falling could stop you only if you didn’t start; once you began putting one foot in front of the other, it was impossible not to carry on. In fact, Priestess was learning that it was stopping that posed the greatest risk of causing a fall.

“You doing okay?” She could just barely hear High Elf Archer’s voice. The elf was wearing a hat that covered her ears.

Priestess finally managed to tear herself away from the fond thought of the hare-wife’s home-cooked meal long enough to answer, “I… I’m okay!” She wasn’t sure whether her voice would reach High Elf Archer. Then again, it was probably fine. Her cherished friend was a high elf, after all.

She saw High Elf Archer respond with a big wave of her hand. She walked along the mountain path as if it were a branch of a tree. “How about the rest of you?” she called. “Still there, or did you fall down?”

“We ain’t fallin’ anywhere! C’mon, Scaly, steady now!”

“Mm…!”

Priestess heard Dwarf Shaman and Lizard Priest behind her. The dwarf was supporting the lizardman, who looked like he’d become a ball of fluffy down. (“Even my forefathers might have smiled to have had one of these,” he’d announced when he showed them the cloak.) The brightly colored feathers warded off the snow and wind, repelled water, and made Priestess feel warmer just looking at them. But…

“This is proving…quite the trial, I’d say…!”

…the path, which crawled around the mountainside like a centipede, seemed even smaller under Lizard Priest’s huge bulk. His claws dug into the ground with every step, so he wasn’t likely to fall, but he still had to deal with the cold on top of everything else. Dwarf Shaman had provided warm stones, but the situation remained a challenge. Admittedly, the sight of the lizardman struggling along was somewhat comical, but Priestess felt concern more acutely than amusement. Or she would have, if she’d had the free resources in her mind to worry about her companions…

“Hey, Orcbolg. I know it’s a little late to be asking, but are you sure we can do this?”

“I had heard the stories, but I admit, this is hard.”

How can the two of them up there sound so…used to this? Priestess wondered. There wasn’t so much as a rope strung along the side of the path; a couple of wrong steps would send them plummeting into the abyss. Granted, they weren’t likely to take that many wrong steps, but even so…

Goblin Slayer, wrapped in a cloak evidently given to him by the owner of the farm, proceeded as if nothing was the matter. Priestess, laboring for every step, watched him with equal parts envy and resentment. It didn’t matter that she knew perfectly well that his ease was born of experience as both a scout and a ranger.

The world around them was a single, barely differentiated gray, a swirl of black and white. The only thing they could hear was the roaring of the wind. Mountains, Priestess reflected, truly weren’t suited to human habitation.

“Isn’t there at least somewhere we can take a rest?” Priestess called to Goblin Slayer.

“I’ve heard there’s a cave just up ahead.”

“He says there’s a cave!” Priestess shouted to the two behind her, rewarded with an “a’right!” from Dwarf Shaman.

Just have to keep pushing…! Priestess thought. As was her habit at moments like this, she clenched her fists in resolve—then quickly put her hands back on the cliffside when she felt like she might lose her footing. She’d strapped her sounding staff to her back, and even if she slipped, she wouldn’t immediately go right over the edge, but even so. If I dropped my staff… She knew she would never get it back, and the thought was terrifying.

And so they worked their way carefully along, but Goblin Slayer never slowed and never stopped. He moved with one hand on the cliffside, clutching the rocks, his hips low—but he moved methodically, decisively. Though of course his movements couldn’t compare to the lithe hopping and skipping of High Elf Archer, who looked like she was jumping from stone to stone across a river.

“You’re pretty good at this,” Priestess heard the high elf remark. “I knew you had a lot of talents, Orcbolg, but I didn’t realize this was one of them.”

“As far as it goes,” he replied, even as he carefully picked his next step. Then he stopped, brushed the dirt off his cloak, and said, “However, there are fifty thousand who are better at it than I am.”

“Such as?”

“There are many stories of the people called ninjas.” He abruptly fell quiet, then grunted, and then said as if recollecting: “My master once told me of people who were so good at climbing that they could scale a sheer cliffside free solo, with no rope or tools.”

“You’d fall to your death if you slipped!”

“Of course you would,” he said, the helmet nodding. “That’s why I could never do it.”

“Aw, man…” High Elf Archer sounded absolutely exasperated. “I can’t believe anyone actually did it. I can’t believe anyone even tried it.”

“I see.” Almost disinterestedly, he murmured something about how there were humans who had powers even he could not imagine. Then he went silently on.

Priestess was so busy trying to keep up that she wasn’t sure she’d caught the entire conversation correctly. And keeping up wasn’t the only thing she was busy with. Even as she worked her way forward, she glanced back, calling, “Are you okay?” to the other two members of the party.

Being in the middle of the formation was something she’d had bad memories of ever since her first adventure. At the same time, she was the only one who could see everything that was going on and notice everything around them at once. She’d done this several times now…

Because they asked me to.

The thought didn’t inspire self-confidence so much as something akin to pride.

“There must have been another path, right?” High Elf Archer said calmly. Even if this had seemed the fastest way. It was strange how the high elf’s melodic voice could reach them clearly even in the midst of the snowstorm. “What made you pick this one?”

Goblin Slayer didn’t answer right away. Instead, the strange, stubborn adventurer continued as he had been: walking silently, one hand on the wall, leading them all ahead. Thankfully, before High Elf Archer’s hands started to go numb, they spotted the dark opening of a cave.

At about the same time, Goblin Slayer said, “I wanted to try it.”

Priestess steeled herself: Clearly, this adventure had a lot in store.

§

The cave entrance was marked by a tall, yellowish-green boot. It was still attached to the foot of someone buried in a snowbank. Presumably, an adventurer who had made it here at some point before them—whether on their way up the mountain or down, it was impossible to tell. Priestess prayed silently to the Earth Mother that this anonymous person would be blessed in the next life.

Attempting to carry a body, whether ascending or descending the mountain, would put everyone’s lives at risk. Hence why this person had remained, welcoming many an adventurer and seeing them off again.

“My teacher told me stone giants sometimes fight around here,” Goblin Slayer said, setting his baggage down heavily.

“Gee, sorry we missed them,” High Elf Archer teased, sticking out her tongue. She sounded sarcastic, but it was a sight that not even a high elf was likely to see very often in her life. So perhaps she really was sorry to an extent—but that’s neither here nor there.

The snowstorm had done a number on her, but simply by dusting herself off, she regained the beauty one expected of a high elf. It indeed showed her to be a separate form of life from mortal humans. Priestess took off her sodden cloak, looking around at the others as she wrung it out so it wouldn’t freeze. Goblin Slayer was carefully cleaning his cloak, folding it, and looking deeper into the cave. In any case, there was someone who worried her more than him.

“Are…are you all right…?”

“Mmmm…” Lizard Priest’s voice was lethargic as he removed his down cloak. “I am, somehow.”

“Here—you’ll be wantin’ a sip o’ this. Need to warm yourself up before you drop dead, since that wouldn’t be any fun.”

Dwarf Shaman tossed Lizard Priest his gourd. “My thanks,” he said as he caught it and undid the stopper with shaking hands. Meanwhile, Priestess started gathering twigs and leaves that had been blown into the cave, thinking she could get a fire going.

“Oh… They’re all soaked…”

Well, it wasn’t that surprising. Branches, leaves—and if not those, then at least moss: There was plenty of fuel for a fire. But it had all been soaked by the snow and was now drenched through. It didn’t look fit to serve as kindling.

So what to do? Once, Priestess might have been depressed by this turn, but now she put a finger to her lips and thought. “Hmm…”

Maybe Goblin Slayer heard her mumbling to herself, because he turned from his contemplation of the interior of the cave and asked, “Do you have a torch?”

“Oh, yes.” But of course. Priestess nodded. The Adventurer’s Toolkit. (Never leave home without it!)

“The torch will light even if it’s slightly damp. Use that to dry out the rest of the fuel.”

“Oh!”

Yes, that made sense. Priestess clapped her hands. It was so simple. And now that she knew what to do, she was used to all the rest. She got together everything she needed readily, then lit it from the torch, and the fuel began to dry out even as it burned. After being an adventurer for several years, this sort of thing was old hat, and the heat and light of the fire were very calming.

“Wow,” someone said, and Goblin Slayer nodded.

“Even if you don’t have a torch, you can make do so long as you have green wood. Even damp, fire will catch easily on it.”

“You’ve got some nerve, talking about burning living wood in front of an elf.” High Elf Archer had removed her gloves and was massaging her fingers, toes, and ears, but she found time to spare a sharp look at Goblin Slayer, her lips pursed.

A living human body could freeze and even begin rotting if exposed to the cold for too long. Priestess, almost fondly remembering being threatened with as much on the snowy mountain, imitated her elf companion. This time, she’d even thought to bring a change of socks, for her original pair was now soaked through with sweat.

“Brrrr… Many pardons, but if I may…”

Everyone naturally gave the place closest to the fire to Lizard Priest. His down cloak didn’t change the fact that he was a lizardman and sensitive to the cold. But then, the fact that he hadn’t voiced a single complaint once this path had been chosen and set out on was also very much the way of a lizardman. “Might I request the miracle that was mentioned prior to our departure?”

“Oh! Certainly!” Priestess nodded vigorously. “Just as soon as my clothes are dry!”

“A’right, first, everyone drink up.” Dwarf Shaman laughed and shook the gourd full of alcohol, which he had retrieved from Lizard Priest. “This is good fire wine. Just a tipple on yer tongue’ll warm yeh all the way through.”

“I think it’s more likely to make my head explode,” High Elf Archer said, but she still took the gourd and had a delicate sip. She frowned expansively at the way the stuff burned, but then after a breath, she said, “Here, you too.”

“Th-thank you…” Priestess took the gourd from High Elf Archer, whose cheeks were flushing with the drink. Everyone in the party knew how delicate their high elf was when it came to alcohol—was it being a high elf that made her look even more beautiful nonetheless? Priestess always found herself enraptured by the archer’s lithe movements.

“What about you, Orcbolg? Want some?”

“Yes,” he said after a moment’s quiet. “Just a sip.”

Snow, water, sweat. Get soaked through and the chill would sap your strength; then when you went outside, the liquid would freeze, and you would only get colder. Thus, on a snowy mountain, it was crucial to have warmth, a change of clothes, and to rub your arms and legs.

In the picture scrolls and sagas, the heroes—well, they rarely did things like this. In the stories, they always appeared like they normally did and adventured as if nothing was different. One never saw a hero slipping on a patch of snowy ground or gathering kindling to build a fire. If Priestess hadn’t become an adventurer herself, she would probably never have known.

“…Do you think we should have tied ourselves together with a rope or something as we walked?” Priestess asked.

“There’s a time and place for that,” was Goblin Slayer’s estimation.

“I’m rather concerned that if I was to miss my step, I would drag you all into the void with me…,” Lizard Priest said.

“Yeah, and the dwarf would have the same problem, so that’s twice the danger!”

“I suppose no one can best a high elf when it comes to a discussion about weight!”

At length, with her clothing and equipment starting to dry and the alcohol warming her insides, Priestess said, “All right, I’m going to give it a try.” She held up her sounding staff with a clear ringing and stood tall. She took a deep breath and clutched her staff with both hands, sending her consciousness high up to the far heights of the heavens. It was a connection of the soul. A prayer but also a supplication, as if she was prostrating herself, the better to send every sign of her love and respect to the gods above.

“O Earth Mother, abounding in mercy, please, by your revered hand, cleanse this land.”

This was indeed precisely why the miracle occurred. One does not pray in hopes of being rewarded with a miracle. Neither are miracles granted as a reward for faith.

There was a breath of warmth as the Earth Mother’s unseen fingers brushed the cave. Her very hand blocked the snow and wind that howled in from the entrance. This was the Sanctuary miracle.

“Ah, ahhh… I am most grateful indeed for this…!” Lizard Priest regained so much of his strength that he was even able to slap the floor of the cave with his tail—the miracle was showing its effectiveness. “Were I not bound in service to my ancestors, I might be moved to dedicate myself to your Earth Mother.”

“I can just see it—you making cheese in her service!” High Elf Archer, who, like the Earth Mother, had an intimate connection to nature, laughed easily and loudly. She had kicked out her legs as if she were in her own room and was relaxing with a smile. “Divine miracles, huh? I’ve seen you do it a bunch of times now, but it always feels strange. It’s not like hearing someone’s voice, is it?”

“I can tell yeh, sprites aren’t like gods—that much is certain,” Dwarf Shaman offered.

“I’m afraid I can’t really put it into words, either,” Priestess said, smiling with some embarrassment. Then she sat down squarely on a rock.

To be fair, anyone who could explain it would have to be beloved of the gods indeed—a virtuous priest, perhaps. Then again, maybe such a person would refrain from speaking definitively about the gods precisely because of their virtue. Whatever the case, such explanations were certainly beyond the inexperienced, young Priestess…

“Excellent work,” said someone close to her. “Can it be used for defense?”

“No, it isn’t like Protection.” You see, Priestess had her hands full even trying to answer Goblin Slayer’s brusque question. “It’s not defense so much as it’s… Hmm… A secure purification, I guess…?”

“Whatever it is, we’re grateful for it, and that’s enough,” High Elf Archer said. She was already digging through their supplies for the provisions, apparently ready to eat.

Marching along a snowy mountain took real energy. Rest was important—even for a high elf. High Elf Archer waved a leaf-wrapped bundle at Goblin Slayer. “You need to be more grateful for amazing gifts like this, Orcbolg,” she said like an older sister chastising her younger brother.

“Hmm,” the helmet responded, and then there was a moment of silence. At length, he nodded earnestly. “You’re right. I’m grateful for it.” That much was certain.

“Good!” High Elf Archer replied jovially, and started chowing down. She was eating elven baked rations. Priestess had become rather fond of them and wanted to ask for a bite, but…

I’m a bit embarrassed…

After all this talk of gratitude…and immediately after she had been praying, as if the effulgence of heaven still shone around her. She sighed. The way she looked enviously at the snacks was almost childlike.

Dwarf Shaman pulled out some cheese, followed by Lizard Priest, crying, “Sweet nectar!”

I need to eat something, too. Priestess was just reaching into her bag when her eyes happened to meet those of High Elf Archer, whose mouth was stuffed full of the baked goods.

“Wanth thome?” she asked.

“…Yes, please.” Priestess looked shyly down at the ground, but she could feel the Earth Mother smiling.

Thus the entire party sat in a circle, enjoying their modest but satisfying meal. They ate dried meat and hardtack, then they melted snow in a pan over the fire so there was plenty of water to drink. It didn’t feel like any goblin hunt. It didn’t even feel as if they were in a hurry.

No, they were on a journey north, over the towering mountains covered with snow and mist. To a place they’d never been, a land they’d never seen—this was a true adventure.

On a journey, one must stop on the road and enjoy the showers that pass as one goes…

Was it the famous burglar who’d sung that song or perhaps the renowned spell caster? Whichever it was, Priestess thought truer words had never been spoken.

“Don’t you think it’ll be a pretty tough trip if the weather keeps up like this?” High Elf Archer asked, grabbing a piece of toasted cheese from Lizard Priest.

“Ah!” he exclaimed; she pressed some of her elven baked goods on him as she ate her cheese. “It’d be great with cheese. Probably.”

“Indeed…!”

True. Definitely not an argument.

Priestess, watching Lizard Priest tear open the baked good and gleefully stuff some cheese inside it, shifted in her seat. “We could wait until the snow calms down… But we have no idea how long that might take.”

Mountain weather could be capricious. More to the point, people simply didn’t belong in the mountains. It already felt as if they were in some other world.

The mountains treated all equally—and mercilessly. Passable roads, edible food, water—all were found only where they belonged. Surviving a trip through the mountains required knowledge, experience, and skill, along with Fate and Chance. No living thing could expect a helping hand from the mountain itself.

That’s the teaching of the Earth Mother anyway.

Priestess was starting to think she understood it…a little. She’d started to think she understood more and more things (a little) recently. She need only think of “The Many Colored Death” that had attacked them in the desert to remind herself of the truth of her religion’s teachings that nature was a harsh thing.

“We have food and water, so I think we should be able to make it off the mountain even if it takes a few days…,” she said.

“Discretion might be the better part of valor, but I have to admit, I’d like to see this through. You know, as an adventurer.” High Elf Archer smiled, gently and easily, full of the pride of a Silver-ranked adventurer.

Cocksureness and sagacity. Cowardice and care. These things looked similar, but the line between them was fuzzy. Anyone could see the dangers, come up with perfectly logical reasons to avoid them, and walk away from the adventure. Being willing to take on the challenge, even though they knew the risks, and still prevail was what made this an adventure—and what made them adventurers.

“But we have to be careful not to do anything heedless, ridiculous, or outrageous,” Priestess said.

“Sure—even knights errant are careful about those pitfalls.” It was that sort of awareness that made her elder friend so effective.

“Right,” Priestess replied to her wink; Goblin Slayer grunted.

“Hmm. In that case, we should pick a different path,” he said.

“Pick a different path? From here?” Dwarf Shaman asked, taking a swig of wine. “Ah…I see.”

“You know it?”

“Well, I’m a dwarf. Frankly, I’m surprised that you know about it. Awfully old story, that.”

“My teacher… I mean, my master taught it to me.”

That seemed to satisfy Dwarf Shaman, but Priestess and High Elf Archer were left looking at each other. (Lizard Priest was too busy getting warm and fawning over cheese to notice anything.) High Elf Archer flicked her ears. “What? You know a shortcut?”

“Yes,” Goblin Slayer said with a nod. “There’s a subterranean passage in here.”

§

It was a mossy, old, seemingly forgotten passageway. A narrow path led down from a crack in the interior of the cave that looked like it had been hewn with an ax. Indeed, the rent looked almost natural, but there was undeniably a path there. There were handholds and footholds, and the farther one went, the easier the passage was. At the same time, the path branched out in places, twisted back on itself, and became something of a maze. It seemed likely that someone had capitalized on naturally occurring caverns to create a tunnel system.

Priestess thought she recognized the traces of the craftspeople on the rock walls by the gloomy light of her torch. Perhaps that was what put her in mind of those old fairy tales. Many knew the stories of the adventures of the dwarves and the rhea or of the human, elf, dwarf, and rheas. As well as the tales of the barbarians who had emerged from the north, beyond these very tunnels…

“S’posed to be loads of battlefields left over from the Age of the Gods around here. Lots of ruins,” Dwarf Shaman said, interrupting Priestess’s thoughts. He didn’t need light, so he walked at the back of the formation, studying the rock walls intently, running his fingers over them. “There are elven strongholds and dwarven fortresses. And if there are dwarven fortresses—”

“—then there must be underground passageways,” High Elf Archer said knowledgeably. She, likewise, needed no light to see perfectly well. For elves were themselves beings like starlight—or so the poets said. Indeed, Priestess sometimes caught the flash of High Elf Archer’s hair in the dark. Most mysterious.

“If there’s one thing I’ll admit dwarves are good at, it’s digging holes,” High Elf Archer went on. “Even if dark elves are better at it.”

“I’d agree with yeh, right up to the part about dark elves.” Dwarf Shaman snorted, but he didn’t actually sound like he thought it was much of a compliment. Elves and dwarves hardly got along with each other, let alone with dark elves—even children knew that.

But only they know the deeper truths about themselves, Priestess thought. A human like her probably couldn’t imagine.

As she walked along with the flickering flame in her hand, she tried paying attention to the walls and floor.

Imagine if I’d come here alone.

She was sure she would have gotten completely lost and never found her way out again. She wasn’t sure she remembered which way they’d come or how. A dwarven tunnel this may have been, but to a human, it was just another cave. It was nice and wide, but the ceiling height left something to be desired.

“It’s rather warmer here than on the surface. Now I see why those who drink milk fled underground to escape trouble…” Evidently, low ceiling or no, Lizard Priest was happier here than up above. The way he kept his long neck and head down, all but crawling along, very much made him look like the lizardman he was. “Perhaps my own forebears might have succeeded in establishing a naga kingdom or two, had they done the same.”

“I wish there had been time at that other fortress to search for underground passages,” Goblin Slayer said. He was talking about the adventure on which Priestess had met Noble Fencer—that is to say, Female Merchant. Indeed, Priestess remembered—that terrible goblin stronghold had once been the remains of a dwarven fortress.

If the weather was clear…

If the weather was clear, might it have been possible to see that structure from the top of this mountain? Or would it have been buried in snow?

“Your Tunnel spell saved us.”

“Aw, don’t mention it. That was all thanks to the power of the sprites.”

“I’m not sure that avalanche was such a good thing, though,” Priestess (with the aforementioned thought in her head) said with a pointed frown.

Goblin Slayer fell into a sullen silence, and High Elf Archer giggled. In spite of her laugh, she said, “Not that I care that much, but you do know where we’re going, don’t you?” That was what passed for concern with her, apparently. Perhaps even a high elf’s senses were dulled so far underground, for her ears twitched restlessly.

From behind, Priestess heard the jocular voice of Dwarf Shaman, who seemed to have picked up on the elf’s body language. “Believe me, we’ll be out of here long before an elf’s life span would be up.”

“Ugh. When I think about spending thousands of years down here…” High Elf Archer gave a frustrated wave of her hand. She added under her breath that it would be no joke. “I might turn into a dark elf. And you only find the weirdest monsters underground.”

“You could grow a little moss. Start a mushroom collection.”

“Yeah, well, they do say dwarves are kin to rocks.”

It was the usual banter. Lively and calming.

Priestess was always nervous when they were underground, such as when they were delving into a dungeon. She always had been, ever since her very first time—she suspected she always would be.

And yet…

She also thought she had gotten used to it. Yes, she was nervous. But she was used to the nervousness. And it was such a help when her party members were chatting amiably around her.

“As I said, the place used to be a battlefield long, long ago. So if there was anything here—” Suddenly, Dwarf Shaman stopped talking, and then he stopped in his tracks. In the cramped confines of the underground space, crisscrossed by tunnels like an anthill, the party formed up.

Before, Priestess in her incomprehension might have simply felt panicked, might have cried out or asked questions. But now, she knew. She recognized the way the hair on the back of her neck stood up. The way her heart beat faster inside her little chest. She gripped her sounding staff firmly, peering into the seemingly endless darkness.

“If there was anything here…,” Goblin Slayer said, drawing his sword with its strange length from its place at his hip, “…it would be a remnant from that time.”

From the darkness, Priestess felt a sensation coming closer, an aura she knew very, very well.

“GOOROGGBBB…!!”

They’re coming.

§

“I can’t believe there are goblins here of all places!” High Elf Archer cried, her complaint piercing the darkness in the form of an arrow that lodged itself in a goblin’s skull and brain. The monster fell back without even a cry, and his companions paid him no more attention than a stone on the roadside.

“GOROGBB!!”

“GBBG! GROGB!!”

Maybe the creature even survived the shot—but it didn’t matter; he was promptly trampled underfoot.

“Why does it turn out like this every time I go on an adventure with you, Orcbolg? You need to take some responsibility for these things!”

“No, I do not,” Goblin Slayer said simply as he charged the group of goblins head-on.

“GOROG?!”

First he bashed one of them in the torso with his shield, then immediately lashed out with the sword in a reverse grip in his left hand. “This makes two!”

“GRGGOOB?!” A goblin trying to slip past his companion found his throat pierced from the side, bloody froth bubbling up. Goblin Slayer twisted the blade to make sure the creature was dead, then lifted one foot and planted it firmly between the legs of another goblin.

“GBBORGB?!”

“And this is three.”

The sensation was soft and unpleasant but exhilarating. The goblin somersaulted backward and rolled on the ground, knocked clean out. Almost mechanically, Goblin Slayer pulled out his sword and thrust it into the monster’s throat, killing him.

One round—hardly a breath—three goblins. Seeing the fools in the vanguard cut down in virtually the blink of an eye set the other creatures back on their heels; they stopped moving.

“GOROGG…?!”

“GORG! GOBBGRRGB!!”

They’re well-built. Goblin Slayer grunted to himself as creatures in front of him pushed and shoved, trying to induce someone else to go ahead of them. Normally, goblins came up to no more than waist height on a human, but these reached almost to his chest. Their arms and legs were thick. That is, strictly in comparison to the average goblin, of course, but still…

There’s no problem.

So they were a little large—they were still nowhere near being hobgoblins. And above all, the nasty little glint in their eyes as they held back, looking for their chance, was entirely the look of goblins.

So there was no problem, then. Goblin Slayer brought up the sword in his hand and let it fly.

“GBBORGB?!”

“Four. Can’t tell how many there are—we’ll have to charge through. Which path is it?”

“Sure, sure!” Dwarf Shaman shouted. “Run for the next branch, then down to the right!”

The adventurers were off and running even before the goblin with a sword in his neck could expire. The goblins were thrown into confusion by the forceful advance; the party peppered them with arrows while the front row grabbed weapons from the corpses and pushed farther forward still. Priestess jumped over the corpses that seemed to materialize in front of her, while Lizard Priest made extra sure they were dead. If they simply followed Dwarf Shaman’s instructions as they headed deeper into the depths…

“GORGGBB!!”

“GBBG! GBOGGB!!”

“Guess they’re coming after us,” High Elf Archer said. She didn’t sound the least bit winded despite the run, and in the dim torchlight, her ears could be seen to give a less-than-pleased flick.

They could hardly have expected there would conveniently be no pursuit. The cackling, caterwauling voices of goblins came from everywhere in the maze of tunnels. That much, at least, was familiar to this party.

“There are ten of them… No, a little more. Less than twenty. All the echoes are making it hard to tell,” High Elf Archer said.

“But…they’re not…hobgoblins, are they?” Priestess asked. She was huffing and puffing along, but there was no sign of nervousness on her face. Her expression was firm, and she was looking around vigilantly, but she betrayed no fear or hesitation.

High Elf Archer glanced out of the corner of her eye and bit back a laugh so Priestess wouldn’t know she had looked. Goblin hunting was by no means funny—but watching a human grow and mature was always a joyous thing.

“Aren’t they?”

“They’re…a bit bigger than normal. But not that much…bigger.” Priestess was paying unusual attention to her own shoulders as she ran along. She remembered all too well an adventure on which that soft flesh had been bitten into.

Now, that was one big opponent, though.

If it hadn’t traumatized her, that was what counted. High Elf Archer, remembering that she herself had been thoroughly abused on one of these quests, nodded. “Eh, just a little more trouble… That’s all they are.”

“One might point out that our classifications of creatures are purely arbitrary and artificial.”

“There may not be real differences… Ah.” Goblin Slayer’s response to Lizard Priest, already in his usual laconic style, was cut even shorter as they emerged from the cramped, narrow tunnel into a vast cavern.

How to describe this place? One hesitates to say it was the ruins of a dwarven village. There was no longer any trace of the breathtaking metalwork that characterized the output of their craftspeople, who seemed to have the blessing of the smithy god in their very hands. Dilapidated, collapsing buildings, the wood rotting away, were haphazardly connected in a sort of pile. Hallways were everywhere, looking like they might fall down at any moment—yet holding one another up. It was as if someone had shoved a slum underground and then shaken it violently. It made High Elf Archer think of an anthill—as if it might be the dwelling of something very strange.

The king of the shacks, she thought. It hurt to think it, but the small handful of dwarven fortresses left on the surface were now old ruins. If it weren’t for this thing, and the goblins, she might have seen fit to spare some time sightseeing—for an elf, it would have been very little time indeed.

When Goblin Slayer came to a halt, however, it wasn’t for the tourist opportunities. “A town?”

“Living quarters, more like. For the fortress,” Dwarf Shaman spat; he steadied his breathing and then took a swig of wine as if to wash out his mouth. “Everyone probably died defending the castle against the demons, and then an army of Chaos took up residence here…”

“And in time they, too, abandoned it, or perhaps were driven out. I suppose such is the story…” Perhaps once upon a time, this place had been the setting for an adventure.

At Lizard Priest’s words, Priestess quickly knelt down and formed a holy sigil in the air with her fingers. While he waited for this brief but heartfelt silent prayer to conclude, Goblin Slayer turned his helmet.

“What do you think?” he asked, his breath perfectly calm. “Will the goblins be able to get out of the tunnels?”

“Without anyone to show ’em where to go, I doubt they’d make it up top.” Dwarf Shaman narrowed his eyes and glared around at the profusion of galleries.

“Hmm,” Goblin Slayer grunted. “Only any who followed us, then.”

“If there should be any, we simply kill them, make our escape, and let the rest of them tear one another apart,” Lizard Priest said.

Goblin Slayer nodded. It didn’t matter where they had come in from. Then he grunted again. “Large goblins. I heard long ago that animals that live in cold regions grow larger.”

“Not that I really care,” High Elf Archer began, her ears trained for any sound of goblin footsteps, “but there aren’t some awful blind monsters keeping them down here, are there?”

“If you mean Flying Polyps, they’re farther down,” Dwarf Shaman said.

“Po-lyp?” Priestess asked, getting to her feet.

“There are a lot of ancient creatures left over around here,” High Elf Archer explained, and Priestess thought she understood. She dusted herself off, then picked up her sounding staff, which made a pleasant ringing.

“I’m sorry for keeping us,” she said.

“Think nothing of it. I must say, however, that escape would be quite simple if one were to go through the walls or ceiling,” Lizard Priest remarked.

“This is dwarven make. Don’t think the likes of goblins could get through it, and if they tried, it would come down on their ugly heads. The ruins notwithstanding,” Dwarf Shaman replied.

“Hmm?” Priestess put a finger to her lips. After a moment, she added: “I don’t think goblins would think that far ahead, do you?”

“Okay, I think it’s time to leave!” High Elf Archer shouted.

“Agreed.” Goblin Slayer nodded.

“GOROGBB!”

“GRGBB!!”

The adventurers launched themselves into the ghost town at almost the same moment as the goblins came piling in like an avalanche.

“I’ll take the rear guard,” Goblin Slayer said.

“And I shall accompany you!” offered Lizard Priest.

Their feet could be heard sliding as they dropped their speed and worked their way to the back. At a moment like this, they were in perfect harmony. Likewise the other party members, who nodded to them as they ran past and sped up.

But then, that’s perfectly ordinary for us, thought Priestess.

As they went by, High Elf Archer stuck out her tongue a little, then twisted her torso toward the back. “Take this!”

“GBBBORG…?!”

Did the goblin’s scream trail off because of the pain, or the pierced lung, or was it both? High Elf Archer’s hand moved so fast, it couldn’t be seen, but her arrow flew clear through the goblin in the vanguard.

“Wow…,” Priestess breathed out at this shot—taken with hardly the time to aim. High Elf Archer’s archery was always astonishing to her, no matter how many times she saw it.

“Hee-hee!”

“If yeh’ve got time to be proud of yourself, yeh’ve got time to work!”

“You just make sure you don’t take us down a wrong turn! It makes my head hurt, knowing we’re in dwarven tunnels!”

“Ha-ha…” Priestess managed a small laugh between measured breaths.

The cramped confines of the cave. The onrushing goblins. The desperate running. The darkness. All of them could easily provoke terrible memories for her, and yet…

Right now, I’m not afraid… I’m really not.

In fact, she had the wherewithal to be slightly annoyed that she couldn’t be more helpful at this particular moment. She could hardly engage with the goblins in melee combat—not of the kind she could hear in the clangor behind her. There was the whoosh of a dagger, the thumping of claws and teeth and tail, a goblin death rattle, and the smell of blood.

I’ll never be quite like them, she thought. Even if she did feel a certain admiration for that female knight and her ancient, forgotten sword technique.

At the same time, she wasn’t good enough at slinging yet to do it while running. She’d already used a miracle earlier and wanted to save her others…

And the only torch I have is the one for myself—these two don’t need one.

Round human ears would never best an elf’s hearing when it came to ferreting out enemies.

Considering all this, really the only thing for Priestess to do was to run as mindfully as she could, being careful not to stumble. The thought brought a smile to her face. I guess I am getting used to this. Imagine: her worried about things like that in the middle of a goblin hunt! She almost wasn’t nervous enough.

A time and place for everything. This wasn’t her turn, her moment. She would do what she had to; thinking could come later.

“There’s no end to them—as if there ever is.”

“Eep!” Priestess yelped. The words had come at her just as she was about to refocus herself on the task at hand. Of course, the owner of the voice always talked about goblins, so that was no surprise. But she felt like she had when the Mother Superior called on her right when she hadn’t been paying attention during lessons.

Priestess took a deep breath to steady her pounding heart. She spared a glance over her shoulder to see a figure in gore-spattered armor coming toward her. He had a brand-new rusty sword in his hand. Given that his shield was also streaked with blood, she assumed he’d bludgeoned a goblin with it and then stolen his weapon. Behind him, she could see Lizard Priest’s lithe form. He spun his eyes around in his head, then winked at her.

Phew!

“They’re both safe!” she called to the two in front of her, letting out a sigh of relief. High Elf Archer, with her hearing, would certainly have picked up on the fact without Priestess telling her, but communication, she believed, was important. As if in proof, the elf waved back at her, and Priestess nodded.

Very well—the next thing to do was to ascertain the situation.

“Are there many of them?” she asked.

“For wanderers, yes.” Despite the fact that he had just finished a pitched battle, Goblin Slayer was able to answer Priestess’s question immediately. “But there’s not enough of them to be a separate tribe.”

“Is there a horde somewhere, then…?” If so, they would have to finish it off… But where were they? To find them, the party would have to… No. “First we have to deal with the goblins right in front of us and then get out of these passageways, right?”

“Yes,” Goblin Slayer said with a nod. Then he added: “That’s right.”

“Ha-ha-ha! If we simply planted our feet and made ourselves immovable objects, I believe we would find a way to prevail!” Lizard Priest exclaimed, scraping his claws noisily along the floor, his breath reeking of blood and innards. “Even my heart has finally begun to grow warm!”

“I’m afraid it might cool right down again when we get outside,” Priestess said. That was why they couldn’t overdo it.

She felt a little nervous offering this advice, but “Yes, indeed!” was Lizard Priest’s response. “I see you’ve learned to say quite the right thing. Goodness gracious, I must not neglect my own study!”

“O-oh, really, I…” Priestess felt her cheeks softening into a smile at Lizard Priest’s teasing, but she forced herself to keep a straight face. This was no time for either modesty or embarrassment.

“Whatever the case, we need to clean this up quickly,” Goblin Slayer said.

And then there’s…

Goblin Slayer—something seemed off about him, as if he wasn’t quite focused.

“Watch your heads, everybody!” Dwarf Shaman shouted.

Priestess didn’t have the time at the moment to be lost in such thoughts. They were barreling toward a tunnel with a shockingly low ceiling. A perfectly ordinary passageway—but it was effectively a deadly trap for humans, elves, and lizardmen.

“These dwarven towns, always so cramped…!” The high elf was the only one to go flying into the tunnel like an arrow without slowing down at all. Leaning so far forward that she was almost on the ground, she looked like a gust of green wind rushing along. All Priestess could do was crouch down likewise and try her best to follow her. She held her staff up near the top so she wouldn’t drop it. Her willowy body might not have looked like much compared to Witch or Sword Maiden, but at times like this, it proved very useful…

“Well, my goodness! Quite a thing, this…!” Even Lizard Priest, who indeed looked like a lizard slithering along the ground, was having trouble.

Priestess slowed her pace to match Goblin Slayer’s, raising her voice in hopes of being able to communicate the situation. “Goblin Slayer, sir!”

“Give me a torch.”

“Yes, sir!”

They were in perfect sync. He reached toward her; she passed him the burning torch—it hardly took a second. Then she could hear his feet sliding again as he returned to the back of the formation.

A low ceiling was no obstacle for goblins.

“GOROGGBB!!”

“GBB!! GOROOGBB!!”

Goblins—whose numbers might diminish but whose momentum never did—interpreted everything in the most congenial possible way. What’s that they say about big heads and little wit? The huge simpleton was obviously an idiot. Push him down. Kill him. Make him pay for all that he’s done. And while you’re dealing with him, I’ll take the human girl or maybe the elf maiden.

Perhaps that’s what they were thinking.

“We’re lucky they have no archers.” Goblin Slayer took aim at the monster at the front of the enemy formation (there because he was stupid, not because he was brave) and slammed him with his shield.

“GOROGB?!”

The creature tumbled backward, filthy blood spraying from his shattered nose, taking several of the goblins behind him with him as he fell to the ground. He might be one of their own, clutching his face and writhing in pain, but to the other goblins, he was nothing more than an obstacle. They kicked him, taunted him, punched him—in other words, for several seconds, the adventurers ahead of them completely disappeared from their minds.

And that was as good a diversion as any.

“See you in hell.” Goblin Slayer pitched a bottle of flaming liquid along with the torch, then made tracks down the tunnel. Behind them, they could hear the glass shattering—followed by goblins screaming and a rush of heat.

“I wish you wouldn’t throw explosives around so casually!” High Elf Archer groused, greeting his arrival with her hands on her hips.

Underneath his helmet, Goblin Slayer was looking left and then right, checking on Priestess, Lizard Priest, and Dwarf Shaman. They were out of the tunnel but apparently not out of the dwarven city. Even in the gloomy light, the silhouettes of a wild array of ruins could be plainly seen. Priestess was lighting her next torch as she thought: I can’t believe I’m actually used to this…

Goblin Slayer was standing silently; one might have taken him to be doing nothing at all—but High Elf Archer twitched her ears at him in an annoyed motion. “There’s not many wind sprites down here. I think we might suffocate.”

“…No, I doubt it,” Goblin Slayer replied, simply and with a long exhalation. “Although it might be a different matter if one was to launch Fire Bolt seventy times.”

High Elf Archer pursed her lips and could be heard wondering what that was supposed to mean, but she quickly said something else altogether: “There’s more of them! We’d better hurry!”

“GROOROOGB…!”

Be they dragons or goblins, green-skinned monsters never seemed to know when to give up. Why was that?

Some of the goblins had pushed or jumped their way through the flames, even as the tongues of fire licked at their own skin. This, too, was not bravery—it was simple rage or, again, perhaps they felt they were different from those other fools. (One might forgive a dragon for using its breath weapon on anyone who actually dared to put it in the same category as these creatures.)

The Chaos horde came on, crushing their companions underfoot. Goblin Slayer grunted. “Let’s go.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice—this way!” Dwarf Shaman called, and then the adventurers were running again without a moment to catch their breath.

In terms of comparative prowess in battle, it was a simple matter: Goblin Slayer and his party held the advantage. But they didn’t know how many enemies there were. And the adventurers’ strength and stamina would have to last against all those goblins.

They would have to kill any goblins they encountered on their way to the surface, but they couldn’t afford to dally. If only they’d had something. Anything—yes, anything other than just knowledge of the right path.

That thing arrived in the shape of a huge cliffside that appeared before them.

Of course, Dwarf Shaman was leading them—it wasn’t possible that this was a mistake. There must have been some significance to it, some reason the dwarves had cut this giant rift in the land—a water channel, perhaps. If any of the adventurers had peered down into the abyss, they might have seen a faint, cold glimmer, as of a dark metal. It was a river of molten steel, from those ancient days when the fires of the dwarven forges had not yet cooled.

And where you had a river and you had a town, then you must have something else, too.

A low railing and nice, wide slats. It creaked in the subterranean wind, but it was unmistakably a metal—

Bridge!

“Let’s bring it down!” Priestess cried, knowing that they now had the advantage of terrain.

“Oh, for—!” High Elf Archer exclaimed beside her, looking up at the ceiling and wasting a turn on a gesture of futility.

“This calls for a spell,” Goblin Slayer said, and, as ever, his judgment was just right.

“My ancestors aren’t going to like this one bit…!”

“It won’t be any worse than the day goblins invaded their home!”

“I daresay milady ranger is correct!” The ancient dwarves would not have been pleased to see the goblins who now pursued the party.

Dwarf Shaman, still frowning, crossed the hanging bridge, pumping his short arms and legs. High Elf Archer leaped ahead of him—at this point, they needed no one to tell them where to go. “If we’re going to drop this bridge, we want as many of them on it as possible…!” she said.

“Agreed,” Goblin Slayer responded.

“Yes, exactly!” Lizard Priest crowed.

This meant that the two frontline fighters would become the knights on the bridge, blocking the goblins’ advance for as long as they could.

“GOBGOB!”

“GRG! GOBG!!”

The horde of goblins came on, armed with a motley assortment of weapons. The bridge began to shake violently; even with its redoubtable metal construction, it wasn’t built to be a battlefield.

The monsters’ footsteps rumbled, the bridge groaned, and the adventurers’ shields and claws added to the cacophony.

“GRROGOB?!”

“GROB?!”

“Feh!” Goblin Slayer clucked his tongue, confronted by one goblin torn clean in two by claws and another with its throat crushed. Maybe he’d been a little too enthusiastic with his rusted sword, for the blade gave up the ghost, cracking under the assault. An ugly hit.

I didn’t think I was that attached to it.

Without hesitation, he flicked the hilt, the sword rotating to an ice-pick grip, and slammed the shortened blade directly down.

“GGOBGRGG?!”

Even a broken sword could take a life when driven with sufficient force.

Goblin Slayer left the weapon lodged in the monster’s throat, crushed the monster’s fingers with his foot, and took his club instead.

“Shaaa!”

“GOROOGBB?!”

It was Lizard Priest’s whirling tail that protected him at that moment, flying overhead. The mass of muscle and bone became a fearsome whip, slamming a goblin in the sternum so hard, it burst the monster’s internal organs and sent him flying backward.

“GOBOBRG?!”

“GRRG! GOBRO!!”

The object of Lizard Priest’s aggression was already dead, and the momentum of his corpse now made it a weapon in its own right. Spewing guts and filth, the goblin went tumbling off the bridge, taking several of his erstwhile companions with him. And it is the way of goblins, when someone interferes with them, to take their eye off their goal and abuse the interloper instead.

“Ha-ha-ha! And have you become more careful with your weapons, milord Goblin Slayer?”

“Even I don’t constantly throw my possessions away.”

“GBBORGB?!”

Goblin Slayer flung the club with a casual motion, adding another obstacle—read: corpse—for the pursuers.

“Only when necessary.”

“Most enlightening.” Lizard Priest laughed so hard, his fangs showed. Goblin Slayer’s helmet nodded up and down. It was time.

The two adventurers fled from the goblins who had packed themselves onto the bridge. At the exact same moment…

“O Earth Mother, abounding in mercy, grant your sacred light to we who are lost in darkness!”

A prayer rang out, working its way from the depths of the earth up toward the heavens—and a radiant light scattered the forces of Chaos.

Priestess hadn’t needed anyone’s permission; she’d seen that this was the moment, and she hadn’t hesitated. The light granted by the Earth Mother shone from her sounding staff, pouring down equally upon all the goblins.

“GOBOB?!”

“GBGRR?!?!”

The goblins hid their faces from the light, yelling and writhing. Filthy tears flowed from their eyes—a pitiful sight, yet not one deserving of pity.

The moment a hand stretched out in the direction of one of the goblins, everyone there knew that his head would be crushed by a stone.

The goblins had been drawn along, held in place, and then blinded by Holy Light in the middle of the bridge.

“Right where I want ’em…!!”

When Dwarf Shaman saw that his companions were safely off the bridge, he gave it an almighty whack with the palm of his hand. The metal span, which must have been built in the days of his ancient forebears, creaked loudly.

“Come out, you gnomes, and let it go! Here it comes—look out below! Turn those buckets upside down—empty all upon the ground!”

The screws popped. The metal buckled. The chains stretched—and then, with a cracking sound, they gave way. One of the most powerful forces in the Four-Cornered World—gravity—grabbed hold of the bridge, goblins and all.

“GOBRG?!”

“GOBOBROR?!?!”

They could panic, but it wouldn’t save them. Would it have been better for them had this still been the time when a great stream of glittering molten metal heaved below? The goblins were dragged into the abyss in the blink of an eye; even their screams didn’t last long. For their collective death rattle was drowned out by the sound of the dwarven bridge annihilating its old enemies.

The roar as the bridge collapsed against the dark, frozen metal below was like a thunderclap. The floor shook, and pebbles danced, and dust even came raining down from the ceiling far above.

“Eep!” Priestess exclaimed without meaning to and huddled down; even High Elf Archer covered her ears and curled up. Lizard Priest and Goblin Slayer, meanwhile, were busy receiving Dwarf Shaman, who sniffed proudly.

“‘I am a servant of the Secret Fire,’ as they say. Startin’ to think maybe I should’ve gone into the world-creation business!”

“…Gosh, you almost sound like an elf,” High Elf Archer said.

“Quiet, yeh…”

High Elf Archer mumbled that the shaman would invite a punishment from the smithy god, but he only laughed. Dwarf Shaman seemed downright impressed with the grand ending of the great bridge his ancestors had built.

He shook a ninepin bottle, made from a plant from the east, and there was a simple splish of liquid. Dwarf Shaman undid the stopper, turned toward the bridge that now ran across the floor of the valley, and scattered the alcohol in a spray.

“Doesn’t matter if it’s mead, cider, or the potato stuff… If yeh don’t have the water of life, ye’ve got nothing at all.” With those words, he drank down the remaining mouthful of alcohol. It wasn’t exactly drowning his sorrows in drink—more like an excellent excuse. Priestess let out a breath.

Nothing to worry about, then. Drinking wine was what dwarves did; a dwarf who didn’t drink wine was hardly a dwarf at all.

“Is there still a way home?” Priestess asked. “I hope we didn’t need that bridge.”

“They say it takes one to know one—well, this place was made by dwarves, and I’m a dwarf!” Dwarf Shaman said, wine dribbling into his beard. If he said so, then there was nothing to fear. Priestess would have been in serious trouble if she’d been tossed in here all alone—but thankfully, she had friends.

And as one of them, she would watch for enemies, judge when to use her miracle, and keep everyone safe. Priestess nodded to herself, counting off on her fingers one at a time; she seemed to have acknowledged something in her heart…

“All right!” She made a fist—recognizing, first of all, that she had done her job. She didn’t notice Lizard Priest watching her, his eyes narrowed in a smile at this habit she’d recently adopted. He didn’t say anything about it, either, for if she realized he had seen her, she would probably have shrunk into herself with embarrassment.

Instead, he stuck out his tongue merrily at Goblin Slayer. “I suppose this means the road home will be rather more circuitous.”

“It makes no difference to me,” was Goblin Slayer’s brief but unambiguous answer. “Going there and back again isn’t such an urgent journey.”

He then added under his breath, “It isn’t as if my possessions are going to be sold off.” Priestess heard him, but she didn’t understand what he meant.

§

It was only now that Priestess truly appreciated how light could be bright enough to bring tears to one’s eyes. As they emerged from the underground dwarven city, at first all she could see was white. She didn’t know if the glow was that of the morning sun or of twilight; it was as if a shard of ice had gotten stuck in her eye.

She covered her face with her arms to protect her stinging, bleary eyes and blinked several times. For some reason, she saw a strange, hazy rainbow wavering in front of her, and even after the focus returned to her vision, it was difficult to make anything out.

If any of those goblins had still been alive…

Things could have been very bad indeed—she cursed her own carelessness, and finally, the outside world began to come into view…

“Is this light…from the snow?”

As far as she could see, the world was a silvery white, glittering like the sparks of flames. Even Goblin Slayer could be heard to grunt “Hrm”—maybe he hadn’t expected this, either.

“Goodness gracious,” said Lizard Priest, who had closed his second eyelid and was now holding himself and shivering. It couldn’t have been pleasant for him. “This is quite something. Cold that pierces to the bone, yet a light that shines as if we were in the desert…”

“Heh!” High Elf Archer scoffed and took out what appeared to be a leather bandage with small slits cut in it. She tied it with a string around her head, being mindful of her long ears, then turned proudly to Priestess. “What do you think of my snow goggles?”

“When exactly did you buy those…?”

“A friend told me about them before we left. Looks like their moment has come! Neat, huh?” She puffed out her modest chest—but did a high elf really need such a device?

It sure seems like it would constrict your field of vision…

Then again, Goblin Slayer’s helmet had a very constricted field of vision, as she remembered from when she had tried on its cousin once. So then maybe there was no problem… But then again, it really didn’t seem like a high elf needed such a thing. Maybe it’s those kinds of purchases, Priestess thought, that leave her room in such a state…

At least she looks like she’s having fun, I guess. There was no need to be condescending about it. Besides, Priestess was interested in them, too.

“Could I try them later?” she asked.

“Sure! I think they might constrict a human’s field of vision, though…”

Goblin Slayer, with just a glance at the bantering girls, grunted quietly. “Do you smell fire?”

“Hrm?” Dwarf Shaman was using his sleeve to wipe wine out of his beard before it froze. “Sure your nose isn’t playing tricks on you? We did just come out of those ruins.”

“…Perhaps,” Goblin Slayer said. “You.”

“Yeah? What?” High Elf Archer bounded across the field so lightly, she didn’t leave footprints in the snow. “Need me to check for enemies?” She flicked her ears, thoroughly pleased to realize that Orcbolg couldn’t see for the brightness, either, and then peered into the distance. In spite of the fact that she was wearing snow goggles already, she put a hand to her forehead to shade her eyes. Priestess wondered if there was really any point to that.

At least she looks like she’s having fun, I guess, she thought again. She nodded to herself. She was definitely going to try those shades.

“Something’s burning.”

High Elf Archer’s report made Priestess abandon her lighthearted thoughts in an instant. The elf, still squinting into the distance and obviously listening carefully, continued calmly but sharply: “I don’t know if humans would be able to see it, but there’s smoke. And the sounds of battle.”

“Goblins?” Priestess asked.

“N—” High Elf Archer began, but then she looked over at Priestess through her goggles and sighed. “No, it’s not goblins. I don’t think.”

“So it’s not goblins.” Goblin Slayer glanced back at the iron door set into the rock face, a massive construction considering the size of the dwarves who had built it. Was this somehow connected to the goblins who milled about under the earth? In this world, there was nothing trivial. The flap of a butterfly’s wings could cause a storm elsewhere, and from a village burned for amusement, there might arise a hero.

Hmph. They were his own thoughts, yet he felt them hardly accurate. Well, he didn’t plan to rely on them anyway. Do or do not. In this world, that was everything.

“Let’s go.” Goblin Slayer took the sword, presumably of dwarven make, that he had picked up after dropping his club (without hesitation, of course) and put it into his scabbard. Dwarven swords were likely to seem a strange length for a blade to most humans, but Goblin Slayer was quite accustomed to weapons of this size.

“…?”

Speaking of size… This weapon looked like it must have been commissioned long ago by someone who lived in the north. Goblin Slayer had picked up a very thick, very long, very heavy blade, practically a greatsword. Priestess found it somewhat—indeed, very—strange, but Goblin Slayer voiced no complaint, only stashed it at his hip. Without really thinking about it, she cocked her head and blinked at him, and who could blame her?

“From the position of the sun and the shape of the mountain,” Lizard Priest said, sticking out his tongue, “I believe the village we’re after should be nearby.”

“Yeah, but I bet it’ll all be over by the time we get there.” High Elf Archer pushed the snow goggles up to her forehead.

“Whatever the case,” Goblin Slayer said decisively, “not going is not an option.”

None of the adventurers argued otherwise. They nodded to one another, then set off with a hush of snow under their boots, angling across the field. As they ran along at full tilt, Priestess realized it was evening, and the burning shimmer was the glow of twilight.

She followed closely in High Elf Archer’s footprints (well, figuratively; the high elf didn’t leave footprints in the snow), her breath fogging in front of her. She kept one eye on Goblin Slayer, who jogged along silently, and watched vigilantly to her right and left, as well as behind, where Lizard Priest was trying to keep up the rear.

As they went along, they reached a point where even Priestess could make out several pillars of smoke. They were coming from…a town. A city built hard against the mountain they were now descending, surrounded by snow and trees and sea.

A port.

This was the first time in her life Priestess had seen such a thing. It was nothing like the water town or any fishing villages she had seen. There was a great stone hall built on a small swell of a hill and houses with triangular roofs, looking like overturned boats. A wooden quay extended into the bay, with several long wooden sailing ships, the likes of which Priestess had also never seen, at rest around it.

Unfortunately, Priestess didn’t have the time to be taken by the exotic scenery. In addition to the long ships sitting calmly at port were several more vessels jammed haphazardly among them, disgorging warriors in gear the likes of which—yes—Priestess had never seen. They were attacking the town. They wielded axes and swords; they stole barrels and chests, and some of them could be seen heading back to their boats with young women slung over their shoulders.

“They’re kidnapping those people…!” Priestess said, and then blinked. This was theft, plain and simple. She’d seen goblins do it. She knew what it looked like.

And yet… And yet, she’d never seen women shout and cling to the necks of their kidnappers, almost as if they were excited by it. She’d never imagined they would blush, a color visible even against the twilight.

“Wha…? Wha…? Whaaaaaat?!” Despite the confusion and embarrassment that colored her cheeks, she didn’t stop running—that much, perhaps, was praiseworthy.

As the town got closer, they could hear the triumphant yawps of the kidnappers, the pained shouting of the men, and the yelling of the women.

“…The heck is that? Do those women sound, like, really, really happy to you?” High Elf Archer asked.

Yes. Yes, they do.

High Elf Archer’s face said I don’t understand better than any words ever could have.

The women were yammering ecstatically and holding fast to the men who were kidnapping them, obviously transported with joy. What the kidnappers were doing was so obviously barbaric—and yet, it seemed to be entirely different from when goblins did it.

“Ahhh… They are taking wives for themselves, I believe.” Lizard Priest stretched his long neck, his voice made profoundly languorous by the cold.

“Wives?” Priestess asked, a question mark practically hovering over her head. Maybe her voice scratched a little as she said the word. Then again, maybe it didn’t.

She could barely follow what she was learning of the situation. Taking wives. Wives? So was this a wedding ceremony?

“Such a tradition existed in our village as well—when a woman was abducted, she was perforce recognized as married.”

“‘Perforce’…?”

High Elf Archer shot Lizard Priest a deeply exasperated look, but he simply nodded and replied, “Indeed. For it is proof that they have the intelligence, goodwill, and martial valor to steal themselves a bride. Could there be anything to inspire greater confidence?”

“In other words,” High Elf Archer said, her tone tart, “your wives are all abductees?”

“Not all, no. But it only goes to show how desired a bride is—so most couples are harmonious.”

“Talk about yer cultural differences…” Dwarf Shaman couldn’t help laughing aloud at the way High Elf Archer hung her head.

Priestess, unsure what to do, looked desperately at Goblin Slayer. It was… How to put this? She’d been anxious, then managed to relax, then suddenly grown anxious again… And now this.

I know they say adventures can run the gamut of emotions, but this is ridiculous…! She had no idea whether to treat this situation as grim or carefree.

“What should we do…?” she asked.

“…We’ll have to talk to them,” Goblin Slayer said after a few seconds’ silence.

“No matter what’s going on?”

“No matter what’s going on.”

They worked their way down the mountain, and just as High Elf Archer had predicted, everything was over by the time they arrived at the foot. The vessels were drifting away from the port, and the people left behind appeared rueful but not particularly bereaved. Their attitude felt out of place among the flames, blood, and hovering smell of battle, the smashed houses and hewn limbs everywhere.

Priestess felt something akin to drunkenness threaten to overtake her, and she took several breaths to steady herself. They weren’t the only ones who had noticed something, after all. The people of the town had spotted the unfamiliar group coming down the slope during the battle. A motley crew consisting of a warrior in grimy armor, a priestess of a foreign religion, an elf, a dwarf, and a lizardman.

Muscle-bound men dressed in pelts and carrying axes stared Priestess down; she felt their gazes piercing her small body.

My rank tag…

That wouldn’t help. There were no Adventurers Guilds in this part of the world yet. Adventurers were just drifters; no one knew who they were or if they might be trustworthy. Priestess felt anxiety very much like she remembered from the desert, and her hand clenched by her chest. Even that slight motion earned her looks of suspicion.

So the armed populace and the five outlanders faced each other. Nobody knew what might send everything spiraling off in the wrong direction. The gods, quite rightly, swallowed anxiously as they rolled the dice.

Fate and Chance are inscrutable to all—as are the consequences of the wills and choices of Pray-er Characters.

High Elf Archer asked sotto voce what they should do. Lizard Priest held his peace, and Dwarf Shaman only shrugged.

It was Goblin Slayer who, after a long moment, snuffed out the fuse: “……We have come from the kingdom to the south.” That was all he said at first, as if he thought this single sentence was a perfectly sufficient explanation—then he hesitated for a beat before adding, “We are adventurers.”

There was no answer. The men, still redolent with the excitement of battle, began murmuring to one another, creating a low buzz.

Priestess slid her hands along her sounding staff, holding it tight. She wanted to be ready to react, whatever happened. She couldn’t spare a second to look to either side, but she knew her party members were doing the same.

After another long moment, there was a clank as of metal against metal, and the crowd parted, revealing a young woman. She wore beautiful black mail that went down to her knees and carried a shield as well as a spear with a broad metal tip. None of this concealed the generous lines of her chest and hips, around which ran a tightly bound belt. The belt bore a bunch of keys that jangled as she moved—it seemed these were the true emblem of her office.

Her face, slim and paler than the snow, was the finishing touch on this statuesque body. Her braided hair seemed to shine gold, but Priestess thought it was probably in fact a very light brown. The woman’s eyes were deep green like the depths of a lake. One of them was covered by a cloth bandage—but it did nothing to detract from her beauty.

Priestess swallowed the “wow” that almost came to her lips. One could say she was quite smitten. After all, she hadn’t seen anyone this beautiful (other than a high elf) since meeting the Archbishop of the Supreme God. She looked the very picture of the Valkyrie, the goddess of battle, though perhaps in slightly different equipment. The tiara that could be glimpsed in her hair showed that she must be a person of no mean status.

This lovely woman looked at the party, and her rose-colored lips softened. Priestess swallowed hard and straightened up, trying to look proper.

“From fair far you’ve come, hale, hardy ones, and many a trial endured. I urge, beg, and invite you to please repose yourselves in our halls.”

“…What?”

This time, Priestess was too late to swallow the word.