Goblin Slayer - Volume 14 - Chapter 8

Chapter 8 -  A Slice of Bread, A Knife and A Lamp

It might have been years later—or just moments.

“Oof!”

A girl went plunging headfirst into a snowbank, her voice muffled by the drift. Extricating herself from the snow along the mountain ridge, she groaned piteously. She had no idea she’d caught her foot on what was called a “snow cornice.” No idea that if her luck had been bad—if the roll of the dice had been bad—she would have simply tumbled straight down to the foot of the mountain. She didn’t know that in that case, her flesh would have been rent by sharp rocks and ice as keen as steel.

But anyway, none of that happened. She just cursed her own clumsiness and the mischievous snow, drawing her mouth down in a frown. She shook her head, and the black hair that fell down below her armored headband billowed out, snowflakes tumbling from it. She looked like a rabbit too eager to wait for spring—and in fact, there wasn’t much difference between her and such a vulnerable animal.

They were right about not going into the valley.

That was what the more experienced adventurers had told her before she left: “Even if you get lost, don’t go down into the valley. Climb onto the ridge.”

She didn’t actually understand why this was the right thing to do. Even now, she couldn’t resist the idea that the valley must eventually lead to the village. In fact, the girl didn’t entirely understand what this “valley” was. She had a vague sense that it was a place water flowed to.

It was really more than a valley; it was a marshy depression, and when she had gotten lost and wandered into it accidentally, it had been awful. It was cold, and the sun didn’t reach it, and you could only see down, not up, and there were piles of slippery snow everywhere, and… Well.

Next time I get lost, I’ll climb on the ridges.

Yes, the girl told herself forcefully. At the same moment, her stomach gave a pathetic gurgle. She put a hand to her belly (there was nothing there to rely on in a pinch) and bit her frowning lip. She’d already wolfed down the big loaf of bread she’d gotten at the harefolk village that she’d stumbled upon.

Speaking of which…

The monster fang on display in that mansion was really something…

Would she be able to fight such beasts one day? Was she even capable of it? The thought terrified her, but it excited her a little, too.

“Oh, that’s right…!”

The girl tried to snap her fingers—but they were too numb to manage it. She seemed pleased anyway.

She had realized that her canteen still contained some watered-down grape wine. She let her pack down as gently as she could (which was not very gently at all), then took out her canteen, struggling with the unusual way she’d packed things. Then she drank—glug, glug—without regard for how much she had left, pouring the stuff into her empty stomach.

Phew! She exhaled, slowly put away her items, and picked up her bag again, then took her time getting to her feet. Then she began to work her way down the mountain, never knowing that she was walking along the edge between life and death, with only the pips of the dice to help her.

I’ve never been anywhere like this before.

A cramped, tumbledown house. Her father with his cloudy eyes. A village full of people who were nothing but cold. And her, shrinking into herself.

That little girl couldn’t have imagined this place—the edge of the world. Or, no…

This can’t be the edge.

From where she was, she could see an oddly stereotypical city at the foot of the mountains and then the sea. Small boats—although to her they looked like great ships—traveled the waters toward the north. So this couldn’t be the northern edge. There had to be somewhere more northerly. Farther away, over the horizon.

“Hee…hee!” She didn’t know quite why, but that thought alone made her very happy.

Each time she ran, pushing off the snow, her pack bounced on her back, rattling around. Her cheeks were warm, and her vision was bright. From outside, she wouldn’t have looked like much. Just a girl all but tumbling her way down a snowy mountain. The sword at her hip looked dangerously heavy and left a line trailing through the snow alongside her footprints.

The people of her village might have pointed and laughed and said they couldn’t watch this. They had half forgotten about her already. But that meant nothing to her. She was full of pride and bravery as she went along. For she carried with her that pride, and her excitement, and her black onyx charm—and that was all.

That was all she, with the @ of the propater, the origin, on her back, needed to push her forward. People who felt they were smarter than her could say what they pleased—but what else did she really need?

“Oh…!” the black-haired girl exclaimed when she saw a dark spot, just visible against the snow. She blinked several times against the light reflecting off the snow, but finally, she saw that it was a person—someone from the city. It was a towering man wearing fine wool clothing, with an ax in the belt cinched around his waist. The scraggly beard that covered his face made him look something like a dwarf, but he was much too big for that.

Aw… He’s not even wearing a horned helmet.

She was just a little disappointed—and, yes, just a little scared—but she managed to draw a breath.

“Um, excuse me…!”

Her voice came out as small as the buzzing of a fly, even though she’d tried to shout as loud as she could. It was all she could squeeze out.

But at length, much to her relief, this man of the northerners seemed to notice her. It was unlikely he’d heard her voice; presumably he’d seen her up here. Not that it mattered to her either way.

“Hoh! Now, here’s a young lass whom I’ve not seen before!” the man said in a voice—and with a laugh—as big as his body. “Where’ve you come from, then?”

“Um, uh… That way,” the girl answered, shaking a twiglike arm in the direction of the mountain she’d come down. She’d followed the mountain road resolutely, clung to the cliffside, and eventually gotten across the mountain and had wound up here.

She wondered if he would be angry. If he would yell at her. What would she do if he attacked her? What items and equipment did she have with her, again?

The girl, suddenly feeling quite anxious despite the brevity of their conversation, stood where she was and shifted uncomfortably. The man took stock of her for a moment, then said, “Ah,” and nodded. “You’ll be an adventurer, then?”

“…! Yes, sir!” the girl replied, smiling like the sun and nodding so hard, her black hair bounced up and down. “An adventurer! That’s what I am!”

Pride filled her small chest as she turned toward the Four-Cornered World and set out.