Goblin Slayer - Volume 15 - Chapter 3

Chapter 3 - Find Silver Blaze!

“Would you like us to tend to your hooves? We have horseshoes if you’d like.”

“Th-this is most embarrassing…!”

At the great Temple of Law in the water town, Goblin Slayer and his party were received most hospitably. Even though it was evening when they arrived, the clerics welcomed them cordially, leaving Priestess unsure how to express her appreciation. What made her heart really skip a beat, though, was the temple’s bath. It was bigger than any bath one could have hoped for in a temple on the frontier. A large, beautiful space, full of warm steam. Priestess found it endlessly wonderful.

Just like Lady Archbishop.

That archbishop, who was there in the bath now. When Priestess thought back on the last time they’d been in here together, she felt her body grow warm.

She couldn’t think of a bath larger than this one except perhaps the Great Bath in the capital, which had its own spring supplying hot water.

In any case…

“It’s fine. It’s great! Sure, it’s a little surprising at first, but it’s just like regular bathing,” High Elf Archer insisted.

“You would wash your body in front of other people? There’s something wrong with you…,” Baturu said. They were in the changing room, and she was acting in a way that made Priestess think of High Elf Archer back when they’d just met.

The temple official who’d made the suggestion about the horseshoes didn’t seem fazed by the centaur; maybe she was used to dealing with people of all walks of life. Their timing must have been good, for they didn’t see any other clerics’ vestments in the changing area.

So it won’t bother anyone if our group is a little lively!

Priestess folded her clothes carefully, wrapping her mail in some cloth, and nodded to herself. High Elf Archer noticed and smiled ruefully. Baturu gave them both a questioning look, but it was a small thing.

“Do you not take baths in the plain country?” Priestess asked.

“…Wiping down our bodies is enough to suffice,” Baturu said.

This land of wind and dry grass and open fields—in Priestess’s mind, it somehow made her think of the desert she’d visited.

“Anyway,” Baturu went on, her face flushing and her tail waving broadly, “who would ever let someone else touch their hooves? Do humans do that sort of thing?”

“Sounds a bit like our ears,” High Elf Archer said, flicking hers demonstratively.

“Our ears and tails are also off-limits,” Baturu added, her own ears lying back on her head.

To be fair, I was a little shy about letting people see my ankles back when we made the sacred wine…

Priestess looked from one of them to the other, tapped a thoughtful finger to her lips, and then nodded. “Well, let’s go ahead and get in!”

“Seconded!” High Elf Archer said.

“Wh-what do you two think you’re doing?” Baturu asked.

It ended up as a bit of a quarrel. Not a real fight—if Baturu had been moved to bring her powerful kicks into the equation, things would have been over quickly. The fact that she didn’t meant she was either being considerate or holding back on them.

Either way, I’m just as glad, Priestess thought.

Between them, with many a smile and “c’mon, now,” she and High Elf Archer managed to coax Baturu to strip down. She had golden skin, tanned by the sun, and the muscles of her arms and legs were toned and firm. She wasn’t bulky, but she nonetheless looked different from the willowy Priestess or the statuesque High Elf Archer. Her body, shaped by and for running across the plain, had a functional beauty; it would have been a shame, in its own way, to hide it under bathwear. Of course, that would only hide the top half of her—the bottom half was still a gorgeous equine body…

You know, I wonder…

Were centaur women the same down there as human women? Priestess blushed at her own crude thought.

“Hnnngh… I’ve never been so embarrassed…,” Baturu said, her hooves clopping on the marble.

High Elf Archer grinned like a cat. “Just think of it as cultural exchange!” She was very much fond of bathing these days, and she quickly stretched out her legs and relaxed. It was a gesture unbecoming a princess of the elves, yet strangely, it was still beautiful, so lovely it could have been a painting.

Priestess kept stealing glances at High Elf Archer out of the corner of her eye as she placed a cloth (not the one for her mail) on the floor. “Would this work?” she asked.

“Yeah… Sorry.”

“Not at all,” Priestess said.

Baturu slowly bent down and laid on the cloth. Priestess lowered her little butt down next to the centaur, and all three of them let out contented sighs.

They might quibble and quarrel, but the warm air relaxed them from the cores of their bodies, releasing the tension in their muscles. It was tiring, rattling along in a wagon for so long. The sweat that rolled off their bodies, flushed from the steam, seemed to take the day’s fatigue with it. As they relaxed into it, it made their hearts lighter. The heart and the body are inseparable, after all, so it’s hard to affect one without affecting the other.

Hence why Baturu’s voice was languorous as she asked, “But why a bath, though…?”

“It’s important to rest your body after a long trip,” Priestess said, sounding equally relaxed, and she added, “Besides, you always get to be better friends by sharing a tub.” That was just something she’d discovered through experience—that the easiest times to talk were just before you fell asleep or in the bath—in any case, when everything and everyone was jumbled together, that was the perfect time.

“What do you think?” High Elf Archer asked, her eyes half-closed. “Starting to trust us now?”

“Truth be told, not quite,” Baturu said.

Which is another way of saying she trusts us enough to tell us she doesn’t trust us! Priestess thought, and it brought a smile to her face, even though Baturu still looked put out.

The centaur stared at Priestess dubiously and continued. “Aren’t adventurers just uncouth ruffians anyway?”

“Uncouth ruffians with the state’s seal of approval,” High Elf Archer quipped.

“But we are not subjects of your king,” Baturu said, her tone still sharp.

The high elf—also not a subject of the king—smiled and shrugged; Priestess, for her part, let the comment roll right off her back. Understanding each other didn’t mean always saying, Oh yes! You’re absolutely right! If it did, how could a lizardman, a dwarf, an elf, and some humans all go hunting goblins together?

“I guess you must not have liked the idea of your princess becoming an adventurer,” Priestess suggested.

“It…it was her own honorable decision. It’s not mine to comment on,” Baturu said—which basically meant no. The centaur pressed a washcloth to her face, pretending to wipe away some sweat from her glowing cheeks, and rubbed vigorously. “The only reason I came along with you was to make sure you actually did the job—and didn’t just say you were still looking while you wasted my time and my money.” She stared at them, her expression hard, tense. “I can imagine some cunning operator trying to pull just such a scheme.”

“Eh, lots of humans can’t tell the difference between clever and sneaky,” High Elf Archer said.

Priestess felt a little bit attacked. But how could a centaur or a high elf be expected to follow the human laws of a human kingdom set by a human king? It was hard enough even for other humans.

Read the whole history of the Four-Cornered World and you would never find an ideal place with no problems. Thus, that wasn’t an issue Priestess could address. Instead, she looked up at the statue of the hermaphroditic Deity of the Basin and that of the Supreme God above it. This wasn’t quite a matter of Law or Order, but…it shared the same roots. There was no simple answer—which was precisely why the gods had entrusted it to Pray-ers.

“But it might be true—that we never find her,” High Elf Archer said, drawing Priestess back into the present moment. She made an idle circle in the air with her finger until her digit came to rest by her cheek; her face was tinged with some frustration. “Human money doesn’t grow on trees, you know.”

“Doesn’t that go without saying?” Baturu mumbled, bringing an unexpected smile to Priestess’s face. The cleric tried to apologize to her friend, who was giving her an oh what look, but she couldn’t stop giggling.

“But even so,” Priestess said proudly, even though it was all she could do to wipe the tears from her eyes, “we won’t stop looking until we find her. That’s what adventurers do.”

“Yeah!” High Elf Archer said, puffing out her modest chest. “That’s right!”

“Eep!” Priestess exclaimed when she found herself suddenly confronted with the magically delicate body, and the two of them soon fell to jabbering. Only Baturu remained resolutely, sullenly silent.

§

“My goodness… To think you would show up so suddenly. I would have liked to make some preparations.”

“I see.”

Goblin Slayer had been shown into one of the innermost chambers of the Temple of Law. The last golden rays of the day’s sunlight poured down amid the chalk pillars, carving bright streaks in the purple tendrils of night. In the garden, a white sacred beast lay in repose, a bird perched on its scales. You could listen closely, but all you would hear would be the trembling of the grass and flowers in the wind and the burbling of water.

It was a calm, quiet environment where serenity reigned.

The woman who was the master of this place, her body covered in soft flesh, bent over, forming alluring curves. A pale thigh peeked out from under her thin vestments, looking as delicate and beautiful as glass. She proved that there were women in this world so beautiful, they could capture a person’s heart just sitting there. A succubus looking for a form in which to incarnate herself could find no better example.

Not that many succubi would wish to imitate this woman if they knew the deeds she had done.

Sword Maiden furrowed her brow and pursed her lips at the man standing before her as if she was the most innocent of girls. “It puts me in quite a pickle.”

“I see.” Goblin Slayer nodded brusquely, then accepted her invitation to sit down across from her. He knew this was a personal space belonging to Sword Maiden, the archbishop who shouldered the burden of Order in this area; he had been here before. It had always been a purified place, but today that fact was underlined by its tidiness.

The cleric withdrew to the entryway of the room with a bow; Sword Maiden acknowledged her with a nod. Then she put her hand to her ample bosom as if to still the pounding of her heart. “Might I ask what brings you here today?”

“Several things,” Goblin Slayer answered, still businesslike. “But first, goblins.”

“Goodness…” Sword Maiden sounded like a young woman hearing some horrible tale. She put a hand to her rosy cheeks, and maybe her eyes under her bandage had gone wide with fear.

Goblin Slayer knew the reaction was heartfelt. Thus he chose his words carefully—but he made no attempt to hide anything. “On our way here, we were attacked by goblins. They had…wargs, or whatever they’re called. Mounted troops.”

“A wandering tribe, do you suppose?”

“I can’t be certain.” There had been no time to investigate—or rather, he had prioritized getting here (he dutifully corrected his own understanding of his actions). Then he asked, just to be sure: “Have goblins been appearing around here again?”

“Not at all!” Sword Maiden exclaimed, her voice going up a register. The only ones who had heard her sound like that were the cleric who attended upon her personally, the other four members of Goblin Slayer’s party—and Goblin Slayer himself.

Sword Maiden looked at the ground as if embarrassed to have let herself be heard that way. A ripple passed through her golden hair as she shook her head. “No… There’s been nothing of the sort,” she said much more quietly, and then she looked up as if to gauge his reaction. She seemed to be peering through the visor of his metal helmet, looking beseechingly at him. To her eyes, neither the night darkness nor the shadows made a whit of difference. “There’s been no sign of goblins in this city since you got rid of them for us.”

“Hrm…”

“There have been evil elements, of course. But with that much, we can…”

…make do.

It was not a statement of pride—with her position and her power, it was simple fact.

The forces of Chaos would be rampant in any city as large as the water town. Agents of dark cults hid in dark places, demons corrupted people’s hearts, and unsavory nobles worked their own sort of mischief.

Vice was everywhere, be it in the lawless wilderness or the civilized settlement; it simply took a different form in each. How could one both praise the bravery of those who fought against these forces and simultaneously deride them as incompetent?

Goblin Slayer was aware that he knew nothing. It must be so difficult simply to stand alone, believing in the gods, forcing down one’s fear of goblins. The woman before him had accomplished things he could not dream of doing.

“Whatever the case,” he said, “if it’s not goblins, then it is beyond me.”

“Yes,” Sword Maiden replied, grasping the sword and scales. “Thankfully…and most unfortunately.” Then a mournful whisper escaped her lips. “You will not have to trouble yourself.”

“I don’t know if it’s related to the matter I’m pursuing, but it is a fact that goblins appeared,” he told her.

“I’ll take extra caution. If they’re in some vanguard of Chaos, they might be a sign of a shadow about to fall on the town.”

One thing above all others: Goblins ought to be destroyed. On that point, this man and woman agreed absolutely. They nodded at each other. Although only Sword Maiden flinched at the way her cleric-attendant privately sighed to herself.

“Well,” Sword Maiden began reluctantly, afraid to voice such an untoward question, “if you’re going to be here for very long, you must need a place to stay…” She then mumbled, “If it’s no trouble…” Her pale fingers fidgeted with the hem of her dress. The same hem goblins had torn at. It was still beautiful, like her eyes. “…Perhaps, if you’ve no objection, you would like to stay at this temple.”

“That would be a help,” Goblin Slayer said, nodding earnestly under his helmet. He was truly fortunate to receive the help of others. “I know it’s quite an imposition, but if we could turn to you for this, I would be grateful.”

“Goodness…!” This time, she sounded like a young noblewoman receiving a poem from a man she adored. “If there’s anything I can do, anything at all, please don’t hesitate to tell me.” She dipped her head, blushing so furiously that she was embarrassed to even take a step forward.

“I am looking for someone. I’m on”—here he paused and hesitated for a long moment—“an adventure.”

“You’re looking for someone?” Sword Maiden murmured, the words dropping into the twilight space between them. The cleric moved soundlessly, lighting a candle in a candleholder. The flickering flame mingled with the last wisps of the sinking sun and set the shadows dancing.

Was this what they called an air of mystery? To Goblin Slayer’s rustic sensibilities, it seemed so—not that he really knew what an “air of mystery” was supposed to constitute.

“We went on many adventures but rarely a search… Er, never mind.” Sword Maiden giggled as if recalling some game she’d played as a child. “I suppose we did. Down in the Dungeon.”

“Unfortunately, I suspect this will take place in town. If the object of our search is still here.”

“And who are you looking for exactly…?”

“A centaur,” Goblin Slayer said. “A princess of her people, I’m told. Beautiful, with a lock of hair that falls over her forehead like a shooting star.”

“…”

Sword Maiden found herself unable to answer immediately. She was gazing at the night that lay over the garden. The gloomy hour had come on so suddenly.

Could the stars and the twin moons be seen this night? Surely not. The air felt too damp for that.

After a long moment, she approached him gingerly. “I would be lying if I said I didn’t have a guess. Although I know not if it will help you…”

“I don’t mind,” Goblin Slayer replied decisively. “I must investigate everything, one thing at a time.”

“Yes, that’s just how you are…” He had been back then, too. Her lips softened into a smile as if she was sharing a secret. “Are you familiar with Silver Blaze?”

§

A dust cloud puffed up as someone kicked off—smack!—under the blue sky. There was a colorful flash, colorful figures, charging forward so quickly they were almost a blur.

The shrine maidens!

Red, blue, green, yellow, brown, black: The beautiful maidens were dressed in scintillating vestments of every color. Perhaps in imitation of the Trade God, the god of the wind, or maybe the Valkyrie, goddess of victory. They raced forward in line astern, these women so dear and so beautiful one could fall in love with them at first glimpse.

Those lower limbs that kicked off the earth, propelling them forward, were not human but equine. They were centaur women, running along the ground with their legs like wings.

The spectators packed into the coliseum let out a collective sound of amazement. The racecourse began wide enough for all six to run abreast, but after one or two turns, two of them side by side was the most they could manage.

The maidens pressed and pushed, shoulder to shoulder, vying to forge ahead or falling back to conserve their strength.

Out front was a delicate young lady, some of the hair on the side of her head parted toward the back. She had run at the front since the moment the race started, though it was impossible to say where in that small frame she kept such power and strength. Her performance seemed to say: If one could run flat out from the beginning to the end, then victory was guaranteed. But nothing is guaranteed.

Hot on her heels was a white—no, dappled—young woman, running easily. If the lady in front was running flat out, this girl seemed to have speed in reserve. That made her smile all the more overpowering—a smile that said she enjoyed nothing more than slicing through the wind like this. This dappled young woman, it was plain to see, was the star of this show.

Through turn two, turn three, the two of them battled, picking up speed, threatening to pull away—but there was someone behind them who refused to let them do so. A young woman with a yellow rose in her hair pressed forward, gritting her teeth. If the contest ahead was between the flat-out and the relaxed, perhaps we could say she represented pure determination.

Her otherwise cute outfit was spattered with mud, but she didn’t care; it seemed like her lungs might explode, yet she paid them no mind. It was not natural talent or lineage that supported this girl as she bore down on the front runners but sheer, unvarnished effort. Her arms worked furiously, her hooves veritably dragged her forward; she went onward, ever onward, thinking only of victory.

They rounded the final turn, and all that remained was the last straight. Whoever could pull ahead at this moment would receive the winner’s laurels.

Suddenly, there was a thunderclap from behind. A centaur in men’s clothing, a rather tall centaur at that, who had been holding station at the back of the field was suddenly making a move. Each time her hooves hit the ground, dirt flew everywhere and there was an audible crash.

One step, two steps, three steps—every stride ate up the distance as she closed in on the women ahead. In the blink of an eye, it was a four-horse race.

Traveling like a bolt of lightning, the woman in dark clothes spared a momentary smile for her worthy opponents. The noble-looking lady tried to ignore her. The dappled girl gave her a smile back. The girl with the yellow rose in her hair continued to push forward.

Each time someone pulled out in front, someone else would close in on them. They ran side by side, jostling each other, trying to gain that one step that would put them ahead. Who would win? Even the gods couldn’t know. The die had been cast.

It was impossible to blink; there was no time even to breathe. Every eye in the arena was fixed on the contest. Everything in the oval arena at that moment was for them, these young ladies, the aurigae.

And finally…

“Ave Caesar! Long live the king!” cried the winner, her voice resounding up to the spectators, who responded with cheering, showering her with glory.

§

“The king! Is he here?” Priestess asked.

“Naw. It’s just a tradition,” Dwarf Shaman said easily as confetti flew into the blue sky. He had grilled cat meat in one hand and a cup of wine in the other. Gambling he didn’t touch, but he still seemed to be living his best life.

He was a stark contrast to Priestess, who couldn’t get over the excitement of her first race. “Amazing!” was all she could find to say at first, until her question about the king finally made its way out. Ave Caesar, she heard, yet when she looked at the nobles’ seats, she saw no sign of the royal presence. It was understandably confusing to those not in the know.

They were at an oval coliseum; Priestess had heard there was a place like this in the water town, but this was her first visit. The structure was made of heavy stone, with seats that went up story after story, and almost all of them were filled today. Priestess had never seen so many people in one place, to say nothing of such excitement. She’d heard tell, of course, of how crowds thrilled at the centaurs’ races, but…

It’s still just…amazing!

She found herself rising off the soft rush mat under her behind more often than she sat on it—and they said the Circus Maximus in the royal capital was even grander than this! She could hardly imagine what would happen if a girl raised in the countryside like her was to go there.

“Unless I’m very much mistaken, those races started with war chariots—and I think the greeting was given in the middle of the race!” Dwarf Shaman said.

“The centaur races have been rather popular lately,” said a grinning young woman—the one who had invited the party here. She looked pleased to be there with them, and indeed, she had once been a member of their group. Now she was a prosperous businessperson—it was Female Merchant. They hadn’t seen her since their adventure in the desert.

She had been quick to accept Sword Maiden’s request—how could she object to taking these dear friends of hers to see all the excitement at the coliseum?

“Both the Quadriga and the Biga,” Female Merchant told the group. “The salutation is the most recent form of a tradition that’s changed over time, once including songs and dances.”

“You humans get so attached to your traditions—but then you change them at the drop of a hat. I don’t understand it,” High Elf Archer said, although she was happily clutching a handful of gambling tickets. The fact that she didn’t throw them away suggested that either she had successfully picked a winner or she didn’t grasp what they were for.

Then again, maybe it was the trendy (in the water town) clothing she and Female Merchant had plotted to wear (giggling all the while). To Priestess, the outfits seemed to show an embarrassing amount of skin.

I can’t quite bring myself to look at them, she thought, rather in spite of herself—though at the same time, the outfits looked like they would be nice and cool in this hot weather. If nothing else, it certainly showed off the high elf’s healthy body to best effect—which is to say, it looked very good on her. Maybe I should’ve asked for one, too, Priestess thought—just for a second—but she quickly reproved herself, reminding herself that it wasn’t good to waste money.

High Elf Archer, for her part, seemed to be having too good of a time to worry about her clothes—maybe she was caught up in the excitement of the crowd.

“That outfit is quite becoming on you,” Lizard Priest commented, nodding his long head somberly, then taking a bite of the cat meat in his hand.

“Oh, thanks,” High Elf Archer said, waving at him with a feline grin.

Lizard Priest swallowed—he seemed to find the food quite tasty. “I’m most intrigued by the idea of a contest between battle chariots,” he said, then mumbled, “And how much better it would be if there was cheese!” which brought a giggle from his high elf companion.

“I’m always surprised to remember that you do like to take the reins, don’t you?” she said.

“Yes, I’m inspired by one particular saga that tells the story of a man who fights false charges of being an assassin by means of a chariot race against his mortal enemy.”

“That’s not even the main point of that saga,” High Elf Archer added with a wry smile. “Besides, that’s a really long one!”

“Never heard of an elf complainin’ about anything being too long before!” Dwarf Shaman remarked.

“Anyway, I’m glad we saw this. They’re really fast, those centaurs.” High Elf Archer was in too good a mood to be bothered by the dwarf’s quip. She could be heard to say “I’ll treat you later” to Lizard Priest, so maybe she really had won her bet.

“Sweet nectar!” Lizard Priest exclaimed, slapping his tail against the grandstand, drawing surprised looks from the other spectators.

“…”

Priestess glanced at Baturu, who wasn’t saying anything. Her still-young face was painted with displeasure. She’d remained sullen and silent ever since they had set out for the arena. Priestess was trying to decide whether to say something to her, but before she could come to a conclusion, Goblin Slayer said, “So what does this have to do with the so-called Silver Blaze?” His voice was cold, almost mechanical.

He must have found the competition interesting, for he had watched it without a word.

Right. Female Merchant nodded politely, then glanced around them.

“It’s fine,” Goblin Slayer said. “With this much chatter, it would be all the harder for anyone to hear what we were saying.”

“Very well… You said this centaur you’re looking for is a beautiful woman with a silver star streaking across her bangs.”

“That’s what I’ve heard,” Goblin Slayer replied, nodding. Priestess noticed him glance at Baturu from under his helmet. The centaur girl’s ears twitched, but of course she didn’t say anything.

“Silver Blaze is one of the competitors here, someone with exactly the features you describe.”

“Hoh.”

“A young up-and-comer with fantastic legs. Everyone was excited to find out what kind of competitor she would be…,” Female Merchant said before whispering grimly, “but then she disappeared to who knows where.”

Some claimed—this was just a claim—that it had been the night of the storm some days ago. They said a suspicious man had come to the dormitory where the centaurs were who hadn’t participated in the race, looking insistently for “quality.” The lanistas, seeing that the man looked like a no-good gambler, set the dogs on him and drove him away.

But when everyone woke up the next morning…

“…They realized Silver Blaze wasn’t in the dorm. Her personal lanista was missing, too.”

“Surely they could simply have searched for them? Would they not have found them quickly?”

“They did conduct a search, but…they failed to locate her, unfortunately.”

The other lanistas had immediately started looking for Silver Blaze in a furor. She was far and away the most beautiful of the centaurs—very distinctive. They should have found her easily.

“But all they found was the corpse of her trainer, lying on the edge of town, his skull split open.”

Now, that sounds like the start of an adventure, Priestess thought, and she wasn’t really wrong.

Goblin Slayer grunted softly, and the other members of the party exchanged thoughtful looks.

“Okay,” said High Elf Archer, blinking. “So is that gambler the culprit or something?”

“I’m afraid we don’t know,” Female Merchant replied. Her words were direct, but her expression was one of ambivalence and concern. She cast glances right and left. “The gambler was apprehended promptly, but he swore up and down he didn’t do it…”

“Feh! So does every two-bit lowlife!” Dwarf Shaman said, taking a gulp of his wine. In the arena, they were already preparing for the next competition; the sand had been cleaned up and the dirt packed back down. “But you’ve got your Lady Archbishop round here, haven’t you?”

“Yes, but it’s not as if she’s personally involved in every investigation.”

Which was not to say specifically that she wasn’t involved in this one. This was the water town, after all, on the very knees of the Temple of Law that shouldered the responsibility for Order on the frontier. With Sword Maiden standing before them—she of the All Stars, the six heroes so beloved of the Supreme God—there was no one who would be able to pull off a lie.

“We asked a cleric of the Supreme God to invoke the Sense Lie miracle,” Female Merchant said.

“And…?” How had it turned out? Priestess was eager to know.

“It was no good. I don’t mean the miracle; I’m sure that was quite valid. The man insisted he knew nothing of the incident and had nothing to do with it, and that seems to be the truth.”

“So you still don’t have any idea who did it…?”

“No, and there were few footprints, which has meant plenty of rumors going around.”

Maybe it was the doing of the birdfolk! No, a demon appeared and took her away! Or maybe some other agent of evil? Maybe it was some kind of snatcher, a doppelgänger or a snark. The story had long been told of the hunter who, in one night, killed six monsters who had disguised themselves as people in order to infiltrate human society. There were some things in this Four-Cornered World that simply brooked no credence.

“Does anyone really think it’s the doing of the diamond knight?” Female Merchant asked, scowling. “People believe the stupidest things.”

“Perhaps a dragon has taken her away to his cave,” Lizard Priest quipped, earning him a “come on!” and a jab of the elbow from High Elf Archer (a jab he hardly noticed). In any case, it was true that there were many sources and forces of Chaos slithering around the Four-Cornered World, fishy and suspicious actors beyond number.

“There was even talk of bringing in a consulting detective from the capital,” Female Merchant said.

“Consulting detective…” It was either High Elf Archer or Priestess who mumbled the words, finding them unfamiliar.

Female Merchant giggled and smiled. “There’s been one soliciting work recently.”

Oh…

Female Merchant was able to smile despite the painful brand still present on the nape of her neck, which she sometimes reached up through her hair to scratch. To see her show such pleasure, like any other girl her age, brought almost a sense of salvation to Priestess.

She realized how precious it all was.

It was this realization that prevented her from leaving Baturu to her own devices. “My princess would never do something so degrading,” the centaur grumbled. No doubt she was looking up now, glaring, unable to take any more. She was staring straight at the centaurs who had entered the arena moments before. They were waving to the cheering crowd, strutting around, prideful and beautiful. Or at least, so they looked to Priestess…

“Those girls are being put on display! Have they no shame?” Baturu demanded.

“I don’t think they’re doing anything dishonorable,” Priestess ventured, but Baturu appeared to disagree. No matter how they tried to see eye to eye, humans and centaurs were just different, and sometimes different things simply didn’t match up. They could walk side by side, but they would never be quite in step.

“I’ve heard the Valkyrie herself was once a sword fighter,” Priestess offered.

“I neither know nor care about your human gods,” Baturu snapped, and there wasn’t much Priestess could say to that. Instead, the centaur continued: “I have no idea who this Silver Blaze actually is, but my princess would never stoop so low as to—”

“If you’re so sure about that, would you like to meet one of them?”

It was Priestess’s friend Female Merchant who threw this lifeline. She looked Baturu in the eyes, just as Priestess had—indeed, Female Merchant had learned by watching her friend. Even with her large, equine body, when she was seated, the centaur warrior was not so much taller than a delicate human female (Baturu herself seemed a bit on the small side among centaurs).

Female Merchant saw confusion mingled with anger in Baturu’s eyes. She offered a small smile. “I don’t mean Silver Blaze, of course. But one of our aurigae was close to her.”

“If nothing else, we must confirm whether this Silver Blaze was the centaur princess,” Goblin Slayer said—businesslike, and no more, as ever. At the same time, however, he seemed to be saying that a shouting match here would solve nothing.

Baturu cast a barbed glare in the direction of the metal helmet. Priestess, as well as the other party members, knew quite well that Goblin Slayer meant only and exactly what he said. They looked at each other and grinned. They could try to explain, but it seemed likely to just antagonize Baturu more. Better to keep things moving along. That was one excellent reason to leave this matter to the party leader…

Except he doesn’t actually realize, does he?

He was truly hopeless. He preached the importance of swift decision-making but didn’t believe that he did it himself.

Goblin Slayer was silent for a moment, seemingly considering the way his companions were looking at him. When he spoke, though, it was in the same unflappable tone, with the same decisiveness: “Show us there, if you would.”

§

The maidens who gathered in the garden of the Valkyrie and the Trade God, the gods of the true path, rushed along the racecourse, illuminating the garden with their smiles. They wore dark-colored training uniforms, their hearts as pure and true as their bodies. They ran, beautifully, the hair of their tails never disheveled, their pointed ears never laid back. What could be more natural?

Needless to say, none of these young ladies was so uncouth as to let her horseshoes clatter as she ran.

The competitors’ ludus—their training grounds—was located within the precincts of the water town, not far from the arena.

Priestess breathed a sigh of relief as she extricated herself from the still-buzzing crowd of spectators. Gondolas plied the river as they walked alongside it, and she was surprised to discover that this alone was enough to calm her down.

The place Female Merchant brought them was indeed appropriate to be called a ludus, which also meant school. A red-roofed building was surrounded on four sides by what looked like the walls of a fortification, surrounding an inner courtyard. Training tools of all kinds waited within, and there was even a practice racecourse.

“All right, listen up! You have to create an hourglass within yourself! You have to understand your own pace, how fast you’re going!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Why’re you trying to get out in front? Hang back and conserve your energy! Everyone fall in; we’re going to keep practicing our side-by-side running!”

“Yes, sir!”

“All right, first, take a break,” said another voice. “Make sure you get plenty of water. Anyone feeling ill?”

“I’m all right!” one person responded.

“I think one of my horseshoes is coming off…”

“Make sure you get it secured posthaste. That goes for all of you—if you want to win, take the best possible care of your legs!”

“Hey, your tail is looking a little scruffy.”

“Oh! I’m s-sorry…”

“Listen, even the gods are watching us. We’ve got to be presentable.”

The lanistas, who were distinguished by the wooden swords they carried, could be heard instructing the racers. The centaurs responded with vigor, perspiration was shed, and everyone pushed and fought for anything that might make them even a fraction faster.

What most surprised Priestess was the presence of other centaurs, not just humans, among the lanistas. Although it made sense: Humans had only two legs; they wouldn’t know how to run with four like a centaur.

“Ah, the passion! Most admirable,” Lizard Priest said, smiling at the scene. “I am put in mind of the training barracks in my own village.”

He continued mumbling to himself (“Soldiers who would stand side by side must be from the same barracks or at least from a place of similar capacities”) as Female Merchant bowed shyly to him. “I appreciate your saying so. Things are finally going more or less according to plan…”

To have an accomplished warrior like this lizardman praise the establishment was more than an honor for a human. Who could blame Female Merchant if she allowed herself a little smile? Indeed, it was only natural.

“So, ’hem,” Dwarf Shaman said, looking up at her, “this is your place, then?”

“I acquired it shortly after it began operating. An acquaintance sold it to me at a bargain price—they felt it was better than seeing the place go to waste.” Looking back on it now, she could see there might have been an element of friendly affection at work—but only looking back on it. For when a scarred young woman suddenly reappeared and went into business, the pushback was severe.

It often wasn’t enough simply to make a profit and earn back an investment. Female Merchant was coming to understand that much of the loathing for nobles’ games stemmed not from lofty ideals but from sheer lack of understanding. So it was that the same crowd who cheered and celebrated at the coliseum would kick the proverbial sand at the people involved as they walked away. She understood she mustn’t get too attached, become too obsessed, but still…

“I know but little about all this, but I’ve managed to come this far, thankfully,” she said.

Still, she felt she was justified in a measure of pride, that this couldn’t be called a mere diversion for her.

“Sure, it’s terrific. Lots of things never do go according to plan, after all!” Dwarf Shaman laughed, showing his teeth. Female Merchant still felt rather flattered.

Her touch of embarrassment was perfectly natural, but far be it from the sharp eyes of High Elf Archer to miss it. “What? What? Are you planning to make adventurers compete, too?”

“Ah, that might be a good idea,” Female Merchant said merrily. “That dungeoneering contest turned out to be such a success, after all…”

“Oh, please, don’t. Something you just show up and whip through is no adventure. She’d just be mass-producing Orcbolgs,” the elf quipped. This provoked a guffaw from Female Merchant (a polite, girlish guffaw).

The subject of the chuckling himself showed no sign of being either bothered or interested.

I’m not sure what to think… Priestess found herself smiling, too, but also a little embarrassed; she shifted uncomfortably. Her anxiety about her own inexperience hadn’t disappeared yet, but she couldn’t help wondering if they saw her that way, too. Although she was very happy to see one of her dear friends succeed so well.

Without warning, Goblin Slayer spoke up. “Now,” he said, his tone diffident as ever. “About Silver Blaze.”

“Oh yes, of course,” said Female Merchant. “Pardon me.” She coughed, her cheeks reddening, and she glanced around the training area. Her eyes soon lit on one person in particular, and she called her name, a name of Lightning.

Yes, Lightning: It was the centaur who had appeared with the suddenness of a thunderclap at the end of the race earlier. She was lovely and distinguished, with black hair and her mane tied neatly behind her head in a single braid. Her figure was clearly visible as she approached; Priestess had had an inkling from the spectator seating, but now she was sure:

She’s…big.

The thought came unbidden to her mind as she looked at the centaur woman. As at the race, her outfit revealed a toned, trained body. She wore a look of determination, and with the red sash she was wearing, she had the bearing of a prince. Still, the curves visible under her training outfit were unmistakably womanly; she had an allure much like Sword Maiden’s.

The centaur approached with a gentle clop of horseshoes, and Female Merchant engaged her in friendly conversation. “You’re running already? The race just finished.”

“I’m merely cooling down. I’m not pushing myself; don’t worry.”

“How are your legs?”

“Nothing to be concerned about.”

If Priestess felt a touch of surprise, it was because something seemed off about the centaur’s gait. Running at full speed must put a substantial burden on their legs.

When the racer noticed Priestess glancing at her limbs, she came over and took her hand easily, bringing it gently to her lips. “Might I ask what I can help you with, my young lady?”

“Eep!” Priestess squeaked when the dashing centaur greeted her as respectfully as if she were nobility.

I mean… Of course I’m surprised, right…?

“We want to know about Silver Blaze.” The voice was calmness itself, and it brought strenuous relief to Priestess as it spoke on her behalf. For the racer’s eyes had glittered like lightning, so irresistibly beautiful that Priestess had almost been sucked into them. She could have gazed at them for eternity, at risk of her life. Instead she was instantly smitten, and that alone seemed to be enough.

“Silver Blaze?” The golden eyes blinked. “Are you fans of hers? I daresay one could get jealous!” Her gaze took in the dwarf, the lizardman, the figure in the grimy armor—and then she stopped beside him. “So even a high elf is in the thrall of our Blaze? I’m sure if you saw me run, I might sway your affections…”

“We saw you,” High Elf Archer said, laughter chuckling in her throat. “And you were beautiful, truly.”

“You are too kind. If you wish, I could be moved to give a private demonstration run for you…”

Female Merchant mouthed, All right, enough, though she didn’t say anything. (Some people, she appeared to add, have no constancy.)

At that, the racer’s lightning eyes sparkled with mischief, and her lips moved alluringly. “Oh, don’t get all upset. My worthy opponents won’t let me live it down if they get all the attention at the track.”

“I can’t believe this. And you’ve got a race to run!”

“Aw, going to kick me out for being insolent?”

“I can’t—can’t believe this…” Female Merchant had her head in her hands, while the racer laughed uproariously. It was almost hard to tell whether they were joking around or not. The racer looked free and easy, but it was clear there was more to her than that. No one who was simply frivolous could ever learn to run like she could.

Another voice spoke up: “There’s no way it was the princess…” It was Baturu, staring at the ground. She was murmuring, but the racer certainly heard her. “The princess would never wish to put herself on display on some other thing than grass…”

“Grass? You mean turf? Only the Circus in the capital has that—too much trouble to be forever replanting it and keeping it up around here.” The racer trotted over to Baturu’s side, kneeling slightly to look her in the face. “If you’re running on turf, you’re running in the capital. I’d love to try it myself someday… But perhaps you feel I shouldn’t?”

“…!”

Baturu gave a sharp intake of breath, her cheeks flushing with heightened emotion. Tears beaded at the corners of her eyes. She tossed her head up and exclaimed, “A-aren’t you ashamed?! To be…? To do…?”

“I have my modesty, of course. I grant I was more than a little nervous the first time I ran in front of an audience.”

“That’s not what I meant!”

“Ha-ha-ha.” All Baturu’s yelling seemed to roll right off her back. The eyes that crackled with lightning fixed the young girl in place. “I come from a long line of runners. Like my parents… Well, my mother was anonymous.” But her father, she said, was a famous racer who had won many prizes. Her eyes squinted in a smile; she sounded downright proud of it. “So I tell you, in all my races, I have never felt shame about the blood that flows in my veins. Never once.”

To that, not even Baturu had an answer. Instead, she opened her mouth, then closed it, and finally she bit her lip, looking at the ground. “But the princess…,” she said.

When the racer reached out to run a hand gently through her hair, Baturu didn’t push her away. Even as she patted Baturu’s head, the racer’s lightning eyes flickered in the direction of the other adventurers. “This princess—was it Silver Blaze?”

“We don’t know,” said Goblin Slayer. “That’s what we were hoping to find out.”

“Hmm… Perhaps you could describe her for me?”

“We only know what we’ve heard,” Priestess said, but she offered what she could on behalf of Baturu, who couldn’t look up, couldn’t even speak. No one in the party remarked on the droplets spilling from her eyes onto the ground in front of her. Neither, of course, did the centaur with the lightning eyes.

“That description—yes, it does sound like her,” the centaur said when she was told of the lock of silver hair that shot like a comet across the princess’s brow. “She was a lovely young lady. She ran so comfortably. And she was a princess? I suppose it would explain much…”

“How do you mean?” Priestess asked.

“She had…a nobility about her. The way she carried herself was impeccable. Does that make sense?”

“I see…” Priestess looked at High Elf Archer, then at Female Merchant, and she thought of King’s Sister, who wasn’t there at that moment. Compared with her, the way they held themselves was—well, it was completely different. “Yes. That makes perfect sense.”

“She say anything ’bout how she came to be in these parts?” Dwarf Shaman asked.

The lightning-eyed racer’s ears took on an uneasy cant. “Well, she was with a different ludus. And we’ve only met on the track a few times…” The centaur put a hand to her chin thoughtfully; she almost looked like an actor playing a part. Her other hand never stopped gently stroking Baturu’s head, though it was obvious she was thinking hard. “I must say, though, she never seemed to want to talk much about her past. We always spoke of racing.”

“But surely you must have heard something?” Female Merchant asked, touching the racer’s flank in a gesture of intimacy. “I know you always want to chat when you see a new girl. Even if you’re not serious about it.”

The answer didn’t come immediately. The shouting of the other centaurs rushing around the inner courtyard echoed this way and that, mingling with the voices of the lanistas. A particularly emphatic gust of wind stirred up the courtyard’s dust and stagnant air.

After a long moment, something seemed to shift in those lightning eyes. They closed slowly, and the centaur exhaled. “Just to be clear, what I’m about to say is no comment on her racing. I want you to understand that.”

“I’ve never seen Silver Blaze race,” Goblin Slayer said brusquely. “And what I haven’t seen, I cannot comment on.”

That seemed to satisfy the centaur. Something like a smile entered her eyes. “I was told she came from a coachman.”

“Coachman?”

“Someone who sells centaurs for a living. They lead their victims on with promises that they’ll take them somewhere fun and exciting.” And once the centaurs are convinced that they’re going to a joyous Pleasure Island, they’re sold as simple, stupid donkeys.

The price of ignorance for a naive youngster who just wants to get away from the herd and live in freedom is always great. Although any adventurer would understand that there are certain things you can’t obtain if you don’t take the risk.

“The selling of slaves as such isn’t illegal,” Female Merchant noted, adding quietly that some people at some ludi must buy them without knowing where they came from.

A person might find themselves enslaved for many reasons: They might be captured in war or fail to pay a debt, or it might be punishment for a crime. All one had to do was work industriously until one had bought one’s freedom—no particular problem with that. In every time and every place, however, there were those who would abuse the system.

“This is sounding more and more like an urban adventure,” High Elf Archer said with a “hmm,” although she added in a whisper that she wasn’t thrilled about that. She acted as if she was thinking about something profound and important, but the human world was always a complicated and confusing place to the high elves. She quickly abandoned any real attempt to deduce anything, instead smacking her party leader gently on the back. “I think this is your department, Orcbolg. The whole thing beats the heck out of me.”

“I’m not very knowledgeable in such things myself.”

Yeah, right! High Elf Archer snorted again, but she, too, felt like she was grasping at thin air; it was all a mystery. The party members looked at one another, but no answer was forthcoming.

“So what’s your feeling—does this have anything to do with that murdered lanista and the kidnapping?” Dwarf Shaman asked.

“I suppose it seems likely that he was killed because he was seen trying to abduct her,” Priestess offered.

“I must point out that at the moment, we have no positive evidence that this Silver Blaze is indeed the princess we seek,” Lizard Priest said.

“We don’t know for sure.” The helmet shook side to side. “But we have information. We can do what we can.”

That would seem to imply that this slayer of goblins had a next step in mind.

Good by me, then.

High Elf Archer, satisfied with this conclusion for her own part, glanced over at Baturu to see if her heightened emotions were finally starting to come down. The small centaur was rubbing her eyes; she slowly looked up to meet the lightning eyes of the other woman.

“Then…you’re saying that the princess was among those who were tricked and…and sold?”

“I’m afraid I can’t speak to that with any certainty. All I know is…” The tall centaur almost trailed off—not because anything dark loomed over them but out of compassion. One more time, she ran her fingers through the smaller girl’s hair. “All I know is the grace with which she ran.” She then added, “Though you may not wish to hear it.”

“No,” Baturu said, shaking her head, her mane fluttering with it. “I see now that you run with your whole heart. I saw it myself, and still I belittled you. For that, I can only apologize.”

“It’s all right. If a cute girl’s talking to me, I’m happy no matter what she says.” The centaur with the lightning eyes smiled broadly. The expression fit her gallant features perfectly, yet it also had a girlish innocence. It was like a blossoming flower, and rather than exuding maturity, it made you realize how young she was. “If you want to clear your conscience, come cheer for me! I would love to dedicate a victory to a lovely young thing like you.”

“I…I wish you wouldn’t tease me…,” Baturu said. Girlish the centaur might be, but her behavior could be hard to watch.

At Baturu’s stammering response (accompanied by a blush in the cheeks), the other woman’s grin turned to something more mischievous. Even a few of the centaur girls practicing their running had stopped to stare—it was too much.

“Goodness gracious!” Lizard Priest said, shaking his long head in admiration, his eyes rolling. “You are a fair lady indeed! If you were a lizardman, I doubt I could keep my claws off you!”

High Elf Archer puffed out her cheeks—what was he even saying?—and jabbed him in the side.

“Most unfortunately,” replied the centaur, one of those lightning-shimmering eyes closing in a wink, “I’m partial to comely lasses myself.”

Oh, for…

This time it was Female Merchant’s turn to pout in exasperation.

§

“I’m going out for a bit,” Goblin Slayer said. “What will you do?”

“I’ll go with you!” Priestess said promptly.

They had just gotten back from the aurigae ludus. The sun was getting lower in the sky, twilight spreading out above their heads. Night surged in like a wave, soon to swallow the town.

High Elf Archer was watching it from the window, looking thoughtful—a vision that could have been a painting in its own right. “I’ll stay here. I’m pretty tired,” she said, her jade eyes flitting over to the corner where Baturu knelt. “And I’d like to have a little chat.”

“Are you sure about that…?” Priestess asked.

“What’s to be sure about? It is what it is. Don’t give it another thought.” High Elf Archer waved at Priestess, who nodded. Instead of leaving Baturu stuck with her all the time, maybe it would help to have someone else try to talk to her once in a while.

In fact, I’m convinced.

There might be ways that an elf was closer to Baturu than a human like her was.

The conversation inspired Dwarf Shaman and Lizard Priest to share a quick glance and a nod. “S’pose we’d better try chatting with those lanistas, eh, Scaly?” Dwarf Shaman said.

“Mm, indeed. I think if we can find somewhere to treat them to a drink, they should be quite forthcoming,” Lizard Priest agreed. High Elf Archer giggled—it sounded like he just wanted a bite to eat—but her laughter was nothing malicious. It was just the usual humor between party members.

Goblin Slayer gazed around at the group, then said soberly, “Very well. I’ll trust you to take care of things.”

Though there was much Priestess still didn’t know, she had the impression that this was how urban adventures went—in other words, just as on a regular adventure, they each had their own role to play.

Come to think of it…

She realized it had been the same on their last adventure in the water town (that had been quite a while ago), and the thought brought a smile to her face.

The town streaked with twilight. The gondolas floating lazily along the canals. The sweet, cold ice treat. Somehow she only ever seemed to come here on adventures, and she’d never had a chance to just take in the sights.

“Still, I think the place seems calmer than before,” she said.

“Is that so?”

“Uh-huh.” She nodded as they walked along the road. “It’s just…sort of a feeling.”

“I see.”

It was probably because they had been able to drive out the goblins. That was certainly, unquestionably a good thing.

There was an ever so slight touch of softness in Goblin Slayer’s voice as he walked beside her, and it made Priestess’s steps lighter.

Even so, walking a new road in a city she didn’t know very well could be more confusing than delving a dungeon. Everywhere she looked, there were flagstones and stone buildings, and the burbling of water came from everywhere at once. She had been so engaged in walking along with Goblin Slayer that she no longer knew where she was. If she’d been told at that moment to go back to the Temple, she didn’t think she could have made it. The racetrack was somewhere in town, too, yet she wasn’t sure where that might be, either. Instead, she worked hard to keep pace with Goblin Slayer as he strode through the roads.

The shadows of the looming buildings grew ever longer, quavering as the last light of day faded away.

“So, um, where are we going?” Priestess asked.

“I don’t know.”

“You…you don’t?”

That seemed to be the entirety of his explanation. Priestess couldn’t hold back a frown, and if Guild Girl had been there, she probably would have smiled wryly. Maybe only Cow Girl, waiting for his return back on the frontier, could have taken this answer with a straight face.

“Ah. No, that’s not what I mean,” Goblin Slayer added, evidently recognizing Priestess’s concern. “I have landmarks.”

“Landmarks?”

Goblin Slayer pointed to a chalk streak etched on the road, a tiny symbol. It would look like a child’s scribble if you hadn’t been told about it or didn’t know what you were looking for.

Oh! Out of the flotsam of Priestess’s memories, an insight presented itself. “Is that from the Rogues Guild?”

“It’s a sign,” Goblin Slayer said. “Passed down, or so it’s said, from the Gray Wizard himself.”

The Rouges Guild—an association of criminals. A gathering of the unsavory and the underhanded. Priestess felt herself go stiff. It wasn’t that she specifically disliked the Rogues Guild—they’d helped her more than once.

But it’s…only natural to be a little nervous, right…?

“You’re sure they won’t mind you following their trail?” she asked.

“They would tell me if there was a problem.”

His words were brief, piercing—yet Priestess happily said, “Right!” and nodded enthusiastically. For it meant she only had to follow and trust him.

With her experience, of course, she didn’t have to study the symbol in detail, let alone sketch it for herself. No sooner had she seen it than she was carving it into her memory.

What must Goblin Slayer have thought as Priestess followed him like an enthusiastic puppy? He was not one to be uncomfortable with silence—so his thoughtful quiet at that moment meant he was searching for the words.

Finally he said, “There is no particular need for you to remember that symbol. This method isn’t necessary for all adventurers.”

“It isn’t?”

“I needed it. So I learned about it.” Goblin Slayer took another corner at his nonchalant stride, heading for an intersection. He didn’t look back, but Priestess followed him dutifully. “As for you, you need only find a scout to be in your party.”

His advice was very brief—did that mean someone other than himself? Priestess didn’t quite understand. Did it mean he envisioned her leaving this party someday?

But that…

It seemed both eminently reasonable and completely unimaginable at the same time. Or wait, maybe he was simply referring to the times she’d temporarily teamed up with another party.

Hrm…

Yes, that has to be it, Priestess told herself. This person always said what he meant. There were no hidden meanings lurking behind his words. Priestess thought she understood that much.

“However, you should be aware that such things exist,” he said.

Priestess responded earnestly: “Right.”

They seemed to be heading ever farther into a dark alleyway, yet the farther along they went, the livelier it seemed to get.

I wonder if we’re getting near the main street.

And so it turned out the place Goblin Slayer had brought her to was no seamy back alley. Instead it was a part of the town that was sophisticated, pretty, and calming, not unlike the arena they’d visited earlier that day. There were classy inns and restaurants from which the alluring aromas of fancy cuisine emanated.

Beyond those places, there was another—a building so large and so elegant, it could have been mistaken for a king’s mansion: the casino.

§

When they entered the casino, for a moment, Priestess simply stopped and stared. It was all completely new to her. She had never heard so many coins jangling at once. She quickly realized that the source of the sound wasn’t actual money but small chips that were doing their best impression of currency. Even so, they must have represented a far greater sum than she had ever seen in one place in her life.

Populating the building were gentlemen and ladies of every sort, from every people group, wearing a dizzying array of fancy outfits. Goblin Slayer was leading her farther within, but Priestess’s eyes were going in every direction at every turn. Here there was a table covered in green felt, with chips sliding back and forth across it; there, dice were being rolled. Over in another corner, there was a racetrack small enough to fit on a table; a closer look revealed that players were racing with centaur-shaped pawns. They would lay down chips to advance their pieces, and occasionally cries of “Ave Caesar!” would ring out.

Maybe it was always more exciting to do something than to watch it. Humans couldn’t run like centaurs, after all.

Some people were tossing five dice hoping for matching faces; others rolled three skulls. Another game that appeared to be growing heated was one in which two pawns shaped like sword fighters closed in on each other. Just when you thought all the pawns must be riflemen with repeaters held aloft, you would notice pawns like beautiful goddesses, too. One thing all these games had in common: They were every one of them long-lived board games with a tradition and a history.

Many of them, though, were quite strange. Priestess was particularly intrigued by one that was about trying to get as much loot as you could out of a trap-filled dungeon. The deeper you went, the more treasure you could get, but the more traps there would be—and the bigger the chance to lose it all.

Another thing that set Priestess’s eyes spinning was the profusion of beautiful and highly exposed young women. For a second, she thought they were harefolk, but then she would see human ears, or elf or dwarf ears, peeking out from their heads. So the rabbit ears were just some sort of accessory…

We certainly couldn’t bring her here, Priestess reflected, thinking of the friend who waited back at the Temple as she took in the panoply of games. But then again, some of her other friends, like High Elf Archer or Female Merchant, would definitely enjoy themselves in this place. Even if Priestess could practically see Baturu frowning…

“…Do you suppose they have hnefatafl here?” she said, the thought occurring to her suddenly. It was the game she had played—and very much enjoyed—up north.

“You’re curious about these games? Would you like to play?”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t…” She waved her hands vigorously. She hadn’t expected such a response from Goblin Slayer. He seemed like he might practically be about to give her some money to take to the tables, and what would that make her but a child getting her allowance?

Besides…

They were an adventurer in grimy armor, striding along, and a priestess in a dusty cloak, keeping pace through a sophisticated place of entertainment. Looks of disdain came their way from every direction, which Priestess noted with a sense of intimidation. She could tell she didn’t belong here, and she gripped her sounding staff firmly in both hands.

“Ahem, but anyway… Couldn’t we have come here from the main street?”

“The question is not where you’re going but how you get there,” Goblin Slayer said. It was like a riddle.

No, Priestess thought, it wasn’t like a riddle; it was a riddle. They had taken a roundabout route, following a series of mysterious symbols to get here—that had to be some sort of signal. For behold…

“Greetings, esteemed patron,” said a handsome man in a black suit, presumably an employee of the casino, who approached without a sound. Priestess had enough experience from her various adventures to guess that this man must have trained as a scout. He greeted them as courteously as if they were members of the royal family. “This way, my good sir. And your friend…?”

“Hrm,” Goblin Slayer said, but he didn’t answer immediately. Priestess continued clutching her staff and tried standing up straighter. Finally he said, “Today, I want you to get used to this place.”

“Oh, y-yes, sir!” Priestess said, thrilled that he hadn’t said wait here or stay behind. Instead she felt it was an affirmation that she could learn much by watching things here. She bowed deeply in polite farewell, and Goblin Slayer walked off. The employee went alongside him, showing him into a back area of the casino.

From under his helmet, Goblin Slayer’s eyes flitted toward the man in the suit. “Would you be so kind as to keep an eye on her?”

“But of course, my dear patron. I had every intention.”

“Of course you did.”

It should have gone without saying. But these days, he felt he found himself saying more and more things that could have gone without being said. After all, the girl had scolded him so many times to the effect that if he didn’t say something, his message would never get across.

Which implies…

That he was maturing, yes? Growing? He wasn’t sure—but perhaps. If nothing else, the girl was certainly learning and growing. Enough so that he had hesitated to take her into the back here. The place behind the flashy, splashy gambling venue. The innermost room at the end of the twisting maze of hallways.

It was worth knowing that places like this existed, and how to use them if you needed them—but not more than that.

The place was like a private room at the back of a restaurant, quiet and calm—but there wasn’t a single window. There were tables that looked as if they were just waiting for food and drinks that might come out at any moment—but there were no glasses on them.

Goblin Slayer sat on one side of the table, the man in a suit on the other. The man extended his hand politely, and Goblin Slayer responded mechanically.

“Now, good sir, why not take it easy? Enjoy yourself.”

“Thank you, I will. Since you’ve offered me a chair and a cup, I shall introduce myself. Please relax.”

“I appreciate your introducing yourself. As you can see, I am a man of but little etiquette, and I must beg your indulgence.”

“And I am dressed for business, as you can see, so I must beg your indulgence.”

“No, no, I must insist you relax.”

“No, you relax.”

“Well, if you insist, then I will, gratefully. I hope you don’t mind my relaxing first.”

“You must excuse my uncivilized appearance. I come from a pioneer town on the western frontier; my master was he who rides on barrels and my profession is the slaying of goblins.”

“I believe this is the first time we’ve met. With apologies, I will speak on behalf of the madam. I am the owner of The Mermaid.”

“Thank you for accepting my introduction. Please raise your head.”

“Of course, dear sir, but raise your head first.”

“That would be problematic.”

“At the same time, then.”

“That is acceptable.”

“The request is humbly made, then.”

It was a careful, ritualized exchange. Quick, but always polite, greetings exchanged with every concern for courtesy. After a moment, they both lifted their hands and looked each other in the face.

“I’m surprised you felt this required the owner’s personal attention,” Goblin Slayer said.

“One would never wish to risk appearing rude to a Silver-ranked adventurer,” the man replied, scrutinizing Goblin Slayer’s helmet just enough that it wouldn’t be impolite. “Let alone the pupil of Burglar, He Who Rides Barrels.”

“My teacher…,” Goblin Slayer began and then corrected himself. “My master is my master. I don’t seek to borrow his influence.”

“Does one not use everything that one can?”

“I appreciate that, but if I wore his name down to where it could no longer be used, I would be yelled at for it.”

“Very well, then.” The man’s courteous smile never faltered. “You are the one who has the affections of our Lady Sword Maiden, the one who killed the goblins in the city sewers, my dear patron.”

Goblin Slayer groaned quietly, less than amused to be addressed this way. No matter how he sliced it, it was too grand a name for him. He was no famous master of the sword.

“Can our runners be of use to you?” the man asked.

“No, I’m here for information,” Goblin Slayer replied.

“We do sell that, of course.”

“I’m looking for a lost centaur. It involves a…” Goblin Slayer gazed into empty space as if hoping to find the word there. At least it was easier to remember than the name of a monster. “…a coachman.”

“Ah. Silver Blaze.” The employee of the casino—no, of the Rogues Guild—nodded knowingly. “Yes, we were worried about her, too. The gamblers did have such a soft spot for her.”

He clapped his hands, summoning someone. A moment later, a young woman in an outfit that didn’t look rogue-like at all appeared in the doorway bearing food. Signature dishes from the water town: fish and shrimp that had been steamed or fried or something in oil. There was grape wine, too. The fact that both cups were poured from the same jug was no doubt a gesture of goodwill on the part of the Rogues Guild. Goblin Slayer, however, quietly declined the drink.

“I’m in the middle of a job,” he explained. Besides: “I have heard that after this is over, my party will eat together.”

“Pardon us. Yes, of course. If you’ll excuse me, then…” The employee took a small sip of his own wine, just enough to wet his lips. “As it happens, racing centaurs disappear with a certain regularity. It’s not as uncommon as you might think.”

This was his explanation:

Sometimes a racer who was rewriting the record books would be abducted and disappeared as a way of striking against their master’s business. Or a centaur might be in transit when their lanista was killed, and they found themselves sold to someone in the area. Or a ludus might go bankrupt and its centaurs run away in the night, or they might be put up as security on the mortgage and all of them be taken away somewhere at a stroke.

There was nothing unusual about centaurs being caught up in human disputes in this way. And of course there were slave traders who might become illegally involved in the middle of it all. Yes, they existed, but…

“But all that’s hardly something that happens only to centaurs. Even if their plight does seem to attract a particular type of bleeding heart.”

“I understand.”

What were they supposed to do—stop the centaurs from running? It wasn’t possible. These were people who were born to run. If you had seen them, vivacious and beautiful as they raced around the arena, you knew that. Though many of them might never reach the very top, the coliseum was still a place of honor and of dreams.

To tell the centaurs never to run again—wouldn’t that be even crueler than kidnapping them? It would be like telling an adventurer not to go on adventures because they were dangerous. Yes, there were probably those among the racers who had been sold into it as slaves. But then, there were adventurers who had taken up the trade for lack of any other choice. No one had the right to cast aspersions on someone else’s path in life. Even Goblin Slayer could understand that much.

“However, I’m not here to ask about the coachman or who kidnapped Silver Blaze,” he said.

“Hoh,” responded the man in the suit.

“If it was a question that could be answered by asking, Silver Blaze would already be in the arena racing.”

“I agree entirely.”

“That’s why I’m here on this…” There, Goblin Slayer stopped. He still hesitated to speak the word adventure. Instead he said, “What I want to know about…is goblins.”