Goblin Slayer - Volume 16 - Chapter 1.4

“What?! You got rid of the rhea division?!” Rhea Fighter exclaimed. Wizard Boy frowned but managed not to say anything.

They were at the coliseum in the capital, which was big enough to dwarf anyone, even without reference to rheas. Eighty arched gates surrounded the place, each reaching a height of 160 feet, as tall and as imposing as a giant.

But this place was not called the coliseum, nor comparable to giants, simply because of its size. No, it was because in the past, there had been a massive statue called the Colossus outside it…

Or anyway, that was what Wizard Boy told Rhea Fighter, who kept begging him for factoids about the capital. Registration for tournament participants was taking place under one of the arches. The line was obscenely long, and while they waited, the girl pestered him endlessly with the question: “Hey, what’s that?”

Still, it was better than being stared at as he stood there with a donkey wearing patchwork armor and its rhea minder. So he’d indulged her by answering—but when they had finally gotten to the front of the line, this was what they had found.

“Ah, orders from above, y’see…” Even the coliseum worker (who wore a wooden sword at his hip, evidence that he was a former competitor and victor himself) seemed bemused.

“So I can’t be in the tournament?” Rhea Fighter asked.

“No, no, you can. But this year’s tournament’s to be held without divisions. Without discrimination, see.”

“Discrimination?” Rhea Fighter said, as if the word was unfamiliar to her.

“I get it,” Wizard Boy broke in. “So humans and rheas are going to be in the same group?”

“And elves and dwarves and padfoots and every other people you can think of.”

“The hell? That hardly even makes sense.”

“Sure doesn’t.” Rhea Fighter looked at Wizard Boy, her face full of questions. But oh well. If she could register, that was good enough. There wasn’t an actual problem, as far as it went.

Having silently established this understanding, Rhea Fighter reached for the registration paperwork. Wizard Boy couldn’t help thinking it might be better for him to fill it out, though, and went to take the pen from her…

“Huh! For all your vaunted learning, it looks like you still need a dose of enlightenment, Wizard.”

A metal gauntlet reached out and stopped him.

“Guh?” The red-haired boy turned and glared at the interloper, who turned out to be a handsome man so tall Wizard Boy had to crane his neck to look at him. He wore pure-white armor (in the middle of town? Who did he think he was, that guy?) and was clearly a knight. The insignia of the sword and scales implied that he was perhaps one of the guardians of the halls of the Supreme God—a paladin.

“You can’t assume she can’t write just because she’s a rhea. Go on, young lady. Go right ahead.”

“Uh, no, I…,” Rhea Fighter started before confessing in a mutter, “I don’t write so well.”

The knight held the pen out to her, but she only looked at the ground. Here was a handsome, obviously well-intentioned man trying to help her in front of a whole crowd of people. It was hard to say no to him. So with many an uneasy look at Wizard Boy, she began writing hesitantly in the register.

Her chicken-scratch scrawl stood out like a sore thumb among the names of the knights. It must have been humiliating.

“Do you understand now? Holding preconceptions about people based on their race is nothing but bias. Bias we must undo! In other words…” The knight seemed deeply gratified to see Rhea Fighter write her own name. He crossed his arms, hmphed, and nodded. His eyes held Wizard Boy in place from well above the spellcaster’s head. “We mustn’t discriminate based on race nor think ourselves better than our fellow Pray-ers! We should all stand and compete side by side!”

“Uh…huh.”

“It’s called equality, boy. If we want an even playing field, where no one is persecuted and everyone can live comfortably, then equality is essential!”

Wizard Boy almost demanded what in the hell the knight was talking about, but he managed to keep the words down. This wasn’t the Sorcerers’ Academy nor even the hut of that accursed old rhea. The man before him was no sage, and he wasn’t that bastard “master.” In other words, this wasn’t a debate.

Hell, even if it was…

The guy was obviously completely uninterested in anything Wizard Boy might have to say, which didn’t make for much of an argument. That much, Wizard Boy had learned from reflecting on his own past behavior.

“And you, young lady. You needn’t force yourself to use a human sword. You can embrace rhea equipment without shame!”

“Huh?”

Rhea Fighter, however, reacted differently. The knight’s gaze happened upon the large blade she carried. She, for one, responded with fury. Wizard Boy guessed she wouldn’t be satisfied until she had chopped up the man in front of her.

Rheas didn’t know much about politics. They were simple farmers who lived in their shire, smoking their tobacco and tending their fields. But this rhea was an adventurer now, and she was uncommonly sensitive to mockery. One of the things she’d learned from her grandfather who’d come back from deep under the mountain. She didn’t care if she was dealing with a mad sorcerer or a soul-consuming necromancer.

I’ll kill anyone who makes fun of me! That’s being an adventurer.

The girl’s eyes narrowed, and a cold light entered them. Her right hand was a blur as she grabbed the hilt of her sword.

Wizard Boy slapped his hand over hers before she could draw her weapon and exclaimed, “I understand what you mean, sir! I’ll let your words inspire me as I seek to gain the knowledge I so sorely lack!”

He hoped his outburst would curtail the girl’s moment of rage, and indeed, it took the wind clear out of her sails. He stood squarely in front of her, almost pressing her small body back. “But I think that’s enough tutelage for today. We have more paperwork to do, and there are many people still waiting in line.”

“Ah yes, of course. Mm! Very good, boy, let yourself be inspired. I take my leave!”

The knight in the white armor, once again looking quite satisfied about…well, something…turned on his heel with a click of his spurs. Rhea Fighter watched him stride away, growling like some frumious beast and staring daggers at him.

Barely a second later, she looked at Wizard Boy instead, and suddenly the attack turned on him. “Why’d you stop me?!”

“If you had started something here, you would’ve been the bad guy!”

“Who cares?! He was making fun of me! He said I shouldn’t use a big sword, just ’cause I’m a rhea!” Wizard Boy could feel Rhea Fighter’s chest, ample in spite of her small size, pressing against him as she raged.

Okay! Not the time for that!

He studiously forced its softness and size from his mind, searching desperately for the right words. To think of the bloodbath that would’ve ensued if things had gone sideways and the girl had drawn that oversized sword of hers…

“He’s a knight. That means he’ll probably be in this tournament. Take it out on him then,” Wizard Boy said.

“You think he’ll be there?!”

He hadn’t exactly succeeded in talking her down, but he’d at least deflected the worst of her anger.

The rhea spun, her hair following her in a whirl. The coliseum attendant said, “Y-yes, I expect so… He’s a fairly prominent knight in this city.”

“Then he must have written his name down! Let me see it!”

If she can intimidate an accomplished swordsman, she might actually be able to take that guy down, Wizard Boy thought, finding himself impressed anew by his partner’s guts. He looked over her shoulder at the register. The staff member pointed a grubby finger at one name out of the packed list of warriors.

“So that’s him,” Rhea Fighter growled.

“He’s had some…pointed things to say. Not just about the tournament but the coliseum, too.” The official sighed, sounding very put-upon. (The sigh seemed to be prompted by Rhea Fighter, who was staring at the name like the man had murdered her parents.) “It never used to be this way. The swordfighters were even grouped into divisions based on their fighting style.”

Recently, the man lamented, it was hard to know what was happening. Things had just gotten so suffocating. People didn’t mean any harm, but there was nothing you could say when someone accused you of being mistaken or even evil. (This was accompanied by another sigh.)

“Believe me, I sympathize,” Wizard Boy muttered. The other man chuckled weakly.

“So which competition will the young lady be participating in?”

“Ah!” The boy held out his staff, tapping it against two of the shields that hung behind the official. One depicted knights jousting, the other a pair of crossed swords. Two different contests.

“Excellent. Good luck out there.”

“Thanks.”

As they walked away, they could hear the official saying, “Papers, please,” to the next person in line.

Wizard Boy kept one eye on what was happening even as he bopped the rhea girl on the head with an open palm. “C’mon, let’s get going. We’re done with registration, and I don’t want to be a part of any more commotions.”

“Yeah…,” was all Rhea Fighter said, but she nodded, took her donkey by the reins, and trotted off. Wizard Boy fell into step beside her, observing the crowds and general ruckus of the capital.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” he said distantly, followed by: “I guess that won’t stop you from worrying about it, will it?”

“Hell no.”

“Figured.” Wizard Boy nodded.

He had the same thought he’d had that morning, when they’d visited his older sister’s grave before coming to the coliseum.

If only… If only.

If only the SOBs who had mocked his sister’s death would appear at this moment, heads bowed in contrition—what would happen then? Would his rage abate even a little? He doubted it. The bastards might think that would make it all water under the bridge, but he would never believe that. He would never believe they had learned their lesson until he’d beaten them all to a pulp and cracked their heads open.

And of course, that was completely impossible. For one thing, his sister would give him a piece of her mind if he pulled something like that—even that awful old rhea would probably scoff at him. The moment he chose violence, the other guys would get to say they were the victims, and he would be the aggressor. It could only turn out bad for him.

But still…

There was a brief second when Wizard Boy thought he heard a voice he recognized, and he felt a tremor run through his body. He had to be imagining it. Hearing things. He was so focused on his thoughts that his mind must have been making things up.

That was what he told himself as he looked around—and spotted the robes of the Sorcerers’ Academy.

It shouldn’t have been surprising. This was the capital, and a tournament was afoot. Everyone would be there. Strangers and acquaintances alike.

Wizard Boy subconsciously picked up his pace, trying to put some distance between him and them. “If I get angry, I’ll only get sucked into my own rage…,” he insisted to himself.

“I just can’t stand it!” Rhea Fighter said.

“Believe me, I know the feeling…”

He nodded again, then looked around the stalls and shops. Rheas ate five or six times a day. Maybe he could find a nice snack for her.

Times like this…

The important thing was to do something else, divert your train of thought. Human minds were very simple; they couldn’t stay angry about something for long. He figured rheas were the same.

So why, then?

Why did the cityscape—the whole world—seem gray and ashen?

Now that he thought about it, he realized the armor worn by the man earlier had been the same. It had been of purest white, and yet to him it had seemed ashy.

The gray color overtook everyone around him; in his mind’s eye, the whole town was daubed with it. The dead color of a burned-out fire.

“Hey, I was wondering.” Wizard Boy’s thoughts were interrupted by Rhea Fighter, who looked up at him from directly below. “What do you think that guy would do if a centaur or a giant wanted to be in the tournament?”

A centaur couldn’t be knocked off their horse in a jousting match, and of course a giant would simply be too big to take part in any of the competitions. In those cases, it would be everyone else who would be at a disadvantage. The centaur and the giant probably wouldn’t enjoy winning that way.

Or would they? The girl had no idea.

“Oh, I know what would happen.” Wizard Boy snorted. “Then the guy would complain it was unfair!”

§

So passed another turbulent day in the capital.

Priestess and High Elf Archer appeared to have enjoyed their sightseeing very much. The girl, his old friend, had had fun shopping and dining with Guild Girl. The shop that Dwarf Shaman and Lizard Priest had taken him to served food and drinks, although he hadn’t understood very well what they were.

And as for me…

As the moments had carried him along until he was suddenly free, he found that he still didn’t know what to do with a day off. He never had.

No…

He was outside the inn, the warmth of an unfamiliar alcohol filling the inside of his helmet and shielding him from the chill of the evening breeze. The lantern lights burned orange in the town, and he heard the burble of people passing by, the encroaching chatter.

Tomorrow was the tournament.

The night before, the town became a vast party, with people singing the praises of different knights and debating who would win. Even at the inn, the enthusiastic banter continued. High Elf Archer had taken Priestess, Guild Girl, and his old friend by the hand and dragged them to the tavern on the first floor. Lizard Priest and Dwarf Shaman were probably there as well. The women would be safe with them around.

As for him, he chose not to involve himself. He wasn’t very good at living it up. Watching everyone else enjoy themselves, listening to their chatter—that, he thought, was ideal.

Nonetheless, here he was outside, watching the darkened streets of the capital.

No… It’s hardly something new, this inability to imagine.

When had it started? Long, long ago, perhaps. The idea might already have been in his mind back when he had been asked to help with the dungeoneering contest. Had the seeds been planted in the desert, then?

Whatever the case, there was only one conclusion: There is nothing besides goblin hunting.

He’d gone to the desert in the east. The icy seas of the north. He’d met the centaurs of the grassy plains. Each of those experiences had made his heart race, he knew. And yet…he hadn’t thought that was enough.

Nor did he now.

Here he was in the capital, observing the festivities. But he was not part of them. The thought caused him no anxiety, no dissatisfaction. He’d simply found that he was not part of that circle.

So when a voice asked, “Clearing your head?” he was, for a moment, unsure how to react. Who would bother speaking to a man standing by the entrance of an inn, observing the celebrations?

With some effort, he turned his helmeted head and found Guild Girl standing there. Her cheeks were slightly flushed.

“Yes, I am,” he said. It was the only answer he could think of. “I believe I am.”

“Oh, you are?”

“Yes.”

Guild Girl giggled at that, but he didn’t know why. Had he said something funny?

Then she walked up beside him and, regardless of any lack of decorum, plopped herself down by the roadside. This was not the conduct of a refined young lady. Neither the Guild nor the nobility would approve of such behavior.

Goblin Slayer looked at the night cityscape as if it might tell him what to say.

“…Your home,” he offered at length. Yes. It must be here. Goblin Slayer’s avowedly slow mind finally dredged the fact up out of his memory. “Is it all right if you don’t go to say hello?”

“My! Would you be so kind as to go with me?” Guild Girl replied, and her expression was teasing. She added, “That’s a joke,” before he could answer. “Anyway… I think it’s all right. At least, as far as I’m concerned.”

“…I see.”

“Yes. It’s not that we don’t get along, but…I think going home would only earn me a stern talking-to.”

Goblin Slayer didn’t think anything in particular about that. He simply recognized that this was how it was for her.

He had only about ten years’ experience with families. He knew no more of them than that.

Guild Girl, though, appeared somehow embarrassed. Perhaps she thought of it as an indulgence.

“Hey,” she said. “Want to take a walk?”

Goblin Slayer had no particular reason to refuse.

No…

He corrected himself: He personally had no reason.

“If you’ll have me,” he said.

“Well, that’s why I invited you.” Guild Girl puffed out her cheeks a little.

Confronted with that, Goblin Slayer could only say: “I see.”

That answer seemed to satisfy Guild Girl, who stood up, shaking out her long, slim legs. She smiled into the night and said, “Let’s go!”

The lanterns of the city, lit by students from the Academy, gave off a magical light, illuminating Guild Girl’s face in profile. Goblin Slayer suspected the same light played off the cheap armor beside her.

I’m walking along with someone.

Through an unfamiliar cityscape. A place he had never dreamed he would see. Yet now he was visiting the capital for the second time.

It was the strangest thing. His sister would have been much better suited to this place than he was. The fact that he was here felt wrong to him. Yet at the same time, he noticed…

“People aren’t looking at me so much.”

“It’s a big town,” Guild Girl said. “And there’s a festival to boot.”

To her, those reasons explained it all.

There they were, a daughter of the nobility dressed to the nines, accompanied by a slayer of goblins in grimy armor.

But no one seems to care.

He wondered if that could actually be true.

Guild Girl said nothing.

For a long moment, neither did he.

“…”

“……”

“……Yah!” she exclaimed as she flung herself against him, grabbing his arm.

“Hrm…,” he grunted. She’d caught him by surprise.

Filthy metal was pressed into the chest of her unsullied blouse. The softness and warmth didn’t reach him. Only the pressure. She felt heavier, more present, than the shield he forever had tied to his arm. But he would be more careful with her than he was with his shield.

She’ll get dirty. The thought was something close to worried.

“I’m filthy,” he said. “You’ll get dirty.”

“I don’t mind.” Clutching his armored arm, Guild Girl gazed forward, smiling triumphantly. “How long do you think I’ve known you?”

“I see…”

“I’ll bet you do!”

Argh! I can’t believe this guy!

Guild Girl might not have known him as long as his childhood friend, but it had been some years by this point. She might not know or notice everything about him, but watching him now, there were plenty of things she did understand.

He was an accomplished adventurer of the Silver rank. It was a tremendous achievement, and he was very well regarded.

And I’m not sure if he knows it.

Probably not, she figured. Not to suggest that was why she liked him so much.

I’ve chosen to be happy, all on my own. Whatever he might think of himself, I can’t do anything about it, but it doesn’t matter. I’ve fostered my own feelings over years and years. This is my life. No one else has a say in it—not even him. I’ll be happy if I choose to be. I don’t need anyone else to do anything for me to make me that way. So…sure. Why not a little love? Surely this much…

“…This much I can be allowed, right?”

“If that’s what you want…,” he began.

Goblin Slayer thought: What a boring thing to say. A silly thing. Was that all he could say to her? Had he no more substance than that? He grew more and more annoyed with himself. All the years they had grown closer, all the years she had watched out for him and helped him, and that was all he could muster for her?

“…then it’s all right.”

“It is!”

They spent a few moments observing the bustle of the capital. Walking with no particular destination, chatting about nothing in particular, window-shopping at the stalls, watching people go by, until they came back to the inn.

It was no more of a night than that. And no less.