Goblin Slayer - Volume 16 - Chapter 2

Chapter 2 - They Call Me

This—this was what it meant for the air to be full of passion.

Spectator seats towered over the circular field of battle, covered with tents to keep the sun off. There must have been room for ninety thousand people. The seats had been arranged with careful calculation and planning such that the contests would be visible from every one of them. No one had reason to complain, no matter where they were seated. Indeed, instead they would be thanking the Trade God if they had the good fortune to purchase a tessera, an entry ticket.

Out of the eighty rounded arches, no fewer than seventy-six were allocated for spectator use. Each tessera had a number from 1 to 76, indicating the gate through which the spectator was to enter. Row and seat numbers were also given, leading each person directly to their seat.

Guests sat on the provided cushions, bought snacks from the sellers who worked the rows, and waited with barely contained excitement for the spectacle to begin. They were watching a circular field of combat covered in white sand. Here, swordfighters competed against one another daily, no quarter asked and none given, all in offering to the Valkyrie, who, legend told, had fought once here herself a very long time ago.

Admittedly, the statue of the Valkyrie had recently come under serious criticism—but today of all days, there would be no questions. The statue of the Valkyrie stood proudly uncovered, watching over the battlefield.

Hoh! May the Valkyrie see the deeds that are done!

But it was more than the exterior accoutrements of the coliseum that deserved attention. The bowl at the bottom, believe it or not, could be filled with water to stage naval battles. It had been said this would no longer be possible after the construction of underground passageways, greenrooms, and even an elevator. But the engineering capabilities of the dwarves, who could make it so not a single drop escaped, were something to behold! They worked the stone with their exceptional abilities, renovating the coliseum while maintaining all the equipment. If facing and overcoming seemingly impossible obstacles was the essence of worship of the Valkyrie, then those dwarves were faithful warriors in their own right.

And now today, another such warrior, a young woman, was in the underground passageway.

“Ah… Ahhh… I th-think I’m suddenly having an attack of nerves…”

Shaking violently, equipped with hand-me-down armor and sitting on a donkey, was a rhea girl. The jousting spear she’d been given looked almost comically large compared to her tiny body. She held it easily, though, even considering that it was a lightened wooden instrument designed to shatter.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet,” said the boy holding the donkey’s reins with a glance at his partner. He could look her right in the face, because she had her visor up—maybe she felt a bit suffocated keeping it down, what with the cotton padding and a heavy metal helmet over that.

Her teeth were gritted like she was trying to control herself, and her eyes flicked back and forth. “I’m n-n-not. I just c-can’t get my body to stop shaking!”

“That’s a good sign.” He prevented himself from adding the words that flitted through his mind: I think. Instead, he patted her lightly on the thigh. He could never have done it if she hadn’t been wearing armor—or if they hadn’t been in exactly the position they were.

He wasn’t used to spending all his time, waking and sleeping, with a girl his own age. (Well, technically, their ages were very different.) It was nothing like being with his older sister.

“Your body and your brain can each be doing their own thing. Your body’s just getting ready to fight,” he said.

“Y-you think so…?”

He was only repeating something he’d heard, but the rhea girl clung to it for dear life.

In fact, he suspected, it was as simple as this: The moment was upon them, and she was scared. He didn’t let that ugly thought onto his tongue but instead swallowed it down. She didn’t need quibbling explanations—over the years, he’d learned that much.

“Yeah. It’s like…doing warm-up exercises. You should move a little yourself.”

“Oh… Yeah, you’re right.” She actually listened to him, twisting in her saddle and shaking herself out as best she could. Her armor clanked as she moved, and then she looked at him again, worried. “I’m not sure I can raise my shoulders…”

“Well, why would you need to do that for a joust?”

Thus, Wizard Boy cut straight through her fears. Anxiety was words; namely, a spell. Words didn’t have to be words of true power to have power nonetheless.

“Just make sure you stretch them out before the sword fight, and you’ll be fine.”

“R-right…!”

Not long after, the fight before theirs must’ve ended, because there was a huge cheer from the hallway, in the direction of the light of the battlefield. Wizard Boy could sense the rhea girl taking deep breaths. He patted her back gently. She nodded: Right. The hand holding her lance moved to lower her visor.

“If you please, it’s your turn,” said a woman who wore armor covering only the most essential places. She was one of the clerics of the Valkyrie, distinguished warriors who believed that so long as their vital parts were covered, they could take care of everything else themselves. “I wish you good luck in your battle!”

“Mm! Thanks,” Rhea Fighter replied with as much conviction as she could. Her helmet was fastened in place with another clank, and then she let out a breath. “Let’s go!”

“You got it.”

Wizard Boy tugged on the donkey’s reins and started forward. The animal began to move, the clop of hooves echoing in the hall. As they approached, the light of the battlefield seemed to get bigger, stronger, until it filled their entire field of vision with white…

“Oh, wow…!” the girl exclaimed at the deafening cheers that rained down on them from every side.

They were not, however, cheers of welcome for her. The crowd was simply thrilled to see another battle. If one of the contestants was a little girl far smaller than any of them had expected, so much the better. Maybe she would go flying in spectacular fashion—or otherwise show her tenacity. That was what flourished among those spectators: a heartless disinterest in the rhea, a certainty that she could be nothing special.

“Uh… Ah…” Rhea Fighter clenched her teeth, which threatened to chatter loud enough to be heard through her armor. I shouldn’t have come, she thought. She didn’t belong here. She would only embarrass herself. She should quit now.

She had heard those words and others like them leveled against her many times in the past. She’d always fought back, but now they swirled in her head. She’d thought she had chased them away long ago, but here they were, pressing in, threatening to crush her.

After all, just look: Look at her opponent, the knight standing at the far end of the two parallel tracks of the field. The heavy armor. The warhorse on which he sat. The plethora of decorations to be expected at a jousting tournament.

Those decorations alone set the opponent apart from her at that moment. And the servant who stood by the knight was dressed like the very picture of nobility. The rhea girl was not familiar with the station known as a herald. Or at least, she hadn’t been until her partner, the boy, had volunteered to be hers. As a result, when confronted with a real knight and a real herald, she was at a loss for what to do.

The herald unrolled a scroll and began to recite his master’s family history at a clip:

“Ahem! Before you stands a knight of the plains of the four corners. His father distinguished himself doing battle against the Death, while his grandfather…”

The litany of achievements went on for a full six generations into the past. The rhea girl, of course, had nothing of the sort. She hardly even followed what the herald was saying. Thus she could only assume it was somehow her fault that the audience had suddenly fallen quiet.

She flinched when she heard a whisper from beside her: “What a shit herald.”

It was Wizard Boy. She looked at him, her helmet clanking as she did so, but he said only, “Just watch me,” and stepped forward.

No, in fact, he said more than that—Rhea Fighter noticed him intoning the words of the Magnify spell.

“Before you,” he boomed, “is the finest fighter known in the shire of the rheas!”

His voice shook the very air, resounding like thunder. The chattering spectators summarily shut up.

There was an instant of calm, of silence. Then, with a great wave of his arm, Wizard Boy said as if he had sucked in all the air in the stadium:

“Her first mentor was the renowned adventurer, he who went there and back again deep under the mountain, the great swordmaster of the rheas!”

He actually remembered it! The rhea girl found her eyes going wide under her helmet.

It was an old story, of which she told him only bits and pieces. She didn’t despise the shire, but it held few happy memories for her. Her eccentric and somewhat off-kilter grandfather had taught her to use a sword, forcing her to practice until she nearly collapsed.

That was how it had all started. If the old man hadn’t taught her the blade, she wouldn’t have been here now.

“Day and night, she trained, a thousand days spent learning, ten thousand more refining her craft—and now she stands before you!”

She couldn’t help smiling at that. She wanted to object that she wasn’t that old.

That was all it took to get her quivering chin to relax. The feeling soon spread to the rest of her body.

“Her strikes fall like lightning upon the enemy! I urge you, watch what she does!”

The young man bowed elegantly. There was the briefest of beats, and then the stadium erupted in cheers. Even then, they weren’t for the rhea girl. Their cries consisted of simple passion, excitement at the prospect that things might turn out more interesting than anticipated.

And yet for the girl, they felt very different. As the boy came back, his breath heaving, she gripped his sleeve with one gauntleted hand and said, “Hey, where’d you learn to do that?”

“From the old guy,” he said, apparently meaning their master. “He told me a wizard needs something to impress at the right moment.” He didn’t sound very appreciative. Finally, he gave her another gentle slap on the back. “Eyes front. Don’t forget what I said.”

“R-right…!” The rhea girl took several deep breaths, then took the donkey’s reins and urged the animal forward.

This was nothing like where she’d fought in the shire. This was a proper jousting field. The other end looked so far away, and there her opponent sparkled in the sunlight, acting as if the match was already won.

Or—no. Was that just her imagination, her assumption? She wasn’t sure. But it didn’t matter.

That’s right. My strikes are like lightning.

The judge gave a great wave of his flag. The rhea gave her donkey the spurs.

“Y-yaaaahhh…!”

“Hrrrrahhhh!”

She felt as if time was running slowly, the air fighting her as though she was underwater. Her vision narrowed until all she could see was her opponent.

She raised her right hand. She had to couch the lance. No. There—there it was. No!

“Listen.”

It was something the boy had said to her over and over as they made their way here. Now, at this moment, it came tumbling out from the storehouse of her memories.

“Power is simple logic. It’s made up of three things: speed, weight, and force.”

That and transmission. “So four things,” he’d muttered.

“This transmission, it has three parts. The fulcrum, the point of action, and the point where the force is applied.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. It doesn’t make any sense to me.” She could listen as hard as she wanted; some things still just wouldn’t click.

“You’re gonna lose out on body size, so that already puts you at a disadvantage. And you can’t put out a lot of force. I mean, that’s just a fact.”

“Uh-huh.” The girl had nodded dejectedly. She was all too aware of the difference in size. And she couldn’t shake the thought that calculating advantage and disadvantage before a fight was the sort of thing that only a coward would do. But the boy, he was telling her how to win. So she’d nodded along. She’d listened to him.

“Speed, the opponent will provide. Which means all that’s left is transmission.”

“So what do I do?”

“Stay on your mount. Don’t take the blow head-on. Keep a firm hold on your lance, and make sure you stick it in the right place.”

She felt the lance click neatly into the metal rest as everything came together.

The rhea leaned forward as far as she could. It was very uncomfortable on her chest, which was squeezed by her chest plate.

Overhead, something grazed the top of her helmet, scraping along. She heard wood splintering. A shock. She was shaken violently.

Don’t think about it.

Then with a great shout, “Kiiieeeehhhhh…!!” she brought her spear up with all the force of a burning brushfire. Her right arm felt like she’d struck a brick wall; it went numb with the impact, while the tip of her spear splintered and went everywhere.

The flow of time spontaneously caught up to her.

Air came rushing back into her lungs like she’d broken through the surface of the water, and there was noise everywhere.

“Haaah…!” Inside her suffocating helmet, she gasped like a fish thrown onto dry land.

There was no time to rest, however. Burgeoning panic was all she could feel as the blood rushed to her brain.

“The sword contest!” she shouted and leaped down from her donkey. The heavy armor caused her to lean vertiginously as she landed. Or was that the lack of oxygen? She wasn’t sure.

Just as she thought she would tilt clean over, she felt a lean arm grab her from one side and hold her up.

“My armor! Fix my armor, quick! The shoulders—!”

“Calm down.” With a clank, her helmet was removed, and then someone grabbed the padding beneath and tore it away. She felt the wind hit her sweat-soaked cheeks and forehead.

“Phew!” she breathed. “I—I am calm! But there’s no time to—”

“I told you, calm down. Eyes front.”

“Wha—?”

She looked where she was bidden and discovered her opponent flat on his back. In fact, his helmet was rolling across the field, clanking as it went. The herald rushed over and splashed him with water but to no avail.

“You knocked him out in one blow,” the boy said with a grin, and finally the girl came back to herself.

She also noticed that every eye in the coliseum was on her.

That produced an urk. It gave rise to an eep. Hesitation, embarrassment, excitement, and confusion.

Amid the swirl of emotions, the girl felt the boy take her hand, his grip strong for such a slim arm, and hold it aloft. The tight shoulders of her armor miraculously accommodated the motion. She looked up in amazement, the audience filling her vision.

“Behold! The Sting of the rheas! The blow that can bury even a spider in the dark!”

Another cheer rent the stadium air, and this time, it was for her.

§

“Oh my gosh! She did it! She won!”

“Mm.”

Priestess clapped her hands with innocent joy, while Goblin Slayer crossed his arms and simply nodded. Only a few people in the stands were not participating in the thunderous cheering, and his section was one of them.

They were sitting in a private box rather more well-appointed than the general spectator seating. Priestess, High Elf Archer, Guild Girl, and even Cow Girl had been rooting for a victory by their acquaintance the entire time.

“I sure never expected to see those two here!” High Elf Archer said, clapping her hands and adding that they’d become quite a team.

“Mm,” Goblin Slayer said and nodded again.

The elf giggled with a sound like a tinkling bell. “That’s all we ever get from you, isn’t it, Orcbolg?”

“Is that so?”

“Sure is.”

But, well, it wasn’t such a bad thing, High Elf Archer concluded, smiling innocently.

The boy and girl down there were two of the rare people—or perhaps it wasn’t so rare after all?—that Goblin Slayer had looked after and helped. High Elf Archer didn’t know much about honor and glory in the human world, but winning at a tournament had to be a good thing.

And Orcbolg wouldn’t know how to just openly congratulate somebody like our friend there.

If the man in the grimy armor were to suddenly launch into a panegyric to her performance, even the high elf would have to be shocked.

Having reached this conclusion, High Elf Archer promptly turned her attention to other things. For there were so many things to be interested in. For example…

“They said it was a best-of-three contest, but she hit him in the head and knocked him off his horse, so she wins, right?” Yes, for example, the precise rules of this jousting tournament that had everyone so excited. She twirled her raised pointer finger, directing her questions at the bulky man beside her. “How would they decide who won if nobody fell off their horse?”

“Hmm. You saw the lances splinter, I presume?” Lizard Priest said with much gravity.

“Sure did. They both went, like, bam! and vaporized!”

“The shattering of the lance indicates a direct hit. Thus, the one with the shattered lance would be awarded a point.”

If nobody was unhorsed, then destroying your lance earned you a point. If you both managed it—or if you both didn’t—then it was a draw. Of course, sometimes both parties were knocked off their mounts, or they went three rounds equal on points.

“If there is to be a sword contest, then the crossing of lances does not conclude matters.”

Ah, how wonderful was this legalized form of mock combat!

High Elf Archer nodded, trying to ignore the tickle of Lizard Priest’s tail wrapping itself around her leg.

“Those aren’t real lances, though, right?” she said. “They’re designed to break. Doesn’t that make them pretty fragile?”

“Yes, they’re fragile,” said Dwarf Shaman. “Which makes ’em a mite easier on an armored body.”

The dwarf always had a word to say about weaponry. Get a dwarf started on either alcohol or smithing, and he was unlikely to stop.

He informed them that it was equivalent to the force of a “gunshot.”

More, he added, there was once a king who had been killed by a flying splinter.

“Huh,” was all High Elf Archer had to offer to such trivia. She started looking around again. “So that’s why they wear all that armor. I thought it was just humans, you know, preening for one another.”

“It’s true, their equipment certainly is bright and shiny,” replied Priestess, with a sidelong glance at the adventurer in the filthy, cheap-looking suit of armor beside her. He still had his arms crossed and was looking at the pair on the battlefield far below, the boy holding up the girl’s hand, and nodding in what seemed to be satisfaction.

They’re so different, Priestess found herself thinking, but she didn’t mean it critically. Her party leader was this somewhat odd adventurer, and she had no objections to that.

“If someone is unhorsed but takes their mount down with them, it’s considered to be the horse’s fault, and the knight doesn’t lose. The match is annulled,” Guild Girl said, adding with some hesitation that if the rider is knocked unconscious, it’s all over anyway.

Yes—with some hesitation. That provoked Cow Girl’s curiosity. It seemed she and he had been on a walk the night before, just the two of them…

But hey.

She felt she could take that to mean that this evening, it would be her turn. She’d been in a good mood ever since that morning. It was the day of the long-awaited tournament. She could wear the outfit she’d bought yesterday. A perfect excuse to get dressed up—and it had earned her the assessment “It looks good on you…I believe.”

“You look pretty pleased,” Cow Girl said. He did, in fact, seem extraordinarily satisfied and that made her happier than anything. She slid over to him and looked down at him, into the visor of his helmet.

“Hmm…,” she heard, as if he was having trouble parsing the meaning of her words.

She found that indescribably amusing and fought to keep herself from grinning openly.

“Those two—they won!” she said. Weren’t they his protégés? Well, of course they won.

“Hrm…,” was his response. He looked at the ground, was quiet for a moment, and then murmured, “I see… Yes, that’s true.” He suspected he was—he confirmed with a nod—happy.

That was unlikely to be simply because Wizard Boy and Rhea Fighter had been victorious. When they had left their homes, traveling all the way to the town on the frontier, they had been just two among many adventurers. But they had made their way out into the world, and now here they stood, with the eyes of the whole capital upon them. That fact, she was sure, must make him happy.

And you’re Silver-ranked yourself!

Cow Girl didn’t know much about adventurers’ ranks, but she knew you didn’t reach Silver by accident.

“Hey, why didn’t any of the other Silver-ranked people come out for this? You know, the guy with the spear or the guy with the big sword?”

“Ahhh, them?” Guild Girl said, not expecting the question. “They don’t have much interest in things like this…” She trailed off.

Strange. This all sounded familiar to Cow Girl, but…not quite.

Hmm? She turned and looked and caught a glimpse of Earth Mother vestments. For a second, she thought maybe Priestess had asked the question—but no. This girl’s frame, the length of her hair, and her facial expression all resembled Priestess but only superficially.

Her eyes met Cow Girl’s, and the smile she gave her was like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. “Sorry to drop in!” the girl chirped.

“Y-Your Highness?!” There was a shuffle as Guild Girl abruptly straightened up.

“Highness?” Cow Girl said, cocking her head.

Guild Girl was still flustered. “Wh-when did you get here?! Uh, er, please excuse my rudeness…”

“It’s all right, really. I snuck in. Or snuck out, I guess.”

The king’s little sister (Cow Girl didn’t know that’s who she was) laughed out loud and waved away Guild Girl’s concern. She had a puckish twinkle in her eye, which soon settled on the girl who looked so much like her. “It’s been a while. Have you been well?”

“Yes!” Priestess replied, and her smile was like a blossoming flower.

They definitely look like each other, but…not exactly.

Even two girls who looked virtually identical were clearly distinguishable if you knew at least one of them. But in any case, more women meant more chatter—and more loveliness.

Above all, no one in the booth objected to the addition of another friend.

Lizard Priest slid his massive body over, High Elf Archer pressing in as well, to make a space into which the new girl slipped. Guild Girl shifted, evidently feeling awkward about something, but Dwarf Shaman laughed jovially. “What’s this, then, Princess?” (Cow Girl cocked her head again: Princess?) “A bit o’ hooky, eh?”

“That’s right. I couldn’t stand another minute of that meeting; it just wouldn’t end! So I showed myself out.” She stuck out her tongue playfully; Guild Girl placed her hands on her stomach and tried to restrain a smile.

Huh?

Priestess blinked as she observed the scene. Her color was poor—not the receptionist’s, the king’s little sister. She was paler than Priestess, of course, and her skin looked dewy enough, but it was more than that. It looked like her circulation was weak—maybe like she was tired—or then again, maybe not quite.

“Um, are you okay…?” Priestess asked. It was a natural question. She felt a twinge at the back of her neck, a bad feeling she couldn’t seem to shake.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Doing great. I think I’m just a little tired,” King’s Sister replied.

For her part, High Elf Archer seemed bothered as well—or maybe it was pangs of sympathy since her social position was much like this girl’s. She peered into King’s Sister’s face, then said in a chiding tone, “I know human lives are short, but you don’t have to hurry around quite that much!”

“If only we could all measure things the same way the elves do!” King’s Sister laughed. She abruptly slouched over.

And then, almost before the others could register what was happening, her delicate body crumpled.

“Yikes!” Priestess exclaimed.

“H-hey!” cried High Elf Archer. At moments like this, no one moved faster than an elf. She was already in motion before Priestess could even reach out, catching the girl in arms that were far stronger than their delicate appearance would suggest.

The limp young woman’s face had gone beyond pale; she was practically white now and breathing shallowly.

“This is bad news. She’s got a fever,” High Elf Archer reported.

“Your Highness?!” Guild Girl yelped in spite of herself. Cow Girl was likewise halfway out of her seat. You didn’t have to know exactly what was going on to recognize it didn’t look good. Any questions about the girl’s title were swept from her head.

Cow Girl was quickly at the young woman’s side; she knelt down and loosened the girl’s collar. “We can’t let her outfit constrict her! What else should we do?!”

“Something to drink—we have water, right?” Priestess said. “We should wipe away the sweat…”

While High Elf Archer held the girl, the others tended to her. Guild Girl watched them, stupefied, until Priestess shouted, “A doctor! My healing miracles can’t do anything about sickness!”

“Understood!” Guild Girl said, snapping back to reality. She prevented herself from wasting time just nodding along.

She heard Goblin Slayer say softly, “Then I’ll go, too.” He leaped nimbly to his feet, unclasping his shield and the pouch at his hip in a single fluid motion to make himself lighter. “Show me where to go. And call whomever we need to call; I don’t know who.”

Guild Girl understood what he was asking for in his own gruff way. She used all her considerable wit to mull over the situation, then replied with much gratitude, “Yes, I will.”

It’s all right now. I’m calm. I can do this.

She nodded at Goblin Slayer, who nodded back. The metal helmet turned. “Apologies, but can I ask you handle things here?”

“Ask us? We’re volunteerin’!” said Dwarf Shaman. Like the long-necked Lizard Priest, he was already out of his chair. Not only that: He was digging through his bag of catalysts, while Lizard Priest stood with his clawed hands and feet at the ready. It was an extraordinarily quick response to someone collapsing; they had seized the initiative, so to speak.

“Just say she’s got a bit overwhelmed spectatin’.”

“Indeed,” Lizard Priest said. “It’s all a bit too stimulating for a cultivated young lady.”

They spoke pointedly, but Guild Girl agreed and indeed was grateful to them. She gave them each a quick bow.

“Don’t stand on ceremony, just get goin’. This ain’t lookin’ good.”

Dwarf Shaman waved them away, and before Guild Girl could reply “Yes, you’re right,” she found herself floating into the air. “Eep!”

“I’m going to run,” said a voice near her abdomen. She finally registered that she had been lifted onto someone’s shoulder. “Tell me where to go.”

“Huh? I mean… What?!”

After that, everything happened at once. They were racing down the stadium hallway; she was being carried along at a furious pace.

They’re going to think I’m the patient like this!

She felt confusion, panic, embarrassment, all assaulting her disheveled brain. But still, she couldn’t forget the last thing she’d heard as they left. Priestess had looked at the king’s little sister’s neck, and in a shaking voice, she had said, “This mark…”

There are endless seeds for adventures in the Four-Cornered World. And consequently, wherever there are adventures, there will be adventurers.

§

“Things don’t look good,” said the handsome man, who had appeared as quickly as if he’d used a Gate spell. Yet he was the epitome of calm as he spoke.

The chamber in which King’s Sister now slept was somewhat too ornate to be called a sickroom, but in any case, they had moved from there to an equally sumptuous area for receiving guests. Guild Girl looked extraordinarily tense, while Cow Girl seemed to realize only that they were in the presence of someone important.

That was understandable enough, but this was someone Priestess had met before.

In fact, between kings and queens…

…this was three or four times.

The queen of the elves, the húsfreya of the north, as well as the princess of the centaurs—Priestess was practically used to meeting royalty by now.

Used to it! Ha!

She had to smile for even thinking that about herself—but of course, she understood that this was no laughing matter.

“I don’t believe this is any ordinary sickness,” she said as she sat, her small butt practically floating on a couch softer than anything she was accustomed to. “You’ve seen the brand that was put upon one particular noblewoman. I suspect it’s—”

“A curse,” the young king concluded and nodded. “Seems likely.”

Yes. Priestess nodded back but couldn’t summon the word. Instead, she spared a glance at her companions. Some of them had their arms crossed and stood by the wall; some sat on the couch with her; all looked somber and thoughtful as they listened to the conversation.

The grimy man who was their leader was the most silent of all, and he simply stood there. Priestess couldn’t help being amused to realize that somewhere along the line, she had been tasked with being their spokesperson.

When had that started? While she was happy to be so trusted, it also made her uneasy, even a little lonely. She found herself worrying that her rank tag, which she hoped would soon be Emerald, was just plated—a fake like her.

She realized, however, that her private insistence that she must do well was just that, her problem. It was self-centered.

After all, the one now under a curse was her own dear friend.

“Truth be told,” the king added, “I can’t claim I have no inkling as to what might be going on.”

King of the land, find ye brave fighters, and then—

Just as in that silly children’s song, the young king looked at the adventurers and said gravely, “When I was an adventurer myself, there was a deathless vampire who troubled the capital.” Those who refused to obey such creatures could expect to face terrible tragedy.

“Where was his lair?” Goblin Slayer asked.

The king tapped his foot on the floor with a mixture of nostalgia, regret, and a coolness bordering on ruthless. “A magic cavern, an ancient place beneath the capital. He was sealed away, but the seal has been weakening.”

Such had been one act of the legend about the battle in the earlier—no, now former—Dungeon of the Dead. It had happened around the same time as the All Stars, the six great heroes, were facing the Demon Lord in the abyss of the Dungeon. The young king-to-be and his party had defeated the demon, the undying king who had ruled the magical cavern, thus saving the city and earning the adventurer’s place on the throne. Then he had led his forces against the Army of Darkness and repulsed it. Priestess was too young to remember it, but it was the subject of a particularly beloved saga.

“So we just have to duck back down in this cavern and fix up the seal. Problem solved, right?”

High Elf Archer’s lovely voice sounded perfectly natural there in the conversation. She spoke with an ease that only fellow royalty could have, as well as the born superiority of the high elves, not to mention her natural charm. All these things came together to make it sound as if she was speaking to a friend.

Priestess noticed Guild Girl’s cheek twitch, but the king paid the elf’s tone no mind. He simply shook his head. “You’ve got the right idea, but the cavern would not be our destination. The crux of the seal is elsewhere.”

“The map, sire.”

Oh!

Priestess hadn’t noticed the silver-haired girl attending the king until she spoke those three words. She seemed as slender as a shadow, almost fae-like. She was like High Elf Archer in that respect but different; she was as delightful as a passing breeze.

In any case, she unrolled upon the table a parchment scroll bearing a very old map.

Priestess nearly exclaimed again when she saw the place to which the young king pointed.

“There’s an ancient shrine to the Earth Mother on this mountain,” he explained. “Her staff is there. It is what holds the seal in place.”

“I’ve heard of that,” Priestess said, her voice trembling. “But I thought it was lost…”

“It was to our benefit that people should think it was.”

The Earth Mother’s staff was a divine instrument capable of creating a mystical barrier that repelled evil. It was supposed to have vanished, yet here the king was saying he knew where it was as casually as anything.

No…

The most important members of the Temple of the Earth Mother must have known everything. Priestess was simply too low in the hierarchy to be in on the secret.

“There is, however, a problem,” the king said. “The shrine appears to be crawling with the forces of Chaos.”

Was it Priestess’s imagination, or did the silver-haired attendant shoot the king an urging look? If so, he didn’t so much as flinch but only continued his explanation:

“The scouts we sent to investigate reported seeing goblins in the vicinity…”

“Now, that is a most unsettling detail,” said Lizard Priest, raising his head like a dragon stirring from a long sleep. “The key to the capital’s security fallen into the hands of Chaos?”

The king appeared to smile at this unadorned assessment. As if he was glad someone had said it. “What with the tournament on top of everything else, we’ve hardly been able to spare anyone.”

“Seems it’s true no matter where you go—hammers and flasks are always in short supply.” Dwarf Shaman stroked his beard agreeably. He even took a little sip of his own most crucial possession—his wine—notwithstanding the fact that they were in the royal presence.

Guild Girl felt like she might keel over, but the king didn’t seem inclined to reprimand him.

The only ones who could take wine from a dwarf were the dwarf king or that most high lady of the high elves.

“Okay, so we go get this Earth Mother’s staff.” High Elf Archer waved her ears to indicate that she had it all figured out and puffed out her small chest. Dwarf Shaman looked at her, clearly not convinced that she really understood. High Elf Archer took Priestess’s shoulder. “This is the perfect job for you!”

“You…you think so?”

“Sure I do!”

Priestess wasn’t sure, but High Elf Archer was trying to be encouraging.

That, however, was when the king said, “I’m afraid not,” and for the first time, he sounded something less than even. He closed his eyes, took a breath, let it out, and then said briskly, “I want the girl to stay here.”

Priestess took a long moment to blink: Ummmm…

In that time, the king’s hesitation vanished. “There are several reasons. Not least that in the past, you have done well for me.” The king’s gaze lighted on one man, who stood by the wall as if feeling he didn’t quite belong there. This man wore grimy leather armor and a cheap-looking metal helmet. “If things get out of hand, the party will be at the enemy’s mercy. Hence, we can’t be sending Gold-ranked into that grotto.”

Why not?

“…So it’s goblins?” The voice was almost mechanical, so cold it hardly seemed human.

King nodded: That’s right. “Goblins have taken up residence in the shrine in the mountains. If we send gold-ranked adventurers, it’s as good as declaring that this is no ordinary place of worship.”

But…

Yes. There was another way.

“You’re different. You could go to the shrine, face the goblin infestation, and—”

“W-wait just a minute! Please…” Guild Girl stood, her voice shaking. She was pale and sweating, trembling with what was obviously terror, but she spoke. “I-i-if I… If I may, sire. I’m th-the Guild staff member responsible for him.” Her voice went up an octave, then cracked. She sucked in a few painful-sounding breaths. “As such… Ahem. Well, a request like that… I’m afraid…”

I can’t countenance it was what she wanted to say, but the words simply wouldn’t come out.

How else was she supposed to feel? He was now, beyond question and with all esteem, a Silver-ranked adventurer. He had spent years reaching that point, and she had spent years watching him. Finally, he was here. The world was ahead of him.

And he was still going to be pigeonholed as a goblin hunter? Would he be sent to slay goblins all his life?

I don’t want to…to give him back.

Wasn’t he an accomplished, perfectly respectable Silver-ranked adventurer?

But…

But that was exactly why there was no other answer to this problem, and Guild Girl knew it.

Who else was there to go? Who else besides the five—no, four—Silver-ranked adventurers here?

Well and good. But this request came from the king himself. And he was going to have to refuse it? True, it wouldn’t be listed in the official records—but that was exactly why it could leave a black mark.

And besides, when it came to slaying goblins, who else was there? Who else could—?

“I don’t mind,” came a low voice.

“Wha…?”

“I said, I don’t mind.”

A short, brusque whisper. A muffled sound from beneath the helmet.

Why?

Guild Girl didn’t voice the question, yet the helmet turned to her. He looked at her from behind his visor and nodded. “Because,” he said, then paused briefly before he resumed. “I once received help.”

For a second, Guild Girl wasn’t sure what he was talking about—but then she realized it was the time, years ago, when he had been faced with a horde of goblins. At that moment, when he had been powerless to do anything, she was the one who had turned everything around.

She hadn’t done it with any idea of earning gratitude or putting him in her debt. “N-no, I wasn’t trying to…,” she said, but the rest wouldn’t quite come out.

He shifted from his spot, then moved between her and the king as if to protect her. “If there are goblins, then I’ll go.”

“…So you’re accepting?” the king asked.

“Yes.”

Finally, he felt as if all the gears had clicked together.

When I come right down to it, I’m an outsider here.

He could visit the capital, observe the festivities, take in the tournament, and yes, it was exciting. But it was not where he belonged. Until a situation like this arose, he had no part to play.

And having no part to play was a wonderful thing indeed.

But I don’t mind.

He decided that this was well and good and stepped forward.

He would deal with the goblins in front of him and then go on to the next thing. That was enough.

That was enough—it was enough to reward him.

“I don’t quite understand, but…,” his childhood friend began, her voice reaching his ears in the stillness. No, she wouldn’t know exactly what was going on. Even he didn’t, really.

Politics, matters of state, the kingship. He understood none of it.

He understood only that he was needed. And thus, there was only one thing to do.

“But…you’re going on an adventure. Right?” she said.

“No,” he said with a slow shake of his head. This was no adventure. “I am going to slay goblins.”

That was why they called him Goblin Slayer.