Goblin Slayer - Volume 16 - Chapter Pr

Prologue - A Knight's Tale

“Lots of knights have taken their first wound at the hands of some nameless nobody! Don’t let her looks fool you!” cried someone from the stands, which was followed by general laughter and sounds of approval.

It was a fair comment. There were two riders mounted, in full armor, with spear and shield in hand. One of them was a massive character who could have ridden a proper pony; he was the son of a tobacco farmer and one of the strongest men in the shire. Across from him was a pint-size girl, seated on a donkey and wearing what appeared to be hand-me-down armor.

The bellicose mounted girl had fled her parents’ house in defiance of a marriage match she didn’t want, but now she was back home. Who wouldn’t laugh when she showed up in the lists, the jousting field, as if she was a real knight? One of those puppets with a wooden weapon would have a better chance!

The young man smirked at her, a nasty smile that stayed on his face until he pulled down the visor of his helmet and she couldn’t see it anymore. He was no doubt imagining himself easily unhorsing the girl, making her his own, and then heading off to the capital.

How absurdly vain. She swore to herself that she would make him taste defeat.

“I’m gonna send his ass flying!” the rhea girl burst out.

“I keep telling you—you don’t have to send anyone flying,” said a young man who stood beside her, sighing. He was about her height—tall for a rhea but short for a human. Thin, too. He fiddled with the boomerang at his hip, still not used to it, and muttered, “Are you sure you understand the rules?”

“Sure I do. It’s just…” The girl, with her visor still raised and finding the armor rather constricting, turned to her friend. There was no nervousness in her expression; she was relaxed and natural. She was also obviously extremely angry. “I became an adventurer to kick the asses of people like him!”

“You don’t have to kick his ass. Just stay on yours.”

Wizard Boy looked profoundly uneasy, as well he might. He was one of the “big people,” after all. And a wizard, at that. Anyone fitting such a description who came to the rheas’ shire would naturally attract attention. The children begged him for fireworks displays while the adults offered him tobacco but gave him a close look as they spoke. Wild speculation about his relationship to the girl with him ran rampant, and it was all but impossible to shoo every last curious eye from around the tent as they got ready.

And to top it all off, the trouble they’d had finding armor that would fit her…

“Rrgh…!” he grumbled, desperately trying to stop the memory of the girl’s chest—ample in spite of her heritage and frame—from hovering to the fore of his mind. “Just don’t fall off your donkey,” he told her again. “If you can both stay mounted, then you’ll have to dismount and fight hand to hand, right?”

“Yeah. Which means…” The girl grinned, lowered her visor, and buckled the fastenings as she said, “You think I can win this if we can make it a sword fight!”

“…”

Wizard Boy was silent for a second. At length he spoke, with more than a prickle in his voice:

“Whatever. Just make sure that once you’re off and running, you hitch your lance into the rest on your armor. Getting it fixed in place is the really important part.”

“Sure, I got it,” the girl replied, her ensuing laughter muffled by her helmet. “Okay, I’m gonna go kick some ass!”

Feet pounded. The pounding resounded. People were keeping time.

Feet pounded. The pounding resounded. People were keeping time.

Some people beat against the fence; others pounded their armor, smacked the butts of their spears against the earth. They celebrated the ancient elf queen who had given them the garden that had grown into this lush shire. More than adulation, though, it was pure passion that drove the stomping.

A tournament! A jousting contest! In the entire Four-Cornered World, on the whole board, was there any who would not be excited at such a prospect? It was one of the great entertainments, on par with adventuring, board gaming, and the centaurs’ races.

They were just as excited about such a spectacle here in this idyllic slice of fields and tobacco farms as anywhere else. Doubly so because a ticket to the capital was riding on this competition.

In a place where many never left the village their entire lives and even quailed at the thought of going out their door, this was a tremendous privilege. An opportunity given to the shire in light of legends about a rhea knight who had once served the nation’s king. A chance bestowed even though the shire had no notion of knights and nobles such as one found in the human kingdoms.

For the youngsters, it was like a dream. Even for this young girl, though she was no son of anything. Those watching must likewise have been imagining what they could be one day or what they could have been once upon a time.

All right, all right. There’s no need for all this explanation.

It was interesting! Simple as that. It got the blood running and the pulse racing. It was fun! What more reason did one need to be enthralled by a tournament?

When the excitement was at a fever pitch, a judge standing in the center of the field waved the flag that served as the signal.

“Hrrrrraah!”

“Hiiiyaaaaah!”

With great cries of battle, the two riders charged forward on their trusty steeds. (Is a donkey a steed?) The girl put the spurs to her donkey, who brayed and, for a second, reared up. Wizard Boy ground his teeth. But an eyeblink later, the donkey was once again pounding across the dirt, raising a cloud of dust as it drove headlong toward the enemy.

“Go! Faster…!”

A lance for tournament use was, of course, not like a real spear. It was a wood implement for games, designed to shatter spectacularly. That also meant it took all the longer to gain momentum and was that much more taxing to hold in just one arm.

“You…son of a…!” The girl struggled to couch her lance as she bounced in the saddle, fumbling with it with her delicate hands.

“Hah!” At the same time, her opponent easily lifted his javelin with just one of his long arms, calmly securing it in the lance rest.

They would each aim for their opponent’s shield, or torso, or head. The shield was the surest hit but not the best choice if your aim was to knock the other person off their mount.

Wizard Boy sucked in a breath and clenched his fists when he saw that the enemy’s gaily painted lance tip was pointed at the girl’s head. She wouldn’t get hurt, not in a million years—right? Tournament armor was heavy and thick. But then that was secondhand stuff they’d scraped together.

She had to be all right. Go, go, go. Get it secured! Just stay on your mount. That’s all you need to do. His thoughts bubbled and whirled amid the pounding on the fence. He’d never even been this nervous on an adventure. And he was merely watching! Was that why?

Argh… Dammit! Just go already! Win it! Do it!

“Hrrrah!”

He heard a clank of the lance settling into the rest. At least, he thought he did. What he heard next, however, was the crash of the weapons striking their targets, the noise of splinters flying everywhere as they exploded. There was a terrible screech of metal, and a shield went flying.

Even in a case of pony versus donkey, that shock would surely have been fatal without protection. A true knight striking with a true spear could hit harder than a battering ram.

There was a shout from the crowd; a woman cried out. Then there was the thump and crash of an armored body falling to the ground.

Wizard Boy covered his face and held his breath. Damn it all. He would give her a piece of his mind later.

“I told her she didn’t have to send him flying…”