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Goblin Slayer - Volume 2 - Chapter 1




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Chapter 1 - Adventures And Daily Life

“If you don’t like it, you can go home.” 

A clear voice rang out in the forest, which stood dark even at noon. 

Trees, moss, ivy. This was a world where one trod on the bones of derelict chalkstone buildings, a place ruled by plants so profuse they ran all together. The ruins of a great city, perhaps built in the Age of the Gods—or at least in the first age of those who have words. 

Even the elves reputedly acknowledge that no thing endures under the weight of months and years, and yet… 

This scene was especially sad. Cracks ran roughshod over elaborate carvings; stone floors once flush now lay shattered. Through the branches that stretched overhead like a ceiling, a thin, dappled light, not enough to see by, seeped in. This place had been a city once—but now it was nothing, a ruin. Only the trees and plants lived here now. 

Through this landscape marched five figures in single file, loaded with every imaginable item. They were, of course, adventurers. 

The voice belonged to the young woman at their head, charged with scouting. Her long ears, the proof that she was a high elf, quivered. 

“It doesn’t mean anything if you force it.” 

“What doesn’t?” The response was curt, the voice almost mechanical. 

It came from the second in line—a human warrior in a dirty helmet and leather armor. At his hip was a sword that seemed a strange length; on his arm was a small, round shield; and by his waist hung a bag filled with all odds and ends. 

It was slightly better equipment than the latest starry-eyed youth from the country might have. But only just. He didn’t look like much. Yet his footsteps, the way he carried himself, radiated assurance. 

As warriors go, he would have made a strange impression on anyone watching. 

“This adventure!” High Elf Archer didn’t turn around. Her long ears flitted up and down restlessly. 

Many elves were born rangers. They were scouts on a par with rheas, even if it wasn’t their main class. 

She jumped over a protruding tree root with such ease that she seemed to weigh nothing at all. 

“I don’t not like it,” the warrior said. 

High Elf Archer’s ears jumped. 

“This was what we agreed. I will not refuse to pay what I owe,” he continued. 

Her ears drooped again. 

The third person in line sighed at the man’s words. 

Small, young, inexperienced, and the most beautiful in the group—a human girl. She gripped a sounding staff with both hands and wore the clergy’s vestments over her chain mail. She was a priestess. 

She shook a reproving finger at the warrior, as if to say, It can’t be helped. 

“Now, that won’t do. You need a better attitude.” 

“…Do I?” 

“Yes, you do. Just when she’s being so thoughtful of you and all!” 

“Is that so…?” the warrior murmured, then went quiet. His expression was hidden behind his helmet. A short deliberation later, he turned his grim visor toward the elf and asked her directly, “Is it true?” 

“Could you not ask that?” High Elf Archer said, puffing out her cheeks. 

In reality, ever since she had requested “an adventure” as her reward for helping the warrior defend a certain farm, the elf had been in quite a merry mood. 

Whether she would admit as much aloud, though, was another question. 

“Ahh, give it up!” A rotund dwarf stroked his beard, giving a sincere chuckle. 

He was fourth in line, a magic user, dressed in an Eastern style—Dwarf Shaman. He was even shorter than Priestess but built like a boulder. Conventional wisdom held that spell casters were weak, but dwarves were different. 

Not that the brevity of his limbs was never a problem. Forging along animal trails was a particular hurdle for him. 

“This is Beard-cutter here. Hardheadedness is nothing new with him.” 

“…I guess so. Orcbolg is stubborn.” With that, High Elf Archer heaved a sigh. “Much as I hate to admit a dwarf is right about something.” 

Dwarf Shaman gave an annoyed “hmph,” then smiled smugly. “How d’you expect to find a man with that kind of talk? You’ll be a two-thousand-year-old spinster!” 

“Hrk!” Her ears jerked. “I don’t care. Why should I care? Anyway, I’m still young.” 

“Oh, are you?” said Dwarf Shaman, his smile deepening as though he had found the opening he was looking for. “I should’ve known—judging by that anvil you’ve got for a chest!” 

“This from a walking barrel!” 

High Elf Archer’s lovely eyebrows bristled. She spun around and glared at the dwarf. Covering her rather flat chest with her arms, she opened her mouth to shoot back— 

—but was interrupted by a hissing breath. 

“The inhabitants of this land may have gone to the far side of time, but perhaps some decorum is warranted.” 

The speaker was a lizardman with a talisman around his neck. 

He was the tail—literally and figuratively, with his swishing behind him—of the formation. He was a giant, his breath wheezing out from his jaws. Wearing the traditional garments of his people and joining his hands in strange gestures, he was a lizard priest, who followed his forebears, the fearsome nagas. 

“These lands are not the purview of people. Let caution abide, and do not invite trouble.” 

“Hrm. Perhaps she was being a bit loud.” 

“Hrk! What? It’s your fault for—” 

“My dear ranger, please,” implored Lizard Priest. 

The words starting it died on her lips. 

Lizard Priest wasn’t the leader of the party, as such, but High Elf Archer didn’t have it in her to go against that imposing visage. 

“Perhaps you could proceed. Climbing over that root looks apt to be a challenge.” 

“…Yes, sir.” 

“And dear spell caster, it will not do to distract our scout.” 

“I know, I know.” 

Dwarf Shaman didn’t seem to notice how High Elf Archer’s ears drooped under the withering reproof. 

Meanwhile, Lizard Priest rolled his eyes in exasperation. 

Priestess giggled, almost without meaning to. She liked how lively High Elf Archer and Dwarf Shaman got when they fought. 

It’s nice that they’re friends enough to argue like that. 

“Hyup!” 

High Elf Archer vaulted over the tree root almost as tall as she was, in one, two, three steps, in an acrobatic display beyond what most people were capable of. 

“You’re practiced at that,” the warrior, who had been watching, said quietly. 

“Oh, you can tell?” 

Along with High Elf Archer’s satisfied answer, a climbing rope sailed back over the obstacle. 

The warrior gave it two or three exploratory tugs, then planted his feet on the root and began to pull himself up. 

He climbed with a speed and lightness that belied all the armor he was wearing. Maybe this was what came of a life in the outdoors. 

“All right. This will do.” From atop the root, his helmet turned as he looked down. “Next.” 

“Oh—right!” 

Priestess nodded several times and followed him. 

She transferred her staff to her back and began to climb uncertainly, leaning intently against the root to support herself. 

“But… Hrgh… To think a city this big could turn to ruins… Yikes!” 

“Be careful.” 

Vwoop. Priestess slipped on some moss and nearly fell, but the warrior grasped her wrist and pulled her up. 

Her arm was so thin, it looked like the leather-gloved hand might break it in half. 

“Th-thank you…,” she said in a vanishingly small voice, looking down at the root and blushing. 

She rubbed her slightly sore wrist. Not that she was complaining. 

“If you’re not hurt, we’re going down.” 

“Right.” 

Priestess made her way over the root, the warrior holding her hand to support her. 

Once they were safely on the ground, High Elf Archer cocked her head and asked, “Everything all right?” 

“Yes… I just…need to build up my strength a bit more…” 

“Well, don’t go crazy,” the elf said with a flick of her ears. She narrowed her eyes and gave Priestess a meaningful look up and down. “You wouldn’t want to end up built like a dwarf.” 

“I can hear you, long-ears! And I keep telling you, I’m just average for a dwarf!” Dwarf Shaman shouted from the other side of the root. “Anyway, nothing can win against the flow of time. Not your trees, not our caves… Nothing.” 

The dwarf, after a helpful push up onto the root from Lizard Priest, steadied his resolve and jumped to the ground. 

He landed on his bottom with a thump. 

High Elf Archer frowned openly at the inelegant display. “Could you be any more ridiculous?” 

“Look at my legs! They’re stubby! You elves, always so worried about how people see you.” 

“If it bothers you, you could always use Falling Control.” 

“Pfah! Use a spell for this? Have the elves no concept of frugality in magic?” 

“Now, now…” Priestess broke in between them with a smile she couldn’t quite suppress. “If you get too loud, you’ll be in for another scolding,” she warned. 

“Oh, who’s going to scold me? From an elf’s perspective, that snake’s just some kid…” 

“Oh-ho?” 

High Elf Archer’s ears jumped at the low rumble of a voice. 

“Even the elves are not eternal. Perhaps the only thing that is, is eternity itself…” 

The voice was accompanied by the swish of Lizard Priest climbing the root with the aid of his claws and tail. 

He climbed gracefully and landed nimbly. It was impressive, even if a bit loud. “Perhaps it would be amusing to discover whether the high elves are eternal or not?” 

“…I’ll pass.” 

Perhaps he had intended his expression to appear playful or teasing. But to anyone without scales, it only looked like a huge lizard with his toothy mouth wide open. 

High Elf Archer frowned and shook her head from side to side. 

“And?” the warrior said. “Where are the goblins?” 

“…There he goes again.” High Elf Archer gave a big shrug as though saying It’s not even worth responding and followed up with an even bigger sigh. “I went out of my way to find ruins that seemed like they might have goblins in them, just for you, Orcbolg.” You could be a little grateful. 

At that, the warrior continued with, “Hmm. In other words, you were being considerate.” 

“…Yeah, you could call it that.” 

“I see.” 

He had apparently been waiting for everyone to arrive. Now he gave a single nod and set off at the head of the column. High Elf Archer hurriedly followed after, overtaking him to resume reconnaissance. 

All things considered, the warrior was a pretty good scout himself. Despite his quick, nonchalant, almost boisterous-looking gait, his armor was strangely silent. He might seem a simple brigand, but he stepped on not a branch, kicked not a stone. 

“Ahem, no need to fret so, milord Goblin Slayer.” Lizard Priest pulled some rolled paper from his bag and opened it, studying it even as he walked. 

It was faded, worn, seemingly half gone, but it appeared to be a map of the city they were in. 

Taking care not to damage the paper, Lizard Priest ran a claw along it thoughtfully. “…There should be a shrine farther in. I, for my part, believe we should go there. What do the rest of you think?” 

“Agreed,” the warrior said readily. He had stopped in his tracks and was feeling out the street—once flagstone—with a finger, looking for footprints. “There may be goblins here.” 

“Is that all you ever think about?!” High Elf Archer said wearily. 

“Is there anything else?” 

“Look around!” she said, not dropping her guard, but spreading her arms wide. “Look at this! Wonder! Secrets! Mystery! Legend! Don’t you feel any of it?” 

“There isn’t time for that.” 

“…I can’t believe you.” 

“Is that so?” 

High Elf Archer pursed her lips at the terse answer. Her long ears flicked. 

“Now, long-ears. If you rush the polishing of a stone, you’ll only break it.” Dwarf Shaman laughed, twirling his beard, at the petulant elf. “Just give it time. Gods, all you elves are so impatient.” 

“That’s why you’re all so fat, dwarf—just eating and drinking, never doing anything.” 

“Aww, what’ve you got against a little food and drink? You could stand to put on a bit yourself!” He took a long swig from the jug of fire wine on his belt, apparently unperturbed by her comment. “Though t’be fair, my long-eared lass, you’re not wrong.” 

High Elf Archer gave Dwarf Shaman a look as he let out an altogether indelicate burp. 

“Beard-cutter, have y’never thought it might go easier if you were to, say, move up in the world?” 

“I have,” the warrior answered shortly as he crouched low, drew up to a wall, and peered around a corner. 

“Oh-ho.” The dwarf let out a grunt at the unexpected answer. 

The warrior looked left, then right, then continued on ahead. “To build my reputation, become Gold-ranked, and take wider work as an adventurer is one possibility,” he said. 

“Then why’ve you not done so?” the dwarf asked. 

“Because if I did, goblins would be attacking villages.” 

Keeping watch next to them, High Elf Archer shook her head as if to clear away a headache. 

“I’d heard humans could get tunnel vision, but…are they all this way?” 

“I think he’s special,” Priestess said with a What can we do? smile. 

So it had gone in the months since they’d met—confusing though it had been at first. 

“He talks about a lot more subjects than he used to, though.” 

“……” 

The warrior silently continued his search with that same brisk walk. Priestess followed him, still smiling. I mean, look. 

“And he’s easy to understand, isn’t he?” 

“I get that, at least,” High Elf Archer said with a nod and a chuckle. 

Dwarf Shaman and Lizard Priest exchanged a glance, then a wordless smirk. 

They shortly came to the end of what seemed to have once been a broad main street and arrived at their destination: a large square and a gaping clearing in the trees. They could just see a white-walled opening, like the entrance to a cave. 

“Don’t see any guards.” The warrior heaved a sigh as he took stock of the territory from the long grass in the dim shadows of the trees. 

Since entering the forest, they hadn’t seen hide or hair of a wild animal, let alone any monsters. 

“Oh, so…that means there aren’t any goblins!” From the back of the line, Priestess tried to encourage the disappointed-sounding warrior. 

“Not necessarily.” 

The answer was almost mechanical, but it didn’t appear to bother her. She had the air of a baby chick as she trotted behind him. 

“I don’t believe they would let such a ready-made nest go to waste.” 

“You don’t have to imagine they’re here if they’re not,” High Elf Archer said, then muttered to herself, “Goblins, goblins. Honestly.” 

The warrior ignored her and said, “Or they may have only recently dug a tunnel from the nest to here.” 

“Hey… Do you smell something?” High Elf Archer frowned. She hadn’t meant it as a response to the warrior. 

Lizard Priest gave a slow shake of his head. “Sadly, my nose is of scant use in this forest. What kind of odor is it?” 

“It’s kind of…huh. Like…rotten eggs?” 

“…So they are here,” the warrior murmured shortly. At that, the adventurers each readied their weapons. High Elf Archer brought up her bow, a great yew branch strung with spider’s silk, along with an arrow that had a bud for a tip. 

With a prayer to his ancestors, Lizard Priest turned a fang into a polished sword. 

Dwarf Shaman reached into a small bag of catalysts, while Priestess held her sounding staff in both hands. 

They set out quickly, spreading out to surround the entrance. 

“What should we do? Do you want to go in? Or should I use my Protection miracle—?” 

“No.” The warrior shook his head, cutting off Priestess’s anxious question. “Is there another entrance to these ruins—this shrine? What does the map say?” 

“Not so far as I’ve seen,” replied Lizard Priest, who knew the map like the back of his hand. “Though, these being most ancient ruins, we cannot be sure collapse has not created one.” 

“We’ll smoke them out, then.” With his shield-bearing left hand, the warrior dug in his bag. 

What he drew out was yellowish and about the size of his palm; it looked like a hardened chunk of something. He used rope to tie the thing to a bit of waste kindling, until he had tightened them into a ball. 

Priestess wore a slightly strained expression. Perhaps she remembered this thing. 

“That’s—um…that’s pine resin, isn’t it?” 

“Yes.” 

“And…sulfur.” 

“It will make a good, thick smoke.” Even as he spoke, the warrior easily struck a flint, setting fire to the smoke bomb. Being careful not to breathe the fumes that immediately began rising from the device, he tossed it into the hole. “And it will poison the air. It’s unlikely to kill them, but…” With that, the warrior drew a smallish sword from its scabbard. “Now, we wait.” 

The smog from the smoke bomb rolled deep into the ruins. 

The adventurers sighed to one another with a mixture of annoyance and trepidation. 

“You do know the most vile tricks,” said Dwarf Shaman. 

“Do I?” 

“You don’t see it?” 

But there was no arguing with the immediate results. Small silhouettes came running through the wall of smoke, clamoring in shrill voices. 

They were cruel-faced monsters about the size of children: goblins. 

“Hmph.” 

When he saw the goblins were wearing leather cuirasses, he hacked at them with his sword like an ax through firewood. 

Impact. Scream. A spray of blood. 

He casually stepped on a goblin who lay faceup, a sword buried in its skull, and took its weapon for his own. 

A short sickle. The warrior gave the bloodstained weapon a light twirl, then nodded. Not bad. The weapon had been made for a goblin to wield in a cave, but it felt natural in his hand. 

“Our quarry have excellent equipment. Be careful.” 

“This isn’t like any adventure I’ve ever been on.” 

“Isn’t it?” 

“No!” High Elf Archer let off an arrow with a frown. 

It was made of a branch naturally suitable for a bolt, and it flew as though the shrine itself were drawing it in. 

Three screams went up. 

“Don’t you usually go inside ruins to fight goblins?” 

“I suppose that is the conventional method.” 

Lizard Priest danced from one writhing goblin to the next, finishing each with his sword. 

“If one would join milord Goblin Slayer on his hunt, preparations must be made for what is least expected.” 

“If you say so…” 

Priestess cast a doubtful glance toward the warrior. 

He was burying the sickle, held in a reverse grip, in a goblin’s throat. He tore the monster’s windpipe as he ripped out his borrowed weapon; then he immediately hurled it through the air. The blade spun into the cloud of smoke, and a goblin scream could be heard. His movements were brutally workmanlike. 

“Won’t be needin’ spells at this rate, I suppose,” Dwarf Shaman said, readying gems for his sling. 

It was just a provision in case the front line broke; he was in fact quite at his leisure. 

“No.” 

Now the warrior took up the dagger of the goblin whose throat he had torn apart, shaking his head as he tested the edge. 

A dark poison of some description was slathered along the blade. The warrior wiped the poison off on the goblin’s tunic, ignoring Priestess’s shiver. 

“Save your magic for once we’re inside,” the warrior said to Dwarf Shaman, putting the dagger at his belt. 

He appraised the entrance to the shrine. Goblin corpses littered the ground, but there was no sense that more were coming from inside. 

Had they killed them all? Or had some escaped? 

“They’re tough…” 

He pulled the sword from the body of the first goblin he had slain, wiping the viscera off the blade to refresh it. This would do. 

He unhesitatingly slipped the sword back into its scabbard, then nodded. “Once the bad air clears up, we move.” 

“Once again, not the kind of adventure I’m used to,” grumbled High Elf Archer. 

“No?” 

“Because it’s not an adventure! This one doesn’t count, okay?” 

“All right.” 

That was all the warrior said as he headed into the shrine. The party followed him. 

A human warrior and cleric, a high elf archer, a dwarf shaman, and a lizard priest. 

The planets and stars had completed nearly half of their revolution since this unusual group came together. 

It had not been long since yet another fight in the endless struggle with chaos and disorder had come to an end. They went to ruins and caves around the cities of the frontier, searching each in turn. Many were the fortresses, shrines, ruins, and caverns that had gone forgotten in the long struggle. Allies of chaos might find respite in these places and wait for their time to come. One must always be on guard—but not only for monsters. 

The rulers of the land, who had bought enough time to resume their petty rivalries, left such business to those who lived in the wilderness. 

It was nothing: Adventurers would finish their fights and return to their daily lives. 

People became adventurers out of a curiosity about unknown lands. Their dream was to make their way in the world by slaying monsters and finding treasure. And if they could earn a reward on their way to doing so, so much the better. 

The warrior here cared little where the goblins dwelt, be it a cave or an ancient ruin. 

Orcbolg, Beard-cutter, Goblin Slayer—he went by many names. But even as he strode boldly into the cavern, he was not yet an adventurer. 

“Find all the goblins. Kill them.” 

He was Goblin Slayer. 

 

Evening. The sun was well past its zenith and would soon begin to sink. 

The first one to notice his homecoming was the owner of the farm. 

A little road ran to town beside the fields, now colored with sunset. 

He walked slowly along it with his bold, nonchalant stride. As ever, he wore his grimy helmet and leather armor, his sword of a strange length, and his small round shield. 

The owner had been out repairing a fence when he caught a whiff of rust and stood. 

“…You’re back,” he said shortly. 

He nodded, walking up to the owner. “Yes. I finished my work.” 

“I see…” 

The owner shook his head at the other man’s guileless manner and looked away from the helmet, which hid whatever the mysterious figure was thinking. 

The owner had nothing to say to this person he had known—or thought he had known—since the man’s youth. 

In fact, the owner found it hard to deal with this man. He could understand the man, didn’t want to dismiss him out of hand, but this was also not someone the owner wanted around. 

“You know how many years it’s been?” he murmured without knowing it. 

When goblins attack your village, it is like a force of nature, like an act of the gods. 

Then, the man had had only one choice: to run. But he had not only saved himself; he was now fighting back. 

Was that not enough? 

“Yes.” He nodded as if he understood. 

“Then don’t overdo it… I pity that girl.” 

“…I will be careful,” he answered, with a touch of hesitation. 

This was what made him so difficult, the owner thought. 

If he was a man who cared about nothing, the owner would not have needed to care about him. 

Perhaps he sensed what was on the owner’s mind, for he continued in his brusque voice. “I’m sorry. I would like to rent the stable.” 

“…It’s the usual. Don’t fret the details, just do what you want.” 

He seemed to bear this curt response without concern and merely went on past the owner. 

Now on the farm proper, he went around behind the cattle barn. Past a mound of dry grass—just beyond. There was a stable so old it had been abandoned long ago. 

Boards had been pounded into the walls and ceiling to patch the holes in them. It was a rough thing certainly, but it was the work of his hands, which he had done without complaint. 

Cow Girl, the owner’s adopted daughter and his friend since boyhood, had insisted she would do it, but he felt that as the tenant, it only made sense that he should do the work. 

“Oh!” Just as he went to open the door, a voice had sounded behind him with childish excitement. He turned and saw a young woman pointing at him—Cow Girl. She ran toward him, chest bouncing, waving her arms. 

“Welcome home! Geez, you could at least tell me when you get back!” 

“I didn’t want to disturb you.” 

“It’s not disturbing me to say hello.” 

“Isn’t it?” He nodded calmly; Cow Girl poked an index finger at him. 

“No! So greet me properly!” 

He said nothing for a moment, then nodded slowly. “…I’m home.” 

“That’s better. Welcome home.” Cow Girl smiled, and her face was radiant as the sun. 

“I heard you the first time.” 

He opened the ill-fitting door with a creak and went into the stable. 

Cow Girl followed him, squeezing through the door. 

He stopped and turned his head, looking at the face of his old friend. “How is work…?” 

“I’m kind of on break.” 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah!” 

He didn’t seem especially interested. He tossed his bag on the floor; then he took a flint and set light to an old lantern hanging from a beam. 

The stable floated into view, looking rather like a cave itself. 

A mat was stretched on the ground, and the room was home to some narrow shelves and an assortment of mysterious loose change. Bottles, herbs, a strange weapon shaped like a broken cross, old books written in indecipherable letters, the head of some beast…and many more things whose nature Cow Girl couldn’t begin to guess at. 

She suspected even most adventurers would not be able to fathom what he did with many of those items. 

“Be careful.” 

“Sure, right…” 

He offered the words to her as she poked around the collection, then sat down heavily right in the middle of the floor. He took the sword from his hip and put it aside, sheath and all, then began noisily disassembling his armor. 

Cow Girl knelt next to him, looking over his shoulders at his hands. 

“Hey, whatcha doing?” 

“Repairing the dings in my helmet, changing the hinges in my armor, mending my chain mail, sharpening my blade, and polishing the rim of my shield.” 

“The rest I get, but…the rim of your shield? What difference does that make?” 

“At the right moment, it can help.” 

“Huh…” 

His movements were diligent, dutiful. With a hammer, he worked off and replaced metal fittings, formed chain links of bent wire, and honed his sword and shield with a whetstone. 

A weapon could be replaced with something taken from a goblin, but armor was a different matter. It was exceedingly unusual to see a goblin in a metal helm that might actually protect its life. And even if he did find one, he wouldn’t have the time to remove his own helmet and put on another. 

An unlucky hit on armor that was on its last legs had a very good chance of being fatal. That made this work his most important, his most lifesaving. 

Cow Girl watched his every move with a squint and a smile that suggested she was enjoying herself. 

“…You find this interesting?” 

“I guess. I always like to see what you’re up to.” She giggled and thrust out her chest in a bit of theatrics. “And? How’d your adventure go?” 

She drew up to him, eyes shining. There was a sweet smell of milk on her. 

In a supremely indifferent tone, he replied: 

“There were goblins.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yes,” he replied briefly, still working. Then, he added, “Quite a few.” 

Cow Girl stared intently at his back, then… 

“Yah!” 

He let out a breath as he suddenly felt something heavy and soft on his back. 

Cow Girl pressed up against him and mussed his hair. 

His hands stilled; he turned to her with a suspicious look. “What is it?” 

“Nothin’! Just want to congratulate you on a job well done,” she said good-naturedly. 

“I’d be careful if I were you.” 

“Aww, it’s fine!” 

“It is not fine.” 

“Anything interesting happen? What kind of place was it?” 

He fell silent. Perhaps he felt nothing he could say would be of any use. 

He mounted his newly polished shield on the wall, then went to ransack the shelves. He pulled out several bottles, a bag, and a mortar that came rolling down, then unsealed one bottle with gloved hands. Inside were the remains of a snake. 

Ignoring Cow Girl as she muttered “ugh” from behind him, he put the snake in the mortar. 

“Don’t touch it. You’ll get a rash.” 

“Sure… So, um…” 

“It was ruins in a forest.” 

“Ruins… So, you went to slay goblins?” 

“No.” He shook his head. “…I was invited by others.” 

She nodded with a noise of interest, as he added the contents of one bottle after another to the mortar. 

The snake, then a red powder—some sort of spice. Dried herbs. All irritants. He didn’t even make exact measurements; the process was just that familiar to him. He crushed everything in the mortar until it was all mixed together. 

“…It seems it was once a city of some kind.” 

“You don’t know its name?” 

“Sorry. I didn’t care.” 

“Well, I guess there’s plenty of them around here. This being the frontier and all.” 

Once he was satisfied that the snake was completely ground up, he began rooting through a nearby shelf. 

He came up with an egg—the shell of one that came from the farm. They had chickens, but they didn’t lay eggs every day. 

He carefully poured the powdered contents of the mortar into the egg through a hole in its top. As he did, he murmured, “Come to think of it, there was a big…” 

“Uh-huh?” Cowgirl said with a nod. 

“A big tree root sticking out.” 

“How big is big?” 

“About as tall as you. It was hard work to climb over.” 

“Huh. That’s really something.” 

It was a childlike appraisal and, in its way, childlike wonder. She had lived most of her life on the farm, never going farther than the town; she had never seen such a thing. Now it was he who knew more of the world than her. 

That left her a little sad but happy, too. 

“And there were goblins,” he added as he wrapped the filled egg in oil paper and sealed it. His tone was disinterested yet gravely serious. “…It was strange. They were unusually well-equipped.” 

Cow Girl tapped her chin thoughtfully before saying, “Hmm… Do you think they fled the battle here?” 

“If so, they would have at least posted a guard.” 

“Hmm… Well, if you don’t understand, I’m sure not going to figure it out.” 

She gave a groan, then stretched out both arms with an “ahhh” and rolled onto her back on the floor. 

Near the dim ceiling, the lantern burned and crackled. 

“You’ll get dirty.” 

“I don’t care,” Cow Girl answered with a hearty laugh. 

Then… “Hey,” she said, rolling onto her other side to face him. “What if you took a break tomorrow?” 

“No.” He shook his head quietly as he tucked the egg into his bag. “Guild Girl called me in.” 

“Oh yeah? That’s too bad.” 

He nodded. “It may be goblin slaying.” 

 

“No, it isn’t goblin slayi—Wait, please don’t leave!” 


Goblin Slayer turned around in annoyance, his hand on the door of the meeting room. 

There were luxurious chairs, a shaggy carpet. One wall was covered with the heads of monsters and magical beasts, along with old weapons. 

Surrounded by the trophies of adventurers through the ages, the man replied: 

“But you’ve already said it isn’t about goblins.” 

“Yes, well, that’s—that’s true, but…” Guild Girl, looking small in one of the chairs, seemed like she might break into tears at any moment. Clinging to a sheaf of papers, she said in a small voice, “It…it really does have to be goblins with you, doesn’t it?” 

Goblin Slayer was silent. There was no guessing his expression under his helmet. 

After a moment, he gave a quiet sigh. 

Then he turned, walked quickly up to a chair, and sat down more aggressively than necessary. He looked at her sitting across from him and said: 

“Be brief, please.” 

“Certainly!” 

Guild Girl’s face shined like a child’s. 

She quickly straightened her papers, arranging them once more on the tabletop. The sheepskin paper she spread out in front of him appeared to be the résumé of some adventurer. Name, race, gender, skills, and a quest history were all included. 

“I’d like to ask you to be an observer, Mr. Goblin Slayer.” 

“An observer.” He nodded as if already convinced. “Is this for a promotion test?” 

Adventurers were divided into ten ranks, from Porcelain to Platinum. 

Ranks were determined based on how much reward one had gained, how much good one had done the world, and one’s personality. Some referred to these collectively as “experience points,” and that wasn’t inaccurate. It was, in effect, a simple measure of how much good one had done people and society. 

But of course, there were those adventurers whose excellence stopped at their fighting skills. An adventurer’s personality was valued at least as highly as his or her abilities. Thus, higher-ranked adventurers would serve as witnesses at a test—essentially, an interview. 

In this way, for example, a vagabond with amazing skills from who knew where could rank Silver or Gold immediately. Or rather, such a storybook system was the ideal. But it didn’t work out that way. 

A male adventurer whose party members were all females, for example, would find it difficult to advance. Regardless of the circumstances, few people were willing to trust someone who looked like a philanderer with important quests. However strong they might be, fools whose strength was their only asset would remain Porcelain-ranked for life. Meanwhile, the best adventurers knew they were being watched and tried to act in a trustworthy manner. 

…With the exception of a few of the historically extremely rare Platinums. 

“But…” Goblin Slayer sounded uncertain. It was an unusual thing for him. “Are you sure I will do?” 

Heavens. Guild Girl answered as if it didn’t bother her at all. “What in the world do you mean? You’re Silver-ranked, too, you know.” 

“The association decided that arbitrarily,” Goblin Slayer said. 

“That just shows how grateful everyone is to you.” 

Guild Girl sounded confident, as proud as if she were talking about herself. 

Goblin Slayer fell silent. For a moment, he looked up at the ceiling, but before long he grabbed the paper. 

“Who’s being tested?” 

Guild Girl gave a joyous nod the moment she realized he accepted, her braids bouncing. 

“Th-thank you very much! It’s several members of a single party, each moving from Steel to Sapphire, in other words from eighth to seventh rank…” 

 

“Please let it be this time… Please, please let me advance this time…” 

In the hallway outside the interview room, a prayer sounded among the waiting adventurers. 

The speaker was a middle-aged man dressed in rags. 

Probably a monk—well, not just any monk. 

His body was shrunken with age. With him was a beaten wood staff, probably a kind of weapon. His forehead was shaven, but apparently he had no oil to put on it, and his pate was covered in thin hair. 

“Shut it, Gramps! You don’t have to chant all the time just ’cause you’re a monk. You’re bugging the hell outta me!” 

The critic was a young man with hard eyes who very much looked the part of a warrior. 

His words were harsh, but he himself fidgeted as if unable to stay calm. Each time he did so, his well-used armor and battle-ax bumped into each other with a scrape of metal on metal. They weren’t rusted, but they had seen better days. Not top-quality equipment. 

“Damn. I should’ve at least polished ’em…” 

“Too late now. The old guy’s the only person here with his own house. Makes you want to get religion,” a young wizardish woman whispered placatingly to the man with the ax. “And a little polish wouldn’t have made much difference, anyway.” 

Ever-so-slightly pointed ears peeked out from her torn hood—a half elf. Her spell book, which she paged through restlessly, looked well used, too. The cover was falling off and had been reattached with glue. 

“Ahh, take it easy. Won’t do any good to get upset…” 

The speaker then gave a belly laugh. He was a young man, short—indeed, barely half the size of anyone else there. He wore unblemished leather armor, a dagger at his hip, and fur-lined boots on his feet. 

He was a rhea scout—or anyway, so one assumed. 

“Yeah, I know,” said the ax-wielding warrior. “But there’s a big jump between Steel and Sapphire—in both pay and quests.” 

“If we can advance today, we can finally stop hunting rats in the sewers,” the elf wizard added. 

The warrior resumed, fast as a swinging ax, “We can finally do better than the interest on our debts. Gramps here will be able to keep himself. This is important.” 

“I need this, too. Spell books are expensive. If a prayer is what it takes to get us that rank, I’ll pray all day,” the elf muttered philosophically. She glared at the rhea scout from under her hood. “Anyway, don’t act like it doesn’t concern you.” 

“Yeah, ha-ha-ha…” The rhea scratched his head in embarrassment. “I’m, y’know, I’m pretty scared of danger. And I don’t have any debts, so…” 

“You bum.” 

“Coward.” 

The warrior and the wizard sounded exasperated, but the scout only shrugged. 

“Next, please!” 

Guild Girl’s cheerful voice floated out of the meeting room. 

“Oh! That’s me!” The rhea scout jumped up nimbly. 

The bald-headed monk clung to his armor, practically on his knees. “Please… Pleeease be strong…” 

“I know, I know, bug off,” the scout said, brushing the monk’s hand away. He opened the door… 

“…Yikes.” 

…and his eyes went wide. 

Three people sat in the meeting room. First, there was a guild employee, the bright-eyed receptionist. (One day he was going to spank her till she cried.) Second was another slim woman wearing the uniform of the guild. Who was this now? The rhea scout cocked his head. He couldn’t quite recall if he’d seen her before. And then there was a higher-ranked adventurer—but a very strange-looking one. 

Cheap-looking helmet. Grimy leather armor. Equipment barely suitable for an adventure. He didn’t have his sword or shield, but there was no mistaking him. 

“G-Goblin Slayer…” 

“Is there any problem?” he asked. 

“N-not at all, sir.” The scout answered the brusque man with an obsequious laugh, reaching back to close the door. 

The truth was, the rhea did not hate the man called Goblin Slayer, the man who had gotten to Silver rank by taking simple goblin jobs. The rhea wanted money. He wanted fame. He wanted to be well spoken of. But he hated being afraid, and he didn’t want to die. He was confident Goblin Slayer must feel similarly. If he genuinely disliked anything about the man, it was that expressionless helmet… 

Goblin Slayer watched the rhea scout sit down across from him. 

The scout trembled slightly. He didn’t hate Goblin Slayer, but he didn’t find him easy to deal with, either. 

“So, uh, this is it, huh? Advancement test.” The rhea gave a weak laugh and rubbed his palms together. “Let’s bust through Sapphire, past Emerald, Ruby… What do you say we go right to Copper?” 

“I doubt we’ll go quite that far,” Guild Girl answered with a smile. She flipped through some papers in her hand. “I can’t help noticing your brand-new armor and boots.” 

“Oh, you can tell?” The corners of the scout’s lips turned upward, and he stuck his small feet out on top of the table. His boots were unscuffed, thoroughly polished, and so black light could hardly escape their surface. “They’re pretty high-quality. I had them matted and everything. They’re perfect for me.” 

“Really!” 

He failed to sense what was coming. 

“Why is it you’re the only one to have done so well for yourself when all of you have taken on the same quests?” Her tone was terribly businesslike, ordinary. “Those are quite luxurious even in light of your party’s aggregate reward. I hope there hasn’t been a miscalculation.” 

Guild Girl bulled ahead, ignoring the way the rhea scout suddenly went stiff. 

“Some rather ambiguous reports suggest that unlike your friends, you’ve been taking on quests on your own.” 

“Oh, that’s, well, it’s—” 

The scout hurriedly pulled his feet off the table. 

He looked right, left. There was nowhere to run. He spoke as quickly as he could think. 

“Y-you know, I recently had a care package from home…” 

“A lie.” 

The cutting words came from the employee who had remained silent until that moment. 

The smile froze on the scout’s face, but inside he cursed himself. 

She wore the sword and scales around her neck, the symbol of the Supreme God. 

“I swear on the name of the Supreme God. What he just said was a lie.” 

The Sense Lie miracle. Damn these seers! 

That’s why he hadn’t recognized her. She was an inspector—a guild employee, but also a priest of the Supreme God, ruler of law and justice. 

What was this? Had they suspected him? But why? 

Guild Girl made a show of flipping through her papers. We know everything, the action said. 

“It looks like you got new equipment after that raid on those ruins the other day… Oh, I get it.” 

With a smile and a giggle, she clapped her hands and nodded. 

“You told the others you were going ahead to scout, found a treasure chest, kept the contents for yourself, and sold them!” 

“Erk…” 

That was exactly what he had done. 

On dives in ruins, monsters and traps were many and lethal. It was only natural that the rhea scout volunteer to do reconnaissance and that his companions agree. He had entered the ruins delicately, explored several twists, and then… 

He’d found a treasure chest. 

It wasn’t booby-trapped, and picking the lock was easy. Inside were dozens of coins, ancient but gold. Empty treasure chests were not a rare thing. And there was still plenty of room in his pack. 

“Y-you see, th-that was… I…” 

He laughed awkwardly, scratched his head like a scolded child, and nodded. It would be most to his benefit simply to apologize, he decided. 

“I’m…very sorry.” 

“Well, this does make things difficult.” Guild Girl laughed. 

It was all too obvious that her flipping through the pages was just for show. 

She had already foreseen all of this. The guild had an inn and a bar, and they weren’t just for the benefit of lower-ranked adventurers. The flow of money never lied. 

“It’s people like you who give rheas and scouts a bad name.” She shook her head in disgust. “Well, it is your first offense… I think demotion to Porcelain and being barred from adventuring in this town is appropriate.” 

“W-wait a second! How is that fair?!” Without meaning to, the rhea found himself leaning over the table and shouting. “I nip one little treasure chest, and you’re going to chase me out?” 

“Excuse me?” Guild Girl’s tone was cold, and her exasperation was obvious—indeed, she was quite tired of him. “Just one treasure chest? Don’t be dumb. You can’t repair a broken trust with money.” 

And one who would betray others’ trust had no right to be an adventurer. 

Of course, being an adventurer meant fighting. No one asked about your history. There were uncouth people among the adventurers. There was no end of arguments—all the more important, then, that one be as sincere as possible. An adventurer who was not trustworthy was just a scoundrel. 

And the guild dealt in trust and trustworthiness. 

The rhea was capable enough to be promoted and had just been granted clemency because this was the first time. Did he not understand that? 

“You are hereby demoted on grounds of falsifying a reward. If you wish to stay here, though, you may.” 

“Erk…” 

The rhea scout was at a loss for words. He struggled to think of some way to turn this situation to his advantage. 

Everyone does it. No. That wouldn’t get him out of his punishment. Maybe if he said someone had threatened him, forced him to do it… 

“It won’t help to try anything funny.” 

She was right. The minister of the ruler of justice was watching him, eyes shining. 

His only hope… He turned to his one escape, the person in the room most like him. 

“C-come on, Goblin Slayer… I’m asking you, as a fellow adventurer…” 

Beseeching eyes. Ingratiating smile. Rubbing his palms together in desperate supplication. 

The adventurer, who had sat with his arms crossed silently throughout the entire scene, replied with a touch of annoyance, “Fellow?” His answer was point-blank. “I am an observer. Nothing more, nothing less.” 

“But you… You’re an adventurer, too…” 

“Yes, I am.” Goblin Slayer looked down at the pleading rhea. “Just like the ones you tricked.” 

“…!” 

The rhea scout turned bright red and glared at the two of them. For a brief instant, he had a vision of himself drawing his dagger and leaping at Guild Girl. 

It was just possible. 

“……” 

But he would have to go through Goblin Slayer, a warrior strong enough to solo goblin quests that normally demanded an entire party. How much chance did the rhea really have in a hand-to-hand struggle? 

“……” 

Feeling Goblin Slayer’s gaze fixed on him from beneath that helmet, he swallowed heavily. He was as clever as any scout and certainly no fool. 

“…You’ll regret this.” 

His feelings flowed over into his parting words as he kicked back his chair and fled the room. 

Guild Girl let out a breath as the door slammed shut. “Declined for promotion. Phew… That was terrifying…” 

The smile perpetually pasted on Guild Girl’s face finally came off, and she slumped in her seat. At the end, under the scout’s glare, she had unconsciously begun to shake. She didn’t know what might have happened had Goblin Slayer not been there. 

“Thank you very much, Mr. Goblin Slayer.” 

She looked up at the steel helmet next to her, her braids hanging limply. 

“No.” Goblin Slayer shook his head quietly. “I didn’t do anything.” 

“Hardly! I remember how bad it was back when I was doing the association’s training course in the Capital.” 

Still slumping, Guild Girl gave a faint smile. 

“All those lowlifes who couldn’t open their mouths without making a lewd remark. Thought they’d pick me up just because I was pretty and young.” 

“There are far too many of them, aren’t there? Especially in the Capital.” The inspector gave a sigh of exasperation and gently stroked the sword and scales. 

“We have to take on people like that all by ourselves, so…you know?” With a little nod, she put one hand on the desk and pushed herself upright. Her braids bobbed. “It really makes you feel so much better to have someone you trust as your observer!” 

“Does it?” 

“Yes, it does.” 

She always showed such confidence when talking about Goblin Slayer. He must have understood, because he quieted a little, then rose slowly from his seat. 

“…If we’re done here, I’m going back.” 

“Oh, sure. If you stop by the front desk, I’m sure they can get you your honorarium…” 

“All right.” 

Goblin Slayer headed for the door with his bold, casual stride. 

Seeing him there, Guild Girl suddenly found herself speaking up. 

“U-um!” 

Now she’d done it. She’d said it. Guild Girl felt a twinge of regret. 

Goblin Slayer, his hand on the doorknob, turned slowly. “What is it?” 

Guild Girl hesitated. 

The courage that inspired her to call out had vanished as quickly as it had come. She opened her mouth, paused, then decided to say only what was appropriate. 

“…Good work today.” 

“Sure,” he said as he turned the knob. “You, too.” 

The door closed with a soft clack. 

Guild Girl, left behind, stretched out on the table again. 

“Phewww…” 

The surface of the desk felt good against her cheek. 

“Nice work.” Her colleague, the inspector, patted Guild Girl on the back with a softening of her implacable expression. 

“I’m afraid that guy will just do something else.” 

“Well, living adventurers are a precious resource. And he didn’t do anything clearly illegal…” It would be much worse if he threw away the whole framework of adventuring and became a serious troublemaker. “There are certainly all kinds of adventurers, from Lawful Good to Chaotic Evil.” 

“As long as they are adventurers, they’re allowed to make that choice… Anyway, nice work.” 

“Not at all. It’s simply my duty as a priest of the Supreme God.” The inspector smiled and waved away Guild Girl’s gratitude, but she could only sigh again. 

“And from the perspective of the God of Law, was what I did just now…right?” 

“Many people misunderstand the God of Justice, even the writers of our pageants.” The inspector cleared her throat with an “ahem,” itself a rather theatrical gesture. “Justice is not to punish evil, but to make people aware of it.” 

Law was a tool and order a way of living well. Nothing more and nothing less. That was why the Supreme God did not hand down revelations. The intent was not that they follow the sacred word of God, but that they think for themselves and use their own judgment. 

Guild Girl was still laid out gracelessly across the desk, her face turned listlessly toward her friend. 

“What a nice thought.” 

“If you can put it into practice. I’m still nowhere near Sword Maiden.” 

“That’s not a very fair comparison.” 

Sword Maiden. 

Ten years had already passed since she had become a household name. 

Guild Girl had been twelve or thirteen that year, when one of the Demon Lords had returned to life. 

Sword Maiden was a legend from the time when humanity was fighting for its survival, longing for the advent of a hero, a Platinum-ranked adventurer. 

A party of Gold ranks had made bold to challenge the Lord… 

“And they succeeded. One of them was a humble servant of the Supreme God, Sword Maiden.” 

The inspector blushed slightly and sighed like a daydreaming girl. “I love her,” she murmured. “Anyway, all I do is use Sense Lie. It’s not hard. There’s more work to do, right?” 

“Plenty of promotion interviews to hold. And I have to fill out the paperwork to demote that guy…” 

“You can do it, hang in there!” Guild Girl’s friend pounded her on the back again, but it wasn’t comforting. 

Even so, it brought her back to herself a bit. “Right.” She nodded and looked up. 

“So.” A teasing grin came over the inspector’s face. “Was that that guy you like?” 

“Oh, um…” 

Was Sense Lie still in effect? Guild Girl looked up at the ceiling, but the Supreme God was silent. She couldn’t quite meet her friend’s gaze, but she nodded honestly. 

“Y-yes, he is… So?” 

“Hmm. Well, can’t say I blame you. You’ve always had a thing for the helpful ones, ever since the Capital.” 

“I was always looking for more of a, you know, stoic adventurer type.” 

She hadn’t found one. At the time she had been disappointed, but now it seemed a blessing. They had met each other after Guild Girl had finished her training and been assigned to this town on the frontier. A newly registered adventurer had met a newly minted receptionist, and they had known each other ever since. 

He had been completely focused on hunting goblins, ignoring everything else. For her, fed up with the leering swashbucklers in the Capital, he was a breath of fresh air. 

“I admit, maybe this one’s a little too stoic…” 

It’s great I can talk to him, but maybe he could at least ask me out for a meal or something… Nah. 

Guild Girl shook her head. 

Him inviting her out for a nice meal after an adventure? 

She couldn’t picture it. And she didn’t have the courage to ask him herself yet. If only she could get a little…push. 

“Well, you’re happy, that’s what’s important… So, how long can you afford to shirk your work?” 

“Good question. Time to quit daydreaming and get back to business.” 

She slowly sat up, composing herself. She straightened the papers on the desk. There was much to do: the report on the rhea scout and the promotion of the ax-wielding warrior, the elf wizard, and the bald monk. 

She had been putting off a great deal of more quotidian work, too. Well, she would start with what was right in front of her. She took a pen resolutely in hand, opened the lid of her inkwell, and began to run the pen over the sheepskin paper… 

“Hey.” 

“Yiiwhat?!” 

Guild Girl was completely startled at the voice so near, and her pen skipped along the page. 

As she tried to settle the pounding of her heart, she saw that expressionless steel helm. She hurried to straighten her hair and control her breathing and not spill the ink in the process. She also swore to get a little payback on the smirking inspector later. 

“Wh-what is it, Mr. Goblin Slayer?” 

“I think you know.” His voice was as mechanical as ever, yet somehow cheerful. He held a quest paper in his hand. 

Had he grabbed it from the bulletin board after he left? No, she didn’t remember there being any quests available. 

And that paper… Does it request him by name? 

Who was it from? Where was it from? She didn’t know, but it was a special form that had been delivered by post-horse from far away. 

Apparently ignoring Guild Girl as she stared quizzically at the paper, he said shortly: 

“Goblin slaying.” 

Guild Girl gave him a weak smile. 

 

“The reward is one bag of gold pieces per person. Come or don’t, it’s your choice.” 

Somewhere in the guild tavern, Goblin Slayer was summing up. 

It was barely noon, but some eager types had come out to drink, and the place was noisy. 

Except for when they were fighting, adventurers naturally paid scant attention to the time of day. After a long time in some ruins or labyrinth, upon their return it might be night, it might be dawn; it didn’t matter. Sometimes they went dungeon diving in the morning with the intent to return that night, but it turned out to be the night of the day after. Caravan escorts might leave at noon. For all kinds of reasons, the lights at the tavern never stopped burning. 

Today, as ever, the tavern was raucous with adventurers eating lunch and trying themselves against the wine. 

In contrast, Priestess had been massaging her temples for quite some time as she listened. 

“Okay, I get it…I think.” 

“Do you?” 

“Yes, mostly. I get that if I act this surprised every time you do something I don’t expect, I’ll never last.” 

Their other three companions were also seated at the round table. His party. Her friends. 

High Elf Archer was nodding along with Priestess despite her air of exasperation. 

Lizard Priest munched thoughtfully on some cheese, tail swaying slightly. 

Dwarf Shaman grinned, busy sewing gemstones into the back of his vest. 

“Listen,” Priestess said as if she were lecturing a child at the Temple, shaking a shapely index finger at him, “I told you before. If we don’t feel like we actually have a choice, it doesn’t count as consulting us.” 

“But you do have a choice.” 

“To go or not go. That’s a very narrow choice.” 

“Is it?” 

“Yes, it is.” 

“Hmm.” 

Goblin Slayer cocked his head quizzically. Perhaps he understood, perhaps he didn’t. 

In the back of her mind, Priestess considered the possibility that he didn’t actually have a thought in his head. 

“If we say we won’t join you, you’ll just go by yourself anyway, right?” High Elf Archer said. 

“Of course.” 

“Well, then, this really isn’t a discussion,” she said with a laugh. 

“At least Beard-cutter has softened up enough to try to have a talk with us.” Dwarf Shaman had finished sewing in the gems and examined them critically as they caught the light. 

“Utterly delightful! Sweet as nectar! …Erm. Yes, it is a promising trend.” Lizard Priest clucked his tongue as he spoke. Most of his cheese was gone. 

“Well, we’ll make our choice, then.” Priestess took her sounding staff in both hands from where it had been leaning against the wall. 

“Fine,” Goblin Slayer said shortly. 

Priestess sighed for the umpteenth time, closed her eyes, and said deliberately: 

“I’m coming with you.” 

“……” 

He went quiet at Priestess’s graceful smile, then after a moment muttered, “I see.” 

“Well, you did come on my adventure the other day. Even though it ended up being goblin slaying.” 

High Elf Archer bobbed her ears up and down excitedly. Ever the impatient type, she was already checking her bow, making sure she had arrows, sliding her bag onto her shoulder, and standing. “Heh-heh,” she giggled, stuck out her little chest proudly, and winked. “I’ll help you again—in exchange for another adventure. That’s all right, isn’t it, Orcbolg?” 

“Yes.” Goblin Slayer nodded. “That’s fine.” 

“And no poison gas bombs this time!” 

“Hrm…” 

“It’s only fair,” she said, her finger in Goblin Slayer’s chest. 

After a moment he muttered: 

“But it’s so effective.” 

“Don’t care. Also, no fire and no floods. Think of something else!” 

“But…” 

High Elf Archer was no longer listening. 

“Forget it. When those big ears start fluttering like that, whatever you say is going to go into one and out the other,” Dwarf Shaman muttered, annoyed. 

Lizard Priest narrowed his eyes gleefully and touched his nose with his tongue. 

“Even the snakelike cleverness of milord Goblin Slayer is rendered moot in the face of such a barbarian.” 

“…Nothing to be done, then.” With hardly an attempt at a comeback, Goblin Slayer went quiet. 

If that was what High Elf Archer demanded to come with him, there was no questioning it. 

He’s a pretty straightforward person, isn’t he? thought Priestess as she met High Elf Archer’s eyes with a soft smile. They nodded at each other. 

“Very well, then…” Lizard Priest opened his jaws next. He mulled over his words carefully, as if to show how thoroughly he had considered them. “In that case, it seems you will need every spell caster you can get.” 

“Hang on, Scaly,” Dwarf Shaman said reprovingly, stroking his hair. “By that logic, oughtn’t I to come along, too?” 

“Oh-ho, how impolite of me.” Lizard Priest rolled his great eyes in his head. 

Dwarf Shaman gave him a friendly elbow. “Gods, you lot have backed me into a nice corner. I can hardly refuse now, can I?” Exasperatedly repeating, “Gods,” Dwarf Shaman set aside his needlework and began putting his tools away. 

It wasn’t unusual to trade bulky gold coins for gemstones, then sew them into clothes so they wouldn’t be stolen. And a dwarf’s nimble fingers meant you never knew where they might be hidden. 

Thrusting his arms through the holes in his vest and combing through his bountiful white beard with his hand, he grinned at the others. “And I’ve just taken care of my traveling expenses. I guess I’ll join you.” 

“Oh?” High Elf Archer said, narrowing her eyes like a cat. “If you only guess, you don’t have to come.” 

“Speak for yourself. No need to come along if you’re so desperate to avoid me.” 

“Hrk…!” 

High Elf Archer’s long ears flicked backward; she put both hands on the table and leaned in toward Dwarf Shaman. 

“Oh, now I’m really angry. Okay, dwarf, you and me!” 

“Ho-ho, grown a little spine, have we? Don’t expect me to go easy on you.” His smile seemed out of place as he set two wine bottles and two cups on the table. “Fire wine for me. Grape wine for you. Sound fair?” 

“Perfect!” 

Now there was an uproar. The contestants poured their drinks and flung them back. 

“Oh, hey, look. Something’s going on!” 

“Heh-heh… Wanna take bets?” 

Of course, no adventurer could resist a friendly wager. 

Spearman smirked happily; Witch took off her hat and immediately declared herself the bookmaker. A happy cry went up, and one adventurer after another, goaded by drink, loosened their purse strings. 

The first gold coins to fall into Witch’s hat came from the hand of Female Knight. Next to her, Heavy Warrior stood, looking perturbed. “My money’s on the girl. Three gold pieces!” 

“Hey, that’s pretty bold. You sure about that?” 

“Heh-heh-heh. Call it a dark horse bet. I’m Lawful Good, after all, and I have the gods’ blessing…” 

“Yeah, win or lose, the Supreme God ain’t the type to punish gambling, huh?” 

“I’m for the dwarf, then.” “No, the girl!” “Drink! Drink! Drink!” 

Watching the contest pick up steam amid the clamor, Priestess wore a look of trepidation. 

“Shouldn’t we stop them…?” 

“I doubt it will go on very long,” Goblin Slayer responded shortly. 

After all, Dwarf Shaman was an experienced drinker, and High Elf Archer could barely hold her liquor. The winner seemed self-evident. 

“No, no, our barbarian is most stubborn. The conclusion is not foregone.” 

Lizard Priest happily watched the archer, her face bright red, go for another cup of grape wine. 

“More! I got plenty more in me…!” 

“Coming right up!” 

She hadn’t begun to slur her words yet; her eyes hadn’t begun to drift. 

Cups smacked down onto the table. Glug, glug, glug, in went the wine. 

An appreciative noise went up from the crowd as she grabbed the cup and drained it in a single gulp. 

As moments in time go, this wasn’t much; no one would remember it. Even so, they spent it merrily. 

Standing next to High Elf Archer, who lay drunk as a lord on the table, Dwarf Shaman raised his fists and roared in victory. He didn’t seem to question how much prestige there really was in beating an elf at a drinking contest. 

“All right, then, me next,” said Female Knight, but Heavy Warrior frantically stopped her. (“You’re a mean drunk.”) The girl and the half-elf boy in their party laughed and jeered. 

Watching nearby, Spearman rolled up his sleeves, goaded on by Witch. Not to be outdone, Female Knight gave Heavy Warrior a shove. 

An arm-wrestling contest began next. The participants might have been unwilling, but once it had started, they weren’t going to lose. 

A chant bubbled up. Dwarf Shaman came forward to be the referee, and Witch held out her pointed hat again. It seemed there would be no end. Who would win, who would lose? Again there was a hail of coins. 

Spearman won. Then, Heavy Warrior won. 

“Okay! Me next!” cried Novice Warrior, but he was met with an “Oh, stop” from Apprentice Priestess. 

Heavy Warrior nodded his approval at the boy’s bravado, then grabbed him as he tried to run and mussed up his hair. 

Two inexperienced young men were next to arm wrestle. 

With the onlooking adventurers cheering blithely for their favorite, Dwarf Shaman gave the signal to begin. 

“Goblin Slayer, sir…” 

It seemed like the appropriate moment. When Priestess looked up at him, the word “right” slipped out from underneath the helmet, and he nodded. 

“Two! Three!” 

“Hrm.” 

He hefted the limp figure, who was somehow as beautiful as a branch. Goblin Slayer grunted at the weight, even though the body was so slim it looked like it might break in half. 

He glanced at Priestess. She was smiling. What can you do? 

“Don’t be mad later,” he murmured so quietly no one else could have heard, then bent slightly and positioned himself under High Elf Archer. 

Then he rose, one hand on her behind, and hefted her onto his back with a motion that suggested a violent toss. 

“Vwoo, wah…” 

“I have no idea what you’re trying to say.” 

“Hmm? Fooo…” 

Was it the common tongue she was failing to speak? Or elvish? Or was it simply the language of dreams? 

At Goblin Slayer’s curt words, a smile melted across High Elf Archer’s face. 

“I’ll take her back to her room,” Goblin Slayer said briefly, rocking the elf gently as if she were a child. “But you have to help her change.” 

“Yes, sir. Leave it to me.” 

Priestess made a fist, the most natural person to help. 

“Hmm! Now to rest, tomorrow to ride, and then to work…,” Lizard Priest said cheerily, stretching out his neck as if he could see it all already. “What fun it shall be to drag along our hungover friend.” 

“If she’s still drunk in the morning, I’ll give her an Antidote.” 

“Goblin Slayer, sir, that’s a bit much…” 

Priestess seemed taken aback, but Goblin Slayer said blandly: 

“That was a joke.” 

Priestess and Lizard Priest exchanged a look, then burst out laughing. 

It wasn’t the joke that made them happy, but the fact that he had made it. 

It was rare for him to be in such high spirits. 



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