Goblin Slayer - Volume 4 - Chapter 2

Chapter 2 – Of A Certain Little Boy

“Come on, how late are you gonna sleep? Wake up!” 

The boy heard the familiar voice of his older sister in the morning air. 

He moved lazily with many an oof and aaah and other inarticulate sounds, until a bright light pierced his eyes. 

Dawn—it was morning. 

“It’s morning?!” 

The boy threw himself out of his straw bed and gave a great stretch. 

He sucked in a breath of air that was cold and comfortable. A fragrant aroma of some sort wafted by. 

Bread! 

It was breakfast. 

“If you don’t hurry and get up, there won’t be any breakfast left!” 

“I know!” he shouted back to his sister, then quickly changed into his clothes. 

If it was already morning, then he couldn’t waste another minute, not another second. Plus, he was hungry. 

When I close my eyes, morning comes right away—so why do I get so hungry? 

Maybe his sister would know. He wanted to ask, but right now breakfast was more important. 

“Morning, Sis!” 

“I think you mean good morning,” she said in annoyance as he came flying into the kitchen (and dining room, and living room—it was a small house). “Sheesh. That’s why we have to have her look after you.” 

“Hrk… She’s got nothing to do with this.” When his sister brought up his longtime friend who lived in the house next door, the boy adopted the same displeased expression as her. 

The neighbor was younger than him, but she could do pretty much anything, so everyone treated him like he was younger and made her responsible for him. He would complain to his sister about it, but she would only smile. You would think an older sister might take her little brother’s feelings into account a bit more. 

“Never mind that, just you eat.” 

“…Yes, Sis.” 

His objection was ruthlessly dismissed, and she gestured for him to sit at the table with a wave of a large spoon. 

The dishes on the table included bread, still steaming warm, and a soup made of milk. There were fried eggs on the days when the chickens had laid, but it didn’t happen that often. His favorite thing was stew, which they could only make when they had killed one of the chickens. 

His stomach ached with the delicious smells. 

He took up a spoon, determined not to let any of it go cold. 

“Hey, say your prayers!” his sister, who seemed to have eyes in the back of her head, said as she checked the soup. 

The boy regretfully put the spoon back on the table and clasped his hands. 

“O One who is bigger than the rivers and wider than the seas, thank you for granting us the wisdom to obtain this food.” 

“Right, good!” 

It was typical in these pioneer villages to believe in the Earth Mother, and the boy took pride in the fact that his family was different. His sister had learned to read, write, and do math at the temple of the God of Knowledge and was even starting to teach there herself. It was what had allowed them to survive even after their parents died—and for that, they had to be thankful to the deity. 

But… the boy thought. He sipped some soup, then tore off a piece of bread and soaked it in the soup before eating it. Me, I want to be an adventurer. 

It was certainly not something he could tell his sister. 

§ 

“Just be sure to stay out of the Eastern Woods!” 

“I know!” 

“Come back at noon and go to the temple!” 

“I know, I know!” 

With his sister harping at him from behind, the boy set off down a path he’d known since birth. 

Well, maybe not since birth, exactly… 

On his back rattled the wooden sword his sister had recently given him for his birthday. One of his favorite games these days was swinging it around and pretending he was an adventurer. Of course, in his mind, it wasn’t pretend. 

My party’s one short today. 

The girl next door was going into town that day. Not fair. Not fair at all. 

“Even I haven’t been to see town yet.” He drew his sword and took a few thoughtless stabs at the underbrush. 

“You there, boy! Don’t you be swingin’ that thing where there are people around, it’s dangerous!” 

Of course, a middle-aged farmer standing kitty-corner spotted him and called out. He must have been watering his fields. There was a sound as he stretched out his stooped hips. 

“…Yes, sir.” The boy understood that what he did reflected on his sister, and he obediently sheathed the sword. “I’m sorry.” 

“Y’be careful, now.” Pounding gently on his lower back, the farmer began ambling away from his field, smiling at being on a short break. He came up beside the boy and let out a long breath, taking a hand towel from his waist and wiping his own face. He was covered in earth and dust and mud and sweat, and the towel was quickly stained brown. 

“Where’s that gal you’re always with?” 

“Her? She’s in town today,” the boy said with a hint of annoyance, but the farmer just nodded. 

“That so? I see… She’s a sweet thing. Maybe she’ll get some pretty clothes in town. Savor the anticipation, boy.” 

“I don’t think she looks good in fancy stuff.” He puffed out his cheeks. The farmer patted him with a rough, dirty hand. At the sight of the boy, the farmer laughed again. 

“Well, wait till y’see her. Keep it to yourself for now.” 

“Hrm…” 

“Say, boy. You go t’ the temple at noon, don’t you?” 

“Uh-huh. Sis says I have to study.” 

“She’s right enough about that.” The farmer nodded, then frowned and gently pounded his lower back with a fist. “Actually, my hips are botherin’ me again. Tell the monks I could use some medicine.” 

“Sure. Medicine for your hips, got it.” 

The boy nodded, and the farmer’s weathered face blossomed into a wrinkly smile. “Good boy,” he said. “Oh, and boy. You’ve been told to stay clear of the Eastern Woods, haven’t you?” 

“Yes, I have,” the boy said, cocking his head. Now that he thought about it… “But why shouldn’t I go there?” 

“What, ain’t your sister told you?” 

“No. I never asked.” 

“Them Eastern Woods—” The farmer folded his arms gravely, letting out a deep sigh. “—There’s goblins there.” 

§ 

“An adventurer, huh? Wonder if they’d really help us.” 

Down the crude path out of the pioneer village stood a dense, dark forest. 

At the entrance trembled one of the young men of the village—though he was over thirty years old. 

The one who had spoken held a rusted old spear, but he looked uneasy and not very reliable. It had, after all, been more than ten years since he had gone off to war carrying that weapon. And even then, the battle had ended while he was still in the rear, and the whole thing had come to nothing. 

Now anyone in the village with even a modicum of battle experience had been called on to face the goblins, but they were not very well prepared. 

“The Guild can make their promises, but I sure wouldn’t want to run into any bandits…” 

“Me, I’m ’fraid of black magic…” 

The whispering voices belonged to two anxious-looking men in their twenties. 

They held hand axes made for cutting firewood, restlessly adjusting and readjusting their grip. 

“I’ve heard you can’t let down your guard for the lady ones, either, or they’ll suck the soul right out of you!” 

“Yeah, I heard that, too,” a former soldier said as quietly as he could. “There was a young one, over in the silk-makers’ village across the mountain range?” 

“Oh, yeah, there was.” 

“Well, she said she didn’t want a long life of eating hard bread. She was going to live a rich, short life as an adventurer.” 

“Left home, huh?” 

“Sure did. But you know what, it was really because she was in L-O-V-E with an elf girl, a sorceress who’d come to the village.” 

“Aww, yikes…” 

“’Course, sometimes it’s the other way around. Girls get taken in or raped by adventurers who come to their village all the time, right?” 

“That’s enough drivel out of you. Didn’t my grandpa say?” The group’s leader, a man of twentysomething years who looked likely to be the next chief of the village, spoke with a severe expression. “The only villages that ever survived a goblin attack were the ones that hired adventurers.” 

“Yeah, but…” 

“Or should we send the little devils your daughter as an offering?” 

“Hey, now…” 

“You must’ve at least heard the story of the traveling merchant whose daughter was dragged off.” 

The former soldier nodded in agreement as the timid man whimpered that this was not good, that it did not bear thinking of. 

“What I know is my gramps isn’t wrong. He knows a whole lot more about fighting than me.” 

“Yeah, but—but they’re goblins. We don’t have to hire any adventurers, right? If we just leave ’em alone, won’t that…?” 

“When one or two come along, you can chase ’em off. Goblins aren’t such a big deal.” Their leader shook his head, still looking stern. “But gramps said when they start setting up a nest—they’ll come for our wives and daughters.” 

“Yeah…” 

“But, look. Ain’t much hope we can kill all those goblins ourselves, is there?” As the former soldier spoke, the timid man gave a squeak as if he were facing death at that very moment. 

“Su-su-su-su-sure, we can’t,” he said. “Maybe I could chase off a goblin what came to the village, but…” 

“Well, there you have it,” the former soldier said. “This is how adventurers put food on their tables—let them handle it.” 

“Tch,” the leader muttered, “what a sniveling, yellow-bellied…” 

“Now, now, you’ve got to think of his feelings, too,” the former soldier said evenly, shielding the timid man from the upbraiding. “We know you’re betrothed to the chief’s daughter, and you’re set for the future, but not everyone has that going for them.” 

In the face of this argument, everyone fell silent, including the leader. 

The young people of the village were all enthralled by adventurers. They wanted to love women, eat delicious food, live the high life. They didn’t want to spend their lives plowing the country dirt. They would sooner fight a dragon. The readiness to face death came easily to their lips, if not to their hearts. 

And the young women were much the same. All they could look forward to was becoming one of the empty-headed fools who had nothing but house and farm work to do or serving the god in the temple to pray until the moment of their death. If they were unlucky, they might be attacked and raped by bandits or the like or grow so destitute that selling themselves became their only recourse… 

So why shouldn’t they rather spend a night dreaming with an adventurer, or embrace the fantasy of traveling with one? The stronger among them might even want to stake their claim as adventurers just like the men. 

“Well, anyone would worry about their own daughter or sister or son or brother.” 

Pioneer life on the frontier was cruel. 

Monsters were forever appearing, but you certainly could not count on the military to come and protect you. His Majesty the king, whose face you had never even seen, was surely busy dealing with dragons and dark gods and what have you. 

A temple where they prayed to the gods on your behalf might be built as a measure of support, and perhaps that was comforting in its own way. 

And there were taxes. The rain fell, the wind blew, the sun shone. Some days were cloudy. And there were goblins. 

If money ran low there was always prostitution or traveling somewhere to find work…and for young people, it was only natural to dream of becoming adventurers. 

If that was what they wanted, they could have simply tried to become employees at the Adventurers Guild in the Capital… 

But without an education or money, this, too, was only a dream within a dream. 

“I sure hope a good, strong adventurer will come for us…” 

“You hope? That’s why the king spends our tax money to build Guilds. No need t’ worry.” 

“…Yeah.” 

More pressing than their dreams or money were the goblins that were so near at hand. 

The three young men looked at each other, then sighed deeply. 

That was probably why none of them noticed the boy sneaking quietly into the forest, all alone. 

§ 

Goblins. 

What exactly were these creatures the adults were so afraid of? 

The boy had never seen one, so now he wanted to get a glimpse. 

Then I’ll have something to brag about! 

It was the simple logic of a child. 

He had heard that goblins were the weakest monsters. He knew, as well, that when one or two had shown up at the village, the adults had driven them off. 

If that was true, maybe he could handle them? 

And if he could… 

I could brag even more! 

The boy walked carelessly down a familiar footpath, swinging his wooden sword. 

Humans had not made their mark on this forest, and it was dark even at high noon. The trees grew dense; the smells of moss and animals mingled in the air. 

He had often been warned how dangerous it was, but today it was especially unsettling. But the danger and the weirdness were why he so often came here to play. 

“…Hm?” 

The boy stopped when he saw a set of unfamiliar footprints in the place he always went for his games. They were larger than his friend’s footprints, about the same size as his own. They weren’t a wolf’s, or a fox’s, or a deer’s. 

“…A goblin?” 

The moment he spoke, the wind rustled through the grass and leaves. 

He swallowed heavily. He suddenly discovered his mouth was dry, and his throat hurt. 

The boy’s palms began sweating, and he quickly readjusted his grip on his sword. 

“I-if you’re there, then c-come and get me…!” 

Acting brave—though he did not consider it acting—the boy tried his best to look the part. 

The wind gusted again, bringing a wet, fetid stink with it. 

Where is he? 

The boy drew in a breath, let it out. Eventually, he began to move again. 

He swept his sword about for no reason, clearing underbrush and branches, striking roots. 

Nothing happened. There was only the silence of a forest gone quiet. 

No one’s there? 

“Pff, I scared him away…” 

The boy wiped his brow with an exaggerated motion and went to dry his hands on his shirt. At the touch of it, he realized the fabric was soaked through with sweat, and his heart was pounding. 

He swallowed again, shook his head. He raised his voice as if to reassure himself. 

“O-okay, let’s head back. Wouldn’t want to worry Sis!” 

He turned around—and saw a goblin brandishing a club. 

“Ee…eek…” 

“GORRB?!” 

The goblin seemed almost as surprised as he was. It froze with the club in the air. 

The creature was about his height, with dirty eyes and mouth. Pale green skin. And breath like rotting meat. 

“A g-g-goblin?!” 

“GB?!” 

His wooden sword, which he had swung reflexively in fright, smacked the creature in the head with a dull thwack . 

The thought that ran through his head was, I did it! And the feeling that ran through his gut was, Oh, no… But this was all too late. 

“GGGGG…” 

The goblin rose unsteadily, clutching his head. There was a dribble of blood. The boy gasped. 

“GOORBOGOOROROB!!” 

The goblin let out a howl, its eyes afire, and at the same instant the boy set off like a frightened rabbit. 

Run, run, run, run. Stumbling, nearly falling, actually falling, scrambling back to his feet he ran. He didn’t even know if he was heading out of the forest or deeper into it. Once he was off the footpath, there was no way to tell which direction he was going in these woods. 

“Ergh…ahhh…!” 

He was out of breath. He was gasping for air. His throat stung. His whole body ached. His feet were heavy. But he ran. 

There was no time to look back. He did not hear the goblin’s voice, but it might have been because of the ringing in his ears. 

“Oh! Wh-where…?!” 

The boy had arrived at a place he had never seen. 

A clearing, right in the middle of the forest. Had it always been there? 

And not only that—to think there would be a cave! 

Desperately sucking in air for his spinning head, the boy crawled into the underbrush. It was not out of any intent to hide. He simply couldn’t move another step. 

His breathing was faintly audible as he struggled to get it under control. 

Then… 

“??” 

He heard bold, nonchalant footsteps. 

He peered out in the direction of the sound, then clapped his hands over his mouth to quiet the “Oh!” that escaped him. 

Goblins. 

Two of them—and neither had a wound on his head. Did that make three, then? 

“GORBBRB…” 

“GROB! GBRROB!” 

They jabbered to each other, swinging the clubs in their hands, then shared a foul laugh. 

The boy could not understand their language, but he could guess what they were saying. 

Because he himself had said similar things—to warm up when there was a fight brewing. 

They’re going to the village! 

He had to warn everyone. 

His feet moved without his realizing it. And when his feet moved, the underbrush rustled. 

“GBRO…?” 

Too late. 

The goblin’s hideous yellow eyes turned toward the bush where the boy was frozen. 

A stubby finger pointed, and the other goblin gave a hissing, evil cackle. 

One step, another. The two goblins approached. 

The boy’s teeth chattered. Somehow, he managed to grab his wooden sword. He had to run. He had to… 

But how? 

“GBOROBR?!” 

The next instant, a sword emerged from the throat of the farther goblin. 

“GORB?!” 

The other goblin turned toward his companion’s cry. 

Just behind the creature clawing at the air, spurting blood as he fell, the boy saw him. 

He was—he had to be—an adventurer. 

A cheap-looking steel helmet. Grimy leather armor. A small, round shield was affixed to his left arm, and he held a sword of a strange length. 

He was nothing like the glorious adventurers of fantasy or the boors who sometimes visited their village. 

And yet he was, without doubt, an adventurer. 

“That’s one.” 

The voice was low and dispassionate, almost mechanical. The boy wasn’t sure how it had reached his ears. 

The other goblin was bewildered. The monster looked first at the club in his hand, then at the adventurer, then at the entrance to the cave. 

And he set off running for the entry. 

Revenge, anger, and fear drove him to make for his companions. 

In that span, the adventurer pulled his sword from the corpse of the dead goblin. 

“Two.” 

He raised it and threw. 

“GOROB?!” 

The goblin pitched forward, writhing, with the blade piercing his spinal column—though the boy did not yet know what a spinal column was. 

Finally, the creature on the ground twitched again, then lay still. 

“Hrm.” 

The adventurer gave a low grunt and walked up to the two bodies with bold, nonchalant steps. 

He yanked out the sword, brushing strands of gray matter off it, then clucked his tongue and tossed it away. 

Instead, the boy watched him take something like a dagger from the belt of one of the goblins… 

“Oh…!” 

No— You can’t— There’s more— The words came pouring from him all at once. 

“There’s still another goblin out there!” 

The adventurer’s reaction was too quick to see. He spun, raised the dagger, and took aim, all in a single motion. There was a whistle of wind, a half-formed scream, and a thump of something heavy falling to the earth. 

“GBOROB?!” 

The goblin from earlier was behind him, not far away, sputtering and choking on the blood pouring from its throat. 

“Oh…!” 

Only then did the boy realize how close he had been to being killed himself. 

The wooden sword slipped from his shuddering hand, clattering to the ground at his feet. 

“That’s three, then.” 

Crushing grass and pushing aside the bushes, the adventurer strode closer. His beat-up leather glove picked the wooden weapon up off the ground, then held it out to the boy. 

“Huh? Ahh…?” 

“Sorry.” As the boy vacantly took the sword, the adventurer continued, quietly and dispassionately, but unmistakably. “Thanks for the help.” 

He headed into the cave without a glance behind him, and the boy watched him go. 

§ 

“Why, you—! And after I told you all those times not to go into the woods!” 

“I’m really sorry, Sis!” 

He had rushed to the temple and tried to cover for himself, but his sister soon found out everything. After all, there was no other place he could play that would have left him so covered in scratches. 

She dragged him by the ear all the way home where he endured a storm of lectures, some first aid, and then dinner. 

The salve she used stung terribly. She wrapped him in bandages, and finally gave him a good smack that sent the boy jumping a foot in the air. 

Honestly, he wished she would be just a little kinder to him, but he couldn’t tell her that. 

“Heavens and all. You always say, ‘I know, I know,’ but you don’t know anything.” 

These little comments went on all the while they were eating, until at last his sister gave a long sigh. 

“Anyway…at least you weren’t seriously hurt.” 

Then she smiled with relief. 

I really worried her. 

The boy felt a pang in his chest at the thought. 

“Um…what about the goblins?” 

“Don’t worry about them. That adventurer got rid of all of them.” 

His sister smiled as brightly as the sun, then scowled and pointed to his bedroom. 

“That means there’s nothing to keep you up at night—so go to sleep! Your friend will be back tomorrow, right?” 

“Oh, yeah!” 

The boy jumped out of his chair, but with his hand on the bedroom door, he turned. 

“Good night, Sis. And…I’m sorry.” 

“Good night, yourself… Just don’t do anything else dangerous, okay? 

“…Sure.” 

He opened the door, closed it behind him, and went into his room. He exhaled. 

It really had been some day. He had been chased by goblins, attacked by them, and scolded by his sister. 

But… 

Snuggled into his bed, the boy turned over until he was looking at the wooden sword on the wall. 

He had hit a goblin with that sword. An adventurer had picked it up for him. 

The lingering nervousness and excitement of that moment still made his heart pound. 

“I wonder…what his face looks like.” 

I met a real adventurer! 

No—that wasn’t all. 

I helped a real adventurer and beat some goblins! 

Now that was something he could brag about. 

It was way cooler than buying some fancy clothes in town. 

Satisfied with the outcome of his adventure, the boy closed his eyes, eager for the next day to come.