Goblin Slayer - Volume 5 - Chapter 2

Chapter 2 – Mass Combat

Dear Goblin Slayer, 

I hope this letter finds you well. The season of snow sprites has come, and the cold with it. An adventurer’s health is his most important resource at this time of the year. Please take care not to get sick. 

As for me, I’m surprised but happy to say that after our last encounter, I have had no dreams of goblins, and in fact, things have been quite peaceful. It’s all thanks to you and your friends. I send you my heartfelt gratitude. I should like to have written sooner and am embarrassed that I cannot even plead busyness to excuse the belatedness of this letter. 

Nor do I feel it’s quite appropriate for me to immediately trouble you again—so I must ask your forgiveness, for that is exactly what I intend to do. It so happens that there is a quest I would like to ask you to take on. 

It’s a common enough story: a certain young noblewoman fled her parents’ house to become an adventurer. She took on a quest, after which all communication from her ceased—a sad, but also not uncommon, outcome. That one of her parents visited the Guild to offer a quest to find the girl isn’t special, either. 

The one thing I wish to note is that the quest the girl had undertaken was a goblin-slaying one. 

I’m sure you see where this is going. 

The search quest her parents filed specifies that “the most reliable, high-ranked adventurers” should apply. But of course, hardly anyone in the advanced ranks takes on goblin-slaying quests. When the Guild consulted me on the matter, I could think of no one besides you. 

Knowing you, I’m sure you’re quite busy (I heard about what went on at the harvest festival), but if you should have a few spare moments, I would ask that you use them to extend help to an unfortunate young woman. 

I pray for your good health and safety. 

Yours, 

“It’s from Sword Maiden. She says she’s praying for you… Human letters are so passionate.” An elf’s cheerful voice sounded brightly on the winter road. 

The road stretched on and on across the windswept plain. The only things that could be seen were dead trees and snow-covered shrubs all the way out to the horizon. The sky had been painted a dull gray by great, broad strokes of cloud; there was nothing of interest to look at anywhere. 

In this drab world, the elf’s lively, happy voice stood out. Her thin form was cloaked in hunter’s garb. A bow was slung across her back, and her long ears twitched playfully. 

High Elf Archer’s catlike curiosity was by no means limited to adventures. She gave the letter in her hand a jaunty fold, gripped it in her long fingers, and passed it back behind her. 

“I haven’t seen many letters. Are they all like this?” she asked. 

“Hmm…” 

The human girl she passed the letter to gave an ambiguous smile, looking a bit shy. Even as she took the piece of paper, she seemed hesitant to read it. 

Her willowy body was covered in mail, over which hung clerical garments, and in her hand, she held a sounding staff: she was a priestess. That was it—this missive had the whiff of a love letter. It would be wrong to say she didn’t wonder about it, but she also didn’t quite feel comfortable reading someone else’s mail. If someone did it to her, she would find it very difficult to come back from. 

“But… But it has gotten very cold, hasn’t it?” 

So instead, she resolved to change the subject of the conversation, by force if necessary. 

The farther north they got, the heavier the clouds in the sky became, until sunlight couldn’t penetrate them. The wind was growing bitter, and sometimes it brought something white with it. 

It was winter. That was made obvious enough by the snow that had started to pile up along the road. 

“I’m chilly,” Priestess said. “Maybe it’s my own fault. Mail isn’t going to help me keep warm…” 

“This is why metal products are no good!” High Elf Archer gave a triumphant chuckle and stuck out her little chest, her ears bobbing up and down proudly. It was true: her hunter’s cloak had nothing metal on it. 

“Pipe down,” a dwarf spell caster said. “Frankly, I’m amazed you’re comfortable in clothing so thin.” 

“What’s that I hear? Are elves tougher than you thought?” 

“Tough and slow to catch colds are different things, lassie,” the dwarf said, stroking his beard, provoking an angry “What?!” from the red-faced elf. 

Their friendly argument was just as boisterous as ever. Priestess smiled. “Some things never change!” 

“Mm,” a massive lizardman nodded from beside her. “I envy them the energy to make such a commotion.” The blood of his ancestors, the fearsome nagas, flowed in his veins—and he was from the southern tribe. Lizard Priest’s scaly body shivered in the freezing cold of the snow. 

Priestess found this hard to watch and looked up at him with worry. “Are you okay?” 

“It’s a question of my ancestors, who were equally vulnerable to cold. I could be facing extinction.” Lizard Priest rolled his huge eyes and his tongue flicked out of his mouth. He continued in a joking tone, “Milord Goblin Slayer seems calm enough. You’ve had a good deal of experience of this, I suppose.” 

“…No.” 

Lizard Priest had spoken to a human warrior who led the column. He wore grimy leather armor and a cheap-looking steel helmet. A sword of a strange length was at his hip, and a small, round shield was tied to his arm. Even a novice adventurer would probably have had better equipment. 

Goblin Slayer: that was what people called this adventurer, a man of the third rank, Silver. 

The only thing that was different from usual was the crudely wrought arrows he held in each hand. 

“I first learned my trade on a snowy mountain.” He worked on the arrowheads as he walked, not looking back at his companions. 

“Oh-ho,” Lizard Priest said admiringly. “Not a kind of practice I could imitate.” His tail swished. 

Goblin Slayer didn’t slacken his pace as he said, “I wouldn’t want to do it again.” 

As ever, there was no hesitation in his stride; he walked boldly, with an almost nonchalant violence. 

“Um, Goblin Slayer, sir!” Priestess came rushing up to him with little steps like a small bird, clutching her staff in both hands. “Thank you, um, for this.” Apologizing for making him interrupt his work, she passed the letter back to him. It was a good opportunity, since High Elf Archer and Dwarf Shaman were still occupied with arguing. 

“You understand the gist of the quest?” He held the arrows in one hand, blithely taking the letter with the other and folding it up. Priestess caught a brief glimpse inside his item pouch as he put the letter away. As usual, it was stuffed with all manner of seemingly random things. But for him, there was an order to it, an organization, and he no doubt considered everything in there to be necessary. 

Maybe I should try to organize my items a little more carefully, too… 

Priestess made a mental note to ask him about it and nodded. “Um… We need to rescue the woman, right? From the goblins.” 

“That’s right.” Goblin Slayer nodded. “In other words, it’s a goblin-slaying quest.” 

And that, more or less, was all there was to it. Shortly after the harvest festival in the frontier town, a letter had arrived from the water town. It was from the archbishop of the Supreme God there—known as Sword Maiden—and just as before, it addressed Goblin Slayer by name. 

This eccentric adventurer would certainly not turn down any work involving goblins. And so Priestess, who had brought word to them from the temple, along with High Elf Archer, Dwarf Shaman, and Lizard Priest, headed north with Goblin Slayer. 

It was early afternoon, and they would soon arrive at the little village at the foot of the snowy mountain. 

“I hope the girl’s all right…” 

“Yeah. I hate to think about it…” High Elf Archer, apparently having tired of arguing, waved her hand as if to shoo away the awful idea. Her tone was light, but her drooping ears spoke for the sadness she felt. “Honestly, I doubt any goblin hostage is safe.” 

“Well… Uh…” 

Priestess and High Elf Archer gave each other stiff smiles, and it was clear what they were remembering. 

“If she’s alive, we’ll rescue her. If she’s dead, we’ll bring back part of the corpse, or her personal effects.” 

Such horrors, of course, were by no means the special province of goblins. Be it goblins or be it a dragon, no adventurer was safe in the clutches of any monster. So Goblin Slayer’s response was perfectly natural. He spoke in a quiet, detached—almost mechanical—voice. “Regardless, we’ll kill the goblins. That is the quest.” 

“…There’s got to be a nicer way to say all that,” High Elf Archer said with understandable annoyance, but Goblin Slayer didn’t appear to notice. 

“What can we do?” Priestess said with a little shrug and a helpless smile. 

Lizard Priest broke in with fortuitous timing, not that he was necessarily trying to make things easier on the girls. 

“I wonder what reason goblins would have for attacking a village in the middle of winter.” His huge body shivered, almost theatrically, as if to emphasize the cold. “Would it not be more pleasant for them to stay quietly in their caves?” 

“Well, Scaly, it’s just like with bears, isn’t it?” Dwarf Shaman answered, stroking his white beard. He unstoppered the flask at his hip, taking a swig and then holding it out to Lizard Priest. “Here. Warm up your insides a bit.” 

“Ah! You have my gratitude.” The priest opened his huge jaws and took a gulp, then replaced the stopper and handed the flask back to Dwarf Shaman. 

The dwarf gave the container a shake, listening to the slosh to judge how much was left, then put it back at his hip. “Y’need plenty of food and drink and sweets stored up to make it through the winter.” 

“Oh? Then it seems like autumn would be a better time to attack a village.” High Elf Archer spun her finger in a circle in the air and, with all the confidence of the ranger she was, said, “That’s what bears and other hibernating animals do.” 

“But even bears sneak out once in a while in the winter,” Dwarf Shaman said. “What about that?” 

“Sometimes they don’t have a choice, like if they can’t find a good cave to sleep in, or if the harvest was poor in the fall.” 

No one knew more than elves when it came to hunting and trapping. So much so that even the argumentative dwarf could only mutter, “I suppose that makes sense,” and nod. 

The conversation caused Priestess to put a finger to her lips thoughtfully and mutter, “Hmm.” She felt like she had all the pieces in her head. Now she only had to put them together… 

“Oh!” she exclaimed when the insight struck her. 

“What’s up?” High Elf Archer asked. 

“Maybe,” Priestess answered, “it’s exactly because the harvest festival is just over.” 

Yes, that has to be it. Even as she spoke, she grew more and more sure. 

“The harvest is over,” she went on, “so the storehouses in the villages and towns are full. And the goblins—” 

“—want it all for themselves,” Lizard Priest said, finishing her thought. 

“Right,” Priestess said with a small nod. 

“I see. So even goblins are capable of the occasional logical decision.” 

“More likely they’re just trying to cause the most possible trouble,” Dwarf Shaman said, tugging at his beard. 

“No,” Goblin Slayer said, shaking his head. “Goblins are stupid, but they’re not fools.” 

“You sound pretty sure about that,” High Elf Archer said. 

“I am,” Goblin Slayer said, nodding this time. “Goblins think of nothing but stealing, but they do apply their intelligence to their theft.” 

He took a close look at the arrows he had been working with, then put them into a quiver at his hip. He appeared satisfied with the work he had done as they walked. “I’ve experienced it.” 

“I see…,” Priestess said with some admiration. 

High Elf Archer threw in her own hmm, but it wasn’t his words she was interested in. What had drawn her attention were the bow and arrows—which she normally considered her own specialty. 

“…So, Orcbolg, what were you doing with those arrows?” 

“Preparing them.” 

“Oh, really?” She reached out with a motion so smooth it could barely be sensed and took one of the arrows out of the quiver. 

“Be careful.” That Goblin Slayer stopped with a warning and didn’t scold the elf showed he was used to her curiosity. He did, however, sound somewhat annoyed. 

High Elf Archer sniffed in acknowledgment and inspected the arrow. It was a perfectly normal cheap bolt. The quality was not remotely comparable to an elvish arrow. The head had a murky sparkle in the winter sun. High Elf Archer tapped it lightly with her finger. 

“Doesn’t seem like it’s poisoned or anything…” 

“Not today.” 

“Aw, be nice!” The elf frowned at the brusque words but made a sound of interest as she turned the arrow around. “The arrowhead isn’t fastened securely. It’s gonna fall off, you know.” 

And indeed, it was just as High Elf Archer said. Perhaps because of Goblin Slayer’s fiddling with it, the tip of the cheap arrow was no longer fixed in place. Even if he managed to hit his target, the arrowhead might well break off, and it would almost certainly come down at the wrong angle. 

“Orcbolg, you are hopeless.” High Elf Archer gave a broad shrug and a shake of her head, adding, “Sheesh,” for effect. 

She decided to ignore the dwarf behind her, who said, “You’re showing your age.” 

“Here, give me that quiver. I’ll fix them for you.” 

She held out her hand, but Goblin Slayer just looked at it. Then he said, “No,” and shook his head. “They’re fine.” 

High Elf Archer stared at him blankly. “How’s that?” 

“Because we don’t yet know where the goblins are sleeping this time.” 

“And that’s connected to these arrows how?” 

It makes no sense! 

When there was something High Elf Archer didn’t agree with, she could be awfully prickly about it. 

They had known each other for nearly a year now. Goblin Slayer sighed. “When the arrow hits, the shaft breaks off, leaving only the head.” 

“So?” 

“The head will be poisonous.” He held out his hand. High Elf Archer grunted and politely returned the arrow. Goblin Slayer put it gently back in the quiver. “So long as they don’t take it out, but simply go back to their hole, their flesh will begin to rot, and the sickness will spread.” 

And goblins had no knowledge of medicine—at least for now. 

A cramped, dirty nest. Wounds that wouldn’t heal. Rot. A wasting disease. That meant… 

“It probably won’t kill them all, but it will be a major blow.” 

“As usual, Orcbolg, your plan makes no sense to me,” High Elf Archer muttered, her face drawn. Beside her, Priestess looked up to the heavens as if in distress. 

Gods. O gods. He doesn’t mean ill…well, except to goblins. But please, forgive him. 

It was much too late for her to be shocked at anything he said or did, but still, she felt compelled to offer the occasional prayer. 

Goblin Slayer, moving at a quick clip, looked at her. “Are you that surprised?” 

“…Er, well, uh…” Priestess couldn’t quite decide where to look. “I mean, this being you, Goblin Slayer, sir…” 

“Is that so?” he said quietly, evoking a laugh from Lizard Priest. 

“Do not let it bother you. It is certainly most like milord Goblin Slayer.” 

“True, it’s not like we had any illusions about how Beard-cutter thinks.” Dwarf Shaman took the flask from his hip and took a swig of wine to ward off the cold. Fire wine could practically burn; it was enough to put the smell of alcohol in the air. 

High Elf Archer choked quietly, pinching her nose with one hand and waving away the smell with the other. Dwarf Shaman wiped some droplets from his beard. 

“We’ve still got no answer to our original concern,” he said. 

“Original concern?” Goblin Slayer asked. “Which one is that?” 

“There’s no way the girl is unharmed.” 

“You mean the chances that the kidnapped girl is still alive.” 

“Right.” He looked at Goblin Slayer and wiped more vigorously at his beard. “They’re apt to eat her, aren’t they? Otherwise they only have another mouth to feed. They’ve no reason to let her live through the winter.” 

“Winter is long,” Goblin Slayer said, nodding. He spoke coldly. “They’ll want something to pass the time.” 

Not much later, they noticed a single column of smoke rising from the village at the base of the mountain. 

§ 

“Orcbolg…!” 

High Elf Archer was the first to speak, her ears twitching. 

Down the road, not far away, some smoke was rising. Perhaps it was from a cook fire? No. 

“Goblins?” 

“A village. Fire. Smoke. The smell of burning. Noise, screams… It seems likely!” 

“So it’s goblins.” 

Goblin Slayer nodded in response, and without a moment’s hesitation he took the little bow off his back. Moving quickly now, he tugged on the string with a practiced hand, then nocked an arrow and drew. 

No one had to give the order: the entire party followed after him immediately. The goblins attacking the village were hell-bent on thievery; they hadn’t even posted any sentries and didn’t yet know of the approaching adventurers. 

How would the party punish the goblins for foolishly giving them such an advantage? 

“Goblin Slayer, sir,” Priestess said seriously, despite her hard breathing and a face drawn with nervousness, “should I prepare my miracles…?” 

“Do it.” 

“Right!” 

Priestess had been an adventurer for a year already. True, all she had done was slay goblins, but the density of her adventures was far greater than most novices. That was why she didn’t have to ask which miracle to prepare but only whether she ought to get ready. She had, after all, known Goblin Slayer longer than any of the other party members. 

“O Earth Mother, abounding in mercy, by the power of the land grant safety to we who are weak.” 

She held her sounding staff to her chest and prayed imploringly to her goddess. It was an activity intense enough to shave away part of her soul. A true miracle, one which allowed her consciousness to touch that of the gods in heaven. 

A faint but pure light came down from the sky, embracing Goblin Slayer and Lizard Priest. This was the miracle Protection, which had saved Goblin Slayer and the others in more than one moment of crisis. 

Lizard Priest ran, kicking off the ground, narrowing his eyes as the phosphorescence surrounded him. 

“Hmm! Your Earth Mother is indeed capable of miracles. If she were a naga, perhaps I would convert to her worship. Now, then…” 

He had already finished his prayer to his terrible forebears, the nagas, and a fang polished like a blade was in his hand. Lizard Priest had agility enough to charge the foe at any moment. Now he looked suspiciously at the village and called out, “Milord Goblin Slayer, shall we attack the goblins or protect the villagers?” 

He answered calmly, “Both, of course.” 

High Elf Archer let out an admiring exhalation. She looked every inch the tracker as she ran along, bow in hand. 

Even as he assessed the situation himself, Goblin Slayer said to Lizard Priest, “How does it look to you?” 

“…Not very good, I fear.” The lizard was a veteran warrior priest, and his judgment carried the ring of authority. “I don’t hear the clanging of swords. That means the battle is over; they’re focused on stealing now.” 

“If they think they’ve won, that will make them vulnerable. We don’t know their strength, but…” 

But that was normal for this party. Goblin Slayer didn’t hesitate. 

“We go in from the front.” 

“Dragontooth Warriors?” 

“No. I’ll explain why later.” Then Goblin Slayer picked up his pace. Priestess had her hands full trying to keep up, while Dwarf Shaman stuck out his chin, running along as fast as he could. 

Goblin Slayer was not one to deceive. If he said he would explain, then he would. That was why none of the party members objected. Anyway, there wasn’t time to argue. Their party didn’t have a leader as such, but when it came to fighting goblins, who else were they going to follow? 

“Don’t use potions. But don’t hold back with your spells.” 

“You’ve got it!” The answer came from their spell caster, Dwarf Shaman. “I s’pose it’s up to me which spells I use?” As he dashed along as fast as his little legs would carry him, the dwarf was already reaching into his bag and rifling through his catalysts. 

Even if there were a great many enemies, the chances of one who could use magic were slim—and not just because they were dealing with goblins. It was simply the way of the world. The fact that three of their five party members were spell casters was a sign of how blessed they were. 

“Yes, I’ll leave it to you.” Goblin Slayer nodded, then glanced at High Elf Archer. “Find high ground and see what’s going on. You’ll be our support.” 

“Sounds good.” She gave a smile of satisfaction like a happy cat. With an elegant motion, she prepared her huge bow and set an arrow. 

Everything was ready. Keeping his eyes forward as they advanced, Goblin Slayer said, “First, one.” 

An arrow flew soundlessly through the air, burying itself in the base of the skull of a goblin who stood lolling at the entrance to the village. 

“ORAAG?!” 

The brain-dead goblin pitched forward, but it wasn’t clear whether any of his companions noticed. 

“N-nooo!! Help—help me!! Sis! Big siiiiis!!” 

For at that moment, they were busy dragging a girl out of a barrel where she’d been hiding. She screamed and kicked, but they had her by the hair; the goblins didn’t seem to have grasped the situation yet. 

At the same instant that the first goblin fell dead, bud-tipped arrows began to fall like rain, sprouting from eyes and necks. 

“Hey, Orcbolg! No fair starting early!” High Elf Archer, her lips pursed, offered almost as many complaints as she did arrows. Once she had shot down the goblins, she jumped, from barrel, to pillar, to roof. It was a feat that could only have been possible for an elf, born and raised in the trees, an incredible display of acrobatics. 

“What? Huh…?” The village girl stared in disbelief. 

As Goblin Slayer ran up, he said briefly, “We’re adventurers.” 

The girl was still young—she could hardly have been older than ten. Her clothes were plain but made of fur; she had clearly been well cared for. When she saw the silver tag that hung around Goblin Slayer’s neck, her eyes welled up with tears. 

Silver. That meant an adventurer of the third rank. An adventurer’s rank represented his abilities, as well as how much social good he had done. It was the most important form of identification on the frontier. 

Goblin Slayer wasn’t distracted for a second; he looked around, speaking quickly. “Where are the goblins? How many are there? What happened to the other villagers?” 

“Er, um, I—that is, I don’t… I don’t know…” Terror and regret drained the color from the girl’s face, and she shook her head. “But—everyone—they all assembled in the village square… My older sister, she said… She said to hide…” 

“I don’t like it,” Goblin Slayer spat, readying a new arrow from his quiver. “I don’t like any of it.” 

His whisper contained a wealth of emotions. Priestess gave him a searching glance, but it didn’t stop her from kneeling in front of the young girl. 

“It’s all right,” she said. “We’ll help your sister, I’m sure of it.” 

“Really?” 

“Really!” Priestess pounded herself on her little chest and gave a smile like a blooming flower. She patted the shivering girl gently on the head, looking into her eyes as she showed her the symbol of the Earth Mother. “See? I serve the goddess. And—” 

Yes, and. 

Priestess shook her head. The girl followed her gaze as she looked up. The grimy armor. The cheap-looking helmet. A human warrior. 

“And Goblin Slayer would never lose to a goblin.” 

Goblin Slayer glanced at the girl and Priestess, then glowered at the village, where the sounds of thieving could be heard. 

“The enemy still hasn’t noticed us. Let’s do it.” 

“Wait—there is danger.” Lizard Priest somberly offered his view of the situation. “Goblins or not, the enemy seems to be organized. We must not presume too much.” 

“Their willingness to attack in broad daylight suggests there may be advanced types of goblins with them,” Goblin Slayer said. 

So perhaps they should not let any information get back to the nest. 

After a moment, Goblin Slayer took the arrows, meant to kill slowly, and returned them to his back. In exchange, he drew the familiar sword with its strange length. 

“I don’t want to risk any of them escaping, but it will be difficult to keep them bottled up in the square.” 

“In that case, let me handle the town square—take ’em all out with magic.” Dwarf Shaman pounded his belly like a drum. 

“Hmm,” Goblin Slayer murmured, rolling the goblin corpse onto its back with his foot. 

A crude pelt. For a weapon, a hatchet it must have stolen from somewhere. Its color was good; it showed no sign of starving. 

“It depends on the numbers.” Goblin Slayer grabbed the hatchet from the goblin’s hand, fixing it at his hip. He looked up and saw High Elf Archer waving from the rooftops. Her long ears were twitching; she must have been trying to read the situation by the sound. 

“Five or six of them in the square!” she called out in a clear, carrying voice, and Goblin Slayer nodded. 

“How many are there in the village as a whole? Even just that you can see.” 

“There are lots of shadows, so it’s hard to count. But I’d say not more than twenty.” 

“So this is just an advance unit,” Goblin Slayer said and quickly began to formulate a strategy. 

Assume there were fewer than twenty goblins, including the three they’d killed earlier. There were six in the square. That meant fewer than fourteen around the perimeter, engaged in looting. It was only a guess, but it probably wasn’t far off. 

In the face of large enemy numbers, splitting your own force was the stupidest thing you could do, but the situation was what it was. 

“We split up. Square and perimeter.” 

“In that case, I shall head to the square with master spell caster,” Lizard Priest offered. 

“All right.” Goblin Slayer nodded. 

High Elf Archer, who had heard the conversation from her place on the rooftop, spoke without taking her eyes or ears off the village. “I guess I’ll run support for you, dwarf!” 

“Sounds good, Long-Ears!” Dwarf Shaman took a swig from his flask and wiped his mouth on his gauntlet, then he pounded Lizard Priest’s belly like a drum. “Right then, Scaly! Shall we go?” 

As he left, Lizard Priest thumped Goblin Slayer on the shoulder with one powerful hand. “I wish you success in battle, milord Goblin Slayer.” 

“……” 

Goblin Slayer said nothing but finally nodded and began to move. His stride was nonchalant, but his footsteps made no sound. He was approaching the side of the house, where Priestess was with the little girl they had saved. 

“…Is the girl all right?” 

“Yes. I think she’s a little less frightened now…” Priestess gave an optimistic smile. Across from her, the girl was curled up on the ground, fast asleep. Adventurers had come, and she had told them about her sister—perhaps she needed a break from consciousness after all that. 

“What should we do…?” 

“We have no more time to worry about her.” 

“Oh…” But before she could say anything more, a rough, gloved hand picked the girl up. Goblin Slayer deposited her in the nearby barrel. Then he pulled a blanket from his bag and laid it over her. She wasn’t exactly safe, but this was the spot her older sister had chosen. Perhaps it would help her relax. 

Where were the Earth Mother and the Supreme God that they would not answer the prayers of a little girl? 

“…This will have to do,” Goblin Slayer muttered. 

“Right,” Priestess said with a little nod. Her right hand held her sounding staff, but the left wandered through the air, until she placed it hesitatingly on Goblin Slayer’s back. “I’m sure…it’s fine.” 

“…Yes.” Goblin Slayer nodded. Then he strengthened his grip on his sword, raised his shield, and looked ahead. The village was burning, and there were goblins to slay. “Let’s go.” 

“Yes, sir!” Priestess answered without hesitation while gripping her staff with both hands. She would not object to anything he asked her to do. After all, he was the person who had saved her life. 

She was all too aware that her abilities were not yet great, that she was still woefully inexperienced. But even so— 

“Don’t worry. I’ll watch your back!” 

Thus, the battle began. 

§ 

Goblin Slayer and Priestess slid like shadows along a snowy path lined with log houses. The sun, peeking intermittently through the clouds, had already begun to sink, and soon it would be twilight. The goblins’ hour. This village didn’t have much time left. 

Priestess gulped air as she ran. “I’ve never fought…in a village before…” 

“There aren’t nearly as many obstacles as in a cave. Watch the shadows and watch out for attacks from above.” Even as he spoke, Goblin Slayer lifted his sword and flung it. It flew through the air, piercing the chest of a goblin who had scrambled up onto a rooftop. 

“ORAAG?!” 

The creature screamed and tumbled to the ground. Goblin Slayer pulled a hatchet from his belt. A flick of his wrist brought it down harder than a one-handed sword. He buried it in the skull of the goblin writhing on the ground. 

“GAAROROROOOOOOORG?!” 

It gave a long, choked death knell. Goblin Slayer seemed pleased by the sound. Not bad. 

“That makes four.” 

“Since there are six in the square, that means less than ten left, doesn’t it?” 

Priestess squeezed her eyes shut, offering a prayer to the Earth Mother that the tiny demon might not lose his way on the road to the afterlife. 

All mortal beings died once and once only; in this, everyone was the same. Death was the kindest and most equal thing in this world. 

“Yes. And we don’t have much time to search.” Goblin Slayer jogged up to an intersection, then moved close to Priestess as if asking her to watch his back. To be suddenly so close to him—her heart began to race, even though she knew this was entirely platonic. 

“They’ll have noticed the scream. They’ll be coming soon. Get ready.” 

“Oh, r-right!” 

Priestess nodded, gripped her sounding staff firmly, and brought her hands together at her chest. 

Perhaps it was all the running and the nervousness that accounted for her elevated heart rate and her strangely hot face. There was no time for idle thoughts now, she told herself. 

“Watch your feet. If you slip on the snow, you’ll die. And watch out for poisoned blades.” 

“Right. Um…” Priestess looked at him questioningly. Cover. Overhead. Her feet and poisoned weapons. “So what you really mean is… Just watch out for everything, like usual.” 

“Mm,” Goblin Slayer grunted. 

She felt him nod rather than saw it, and it brought a smile to her face. 

“That’s not much in the way of guidance.” 

“Sorry.” 

“Gosh. You… You really are hopeless, aren’t you?” She giggled, but it was mostly in hopes of masking how scared she was. 

This was only one of many times when she and Goblin Slayer had fought together, just the two of them. But it was, perhaps, the first time she had been in the front with him like this. 

Their party included five people now. Goblin Slayer was their only front-line specialist, but Lizard Priest was a fighter as well. A rearguard specialist like herself had very few chances to experience the full brunt of combat. She had to admit that every once in a while, she had grown impatient being protected by everyone else, but still… 

It doesn’t matter. I have to make sure to do my job. 

And anyway, she appreciated that everyone looked out for her. 

She gripped her staff even tighter; she saw forms moving, obscured by the drifting snow. 

“Looks like they’re here…” 

“Make small movements with your weapon. All I need is a distraction. I can strike the finishing blow.” 

“Yes, sir…!” 

And then there was no more time for conversation. 

The goblins, seeing that their opponents numbered only two, and one of them a woman, assaulted the intersection from all four directions at once. 

“GAAORRR!!” 

“GROOB!!” 

“Five…!” Goblin Slayer said, striking the first goblin to attack with his hatchet as easily as if he were chopping firewood. 

“GOROB?!” 

The monster fell to the ground, the hatchet still buried in his forehead. Without slowing down, Goblin Slayer turned his shield on the creature to the left. The sharpened, polished edge doubled as a weapon, and it evoked a strangled cry from the second goblin when it split his head open. 

The second creature stumbled back. Goblin Slayer didn’t hesitate to grab the dagger the goblin had stashed in his dirty loincloth. 

“Hrr!” 

He kicked the goblin in the stomach and sent him flying, then channeled the momentum into throwing the dagger he had stolen. It flew straight to a goblin who was rushing toward them with a pike. The creature began to claw at the dagger that had suddenly sprouted from his throat, then collapsed. 

“Six.” 

He stepped on the body of the first goblin he had killed and pulled out the hatchet, then promptly planted it in the head of the unfortunate second creature, who had been struggling to get up. 

“Seven!” 

The fight was many against only two—but one of those two was Goblin Slayer. He focused on what was in front of him, leaving his otherwise vulnerable back to Priestess. There were no walls for the monsters to attack from; he could see in all four directions, and that was all he needed. There was no enemy easier to overpower than goblins who had left their territory. 

“Hah! Yah!” 

Priestess, sweat beading on her forehead, was making small, quick movements with her staff. They were not unlike the dance she had learned for the ritual she performed at the festival; she drew on her long hours of practice as she fought. 

She wasn’t dealing the goblins any serious blows; she was just keeping them at bay. Making sure they stayed back. Giving them something to think about. She only wanted to ensure they didn’t get too close. She might have been able to keep them back even farther if she made larger swings, but that risked one of them finding an opening, and then it would all be over. 

Besides, I’ve got Goblin Slayer behind me. 

He was watching her back, and she was watching his. She felt both relief and a sense of duty, the two mingling in a strange excitement. 

“Ah…!” Suddenly, she felt Goblin Slayer begin to move to the right. Without a moment’s hesitation, she followed him. They turned, as if in a dance, so that he was now facing where she had been. 

“Eight… Nine!” 

Goblin Slayer’s hatchet began mowing down the goblins Priestess had held off. No matter how many times she heard it, the girl could never quite get used to the sound of a heavy blade cutting through flesh and bone. Especially not when she was faced with goblins, their eyes alight with greed and hatred, crawling over the corpses of their companions to get at her. 

The bone-chilling terror of that first adventure still hadn’t left her. And it likely never would. 

“Ya—ah?!” 

There was a thock as one of the goblins caught the end of her sounding staff. A moment’s struggle soon began to tell in favor of the goblin. Even the weak monster could overpower Priestess’s thin arms. With his strength, the goblin could easily pull her off her feet, claw at her throat. 

Priestess went pale; the image of one of her former party members, a female wizard who had met a gruesome end, flashed in the back of her mind. 

“O Earth Mother, abounding in mercy, grant your sacred light to we who are lost in darkness!” 

“GORRUURUAAAA?!?!” 

But she wouldn’t let it end that way. She had gained a great deal of experience since then. The Holy Light miracle seared the goblin’s eyes without mercy. The creature fell back, clutching his face, and Priestess’s staff nearly jumped back at her. 

The miracle didn’t do any damage, but everything had its uses. Those without imagination were the first to die. That was something she had learned from Goblin Slayer. 

“Ten…!” 

And Goblin Slayer, of course, was not one to miss a goblin who had left him an opening. The hatchet seemed to trade places with her; it sliced clean through the goblin’s throat. The monster spasmed and rolled on the ground. Its neck hung at a strange angle. Another blow. The last one. 

Goblin Slayer produced this pile of corpses as naturally as breathing. Now, he turned expressionlessly to Priestess. 

“Are you hurt?” 

“N-no.” 

His question was as direct as always. Priestess quickly patted herself down to be sure. Even if she didn’t think she was injured, it was possible she had sustained a graze somewhere. With the goblins using poisoned weapons, even a small wound could be deadly. 

“I—I think I’m all right.” 

“I see.” Goblin Slayer nodded. He inspected the bloody hatchet and gave a soft cluck of his tongue. It wasn’t greasy, but the blade was beginning to dull from cutting through so much bone. He tossed it away and, for the second time, drew the little bow on his back. 

Almost as an afterthought, he said, “Holy Light. That was a good choice.” 

“Huh…?” It took her a moment to figure out what he was talking about. Is he…praising me? “Oh! Uh—um, th-thank you…?” He really is, isn’t he? 

She felt a happy warmth start in her cheeks, but before it could spread any further, she suppressed the smile that loomed. “Heh-heh.” 

Just that little chuckle escaped her. This was no time to savor the compliment. Instead, she kept her face neutral, gripped her staff almost imploringly, and offered up prayers for the dead. Goblin Slayer wouldn’t stop her from doing that. 

“Three earlier, seven here, and this one makes ten.” He had an arrow ready and was scanning the area. 

Close inspection of the mud- and blood-soaked path revealed a number of bodies on the ground. Most of them were human, but several were goblins. The villagers must have resisted. The monsters appeared to have been killed with hoes or similar farming tools. There were two—no, three more—goblin corpses. 

“The final count is thirteen, then.” 

Goblin Slayer went around kicking each of the bodies to be sure they were dead. One of the corpses dropped a dagger; he picked it up and put it in his belt. He wasn’t discriminating when it came to weapons. A single stone could kill a goblin. Even barehanded, there were ways. Still, there were times when a real weapon was the decisive factor. It was important to collect whenever the opportunity arose. 

“We said there were five or six in the square, as I recall.” 

“That would make eighteen or nineteen total, right?” Priestess had finished her prayers; she stood up, brushing the dust from her knees. 

Goblin Slayer’s expression was hidden behind his helmet, but Priestess, for her part, looked confused. “Not quite twenty…” 

“I don’t like the way they’re keeping all their hostages in one place, either. Nor do I like how the corpses of the villagers who fought back appear unmolested.” 

Priestess put a finger thoughtfully to her lips, then murmured, “It’s not very…goblin-like, is it?” 

Many things had happened in caves and ruins and other deep places that she didn’t want to recall. But whenever and wherever goblins overcame their enemies, they tended to have their sport with them right then and there. They saw such places as their nests, so to speak. Territory where they could relax. And the more someone fought back, the more violent and cruel the goblins became. 

Goblins were cunning and cowardly, mean and vicious, and above all they were loyal to their appetites. They probably didn’t even know what it meant to put off gratifying their own desires. For them to take hostages on enemy ground, and then continue looting without laying a hand on their captives… 

“Do you suppose there’s another ogre or dark elf behind this?” 

“I don’t know,” Goblin Slayer said. “It could just be goblins.” 

He spoke in a manner very characteristic of him; for some reason, Priestess found this reassuring. Goblin Slayer was a little twisted, a little strange, a mite bizarre, and certainly stubborn. She had often been in a great deal of danger during her year with him. And sometimes, she felt that she couldn’t leave him alone or that he was hopeless. 

“You might be right,” she said, and her voice was very gentle. But then… 

“Huh…?” 

Something tickled her nose, a barely detectable odor on the wind. A sweet, stimulating aroma much like alcohol. 

“He must be using Stupor,” she said. 

“So he decided to put the hostages and the goblins all to sleep.” Goblin Slayer looked around, then toward the town square, where the smell was presumably coming from. Indeed: smoke was rising from the area, too much to have been caused by anything but magic. 

“Very efficient.” 

“Ha… Ah-ha-ha-ha…” A tight smile came over Priestess’s face, and she looked away. 

Nothing more efficient than putting an entire nest to sleep. Sure… 

She thought the words but didn’t say them. 

§ 

“Orcbolg, I thought you’d never get here!” 

“Did you?” 

High Elf Archer had her little chest puffed out; Goblin Slayer answered her with a hint of annoyance. When he and Priestess had arrived, the town square was already in his party’s hands. 

All the goblins’ loot had been piled up around the hostages. The villagers themselves, dozens of them gathered in the center of the square, were still asleep, but as far as Goblin Slayer could see, no one was hurt. Having confirmed this, he nodded once. 

Next, he turned his attention to the goblin corpses. 

“Six of ’em here for you.” Dwarf Shaman had dragged the bodies to one spot and was now wiping his hands with a look of disgust. “Aagh! Gods above, but goblins do stink.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Sure they stink or sure they’re dead? The answer’s yes, in any case. All the ones my spell hit anyway. How’re you doing, Scaly?” 

“Mm.” Lizard Priest, who was still watching vigilantly on the other side of the square, nodded gravely. “I took three apart with my claws and fangs. Mistress ranger shot three with her bow. Six between us. No mistake, I believe.” 

“I see. Nineteen, then,” Goblin Slayer muttered, reaching into the mound of corpses. He was checking whether any of the dead goblins had been carrying a sword. 

He found one and extracted it, checking the blade, and when he found it was acceptable, he put it in his sheath. At last he seemed to calm down. 

“Uh, hey, Orcbolg. Where’s the girl?” High Elf Archer’s complaint from earlier seemed to be forgotten. When she said the girl, she could mean only one person. 

“I sent her to bring the child.” 

“Do you think she’ll be all right?” 

“Yes.” Goblin Slayer nodded. “I don’t think there’ll be any issues. That’s been my experience, at least.” 

He looked once more at the villagers. He located the person who looked both the oldest and the best dressed and strode over to him. 

“Are you the village chief?” 

“Er, well, yes. Who are all of you…?” He looked at Goblin Slayer, suspicion multiplying the wrinkles in an already elderly face. 

Goblin Slayer answered by showing his level tag. 

“We’re adventurers.” 

“Adventurers… And you’re Silver-ranked…” 

The village headman blinked several times, then understanding entered his eyes. “Could you be the Goblin Slayer…?” 

“Yes,” Goblin Slayer murmured, evoking a shout from the headman. 

“Oh-ho! I am so, so glad you came! Thank you! Thank you…!” 

The grateful old man took Goblin Slayer’s hand in his own two hands, which looked like gnarled tree branches. His hands and arms, once built up by farmwork, no longer had their former girth or strength. Yet Goblin Slayer could certainly feel the handshake as the man moved his hand up and down. 

“There are some things I want to ask you.” 

“Certainly. Anything.” 

“First of all, do you have an herbalist or healer in your village? A cleric of some kind? One capable of miracles.” 

“Ahem… We rely on visiting priests when we need a cleric. As for an herbalist, well, we have one…” The headman looked apologetic. Perhaps he thought the adventurers would ask for some payment, or at least support. “But she’s only a young woman. She became our medicine woman just recently, when her parents died in an epidemic. She isn’t…” 

“I understand,” Goblin Slayer said immediately, as if this were perfectly natural. “We’ll help care for the wounded. My party—” He paused for a second. “—has two clerics.” 

“Wha…?” 

“I’m sorry to say I can’t spare any potions.” He tapped his item pouch. The little bottles inside rattled. “If what you say about your medicine woman is true, I doubt she’ll be of much help. We can only offer you some miracles and first aid.” 

When Goblin Slayer asked, “Does this upset you?” the headman shook his head vigorously. The suspicion in his eyes had turned first to amazement and then to respect. 

Wandering minstrels told wondrous tales of an adventurer who rushed to the aid of any village that was attacked by goblins; in their songs, this hero was well-spoken and beautiful. Had there been even a shred of truth in what they sang? 

“Ha-ha-ha! I see now why you prevented me from creating a Dragontooth Warrior,” Lizard Priest said, approaching the two of them. 

“Frontier people are superstitious,” Goblin Slayer said. “Especially about bones.” 

“How thoughtful of you.” 

“I was the same way, once.” 

Lizard Priest rolled his eyes in his head by way of acknowledgment. “True. Naga or no, many might believe that only a necromancer could control a skeleton warrior.” Then he said, “We must classify the injured by the severity of their wounds,” and with a wave of his tail, he was off. 

The lizardmen had always been fighters. As a race, they often made for superior medics. 

“I’m surprised,” High Elf Archer muttered, watching the exchange from a distance. She had her bow in her hands at last and was scanning the area, but she was trying hard to keep Goblin Slayer in the corner of her vision. 

He was seated among the villagers now, tending to them with items he took out of his bag. He was bandaging wounds with herbs that would stop bleeding and neutralize poison, applying pressure to the injuries. Even here, he seemed somehow different. 

“I’m sorry, thank you so much.” Beside him, a woman in robes was bowing her head—the medicine woman they’d spoken of, perhaps. 

High Elf Archer’s pointy ears twitched, and a catlike smile came over her face. “It turns out Orcbolg really can hold a conversation, when he wants to.” 

Beside her, Dwarf Shaman stroked his beard and nodded. “Well, Beard-cutter is the most well-known of all of us.” Unlike his elf companion, who was on guard duty, with the fighting over, the dwarf had next to nothing to do. 

Not that he was unhelpful. He didn’t know first aid, but he walked around with many little items that served as catalysts for his magic. One of them was fire wine, which he described as “good for drinking and good for healing.” It was a powerful spirit, which also made it an excellent disinfectant. He had given a jar of it to the medicine woman, who had accepted it with profuse thanks, to the shaman’s distinct embarrassment. The way of the dwarves was to remember debts and gratitude as well as grudges while not sweating the little things. 

“Goblin Slayer, the most beloved adventurer on the frontier… Isn’t that the song that made you recruit him?” 

“Well, yeah, sure. But it turns out the song and the reality don’t have much in common…” High Elf Archer puffed out her cheeks in displeasure as she thought back on the ballad she had heard. 

It said he was made of the sternest stuff, that he was taciturn and loyal. A man without greed, who wouldn’t spurn even the smallest reward. When goblins appeared, he would go to even the most remote and rustic places to meet them, and his sword would slay them all. He was held up almost as if he were a saint or a Platinum rank. 

“But when you really think about it… He does get along really well with that girl at the Guild.” 

“They say those who don’t know the true situation are quick to jealousy. It’s the same everywhere.” Dwarf Shaman glanced up at the elf with a teasing smile. “So you really shouldn’t envy her just because she puts to shame that anvil you call a chest.” 

He could practically hear the anger seize High Elf Archer’s face. 

“After all, unlike a certain cleric girl, elves take a century or two to develop!” 

“Oooh, I can’t believe you said that! You great wine barrel of a—!” 

“Ho-ho-ho-ho! Among dwarves, a nice figure is a requirement for a proper man!” 

And they were off and arguing, the same as usual—but it wasn’t a sign that they had let their guards down. Dwarf Shaman hadn’t taken his hand off his bag of catalysts, and High Elf Archer’s ears were still moving, listening. She heard the two approaching sets of footsteps. 

One was a child, the other the familiar footfalls of Priestess. High Elf Archer knew all this full well. 

“Big Siiiiiis!” 

“Oh…!” 

A glow came over the face of the medicine woman, who had been moving among the wounded. The little girl came running to her, and the medicine woman caught her with both hands, hugging her to her chest. They both burst into tears, paying no heed to the eyes around them. 

Goblin Slayer watched this in silence, until at length, he looked away. He could no longer look because Priestess, who had gone to get the child, had a bright smile on her face for some reason. 

“What is it?” he asked. 

She squinted a little at the blunt question and replied innocently, “Heh-heh. Oh, nothing… I was just thinking you looked…happy.” 

“Is that so?” 

“Yes, it is.” 

“Is that so………?” 

Goblin Slayer checked to make sure his helmet was still in good condition. There was no smile on that visor. 

“Well, fine. See to the treatment of the villagers. And the funerals.” 

“The funerals…” Priestess put a thin, pale finger to her lips, thinking for just a second. “The only funerary rites I know are those of the Earth Mother. Do you think it’ll be all right?” 

“I doubt they’ll care. So long as it’s the ritual of a god of order.” 

“Okay. Leave it to me,” Priestess responded promptly, then she looked around and moved off, holding her sounding staff. “Sorry I’m late!” 

“Ah, you’ve come.” Lizard Priest, tending to an injury with his rough, scaled hand, turned his head on his long neck to look at her. 

“Yes,” she said with a firm nod and began pulling bandages and ointments out of her pack. “I still have one miracle left, so if there are any serious injuries, I can use Minor Heal on them…” 

“In that case, I shall leave this patient to you. He seems to have been severely beaten, and all my artifice has done little.” 

“All right!” 

When she had lived at the Temple, Priestess’s job had been the treatment of wounded adventurers. As she rolled up her sleeves and began bustling among the injured, she projected more authority than her years would suggest. 

Goblin Slayer followed her with his eyes, mulling over a question in his mind. 

Surely this can’t be the end, but…? 

“Orcbolg!” 

The entire party looked up at the sharp and clear warning from High Elf Archer. 

It must have been watching from the shadow of a barrel. Now, it had jumped out from the shadows and was dashing down the road—a single goblin trying to make his escape. 

He ran like a frightened hare; nearly slipping and stumbling, growing ever smaller in the distance. 

But only for a moment. 

“Pixies, pixies, hurry, quickly! No treats for you—I just need tricksies!” 

Dwarf Shaman intoned the spell Bind, and a rope wrapped itself around the fleeing goblin like a snake. It caught him around the legs and sent him crashing to the ground. 

This was all the opening High Elf Archer needed. “You thought we’d let you get away?!” In a motion dramatic enough for a painting, she drew the great bow off her back and jumped. From barrel, to wall, and then into space, she took leap after leap, aiming at her target. 

“So it was twenty…!” 

That was when Goblin Slayer drew an arrow from his own quiver. “Don’t kill him! We want him to take the poison home and spread it!” 

High Elf Archer reached up and grabbed the arrow out of the sky in an acrobatic movement. An instant later, the arrow whistled off, looking like a beam of light. The elf landed on the ground at the same moment as, in the distance, the goblin tumbled. How she had loaded, drawn, and fired the bow in that time, no one knew. It was truly a skill so advanced that it looked like magic. 

“Happy now?” She returned her oaken bow to her back as she landed. 

“Yes. But…” Goblin Slayer was almost muttering to himself, his gaze fixed on the goblin in the distance. He had pulled the shaft out of his shoulder and cut the rope around his legs and was running off again. He was heading north—toward the snowy mountain from where an an icy wind blew. 

“…this is not over yet.” 

That was something the whole party knew well. 

The goblins had gathered the villagers in the square because they had wanted to go looting; they gathered their spoils in the square, as well. And yet, they hadn’t touched the women. That meant they had been planning to take them back to their nest. The twenty goblins who attacked the village were only an advance unit. There were more of them, though there was no knowing whether they would launch a fresh attack or simply withdraw. 

Goblin Slayer completed his calculations and issued his conclusion without reluctance: 

“As soon as our spells have been replenished, we go on the attack.” 

He knelt before the village headman seated on the ground, then looked him in the eye. The headman’s face was drawn at the thought of another battle, but Goblin Slayer only said, “I want to request preparations for a night attack, as well as a place to rest for a night. You don’t mind?” 

“Wh-what? N-not at all! If we can do anything to help you, just let me know…” 

“Then tell me about the party of adventurers that came before us. And do you have any trackers in this village?” 

“Y-yes, so we do. Just one… He’s young, but he’s here.” 

“I need to know the geography of the mountain. I want a map, even a simple one.” 

The headman was nodding eagerly, but then he seemed to think of something, and an obsequious smile came over his face. “Oh, but… When it comes to a reward, we can’t…” 

“The goblins are more important,” Goblin Slayer said flatly. Ignoring the stunned headman, he stared at the mountains to the north. Somewhere behind the veil of clouds, the sun had already sunk behind the peaks, and the fierce wind carried hints of night. 

“As soon as everything’s ready, we will go and slay them.” 

§ 

Thankfully, all things considered, damage to the village was minimal. Of course there were those who had been injured or killed fighting against the goblins. Some houses had been torched, others smashed—naturally. But the adventurers had arrived before either the loot or the captured women were carried off to the nest. So perhaps it was for the better. Or at least, Priestess thought so. 

And yet… And yet, she couldn’t quite embrace this as the best possible outcome, she thought, as she looked out over the village’s cemetery. 

Once they had finished tending to the wounded, she, the medicine girl, and Lizard Priest had to deal with the burials. 

“O Earth Mother, abounding in mercy, please, by your revered hand, guide the souls of those who have left this world.” 

Sounding staff in hand, she murmured her prayer, making the holy sign as each body was put into the ground and covered with earth. 

This was the obvious thing to do, even if there weren’t a risk of the corpses becoming undead if they were left exposed. If the living failed to say farewell to the dead, how could they go on with their lives? These burials were less necessary for the dead than they were for the living. 

So long as the dead had been among those who had words, their souls would be called to the god each of them believed in. Thus, the world would keep turning. 

“I doubt an attack will come tonight, although I can’t be certain,” Goblin Slayer said, after he had left the villagers to complete the burials. “You must be exhausted. Rest.” 

As usual, his speech brooked no argument—and yet, Priestess at least understood that this was his way of showing concern. Even if she still thought him a rather hopeless person. 

No matter how often she chided him, he never learned. Indeed, if she had refused, he wouldn’t have listened. So she figured it was best just to go along with him, despite the flash of annoyance. 

“Ahh… Phew.” 

That was why she was currently relaxing in a warm bath. She exhaled, the breath seeming to come from everywhere in her body, each muscle relaxing. 

She was in a hot spring. The snowy mountain nearby had, it seemed, once been a volcano, and the fire sprites still heated the water through the earth (or something like that). 

The hot spring sat beneath a roof on stilts, surrounded by rocks as steam drifted gently upward. The familiar stone icon of the Deity of the Basin presided over the wash water. But it depicted two faces, perhaps because this was a mixed bath open to both men and women. For that reason, Priestess had carefully wrapped herself in a towel. 

As she settled into the murky water, however, her body, so long stiffened against the cold, seemed to melt. She couldn’t stop the relaxed groan that escaped her. 

“Mmmmm…” 

High Elf Archer, it seemed, was a different matter. Her slim body, not a scrap of covering on it, looked as gossamer as any faerie. Yet she kept shuffling around the edge of the bath, looking like a frightened rabbit. She would clench her fists, determined, then hesitantly dip a toe in the water before jumping back. 

“Oooh… Ohh… Are you sure about this?” She looked like a child who didn’t want a bath—in fact, she looked much like the younger clerics Priestess knew, and it brought a smile to her face. 

“I’m telling you, it’s fine. It’s just a spring with some hot water.” 

“It’s a place where the sprites of water and earth and fire and snow all come together. That really doesn’t bother you…?” 

“Should it? I think it feels wonderful…” 

“Hmmm…” 

High Elf Archer’s gaze flitted between herself and Priestess, and her ears twitched uncertainly. After a time, she suddenly bit her lip, and— 

“Y-yaaaah!” 

“Yikes!” 

—all but flung herself into the pool, causing a great splash that crashed down on Priestess. 

“Pff! Pff!” High Elf Archer, who had gone under up to the top of her head, surfaced looking like a bedraggled cat, spitting and squeezing water out of her hair. Finally, she looked at Priestess with an expression of surprise and then let out a breath. 

“…Huh. This water’s warm. It’s kind of…nice.” 

“Gosh! Isn’t that what I’ve been trying to tell you? …And you’re not supposed to jump in.” 

“Sorry about that. I was just too scared to do it any other way.” 

“…Hee-hee.” 

“…Ha-ha-ha!” 

They looked at each other, both of them soaked from head to toe, and broke into cheerful laughter. 

No matter how high a rank an adventurer achieves, the anxiety of battle never goes away. High Elf Archer might have been Silver-ranked, but she was still young and inexperienced; and Priestess, all the more so. They may have been from different races, but emotionally they were about the same age. 

They sat beside each other, looking up at the sky. The stars were blacked out by thick, leaden clouds, and only a shadow of the two moons could be seen. 

He had said once—when had it been?—that goblins came from the green moon. 

The girls’ clothing was piled neatly beside the bath, along with the weapons and tools they had used in the earlier battle. Goblin Slayer had warned them to be wary of a surprise attack while bathing. 

Maybe he wears that armor and that helmet even in the bath… 

The image was just too funny and set the girls giggling again. 

“I wish everyone else would’ve joined us,” Priestess said. 

“Oh, you know. ‘Mud is more amenable to a lizard.’ Seriously, who washes themselves in mud?” I just don’t get lizard folk. Priestess’s smile widened at the elf’s impersonation. “And the dwarf was all, ‘Wine is the way to revive your spirits!’ As for Orcbolg…” 

“…Guard duty. Of course.” Priestess blinked, her eyelashes moistened by the steam, and hugged her knees. “I’m a little worried, though. He won’t take a rest…” 

“Yeah, well, he’s got all that energy. Got to kill the goblins, he says.” 

“Doesn’t that…seem strange to you?” 

Sure does was a conclusion both of them could agree on. It was easy to picture him, keeping watch on the snowy plain and muttering, “Goblins, goblins.” 

“If we left him to his own devices, he’d spend his whole life like that,” High Elf Archer said. 

“I think…you’re right.” Priestess nodded deeply in response. 

It was really true. Goblin Slayer had changed considerably in the year since she’d met him. As had she. But still… 

“Well, it’s thanks to falling in with him that I get to visit the North like this, so I guess I don’t mind,” the elf said. She splashed restlessly at the water as if buying time to think. The motion stirred up the steam. Priestess glanced at her. 

“Um… You said you left home because you wanted to see what was beyond the forest, right?” 

“Uh-huh.” High Elf Archer stretched out her arms and legs, relaxing. Priestess shifted how she was sitting. “We say, ‘You’re alive until you die,’ but if all you ever know is the woods, what’s the point?” 

“I can’t even imagine living for thousands of years.” 

“It’s not such a big deal. It’s like being a huge, old tree. You’re just…there.” 

It wasn’t a bad thing in and of itself. High Elf Archer traced a circle in the air with her pointer finger. Priestess naturally followed the movement with her eyes. Even the smallest of elf gestures was polished and refined. 

“So,” Priestess said, sliding down in the water to hide the embarrassment of how taken she was with the movement. “You left because…you got bored? I mean, I hear that happens a lot…” 

“You’re half-right.” She paused. “It’s true, I felt there was something I had to do.” 

She related how she would hunt overpopulated animals and return them to the earth, pick fruit where there was too much, to wet her throat, and generally keep her eyes fixed on the cycles of nature. 

It’s enough to make your head spin. There’s always work to do. And the forest never stops growing. But you know what? 

Here, she winked and smiled mischievously. “One time, I saw a leaf being carried along by a river. And I wondered, where does it go? And then I couldn’t stop wondering.” She laughed. 

She had rushed back to her home and got her bow, and then she was off among the trees, quick as a deer, chasing that leaf. When she next looked around, she realized she had left the woods. She jumped from rock to rock across the stream bed, following the leaf. 

“And…what did you find?” 

“Nothing interesting, I can tell you that,” she said, squinting her eyes like a contented cat. “A dike. One the humans had built. It was the first time I had ever seen one—I thought it was pretty interesting.” The leaf, carried along by the stream, had gotten caught in the dike. 

It was hardly as though she had received some revelation. High Elf Archer smiled faintly. Then she opened her lips ever so slightly and whistled. She was humming a song in her clear voice. 

What is it that waits at the end of the river? 

What is it that blooms where the birds do fly? 

If the womb of the wind is beyond the horizon 

Then where does the rainbow come down from the sky? 

Far must we walk to discover the answers 

But fair are the things on the way that we find 

Priestess blinked, eliciting a satisfied “Heh!” from High Elf Archer. 

It was said there was no race so elegant as the elves. 

High Elf Archer glanced at Priestess’s chest and produced a sigh. 

“You still get to keep developing… Lucky you.” 

“Er… Wha?!” Priestess could only produce a series of strange noises, and her face went completely red. “Wh-what are you talking about?! And all of a sudden like that!” 

“We’re talking about time. The passage of time. That’s what the song was about, and that’s what my comment was about.” 

She snickered. It sounded like a bell ringing in her throat. As she laughed, she reached out and ran a hand through Priestess’s soaked hair. 

“I mean… Me, I still have some time, but…” 

“Just some?” Priestess looked down, not resisting the hand in her hair. 

Yeah, High Elf Archer nodded. “Humans… They get old and die after just a hundred years or so, right?” 

“Uh-huh…” 

“I wonder why everyone can’t live for a long time. Maybe it’s something that would make sense to me if I were human.” 

“…If you were born as a human, you’d just wish you were as beautiful as an elf,” Priestess murmured. She didn’t regret who she was, but there was always the fascination of if, the unanswered wish. 

That day, for example. She had fought side by side with Goblin Slayer; he had watched her back. What if she could have fought more? What if she were more accomplished in miracles or spells? Would she have been more help to him? 

She had once promised that if he was in trouble, she would help him. Had she done that today? At this rate… 

If we left him to his own devices, he’d spend his whole life like that. 

She felt as though a reckoning was coming, one that couldn’t be avoided. 

“…” 

“And if you’d been born an elf, I bet you’d wish you were human.” High Elf Archer punctuated her remark by giving Priestess’s head a little hug before letting her go. Priestess thought she could just catch the scent of the forest filling her nose. 

Surely she was imagining it. This place was supposed to be home only to earth and water and fire. 

But… What if she wasn’t imagining it? 

The elves must be connected to the forest even when they leave it behind… 

“You’re probably right,” Priestess said and let out a breath. She felt as though something deep in her heart, something stagnant and stiff, had begun to give way. 

“Should we think about getting out?” she asked. “We don’t have much time to just hang around.” 

“True.” High Elf Archer stood abruptly. “The world just refuses to play nice, doesn’t it?” 

§ 

“The situation doesn’t look good,” Goblin Slayer said. He was standing in front of a crackling fire in the village tavern. The second floor was an inn, which was typical of such places. 

The warmth of the fire filled the log building, shadows from the trophies on the wall dancing in the firelight. The adventurers, back from their respective relaxations, sat around a large table with cups filled to the brim with mead. 

The medicine woman and her sister, along with nearly everyone else in the village, had urged their rescuers to lodge in their respective homes, but Goblin Slayer had refused. 

“We will all pay for a place at the inn. Divided, we can’t respond quickly to whatever may happen.” 

Priestess was slightly mystified by the rush of relief she felt when he said that. 

Now the villagers surrounded the adventurers at some remove. They were half-expectant and half-curious. Some also eyed the party’s women with undue interest. Priestess shifted uncomfortably under their leering gazes. 

I guess it’s a small blessing there’s no one who looks like any real trouble… 

“Do you think…they don’t want us here?” she asked, looking at the food on the table. 

Boiled potatoes, regular potatoes, potatoes, potatoes… Everything on offer was potatoes. Priestess, of course, by no means expected to live in luxury. She was used to humble fare. And yes, it was winter; there was snow on the ground and it would be necessary to conserve provisions. But still—nothing but potatoes? 

“Nah,” Dwarf Shaman said with a shake of his head. “From what I heard, the last adventurers to come through bought up all the supplies.” 

“Everything?” 

“Said they needed it to slay goblins, if you can believe that.” Dwarf Shaman rested his chin on his hands. 

“Ha-haa! I suppose…” Lizard Priest’s tail swished along the ground as if to say that it wasn’t theirs to judge. “It’s said one must draw out goblins before one can slay them. A little bit of coercion, you see. Perhaps they really did need those supplies…?” 

Hmm. Priestess put a finger to her lips in thought, her hair flowing in a wave as she tilted her head quizzically. It was clear who to go to with a question like this. 

“Was it necessary?” 

“It depends on the time, and the place, and the circumstances,” their goblin-slaying specialist replied flatly. “Now and again, you’ll encounter wandering tribes with no nest. Pursuit can take considerable time.” 

“But time’s something we don’t have, right?” High Elf Archer said, lapping happily at the mead. Her cheeks were already a faint red; the bath might have had something to do with it, but it was chiefly the alcohol. “We don’t know what’s in the nest, and we don’t know how many of them there are. Plus, there’s the possibility that the other adventurers are still alive.” 

“We’re only lucky that the villagers weren’t taken away. Who knows if we could have helped them in time?” 

Goblin Slayer nodded, then unrolled a sheet of lambskin paper on the table. “We can’t wait until the sickness from the arrows becomes fatal, but they may be somewhat weakened by now.” On the paper was a simple map of the route from the village to the mountain; he had asked the local hunter to draw it. Some scribbled notes appeared to have been added by Goblin Slayer himself. “According to the trapper, this is the most likely place for a goblin nest.” 

“Yeah, but…” High Elf Archer ran a finger over the map, measuring the distance between the village and the cave. “If no villagers were kidnapped, why didn’t we go in right away?” 

“I believe I know what the previous adventurers were planning.” The room’s collective gaze fixed on Goblin Slayer. He took a fried potato and put it in his mouth. His helmet moved slightly, emanating the sounds of chewing and swallowing. “The medicine woman told me that the party bought wood along with their other supplies.” 

“Wood?” Dwarf Shaman asked. “But they could just—no, wait, don’t tell me, I’ll get it.” He took a swig of mead, ignoring the look the elf gave him as he brushed several droplets off his beard. 

The wise old dwarf grunted to himself, and a moment later he snapped his fingers and said, “Ah! I know now! It’s not firewood, so it isn’t about filling the nest with smoke. They were preparing for something. And they brought food. Meaning…” 

“Yes,” Goblin Slayer said as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “They meant to starve them out.” 

There was an audible crack from the fire. For a time, no one talked. Lizard Priest picked up a poker and jabbed listlessly at the firewood. There was another noise as the wood split in two, sparks flying. 

“But then, the foe is many and they were few,” he said. 

“That tactic has its uses,” Goblin Slayer said dispassionately. “But not when you are attempting to exterminate a large number of enemies on their own land.” 

Priestess pictured the scene, her body going stiff. The terror of facing down starving goblins for days on end. 

I don’t think I could bear it. 

Then Priestess thought of the villagers. How they had asked for adventurers to stop the goblins stealing food from them, and this party had decided on a tactic that used the whole town’s provisions. 

“We cannot prepare even one sword, one potion, or one meal’s worth of food on our own.” Glug. Goblin Slayer took a drink of his mead without even having to remove his helmet. “And adventurers without supplies will be dead by nightfall.” 

“Orcbolg, maybe you could think about something else for once.” 

“I’m trying.” 

Glug, glug. More mead. 

His four companions watched this with the faintest of smiles on their faces. They knew this party would never have been formed if this man were not exactly the way he was. 

“And milord Goblin Slayer,” said Lizard Priest, who was used to the role of military adviser by now. “What strategy do you have in mind?” 

“None to speak of.” He sounded uncharacteristically relaxed. 

They had no idea how the nest was laid out or how many enemies were there. Not knowing if the other adventurers were still alive, they couldn’t simply destroy the nest outright. And if the goblins had attacked once, they would surely come a second and a third time. 

Thus, there was only one possible strategy. 

“We blitz them.”