Goblin Slayer - Volume 5 - Chapter 5

Chapter 5 – Dungeon Raid

“I did not agree to this!” 

“Ah… Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha…” 

The next morning, High Elf Archer was traveling down the mountain path…enclosed in a wooden cage. Priestess was beside her, smiling awkwardly. Both of them were dressed in rags. 

The elf’s long ears were twitching angrily; she grabbed the bars of the cage and gave them a rattle. 

The pole that ran through the top of the cage so that it could be carried was, like their outfits, all part and parcel of making the “prisoners” look realistic. 

“Why do we have to be the spoils of battle?!” 

“Because I and the others never would be.” 

With the men as captives, the act would no longer be convincing. Goblin Slayer offered no harbor in this storm. 

He had dyed his always-grimy armor black from head to toe; it was a very strange sight. He could have passed for the spirit of some dead soldier recently back from the grave. 

“Ho! Oh! The foolish lady adventurers begin to rail again!” said an evil-looking dwarf who was carrying the cage from the front. “Master monk, perhaps we should teach them a lesson…” 

“Heh-heh-heh! Fine offerings they will make to the god of external knowledge. I shall let you do what you wish with them.” The response came from a dark lizard monk who walked ahead, smiling maliciously. He had been quite enthusiastic ever since his disguise had been prepared and he had painted his face and scales, using pigment to cover them in uncanny patterns. 

High Elf Archer bit her lip with a growl and changed targets. 

“Hey, you know it’s okay to be a little angrier!!” 

“Oh, I think…I’ve sort of gotten used to this kind of thing…” Priestess, sitting in one corner of the cage hugging her knees, smiled in defeat. The expression, combined with her willowy body and delicate beauty, made her look the very picture of a prisoner. A fine performance. Of course, the real problem was that it wasn’t a performance at all. 

“…” 

The cage had one other inhabitant, someone who hadn’t said a word. It was Noble Fencer. 

She, too, sat in a corner of the cage with her legs drawn up to her chest—whence she stared into space and didn’t move a muscle. 

Her fair skin, however, had lost its luster; her rose-tinted lips had turned blue. 

Priestess came over to her slowly, moving on all fours. 

“Um, aren’t you cold…?” 

“……I’m fine,” Noble Fencer said simply. 

Normally, that might have been enough to deter Priestess, but this time she only giggled a little bit. 

It was a better response than Sure or I see or Is that so? or All right, then. 

She thought back to how he had been when they first met; he wouldn’t have offered more than one of those. 

“Me, I’m cold… So I’m going to keep close to you, okay?” 

“……Do what you want.” 

Noble Fencer looked away pointedly. Priestess nodded, even though the fighter couldn’t see her, then drew her knees up like the other girl. 

The snowy path seemed very long. The cage swayed back and forth in the blizzard. 

They were marching toward the fortress that towered upon the snowy mountain. It was not something that would be easy or pleasant for the women to reach on foot. 

So…were they trying to be kind by making us play prisoners? 

There was insensitive, and then there was insensitive, Priestess thought, holding gently to Noble Fencer’s shoulders. 

“Hachoo!” Someone gave a dainty sneeze from the cold. 

She tried to cover her red face with her mouth, but it was too late. The elf’s sharp ears had picked up the direction of the sound, in which she now looked with a grin. Noble Fencer was staring at Priestess in a way that was not very ladylike. 

“I… I couldn’t help it. It’s cold out.” 

“……Yes. It is,” Noble Fencer muttered, but there was a hint of a smile at the edges of her lips. Priestess was sure of it. 

Ohhh… 

Part of her was proud to have evoked this reaction—but she was a little too embarrassed to consider it a lucky break. 

“You’re right, though,” High Elf Archer said, the color of her face uninspiring. “It really is cold out here, especially in this getup.” Her ears twitched restlessly. “I think my ears are going to freeze clean off.” 

“They don’t call it the snowy mountain for nothing,” Goblin Slayer said from outside the cage. He signaled Dwarf Shaman to stop. Then he reached into his item pouch and pulled out a blanket, although its usefulness against the cold was minimal. 

“It’s a bitter wind,” Dwarf Shaman said. “What do you say, Scaly—er, monk?” 

“I myself must dress warmly lest I be rendered immobile.” The lizardman was wearing his normal outfit, augmented with a very heavy cloak. He narrowed his eyes slightly. “Some say the fearsome nagas were annihilated by the chill.” 

“Racial weakness, eh? No helping it, then. What say we get a fire going and warm our bones?” 

Dwarf Shaman reached into his bag of catalysts for a flint, along with one or two large stones. 

“Dancing flame, salamander’s fame. Grant us a share of the very same.” 

No sooner had he intoned the words than the stones in his hand began to glow gently from within. The casting of Kindle consumed one of his spells—but none of them considered it a waste. 

“The stones won’t burn, just warm up, so—yipes! Hot, hot! It’s a good compromise.” 

“I’ve got some very bad memories of that spell,” High Elf Archer said, reflexively covering her leg. Dwarf Shaman snorted. 

“If you don’t like it, I don’t have to give you one.” 

Shortly thereafter, the rocks were nicely heated; Dwarf Shaman wrapped them in cloth with a practiced hand and placed them in the cage. Even High Elf Archer, who had looked none too pleased just a moment before, accepted a stone, blinking. 

“Er, thanks. You’re pretty considerate, for a dwarf.” 

“Th-thank you…!” Priestess said. 

“…” 

Each of the three had her own reaction. Dwarf Shaman simply thumped his belly with a ’Tis nothing!, causing High Elf Archer to sigh. 

“You could stand to be a little more open about your feelings,” the dwarf said. “Still and all. Beard-cutter, got anything for us?” 

“Hmm. I had intended to wait until we arrived at the castle, but…” He grabbed a handful of something in his item pouch and pulled it out easily. He tossed it into the cage, where Priestess caught it. 

In her hand were several small rings, each set with a blue gem. 

“Those rings have the Breathe spell sealed inside,” Goblin Slayer said calmly. This was a spell that would allow one to breathe freely. 

About the only spell caster Priestess could think of who might be capable of doing such tricks as this was Witch. Even if the thought of the buxom magician made Priestess keenly aware of her own all-too-thin body. 

She put that aside and said, “Goblin Slayer, sir, if you’re giving us rings to breathe underwater, does that mean…?” 

In the back of her mind, Priestess pictured those ruins they had visited, the ones ruled over by an ogre. Goblin Slayer had used a scroll inscribed with the Gate spell to launch a high-pressure jet of water transported from the bottom of the sea toward the monster. 

“Of course you have that,” Priestess said. 

“The rings won’t work for long,” Goblin Slayer said sharply. “But they will help take the edge off the cold, even out here in the snow.” 

“Awesome! Why didn’t you say so sooner, Orcbolg?!” 

High Elf Archer clapped her hands, flicked her ears, and with a great show of joy put the ring on her finger. 

“Mmmm!” she said. To all appearances, it was true that the ring helped with the cold. Perhaps it made sense, of a sort: snow was just frozen water, after all. 

“The ring alone doesn’t do that much, but combined with the dwarf’s stone, I’m pretty warm,” the elf said. 

“Oh, uh… Let me try, then…” With a good deal of reluctance, Priestess put on her ring. The moment she did so, the chill was blunted all around her body, as if she had buried herself in a blanket. 

“Oh!” she exclaimed involuntarily. “This is amazing!” 

“Isn’t it?” High Elf Archer said, closing her eyes and looking as proud as if she had come up with the rings herself. 

Dwarf Shaman, listening to this, snorted out a laugh. 

“Hey, what?” grumbled High Elf Archer, pouting. 

“Goodness…” Priestess sighed and looked at Noble Fencer just beside her. She was met with a forceful gaze and icy eyes. “Here, why don’t you try a ring, too?” 

“………I don’t need it,” Noble Fencer replied, shaking her head so hard her golden hair quivered violently. “………I’m not cold.” 

“Come on, how can you say that…?” 

Suddenly, Priestess remembered the younger girls at the Temple. It was the sort of thing that they would have said pointedly (whatsoever their reasons) when they went out in winter in only the thinnest vestments, even as their noses dripped with snot. 

Gently, Priestess took Noble Fencer’s hand. As expected, it was freezing cold. 

“Here, I’ll help you put it on.” 

“……I told you, I’m not—achoo!” She sneezed, then quickly looked away from the surprised Priestess. “……I’m not cold.” 

“…Sure, sure.” Priestess struggled to suppress a laugh. “I’ll make sure everyone knows. But I’m still going to put this ring on you.” 

“…………Hrm.” 

And so, no longer taking no for an answer, Priestess slid the ring onto the fighter’s finger. 

The blue stones glittered on the girls’ hands. 

“Heh! Guess I can’t run away anymore now that I’m wearing this.” Even High Elf Archer seemed to be getting in on the fun, giggling as she spoke. 

“……” 

Noble Fencer remained silent and sullen, paying the others no mind, but the three of them stuck close to the warm stones. The warming effect granted by their rings with the pretty blue stones might not last very long—but the rings themselves would be left over. 

“Heyo, girls, that’s enough chitchat. Back to looking frightened.” Dwarf Shaman tried to look as menacing as he could in hopes of encouraging them in their act. 

“Come on, dwarf, you don’t have to spoil the moment!” 

“Moment? Speak for yourself, Long-Ears. What kind of slaves show up laughing and gossiping?” 

When he put it that way, she couldn’t very well argue. High Elf Archer pursed her lips in annoyance but went quiet. 

“Take the lead,” Goblin Slayer said. “My night vision is too poor.” 

In fact, it would be quite unusual for an agent of chaos to carry a torch. Goblin Slayer took the pole of the cage on his shoulder, now following Lizard Priest. 

“Leave it to me. Best you follow closely, my wandering knight.” With a hissing, throaty chuckle, Lizard Priest moved forward in somber strides. 

The great black gate of the fortress was nearly before them, impossible to miss against the snow-whitened mountain. 

§ 

“We request entrance!” 

Lizard Priest’s booming voice could be heard even over the howling of the blizzard. A dragon’s roar, indeed. There was no way the fortress’s inhabitants could have missed him. 

“Your visitor is a servant of the god of external knowledge, a priest of the eye of the green moon! Brothers, will you not open this gate to me?!” 

Lizard Priest was (in fact) a cleric, and one who had applied himself long and diligently enough to rise to Silver rank. He had the bearing to pose as a high-placed member of any religion. 

As the last echo of his voice vanished into the storm, Dwarf Shaman nudged Goblin Slayer with his elbow. 

“Hard to believe he’s just acting, eh? I don’t think the little girl would quite have been up to it.” 

“True.” 

“Given how scantily clad shrine maidens of the evil gods tend to be, it might’ve been interesting, though.” 

“Is that so?” 

“What’s this? I thought you liked her display at the festival. Don’t you want to dress her up?” 

“I’m not interested.” 

The two spoke quickly and quietly, facing forward so they would still seem to be faithful disciples of Lizard Priest. 

After a moment, Dwarf Shaman said, “I wonder if this goblin paladin or whatever is strong. What do you think, Beard-cutter?” 

“I don’t know,” he murmured. “But we should operate on the assumption that he’s stronger than us.” 

“You mean so that whatever the reality is, we’ll be prepared?” 

“Yes.” 

“I suppose if we assumed he was a fool and he got the drop on us, that would only prove we were foolish.” 

Goblins were stupid, but they weren’t fools. Such had always been one of Goblin Slayer’s most important tenets. He nodded wordlessly at Dwarf Shaman. 

“Hmmm.” There was no response to Lizard Priest’s summons. The gate remained shut fast, the only answer the crying of the wind. 

Very well, then. Lizard Priest gathered up the sleeve of his ostentatiously colored robe and withdrew something from it: a wood-carved eye, the work of Dwarf Shaman, made in imitation of the brand they had found. This he held up. 

“The blue eye of the god of external knowledge looks upon you! Brothers, those who share in knowing, open now this gate!” 

At last, something happened. 

The very slightest of gaps appeared beneath the gate. This was followed by a clatter of pulleys, and gears turned by chains, and with a mighty groan the door began to open. 

Goblin Slayer watched the gate with absolute concentration. How many goblins would he find operating it? Whatever the number, their enemy had a huge fighting force. Now things were getting interesting. 

“Um… This is going to be okay…isn’t it?” 

At the soft but unexpected voice from behind him, Goblin Slayer moved only his eyes behind his helmet. From the other side of the bars, Priestess was looking at him with a trace of nervousness. 

“Do you think they’ll…throw us straight in the dungeon or…or anything?” 

“Most likely.” Goblin Slayer nodded, but only the tiniest bit—the goblins could see him. “It’s better than being made a sacrifice.” 

“Is… Is it?” 

“Yes.” 

“But…you’ll rescue us, right?” 

“That’s my intention.” 

Priestess opened her mouth to say something further, then quickly closed it again. Her expression softened as if she had given up. 

“Well… All right, then.” 

With that, she exhaled gently. Even with the various magical heaters, it fogged the moment it left her mouth. 

He could have said It’ll be all right, or You can trust me, or I won’t let the goblins lay a finger on you—anything to give the girls some comfort. But he hadn’t. He never did. 

Of course, if he were suddenly all warm and cuddly, she might suspect that someone had stolen his armor. But still… 

He is truly hopeless, she thought. She didn’t know why it made her feel like smiling, but she suppressed the impulse. She could feel Noble Fencer beside her, her body stiff; if from nervousness or fear, Priestess didn’t know. 

“It’s okay,” Priestess said. “Goblin Slayer is here. Everyone’s here.” 

“They’re coming,” High Elf Archer said sharply, picking up her ears. 

“GROOOBR!” 

The creature that appeared was small beside the gate it emerged from, and its yell was slight compared with that of Lizard Priest. 

It was a single goblin, dressed in tattered priest’s robes. He was no doubt trying to look as intimidating as possible, but his little, unsteady steps looked rather comical. Yet, somehow the silly quality, as if he was a caricature of a proud high priest, made him uncanny as well. 

“GORARO! GORBB!!” 

The goblin stopped in front of Lizard Priest and gestured imperiously, waving his hand and screeching something. Lizard Priest, still holding up the holy sign, nodded gravely along. Goblin Slayer and Dwarf Shaman kept their heads bowed like good disciples, silent and without talking. 

“What’s he saying?” High Elf Archer whispered to Priestess. 

“No idea,” she murmured back, shaking her head. How was she to understand the goblin language? “Do you think that’s the goblin paladin?” 

“He sort of looks more like a high priest to me.” 

“……You’re wrong.” Noble Fencer’s voice interrupted their whispering. “………That’s…not him.” 

The fire of anger burned in her eyes; Priestess couldn’t miss it. 

Oh… 

A little thought made it all too clear where the goblin had gotten his priestly vestments. 

“It’s okay…,” she said, hugging Noble Fencer. She wasn’t sure her feelings came across, but she hoped so. 

Now, then. 

“In that case, might we request an audience with the ruler of this fortress? The paladin himself?” 

“GORA! GORARARU!” 

“Oh, these? These are my two faithful servants. And these others, my…gift.” Lizard Priest made a sweeping gesture that encompassed the cage; he looked truly lordly. “We managed to capture a few pathetic adventurer girls. One of whom, I might add, already bore the mark of an offering.” 

“ORRRG! GAROOM!” 

“Ah, very much so, I understand. Lead us to the prison. We must cut off their limbs so they don’t escape.” 

The goblin priest nodded and, with a gesture that was a comical imitation of Lizard Priest’s own, motioned the party inside. 

Naturally, Lizard Priest didn’t understand goblin speech any more than the rest of them did. But their language often sounded like a child throwing a tantrum, and the meaning was generally about the same: 

I want that. Gimme. He did it. It’s his fault. 

What to do, then? The lithe tongue hissed a prayer: 

“O Mapusaurus, ruler of the earth. Permit me to join your pack, howsoever briefly.” 

This was the Communicate miracle, a work of telepathy. By borrowing some of the power of his forebears, who had hunted in packs, Lizard Priest was able to understand and make himself understood. 

“Nothing can go forward if the two sides don’t understand each other. Normally this spell is used for evangelism, but…” 

Such was what he had told them around the table at the inn the night before, sitting beside Dwarf Shaman, who worked tirelessly on his sewing. 

“I suspect it will be necessary for us at some point to learn a few words of the goblin tongue.” 

That had been Goblin Slayer’s very serious response. And now… 

“Phew! Looks like it worked, somehow,” Dwarf Shaman said. 

“We are still only through the gate. Don’t let down your guard.” 

“Y’don’t have to tell me twice.” 

The dwarf let out a short breath. Goblin Slayer shot him a look, then took in their surroundings. 

Goblins. 

They were in the courtyard of an old castle. Once upon a time, a spring had delivered water to the area, and banquets had perhaps been held in this marble plaza. But now, the spring was dried up; the place was covered in snow, all signs of grass and trees vanished from the garden, any sight of knights or nobles long since past. Now it was the province of goblins, and as such, it had become a waste heap caked with blood and filth. 

“This is a dwarven fortress from the Age of the Gods? Look what’s become of it…” 

For someone who loved adventure and the unknown as much as High Elf Archer did, this pained whisper was understandable. 

“They have no idea how valuable this is…” 

“Look at them all, though,” Priestess said, biting her lip in an attempt to suppress the tremble in her voice. “We have to do something about this…” 

It was a stroke of good luck that the goblins saw them only as pitiful offerings. The little monsters knew how easily such prisoners could be reduced to weeping and sniveling, no matter how proud they looked or sounded. 

The goblin horde numbered well beyond the dozens. 

Goblin goons were everywhere: the garden, upon the walls, in the watchtower and the crenels. Each of them wore poor equipment—although it probably seemed of the highest make to goblin eyes—and each of them was watching the newcomers closely. 

Their gazes carried flashes of curiosity and lust, but mostly they were filled with a terrifying hunger. The eyes of an animal, of a brainless beast, would have been better. At least wild creatures didn’t stare with such malice and greed. 

“……” 

Priestess forgot herself in her efforts to shield Noble Fencer from their eyes; she hugged the other girl harder. She knew from experience that it would only egg the goblins on, but she did it anyway. 

“……” 

In the meantime, Goblin Slayer was carefully observing the environment from under his helmet. The geography, the architecture: if he didn’t take it all in, then he was almost certain to die in whatever he might attempt. 

Death hardly concerned him; but what he couldn’t stand was the thought that these goblins would remain to work their evil. 

“GORARA.” 

“Mm. Come, now. He says to follow him,” the lizard said, going after the goblin. 

“Sure thing, master priest. C’mon, tin man.” 

At Dwarf Shaman’s encouragement, Goblin Slayer hefted the pole of the cage. 

They left the courtyard full of goblins, heading down a staircase that dribbled with rotting runoff from the trash. Their footsteps echoed eerily in the stone basement. It was dim and gloomy, and an indescribable stench rose up from somewhere. They doubted it was from a storehouse. Why keep food in cages? 

They were in the dungeon. 

The bars and locks were of dwarven make, sturdy yet beautiful. The chains within were equally breathtaking. Perhaps they had been used, at some time long past, to bind agents of chaos, or those evildoers who would have threatened this fortress. 

Now, though, this place was under goblin control, and these rooms were the last residence of unfortunate young women. Imagine such a poor soul chained down here, trying to stop her nose against the unmistakable smell of rotting corpses… 

“…” 

Priestess heard a sound. It was Noble Fencer, who had clenched her teeth and let out a low groan. Her body was stiff in Priestess’s arms. 

“ORAGARR.” 

The goblin fiddled with the rusty lock, and the door of the cell came open. 

The floor was slick with some unidentifiable liquid. The chains were nearly red with rust. 

Being underground, the air carried a chill, though it was better than being outside. The stink of rot drifted along with the cold. 

There was only a hole in which to do one’s business, and it was already full of waste. As if that weren’t enough, a human arm had been tossed carelessly into the pit as well. 

High Elf Archer gave a strangled gurgle that echoed loudly. We need hardly mention elves’ superior senses… 

Although human eyes couldn’t see as well as elven ones, the smell and the sense of the place all reached back to Priestess’s formative experiences. She gave a scratchy, whistling intake of breath. She was used to this sort of thing—maybe, probably, so she liked to think—but even so… 

“…Eugh…” 

Even so, she couldn’t help but think back to that first adventure. The young warrior striding before her, then convulsing with poison before her eyes. The wizard he had helped to kill. And the fighter, swarmed by goblins, violated in the worst possible way. 

All instead of her. They had died while she had survived. While she was alive now. But wouldn’t her turn come one day? 

It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s… It’s okay. 

She recited the name of the Earth Mother under her breath to keep her teeth from chattering. She glanced at him. 

Or at least, she tried. 

“GAROU!” 

“Hh—ahh!” 

She felt something grab her head; she screamed. The goblin priest had reached into the cage and pulled on her hair with inhospitable violence. 

“ORAGARAO!” 

Open the cage and put this girl in the cell! 

Whatever deity they were to be sacrificed to, it seemed it would begin with her. 

Dwarf Shaman and Goblin Slayer exchanged a look and nodded, then set down the cage. 

Lizard Priest said gravely, “That is well and good, then. However, if you mean to…enjoy these offerings, first I must meet the paladin, and—” 

“Hrrraaaaahhhhhh!” 

As the door of the cage was opened, Noble Fencer did something altogether unexpected: she forced her way out of the cage, reaching out for the goblin who was amusing himself with Priestess and wrapping her hands around his neck. 

“OGA…?!” 

“Hraah! Haaaaahhhh!” Howling like a wild animal, Noble Fencer took advantage of her larger body size to slam into the monster. 

“GORARA…?!” 

“Eep!” Priestess yelped. The half-crazed goblin priest had pulled a stone knife from his belt and grazed her with it. A thin red line of blood appeared on her cheek, and she shrank back. Even as she did so, Noble Fencer knocked the knife from the creature’s hand. 

“ORAGAGAGA?!?!” 

“Goblin… Goblin! Goblin!!” 

She straddled him, lashing out with her fists. Each time he hollered and struck out, fresh bruises appeared on Noble Fencer’s pale skin, but she paid them no mind. 

“Aaaagh! Die! Die, you piece of filth!” 

A nose broke; eye sockets shattered. Teeth bent. A chin was struck. 

“GARAO?!” 

Even goblins were not apt to miss a disturbance of this magnitude. The other creature in the basement room, who had been waiting in anticipation of having its fun with the prisoners, raised a cry. 

Then the goblin guard did a very goblin-like thing: rather than face down the attacker, he dashed up the stairs to summon his comrades. 

“Feh.” Goblin Slayer clicked his tongue. His movements were rapid and precise. 

Dumping the cage to the ground—and ignoring the indignant objections of High Elf Archer—he drew the sword at his hip and sent it flying. 

The blade cut through the air soundlessly before burying itself in the head of the goblin on the stairs. 

“ORAG?!” 

The creature came rolling back down the staircase, convulsing, not comprehending what had happened to him. Goblin Slayer leaped at him immediately. 

“Hmph.” He gave the sword a twist, severing the spinal cord, and when this definitive final blow had been dealt, he wrenched the sword out and kicked the body away. It tumbled the rest of the way down the stairs, landing in the pool of waste and sinking down into it. That would hide the body. 

However, Goblin Slayer, never one to let down his guard, kept a close eye on the top of the staircase, their link to the surface. 

“GORA?” 

Just as he suspected. A patrolling goblin had picked up the ruckus on the stairs and was coming to investigate. 

Goblin Slayer quickly adjusted his grip on his sword and called out to his companions, “We’ve been detected. Another one is coming.” 

“Aaaaaghhh! Aaahhhhhhhh!” 

Noble Fencer was still blindly beating the dead goblin priest. The creature’s hideous, uneven teeth broke the skin on her fists, but she hardly noticed. In only seconds, both her hands were covered in blood. 

“St-stop! Please stop!” Priestess begged, approaching the young woman. “This isn’t the time to—ouch!” One of the flailing arms shoved her backward and she landed on her behind. 

The slap of cold stone against her frail bottom was rather painful, but she pushed the sensation aside and said, “Er, ah, shall I use Silence…?” 

“Nah, lassie, no sound at all would attract as much attention as too much sound,” Dwarf Shaman said. “In which case, ahem…” 

He began digging through his bag, muttering as he passed over first one object and then another. 

“Looks like there’s no choice,” Goblin Slayer muttered, gripping his sword tighter. When he took care of the goblin that was coming toward them now, it would inevitably make the situation worse. Should he simply take on the goblins now? No… The odds were too much against them. 

As he was making these rapid calculations, Lizard Priest, who had been quiet until that moment, spoke up. “Mistress ranger, give a scream!” 

“Wha? Er, who, m-me?” 

High Elf Archer, who had been trying to stop Noble Fencer, was caught off guard by this sudden summons, her ears bouncing in surprise. 

Lizard Priest slapped his tail against the ground in irritation. There was a note of anger in his voice as he said, “Do as I ask and scream! We haven’t any time!” 

“Y-yeah, sure, okay. A scream… A scream…” 

She took a deep breath through her well-formed lips, opened her mouth, and… 

“N-nooooooo! Stop! Stooooooooopppp!” 

Her voice was so clear and piercing it could have cut thread. 

Elf voices carry very well. Her shout echoed through the basement, up the stairs, and reached the surface, if only just. 

“GORARA.” 

The goblin near the top of the stairs seemed to grasp what was going on. He stopped, picturing the brutalized woman. He made a vulgar gesture and glanced at Goblin Slayer where he stood on the stairs. 

“GORARURU?” 

Goblin Slayer shrugged, and the goblin gave an ugly laugh and a dismissive wave of his hand. 

“You’ll be by later, is it?” 

Goblin Slayer stared at the creature as it walked away, the disgusting smile still on its face. 

They had managed to buy back a small measure of the time they had wasted. He wouldn’t squander it again. 

The original plan had been to take the “sacrifices” to the master of the fortress for inspection. If there was going to be a chance to take out the goblin paladin—if such a thing existed!—that would most likely be it. 

But the plan was in tatters now. 

“Well, I expected as much,” Goblin Slayer muttered dispassionately as he closed the door, put in the blocks, and then went back down the stairs. 

The guard’s body had floated back up to the top of the waste pool; without hesitation, he kicked it down again. 

He looked over to where Noble Fencer was still pummeling the corpse of the goblin priest. “Bring that goblin over here, too. It isn’t much, but we’ll hide him.” The heavy slap of struck flesh had transformed into a watery splorch. 

“Come…on… Stop already!” High Elf Archer said, tearing Noble Fencer off the corpse. She grabbed the girl by the shoulders and pulled, throwing her body weight into it. She might have looked delicate, but such was the difference in strength between a Silver and a Porcelain rank that she managed to dislodge the warrior. 

“Excuse me, but what do you think you’re doing?” High Elf Archer demanded. “I thought we explained how this was going to go!” 

Noble Fencer, now sprawled on the dirty floor, regarded the archer with dark eyes. “……I have to kill the goblins.” 

“Aww, man…!” 

It was no use trying to convince her otherwise. High Elf Archer pursed her lips, making her displeasure plain. Her ears stood up in annoyance amidst her disheveled hair. That unpredictability was what she liked best about humans. She had to admit she even enjoyed complaining about all of Orcbolg’s strange decisions. At least sometimes. Just a little bit…! 

The adventurer who sat before her—both hands covered in blood but nonetheless a serene expression on her face—was different. How she was different, High Elf Archer couldn’t exactly say, but she found it unmistakable. 

“That’s why I was against this…!” 

“I’m just glad we got away without suddenly having to let off a spell… I guess,” Dwarf Shaman said, sighing and shaking the wine flask at his hip. Hearing a splash from within, he took out the stopper and took a long swig. Then he brushed droplets out of his beard and burped once. The spirits of wine were just right for a danger narrowly averted. 

“This isn’t what we planned on, but we’ve got to play the hand we’re dealt.” 

“Yes, I suppose there’s nothing for it. It’s better to have her with us than to leave her alone to cause trouble unaccounted for.” Lizard Priest sounded awfully calm. 

High Elf Archer raised an eyebrow. “And what if she gets us caught up in something else, something even worse?” She put her hands on her hips and glared at Noble Fencer. Her anger at the young woman, who was standing there with her hands still covered in gore as though none of this concerned her, seemed to be welling up again. 

Priestess, sensitive to what was going on, tried to head things off. “C-calm down, just please, stay calm! This isn’t the time to be getting angry…!” 

“You should be the angriest of all!” 

“Wha?!” 

High Elf Archer suddenly stuck out her hand and brushed Priestess’s cheek. The girl winced involuntarily at the stinging pain. Goblin weapons might be crude, but a blade was a blade. 

The red line along her cheek was still dribbling blood. 

“She decided to launch a surprise attack, and you’re the one who paid for it!” 

Priestess’s eyes flickered. She pressed her small hand to her cheek. 

“I’m fine,” she insisted. After some consideration, the expression she settled on was a smile, one that said she could deal with a little scratch. Her brave face only seemed to infuriate High Elf Archer further. 

“You’re not fine, you’re hurt—!” 

At least—yes, at the very least, that adventurer could apologize to Priestess. 

High Elf Archer reached out as if to grab Noble Fencer, who stood staring into space— 

“Calm down.” 

“Orcbolg…!” 

—and found a grimy gauntlet stopping her. 

The smallest of tears seeped out at the edges of High Elf Archer’s eyes. It was her agitated emotions that were to blame. She couldn’t be calm just because they told her to. 

“But—but she said she’d come with us, and now look—!” High Elf Archer said petulantly, pointing at Noble Fencer. She just wanted to make herself understood. 

But Goblin Slayer shook his head. “I’m telling you to calm down.” 

He grabbed the murdered goblin and dragged him, robes and all, into the pool of waste. With a disgusting sound, that corpse, too, sank into the muck. 

Goblin Slayer looked away from High Elf Archer, whose shoulders were heaving with her angry breath. 

“Hey.” 

“Oh, y-yes!” Priestess said, quickly straightening up. 

“Start by attending to yourself, then give her first aid. That hand will rot.” 

There was a moment’s silence, followed by a grunt. Goblin Slayer seemed to be weighing whether to go on. 

Then: “There will be a scar, as well.” 

“…Sure. Should I use a potion…?” 

“Start with herbs.” 

Priestess nodded with a “Yes, sir,” then pattered over to Noble Fencer. Antiseptic and pain-killing herbs wouldn’t have the dramatic effects of a potion, but they were still tried and true. Goblin Slayer made sure Priestess had applied the ointment to her cheek correctly, then he nodded. 

“Sorry for the trouble, but please check whether there are any survivors among the prisoners.” 

“On it.” Dwarf Shaman took another swig of his wine as he answered. He was always quick to respond to a call. “Come with me, Scaly. I’m going to need help if I have to drag anyone out of any cells.” 

“Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Yes, conventional wisdom does hold that spell casters are physically weak, doesn’t it!” Lizard Priest said. Just a little joke: a way of fighting back against the oppressive atmosphere of the prison. 

Touching the tip of his nose with his long tongue, Lizard Priest said to Goblin Slayer, “I presume you do not mind if we tend to the injuries of any wounded we find?” 

“Save your miracles,” Goblin Slayer replied. “No matter what you do, there won’t be any prisoners in good enough condition to join the battle.” 

“Indeed, a point well taken,” the lizard said, making that strange gesture with his hands. 

As he departed, he whispered, “I understand your feelings, but perhaps this time emotion should be left for later.” 

The elf’s ears picked up on his murmur. 

“I don’t think it’s enough to just say we had no other choice and let this slide,” she said after a pause, her face in a pout. Goblin Slayer stood before her silently, his arms crossed. 

Goblin Slayer felt that something was off—partly due to the “goblin priest,” a hideous and seemingly contradictory thing if there ever was one—but the prisoners were more concerning. Supposedly, no girls had been kidnapped from the village. Which meant that they had most likely been brought here from some other village the goblins had raided. 

“…” 

Had the goblins forced their prisoners to walk along that snowy road, then? Was that even possible? 

How large an area were the goblins operating in? And was it this “goblin paladin” leading them? 

“I don’t like it,” Goblin Slayer said. 

He had been talking to himself, but High Elf Archer replied sulkily, “You’re telling me.” Then, making no effort to hide the unhappy twitching of her ears, she stared into his mask and said, “Why did you bring that girl along?” 

The helmet left his expression as unreadable as ever, but he answered dispassionately, “Because we need her.” 

“Oh we do, do we?” the ranger said, spitting out a little mocking laugh. “Well, maybe you should give her a spanking, then.” 

“Whatever the case, if we don’t get out of here we won’t be able to return home. And,” he added, as calmly as always, “there are goblins to slay. We’ve taken on the challenge. We will either succeed, or we won’t.” 

“This… This isn’t the time to be talking like that…!” 

“…I know.” 

But. 

“I do…believe me, I know.” 

His voice sounded uncharacteristically tired. High Elf Archer suddenly found she couldn’t speak. 

“……” 

Orcbolg? she mouthed silently to him. 

Maybe the word didn’t reach him. He slowly let out a breath. “I’ll stand guard. Once you’re done checking the prisoners and helping anyone you can, get your equipment ready.” 

“…Here?” 

“That’s right.” 

“………” 

“I don’t think you’ll manage much fighting dressed that way,” he said to the elf. 

Specifically, in a basement prison surrounded by waste and rot and corpses. 

High Elf Archer muttered her agreement. She pressed a finger to her brow as if forcing back a headache. “Just to make sure I’m clear on this: here?” 

“That’s right.” 

“And you want us to change our clothes?” 

“That’s right.” 

Argh, for crying out loud. Orcbolg hasn’t changed a whit, has he?! 

“Excuse me,” the archer said with a sigh, “but elves have this little thing called modesty…” 

“If it bothers you, use this as a curtain.” 

“Ergah?! …Gah! You!” 

He had grabbed a blanket from the cage and tossed it at her; it landed over her head. 

High Elf Archer’s expression of anger slipped for just a second; she quickly tried to get it back, but it was too late. Goblin Slayer already had his back turned anyway. 

High Elf Archer set about tying the blanket securely around her neck, then changing her clothes underneath it. She couldn’t help feeling pathetic. 

She gleefully discarded the dirty rags she had worn in her guise as a captive adventurer, replacing them with her usual hunter’s garb. She put on her armor to keep her safe in battle; slung her bow across her back; and as for her underwear…well, forget it. She didn’t understand why anyone would bother with it anyway. 

Oh, man… What am I even angry about? 

This wasn’t like her. It wasn’t like her at all. She slowly felt her anger ebbing away. 

Huh? 

High Elf Archer paused, mystified, as she inspected her armor. Orcbolg had given her the cold shoulder, and yet she was hardly even upset about it. Partly it was because she was used to it by now, but… 

If that were all, I wouldn’t care about him ignoring me when it came to her, either. 

“Hrrm…” High Elf Archer’s ears quivered thoughtfully as she considered this riddle. 

So…there’s something different when it comes to her and Orcbolg. 

What could it be? How was it different? 

She turned these thoughts over and over in her mind until they threatened to stir up a whirlpool. 

She still didn’t find an answer—what came to her instead was the one word the two of them seemed to share. 

“Goblins.” 

Goblins, goblins, goblins, goblins, goblins, goblins! 

High Elf Archer found herself trembling; the word resounded in her mind like a curse. 

“Ahhh, sheesh! This just isn’t good…!” She smacked her cheeks with both hands, rubbed the edges of her eyes. She couldn’t seem to center herself. 

She couldn’t get these feelings to go away. 

She couldn’t find an answer. 

Things were at their worst. 

Yes, but. 

“………There really is just one thing to do, isn’t there?” She let out a groan, her ears twitching, then stuck her head out from under the blanket. 

Goblin Slayer was still standing at the top of the stairs, keeping a watchful eye on the door there, his equipment at the ready. 

High Elf Archer spoke softly to his back. “I’m sorry, Orcbolg.” She opened her mouth but found she couldn’t quite go on speaking. She looked for the words, then tried again. “I…lost my head a little.” 

“That happens,” Goblin Slayer said, not turning around. “To you, to that girl, to me.” 

His words were as calm as ever, even a little cold. High Elf Archer found her cheeks nearly relaxing into a smile. 

“Even you, Orcbolg?” 

“That’s right.” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen it.” 

“Is that so?” 

“It sure is.” 

“I see,” he murmured without much interest, then turned his head. 

It was just an instant. High Elf Archer remembered something Priestess had told her once. How when he was thinking, when he was about to say something—he would go silent. 

“I’ll tell everyone else,” he said quietly. “If you think I should.” 

High Elf Archer poked a hand out from under the blanket and gave a reassuring wave as if to say, It’s okay. 

“Nah. I’ll tell them myself.” She paused, then said, “Thanks.” 

She pulled the blanket aside with a flutter, glad that the motion hid her face at that instant—hid the gentle smile that had crept onto it. 

“You’re surprisingly…considerate, Orcbolg.” 

“…Is that so?” Goblin Slayer murmured. Then he said, “Do it quickly. I want the other girls to change as well.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” 

She couldn’t see his face—and yet, High Elf Archer thought she knew what his expression was. 

That was enough for her. 

§ 

“Nobody there.” 

“All right.” 

When High Elf Archer popped her head back inside the door and delivered her report, the party quickly moved out of the basement prison. 

The nauseating smell of goblin is not a pleasant thing. The stone castle was not a great deal less rank than the underground room, but somewhat, and Priestess took deep, grateful breaths. 

“Is it really…okay to leave those people there?” she whispered. 

“Safer than bringing them to stumble along behind us, I can only think,” Lizard Priest said. 

Fortunately—or perhaps, as it were, unfortunately—they found several captive girls, wasted but alive. They had freed the young women, but as Lizard Priest said, it was impossible to bring them along. 

And as important as he knew time and miracles were to the party, the fact that they had been unable even to heal the young women… 

“We have to get back there and help them as soon as we can,” Priestess said, looking back regretfully. 

“Right now I’m wondering if we can even help ourselves,” Dwarf Shaman muttered, feeling his way along the stone wall. 

He was the one leading the party along. The stone fortress had no chinks or cracks, truly the work of dwarves. When pitted against some attacking bandits, the work of those craftsmen was going to tell. 

The party walked along in formation now, with High Elf Archer scanning for enemies and Dwarf Shaman charting the way forward. 

“Anyway, Beard-cutter, where d’you plan to go? Are we heading for the main keep?” 

“No,” Goblin Slayer said, shaking his head. “It’s still too early to attack the enemy leader.” 

“…” 

Noble Fencer shivered at the calm declaration. To prevent any repeats of her earlier outburst, she was now second from the last; Priestess stood with her. 

Ever since receiving High Elf Archer’s brief but heartfelt apology, Noble Fencer had said very little. 

“Never seen a blade quite like that,” Dwarf Shaman had said to her. “It looks like quite a piece of work—but what’s that metal?” 

Then, and only then, she had murmured in response, “………Aluminum…… The blade was forged from a red gem with a lightning-hammer.” 

“Aluminum, is it? Can’t say I’ve ever heard of it. Mind if I have a look?” 

Instead of an answer, she shot him a glare of refusal. Dwarf Shaman only shrugged. 

“Hmm,” Goblin Slayer grunted. “Let us head for their storehouse first.” 

“Armory, or food?” 

“Both. But let’s start with the weapons.” 

“Right this way, then.” 

The party advanced through the stronghold like shadows, without a sound. Nobody in the group had ever carried too much in the way of noisy equipment. Only Priestess and Goblin Slayer were even wearing metal armor, and in Priestess’s case it was only thin mail. Goblin Slayer was wearing mail along with his leather armor. 

The only sounds in the corridor now were the shushing footsteps of fur boots, and each of them breathing. 

The adventurers brought their formation together so that they were walking in a line. They were alert for traps, keeping an eye on the area around them as well as on their companions, but they weren’t nervous, and they never let their guard down. 

After all, of the six adventurers there, four of them were of Silver, the third rank. Navigating labyrinths came as naturally to them as breathing. 

“…Something’s coming,” High Elf Archer said, stopping where she stood with her ears bobbing. She crouched down and pulled out her great bow, readying an arrow and drawing it back. She was aiming at the corner just ahead. 

Without a word, Goblin Slayer reached for the sword at his hip, moving out in front of Dwarf Shaman. From his new position in the order, the spell caster reached into his bag of catalysts, while Priestess gripped her sounding staff. Lizard Priest swished his tail and looked easily back over his shoulder; Noble Fencer ground her teeth. 

At last they heard two sets of defenseless footsteps approaching the corner. 

“…” 

There was only the slightest whisper of air as a bowstring was drawn. High Elf Archer’s arrow flew through space, piercing one goblin through the eye and pinning him to the wall. 

“GROOAB?!” At what must have seemed like the sight of his companion collapsing against the wall, the second goblin gave a cry of confusion. 

Before he ever processed what happened, a sword was growing from his throat. Goblin Slayer had thrown it at him without hesitation. 

“We have to hide the bodies,” he said. 

“If we have to go to all that trouble anyway, why didn’t we just hide in the first place?” High Elf Archer asked. 

“This is better than if they had found us and the sounds of battle had alerted anyone else to our presence.” 

He approached the corpses with his bold stride; he pressed a boot against the bodies and pulled out the sword and the arrow, tossing the latter to High Elf Archer. 

“Urgh,” she said as she caught it, as if now it suddenly bothered her; she wiped the blood off quickly. The blood of a wild animal might have been one thing, but goblin blood was not something to be tolerated. 

“How many spells and miracles do you have left?” Goblin Slayer asked, glancing at his companions. 

“Um…” Priestess tapped a pale finger against her lips in thought. “I haven’t used any at all, so I’ve got three left.” She counted on her fingers: Kindle they had used on the road, while Communicate they had needed upon entering the fortress. “The others have both used one each, so they each have three left, so… Nine altogether?” 

“Hey, now,” Dwarf Shaman said jovially. “You’re not counting our new friend there.” He pointed at Noble Fencer. 

She had been standing at a distance, ignoring their conversation as she stared intently at the goblin corpses, but now she muttered, “…Two more.” 

Is that all? Priestess wondered—meaning not her spells, but the words she was going to use. 

Priestess furrowed her brow but said, “Thank you very much,” with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. Noble Fencer, however, pointedly continued to look away, not so much as glancing in the party’s direction. 

“Hmmm…” A little mutter escaped from Priestess. The gesture reminded her of the apprentice girls at the Temple—specifically, it reminded her of the most troublesome ones. 

“Anyway, that’s eleven in all, isn’t it.” 

“Hmm. Certainly we aren’t anywhere near exhausting our resources,” Lizard Priest said. “I suppose you won’t mind if we make use of a charm here or there?” 

“No,” Goblin Slayer said. “Consider it nine spells.” 

“What’s this, then?” Lizard Priest said, blinking. “How did you get that number?” 

“We should preserve our two Lightning spells.” 

Noble Fencer shuddered at this. Her eyes, as clear as glass, fixed on Goblin Slayer. Her voice was thin and immensely quiet. 

“………Can I…kill goblins?” 

“If all goes well.” 

His words were so brief. Noble Fencer continued to gaze at the expressionless helmet, until finally, she gave a small nod. 

“We can’t kill any more goblins until we get rid of the ones we’ve already done in, right?” High Elf Archer, seeming to have ignored the discussion of spells and miracles, tapped one of the dead monsters with the arrow she was still holding. Despite the cold, they had only wrapped their hips and feet in fur. Crude spears were their weapons. It looked like they hardly possessed anything in the world. 

“Do you have some idea how to do it?” Goblin Slayer asked, rifling through his item pouch as he spoke. 

“An idea? Hmmm… Well… Oh!” Her ears jumped up eagerly. She beckoned to Dwarf Shaman with a gleam in her eyes like a mischievous child. “Dwarf, hand over your wine. The whole jug.” 

“Oh-ho.” Dwarf Shaman smiled, as if there was a joke afoot. “What’s the story, Long-Ears? Looking for a little liquid inspiration?” 

“Just pass it here, already.” 

“Yeah, all right. There’s some left still. Don’t drink it all.” 

“Don’t worry. I won’t drink it.” She pulled out the stopper with a pop and took a good sniff, frowning at the sharp smell of the spirits. “I promise, I won’t drink a drop.” And then she turned the bottle upside down and emptied the contents onto the floor. 

“Oh no!” Dwarf Shaman moaned as if the world were ending. That he didn’t simply scream was testament to his instincts as an adventurer. 

He did, however, look like he was going to bounce right off the ground up to High Elf Archer’s small chest as he grabbed for the jug. 

“Now look what you’ve done, you stupid, anvil-chested—” 

“I asked nicely, didn’t I? Now come on, this was necessary—we have to do what we have to do.” 

“How is it necessary?! How can it be what we have to do?! My—my wine!” 

“No, she’s helped us.” Goblin Slayer was already moving. He had guessed what High Elf Archer had in mind; now he wiped away the dripping blood with a rag and seated the corpses against the wall. He tilted the heads down so their wounds wouldn’t be obvious, and kicked the spear one of the goblins had dropped so that it rolled over to his side. 

“Hrrrrrrgh…!” whined Dwarf Shaman. 

“Heh! See? I helped. Oh, don’t worry. I’ll get you a new bottle later.” Looking quite pleased with herself, High Elf Archer set the wine jug next to the goblins. 

“Oh…!” Priestess said. Her eyes started to shine, and she nodded in understanding. “There isn’t a goblin alive who takes his work seriously, is there?” 

“That’s the idea,” the ranger replied. She winked and made a giggle deep in her throat. 

Now the corpses seemed to be nothing more than two drunk goblins. The strong smell of spirits would help mask the odor of blood. 

A couple of goblins who got to drinking while on guard duty and then fell asleep—surely it would be nothing remarkable. 

“If we can’t keep them secret, we can hide them in plain sight,” High Elf Archer said. 

“But why do we have to use my wine to do it?” Dwarf Shaman moaned, biting his nails with regret as he watched the liquid dribble along the stone floor. 

Lizard Priest gave him a hearty slap on the back. “Be not dismayed, I shall treat you as well. We will need to toast our ranger’s fine turn of mind.” 

Dwarf Shaman looked up at the priest with an unhappy grunt, but Lizard Priest rolled his eyes in his head. 

“Do you not think so, milord Goblin Slayer?” 

“I do.” He nodded. “Drinks will be on me.” 

After this offer, there was really no more room for complaint. Dwarf Shaman groaned and muttered again and finally let out a deep breath. 

“Hrm. Erm. Well… If Scaly and Beard-cutter both feel that way, then…” 

“Indeed,” Lizard Priest said. “But for now, we must hurry. Where is the armory?” 

“Sure, right. Over here.” Dwarf Shaman led the party off with a wave of his hand. 

Immediately beside him was High Elf Archer, chuckling triumphantly. 

“You long-eared, anvil-chested…! When we get back to the bar, you’re gonna treat me ’til your head spins!” 

“Yeah, whatever. I’ll keep you watered for as long as you like, so don’t get so angry.” 

And the argument went on. Priestess smiled to see them trading friendly jabs again. 

Thank goodness. 

In the basement earlier, there had been a real argument. It’s never a good feeling to see your comrades fight with each other. So now… 

I’m really, really glad. 

With that heartfelt thought in her mind, Priestess knelt down right where she was. She held her sounding staff in both hands, as if clinging to it. Lizard Priest looked at her and nodded. We’re going ahead, he seemed to be saying. 

Then Priestess closed her eyes, just as she always did. 

“………What are you doing?” 

The voice, quiet, came unexpectedly from beside her. 

“Oh, uh, I—well…” Priestess felt her heart beat faster, but she nodded without rising. “I’m praying for the repose of their souls… Although I’m doing it quickly, because we don’t have much time.” 

Suddenly, she felt her hand, wrapped around her sounding staff, grasped by that of Noble Fencer. Priestess looked mystified, but Noble Fencer shook her head firmly. 

“……That’s not necessary.” 

“Huh? But…” 

Before she could say that everyone is the same in death, Noble Fencer gave one of the bodies a vicious kick. The goblin, which had been leaning against the wall, slumped over onto the ground. 

“………It’s not necessary. Not…for…bastards…like these…!” 

Noble Fencer seemed to be working herself up to speak even more forcefully when it came: 

“Let’s go.” 

Low and sharp, blunt and dispassionate—just the way he always spoke. 

They looked up and found that the rest of the party had proceeded ahead into the fortress; only Goblin Slayer had remained behind with them. His sword and shield were at the ready, and his helmet turned slowly, scanning the area. 

Was he…waiting for us? 

Priestess did not, of course, ask the question aloud. She didn’t need to. 

He was always waiting for them. She had learned that well in the last year. 

“Okay… We’ll be right there.” Quickly, but with care, Priestess closed her eyes and prayed that the dead goblins would be well in the afterlife. She stood, dusting off her knees, then smiled at Noble Fencer. 

“Come on. Shall we go?” 

“………” 

Noble Fencer said nothing but averted her eyes, and then she headed after the party at a stiff pace. 

Well, now. Her expression changing to a confused smile, Priestess scratched her cheek and shook her head. “Does she…dislike me?” 

“I don’t know.” Goblin Slayer shook his own head firmly, but then the helmet cocked curiously. “Do you wish to be friends with her?” 

“Hmm…” Now that the question came up, Priestess put a finger to her lips and looked at the ground and thought. 

I just…can’t seem to leave these people alone. 

The thought was rather, although not entirely, similar to one she frequently directed at the adventurer in front of her. 

She smiled, her expression like a blooming flower. 

“You know, I think I do.” 

“Is that so?” He nodded. “Then you should do so.” 

That was all Goblin Slayer said before he turned and walked off. Her “I will!” followed after him. 

Ahead, down the dark tunnel, their companions waited for them. 

The armory was not far away now. 

§ 

Even goblins are smart enough to lock a door. Including the huge metal one they found in one corner of the stone labyrinth. There was even a step stool placed nearby, the knob being out of reach of the diminutive goblins. 

“Right, time to switch,” Dwarf Shaman said. 

High Elf Archer stepped up to try herself against the door. “Sure, just leave it to me…is what I’d like to say, but I’m not sure I’m that confident…” 

First, she scraped the surface of the door with a bud-tipped arrow she drew from her quiver. Confirming that there was nothing there, she perked up her big ears, listening for any sound inside the room. 

She didn’t hear anything moving. Given how dank and polluted this goblin hideout was, it was surprising not to hear so much as a rat scurrying around. Goblins no doubt found rodents to be good snacks—a subject she didn’t want to think about, although she had to admit she was grateful for the fact. 

“I’m pretty sure there’s nothing inside… I think,” she said. 

“Open it,” Goblin Slayer instructed. “Destroy the door if you need to.” 

“In the worst case, we might,” Lizard Priest said. He brought his hands together in a strange gesture, then took out a dragon fang that could act as a catalyst. “We wouldn’t want any goblins sneaking up behind, so we shall act as guards.” 

“Right you are,” Dwarf Shaman responded, and the three men circled up around the women. 

High Elf Archer pulled a branch as thin as a needle from somewhere in her outfit and began looking for the keyhole. Her movements were small but fairly clumsy. She was a ranger, not by any means a thief or a scout. An adventurer in town had taught her simple trap disarmament and how to pick a lock—along with a touch of gambling. Granted, all of these had been very useful in satisfying her own curiosity… 

“Careful now, okay?” She glanced to the side as she worked, clicking her tongue. “If you stand right next to me like that, you might get caught by any trap that goes off.” 

“But I’ll also be able to give you first aid right away,” Priestess said with a cheerful smile. She had sat smack on the ground right next to High Elf Archer. She had a firm grip on her sounding staff so that she could start praying at a moment’s notice. 

“Honestly, I wish I had the Precog or Luck miracles.” 

Her concern for her friend High Elf Archer was only half the reason. The other half was disappointment about her own powerlessness. 

“Well, it’s not your fault. It’s the deity who decides which miracles you get, right?” 

It was kind of High Elf Archer to point this out, but not being able to do anything to help still stung. 

Maybe the elf had a sense of what was going through Priestess’s mind, because with a trickle of nervous sweat, she said, “We really could use an actual scout here…” 

“Mm,” Priestess said, “but you’re so kind as to seek out traps and pick locks for us anyway…” 

We’re counting on you, okay? 

At that, High Elf Archer’s ears flicked modestly. 

Now, she was going to have to concentrate. Goblins might not be smart enough to build very subtle traps, but a dwarf fortress left over from the Age of the Gods might be home to more tricks than what the little devils had put there themselves. 

A keyhole that sprayed poison gas, or a doorknob that grew unbearably hot were the best things they could hope for. Some doors would erase the memory of anyone who used them without intoning the proper spell. 

And whether such brutal fates awaited them or not, the goblins’ cruelty was a matter of some renown… 

“……” 

High Elf Archer glanced back over her shoulder. Noble Fencer was staring vacantly into space. 

Is she really okay? 

No, of course she wasn’t okay. High Elf Archer knew she couldn’t imagine what awful things that girl had been through. It was a miracle she had kept her sanity. 

Ahh, no time for that now. Concentrate, concentrate! 

She bit her lip, focusing on her fingers as they checked the keyhole. 

After a few minutes, she felt something give, and the lock unlatched with a clack. 

“…Phew. Got it.” 

“Good work” were the only words Goblin Slayer said. Even as the elf chuckled and puffed out her chest, he raised up his leg and gave the door a solid kick. 

There was no reaction. 

“Seems safe enough.” Lizard Priest all but slithered his way to the front of the group. Kicking the door open just in case there was anything inside was a tactic as old as time. 

“Well, of course it’s safe. I checked it, didn’t I?” 

“You told us yourself that you didn’t know what you were doing,” Dwarf Shaman growled, following after the triumphant High Elf Archer. 

Goblin Slayer, who had continued to watch the hallway after breaking in the door, nodded at Priestess. 

“Oh, light,” she said. “Coming right up.” 

“Thank you.” 

She grabbed a torch out of her bag and lit it as she had done so many times before. 

A goblin fortress. Deep at night, a blizzard howling all around; not even the light of the stars reached them. Goblins could see well in the dark, so these conditions didn’t bother them, but not so humans. At the very least, they would need fire while they explored the storehouses… 

“There, got it.” 

“……” 

Priestess let out a breath, a red flame dancing on the torch in her hand. It wavered as her exhalation passed over it. 

Then she turned and walked up to Noble Fencer, who was looking at her intently. 

“Hold on to this, okay?” 

“Hold on to…what…?” 

Noble Fencer was surprised to find herself spoken to; she didn’t seem to think Priestess could possibly mean her. But Priestess insisted, calmly and quietly, “The torch. Look after it, okay?” 

“……” 

Noble Fencer didn’t say anything, just stared at the proffered light, but Priestess took her hand and wrapped it around the base of the torch. 

Noble Fencer shuddered to see a flame before her very eyes. As she looked around hesitantly, Priestess thought she saw, at the same time, a frightened little girl. 

“……” 

The young woman opened her mouth; a little sound escaped her as if she were trying to say something, and then she held the torch with both hands, looking into the flame. 

“………I understand.” 

That was all she said, in a whisper, and then she scuttled into the storeroom. 

The hallway fell dark once more. Priestess, however, could feel a smile creeping across her face. 

Goblin Slayer walked up beside her at his usual, almost violent pace. 

“Why did you ask her to hold it?” 

“Just…a hunch.” 

The question was rather sharp, but Priestess’s answer was gentle. By now she could tell from his voice that he wasn’t angry. 

“I thought she must be feeling…well, bored, and I didn’t want that.” 

“Is that so?” 

I assume you’ve got a plan anyway… 

So much Priestess thought but didn’t say. 

To be suddenly thrown into somewhere new, scurrying from place to place. To stand around staring vacantly, not sure what you’re supposed to do. That—that was something Priestess understood all too well. She was an orphan who had been raised in the Temple, after all. An abandoned child. 

“Didn’t you notice?” 

“Notice what?” 

“When I gave her that torch, she was a little embarrassed.” 

“Is that so…?” 

With that mutter, Goblin Slayer and Priestess headed into the storehouse. 

A moldy smell made their noses prickle, and dust threatened to make them sneeze. They closed the door behind them. Immediately, Dwarf Shaman jumped toward the hinges, pounding the pins into place. 

“Normally, I’d leave it open,” he said with a shrug, replacing the peg and hammer in his bag. “But we wouldn’t want any nasty little monsters sneaking up behind us, now, would we?” 

“Truly spoken, but now if the enemy should appear in front of us, our escape will be blocked behind.” 

Someone let up a great guffaw then, but whether it was Lizard Priest or Dwarf Shaman, no one was quite sure. 

“Stop it already.” High Elf Archer frowned, but Priestess joined in the chorus of laughter. 

Only Goblin Slayer and Noble Fencer were silent. The young woman still held the torch, raising it slowly above her head. Every movement of the flame produced dancing shadows. In the unsteady light, Goblin Slayer examined the equipment in the storehouse. 

“For an armory…” As he spoke, he casually reached into a nearby barrel and pulled something out. It was a crude pickax, cheap-looking, covered in mud and rust, obviously well used. A glance also revealed spades scattered about, and other tools good for moving earth. “…there isn’t much in the way of arms or armor.” 

“You don’t think they’re just digging holes? They’re goblins, after all.” High Elf Archer sounded totally disinterested. She couldn’t have cared less about arms or armor. Instead, she had her ears up, listening carefully for footsteps from outside. 

“Or perhaps they are digging for something, mining.” Lizard Priest reached out, a lazy sweep of his tail stirring the air. He picked up a spear that had fallen carelessly among the pickaxes and said, “If this so-called goblin paladin exists, I assume he has more in mind than simply enlarging his nest.” 

“Makes good sense to me,” Dwarf Shaman said, looking around, but he didn’t sound happy about it. The place might have been dirty, but the stonework still boasted the delicate touch of the dwarves; no average person could have imitated it. “This is a dwarven fortress. There must at least be ore deposits around.” 

“But,” Goblin Slayer said, “do goblins know how to forge swords?” 

What could they possibly be digging for? Nobody had an answer. 

The shadow of the goblin paladin, the enemy whose face they did not yet know, loomed over all of them. 

Even Goblin Slayer was at a loss for an answer here. Who else would be able to fathom what he couldn’t? 

“Whatever the case…,” Priestess murmured, grasping her sounding staff as if to push back the oppressive atmosphere. When she found she could get those first few words out of her mouth, the courage to continue welled up. “Whatever the case, if these goblins are planning something, we can’t just leave them here.” 

Her resolute words produced nods of agreement from the other adventurers. 

“We have to do something about these weapons and equipment, too…” 

“Ahh, leave that to me,” Lizard Priest said. “I’ve a little spell for moments like these.” 

He scattered some dragon fangs and made a strange hand gesture, bringing his palms together. 

“Well, t’aint to be helped,” Dwarf Shaman whispered at this. “Mm. You, girl.” 

“…! …?” 

Noble Fencer, who had been entirely focused on carrying the torch, jumped and made a half-voiced sound in answer. She looked at Dwarf Shaman’s beard, which he stroked; he gave a small grunt and then indicated the nearby equipment with a jerk of his chin. 

“Lend me a hand. We’re gonna bring out some of those weapons.” Then, as if he already knew exactly what he was looking for, Dwarf Shaman reached into the pile of mismatched equipment and pulled out a sword. “Beard-cutter ain’t exactly kind to his toys. And you’ll never get by with just that dagger.” 

There was a grunt—from Goblin Slayer, of course. “I believe I use my equipment appropriately.” 

“Heh-heh!” It would have been possible to take the quiet chuckle for annoyance, but in fact it was just High Elf Archer laughing. 

For her part, Noble Fencer took a second to register that she had been asked to help. But when it sank in, she quickly started gathering up equipment. A sword, a spear, a club… This was all goblin equipment. But even so, she was not a large person. She might have been a warrior, but there was a limit to how much she could carry. And on top of that… 

“I don’t think a goblin chest plate is going to fit you,” Dwarf Shaman declared. 

Noble Fencer’s generous bust was more than could be contained by the found chest armor. 

Looking on from one side, High Elf Archer gave a little snort and suggested peevishly, “Just give it a good push, why don’t you? Squeeze it in there.” 

“Y’long-eared lout! A girl with an anvil for a chest might not know it, but armor that doesn’t fit is more liability than help!” 

Dwarf Shaman ignored High Elf Archer’s reply of Who’s an anvil?!, instead staring at Noble Fencer. 

She could use both a blade and magic, and she was wearing light armor that allowed her to make the most of both. At the moment, the only weapon she had was a dagger. Not the sort of thing that would make someone a company’s main source of firepower. 

“Best start with a sword, then…” 

“…!” 

Noble Fencer frowned noticeably at this and backed away from Dwarf Shaman. 

“Hmm?” 

“……I don’t……” 

Her voice was so soft. Dwarf Shaman looked at her curiously; she glared at his beard. 

“……I don’t need……” 

“……” 

“…I don’t need…a weapon…!” 

Her voice was still quiet, but there was an unmistakable note of anger. Her otherwise expressionless face began to crumple. 

“Hmm.” Dwarf Shaman, perhaps a bit taken aback, blinked and fingered his beard. Then he smiled broadly, as if he had just eaten a delicious meal. “I see, I see! So you’re not interested in gear. Excellent! Now that’s the beginning of a friendship!” 

“……” 

Now it was Noble Fencer’s turn to be lost for words. 

As she stood there blinking at him, Dwarf Shaman went on as if it were the most obvious thing in the world: “How are you going to get along, not being able to say the things you want to say? Hmm? 

“At least outerwear, then,” he muttered, pawing through the contents of the storehouse. 

It might have all been goblin light armor there, but it was also mostly stolen. Everything was covered in dirt and grime, but it could all stand up to practical use. 

A leather overgarment. Steel-reinforced gloves. Maybe a little something metal to protect the head… 

“…? …?!” 

Noble Fencer was totally flummoxed to find herself swept along, Dwarf Shaman equipping her with first one thing and then another. No race could outdo the dwarves when it came to evaluating the quality of weapons and armor. 

This, then that, first one thing, then another. Equipment on, equipment off, new equipment, until her head was spinning. 

“Hey now, take it easy, okay? Don’t do everything at once…” Priestess offered this half-hearted attempt to save Noble Fencer, but she didn’t sound very hopeful. 

She somehow came across like an older sister… Or maybe more precisely, someone who was trying very hard to act like one. She put her hands on her hips and wagged her finger, repeating, “Come on, stop.” She was trying to sound severe but not doing a very good job. “You’re only causing trouble for her.” 

“Hrm…” Dwarf Shaman grunted, then looked into Noble Fencer’s face. “Am I causing you trouble?” 

For a long while, Noble Fencer didn’t say anything, trying to look anywhere but at the dwarf. Silence. Then more silence. Then finally: “…………A little.” 

“See?” Priestess said, trying to conceal a smile. 

“Well, goodness gracious, pardon me,” Dwarf Shaman said, also trying not to grin. The way his mouth curved up a little anyway was rather charming. 

He gathered the equipment together and hefted it on his back quite nimbly despite his small size. Then he glanced at the young woman. 

“I’m not done saying my piece yet, though. Beard-cutter there, he’s something else, you understand?” 

“Not counting his weird streak,” High Elf Archer said with a giggle she couldn’t hold in. “Orcbolg never says anything but ‘Is that so?’ and ‘That’s right’ and ‘Goblins.’” 

She glanced at Goblin Slayer, who was leaning against the wall in a sullen silence, and gave a catlike smile. 

Priestess offered another one of her It’s hopeless looks and said, “He is who he is.” 

Finally, Goblin Slayer couldn’t restrain himself from saying, “Is that so?” 

It was no bad thing for a group of adventurers like this, deep in the heart of danger, to find the ability to laugh—even if such was not one of the precepts Goblin Slayer commonly articulated. 

If being serious is the way to win, he’ll be serious, Priestess thought. But if it’s not, well…it would be better if he could relax a bit… 

“I’m sure milord Goblin Slayer is quite acquainted with his own habits. Now, then.” That was Lizard Priest, his hissing breath bringing the impromptu roast to a close at just the right moment. He slapped his tail once on the floor, then looked around at the group. “Is all in readiness?” 

“I suppose we can save the gibes for later. All set, Scaly.” 

“Mm.” The lizard nodded somberly, then made his strange hand gesture. 

“O my forebears who sleep under layers of rock, with all the time that has piled upon you, guide these objects.” 

No sooner had he spoken than the dragon fangs scattered on the floor began to boil away. 

And then, behold: the weapons and equipment began to rust and deteriorate before their very eyes, starting with whatever was exposed to the air. 

“W-wow…” Priestess had heard tell of this ability, but it was considered to be an evil miracle and so not often seen. “Is this the Rust miracle…?” 

“Ah, you know it?” Lizard Priest seemed both surprised and interested by her question. “Indeed it is. Destroying objects with Weathering takes rather too long.” 

“I’ve never actually seen it myself. What about our items?” 

“It won’t affect us. Though this isn’t a prayer I would often call upon in battle.” 

Priestess felt a rush of relief at that. The thin mail she wore under her vestments was important to her. 

I know it’s a consumable, but still. 

“It takes a good deal of time to prepare, but is useful at times like this,” Lizard Priest explained to her, swishing his tail as if he was rather pleased with himself. “Ahem. So we have freed the prisoners down below and destroyed our foes’ equipment. I believe everything has gone to plan so far, has it not, milord Goblin Slayer?” 

“Yes,” Goblin Slayer said, nodding slowly. He took a waterskin out of his item bag, uncorked it, and drank between the slats of his helmet. “However, we must not let down our guard. There’s no telling what may happen.” 

That, of course, was something all the adventurers here were fully aware of. No one in this world knew whether it was fate or chance that controlled the dice the gods rolled. 

The possibility of the unexpected was precisely what made it an adventure.