Chapter 7 – After Session-A New Dawn
“All riiiiight! We made it another year without dying!” It was near dawn, and Guild Girl’s excited voice rang through the crowded tavern. “To thank the gods of fate and chance, order and chaos—let’s have lots of fun today!”
“Haaaaaappy New Year!” the adventurers cried with a great shout; they raised their cups and toasted and drank.
Truly an inspiring sight.
All the adventurers in town were gathered at the Guild tavern, practically overflowing from the place. Today, the long winter was finally over, and the new year was beginning, moving all and sundry to raise their voices.
“I’m telling you, I did all kinds of things this past year!”
“So, you did.”
Spearman was busy enumerating his many brave deeds, muttering into his drink. Beside him, the voluptuous Witch gave a sensuous smile.
“I beat the crap out of stuff with my spear, I slayed a bunch of monsters, even got some experience with magic.”
“I am, most aware.”
“And that’s why you shouldn’t compare me to some weirdo with a goblin fixation!”
“Sure, sure. You did indeed, work hard.”
Over at the next table, Heavy Warrior’s party teased their leaders about their budding romance.
“And so it’s all, You oughta settle down yourself!”
“Y-yeah. Wait. Are you talking about the letter your mother sent you the other day?”
“‘How can you call yourself a good child, leaving your parents home and worried about you?’ she says!”
“Er, y-you know my parents are gone.”
“…Hey, are you listening to me?”
“Yeah, yeah, sure we are. Will somebody do something about this drunk?”
“You’re our leader’s bride. Come on, do something already.”
“Seconded!”
“Hurry up and take responsibility. The rest of us can’t handle him.”
“I will not forsake my vow as a righteous paladin of Order!”
“Damn it all, ain’t anybody know how to listen around here?!”
At length, somebody with a talent for stringed instruments was moved to pluck out a tune. Everyone in the room began to hum along to the endlessly carefree requiem.
O adventurer,
what tragedy that you should die.
Scant space there is on a tombstone.
O adventurer, your name I do not know,
but though you have not left it to us,
O adventurer, if you call me friend—
O my friend,
what tragedy that you should die.
People claim there are many hedonists among adventurers. Those who pay no mind to tomorrow, heeding neither the future nor the past.
But that isn’t precisely true.
Many adventurers who have survived for very long are realists. They recognize that one may chase one’s dream, may use every means available, yet may die without reaching it.
How foolish, then, to regret anything: be it small mistakes, a failed adventure, or the death of one’s friends.
If one cannot meet these things with a smile and move on, then what hope is there?
“You humans do love a ruckus, don’t you?” High Elf Archer eyed the celebration from her spot at a corner table. “End of the year, start of the year, middle of the year… Give you half a chance and you’ll be drinking and shouting. You’re worse than the dwarves.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing, Long-Ears.” Dwarf Shaman, holding a roasted chicken with both hands, was in high spirits. How could he be otherwise? The New Year’s celebration was larded with every kind of delicious food and wine aplenty. There was nothing better for a dwarf.
“Who said it was a bad thing? It is the new year, after all.” High Elf Archer winked at Dwarf Shaman, then sipped her drink. The cup in her hand contained grape wine, to which she had added sugar.
She looked around the table, taking in her companions. “So. What are you going to do?”
“…Right.” Noble Fencer nodded, almost imperceptibly. Her honey-colored hair was just starting to grow out again; it reached her shoulders now. A little more and it would cover the scar at the nape of her neck. “…I intend to…to meet with my parents, talk things over with them.”
Her face was still dark, but she managed a slight smile. She had changed into simple clothing by no means suited to an adventure, but her weapons remained at her hip. Her armaments consisted, of course, of two aluminum blades, one short and one long. As long as she had them, all would be well. Her fingers brushed them gently.
“…I want to make graves for my friends, too. Then I’ll decide where I go next.”
“Sounds good to me,” High Elf Archer said. “Family and friends are both really important.”
“The Age of Ice has long since passed, the chalk layer is long buried, and the time of my forebears distant, but their blood is here.” The somber words Lizard Priest murmured sounded like some kind of prayer. Then he opened his jaws wide and inhaled a piece of cheese.
Nectar! Sweet nectar! He lashed his tail and squinted his eyes at the richness of it, chewing eagerly and swallowing it down before finally taking a breath.
“Every blood member of your tribe may not be a good person, but I agree that it is best to value our relations.”
“…Yes. Um, about that.” This seemed to be the push Noble Fencer needed. She couldn’t quite bring herself to look up, blushing slightly and shifting in her seat as she said, “…I’ll… I’ll write to you. Letters…”
Those were, in the end, the only words she said.
“Yes, please,” Priestess responded immediately. “Any time you have anything to tell us, don’t hesitate to write.” She had been at the Temple for a ceremony marking the passing of the year, after which she had taken a bath, so she was now pleasantly warm. She took Noble Fencer’s hand in hers and held it firmly. “I’ll write back to you, lots and lots!” she promised.
“…Right. A lot. I’ll write plenty to you, too.”
“Oh, me too!” High Elf Archer interjected. “I’ve always wanted to try writing a letter to a friend.”
The three girl adventurers chatted away happily. Two more women watched them, smiling: Guild Girl, who had sneaked to their table for a breather, and Cow Girl, whom she’d gestured over.
“Hee-hee-hee. Quite friendly, aren’t they?” Guild Girl said.
“They sure are! Maybe I’ll write a letter, too.” Cow Girl was leaning on the table (apparently the celebratory atmosphere had convinced her not to stand on ceremony), her huge chest squished against the surface. “I don’t get a lot of chances to meet other girls my age, working on the farm.”
“You don’t meet a lot more of them working at the Guild, believe me.” Guild Girl put some pepper on the stir-fried liver she’d ordered as a side dish and brought it to her mouth, nodding. “Plus, we’re officially discouraged from getting too close to the adventurers.
“Not that that stops us,” she added with a mischievous wink.
The five women were only tenuously connected, but they bonded immediately. Time and friendship are often thus.
But this meant that the men, of whom there were only two, were grievously outnumbered.
“I could wish milord Goblin Slayer had joined us tonight,” Lizard Priest said quietly.
“You said it,” Dwarf Shaman replied. “Beard-cutter needs to have more of these opportunities.” He rested his chin on his hands but then snapped his fingers as if he had had a wonderful idea. “I’ve got it. That’ll be one of my resolutions for the coming year.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” High Elf Archer said, giggling at the men’s dispirited exchange. “I guess he’s an exception anyway. Orcbolg doesn’t seem to be much for festivals and celebrations and merrymaking.”
Indeed, the adventurer called Goblin Slayer was not to be seen anywhere in the tavern. Priestess stretched her little body to look around, but there was no sign of him. “You’re right, even though he seems to be able to hold his liquor perfectly well. Where is Goblin Slayer anyway?”
“Ahh…”
“Hmm…”
Guild Girl and Cow Girl made strained noises and refused to say anything further, but exchanged a meaningful glance.
“As his childhood friend, I’m sure you don’t want to budge…”
“Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha. It would be a lie to say I’m eager.” Cow Girl laughed, took a sip of her drink, and nodded once. “But maybe… Maybe just this year, I will.”
“Maybe so. He said he wouldn’t go to the fair.”
Priestess was thoroughly flummoxed by this enigmatic but seemingly significant conversation. As she looked on in confusion, Cow Girl noisily pulled out a box from beside her.
“Well, maybe we can ask you to deliver a message for us, then. Okay?”
“A message?”
“Yep.”
“Uh, I don’t mind, but…”
“Hold on. Is that…a boxed meal?” High Elf Archer, her long ears jumping, leaned in and peeked at the box, full of curiosity. “Bread, soup… If you need someone to go outside, I could do it.”
“No, Miss Elf, I think you have plenty of chances,” Guild Girl said with an ambiguous smile.
“Huh? I don’t know what you’re talking about, but if you say so…”
“I do,” Guild Girl said to the suspicious forest dweller, taking a draught of her drink.
High Elf Archer drained her newly refilled cup, her ears bouncing all the while. The warmth of the wind spread through her body, and as her mood improved, she began feeling more generous.
“Sure, fine,” she said. “I don’t mind, whatever you say.”
“You’re it, then,” Cow Girl said to Priestess, bowing her head with a mixture of regret and apology.
“R-right. Um, okay, then. Where should I deliver it?”
“Well, if he’s doing what he usually does, then—”
§
Isolated from the frontier town, distant even from the farm, was a sprawling field.
A snowy wind blew freely there, with nothing to block it.
There was only a small tent and a single flickering bonfire.
The horizon was dark; it was a new day, but dawn was still far off.
A man sat next to the fire. Suddenly, he looked up, as if he had just noticed something.
“There are no goblins. You may come out.”
“……That’s no way to talk to a lady.”
With a rustle, Priestess walked out of the bushes, answering Goblin Slayer’s summons. She had walked half an hour from town, and now she held her frozen hands toward the fire with a sigh of relief. She was wearing a poncho to ward off the cold, but it was still a winter night.
“Just what are you doing out here?”
“I’m on guard.” His answer was every bit as succinct as she expected. “Most people are at New Year’s celebrations. Goblins may take the opportunity for a retaliatory attack on us.”
Come to think of it, he said about the same thing during the harvest festival, didn’t he?
The flash of the revived memory left Priestess with an unpleasant premonition, and she found she couldn’t help asking:
“Perchance, do you do this every year?”
“Don’t ask silly questions.”
“S-sure. Right.”
“New Year’s Eve comes every year.”
Oh, for… This impossible, impossible man.
By now, Priestess was well aware of what was going on. The delivery she had been asked to make—food in a little box—made perfect sense, too. Cow Girl and Guild Girl knew just what he was up to; they were worried and wanted someone to check on him.
“I do this every year. There’s no problem.”
“Yes, there is!”
“Is that so?”
Despite his friends’ worries, Goblin Slayer himself seemed utterly unconcerned, sitting by his fire and staring into the darkness. Everyone else was back in town, living it up on New Year’s Eve, and he was here, all alone.
“I can’t believe it. You’ve even set up a camp. You’re sleeping out here…”
“The harvest festival was attacked. There are no guarantees it won’t happen again.”
For goodness’ sake… That only happened once, and yet he’s talking like he’s already caught a goblin!
There was simply nothing more Priestess could say.
The wind picked up. Snow began falling again, little flakes darting through the silence.
Unexpectedly, there came a quiet murmur from Goblin Slayer. “…I’ve spent ten years slaying goblins.”
Ten years.
Priestess could only blink at the thought.
In all the time they had known each other, she had never really asked him what had happened to him, back…before.
How many days, how many hours, had he expended on the killing of goblins?
“That is why I can stand against them so capably. But… I cannot promise that the goblins will never evolve.”
His speech was slow and measured. He filled in the pauses in his words by poking at the fire. The flames, which had begun to burn low with the cold, sprang back to brilliant life.
“Do you know what the goblin paladin was planning?”
“No…”
“Metalworks. A refinery.”
A gust of wind sent snow spiraling around them.
“That’s impossible…,” Priestess said. When she spoke, she found her voice was shaking more than she expected. It must have been because she was cold. It was winter, and snow was falling. Surely that was it.
“Yes. But I can think of nothing else,” Goblin Slayer said, dropping his gaze to the fire. The glow of the flames cast strange shadows on his helmet. “A dwarven fortress. Mining tools. And that girl’s aluminum sword. It was forged from a jewel, by lightning. Meaning…”
He didn’t have to finish his thought. Priestess understood.
A blade forged with lightning from a red gem…
Goblins rarely if ever conceived of making anything themselves. If they needed lightning, they would simply steal it.
From some stupid spell caster–adventurer, say.
They would capture a wizard, break her spirit, and then force her to cast spells until she died. With that, a goblin army in possession of metal would be born. They would be clad in armor, their heads protected by helmets; they would wield swords and shields.
True, the idea could be dismissed as nothing more than an obsessive fantasy. There were too many uncertain elements. For example, what had really been a part of the goblins’ plans? Had it begun with the intention to capture Noble Fencer? Or did it reach back to when they first made the dwarven fortress their base? Still…
“Is it fate or chance that moves the events of this world? Even the gods don’t know…”
The words that spilled suddenly from Priestess’s mouth were the truth indeed. Just what influenced the dice rolled by the gods in the heavens above? That was a huge mystery.
It’s a question we can’t answer no matter how much we think about it.
As pointless as trying to count the number of goblins in the world.
“I don’t know how much or how long I can prove opponent for them. But I will not relent.”
And yet, this person, this man, was spending his life attempting exactly that.
“For… For crying out loud!” Priestess let out a breath and smacked herself on her cold, stiff cheeks. “It’s always goblins, goblins, goblins. The minute you open your mouth, that’s all you talk about.”
“Erk…”
“You have to relax once in a while, or you’ll run your body and soul into the ground.” Priestess put her hands on her hips and looked away from him like a pouting child. It was partly in jest, partly to tease, and partly deliberate. “I suppose you think goblin slaying is more important than enjoying yourself with your friends.”
“…No.”
“See? Just what I thought. It’s New Year’s Eve! You could at least—”
…No?
“Wha?”
Caught totally off guard by this impossible word, Priestess looked him square in the face. As square as she could anyway, with him wearing his helmet as always. She couldn’t even see his face.
Yet, somewhere behind that visor, she thought she could just glimpse a red eye…
“I confess, parties are not my strong suit,” he said. “But I’m glad everyone enjoys celebrating.”
Sheesh.
Priestess let out a long sigh. The white smoke climbed up into the heavens.
They budged for me, so I could be here…
“Silly man… A warrior, all by yourself? You should at least have someone on backup to help you.”
“……It’s cold.”
“I know.”
“I see.”
Her short answer had evoked a short response. All the same, he moved aside to make room for her closer to the fire.
Priestess slid her small body in beside him, spreading her poncho so it covered both of them.
“Well, then, that’s that. Let’s have something to eat, why don’t we? It’ll help us keep our strength through till morning.”
They were close. They had been closer before sometimes, on adventures, yet somehow she found herself feeling shy.
She looked away from him and busied herself putting a stew pot over the fire, stirring it. A sweet aroma billowed from it, and Priestess deliberately focused her attention on the smell.
“Looks like it’s stew. I’ll warm it up.”
“I see.” A pause. Then: “…Oh, that’s right. There’s something I meant to say.”
“What’s that?”
Goblin Slayer smiled, just slightly.
“I look forward to another year of adventuring with you.”
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