Goblin Slayer - Volume 6 - Chapter 1

Chapter 1 – An Ordinary Spring Day

The season had arrived when a pleasant wind blew from the east.

The cold had been driven out, leaving only a refreshing chill in the air, and the sunshine was gentle and warm.

The field of daisies about a half-day’s walk from the frontier town was equally pleasurable.

It was a rolling plain, full of rich grass dotted with shrubs—nothing else. The road stretched on past it, and given the distance from village to village, town to town, it was nice to know there was a decent camping site available.

Just one thing—or rather, one person—moved through that field.

It was a strange adventurer. He wore grimy leather armor and a cheap- looking helmet; at his hip was a sword of a strange length, and a small, round shield was tied to his left arm. Even a novice would have better equipment than what he carried.

He walked the road in silence; when he came to the field, his bold, nonchalant stride carried him violently through the shrubbery. His steps were as sure, as determined, as if he was following a sign. Right, left, through the grass—it could not have taken him more than five minutes, if that.

Then he stopped.

There still didn’t seem to be anything there.

But in the bushes, he heard a crinkling under the heel of his boot.

He knelt down and picked up the source of the noise. Ashes, of something utterly consumed by fire. He squeezed them between his fingers until they were nothing more than sooty marks on his gloves.

Something had burned here. Was it a tree? Human bones? That much remained unclear.

Impossible.

He shook his head as if sternly dismissing the possibility.

It’s been ten years already.

No human bones, no human ashes would still be recognizable after a decade lying exposed to the elements. And even if anything had lasted this long—whose remains would they be?

“…”

The wind gusted over the field. It was a warm and gentle wind announcing the changing of the seasons, the arrival of spring.

The grass rustled, tiny ripples running through it all along the hill. He heard the faint sound of running water. When he turned his head, he could see the lake, right where he remembered it.

Seized by a whim, he glanced up. The sky was staggeringly clear and blue; it seemed to spread out across the entire world. The faintly visible clouds were so thin it seemed like the colors had run.

“…And so what?”

He clapped his hands together brusquely, wiping off the soot. He knew these were not the remains of his older sister.

He knew what had become of her and what had become of her blood and flesh and bones.

He knew, too, that there used to be a village here.

And finally, he knew that plans had been made to build a training ground for adventurers on this spot.

“…Guess I’ll head back.”

There were only three other people who knew that he had lived in the village that once stood here.

It never occurred to Goblin Slayer to ask how the two people on the farm felt about this.

§

“Hee-hee-hee!”

Priestess smiled, in high spirits. The Adventurers Guild was busy all year round, but that liveliness redoubled in spring. Monsters awakened from hibernation and began to threaten villages, while adventurers who had been living off their savings during winter came out to work again. Nor was there any shortage of young men and women inspired by the fine weather to go forth and seek their fortunes.

“Next! Customer number fifteen, please come to reception window three!”

“Quest! I got a quest here! Cess-eaters in the sewers! Anyone have a few minutes to come and help?”

“Got your weapons and gear? Potions? Memorized all your spells? Got your five-foot pole? Great, let’s go!”

“Scuse me very much, but a bear done gone and wandered into our village. Yeah, a grizzly.”

Staff members rushed back and forth, adventurers shouted to one another, and quest givers explained what they needed. It wasn’t exactly a festive atmosphere, but there was no denying the buzz in the air.

Surrounded by this swirl of activity, Priestess couldn’t keep herself from beaming happily, her smile like a flower in bloom. She was seated squarely on the long bench that had become their de facto waiting area, holding her sounding staff and not remotely trying to hide how happy she felt.

Beside her, High Elf Archer was resting her chin in her hands and idly watching the crowd go by. She turned her gaze to Priestess.

“Someone’s in a good mood.”

“It’s because I’m starting my second year of adventuring now. I think it wouldn’t be strange for some of them to start calling me their senior!”

“Ahh, has it been that long already?”

“It sure has! Plus, I think I’ll be promoted from ninth rank to eighth any time now.” She puffed out her small chest triumphantly. Priestess was the youngest member of their party. High Elf Archer knew what that was like, being the youngest, and so her ears twitched sympathetically.

I guess I could get away with acting a bit like an older sister here.

“Maybe so, but don’t let it distract you. The back row has a crucial role to play, all right?” High Elf Archer shook her index finger gracefully as she chided Priestess.

“Yes, ma’am. I know.” Priestess nodded obediently.

High Elf Archer ran a hand through Priestess’s golden hair, working out the tangles. The younger girl giggled, and her eyes lit up happily. She really was like a sweet younger sister—although High Elf Archer had the sense that if she said such a thing aloud, Dwarf Shaman would never let her hear the end of it. Instead, she deliberately let her eyes wander around the bustling Guild Hall.

“It sure is busy, isn’t it?”

The place was full of people dying to be adventurers. Although…

Maybe dying isn’t quite the best word.

That didn’t sound very auspicious to High Elf Archer. How about people hoping to be adventurers? Yes, that was better. Hope was a good word.

Those hoping to become adventurers were lined up at the reception desk, a huge queue of them. There were wizards and warriors, monks and scouts, as well as people of every imaginable race, gender, and age. The two things they all shared were the passion burning in their eyes—and the equipment they wore.

From gear so new and unblemished it looked like there might still be a price tag attached, to old armor practically rusting through, the quality might have been low, but each and every piece was polished to a sparkle.

“Hmm,” High Elf Archer muttered, flicking her long ears. “I think they could learn a thing or two from Orcbolg.”

“Mr. Goblin Slayer isn’t fond of shiny things, is he?”

He can be rather difficult.

With that murmur, Priestess’s cheeks suddenly turned red, and she shifted uncomfortably.

“Something wrong?” High Elf Archer asked, but Priestess squeaked out, “No,” and looked away.

The elf cocked her head in befuddlement, but it didn’t take her long to put the pieces together. Perhaps it only made sense.

An advanced adventurer, accompanied by two unmistakably beautiful women. One of them a high elf, no less.

The periodic glances of the waiting candidates hadn’t been lost on her. “Whoa… What a couple of cuties…”

“Man, when I’m an adventurer, I’m definitely gonna be able to meet some girls like them, too.”

“An elf! Man, I wish I knew one…”

High Elf Archer gave a little snort. Did they think they could have a conversation that an elf wouldn’t hear? She wished they would be less interested in her race and show a little more admiration for the fact that she was a Silver-ranked adventurer.

“Last year, I was in that line…”

Unlike High Elf Archer, who had puffed out her flat chest in hopes of emphasizing the level tag hanging around her neck, Priestess had put a hand to her heart. She had a level tag, too—one that showed she had advanced from Porcelain to Obsidian, the tenth to the ninth rank. “There weren’t so many people then.”

She had been just like them, listening in amazement to the conversations around her.

A training ground that had been long in the works was finally to be unveiled. It was nominally in response to the attack by the goblin lord, but planning had gone slowly, and now that battle was a year distant.

The two girls standing there knew why things had suddenly started to move so quickly.

“Did you read the letter?” Priestess asked.

“You better believe I did!” High Elf Archer pulled the folded sheet out of a pocket. The crease was crisp; she must have read it many times.

“You carry it around with you?” “Don’t you? It’s a letter from a friend.”

“Mine’s in my room. I’ve entrusted it to the Earth Mother.”

Precisely because it’s from a friend, Priestess added internally, smiling shyly.

A friend. Namely Noble Fencer, a female adventurer with whom they had assaulted a goblin fortress in the north some months prior. The memory of her was still fresh in Priestess’s mind: Noble Fencer had lost her friends and been grossly abused herself, yet she had refused to break. And during that experience of coming face to face with death, something had apparently changed within her. After their adventure, Noble Fighter went back to the home she had effectively fled and told them everything.

Since that time, they had exchanged several letters.

“She said she’s starting a fund to support new adventurers,” said High Elf Archer. “That girl certainly wastes no time.”

“Yes indeed,” responded Priestess.

Noble Fighter’s letters informed them that she would be part of the fight not as an adventurer herself but as a supporter.

The neat, precise handwriting in the letters they received was so like her, it was impossible not to appreciate it. She wrote that she had been able to reconcile with her family and that she wanted to see Priestess, High Elf Archer, and the others again sometime.

“Still just as pigheaded as ever, isn’t she?” “Ha-ha…”

Despite High Elf Archer’s teasing remark, the care with which she folded the letter revealed how she really felt. She didn’t need to say it, for Priestess felt the same way.

Priestess and Noble Fencer had both experienced the brutality of goblins firsthand. For each of them, barely a roll of the dice separated perfectly timed salvation from destruction. And thus, Noble Fencer’s obstinacy was the greatest possible encouragement for Priestess.

It meant she wasn’t broken yet. That neither of them was.

“…A few lessons before you start out really makes such a difference,” Priestess mused.

“I dunno, I just think it wouldn’t matter all that much.”

Not that I’m trying to deny her tenacity. Priestess frowned in response, and High Elf Archer gave her a placating little wave before adding, “I mean, some people are gonna do stupid things no matter how many lessons you give them, y’know?”

“But without instruction, how will they know what they’re doing wrong?”

For instance… there really were so many instances in which novices could go wrong.

They could become so absorbed in chatting that they forgot to keep space between the front and back rows.

Or they might assume that they didn’t have to watch their rear just because they were in a tunnel.

And above all, they might take goblins too lightly.

On reflection, she could see how many lessons she had learned on that first adventure.

“Sure, I won’t argue with that,” High Elf Archer said. “It’s just…” She waved her hand again, perhaps not certain how to take Priestess’s gloomy expression. “Some people just don’t care to listen. Like…dwarves, for example.”

“Oh, I’m listening all right, Long-Ears,” grumbled a voice from behind the bench.

High Elf Archer gave a smile and a triumphant little snort. “I was hoping you were. It wouldn’t have been any fun otherwise.” She looked back over her shoulder at the bald-pated dwarven shaman grasping the back of the bench and glaring down at her. The slight flush in his cheeks suggested he had started in on the wine even though it was still morning—although that was perfectly normal for a dwarf.

At the smell of his breath, High Elf Archer made a show of coughing daintily.

“Anyway, you’re one to talk,” Dwarf Shaman said. “There’s no one in the world who listens less than an elf.”

“I’m sorry? Which of us has the bigger ears?”

“Heh! Sarcasm doesn’t get through to an anvil, I see.” “Who’s an anvil…?”

“Put a hand on your chest and answer your own question.” “Why, you—!”

It was the usual noisy banter. Priestess used to get flustered by this, but now she took it in stride; lately, she even found it comforting to listen to. She wasn’t sure if arguing really brought people closer together, but she did know that she was in a good party.

On top of that, many faces in the Adventurers Guild had become familiar to her. Each time she saw one of the people she had come to know in the previous year, she gave them a little bow.

“Heh-heh-heh. It’s quite, lively, isn’t it?”

“Don’t act too interested. We wanna look good for the newbies.”

There was Witch with her alluring smile, accompanied by Spearman, who spoke to her as he made a face. Heavy Warrior was walking down the hallway, engaged in a verbal spat with Female Knight…

“Didn’t I tell you? I said a little friendly exchange would bring us together…”

“That’s some poor excuse for a drunken brawl. You’re supposed to be lawful good!”

…while Scout Boy, Rhea Druid Girl, and Half-Elf Light Warrior followed behind them, patently refusing to get involved.

“Hullo!”

“Good morning, everyone.” “Good luck on your quests today!”

Then came a casual greeting from Rookie Warrior, who was quickly chided by Apprentice Cleric.

“Hey, it’s the Gobber’s bunch!”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake! You could stand to be a little more polite! How am I supposed to show my face with you talking to people like that?”

It was all just the same as ever.

“Ah, good. Friendly as usual, I see.” A massive form loomed over them. It was Lizard Priest. His body was covered in scales and he wore an unusual outfit. Seeing the jabbering elf and dwarf, he rolled his eyes happily. He seemed content to put off his customary intervention and let them argue.

Lizard Priest turned to Priestess and pressed his hands together in his usual eccentric greeting.

“The warm weather seems to have brought out everyone’s energy.

Something with which I fully sympathize.”

“Winter was hard for you, wasn’t it?” Priestess gave a small deep-throated chuckle, even as Lizard Priest nodded and responded somberly.

“Indeed. Even the fearsome nagas cannot prevail over an ice age. Nature, the very way of this world, can be a terrible thing.”

As his appearance suggested, Lizard Priest was vulnerable to cold. This might have been because he came from the jungles to the south or perhaps because so much of his reptilian ancestry remained in him. Whatever the case, their earlier adventure to the snowy mountain had been quite an ordeal for him.

“But I’ve heard there are ice dragons who have blizzard breath,” Priestess said. “What about them?”

“They are no relations of mine, you understand,” Lizard Priest replied.

Was he serious or joking? There was a subtle lightness to his solemn tone.

Then Lizard Priest craned his long neck, looking around a Guild Hall awash in novice adventurers.

“What of milord Goblin Slayer? Where is he?”

“Oh, um, he said he would be a little late today. Apparently, he went out somewhere yesterday.”

“Oh-ho. Well, that is most unusual.” “It certainly is.”

Priestess added quietly that she thought he would come soon, however. Goblin Slayer.

It was impossible to imagine that weird adventurer going anywhere on vacation. The girl who looked after the farm he lived at reported that even on his days off, he busied himself with maintaining his weapons and gear. Recently, Guild Girl and Cow Girl had both invited him to a festival, yet he managed to spend most of it patrolling the town. Left to his own devices, he would silently disappear to kill goblins. They couldn’t take their eyes off him.

Goodness gracious. An affectionate sigh escaped Priestess’s lips. “He’s really hopeless, isn’t he?”

At that moment, a murmur began to run through the hall. An adventurer had pushed open the swinging door.

He walked with a bold, nonchalant, yet almost violent stride. He wore a cheap-looking steel helmet and grimy leather armor. A sword of a strange length hung at his waist, and tied to his left arm was a small, round shield. Even a novice, it seemed, would have better equipment.

But the little tag that hung around his neck was silver. The third rank. “Goblin Slayer, sir!” Priestess called out, provoking a chorus of chuckles among the newcomers. Someone who slays goblins? The weakest of all monsters?

There were a few among them, of course, who didn’t laugh. Over the course of five years, Goblin Slayer had been the salvation of a great number of villages. And some of those who had set out to become adventurers today were from those villages. They knew very well about the adventurer who single-handedly faced goblins. Some others had perhaps heard of him in song. Bards tended to mangle the facts, but his reputation still came through.

Even so, the laughter could be forgiven. Most of the would-be adventurers in the Guild Hall had yet to experience goblin slaying; those with experience had usually just driven off one or two that had wandered too close to their village. Perhaps a few of them had even been down in a cave someplace, but one thing never changed: the fact that goblins were the weakest monster.

Goblin Slayer ignored all of them, the quiet and the chortling alike. “Yes,” he responded to Priestess, nodding. The helmet moved slowly, taking in High Elf Archer, Dwarf Shaman, Lizard Priest, and then Priestess, one by one.

“You’re all here already.”

“You’re late, Orcbolg!” High Elf Archer said in her clear and dignified voice. She broke off the argument she had been having with Dwarf Shaman, pointing one elegant finger directly at the newcomer. Her eyebrows arched, and her long ears pressed back; they gave a great twitch. Everything about her conspired to communicate how intently she had been waiting.

She gave a little snort and crossed her arms importantly. “So. What’re we doing today?”

“Goblin slaying.”

“Well! Isn’t that a surprise,” Dwarf Shaman said, chuckling and stroking his long white beard. “When you leave it to Beard-cutter, you know what kind of adventure you’re gonna get.”

“Hrm…”

“If you have some preference, I’ll listen.”

Priestess went slightly red at Goblin Slayer’s remark. She had the distinct impression that some of his roughest edges had been polished over the last year. And what about her? Had she changed? Had she grown? It wasn’t such an easy thing to judge.

“Personally, anything that contributes to the greater good is acceptable,” Lizard Priest said, his tail sweeping noisily across the floor. “I should think goblin slaying meets that criterion quite nicely. No doubt there will be many of the little devils abroad as the season turns.”

High Elf Archer made a long, low groaning sound then threw up her hands in resignation. “Fine. I get it. Great. Goblins it is. Count me in, for your sake!”

“Thanks,” Goblin Slayer murmured, and then he turned smartly on his heel and strode directly over to the reception desk where all the adventurers were waiting. The collective gawk of the novices did not seem to bother him one bit.

Those adventurers who knew him had quite the opposite reaction, calling out jovially, “Yo, Goblin Slayer! Gonna slay some more goblins?”

“Yes,” he said with a nod.

“You never get tired of that, do ya?”

“Us guys are takin’ a bit of a trip. Checkin’ out some old ruins.” “Is that so?”

“You just be careful, okay?” “Yes.”

This would all be quite difficult to grasp for the newcomers, who didn’t understand the dynamic at play. The novices looked at one another and whispered as quietly as they could.

High Elf Archer, waiting back by the bench for Goblin Slayer, frowned.

Priestess leaned in to speak into the elf’s long ear. “What are they saying?” she whispered.

“You don’t wanna know.”

Fair enough. Priestess didn’t have to be able to hear them to take a good guess at their conversations. She puffed out her cheeks in annoyance and pursed her lips, but it didn’t do any particular good. The fact that Lizard Priest and Dwarf Shaman didn’t seem bothered by it somehow rankled her as well.

§

“Next, please!”

As Goblin Slayer’s companions waited, the adventurers in line were attended one by one. Finally, Guild Girl looked up from dutifully calling the next person in line to see a grimy steel helmet.

The pasted-on smile she had been wearing until that moment blossomed into a genuinely happy face.

“Goblin Slayer!”

“Goblin quests. Do you have any?”

“We certainly do! I’ve got them right here for you…er, by which I mean there were too many to fit on the board.” She hid her mouth behind a sheaf of paper as she teasingly stuck out her tongue, then Guild Girl pulled some quest papers from a shelf. Her practiced motion and the neatly organized paperwork spoke to what a fine and experienced employee she was. She pulled out several pieces of paper with her slim, neatly manicured hands and set them down in front of Goblin Slayer.

Five pages altogether.

“None of these incidents seem to be on a very large scale, but—” “But there are a lot of them.”

“Exactly. I guess that’s how you know spring has come. The goblins become more active just like everybody else.”

“It happens every year.”

“We have all these quests, and this is after several of the novices took some.”

“Did they look capable?”

Guild Girl responded to Goblin Slayer’s blunt question with an arch of one well-formed eyebrow and complete silence. Maybe it meant she just didn’t know.

For all but the most careful parties, coming home alive was down to a roll of the dice. The dice rolled by the gods in heaven determined fate and chance, and sometimes even the gods were disappointed by the outcome.

Guild Girl glanced over Goblin Slayer’s shoulder at the line of newly minted adventurers behind him. Should she entrust some of these quests to them?

She thought for a moment then looked up beseechingly at Goblin Slayer. “Could I ask you to do something for me?”

“I don’t mind,” Goblin Slayer replied immediately. “Show me the quests the others accepted.”

“Thank you so much. I’m sorry to always bother you with these things.”

Adventuring required candidates to take responsibility for themselves, and the Adventurers Guild was no charity. Unlike other professional organizations, it had no mentoring system; but neither did it have the authority to force adventurers to do anything. It simply verified the identity of adventurers who joined it, helped connect them with work, and would disavow them if they caused too much trouble.

Working in this organization was by no means an easy job.

For one thing, it wasn’t possible to look out for each and every newcomer who came through their doors. What were they supposed to do about seemingly piddling work like goblin slaying? The look of distress that came over Guild Girl’s face was entirely understandable.

“Once the training facility is completed, maybe you won’t have to do this so often.”

Goblin Slayer didn’t say anything but flipped silently through the quests.

Their content was all too familiar to him. There’s a goblin nest near our village. Get rid of it, please.

In some places, livestock and crops were being destroyed. In others, they weren’t. People had already been kidnapped in some cases but not in others.

Goblin Slayer moved the quests involving abducted women to the top of the pile. Those to which adventurers had already been dispatched went to the bottom. Cases with only slight damage were in the middle.

About ten quests in total. But Goblin Slayer said coolly, “I’ll tackle them in this order.”

“Right, understood. Be careful! Oh—any potions, or…?”

“Yes, please.” He glanced back briefly at his companions. He would need five—no, six, to be safe.

“Healing potions, antidotes, and Stamina potions. Six each.” “Sure thing!”

He pulled eighteen gold coins from his item pouch and set them on the counter while Guild Girl brought out the items.

Eighteen potions for a little goblin slaying! The news rippled through the onlooking novices, their whispers rising like a wave. Was this caution, or was it cowardice? Either way, it quickly became the subject of ridicule. Some people were laughing openly—but a few might have been jealous. After all, once they had purchased the necessary equipment, many of them had scant luxury to indulge in the likes of potions. Perhaps if the entire party pooled their resources, they might manage to buy a single vial.

And here, this man was buying eighteen potions! One of each for every member of his party, plus extras to be safe! He was so calm about it. Was he trying to show off? It was enough to raise their hackles.

“Ahh, here. That should be eighteen. Please count them to be sure.” “I will.”

“Be careful, now!”

Goblin Slayer, for his part, ignored the chatter and the stares.

§

The first thing Goblin Slayer did when he left the smiling Guild Girl and got back to his party was to take out some twine. He sat down heavily on the bench and then lined up all eighteen potions. Six each of three different colors. First, he tied some string to the healing potions.

Next came the antidotes. Here, he added an extra knot to the string. For the Stamina potions, he added two extra knots, a total of three.

Now it was possible to differentiate the type of potion by the number of knots.

I’ve never seen anyone do that before, High Elf Archer reflected. She leaned in to watch with her ears bouncing and her eyes shining.

“Uh, Orcbolg? What are you doing?”

“Recently we have needed to access our potions quickly,” he said. His hands kept moving mechanically; the motion was as natural as the gentle scent of an evergreen forest. “I’m ensuring that we can tell which is which by feel.”

“Oh, let me help!” Priestess said eagerly.

“Please do.” Goblin Slayer scooted over to make room for her.

Priestess sat down on her tiny behind and began the delicate work of tying the strings. As soon as a set of three bottles was ready, High Elf Archer grabbed them with a “Gotcha.”

“Listen here, Long-Ears,” Dwarf Shaman said gruffly. “You could stand to show a little more restraint.”

“Oh, you think so?” She shook her ears, her face innocent. “This from a dwarf—the embodiment of greed.”

In a single fluid motion, she reached into her money pouch and withdrew three gold coins, setting them on the bench and tapping them with her finger.

“Hrm,” the dwarf said, belatedly taking out three coins of his own and setting them down.

“I don’t particularly need those,” Goblin Slayer said without lifting his eyes (or more precisely, his helmet) from his work.

“Now, that won’t do,” Dwarf Shaman said with a shake of his head. “Never let money or gear come between friends.”

“I see.”

“Putting that aside, you do have some intriguing ideas, don’t you?” Dwarf Shaman said.

“This is simple but effective.”

“Ah—I’ll pay you when I’m done,” Priestess added. “…Okay.”

“Let us see here…,” Lizard Priest said, taking out some money. But at the same moment he set it on the bench, something rather odd happened.

“Uh… Excuse me,” a hesitant voice addressed the party.

Lizard Priest looked over to see a warrior—clearly a novice, judging by her brand-new equipment. She was a young woman of distinctly small stature. The way her ears came to a gentle point marked her out as one of the grass people, a rhea.

Her equipment looked like she had just bought it. She wore leggings over her slim legs, but from the ankles down she was barefoot, as was the way of her people.

The rhea girl looked nervous enough; behind her stood the rest of her party, practically trembling. She sized up Goblin Slayer’s party and then, for some inexplicable reason, seemed to decide Lizard Priest would be the easiest to talk to.

“Um, what…? What are you doing?”

“Hmm.” Lizard Priest narrowed his eyes in what he probably intended as a show of friendliness. The rhea girl shook a little harder. “We are preparing potions,” he said. He picked up one of the bottles with a scaly hand. Liquid splashed audibly inside. A healing potion. “They are being marked so we do not confuse one for another if we must use one in a hurry.”

“Marked…”

“There are no guarantees that there will be time to look at which potion is which when we need it.”

The idea seemed to sink in with the girl; she nodded admiringly.

“I will warn you,” Goblin Slayer said, not so much as looking up at the young adventurer, “if you try to mark everything in your pouch, you’ll never remember what’s what.”

“Oh—uh, o-obviously. I’d never do that… Ha-ha.” The girl’s face froze. It was probably exactly what she had been planning to do. High Elf Archer laughed, clear as a bell, causing the girl to blush and look at the ground.

“Only mark things you may need in a hurry. And—”

Goblin Slayer finished the last batch of potions. He tucked them carefully in his bag, making sure they were well protected.

“—be careful of goblins. Start by slaying rats or something.” “Oh, uh, right! S-sure thing!”

The rhea girl bowed her head several times and then hurried back to her group. They immediately formed a circle and started whispering together; it looked like they had already started to get along. They were even coordinated enough to split up into two groups, one to affix string to their items and another to look for a quest.

“Great sheep who walked the chalk path, guide these to be some small part of your battle which is ever spoken of.” Lizard Priest made a mysterious gesture, praying for the adventurers’ success, brave deeds, and glorious deaths.

True, some adventurers preferred to gossip and ridicule, but others strived to absorb the knowledge they would need to survive. One was not better than the other; one was not right and the other wrong. Being attentive to advice was no guarantee of success, nor did refusing to heed the words of others inevitably assure failure.

And yet, still—indeed. “I do hope they survive.”

“…Who can say?” The words seemed to be squeezed out of Goblin Slayer.

Every person’s time would come when it came, even against giant rats. And if they survived, the quests would only grow more fearsome as they rose through one rank and then the next, and then the next.

If adventuring were a safe occupation, it wouldn’t be called adventuring.

Goblin Slayer finished putting away the potions he had prepared, then he slowly rose from his seat.

“Oh, Goblin Slayer, sir, your money.” Priestess sprang up after him, hastily fishing through her pouch for some coins.

“…Right.” Goblin Slayer traded her for the sheaf of quest papers in his hand, saying, “I accepted these jobs.”

“Wow…” From the thickness of the bundle, Priestess guessed that he must have taken on all the remaining goblin quests. She fought back the smile trying to work its way to her lips, forcing herself to focus on the words on the page.

‘Start by slaying rats or something,’ indeed!

There wouldn’t be any goblin-slaying quests left even if those kids wanted one. Priestess had no idea whether this was intentional on his part. For goodness’ sake!

“Well?”

In this context, that meant, I’m going. What about the rest of you?

She had come to accept that this was one habit of Goblin Slayer’s that seemed unlikely ever to change. Priestess gave a melodramatic sigh and shook her head. “Well, yourself. You know I’m going—that’s why I’m here.”

“Hrk…”

“You would just go by yourself if we let you,” Priestess added. “And we won’t let you.”

“There’s such a thing as not caring enough about what other people think, Orcbolg,” High Elf Archer said, sniffing in annoyance. “Doesn’t it bother you, everyone gabbing about you like that?”

“Not to speak of,” Goblin Slayer said shortly. He gave a gentle shake of his helmeted head. “I don’t really understand what they expect of me.”

“That’s my boy, Beard-cutter. Goblins it is!”

“No question of that,” Lizard Priest said, giving Goblin Slayer a jolly pat on the back with his great tail. Dwarf Shaman let out a huge, carrying laugh.

Now it was obvious how alone High Elf Archer was in her opinion. “Fine, who cares?” she said, turning around and beginning to pout.

“There, there,” Priestess said comfortingly, and then she turned her attention to a quick check of her equipment.

Gear,    check.    Items,    check.    Provisions,    check.    Not    forgetting    the Adventurer’s Toolkit. And a change of clothes.

“All right. I think I’m ready to go.” “Let’s go, then.”

A human warrior, an elf ranger, a dwarf spell caster, a human cleric, and a lizardman monk.

The five adventurers, differing in race, class, and gender, put the Guild behind them.

An adventuring party are also traveling companions.

As the words flitted through Priestess’s mind, she slackened her pace just a little. Even just walking through the brush, she felt a strange affinity for these people.

“Hey! Keep outta my way if you don’t wanna get hurt!!” “Eek?!”

A boy came charging past them, practically shoving Priestess aside. His cape fluttered open, revealing a large staff in his hand—he must have been a wizard.

Priestess, reeling from the encounter, felt Goblin Slayer’s hand catch her. “Th-thanks. Sorry.”

“It’s all right.”

Priestess straightened her cap. Goblin Slayer started walking away as if the scene held no more interest for him. Dwarf Shaman, however, was less temperate, shaking his fist and shouting at the boy, “Hey, watch where you’re going, why don’t you!”

“Piss off! It’s her fault for dawdling in the middle of the road! Next time I’ll let my Fireball do the talking!” The boy didn’t stop racing toward the Guild even as he shouted back. The way he carved a line directly toward his destination did sort of resemble a Fireball.

“Grr… Kids these days,” Dwarf Shaman growled.

“Finally feeling your age, Gramps?” High Elf Archer asked.

“Says the one person here older than me!” The shaman narrowed his eyes and glared at the archer. More precisely, he glared directly at her flat chest, clad in hunter’s garb. “Don’t you think you should wear something more age- appropriate, Anvil?”

“Wh-why— J-just you— Barrel!” High Elf Archer’s face went red and her ears laid flat against her head.

The familiar sniping back and forth brought a smile to Priestess’s face.

But…

She glanced behind her toward the Adventurers Guild. The massive building was still clearly visible despite the crowd outside.

“Well, with enough newcomers, there’s bound to be a few rash individuals.” Lizard Priest leaned down to look at Priestess. “Is anything the matter?”

“Oh, uh, no,” Priestess said, waving a hand to dismiss the notion. “Nothing.” Then she faced forward again.

Keep walking. Follow your companions. Stay with your party.

She hurried along behind the others, but she couldn’t quite get the image of the red-haired spell caster out of her mind.

Maybe I’m just imagining things, but…he looked really familiar.

§

“ORAGARARA?!”

“Seven goblins ahead of us! Actually—six now!” A clear voice echoed through the cavern, underlined by a goblin scream. High Elf Archer had loosed an arrow even as they rushed down the narrow, dank passageway.

The party members each vaulted the goblin corpse, over the arrow sprouting from its eye, and kept going.

“Good,” Goblin Slayer muttered. As he led them along, he flipped the blade in his right hand into a reverse grip then flung it forward in a single motion.

“GRAB?!”

“GRROB! GRARB!!”

The sword caught a goblin in the throat, causing the creature to begin choking on his own blood. Beside him, one of his companions holding a rusty sword cackled: What a foolish adventurer. Throwing away their own weapon!

The goblin’s sword glinted in the light from Goblin Slayer’s torch. The monster gave a shout and jumped forward.

“GRAARBROOR!!”

“Hmph.”

Goblin Slayer blocked the goblin’s sword with his shield. He quickly transferred the torch to his right hand and clubbed the monster with it.

“GRAB?!”

A cry rang out. The pain of a shattered nose being shoved back into the brain, the agony of a face scorched with fire. The goblin died in the grip of suffering far less acute than what he had inflicted throughout his hideous life.

“Two, three.”

Kick the new corpse aside, take up its blade, move on. Four left. Or rather—

“KREEEEYYAAAHHH!!”

From beside Goblin Slayer came Lizard Priest’s bellow and his prayer. Even as he shouted, he swung a Swordclaw with immense strength, shattering the goblins before him. No goblin could survive a slash directly across the windpipe.

“GROAROROB?!”

“Four. Three left.”

Goblin Slayer left Lizard Priest to finish off that one; he had already found the other enemies. Far in the darkness at the end of the tunnel, something dully reflected the light of his torch. Without hesitation, Goblin Slayer raised his shield in front of his face.

A series of flat twangs reverberated, and some objects flew through the dark air. Almost simultaneously, Goblin Slayer felt a shock run through his left arm as though it had been struck. He clicked his tongue.

“GRORB!” “GRAROROBR!”

He didn’t have to look to know what it was: an arrow had lodged itself in his shield. Of the other two bolts, one had flown over the heads of the party, while Lizard Priest had deflected the third. It was too obvious that there were goblin archers hiding in the dark.

Enemies armed with crossbows were to be feared, but luckily, these creatures carried only regular bows.

“Tsk…” Goblin Slayer clicked his tongue at having noticed so late. Then he casually took the arrow, shaft and all, and pulled it out. He didn’t seem concerned that extracting the hooked end meant doing damage to his own equipment. Instead, he was focused on the dark, ominous liquid that drenched the arrowhead.

“Poison!” he announced then threw the arrow away.

An answer came shooting back: “Leave it to me!” High Elf Archer was already drawing back her bow. The sound of the string was almost musical as she loosed her shot, piercing a goblin archer through the throat. Challenging an elf to a contest of archery was sheer folly. That made five.

“Six!”

Goblin Slayer was already rushing down the tunnel, making contact with the enemy. He easily lodged a sword in the neck of a howling goblin. He kicked the corpse away, freeing the blade, then raised his shield to defend as he backed away from the other advancing foes.

“Hrroooooh!!” Lizard Priest leaped in with his sword, slicing at the creatures until seven goblins lay dead on the ground.

For a brief moment, the only sound in the dim, smelly tunnel was the heightened breathing of the five party members.

“I-is that a-all of—of them?” Priestess asked, struggling to get her breath under control.

“Most likely,” Goblin Slayer said, tossing away his torch. It had burned down to a nub, perhaps in part due to his rough treatment of it.

Three of the party members were perfectly capable of seeing in the dark, but that didn’t mean they could go without a source of light.

“Oh, Goblin Slayer, sir, here…” When Priestess saw him quickly pulling a new torch out of his pouch, she was swift to ready some flint.

“Thanks.”

“Not at all,” Priestess replied with a hint of a smile. She made some sparks with the flint, letting out a soft sigh of relief when the torch caught.

She took the opportunity for a fresh look around. The stone cavern offered tight quarters, and the stench of blood and gore joined with the reek of rot that was so characteristic of goblin nests.

“Ugh…”

She had grown used to it, yes, but that didn’t mean she enjoyed it. High Elf Archer wrinkled her nose and grimaced. Even so, she kept her bow in one hand, and her long ears listened to everything around them.

“I know we went quite a ways down, but are we still not at the surface yet?”

“What are we going to do? The numbers just keep increasing…”

Their voices carried a distinct note of fatigue. Priestess offered a water skin to High Elf Archer, who accepted it gratefully and took a long swig.

They had entered a cave on the banks of a river near the village. They were already working their way out, yet they had no real feeling that they were making any progress.

The answer to High Elf Archer’s question was already drawing nearer. “GROORORB!”

“GRAARB! GROB! GRORRB!!”

Hideous voices echoed in the earth. The cave was like an anthill; it was an abyss, a labyrinth, a maze. The seemingly inexhaustible supply of goblins would have been enough on its own to break the spirits of any novice adventurers.

The party had gone practically without rest for several hours now. The six or seven kills they had recently counted off were only the number of goblins in this most recent group they had stumbled across. How many goblins had they exterminated in total? Dozens. Many dozens.

“…There’s more coming.” Priestess’s naturally pale skin turned even paler as the blood drained from her face; she bit her lip. Her hands, wrapped around her sounding staff, shook slightly, just enough that it could almost be mistaken as an excess of strength.

“Can you fight?” Goblin Slayer asked calmly.

“Y…yes,” Priestess responded, nodding as firmly as she could. Even if she had answered No, I can’t, nothing would have changed… Still, it was comforting to her that he had been considerate enough to ask.

She sucked in a breath and let it out again. Her fingers almost didn’t feel like they belonged to her as she loosened them and readjusted her grip.

“It is well that we were the ones who took on this quest,” Lizard Priest remarked, eyeing Priestess as he shook the blood from his Swordclaw.

The disorderly, undisciplined footsteps of the goblins came closer. The sound echoed from the dark, narrow side tunnels, as if to envelop the adventurers.

“And how many of the enemy face we this time?”

“No more than thirty would be my guess,” High Elf Archer said, twitching her ears. “But no fewer than ten.”

“Let us consider it twenty, then,” Lizard Priest said. “Goblin slaying is seen as a newcomer’s pursuit, but numbers would surely prevail in this instance.”

And yet, they had only five people. Lizard Priest made a grumbling sound deep in his throat, craning his neck to see down the tunnel. He slapped his tail against the ground. To summon a Dragontooth Warrior or not? To consume a spell or not? It was a matter of considerable concern.

“Hrm. Well, this could be a bit of a handful,” Dwarf Shaman growled, setting down the load on his back. It was a young woman, dirty, covered in scrapes, not even conscious. He leaned her against the wall as he said, “We have to make sure she stays safe, too, after all.”

This was, in fact, how things usually went. But for all its commonness, it was something that easily destroyed people’s lives.

This, essentially, was what had happened: Some goblins had taken up residence near the village. The young people had been cautious, but some young woman—gathering medicinal herbs or tending sheep—had been kidnapped. And the village desperately wanted the goblins slain.

Go to any of the four corners of the world, and you would hear the same story ad nauseam. Goblins were a problem always and everywhere.

As it happened, in the case of the little riverside settlement Goblin Slayer had headed to first, the victim had been a boatman’s daughter. It was hard to say if she was lucky or not: Using a long pole to guide the boat back and forth across the river every day, she had become far physically tougher than many a hapless man. Hence, she had the strength to endure the brutality and abuse of the goblins. She had even retained her sanity. How she would live her life after this, after what she had been through, the adventurers didn’t know. Their duty was to get her out alive.

“If they multiply any further, they could begin raiding the surface all too easily.” Goblin Slayer’s judgment was decisive: “We’re going to kill all the goblins.”

What other response could there be?

Yes, all this was perfectly ordinary. At least, it was for Goblin Slayer.

“What’s your opinion of the situation?”

“If we meet them in a narrow tunnel, it will largely neutralize the number disadvantage,” Lizard Priest said thoughtfully. “But…” He scratched a claw along the wall of the tunnel. The earth was soft. It was packed tightly enough that a collapse was unlikely, but it would be easy enough to dig through. “If the little devils were to burst out of the walls around us, we might find ourselves hard-pressed. I believe a change of locale is in order.”

“That settles it, then,” Goblin Slayer said, checking over his weapon. “We have spells remaining, yes?”

“Oh, yes.” Priestess was the first to answer. “It looked like this was going to be a long fight, so I’ve saved all three of my miracles.”

“As for me, I only just used a Swordclaw.” That meant three left. Goblin Slayer nodded. It would be enough.

“M’self, I’ve got four shots,” Dwarf Shaman said, counting on his fingers. He opened his bag and looked into it, frowning. “But as I recall, you said there were about ten hot spots in all, didn’t you?”

“Kinda crazy, huh?”

Ignoring High Elf Archer’s little jab, Goblin Slayer shook his head. “We can take time to rest.”

“Not the problem.”

Cleric or mage, miracles or spells, rewriting the very logic of the world was a taxing endeavor. Each could only do it so many times per day. If you weren’t a Platinum-ranked magic user, perhaps that was the best you could hope for. Hence, it was a basic tenet of adventuring to give your magic users ample rest. Those who ignored this law could be putting themselves in mortal peril (although everyone died when their time came, regardless of how refreshed a spell caster was).

Lizard Priest, standing next to Goblin Slayer, understood what the dwarf was getting at. “It’s a matter of catalysts, isn’t it?”

“’Sright. I offer what I can, but magical items are pretty—you know.” “Very well.” Goblin Slayer retrieved a gore-covered blade and wiped it down quickly with a goblin’s loincloth. If he could use it to kill one or two more enemies, that would be enough. His own foes would bring weapons to him, after all. There was nothing to worry about.

“Use Tunnel, then. That doesn’t require a catalyst.”

“True enough. But why use—ahh, is that what you’re thinking?” Dwarf Shaman gave his beard half a stroke, but he hardly had to think to understand what Goblin Slayer wanted. His face folded into a smile.

“For better or for worse, Beard-cutter, I think you’re rubbing off on me.

Hey, Scaly, gimme a hand—er, a shoulder.”

“Ha-ha. Yes, it makes sense. Here. Will my back be enough?”

Dwarf Shaman sighed deeply then scrambled up Lizard Priest’s proffered back. He pulled a black jar and a brush out of his bag and began drawing a pattern on the ceiling in a fluid hand.

High Elf Archer had not yet managed to put the pieces together. She gave her ears a suspicious shake and grunted as she watched Dwarf Shaman draw.

It was incomprehensible. “Does this make sense to you?” she asked Priestess, but the other girl replied, “Not really,” and looked a little embarrassed.

“Hey, Orcbolg, what’s the story?” she asked. “Tell us what’s going on!”

In the face of this pointed demand, Goblin Slayer’s response was as mechanical and gruff as ever. “I will warn you,” he said.

“About what?”

“This is an emergency escape route.” “What is?”

“We rescued the hostage. There’s no more problem.”

That was all he said, then he tossed something to High Elf Archer. Even in the dim light, she could see what it was; she caught it out of the air.

“I will show you the way to use…well.”

High Elf Archer continued to look perplexed, but Priestess said, “Oh,” as if a bit disappointed. “I thought it might come to that,” she added.

In the archer’s hand was an underwater breathing ring.

§

It was a perfectly ordinary thing for the goblins, too: adventurers. The obnoxious creatures were always barging into the goblins’ homes right when they were trying to relax.

Five of them this time. And what luck: two were women. Both young, and one an elf.

For some reason, they didn’t smell quite right, but one look was enough to arouse the goblins’ lust.

“GRAORB!”

“ORGA!”

In their dank hole, the goblins laughed their dark laughs and relished their dark desires.

How very lucky we are! Two women. We can have all the fun we want and grow our family to boot.

In the wars among those who had words, men were the most valuable captives and hostages. That, of course, was because they were the best laborers. In a proper war, prisoners could be put to proper work.

For the goblins, however, things were different. Men were dangerous; they were quick to anger and violent, making the goblins justly frightened of them. They could cut off a man’s limbs and throw him in a cell, but after that, it was simply a question of whether to eat him or make sport of him. A lot of work for very little reward.

In that regard, women—females—were quite a different proposition. Impregnating them was enough to keep them from fleeing. You could have your way with them as you pleased; a woman without hands and feet was still useful.

And above all, they were fun. That counted for a lot. And they could make more goblins. All this value rolled into just one human.

If you got tired of them, or if they died on you, then you could eat them.

Vastly more versatile creatures than men. “GROB! GROAR!”

“GROORB!”

The goblins jabbered together as they hacked their way through the soft earth with a panoply of crude tools and a great deal of ill will.

Give the smaller girl two or three good pokes and she would surely grow obedient. The elf looked like a bit of a firebrand. Start by breaking a leg, maybe…

No, no. Shatter her fingers so she can’t use her bow again. That would be best.

The fat one, the dwarf. He looked like he could be food for days. Nice, rich belly meat.

Pull the scales off the lizardman. Put a string through them and they make good armor. His bones and claws and fangs would be perfect for spears as well.

And then there was the armored one. Everything he carried, his sword and his shield and all his equipment, seemed tailor-made for goblins.

What fools these adventurers were!

Not for an instant did it cross any of the goblins’ minds that they might be defeated.

Goblins had no strength, except in their numbers. They understood that instinctively; it was what made them goblins. If they had been given the slightest degree of wit, there was no question that they would long ago have been driven to extinction.

At last, the feeling of the earthen wall began to change. They listened closely; they could hear faint voices.

This was the place.

The goblins looked at one another and nodded. Ugly smiles split their faces.

All of them had weapons in their hands—the same items used to dig through the earth. Most were made of bones or stones or branches, although here and there was a shovel they had managed to steal.

Strategy played no role at this point. While their companions were being killed, they would strike a lucky blow and slaughter their foes.

Those idiotic adventurers seemed to be planning something, but the goblins would never let them get away with it. The creatures had conveniently forgotten what they had done to the boat captain’s daughter. They thought only of the rage they felt for their twenty murdered companions.

They’ll pay for marching in here and turning our house upside down! Kill! Rape! Steal!

“GOROROB!!”

“GRAB! ORGRAAROB!!”

With a chorus of shouts, the goblin horde burst through the wall and leaped into space. A wave of goblins rushed toward the adventurers.

“Fools.”

At that instant, a scroll was unleashed, and an actual wave came crashing toward the goblins and swallowed them up.

§

A tremendous rumble came from underground, and a white pillar spewed into the field.

No—the whiff of salt that came along with the scent of early spring made it clear that this was seawater, summoned from the unthinkable depths of the ocean.

The spout of water rose up through the tunnel toward the surface—and, of course, carried the adventurers along with it.

“Ahhhh?! I hate this!! I hate it, I hate it, I hate it!!”

“Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Goodness gracious me, this is truly something!”

High Elf Archer’s shrill scream could hardly have been further removed from Lizard Priest’s jovial laughter. Her ears were straight back, and her eyes were squeezed shut; the customary dignity of a High Elf had completely abandoned her. In fact, one could say it had been squeezed right out of her…

“I suppose it is understandable.” “How can you be so calm?!”

“My people teach that we are distant relatives of the birds,” Lizard Priest replied.

Having said that—breathing was one thing, but coming down after being flung up in the air? Damage was assured. If the Earth Mother was indeed merciful, it might not be critical.

“We—we’re falling! I’m falling! Hurry, please…!” Priestess begged from the bottom of her heart, even as she tried desperately to keep her skirt from being blown up by the wind.

If only we had a miracle that would make the earth nice and soft—it’s no fair!

This somewhat inappropriate thought passed through her head, but she was met with only the rushing wind, carrying the tears away from her eyes.

“Right, then! Leave it t’me!”

Good thing I knew this might be coming.

Dwarf Shaman, seemingly unruffled and with the captive girl still on his back, began a complicated incantation even as he hung in midair.

“Come out, you gnomes, and let it go! Here it comes, look out below!

Turn those buckets upside-down—empty all upon the ground!”

And the adventurers, who had so recently looked like they were going to slam straight into the unforgiving earth, floated toward the surface as gently as feathers. Priestess heaved a sigh, relieved to have avoided becoming a bloody smear on the ground.

“It’s—it’s okay now, isn’t it?” she asked hesitantly.

“It most certainly isn’t!” High Elf Archer exclaimed. “It’s absolutely not okay! I don’t know if I’ll ever open my eyes again!” Her ears were trembling violently, and she was shaking her head.

“It’s true Falling Control is good for going up or coming down,” Dwarf Shaman said. (Although it was originally intended to help when tumbling from high places or trapped in a pit.) “But, Beard-cutter, how did you get by before you met us?”

“I secured my body soundly, and then once I was underwater, I walked.” “Rubbish!” the dwarf barked.

“In this case, there was no time.”

Dwarf Shaman’s suspicious stare didn’t seem to bother Goblin Slayer.

Gravity shortly guided the party gently to the ground.

The explosion of seawater had turned the entire vicinity to mud, and the smell of salt in the air was very strange. It would be years before the salt was completely worked out of the ground and this field was good for cultivating again.

“Oh, for… I knew I should’ve brought a change of clothes,” Priestess sighed, being careful not to let her feet get caught in the muck. She rolled up the hem of her dress, which was thoroughly soaked, and squeezed it out. It left her pale legs exposed right up to her thighs, but there were a great many things that took priority over embarrassment.

“Oh, but…don’t look over here, okay?” “I won’t.”

Goblin Slayer, of course, had never so much as glanced in her direction, and it would be lying to say that didn’t annoy her just a little.

“Of course you won’t,” she muttered, and then with a grunt, she pulled off her overclothes. There was nothing else to do—the seawater would cause her mail to rust otherwise.

“Oh, ah, g-grr…no! No! This is off-limits. Not allowed. I absolutely will not let him do this again…” High Elf Archer had practically withdrawn into herself. Priestess stole a glance at the elf. As Priestess recalled, High Elf Archer had no metal equipment.

So she should be fine, right?

Priestess hadn’t yet been granted a miracle of calming, and anyway, it wouldn’t do to rely overmuch on supernatural aid. With enough time, High

Elf Archer would calm down on her own. That would be best.

With something like detachment, Priestess decided to let High Elf Archer dry out in the sun. The spring sun was out; surely it would do her some good in short order.

“All right, then…” When Priestess looked back toward Goblin Slayer, he had returned to his own work. Which, as his name implied, was killing goblins.

As the effect of Tunnel wore off, earth gradually began to fill the hole back in. The seawater would shortly run into the mouth of the cave, and the goblins would be flooded out.

Exactly what the adventurers wanted.

Goblin Slayer tightened his grip on his sword, which he had never let go even amid the violent spray. He bounded through the mud, advancing implacably.

Several goblins who had been blown out of the cave along with them were lying on the ground.

“Hmph.”

“ORGAR?!”

That was one. Without a moment’s hesitation, Goblin Slayer put his blade through its brain. The creature gave a scream and a twitch. Goblin Slayer twisted the sword, and when he was sure the goblin was still, he pulled his weapon back out.

“Oh-ho. Still alive, eh?” Lizard Priest said. “The luck of the dice,” Goblin Slayer remarked.

It happens from time to time, he added to himself, and then he silently continued about his work.

When he found one, he stabbed it with his sword. He checked to be sure it was dead, and if it wasn’t, he waited until it was.

His blade soon became dull, so he threw it away. There was a mountain of weapons here anyway. He grabbed a club from a random goblin, and in lieu of gratitude, he smashed its skull in.

Most of the goblins were dead. But one or two were still alive. That was just the nature of probability. Goblin Slayer, however, had no intention of overlooking them.

“When she gets her wits back, wipe down her equipment and we’ll move on to the next thing.”

“You got it.” Dwarf Shaman popped the cork from a bottle of fire wine. “Gods above. This has to be about as bad a day as these goblins have ever had.”

Here, Long-Ears. He forced a bit of the alcohol down High Elf Archer’s throat, just to bring her to her senses, which she returned to with another scream. Her ears sprang up, her face went red, and she immediately set to verbally assaulting the dwarf.

Goblin Slayer completely ignored his companions’ blathering, but he muttered, “That’s not necessarily true.”