Goblin Slayer - Volume 6 - Chapter 2

Chapter 2 – The Red-Haired Wizard Boy

“I don’t know. I really think it’s too much for one person…” 

“Oh yeah? I know the stories. Like how the Second Hero battled the Demon Lord single-handedly, all those years ago!” 

“True, but they were Platinum-ranked. I think you’d be better off starting a party or finding one to join.” 

“No adventurer alive can gain my confidence.” 

“………Hmmm, this is a tough one, all right.” 

Guild Girl sat behind the reception desk of the now-empty Guild building idly twirling her braids. 

The sun had long since set, and there were no adventurers to be seen. Anyone who hadn’t gone adventuring was either asleep or off enjoying themselves. She was the only remaining staff still there. 

Under normal circumstances, she could—and probably should—have simply chased away the adventurer boy who stood there seeking a quest with his implacable gaze. 

“…I guess there’s nothing else to do,” she said. 

Why am I like this? 

Guild Girl got up from her seat with a deep sigh. 

“I’ll put on some tea.” She gave him a wink and turned for the supply room in the back. “After all, I’m waiting, too.” 

§

Night had fallen by the time Goblin Slayer and the others passed back through the gate of the frontier town.

Light had vanished from the now-empty street; the moons and stars above gave the only illumination.

“…Oh, uh, ah, w-we’re here…?”

“That we are, Long-Ears, that we are.”

“Mistress Cleric, it seems we are at our wits’ end.” “Hnn… Ughhh…”

They were all profoundly fatigued. High Elf Archer’s ears were drooping; it was all she could do to keep her heavy eyelids from closing.

As for Priestess, she had practically dozed off during a ride on Lizard Priest’s back.

The three men, covered in blood and sweat and mud from days of battle, looked at one another and nodded.

“Perhaps I can entrust her to you, milord Goblin Slayer?” “Yes. And her to you?”

“I’m on it. C’mon, Long-Ears, pull yourself together, now.” “Mmph… Sooo sleepy… I’mma just…take a nap…”

“Wait until we get you back to your room first. The middle of the street’s not for sleeping.”

Dwarf Shaman put all of his small body into supporting the lolling elf.

They were heading for the second floor of the Guild Hall, which doubled as an inn. Rare was the adventurer with a home to call their own. Most stayed at some inn or otherwise rented a room at the Guild.

“See you tomorrow, then,” Lizard Priest said with one of his strange palms-together gestures.

“Right.” Goblin Slayer nodded.

The giant lizard shuffled off after his companions, the petite girl still clinging to his back.

“…Oh. Good…good…ni…ght,” she said faintly, almost a whisper. Goblin Slayer gave a shake of his helmet.

“Hrm.”

Companions.

The word came suddenly and naturally to his mind. He didn’t dislike the sound of it.

These were people he had not known a year ago. People he could hardly believe he had known a whole year.

What would the old him have done in a situation like this?

What about his gear? His strategies? His time? His resources? What would those be like if the four of them weren’t here?

Without    them—with    that    one    small    thing    being    different—Goblin Slayer’s range of options would be severely constricted. Fearsomely so.

To think it would be so different.

It was with those thoughts running through his head that he pushed open the door of the Guild.

“Erk…”

Something didn’t feel right. Light.

The staff should all be gone by now, yet he had come here to make his report.

Goblins?

Half-reflexively, Goblin Slayer’s hand went to the hatchet he had crammed into his scabbard. He dropped into a deep stance and walked into the building almost silently. The door swung shut behind him.

It was almost comical, but he didn’t see it that way. Who was to say that goblins might not appear in town?

Goblin Slayer’s glance happened to fall on the bench in the waiting area, drawn there because he thought he saw movement from a silhouette curled up on the seat.

No— It wasn’t his imagination.

Something was squirming there; it almost looked like a human covered in a blanket.

Goblin Slayer took a step forward, provoking a squeak from the floor. “Hr… Hrn?”

Then the blanket was pushed aside, and the silhouette slowly sat up. It rubbed its eyes and gave a small yawn. It was a boy with red hair.

As he sat up, he knocked over his staff, which had been leaning against the bench; it clattered to the floor.

“…H-hey, lady… Just five more— Huh?”

He blinked the sleep from his eyes and took in the figure before him. Now his eyes were open wide; he could see Goblin Slayer standing there in the dark.

What he saw was a man covered in mud and blood, wearing a cheap- looking helmet and grimy weather armor, with a rusty hatchet in his hand.

“Ah.” The boy’s mouth twitched, then twisted, and then he screamed, “Eeeeeyaahhh!”

“Hrm…”

Huh. So it wasn’t a goblin.

That was the only thought the echoing yell elicited from Goblin Slayer. “Eek?!” At the same time, Guild Girl gave a cute little yelp, and there was the sound of a chair falling over. Goblin Slayer looked up to see her come flying out into the room.

“Oh, uh, ah! G-Goblin Slayer, sir?! I’m not asleep, I promise, I wasn’t asleep!”

She hurriedly straightened her hair, smoothed the creases out of her dress, and blushed furiously before giving a small cough. Her smile, however, wasn’t the pasted-on expression she so often wore, but a genuine, spontaneous grin.

“Ahem. Good work today.”

Goblin Slayer relaxed his fingers one by one and finally let go of the hatchet.

§

Without a sound, Goblin Slayer took the proffered cup of tea and drank it down in a single swig.

He probably couldn’t even taste it, drinking it like that—but Guild Girl smiled.

She went through the familiar routine: get some paper ready, shave down the tip of a quill pen, open a pot of ink, get ready to record.

“So how did it go? Were there a lot of them again this time?” “Yes,” Goblin Slayer said with a firm nod. “There were goblins.”

“How many?” Guild Girl asked, her pen scratching on the paper. “Oh, and break them down by quest, please.”

“Thirty-four for the first quest.”

He suddenly fell silent. Guild Girl stopped writing and looked up, and Goblin Slayer added quietly, “and ten or less missing.”

“Missing?”

“We went in, rescued the hostage, and flooded the nest. I confirmed thirty-four bodies. There can’t be more than ten left.”

“Ah…”

Guild Girl snickered, her cheeks softening into a smile. It wasn’t resignation, exactly—this was simply something that couldn’t be helped. If anything, she was secretly pleased to see that he was his usual self.

“And what about the second quest?”

“There were goblins,” he reported. “Twenty and three of them…”

And so it went, the nonchalant talk of goblin slaying. Flooding them, burning them, burying them, or simply charging in and slaughtering them. Weapons thrown and thrust, stolen, exchanged; forced to work with whatever equipment they’d had ready beforehand.

“……”

The young man had his back turned to them, but he seemed to be hanging on every word.

He must have been about fifteen or so. He had hair so red it seemed to be on fire—but it was neatly trimmed, and his cape appeared brand-new as well. His staff did not bear a jewel indicating graduation, so presumably, he was one of those mages who had left the Academy before finishing their studies.

Affecting disinterest, he dug through his belongings as if he had just thought of something. His rummaging produced a small notebook and a charcoal pencil. Was he going to take notes? What a very good student he must have been.

But Goblin Slayer, seemingly without even looking at the boy, commanded, “Don’t.”

“?!”

Wizard Boy nearly jumped out of his seat. He wasn’t quite cowed, though; he cast a petulant glance at Goblin Slayer and grumbled, “Aw, what? I know everyone thinks goblins are no big deal, but taking some notes isn’t going to hurt anything, is—?”

“It could.”

Goblin Slayer met the boy’s almost canine whining with a blunt, cold, quiet response.

“What if your notes fell into the hands of goblins?”

The boy’s temple throbbed, and his frown was evident even in the dim lamplight.

“Are you suggesting I might lose to some goblins?!” “There’s a distinct possibility.”

“How dare you—?!”

The boy jumped out of his seat without a second thought. Goblin Slayer turned toward him with palpable exasperation.

Maybe now’s the right time?

Guild Girl gave a forced smile and indicated the young man’s cup. “Do you need a little more tea?”

“Oh, uh, no, I…” Caught at the zenith of his anger, the boy scratched his cheek guiltily. “I guess I… I do.”

“Here you are, then.” There was the sound of flowing liquid as Guild Girl poured more of the steaming tea into the boy’s cup. The young wizard watched her intently. Yes, she could see it now: he was fifteen or thereabouts, and he looked it.

Well, I guess he is becoming an adventurer.

Was it dreams or hopes? Money or fame? Some such reasons were suitable, others greedy and pretentious.

Guild Girl poured more tea into Goblin Slayer’s empty cup. “Thanks.”

“Not at all! No need to thank me.”

Wizard Boy blinked at her beaming expression. It was the same look she had worn earlier, when she first greeted this strange, armored adventurer. He couldn’t quite express it, but it was obviously different from the smile she had given him when he was first registering.

He swallowed heavily then hesitantly opened his mouth. “So you’re…the one they call…Goblin Slayer?”

“Some call me that.” He nodded. Wizard Boy leaned a little closer. Behind his glasses, his green eyes sparkled, growing ever wider, reflecting Goblin Slayer’s visage.

Nervousness, tension, excitement, anticipation, and anxiety were all evident on Wizard Boy’s face and in his voice as he said, “Then teach me how to kill goblins!”

“No,” Goblin Slayer replied flatly. “Why not?!”

“If you don’t plan to do anything until you’ve been taught, then my teaching you won’t change anything.”

“Huh?!”

With that, Goblin Slayer picked up the fresh cup of tea, downing it in one swig. Gulp.

He set the cup down with a clink and turned back to Guild Girl. He didn’t even look at the flummoxed young man as he took the papers Guild Girl handed him. The reports were all ready; Goblin Slayer only needed to sign them.

He took a quill and put down his name. Then he gave Guild Girl a look of perplexity. Why was she here so late? It took him two or three seconds to work out the answer.

“Sorry. Thanks for the help.”

“Don’t mention it. You always work so hard for us. Oh, your reward…” “Divide it up equally. Give me only my share.”

“Sure thing!”

Guild Girl turned with a movement so sprightly that she seemed neither sleepy nor tired. She opened the safe, took out a bag full of coins, and measured them out with a scale. Goblin Slayer watched the braids bounce against her back and mumbled, “Ah. There was that party that was recently registered.” He thought a moment then added, “It had a rhea girl in it.”

“Oh, them?” A small chuckle escaped her lips. She was glad he couldn’t see her face. “They’re fine. Well, they sustained a giant rat bite or two. But they had antidotes.”

“I see.”

“Are you relieved?” “Yes.”

Guild Girl turned back with a happy look on her face and placed a small tray with a leather pouch full of coins in front of Goblin Slayer. He took it without bothering to count the contents. The bag made a heavy clicking sound from the gold coins within.

Goblin slaying did not pay well; even less when the reward was split five ways. But what if one multiplied that number by ten? It was enough to equal the full reward for two goblin-slaying quests. Twice as much money as the members of any one frontier village had managed to save with all their sweat and care.

As he tucked the pouch among his other items, Goblin Slayer gestured with his chin. “Who’s he?”

“He just registered as an adventurer.” “Why is he here?”

“Well, he…” Guild Girl looked around then stretched out over the counter, leaning close to the steel helmet as though she were going to share a secret. The fabric of her uniform stretched, distorting the area around her chest ever so slightly. “He says he wants to kill goblins and nothing else…”

“Does he have a party?”

The braids bounced from side to side as Guild Girl shook her head. “It doesn’t look like it.”

“Foolishness.”

Guild Girl gave him a look as if she wasn’t quite sure what to say. Are you of all people in a position to say that? it seemed to ask. She rubbed her temples.

“So what do we do, Mr. Goblin Slayer?” “Hrm…”

The pleading look, the beseeching voice.

The Guild Hall was silent. There was only the soft sound of breathing and the occasional scratching of armor. The lamp wick burned assiduously. From above came the faint sound of creaking floorboards. Had the earlier scream woken someone up, or was somebody simply keeping watch? Whatever the case, anything that would intrude on an adventurer’s rest time had to be either very urgent or very stupid.

“You.” The young man, who had been fixated on the floor, looked up with a start when Goblin Slayer spoke to him. “Do you have a room?”

“Er, uh…” He didn’t quite seem to know how to answer. He opened and closed his mouth, again and again, and pushed his glasses up his nose.

Goblin Slayer waited for a response.

“…I don’t see what that has to do with anything,” the boy finally said. “I see.”

That was his entire response to the boy’s sour pronouncement, after which he turned to Guild Girl. She crossed her index fingers to form an X and shook her head. It was clear enough what she meant.

“No rooms available?” “…”

“It’s spring. He won’t catch a cold outside, but…”

Goblin Slayer stood up. The boy found himself watching the adventurer as he set off at his bold pace. Goblin Slayer, however, didn’t spare the young mage a glance as he pushed open the swinging door.

“Come with me.”

One short command. With that, Goblin Slayer left for the darkened town, leaving the young man behind.

He glanced hurriedly from the door to Guild Girl, then he rushed for the exit.

“H-hey, wait for me! What does he think he’s doing, just dragging me along like this…?!”

He suddenly stopped. He spun around and gave a slight nod to Guild Girl. “…Thanks. For the tea.”

Then he dashed out. The door made a creaking sound as it swung, letting in the fresh breeze.

“…Phew.” Guild Girl sighed once more and stood up. She collected the paperwork and made sure the safe was securely shut and locked. Yes, the staff at the first floor bar was here, and the keeper of the rooms above, but she was the last of the desk employees.

This gave a new meaning to the word overtime, but she felt no impulse to complain. She picked up her overcoat (a light one she had brought, since it was now spring) and put her belongings in her bag.

“I guess you really have rubbed off on me.”

She giggled and blew out the lamp almost as if she were giving it a kiss.

§

It almost seemed like there was a sea outside the door. The breeze rippled through the grass, and the stars and two moons shone in the sky.

“Hmph.”

Goblin Slayer spared a glance up at the green moon then quickly set off walking. The boy hurried to follow after him.

“H-hey, what the heck? Where are you taking me…?” His voice sounded a little strained—perhaps from nervousness or fear.

“Come with me, and you’ll see.” Goblin Slayer walked purposefully along the road, not so much as looking at the scenery. Notwithstanding the starlight and the relatively good quality of the path, it was impressive the way he never slowed down.

The young man, less than pleased, kicked some small stones that happened to be nearby, letting out a sound of annoyance.

At last, they could see it.

If the field was a sea, then this was a lighthouse, a bright point in the distance gradually growing closer.

Various shapes began to resolve themselves out of the darkness. A small gate. A fence, probably made out of wood. Several buildings visible as looming shadows. The young man, his eyes now adjusted to the night dark, thought he heard the faint lowing of cows.

“Is this…a farm?” “What else could it be?”

“Hey, I just thought… I mean, the way you were talking, I assumed we were going to an inn or something.”

“We are not.” Goblin Slayer opened the gate as he spoke. There was a thump from the old wooden bar.

“Oh! You’re back!” Despite the depth of the night, the voice that greeted them might as well have been a breaking sun.

“Whoa?!” The boy shook with surprise, his head whipping around as he tried to identify the source of the voice.

It was a young woman, her voluptuous body wrapped in work clothes.

She had come jogging up from somewhere.

Cow Girl gave Goblin Slayer’s shoulder a friendly pat, then she exhaled. “Welcome back,” she said.

“Yes,” Goblin Slayer said with a nod. “I’m back.”

The words evoked a “Good” and a bright nod from Cow Girl. “You were out for a while this time,” she said. “How was it? You’re not hurt?”

“There were goblins. But no other problems besides that.” Then he inclined his helmet just a bit. “You’re still awake?”

“Heh-heh. I’ve turned into quite the night owl these last few days,” she said with a hint of pride. Her chest jiggled, and the young mage found himself swallowing heavily. “Whoa, they’re huge…” “Hmm?”

He had been careless, letting the words slip out of his mouth. Cow Girl caught his mutter, and now she leaned forward to get a good look at him.

“Well, now, who’s this?”

“Ee—yipes!” The boy stumbled backward and fell on his behind. He felt heat rush to his face. His mouth worked open and shut.

“I—I’m an a-ad-adventurer!”

The face of an older woman so close to his own. The sweet odor of sweat mingled with a just-detectable aroma from the grass.

“He’s new,” Goblin Slayer said shortly, on behalf of the boy, who couldn’t even seem to say his own name. “It seems he doesn’t have a place to stay.”

“Oh, is that right?” Cow Girl said. “I see, I see.” She nodded several times, as if happy about something. “Well, I don’t mind.”

“Thanks,” Goblin Slayer said with a nod. “That helps.” “Seriously, don’t worry about it. It’s so you, somehow.”  “I would like to speak to your uncle as well. Is he awake?” “Probably.”

“I see.”

Goblin Slayer dodged around Cow Girl and strode into the house. He truly did seem to be at home.

That left the young man. He looked from Cow Girl to the farm gate and back several times.

“…And who’re you, his wife?” “Sure am!”

“No, you’re not,” a voice interjected from behind Cow Girl.

She stuck out her tongue as if disappointed to have been overheard. The young man gave her a suspicious glance.

“Well, what’s going on, then?”

“Can’t you tell?” Cow Girl laughed. “He wants to let you sleep here.” “I don’t get any of this!”

“Aw, don’t worry about it. Here, come inside.” “Stop that. Hey, let go of me!”

“Come on, now, no need to get rough!”

A novice mage versus a veteran farmer: in a contest of strength, the winner was clear.

§

“No.”

All the more so an older and even more experienced farmer.

A powerful, well-muscled man seated at the table in the dining room of the main house turned down his boarder’s request with a single word.

Before him was Goblin Slayer, flanked on one side by a red-haired boy and on the other by the farmer’s niece.

It was Cow Girl, her lips pursed, who was the first to argue. “Oh, come on, Uncle. It’s just one night. Why not let him stay?”

“Now, you listen…” The man’s sunbaked features pinched as he looked at his fearless niece. How could she still act so childish? No, he corrected himself, her childhood was stolen from her. He heaved a great sigh. “A newly registered adventurer is no different from any other ruffian who comes wandering along.”

“Hey!” This agitated the boy. He slammed his fist down on the table, causing the utensils to jump, and leaned in as he said, “The hell’s with you, old man?! Are you saying I’m just some riffraff?!”

“Be quiet.”

It was only two words, spoken softly and evenly, yet they contained overwhelming force. They would have been enough to cow even a man who had been through the hell of a battlefield and back.

This was a man who observed the earth every day, thought of nothing but his family and working his farm. His words carried the sober authority of someone who had done this month after month, year after year.

“Er…” The boy swallowed. The owner of the farm eyed him as if he were a crow or a fox.

“Outbursts like that are exactly why I don’t, and can’t, trust you.”

The goal of the adventurer system and the Guild was precisely this: adventurers were by nature a rough lot, and the Guild gave them a measure of credibility, while at the same time preventing them from committing any crimes. It served to protect public order.

Yes, their stated goal was the elimination of monsters, but keeping the various homeless wanderers in one place was a good idea. True, it also served to help limit gossip…

But if adventurers could stay clear of the law, earn some money, and perhaps even gain a reputation, who would complain? Unlike other occupations, as dangerous as adventuring might be, at least effort was directly related to reward.

So what about novices, newcomers, and Porcelains, the very bottom of the ranking system? We hardly need to speak of it; or rather, they were hardly spoken to.

It was natural enough, as such adventurers had yet to gain anyone’s trust. Being adventurers, they weren’t exactly lawless criminals. But anyone ought to know that manners make all the difference. How was one supposed to trust such an obviously hot-blooded youngster?

And there was something else on the farm owner’s mind.

“I have a young woman living here with me. What will I do if anything happens to her?”

“Uncle, I keep telling you, you worry too much…”

“You keep quiet, too,” he commanded, and Cow Girl snapped her mouth shut to keep any more words from coming out. Aww, but—! Oh, come on—! No little jibes would move the owner of the farm.

“In that case,” Goblin Slayer cut in. With a languorous gesture, he indicated the small building outside, now cloaked in darkness. It was the old outbuilding the farmer allowed him to stay in. “What about the shed I’m renting?”

“If anything happens to her,” the man said, indicating his niece, “can you take responsibility?”

No, Goblin Slayer replied with a gentle shake of his helmeted head. Then he said calmly, “That is why I will stand guard the entire night.”

The farmer made a sort of groan through gritted teeth. What in the world was he supposed to say to this?

What had this man—this sad, unchecked young boy—seen and done? The farm owner could not claim to be ignorant.

Cow Girl gently laid a hand on the fist the farmer didn’t know he’d been clenching and whispered to him.

“Uncle…”

“……I understand. Very well, then.”

At last, he had bent. It had been inevitable. What was he to do, throw the boy out among the night dew? Force an obviously exhausted child to go without sleep?

The farmer was not a cruel enough man to make that choice.

He took his hand away from his niece’s and placed both his hands against his forehead as if in prayer.

“To repay me, get a proper sleep. All of you.” “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. An adventurer’s health is his most important asset, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Thank you very much.” Goblin Slayer nodded earnestly. He fully understood that neither his apology nor his gratitude would bring the man any happiness. But he did not want to become someone so divorced from decency that he didn’t offer them anyway.

“Ah. One other thing.” That was exactly why Goblin Slayer fished through his items, withdrawing a pouch of gold coins and setting it on the tabletop. It made a heavy clanking sound as the coins inside settled. “This is for this month.”

“Uh-huh…”

Money was a simple index. It was far more reliable than the goodness of any one person. But was it admirable to express oneself with money? That was a thorny question.

The farmer, still not sure what to say, sighed and took the bag of coins.

Goblin Slayer watched him.

“All right,” announced Goblin Slayer, rising from his chair. “Let’s go.” “Huh? Oh, y-yeah.” The boy discovered he had no choice but to follow obediently along.

Cow Girl stood up, too, and tugged on Goblin Slayer’s arm. “Hey,” she said, “what are you gonna do about tomorrow?”

“It depends on the quests, but we only just returned. I expect everyone will want to rest.”

“I’m not asking about everyone, I’m asking about you.”

Sheesh. Cow Girl was used to this by now; she scratched her cheek and didn’t try any harder to get an answer out of him.

“Well, never mind,” she murmured and gave a little smile, releasing his arm. She didn’t bother to lift her hand as she gave a tiny little wave. “I’ll have breakfast ready for you. Sleep tight!”

“I will,” Goblin Slayer nodded. “Good night.”

Then he opened the door, and he and the boy left the house.

Goblin Slayer’s shed was at the back of the farm. It was well weathered, but he had made all the necessary repairs.

“So what the heck is with them anyway?” the boy asked sullenly. “What do you mean?”

The newcomer looked around the shed. A dusty lamp cast a red glow over a room that was almost criminally untidy. Shelves overflowed with junk he couldn’t identify; the air was full of dust and a faint smell of medicine. It was like the office of one of the instructors at the Academy, the boy thought distantly. And he hated it.

Adding to his dissatisfaction was the pile of straw he was offered to sleep on in lieu of a bed. When he asked just how he was supposed to sleep on something like that, Goblin Slayer said, “Lay your cape over it.”

The boy muttered that that would get his cape all covered in straw, but he did as he was told.

“So she’s not your wife. She’s not part of your family at all, is she?” “…That’s true.”

The boy lay down on the straw and found it surprisingly soft.

To his surprise, Goblin Slayer simply plopped himself down in front of the door.

“I can’t venture to guess what she thinks, though,” continued Goblin Slayer.

“What are you even talking about?”

“They are my acquaintances from long ago. A landlord and his niece.

Objectively, that’s our relationship.”

Then Goblin Slayer fell silent. The boy stared at him from atop the pile of straw, but there was no way to know what expression, if any, was under that metal helmet.

The boy gave up wondering and gazed at the ceiling instead, then he turned over again and looked at the shelves with all their various and sundry items. The skull of some unidentifiable creature, bottles full of medicinal liquids, and three unusual throwing knives. What did he use all this stuff for? It was beyond the boy’s ability to imagine.

After a while, he turned over again and saw Goblin Slayer, who hadn’t so much as shifted since he sat down. The boy let out a breath. “…Aren’t you gonna sleep?”

The answer came with a terrible quietness. “I can sleep even with one eye open.”

“Sheesh. You’re the one who asked me to stay here, and even you’re suspicious of me.”

“No.” Goblin Slayer’s helmet moved ever so slightly. The boy realized he was shaking his head. “It’s in case any goblins come.”

“Say what?”

“I sleep away from the main house. It would be problematic if I couldn’t respond immediately.”

“…The heck’s up with that?”

“If you want to kill goblins, this is the least you must do.”

The boy fell silent. A little while later, he rolled over onto his back. The lamp hanging from the ceiling cast a faint light, creaking quietly in the breeze. He closed his eyes, but a hint of the red glow filtered in through his eyelids. And to think, the light wasn’t even that bright.

Glaring directly up at the little flame, the boy pursed his lips. “We don’t need this.”

“I see,” Goblin Slayer said. “Put it out, then.” “…”

“Sleep. Tomorrow, I’ll take you back to the Guild.”

With that, the strange adventurer in his strange armor fell silent.

What in the world is he thinking? The boy looked dubiously at the dirty helmet, his mind whirling. The adventurer had been so forceful that the boy had allowed himself to be swept along to this point, but everything about this seemed bizarre. Who would invite a novice adventurer they had never met to stay in their room? Even going so far as to argue with their wife or family or whatever about it?

If he had been some brainless noble with lots of money—for that matter, if he had been a young woman—then it might have been more understandable. But what did they have to gain by offering him shelter?

Or was this one of those people he had heard about? The ones who waylaid new adventurers and beat them up for their equipment?

But he’s Silver-ranked…

It seemed very unlikely that the Guild would risk its reputation conspiring in business like that. He had even heard that before the Guild had been established, adventurers were sometimes simply outright murdered when they came into town.

Look at this guy’s armor, though. That helmet. It’s so dirty and scary.

He turned over on the straw pile as if to get away from the helmet whose gaze seemed fixed on him in the dimness.

Could a guy who looks like that just turn out to be…nice?

“…Impossible.” The world didn’t work that way. The boy nodded to himself then gently put a hand on the knife he had hidden under his clothes.

Dammit! If he thinks I’ll just roll over and die…

The boy fancied himself someone who never let his guard down. Whatever this adventurer might be planning, he would be damned if he would let himself be murdered in his sleep.

Thus convinced, the boy failed to notice as he slowly drifted off.

§

“…Hng… Huh?”

When consciousness returned, the boy heard a pound, pound, pound, a flat, irregular noise.

The first thing he felt as he sat up was the prickly straw. The room that floated in his blurry vision was certainly not his dorm at the Academy.

For starters, they don’t have straw beds there.

He scrabbled around for his glasses, which he had set next to his pillow— or rather, beside the straw by his head—and put them on.

Sunlight filtered into the junk-filled shed, motes of dust dancing in the beam.

“Ahh… Right…”

Oh yeah.

He had been sleeping here on account of that “Goblin Slayer” or whoever. The weird adventurer who had been sleeping by the door was already gone. Even though, judging by the angle of the sunlight, it was still only just past dawn.

“Sheesh. That guy doesn’t make a lick of sense. Aw, crap… I knew it’d get covered in straw.”

He clicked his tongue. He stood and picked up the cape he’d been using for a blanket.

He glanced around and then—not without a moment’s hesitation—gave the garment a great shake to get the straw off. When he put it back on, he could still feel prickles here and there, but he simply frowned and left the shed.

“…Yikes. It’s real cold out here.”

Spring was beginning, but the last breath of winter still washed over the early mornings. The boy raised the collar of his cape and shivered.

A thin white mist floated over the ground, as though milk had been spilled over the entire farm. He almost felt like he was out in the fog.

Having arrived in the middle of the night, he had no sense of the farm’s geography, but he picked a likely direction and started walking.

As he expected, before long, he came across a cozy well with a roof over it. A crossbeam was set over the top of the well, strung with a rope attached to a bucket on one end and a counterweight on the other. A simple well sweep.

The boy lowered the bucket into the well, letting the stone counterweight pull it down deep. Then he relaxed the hand with the rope, and the stone began to sink again, bringing the bucket back up.

He took off his glasses and plunged his face into the cold water. “Hrrrrrrr… Fwah!”

He soaked in the shockingly frigid water then brought his face up and shook his head, scattering droplets everywhere. Then he used a dipper to wash his mouth, spitting into the grass at his feet and, finally, wiping his face vigorously with the hem of his cape.

It wasn’t much in the way of making himself presentable in the morning, but for a moment’s work, it would do.

“…Hmm?”

The sound came again from beyond the white mist. Pound, pound.

It didn’t sound like cooking. Nor was it quite the noise of construction work, or even of someone chopping wood.

In order to follow the wizard’s path, a strong sense of curiosity was a must. The boy decided to follow the sound—but at that moment, he realized he was empty-handed.

“Oh, crap!”

He rushed back to the shed and grabbed his staff, still leaning next to his bed.

The dull sound continued unchanged; it seemed it wasn’t far away.

Before long, he arrived at a shadow moving in the mist. The morning sun was growing stronger, and he didn’t need to use a spell to see clearly what was in front of him.

“Oh…”

It was Goblin Slayer.

He was still wearing his grimy armor and his cheap-looking helmet; his hips were set down in a low stance. He seemed to be confronting part of the wooden fence that surrounded the farm. A round target was affixed to it at an abnormally low position.

The knife sticking out of the target had presumably been thrown by Goblin Slayer. The boy figured out what had been causing the sound more easily than he had solved riddles at the Academy.

“…What’re you doing?”

“Practicing.” Goblin Slayer strode toward the target and casually retrieved the weapon.

To the boy, it didn’t look like the knife was especially suited for throwing; it was a perfectly unremarkable dagger.

Wait—it wasn’t just a knife. Now that he looked more closely at the target, he could see it had been scored by a sword, a spear, an ax, and…was that a hatchet?

With all that practice, Goblin Slayer could probably just as easily fling a stone he found in the grass.

Throwing.

The word whipped around in his mind.

I thought warriors were supposed to swing weapons not fling them.

“How can you fight if you throw all your weapons away? Dumbass.”

“I simply steal more.” Goblin Slayer ran a finger over the blade of the knife, inspecting it. “From the goblins,” he added.

The boy grunted at that answer. “…It’d be better just to have high-quality weapons from the get-go.”

“Is that so?”

“You’re supposed to be able to take care of a few goblins with a single spell.”

“Is that so?”

“Look, I thought you were supposed to be taking today off. Isn’t that what you told that chick?”

“I once took a lengthy break. I found my reactions had dulled afterward.” He calmly tossed some weapons to the ground as he spoke. Then, steadying his breath, he turned his back on the target.

“You never know if the next thing you do will kill your enemy.”

As soon as he had spoken, he spun. He grabbed one of the weapons at his feet and, with no time to aim, threw it.

The dagger flew through the air, spinning once, and landed in the center of the target with a dry thump.

“Hmph.”

He picked up the weapons one by one and threw them.

Silently, without a word, he threw them then collected them and started again.

This is boring. The boy sat down in the grass and yawned. He rubbed his eyes, trying to work out the last grains the sandman had left there.

“What good does it do you to learn how to hit an immobile target?” “I don’t know.”

“And you’ve got it so low, too.” “It’s the height of a goblin’s throat.”

The boy fell silent. From the distance came a warm voice calling, “Breakfast!”

He noticed now that the fog had burned off; he could see all the way to the farmhouse, where Cow Girl was leaning out of a window and waving.

Goblin Slayer stopped and looked in her direction, somehow brightly, and nodded.

“All right,” he said. Then the helmet turned toward the boy. “Let’s go.”

Ugh. Not expecting much from this meal.

The boy nodded grudgingly then heaved himself to his feet and followed after Goblin Slayer.

If the food sucks, I’m knocking over that table.

§

There was stew for breakfast.

The boy ended up asking for three extra helpings.

§

“Ergggg…”

“You overate.”

They had left the farm on the outskirts and were heading for the Guild, but the boy walked along the path unsteadily. He clung to his staff as he made every effort to move. This must be what it was like, he thought, after an especially draining and dispiriting adventure.

Perhaps this was what adventurers felt like after trekking through an endless field only to see the castle finally come into view.

When they finally passed through the swinging doors and into the noisy waiting area, the boy collapsed onto a seat.

Once again, there were plenty of adventurers visiting the Guild. Some had come to register just today, while others were looking for another day’s work.

“Hrggg…”

“How could you be so excited about finding an elevator in some old ruins that you went and got yourself a hangover? How stupid are you?”

“I thought some spirits might restore my spirit…” “How stupid are you?”

Hungover adventurers were not an uncommon sight, some of them slumped on the benches even now. People didn’t pay much attention to the young boy who had just come in; maybe they thought he was one of the drunkards.

“I’m going, then,” Goblin Slayer said, looking down at the groaning young man, who had lain down so he now took up an entire bench. “You should start in the sewers. Kill those giant— What is it again? —Giant rats.”

“I…am gonna…k-kill goblins…!” “I see.”

With that, Goblin Slayer turned away from the young man. Who was he to interfere with the boy’s wishes? Goblin Slayer strode boldly away, heading for his usual spot: a bench in the far corner of the Guild waiting area.

Five—no, six years ago, when he had first become an adventurer, he had been the only one there.

But now things were different.

His companions were there, as were those who had some business with him, and even others who just wanted to say hello.

Today was more of the same. There was Lizard Priest, swishing his tail.

High Elf Archer and Dwarf Shaman sat on either side of Priestess. And yet… “Goblin Slayer, siiir…”

Somehow it felt different from usual. At the center of the circle of faces, Priestess’s hands clutched her knees, and her voice was weak.

“What’s wrong?”

“Sounds like they were talking about promoting her,” High Elf Archer answered in Priestess’s stead.

“Ah,” Goblin Slayer nodded. “It was about that time.”

Adventurers were divided into ten ranks, from Porcelain to Platinum. Notwithstanding Platinum rank, which was special, the divisions were made based on what were popularly called “experience points.” In other words, the rewards one had earned, combined with how much good one had done for those around them, along with one’s personality.

It had been a year earlier that Priestess had been promoted to Obsidian for defeating the whatever-it-was-called in the underground ruins. Then there was the giant eyeball they had encountered at the water town, and the leader of the goblin army that had attacked their own town.

Having further survived the battle with the goblin paladin in the North, she should have had more than enough in the way of rewards and social contributions. And her interpersonal comportment was beyond reproach.

Yes, it was more than appropriate that the possibility of promotion should have been raised.

But if she was looking so down, that meant… “She didn’t pass?”

“I guess not.”

“And you even had a letter of recommendation, huh?” High Elf Archer whispered to Priestess, who simply responded, “Yes.”

She looked as pathetic as a puppy left out in the rain and sounded as if she might start weeping at any moment.

“I guess—they think—they say I haven’t contributed enough yet.”

“I suppose it’s understandable,” Lizard Priest said. “The rest of us are Silver-ranked, after all.”

Dwarf Shaman let out a dissatisfied snort and tugged at his beard. “What, do they think she’s piggybacking on us? Who would believe that?” It was an inappropriate but not unheard-of thing for a group of experienced adventurers to do.

“Hrm,” Goblin Slayer grunted quietly.

Priestess’s first party no longer existed. The people with whom she should have grown and matured from Porcelain up through the ranks were already gone.

Goblin Slayer glanced over at Guild Girl, but she was busy with other adventurers, rushing back and forth like a frenzied mouse. She noticed him looking at her and put her hands together in a gesture of apology. That meant there was little that could be done. After all, it was not she who ran the Guild. Her superiors were involved, as were paperwork, inspectors, and bureaucratic red tape. That was simply the way the world worked. Personal effort was indispensable, but it was not always enough.

“U-um, please d-don’t worry about it,” Priestess said bravely as if to comfort Goblin Slayer and her other companions, who had fallen into reflection. “I’m sure that if I work hard enough, I can get them to promote me eventually…”

“That’s the spirit,” Dwarf Shaman said. “You’ve got plenty of skills, and you’re more than doing your part to help out. They just need to understand that.”

“Mm,” Lizard Priest hissed from where he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed thoughtfully. His tail moved with a rustle. “Among my people, we speak of the importance of conveying the technique of battle to the next generation.”

“That’s it!” High Elf Archer said, attempting to snap her fingers. She got only a soft clicking sound. Then she pursed her lips again: Dwarf Shaman was trying to suppress a laugh at her failed attempt. “…What?”

“Oh, nothing. I just wondered what you were talking about,” he replied, totally unperturbed by High Elf Archer’s piercing glare.

“I’m not gonna forget this,” the elf said as the dwarf stood laughing and stroking his beard. “But anyway, if rank is the problem, why not find some Porcelains and Obsidians to adventure with?”

“That’s just the thing,” the dwarf said. “This is the Guild, after all. Show them you’re mentoring someone, you know?”

“Um…” Priestess looked around at them, confused. Her eyes watered a little. She ran her tongue gently over dry lips then held up her pointer finger as if to make sure she was following them. “You mean…go adventuring without all of you?”

“Yes,” Goblin Slayer said brusquely.

“It would not be such a bad idea,” added Lizard Priest.

“Well, that settles it,” High Elf Archer said, her ears twitching brightly. She was practically immortal; logistical niceties didn’t tend to worry her. “Just pick a random Porcelain—well, maybe random isn’t the right word, but

—”

Her party seemed just about to get things underway when a taunting voice sounded:

“Heh! I know you’re back-row, but there’s no way someone as weepy and blubbering as you could ever get promoted!”

That sent High Elf Archer’s ears straight back, and she began looking for their antagonist. The owner of the voice rose unsteadily from one of the benches.

It was the red-haired boy—dressed in a robe, holding a staff, wearing glasses. That wizard.

Priestess spent only a second with her mouth open in shock, then the corners of her eyes tightened angrily.

“I—I’m not weepy!”

“I dunno ’bout that. I hear all you clerics like a good cry.” He gave a dismissive sniff and didn’t even open his eyes all the way as he looked at Priestess. Maybe he thought all this diligent ridicule made him look cool.

He didn’t seem to realize that it just made him seem like a slimy villain. “Whenever you’re in trouble, it’s O gods, please, save me! Boo-hoo-hoo!, right?”

“Hey—!” Priestess hardly knew what to say to this unexpected display of meanness, but her pale face grew visibly red. She was uncharacteristically— but very much understandably—agitated. “That’s not how it is at all! I have all kinds of—”

All kinds of what? Was there any way she could finish that sentence proudly, confidently?

She followed instructions and used miracles, praying for everyone’s safety. Praying to the gods. But could she herself do anything? If so, what?

Priestess found she could no longer speak. She looked at the ground, clenching a shaking fist.

The young man stuck out his chest triumphantly. But he took a hesitant step back, then two, as Lizard Priest approached him aggressively. “To judge others invites judgment upon oneself,” the lizardman said. “For if you insult one cleric, you have insulted them all.”

Lizard Priest made a broad gesture with his head. The boy looked around, and only then did he realize: from the newest to the most experienced, every adventurer in the room was looking at him and Priestess, who was blushing furiously.

“I think you may find this world a difficult one to survive in without some help from the gods,” Lizard Priest continued. Who could blame the boy for the slight groan that escaped him then? He had been shouting in front of all these people, with no thought for the future.

“Hey, you! How about you look me in the eye and say that?”

“Come off it, moron. We’ve got giant rats to hunt. It’ll be good practice for us.”

“Let go! Lemme go! I’m gonna teach that guy a lesson! Let! Me! Go!”

Apprentice Cleric flailed about, waving her staff, as Rookie Warrior dragged her away.

The apprentice’s reaction was somewhat extreme, but all around the room, responses were similar. Perhaps some favored Priestess because she was a girl, others because hers was a familiar face against one they didn’t know. But most of the reproachful glances leveled at the boy were motivated by more than that.

Some adventurers derided clerics, who didn’t stand in the front row, as nothing but healing machines. But there were plenty of adventurers who had been saved by those same clerics. Everyone got injured at one time or another. Writhing in pain, poisoned, cursed, abandoned: none of these were pleasant.

If you had a cleric in your party, then you were in good stead, and of course, anyone who offered alms could be treated at a temple. How could anyone look down on those who worked for them, prayed for them, made miracles happen for them?

“H-hey, I’m—” But no adventurer would simply back down like that. “I’m an adventurer, too!”

The boy announced himself boldly, although he knew he was at a disadvantage here. His passion caused a few of the onlooking eyes to widen with admiration.

The business of adventuring was, ultimately, one in which everyone must take responsibility for themselves. So if there was a person who really had the strength to stand completely on their own, with no divine aid, then they could quite well make fun of clerics and get away with it.

“Goblins? Hah! They’re nothing! So what does that make a Goblin Slayer?”

He jabbed his staff in Goblin Slayer’s direction as if he might cast a spell on the adventurer, a classic pose of wizard contempt.

“Don’t take notes! I won’t teach you my goblin-slaying secrets! Try some rats instead! It’s bullshit, all of it!”

All the emotions he had held back until that moment came pouring out of him.

“I damn well will kill goblins!”

In the face of all this aggressive shouting, Goblin Slayer only tilted his head the slightest bit, quizzically. Beside him, High Elf Archer’s ears twitched and she crossed her arms as she looked at Goblin Slayer. “Who’s this, Orcbolg? Your little brother?”

“No,” Goblin Slayer said firmly. “I only had an older sister.”

“Oh?” The archer let out a sigh and shrugged with the sort of grace attainable only by elves. “I guess I just hear that sort of talk so much these days that it doesn’t surprise me anymore.”

“Is that so?”

“So who exactly is this kid?”

“A newcomer,” Goblin Slayer said. “A wizard, it would seem.”

Goblin Slayer wasn’t looking at the outthrust staff, but at Priestess. She was still peering at the ground, her shoulders stiff, completely silent. She was fifteen—no, sixteen now. She had been an adventurer for an entire year, but she was still young. What could he say to her, when the work of that year had been denied as if she had done nothing important?

“Well, that makes it easy, doesn’t it?” a bright, eager voice broke in. Everyone turned to look at the new speaker. “I heard everything. And as a Lawful Good knight, I can’t let it go!”

Female Knight stood there, snorting triumphantly. Her wide smile made it all too clear that she had butted in mostly for the fun of it. Behind her, Heavy Warrior muttered, “I couldn’t stop her,” and held up an apologetic hand.

“The hell? …Who’re you? This doesn’t involve you.”

“Heh-heh! One day I’ll be a famous paladin, but I don’t blame you for not recognizing me now.” The boy’s disbelief didn’t seem to faze Female Knight, who puffed out her chest importantly. “But hear me now, young man. I have an excellent idea!”

Female Knight was not the most refined person in the room, but she gave an elegant snap of her fingers, the noise audible throughout the Guild Hall. She didn’t seem to notice the look of displeasure that came over High Elf Archer’s face. Instead, she pointed directly at the young man. “If you’re so confident, then go slay some goblins.”

“Th-that’s exactly what I wanna do!”

“You all heard him,” Female Knight said, her eyes shining dangerously. “However!” She wielded her pointer finger like the tip of a sword. “Your leader will be that cleric girl!”

“Whaaa?!” Priestess, fixed by that finger, came back to herself with a yelp. She could hardly figure out what was happening, as she looked back and forth between the outstretched pointer finger and the wizard boy. “I-I-I’m supposed to give—orders? To— To this boy?”

“Whaddaya mean, ‘this boy’? And hey, it’s no fair to add conditions!” “Don’t be naive, young man. Knights know better than to show their hand. Better to curse yourself for having been taken in!” “U-um, I haven’t said I’ll accept yet…”

“Nor do you need to!”

Priestess’s attempts at objection were adorable. Heavy Warrior looked up at the ceiling without a word. No lightning bolts came crashing down. Apparently, the Supreme God was admitting that Female Knight was indeed Lawful Good. They’ll let anyone be an agent of Order these days…

“Hrm,” muttered Goblin Slayer, who had kept his distance from the commotion. “What do you think?”

“I presume the boy’s failure to be reflective springs from a lack of experience,” Lizard Priest responded with a somber nod. He rolled his eyes once. “I do not know how many spells he can use, nor how many times he can use them, but I do like his spirit.”

“We don’t know about his spells,” Goblin Slayer agreed, and after a moment he added, “I assume he can use one, or maybe two.”

“What do you think, master spell caster?”

“For better or for worse, he’s unpolished,” Dwarf Shaman responded without a moment’s hesitation, merrily stroking his beard.

Deeply engaged in his argument, the boy had no idea he was being evaluated from the sidelines like this.

“He’s rough-hewn,” the dwarf went on. “Just dug up. Still got bits of earth clinging to him. We won’t know what’s in there until he’s been polished up a bit.”

“Shall we do a bit of polishing?” “I’m for it.”

“Then it’s decided.”

A calloused hand landed on Goblin Slayer’s shoulder. It belonged to a giant—Heavy Warrior.

“You’re not usually the type to praise another adventurer, Goblin Slayer.” “I wasn’t trying to praise him…” It was impossible to tell whether he was being ironic or simply honest. Because he couldn’t tell, Goblin Slayer tilted his head. “Did I?” “You did.”

“I see… And I think it’s unusual for you to worry about anyone else.” “Hey, it wasn’t me that was worried. Blame her.” Heavy Warrior jerked his chin in Female Knight’s direction, taking in Priestess and the boy along with it.

At a glance, perhaps it seemed they were simply arguing. But in the end, Goblin Slayer had been unable to say anything to her.

Why Priestess was part of his party now, and what had happened to her first group: these were things only she and he knew.

And yet, it was Lizard Priest who had interceded against the young man, and Female Knight who had changed the subject.

He had not been able to do either of those things. “…Sorry for the trouble. It’s a help.”

“Don’t fret,” Heavy Warrior replied with deliberate bluntness. He looked away, scratching his cheek. “I owe you more than this. I’ll pay you back a little at a time.”

This caused Goblin Slayer to lapse into thought. He had no memory of a debt. But this seemed important to Heavy Warrior.

“…Is that so?” “Yeah, it is.”

“I see,” Goblin Slayer said shortly. Inside his helmet, he followed Heavy Warrior with his gaze. “I believe I owe you a debt as well.”

“Repay it a bit at a time, then.” “I see.”

“…So. What’s on your mind?”

“I am thinking about how to kill goblins.”

Heavy Warrior seemed caught between a frown and the slightest of smiles. “Mighta guessed,” he muttered. It was the natural reaction of any adventurer familiar with this man.

This Goblin Slayer.

People called him strange or weird for talking endlessly about goblins, but they called him that out of affection, for they knew him well.

“However,” Goblin Slayer said quietly as he looked around the Guild. There were Female Knight and the new boy, still arguing, while High Elf

Archer had given up trying to snap her fingers and had settled for complaining instead.

There were Lizard Priest and Dwarf Shaman, watching the room and laughing as they made plans.

There were various adventurers, some he recognized, others he didn’t, standing at the fringes of the group and occasionally offering jabs or jeers.

An inspector at the reception desk was chortling, while Guild Girl herself couldn’t restrain a small smile.

There was Spearman, having just accepted an assignment, exclaiming “Yahoo!” and bounding off, only to be chided by Witch.

And in the midst of it all, looking thoroughly confused, was Priestess.

She was saying, “I can do it, too,” and snapping her fingers for the edification of High Elf Archer. The cleric seemed a little panicked, a little flummoxed, and more than a little awkward, but she also seemed to be enjoying herself—to be truly happy.

It was how things always looked here. The people, the faces, might change, but the scene would go on.

“However,” Goblin Slayer said once more. “It would be best if all goes well.”

“You got that right,” Heavy Warrior said with a smile, and he clapped Goblin Slayer heartily on the shoulder.