Goblin Slayer - Volume 7 - Chapter 3

Chapter 3- The Forest Of The Elf King

The place was strange, eerie.

The sun was just rising, a hint of light coming from just beyond the horizon. The sky, where it was visible through the branches, was a deep blue. Goblin Slayer rifled through his item bag in the predawn light. From the simple sleeping area behind him, beyond some bug netting, came soft groans

and gentle snoring.

It was Lizard Priest and Dwarf Shaman, both of whom were still asleep. The dwarf might not get up until breakfast, but the lizardman would awaken come dawn.

As for the women, Priestess would already be up and at her prayers beside her bed. Guild Girl woke up at the same time each day, which was before breakfast; she said it was most convenient for her work. Cow Girl would soon be awake as well.

High Elf Archer had taken an early shift of guard duty as she planned to sleep until someone roused her.

A party that didn’t let its spell casters get sufficient rest was a party that would soon be destroyed. For that reason, High Elf Archer and Goblin Slayer traded off turns on the watch. As it happened, Goblin Slayer was quite happy to take the later shift.

From midnight until dawn, he had no desire to sleep. The chance to let someone else watch from evening until the dark of the night, while he rested, was something new this year, a small—

“Luxury, perhaps.” He put some fragrant herbs through the visor of his helmet and chewed on them. A bitter flavor spread from his throat up to his brain, stimulating his focus. He crunched down on the tough leaves a second time.

Yes, the place was eerie.

Goblin Slayer adjusted his grip on his sword so that he could draw it at any time.

Would the goblins gang up and attack us in the middle of the day?

Attack a group of armed adventurers, perhaps assuming that the element of surprise overcame any disparity in armament.

Was it possible?

Above all, there was the wolf pack to consider. Goblins were bad enough, but they had a contingent of riders. Imagine the resources that must take to support.

And yet they are able to do it.

Food. Stables. Equipment. And amusements—yes, amusements. Was that why they were attacking the boats?

They were located directly beside the elf village. Why had they built such an elaborate operation?

What for? What were they planning?

Goblin Slayer chewed the leaf once, twice, three times more.

His thoughts came in a flurry of disconnected ideas, bubbling up and then disappearing.

Suddenly, a voice called out.

“Awaken, on your feet! Where do you varlets think you are?”

A gust of wind through the woods carried the interrogation to them.

Goblin Slayer whipped out his sword and jumped to his feet. He found himself, however, met with an obsidian blade.

With great annoyance, he looked up at the weapon’s owner.

Someone was standing on the raised floor, having torn aside the bug netting. The sun was at his back, but it was clear he was—

“An elf?”

“Indeed. And this is our territory.”

The one who spoke so proudly was an elf warrior, young and beautiful— as all elves are. He wore leather armor, carried a bow, and had a quiver of bud-tipped arrows at his hip.

More striking than anything, though, was the armor protecting his head. It was a shining headpiece made of mithril.

The elf with the shimmering headpiece regarded Goblin Slayer balefully, his expression suspicious.

“…Do you really fight with that sword?” the elf asked. “Against goblins, yes,” Goblin Slayer replied evenly.

The elf’s sharp gaze moved from the sword with its strange length to the

round shield, then the grimy leather armor, then the cheap-looking metal helmet.

“Some barbarian warrior, are you? And a dwarf…”

“…And a lizardman, at your service.” Lizard Priest, who had sat up in the meantime, brought his palms together in a strange gesture. Dwarf Shaman, who had just gotten up, was sitting there and making no attempt to hide his displeasure. To be attacked by elves while sleeping was the ultimate humiliation for a dwarf.

The elf looked at each of the three of them in turn, having more or less gathered who and what they were.

“So. Adventurers…” “Roughly.”

“…Indeed. Was it you who did battle with the goblins yesterday?” Goblin Slayer nodded his grimy helmet.

“I see,” the elf said, his eyes narrowing and his hand sliding on his sword. “We finished off the ones you left behind.”

At that, Goblin Slayer grunted. That meant his attempt to spread disease in the nest had been thwarted. On the other hand, the escaped goblins had been killed. Perhaps it was well and good, then.

The elf seemed uncertain what to say in the face of this unintimidated attitude.

“…I have just one question to ask you,” he said gruffly. “What is it?”

“The arrow that pierced one of the goblins appeared to belong to a fellow of ours.”

The elf with the shining helmet produced the projectile in question. It had a bud tip. It was covered in dark goblin blood, but the tip was faulty, hanging at an angle.

“We know, however, that this girl would never use such a crude bolt.” “……”

“Tell me what you did to her. Your answer may decide your fate at my hands—”

Goblin Slayer didn’t say a word, but Lizard Priest and Dwarf Shaman looked at each other and shrugged.

“You must be the one who sang an epic poem instead of a love song.” “Indeed, it seems it was that very love who set you straight.”

“…Wha?!” The elf with the shining helmet was thrown for a loop. He grasped his sword tighter, as if ready to raise it at any time. His pale countenance, the pride of his people, was instantly ruby red, and he shook violently.

“Y-you filthy vermin…! Where in the world did you…?!”

“The girl you’re seeking,” Goblin Slayer said with an uncharacteristic sigh. “That’s her over there, isn’t it?”

“Hrk…!”

In the blink of an eye, the elf was off like a shot. “Starwind’s daughter, are you there?!”

He jumped several meters in a single graceful bound; when he found the shelter, he tore away the bug netting without hesitation.

“Yes?”

“Huh?”

“…Ah.”

He was soon frowning. Before him were three young women—young women who, awoken by the commotion outside, had quickly made themselves up to see what was going on.

Three people, six eyes, opened wide to gaze at the intruding elf.

They were in the middle of an adventure, of course, and no one in that position would deliberately change into pajamas to sleep. But that didn’t mean they were happy to have some stranger see them at their rest.

And there was one other thing.

Over in a corner of the sleeping area, a ball of blankets shifted and squirmed.

“…What’s going on? The sun’s barely up…”

High Elf Archer yawned, stretched like a cat, and crawled out from under her covers. She rubbed her eyes, scratched her head, and looked around vacantly.

“Buh? Elder brother? What, did you come to get me?” “……”

Priestess looked like she was about to cry, Cow Girl was frowning, and Guild Girl had a soft smile on her face.

The elf with the shining helmet swallowed heavily.

Then he darted back, as if dragged by string, as the girls began to shout noisily.

“…Fine bodyguard work,” he said when he landed, coughing once. “I appreciate your bringing my sister-in-law here. Compensation will be readied for you. May your honors travel a safe road home.”

“These are my friends, brother.” High Elf Archer stuck her head out of the shelter and glared at him, but the other elf only gave an elegant shrug.

“…That’s elves for you, they just…”

But whatever crude comment was destined to end that sentence, even Dwarf Shaman had sense enough to keep to himself.

§

“I do apologize, calling you back when you’ve only just left on your journey.”

“Only just? It’s been years already. In fact, it’s been a long time, brother.” “…You reek of human.” The elf with the shining headpiece frowned as he

walked beside High Elf Archer, who strode confidently through the forest.

The look may have been inspired in part by his sister-in-law’s flippant attitude, but it was probably mostly because of the glares he was getting from behind as he guided the party along. Specifically, from the three women.

“I understand what is in your heart,” Lizard Priest said to the elf, sticking his tongue out. “My people live in a great forest of their own, but the realm of the elves is indeed striking.”

“It has been growing since the Age of the Gods. A mortal who entered could not expect to find his way out again in his lifetime.”

The elf couldn’t be blamed for the note of pride in his voice. The forest was indeed like a great green labyrinth. There was a profusion of vines, huge trees that blocked the road, and paths so narrow even wild beasts couldn’t traverse them. The underbrush seemed to reach out to catch one by the foot. It was hard enough for the adventurers; it must have been a tremendous effort for Guild Girl and Cow Girl.

The fact that they still proceeded relatively unhindered toward the interior was itself a sign of the elves’ hospitality. It partly explained why the women settled for glaring rather than complaining aloud.

“But,” said the elf with a dubious glance behind him, “to think that Orcbolg, of whose name I have heard, should turn out to be…like this.”

“I don’t know what people say about me,” Goblin Slayer said nonchalantly, prompting a snort from the elf.

“Your manner of speech,” he said, “leaves much to be desired.” “More importantly, tell me about those goblins.”

“They weren’t especially unusual, as goblins go.” They matter little. Sometimes there are more of them, sometimes less. “It’s been hot recently. Don’t such creatures multiply in the heat?”

“‘Recently’?”

“The past ten years or so. It’s been like this ever since that furor over the Dark Gods began.”

“Is that so?” Goblin Slayer said softly. “Just lately…”

“If the goblins are not threat enough to force us to build fortresses, then they are not worth fussing over.”

“You don’t have to act all aloof,” High Elf Archer piped up. “Just tell him that a wedding is not the time for goblin talk.”

“Children should be seen and not heard,” the elf with the shining headpiece snapped at his younger cousin.

“I’m not a child,” High Elf Archer said. Her lips folded into a pout, but it was clear from the bouncing of her long ears that she was still in a perfectly good mood.

Priestess, making up the back of the party, whispered softly to Guild Girl, “…So I guess the elves really don’t bother themselves about goblins?”

“What, you too?” Guild Girl replied with a wink. “If that’s the first thing you think of in this situation, you might want to be careful he doesn’t rub off any more on you.”

“Errr, heh-heh…”

Priestess scratched her cheek and laughed as if to pass the subject off, causing Guild Girl to murmur, “Gracious me.”

Then she went on, “Actually, even a lot of elvish adventurers act like that, especially if they’ve just left the forest.” It’s not that they have no sense of danger, just a poor grasp of scale.

The most basic fact about goblins was that they had the intelligence and physical strength of human children, that they were the weakest of monsters. Elves might well be frightened only of things much larger and more powerful.

“After all, they do have those eyewitness accounts.”

“…? Of what?”

“The battles of the gods.”

Oh. Priestess gasped then quickly covered her mouth. It wasn’t impossible that some of the elvish elders were in fact that old.

This would have been a time back before all things were decided by the roll of the dice. An age hardly known even to myth and legend.

“Evil spirits, dragons, dark gods, demon lords, and all manner of awful creatures came from another plane.”

It made sense, then, that the elves would regard goblins as barely a nuisance in comparison.

Yes, occasionally some unlucky soul would die at their hands. But to those destined for so short a life already, what was a few years either way? Compare that to the sort of cataclysm that comes only once every decade, or century, or millennium…

“No matter what goblins do, they aren’t going to cause something like that,” Guild Girl explained.

“…Huh,” Cow Girl said softly. “You see?” Guild Girl replied.

Priestess, however, cast her eyes to the ground with an inexpressible sadness.

Goblins didn’t matter. They were hardly worth taking note of. “Yeah, you’re right,” she said as nonchalantly as she could, but with a glance at him.

He was near the head of the line, as the one who stood on the party’s front row, sandwiching the rest of them between him and her. She wanted to say something to him, but hesitated.

Then she found her chance stolen by the elf with the shining headpiece. “There is, in fact, something even more on my mind than the wedding,”

he said.

“Oh! I’m gonna tell Sis you said that!” High Elf Archer exclaimed. Dwarf Shaman told her not to blather, but she waved him away.

“It seems the One That Stops the Waters is getting closer to the village of late.”

“What thing are you talking about?”

“An ancient thing that lives in the forest. We have always been instructed not to lay a hand on it,” the elf told Goblin Slayer.

“Oh-ho,” Lizard Priest said quietly. “And how long, if I may ask, has this ancient thing been living?”

“I don’t know,” he replied, “but it was already called old even when I was young.”

“The Triassic, then? Or the Carboniferous, or Cretaceous…” Lizard Priest started mumbling important-sounding things to himself, before finally, he nodded somberly. “Mmm, most intriguing.”

“Whatever it may be, its territory is separate from ours. It emerges only rarely, but…”

“Truth is, I’ve never even seen it, although people keep telling me it’s there,” High Elf Archer said, her ears twitching in thought. She turned to her cousin. “Does it really exist?”

“I’ve seen tracks several times. My grandfather claims he once saw the creature itself.”

“How many Ages ago was that?” High Elf Archer laughed.

At that moment, the wind gusted. It was a fresh wind, sweet and summery, full of the aromas of leaves and grass.

It blew through the trees as if it might go on forever. And where did it come from?

The source yawned in the middle of the forest, a great space that stretched from heaven to earth.

Was it a village shaped like a forest? Or was it a forest that looked like a village?

The canopy stretched to heights unfathomable, the houses made from massive, hollowed-out trees. Pathways woven from vines and leaves stretched among them.

And elves, beautiful elves in flawless attire, walked those pathways as if dancing through the air.

The patterns that adorned the bark of the trees were many and various, and the sibilance of the leaves filled the air with its music.

Layer upon layer stretched up and up, the village sprawling so high it threatened to scrape the sky.

“W-wow…” Cow Girl blinked, her eyes shining, as the sound of amazement escaped her. She had never seen such a thing in all her life, had never imagined she might experience anything like this as long as she lived.

This was the sort of place she had imagined when her old friend had talked about wanting to become an adventurer. She took a step forward, then two. She was standing beside him, and ahead of them was a great spiral

gallery that ran up and around the exterior of the village. She found herself wanting to lean out and look, but he cautioned her, “It’s dangerous. You’ll fall.”

“Oh yeah. But look… This is incredible…!”

Still holding on to her arm, Goblin Slayer said only, “Yes.”

Cow Girl puffed out her cheeks in annoyance, but there were less petty things to attend to. Leaning on him, she looked around the elf village as if set on burning it into her memory.

“Gracious. You elves do know how to build,” Dwarf Shaman remarked with a hint of disappointment—indeed, of defeat—in his voice.

“They do at that,” Lizard Priest said. “My own village is in a forest as well, but it does not look anything like this.”

Dwarf Shaman looked up at the elf with the shining headpiece. “…I don’t suppose y’had help?”

“The fae helped us, dwarf,” the elf replied. “Naturally.”

“Heh! That’s really something. So y’don’t do it with your own hands?”

The party’s collective shock was no doubt expected. High Elf Archer chuckled, sticking out her small chest, and gently elbowed Priestess, who was holding on to her sounding staff. “Pretty neat, huh?”

“Yes, very much so!” She nodded at the archer, who was winking mischievously. “I never knew such a wonderful place existed in this world.”

“Heh-heh-heh! You think so? Aw, gee…!”

High Elf Archer stuck out her chest as she swelled further and further with pride. Guild Girl started to giggle. “The capital was quite an impressive place, but this…”

The human capital was lovely, but surely the timescale on which it had been built was different. This place had not been made by the hands of any people but rather had been built up by nature itself, truly a work of the gods.

High Elf Archer ran to the front of the line with little mincing hops like a bird. When she opened her lips, the words she wove were in the melodic language of the elves.

“Good morn and good night, by a sun and two moons’ light, from Starwind’s daughter to her friends—”

She turned back to them and spread her arms wide. Her hair streamed out behind her like a comet.

“Welcome to my home!”

She smiled as wide as a flower in bloom.

§

They went through a corridor woven of branches and found that their room was the hollow of a great zelkova tree. A vine curtain hung down over the entrance to the large chamber.

A carpet of long mosses was spread over the floor, and there were a desk and chairs that seemed to be extended knots of the tree itself. Almost translucent leaves were clustered in front of the window, admitting the afternoon light with its gentle warmth. The vine drapes here and there must have been the entryways to sleeping quarters.

The only thing in the room that suggested the work of anything other than nature was an elven tapestry that seemed to be woven from strands of morning dew. The delicate, fluid illustrations depicted a series of stories that stretched back to the Age of the Gods. Unlike the myths and legends humans told, chances were that the elves had observed this history with their own eyes.

There was no fireplace, for obvious reasons, but the warmth of the tree itself, tempered by the breeze, was perfectly comfortable.

Even better, the entire room was suffused with the aroma of the wood. Cow Girl took a deep breath, savoring the smell, and then let it out slowly. “This is incredible! I’ve only ever heard of anything like it in stories.”

She felt wrong, somehow, entering the room wearing her dirty leather boots. She crept in as quietly as she could, one step, then two.

As she got closer to one of the chairs, she discovered that mushrooms were growing on it like a cushion.

She smiled: it really was like some old fairy tale. She tried sitting down gently. The cushion felt soft and puffy beneath her bottom as she sank into it. She found herself exhaling in admiration.

“Wow… This is great.” “Um, okay… Let me try…!”

Clutching her sounding staff nervously, Priestess dropped onto one of the chairs. The mushrooms supported her light frame capably.

“Eek! Ack!” she exclaimed, like a little girl, getting a chuckle out of Guild Girl.

That cleric was like a child trying to act grown-up. She always took the opportunity to have some fun when it presented itself.

“I’ve known some elf adventurers, but I’ve never been invited to their home,” she said, looking studiously around the room. She ran her hand along the tapestry on the wall. It showed a half-elf hero and their companions fighting for the Dragon Lance. It must have been a scene out of some military epic.

“How was this made?” Guild Girl asked. “Is this something else the fae did?”

“It was not made, but your conjecture isn’t wholly wrong,” the elf with the shining headpiece answered, with a touch of courtesy toward this knowledgeable human woman. “The forest bestows its affection upon us and

creates the form of these things, an expression of its power.”

“They say one goes to the dwarves for sturdy dwellings, to the rheas for comfort, and to the lizardmen for fortresses,” Lizard Priest said, sweeping his tail with great interest along the moss carpeting. He let out a breath, apparently relieved to find that even the long, heavy appendage left no mark on the floor covering. “But my, elven houses are deeply intriguing in their own right.”

“To hear such from a child of the nagas is compliment indeed,” the male elf said with an elegant gesture. A show of respect, one supposed, for the courageous and ancient lizardmen who knew so much of the circle of life. He added self-deprecatingly, “I’m afraid that, busy as I am with the preparations for this joyous occasion, I have lacked the time to make your dwellings suitably inviting…”

High Elf Archer, however, gave him a merciless jab with her elbow and said with lidded eyes, “Now, brother, don’t fish for compliments.”

“Erk…”

“I don’t care how busy you were, I’ll bet this took months.”

She sniffed and then jumped clear over the moss and into one of the chairs.

“Dibs on this one!” she exclaimed, landing on the mushroom cushion of the seat with the best view of the window.

High Elf Archer looked like she might kick up her feet right then and there. “Most uncouth,” her cousin frowned. “If she were to see this, I think you would get a piece of her mind.”

“Did you hear that? Not even married yet, and he’s already saying ‘she this’ and ‘she that’ like she’s his wife!” She chortled with a sound like a ringing bell, completely ignoring her cousin’s rebuke. “So. What’s next?”

“Hrm. You’re no doubt tired from your long journey, so we’ve readied a bath and laid out a midday meal for you.”

The elf with the shining helmet rubbed his brow as if fighting a headache but retained his people’s natural dignity. Maybe he was used to being nettled by his sister-in-law-to-be like this. They had, after all, spent two thousand years together before she left.

“What would you like to do?” he asked.

“I will unload the luggage,” Goblin Slayer answered immediately. “Goblins may yet come.”

By this time, we need hardly record the reactions of his companions to this remark.

The elf with the shining headpiece found himself staring in some amazement. High Elf Archer pressed one hand to her cheek and waved with the other. “I’ll stay here, too, then. You never know when Big Sis might drop by.” She gave a bit of a resigned laugh, which the others were used to. Hence, they all nodded together.

“I think I’ll get m’self some food while the ladies make their toilette.” “I believe I agree with that plan.”

“Are—are you sure?” Guild Girl asked, blinking. For as often as she took care of adventurers, there had been few opportunities for adventurers to show care for her. An ambiguous expression came over her face at this unaccustomed situation, and she nodded hesitantly. “If you’re quite sure it’s all right for us to go first…”

“We shall be going first in our own way. Should women not be given priority in attending to their appearance?”

“Well then, thank you very much. I’ll be happy to go wash off the dust and sweat.” Guild Girl nodded once more, this time apologetically, but she had no actual objection.

Priestess had gotten off her mushroom chair and now pattered over to Goblin Slayer.

“What is it?” the helmet asked, turning to her. She fixed it with a pale finger.

“Goblin Slayer, sir, you have to be sure to eat and bathe, okay?” “Yes.”

He didn’t sound very happy about it, but Priestess was satisfied. She puffed out her little chest triumphantly.

Cow Girl smiled helplessly. “Hey, don’t go grabbing us girls’ stuff, especially the changes of clothes.” She conscientiously made the point. So long as she warned him, she knew he would be careful, but if she didn’t say anything, well, he was capable of being totally clueless.

“…Which are those?” He sounded a bit concerned now.

Cow Girl nodded. “We’ll grab some clothes for after our bath, so try to remember which bags we get them from.”

“Okay.”

“But don’t look in them!”

“…Perhaps someone other than me should handle those bags.”

“What?” came High Elf Archer’s voice, her ears flapping and a smile crossing her face. She was thoroughly confident that letting Orcbolg handle all the luggage would be vastly more entertaining than having anyone else do it.

“I suppose if two thousand years didn’t change you, a few more weren’t going to do it,” the male elf said with a sigh. He felt someone slap him on the back, although strangely low down.

He turned to see Dwarf Shaman’s bearded face, with a very knowing look on it.

“Well, lead on, Sir Groom,” the dwarf said. “I’m sure the ladies are eager for their bath.” He gave the elf another encouraging smack and laughed uproariously. “Unlike the elves, we mere mortals can’t linger over every little thing.”

§

“You want to know why we elves do not eat meat?”

“’Sright. I just want to understand why I’m being fed nothing but leaves and fruit.”

“It’s a question of balance, O friend who dwells in the earth.”

“You mean an issue of numbers, then, of the creatures that live in the forest? …Oh-ho, this banana is delicious.”

“Taste then this drink as well, Honored Scaled Priest. It uses tapioca.” “Ah, the cassava root. My people have been known to boil and eat it.

Perhaps this is the truth behind those grilled candies.”

“Now, then. For one animal to grow to adulthood takes many years, but for fruit to ripen on the tree takes a year at most, and the supply is plentiful.”

“Hmm… Well, I suppose it must be nice not having to worry about your food supply.”

“What is more, we need not fear being eaten by the animals, nor need we leave the forest.”

“You mean the ecosystem would be threatened if you had to hunt for your daily sustenance. Aha! Indeed, indeed.”

“Yes, hence we help ourselves only to grasses, fruits, and berries. Do you

see now, dwarf?”

“I get it, but I don’t have to like it.”

Dwarf Shaman looked at the plate of mushrooms in front of him, blowing out his cheeks with something less than tact.

The great hall built under the sprawling roots of a towering tree doubled as the elves’ dining area. In place of lamps, several closed buds full of sea sparkles hung around the room, and the tables were piled with food.

There were grapes and bananas, tapioca, and salads featuring a medley of herbs and vegetables, along with grape wine and a drink also made from tapioca. When it came to elegance and atmosphere, and both quality and quantity of food, even Dwarf Shaman could find nothing to complain about.

And yet…

“I just can’t ever envision m’self eating bugs…”

“They’re quick to reproduce, and there are a great many varieties of them.

And to top it all off, they’re delicious.”

On the huge plate in front of the dwarf was a pile of large beetles, stripped of their shells and boiled. He pulled a leg off one and dipped it in sauce; when he bit down, he found it crunchy and responsive in the mouth.

He had to admit, it was good.

For dwarves, food was no less important and no less to be honored than gems and jewels. And as a dwarf, Dwarf Shaman, by his beard, would not deny when something was delicious.

But—but still.

“They’re still bugs, aren’t they?” “I myself find them delectable.”

“Hrmph! A jungle cousin of this lot, you are…!” Dwarf Shaman glared at Lizard Priest, who was smacking his lips as he crunched down on an insect, shell and all.

Maybe they could keep the things from looking like bugs. Or at least add a little salt.

The dish had a light flavor of good ingredients, but it was so obvious that one was eating insects. That was enough to make even Dwarf Shaman lose his appetite.

“Oh, fine! I guess this leaves me with the grilled sweets.”

“Oh, not eating yours? I suppose then, ahem, I might just help myself to one of these legs…”

“You fool,” he said, slapping away the scaly, outstretched hand. “A dwarf never shares his meal with another!” He began ferrying the grilled sweets to his mouth.

The treat’s moist center had a distinct sweetness; it was said to be the elves’ secret recipe. Perhaps there was honey worked into it; in any case, it was nourishing, and he never seemed to tire of it no matter how much he ate.

Dwarf Shaman had been stuffing food into his mouth, crumbs flying into his beard, for some time when he froze, suddenly having had a thought.

“Don’t tell me. Do these treats have bugs in them, too…?”

“We shall leave that to your honored imagination,” the elf with the shining headpiece said, at which an expression difficult to describe passed over Dwarf Shaman’s face. He looked at the half-eaten sweet in his hand then tossed it into his mouth as if to say ah, well, and swallowed it noisily.

As Lizard Priest watched the dwarf, he somberly touched the tip of his nose with his tongue and opened his jaws.

“So long as we reside at your fortress—er, is that word appropriate in the case of the elves?”

“This is not a place prepared against battle, but insofar as the chieftain lives here, you aren’t wrong.”

“Then I should certainly wish to greet your chieftain.”

This caused a faint smile to play over the lips of the elf with the shining headpiece. “An audience is already planned for you. Indeed, all who visit this forest are as if they were already before the chieftain.”

“………Ahh.”

Lizard Priest squinted and craned his neck. The ceiling, which was in fact the bottom of the massive tree above them, was far away, illuminated by the gentle glow of the sea sparkles.

There was a quiet rustling of the leaves in the wind, accompanied by the sound of water flowing by the roots.

So long as an elf was not killed and did not wish for death themselves, they would go on living.

So what, then, happened if one did desire death…? “I see.”

All was part of the forest. Part of nature. Part of the cycle. One simply faded away and joined all that was already here.

The chieftain lived here. This very place was the chieftain.

Looking up in wonderment, Lizard Priest put his palms together in a strange gesture. Though they envisioned it differently, the lizardmen also saw returning to the circle as one kind of ideal death.

“I offer my most heartfelt thanks that we have been granted to touch even the hem of the dress of the one who oversees this great forest.”

“Your thanks is accepted,” the elf said, glancing over at Dwarf Shaman, who had puffed out his cheeks as if to ask what all the fuss was about. “To know there is one from beyond our wood who understands this is a joy unlooked for. May I ask—what do you think of this place?”

“Oh, my brief look around suggests how busy everyone is.” And indeed they were.

The great hall was decorated with many weavings in preparation for the wedding, along with harps strung with spider’s silk. But with the exception of a few serving girls, there was no sign of anyone there at all, let alone any entertainers.

“Has it all to do with the wedding?”

“Not all of it,” the elf responded, taking a sip from his tapioca drink as if to join his words together. The cup he drank from was the polished horn of a deer, and nothing more, yet it was a work of art. “There have been many whispers in the woods of late. Many have gone to see.”

“To see the One That Stops the Waters, you mean?”

“So there’re things in the forest that even the elves don’t understand,” Dwarf Shaman said with a nasty grin.

Never letting his elegant smile slip, the elf replied, “Then let me ask you, O dwarf: do you know all things that sleep in the depths of the earth?”

“…I take your point,” Dwarf Shaman grunted. “You have me there.” “Heh-heh-heh! Milord Goblin Slayer would surely ask whether those

things were the work of goblins,” Lizard Priest said, chuckling merrily and grabbing another insect leg. He let slip the thought that he would have no complaint if there were some cheese around.

“On that point,” the elf said.

Lizard Priest nodded soberly. “Mm. Cheese is the milk of a cow or a sheep or the like, fermented, as they say—”

“That is not what I meant… Is he really the famous Orcbolg, the Goblin Slayer? The kindest man on the frontier?”

“Indeed, he is.”

“He very little looks it.”

Lizard Priest rolled his eyes in his head. “I know he can appear rather unimpressive at first glance. But what makes you say that?”

“My cousin seems to have taken a liking to him,” the elf said wryly, sounding like an older brother concerned about his little sister. “She has a rather…unique personality, much like someone else I know… Erm, I suppose there’s no need to hide it from you. I should say, much like me.”

“Ho! That’s just it, er, eh, Sir Groom,” Dwarf Shaman said, sounding revived as he grabbed a horn cup. The wine was weak, but alcohol was alcohol. It was still good for stirring up a dwarf. “Is there nothing you can do to rein her in a bit?”

“We did attempt to instruct her in the more womanly arts. Weaving, music, song, and more besides.”

“And did it work?”

“………We spent two thousand years on the project.”

“I see…” And this is what they’ve got to show for it. The three of them looked at one another and sighed in unison.

“I still say, though, that she isn’t a bad young woman.”

“Yes, I know that.” Dwarf Shaman’s answer was brief, and then he reached out and grabbed a leg off his beetle. He demanded salt even as he chewed on it, sauce flying everywhere as he feasted on the meat.

He burped diligently then swigged more wine, then another burp.

“I admit her inability to be ladylike displeases me, and I do wish sometimes that she would calm down and act her age,” the elf said.

Lizard Priest squinted. “Hmph,” Dwarf Shaman snorted, as if to say he wasn’t entirely happy with this assessment. “As long as she doesn’t slow us down, dear Groom, we’ll be happy enough to have her.”

§

A pounding could be heard, as of falling water, and a white spray seen.

A waterfall? Yes, there was one.

But it was not such as those that fall upon the surface of the earth. Not the kind that are shone upon by the sun.

This was a river that ran in the hollows of the earth, up its waterfall, up

the great trunk and onward to heaven.

Go through the great hall and down a flight of stairs, and there was another vast chamber.

It was a great stone cavern carved out by water over many thousands of years, worked into just this shape. The rock had been worked by the unceasing flow into a spectacular limestone cavern. It was startling to see a rain forest that also had stalagmites rising up from the ground, and stalactites dangling like leaves from above.

It was a stone forest. A river flowed through it, complete with waterfall and a deep, dark lake.

That lake gave off a faint emerald glitter.

The water itself, however, was not the source; it was the moss. The moss, which packed the lake bed, was shimmering. “Oh… Wow…”

So this was what it meant to be speechless.

Cow Girl trembled at the otherworldly scenery, unable to say anything. The damp but cool underground air blew across her naked, suntanned body wrapped in a towel.

She glanced behind to see the elf serving girl withdrawing with the clothes Cow Girl had taken off.

Cow Girl looked dubiously at Guild Girl, who stood beside her. “D-do you really think it’s okay for us to get in this?”

“They said this place is for washing, so I think it’s fine.”

Maybe she was used to this sort of thing, because she seemed to have no hesitation about exposing her polished beauty.

Guild Girl took a quick look around then dipped a toe into the water. That special chill of underground spring water sent a shock through her. She gave an involuntary yelp, causing Priestess to giggle.

“It’s warmer than the water we used for washing back at the Temple,” she said. She slid her delicate legs into the pool, closing her eyes as if savoring the sensation.

“You clerics always seem to be so good at this sort of thing,” Guild Girl muttered with something like resentment, after which she slid slowly into the lake.

Cow Girl, loath to be the only one left on shore, screwed up her courage and then all but charged into the water.

“Eee… Y-yikes…!”

She felt the soft moss under her feet. She thought she was about to slip on it but almost immediately found that it held her weight firmly. The water was cold at first, but she soon grew used to it and even found it felt pleasant.

She thought she was going to be okay here.

That encouraged her to submerge herself up to her shoulders; the water supported her, and she swayed gently back and forth in its embrace.

“Ahh…” Cow Girl found herself letting out an easy, relaxed sound, her face turning red. She glanced at the other two girls, whose expressions were much like hers. That helped her relax.

“You’re right, it’s warmer than well water,” she said. “I wonder why.”

“I heard a story once that said there’s a river of fire that flows beneath the earth,” Priestess said. She cocked her head. I wonder if that’s why. Maybe High Elf Archer or Dwarf Shaman could tell them.

“You adventurers are really something,” Cow Girl said. “Always going to places like this.”

“Not always,” Priestess replied with an ambiguous smile. Cavern, ruins, ruins, ruins, cavern, cavern, ruins, cavern…

When she thought back over her adventures, she realized that most of them had taken place in caves or ruins. And most of the ruins she had gone to had ended up burned to the ground, or blown up, or inundated with toxic gas…

"...Well, still, not always."

She would have to talk to Goblin Slayer about evaluating his actions a little more carefully.

“Lots of people become adventurers hoping to find hidden treasures,” Guild Girl offered. She held her hair with one hand to keep it out of the water while she listened to the other girls’ conversation. “The trust afforded to some homeless ruins-raider and that accorded an established adventurer is very different.”

“Oh yeah, that makes sense.” Cow Girl nodded vigorously, droplets of water flying from her short hair. “Sometimes people stop by the farm asking for something to eat, but I’m always kind of scared of random travelers.”

And lodging? No way. She waved a hand emphatically.

“Porcelains can be a little scary, too. Er, not so much young traveling priestesses.”

“I’m Steel already, anyway,” Priestess replied. The slight hint of pride in her voice made Guild Girl smile even more.

The still-young (despite being sixteen) girl put a hand to her modest chest, as if the steel level tag were hanging there even now.

It hadn’t been long since she’d passed the promotion interview and risen to the eighth rank.

“Adventurers… Man, adventurers,” Cow Girl said, looking at Priestess, too. “I remember how often I thought about adventurers when I was a kid.”

“You were pretty keen on them, were you?” Guild Girl asked, cocking her head. A droplet of water tumbled from a stalactite, making tiny waves ripple across the lake’s surface.

“Er, who, me? N-not the adventurers as such, no,” Cow Girl said, shaking her hand in a way that made more ripples.

“Ahh,” Guild Girl said with a nod. “The princesses, then?” “Don’t say that.”

“Or maybe the heroes’ brides?” “Don’t make me say it!”

Cow Girl sunk into the water up to her cheeks as if trying to hide the flush in her face. She sat there silently, blowing bubbles up to the surface, like a little girl.

For a moment, the only sound in the cavern was the rush of the underground river.

Think about it—was it really so unusual?

Boys always wanted to be heroes, or knights, or dragon slayers, or adventurers. Girls, too, had their dreams.

Princesses or shrine maidens, beautiful brides. Perhaps, they hoped, some faerie might one day come to take them home with him.

Though in the end, infatuation was merely infatuation, dreams only dreams…

“But…” Priestess’s single word was like a drop of water, and it, too, rippled through the room. “I think being a bride would be nice.”

§

“I’m going to get things set up,” Goblin Slayer said, hardly bothering to let out a breath. The luggage had all been deposited in their respective rooms.

“Huh?” High Elf Archer exclaimed. She was slumped among a collection of cloth, looking quite at her leisure. Some of the pieces were inverted triangles, others like large bowls; she observed them with a medley of oohs and ahhs.

“Sorry, I haven’t cleaned up yet,” she said. “I was told not to touch them.”

High Elf Archer’s remark was without malice; Goblin Slayer’s, in turn, sounded cold.

He obediently neither touched nor looked at the girls’ clothes and underwear. Instead, he brought in the rest of the baggage with his usual silence.

At first High Elf Archer, lounging on a chair, had declared that she would help—and this had been the result.

“Clean it up before everyone gets back.” “…Yeah, sure. I know.”

Goblin Slayer didn’t even bother to look at her as he spoke, causing High Elf Archer to pout a little. She was the one who had made the mess, and she knew it, so she slowly but steadily collected the underwear.

“Man, look at this one. It’s huge. I could get my whole head in here.” “Don’t show that to me. And don’t spread everything all over.”

“Don’t worry, I’m working on it!” High Elf Archer insisted, but then she

rose lightly to her feet. “What is it?”

“Work is making me thirsty. I thought maybe we could both use a drink.” “I see.”

He was only remarking out of courtesy, but she took it as agreement and headed for the kitchen.

She hmmed and reviewed the contents of the shelves (also hollows of the tree).

“Hey, Orcbolg,” she said, her ears flicking back, “think I should make some tea for you, too? Just to try.”

“If you give it to me, I will have it.” He didn’t seem to read anything into the offer.

Hmm, High Elf Archer said again, sounding displeased. Soon, she was getting ready to make the tea.

First, she took some herbs and spices, which she had grabbed almost at random, and began mincing them with a large, obsidian knife. Eyeballing the measurements, she put them into cups made from hollowed-out acorns and poured water over the top of them.

The carafe was made of mithril, a unique piece that would keep the water cold almost indefinitely.

Dwarves considered steel to be their servant and mithril their friend, but it would be wrong to imagine the elves didn’t know something of metallurgy themselves. After all, that which comes from the folds of the earth is also part of nature. The elf with the shining helmet might have said, “They kindly alter their own forms for us.”

Normally, it takes quite some time to make cold-brew tea, but in this land, it took less time than most. Any elf, even if they were not a spell caster, could simply make a polite request, and nature would bend itself to their will.

By the time High Elf Archer had made a couple of lazy circles in the air with her pointer finger, the water in the cups was already tinged with color.

She offered one of the cups to Goblin Slayer, who had settled himself on the floor and was unpacking his own luggage.

“No promises about the taste, mind you.”

“Okay,” Goblin Slayer said, taking the cup. In the same motion, he gulped it down through the slats in his visor. “As long as it’s not poison, I don’t mind.”

“Gee, I’m flattered.”

“I meant only what I said,” Goblin Slayer said nonchalantly. “I didn’t intend to flatter you.”

With another snort, High Elf Archer sat down on the chair, letting her legs dangle. She sipped her tea, ignoring the way the cushion of mushrooms shifted under her.

“Hey, that’s pretty good,” she said, blinking. Then she grinned a catlike smile. “So what’re you up to, Orcbolg?”

Goblin Slayer was sitting firmly on the floor, doing some kind of work.

He had pulled out three strips of cow leather and put them together in a bunch, almost like he was making a rope. High Elf Archer climbed off her chair and looked over his shoulder, watching the complicated motions of his fingers. The restless flitting about was characteristic for her.

“Do you remember the goblin champion?” “…Yeah.”

To Goblin Slayer, the question was unremarkable, but it caused High Elf Archer to frown deeply.

That wasn’t a battle she wanted to remember. Their painful defeat in the labyrinth beneath the water town remained an unpleasant memory.

“That was hardly a year ago. How could I forget? Getting that out of my mind is going to take at least a couple of centuries.”

“This is a little something I’ve prepared against encounters like that, or the goblin paladin we faced.”

“Hmm…”

Goblin Slayer worked mechanically, weaving the strips together. The three strips in unison looked like they would be difficult to break.

“I might call it a very little something. It’s just a rope.” “I will attach a heavy rock to one end.”

The rope was unusually long. It might be a full ten feet when it was completed.

To High Elf Archer, though, sitting and quietly weaving leather straps together didn’t seem very adventurer-ish.

“…I’m impressed you would think to make something so bulky.” “They don’t sell it in any store.”

“Not really what I meant.” High Elf Archer sighed, her words part serious and part sarcastic. Then a second sigh. “If it were me doing it—” She

grabbed one of the straps Goblin Slayer had on hand, along with a couple of the slinging gems from Dwarf Shaman’s luggage. “I think I’d do it like this!”

“…What do you have there?”

Instead of answering, High Elf Archer put her finger in the middle of the strap and began to spin it. The stone on the end swung in a wide arc, whooshing through the air.

“Hear that noise it makes?” “Yes. What about it?”

“It’s fun!”

“…Hrm.”

Goblin Slayer turned his metal helmet, tying a heavy stone securely to the end of his leather braid.

He slid his finger just off the knot, grasping the rope; he gave it a swing to check the heft.

He must have liked the feel, because he set about wrapping the stone up, putting the finishing touches on the device.

“I’m thinking of making several. I’ve heard of this sort of thing before.” “Neato. I’ll take one, then!”

“How about this one I just made?” “No! A different one!”

“I don’t mind.”

Maybe it was because High Elf Archer was absorbed in all the fun she was having at that moment. Or maybe, having returned to her own home after so long, she had let down her guard.

Whatever the reason, something happened that would normally have been unthinkable for her.

Ahem.

She completely missed the person standing in the doorway until she heard the cough.

“May I ask what is going on here…?”

The voice sounded musical even when annoyed. Needless to say, its owner had leaf-sharp ears.

It was a woman with golden eyes and hair like the star-scattered heavens. A single look at her made her nobility clear. Her pale body, draped in a dress of silver thread, was graceful and tall.

The bust that pushed out against that clothing, though, gave an impression

of abundance.

Sometimes a person was beyond description not because of a failure of words, but because she surpassed the imagination.

The forest princess, her head bedecked in a crown of flowers, wore a willowy expression. High Elf Archer all but jumped to her feet.

“Wh-wh-wh-wh-whaaa?! B-Big Sis?! Why are you here?!”

“Why shouldn’t I be? I heard you had come to celebrate with me, so I thought I would say hello…”

“Err, ha-ha… Th-this, I mean, it’s not really what it looks like…” “What a great supply of lewd underwear you’ve brought.”

“Oh, Sis, you know about underwear?” High Elf Archer muttered, her words not lost on the sharp ears of her elf sister.

“And what about it?” Sister asked, eliciting a choked sound from High Elf Archer.

“Er, uh, that stuff’s not mine—it belongs to my friends, okay?” “Even worse, then. Going through other people’s belongings.” “Awww…”

“For that matter, you—” And once the words had started, they came in a torrent, like an epic poem.

“Your skin is in terrible shape. Your hair is disheveled. Have you forgotten all moderation? Are you looking after yourself properly?

“I know how dangerous adventuring is, and I know how reckless you can be, and are you really okay?

“I asked if you’re avoiding weird quests, and then you tell me it’s a mistake when you do take up a quest.

“After all, they say in all the world, even demons are second to humans in hatching insidious plans.

“How many times have I told you that you have to listen carefully to people and then think even more carefully before acting?”

At last, the elf with the flower crown, who had conducted even her lecture to her little sister with utmost eloquence and poise, collected herself once more.

“I’ve been terribly rude.” “…”

Goblin Slayer didn’t speak immediately. He turned his steel helmet to the elf, stayed silent a moment more, then finally shook his head and said, “It’s all right.”

The elf with the flower crown, noticing that her sister had once again begun assiduously organizing the underwear, gave a little sigh.

“And…you,” she said, her eyes narrowing and a smile growing on her cheeks and lips, “must be Orcbolg.”

“That girl calls me such.”

Ah, so it is you. The elf clapped her hands.

“I knew that in person you would not be as you are in any song.”

“Songs are songs,” Goblin Slayer said, shaking his head. “And I am me.” “Well…” Tee-hee. Her laughter was like a tinkling bell. It sounded much

like High Elf Archer’s. “Thank you for always looking after my sister. I hope she isn’t causing you too much trouble?”

“Hmm,” Goblin Slayer grunted, his gaze moving behind his visor. High Elf Archer’s ears drooped.

“No,” he said finally, with a slow shake of his head. “She is often of help.”

This caused the ranger’s ears to spring up.

“If you should ever meet another capable ranger or tracker, or a scout or some such, please don’t hesitate to cast my sister aside.”

“Capability is not the only—”

But Goblin Slayer stopped partway through his sentence.

“Hmm?” High Elf Archer cocked her head. Such behavior was unusual for him. “What’s wrong, Orcbolg?”

“Hmm. Nothing.”

Hmmm? High Elf Archer inquired, following his gaze.

She found a serving girl—needless to say, another elf—kneeling and waiting.

She was half in shadow, and her hair was grown long on just one side of her head.

“Ah, she’s…” The flower-crowned elf princess trailed off as if unable to speak.

“I know.”

The casual remark caused the serving girl’s shoulders to tremble with surprise.

Goblin Slayer got to his feet and strode boldly over to her. “Hey, uh, Orcbolg?”

He ignored High Elf Archer’s attempt to stop him, only coming to a halt in front of the attendant. Then, without hesitation, he knelt in place so that they were eye to eye.

“I killed them.”

The attendant looked at him, her gaze wavering. Goblin Slayer nodded then continued:

“I killed all of them.”

Hearing that, a single tear rolled out of the woman’s left eye and down her cheek.

A shake of her hair revealed the right side of her face. The grape-like swelling was gone by now.

She had once been an adventurer herself.

§

“Right. He was the one who helped her. As I thought.”

A gentle breeze came blowing through, catching High Elf Archer’s hair.

The breath of the forest. The breath of her home.

She inhaled deeply, filling her small chest with as much of that air as she could. Then she replied, “Orcbolg wasn’t alone, you know.”

“Yes, I understand that.”

One of the doors in the guest room led to a balcony. It was formed by huge branches, connected by vines that wove together to make a place to stand.

Such architecture could only be found among the elves, but what really warranted remark was the scenery.

The elf village was located in an open space amid the sea of trees, like a giant atrium.

From here, everything could be seen at once—here, one could feel the wind that blew through it all.

Her very status as an elf princess had prevented High Elf Archer from knowing they even had these guest rooms until this very moment.

They had left the serving girl with Goblin Slayer; this seemed the best place to pass the time until she stopped crying.

The elf with the flower crown held back hair blown by the wind and turned slowly toward High Elf Archer.

“You saved her. You and your friends.”

“I had to do something to show off my good side.”

She had left the forest at her own insistence, after all. She gave a triumphant, nasal chuckle.

In response, the elf with the flower crown squinted at her little sister. She rested an elbow on the ivy that served as a railing, leaning against it.

“And now you have,” she said. “Is that enough, then?” “Enough what?”

“Kuchukahatari. Adventuring.”

High Elf Archer’s long ears trembled slightly.

“You undertake great danger for only a modicum of reward, do you not?” “Er, yeah…”

There was nothing else to say. Adventurers’ status as such might be guaranteed by the human king, but it was still a mercenary enterprise. One delved the depths with weapon in hand, hacking and slashing and getting covered in blood and mud.

Youth and death went hand in hand in this profession.

Since leaving her home, High Elf Archer had thrown herself into all this. “Then there’s the matter of your companions. A lizardman is one thing,

but I can’t approve of you being around a dwarf day and night.

“Are you not the daughter of an elven chief, even if you don’t always act like it?”

High Elf Archer frowned at this little addendum.

She was indeed an elf princess, but here she was doing humans’ dirty work. With, as her sister had been at pains to point out, a dwarf in tow.

High Elf Archer knew how a little sister was supposed to act in this situation. She had at least acquired enough restraint in two thousand years not to simply give in to her emotions and whine and complain.

“Surely, there is no—” “No! There definitely isn’t.”

Despite her attempts to remain cool, she couldn’t help laughing at this.

Yes, ancient love songs contained a few ballads that spoke of love between elves and dwarves, but it was fair to say that such lyrics didn’t describe her.

Even as her little sister cackled and waved her hand dismissively, the elf with the flower crown let out a sad sigh.

“…And then there’s him.” “Orcbolg?”

“Yes.”

The other elf nodded, her gaze settling on the horizon. The forest appeared to spread out forever beyond the village. These trees had been growing since the Age of the Gods. This wood.

The leaves shook softly with each gust of wind, and birds could be heard flapping.

There was a flock of pale-pink flamingos. The curtain of night was starting to fall over the forest.

“I thought he would be like the hero in the song,” High Elf Archer said, the wind caressing her lips as she smiled softly.

The Goblin King has lost his head to a critical hit most dire! Blue blazing, Goblin Slayer’s steel shimmers in the fire.

Thus, the king’s repugnant plan comes to its fitting end, And lovely princess reaches out to her rescuer, her friend. But he is Goblin Slayer! In no place does he abide,

But sworn to wander, shall not have another by his side.

’Tis only air within her grasp the grateful maiden finds— The hero has departed, aye, with never a look behind.

High Elf Archer recited the lyrics with only the wind for accompaniment. It was a song of valor. The story of a hero of the frontier who fought goblins all alone.

The killer of the little devils: Goblin Slayer.

Despite its bold tone, as the wind carried the words away, they seemed immensely sad.

The elf with the flower crown shook her ears as if to clear away the syllables from the air.

“…He certainly looks like nothing of the sort.”

“Well, it’s just a song.” High Elf Archer raised a pale, slim finger, drawing a circle in the air.

A song is a song. And he’s himself.

“Still,” she said, “I admit the mithril sword is going a little overboard.”

The crowned elf cast down her eyes as her little sister giggled. If a man had been present, he would surely have prostrated himself in hopes of taking away her sadness.

A princess of the high elves must be the epitome of beauty at all times and in all things.

“Why are you with such a man?” “Why? Sister, that’s—”

Why am I with him?

Hmm. Compelled by the question to consider, High Elf Archer sat down on the railing—another faux pas.

She kicked her legs forward so her body leaned back, causing her sister’s eyes to widen once again.

High Elf Archer, however, ignored her. They had been this way for two millennia. Why worry about it now?

I really do wonder, though.

In the beginning, it had been because she’d needed someone to slay goblins. She had grown more interested because he was a kind of human she had never seen before, and then…

“Since all he ever did was fight goblins, I thought it was my business to

introduce him to a real adventure for once in his life.”

Yes, that seemed like it. And so she had gotten ever more drawn in to goblin slaying and adventuring. She counted off on her fingers, and discovered that she had been on more than ten adventures with him, over the course of more than a year’s acquaintance.

“The longer I know him, the less I feel like I can leave him behind. I kind of…never get tired of him? Maybe that’s it. That’s all.”

“…And that is why you continue to go goblin hunting?” “Just every once in a while.”

High Elf Archer suddenly kicked her legs up, flipping backward through the air so that she ended up hanging upside down from the railing like a bat, from whence she stared at her sister. She was grinning like a cat.

“And each time, I make sure he takes the front row on a real adventure.” “You know…,” the elf with the flower crown said, her voice shaking as

she glanced quickly toward the guest room, “…how this will turn out, don’t you?”

High Elf Archer never lost the ambiguous smile on her face. Nor did she speak.

She didn’t have to: the despair of an elf who found living a burden needed no explanation.

“Then why…?”

“We each have just one life, Sister,” High Elf Archer said, flipping back up through the air. She clapped her hands together to clean off the dust, letting the wind take her hair as she nodded. “Elves and humans both. Dwarves and lizardmen are no different. We’re all the same that way. Right?”

“Is it possible you…?”

But before the elf with the flower crown could finish her thought, a great howl exploded as if from the depths of the earth.

The sound, not unlike thunder, caused the flock of flamingos to take to the air in a panic.

The cracking of trees continued, along with a cloud of dust. “Sister, get down!”

“Hwha?!”

High Elf Archer instantly moved to cover her sister. She instinctively reached behind her back, but her great bow was in the guest room.

She clucked her tongue, but then her ears twitched, and a smile tugged at

the edges of her lips.

She raised her hand, and an instant later, the bow dropped into it. “What happened?”

“Kindly don’t throw people’s weapons, please.” She didn’t even have to turn around.

There would be a man there, in a cheap-looking steel helmet and grimy leather armor, with a sword of a strange length at his hip and a small, round shield tied to his left arm.

Goblin Slayer, in full armor, came out of the room as calm as ever. “Is it goblins?”

“I don’t know.”

He tossed her quiver to her, and she quickly tied it at her waist, her ears twitching.

“Please… Look after my sister.” “I will.”

Goblin Slayer pulled a sling from his item bag and loaded a stone. He dropped to one knee, covering the other elf’s head with his shield.

“Stay down. Crawl back to the room.” “Y-you dare ask me to crawl…?!”

“If there are goblins here, they may have archers with them.”

High Elf Archer sneaked a glance at her speechless sister out of the corner of her eye, grinning the whole time, then jumped up on the railing of the balcony.

She kept her balance with no trouble at all, and then she made another jump. She climbed up the trunk of the great tree then out to the edge of one of its massive branches. She was light as only an elf could be, not so much as breaking a twig or disturbing a leaf.

“…Mm… Hmmn?!”

Then her eyes were wide. She saw something that could not be.

It was a massive beast. It trod upon the earth with legs like pillars, and its tail made an audible sound as it cut through the air.

Something like a fan sprouted from its back, and its body, thicker than a wall, was covered in tough skin.

It cleared away the trees with horns like spears, and its back, which looked like a throne, had to be at least fifty feet high.

The beast turned its ropelike neck, opening its great, fanged jaws.

“MOOOKKEEEEELLL!!”

“I see,” Goblin Slayer said, looking at the beast from the far side of the balcony as the air shook. “So that is an elephant.”

“No, it’s not!” High Elf Archer shouted back.

This was the first time in her life she had ever seen this creature. But every elf who was raised in the rain forest knew of it.

“Emera ntuka, mubiel mubiel, nguma monene!” Killer of water monsters, creature with a fan on its back, Great Lord of the Serpents.

In other words…

“Mokele Mubenbe…!!” The One That Stops the Waters.