Goblin Slayer - Volume 7 - Chapter 4

Chapter 4 – The Fight With The Beast

Goblin Slayer and High Elf Archer were coming down through the zelkova tree about the same time their friends were coming up from the root.

They linked up in front of the elf fortification but found themselves instinctively stopping at the sound of crashing trees that could be heard in the distance.

“What in the world’s goin’ on?!” Dwarf Shaman groaned.

“A monster called something-or-other is on a rampage,” Goblin Slayer replied, an explanation that hardly explained anything. Then he looked around. “What about the other two?”

“Oh yes. I thought I would ask them to go back to the room and wait there.”

The answer came from Priestess, whose hair and skin were still damp. She must have come from the bathing area in a great hurry. Her cheeks were flushed, and she had a hand to her chest to slow her breathing and pulse.

“It’s probably safe there,” she added. “So we missed one another.”

Well, fine.

Goblin Slayer came to his conclusion quickly.

There could hardly be a place safer than the inside of an elven bulwark— even if no place could be said to be completely safe. The fact that he couldn’t see them would be a difficulty, but there were any number of difficulties here. It would do no good to worry about one more.

“MBEEEEEEENEE!!!!”

The beast’s continued bellowing drowned out the shouting of the elves, even as elvish warriors—hunters—jumped from leaf to leaf, quivers of arrows on their backs.

“It appears they’re going to do battle,” Lizard Priest said, stroking his jaw; he was the only one who looked amused by the entire situation. “I won’t ask whether the elves have prowess in battle. At the very least, I doubt they’re inexperienced.”

War had been the way of the world since the Age of the Gods. However much the elves might have wished for a peaceful and safe place to live, surely they could not have avoided combat. There had to be very few elves who had never stood against the forces of Chaos, bow in hand.

“That’s the One That Stops the Waters,” High Elf Archer said. “If we shoot it dead and it dams up the river, there’ll be real trouble.”

She knew the answer. Even as she took up her bow, casually nocking an arrow into it, she seemed to be having difficulty moving. Her ears twitched once, then again, taking in the sounds all around.

“The Lernaean Hydra… That’s what you humans call it.”

“…?” Priestess looked at her in surprise. “I thought hydras were supposed to have lots of heads.”

“That one’s still young.”

“Even though it’s been around since I was a child,” High Elf Archer muttered darkly.

“At any rate, it’s a creature that demands respect. It’s more than we can handle.”

I have no idea if we can win. Her words caused Priestess to nod gravely. “So you’re saying we need to stop it from getting any closer somehow, make it go back to the forest.”

That would be more than difficult enough, but still…

Priestess, however, clutched her sounding staff tightly in both hands and said with a look of determination, “We’ll do the best we can!”

Somebody laughed—a nonchalant, relaxed laugh as if they suddenly found they were enjoying themselves. Lizard Priest spotted the creature in the distance and said jovially, “I never thought I would be blessed with the opportunity to feast upon an ancestor of the great nagas. Most excellent!”

“…Don’t eat it, okay?” High Elf Archer looked at him as if unsure whether he was speaking figuratively; Lizard Priest opened his jaws with utmost seriousness. “Milady ranger, let us climb up that monster’s neck and jam an arrow in its eye!”

“I told you, we can’t kill it!”

“Can’t y’shoot it in the foot, or catch a tendon?”

“…Sometimes living things die just from the shock of being shot, right?”

“It’s a hydra, not a flea.”

“But,” Goblin Slayer said quietly, looking away from the encroaching monster, “in either case, we would have to get close enough to fire an arrow.”

The creature was already visible past the felled trees.

The great ash-colored monster walked along on its trunk-like legs, its giant tail and neck sweeping trees aside.

It looked like a dragon but wasn’t one. It appeared like a lizard but wasn’t one!

Lizard Priest could not help letting out a gasp of admiration to see before his very eyes the half-beast, half-divine creature said to accompany the rainbows.

“Oh! Was Brachiosaurus or Brontosaurus, or even Alamosaurus, such as this?” He gave a great animalistic howl as he offered up the emotional prayer to his forelizards. “I never imagined that I should see such a thing in this place…!”

“Look. There, on its back,” Goblin Slayer said softly, and they did as he said.

“Hrm…!” It was impossible to say who in the party the grunt came from.

Mokele Mubenbe’s back must have been at least fifty feet in the sky. Each time the creature thrashed about, the fanlike protrusions on its back made a crackling sound.

But that was not all.

In between the spines on its back were squirming shadows.

The shadows were clinging to something, waving their arms madly and jabbering.

“Is that a…saddle?”

High Elf Archer blinked, astonished by something that just could not be. “Goblins?!”

And so it was.

Goblins, clinging to the back of Mokele Mubenbe, filthy spit flying from their mouths as they howled.

High Elf Archer remembered them.

They were the terrible creatures who had attacked them first at the farm, and then yesterday at the river.

“Goblin riders…” Priestess’s voice was shivering with this first glimpse of something unbelievable.

It made some kind of sense to see the goblins on the backs of gray wolves.

Even horses or donkeys would not have been so terrifying.

But—but—oh yes.

“Are those goblin…dragoons…?”

“They do not appear to be holding reins,” Goblin Slayer said blandly, simply reporting the facts.

“Indeed,” Lizard Priest agreed. “Still, even one who does not know how to ride can spur on a horse… I suppose that’s what we have here.”

“What do you think about it?”

“The riders do not frighten me in the least. However…” Lizard Priest put a hand to his jaw and rolled his eyes, looking thoughtfully at the saurian monster. “They say that if you wish to stop the general, you must first kill his horse. So I suppose if you wish to stop a horse, you must first kill the general.”

“I’m prepared for that.” Goblin Slayer glanced briefly overhead, toward the balcony of the room they had been given to stay in. “In any event, I will kill the goblins. There’s no reason to let them live.”

“Let me handle it!” High Elf Archer said, immediately raising her hand. Her voice was upbeat, but she was staring daggers at Mokele Mubenbe and the goblins on its back. “Frankly, I’m starting to get a little tired of goblins. Yesterday, today… And in my house, no less!”

Goblin Slayer nodded. Then he gently patted High Elf Archer’s shoulder.

Her ears twitched.

“We will hold this beast, whatever it’s called, here. You two, help me.” “Sure thing,” Dwarf Shaman said.

“But of course,” Lizard Priest added.

High Elf Archer was still stiff from being patted on the shoulder. Could Goblin Slayer’s judgment at a time like this…? No.

Whenever she had known him to let someone do something over the past year, it had always been based on a firm grasp of the situation. There was a reason they had entrusted this strange, bizarre adventurer with the leadership of their little band.

“Um, what about me…?” Priestess asked hesitantly.

Goblin Slayer’s instruction was without hesitation. “Prepare to administer first aid. If killing it is bad, I suppose it should not be injured, either.”

And so the plan was set.

High Elf Archer took up her bow and began looking for a chance to launch a surprise attack, while Dwarf Shaman reached into his bag of catalysts. Lizard Priest grabbed some fangs and began praying, while Priestess clung to her staff and supplicated to the Earth Mother.

Goblin Slayer was just setting about his own preparations when… “Hey, you lot! What are you doing?”

A sharp voice came flying their way. The elf with the shining headpiece, who had been making a circuit of the village, came up to them covered in sweat, looking anxious and excited. Presumably, he had been evacuating the women and children who had been outside.

“Oh, hey, Bro. Look, don’t worry.” High Elf Archer grinned, entirely at ease. “We’re used to this sort of thing.”

“But…!”

“This,” Goblin Slayer said, cutting him off, “is my work.”

With this last quiet declaration, Goblin Slayer drew his sword, turning it with his wrist.

These were goblins they were facing. Goblins.

The response was obvious. “Slaying goblins is my work.”

§

Trees fell. Howls sounded.

The beast came on, its fangs going everywhere, trying to kill anyone and anything it laid eyes on; it paid no heed at all to the goblins on its back.

If the little devils’ objective was to put the spurs to this monster and drive it mad, they had accomplished their mission.

But as if they still thought of the monster as their mount, they continued to hold the reins and spit abuse at it. Not that any amount of blathering from some goblins would change anything.

Mokele Mubenbe was not that kind of creature. “GOO! GRRB!!”

“MBEEEEMMMBE!!”

It remained, however, a creature that threatened the elvish homeland.

The giant came thundering through the forest, ever closer to the village.

If they ride that thing into the middle of the village…!

But the elves who dashed among the trees, trying to keep an eye on the situation, could not readily do anything about it. They called upon the sprites of the earth and the trees to help them, throwing barriers up in its path. Mokele Mubenbe smashed through them easily, but it was far better than nothing.

Hardly any of the elves loosed an arrow at the god-beast.

Or, they weren’t supposed to… “Hnn—yah…!”

High Elf Archer, moving like a gust of wind, was one of the few exceptions.

She dashed along a branch, swung on a vine, flung herself through space, and then, with an elegant motion, sent a bud-tipped bolt flying.

It sliced through the air but then bounced off one of Mokele Mubenbe’s back fins with a thump.

“…Grr.”

Her foe moved quicker than she had expected.

Those elves who were her elders raised a chorus of outrage toward their impetuous younger sister, but High Elf Archer didn’t get distracted by her mistakes. She licked her lips briefly then kicked off the ground, then the bark of a tree, and in an eyeblink, she was picking up speed again.

She caught up to the gray monster with no effort at all, whereupon she leaped up into the branches, grabbing at the moss on the bark.

“I know it’s not exactly polite, but… Yah!”

Using a hand and a foot, she sprang forward, maintaining her poise, while with her other hand, she grasped her bow and put an arrow in her mouth. She drew the bowstring back with her teeth and let it loose.

“GOORB?!”

There was a scream.

The bud-tipped arrow had woven neatly past the plates on Mokele Mubenbe’s back and pierced one of the goblin riders through the eye. The creature, with the bolt lodged in his right eye, writhed and screeched until he fell off the monster’s back and was crushed. All that could be seen underneath Mokele Mubenbe’s foot were four limbs.

“It went that way!”

“Hmm!”

It was Lizard Priest who responded to High Elf Archer’s somewhat panicked shout. He planted both feet on the earth, spread his arms, and blocked Mokele Mubenbe’s path.

A rampaging beast was heading through the forest straight at him, yet not one scale shivered; not one muscle in his tail twitched.

“A fit and glorious opponent this is. Shall we have a combat here and now?”

The lizardman’s great jaws opened in a grin, and a wild laugh escaped him.

What honor would be his if he took victory! And if he should die here in battle, at least he would buy time for his friends. It didn’t much matter to him which way the dice fell. He had firmed his resolve and would now go forth.

Few lizardmen were blessed with the opportunity to confront an ancestor of the great nagas on behalf of their friends.

Wonderful!

Lizard Priest took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the wet forest air, and thought clearly of death. Like every lizardman, he considered death in battle to be the highest honor, for like all of them, he hoped to become a soul who could proceed boldly to the land of the nagas at the center of the ever- turning wheel of life.

“Iiiiiiiiiiiyyyahhhhhhhhhhhh!!”

Borrowing the strength of his forefathers, Lizard Priest’s own Dragon’s Roar flew from his mouth like fire breath. The hot air he expelled from his lungs caused the entire place to quaver and quake as it flew out into the world.

“MOOOOOBMMBE!!” Mokele Mubenbe bellowed in return. It stamped the ground with its rear legs as if issuing a challenge to the lizardman who stood before it, holding its front legs aloft.

It was impossible to say whether such a vast and great creature was actually in any way intimidated by Lizard Priest. But whatever the case, the adventurer had succeeded in arousing the monster’s ire at an impertinent challenger.

The upraised front legs came down at Lizard Priest like twin hammers…

“Drink deep, sing loud, let the spirits lead you! Sing loud, step quick, and when to sleep they see you, may a jar of fire wine be in your dreams to greet you!”

The monster reeled and stumbled. Its feet slammed into the earth, throwing up mud, well away from Lizard Priest.

“Hmm! Well. Goodness gracious.”

“Call it a draw and let’s keep going, Scaly!”

It was the Stupor spell. Dwarf Shaman, who had appeared at Lizard Priest’s side without him even noticing, held in one hand the jar of wine that allowed him to use the magic.

They might have been in an elvish village, in the middle of the elves’ forest, but the sprites of the spirits still had a deep affinity for dwarves. And for gods.

“MOKEEEEEKEKELE…”

Mokele Mubenbe, which had imbibed no small amount of the spell, shook its head uncertainly.

“Right, all good, Beard-cutter!” “Good.”

Now Goblin Slayer, who had been waiting by the root of the giant tree behind them, sprang into action. He quickly pulled an egg-like object from his pouch, flinging it in a single smooth motion.

“MOLLLLKEEEEEL?!?!?!”

The object hit the monster in the face, waking it up but also causing it to cry out and thrash with pain.

The egg was full of a blinding powder made up of crushed peppers and insects. It was not remotely pleasant to get hit with.

Now unable to see, and still not thinking entirely clearly, Mokele Mubenbe began to flail wildly. Its neck, its horns, its tail, the plates on its back, were everywhere at once, like a localized typhoon. If one were to approach carelessly, one would soon find oneself thrown back.

“So what do we do?” Priestess asked from beside him, her expression tense. She must have been nervous. Goblin Slayer, however, didn’t seem bothered by her imploring gaze.

“We have robbed it of its ability to think,” he answered calmly. “Now, we finish it off.”

He raised a hand over his head. “Drop it.”

“Um, are you sure? Is it okay?”

Above them, Cow Girl looked over the edge of the balcony that jutted out from the great tree, clearly hesitant.

“I do not mind.”

Okay. She nodded, not appearing entirely convinced, then grabbed the thing that was sitting on the ground.

It was rather bulky and heavy; even with the muscles she had developed doing farmwork, it took her some effort.

She looked at Guild Girl across from her, thankful that there were two of them.

“Okay, I’ll take this side…”

“All right, I’ve got this one. Just give the word and we’ll lift.” “Mm. Okay… Now!!”

The two girls hauled the thing off the ground, then flung it away: it could almost have been described as a bundle of ropes.

Specifically, it was the gaggle of leather straps Goblin Slayer had been working on until just moments before.

It hit the ground with a great ripple, twisting like a living thing.

“Eek!” Priestess couldn’t help jumping back, but Goblin Slayer simply grabbed the end of one of the straps.

“You two, stay up there.”

A voice came back down at him: “Are you all right?” But he waved his hand as if to tell them to stay back then hefted the net onto his back. Lizard Priest took up one of the dangling ends with a noise of considerable interest.

“And what will we do with this?”

“We will throw it,” Goblin Slayer said. “And entangle the creature’s legs.”

“Entanglement? Do you think that will be enough?” “If it isn’t, I will think of something else.”

“Very logical.”

The two warriors ran nimbly, maintaining distance perfectly.

“Oh-ho,” said Dwarf Shaman, jumping back; from her vantage point, High Elf Archer let out an impressed “Huh!”

One step, two, three.

As they closed the last of the distance, Goblin Slayer casually tossed the net.

Of course, Mokele Mubenbe was not so easily taken in. The quasi-divine beast stomped on the net with its giant foot. The shock wave caused the straps to waver.

The bouncing net caught the monster’s foot. The ends and edges caught on the trees and became more tangled still.

“Ho!” Observing the situation, Lizard Priest stroked his jaw appreciatively and rolled his eyes. “A fine plan indeed.”

“We still don’t know.”

“But even if we do nothing further, the net should continue to ensnare it.”

With its restricted vision, the monster struggled mightily, howling and shaking the ground. But each time it did so, the net became more and more trapped on branches and bushes.

The harder it tried to escape, the more the heavy stones tied to the net slowed its movements…

“MBEMBEMBEMBE?!?!”

Finally, the creature reached its breaking point.

Mokele Mubenbe’s massive body, all four limbs now restrained, began to tilt.

And once the motion started, there was no stopping it. There was nothing for the monster to do but fall over.

Mokele Mubenbe collapsed onto the ground with an earthshaking slam. “…Y-you brought it down…?” Priestess asked, stunned.

“In the most literal sense, yes.”

A cloud of dust filled the air, and the monster’s pitiful crying could be heard.

Goblin Slayer shook his head at the young cleric, and she gave a small nod. Then she grasped her sounding staff, closed her eyes, quickly whispered the name of the Earth Mother, and began to pray—for all the dead goblins.

“…Are you satisfied?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “I’ll go handle first aid!” “All right.”

“I think I might just go with you,” Dwarf Shaman said, slapping his belly and causing a ripple in the spirits in his jar. “If that thing looks like it will cause any trouble, I can just cast Stupor on it again.”

“I’m sorry to bother you, but I’d appreciate it!”

Priestess went pattering away, followed by the distinctly heavier footsteps of Dwarf Shaman.

Mokele Mubenbe moaned piteously, projecting an air of anxiety, but then came Priestess’s healing incantation, “O Earth Mother, abounding in mercy, lay your revered hand upon this child’s wounds,” and the creature’s injuries were healed.

The divine will was present. This creature, more god than beast, ought to understand that. Thus, Mokele Mubenbe grew more and more still. Goblin Slayer therefore ignored it and moved brusquely to his next destination.

That was the corpses of the goblins who had been crushed beneath the monster, not that anyone would feel sorry for them.

“…Hmm.”

The bodies had become pools of blood and guts and bones, with bits of leather armor mixed in. Although their former weapons were now too broken for him to be certain, it seemed they had been carrying daggers. At the very least, the armaments were not made of stone. They were metal… Steel blades. He was sure someone must be producing them.

“…Where did you learn to spring a trap like that?” The voice came at him suddenly.

“It is an old method for catching large game,” Goblin Slayer replied.

The elf with the shining helmet was there, having arrived as suddenly and silently as the wind. He had one of the huge elvish bows slung across his back, and at his hip a bundle of ropes that appeared to be made from vines.

“You entangle its feet and let the quarry do the rest. To think, you had such a thing prepared ahead of time.”

“I had heard talk of this ‘elephant’ already, after all.” “…I’m sorry?”

The elf bent down next to Goblin Slayer, but Goblin Slayer hardly even looked at him. “Are there other villages deeper in? Including any belonging to non-elves?”

“No, there are no other villages. Even the medicine men who come from the city stop at the borders of the forest. Not that there have been many of them recently…” The elf put a thoughtful hand to his chin. “Once in a while, adventurers travel here seeking special herbs or the pelt of some monster in order to craft something, but… Well, they don’t come back out.”

“I see,” Goblin Slayer said with a nod; he took the knife in his hand and put it in his belt at his hip. “…I see.”

“I don’t believe I ever got a proper answer.”

“My father was the chief huntsman of my village,” Goblin Slayer said with a shake of his head, not even looking at the elf. “That’s all.”

Shortly after, the last rays of the sinking sun disappeared below the horizon. In their place, the twin moons twinkled faintly down on the forest.

§

The meeting went on and on.

Elves had practically endless life spans; how could one of their councils not run long?

People of great age gathered, sat in a circle, and there, beneath the light of the sea sparkles, they discussed the future of the village.

They spoke of the rampage of the god-beast, Mokele Mubenbe. Of the terrible disrespect of entrapping it.

There was the goblin horde that had appeared nearby. Was it not the way of the world for goblins to be numerous?

There was the fact that the goblins had attacked boats and adventurers. The elves would not want the humans to come and make trouble in the forest. Then what of the fact that the goblins had been riding on the god-beast?

Did the little devils possess such courage?

Each proposition invited rebuttal: What if we did this? Why not do that?

The suggestions piled up.

Let us be clear: the elves were no fools. Elves are the wisest of races, perhaps more intelligent than any in the four corners of the world. All the more reason, then, that they like to consider every possibility and perspective before acting.

They are aware of the foolishness of the mob mentality, everyone heading mindlessly in the same direction.

Perhaps they should take some special measure against the goblins, but then again, perhaps their fears were unfounded.

It was clear that something nefarious was happening, because at the very least, someone had provided the goblins with resources.

Was it an attack by other Non-Prayer Characters, or perhaps a squabble among the humans?

The answers to such questions often led to unprecedented threat and menace.

Humans threw a rock in the water and saw the ripples, but elves saw where the ripples went. Humans could hardly think ten years into the future, but an elf could easily contemplate a century, a millennium yet to come.

Humans mocked them for this, said it made the elves slow to act, cowardly, even stupid—but this was itself a sign of human arrogance.

And so what amounted to a brainstorming session went on.

High Elf Archer, who had scant patience for such things, excused herself quickly.

Basking in the night air, she gave a great yawn.

There was a branch of the vast tree. She jumped from the balcony of their guest room, walked to the end of it.

She savored the sound of the rustling leaves, letting her thoughts run to the ends of the clouds as she gazed up at the stars and the two moons.

This had to be one of the best places for simply lying back and enjoying all that the world had to offer.

I know what he’s going to say anyway, so what’s the point of talking?

However the elves’ council turned out, she knew full well where Orcbolg would be going. Goblins, goblins, goblins, goblins.

She was the deserter who had fled her forest, the delinquent who in her youth had fired an arrow at the god-beast. She had no obligation to obey the council of elders. Surely. Probably. She thought.

High Elf Archer smiled at the idea, watching a bird that had come flying up even though it was night.

Whereupon…

“Atana.” My dear one.

She heard a voice like music, even though not a leaf or branch had been disturbed. The voice was even, not scolding, but High Elf Archer quickly let go of the bird, to whose leg she had tied a small tube.

It flapped away noisily, after which it disappeared into the window of the hall where the council was being held.

“Ettobo ni norokotan nokatamu. Ianachisafu.” Climbing in the trees again? You’re hopeless.

“Ara, iana yujuretto bonettadasen.” Oh? And yet, here you are, dear older sister.

High Elf Archer tilted her head all the way back so as to peek at the other elf and smirked. The rich silver dress covering the generous body filled her upside-down vision. Her sister walked noiselessly along the branch; High Elf Archer righted herself with an easy movement.

“Onii, etsuka nedigiaku?” Shouldn’t you be at the council?

“Awachisesakamo, inatagamashijo.” I’ll let the old men handle things.

The elf with the flower crown shook her head elegantly, a melancholy expression on her face.

It was obvious that she, too, had escaped the council. She was the chief’s daughter, a princess of the elves, and yet, even she was still too young to be allowed to speak in council.

For the elves, seniority was immutable. All the more reason to watch how mortals behaved before passing judgment upon them.

“…Iromutsuki?” Do you mean to go?

“Oisedianekoettsuo?” I can hardly ignore the issue, can I?

It wasn’t clear whether she meant the goblins, or Goblin Slayer. Even if her sister had ventured to ask, most likely High Elf Archer would have smiled ambiguously and not bothered to answer. Maybe she herself didn’t know the answer.

“……Onuriettakau?” Do you understand?

That was exactly why the elf with the flower crown had to ask.

She didn’t understand what her little sister was thinking, what had driven her to become an adventurer. Even a high elf could not read the mind of another.

“Hito nio numuuuya, oyoniakijimu.” Human lives are short.

The branch didn’t quiver as she walked, as if she were herself a part of the great tree. As if she were a blossom springing forth from it.

“Uamisetiku, inuoyukatatamagisofu.” Like twinkling stars, they soon wink out.

The elf gestured to the star-spattered night sky as she spoke. The glittering heavens were so far away, unreachable. The gateway of the rains. Home of Phlogiston, the burning wind.

The younger sister chuckled at the elder’s gesture, which was almost as if she were trying to grasp what could not be reached, and then the younger sister stretched her own hand out toward the sky.

“Oyonuriettakau, amaseen.” I understand, Elder Sister.

High Elf Archer made a brief circle in the air with one pale finger.

“So I think…,” she said musically, switching to the common tongue.

Why were elves always so conscious of beauty? Was it a mark of grace? Or was it precisely because this girl had fled the forest, unable to be contained within the framework of her people?

“Maybe his life will last another fifty years, sixty, seventy. I don’t know. It might end tomorrow.” In the moonlight, her smile made her seem so young as to appear cherubic, innocent. “So why not stay with him? I have the time to spare.”

It would be like the drinking of a single cup of wine. Like the passing of a dream.

Were high elves not immortal?

To them, the life of a mortal was like the glittering of a star. They could reach out to it but not touch it. And were they to touch it, the heat of it would scorch them.

“Isn’t that what friends are?”

“…Parting will bring you sorrow,” the elf with the flower crown said. She gestured at her younger sister as if sweeping away the stars she had collected. “I don’t really think so,” High Elf Archer said, averting her eyes just a bit.

“It’s not such a big deal.”

Her tone was nonchalant; the next instant, she kicked her legs perilously toward the sky.

With hardly even enough time to think, her body floated in the air— “The dwarf told me once.”

—but then she grabbed the branch with great dexterity, letting the momentum carry her in an arc. She did a backflip through the sky and landed beside her beloved older sister.

“He said the hangover is part of the fun of drinking.”

“…I can see it doesn’t matter what I say.” The smallest of sighs escaped the elf maiden’s lips. She looked at her beloved younger sister like the bird who cries at the moon at night. “You’ve always been this way. No matter what I say, you never listen to me.”

“Oh? And how does that make me different from you? Miss I-Ran-Away- from-the-Council-because-I-Felt-Like-It.

“He-he.” High Elf Archer let out a tiny giggle, like the chirping of a bird.

Then she squinted like a cat, grinning up at her sister.

“I don’t know what you see in such a serious, hard-nosed elf like him.”

“…You’re hardly one to talk.” The older sister pulled her lips back disapprovingly, giving her sister a not-quite-gentle smack on the forehead.

Just as she had when they were little—a thousand or more years ago, when they had been playing as girls.

“Eeyowch,” High Elf Archer said, acting dramatically injured. But then she had a thought.

When had it started? When had she and her sister gotten to be about the same height?

When had it started? When had her sister and that cousin come to have such feelings for each other?

When had it started? When had she first wanted to be not the younger sister of her older sister but an elf of her own?

And now her sister was getting married. She would no longer be first and foremost her older sister, but a wife, a ruler.

It hadn’t even been several years yet that she had spent traveling, following the leaves down the current of the stream. And yet, it seemed longer than memories from a thousand years ago.

“Whatever you do, return to us safely… Because we will be waiting for you.”

“…I will,” High Elf Archer replied and then nodded.

§ “…And what exactly are we doing again?”

The elf with the shining headpiece was the picture of annoyance as he lowered himself into his chair with due grace. He had a severe beauty, like a carving of a myth. The night wind picked up his hair, and he brushed it aside again with utmost irritation. The fact that even this simple movement was filled with elegance spoke to the kind of beings that the elves were.

Sitting before him on the balcony under the moonlight were several jars of wine and a plate full of fried potatoes.

“Whaddaya mean, what?” Dwarf Shaman spoke up from among the circle of people, stroking his beard and sounding as if he didn’t think the situation needed any explaining. “On the last day of a man’s single life, he and the other men get together and drink themselves silly.”

“The wedding ceremony is several days away yet, and we are in council to boot.”

“The elves wouldn’t know a few days from a thousand years, and as for your council, it’ll go on whether you’re there or not.”

“Gods above. You dwarves are insufferably lackadaisical.”

“And you elves always miss the forest for the trees—even though you live in one!” It takes years off your life, not that you’d notice.

The elf actually appeared somewhat abashed by Dwarf Shaman’s jab. He knit his brow in a show of frustration, causing Lizard Priest to roll his eyes.

“Well, one does drink wine before going into battle,” Lizard Priest said. “You may consider it our way of rallying your spirits, if you prefer.”

“Or perhaps the elves have no such custom?”

The elf with the shining headpiece allowed grudgingly that they did. “Hence, I do not refuse you, but…do you really mean to go?”

“Of course.”

This answer, immediate and sure, naturally came from Goblin Slayer.

The cheap-looking steel helmet, the grimy leather armor, the weapon and shield that the adventurer at the moment had set down—with all this about him, Goblin Slayer nodded.

“This concerns goblins. I will not leave even one of them alive.”

“How do you plan to attack them, then?” the elf with the shining helmet asked with considerable interest, running his tongue along his lips to moisten them. “Assuming the goblin nest is in the rain forest…”

“Hmm. By land or by water, I suppose,” Goblin Slayer replied, folding his arms and grunting. “What do you make of it?”

“I believe water is our only option. Our lady ranger may be all right, but I should wish to spare our dear cleric the humidity of the rain forest,” Lizard Priest answered without hesitation. “The terrain favors our enemy. Rather than tramping among the trees, we would do better, I think, to follow the river.”

“The problem is the raft,” Goblin Slayer said, thinking back to their journey. “It affords no shelter from arrows. It practically begs to be capsized or sunk.”

“Do we not have enough time to make some improvements?”

“The goblins know about this settlement. The sooner we can move against them, the more limited their options will be.”

“‘Swift attack is better than belated stratagem.’ Indeed, indeed.”

As they sat with their legs folded, Goblin Slayer and Lizard Priest quickly worked out a plan.

It was entirely typical how, amid the hmming and huhing, Lizard Priest craned his long neck to look over at Dwarf Shaman.

“Master spell caster, have you any little tricks up your sleeve?”

“Well, let’s see now.” Dwarf Shaman licked his fingers clean of the potatoes he’d been eating and began digging through his bag of catalysts.

At first glance, it might appear to be a collection of junk; the untutored mind would never imagine that these were magical items.

Dwarf Shaman went through his supply like a card player checking his hand, and a moment later, he gave a deep nod.

“It might be all I can manage t’get the wind sprites to deflect the arrows for us. Unfortunately, they and I don’t get along very well.” Granted all four of the great elements—earth, water, fire, and wind—were used to forge steel. Even so, the quality of his relationship with wind was another matter.

“If that’s all you need, maybe I could ask the sylphs,” the elf with the shining headpiece offered, to which Dwarf Shaman slapped his belly and replied that he would be most grateful.

In contrast to the jovial dwarf, however, the elf muttered, “It makes no sense.” Goblin Slayer looked at him.

“…If I may say so, I can’t quite believe it,” the elf said. “Believe what?” Goblin Slayer asked.

Perhaps the groom-to-be had finally accepted the humble banquet, because he was filling a horn cup with a prodigious amount of wine.

“This is an elf village. Would the little devils really build a nest so near to us?”

He wondered, even when he had seen the riders, had witnessed how they sent the god-beast Mokele Mubenbe on a rampage.

“I just can’t bring myself to think that they would do such ill-conceived things,” he said.

“Yes,” Goblin Slayer replied. “I had the same thought.” “Hrm…”

“Goblins are stupid, but they are not fools. They are cunning. But…”

Here. Dwarf Shaman poured him some wine. Goblin Slayer accepted it then drank it down in a single gulp.

“Do you think the goblins are smart enough to be intimidated by the elves?”

This was what it all came down to.

They didn’t think ahead but only tried to get the most out of whatever was immediately in front of them.

If they were attacked by elves, or by adventurers, they might struggle, or they might flee. If not, it meant there was only one truth for them: The stupid elves are living the easy life, so let’s attack them and steal from them and rape them and kill them.

That was all.

Why? Because the elves always made life so unpleasant for them. Of course they would kill the elves.

Of course they would rape them.

They would bring everything they had to bear against those who scorned them as weaklings.

“Before you know it, there will be a nest near the village. First, they will steal livestock and crops, tools. Then people. And finally, your village.”

“One would never praise goblins, not in the slightest—” Lizard Priest took an appreciative bite out of a round of cheese he had brought in his own luggage, working his great jaws up and down before chasing it with a noisy swallow of wine. “—but the mind can only boggle at their motivation and greed.”

“Do you honor their greed?” The elf with the shining headpiece asked, to which Lizard Priest gave a pronounced shake of his head and said, “Of course not.”

He swept his tail along the balcony floor then spread his hands wide as if delivering a sermon. “What indeed is this thing we call greed?”

“Well, y’know, Scaly. It’s…when you want to eat something delicious, or make love to a woman, or when you’re after some money.”

“Mm. Appetite is a form of greed, as are our friends, our love, our dreams.

Whether a thing is good or bad is a secondary or even tertiary concern.”

There was no guarantee that the strong would eat the weak, that the great would one day fall, or that the fittest would survive. Lizard Priest’s jaws came up in a reptilian grin.

“To be alive is to desire and hope, to want things; the way of life is for even the smallest insect on a blade of grass to throw himself into living.”

“…”    The    elf    with    the    shining    headpiece    paused    then    grunted appreciatively. “I’m not quite sure that applies to elves, though.”

“Gods. You’re all impossibly slow to act. What, are you too fat to move?

Fatter than a dwarf? Hmm?” “Mortals are simply too hasty.”

“That’s why it takes you so many centuries to pick a wife, eh?”

“Hrm… Watch your mouth,” the elf said crossly. Lizard Priest stuck out his tongue gleefully and poured more wine.

“Here, here, have a cup.” “…Very well.”

The elf drained the horn. His cheeks were already starting to glow.

“If you don’t mind my saying so—you all know about my sister-in-law, I suppose.”

“Yes.” Goblin Slayer nodded. “We have known her for a year… A year and a half now.”

“I’m marrying her older sister.” He reached out, almost annoyed, and took one of the fried potatoes; he stuffed it in his mouth and frowned. “…Too salty.”

“I love a bit of saltiness, myself,” Lizard Priest said, happily tossing handfuls of the snacks into his jaws.

The elf with the shining headpiece, abandoning his august dignity of moments before, put his elbows on his knees and his chin on his hands.

“The younger sister is who she is, but then, so is the elder. I’ve had no end of worry, but I don’t get the feeling that I’m much liked.”

“Hoo, hoo-hoo,” Lizard Priest laughed. “Milord Goblin Slayer knows something of being the younger brother. Perhaps he might have some thoughts?”

“Ho,” the elf said, a sense of closeness obviously piqued. “He has an elder sister?”

“So I once heard, at any rate.”

“…I wonder,” Goblin Slayer muttered then took a swig of wine. “I was never anything but trouble for my older sister.”

“A brat always causes trouble, that’s the way of things,” Dwarf Shaman said as he added a generous amount of wine to his empty cup. His bearded face had a soft smile on it. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I don’t agree.” Goblin Slayer drained another cup, shaking his head gently. “If I hadn’t been there, she would probably have left the town.”

And that would have been better for everyone. He groaned. Then he emptied another cup.

Dwarf Shaman poured him some more wine, and Goblin Slayer drank that, too.

“I was the one who trapped my sister in the village.”

“Speak not such foolishness,” the elf with the shining headpiece snorted. “Do we ask the worth of a flower that withers in a year? What is the meaning of the seed that falls in the sand? Can you weigh the life of a rat against that of a dragon?”

“What’re ya goin’ on about?” Dwarf Shaman said, still happily drinking his wine.

“It is an elvish aphorism,” the elf replied, as if bestowing upon them a secret. “Wheresoever and whatsoever one be, no matter how one lives or dies, all is equal. It is a precious thing.” He held his pointer finger straight up, making circles in the air. It was an elegant and beautiful gesture. “All things are one in life. Would something as simple as location change how happy one was?”

“I see,” Goblin Slayer said, nodding. “…I see.”

“I should think so,” the elf with the shining headpiece said then breathed in deeply. The night air filled his lungs.

Love is destiny                                destiny is death

Even a knight who serves a maiden            will one day fall into death’s clutches

Even the prince who befriends a Sky Drake   must leave the woman he fancies behind

The mercenary who loved a cleric            will fall in battle pursuing his dream

And the king who loved the shrine maiden    controls all but the hour of their separation

The end of life                                is not the last chapter of an heroic saga

So the adventure called life                will continue to the very end 

Friendship and love                            life and death

From these things                            we cannot escape

Therefore what have we                        to fear

Love is destiny                                and our destiny is death

Ho. Dwarf Shaman clapped. Lizard Priest rolled his eyes to indicate his profound engagement. The elf, having completed his song, must have felt embarrassed, because he drained his horn of drink.

“That is why I will marry.”

“…But the trouble I caused my older sister,” Goblin Slayer said dispassionately, “is part of why she never married.”

“All the more reason to repay your debt to her.”

“Yes,” Goblin Slayer said, patting Lizard Priest on the shoulder. He had much to think about, and even more to do. “That is my intention.”