Goblin Slayer - Volume 8 - Chapter 5

Chapter 5 – Master Scene Behind-The-Scene Actors

“So, do you have anything to report about the flaming stone from the heavens that supposedly fell at the holy mount?” 

The throne was a tiring place to be. Then again, it was a symbol of the king’s power, not a place to relax. 

Still, the next chair I get is going to have a softer seat. 

The young ruler, however, let no trace of this thought show in his expression; his royal bearing was unmoved. 

His traveling court had only just returned the night before, and now he had this council first thing in the morning. 

The huge stone hall was decorated with tapestries, each with an august history, and shafts of autumn light came in through the windows. They brought with them the colors of the stained glass down upon the gorgeous, round stone table where his most important advisers were now gathered. 

An elderly minister, a red-haired cardinal, a tan-skinned court mage, a royal guardsman in silver armor, and a Gold-ranked adventurer. 

In addition to these, there were notable nobles, wizards, scholars, religionists, and merchants—people of every stripe. 

If one was to be king of this nation, one had to know from the moment one became king. 

From the founding of the nation—from the founding of history—disaster and chaos had come again and again: the Demon Lord. 

And each time, the kings of the dwarves and the elves, and the chieftains of the rheas and the beast people had gathered for a council of war around this table. 

There were adventurers and knights-errant present as well, along with mages and sages whose origins he didn’t really know. 

The table had been carved centuries ago by the king of the dwarves, who had found it quite amusing that with the table round, there would be no distinction of status among those who sat at it. 

And anyone who had ever been on an adventure understood immediately that no one type of person could dictate what his group did. 

Well, some don’t. But they die off pretty fast. 

He saw his royal guard grin slightly—perhaps his old friend had picked up on the hint of a smirk on the king’s face. 

“Very well, each of you, please speak in turn,” the king said soberly, suppressing his smile. First, a towering royal mage got to his feet. 

“The stargazers have seen an ill star fall unexpectedly upon the board.” 

“Well, now—unexpectedly?” 

“Yes, sire. The school is poring through the ancient texts, but they have yet to find any prophecies resembling what has happened.” 

The king nodded deeply at the tan-skinned man’s words then made a broad gesture for him to be seated. “You think, then, that it might be the work of Chance and not Fate…?” He rested his elbows on the arms of his throne and put his chin in his hands, thinking carefully. It would be best to handle one thing at a time. “And what about the holy mount? I want to know what this flaming rock from heaven has done.” 

“As ever, one does not climb the holy mount, Your Majesty.” 

This answer came from a man who stood out even among the members of this council. He carried no weapon, but a horned helmet sat on the table in front of him, and he was wearing a well-used set of mail. He had bushy black hair in abundance, and from his neck hung a Gold-ranked tag; he was the only padfoot present. 

His doglike face was contorted in displeasure, and he ate the snacks sitting on the round table with abandon. 

“A cave or the like, maybe. But climbing the outer walls? A bit difficult.” 

The man of the royal guard raised his hand in a smooth motion. His muscled body was protected on the battlefield by a suit of platinum armor. When the king nodded, the man—the captain charged with protection of the royal person—ran a hand through his hair and said, “Majesty, it would be a challenge to get the army onto the mount.” 

“I might have guessed.” 

“Indeed, sire. It doesn’t have room for much of a crowd. I’m not sure how many of you blue bloods could even make the trip.” 

The captain, of common stock himself, spoke as if this were the most natural thing in the world. He viewed the physical strength of the royal family and the nobility rather lightly. 

And he’s right to do so. 

The king took strength from this old friend, who was now a staff officer at his side. 

The holy mount was the tallest, most dangerous mountain to tower over his kingdom. No mountain really belonged to those who had words, but the holy mount even less than most. If he sent in the army, there was no telling how many casualties there might be. 

“However, sire, it would be possible to surround the mount in case anything should come down from it,” the captain went on. The words were proud, with tested military experience behind them. “Not a freak or foe would get past us into the known world.” 

That, he submitted, was the army’s duty. 

If adventurers were arrows that could be loosed directly at a target, the army was a shield protecting the realm. The army would not get him to the Demon Lord’s stronghold, nor, being there, would it triumph against the enemy. Soldiers used only mass-produced weapons and armor that smiths turned out as quickly as they could. Their only experience was endless discipline, day by day. It gave them no hope of victory. 

But meet the oncoming forces of the Demon Lord? That they could do. They could stand in the way of the encroaching enemy, forming a wall of spears to prevent their advance. And that—that was something adventurers certainly could not do. 

“A small number of people acting alone might have a better chance.” The Gold-ranked adventurer, well aware of all this, crossed his arms and leaned his small frame back in his chair. “But it pays to be careful. I’ve been up to the foot of the mountain, just to check things out, but I sensed something there. Something I didn’t recognize.” 

“What do you mean by that?” the red-haired cardinal asked with interest. 

The Gold-ranked adventurer pulled an especially uncomfortable face. “I’m thinking, something that’s not even in the Monster Manual.” 

“I see…” The king let out a breath. It had been nothing but trouble since the battle with the greater demons the year before. 

Greater demons, heretic cults, giants, and so on and so forth. He couldn’t believe how far peace seemed from his world. 

“Meaning, it looks like it’s going to be her turn now.” 

No one objected to the whisper. They all looked at one another and nodded. They should play their wild card while the playing was good. If she accepted, at least. 

I’m glad that girl was born with a good heart, the king thought gratefully. 

He didn’t want to further burden the girl, who wasn’t so different in age from his own younger sister. But each thing and each person was given their own role to play. All one could do was go along with it. Just as he accepted his place as king. The only thing he really wanted was not to be one of those weaklings who threw a fit and rejected the place in life they’d been given. 

“All right,” he said. “Make preparations so you can provide the best support possible if called upon.” 

“Indeed, sire, as you wish,” said the minister, an old man, working hard to bow respectfully. 

The king could leave the details to him. Yes, that would do nicely. What was needed from the king was decisiveness and direction; precise understanding and careful consideration could be provided by his ministers. 

But I guess too much of that kind of thinking is what gets you turned into a puppet ruler. 

“How has the city been during my absence?” 

“The cults continue to run rampant, though that’s nothing new…” The answer came from the red-haired cardinal. He had been seconded to the city as an adviser, and his eloquence was unimpeachable. “While you were on the circuit, Majesty, a strange sect devoted to the God of Wisdom began to take hold to the south of the capital.” 

“And I suppose those who don’t believe are visited by a terrible curse?” 

“We know not what the truth of the matter is.” 

“We’ll have to strike at them.” The young king’s eyes lit up, and his mouth curled into a smile. 

The cardinal could see what was happening. “Majesty…,” he said tiredly. 

The king answered only, “Yes, I know,” and looked at the papers he had in hand. 

“Is this God of Wisdom different from the God who gives knowledge?” asked the court mage. 

The cardinal nodded solemnly. “The God of Knowledge walks himself in the darkness, offering up the light of learning.” 

“But this God of Wisdom doesn’t?” 

“He does not lead and reveals no path. He simply, suddenly, flings the flame of insight into the dark.” 

“…It seems a subtle distinction.” The mage let out a sigh. This description seemed not so different from that of the one called the Dark God. 

The king considered this exchange carefully then asked a question of his own. “What, then, of what is beyond our sight…?” 

“At the moment, the Order of the world shows no sign of being upset.” 

The response to his question came from a woman so inordinately beautiful she hardly seemed to belong there. Her luscious body and soft chest were ensconced in white clothing; in her hand, she held the sword and scales, and her eyes were covered by a sash. 

“The battle has resulted in more refugees, orphans, and homeless people, but they don’t want for employment in these days.” The woman was the archbishop serving the Supreme God, Sword Maiden. Her words sounded like music, and she smiled. “We never have enough hands, after all, no matter how many there are. 

She seems very different these days. 

The thought came to the king suddenly. He had known her for close to ten years now. Today as ever, she was so full of beautiful curves that any man would have gone flying to her. Before, though, her beauty had been like a peony that might fall from the branch at any moment. Now—now it was different. Her form and expression were as luminous as a flower holding itself forth in bloom. Her friend the king thought surely this was good. 

“Oh, but…” The lovely expression clouded over slightly. The eyebrows drooped under the weight of trouble, and her body slouched just a bit. 

“What is it? Speak.” 

With much trembling, then. Sword Maiden’s smile was like a secret. 

“A precious friend of mine was a victim of a theft at the bathhouse, of her priestess’s garments and a set of mail she cherished. Just yesterday.” 

“I’m sorry…?” 

“The thief, it seems, was dressed as a soldier…” 

The king raised a dubious eyebrow. It seemed a minor matter, but perhaps it warranted his attention after all. A thief in the guise of a soldier could not be overlooked. 

Sword Maiden, however, changed the subject before he could voice any other questions. “Furthermore,” she continued, “I consider that the goblins must be destroyed.” 

Her declaration was bracing, her smile gentle, and both seemed to declare this the end of the matter. 

“Again with the goblins,” the other councilmembers murmured, looking at one another. She always said that. 

The king forced his face into a neutral expression and coughed. 

Damn it all, I guess I can’t let it go. 

“Very well, I’ll have the matter investigated… Next, what’s the status of the adventurer training centers?” 

“……” 

A female merchant, the person charged with overseeing matters related to the training centers, blinked. She was the youngest of those gathered there, and now she found every eye in the chamber focused on her. She glanced quickly at Sword Maiden then gave a deep bow and began to speak. “…A report has been prepared, sire. May it please you to look at it.” 

This woman was young, but she comported herself with an unusual composure and little of the idealism that so often accompanied youth. Neither was she a benighted pessimist, though; she took a realistic, pragmatic view of things. 

Maybe it was the toneless quality of her voice, the way her expression rarely changed, that made her seem so adult. Her punctilious personality was reflected in the careful, precise characters on the sheet before him. 

She was the daughter of a certain noble household; it was said that after a period of convalescence from illness, she had entered into business on the strength of her family’s assets… But what, he wondered, had been her experiences, the life that had led her to walk onto the political stage in these past months? 

Where indeed do such talented women come from? 

The king rested against the arms of his throne, a small smile coming over his mouth, hidden by the paper in front of him. Rulers and nobles were not supposed to show their feelings to others so easily. He would have to work on that. 

“…The facilities as such are approaching completion at the Guilds in several towns. However…” The woman trailed off, searching the thin air in front of her for the rest of the words. “…as we expected, the notion that one might become an adventurer and then immediately have to embark upon a course of study has had some trouble gaining acceptance.” 

“I’m hardly surprised,” the king said, nodding seriously. “Back when I was an adventurer, many of us considered it a nuisance that we even had to write our names to register.” 

Then again, most of those people made a beeline for the tavern, got drunk, ran their mouths, and were shortly adventurers no longer. Then they would complain: if only they had skill; if only they’d had the luck to be born into some better situation…and on and on. 

The ironic thing was that other novice adventurers were all around them, people who might not be experienced but who were going through the evaluation process, earning their daily bread by carrying bags, and working themselves to the bone finding ways to become more skilled. Yet, the drunkards (the king remembered with disgust) derided them as doing all that work for nothing. 

“People don’t change their minds overnight,” he said. “We must take the long view when it comes to education.” 

“…Yes, Majesty. For that reason, I suggest we provide meals to those in training, so that we might attract hungry adventurers.” 

“Provide meals? You’re suggesting the state offer catering?” 

The ranks of adventurers were frequently filled with the young, disenfranchised sons of farmers with nowhere else to go, or runaway tenant farmers. Even those who came with nothing but their dreams of glory could not escape the need for food, clothing, and shelter. If it was possible to address even one of those needs… Well, it could only encourage the acceptance of their educational system. 

“I like the idea, but do we have the budget for it?” 

The real problem wasn’t the methodology. It was the money it would take to bring it to life. 

The woman’s eyebrows drooped unhappily at the king’s pointed question “…That, sire, is the crux of the matter.” She summarized things briefly. “…As a matter of fact, I expect it to put us in the red. We can’t expect to charge class fees, after all.” 

“You understand the national treasury does not exist simply to pour out money like water to put food in the mouths of vagrant good-for-nothings?” the king said then shrugged. Maybe they would discover a land where grain and gold welled up from the ground—then it would be a different story. 

Maybe if I went and slayed just one little dragon. 

“Majesty,” a voice intoned sharply. The red-haired cardinal was giving him a grim look. Bah. 

The female merchant went on in complete seriousness, seemingly oblivious to the exchange. “…I do, sire. I thought perhaps the training centers could be entrusted with clearing rats or roaches out of the sewers.” 

Such quests would technically be issued to the adventurers by the cities or by the nation itself—in other words, they would fall under activities funded by taxes. The money would only nominally be going to the training centers, but would in practice be used to pay the adventurers. 

“…It would be an introduction to actual combat, Majesty. What you might call a tutorial.” 

The king’s eyes widened slightly: On the merchant’s lips was something resembling a triumphant smile. Like ripples on a pond caused by a passing breeze, it would be easy to miss if one were not paying attention. The expression made her look younger than her age; it struck him as quite cute. 

“Do you think we should have them slay goblins as well?” At the minister’s heedless words, the smile disappeared as abruptly as if a stone had been cast into a pond. Doubtless he had no ill intent. The smiling minister was nodding to himself, as if to congratulate himself on what a good idea this was. “That would address the archbishop’s concern as well—” 

He interrupted himself at a glare from Sword Maiden’s unseeing eyes. He looked to the merchant for help, but she gave him an equally icy stare. 

“…Er, well, it was…merely a suggestion,” he finished lamely, thoroughly cowed. 

The king bit back a smile as he said, “Very well,” and waved his hand. “That’s not bad, but it would be best if we could limit the work to the sewers. Proceed with your plan.” 

“…Thank you very much, Your Majesty,” the woman said, bowing deeply. 

That was when footsteps could be heard pounding from outside the council chamber, along with shouts of Halt! The door came bursting open. 

“What is the meaning of this? We are in council!” 

“Terrible, t-terrible news, Your Majesty! I apologize with all my heart, I truly—!” 

The king recognized the person his security forces were currently tackling. An attendant to his younger sister, he thought. His sister seemed to truly like the woman; they were like siblings themselves. 

Now, though, the attendant’s face was completely pale—and she had a man with her. He looked ghastly, as battered as if he had just come from the field of combat. 

“Majesty, your— Your honored younger sister—!” 

The news that the first princess had been kidnapped by goblins was enough to make the king stand up from his throne. 

§ 

It was dawn when the girl had appeared before him; he had been loading cargo onto his cart. 

“Um, excuuuse me…,” she had called in a sweet, nasal voice. 

He turned to see what she needed, and there she was: A priestess of the Earth Mother in ill-fitting vestments with a sounding staff in her hand. Her eyes were bloodshot—whether because she had just woken up or because she hadn’t slept at all, he couldn’t tell—and she blinked at him as he stared at her. He could see bits of straw stuck in the hair that peeked out from under her cap. It brought a smile to the merchant’s face. 

A novice adventurer, maybe? 

“Yes? What can I do for you, my little adventurer?” 

“I’d like to get just out of town. Could I ask you for a ride?” Then she mentioned the name of a younger female cousin of the merchant. A fine young woman who served in the palace. If she was a friend of his cousin’s, very well then. The merchant nodded. 

“Okay. But I’m going to the North. You don’t think you’ll be a little cold?” 

“I’ll be all right, thank you. North is just the direction I wanted to go.” 

The girl laughed out loud and helped herself to a seat among the cargo. She was energetic, but her movements seemed somehow ambivalent, in a way that made him worry for her. 

She squeezed in between some bags then appeared to remember something. “Oh, this is to thank you.” 

She offered the merchant a small ruby. His eyes nearly bulged out of his head. Counterfeit currency was rife these days; there were many who shaved down the edges of their coins to “economize.” Gemstones were certainly more trustworthy, but… 

Is she really a novice? 

That was the moment he had his first doubt. 

It certainly didn’t seem like a form of payment one would expect from a disciple of the Earth Mother, all of whom vowed to be moderate, frugal, and poor. 

But he could stand there wondering all day, or he could get going. The merchant finished loading his cargo then set his wagon rumbling off along the wheel ruts. 

Needles of dawn pierced the milky mists of early morning, but the capital never slept. 

There were some tavern dwellers who had been out drinking until first light, stumbling along the street, and a slave carrying a water bucket at a quick pace. 

Servants, awake before their masters, were opening windows, letting in the morning air. Cookfires accounted for some of the smoke rising from the many houses. But offerings to this god and that explained others. 

They passed a shop just getting ready to open for the day, and soon they had arrived at the north gate. 

Outside town were a number of fields for competition and combat, and banners had been put up indicating what the day’s events would be. A line of people stood looking at them, possibly waiting to be permitted past the guardhouse. There was quite a crowd; it must have been gathering since well before the hour at which the gate would be opened. 

“Well, well, it’s busy today,” the merchant said, putting a hand above his eyes and looking out at the line as he slowed his horse’s pace. “We’re in for a bit of a wait, my friendly adventurer.” 

“Really?” The girl sounded dejected, and when he looked back, he saw she had her cheeks puffed out. “Hmm… I guess we have no choice, sigh.” 

He smiled wanly at the pouting girl then waited for the line to start moving. 

The area around the gate was full of adventurers and merchants, patrols and travelers, coming and going; it was, in fact, a bustling scene. Behind them was the skyline of the capital with its pips of chimney smoke and people starting their days. 

The city was waking up. The merchant took a loving look at it, and then his turn came and he moved his cart up to the gate. 

“Hullo, soldier. Good morning!” 

“Mmf. We’ve got a lively one. Cargo and destination?” 

“Woolen textiles, don’t you know. I’m heading over in the direction of the holy mount.” 

“Huh,” said the soldier, whom the merchant seemed to know; he handed the man a passport even as he spoke. 

It looked like the merchant went through this gate every day. Both of them knew how this went. 

“Listen,” the soldier said. “Rumor has it a fiery rock came falling from the sky in that area. You be careful.” 

“Thank you, I certainly will! Oh, that’s right,” the merchant said, pulling up the reins just before he drove away. “I’ve got myself a passenger today.” 

“Oh?” the soldier remarked with a nasty smile. “Not getting into the slaving business, are you?” He sounded as if it was a joke. 

The merchant shrugged, and the soldier peered at the girl riding among the cargo. 

“Let me see your identification.” 

“Yessir.” The girl fumbled at her collar until she produced the rank tag hanging around her neck. 

“Steel rank, golden hair, blue eyes, fifteen… No, sixteen, I see. Priestess of the Earth Mother, this says. You an adventurer?” 

“Yes, I am,” the girl said, puffing out her chest especially boldly. “I’m investigating the disturbance at the holy mount.” 

The merchant couldn’t see the soldier’s expression under his helmet. The man simply said, “Yeah? Good luck with that” in a tired voice and gave the horse a gentle pat. “All right, you can go.” 

“Thank you very much, sir.” 

The merchant urged the horse out onto the highway, following signs that led in the direction of the mountain. Maybe the rumors about the holy mount were true, for few travelers seemed to be going that way. For company on the road, they had only the blowing of the breeze, the clopping of the horse’s hooves, the clatter of the wheels, and the songs of the birds. 

The sun was glittering just over the horizon in the east; the autumn air was cool and refreshing. 

It would all be for naught if there had been a throng of travelers. The merchant took a deep breath, filling his lungs with that sweet air. 

“Ahh, what a lovely day!” 

“It certainly is. Being outside is wonderful.” The girl in back stretched like a cat and squinted her eyes. She appeared to be enjoying the feeling of the breeze herself, and the merchant smiled pleasantly. 

“You sound less like an adventurer than a prisoner,” he said. 

“There are many places where one can be a prisoner,” she whispered. “The jail, the temple…the castle.” 

Very much so. The merchant nodded. His cousin had mentioned to him that the princess led a most constricted life. 

“Well, nowhere is completely free of trials,” the merchant said. 

“You think so?” the girl answered. “Myself, I don’t—” 

That was when it happened. 

The merchant thought he spotted movement from a nearby bush. “—agree,” the girl finished. 

Just my imagination? 

He reached instinctively for the hilt of the sword he kept far down by his hip as he took a quick look around. He had no intention of confronting any adversaries, of course. But even to run away, one needed a weapon. 

“…? What’s wrong?” 

“I thought something—” 

—moved, he was about to say, but he was interrupted by the howl of a wolf. The merchant jerked on the reins. 

“GORRBG!!” 

“GRROB! GRROOBOR!!” 

“—?! Goblins?!” 

Wild dogs, or a pack of wolves alone, would have been better. But this was worse. Goblins, mounted on wolves and waving crude spears. 

A horde of goblins—he was amazed to see them. Weren’t they supposed to be in the west?! 

“Hrk! Get your head down!” 

“Ee-eek?!” 

Ignoring the girl’s cry, the merchant wheeled the horse about and whipped it on. The faithful animal whinnied once then took off running for the capital. They had no time to lose. 

The goblins’ faces twisted into vicious smiles; they must have noticed the woman aboard. 

“GGBBGRBBG!!” 

“GBOOR! GBBGROB!” 

They cackled, moving to surround the merchant and cut off his escape. A few clumsily thrown spears came past, flying over his head or lodging in the roadway. It would not matter to them, he was sure, if they hit the girl with an errant toss. 

If they crit on us, we’re finished…! 

The merchant drew his sword. The blade glittered in the morning sun. He had never used it in his life; now he grabbed it in an ice-pick grip. 

“S-so you’re going to fight? Good, I’ll help!” The girl raised her sounding staff unsteadily. 

Absolutely not. “Fight?” the merchant shouted. “We’re going to run!” 

Holding fast to the reins, he climbed from the driver’s bench onto the horse’s back. The horse didn’t slow for an instant. A good animal. 

“I’m going to cut the cargo loose! Come over here!” 

“Abandon your cargo?! You can’t! We’ll fight!!” 

“They’re just goblins!” she shouted, but the merchant was hardly listening. 

The girl stood, trying to find her footing on the careering cart. One of the goblins took the moment to launch a spear at her, which lodged in the cargo. “Eep!” she exclaimed. 

“We have to give up the wagon! This way!” 

“…! All right… I understand!” 

It was a pathetic sight: The girl turned tail and scrambled along the wagon, puffing and shouting. Her tail, as it were, was not lost on the goblins, who cackled and grinned, adding insult to injury. 

The merchant looked back and saw the girl with tears in her eyes, her face red as she bit her lip. 

But she came this far. 

He stuck his sword in the buckles, held the reins in his mouth, and reached back to her with his left hand. 

“Quickly, girl, to me!” 

“R-right. I’m com— Ahh?!” 

Then the wagon hit a rock. 

It wasn’t a fumble, a matter of bad luck. It was just a highly difficult maneuver for a girl without much in the way of physical training. 

She didn’t immediately understand what had happened; her hand was still outstretched, her mouth still open. It was almost funny how easily her small body was thrown off the unstable cart and into the air. 

I’m falling. 

She slammed into the earth butt-first with a heavy thump then rolled along the ground. 

“Ahh, ugh, oww…!” 

The merchant, looking back, hesitated for an instant, biting down on the reins in his mouth. He raised the sword then brought it down on the buckles. 

One strike didn’t do it. Two blows, then three finally sliced through the leather fasteners, setting the horse free. 

“GOOBRR!!” 

“GROBOG!” 

“Hyaaaahhh?!” 

He could hear her scream. 

The fact that the merchant looked back at all as the horse pounded onward was only because of his good heart. He saw the girl fallen in the mud, surrounded by dozens of goblin riders. 

At length, one of the monsters jumped down, spear in hand, and advanced menacingly toward her. The girl swung the sounding staff in a wide circle, like a child with a stick. 

“Wha?! Now you st— Wh— Who do you think I— Hrgh?!” 

He saw the girl take a terrible blow to her face. He heard the dull sound, saw something red go flying. He knew her uncommon beauty was marred forever. 

The goblin grabbed the girl’s hair when it burst out from under her hat and tried to press something to her cheek. 

A hand…? 

“GOOBOBOB!” 

“GROB! GGBORBG!” 

It was some kind of dried branch that looked like a hand. 

The girl shook her head weakly, no, no, but they forced the thing against her face. 

There was what seemed to be a flash of light from the claws of the hand, but the merchant had no time to watch further. He sent his horse dashing toward the capital at a full gallop. 

How else could he possibly help her? 

Was he to fight the goblins himself? Cut them down with his sword? And if he was dead, nobody would know the girl had been taken. 

The merchant was not a brave man, and he was afraid of dying. But that was not the reason he’d run away. Still, when he reached the capital, he felt a twinge of regret that he had fled. 

In fact, he regretted ever having let that girl onto his cart. 

Because waiting for him there at the gate when he arrived was his cousin, her face completely drained of blood. 

§ 

When he had heard all this, the king slumped onto his throne. He seemed to have aged many years in an instant. 

One of his administrators spoke up urgently. “Your Majesty, help must be dispatched immed—” 

“The king’s younger sister flees the castle, commits an act of thievery on a priestess, and is captured by goblins—and then the army is sent in?” The king’s response was practically derisive. 

The administrator swallowed his words, comprehension of the situation dawning on him. 

The king pressed his hand hard to his forehead, trying to hold back the headache and the fatigue. “Don’t tempt me into being the fool who levels the state military against goblins only when those he cares about are involved.” 

Yes: they were just goblins. 

This much would never change: Goblin slaying was and would always be a minor matter. 

It was obvious enough, from the broad perspective. This might be important to him personally. But that was all. 

Across the northern passes were hordes of beasts and barbarians, and the south was in chaos as well. Every nation around him was training a hawk’s eye on him, waiting for a chance to invade, a steady stream of spies coming and going across his borders; he couldn’t afford to let his guard down for an instant. Evil cults were on the rise, the most powerful merchants left no means fair or foul untried in the pursuit of profit, and the denizens of the capital’s shadows were many. 

And in the midst of all this, mere goblins. 

They were a small matter and always would be. 

“…But, Your Majesty,” the cardinal said hesitantly. 

“I know,” the king said with a wave of his hand. “But if even a word of such an ugly matter got out to the soldiery, the rumor would be in other lands in the blink of an eye. This is a matter of life and death for our nation.” 

Reputation and renown did more to protect the country than half-baked walls ever would. The stronger people thought you were, the less likely you were to be attacked. And if you were not strong, then why, the people would ask, should they bother to pay their taxes? 

“Not to mention, no noble house would want to take some goblin’s mistress for their bride, eh?” the captain of the royal guard said in a loud whisper. The archbishop—Sword Maiden—and the female merchant both gave him reproving glares. He didn’t seem to notice, though, a big grin spreading across his rugged face. “Me, though, I’m different. I wouldn’t mind.” 

The king heaved a sigh. “…A trustworthy adventurer. That’s our only hope now.” 

“Agreed,” said the dog-faced Gold-rank with a deep nod. 

These were the moments he was here for. Moments of national import, when the military couldn’t be brought to bear, but a diligent operator was needed nonetheless. 

After he returned the king’s nod, the Gold-ranked adventurer reached out his short arms to spread a map open on the table. “The problem is the enemy’s location,” he said, tapping the map with stubby fingers. “Where did you say you were attacked?” 

“In the North. En route to the holy mount…” The merchant leaned on his hazy memories as he pointed at the map. “…Right around here, I think.” 

The cardinal, the court mage, and the assembled researchers of the school looked at one another. 

“…Could it have something to do with the fiery stone from heaven?” 

“I can’t say. However… Well, but…” 

Whispered conferences broke out in ripples around the room. 

It was impossible to say when or from where a danger to the world might arise. Was the world to be thrust into calamity once more by this rock that was said to have fallen from the skies onto the mount? Could the princess’s actions, and her fate, be the seed of Chaos…? 

The Gold-ranked adventurer, however, ignored the rest of the onlookers and conferred with the captain of the guard. 

“You remember anywhere around there that seemed like a likely goblin nest?” 

“Not entirely sure… Those bastards can live just about anywhere, after all.” 

Both of them studied the map grimly, thinking as fast and as hard as they could. 

“A-and wolves! They were riding on wolves…” 

“Yes, yes, I heard you. Goblins riders are nothing remarkable. The real issue is their nest. We have to—” 

—find their nest, the adventurer was about to say to the merchant. 

“The Dungeon of the Dead.” 

The words were like a stone thrown into a pond; silence spread like a ripple through the room. The people seated around the round table looked at one another, and then they all looked at one person. 

That person sat back in her chair, smiling, not intimidated in the least. She had the air of a woman relaxing in bed as she waited for her husband, and surely more than one man among the assembly entertained less than reverent thoughts about her. 

“…Are you claiming a handout?” the king asked. 

“Call it inspiration, I suppose,” Sword Maiden said quietly. 

“That’s a name I’ve not heard in a long time.” 

A dungeon at the farthest edge of the North, near the holy mount—the deepest of all dungeons, the Dungeon of the Dead. 

Ten years before, it had also been the place of the battle between a great crowd of adventurers and the greater demons. 

A city had been built like a lid atop the labyrinth, and excavation had proceeded for a very long time. Many people, seeking the head of the greater demon that waited in the innermost chamber of the tenth level underground, had never returned. 

The cardinal and the captain frowned, and the Gold-ranked adventurer swallowed heavily. That was a magical pit in which it was said one could easily lose one’s soul, and none of them were eager to test themselves against it. A nimbus of fear hung about it now, an impregnable dungeon from which none returned. 

“That labyrinth is the only place in the North where I would expect goblins to live…” Did anyone hear the tremble in Sword Maiden’s voice as she whispered the words? Did anyone see the slight shaking of the sash over her eyes? 

A dungeon, goblins, a kidnapped woman and the fate that awaited her. 

Did anyone know she was biting her lip to keep her teeth from chattering…? 

“A distinguished adventurer of wisdom, discretion, and trustworthiness, fit to delve that deepest dungeon,” the old counselor said with something akin to levity. He shook his staff—perhaps not quite seeking revenge for earlier but certainly taken with his own idea. “Would this not be the moment to call upon the services of that great hero, the honored Sword Maiden?” 

Sword Maiden squeezed the sword and scales tight in her hands. 

There was a shout of approbation from someone in the crowd. “Excellent idea,” someone else agreed. 

Even among Gold-ranked adventurers, Sword Maiden was something special. She was one of the questers who had reached that deepest point of the deepest dungeon, defeated the greater demon, and come home to tell the tale. 

With one of the “All-Stars” fighting for them, there was nothing more to worry about. 

After all, they would be pitting this great hero against simple goblins! 

“Oh…” 

Sword Maiden opened her mouth to say something, but no words came. She could suck air in, but she couldn’t let it back out. 

What might she have been trying to say? She hugged her own quaking shoulders, embracing her generous chest. 

I won’t go. I’m afraid. I’m sorry. Such things she certainly could not say. 

Help me, please. Impossible words to speak. 

She was the most distinguished priestess in this entire nation. How could she be afraid of goblins? 

“And I can’t ask her to go…” 

The king appeared absorbed in thought. Sword Maiden could tell she had no time. A matter of seconds, maybe. Then the mouth of her ruler would open again. 

The first words would be these: “What do you say, archbishop?” He understood nothing. 

Then he would go on: “Will you do this for me, please?” It would be a death sentence for her. 

Sword Maiden, terrified, scooted back like an overawed little girl. 

But then she ran up against the back of her chair. She ran up against her position and the stares of those around her, and there was nowhere for her to go. 

“What do you say, archbishop?” 

The executioner’s sword was raised high… 

“…Ahem.” 

The sword was met by one small but clear word. 

“Wha…?” 

She couldn’t believe it. Sword Maiden, her whole body stiff, turned her hidden eyes toward the voice. 

Someone had her hand up, fearlessly: the female merchant, who had slipped out somewhere during the discussion and had just come back. 

“Impudent!” the elderly counselor exclaimed, but the king silenced him with a hand and the words “It’s fine.” 

The king seemed to have taken an interest in this girl—or, at the very least, in what she would say next. “What is it?” he asked. 

“…The honored archbishop’s escort is demanding to be admitted to the chamber.” 

“We’re in council.” 

“…He is a Silver-ranked adventurer.” 

The merchant took a step before the old counselor could object further. Without waiting for the king’s response, she opened the door to the next room. By the door, a diminutive silver-haired attendant shook her head in exasperation. 

“I have heard the situation.” 

The voice was indifferent, cold, like a breeze blowing underground. 

He approached unhesitatingly, at a bold stride. 

Beside the speaker came a girl who appeared to be an elven archer, her ears flicking proudly. 

On the speaker’s other side was a girl, still young, and smiling helplessly as if she had given up hope of holding the man back. 

Behind him came a dwarven shaman, shrugging in resignation, and a towering lizardman who seemed thoroughly amused by all this. 

They were a motley fellowship. They wore mismatched equipment, like a gang of toughs that might be found anywhere in the world. 

Everyone in the room, though, did a double take at the sight of this adventurer. 

He wore grimy leather armor and a cheap-looking metal helmet. At his hip was a sword of a strange length, and a round shield was tied to his arm. 

Even a pure beginner would have had better equipment. 

But the rank tag dangling from his neck left no room for doubt: he was Silver, the third rank, the highest rank for those who worked independently. 

“I knew it was goblins.” 

Without thinking about it, Sword Maiden stood up from her chair. The sword and scales dropped from her hand, but she didn’t even notice. 

“Yes, it is,” came the soft answer from the female merchant—Noble Fencer, who had once been an adventurer herself. Her short hair came down to her shoulders; she brushed it away and looked at Sword Maiden. 

“I shall go. Where are they? How many?” 

Sword Maiden nodded, feeling as if she might collapse at any moment. 

Again and again she nodded, over and over.