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Goblin Slayer - Volume 9 - Chapter 3




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Chapter 3 – Fleet Of Foot

The adventurers left town at daybreak, and on a journey interspersed with short breaks, they made the mountain before noon. 

“Hooo…! Th-that’s…brisk!” Rookie Warrior exclaimed. It wasn’t that he had underestimated the weather, or that he lacked the endurance. This was a blizzard. The storm had abated somewhat, but the chill of the wind and snow howling down the mountain was still intense. It brought to mind stories of frost giants or ice dragons’ breath. 

Those were merely fantasies, of course, but the fact that they were in very real danger remained. Holding their overcloaks shut tight with their hands, leaning into the wind, they veritably crawled up the mountainside. Behind Rookie Warrior, Apprentice Cleric couldn’t seem to get a single word out, struggling along using Lizard Priest’s huge body to shield her from the elements. 

“See? I told you it was gonna be cold,” High Elf Archer told them, pointedly puffing out her little chest. Her own ears were twitching—wait, no, they weren’t. At the moment, her distinctive pointy ears were wrapped under a furry hat. “That’s what you need one of these for! Heh-heh-heh, what a great buy…!” 

Her mood was quickly spoiled by Dwarf Shaman. “I guess an elf is the only one who would have to worry about literally having her ears frozen off.” 

“What was that?!” she demanded, and off they went. 

With the hum of their argument in the background, Priestess stole a glance at Lizard Priest. “Are you all right?” 

“Mm-hmm. Well, I endure.” He wiped the snow off his scales and held up his hand to show her the ring he was wearing. It was a Breath ring, a magic item just the same as one she had borrowed from Goblin Slayer many moons ago. He was also wearing considerably thicker clothing than usual. “And after all, persistence is the incubator of evolution.” 

At least it was easier than going from gills to lungs. 

With that, Lizard Priest gave a great laugh, but Priestess didn’t quite get the joke. She did know that her ability to deal with this march was the fruit of what she had experienced in the winter a year before. 

Evolution, huh? 

It was more than just getting stronger; it was the accumulation of experience. Holding her overcloak shut fast, she nodded and resumed the arduous climb. She pounded her sounding staff in the ground, using it to support herself against the wind as she took one step and then another, ever upwards. 

The sun was hidden behind a leaden sky, as if it were hardly shining at all. The hanging gloom was like a mist that led people astray; one careless footstep could spell the end. Still, Priestess kept walking. Taken by a thought, she looked back. 

It’s so far. 

She was amazed she had covered such a distance on foot. It wasn’t as far as the crow or the dragon flew—or as the troll walked, for that matter—but, clad in the white of the snow and the gray of the rocks, it seemed a vast distance. 

She looked up again, to see the top of the mountain covered in clouds. It didn’t seem possible to get there on foot. 

Maybe mountains aren’t a place for those who have words. 

She let out a breath and watched it fog in front of her. Her hands clutched her staff subconsciously. 

“O Earth Mother, abounding in mercy, thank you for making this land…” 

It was a prayer to the Earth Mother. Not for protection but simply to offer praise. How wide and vast was the world created by the gods! Simply to enter lands unknown was itself an adventure. 

“Ohhh, Supreme God… Your handouts could use a little more detail…” Apprentice Cleric groaned, finding herself struggling with the brutal climb. The way she talked, clinging to her sword and scales, reminded one that she was still just a few steps above novice. Priestess giggled to see that even so, the young woman didn’t slump to her knees. She exchanged a glance with her friends. None of them appeared to have any objection. 

“Let’s take a little break, then.” 

The party found a crevice where they would be out of the wind and shielded from avalanches and sat down. They gathered in a circle with a firestone, a catalyst from Dwarf Shaman’s bag, in the middle. 

“Dancing flame, salamander’s fame. Grant us a share of the very same.” 

With the dry leaves, protected from the snowmelt, in there with them, the Kindle spell proved especially valuable. 

“I’ll make some water, then,” Priestess said. 

“Thank y’very much,” Dwarf Shaman replied, giving her the spot in front of the fire. Priestess put a small pot full of snow over the flames. They watched it for but a moment before it melted into water. It made them, in its own way, grateful for the snow. 

“Can you not just eat it?” Apprentice Cleric asked, now steadier, but somewhat mystified. 

“Putting snow in your mouth isn’t the same as drinking water,” Priestess said. Then she added, “Oh, also, you two should loosen your gear a little. It will let your bodies relax.” 

“Er, right.” 

“…You really know a lot.” 

As the young man shifted his knapsack and relaxed his armor, Priestess put a hand softly to her chest. 

All because Goblin Slayer taught me. 

She was sure this wasn’t lost on her companions. But they merely smiled indulgently as she went about playing the mentor. She was embarrassed but also happy about it, and she smiled herself. 

“Now the only thing we’re missin’ is the wine.” The jug of fire wine and the brimming cup naturally came from the dwarf. 

“Uh, thanks…” Rookie Warrior took the cup uncertainly and put it to his lips. A bout of violent coughing followed. 

“Ha-ha-ha! Remember that, laddie. That’s what real alcohol tastes like.” 

“S-sure…” 

The grinning Dwarf Shaman next passed a cup to Apprentice Cleric. “Here, lass. Take a sip, lest you freeze solid.” 

“Oh, uh, me, I don’t—” 

“Of course she doesn’t,” High Elf Archer sniffed with a smile, in support of the somewhat frantic cleric. “You know who likes dwarven fire wine? Dwarves and no one else.” She rooted through her pack as she spoke, announcing, “Ta-da!” as she came up with a leaf-wrapped bundle. “That’s where elvish sweets come in!” She undid the rope on the bundle to reveal a tough baked good with a sweet aroma. 

“Ooh,” breathed Priestess, who had just filled her cup with hot water. She didn’t get to eat these elvish treats often, but they had quickly become one of her favorite foods. 

“Here you go, here you go,” High Elf Archer said, passing out the buns. “Let the lushes have their wine.” 

“Th-thank you…” Apprentice Cleric took a hesitant bite, then her face lit up. “…?!” From the way her cheeks puffed out like some kind of squirrel, it seemed she liked it, too. 

Priestess gave High Elf Archer a smile as she handed some water her way. “Hee-hee, that’s really tasty.” 

“Thanks. Isn’t it? We elves are pretty proud of it!” High Elf Archer said, puffing out her chest. 

“Pfah,” Dwarf Shaman grumbled, clicking his tongue. “Without Beard-cutter here, I’ve no one to drink with.” 

“Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha, well, I suppose it can’t be helped.” Lizard Priest handed some water to Rookie Warrior, keeping one eye on the girls as they enjoyed their bread. “The preference for sweet or dry is individual, just as I prefer meat to leafy things—with no detriment to my appetite.” He took a long swallow of fire wine, and then a big bite out of a wheel of cheese he brought out of his bag. Then another mouthful disappeared into his jaws, the round so big it filled his hands. 

He cradled his stomach like he had just swallowed some prey whole and let out a great burp, provoking a giggle from High Elf Archer. “You really do love cheese, don’t you?” 

“There is no fault in having a favorite food.” He carved out a slice from the wheel with one sharp claw and passed it into the slim hand that reached out for a helping. High Elf Archer ate it gratefully, watched with mystification by Apprentice Cleric and Rookie Warrior. 

“Something the matter?” Priestess asked. 

“Oh, no.” “Naaah.”—Came the twin responses. 

“We just don’t usually adventure with this many people,” Rookie Warrior said. 

“Yeah, it’s normally just the two of us…” 

Ahhh. This, Priestess understood. She had been just as confused at first. But during the trip to the ruins where they fought the ogre—a journey of just a few days—she had gotten used to it. And for just one simple reason. 

“It’s fun, isn’t it?” 

The boy and the girl looked at each other, but then they both nodded and replied earnestly, “Yeah.” 

“Hope we gain some more adventuring companions someday,” Rookie Warrior said. 

“Oh, am I not enough for you?” Apprentice Cleric answered, pointedly puffing out her cheeks. Priestess poured more hot water into her cup. “Thank you,” she said, holding the cup with both hands and blowing on it. “…I have to admit, it’s nice having a lively camp like this.” 

“Can’t let your guard down because of it, though,” Dwarf Shaman admonished her. He brushed the ice from his beard, the fire wine still in his hand. “With the snow sprites so frenzied, y’might just find yourself eaten by the Ice God’s Daughter.” 

“What’s that?” High Elf Archer asked, leaning in with interest. “A god? Like the ones in the sky?” 

“You won’t shut up about how long you elves have been around—haven’t you heard this old tale?” 

“It’s not like I remember everything I hear,” High Elf Archer responded, apparently impervious to Dwarf Shaman’s look. 

The dwarf sighed and said, “Well, the god in this case isn’t one of the great movers in the heavens. More like one of the primordial giants.” 

“Giants…?” Priestess blew on her own mug and took a sip, then had a bite of bread. 

That’s right—at last year’s festival… 

During the harvest festival the year before, a Dark Elf had attempted to summon some ancient titan. Priestess heard later about what would have happened had he succeeded… 

…Oh. 

This memory led her to others, to recollections still vivid and fresh, including one of fighting a battle while dressed in a rather revealing outfit. To hide her suddenly red cheeks, she blew furiously on her water. 

“The gods’ war games might be far in the past, but a few of those giants still roam the earth, no question,” Dwarf Shaman said. 

“And are they quite strong?” Lizard Priest asked. 

“Best believe it,” Dwarf Shaman answered. 

Rookie Warrior and Apprentice Cleric slid closer to each other, frightened. They could hardly imagine a monster that even Silver ranks considered so powerful. 

“These giants, they call themselves the Ice Gods, and they feast upon anyone who stumbles into their territory.” 

“…And is their daughter any nicer?” High Elf Archer asked with a shiver, but instead of answering, Dwarf Shaman took a swig of wine. 

“They say she’s an excellent cook.” 

“………” Priestess scratched one cheek, troubled. High Elf Archer looked like she might burst into tears. 

“Can’t say as I know the truth of the matter. Just the rumors that the likes of those wander these mountains.” 

“And you couldn’t have mentioned this any earlier…?!” 

High Elf Archer’s voice was nearly breaking, but Dwarf Shaman simply shrugged. “To what end? I’d only have scared the children.” 

“Ooo, Supreme Goood…” Apprentice Cleric was indeed on the verge of tears, clinging to her sword and scales. As for Rookie Warrior, he looked as if he thought that, sadly, his adventure would end here. 

Well, that was fair enough. And Dwarf Shaman’s cautions were understandable too, but… 

“…You really shouldn’t go out of your way to frighten anyone, okay?” 

But maybe she could put on her best big-sister voice and make things a little easier for them. 

“Oh!” Dwarf Shaman exclaimed merrily when Priestess chided him. “Ha-ha-ha, pardon me. Well, point is, stay alert.” 

“…That’s right! And don’t trust anything a dwarf says…” 

“What’s this anvil jabbering about?” “Well, what’s this dwarf glaring at me for?” 

High Elf Archer appeared to be back to her usual cheery self—even if it was just for form’s sake—and she set to looking after her bow. She restrung it with spider’s silk, checked the bowstring, and nodded in satisfaction. Then she winked (not very gracefully) at the two youngest adventurers, who still looked thoroughly spooked. “Don’t worry! If we run into any giants, I’ll snipe ’em straight off!” 

“I don’t think so.” 

The unexpected voice produced an instantaneous reaction from all but two of the adventurers. High Elf Archer nocked an arrow into her bow, Dwarf Shaman reached into his bag, Lizard Priest bared his fangs, and Priestess took the pot of boiling water. 

“Huh? Huh?” spluttered Rookie Warrior and Apprentice Cleric. 

Beside them, a pair of long, white ears flicked. “It would be an awful lot of trouble for us if you did,” the voice said casually. It came from a white rabbit standing there with a woodsman’s hatchet in its belt. The harefolk’s nose twitched as it sniffed the air. “By the by, do you suppose I might have one of those baked sweets of yours? I’m famished.” 

§ 

“Us, we have to eat every single day or we die,” the hare, a mountain scout and hunter, said brightly, nibbling on the bread while walking up the path as easily as if it were flat ground, even though it was in fact a steeply sloped mountain way. 

“You don’t… You don’t say,” Priestess said, struggling to catch her breath. They were high among the peaks, and the air was viciously thin. 

“The sky is so big that the Aerials, the air sprites, scatter every which way,” High Elf Archer explained with a laugh. 

“If we get something to eat, we can go just about forever, but this winter’s been rough.” 

“That’s true… It’s been a long winter.” Priestess, although she was much tougher than she used to be, was reduced to clinging to her staff. Rookie Warrior, ever the obstinate one, was still walking, but Apprentice Cleric was now riding on Lizard Priest’s back. 

“…Are you doing okay?” Priestess asked her companion. 

“If I stop moving my body, it might never move again. The heat of a human passenger is most welcome,” Lizard Priest answered with his usual smile. His voice sounded noticeably weaker than usual, though. Cold could be fatal to a lizardman. 

“Maybe you could get a fuzzy hat like mine. Not that you have much to cover,” High Elf Archer said with a snicker. She was used to living in the tops of the trees, so there was no hesitation or inefficiency in her movements. She followed the harefolk hunter, hatchet still at the hip, her long legs taking light steps. “Sure you don’t need one?” she asked them, proudly displaying the fuzzy hat over her ears. “Long ears get cold so fast, don’t they?” 

“Us, we have fur.” 

“…Well, fine.” 

From the back of the line, Dwarf Shaman heaved a sigh clearly intended for the openly disappointed elf. “You can ignore the anvil. We almost there yet?” Dwarf Shaman had plenty of energy, but having stubby arms and legs made things harder on him. Dwarves had a close affinity with the hills—but they lived within them. Mountain climbing was not normally on their agenda. The shaman was finding this journey to the hare-people’s village rather taxing. 

“Almost, yep, almost there, a hop, skip, and a jump!” Harefolk Hunter said, bouncing onto yet another rock. “Gosh and bother. You can blame the Ice Witch for all of this.” 

According to their guide, the hare-people’s village had existed more or less peacefully. “When my great-great-grandfather was still young, the village at the foot of the mountain was destroyed, and we lost all contact with the humans.” 

“That long ago…?” Priestess blinked. So many generations would have been more than a century ago. 

“No, no,” Harefolk Hunter said, long ears flapping. “I mean by our reckoning. It probably hasn’t been a hundred years yet.” 

The hare jumped nimbly down from the rock, head cocking after reaching the ground. A fuzzy paw pointed nonchalantly to one particular spot. “Look, right there. It’s empty underneath, so be careful.” 

“Yikes?!” 

No sooner had Harefolk Hunter spoken than Rookie Warrior sank into the snow. It was a place where snow had packed in over some roots or a crevice—a natural pitfall. Once inside, it was hard to get out. If you weren’t killed instantly, you would die in good time. 

“Wh-wh-wh-whoa—!” 

“Here!” 

Was this the end of his adventure? Dwarf Shaman reached out a hand to the frantic young warrior. The roughened hand of the older adventurer grabbed the slim wrist of the younger and pulled. Rookie Warrior heaved himself up onto the snow. Luckily, his club had a strap that had been wrapped around his wrist, so it was still there, even though he had let go of it. 

“Th-thank goodness…” 

“Stop fooling around…!” Apprentice Cleric said sharply from Lizard Priest’s back, provoking an “Aw, shut it!” from Rookie Warrior. 

High Elf Archer, who could detect the concern in the cleric’s rebuke, snickered softly. “Humans can’t see those little pitfalls,” she said, then she jumped over the packed snow as delicately as if she were hopping a puddle. She beckoned the others, however, indicating the safe route with a gentle nod of her head. “Anyway, all’s well that ends well. So what happened with this Ice Witch?” 

“Look, our people occasionally get picked off by ptarmigans or sasquatches, and nobody complains.” Harefolk Hunter, hatchet now riding low, gave an exhausted shake of the head. “But it’s really gotten bad this winter.” 

“…And it wasn’t bad before?” 

High Elf Archer sounded somewhat exasperated, but Lizard Priest rolled his eyes. “The strong eat the weak; such has ever been the great guiding principle of the world.” 

“But having the sasquatches hunt us down every single day in honor of the era of winter, that’s trouble. We can bring them other food to eat, but then we starve to death. Some choice.” 

Eventually—the slimmest of silver linings—one would expect the food supply and the population to reach equilibrium, but… 

“But we die if we don’t eat every single day,” Harefolk Hunter repeated, eyes downcast. 

“The era of winter…?” The expression nagged at Priestess; she was beginning to understand that even when the Harefolk sounded lighthearted, the matter was not necessarily minor. The sasquatches, ruled by this Ice Witch, whoever she was, were attacking the village, stealing provisions and eating people. 

This sounded like a job for adventurers. 

At a word from the king, the army could have swooped in to solve the problem. But the village of the hare-people had no contact with the outside world and paid no taxes; it could hardly be called a part of this kingdom. There was no one to save them. No… 

“…Supreme God.” From her place on Lizard Priest’s back, Apprentice Cleric clutched the holy sigil hanging around her neck. 

Now she knew. 

Knew what her handout had meant. Why they had been guided to this mountain. 

Priestess glanced over at Apprentice Cleric, saw the girl’s faith confirmed, and nodded. A smile overtook Priestess’s features, although inside, she was confused. 

And me? 

Would she receive such commands from the Honored Earth Mother? Could she continue to fulfill her role? 

She mustn’t doubt her own faith. Mustn’t feel this way about her god… 

Goblin Slayer… 

Suddenly, she wondered where he was at that moment. Was he back in town already? What would he think when he found out she was gone? That none of them were there… 

Would he pay it no mind, and simply go out hunting goblins on his own again? Why should she find herself beset by such consternation simply on account of being apart from him? Priestess realized how desperately she wanted to see him and sighed deeply. 

Silly girl. 

She wasn’t a child anymore. 

“Yep, hup, look ahead, everyone. There it is.” Harefolk Hunter took one final leap and pointed. 

Priestess belatedly looked up. “Oh—wow…” 

In a sort of ravine between the mountain ridges, a series of small nests had been dug out. Neatly painted doors sealed each one, small pathways running in pleasant patterns from the entrances. They were hare-person dwellings, distinct from the houses of humans or elves. The only thing to mar the idyllic scene was the worried expressions—the visibly distraught ears—of the hare-people who came and went; they looked ill at ease. 

“Oh…!” Apprentice Cleric exclaimed, drawing a questioning “What’s the matter?” from Priestess. 

“Look! Look, right over there!” 

“Over there…?” 

“In the center of the village…!” 

Huh? Priestess squinted, but then she caught her breath. 

“I get it,” High Elf Archer said, murmured admiringly. “Hard to find a place no one has ever been before.” 

Standing smack in the center of the village, in a large open square, was a single slim pillar. It was a great, ancient, rusted staff. 

Old as time itself, the design was that of a sword with scales hanging from it. 

The Supreme God’s divine salvation had reached this place; there was no question. 

§ 

“Heeey, Mom! I brought back an apostle of the Supreme God!” 

“Goodness,” said a portly hare-wife with an enthused clap of her hands. “Let’s have a meal, then!” Her greeting was as warm as if she were seeing old friends. 

Harefolk Hunter’s house—which was to say nest—lay behind a door somewhat small for a human, but inside the house, even a lizardman could relax. The ceiling was a bit low, but the carpet of summer grasses was inviting to the feet. 

More than anything, it need hardly be said how welcoming the hare-wife’s hospitality was. She had prepared a red-root soup with chard, as though she had known visitors would be coming. The flavor was unfamiliar, yet, just a mouthful warmed them from the depths of their hearts to the tips of their fingers. 

“Ah, I am afraid I must decline,” Lizard Priest said apologetically as everyone else enjoyed the soup. “Leafy things are, I fear, not so much to my liking.” 


“Gracious, I’m sorry about that. My husband isn’t around, you see…” 

“Did something happen?” Priestess asked between a couple large spoonfuls of soup. 

“Dad got turned into a tasty pie,” Harefolk Hunter said solemnly, pulling a radish out of the soup bowl. 

“Oh, I-I’m so sorry…!” Priestess said, bowing quickly. 

Harefolk Hunter, though, waved a hand and said, “Don’t worry about it. We don’t. Dead is dead.” 

“…Uh, anyway, are you sure about this?” High Elf Archer asked in an abrupt attempt to change the subject. “I mean, us taking your food? You’re giving us so much…” 

Apprentice Cleric jabbed an elbow into Rookie Warrior, who had just emptied out his third bowl of soup. “What?” he pouted. 

“Oh, it’s quite all right,” the hare-wife said brightly. “It would besmirch the name of Harefolk were we to let guests go unfed.” 

“Ah,” Dwarf Shaman said, gulping down the carroty soup as if it were wine. “Thinking of that story about the rabbit who roasted himself to feed the traveler?” 

“God, moved by the goodness of heart in that act, taught us to pray in exchange.” 

“So you’re saying…we can eat the food?” High Elf Archer asked, still perplexed. 

“What she’s saying,” Lizard Priest replied, “is that the lizardmen have their myths, the elves theirs, and the harefolk theirs as well.” 

“What she’s saying is that it would be ruder not to eat the food! Here, fill up,” Dwarf Shaman encouraged her. 

“You sure you’re one to talk?” High Elf Archer questioned with a sidelong look. 

“He’s quite right, though,” the hare-woman said, her eyes narrowed happily. “Please, eat to your heart’s content.” Then she filled High Elf Archer’s bowl, and the elf’s expression softened. There has never been in any age one who could long resist warm, delicious, heartfelt food. 

“One more bowl, then…” It was understandable that Priestess lost the struggle with temptation. Perhaps it was simply that the harefolk’s bowls were a bit smaller than she was used to… 

When the meal was over and tea was coming around, Priestess cleared her throat. “So, ahem… About the Witch of Ice.” The gooseberry tea had a faint, medicinal bitterness, and a single sip sent a cleansing freshness through the mouth. It also seemed to help the words come easily, for which she was grateful. 

“Hmm, well, like I said, we’re used to the sasquatches from the mountains.” Harefolk Hunter held one steaming cup in both hands, their legs dangling. “But this winter has seemed unusually long and intense. And that means—” 

Then it happened. 

Thump. A footstep—for it was a footstep—shook the ground, accompanied by a rumble like a drum. High Elf Archer and Priestess both shivered, the sound shaking them to their very cores. 

Winter’s here, winter’s here, 

our season has come. 

Ha, play your magic cards, 

cast your spells and raise your voice. 

Dice mean nothing, 

wit and strength our arms 

our arms to fight, now let us fight. 

The Witch of Ice has spoken right: 

these peaks have no need of the weak. 

The summer of the dead is through 

here proudly the black lotus blooms. 

Winter’s here, winter’s here, 

our season has come! 

The song rolled through the hills like a peal of thunder. 

“Wh-what in the world…?!” High Elf Archer demanded, pulling off her hat. 

“…Huh, so they’re here.” Harefolk Hunter, looking grim, stood up. “Mom, Mom, hurry up and hide in the pantry.” 

“Yes, of course.” 

“And look after Brother and Sister and Brother and Brother and Sister and Brother and Sister!” 

“They’ll come bounding home soon enough.” 

There was Harefolk Hunter, alarmed, and the hare-matron, rather mellow. The adventurers—all of them except Rookie Warrior and Apprentice Cleric—rushed to the window. Lizard Priest leaned over so he could see out, his face about level with that of Dwarf Shaman. “Can you perchance see anything?” 

“Not much… Hey, what d’you make of it?” 

“Can’t see a thing,” muttered High Elf Archer, to whom the query had been directed; her long ears were flicking. “But I heard three different voices and sets of footsteps. A trio of enemies.” 

“Yeah, that’s right,” Harefolk Hunter said, shoving the hatchet into their belt. “The same three as always. I’ll chop their heads off today…!” 

“Hmm,” Priestess said, putting a lovely white fingertip to her lips in contemplation. 

An enemy attack. They should receive the assault. There was no question. 

Goblin Slayer—what would he do? 

Him, he would act without hesitation—but with careful thought. 

A song. Giants. A witch. 

“…Let’s go, too,” Priestess said decisively. “That’s what we came here for!” 

The adventurers all nodded with just as much certainty. This time, that included Rookie Warrior and Apprentice Cleric. 

§ 

“Now ’en, who’ll be fighting us?” 

“I will be!” a brave hare-boy said in a voice that rolled through the valley as he hopped up from his nest. 

The massive, muscular sasquatches were misshapen humanoids covered in white fur. They had been much reduced since the days of their ancestors the giants so that now they looked, at first glance, something like overlarge apes. But they were still easily more than ten feet tall, still worthy of the name giants. 

“You, eh?” 

“Whadda we gonna do with you?” 

“Don’t think you can match us for strength.” 

And there were three of them. 

They grinned, looking none too bright; these were the three who had kept this village in a state of perpetual fear. 

It was of course they themselves who called for a fight. They knew full well that they could win a contest of violence. They could ruin this village as easily as they could snap a twig. 

But that was no fun. And so they demanded a contest. They claimed that if they were beaten, they would spare the victor’s life. But if they won, they could do whatever they liked with the loser. Eat him, use him for a toy. 

The harefolk, naturally, had no choice but to accept. It was better than being slaughtered all at once. 

“Good, good, have a go, then,” one of the sasquatches said. He pointed to some lingonberry bushes at the edge of the village. “First one t’reach those berries wins. Ready?” 

“Oh, I’m ready!” the hare-boy said, and as soon as the sasquatch shouted “Goooo!” he started running. He was not the fastest in the village, but he was no slouch, and he knew the terrain like the back of his hand. He was almost as quick of mind as he was of foot, and although unsure he could win, he didn’t intend to lose. 

That intention didn’t survive the sasquatch’s first step. 

“??!?!” The cry came not from the young rabbit, but rather from the other villagers watching from their nests. 

With his second step, the sasquatch closed the distance even more, and upon his third, he took a fistful of lingonberries. “Ha-haaa, looks like I win!” 

“Ah… Urgh… Hrrgh…!” 

It was like all the bones in his body had been dumbstruck. At first, he didn’t even feel any pain, only noticing how difficult it was to breathe all of a sudden. But by that point, the boy could no longer move even a finger. He writhed in agony, a pain that became twice as bad, then ten times, running all through his body. He might have compared it to being struck by lightning—if he’d had time for such a thought. 

But he didn’t have even a moment before his life was over. He might not even have felt the giant lift him by the ears and pop him into its mouth. 

“Hmm. These rabbits, so little meat and so many bones.” 

“Whadda you, a goor-mand? You’ll eat any damn thing.” 

“I do wish there was just a little more of it.” 

“Hey, weren’t the orders to bring ’em back alive?” 

“Aw, we only ate one. She won’t even know.” 

A cordial conversation took place amid the sounds of crunching and chewing. Priestess and the others, who had only just arrived on the scene, observed it all, trembling. 

“We are too late…!” In the shadows, she clutched her staff and clenched her teeth. 

I don’t know if we could have done anything even if we’d gotten here sooner. 

The thought was weak, and she desperately shoved it away, staring at the sasquatches. 

She hated thoughts like that. She never wanted to say that the actions of her companions on that day, at that time, when they had decided to delve into that first goblins’ nest, had been wrong. She of all people didn’t want to say it. Or so she felt. 

“Wh-what do we do…?” Apprentice Cleric seemed utterly at a loss. 

“Only one thing to do!” Harefolk Hunter exclaimed. “I’ll go next!” 

“Guh?!” Rookie Warrior choked. “Don’t even think about it! Did you see how big that thing is?!” 

He tried to restrain Harefolk Hunter, who squealed, “Lemme gooo!” 

There were three enemies. Huge and powerful. Rookie Warrior was right. They may have been slow, but that deficit was wiped out by the size of their bodies. As for their intelligence—well, who could say? 

What would Goblin Slayer do…? 

Priestess pictured the way he reacted to a situation. And then she did the same. 

“What do…you think?” 

“Well, now,” Lizard Priest rolled his eyes as if amused. Priestess looked at the ground, embarrassed to realize he had seen through her. Her face was hot. “What is it they say about large heads and little wit? Though I’m not certain whether it holds in this case…” Lizard Priest tapped his own head with one sharp claw. “What matters is the ratio of brain size to body size. Simple intelligence.” 

“Hmm,” High Elf Archer said, squinting and counting on her fingers. “Their heads are slightly smaller than a human’s, I would guess. Maybe about the size of an ape’s.” 

“But this isn’t a very advantageous place to fight them,” Dwarf Shaman said with a frown, taking a very displeased gulp of wine. “We’re right in the middle of town. A rampage here could get out of hand in a hurry.” 

“So perhaps our best option is to give battle face-to-face and openly, and to elude them in the same way,” Lizard Priest offered. “So then, what is it you propose we do?” 

The party’s collective gaze settled on Priestess. Even Harefolk Hunter, arms still pinned behind them by Rookie Warrior, looked at her. 

Well… Um… 

She put a pale, shapely finger to her lips and uttered reflectively, “Hmm.” 

They didn’t have much time, and their options were limited. She had to put it all together. She had to make her brain work. 

I wonder if he’s ever had moments like these. 

The thought brought the ghost of a smile to her face. Her heart felt ever so slightly lighter. 

“…Let’s do it.” She made up her mind. “I do have a plan.” 

§ 

“I shall be your opponent!” 

A clear voice echoed through the valley and left the sasquatches blinking. 

From the shadow of a small building in the harefolk village, a spindly little girl emerged. A human. She was wearing a priest’s vestments and holding a sounding staff. An adventurer. The sasquatches looked at each other, then grinned. 

“Well lookit you, eh? Hoping we’ll eat you head first?” 

“Dunno, I think she might make a nice toy.” 

“No, no, we’ll tear her open so her insides are outside!” 

The way they laughed was disgusting (though they themselves surely didn’t think so), and the girl stiffened somewhat. That only amused the creatures even more, their guffaws echoing through the entire valley. 

“M-me, I…” 

“Her name is Noman.” 

The girl’s quaking voice harmonized with one far deeper and more somber. The sasquatches looked and found a lizardman who seemed to have popped up out of the ground, though he was still tiny compared to them. 

“By her ancestors,” the lizardman said, “she shall challenge the lot of you. She is the girl, none other than Noman.” 

Ignoring the way the girl quickly bowed her head to the lizard, the sasquatches looked on in bemusement. Was the lizardman a servant of Chaos? They didn’t know. They could just ignore him. Or perhaps eat him. 

But what if he was a servant of Chaos? Say he was a friend of the Ice Witch? Then they would really hear about it. 

He didn’t look very tasty, anyway. If they were going to have a meal, they preferred the girl. 

Well, that settled it. 

“Fine, just fine. Sounds good to us,” one of the sasquatches said with a magnanimous yet condescending bow. “And how would you challenge us?” 

“Um, well…” The girl Noman looked around quickly, as if hoping to find inspiration in the scenery, which the sasquatches found deeply amusing. This contest was nothing—it was already over. They couldn’t lose. That’s why they were enjoying themselves so much. It was the arrogant, fearsome thinking so characteristic of servants of Chaos, of Non-Praying Characters. 

“That tree, then,” the girl said at length, pointing to a tree just beyond the village borders. “The first one to knock a leaf off that tree wins… What do you say to that?” 

“Don’t mind a bit.” 

“Also…” The girl’s voice shook with uncertainty as she added, “the rule is, you can’t touch your opponent’s body…” 

“Well and good,” the sasquatch nodded, still smirking. He shot a glance at his companions behind him, and they both nodded at him. “When you lose, you belong to us. Deal?” 

“Yes,” Priestess said. “You may do as you wish with me.” 

“Get ready and go, then!” 

By the time the sasquatch took his first step, he was convinced he had already won. His head was already full of the things he would do later. He was tired of raw food; he would welcome a chance to cook something. How about some nice, shredded, cooked meat? 

He could pick her up by the head, careful not to squish it between his fingers. He could almost feel the girl struggling like a bug. He would poke her in the belly, in the chest, with his fingers. 

She would weep and cry, no doubt. And then, when he was good and ready, he would tear off an arm or a leg. What expression would cross her face when she realized this would go on until her death? And how much more despairing would she get when she saw that she would be beaten, used up, before that death came? 

And so the sasquatch didn’t register what had happened when he went to take his second step. 

He hadn’t even been looking at the girl Noman as she put a stone in a sling and sent it flying. It went whistling past his head and struck the root of the tree. 

There was a dry crack, and leaves came flitting down off the tree. 

“I did it…!” 

“Wh-what…?!” the sasquatch wailed, wheeling around. He wanted to say that was cheating, that it didn’t count. But the next thing he saw was a stone coming at him. 

He was unconscious before he even realized that he had fallen down. 

After all, since time immemorial, giants have been vulnerable to stones slung by humans… 

§ 

“I did it…!” Priestess exclaimed, pointing at the sasquatch, who had collapsed with a great crash. “And now that I’ve won, I…uh, I have rights!” 

“Mmm.” Lizard Priest nodded, but of course the remaining sasquatches were not inclined to abide by his judgment. Instead, agitated, they pounded their chests threateningly, screaming and howling. 

“Brother! Our brother is finished! Noman got our brother!!” 

But the creature that turned wailing toward Priestess was still not particularly smart. Like his deceased brother, all he could think of was picking her up and crushing her head between his fingers. 

“Gnomes! Undines! Make for me the finest cushion you will see!” 

So the sasquatch never noticed the dwarf lurking by his feet. The snow turned to mud, which couldn’t support the creature’s weight; he sank straight into it. 

“Hr-hrragh…?!” 

“Oh, for—! Why do I keep getting the physical jobs these days…?!” 

He also, naturally, never imagined the elvish archer circling around him with a rope to tie him up. 

“Nrragghh?!” There was nothing he could do about it; the sasquatch, large as he was, simply fell over. He landed on the ground with a crash and a rather unbecoming yell. Snow flew up like a geyser; the sasquatch struck his head and lost consciousness. 

“And so the contest is concluded!” Lizard Priest’s bloodthirsty proclamation was delivered in a roaring voice worthy of a dragon. He fell upon the giant who had been hit with a stone in order to finish him off, as the rules now allowed. “I shall turn my hand to this one next, and once I have done so, I shall deprive you of your head and offer up your heart as a sacrifice!” 

“U-urrgh…!” The final sasquatch was left with no choice. When a lizardman said he would do something, he would do it, Order and Chaos be damned. The sasquatch looked from his dead brother to his unconscious one, then quailed. In this, at least, he proved perhaps cleverer than his siblings. 

“Noman! Noman killed my brother!!” He hefted up the others in a tremendous hurry, then made for the mountain depths with his proverbial tail between his legs. 

Lizard Priest listened to the thudding footsteps retreat with profound satisfaction. “And are we pleased with this outcome, then?” 

“Yes… Thank you very much.” Priestess put a hand to her small chest and let out a breath. Her heart was beating like an alarm bell. She was so grateful everything had gone well. 

I just don’t like leaving things to luck. 

“That was…incredible!” 

“You beat them…” 

Priestess was brought back to herself by the two people who had been waiting just in case the very worst should happen. Rookie Warrior and Apprentice Cleric, still obligingly holding on to Harefolk Hunter, were looking at her wide-eyed. 

“Just lucky… Really, that’s all.” She smiled bashfully, finding their stares a bit intense. “If Goblin Slayer were here, he would have come up with something much better…” 

I’m sure of it. But those words only provoked speechless looks from the others. 

Why is that? Priestess looked at them quizzically, wondering if she had said something strange. 

“But you’re— Now look, I’m not complaining, okay? But you’re a priestess, right?” Harefolk Hunter seemed almost as confused as she was. The long ears flicked and Hunter went on hesitantly, “Didn’t you kind of…trick them? Is that okay?” 

“Er…” Priestess sounded deeply and sincerely surprised. “But…I didn’t touch them, did I?” 

She had followed the rules. 

High Elf Archer, just rejoining the party, heard that and cast a look up at the sky, lost for words. 



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