Goblin Slayer - Volume SS1.01 - Chapter 9

Chapter 9 – After Session Between Adventurers

“Heeeey, receptionist—I’ll take this quest!” 

“Certainly!!” 

The Adventurers Guild was bustling again today. 

Things didn’t stop just because one huge monster had been vanquished. There were always more adventures to go on, and more paperwork to do related to those adventures. Bandits making the roads dangerous, evil wizards holed up in various fortresses, vampires in search of influential young women. 

Although it was just a rumor, there was even talk that a tribe of centaurs was going to attack. 

And then, of course, there was goblin slaying. 

Guild Girl, who could no longer be considered new to the job, was scurrying about like a jumping mouse, helping out quest givers, preparing and posting the paperwork for those quests, and working with adventurers who had come to take them on. 

Lunchtime finally came, but as soon as she finished eating, it was straight back to work. There was hardly time to relax; she was so busy, her head threatened to spin. 

Even so, she had a smile on her face: she had a certain piece of paperwork that she had been working on in every spare moment. 

“Oh-ho-ho. What’s this?” her colleague asked, taking a peek at the paper, a sandwich still in her mouth. Guild Girl, grinning, laid the paper out for her to see, and she blinked. “An application for promotion in rank?” 

“Correct!” 

“Oh, I get it—there were an awful lot of Porcelains helping with that Rock Eater, weren’t there?” 

A number of things went into determining an adventurer’s rank: their adventuring résumés, the total amount of rewards they had received, the amount of good they had done the area they lived in, and their personalities, among other things. Clearing out a monster that had taken up residence in a mine would certainly advance anyone’s cause for promotion. Assuming there were no glaring flaws in their personality, they could well expect to gain a level immediately. 

But then her colleague stopped with a mystified “Hmm? Wait a second… I don’t think this guy was even on that adventure, was he?” 

“Oh, that’s right. He wasn’t.” Guild Girl shook her head, her braids waggling in time. 

Then, however, she showed her colleague his adventure sheet with great pride. 

“This person is working very hard,” she said. “Extremely hard. All by himself.” 

“Huh. Gosh,” her colleague said, chewing her sandwich thoughtfully and looking at the sheet with considerable interest. 

His skills and abilities were average, or even below average. 

The adventures he had completed consisted of: goblins, goblins, goblins, goblins, and more goblins. 

I guess that explains why I’ve seen so few goblin-slaying quests left over recently. 

“Keep piling up rocks and you get a mountain, huh?” she muttered to herself. She looked at Guild Girl with the sharp eyes of a cleric of the Supreme God. “You didn’t forge any of this, did you?” 

“As if I would do a thing like that!” 

“Good, then.” She nodded in acceptance. 

Guild Girl, her chest puffed out proudly, could only smile ruefully. 

Her colleague, finishing off the crust of her sandwich, winked at her. 

“It’s all good, anyway. Everyone meets one or two adventurers they’d like to encourage.” 

“Doesn’t that contradict what you said earlier…?” 

“Sometimes time and place dictate what you say.” 

“Whatever!” 

Both of them started snickering. 

Their break time would be over soon, and work would start again. 

There were plenty of other adventurers up for promotion, too, meaning lots of paperwork to fill out. 

“Since we’re both here, how about we go out for a little drink tonight?” 

“Sounds good. If I’m not too tired.” 

“All right, then. If you’re not too tired.” Guild Girl nodded with a smile and went back to her counter. 

Her colleague disappeared for a moment but then poked her head back into Guild Girl’s space. 

“Hey, have people been calling that guy by some kind of nickname lately?” 

“Yeah,” Guild Girl said, looking as proud as if she were talking about her own achievements. “As a matter of fact, he…” 

§ 

“Have you heard? There’s this weird guy around these days.” 

“Oh, the one in that bizarre outfit?” 

“The cheap-looking armor and helmet.” 

“The one who’s always talking about goblins? I notice him every time he comes to the Guild.” 

“I mean, he’s Porcelain, so what else is he gonna do?” 

“Yeah, until he cuts his teeth…” 

“Goblins are such a pain. If I never see another goblin, it’ll be too soon.” 

“Come on, they can’t be that bad. They’re just goblins, right?” 

“Anyway, what about him?” 

“They say he’s made Obsidian already.” 

“Wow, really? So was he part of that Rock Eater hunt?” 

“No, I hear it’s nothing but goblins for him.” 

“Do enough of them and I guess the experience adds up.” 

“Plus, he’s solo.” 

“I heard one guy invited him on a different adventure, and he turned him down flat.” 

“He only ever hunts goblins, right?” 

“Just goblins, goblins, goblins, goblins, huh?” 

“So he’s not a dragon slayer, he’s…” 

§ 

He didn’t immediately realize the name referred to him. 

He had finished making his report at the Guild and was just about to go outside. 

The town bustled with activity, with eager voices. The rich summer sunlight shone all around. 

He dismissed the way all these things flooded into his helmet and turned slowly around. 

“Do you mean me?” 

“Who else could I mean?” 

The young warrior was standing there. The young man in the suit of armor had to think for a moment to recall who he was, but when he remembered, he nodded, the helmet moving quietly. “I see.” 

“Are your injuries better? I heard you got worked over by some goblins.” 

“Yes.” He nodded again. “It’s no problem.” 

It was all quite surprising: he had been completely exhausted, severely wounded, trudging through the rain before he finally collapsed. 

He didn’t know who had brought him to the temple, nor who had tended to his wounds. His injuries, however, healed miraculously well, his strength and stamina as good as they had ever been. 

Normally, it would have taken many days to recover from something like that. 

“Me too. We both need our health to make our living. I’m glad you’re all right.” 

The young warrior gave him a pat on the shoulder. He thought for a moment, then the helmet tilted slowly. 

“An adventure?” 

“Yeah.” The young man scratched the spot under his nose and laughed. “Slaying giant rats in the sewers.” 

“Is that so?” 

“I don’t have any party members anymore, but I figured I could solo for the time being.” 

There was still a hesitance about the young man, but the shrug he gave seemed natural enough. 

He thought back to the image of the young warrior, his companions all gone, spending all his time in the tavern. 

“…I see.” He nodded, something the other man seemed to find somehow dazzling. 

Then the young warrior gave the leather armor on his chest a friendly smack. 

“If you’re ever in trouble, call me.” 

“Um…” 

“We registered on the same day. That’s a bond.” 

He was silent for a moment, then said, “I understand.” His voice was awkward and quiet as he added, “I’ll do that.” 

“Sure thing,” the young warrior said with a laugh, as though that answer pleased him somehow. “So what about you, then? More goblin slaying?” 

“No.” He shook his head slowly. “I was just going home.” 

He was just about to start walking again when he paused and said, “What was that you said to me? The first thing?” 

“That?” the young warrior said, as if surprised he didn’t already know. “It’s a nickname.” 

“A nickname?” 

“Sure.” The young warrior grinned. “Your nickname. 

“They call you Goblin Slayer.” 

§ 

“Er… Ergh…” 

Cow Girl groaned, a bucket of water in front of her in her room. 

Again and again, she put the scissors to her hair, which she could see reflected in the water. 

But I d-don’t have any idea how to cut my hair… 

She had never given it much thought before, and now her lackadaisical approach had come back to haunt her. But it was too late now to wish that she had paid more attention to her bangs in the past. 

She considered asking someone for help, but she was simply too embarrassed. 

I mean… Come on… 

It was all down to the reason she was cutting her hair. 

That lady spell caster she had hired to be her bodyguard probably wouldn’t have laughed at her to hear it, though. 

I guess this isn’t the sort of thing you ask an adventurer to help you with. 

She had paid them to be her bodyguards; they weren’t exactly her friends. 

Cow Girl took a lock of her bangs between her fingers and brought the scissors to it, then pulled them back, agonizing over exactly what she should do. 

“Oh, for…” 

Bah! Just do it! Cow Girl screwed up her courage, then attacked her hair with the scissors. 

Shink. 

She heard the blades come together, and then a few strands of her bangs drifted down in front of her face. 

She set the scissors aside and then tremblingly looked into the bucket. But… 

“Hmm…” 

For the life of her, she couldn’t tell whether she had done a good job. 

But I can’t just leave it like this, that’s for sure. 

She had started this, and now she would have to finish it. With that thought filling her mind, she gave a little smirk. 

He was the same way, she was sure. 

“Okay!” Cow Girl said, smacking herself on the cheeks. Then she picked up the scissors again and began cutting boldly, slicing away swaths of her hair. As it fell, she felt like her head was getting lighter, her vision clearer. 

Why did I leave it like that for so long? 

It could almost have been funny to hear her wonder this; it had never bothered her before. 

It was precisely realizing that fact that allowed her to become lighter like this. And that, she thought, was good. 

“About like this, I guess…?” 

She ran a hand through her hair, fiddled with her bangs, and then looked into the water again, muttering to herself. 

It doesn’t look…weird, does it? 

She probably needed more practice. When her hair grew out again, she would take another stab at it. 

With that thought, she cleaned up the bucket and scissors and swept up the hair with a broom. 

A woman’s hair was a precious thing; it could be sold for use in wigs or weaving or even to keep evil spirits away. 

“A charm, huh?” 

What if she were to give him something like that? 

Nah… That’d be embarrassing. 

Of course. And so, waving off her own idea, Cow Girl wrapped the collected hair carefully in oilpaper. 

“Uh… Hmm…” 

She couldn’t quite bring herself to imagine handing it over to someone she didn’t know, though. What was the best thing to do? 

As she went back and forth— 

“Yikes!” 

—suddenly, she heard the sound of bold footsteps, a sound she had become accustomed to lately. 

Cow Girl hurriedly tossed the hair onto a shelf, then ran a comb through the hair that was left on her head to straighten it before she went out to the front of the house. 

What to say? Or rather, how to say it? 

They had parted almost as if after a fight, and then she had gone and done this, and now… 

She hardly knew what expression to make, let alone what words to use. 

“Oh—” 

But by the time all this had gone through her head, it was too late. There was a gentle clatter as the doorknob turned, and then the door opened with a soft creak. 

The first thing she saw were his boots, which had gotten thoroughly covered in mud in the short time since he’d left. 

The grimy leather armor, the cheap-looking steel helmet. The sword of a strange length at his hip, and the little round shield on his arm. 

It was him. 

He stopped there in the doorway and looked at her silently. 

“Your hair…” 

“Oh… Yeah.” 

Cow Girl found herself unable to avoid fidgeting as she stood there; her fingers tugged at the fringes of her hair. 

“I cut it.” 

“Is that so?” He nodded once and was silent for a moment. Then he added, “I see.” 

It took him a while to come up with the response, but it was by no means as elaborate as Cow Girl was hoping. She expressed the dark feeling within herself by pursing her lips for a moment. 

“Is that all?” she finally asked. 

“Is what all?” 

“Don’t you have anything else to say? You know—it looks good, or, that’s so cute!” 

But, well… 

Even if he had come up with those sentiments, she wouldn’t have known how to react. 

He didn’t seem to know, either: after a while, the helmet shook slowly back and forth. 

“I don’t really know.” 

“I guess not,” Cow Girl said, but then she smiled and added, “Can’t be helped, can it?” 

She twirled around and strolled toward the kitchen. 

That was it—it couldn’t be helped. It was just the way things were. 

“It is not bad… At least, I think.” 

The voice was terribly soft and dispassionate, almost mechanical. 

Cow Girl froze in her tracks. 

She turned her head, with its newly shortened hair, and she let out a deep breath. 

Then she turned her back on him again and said simply, “…Oh?” 

“Yes.” 

That was all she needed. Those short, quiet words of his were all it took. 

As she entered the kitchen, she spun around to face him. 

“Hey,” she said, putting both hands on the table and leaning forward. “Want me to make dinner for you?” 

“……” 

“It’s stew. You’ll eat it, right?” 

Feelings are not as simple as words. 

He didn’t seem to know what to say. 

The helmet remained silent, not offering even a ghost of a movement. 

His expression was hidden behind his visor. Was he angry? Or not? 

Cow Girl gulped—quietly, so he wouldn’t notice. 

Her hands grew tighter on the table. 

A cow mooed outside. 

She heard her uncle’s voice far off, pursuing it. 

Still, he hadn’t answered her. 

Still. 

“…Yes.” 

“Great!” 

Cow Girl clenched her fist in celebration the instant the helmet nodded in assent. 

Then the tension drained out of her, her cheeks relaxing. Something that had been tight seemed to melt. 

“Okay, I’ll get started right away, then.” 

For the first time in a long time, she took up the apron that hung nearby. She hadn’t done this since she was a child—at least five years ago. 

She dimly remembered the recipes she’d learned. She wondered if she could still manage to make them. She should have practiced… 

Well, never mind. 

She would do it, starting now. 

All of it. Everything. One thing at a time. 

She had already cleaned. She would straighten up, do the laundry, and help out around the farm: all more and more things she’d do. 

Even cooking—she would tackle it again and again. And he would eat what she made over and over. 

“Oh, that’s right.” 

She had forgotten something important. 

She glanced at him from her spot in the kitchen. He had slumped awkwardly into a chair in the dining area. 

She took a deep breath, holding it in that large chest of hers, and then said the words from which everything else would begin. 

“Welcome home!”