Goblin Slayer - Volume SS1.02 - Chapter 4

Chapter 4 – Johnson And Runner The Relationship of Giver and Adventurer

“I’m going out.” 

“Oh, okay…” 

Cow Girl kept herself from asking Already? as she watched him walk out into the predawn gloom. 

No conversation, again. No breakfast, again. And of course, no dinner the night before. 

I’m glad he’s started coming home, but… 

Cow Girl let out a melancholy sigh and leaned across the table, her great chest pressing into it. He sometimes slept in his room now. She sensed it wasn’t quite the same as when they had just been reunited. But still… 

Maybe I’m only bothering him, pushing things on him like this. 

She couldn’t stop the thought from crossing her mind. 

Something was strange, there was no question. Something crucial—he had done more than simply become an adventurer, she suspected. 

Cow Girl went to the Guild sometimes herself. So she heard the things people said. 

Goblin Slayer. The one who kills goblins. 

Why? She hardly had to ask. 

What she wanted to know instead was, what could she do for him? 

She remembered riding in that carriage as she left the village, looking back. The evening before, she had argued with him, making him cry, crying herself. 

The faces of her mother and father were already painfully blurry in her mind. 

She remembered the empty coffins they had buried. 

In the midst of all these reminiscences, one thing she had no memories of was her village, ravaged by goblins. 

No memories at all. 

Instead there was just a blank space, like the spot on the beach where a sandcastle she had worked hard to build had been washed away. 

“………Sigh.” 

Was she just butting in? 

Cow Girl let her head roll to one side, taking in the kitchen. There was a pot full of stew, waiting to grow warm. 

That time, the time when he had come home practically in tatters, she thought he had eaten it politely. 

But maybe she had just imagined it. Maybe it was just what she had wanted to see. 

“…Guess I don’t know.” 

Not about him. Not about adventuring. 

Dawn broke as she sat thinking these thoughts. The light grew brighter outside. Soon her uncle would be awake. 

“…Gotta get Uncle’s breakfast ready.” 

“Perhaps he has a lover somewhere. Or finding companionship among the whores wouldn’t be out of the—” 

“……!” 

At the memory of her uncle’s words, she sat up fast enough to rattle the table. 

Her face was hot. So hot. She must be bright red. Cow Girl quickly shook her head. 

“I th-think I’ll go wash my face…!” 

She ran out the door, face still burning, and then— 

“…Huh?” 

She stopped at an unexpected sight. The fence, the one she had told herself she had better fix, had a hasty patch on it. 

“…?” 

Cow Girl thought about it for a moment, came to the conclusion that her uncle must have fixed it, then continued running to the well. 

§ 

There was the little house, standing just where it always was. The waterwheel creaked along, and smoke puffed from the chimney. A small place. 

Morning mist, the color of milk, floated around as Goblin Slayer strode boldly up to the door. He gave a few solid raps of the knocker and was met by a voice that called “Come on in.” 

He opened the door and entered the room made dim by towers of books. He worked his way through the space, careful not to topple the piles of stuff that looked to him like junk, but whose purpose he didn’t know. 

“Hey, sorry. Little busy here.” 

In the very back of the veritable cavern, Arc Mage sat working industriously at her desk. Her fingers moved the cards quick as magic, the little slips becoming blurs as if she were performing sleight of hand. 

“I brought cider.” 

“Great. Just leave it over there somewhere.” 

She didn’t even look in his direction; Goblin Slayer obediently put the bottle down in an arbitrary spot. 

Several empty bottles rolled at his feet, a sweet aroma drifting up from them. A mingling of apples and herbs—her smell. 

“Also, I have the item you requested.” Goblin Slayer dug in his item pouch, producing a small hempen bag. Its mouth was cinched tightly shut, but even so, a faint unpleasant odor drifted through the room. To be fair, that might have had something to do with the grime that was covering him… 

“Goblin droppings.” 

“Great. Just leave it over there somewhere.” 

She sounded totally disinterested, but it didn’t seem to bother him; he simply nodded and set the pouch down in an arbitrary spot. 

For the past several days, it had been the same routine. 

Goblins were not to be afforded many pages in the Monster Manual. But that, according to Arc Mage, didn’t excuse them from doing their research before writing. So he would collect some goblin-related item and deliver it to her. Then he would receive a reward. 

No matter where he put it down, the next time he visited, the item was always gone. None of this was any problem in his mind. 

“My reward?” 

“Ahh, right. Good point.” 

An ambiguous response. Goblin Slayer waited patiently for the next words. He looked at her small back for a few moments, and then finally she said, “Ah,” as if just remembering. “There’s some scrolls over there. You can take one.” 

She sounded as if she were foisting something on him that she didn’t need, but he simply replied, “All right.” 

He looked “over there” as he’d been instructed, and indeed, there was a collection of neatly rolled scrolls piled together. 

“It doesn’t matter which I take?” 

“Doesn’t matter.” 

“Hmm,” he said and thought a moment, then grabbed the topmost scroll, so as not to disturb the pile. 

The scroll seemed to be on sheepskin. It had a simple binding and was kept shut with a decorative cord tied in a strange sort of knot. 

A magic scroll, presumably. This was the first time Goblin Slayer had ever seen one. 

“What’s this?” 

“Just ask some wizard in town what’s in it,” Arc Mage said, and then she seemed to forget about him entirely. 

One after another, cards turned over, danced upon the tabletop, front and back changing position at dizzying speeds, until finally they were stacked up. On her flashing fingers shone the light of that ring. It still seemed to burn from within. 

Goblin Slayer watched it for a moment, then told her he was leaving and exited the room. 

Just as the door closed, he heard her say, “See you later.” It was just a politeness. 

Most likely. 

§ 

“…What, is it?” 

Goblin Slayer was at the tavern; the curt question came at him from Witch. She was in a seat in one corner of the room, her staff leaning against the wall; she herself had her legs crossed regally, relaxing. She was eye-catching indeed, and other adventurers glanced their way periodically. 

There must have been a great many adventurers who tried to talk to this rookie, a woman and a wizard who ran solo. But the gazes would avert again when they saw who was standing across from her: the man in the grimy armor. 

Witch played restlessly with her hair, hiding her eyes with the brim of her hat as she looked at him. “Another…identification…perhaps?” 

“Yes.” Goblin Slayer nodded. Then, after a moment’s thought, he added, “Will you do it?” 

“…Let’s, see.” A beautiful hand was already reaching out. Show me, it seemed to say. 

Goblin Slayer took the scroll he had just received out of his bag and handed it to her. 

“I suppose…this is, from her…?” 

“It is.” 

“Mm…” Witch nodded again, then turned the scroll in her palm a few times, after which she let out an impressed but still somehow lazy breath. “…That, woman. She’s strange…is she, not?” 

Goblin Slayer didn’t answer. He didn’t know people well enough to say. Didn’t know her well enough. 

So after another moment of thought, he said simply, “Is that so?” Witch nodded. 

“Very…very…strange.” 

She set the scroll on the tabletop and produced a long pipe from the folds of her robe. She struck a flint with an elegant motion of her hands, lighting the pipe. 

“Those who can become…like her. They number very, few. Outside…the logic, of the world. It’s, very…scary there.” A cloying aroma drifted around her. “Because you never know… And, anyone who can, go…to see her…is impressive, indeed.” 

Predictably, none of this made any sense to Goblin Slayer. “So what kind of scroll is it?” 

“Heh, heh… This, see?” She gave the scroll a tap with the very tip of her finger. “It’s a Gate…scroll.” 

“……Hmm.” 

“A mulligan. That’s quite…a lucky find.” 

This was a magic item in the truest sense: a version of the lost Gate spell that anyone could use. It didn’t matter if you were in the Dark Gods’ tower, or some great wizard’s underground labyrinth; you could escape in an instant. Just this scroll by itself could save your life. You could live to fight another day. The opportunity was worth thousands in gold. And even more so for a novice adventurer—use it or sell it, either way, the scroll was like a dream come true. 

“…Is that so?” 

Goblin Slayer didn’t seem to fully comprehend it. Witch whispered, “That’s, right,” then continued to weave her words together. “Write, a destination…and you can go, anywhere… Anywhere, in this world…at least.” 

But it had to be used thoughtfully. A chuckle escaped Witch. 

“If you…tried to go to some, ruins at the bottom…of the sea? It would go there…and the water would drown you or wash you away.” 

Or, for example, you might jump through the Gate and be crushed to death… 

This sort of conundrum was hardly unique to Gates. Anytime one used magic without thinking, it was tantamount to flirting with death. That was the real reason why it was said people without enough Intelligence couldn’t become wizards. The job demanded study and care. What cards you had to play, when you should play them, what would happen: one had to think about all these things, make predictions, and try to achieve a certain outcome. 

There was an extreme view that claimed there was no truth at all in the Ivory Tower, the academy of the sages. Knowledge and experience were the two main ingredients of Intelligence. Neither could be missing for anyone possessing true brains. Thus, it only made sense that novice wizards would go out into the world seeking real experience. 

They had to know. Everything. All of it. And so they went into places unknown. That was praiseworthy, not something to be mocked. At least in principle. 

Goblin Slayer thought Witch might be one of these spell casters errant. But he didn’t know. He was not the kind to be interested in much of anyone’s life history. 

“…So. What…will you do with it?” 

“What will I do with it?” He hadn’t expected the question, and all he could do was parrot it back. 

“The destination… You must write one, to be…able to use it, yes?” Witch’s eyes wavered. Her actual expression, though, was hidden under her hat. 

“A destination…” 

“Yes.” Witch puffed on her pipe, breathing out an aromatic haze that drifted around her. Then she spoke, her voice melodic, her words floating like the smoke through the air. “Someplace that is not here. Sometime that is not now. A last resort. A door for the going—or at, least, a simulacrum of one.” 

Her words seemed to dance through space, disappearing along with the smoke. 

“That’s, why…you must, write…a destination… See?” 

“…” Goblin Slayer grunted softly. “I don’t know.” 

“Mm…” Witch blinked, her long eyebrows fluttering. “Will you, sell it…?” 

“I don’t know that, either,” Goblin Slayer said shortly, with a curt shake of his head. 

“Think about it and decide.” Witch passed the scroll back to him politely. Goblin Slayer grasped it in his hand. 

“I don’t have the ability to write a spell on a scroll.” 

Perhaps he meant, Keep it for me. 

Witch thought about it for a moment, then took the scroll back and stashed it amid her ample cleavage. 

“Can I ask you to take on this request?” 

“It will, take some, time. Maybe…just, some?” 

“I see.” 

“And now, I have…a date.” 

“I see,” Goblin Slayer repeated, and then nodded. Then he counted out several gold pieces, payment in advance, and left the tavern behind. 

§ 

“You,” said Guild Girl, an unnatural smile pasted on her face, “are considered an outstanding adventurer.” 

“Really?!” 

“Yes, everyone says you have big prospects for the future…” 

“Well, now! Awesome…! I sure appreciate bein’ appreciated!” 

“On that basis, there’s someone who says they would very much like to form a party with you.” 

“Yeah? Who is it that wants to party up with the great and mighty—I mean, who wants to join my party?” 

“A highly intelligent wizard who’s seen exactly how powerful you are. You remember the temporary party…” 

“Ahh, that witch…!” The adventurer, lightly armored and carrying a spear on his back, recalled her immediately. 

Guild Girl was privately relieved. Her cheek was twitching. She couldn’t let the smile down yet. 

“What did you think of her? She was a good adventurer, wasn’t she?” 

“Yeah, great!” Spearman said, puffing out his chest. “She seemed like a pretty capable spell caster to me!” 

Guild Girl didn’t honestly know whether that was true or not. She had never seen an actual adventure with her own eyes. Her fights and adventures took place with a pen and paper. 

And negotiations. 

She worked hard to pull up her cheeks, which continued to twitch as she said, “What do you say, then? Would you be open to partying up with her again?” 

“You can count on me! Heck, if I had a spell caster, I would be like a tiger with wings! I won’t let anyone down!” Spearman gave a broad grin and nodded vigorously, apparently happy to have been entrusted with this request. 

He didn’t see the shadow of calculation. Guild Girl, for her part, said, “Thank you very much for handling this,” and bowed her head. She felt a little bad for him. 

“Okay!” Spearman exclaimed. He gave one bow, then rushed off in a fit of excitement. 

“Oh, I think she’s at the tavern!” Guild Girl called after him. Then she let out a sort of “Oof” noise and slid down onto the counter. 

She hadn’t lied to him. Everything she’d said had been true. 

Spearman did indeed have a favorable reputation. And there was no question that he was capable. That Witch wanted to work with him was a fact, too. Facts all. 

She found herself rubbing at her own cheeks. Having to pretend to smile all the time was so tiring. Spearman was one thing, but there were so many flippant young adventurers who were all talk. They focused on raising people’s impressions of them, while avoiding responsibility and real work, always looking for the easiest ways to turn a profit. 

Everyone had that side to them; she couldn’t condemn them for it. They were free to think that was good and fine, but… 

I’m free not to like them very much for it, too. 

At least that spear-wielding adventurer had a few achievements to his name. If he hadn’t, she would never have gone to this sort of trouble for him. 

“Tired?” 

“Yeah…” 

Her colleague smiled sympathetically from the next chair. 

“Well, adventuring attracts all types. Try not to worry too much about it, okay?” 

“I know that… I do.” 

In the end, work is work, her colleague reminded her. Wonderful adventurers, despicable adventurers—they would all die someday. The gods’ dice treated all fairly and equally; thus, individual effort or lack thereof could affect the possibilities. 

All the more reason it was better not to be involved with anyone except when called upon. 

We are not in an especially exalted position… 

That was one of the first things she’d been taught when she became a member of the staff of the Adventurers Guild. Guild Girl did understand that. 

Or at least, I feel like I do, but… 

“…I’m going to go put some tea on.” 

“Great! Make some for me too, okay?” 

“Yeah, sure,” she said to her pestering colleague as she stood up. 

She placed a sign that said BE BACK SOON at her counter and retreated to a back room. 

She could and should boil the water herself, but… 

Nothing wrong with a little laziness. 

Guild Girl poked her head into the kitchen and asked for some boiling water. The rhea chef there was easygoing. 

She waited until the tea leaves had steeped, poured some in her favorite cup, then bustled back to the reception counter. 

“Here you go.” 

“Yay! Thank you!” Her coworker happily took the cup; Guild Girl ignored her when she asked, “How about some snacks to go with?” 

Guild Girl sat in her own seat and was just putting her cup to her lips, when— 

“Oh!” 

She put the cup back down on the saucer with a clatter. 

A dark figure was striding boldly through the crowded Guild Hall. He wore grimy leather armor and a cheap-looking steel helmet. A sword of a strange length was at his hip, and a small round shield was on his arm. 

It was the adventurer they had come to call… 

…Goblin Slayer. 

As he walked toward her, Guild Girl put her hands neatly in her lap, blushing when her coworker noticed her. 

“Er, uh,” she said, sitting up straighter. “Wh-what can I do for you today?” 

“Goblins.” 

One sure word. The same one every time. Guild Girl felt her cheeks pull toward a frown, although for a different reason from earlier. 

“But…you just handled some goblins recently, right?” 

I’m sure… She didn’t even have to check the paperwork. He hardly, if ever, took quests other than goblin hunting. 

Otherwise, they wouldn’t have called him Goblin Slayer. 

“Maybe you’d like to take on something else for a change? Like, uh, a Manticore or something…?!” 

“No.” He shook his head. “Goblins.” 

Hmm… Guild Girl pursed her lips worriedly. She felt like all those trips to that wizard’s place recently had changed him somewhat, but… 

At last, she gave a long, resigned sigh and said, “All right.” Then a nod. “I’ll have a look… Oh, have some tea, if you like.” 

“Yes.” 

Thankfully, she hadn’t taken a sip from the cup yet. She offered the tea to him and started flipping through pages. There was no end to goblin-hunting quests in the world. There was a half-joking proverb that held “every time a party of new adventurers is formed, so is a goblin nest.” That’s how ubiquitous they were. 

“Uh, here. There’s…two today. These ones.” 

“I’ll take them both,” he declared without even looking at the quest papers, causing Guild Girl to smile awkwardly again. If an adventurer was willing to take on goblin quests, though, she wasn’t going to turn him down. The main thing was that he got the job done—like that spearman. 

“I’m going, then.” 

“Uh, right! Be careful!” 

Goblin Slayer did the absolute minimum of paperwork, then walked away as boldly as he had come. 

“Not the warmest guy around, is he?” Guild Girl’s colleague smirked as he left. 

“No…” Guild Girl agreed. 

He didn’t chat. He attended only to what was necessary. And then he did what he had to do. And… 

The cup… It’s…empty? 

She didn’t know how he drank through his visor, but somehow the fact made her very happy. 

“…Heh-heh!” 

Guild Girl pursued her work cheerfully all afternoon and well into the evening. 

§ 

“GOROOGORO!!” 

He stopped the screaming, onrushing goblin with his shield and a slight “Hmph,” and the creature bounced back. Jumping ability didn’t vary much from one goblin to the next. Not even if the creature was clinging to a tree root poking down through the ceiling of the cave. 

So it was possible to learn and be prepared for them. 

Goblin Slayer moved in on the downed monster and stabbed him in the throat. 

“GOBGRG?!” 

“Three,” he said as he looked down at the expiring monster, choking on a geyser of its own blood. 

Very few goblin-slaying quests are truly unique. 

This one simply involved a goblin nest that had appeared near a farming village, nothing special. He’d visited Arc Mage, then dropped by the Guild, prepared some food, and set out. A few perfunctory greetings at the village, then directly to the cave. 

Goblin Slayer had entered the cave at twilight, prepared for the little devils to resist him. Night belonged to the Non-Prayer Characters. 

“…Hrm.” 

Now though, as he kicked the goblin corpse over into a corner, Goblin Slayer grumbled to himself. There weren’t nearly as many guards here as he had expected. 

Aren’t goblins active at night? 

Their eyes could see in the dark, letting them traverse the shadows to attack a village, looking to steal livestock or crops or women. 

That was how goblins worked. Even children knew it. And yet… 

“…” 

Was that why? 

The possibility came to him in a flash, like intuition, like inspiration, but he shook his head and said, “No, it can’t be.” 

He couldn’t jump to any conclusions based on guesswork. Observe, confirm. Consider soberly. Wasn’t that what he had been taught? 

He pulled his sword out of the goblin’s throat, wiping it on the creature’s loincloth. Then he dropped into a low stance, proceeding one careful step at a time. 

There was some filth here, but there were no bugs, no bat excrement—probably, he thought, because they had all been turned into meals already. 

The cave was not all that large. Before his first torch had burned down, he’d found the room he was looking for. 

“I thought so.” 

The words escaped him without his really meaning them to. His intuition had been correct. 

They’re sleeping. 

It was, in practical terms, a goblin sleeping chamber. Here, deep in the cave, five or six goblins lay abed. 

It must be “dawn” for them right now. 

The goblins had learned at some point that adventurers came during the day. Thus, it made perfect sense for them to post guards in the middle of their night—people did the same thing. The night watch was an important duty. 

But “early morning”… Perhaps that was different. 

No such thing as a hard-working goblin, eh? 

Even the handful of guards had looked sleepy. The goblins who had foisted the duty on them were in dreamland. 

No goblin, it seemed, would purposely get up early to perform a trying task for the sake of his comrades. 

If one were not among those who had words… If one were a goblin… 

A face flashed through his mind. That girl. Was she waiting for him today, too? At the farm. Until morning. 

Goblin Slayer set the torch delicately on the ground, grabbed his sword in a reverse grip, then walked carefully into the room. 

He put his hand over the mouth of the nearest goblin, simultaneously stabbing him in the throat and slashing. 

“GBBG?!” 

The monster’s eyes flew open and he opened his mouth to shout, but only a few garbled syllables came out. And those were muffled by the hand, and then the monster slumped down, dead. 

“…Four.” 

Soundless, unnoticed, Goblin Slayer went about his business quickly and quietly so that none of the creatures would wake up. He hardly breathed; he stepped as silently as he could, performing his task with an almost benevolent detachment. 

It was an exhausting way to do things. All the more reason he needed to remain detached, treat it like business. Pay attention to what warranted attention and ignore everything else. That way he could stave off the fatigue. 

“Five… Hrm?” 

Goblin Slayer executed another goblin. But the feel was wrong; he clicked his tongue when he saw the blade of his sword was dulled with blood and fat. He was about to throw the weapon away— 

“GOBBGR…” 

—when suddenly there came a mumbling from one corner of the room, and Goblin Slayer immediately flung his sword in that direction. 

It sliced through the darkness, landing in a goblin’s throat with a dull thump, taking his life. The creature crumpled back and died, never knowing what was a dream and what was reality. 

The sound of the corpse collapsing to the ground made Goblin Slayer nervous; he grabbed a club lying at his feet. He ducked down low, watching the surviving goblins closely as the last of the echoes faded. 

“GOBGR?!” One of them spoke. He swung out with his right arm. Muttering and mumbling, the goblin turned over in his sleep. 

Goblin Slayer slowly let out a breath. 

Three left. 

It would be a certain amount of trouble, but it never even occurred to him to resent it. If he could have washed them all away with a flood, it might have been slightly more efficient, but… 

“…Hmph.” 

It was worth thinking about. Goblin Slayer nodded, then walked toward the remaining goblins. 

By midnight, it was all over. 

§ 

“Ahh, man, now I’m running late…!” 

It wasn’t that far from the farm to the town, but after factoring in the time it took to get ready, and sometimes hurrying became a necessity. Considering the amount of cargo, she didn’t really need a horse, and in the end, Cow Girl pulled the cart herself, huffing and puffing. 

’Fraid this is gonna make me all muscly. 

That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, and it would have happened naturally in the course of doing farmwork. But be that as it may, as a young girl, she wasn’t sure she fancied the idea… 

No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than she giggled, finding it strange that she should have considered such a thing at all. 

I never used to be even slightly worried about that sort of thing. 

She wiped the sweat trickling down her brow, breathing deeply as she pulled the cart around behind the Guild building. 

This was hardly the end of it; she still had to unload the cargo. 

There were stories in the world of a carpet that would produce food just by unfurling it, or a spoon from which soup bubbled up endlessly. But the Adventurers Guild tavern possessed nothing of the sort; they used fresh ingredients every day. 

With an encouraging hup, she got started: grab a box or a barrel, set it down, grab another one, set it down. There were a great many boxes and barrels to pick up and move since eating and drinking were among the chief pleasures of the town’s adventurers. 

After everything was unloaded and the paperwork was done, the sweat wasn’t just trickling; she was soaked in it. 

Cow Girl sat down on a nearby barrel, leaning against a wall in exhaustion. 

“Pheeew… Now I’m tired…” 

She opened the collar of her sopping shirt, which stuck to her skin, fanning her chest to get a breeze going. She looked at the sky and saw that twilight was near; the cool breeze on her flushed cheeks felt lovely. 

Next, she cast her gaze to the side and saw some adventurers. Were they heading out, or coming home? They went in and out of the Guild, wearing and carrying every conceivable type of equipment. 

She watched intently, searching the crowd for a cheap-looking steel helmet with horns. 

Not here, huh? Didn’t think so. 

She had expected as much. Or did she just want to think that? Lately, he’d started coming home only near dawn. Today, once again, he’d left early in the morning, and she didn’t expect him back tonight. 

Anyway, if she had seen him there at twilight, it would have only made her wonder what he was doing with all those hours until he came home in the morning. Sure. 

“…Ergh.” 

An image of him and some woman, like hazy graffiti, drifted through her mind, and she felt a flush rise to her cheeks. 

This is all because Uncle said those nasty things… 

She hadn’t been aware of it, but it seemed his words still lingered in her mind. 

Yes, she understood that men were like that, sort of, but still… 

Cow Girl shook her head vigorously, trying to drive away the ugly imaginings. 

“Hey, have you heard?” 

“About what?” 

“Goblin Slayer.” 

Just who she’d been thinking of—she perked up her ears. 

Breathing as quietly as she could and paying careful attention to her footsteps, she climbed down off the barrel and slid closer along the wall. 

A couple of adventurers were chatting outside the door of the Guild Hall. One of them appeared to be a young warrior, but as for the other, Cow Girl couldn’t guess at his profession. He wore leather armor, and a sword hung at his hip. So did a helmet, but that was about all she could see. She didn’t know if he was a warrior or a scout, or some sort of blend of the two classes. 

These are real adventurers, she realized, her eyes going wide, and kept herself hidden against the wall without really knowing why. 

“Who’s that again?” 

“You know, the guy who only ever hunts goblins.” 

“Err………?” 

“He registered the same day I did… Oh, and he never takes his helmet off.” 

“Ahh, yeah, the sorta filthy one.” 

Cow Girl had something to say about that, but she had nothing even resembling the courage to jump out and confront the men. She took slow, deep breaths, trying to soothe the nameless anxiety that made her heart pound in her chest. 

He was called Goblin Slayer. She knew that. It was all right. She already knew. 

“Okay, so, this Goblin Killer or whatever. What about him?” 

“Goblin Slayer,” the young warrior corrected the other adventurer with a frown. “Anyway, I hear he’s been going to that shack on the riverside.” 

“The riverside…,” the other adventurer said, and then, after some thought, he said, “You mean where that freaky lady lives?” 

Lady. 

Cow Girl swallowed hard. She grabbed the loosened collar of her shirt. 

No, it was too soon. She couldn’t draw any conclusions yet. She should wait. Yeah, wait. 

“You know her?” 

“She’s this weird…sage or mage or something. Doin’ some kind of ‘research.’” The hostility was plain in the adventurer’s voice; perhaps he had some sort of unpleasant memories of this woman. “I went to her for an identification once, and she was all, ‘Surely you don’t need me to identify something this obvious.’” 

“She chased you out?” 

“Out? I never even got in the front door.” 

“Let me guess—it turned out to be junk anyway.” 

“I took it to her because nothing happened when I used it… Eh, turned out to be that sort of staff.” 

“A magic staff, huh? So what was the effect?” 

“When y’hold it, you won’t fall down.” 

The adventurers shared a dry laugh. Had that been some sort of joke? You carried a staff exactly so that you wouldn’t fall down when walking. 

Cow Girl scraped at the flagstones with her toes, totally lost as to the meaning of the adventurers’ conversation. She wasn’t interested in their strange jokes. She wanted to know about the other thing they’d said. Before that. 

“So, hey, why worry about this…uh…” 

“Goblin Slayer.” 

“Yeah. Why worry about him anyway?” 

“Well, we came in at the same time,” the young warrior said softly, his expression difficult to read. “I thought maybe he’d joined a party or something, and I can’t get the thought out of my head.” 

“You’re solo yourself, ain’tcha? Wanna join up with someone? I could introduce you.” 

“No, I’m—” He shook his head slowly. “Fine like this, for now.” 

“Yeah, okay,” the other adventurer answered, and then a smile with a hint of malice came over his face. “Too busy watching out for newbies, huh? Gotcher eye on that silver-haired gal?” 

“No. No, not really,” the young warrior said indignantly, but then he soon wore a relaxed smiled. “Anyway, never mind about me. So you’re saying he’s partied up with that spell caster?” 

Yes, this was it. Cow Girl gulped, leaning out from the shadows ever so slightly. 

“Dunno. Can’t say she looked like the type.” 

For better or for worse, the adventurers were so caught up in their discussion that neither of them looked her way. Cow Girl listened with every iota of her being, like the adventurer who robbed the dragon’s hoard in the story she’d heard growing up. 

The adventurer who seemed to know something about the spell caster was trying to explain to the warrior, but he found the subject hard to articulate, and his explanation was hard to follow. 

“She wears this dirty robe, and her room is full of all this junk. And it smells funny, like medicine or something.” 

“Huh… An alchemist, maybe?” 

“Maybe. She sure don’t look like an adventurer. If she were the studious, scholarly type, I’d have chatted her up already.” 

“C’mon, now…” You’ve got a weird type. The young warrior sighed, shaking his head slowly. “I guess Goblin Slayer doesn’t seem like the type to party up, either…” 

“Yeah, but they’re both kinda dirty. Birds of a feather, y’know?” 

Cow Girl found the sound escaping her: “Wha?!” One of the adventurers let out a puzzled “Hrm?” and she quickly clapped a hand over her mouth. 

“What’s up?” 

“I thought— Eh, probably my imagination. Not like there’re gonna be any monsters in town anyway.” 

“The heck are you talking about?” 

I found this shop with a cute waitress. She’s totally into me. What, this again? No, it’s for real this time. Let’s go. 

Thus conversing, they faded into the evening crowd. Cow Girl stayed in the shadows, watching them leave. So he was frequenting a woman’s house. They were doing something together. Apparently. Apparently? 

Not that it was anything to be so shocked about… At least, that’s what she thought. Probably, she was pretty sure. 

The relationship between him and her was just that between the landlord’s daughter—no, his niece—and a tenant. Nothing more and nothing less. 

She still had secrets, things she hadn’t told him. 

And surely he, too, had things he hadn’t told her. 

She was getting too involved. Just butting in. So… 

“Birds of a feather. Birds of a feather……” 

She covered her face with her hands, feeling like she had no idea what to do. The odors of sweat and dust stung her eyes, tickled the inside of her nose. She rubbed her face with her palm. 

“……I’m going home.” 

Yes, she would go home. 

The sky was crimson already; night was near. The wind was cold, and her body felt so heavy. 

Going home would be the best thing. 

Even if she knew he wouldn’t be there that night. 

§ 

The Adventurers Guild was already cloaked in silence by the time he got there. 

The lamplight was kept to a minimum to conserve fuel, casting the hall in a clinging dimness. 

At the reception desk, the night staff member—Guild Girl—sat in her chair, her head bobbing as she dreamed. 

Despite the smells of rust and mud that accompanied him, Goblin Slayer walked without making a sound. With the quill pen that sat ready on the reception desk, he wrote a simple report on some sheepskin paper, set it down gently, then put a paperweight on top of it. 

“…? Oh… Er, oh…!” 

At that moment, Guild Girl came to with a small squeak, shivering as she looked up. When she first took in the steel helmet, she flinched backward, but then hurriedly straightened up so she was sitting properly. 

“I-I’m sorry. That was very rude of me. Um…” 

“My report,” Goblin Slayer said. Then, as if it had just occurred to him, he added, “From the goblin hunt.” 

“Uh, right…” Guild Girl took the paper in hand and skimmed it. Sitting up even straighter, she said, “I’ll have a look at it.” 

A scrawl of writing ran across the paper, as if it had been thrown onto the page. He himself felt it was abominable penmanship. His older sister had taught him to read and write back when he was very young. He’d had few chances to use the skill since then. 

Even if your letters aren’t very nice, if you write carefully, it’ll be okay. 

So his sister had told him. He thought he had tried to write carefully. 

“Okay, good… Um, was there anything unusual?” 

“There were goblins,” he said. “Not very many. I killed them all.” 

“…Sounds like everything’s in order, then.” 

Guild Girl giggled quietly, double-checked the paperwork politely, and nodded. She put the report carefully into a paper holder and filed it away. 

“I deem this quest finished. Good work! I’ll get your reward ready now.” 

“…” 

Guild Girl lifted her bottom out of the chair to stand. Goblin Slayer’s helmet turned in the direction of the workshop. The lights were all out, as expected. The fires of the forge were probably still burning, but even if he requested something from them now, they probably wouldn’t start working on it until the next day. 

“…No,” he said, shaking his head. “I will take it tomorrow.” 

“Are you sure?” 

The helmet moved again, nodding this time. He seemed to think this marked the end of the conversation. 

Uh, well, then. Guild Girl, however, moved her fingers restlessly, as if there was still something more she wanted to say. 

Goblin Slayer waited silently. “Ahemmm,” she managed. “As a matter of fact, this quest was issued a number of days ago, but nobody would take it…” 

“Is that so?” 

“Well, the reward isn’t very good. But, uhh…” 

“What?” 

She sucked in a breath, causing her ample chest to rise, and the rest of her words came out in a stream. “So you’ve really been a big help! Thank you very much!” 

Goblin Slayer merely replied, “I see.” 

Then, with one of his characteristically blunt “All rights”, he headed directly for the door, leaving a trail of muddy footprints. 

He pushed the double doors open and went outside, listening to them fall silent behind him as he looked up at the sky. The light of the stars was faint, and the moons were shadowed as well. A pale light was already visible at the edges of the eastern sky. 

“Hrm,” he breathed quietly, and then he walked down the path with his bold, indifferent stride. 

It would soon be summer, but the morning air was still cold. He could feel the dew as he walked. 

The farmhouse wasn’t far, and his feet knew the way well, but sometimes it seemed to take a surprisingly long time. Maybe he was tired. That was his conclusion, feeling as if he were watching himself from behind. 

And then he didn’t think any further about it. There were other things that required his attention, his consideration. The underbrush nearby, the shadows of trees, the far side of the spreading field. Was there nothing moving there? And if there was, what was it? Any footprints? Any tracks? He didn’t sense any aura of anything, that ill-defined presence. 

“Aura?” his master had demanded. “Who believes in that sort of crap?” 

Everything could be understood by seeing, hearing, smelling, touching, tasting. 

“Then you’ve just got to think about what it means.” 

That was what his master had smirkingly declared after the usual round of battering him. 

“There’re those who can get to a conclusion without thinking, but you, you’re too stupid for that, understand? …Take it as a rule of thumb.” 

Then his master had kicked him back down again as he tried to get up, and he had gone tumbling across the ice. 

It was then that he had learned his teacher was apt to do such things. But only later would he come to understand that knowing something and being able to act on it were different things. 

“……” 

When he got to the farm, he noticed himself immediately making a circuit of the fence. 

That was a bad sign. 

Checking for the enemy should be a habit, but it shouldn’t become habitual, shouldn’t be performed by rote. That would give the goblins the chance to sneak by him. It would leave him unable to respond to a goblin who did something different from usual. 

He shook his head to free his helmet from the dew, went back the way he’d come, and started again. When he’d finished a complete circuit, there was still time before sunrise. He went to his shed and took out some daggers and broken helmets, placing them on a shelf. 

It must have been the fatigue that made his arms and legs feel heavy. But there were no guarantees that goblins wouldn’t appear when he was tired. 

“…Hrm.” 

He grasped a dagger in shaking fingers, took up a stance, and flung it. Miss. Another throw. Hit. 

That wasn’t good enough. He didn’t want to know that he had hit but to be sure that he would hit. 

When he ran out of knives, he collected the daggers from his missed throws and tried again, until all the helmets had been knocked down. 

It was about then that the sun was finally peeking over the horizon. He squinted behind his visor against a light that seemed to stab through his eyes and into his brain. 

“…Hrm.” He grunted briefly. In the new light, he could see that parts of the stone wall were broken down. 

Goblins? 

That wasn’t the only explanation. It could be some child’s prank. Or perhaps it had just crumbled naturally. There was nothing that didn’t need upkeep. He collected the helmets and daggers and set them aside, then walked over to the wall. He crouched down, running a hand along it carefully to check it. He decided that no person (or, by extension, goblin) had done this. He let out a breath. 

“…You’re quite the hard worker.” 

That was when he heard a voice behind him, unexpected. He stood slowly. 

It was the owner of the farm, probably come out of the main house. He looked like he had just gotten up, but he was fully awake. 

“One man alone just can’t do everything, you see? It would mean a lot to me if you’d help.” 

The owner stood with the sun at his back, watching Goblin Slayer, who replied, “More to the point,” and shook his head softly. “It would mean trouble if goblins came here.” 

“…” The owner made some kind of face, but he appeared as a shadow to Goblin Slayer, who couldn’t make out his expression. Then the owner crossed his arms and made a sound somewhat like a cow makes, deep in its throat. “…About the girl…” 

Goblin Slayer straightened up. “Yes, sir.” 

“She came home awfully depressed last night.” 

“…” 

“Try to…have some consideration for her, maybe.” 

Goblin Slayer was silent, his helmet fixed in the direction of the owner, who started to shift uncomfortably. 

“Have consideration,” Goblin Slayer echoed. “Meaning?” 

“I mean… Pay her some mind, spend some time with her… It could mean a lot of things.” 

It was a terribly vague response; the owner himself sounded like he wasn’t quite sure of the answer. But Goblin Slayer replied, “I see,” and nodded. It sounded, to an extent, like something he could do. “I will try.” 

“…Right. I hope you will.” The farm owner let out a breath, visibly relieved, then turned around and headed back into the main house. Halfway there, though, he stopped. “And also,” he added over his shoulder. “Clean yourself up a little… You smell something awful.” 

Goblin Slayer thought for a moment but ultimately said nothing as he watched the owner go. The odor was, after all, a necessity for killing goblins. 

“……” 

Still holding the helmets and daggers, Goblin Slayer went back in the shed, tossing them in a corner. In their place, he took out the oil-soaked rag he used to prepare his equipment. Still silent, he ran it over every surface of his armor. Even then, it could hardly have been called clean. But he threw the rag aside when he was done wiping and headed directly for the house. 

There came a sudden creaking ache in his head, which he decided must be due to dehydration. He would need to have water before he slept for an hour or two. 

“…Oh, welcome home.” 

No sooner had he opened the door than a rich and familiar aroma greeted him. She was standing there in the kitchen with her apron on, smiling hesitantly in front of a pot over the fire. 

“Er, uh… Want some breakfast?” 

Goblin Slayer thought for just a moment before responding, “I will have some.” 

“Oh, ah, r-right…!” 

She turned into a flurry of activity around the kitchen, setting out dishes. He glanced in the direction of the table, where the farm owner, already seated, was shooting him a hard look. 

Goblin Slayer sat down across from him, uncertain of what to say. But before long, he offered softly, “Tomorrow, I believe I will be able to pay rent again.” 

“…That right?” 

A few moments later, breakfast was on the table in front of him. It was stew. 

Words of thanks were said, and breakfast began. Goblin Slayer moved his spoon silently. 

“…” 

“…” 

Cow Girl was looking at him as if she wanted to say something. 

Goblin Slayer considered but, unable to think of anything, stayed quiet. 

At last, she closed her mouth again, dropping her eyes to her place setting. 

So Goblin Slayer put his spoon in his empty bowl and said, “…What should I do?” 

“Huh?” 

“…” 

“…Er…” She couldn’t quite get anything out; she looked to her uncle, flummoxed, for help. He shrugged silently. “…I’m…going to make some deliveries,” she said. 

“I see.” 

“You’re…saying you’ll help me…?” 

That…makes me happy, I think. At that, Goblin Slayer repeated, “I see.” Then: “Wait an hour.” 

“Oh, uh, sure!” Cow Girl nodded so hard her whole body shook. “Okay. I’ll be waiting!” 

Goblin Slayer stood without another word and left the house at a stride. Maybe it was the flavor of the food, or the fatigue that dogged him, but his legs felt as heavy as if he were manacled. 

Still, he brought each foot up, then set it down, working his way forward. As long as he kept going forward, he would reach his destination. Eventually. He would get there. 

He entered the shed, sat down against the wall, and closed his eyes. 

It’s all the same, Goblin Slayer thought. 

All things should be habit, but not habitual, not performed by rote. 

All things should be studied, then considered, and then acted upon. 

But he also knew that studying something didn’t translate into the ability to put it into practice. 

Sometimes things simply didn’t go the way you planned. 

§ 

Cow Girl peeked into the shed, uncertain what to do. She could see him sitting curled down in a corner of the characteristically cluttered building. 

Not sitting… He’s asleep. 

He had come home from work, eaten enough to fill his stomach, then sat down and slept. To think that he would then help her with her own chores while barely pausing for some rest honestly didn’t make her happy. 

On the other hand, she wanted to do something with him—something that didn’t involve goblins. 

No. Stop pretending. 

She was genuinely pleased that he had eaten the meal she’d made and had said he would help her. That was the emotion foremost in her mind, for better or for worse. 

So that’s…why I nodded. 

“……Sigh.” 

Unable to make a decision, Cow Girl looked back and forth between the cart, all ready to go, and the pale darkness. 

An hour had passed already. They had some leeway, sure, but this was fresh produce. It couldn’t sit forever. 

She had been standing indecisively for several minutes when she heard the distant lowing of a cow, and she let out a breath. 

She gave a gentle tap on the already open door and called to him, “…Hey, you awake?” 

“…” He rose heavily, not saying a word. Cow Girl squeaked without meaning to. 

“Y-you were already awake…?” 

Then he’d seen her standing there fidgeting and thinking. 

Her voice had started to scratch, but he replied, “No,” as curt as ever. “I just woke up.” He sounded a touch hoarse. “I’m sorry.” 

“N-no problem…” Cow Girl shook her head gently. “It’s okay… I’m fine.” 

“I see.” 

He took a long swig from a carafe of water (when had he gotten that?), and then, after a moment’s silence, he started walking. His stride was bold and without hesitation; he passed by Cow Girl quickly. 

“Oh wait…!” He was already picking up the crossbar of the cart and preparing to head out by the time she called after him. 

“What?” He paused respectfully. 

Cow Girl fretted about what to say, but finally decided to simply say what she was thinking. “I-I’ll go with you, so…!” 

“I see.” 

Cow Girl jogged over and fell in behind the cart. His visor might have hidden his face, but she still didn’t have the courage to walk alongside him. 

“O-okay, here we go!” 

“Yes.” The response was as brief and detached as ever. Cow Girl gave the cart her mightiest shove, thinking that maybe this was the best she could hope for. 

The wheels started turning with a creak, then settled lazily into motion. 

It all seemed so much easier than usual. Maybe it was because he was pulling for her. 

“It’s n-not too heavy…?” 

“No.” 

Hardly any words at all. She thought about how tired he must be, but she didn’t say anything. 

“…” 

“…” 

They walked together under the morning sky, in time with the wheels’ creaking and the summer wind gusting past them. When Cow Girl looked straight ahead, all she could see was a pile of produce; she had to peek around the side to catch a glimpse of him. Even then, of course, she could only see his back and his steel helmet. 

“Uh, it’s getting warmer, huh?” 

“Is that so?” 

“It might get hot… Summer’s coming and all.” 

“Yes.” 

“Aren’t you warm?” 

“No.” 

Cow Girl fell quiet. Neither of them spoke further. She settled back in behind the cart, looking at her feet and focusing on pushing. Sweat ran down her forehead and dribbled onto the ground. 

It was a short trip from the farm to town, a small blessing—perhaps. She didn’t have much hope that she would be able to hold any kind of long conversation with him. 

More than anything, though, she didn’t want him to see her like this. 

Even she knew how unhappy she must have looked. 

§ 

They passed through the gate into town, and when they had pulled up in front of the Guild, he stopped the cart. Cow Girl only noticed when the creaking of the wheels ceased. She hurriedly let go of the cart, and meanwhile, he came up beside her with his casual gait. 

“I’ll unload.” 

“Oh, r-right.” 

His tone brooked no argument. Cow Girl nodded and reached out for the pile of produce herself. 

She caught a sidelong look at him as he silently hefted up the heavy wooden boxes and set them down. 

As for Cow Girl, she couldn’t do it—even though she was finally here, huffing and puffing and working away. 

I guess it must be…because he’s an adventurer. 

She couldn’t tell under all that armor, but she assumed he must be pretty well built. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“N-nothing…!” 

She realized she’d been staring at him so intently that she had stopped moving, and she quickly went back to work. She still didn’t know what to talk about, but at least this time, she knew what she ought to do. 

It was good to have work to do, Cow Girl thought. Pick up the cargo, set it down, pick up some more. Again and again. 

Even once they had finished that job, next they had to hand it over to the Guild. Cow Girl wiped the sweat from her brow and steadied her breathing as she looked at him. 

“……” 

“So, um…” 

She couldn’t quite speak. It wasn’t because of the harshness of her breath. The cat had her tongue. 

She kicked listlessly at the flagstones with her toes. He watched her silently. 

It was intensely uncomfortable, and Cow Girl looked at the ground. “It’s… Yeah. It’s okay now. Thanks.” 

“I see.” 

Is that it? 

But naturally, she still couldn’t bring herself to voice the question. 

He nodded curtly, then turned around and began striding away. She could only stand there and watch him go. She reached out her hand, then drew it back, clutched it to her chest. 

She felt so warm. Maybe it was the sweat. The warmth burned in her chest. Maybe it was because of her hand? Maybe both. 

“……” 

Cow Girl stood that way for a while, looking up at the sky. It was painfully blue. 

…This has to stop. 

She shook her head, feeling, somehow, completely pathetic. 

She knocked on the back door of the Guild and let the staff know their order was here. She got the signature on her paper. 

They told her a few other minor details had to be taken care of, and she frowned, having forgotten this part. It meant she would have to go into the Guild lobby. Where he was. 

“Something the matter?” 

“Oh no.” The staff member appeared worried about her, but Cow Girl simply shook her head. “It’s just hot today.” 

“Ahh. It’s almost summer, isn’t it?” 

Trivial chitchat. The sort of banal exchange she simply couldn’t have with him. 

Cow Girl felt it squeezing her heart as she said, “Okay, then,” and quickly excused herself. 

She pattered along, feeling like she was swimming in a sea of lively adventurers, toward the Guild Hall. 

It overwhelmed her no matter how many times she saw it—almost made her dizzy. 

There were so many people there, wearing every kind of gear, carrying every type of item imaginable. She scanned the panoply of equipment for someone trudging his way along in grimy leather armor and a helmet. 

“Oh…” 

There he was—sitting on a bench in a corner of the waiting room. 

Cow Girl found she couldn’t speak to him immediately. 

“—” 

“?” 

She didn’t know what he was doing. But beside him was the figure of a woman. 

She was beautiful. Her clothing clearly traced along the alluring lines of her body, her face hidden under a broad-brimmed hat. 

That was the adventurer Cow Girl had engaged for a brief job once. Now she was talking with him, in what seemed to be a very chipper mood. She laughed as she passed him some kind of scroll. 

“…” 

Cow Girl could feel the heat drain from her chest, and she shook her head, dazed. 

That can’t… That can’t be her. 

It couldn’t be. The rumors had been about someone in robes, a strange woman who gave off the same vibes as he did. 

Not her—probably not, Cow Girl thought. 

“Oh…” 

He was looking her way. 

He had only moved his helmet, but somehow, she knew. 

They must have been done talking. He nodded briefly to the witch, then strode over in Cow Girl’s direction. 

“Wha— Ah— Oh…” 

Cow Girl was nearly frantic. She’d never imagined he would come up to her. 

Maybe he wouldn’t realize she’d seen him. But what if he did? 

Well, what if he did? It wasn’t like she’d done anything wrong. But still… 

“What’s wrong?” 

“N-nothing’s, er, wrong.” Her voice went up an octave and the end of her sentence jumped. It was a pretty poor job of lying, if she said so herself. 

But he only breathed, “I see,” and nodded that helmeted head. 

Did—did he believe me? 

He didn’t speak, yet, she was terrified. He was often silent and said little even when he did talk. So this was perfectly normal, and yet… 

What was he like, when we were little? 

She felt like she remembered him talking quite a bit. But that had been five years ago. As clear as the memory felt, she found the details hazy. 

What about him? she wondered. How much did he remember of her from five years before? 

Cow Girl had no way of knowing. 

“Is there something else you need help with?” 

“N-no… It’s all right. I’m fine.” 

“I see.” 

And there, of course, the conversation ended. 

Cow Girl looked from the floor to the helmet and back, then noticed that passing adventurers were staring at them. 

Maybe they were standing too close to the entrance. The adventurers went by, casting sidelong glances their way. 

I could maybe blend in, but I guess he stands out… 

Cow Girl smiled ruefully to herself. She reached out toward his sleeve, but in the end, she let her hand drop. 

“Let’s move over to the side, okay?” 

“Yes.” 

It wouldn’t do to be in the way. She moved aside a few steps, and a second later, he followed her. 

…I feel like he’s…taller than before, maybe. 

She’d never had to raise her eyes to look him in the face in the past. 

She’d always believed she could beat him in a fight. Or a footrace, or anything. 

Not anymore. 

The feeling became a sigh that slipped out of her mouth. 

Predictably, he tilted his steel helmet and asked, “What’s wrong?” but she once again repeated, “Nothing.” 

There was nothing in the world that didn’t change. 

In the course of five years, everything changed. 

I wonder if I was…a nuisance. 

He didn’t say anything. Of course not. And Cow Girl didn’t have the courage to ask. The chattering of adventurers all around her had grown so grating. She couldn’t stand it. 

She opened her mouth, even though she wasn’t sure what she was going to do with it. “H-hey, um…” 

“You’re here!!” 

At that instant, a voice that sounded like the ringing of a bell cut through the noise of the crowd. Cow Girl looked up in surprise and turned to see a small figure hurrying toward them. 

The rush of the air blew back the person’s hood, revealing an intelligent face, eyes gleaming—a woman. 

She was coming at them like a cat pouncing on its prey… 

“Oh…” 

“You didn’t come by today, so I’d given up on seeing you. Gosh, and there I was, waiting for you the whole time!” 

An instant later, the woman had passed Cow Girl by and swept him up in a great hug. 

He ignored Cow Girl’s astonished stare, saying only, “I see,” and nodding. 

“But I, in my magnanimity, shall forgive you! Considering that your diligence takes so much of the work out of finding you.” 

“Is that so?” 

“It is indeed!” 

The woman—even Cow Girl could tell she was a wizard—continued to embrace him with unfettered joy, chattering away. Oddly, though, the overall murmur of the room didn’t seem to encompass this spell caster. Only he and Cow Girl had noticed her. Cow Girl blinked, feeling as if her world were being torn apart. 

“My hopes and dreams are about to be realized, but there’s a problem! I desperately want your help, what do you think?” 

“Goblins?” 

“Unfortunately, most sadly, and very happily, that is indeed the case!” 

“I see,” he said again, the helmet turning to look around. 

Cow Girl shivered as the gaze behind the visor settled on her. 

“I’m sorry, but I have a quest.” 

“Er, ah, a—q-quest?” 

“Yes.” 

Cow Girl bit her lip, wringing her hands together. 

She couldn’t accept this. How could she ever accept this? 

She couldn’t accept this, but they were a quest giver and an adventurer, or so he said. And in that case… 

“…Then my only choice is to understand.” 

“I see.” 

Still those same two words, still the end of the conversation. Cow Girl, unable to say anything else, dropped her eyes to her feet again. 

That’s why she didn’t notice. Didn’t see the wizard—Arc Mage—look from her to him and back and nod knowingly. 

“Well, goodness gracious me. Right. You, go get provisions from the tavern.” 

“Mm.” He grunted, but then repeated quietly, “Me?” 

“Surely you don’t mean to make a girl carry the cargo,” Arc Mage said. She snapped her fingers as if she were performing a magic spell and took out a gold coin. “Cider, too, of course. Take plenty of time deciding what we need—consider that an order from your quest giver.” 

“…Me?” 

“Yes, you.” 

Goblin Slayer grunted again, then said simply, “Understood,” and took the coin. 

Cow Girl’s face was starting to crumple, like a child who had been left out of a game. 

“Oh, heavens,” Arc Mage said, and laughed uncomfortably. “Don’t make that face. This isn’t what you think it is.” 

“…Really?” 

“I promise. Never has been, never will be.” Arc Mage chuckled and brushed Cow Girl’s face. Cow Girl caught her breath: the gesture felt like something a mother would do, though she no longer remembered for certain what that sensation might’ve been like. 

The tension drained out of her body, and she felt the warmth beginning to creep back into her heart. It felt so kind that she once more thought she might start crying, though for the opposite reason this time. 

“I’m a little slow,” Arc Mage said. “Specifically, a little slow to regret thinking nothing of being slow.” 

“…Uh. So, so you…” Cow Girl groped for the words. “You’re…the quest giver?” 

“And a wizard and maybe a sage. It’s hard to describe anyone in a single word.” 

“Uh-huh,” Cow Girl said, not really understanding. 

Not understanding at all, in fact—yet all the same, the meaning came through. So Cow Girl said “Uh-huh” again, and then, “Thank you.” 

“Thank me? After I hurt you so much? Even if it was accidental, though.” Arc Mage gave Cow Girl a meaningful look and chuckled again. Even Cow Girl picked up on what she meant and went red up to her ears. She realized now how embarrassing her behavior had been. She wished there was a hole she could crawl into. 

“Come, come,” Arc Mage said, unable to restrain another little burst of laughter. “I’ll tell you a secret. Not to apologize, exactly. Just because. It’s a special little something I just learned recently myself.” 

“…A secret…” Cow Girl blinked. “You mean magic?” 

“All words are magic. Ready? He—” 

He may seem dense and hard to talk to, but if you say something to him, he does listen. 

A few minutes later, he came back, and Arc Mage left Cow Girl to go over to him. He nodded once to each of them, then said simply, “I’m off,” and started walking. 

Cow Girl saw them depart, then went over to the reception desk to finish the paperwork she’d forgotten about. 

It must have been the heat of the summer morning. 

All that Cow Girl remembered of her—of Arc Mage—was that one conversation. 

Just that one simple memory.