Goblin Slayer - Volume SS1.02 - Chapter 4.1

Interlude – Of How Showing Off Is Part Of Being An Adventurer

“Okay, now.” In the chatter-filled tavern, Spearman unrolled the quest paper he’d taken down. “This is our quest for today—make sense?” 

“Let’s, see…” The luscious beauty sitting across from him nodded wondrously. “It looks…rather…difficult, doesn’t it?” 

“Yeah, right?” Those breathy, halting words. Spearman nodded eagerly at her. 

“A…warlock, I, see.” 

And so it was. Spearman sighed to himself. Any given spell caster was likely to be able to read and write, but… 

Ugh. If she finds out I can’t read, boy, will I look lame. 

For the sake of his dignity, he had to hide the fact at any cost. 

Naturally, even Spearman didn’t want to just throw himself headlong into a random quest he’d found, with no idea what it entailed. Thus, he took his quest papers, not to the reception desk, but to the scribes, so they could read them to him. 

This quest, allegedly, had to do with a warlock who had taken up residence in a cave near a village. He did bizarre experiments and cast hexes that caused the trees to rot and the animals to fall ill. 

The quest had come from a village chieftain at the end of his rope, but Spearman was concerned. He didn’t have a spell caster of his own, and that was dangerous. 

Spearman was a warrior. He didn’t know any magic. But he was all too aware of just how threatening a foe he faced. 

Magic wasn’t necessarily the only way to fight magic, but there was little substitute for knowledge and experience. 

And he was in too deep now to turn back. 

Most of today’s quests were gone. Only a smattering of goblin-hunting ones were left. Spearman didn’t want to be one of those buffoons who put a quest back on the board because he’d bitten off more than he could chew. 

Come to think of it, I haven’t seen that weirdo around today. 

The adventurer in his grimy equipment would gladly have taken those goblin quests, Spearman suspected. He didn’t have any idea what was so great about killing goblins, but that adventurer was set on his course of action. 

“You’re so strong, there’s someone who would like to party up with you…” 

The receptionist girl looked like an angel. No, a goddess! He had thought so ever since he first laid eyes on her. He couldn’t be wrong. 

He felt like things weren’t bad between them. Even better, really: he thought they were quite good. He let the feeling carry him. He was on top of the world. 

The one the receptionist had introduced him to had been the witch, the woman in front of him now. They’d worked together on more than one occasion before. She was beautiful. Great rack. Excellent all around. 

“What, do you want to do…?” 

“Er, r-right. Well, you don’t have to use magic to kill him just because he’s got magic, right?” The smile on Spearman’s face was something of a bluff—Fake it till you make it! he thought. “Stab a guy with a spear and down he goes.” 

“Heh, heh…” 

Witch gave a meaningful laugh at this. A sweet aroma seemed to accompany every breath she let out, perhaps the product of the tobacco she was always smoking. Spearman had no idea what it was, but he was just as glad she did it. Women like that were always more fun to talk to. 

“Anyway, just leave it to me. We can work together, just like the time we stopped that Rock Eater, right?” 

“I suppose, so…” She agreed with a slow, elegant nod. 

And more importantly, we’ve worked together enough that I have a sense of who she is. 

He wasn’t so pathetic that he had to know every detail about a woman’s background before he could talk to her. But after several adventures together, working as a team, they’d begun to trade jokes—it would be fair to call them friends. 

Feeling as nervous as if he were going into battle right now, Spearman picked up his lemon water to calm his nerves. 

“Say.” 

“Hrm?” 

Witch’s sudden interjection caught him completely off guard. He looked at her over the rim of his glass, but her expression was hidden beneath the brim of her hat. 

“…Why…do you, always…talk, to…me?” 

“No reason not to, right?” he answered immediately. He didn’t hesitate at all. He hoped it communicated how silly he thought the question was. 

“Is, that”—Witch blinked her long eyelashes—“because of, the way…I look…?” 

“Doesn’t hurt.” Spearman nodded seriously. There wasn’t a man in heaven or on earth who wouldn’t praise the appearance of a beautiful woman. If he had been confronted with a mermaid, Spearman would have complimented her on the way her scales shimmered. 

In fact, he found it the more attractive when a woman was aware of her own beauty. 

“…” His answer must have surprised Witch, because her eyes opened wide. 

I think she might be younger than I’d realized. 

“…Hey, I can pretend not to notice if you want.” Spearman suddenly felt embarrassed for some reason and tried to cover for himself. 

“Then…” Witch swallowed, causing a gentle motion in her slim, pale throat. “My abilities, with magic?” 

“Definitely part of it.” Another serious nod. 

How much of a coward did a man have to be to not acknowledge when a woman possessed a finely honed skill? Didn’t matter if it was her beauty, her hair, or her clothes—or her swordsmanship, her learning, her faith, or even her magic. 

“Gosh…” Witch pulled down her hat and slumped into her chair. “…Is there, anything else?” 

Spearman grunted, then muttered, “Hold on,” and looked at the ceiling. 

The answer couldn’t be no. It was just hard to put into words. 

“…You remember we took the quest for that farm girl a while back?” 

“Yes.” 

A nice, easy job, like going for a stroll. See one girl to a field somewhere, then get her home again. 

Sure, it would have been dangerous for someone with no combat ability. That’s why there’d been a quest, and why a couple of adventurers had taken it. But… 

“It was boring, the reward sucked, but you went along with me without so much as pulling a face.” Spearman spoke even as he organized his thoughts, finally concluding with, “Yeah, that’s it… I thought you were good people.” 

“…I see.” 

Just that soft whisper, and then she took out her pipe slowly. She packed it with tobacco, struck a flint to it, took a puff. 

“…I, don’t view…myself as such…an easy woman…you understand?” 

“But knowing someone appreciates your looks, your skills, and your heart—that’s got to make you happy, right?” 

Spearman grinned, showing his white teeth, a heartfelt smile. 

Witch didn’t say anything. She just shook her head, seemingly speechless.