Goblin Slayer, Vol. 8 Page 3

  “Wow…” Priestess’s eyes sparkled with wonder, and who could blame her? A gorgeous striped gemstone carved in the shape of an animal’s skull held her attention. She touched it with a trembling finger, but it was indeed rock and not bone…

  “This is a gemstone…isn’t it?”

  “Indeed, even so. It is the jaw of a terrible naga, turned to agate by the passing of countless years.” Lizard Priest held up the skull with the pride of a little boy showing off a treasure; it was a side of him Priestess rarely saw.

  “Hmph, you’re like some child…” High Elf Archer puffed out her cheeks and released a sigh of obvious annoyance. Granted, it didn’t spoil the rather friendly atmosphere.

  “Heh, heh-heh… Boys, do like, this sort of thing, don’t they?”

  “Eh, they’re lucky enough to be making some money. I wouldn’t complain.”

  There at the table appeared Witch and Spearman—or rather, Heavy Warrior.

  “Well, this is unusual,” High Elf Archer commented.

  “Have you two formed a temporary party?” Priestess asked.

  Heavy Warrior gave a little shrug. “Nah. We’re just waiting.”

  Now that he mentioned it, Priestess spotted Female Knight over by the board, muttering to herself as she compared quests: “We could take the minotaur, but the hydra’s good, too… Wait, here’s a manticore…”

  Scout Boy and the others were with her; Priestess could hear him grumble, “Make up your mind already.”

  “And he, is over there,” said Witch, indicating the reception desk with her pipe.

  Spearman, completely ignoring all the perfectly good open windows with no waiting adventurers, had lined up for Guild Girl’s counter. The look of displeasure on his face came, perhaps, from the conversation he was listening to, which involved Goblin Slayer. Still, when other female staff members or female adventurers called out to him, as they did from time to time, he would answer with a smile…

  “He seems popular,” Priestess said.

  “About, that…” Witch, who had produced her pipe from nowhere, gave Priestess a heavy-lidded look.

  Erk…

  Priestess felt her heart skip a beat; she put a hand to her chest.

  Would she be able to have this effect on people someday? It was going to be a long time coming…

  “Beard-cutter could learn a thing or two from him. Make himself more likable.”

  “What? No way. I can’t even picture a cheerful, grinning Orcbolg,” High Elf Archer groaned. Dwarf Shaman, apparently satisfied with his count of the treasure, was putting it back in the bag.

  Priestess tried to picture Goblin Slayer with an upbeat grin on his face and found herself chuckling. “It is a little hard to imagine.”

  “Yeah. Orcbolg is—”

  “What am I?”

  “—supposed to be exactly who you are.” High Elf Archer fluttered a don’t worry about it hand in the direction of Goblin Slayer, who had appeared rather suddenly. It seemed he was done talking with Guild Girl.

  “I see,” he said without a trace of suspicion. Then the metal helmet turned to regard Heavy Warrior and Witch. It was impossible to see his expression behind the visor. “What is your business?”

  And that was Goblin Slayer.

  Heavy Warrior smiled wryly, while Witch blew sweet-smelling smoke from between her lips, unfazed by the entire exchange. One had to avoid reading anything into whatever the quiet, almost mechanical voice said. No skill would help with that, only cold, hard experience.

  “Just killing time and saying hi,” Heavy Warrior said.

  “I have a…date, after this.”

  “I see,” nodded Goblin Slayer and then added even more softly, “Be careful.”

  Heavy Warrior smiled a little then gave Goblin Slayer a pat on the shoulder with his big, broad hand before walking away. “If that’s the best you can do, I’ll take it.”

  “See, you…” Witch lifted her luscious body from her chair. The aromatic smoke trailed after her, drawing Priestess’s eyes in her direction. The girl harbored a secret hope that she might be like Witch one day—both as an adventurer and as a woman.

  Goblin Slayer tilted his head slightly, weighing the exact meaning of the words that had been spoken to him. He came to no particular conclusion, though, dismissing the matter with a “Never mind.” He had much to do.

  “Let us divide the reward,” he said, all but throwing himself down in a chair and looking at his party. “Each of us will take what we want, and the rest we will convert into cash and divide equally. Is that all right?”

  “I find that entirely satisfactory,” Lizard Priest said, nodding somberly and making a peculiar palms-together gesture. “They say even pirates on the sea do not quarrel over the take. Why then should adventurers do so?”

  “I’ll bet you want that bone thing, right?” High Elf Archer said. “Me, I’ll take this.” She reached out with her thin, pale fingers and grabbed a translucent golden crystal—the tortoiseshell.

  “Watch it, elf—your hands are as fast as your ears are long.” Dwarf Shaman found that his stubby fingers were too slow to stop High Elf Archer, who chuckled triumphantly and puffed out her little chest.

  “Complain, complain. I won’t say we should go first come, first served, but is there anyone else who even wants this thing?”

  “Well…” Dwarf Shaman’s gaze swept the party. “…Fair enough. But what are you going to do with it?”

  “Hmm? Maybe I’ll send it to my sister. Stuff from the sea is really rare where I’m from.”

  “I’m sure she’ll love it,” Priestess said, eliciting a “Thanks!” and a happy flick of the ears from High Elf Archer.

  The elaborate wedding ceremony held deep in the rain forest was still fresh in Priestess’s mind. At the same time, she felt a surge of regret. She looked at the ground for just a second then reached out her own hand.

  “…I’ll take this pearl, then. I want to offer it to the Earth Mother.”

  She wasn’t sure how to make up for it—and although she had received words of forgiveness, she still wanted to do something.

  Dwarf Shaman, noticing how Priestess looked, gave a snort to indicate his displeasure. “I think you could stand to be a little more selfish… Well, ain’t nothing to me either way.” Then he took the helix in his calloused hand, cradling it gently. “This will serve as a good catalyst. The helix is mine. Beard-cutter, what about you?”

  “…Me?”

  He seemed tremendously surprised. The helmet didn’t move but remained fixed on the bag of treasure. Priestess watched him with a smile.

  To go on an adventure, defeat a monster, receive a reward, and then divide it up. Everyone had different ways of handling the division of loot, and she had heard that some simply converted everything into cash and then shared whatever they got back, but…

  There was only one reason her heart danced the way it did then.

  This must be the sort of normal adventure he wished for.

  §

  It was evening on the farm, and the pigs were snorting in irritation as they gorged themselves on acorns. Maybe they were unhappy because they knew they would be turned into meat when they were large enough—or maybe they just wanted more food.

  “Fine, fine, eat up.”

  The farm’s owner had evidently concluded it was the latter, because he allowed them a bit more feed. After all, it would soon be the harvest festival once again, and then winter would be upon them. Fortunately, they had both pigs and chickens, the cows’ milk was good, and there had been no trouble with the crops. It looked like they would make it safely through another year.

  “…Heavens above.” He wiped his face with the towel slung over his shoulder and let out a sigh. His body ached all over.

  Somehow, he and his niece had managed this farm together for the past ten years, but he was starting to feel his age. And if it was this bad with both of them, how hard would things be for his niece when she was alone?

&n
bsp; Maybe it was time to hire some farmhands…

  “Ah, then again…”

  The would-be farmhands out here on the frontier were all listless vagabonds, and there was no way he was going to let them anywhere near his niece. He would sooner hire a high-ranking adventurer from the Guild; at least they would have proof that someone trusted them…

  “Sigh…” The owner let out another long breath. His number-one headache had just come striding up. “…So you’re back.”

  “Yes, sir. I just returned.”

  The man, with his cheap-looking metal helmet and grimy leather armor, stopped just near the road and gave a bow of his head.

  Goblin Slayer. That was what people called him—but the farm owner still didn’t really know what he looked like.

  “Goblins again?”

  “Yes, sir… Well, not actually. Although it was supposed to involve goblin slaying.”

  It was some other monster.

  The owner quickly gave up on trying to get any more information out of the laconic young man.

  His niece might be the only one who would ever see what was behind that visor.

  “Um, is she—?”

  “In the house, I think.” The older man suppressed the torrent of emotions in his heart. “…Don’t make her wait too long.”

  “Yes, sir… I believe I can help you around here tomorrow.”

  “…That so?” The owner looked back at the pigs and nodded.

  As he heard the footsteps retreating behind him, he let out a third sigh.

  Wouldn’t matter if I saw his face. He wouldn’t make any more sense to me.

  §

  “Oh, welcome hooome!”

  A cheerful voice greeted Goblin Slayer as he opened the door of the house. A moment later, he detected the sweet, spreading scent of boiling milk.

  Goblin Slayer entered the kitchen to the sound of rushing footsteps. He found the table already set, just waiting for the food to be ready. And there was his old friend, standing in her apron, welcoming him back.

  “I heard you were going south, but you came home pretty quickly this time. Have you eaten lunch?”

  “Not yet.” Goblin Slayer gave a single shake of his head in response to Cow Girl’s question. He pulled out a chair and sat down heavily; the seat creaked at him—was it because of the weight of his armor?

  “Okay. I’ll finish whipping this up right away. Now we just need bread and…maybe cheese?”

  “Yes, please.”

  The cheese had been selling well recently, Cow Girl informed him happily then turned toward the stew pot.

  He turned his helmet to look at the girl, standing with her back to him. The steady sales were largely thanks to his lizardman acquaintance buying so much of their product.

  The stew pot burbled as its contents boiled. He watched her stir it. Suddenly, she glanced back at him over her shoulder.

  “You…know I wouldn’t mind if you ate with your friends once in a while, right?”

  “…” Goblin Slayer was silent for a moment then grunted softly.

  “Too much trouble?”

  “Hmm…”

  She had turned back to her cooking, so he couldn’t see her face any more than other people could usually see his.

  Cow Girl began to work the pot industriously, as if to distract attention from something.

  After a long moment, she whispered, “…I really…wouldn’t mind, okay?”

  “…I see.” Goblin Slayer let out part of a breath.

  A few minutes later, Cow Girl announced, “It’s done,” and presented him with a dish of stew.

  “I’ll help,” he said, starting to get up, but she kept him back with an “Oh, don’t worry.” She seemed in high spirits somehow.

  He and the girl sitting across from him offered their prayers to the gods and then chorused, “Bon appétit!”

  Cow Girl smiled as she watched him scoop up stew with his spoon and wolf it down. This was how things went whenever he came home to eat. The familiar scene brought a smile to her face; sometimes she made meals just for this moment.

  “I brought you a gift.”

  But that…

  …that was not how this scene usually went, and Cow Girl found herself blinking.

  “A gift? What, seriously? No way!”

  “I’m serious,” Goblin Slayer said then reached casually into his item bag. The way he rooted around in it looked somehow violent; not the way one would normally appear when giving somebody a present. In fact, the whole notion of putting a gift in a bag of miscellaneous items seemed suspect to her.

  But completely in character.

  She giggled to herself, careful that he wouldn’t notice.

  “There it is.”

  He sounded so exasperated that holding back her laughter got even harder.

  “What is it?”

  “A shell.”

  He pulled his hand out of the bag, and in his palm rested a shell with a rainbow swirl on it. It glittered in the slanting sunlight like a jewel.

  “Oh…!” Cow Girl exclaimed, and understandably so. “Wait, can I really have this? Did you go to the ocean for this job?”

  “Yes.” His blunt answer raised a fresh question: which of her queries was it in response to?

  Cow Girl took the shell from him carefully, as if handling something very delicate, and set it in her palm. She squinted at the way the light glistened off it, and from her half-closed eyes, she could see him sitting silently.

  “There was a fish,” he said finally, and then after more thought, he added, “A very long one.”

  Should she try to ask for details, or what? Argh, no—she wanted to ask, but this came first.

  “Thank you so much! I’ll treasure it!” Cow Girl said, clasping the shell to her ample bosom and grinning. He nodded silently, and she stood up, heading straight for the kitchen.

  She took down an old box sitting on the highest shelf and opened it to reveal a collection of what might have been junk. But she set the shell inside as if it was a precious treasure and closed the lid again.

  “There, it’s safe… Yeah, this way I won’t lose it.”

  “I see.”

  Cow Girl got on her tiptoes to put the box back then wiped the sweat from her forehead as if she had just completed some difficult job. When she pattered back to the dining room, she had brought a cup of grape wine along for him. Normally, she might not have smiled on drinking in the early afternoon, but she figured it was all right for today. Surely.

  “What about tomorrow?”

  “I don’t have work.”

  She set the cup on the table; he picked it up with a casual motion and downed the entire contents.

  Soon the dish of stew was empty, too; when she asked, “Seconds?” he answered only, “Yes, please.”

  He followed her with his eyes as she bustled around to get him more food, and then he said quietly, “I’ll help around the farm.”

  Such was Goblin Slayer’s intention. Most likely, Cow Girl had expected as much. What would he do, then? What to do? He remembered what her uncle had said. This was his answer.

  The conversation meandered pleasantly, and then the sun went down, and her uncle came back, and they had dinner, spent an uncommonly easy time together, and then went to bed.

  A perfectly normal night. The way it always was after he came home. They were expecting a perfectly normal day off to follow.

  But it was to be nothing of the sort.

  “So you’ve come,” she said.

  Her voice contained such heat, it seemed it could melt at any moment. The sun shone through the window behind her, and the lips that peeked out from under her hood smiled softly.

  The woman sloughed off her robe, and waves of golden hair emerged like the sea. Her sheer, white garments gleefully exposed the voluptuous lines of her body—the Earth Mother herself might look like this.

  The skin her vestments revealed was perfectly white, almost translucent, as if untouched by the sun. It meant t
hat the tinge of rose in her cheeks was probably not just from the light. She almost seemed like a harlot—and there were temples that kept sacred prostitutes.

  She could have wrapped any man who gazed upon her around her little finger, and yet, her eyes were covered with a black sash. In her hand, she held the downward-pointing sword and scales that were the symbol of righteousness and justice. The way she all but leaned on them, the way she whispered, conveyed intense anxiety.

  “Have I…disturbed you?”

  “No.”

  Sword Maiden. That was the name of the frontier cleric whom Goblin Slayer answered in his low, flat voice.

  “Is it goblins?”

  §

  It was morning.

  Goblin Slayer was out of bed before dawn and checking his equipment.

  Helmet, armor, the layers worn under the armor, shield, sword. All in good condition. Everything in working order. Then he took out his item bag to check the contents.

  There were the potions, wound with knotted strings to distinguish among them, along with an eggshell full of blinding powder, a scroll, and an assortment of miscellaneous items.

  When he had confirmed that everything was as it should be, he started donning his gear. Then he left his room, going down the hallway as delicately as he could so as not to wake the other two people in the house, who he assumed were still asleep.

  He made it outside with hardly the sound of a footstep, and when he emerged from the house, he was immediately enveloped by the cold autumn air. There was a fine, milky mist over the farm, perhaps the product of the morning dew. Goblin Slayer felt like he was inside a cloud. He stopped and looked around.

  “…Hmph.”

  Visibility was poor. He snorted, displeased about this, but then began striding into the fog.

  He started the day’s patrol by following the fence in a circuit around the farm. He was checking to see if it was broken anywhere, of course, but also to see if there were any footprints around and, if so, how many. It would be easy to leave footprints in these slick conditions, but the thick fog made his work difficult. Goblin Slayer, though, attended to it one stretch at a time, silent all the while.

  The inside of a cave was darker than this, after all. He needed to make an effort attempting to see that which could not be seen, in order to train his night vision.