Goblin Slayer, Vol. 4 Read online

  So why shouldn’t they rather spend a night dreaming with an adventurer, or embrace the fantasy of traveling with one? The stronger among them might even want to stake their claim as adventurers just like the men.

  “Well, anyone would worry about their own daughter or sister or son or brother.”

  Pioneer life on the frontier was cruel.

  Monsters were forever appearing, but you certainly could not count on the military to come and protect you. His Majesty the king, whose face you had never even seen, was surely busy dealing with dragons and dark gods and what have you.

  A temple where they prayed to the gods on your behalf might be built as a measure of support, and perhaps that was comforting in its own way.

  And there were taxes. The rain fell, the wind blew, the sun shone. Some days were cloudy. And there were goblins.

  If money ran low there was always prostitution or traveling somewhere to find work…and for young people, it was only natural to dream of becoming adventurers.

  If that was what they wanted, they could have simply tried to become employees at the Adventurers Guild in the Capital…

  But without an education or money, this, too, was only a dream within a dream.

  “I sure hope a good, strong adventurer will come for us…”

  “You hope? That’s why the king spends our tax money to build Guilds. No need t’ worry.”

  “…Yeah.”

  More pressing than their dreams or money were the goblins that were so near at hand.

  The three young men looked at each other, then sighed deeply.

  That was probably why none of them noticed the boy sneaking quietly into the forest, all alone.

  §

  Goblins.

  What exactly were these creatures the adults were so afraid of?

  The boy had never seen one, so now he wanted to get a glimpse.

  Then I’ll have something to brag about!

  It was the simple logic of a child.

  He had heard that goblins were the weakest monsters. He knew, as well, that when one or two had shown up at the village, the adults had driven them off.

  If that was true, maybe he could handle them?

  And if he could…

  I could brag even more!

  The boy walked carelessly down a familiar footpath, swinging his wooden sword.

  Humans had not made their mark on this forest, and it was dark even at high noon. The trees grew dense; the smells of moss and animals mingled in the air.

  He had often been warned how dangerous it was, but today it was especially unsettling. But the danger and the weirdness were why he so often came here to play.

  “…Hm?”

  The boy stopped when he saw a set of unfamiliar footprints in the place he always went for his games. They were larger than his friend’s footprints, about the same size as his own. They weren’t a wolf’s, or a fox’s, or a deer’s.

  “…A goblin?”

  The moment he spoke, the wind rustled through the grass and leaves.

  He swallowed heavily. He suddenly discovered his mouth was dry, and his throat hurt.

  The boy’s palms began sweating, and he quickly readjusted his grip on his sword.

  “I-if you’re there, then c-come and get me…!”

  Acting brave—though he did not consider it acting—the boy tried his best to look the part.

  The wind gusted again, bringing a wet, fetid stink with it.

  Where is he?

  The boy drew in a breath, let it out. Eventually, he began to move again.

  He swept his sword about for no reason, clearing underbrush and branches, striking roots.

  Nothing happened. There was only the silence of a forest gone quiet.

  No one’s there?

  “Pff, I scared him away…”

  The boy wiped his brow with an exaggerated motion and went to dry his hands on his shirt. At the touch of it, he realized the fabric was soaked through with sweat, and his heart was pounding.

  He swallowed again, shook his head. He raised his voice as if to reassure himself.

  “O-okay, let’s head back. Wouldn’t want to worry Sis!”

  He turned around—and saw a goblin brandishing a club.

  “Ee…eek…”

  “GORRB?!”

  The goblin seemed almost as surprised as he was. It froze with the club in the air.

  The creature was about his height, with dirty eyes and mouth. Pale green skin. And breath like rotting meat.

  “A g-g-goblin?!”

  “GB?!”

  His wooden sword, which he had swung reflexively in fright, smacked the creature in the head with a dull thwack.

  The thought that ran through his head was, I did it! And the feeling that ran through his gut was, Oh, no… But this was all too late.

  “GGGGG…”

  The goblin rose unsteadily, clutching his head. There was a dribble of blood. The boy gasped.

  “GOORBOGOOROROB!!”

  The goblin let out a howl, its eyes afire, and at the same instant the boy set off like a frightened rabbit.

  Run, run, run, run. Stumbling, nearly falling, actually falling, scrambling back to his feet he ran. He didn’t even know if he was heading out of the forest or deeper into it. Once he was off the footpath, there was no way to tell which direction he was going in these woods.

  “Ergh…ahhh…!”

  He was out of breath. He was gasping for air. His throat stung. His whole body ached. His feet were heavy. But he ran.

  There was no time to look back. He did not hear the goblin’s voice, but it might have been because of the ringing in his ears.

  “Oh! Wh-where…?!”

  The boy had arrived at a place he had never seen.

  A clearing, right in the middle of the forest. Had it always been there?

  And not only that—to think there would be a cave!

  Desperately sucking in air for his spinning head, the boy crawled into the underbrush. It was not out of any intent to hide. He simply couldn’t move another step.

  His breathing was faintly audible as he struggled to get it under control.

  Then…

  “?”

  He heard bold, nonchalant footsteps.

  He peered out in the direction of the sound, then clapped his hands over his mouth to quiet the “Oh!” that escaped him.

  Goblins.

  Two of them—and neither had a wound on his head. Did that make three, then?

  “GORBBRB…”

  “GROB! GBRROB!”

  They jabbered to each other, swinging the clubs in their hands, then shared a foul laugh.

  The boy could not understand their language, but he could guess what they were saying.

  Because he himself had said similar things—to warm up when there was a fight brewing.

  They’re going to the village!

  He had to warn everyone.

  His feet moved without his realizing it. And when his feet moved, the underbrush rustled.

  “GBRO…?”

  Too late.

  The goblin’s hideous yellow eyes turned toward the bush where the boy was frozen.

  A stubby finger pointed, and the other goblin gave a hissing, evil cackle.

  One step, another. The two goblins approached.

  The boy’s teeth chattered. Somehow, he managed to grab his wooden sword. He had to run. He had to…

  But how?

  “GBOROBR?!”

  The next instant, a sword emerged from the throat of the farther goblin.

  “GORB?!”

  The other goblin turned toward his companion’s cry.

  Just behind the creature clawing at the air, spurting blood as he fell, the boy saw him.

  He was—he had to be—an adventurer.

  A cheap-looking steel helmet. Grimy leather armor. A small, round shield was affixed to his left arm, and he held a sword of a strange length.

  He was nothing like the glorious adventurers of f
antasy or the boors who sometimes visited their village.

  And yet he was, without doubt, an adventurer.

  “That’s one.”

  The voice was low and dispassionate, almost mechanical. The boy wasn’t sure how it had reached his ears.

  The other goblin was bewildered. The monster looked first at the club in his hand, then at the adventurer, then at the entrance to the cave.

  And he set off running for the entry.

  Revenge, anger, and fear drove him to make for his companions.

  In that span, the adventurer pulled his sword from the corpse of the dead goblin.

  “Two.”

  He raised it and threw.

  “GOROB?!”

  The goblin pitched forward, writhing, with the blade piercing his spinal column—though the boy did not yet know what a spinal column was.

  Finally, the creature on the ground twitched again, then lay still.

  “Hrm.”

  The adventurer gave a low grunt and walked up to the two bodies with bold, nonchalant steps.

  He yanked out the sword, brushing strands of gray matter off it, then clucked his tongue and tossed it away.

  Instead, the boy watched him take something like a dagger from the belt of one of the goblins…

  “Oh…!”

  No— You can’t— There’s more— The words came pouring from him all at once.

  “There’s still another goblin out there!”

  The adventurer’s reaction was too quick to see. He spun, raised the dagger, and took aim, all in a single motion. There was a whistle of wind, a half-formed scream, and a thump of something heavy falling to the earth.

  “GBOROB?!”

  The goblin from earlier was behind him, not far away, sputtering and choking on the blood pouring from its throat.

  “Oh…!”

  Only then did the boy realize how close he had been to being killed himself.

  The wooden sword slipped from his shuddering hand, clattering to the ground at his feet.

  “That’s three, then.”

  Crushing grass and pushing aside the bushes, the adventurer strode closer. His beat-up leather glove picked the wooden weapon up off the ground, then held it out to the boy.

  “Huh? Ahh…?”

  “Sorry.” As the boy vacantly took the sword, the adventurer continued, quietly and dispassionately, but unmistakably. “Thanks for the help.”

  He headed into the cave without a glance behind him, and the boy watched him go.

  §

  “Why, you—! And after I told you all those times not to go into the woods!”

  “I’m really sorry, Sis!”

  He had rushed to the temple and tried to cover for himself, but his sister soon found out everything. After all, there was no other place he could play that would have left him so covered in scratches.

  She dragged him by the ear all the way home where he endured a storm of lectures, some first aid, and then dinner.

  The salve she used stung terribly. She wrapped him in bandages, and finally gave him a good smack that sent the boy jumping a foot in the air.

  Honestly, he wished she would be just a little kinder to him, but he couldn’t tell her that.

  “Heavens and all. You always say, ‘I know, I know,’ but you don’t know anything.”

  These little comments went on all the while they were eating, until at last his sister gave a long sigh.

  “Anyway…at least you weren’t seriously hurt.”

  Then she smiled with relief.

  I really worried her.

  The boy felt a pang in his chest at the thought.

  “Um…what about the goblins?”

  “Don’t worry about them. That adventurer got rid of all of them.”

  His sister smiled as brightly as the sun, then scowled and pointed to his bedroom.

  “That means there’s nothing to keep you up at night—so go to sleep! Your friend will be back tomorrow, right?”

  “Oh, yeah!”

  The boy jumped out of his chair, but with his hand on the bedroom door, he turned.

  “Good night, Sis. And…I’m sorry.”

  “Good night, yourself… Just don’t do anything else dangerous, okay?

  “…Sure.”

  He opened the door, closed it behind him, and went into his room. He exhaled.

  It really had been some day. He had been chased by goblins, attacked by them, and scolded by his sister.

  But…

  Snuggled into his bed, the boy turned over until he was looking at the wooden sword on the wall.

  He had hit a goblin with that sword. An adventurer had picked it up for him.

  The lingering nervousness and excitement of that moment still made his heart pound.

  “I wonder…what his face looks like.”

  I met a real adventurer!

  No—that wasn’t all.

  I helped a real adventurer and beat some goblins!

  Now that was something he could brag about.

  It was way cooler than buying some fancy clothes in town.

  Satisfied with the outcome of his adventure, the boy closed his eyes, eager for the next day to come.

  “Hello, welcome!”

  “Heyo. Get us three ales and two lemon waters for starters!”

  “Certainly!”

  “And, uh…eh, fritellas will do. For five!”

  “Sure thing!” the waitress responded brightly, glancing at the adventurer with the two-handed sword across his back and noting the number of fingers he was holding up.

  Any tavern would be lively in the early evening, but at the Adventurers Guild tavern, it was different. There were people relaxing after an adventure where they fought for their lives. Others could put themselves at ease at long last as friends returned from far away.

  Some customers were adventurers from afar, starting with a meal now that they had arrived in this town.

  The padfoot, or beast-girl, waitress rushed from one place to another—she loved this atmosphere. The sense that she was helping people motivated her even more than her salary.

  As her long, carefully bound hair swayed like a tail (her real tail was under her skirt), she called to the kitchen.

  “Three ales, two lemon waters, and five plates of fritellas!”

  “You got it. Nice, big order—makes it easier on me!”

  A pudgy, middle-aged rhea moved constantly back and forth across the smallish kitchen.

  Pots and pans, knives and skewers, ladles and rolling pins. He wielded fire and cooking implements like magic, and the food was ready in no time flat.

  A faintly sweet sauce covered the chicken and fish fried golden in oil. They were crunchy and hot on the outside, and when you bit into them, the juices flowed into your mouth. Padfoots weren’t the only ones sniffing the air at the fragrant aroma.

  “There y’go. Take it away!”

  “Yes, sir!”

  When it came to cooking, there was no race as accomplished as the rheas.

  Of course, I added my own little touch!

  Her little touches plus the chef’s sheer skill made them, essentially, unparalleled heroes of food.

  She drew some ale from a barrel, squeezed a lemon over some well water, and the order was ready.

  She pattered over with the meal on a tray to where the party was already seated at a table and waiting eagerly.

  Maybe they didn’t want to just leave their armor on until they got home, because each of the party members had removed some of their equipment. That the front-row members nonetheless kept their swords where they could draw them at any time spoke to their long experience.

  “Thank you for waiting! Three ales, two lemon waters, and fritellas for five!”

  The half-elf light warrior who was in charge of the party’s finances handed her some jangling silver coins.

  “Thanks. Oh, and grape wine for me.”

  “Sure, I know!”

  The waitress took the coins in a meaty hand
and put them in the pocket of her apron. They came to a bit more than the amount of the bill—perhaps he was thoughtfully including a tip. Although it was also possible that he was just a philanderer.

  “Look, when you go to a tavern, you’re supposed to start with ale, right?” a female knight said as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She rested her chin on her hands.

  “There goes our Lady Knight, saying whatever she will again—always good and true to Order!”

  “Well, obviously. It’s even written in the Scriptures of the Supreme God,” Female Knight said as if she couldn’t believe it, puffing out her chest.

  Light Warrior pressed a hand to his brow as if to stave off a headache and sighed deeply.

  “Kids, just don’t grow up to be like her, okay?”

  “Yessir!”

  “But she looks so cool when she’s all decked out, though…”

  Scout Boy raised his hand in affirmation, while Druid Girl gave a troubled sigh.

  Female Knight puffed out her cheeks, incensed.

  “What are you talking about? I always look cool.”

  “Gah! You haven’t even had a sip and you already sound soused.” Heavy Warrior made a shushing motion like he was scolding a baby, then raised his mug of ale. “Now, we have to toast! We’re back from an adventure. Eat and drink all you like, kids!”

  “Wooh! Meat! Meat!”

  Scout Boy and Female Knight gave a cheer and threw themselves at the food and drink. Their companions watched them with mild exasperation but set to their own meals, as well.

  “Finally home…”

  “So we are. Good, work, today?”

  “You bet! Good work.”

  With a jangle of the bell above the door, the next ones to enter were a hale and hearty man carrying a spear and a beautiful, voluptuous woman.

  Spearman and Witch slid down into their seats, their faces flush with the satisfaction of a job done.

  “Hey there, miss! We’d like to order!”

  “Yes, sir! Welcome back!” Padfoot Waitress hurried over to their table, as Spearman languidly raised a hand into the air. “What’ll it be?”

  “For me… Let’s, see. Grape wine and, duck, sauté. Can I get, those?”