Goblin Slayer, Vol. 3 Read online

  Goblin Slayer began to walk slowly, watching everyone in his peripheral vision.

  There were always too many things to think about. Always too few clues.

  And much to do, he thought…

  “Mph.”

  “Oh!”

  Priestess came bustling in from outside and all but ran into him. She straightened herself and clutched her cap.

  “Oh, uh, ah, G-Goblin Slayer, sir!” Her cheeks flushed before his eyes, though he had no idea what she was embarrassed about. He almost expected steam from her ears as he cocked his head.

  “Were you able to sleep last night?”

  “Y-yes. I’m fine.”

  Maybe he was just being paranoid. Priestess’s eyes wandered from one place to another anxiously.

  “Mm,” Goblin Slayer grunted faintly. “I want to give this to you before I forget.”

  “Whoa!”

  Goblin Slayer passed her the coin purse, and Priestess received it with both hands to keep from dropping it. The bundle jangled quietly as she clutched it to her modest chest.

  “From yesterday.”

  “Th-thank you…”

  She put the reward money away carefully, but her thoughts seemed to be elsewhere. Her gaze kept darting to the workshop.

  Goblin Slayer was quiet for a moment before asking flatly, “Need new equipment?”

  “Oh! Uh…”

  He seemed to have guessed right.

  Now her whole head turned, swiveling back and forth between Goblin Slayer and the workshop. He could not fathom what could be bothering her so.

  “Do you need advice?”

  “N—” Priestess’s voice squeaked out of her. “N-no, I…don’t. I’m just…fine…thank you!”

  “I see.”

  He left it at that, walking past her.

  To him, at least, all this was perfectly natural. The guffaw from the old man behind him didn’t even elicit a glance back. Maybe the senior was interested in the girl.

  That wasn’t—shouldn’t have been—a bad thing.

  §

  They say the time before a festival is its own festival.

  When he went out into town, he heard hammers pounding wood, banners flapping, the breeze blowing.

  Adventurers weren’t the only ones who lived in this frontier town. Young women browsed the stocks of shops, decorated for the celebrations, wondering what to do about their clothes. Children ran along the broad streets, no doubt wondering how to spend their pocket change. It would be all too easy for their plans to unravel at the sight of some toy in a store display…

  Strangely cut vegetables were drying by the roadside, awaiting the time when they would be woven into lanterns. More carts and carriages than usual ran through the street.

  An abundance of food and clothes were on sale, and visitors were in no short supply, either. It was only natural, with a festival coming.

  This area was still the frontier, forever attacked by monsters, threatened by Demon Gods, and under development. Hence, it was understandable that at festival time, at least, everyone wanted to enjoy themselves as much as they could.

  “Hmm.”

  Goblin Slayer cast a glance at all this, then quietly headed down the street behind the Guild building.

  The sunlight shone down at an angle, much weaker than in summer. The sun hung high in the sky, but the cool breeze made it feel like a spring day.

  The smell of something broiling drifted from the Guild’s gallery.

  In fact, wisps of cook-fire smoke were rising from many of the houses in town. It was time for lunch.

  So that’s what those children were running toward.

  The training grounds were empty. Any adventurer on a quest would have set off already, and the rest likely weren’t so dedicated to their training as to skip lunch.

  Perfect.

  He dipped his head once and headed to a corner of the grounds, where he sat down in the shade of a tree.

  Then he set down his shovel and untied the bundle attached to it, quickly setting up shop.

  Stakes, wood, wire, rope, et cetera. A variety of items, many of them unrelated to adventuring.

  After drawing his short sword, he started his work immediately.

  He shaved down the stakes to incredibly sharp points, pounded them into the wood, and angled them. Then he wrapped the rope around it all in an unusual fashion.

  His movements were broad, yet precise, but whatever he was making seemed too dangerous to be for everyday use.

  If High Elf Archer had been there, she no doubt would have fluttered her ears in curiosity. Priestess would have hesitatingly asked what he was up to.

  But it was neither of them who called out to him as he sat there absorbed in his work.

  “Oh!”

  “Ho ho!”

  Two very intrigued voices. Goblin Slayer raised his helmet briefly.

  One man shaped like a barrel, another tall and slim. Dwarf Shaman and Lizard Priest—two of his companions.

  Their shadows—one tall, one short—overlapped with that of Goblin Slayer under the tree.

  “Ah, milord Goblin Slayer. Another fine day today.” Lizard Priest joined his hands in a strange gesture, unapologetic for staring at Goblin Slayer. “We hope the weather for tomorrow’s festival is as congenial as this.”

  “Yes.” Goblin Slayer nodded without pausing in his work. “I hope it will be sunny.”

  “Agreed, agreed.” Lizard Priest slapped the ground with his tail. Next to him, Dwarf Shaman stroked his chin.

  “Aren’t we the hard worker. What’ve you got there?”

  “I’m setting something up.”

  Goblin Slayer had few words for the dwarf, who studied the apparatus with his hand still on his beard.

  It was something or other involving a number of stakes, a shovel, some wire, and some wood.

  Lizard Priest’s eyes rolled in his head and sparkled at the prospect of battle.

  “Are you planning to drive out a vampire?”

  “…?” Goblin Slayer tilted his helmet. “What makes you think that?”

  “I believe it is well established that one defeats a vampire with a stake of white wood.”

  “Is it?”

  “I suppose we should be impressed that you even know what a vampire is,” Dwarf Shaman said, half exasperated and half amused.

  Vampires ranked with dragons as famous monsters of the world.

  Of course, greater knowledge of the undead was secret, known in detail only to wizards and clerics. But for a man who didn’t even know what an ogre was, being able to recognize vampires deserved special notice.

  “I’m not very interested in them.”

  After his brief and altogether foreseeable answer, Goblin Slayer went back to sharpening the stakes.

  But then he murmured, “Hm,” and suddenly stopped working, tilting his head. “Vampires… They increase their numbers by biting people, do they not?”

  “Or so one hears.”

  “…If a goblin were to become a vampire, I wonder how I would prepare.”

  Dwarf Shaman sighed, but Goblin Slayer was completely serious.

  “Well, now,” Lizard Priest said, touching the tip of his nose with his tongue. “A dead goblin is a goblin corpse. If it were to move, would it not be considered some kind of zombie?”

  “Be that as it may,” Dwarf Shaman retorted, barely able to restrain his laughter, “I can’t imagine anyone wanting to drink goblin blood to begin with.”

  “I see.” Goblin Slayer bobbed his head firmly. Whether he was responding to Lizard Priest’s suggestion or to Dwarf Shaman’s was not clear.

  Then he resumed his work, and the pile of shavings grew as they watched.

  Dwarf Shaman brushed away wood chips with his thick fingers, then set to work picking out the ones lodged in his beard.

  “This for goblin slaying?”

  “It is.”

  “Thought so.”

  This was where High Elf Archer usually would ha
ve put her ears back with a frosty change in attitude.

  But after half a year together, Dwarf Shaman was used to these things. He let it pass.

  “S’pose I shouldn’t ask the details, then.”

  “It is impossible to know where goblins will emerge from.”

  “True indeed,” Lizard Priest said, his tail swishing gently. “One must be vigilant at all times.”

  “Yes.” Goblin Slayer nodded. “They’re stupid, but they’re not fools.”

  Goblins had no desire to learn—but where they did learn, they could use tools and strategy. Even Dwarf Shaman and his friends had been hard-pressed dealing with goblins that had learned enough to attempt a naval engagement in an earlier adventure. If a strategy spread among the goblins, it meant trouble—but this particular man was very thorough.

  Dwarf Shaman and Lizard Priest were both, in their own way, professionals of their races. The dwarf was passionate about smithing and working, while the lizardman had a heart for battle and strength.

  To them, obsession and stubbornness had a kind of beauty.

  “May we have this spot beside you, then?” Lizard Priest asked courteously.

  “I don’t mind,” Goblin Slayer said impassively. “I do not own this place.”

  “Aw, still polite to ask,” the dwarf said. Even as he spoke, he spread out a large cloth and plopped himself down.

  Lizard Priest untied a bundle he had been carrying, spreading its contents on the cloth.

  A glance was enough to tell the materials were for some kind of craft, but not necessarily what it would be. He had strips of bamboo, thin pieces of paper in many colors, along with oil paper.

  “Mm,” muttered Goblin Slayer, not showing the least hint of surprise. “Paper lanterns…no, sky lanterns.”

  “Ho, you’re a sharp one, Beard-cutter,” Dwarf Shaman said approvingly as he began assembling the pieces with deft motions.

  The strips from the knobby bamboo trees were light and strong, and the sky lanterns formed from them were a classic part of festival scenery.

  They were simple enough to make: paper draped over a bamboo frame. Then oiled paper would be set into the frame, and the lantern would be lit.

  “And then, so I am told, they float into the sky.” Lizard Priest slowly shook his long head, as if hard-pressed to believe it. “This I must see with my own eyes. I am truly looking forward to it.”

  “They used to make these in my homeland. I’m doing this for Scaly.”

  “Mm.” Goblin Slayer nodded, examining his stake in the light. “Not perfect… But not bad.”

  “Then my expectations for it are all the higher,” Lizard Priest said, swinging his tail in one of his meaningful gestures. “For I place great faith in what you say, Goblin Slayer.”

  “…Is that so?” was the whole of Goblin Slayer’s reply. He set himself to the next stake.

  The dwarf understood what it meant when a craftsman lapsed into silence. “Come on, then, we ought to get started, too.” He took up the materials with a gentle smile. “Festival’s tomorrow. Need to be ready.”

  “Indeed. I await your instruction.”

  Lizard Priest coiled his long tail and sat down gently next to Dwarf Shaman.

  But the dwarf’s hands moved so quickly. Who would have guessed his stubby fingers could do such fine work? He wove one frame after another, his production no less magical than any of his spells.

  No one could match the dwarves for handiwork. Even elves were a step behind.

  Lizard Priest’s job was to place the paper covers over the finished frames. He tried hard to keep his claws from tearing the paper, but frankly, it was quite difficult for him.

  At the same time, though, his work was precise and thoughtful. It seemed to reflect his personality.

  “I wonder what custom lies behind these things,” Lizard Priest said. He exhaled and wiped his brow, as if to clear off sweat that could not be there.

  Dwarf Shaman grabbed a wine jug in one hand and wet his lips, then murmured, “Good question. I’m not from these parts, myself. I know how to make a sky lantern, but not why they use them at this festival…”

  “…You see them in many places,” Goblin Slayer said briefly. The others looked at him, surprised.

  He kept paring down the stake, seemingly oblivious to them.

  “They attract good spirits, or drive out bad ones. They show the dead the way home. They’re similar to vegetable lanterns.”

  “Know quite a bit about them, eh?”

  “My hometown,” Goblin Slayer said, “was near this festival. How could I not know it?”

  “Mmm. I confess it makes little sense to me.” Lizard Priest scratched his nose with a claw.

  His people believed dead things returned to the ground, or into the flesh of those who ate them, in a great cycle. The “undead” were not those who had returned from death, but corpses possessed by evil spirits.

  “But…” Lizard Priest’s eyes rolled in his head. “Mourning the dead, we understand. Perhaps it is good to think they will come home.”

  “…I agree.” Goblin Slayer nodded. “It should be.”

  Then he said no more. His hands kept working, his expression completely hidden by his helmet.

  Each time the shavings piled up, he swept them away, refreshing his blade whenever it dulled on the wood.

  Lizard Priest, who had been watching him intently, let out a soft breath.

  “In any case, it is a festival. We must do ourselves proud, as much as we can.”

  “Good for you, Scaly, getting into the spirit.”

  “But of course. My faith is in my forefathers, the naga, whose blood flows in my veins. They are my ancestor spirits.”

  His behavior would not bring shame upon his forebears. The dwarf nodded appreciatively. That was something he understood.

  “Better not let up, myself. I’ll show them the best lanterns any dwarf has ever made!”

  The trio of men chatting on the edge of the training grounds was bound to attract notice eventually. As lunch ended, people began coming back to train. Others were hanging around the Guild after finishing their adventures. It was not surprising that some noticed the three.

  “Oooh! Shorty and Orcbolg are making something together!”

  And if a normal person noticed them, a high elf would notice them twice.

  The clear, almost childish voice was of course that of High Elf Archer.

  She came running up like the wind and stood with her hands on her hips.

  Dwarf Shaman glowered up at her, stroking his beard, and teased, “What are you, a kid?”

  “How rude. I am two thousand years old, you know?”

  High Elf Archer snorted, but stuck out her flat chest slightly as if proud of this number.

  The insult didn’t stop her from turning nimbly to look at what they were working on.

  “Whatcha makin’?”

  “Long-Ears, my friend. Two thousand years and you don’t recognize this? It’s a sky lantern. It’s—”

  “It’s a stake.”

  “Not what I meant.”

  After her comment, the elf slid down onto the cloth by Dwarf Shaman. Lizard Priest heaved himself up and moved aside to make room for her.

  Her ears twitched, and her eyes glittered with interest. She fired off questions one after another. “What’s this? What’s that? What’s this tool? What’s it for? Why are you making a stake?”

  “It’s for goblin slaying.”

  “You don’t say.”

  Her pace was like a whirlwind. They say women travel in herds, but she was noisy enough to be a crowd all by herself.

  “You could almost pass for a rhea,” Dwarf Shaman said with a touch of reproof.

  The lively commotion naturally drew others.

  “Hey, isn’t that that Goblin Slayer guy and his crew?”

  “Oh yeah. Are they getting ready for the festival?”

  It was Scout Boy and Druid Girl, along with Rookie Warrior and Apprentice
Priestess, back from lunch. They were still scarcely more than boys and girls. Festival preparations still filled them with wonder and anticipation.

  Even for Scout Boy, who had been with Heavy Warrior’s party for several years, the annual festival was cause for excitement.

  “Hey,” Scout Boy said, “what’s that?!”

  “Don’t you know?! Those are—”

  “Sky lanterns! I’ve seen them before.” Scout Boy thrust out his chest, eager to boast. High Elf Archer, who had lost her chance to explain, puffed out her cheeks.

  “How about you join in, then?”

  “I am unaccustomed to this, myself. We can learn together.”

  The dwarf and the lizardman didn’t hesitate to invite the children to join them.

  High Elf Archer seemed to have no compunction about all of them being there together—almost enough to cast her status as a high elf into doubt.

  “………”

  Goblin Slayer turned his helmet, taking in the bright, cheerful surroundings. The smiling faces, all laughing with one another, had formed a circle with him—all these adventurers.

  At the center of it were the two making lanterns.

  Most likely, they all would have gathered like this even if he hadn’t been there. And yet…

  “Hmm.”

  Goblin Slayer silently set to work with his knife again.

  §

  “What?! Orcbolg, you haven’t eaten yet?!”

  “No.”

  Night came quickly in autumn. Dusk had come and gone already, the sky an inky black punctuated only by the moons and stars.

  Goblin Slayer had stayed while his friends had drifted away bit by bit.

  “That won’t do… Wait, is it because you don’t have the money…?”

  “It isn’t.”

  “I’ll treat you!”

  “Not necessary.”

  “What if goblins attacked? Could you fight on an empty stomach?”

  “…Hrm.”

  “Okay! It’s decided, then!”

  High Elf Archer grabbed him without waiting for a response and dragged him to the tavern.

  Plenty of people in this frontier town besides adventurers spent time there. It was as good for eating as for drinking. And because most taverns also had guest rooms, it always bustled with travelers.

  The tavern High Elf Archer chose at random happened to be such a place with an attached inn.