Goblin Slayer, Vol. 8 Read online

  “Be careful not to get separated.”

  “I—I know that… I do, okay?” Embarrassed at being treated like a child, Priestess tapped the ground with her staff to emphasize her point. From down by her feet came a hard sound. She had been so focused on the carriage that she hadn’t noticed when the earthen highway had turned to flagstones.

  The crowd had been growing steadily as they got near the capital, and now it pressed in on every side. Even the vast gates seemed narrow compared with the mass of bodies.

  The crowd consisted of young and old, male and female alike, the rich and the poor of every race and tribe, some of them belonging to trades and even countries Priestess couldn’t identify, all of them mingling together, shouting to one another.

  Several other carriages were visible as well, while merchants carrying baskets waded through the crowd, selling water or fruit. The wild colors of the clothing as people walked past or stood by struck her like a kaleidoscope or mosaic. The mélange of languages that reached her ears sounded pleasant, almost like a song.

  “Is it…festival time or something?” she asked.

  Incredibly, it was Sword Maiden who opened the window and, giggling, informed the astonished Priestess, “This is how it always is.”

  “Of course, more people means more trouble, but also more opportunities for adventurers like us,” Lizard Priest said, picking up the thread from where he sat holding the reins. He rolled his eyes happily.

  The carriage rolled toward the gate at a stately pace, looking positively elegant.

  “I’m afraid I am naturally somewhat unsuited for shadow-running, though.”

  “I should think people would love you for bodyguard work,” Dwarf Shaman said, chuckling from his place beside the carriage. He looked like he might be in danger of getting swept away in the crowd, but his pace never slowed. The dwarf looked up at Goblin Slayer, fixing his eyes on the helmet. “You should have plenty of free time, Beard-cutter. Wouldn’t expect many goblin hunts in the capital.”

  “We cannot be sure there are none here.”

  “Forget it,” came the blunt reply.

  Dwarf Shaman’s annoyed answer was the end of it; Goblin Slayer and the others focused their attention forward.

  Unlike the town on the frontier, or even the water town, the gate of the capital didn’t have soldiers standing guard, but rather a guardhouse. Whether coming or going, it was necessary to spend some time dealing with red tape, and that was probably the cause of this traffic jam.

  Dwarf Shaman sized up the line creeping forward under the early autumn sun. “Doesn’t look like we’ll be getting in there anytime soon,” he said with a shrug. Then he took some coins from his pouch and disappeared into the sea of people.

  A few minutes later, he came back with several small bottles, one of which he tossed to High Elf Archer up on the roof of the carriage. “Beats waitin’ around with nothing to do. Here.”

  “Whoop. Thanks… Hey, what is this?” She inspected the glass bottle, which had a violet liquid inside. She gave it a little shake and heard it slosh around then pulled out the cork to find a sweet aroma drifted out.

  “’S called sapa. They take grapes or the like and mix them with lead in a bronze vat to sweeten it.”

  “Hmm,” the elf said, taking an exploratory sniff and then shaking her head. “…Smells too much like metal. I’ll pass.”

  “It’s this limited diet of yours that leaves you with such an anvil.”

  High Elf Archer growled and pursed her lips but didn’t say anything as she pitched the bottle back to Dwarf Shaman. It was still uncorked, so he rushed to catch it as the liquid nearly splashed out. He shot the elf a dirty look and drained the contents in two pointed gulps.

  “Hrmph, it’s perfectly good.”

  “Er, uh, um, but isn’t lead a poison…?” Priestess said, provoking a guffaw from High Elf Archer, who replied, “Dwarves’ bodies are too big to worry about trace poisons.”

  “The word is sturdy!” Dwarf Shaman said, letting out a burp and wiping some droplets from his beard.

  Lizard Priest looked down from where he was urging the horses on at a trot and rolled his eyes. “Now then, have you anything else?”

  “Ahh…” Dwarf Shaman rummaged through his collection of bottles. “Care for some posca?”

  “Posca, you say?”

  “Ah yes.” Sword Maiden smiled from the carriage window. “It’s based on vinegar, isn’t it?”

  “Heavens, you know it?”

  “It is easy to forget, but I was once an adventurer myself.”

  Posca was made by mixing water into wine that had become unduly acidic—or, to put it less elegantly, had turned to vinegar. Honey was added to create a bittersweet flavor, and it kept well, making it a cherished favorite of adventurers visiting the capital.

  “Would you care for some now, then?”

  “May I?”

  “By all means!”

  Sword Maiden smiled ever so slightly. She took the bottle proffered through the window in both hands, removing the cork with what looked almost like a caress. She drank the contents noisily then let out a luscious sigh of contentment.

  “Gracious… Most unladylike!”

  “It can’t matter that much. Surely…” Mm. Sword Maiden licked the last of the droplets from her lips as she replied poutingly to her attendant. Then she popped her head out the window, giving Dwarf Shaman a nod and a cherubic smile. “Thank you very much… It was perfectly delicious.”

  “I’m so glad you enjoyed it,” he said with a grin then tossed bottles to his companions with a smug “Here.”

  Priestess and High Elf Archer responded with “Yikes, it’s bitter” and “It’s just old grape juice in the end,” although they smiled in spite of themselves. No girl can fail to enjoy a sweet flavor…is maybe going a little far, but still.

  Goblin Slayer caught the next bottle, opening it silently and drinking it down. That was how he treated whatever went into his mouth, be it food or drink, so nobody paid him much mind. Only Priestess smiled as if to say, Hopeless!

  Lizard Priest was next, but he shook his great hand and said, “No, thank you. I am sated with drink. My stomach rather than my throat is what I wish to satisfy.”

  “Food, eh…?” Dwarf Shaman muttered, stroking his beard thoughtfully then looking at the panoply of vendors by the gate.

  It was already late afternoon, the sun starting to sink in the sky. There might have been someone there selling lunches, but they were probably out of stock by now. They would be much more likely to find something to eat when they got inside the capital.

  “You know, I’ve heard it said that they sell a lot of cheese in the capital,” Dwarf Shaman said.

  “Oh-ho,” came the response from…Goblin Slayer, who had been listening silently to the party’s conversation. He had ably drunk the posca through the visor of his helmet in one or two gulps. “That is very interesting to hear.”

  His absolute seriousness elicited a laugh from the entire party. Even the attendant in the carriage had a hand to her mouth to cover her smile.

  The only one who wasn’t laughing was Sword Maiden. She was squeezing the sword and scales on her lap.

  “Is something the matter, milady?”

  “No…,” Sword Maiden said, shaking her head as if startled out of her reverie. “…No, it’s nothing.”

  “If you say so, milady…”

  Sword Maiden looked away from the window, staring up at the carriage ceiling and letting out an anxious little sigh.

  And here I thought any girlish emotions had dried up long ago.

  “…It’s quite difficult, isn’t it?”

  That was when it happened.

  In the carriage, Sword Maiden’s gaze moved again, while atop the vehicle, High Elf Archer’s ears twitched.

  Wheels could be heard in the distance. Soldiers’ voices. The crowd shifted uneasily, opening a path to the gate.

  Scything through the sea of people came a carria
ge pulled by two horses. The golden engraving on the vehicle and the lion crest flying aloft showed that it belonged to the royal family.

  The horses were of course the best available. Gorgeous steeds, rippling with muscles. Then there were the soldiers accompanying the carriage—knights all, every spot of armor sparkling! The fine metal breastplates and helms, the spears and swords, made them look like fairy-tale heroes, and one needn’t have been a child to be taken by the sight. The soldiers could not have been further removed from the adventurers who had to come tramping many miles across open country on foot.

  “Wow…,” Priestess breathed, her jaw hanging open, and who could blame her?

  “That’s getting to be a familiar look on you.” High Elf Archer giggled. “But that would explain why we’ve been waiting so long!” Her expression was suddenly as dark as it had been amused.

  “One or two good arrows could teach them a lesson,” she muttered under her breath, and Priestess quickly waved her staff at the elf. “N-no, you can’t do that…!”

  “Come on, I know that,” High Elf Archer snorted. “They’re packing serious magical protection besides.”

  Does that mean she would take a shot if they didn’t…? Priestess thought gloomily.

  The crazed elf ignored the frowning cleric. “Anyway,” she went on, “it looks like the king’s been out and about. I wonder what was going on?”

  “Taxes.” The reply was brusque and clear. Goblin Slayer gave it in a quiet voice, almost as if he were talking to himself. “It is time for the harvest. The king goes in person to visit areas where he has no local representatives, or where an uprising seems likely.”

  “Huh. You seem to know a lot about it.”

  “I come from a farming village.”

  Wha? Was it Priestess or Sword Maiden who let out the sound of surprise?

  They must have been picturing this man with his grimy helmet and cheap-looking leather armor tending to a field someplace.

  Oh, but I guess he really does help out on that farm he lives on… Priestess nodded to herself, a thoughtful finger to her lips. “It’s all right,” she said, “I think that suits you!”

  “I see.”

  Once the king’s carriage was through the gate, the soldiers appeared to relax a little. They didn’t have to be quite as faultlessly vigilant as before. The line of people waiting for admittance to the city started moving more smoothly.

  “Still,” High Elf Archer said, squinting her eyes against the wind as their vehicle finally began to move. “That was about as fancy a carriage as I’ve ever seen. And it looked like he had half the army with him.”

  “Royalty’s hardly going to travel humbly and alone, now, is it?” Dwarf Shaman replied, working his stubby arms and legs as he jogged beside the carriage. As a dwarf, he knew a thing or two about ornamentation. Stroking his long white beard, he smiled knowingly. “For them, though, it’s not luxury—it’s a necessary expense.”

  “What, all that?”

  “How would you feel if your chief or whoever was living in a dead tree, dressed in rags?”

  “…” High Elf Archer’s ears drooped as she pictured the scene. “…Guess I wouldn’t like that much.”

  “And then if he went around by himself, begging people to hand over tax money?”

  “They’d knock him down flat.”

  “Now you’re getting the idea. It’s the job of their type to go big.”

  Pattering along nearby, Priestess gave a small sigh. “I guess it’s not easy being important.”

  In her own life, she had seen the Mother Superior of the temple hard at work, and she herself had once born the responsibility of performing the offertory dance at a festival. She almost couldn’t imagine work more difficult still.

  But there are people who do it.

  She glanced in the window of the carriage beside which she walked. Sword Maiden was sitting there, her slight smile undisturbed, her voluptuous body still filling the seat. Somehow, Priestess found it difficult to read Sword Maiden’s emotions from her face.

  She doesn’t even have a helmet like Goblin Slayer.

  “Man, it must suck to be the king.”

  “Says the princess!”

  High Elf Archer waved a dismissive hand from atop the carriage, her comment provoking a grumble from Dwarf Shaman.

  It was all just like normal. Priestess found it helped her relax, to know such things didn’t change, even within sight of the capital’s walls.

  She giggled, and in response, Lizard Priest rolled his eyes in his head. “Our own adventuring collectives are funded by taxes.” His tone was lighthearted, but he sounded a bit like he was delivering a sermon. “And without our organization, we adventurers would be nothing but unemployed ruffians.”

  We should be grateful, seemed to be his message.

  It made sense to her: Lizard Priest was a rather intimidating figure, and there were those among the lizardmen who had besmirched themselves with Chaos. The whole race of them were close to being Non-Prayer Characters, a status that must have brought its own burdens.

  “Lucky they don’t have a tax on ear length,” Dwarf Shaman offered.

  High Elf Archer snorted in response then muttered jokingly that taxes were all well and good. She flicked her long ears pointedly then grinned and said, “Or…a barrel surcharge, maybe?”

  “Ha! They’d invite a rebellion, I’d say!”

  “Quiet, both of you,” Goblin Slayer said, interrupting them. “We’re approaching the gate.”

  Hmm? Priestess tilted her head in surprise. It was unusual for him to be alert to anything but goblins.

  As they approached the walls, she could see they were surrounded by a massive, deep, dry moat. If the forces of Chaos attacked, they would be under assault from the castle’s archers the whole time they were climbing into and out of this ditch. A great bridge, attached to the castle gate with chains, currently allowed entry across the moat.

  Naturally, an interrogatory voice stopped them. “Halt! Let’s see some identification.”

  Lizard Priest tugged on the reins, pulling the horses to a stop, and slowly let his huge body down from the driver’s bench.

  A soldier, standing there in armor polished to a shine, clutched a spear in one hand. It took no more than a glance to see that he had better equipment than these adventurers.

  I guess he ought to—he’s dressed for war, Priestess thought.

  Unlike adventurers, who could afford to fight only when the mood or the need took them, soldiers had to be ready for anything at any time, even in moments of peace.

  Priestess pulled out the rank tag hanging from a chain around her neck. “Will this do, sir?”

  General travelers needed an official travel pass, but presumably proof of membership in a trade guild would do as well.

  “Can you write?” the soldier inquired, taking a quick glance at Priestess’s tag, to which she nodded. This was the first time she had ever been subject to such an interrogation, and while she was nervous, she was also definitely curious.

  The soldier produced a thick book containing line after line of people’s names and where they were staying.

  “Put your name and destination here, then.”

  “Yes, sir. Er…may I write that I’m here on bodyguard work?”

  “If you’re an adventurer.”

  Priestess, still somewhat ambivalent, took a feather pen and ink and inscribed a series of rough but careful characters.

  More people were coming and going in the capital than she could ever have imagined. If they needed manpower to oversee all of it… well, then it was no wonder the army needed taxes to support it.

  “I see you’ve also got a dwarf, an elf, and…a lizardman?”

  “Indeed, sir,” Lizard Priest said, putting his palms together. “I believe you will find my name difficult to pronounce, but perhaps you do not mind?”

  “Yeah, that’s fine… Not that unusual with other tribes and races.”

  “Then, i
f I may excuse myself.” A rough, scaly hand appeared, and Priestess politely offered him the pen and book with a smile.

  High Elf Archer, watching Lizard Priest write with unexpected facility, flicked her ears. “Okay, me next! I’ll even be nice enough to write for the dwarf!”

  “What a child,” Dwarf Shaman said in annoyance, but nonetheless, he stood by and watched High Elf Archer write his name in the unique, flowing script of the elves.

  So they submitted one by one to the entry inspection. The soldiers didn’t seem especially on guard; perhaps they were simply used to demi-humans by now. Or perhaps the unexpected was the most normal thing of all when it came to adventurers.

  “………And just what are you?”

  “I am an adventurer,” Goblin Slayer answered shortly, tossing the soldier his rank tag. Perhaps he had resigned himself to the idea that showing the tag would be quicker than trying to explain himself… Or maybe he thought this way was the least confusing.

  The soldier caught the tag as it arced through the air and regarded it skeptically. Priestess recognized it as the look of a man trying to sniff out counterfeit currency and thought, If it were a coin, he would bite it.

  “…You’re not trying to pull one over on me, are you?”

  “The Guild has recognized me,” Goblin Slayer said bluntly, unfazed by the man’s sustained suspicion.

  The soldiers looked at one another then held a whispered conference.

  “You aren’t by any chance a dark elf or something, are you?”

  “I’m not,” Goblin Slayer said, raising the visor of his helmet. “And I have an elf in my party.”

  “That ‘elf’ girl could be wearing makeup and stick-on ears for all we know.”

  Hopeless, Priestess thought with a sigh. High Elf Archer shrugged, equally fed up. Was it going a little too far to think maybe he could do with being a bit friendlier?

  You know what, I think that’s exactly what I’ll say. With that thought, Priestess took a step forward and opened her mouth, but—

  “In the name of the Supreme God,” came a sultry voice. It emerged from the carriage window, and not just Priestess, but all the soldiers, turned wide-eyed at the sound of it. “I vouch that he is a Silver-ranked adventurer.”