Goblin Slayer, Vol. 5 Page 8

  Nothing quite seemed to fit. What were they facing here? A goblin of some kind? But what kind?

  At that moment, an idea came into Priestess’s head, as suddenly as if it was a gift from heaven.

  It was an outrageous, impossible idea. But…

  Things began to make sense if they were dealing with someone who wielded an army against nonbelievers.

  “No… It can’t be. That’s impossible.”

  “…”

  She hugged her own shoulders, shook her head, refusing to believe it.

  Beside her, she could hear the brand creaking in Goblin Slayer’s fist.

  It wasn’t possible. It was ridiculous. But in fact, nothing was impossible.

  There was only one answer. Goblin Slayer acknowledged the truth of their enemy clearly.

  “A goblin paladin…”

  “That’s their little den over there.”

  The cold was cutting, but it did nothing to dim the young woman’s beauty. She looked like the daughter of nobility, like someone who would have been more at home in an elegant ballroom than under the gray skies of the northern mountains.

  Her wavy, honey-colored hair was tied in two tails, and her facial features had a prideful cast. The size of her bust was obvious despite the chest armor she wore, her waist so narrow that she had no need for a corset.

  The rapier that hung at her hip was of striking construction; the way it demanded admiration gave much the same impression as its master.

  At the girl’s neck hung a brand-new Porcelain-level tag, catching the sun that shined off the snow.

  She was an adventurer, and she and her four companions had spent several days scrambling up the side of this snowy mountain. Now an ugly little hole lay open before them. One look at the disgusting mountain of waste beside the entrance made it clear that this was a nest.

  And what did the nest belong to? With these newly minted heroes here to do battle, what else could it be?

  Goblins.

  Noble Fencer’s heart lusted for battle at the very thought of them.

  Now, here, she had no family and no riches, no power or authority. Only her own abilities and her friends would help her complete this quest. A true adventure.

  For their first deed, they would get rid of the goblins attacking the village in the North. They would do it more quickly than anyone had ever seen.

  “All right! Is everybody ready?” She put her slim hands to her hips in a proud gesture that emphasized her chest, then pointed at the nest with her sword. “Let’s starve those goblins out!”

  That had been weeks ago.

  It was good that they had stopped up the goblins’ tunnels by erecting defensive barriers around the exits. And they hadn’t been wrong to set up a tent, build a fire for warmth, and prepare an ambush.

  “The goblins are attacking the village because they’re low on supplies,” Noble Fencer had said, full of confidence. “They’re foolish little creatures. A few days without food, and they’ll have no choice but to make a run for it.”

  And indeed, that was what happened. They fell on one group of goblins trying to break through the defensive barriers and killed them. Some days later, a group of starving monsters emerged, and they, too, were slaughtered. It was safe to say that everything was going as planned. They would complete the quest with hardly any danger and a minimum of effort.

  But that was as much a dream as the idea that these untested new adventurers might suddenly become Platinum-ranked. If it were as easy as they imagined, goblin slaying could hardly be called an adventure.

  This was the north country, a frozen place—there was even an ice cap nearby—beyond the territory of those who had words. A person’s breath could turn to ice as soon as it left their mouth, burning the skin, and frozen eyebrows made noise each time one blinked. Equipment became heavy with the chill, stamina draining away day by day with next to no relief.

  There were two other women in the five-person party including Noble Fencer, though the men of course kept their distance. They ate to try to distract themselves and keep up their strength. It was all they could do.

  But the load was heavy, since it included their equipment, the barriers, and the cold-weather gear. Individually, each of them carried only a handful of provisions. One of their members knew the ways of a trapper, but there was no guarantee it would be possible to obtain food for five people.

  Arrows, too, were limited. They could try to retrieve the ones they had used, but…

  First and foremost, though, they ran out of water.

  Their group made the mistake of eating the ice and snow, giving themselves diarrhea and further taxing their endurance.

  They weren’t stupid; they knew they had to melt the stuff over a fire, even if it was troublesome.

  Meaning, of course, that next they ran out of fuel.

  They had scant food, no water, and no way to keep warm. It spelled the ignominious end of Noble Fencer’s seemingly foolproof battle plan.

  Yet, it would be ridiculous to give up by this point. They were only dealing with goblins—the weakest of monsters. Perfectly suited to beginners, to a first adventure. To run back home without even having fought the creatures would be humiliating. They would forever be branded the adventurers who had fled from goblins…

  That being the case, someone had to go down the mountain, get supplies in town, and return.

  The adventurers looked at one another, huddled under their cramped tent, and all focused on one thing. Specifically, Noble Fencer, who was shaking from the cold, using her silver sword like a staff to support herself, yet levelly returning everyone’s gaze.

  Nobody wants to blame themselves when things go wrong.

  “You go,” their rhea scout said, sharply enough to pierce a heart. Even though he had been the first to agree when she had suggested the starvation tactics, saying he thought it sounded interesting. “Right now, I’m the only one doing any work around here. Go get that! Catch us some dinner!” I just can’t stand it, he muttered.

  “…He’s right,” their wizard said, nodding somberly from underneath a heavy cloak. “You know what? I was against this idea from the start. I haven’t even had a chance to use my spells.”

  “Yeah, I agree.” It was the half-elf warrior next, stifling a yawn as she spoke. “I’m getting pretty tired of this.”

  If Noble Fencer recalled correctly, neither of them had thought starving the goblins out was an excellent idea at first. When she explained that this would be the safest method, however, they had both come around.

  What was more, Noble Fencer thought that she and Half-Elf Warrior had grown closer over the past several days of marching. She turned her gaze on the warrior, feeling betrayed, and gave a dismissive little sniff.

  “But then there’d be no point to all our suffering,” the half-elf added. “And what do you think, Pint-sized?”

  “Eh, I don’t much mind whoever goes.” The dwarf monk played with a symbol of the God of Knowledge, apparently trying to answer in as few words as possible. “But dwarves and rheas have such short legs. And half-elves are so slight. I think a human is our best bet here.” He looked at Noble Fencer with a sly glint in his eyes, which were almost lost in his black facial hair.

  Warriors were more suited to going it alone than spell casters. He might as well have asked her to go outright.

  “…Very well. I’ll do it,” Noble Fencer, who had listened in silence until that moment, replied curtly. “It’s obviously the most logical choice.”

  Yes, that was it. She would go because it was logical. Not because her plan had failed. Or so she repeated to herself as she worked her way down the long mountain road.

  Leaning on her heirloom sword as a staff, she removed her breastplate and stashed it on her back, no longer able to endure the weight and the cold. She bit her lip, embarrassed that her adventurer’s equipment had winded up as nothing more than more luggage.

  On top of that was the welcome waiting for her back at the vill
age.

  “Ah! Master adventurer, you’ve returned! You’ve had success?”

  “Well, uh…”

  “Were any among your number injured?”

  “Not yet… I mean, we haven’t…fought them yet…”

  “Gracious…”

  “But I wondered…could you…could you share a bit of food with us, please?”

  The answer was no.

  One could imagine how the headman and the villagers felt. The adventurers they had summoned via the quest network had been away for weeks and yet had accomplished nothing! And now they wanted more food, more fuel, more water. If the village had the spare resources to supply five heavily armored young people, would they have needed to call for adventurers in the first place? They barely had enough for the winter themselves. Trying to support an adventuring party on top of that would be too much.

  It could only be called a stroke of good luck that Noble Fencer was able to wheedle a few trifles out of them.

  “…”

  The cruel irony was that these additional supplies only made her return journey that much slower and more difficult. With every step she took through the snow, regret filled her heart like the ice that sloshed in her boots.

  Should they have made more preparations beforehand? Invited more adventurers to be part of their party? Or maybe they should have made a tactical retreat instead of pushing ahead with the starvation idea…?

  “No! Absolutely not! No one is running from goblins!”

  She let her emotions do the talking, but there was no one to talk back.

  By now she was enclosed in night, a night that further blackened the “white darkness” of the whipping snow. She had already been exhausted when she began this march with her heavy load, and everything about it was a cruelty to her.

  “We won’t give in…to goblins…”

  She breathed on her numb hands, trying desperately to set up her tent. Just having something, anything, between her and the snow and the wind would make such a difference…

  “It’s cold… So cold…”

  The icy night air was merciless. Hugging herself and trembling, Noble Fencer fumbled with some firewood.

  “Tonitrus,” she murmured, incanting the Lightning spell. Small bolts of electricity crackled from her fingertips and set the logs alight.

  Noble Fencer was a rare frontline fighter who could use lightning magic, which she had learned because it was a family tradition. And what would be the harm of a little lightning here? She could use it once or twice each day; it made sense to put it to work starting a fire so she could get some warmth. But even that was a luxury, for it used up some of the meager firewood the villagers had given her.

  “………”

  She spoke no further but hugged her knees, trying to curl into a ball to help her escape from the sound of the howling wind and snow.

  Until a few days ago, she had had friends.

  Now, she was all alone.

  Her companions were a few hours’ climb away. They were waiting for her. Probably.

  But Noble Fencer simply didn’t have the strength to reach them.

  I’m so tired…

  That was everything, all she could think.

  She loosened her belt and the straps of her armor. It was something she had once heard you should do. The warmth of the fire began to seep into her body, and her spirit eased.

  She had imagined dispatching the goblins readily, easily. In the blink of an eye, she would have risen to Gold or even Platinum. She would make her own name, not rely on her parents’ power. But how difficult that was turning out to be!

  I guess…maybe I should have expected it.

  Things like fame and fortune did not come to a person overnight. They accumulated over decades, centuries. Had she believed that she, alone and unaided, would be able to put forth all at once an effort worthy of such accomplishments?

  I’d better apologize.

  Did she mean to her friends or to her family? She wasn’t sure, but the humility she felt in her heart was real as Noble Fencer closed her eyes.

  She began to drift off, consciousness growing farther away. With such fatigue in her bones, how could she want anything more than rest?

  That was why she didn’t realize immediately what she was hearing.

  Splat. The sound of something moist slapping down.

  Somehow the edge of the tent had come up—had the wind caught it?—and something had landed next to the fire.

  Noble Fencer sat up from where she had lain down and looked at the thing sleepily, questioningly. “I wonder what…this is…”

  It was an ear.

  Not a human one, but the ear of a half-elf, cruelly severed halfway down.

  “Ee—eeyikes!”

  Noble Fencer fell backward, landing on her behind. Still shouting, she scrambled back.

  At that moment, there came a horrible laughter; it seemed to surround the tent.

  It was the moment after that that something from outside grabbed the tent and pulled it down.

  “Ahh—oh! No! What’s this?! Why are you—?!”

  Noble Fencer writhed under the fallen tent, half-mad. The bonfire spread to the tent, sending up copious amounts of smoke, causing her eyes to water and inducing a coughing fit.

  When the fighter at last worked her way out from her entrapment, she was hardly recognizable as what she had once been. Her neat golden hair was in disarray, her eyes and nose messy with tears and snot, and there was ash on her face.

  “Ee-eek! G-goblins…?!”

  She shouted and recoiled at the sight of the dirty little creatures, backing away from the sound of their hideous laughter. Noble Fencer was completely surrounded by goblins in the dark, snow-whipped night. They had crude clubs and stone weapons and wore little more than pelts.

  Yet, it was not the appearance of the goblins that so terrified Noble Fencer. It was what they held in their hands: the familiar heads of a rhea, a dwarf, and a human.

  Farther away, the half-elf was being dragged limply by the hair through the snow. She left a red streak behind her like a brush across a canvas.

  “Oh… Please…”

  No, no. Noble Fencer shook her head like a spoiled child, the movement sending waves through her hair.

  Had they waited until she was away to attack?

  Had the others decided to assault the cavern while Noble Fencer wasn’t there, leading to this grisly end?

  Noble Fencer reached for her sword with a hand that wouldn’t stop shaking, tried to draw it from its scabbard—

  “Wh-why? Why can’t I g-get it out…?!”

  She had committed a crucial error. What had she thought would happen? Her sword had been soaked by snow, then she had left it by the fireside—and now it was exposed to the cold again. The snow had melted onto the hilt and scabbard. What else would it do in this situation but freeze once more?

  Dozens of goblins closed in on every side of the weeping fighter. The girl, however, pulled her lips tight. Maybe she couldn’t draw her sword, but she began to weave a spell, her tongue heavy with the cold.

  “Tonitrus…oriens…!”

  “GRORRA!!”

  “Hrr—ghh?!”

  Of course, the goblins were not kind enough to let her finish. She was hit in the head by a ruthless blow from a stone; it brought Noble Fencer to her knees.

  Goblin “sympathy” served only one purpose: to mock their pathetic, weeping, terrified prey.

  Her shapely nose had been squashed, the dripping blood dyeing the snowy field.

  “GROOOOUR!!”

  “N-no! Stop—stop it, please! Ah! H-hrggh! No, please—!”

  She cried as they grabbed her hair, screamed as they took her sword.

  The last thing she saw was her own feet flailing in the air. Noble Fencer was buried by more goblins than she could count on two hands.

  So who was it who had been starved out here? Was this what they got for challenging the goblins on their home turf? Or for failing to p
repare well enough to see out their own strategy?

  Whatever the case, we surely need not dwell on what befell her next.

  That was the end of those adventurers.

  §

  Noble Fencer’s eyes opened to the crackling sound of flying sparks. She felt a faint warmth, but the ache in her neck—a burning sensation—let her know that this was reality.

  What had happened? What had been done to her? A series of memories flashed through her mind.

  “…”

  Noble Fencer silently pushed the blanket aside and sat up. She appeared to be in a bed.

  When she looked around, she saw she was in a log building. A smell prickled her nose—wine? It had been one more bit of bad luck that even being stuffed in a pile of waste hadn’t dampened her sense of smell.

  She was on the second floor of an inn. In one of the guest rooms, she thought. If she wasn’t simply hallucinating.

  At the same time, she could see a human figure crouching in one dark corner of the room, which was illuminated only by the fire.

  The figure wore a cheap-looking helmet and grimy armor. The sword he carried was a strange length, and a small circular shield was propped up against the wall. He looked singularly unimpressive—except for the silver tag around his neck.

  Noble Fencer’s voice was done shaking. “Goblins,” she said. She spoke in a whisper, more to herself than to anyone else.

  “Yes.” The man responded just the same, his voice quiet and his words blunt. “Goblins.”

  “…I see,” she said, and then lay back down in bed. She closed her eyes, looking into the darkness on the backs of her eyelids, and then she opened them ever so slightly. “What about the others?” she asked after a second.

  “All dead,” came the dispassionate reply. It was almost merciful in its cold directness, giving her only the facts.

  “I… I see.”

  Noble Fencer thought for a moment. She marveled at how hardly a ripple passed through her heart. She had expected to cry, but her spirit was strikingly quiet.

  “Thank you for helping me.” A pause. “What I mean is…is it over?”

  “No.” The floorboards creaked as the man stood up. He fastened the shield to his left arm, checked the condition of his helmet, then approached her with a bold, nonchalant stride. “There are some things I’d like to ask you.”