Goblin Slayer - Volume 12 - Chapter 4

Chapter 4 - Of Wintertime Preoarations

“Hrrgh…”

It was fiendishly difficult to get out from under the blankets that morning. The sun wasn’t even peeking through the window yet, and the chill was cold enough to sneak through the walls to freeze her skin. Frankly, Cow Girl wanted to just burrow under the covers and stay there forever. And until a few years before, that was exactly what she sometimes did in the mornings. (Looking back now, it seemed dissolute in the extreme.)

Really, though, I guess I didn’t have the energy to get up and tackle the day, she thought. She had a lot more energy now, although the days when he wasn’t there were always a little tough.

Afraid that if she just lay around she would go back to old habits, she decided to put her foot down with herself.

“…Okay……… Okay… One, two—!”

She took a deep breath, then flung herself out from under the covers. The freezing cold immediately clung to her skin, and she shivered helplessly. She pulled the blanket around her shoulders and trotted over to her chest of clothes as quickly as she could. She had to get dressed.

She pulled her underwear over her well-rounded body and took a breath. Next, she picked up a padded wool undershirt, weighing it in her hand.

I was thinking it was too soon, but maybe not?

The question was directed at no one in particular. Bested by the cold, she decided to put the thing on. She shoved her head and arms into the shirt, then started to squirm into it…

“…Hrgh…?”

It was a little tight.

Or is that my imagination? she wondered. She raised her arms, shimmied her hips, and spun around, her bare feet moving in little tap-tap-taps on the chilly floor, as she tried to figure out exactly how bad it was. Everything else fled her mind. For a girl of her age, this was of utmost importance.

Did I gain weight…? No…I couldn’t have. Right?

Right. Definitely not. Definitely probably not.

Now that she thought about it, she realized it was quite a long time ago that she’d knitted this sweater.

That’s growing up…I guess.

“Suppose I’ll need a new one soon…” She exhaled, then pulled on her work overalls, hanging them off one shoulder as she pulled on her socks and shoes.

That would do the trick. Now…

“…Hee-hee-hee.” She did this every morning recently, yet for some reason, it always made her smile. She thought she understood now where expressions like “a smile blossomed on her face” came from.

Last, Cow Girl took out a ruby-colored scale that glimmered even in the predawn darkness. She wore it as a necklace; the scale had defied her best efforts to bore a hole in it, so instead she’d wrapped a string around it. He had gifted it to her as a souvenir after his recent trip to the desert in the east.

I wonder if there really was a dragon.

She doubted it was untrue. But—a dragon! It sounded like something out of a fairy tale, incredible to hear. And this was one of its scales—the very idea seemed dreamlike; and that he had actually brought it to her, more dreamlike still. That she was wearing it around her neck felt virtually beyond belief.

It had become her habit to study the scale as the first rays of dawn appeared and glinted off it. She wasn’t sure if he remembered that moment—they had been so young then…

“Hee-hee.” Cow Girl was unable to hold back another giggle, then hung the dragon scale around her neck. She tucked it under her shirt so she wouldn’t drop it or lose it.

“All right, time for another day…!”

§

The biggest disadvantage to being the first one in the kitchen was that it was so cold—but the biggest advantage was that you got to enjoy it as it warmed up. Cow Girl put the last of yesterday’s embers, which had been covered and set aside, in the oven and started a flame going. The crackling fire gradually began chasing the cold away. Soon the morning sun would get brighter, and the room would become noticeably warm.

“You don’t like the cold either, do you?” Cow Girl said to the canary in the birdcage hanging in the kitchen; it twittered politely back at her. She knew the bird couldn’t take too much of the chill, and she wished she could put it right up next to the oven with its fire, but she was equally concerned the smoke would poison it. After agonizing over it a bit, she’d put cotton inside the cage, a cover outside, and warm stones tucked in cloth pockets nearby.

Sadly, she didn’t speak the language of the birds, but as far as she could tell, the canary looked energetic, and that was what mattered.

“Today… What should I do today?” she said to herself, but the reality was the food at the farm didn’t change much from day to day. It was almost always a stew of boiled vegetables. Thankfully, her family were yeomen, independent farmers, and they had it better than the denizens of some desolate village. But even so, it would have been nice to be able to save something in the way of cured meat for the winter.

As for fish, you had to soften it up with a mallet before you could eat it, and that sounded like too much trouble today. If he was here, she might have pushed a little to make the best possible stew for him, but when he wasn’t, she went with more ordinary fare.

“Well, maybe we could use a bit of bacon. And some cheese, and… Hmm…”

They had beans. And bread. And a few potatoes. So, if she were to boil some cow bones…

“We’ll have soup!”

With that decided, she got started right away. First, she braved the cold and the chill, and got water from the well to fill the jar in the kitchen. Then she poured some of it into a stewpot that she placed on the fire, before tossing the bones and the scraps of last night’s vegetables into it. It would be a while before the broth was ready, obviously, so in the meantime she grabbed a potato from one of the hempen bags hanging around the kitchen and began to peel it.

“We’ll have to boil this…then mash and strain it!”

Kitchen work was its own kind of physical labor. Gathering the water and preparing the ingredients took real effort.

I wonder if that’s why restaurants so often employ padfoots? Cow Girl thought as she mashed the boiled potato. That’s when she heard footsteps coming toward the kitchen.

“G’morning, Uncle,” she said without turning around. “It’ll be ready soon!”

“Mm, morning… My word, but it does get cold in here.” Cow Girl heard her uncle pull out a chair and sit down.

“Sure does,” she agreed with as much vigor as she could muster. It really was very cold this morning.

“I guess that lumpy donkey of yours is doing all right in the cold. I’m glad to see it—thing’s a help.”

“It’s called a camel, Uncle.”

“Ah, that’s right. A camel… A camel… Kind of a nonsensical creature.”

The strange animal living in the barn—the camel—was another souvenir from his trip to the east. And as glad as she was that he’d managed to remember their little chat before he left…

Of all the things to bring back…

But there was no helping it. She smiled in spite of herself at the thought of the luxurious gift. Thankfully, both she and her uncle could read and write, so they had somehow managed to figure out how to take care of the thing.

It’s actually pretty cute, when you’re right up close to it, Cow Girl thought.

This was the second animal he had brought her, after the canary. Soon she’d have a regular flock…or was that a herd? Well, whatever; the more the merrier.

“It does make good milk, though.” That was her uncle, ever the professional. He had been trying to find a good way to put the camel to work on the farm. This would also be the second time her uncle had tried to incorporate something he had brought back into the farm’s business model, after the ice treats.

She couldn’t deny that it made her happy.

“Not enough of it. But the flavor isn’t bad,” her uncle continued.

“You think we’ll be able to sell it?”

“Only one way to find out, but I think it should make a decent cheese. If we can’t produce it in quantity, we’ll just have to position it as something rare and unusual.”

“I see. That’s good.”

And it really, truly was.

Cow Girl, smiling from ear to ear, continued working on breakfast. She strained the potato just as the soup was coming to a boil.

I wonder if it’s really true that at castles, they spend all day boiling soup, she thought. But then, she and her uncle were not royalty, and this was quite enough for their daily sustenance.

She extracted the bones and vegetable bits. This soup base could keep for several days in the cold. Finally, she added the strained potato, mixed in some milk, beans, and bacon, and let it boil again.

“There, ready!” She thanked her uncle for his patience and brought over a bowl of the stuff for each of them, then sat down across from him, and breakfast was on. They gave thanks to the Earth Mother for their daily food, and then they commenced eating.

The harvest had been good this year, also thanks to the goddess. Cow Girl hoped next year would be as fruitful…

“…Huh?” She stopped with her spoon halfway to her mouth.

“What’s wrong?” uncle asked, but she shook her head. Her uncle was wearing a handmade cotton overshirt, but it was starting to show its age.

I guess I made that for him quite a while ago, Cow Girl thought. She wondered if she’d made a shirt for him back then, too. She couldn’t remember. Her own shirt, though, was getting small, and her uncle’s was getting old. So even if she had made him one…

“…Well, I guess that settles it.”

She hadn’t quite meant to say it out loud. Her uncle looked at her again, but she shook her head once more.

Maybe after today’s work is done. I’ll make one for everyone. But still.

The one she would really be knitting that sweater for was him.

§

“…Oh, shoot.” It was only after she had finished her work, gone back to her room, and pulled out her wool and knitting needles, all fired up to go, that Cow Girl realized her mistake. She almost put her head in her hands.

I don’t have any idea what size to make it for him…!

Obviously, she knew her own size. And her uncle, well, she could come close enough. But him—she hadn’t a clue.

It’s his fault for wearing that armor all the time, she thought. Yes, he occasionally removed it after he got home, but he kept it on practically all the time.

Disappointed to have the wind taken out of her sails, Cow Girl puffed out her cheeks sullenly. She could just imagine what he would say about it—“I see,” and nothing more—and that annoyed her, too. She couldn’t admit that this was effectively a way of denying responsibility, of venting her anger.

“Hrm… Maybe I could…take a look at his clothes…?”

Cow Girl quietly left her room and snuck (for no good reason) down the hall to his room. She frequently popped in while he was away to clean or straighten, but today it felt a little different. Unlike her usual household chores, this time she was coming in to help herself with something she was doing in secret.

Er… Well, I guess there’s no need to knit in secret, but…

But, well, somehow that was what it worked out to. Yep.

“Sorry to…intrude…” she mumbled as she opened the door. Of course, there was no answer.

He’d been out of the house the last several days on an urgent adventure or something. She knew that perfectly well. This wasn’t a problem of etiquette so much as it was a conflict in her own heart.

“…Hmm. No more possessions than usual, I see. Very spare room you keep…” She smiled to herself. There was an oblong chest that held his smattering of personal effects, and then there were a spare helmet, sword, shield, and so on. This was really just a place for him to sleep; that shed was closer to being his “room” in the meaningful sense.

If I’d left him to his own devices, he’d probably have just stayed in there forever… It’s like a cave, she thought. A secret hideout. She remembered running around near the village when they were small, making secret bases like that. The thought filled her with a fondness and a longing that constricted her chest at the same time as it warmed her heart. It showed up on her face as a small smile.

She knew now that her parents must have been aware of those hideouts. Then again, maybe they hadn’t—and she was still the only one, both then and now, who really knew them inside out.

“…Hee-hee.”

Unsure if that was a happy thought, or a rather sad one, Cow Girl sat down on the bed. It didn’t smell like him; how could it? Even when he was gone, she faithfully changed the sheets. Still, she sat there staring distantly up at the ceiling, wondering where he was now and what he was doing…

“No, no, stop that. Now’s not the time.” She smacked herself on the cheeks and stood up aggressively in hopes of shaking herself out of it. If she didn’t do something when she had determined to do it, then she never would. She was just too lazy.

Let’s see, now… She lifted the heavy lid of the chest and pulled out one of his shirts. What did he call this? A gambeson? She seemed to recall it was a type of under armor. It was made of thick padded cotton, pillowy for the most part but reinforced in certain places. An aroma drifted from it—his smell.

“It kind of stinks…” she said, and smiled wanly. The odor was a mixture of mud, sweat, blood. Not exactly a fragrance to stir a young maiden’s heart. But this jacket was something that kept him alive. She couldn’t just go trying to clean it. She didn’t even know how.

When he comes back, I’ll ask him to teach me, she resolved to herself, and then she spread the gambeson on the bed and started measuring it.

“Hmm…”

What exactly was going on here? To reiterate, the gambeson was stuffed with cotton and reinforced in places. It even had some puffy spots, maybe because of the expectation that armor would be worn on top of it. If she tried to knit something on the basis of these measurements—well, it wouldn’t be a total disaster, but it didn’t seem likely to fit quite right. Maybe one of the master craftspeople of the Knitters Guild would be able to do it, but not her.

“What to do…” She put her chin in her hand with another “Hmm.”

Normally, someone trying to answer a question like this would ask her friends, but the only person Cow Girl could think of was Guild Girl. And I’m not entirely comfortable going to her about this…

So, what else could she do?

§

“A sweater, huh… Come to think of it, I’ve never worn one myself.” They’d initially tried chatting out behind the Guild building like they usually did, but a gust of northern wind sent them scurrying into the dining hall. The padfoot waitress, who was on her break, sat rocking her chair back and forth (most unladylike). “After all, I’ve never needed to. I’ve got my own fur!”

“Yeah, you’re very fluffy,” Cow Girl said to her friend (who was quite close to her in age). “May I touch it?” she asked, and then she ran her hand through the soft fur. The waitress had large pads on her hands surrounded by fur. Cow Girl pressed gently on them, and Padfoot Waitress let out a breath. “See? My winter coat’s in!”

“That’s really nice. I’m kind of jealous.”

“Right?” Padfoot Waitress flicked her ears. “But shedding in spring sucks.”

Parting the fur gently revealed distinct under- and overcoats. So as soft as it was, Cow Girl could see how getting rid of it would be an ordeal. “Everyone’s got their own struggles, huh?” she said.

“True that. You know, sometimes I wish I could wear all sorts of different outfits, like humans do.” Padfoot Waitress rested her chin in her hands, her generous chest settling on the table. Her big ears, her big hands, and her tail, all covered in fur, dictated the sort of clothing she could wear. It got in the way of hats and handbags, and there was always the risk that a revealing skirt could come off entirely. And no matter what she wore, the color of her outfit had to coordinate with the color of her hair.

“Guess the grass is always greener on the other side,” Cow Girl said, sighing. Nothing ever went quite exactly the way one would hope. “So, uh, about the sizing…”

“Oh, yeah.” Padfoot Waitress nodded. “Clothes for that goblin-slaying guy. Heck, I dunno. Wouldn’t you of all people know that stuff?” Padfoot Waitress looked at her skeptically.

“Ha-ha-ha,” Cow Girl laughed. “You think the person who makes his armor and helmets might know, though?”

“Oh, you mean the boss at the workshop.” Padfoot Waitress crossed her arms and nodded quickly. Cow Girl knew the waitress was close to the young man apprenticed to the shop master. “I guess it’s possible he might,” Padfoot Waitress said.

“Could you maybe ask him for me?”

“Hmm… I dunno, he seems pretty busy right now…”

“Really?” Cow Girl cocked her head, and Padfoot Waitress said “Yep” and nodded as if she wasn’t thrilled about it herself. Apparently, there was some kind of unrest in the country to the east, while right around here there were plenty of wyverns and demons and the like. That meant lots of adventurers who wanted new equipment, and that meant lots of work at the armory.

“So, they’re doing well for themselves; that’s great.”

“Yeah, it’s fine. But I hardly ever see him these days…,” Padfoot Waitress said in annoyance, leaning on the table in a way that seemed to threaten to crush her chest.

True, Cow Girl was treating this all as if the talk had nothing to do with her—but what else was she supposed to do? They were always separated from war by the thinnest of margins—but that was enough for them to think of it as somewhere else. Cow Girl surely wasn’t completely removed from what was happening. She hadn’t been in the past, and wasn’t now.

The adventures he undertook were goblin hunts, and however much or little, that influenced the scales of Order and Chaos.

“So, I propose a trade!” Padfoot Waitress announced, sitting up abruptly. Cow Girl was grateful for her light touch.

“Oh-ho,” Cow Girl said with an almost comical air of sagacity. “And what is it you wish for?”

“Teach me to knit a sweater, too! Since I’ve got you here and everything!”

“That’s not easy,” Cow Girl said, but she found herself smiling as she said it. There was no need to play coy. “Hah, I don’t mind. But you’ve never needed one before, have you?”

“I bought some gloves once, because my little paws were getting cold. Back when I was a kid. My mom gave me two bronze coins for it.” Padfoot Waitress smiled.

Cow Girl suddenly found herself trying to remember her mother. Her face was already hazy with emotion. “You won’t be able to make anything if you don’t know the sizing,” she said. “That’s my problem right now.”

“Aw, it’ll be fine. I already know every inch!”

“What?” Cow Girl said, blinking. Then she blushed a little. No. She can’t mean…

“…You’re using your own measurements?”

“Uh-huh,” Padfoot Waitress said blandly, even with a hint of pride. “Anyway, even if I screw up, I’ll still foist it off on him!”

Doesn’t seem like much of a gift, Cow Girl thought. She felt a little bad for the young man in question, but decided it was his fault for not being assertive enough. Cow Girl pressed a hand to her own significant chest—and to the red scale tucked there—and giggled.

A girl couldn’t be kept waiting forever, after all.

§

They had their materials, and they had their plan. All that was left was action.

“So tell me, tell me, what are we gonna do?! Start with the collar?!”

“Well, uh, there’s a number of possibilities…”

Padfoot Waitress had successfully obtained the requested information (“He’s a soft touch,” she said), and they were back in their corner of the dining area. The two young women sat side by side, deep in conversation. Failure wasn’t really a possibility in their minds.

Cow Girl had managed to get ahold of knitting needles and a variety of yarn, but now she smiled in spite of herself. “I guess we’ll start with the front, then the back, then the sleeves, then sew them all together… Maybe that would be simplest?”

“Right, right!”

“The front’s nice and big, so that’s a good starting point for your first time.”

“Start with the part that takes the longest, got it.” Padfoot Waitress nodded fervently, leaning forward in her seat, and an unexpected sparkle came into her eyes. “In other words, it’s just like cooking!”

“Ha-ha, uh, I guess so… Yeah, just follow the recipe and you’ll be fine.”

“Don’t worry! I’m not gonna try striking out in my own weird, stylistic direction on my very first attempt.” She waved her paw as if to dismiss the notion and laughed uproariously. “Just gotta take it one thing at a time. Awesome, let’s go!”

“Right, it’s not something you’ll pick up in a day, so don’t sweat it.”

“That’s just like learning to cook, too…”

As they talked, the young women started making delicate movements with their hands, beginning to knit.

There was nothing particularly unusual about it. Fall and winter afternoons were long. It was the way of the world for farm girls to spend those interminable stretches working by the hearth. Sewing, embroidering, doing lacework, and so on… And of course, chatter blossomed like a flower between the two women.

“Hmm, your guy off somewhere again?”

“Uh-huh.” Cow Girl nodded as she pulled on one of her knitting needles. “He’s an adventurer. That’s what he does, right?”

“More goblin slaying?”

“Didn’t sound like it. He didn’t really give me the details, though.”

“Huh…”

Padfoot Waitress seemed to be substantially better at talking than she was at knitting. But the fact that she didn’t simply throw the project aside, despite her obvious struggle, was evidence of how serious she was. Scrunching up her adorable face in concentration, she tried to manipulate the needles with her ungainly paws. If someone saw her who didn’t know any better, they might well think that she was simply playing with some string.

I guess maybe I could give her some pointers or lend a hand, but… Cow Girl had the distinct feeling that that wasn’t the right thing to do. It was so dispiriting, when you were working hard on something, to have someone simply pluck it away from you. And words would be no different. It would get annoying to be constantly bombarded with “tips.”

If Padfoot Waitress looked to her for help, asked her a question—or if she was completely defeated and in danger of giving up, then Cow Girl might have to intervene.

Yeah, that’s a good policy, she told herself.

“Like I said, don’t sweat it too much,” she advised, and that was all. She wasn’t communicating about the specific process so much as from what mindset to approach it. “If you make a mistake, you can always just undo it and try again. You really don’t have to worry.”

“Y-yeah, sure… There’s more than one round to this fight…” Padfoot Waitress looked like she’d dodged the end of the world. “Thank the gods. I thought if I screwed this up, it was all over!”

“That’s one of the nice things about knitting. You can always take it back.” Cow Girl really believed that. She wished everything were that way. There were so many things in this world that couldn’t be redone, that couldn’t be taken back…

“My, what’s going on here?”

“Ooh, knitting! Wow, I guess it’s that time of year already, isn’t it?”

Just as Cow Girl was in danger of getting lost in her lonely thoughts, the two voices snapped her out of it. She looked up to see Guild Girl and Inspector, both stylishly dressed. Cow Girl was always a little jealous of them. She wished she had a slim, curvy body like they had.

Guild Girl, apparently taking Cow Girl’s look to be asking what they were doing here, smiled softly. “Hee-hee-hee, it’s getting into the afternoon. That means it’s time for tea!”

“Oh, want me to go ask the chef to get you something?” Padfoot Waitress said, seeing an opportunity for a quick change of pace. She jumped up, her ears and tail almost fully upright, and tossed her knitting onto the table. Then she bounded off just as energetically, leaving Cow Girl smiling to herself in her wake.

Still… She wasn’t sure how she felt bringing that thought up while knitting something for him. Cow Girl stared into space for a moment, hoping to find a topic of conversation there, and then latched onto the most innocuous thing she could think of. “How are things these days? It sounds like it’s been awfully busy…”

“Hmm, busy… Well, I guess so.” Guild Girl grasped her chin thoughtfully in her delicate fingers. Then she sat down at the round table with the most natural of motions, her beautiful hips swaying as she seated herself. Inspector followed suit.

Every employee of the Guild moved in a careful and practiced manner that drew the eye. It wasn’t the same effortless elegance that high elf exuded; it was unmistakably a way of moving aimed at other humans.

“But not unusually so,” Guild Girl said.

“Plus, the war in the east looks like it’s settling down. Besides, the forces of Chaos running rampant is nothing new.” Inspector nodded as if to emphasize her own statement.

The scales of Order and Chaos were forever swinging back and forth. They would never tilt completely to one side or the other. There was always some greater or lesser unrest occurring; that was simply the way of the Four-Cornered World.

Indeed, it was to be expected. It was hardly possible to imagine a situation in which no trouble occurred anywhere in the world. Instead, Cow Girl thought, if things were quiet around her, that was peace enough.

So she asked, “Things are okay, then?”

“Yeah, I don’t think the effects should reach us,” Inspector said with a nod. The symbol of the sword and scales hanging at her neck jingled with the motion. “I guess the princess rose up to stop the prime minister before he could take complete control or something. Simple enough affair.”

“I heard there was a dashing young knight at the princess’s side,” Guild Girl added with a girlish sigh. A knight who saved a princess. It was like something out of a storybook. A tale of heroism being played out in some far-off country.

Cow Girl, swept away by the thought, found herself murmuring, “How wonderful…”

“Wish that was your story?” Guild Girl said, giving Cow Girl a teasing look. Cow Girl felt heat come into her face. She looked this way and that and finally gazed at the floor.

At last she simply admitted it: “…Yeah, a little.” Saying it out loud, she found the words were lighter and came more easily than she’d expected.

“I can see why…” Resting her chin in her hands, Guild Girl let out another sigh.

I guess even the daughters of nobility fantasize about being princesses with their knights, Cow Girl thought. She felt she could hardly imagine how the pampered children of elite families passed the time.

“You two ladies can have your knights. I think I’ll pass,” Inspector, who was presumably the daughter of a respectable household herself, said with a wave of her hand. “I’m not keen on having anyone around me twenty-four-seven, whether it’s a knight or a husband.”

“Huh, you’re a cold one.”

“I’d prefer you to say realistic.”

I wonder if she’s right, Cow Girl thought. Another thing she didn’t know much about was what it meant to have time to yourself to do exactly what you wanted. Looking at it this way, she started to see that she was lucky enough to have met quite a few different people. It was thanks to her parents in her youth, and then her uncle, and him, and her friends.

“Aaaaand here ya go!” one of that handful of friends exclaimed, bounding up to the table. The tray was just barely balanced on her hand, but amazingly, nothing spilled or fell off. She set the tray on the table and with a “Have some!” she began pouring everyone…something.

“This…isn’t tea, is it?” Guild Girl asked, eyeballing the drink. One could see why: It was a viscous brown liquid. Cow Girl brought it to her nose and sniffed politely to discover it gave off a sweet aroma.

“It smells good, anyway,” she said. “It’s kind of like…”

“Wait, is this—” Inspector clapped her hands as the other two girls pondered. “—that stuff made from the nut of the gods?”

“Bingo!” Padfoot Waitress clapped her big, padded paws.

Cow Girl still didn’t understand what that meant, though. “Nut of the gods?” She cocked her head, then added, “Does it literally come from heaven?”

“I don’t know much about it myself, but I guess it’s called ‘cacao’ or something…” Padfoot Waitress circled her paw in the air. “The chef said it’s some kinda bean they get from the south. I guess you boil it and then add sugar?”

“I’m not sure if it’s a bean so much as a seed,” Inspector said. “It’s supposed to be popular at the capital these days, but I’ve never seen it before, myself. Hmm, hmm…” She studied the contents of her cup with real interest.

Hmm… Well, sure, I guess so, thought Cow Girl.

The stuff had the consistency of barley soup, but the smell was quite pleasant. She didn’t know what the gods ate, but it seemed they were at least capable of eating.

“The south—there’s lots of lizardmen there, aren’t there?” Guild Girl said, likewise studying the dark drink. (At least, she thought it was a drink; it was in her cup, after all.)

“There are supposed to be lots of unusual foods down there,” Cow Girl said. Like tomatoes, and maize, and even the potato she’d had that morning. The potato grew happily here, so maybe some of the other vegetables would as well—just like that camel.

“Anyway, since we’ve got it here,” Cow Girl said, nodding toward her cup, “we should try a sip.”

“Totally. I’m so excited!”

All right, then. They all looked at one another, then brought their cups to their lips.

First, a sip.

“…Wow.”

It was bitter. But definitely sweet. Those seemed like completely contradictory flavors, but there they were, mingling in her mouth. Cow Girl blinked, then took another sip, enjoying the experience. This was a taste you could get hooked on.

“Mmm…” Guild Girl licked some droplets off her lips and closed her eyes as if savoring the aroma of a fine black tea. “I think you could afford to put some pepper in here. It would give it a nice little kick.”

“Sounds like that’s how most people do it,” Inspector said. Then she added “Mmm,” relishing the bittersweet flavor. “Adding sugar is something we thought up here, it sounds like. There’s lots of ways to do it.”

“Maybe we could try some milk. Just like how you can take sugar and milk in your tea.”

Two of the women, though, didn’t speak. They were Cow Girl, silently luxuriating in the flavor, and Padfoot Waitress, who was looking at the floor, red-faced.

“You know, I’ve heard something else, too,” Inspector said with a sly look at her two silent tablemates. “They say this is an excellent aphrodisiac.”

“Huh…?!” Cow Girl yelped, her hand freezing in midair. She was lucky she didn’t reflexively spit out the stuff in her mouth.

Inspector laughed uproariously; it had all been a naughty tease on her part. “Ha-ha-ha! I’m joking, I’m joking!”

“U-urgh…” The clarification seemed to come too late for Padfoot Waitress. She started growling like an actual animal, then suddenly jumped up out of her chair. “My…my heart is racing! I’m getting dizzy…!”

“What?!” Cow Girl looked up in a hurry. She asked if Padfoot Waitress was okay, but the waitress didn’t seem to hear. Her face was bright red, her eyes unfocused as she clung to her cup.

“It’d be a waste, though… I’mma go make him try it!” And then she went rushing off—to where? Well, even to imagine it might be a little much.

She’s gone…

The three women left behind looked at one another, then burst out giggling.

“They say padfoots are especially sensitive to fragrant herbs—I wonder if she didn’t like it?” Guild Girl questioned.

“They definitely seem to have different tastes than we do,” Inspector agreed. “There was this cat-eared girl the other day…” She smirked and took another sip from her cup. “She got completely soused on one mouthful of beer—ended up shoving her head in a water jar and singing about how thankful she was for it.”

“Huh,” Cow Girl said. “I guess you have to take that sort of thing into account when you’re coming up with a new dish.” She decided to make sure she informed her uncle later, but for the moment she enjoyed another sip of the brown drink. It was both sweet and bitter. Not that she intended to take any of that stuff about aphrodisiacs at face value.

Still, maybe she should have him try some of it when he got home? Ha-ha…

“Oh…”

No wonder she was cold.

Flecks of white were starting to drift through the air outside the window. Winter had come to the town on the frontier.