Chapter 2 – Festival’s Eve
Goblin Slayer’s day started early.
He woke before daybreak, donned his equipment, and patrolled the farm.
The predawn hours made for good night vision practice.
Particularly once summer was over and fall had begun, the mornings became dark and cold. A time well suited to him—and to goblins.
In those chilly minutes before the horizon became visible in the distance, he devoted himself to training and vigilance.
Eyes on the ground ahead, weapon in hand, he took one careful step at a time.
If a goblin appeared at that very moment, he would have calmly and quietly dealt with it.
That was how thorough he was—how thorough he wanted to be.
“Morning! It’s a little nippy today, huh?”
Once the sun came up, his old friend rose to the crowing of roosters.
She complained about the temperature, largely because she wore nothing but her underwear and a bedsheet.
She leaned out the window, happily exposing her ample bosom. It was no wonder she was freezing.
“You’ll catch a cold.” Goblin Slayer hardly looked at her, dispassionately sheathing his naked sword.
“Aw, I’m used to it. I’ll be fine. Breakfast will be ready in a few, okay?”
“No…” He cocked his head as if listening for something, seemingly thinking to himself. Finally, he slowly shook his head. “There’s something I have to do first.”
“Oh, really?”
“Please, go ahead and eat. And…” He considered for a moment, but when he spoke, it was in the same tone as always. “I will probably be late tonight.”
“…Sure. Okay.” Cow Girl pursed her lips with a touch of disappointment, but soon she was smiling again. “Be sure to put away your utensils when you’re done eating.”
“I will.”
With a wave, she disappeared from the window. He turned away from her, his gaze settling on the barn.
Well, really just the unused storehouse he happened to be renting.
He opened the door with a creak and went in.
The floor was cluttered with unidentifiable equipment and items. He shoved things to one side or the other to make space.
He sat down in the open area he had haphazardly created, removed the sword from his hip, and took out a whetstone.
In the thin light, Goblin Slayer could see that the blade was starting to warp, chipped and rusting.
It was often said that a single sword could not cut down more than five people before it dulled with blood and fat. It was true.
But how many times did a world-class chef, standing in the kitchen all day, whet his knife?
For an outstanding swordsman, to kill a hundred people was essentially the same thing. For what was a sword, really, but a knife for cutting meat?
In the heat of battle, it was a different story. Doubly so for crude swords stolen from goblins.
To him, weapons and armor were consumables. They could be taken from the enemy if need be.
“…”
But that was no reason to neglect the care of one’s equipment.
Goblin Slayer started polishing his sword.
He scoured off the rust, beat the blade straight again, and used the whetstone to grind flat the chipped places.
In general, people believed that a sword that could bend without breaking was a good piece.
But the only thing good about this weapon was the skill of the Guild manufacturer who made it. It was clearly a simple work of mass production, not some famous blade. The way it was, he could throw it away without hesitation.
“Next.”
He put the sword back in its scabbard and moved on to the next piece of equipment.
For better or for worse, he had entirely replaced his shield, armor, and helmet during the events in the water town. He didn’t particularly mean to use them forever, but he was grateful for them, all the same.
As a result, all they needed was a gentle polish and a quick inspection. His boots demanded considerably more attention, though.
They, too, were nothing special, the kind that could be found anywhere. That being said, they were important for walking and running through caves and across plains, kicking and crushing enemies. He could hardly stand being mired in normal tracts of mud, let alone a Snare trap.
He checked the treads of the boots, scraping off any encrusted earth and polishing them.
He checked the laces, and if they were fraying, he replaced them with new ones.
This alone reduced the chance of taking an unfortunate stumble—and that was reason enough to do it.
Next were his socks. Their importance could not be underestimated. They were crucial for preventing blisters and foot problems on long treks over bad terrain or through swamps.
His master had had little use for footwear, but that was because his master had been a rhea. The small-statured race normally went barefoot, which was to say that their own limbs were the best “shoes.”
If you could go anywhere without making a sound, without ever slipping, you had nothing to fear. Goblin Slayer had always thought this was a skill worth learning.
“Now.”
Having given his equipment a once-over, he stood slowly.
A helmet with dark crimson stains seemed to have fallen from a shelf.
It was a piece of old equipment. Goblin Slayer picked it up and put it back in its place.
Now his store of items was nicely arranged. It was time to get some farm equipment, too.
Letting the whetstone lie where it was, he was about to leave the shed when he saw a figure in the doorway.
“…You’re a hard worker.”
“…Yes, sir.”
He caught the barest wisp of tobacco smoke in the crisp morning air.
The farm’s owner was leaning against the wall, puffing on his pipe.
He wore a somber expression, and Goblin Slayer bowed his helmet ever so slightly.
“Good morning, sir.”
“Morning,” the owner said with the bluntness of a club. “I hear you promised to go to the festival with my girl.”
“Yes, sir.”
“…As her adoptive father, I’m not sure if I should be angry about that.”
He spoke with a sour look. Their eyes met. But then he smiled.
Goblin Slayer had entirely forgotten what the man’s smile looked like, he realized.
The owner scrunched up his face, lowered his head, and scratched at his thinning hair.
“Not to butt into your business, but…,” he murmured to no one in particular. “I know you don’t mean to lead her on. But, well…don’t lead her on.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ve heard you’ve got a fair number of women around you… I know, I know. You’re not the type to be too affected by that.”
“Yes, sir.”
“She probably knows that, too… But spare a thought for her feelings once in a while.”
“…Yes, sir.”
The owner observed Goblin Slayer’s firm nod, and that unreadable expression returned to his face.
“As long as you understand. Or…” He cut himself off and cast a dubious glance at the helmet. “ Do you understand?”
“I believe I do,” Goblin Slayer answered. “Though I’m not confident.”
At that, the owner rubbed the bridge of his nose with a finger.
“…What do you plan to do, after this?”
“After I finish maintenance on the farm equipment, I thought I might go to town to do some shopping.”
“Will you, now…?”
The owner chewed gracelessly on the end of his pipe and closed his eyes. He seemed unsure what to say next.
When he finally spoke, it was in a strained voice.
“…At least wait until after breakfast.”
“…”
“That girl made it for you.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’ve got a day off for once. Take it easy.”
“Yes, sir. However…” He stopped for a moment, almost lost. “Time off is something I don’t understand very well.”
Goblin Slayer did not forget to clean up after breakfast.
§
It was underwear.
Or more accurately, it was armor that strongly resembled underwear.
The set included a chest covering, gloves, and a little something for the lower body. Categorically speaking, it might be called light armor.
In terms of mobility, it easily outperformed a full set of plate mail.
The armor itself was beautifully curved, elaborate, and solid.
The problem was it just didn’t cover enough surface area.
It was just chest armor—really, breast armor —and panties.
There were shoulder pads, true, but that wasn’t really the issue. One good hit to the abdomen and an adventurer’s innards would be sunning themselves. It provided no defense against a stab to the back, either, a wound that could easily be critical.
Well, in that case, at least the armor provided easy access for the administration of first aid. Or maybe it was supposed to help its wearer focus on not getting hit.
But at the end of the day, was anyone really prepared to wear nothing but this over their bare skin?
Surely it needed a supplement—a chain-mail shirt, some kind of under-armor? It might at least stop a fist.
“No, no, no, that’d never work.”
“Why not?”
“Covering yourself up would hide exactly what makes a woman attrac—”
Female Knight stopped and cast a sideways glance at the grimy warrior standing next to her.
“Ugh. Goblin Slayer?!”
“Yes.” He nodded.
They were in the equipment shop at the Adventurers Guild.
There were piles of items all around. In the workshop near the back, the master and his apprentice pounded away with their hammers.
Goblin Slayer frequently came to order new items, but this was the first time he had seen Female Knight there. Partly, this was because a knight’s equipment—from their beloved plate armor to their swords and shields—did not need replacing often.
How could someone like her, who needed serious protection to survive her role in the vanguard, even consider armor like this?
“Are you planning to switch to light armor?”
“Huh? Me? Oh, no, I just…” Her usual firm manner vanished as she trailed off and stared at Goblin Slayer out of the corner of her eye. “Frankly, seeing you makes me want to give up wearing leather armor.”
“Does it?”
Goblin Slayer cocked his head. He was the very picture of scruffy .
Chain mail and dingy leather armor, topped by a cheap-looking helmet that hid his face.
Of course, the toughness of wax-treated leather armor was not to be sneered at. It was certainly lighter than metal armor, but if well made, it allowed the wearer to remain agile. Helmets were out of favor with young and up-and-coming adventurers, but they did protect against a sneak attack to the head. In combination with the chain-mail undershirt, it was perfect for fighting goblins in tight, dark spaces.
“Couldn’t you, you know—” Female Knight observed him from top to bottom, trying to find the right words. “—polish it a little?”
Maybe just take those mysterious crimson stains off it.
“This is deliberate.” Goblin Slayer spoke with the same dispassion as always, yet there was a hint of self-satisfaction at his own knowledge. “It keeps goblins from noticing my scent.”
“…At least keep your body clean.”
“Yes.” Goblin Slayer nodded, grave. “Or people will get angry at me.”
Female Knight presumed he was being serious. She raised her eyes to the ceiling as though praying to the gods.
She wasn’t looking for an oracle or handout, of course. It was just something she did in the heat of the moment.
I think I’ll quit asking questions while I’m ahead.
“…So. What are you buying today?”
“Stakes, and two coils of rope. I also need wire and wood. I must replace my shovel, as well.”
“………” Female Knight gave an involuntary groan. “Come again?”
“Stakes, and two coils of rope. I also need wire and wood. I must replace my shovel, as well.”
“What kind of adventure do you need all of that for?”
“It’s not for an adventure.” Goblin Slayer shook his head. “It’s for slaying goblins.”
Female Knight heaved a sigh. Of course.
But Goblin Slayer was oblivious to her reaction, instead studying the armor with great interest.
It looked to him like a two-piece set of underwear, something he would hesitate to call armor.
“What is this? Piecemeal armor?”
“In a sense, I guess,” Female Knight said, but Goblin Slayer didn’t really understand what she meant. To all appearances, it was considerably more than “piecemeal armor,” but considerably less than “armor.” No one in their right mind would wear this on any adventure where they might run into monsters.
Well, maybe certain talented fighters could pull it off. Or perhaps someone in the rear lines—a wizard or thief, or even a monk.
Having come to this conclusion, Goblin Slayer shook his head gently.
“It would never work.”
“…It’s… Adventuring women, you know…” Female Knight seemed to be trying to answer his objection. But her face was red, and she couldn’t quite look at him. She could barely get the words out, very unlike her usual self. “I mean, there aren’t…a lot of interested guys out there.”
“Is that so?”
Goblin Slayer tilted his head.
Female Knight, at least, struck him as quite pretty.
Her lovely golden hair. Her almond eyes. She had beautiful facial features, too, and her skin seemed smooth. If she put on a dress, she could pass for a noble’s daughter.
But she only answered, “Yeah, it is.” And so it must have been.
“Think about it. Guy adventurers always end up marrying princesses, or some village girl they rescued.”
“So I hear. I cannot speak from experience.” Goblin Slayer inclined his helmet slightly.
He recalled hearing such stories from books when he was a little boy.
The knight slew the dragon and rescued the princess. He took her back to his castle, where he refused the kingship and instead traveled far away.
And in a far, strange land, he married the princess and founded a new country.
“Well, take my word on it.”
Goblin Slayer had the same serious tone he used when solving riddles. “So? What about it?”
“Well, what do you think happens to all the leftover female adventurers?” Female Knight’s expression was despondent and grim.
“Hm,” Goblin Slayer muttered, crossing his arms. “Perhaps they could marry one of their companions.”
“I know plenty of parties that broke up when love got in the way and the situation got to be unbearable.”
“Terrible tales.”
Indeed. Goblin Slayer spoke of the topic with great gravity.
He had seen more than a few parties with many women in them, but keeping them together was a task.
Although, he had also heard that parties of only women often got along quite well. He seemed to recall hearing some such thing from an Amazon once upon a time.
He hadn’t figured it would be of any particular benefit in goblin slaying at the time, but on reflection he wished he had asked for details. After all, he now had two women in his party. So the stories hadn’t been as irrelevant to him as he’d thought.
“Then find a husband who is not an adventurer.”
Anyway, right now he had to talk to the person he was with. Goblin Slayer offered what he thought was a practical suggestion.
But Female Knight gave him a smile with despair fit for the end of the world.
“You really think any guys are out there waiting for a girl who can take down a troll or a dragon with one swipe of her blade?”
“Aren’t there?”
“…Well, what would you think of a woman like that?”
“That she must be quite reliable.”
“…Never mind,” she said, giving Goblin Slayer a dubious look and a deep sigh. “Personally, I don’t really have any interest in non-adventurers, but…” The normally implacable knight shuffled from one foot to the other, unsure where to rest her gaze. “…Maybe it would pay to seem just a bit less…tough.”
“Yes.” At this point, Goblin Slayer finally began to put the pieces together.
That thickly armored fighter in her party—Heavy Warrior.
Goblin Slayer pictured the chiseled face of a man always taking care of the youngest members of their group.
“Is it him?”
“…Yeah.”
Female Knight answered with the slightest nod, the picture of an innocent girl.
Wait…
Goblin Slayer let out half a breath.
He had always taken her to be older, because of her measured demeanor, but perhaps she was younger than he’d realized.
Well, so it went.
“I thought love among party members made things unbearable.”
“There’s exceptions to every rule!”
“I see.”
“…Hey, uh, Goblin Slayer… It kind of kills me to ask you this, but…” Female Knight gulped, and this seemed to embarrass her afresh as she flushed red. “If I… If I wear something like that, do you think it’d get his attention…?”
“I confess I must doubt the sanity of anyone who would ask me that question.”
“Urg…”
Standing in front of the bikini armor, Female Knight found herself at a loss.
As an unwavering wall in combat, she wasn’t used to taking a critical hit.
“If you want to launch a surprise attack, you need to change it up.”
“…Huh?”
It would have been a discredit to her role as a tank if the unexpected statement was enough to stun her, though. She doubtfully shifted her stance.
“Trying similar things again and again will have little effect. At least, in goblin slaying.”
“…I’m not asking about goblin slaying.”
Female Knight glared at him in exasperation.
Goblin Slayer crossed his arms. He thought, then he continued dispassionately.
He really had nothing to draw on but his own experience.
“You’re talking about clothes. You normally wear armor. So get away from that. Wear civilian clothes.”
“Er… C-civilian clothes…? …O-okay. I’ll think about it.”
“I see.”
“Yeah. Um…sorry for the strange question.”
“I don’t mind.” Goblin Slayer shook his head. “We’re colleagues.”
That caused Female Knight to blink.
She wasn’t ready for that, it seemed. She stared intently at the grimy helmet, and then her face relaxed.
“…You’re a strange, stubborn weirdo.”
“I see.”
“But it turns out, you’re not a bad guy.”
That was her surprise attack. She smiled.
“See you,” she said brightly, and left Goblin Slayer standing there, speechless.
§
“Keh-heh-heh! How about that? I think she likes you.”
Goblin Slayer found the papery laugh’s source, the master of the workshop.
How long had he been listening? The old man, short enough to be mistaken for a dwarf, came out into the shop.
Goblin Slayer moved his recent exchange to the back of his mind, striding boldly up.
“I want to make an order. Stakes and—”
“Think I couldn’t hear you? I’ve got it all ready here. You, boy, bring out the goods!”
“Yessir!”
The apprentice quickly obeyed his master. He carried stakes, wire, and all to the counter.
“Thank you,” Goblin Slayer said, and began to inspect the items.
Some items had to be ordered at this workshop, but others they already had in stock from somewhere or other.
Now with everything he needed, he tucked the items under his arm. He propped the shovel against his shoulder, then hung everything else from it in a bundle.
Adventurers quickly learned how to pack everything into the smallest possible space.
“You done a pretty good job making yourself popular here over the last five years, haven’t you?”
Goblin Slayer pulled his purse out of his pack, letting some coins clatter onto the counter.
The master counted them out with a beefy finger, sliding them across the flat surface. His eyes narrowed in his wrinkled cheeks.
“Have I?”
“Y’have.”
“I see.”
“Yep.”
The old man smirked, as if recalling an embarrassing bit of history about a relative.
“When you came in here, some fifteen-year-old kid who wanted cheap equipment, I figured I’d never see you again.”
“As the most cost-effective approach, it was the appropriate choice at the time.”
“True, and I thought you might upgrade one day. But you kept wearing those items out and getting new ones.”
“Would it kill you to buy a decent sword every once in a while?”
Goblin Slayer didn’t reply.
He knew this was all the equipment he needed for slaying goblins.
Even if there had existed an enchanted sword just for killing goblins, this adventurer probably wouldn’t have used it.
“Ah, well.” The master leaned against the counter like an old man tired of his own foolishness. “In the mood to buy anything else today? I’ve got something just a tad unusual.”
“What?”
“A Southern-style throwing knife.”
“Oh-ho.”
Goblin Slayer’s reaction didn’t escape the master’s notice.
“Got your attention, have I?” the old man said with a bold smile. He didn’t wait for an answer before he turned around.
He took a strangely shaped knife from a shelf and set it on the counter with a solid thunk .
It was a most unusual dagger.
The blade split outward into three stems, each bent like a branch. It didn’t seem intended for typical hand-to-hand combat. The only way to use it would be to throw it.
But it was clearly a knife—in other words, not a very formidable weapon.
“Little invention of mine. What do y’think?”
Goblin Slayer took the twisted weapon in his hand. He took a stance, made a few casual swipes, and finally nodded.
“Goblins would have trouble imitating it.”
“Anyone would have trouble imitating it!”
“…What are its advantages?”
The master frowned. But despite his taut features, he went on happily, perhaps enjoying the opportunity to discuss his weapon.
“I know what it looks like, but it’s really a sword.”
His finger, rough from years of working the forge, pointed to the three blades.
“It spins when you throw it—for stability, and to make it go farther. It’s more for cutting than stabbing.”
“So are Eastern throwing knives.”
“Those are piercing weapons. Low-quality piercing weapons.”
“I see.”
Goblin Slayer ran his finger along the windmill-like blades.
It looked passable, at any rate. It couldn’t hurt.
“I’ll take one, then.”
“Pleasure doing business. Five…no, four gold coins.”
A bit expensive for a throwing weapon, but Goblin Slayer counted it out readily.
He lined the brand-new coins up on the counter, and the old man took them without even pausing to ensure their quality.
This young man, this single-minded goblin hunter, much preferred weapons like this to any legendary armaments.
He had been a regular customer here for five years, and any shopkeeper who couldn’t figure out a customer’s preferences after that long would quickly be out of business.
And he very much doubted this unusual man was the type to try to pay with counterfeit currency.
“And scrolls. If you get any in, set them aside for me.” Goblin Slayer hung the fan-bladed knife behind him, from his belt. He tried drawing it several times, moving it around until it no longer bumped up against his item pack.
The shopkeeper watched him with a satisfied expression and replied easily, “Sure, just like always. Don’t see too many of those, though. Anything else?”
“Hmm.”
Finally satisfied with the throwing weapon’s placement, something suddenly seemed to occur to Goblin Slayer.
“…I wouldn’t mind some dried fish.”
“I sell armor and weapons here. I’m not a fishmonger.”
“I see.”
The expressionless helmet tilted. The shopkeeper sighed.
All these strange requests. Does he really understand…?
“…If preserved is all right…I’ve got some.”
“In that case, please deliver two or three barrels of them to the farm.”
“Barrels? I told you, this ain’t the grocers.”
But it came out as a mutter. The old man took out his order book, licked his pen, and wrote it down.
§
Finished with his shopping, Goblin Slayer left the armory with his usual unconcerned stride.
He marched boldly to the Guild’s bulletin board, studying each new quest.
All the other adventurers had chosen their quests already. The bulletin board was visible in places where pieces of paper had been removed.
Dragon problem. Unexplored ruins. Ogre (what was that?). Gathering resources in the forest. A treasure hunt. A vampire in an old castle (he’d heard of such creatures). Exterminating rats in the sewers. Taking out a band of brigands.
Periodically he saw words like Evil Sect , Dark Gods , demon slaying , and investigation .
He searched from the upper right to the upper left, row by row, until he wound up at the lower left.
He repeated this two or three times, then finally reached a conclusion.
“…Nothing today.”
This was unusual. Goblins could appear anywhere, at any time.
He glanced toward the front desk, but saw no sign of Guild Girl.
“…Hrm.”
With the slightest of grunts, he headed for the desk anyway.
His metal helmet swiveled left and right, until he spotted a Guild employee who seemed to have time to kill.
“Hey.”
“Wha—? Uh, ah!”
The startled employee dropped the book she had been secretly reading behind her ledger.
The employee—Inspector—picked up her book like nothing had happened and quickly put on a smile.
“Ah, if it isn’t Goblin Slayer.”
The eccentric adventurer was famous around the Guild in more ways than one.
“Is this about yesterday’s quest? We have the reward ready to pay out…”
“All right, then. Please divide it into two bags. Evenly.”
“Certainly, sir.”
“I would also like to make my detailed report.”
“Ah… You can give it to me, if that’s all right…” Inspector hesitantly glanced at a back room of the office. “I hope she won’t hold it against me, though…”
Goblin Slayer didn’t really understand what Inspector was muttering about.
“You’re not assigned to me, so I might not understand everything. Would another day be all right?”
“I don’t mind,” Goblin Slayer said with an indifferent nod. “But—is she okay?”
“Oh, she’s fine.” Inspector lowered her voice to a whisper, clearly mindful of her surroundings, and smiled. “There’s a lot to take care of before you take time off. She’s had to be everywhere at once today.”
“I see.”
“Can I tell her Goblin Slayer was worried about her?”
“I’m not worried.” But he didn’t exactly refuse, adding “I don’t mind” with a nod.
Inspector’s smile broadened. He turned his helmet to indicate the bulletin board.
“Goblins. None today?”
“Goblin slaying? Just a moment, please.” Inspector vanished into the back room and returned with a leather pouch from a safe.
She measured out the gold coins inside with a scale, then transferred them to two new bags.
“Here you go.”
“Thanks.”
“Now, as for goblin slaying…”
Goblin Slayer nonchalantly took the reward and tucked the two bags into his item pouch. While he did so, Inspector took out a register and thumbed through the pages.
“Let’s see… You’re right. It appears there are no requests involving goblins today.”
“Were there any that somebody else already took?”
“No, sir. It doesn’t seem so for today.”
“I see,” Goblin Slayer said with something like a low groan.
“You seem disappointed.”
“Yes.” Inspector had spoken lightheartedly, but Goblin Slayer nodded seriously. “Very disappointed.”
“Sorry I couldn’t help,” Inspector said, bewildered by his response. Goblin Slayer turned and walked away.
Goblins were thieving, scheming creatures. Though they created crude weapons and tools, it never crossed their minds to make their own food or even their own dwellings. They survived by stealing what they needed…
“…”
…In other words, they were biding their time.
Goblin Slayer grunted and shook his head. He glanced around the lobby as he gathered his thoughts.
“Arrgh! My head feels like it’s gonna burst! And Guild Girl isn’t even here!”
“Silly. It’s because, you drank, too much.”
There was Spearman, holding his formerly addled head, and Witch, at it as usual.
“Oh, hey, you’re back. Geez, how long does it take to buy one item?” Heavy Warrior said, resting his chin on his hands. Female Knight blushed furiously.
“O-oh, hush. There are all kinds of things I have to consider…”
Half-Elf Fighter jumped in playfully. “Well, even our beloved Knight wants to look stylish for the festival!”
“Wow, really?! Aw, that’s great. I wonder if I should wear a dress or something, too,” Druid Girl said, cupping her cheeks with her hands. But Scout Boy quipped at her coldly.
“You wanna look stylish, huh, Sis? …Well, you’re beautiful on the inside, at least.”
“Wh-what did you say?!”
“Hey, keep it down, don’t shout!”
Heavy Warrior’s party was quite enamored with discussing the festival. Next to them, Rookie Warrior and Apprentice Priestess affected disinterest.
“Are you just gonna stick to your votive robes? I was kind of hoping to see you in your ritual clothes…”
“Watch it, or I’ll lay you out.”
“Yeah, but I mean, it’s a festival …”
“……W-well, I guess maybe I could…dress up a little…”
“Really?! Woo!”
“Hey, don’t make such a big deal about it, you’re embarrassing me!”
The other adventurers were the same way. Everyone brimmed with excitement for the upcoming festivities. Not a single person wasn’t looking forward to it.
“…Almost no one,” Goblin Slayer murmured within his helmet as his gaze met with an adventurer sitting in the corner. The young man wore a black overcoat, almost defiantly, and watched the adventurers with a glittering gaze.
It wasn’t unusual. Ambition was necessary to succeed in this line of work.
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 have 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.
They pushed open the door with a creak and were greeted with a wave of noise and body heat. Along with the lively chatter of the drinkers packed into the seats came the mingled aromas of wine and meat.
“Mmm!” High Elf Archer narrowed her eyes appreciatively, her ears bouncing.
“I thought you didn’t like wine.”
“Fair enough,” High Elf Archer said with a wink. “But I love an upbeat atmosphere.”
“Is that so?”
“It sure is… Oh, two, please!” She cheerfully held up two fingers to the waitress who came out to greet them. Luckily, there were seats available.
The waitress, who was dressed in a provocative outfit and walked with a seductive gait, led them to a round table some ways from the center of the room.
Goblin Slayer set down his pack and sat, the old wooden chair groaning quietly.
High Elf Archer, on the other hand, settled down with the lightness that was the specialty of her people and elicited not a sound from her chair.
“…Hey, I keep thinking,” she said, her thin, white finger indicating Goblin Slayer. “Can’t you at least take that thing off at mealtimes?”
“I cannot.” The helmet moved gently from side to side. “What if goblins attacked?”
“Right here in town?”
“Goblins can appear in town.”
She gave a tired, helpless smile.
It was not difficult to understand her perspective. After all, Goblin Slayer’s strange appearance did stand out, even among adventurers, with the grimy leather armor, the cheap helmet, the sword of strange length, and the little round buckler fastened to his arm. Luckily, it wasn’t unusual around here to see adventurers who kept their equipment on, even in their day-to-day. However…
“What’s that…? An adventurer?”
“I thought it was an undead or something…”
“Yikes, it looked at me!”
“So I wasn’t just imagining it…”
…this restaurant was not frequented exclusively by adventurers. And the various travelers there had obviously noticed him.
There were only one or two other customers who appeared to be adventurers, sitting in a corner of the tavern where they wouldn’t be too conspicuous. One was tall while the other was a diminutive rhea.
He might have been a wizard, judging from the cloak that covered every inch of skin. His appearance was not that unusual among adventurers.
Perhaps discussing a quest, they appeared to be arguing vehemently, though their voices did not carry.
High Elf Archer flicked her ears suspiciously, but eventually lost interest.
“So,” she said, turning her gaze from the two adventurers back to the helmet. “What are you going to do?”
“About what?”
“About the festival tomorrow. I heard, you know.” A mischievous smile played across her face, and she pointed at him. “You’re going to spend the morning playing around with that girl from the farm and the afternoon with Guild Girl, aren’t you?”
“I am not playing.” His response was utterly brief. He fixed his gaze on her from within his helmet. He might have been glaring at her, but his visor made it impossible to tell. “You have sharp ears.”
“Well, I am an elf.”
She made a point to twitch the knifelike ears she was so proud of and wore a catlike grin.
“Sounds like she’s made plans for your afternoon together, so that’s taken care of.”
“Hrm.”
“I just thought maybe you had something to do in the morning, since you’re finally going on a date and all.”
“Is that so?”
“It is.”
“…Not yet,” Goblin Slayer grunted, shaking his head. “I haven’t even thought about it yet.”
“You’re impossible,” High Elf Archer said, widening her eyes and kneading her brow as if to relieve a headache. “But at least you’re always you, Orcbolg.”
Her expression quickly changed to one of interest, her ears flitting up and down. “Anyway, what if you take her someplace she likes?”
“Someplace she likes…?”
“Yeah, or do something she enjoys… You’ve known her a long time, right?”
This time it was Goblin Slayer’s turn to seem perplexed. High Elf Archer nodded with satisfaction.
“Also, you have to say more than just I see , That’s right , Is that so? , Yes , and No .”
“Hrk…”
High Elf Archer ignored the gulping Goblin Slayer, turning her attention to the menu on the wall.
“What to order, what to order?” she said, in a tone that expressed her joy clearly even without the help of her ears bobbing along.
Her purse must have been bulging with the earlier day’s reward. Left to her own devices, she would probably have burned through it in a flash.
“Anything you want to eat, Orcbolg?”
“Anything is fine,” Goblin Slayer said quietly. “You’re paying. Get whatever you like.”
“Sheesh. I can’t tell if you’re trying to be considerate or what.”
“It’s my nature.”
“Yeah, I know.”
High Elf Archer sighed, but her annoyance lasted only a moment.
“Excuse me!” She waved to a waitress, then proceeded to request a large swath of the menu. She started with a wild greens salad of some sort, and when she found out there was a top-quality grape wine available, she didn’t hesitate to add it. At this point, Goblin Slayer could not help breaking in.
“I will not be able to see you home if you get drunk.”
“Erk,” she said, her ears trembling as if this were completely unexpected. “I can’t believe you think I would get too drunk to walk.”
“Wouldn’t you?”
“That only happens on very rare occasions!”
She sniffed, but Goblin Slayer continued in a clipped tone, “I have things to do after this.”
“ Sigh …”
She turned her head away as if disinterested.
The servers wove their way through the crowded restaurant like adventurers dodging traps. Her eyes followed the steam rising from the plates they carried, until her gaze found its way back to Goblin Slayer.
“…You need any help?”
“No.” Goblin Slayer shook his head, then after a moment’s thought, spoke again. “I’m all right for now.”
“Hm.”
Then they fell silent, making no effort to talk until the food arrived.
To the other customers, the silent adventurers were just one more strange part of the scenery.
The food that finally arrived included soup, bread, and cheese. And wine.
The steaming soup was grain boiled in sweet cream. The hard, black bread could be dipped in the soup to soften it up. The moist cheese was salty and savory for an excellent accompaniment to the soup.
“I bet I know someone who’d like this place.” High Elf Archer laughed, prompting an “Indeed” from Goblin Slayer.
“Not that dwarf, though. I’m sure he’d complain about the wine tasting like water or whatever. Guaranteed.”
“You mean fire wine?” Goblin Slayer gulped some of the wine through his visor. “It’s a good tonic, and a good fuel. Also useful as disinfectant.”
“I assume you’re not joking. But that stuff is not fit for drinking.”
She giggled, her laugh ringing like a bell.
“Orcbolg… That reminds me.” She pushed her plate aside, leaning in so her face was close to his. She appeared cheerful, but her voice was strained.
“What?”
“Today… Did you know that girl did some shopping at the workshop?”
“Yes.”
“That girl” was likely Priestess.
Goblin Slayer nodded.
“Well, what do you think of the equipment she bought?”
“Hm?” This time, he shook his head. Through the very slight haze of the wine, he pictured her from that afternoon. He poured some water from the carafe into his glass and took another gulp. “I didn’t ask.”
“Oh, really?”
High Elf Archer blinked, muttering, “Unusual” in surprise as she played with her glass.
“Hmmm. Well, maybe I should keep it to myself, then… You wanna know?”
“If you want to tell me, then I’ll listen.”
“If the question was whether I wanted to, I’d say I do. But she really didn’t say anything to you?”
“No.”
“I’ll keep her secret, then,” High Elf Archer said with a wink. This was not a typical elven gesture. She had picked it up from living in town. She smiled, amused to be borrowing human body language. “I think it’ll be more interesting that way.”
“Do you?”
“Sure do.”
“Do you, now…” Goblin Slayer nodded once more, then searched in his item bag.
He pulled out the leather pouch containing his reward, almost smiling as he reached inside.
“I will pay while you can still remember.”
Clack, clack, clack. He lined up three gold coins on the table.
In an instant, the elf’s expression changed from relaxed to hostile.
“I said I’d treat you.”
“Sometime—”
Goblin Slayer, most unusually, cut himself off. It sounded as if he himself didn’t believe what he was about to say.
“…Sometime, I may…ask for your help.”
“Paying in advance, huh?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm.”
We must be drunk.
Her and Orcbolg both.
Well, I guess…huh. It’s okay.
“No need.”
“…I see.”
Goblin Slayer nodded impassively.
High Elf Archer stuck out a pale finger, drawing a lazy circle in the air.
“You can pay me back by going on an adventure!”
“Erk.”
“Didn’t I tell you already?” the high elf adventurer asked as she took a sip of wine. “Oh, non -goblin-related, of course.”
“…”
Goblin Slayer was silent. He probably had no idea what to say. High Elf Archer held herself back, waiting to hear what would come out of his mouth. Elves were used to waiting. Ten seconds, ten years—it made no difference.
“All right… Thank you for your help.”
“Great!”
Now that she had his promise, High Elf Archer puffed out her cheeks. She narrowed her eyes like a cat and let out that laugh that formed in the back of her throat and emerged like the ring of a bell.
“Now come on, let’s eat. It’s gonna get cold.”
“Right.”
As he set to his meal, Goblin Slayer glanced at the corner of the tavern. But the two adventurers were already gone.
“Hmph,” he snorted in displeasure, then tore off a piece of bread.
“By the way,” he began.
“What’s up?”
“Do you know what the fragrant olive means, in the language of flowers?”
The dinner consisted solely of High Elf Archer’s favorite foods, but Goblin Slayer wasn’t one to complain.
And when he had carried her up to the second floor of the tavern and paid for her room, requesting that the meal be put on her tab, he left the building.
§
He always knew what he had to do.
He constantly had to think, look ahead, stay vigilant, plan countermeasures and execute them.
What Goblin Slayer had to do at this moment was dig a hole.
It was night—the twin moons were already among the glinting stars filling the heavens.
All alone, he silently thrust the shovel into the ground, digging, digging.
The warmth from the wine helped ward off the chilly night breeze.
He was outside the town gate, on a footpath off the main road. It cut through a field, but not a wide, flat grassy plain. There were hills, copses of trees, reeds. Away from the road, the land was wild.
The place was largely deserted, which was why he’d chosen to dig his hole there.
It was about as deep as a person was tall. Not a dwarf or a rhea, but a human.
He lined the bottom with the thin sharpened stakes he had whittled and hid the opening with the earth he had dug out. The soil rested on a blanket over the mouth of the pit. At a glance, one would never suspect there was anything there.
He did this several times, then scattered small, bright stones around the area.
“Now then…”
The trouble was all the leftover soil.
Goblins could use it to strengthen the walls of their cave, and so wouldn’t be bothered by it, but he didn’t have the same luxury.
Doing landscaping by hand was quite troublesome for an adventurer.
Goblin Slayer put the earth into sacks he had prepared beforehand.
Now they were sandbags.
He cinched up the mouths of the bags, then carried them two at a time, one on each shoulder.
He hid them in the rushes not far from the hole, building up a half circle.
It was uncertain whether this would help them later. But it couldn’t hurt to be prepared for everything.
If nothing else, Goblin Slayer never begrudged necessary labor.
He piled the sandbags carefully, leaving no gaps, then finished by giving them a few smacks with the shovel to pack them in.
“…Mm.”
Finally he nodded, satisfied.
It would do for the holes. The other places were all prepared. This had been the last.
All that was left was the trap he had built with the remaining stakes, the rope, and the wood, but there were only so many places he could set it up.
Goblin Slayer checked the sky, trying to judge how much time he had by the slant of the moons. The nights were long, and morning came late in fall and winter. Even so, he doubted he had much longer to work.
He quickly pulled the wooden boards out of his pack by their ties.
He moved over to shrubs and trees, doing some delicate work before he rose.
“Time to hurry.”
He took up his baggage on his shoulders then ran under the moons like a shadow.
He was past the reeds and through the trees when it happened.
“Hey, what are you doing there?!”
A voice came slicing through the air like an ambush. Goblin Slayer stopped dead.
There was the crunching of plants under boots, the scrape of them brushing against armor.
“Hm,” Goblin Slayer muttered, but his hand did not move to his sword.
No goblin spoke the common tongue so fluently.
“Who’s there?” he asked shortly. A rustle came as if in answer.
A tall person enveloped in an overcoat appeared.
The person’s boots, just visible under the hem of the coat, were well used, the toes reinforced. Clearly an adventurer.
But the harsh voice that responded offered no answers.
“ I’m asking the questions here.”
The timbre caused Goblin Slayer to murmur, “A woman…?”
“…Once again. Who or what are you?”
Almost immediately, a white light, piercing to eyes adjusted to the dark, shot into the sky.
“I am Goblin Slayer.”
With one finger he casually pushed away the blade at his throat.
He sounded put out, almost like he was fighting a yawn.
A long sword—blade one-sided—and a skilled sword fighter.
True, it had happened too quick for a response—but he had also chosen not to respond.
It would be foolish to ask who an opponent was and cut them down in the same breath.
Even one in the grip of bloodlust could understand that much.
Shrouded in her coat, the woman narrowed her eyes doubtfully.
“You…slay goblins…?”
“Yes.”
“…Sounds insane.”
“I see.”
The blade he had pushed aside slid back, seeking his neck.
It lifted the chain with the silver tag that hung there.
“A silver rank tag… Silver-ranked adventurer?”
“It would seem,” Goblin Slayer said with a nod, “the Guild has recognized me as such.”
“…I see.”
The sword retreated like a breath of wind and returned to its scabbard with a click .
The sheer smoothness of the motion suggested this was a high-ranking adventurer. Certainly at least Copper, Goblin Slayer guessed.
“It seems I was too hasty. My apologies.”
“No, it’s fine.”
“I thought you were an undead or something…”
The woman sounded awkward as she apologized, but her tone had softened.
Goblin Slayer shook his head gently. It didn’t particularly matter to him.
The problem was—
“Hey, don’t I keep telling you not to do that?”
At that moment a voice, bright as the breaking of the sun, came from behind her.
“She jumps to the worst conclusions about everybody. Don’t worry, I stopped her.”
“The fact remains that he was suspicious.”
The next voice was cold as cut ice. Two new people.
With a crinkle, the grass parted, producing a short adventurer also in an overcoat.
It would be easy to mistake this person for a rhea, but they carried a full-sized sword at their hip.
They must be human. A rhea wouldn’t have the muscle to swing that weapon.
The other person carried a large staff and was dressed more smartly than the other two. Obviously a magic user of some type.
And all of them, to judge from their voices, were women. Parties composed entirely of women were relatively rare.
“So, what’s the story? I’m curious myself,” the diminutive swordswoman asked.
Before Goblin Slayer could say anything, she took a couple of nimble steps forward.
With a gait as lighthearted as her question, she closed the space between them as though she were out on a stroll.
“Hrm…,” Goblin Slayer muttered, and after a moment’s consideration, gave his answer.
“I am taking precautions.”
“Precautions? Hmm…” She peered around Goblin Slayer, then said indifferently, “Strange equipment you’ve got…”
“Is it?”
“Ah, sorry. I don’t mean to make fun of you. I just think it’s amusing.”
Her voice was so cheerful that Goblin Slayer could tell she was grinning under her hood.
Nonetheless, her clarification evoked no reaction from him. He had no idea what might be amusing about his grubby leather armor and cheap-looking helmet, or his sword and shield.
But as the women took stock of him, he scrutinized them in turn.
They were not from the local crowd of adventurers. And they were not goblins—of that, at least, he was sure.
“…I don’t think he’s involved. Most likely.”
After a time, the adventurer with the staff spoke in her frigid tone.
“Frankly, I can hardly believe someone this weird even exists.”
“I…suppose so. Granted he hides his face and skin, but I agree this seems a bit much.”
The response came from the first woman. Her sword still in its scabbard, she continued in an oddly boastful tone, “I saw the difference in our abilities. He won’t be a problem.”
“You think? If you say so, I guess it must be true.”
The girl, who had cocked her head while her companions discussed, ended by clapping her hands.
“Well, mister, sorry to bother you!”
“It’s fine.” Goblin Slayer shook his head slightly, then set his cargo on the ground. “Did you come to see the festival?”
“Huh? Oh, uh, well… I guess so. It’s just near here, right?”
“Yes.” Goblin Slayer nodded. “This is the town that will hold the harvest festival.” Then, after a moment’s thought, he added, “If you need an inn, you had best get one soon.”
“Oh, wow. Okay. I see. It’s pretty late now. We’d better get going. Sorry!” she added one last time, and pattered lightly away.
The other two hurriedly collected themselves as she slipped farther and farther away.
“Argh, she’s always—! We shall take our leave of you, then. Apologies for the trouble.”
“Sorry.”
The other two followed the departing girl, melting away like shadows.
Goblin Slayer, now alone, simply muttered, “Hm.”
He had placed a small stone where the short swordswoman had stood just a moment ago.
As he recalled, it was the exact spot where he had dug and concealed a hole.
Was it martial training, the way she walked, magic, or simply luck? He didn’t know.
And speaking of things he didn’t know, he couldn’t determine why the women had been using this footpath and not the main road.
“……”
But thinking about it brought him no answers, so he simply dismissed the question.
They were almost certainly just adventurers who had come from elsewhere to see the festival.
And they were not goblins. That was enough.
Still, he had felt sure that people would not come through this area…
“…I’ll have to pick my places even more carefully.”
There was much to do.
And he always knew what must be done.
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