Goblin Slayer - Volume 3 - Chapter 3

Chapter 3 – The Harvest Festival Brings Dreams

Pew! Pew! The morning sky filled with lazy bursts of colored smoke. 

It must have been hired wizards putting on a fireworks show. The scintillating colors made their skill apparent. 

Things would be busy despite the early hour, so the perkiest performance groups were already up and playing music. The ruckus carried even to the farm, a good distance from town, brushing past Cow Girl’s ears. 

The weather was beautiful, and it was festival day—the harvest festival, the autumn festival. 

Her heart was light, dancing in her chest. She was in high spirits, altogether too happy to sit still. 

“Oooh… Ummm… Ohhh…” 

Or at least, that’s how she should have felt. 

But there was a reason she was in her room in her underwear, groaning. 

Her little closet hung open, clothes littering the room from door to bed. There was hardly a place to walk. 

And in the middle of it all crouched Cow Girl. 

Her hair was a mess. After all the effort she had put into straightening it, now she would have to run a brush through it again later. 

But that was a minor problem. 

She had never been much for makeup. She might straighten her hair, put on a little powder and a touch of rouge, but that would be it. 

So the problem was— 

“I have no idea what to wear!” 

This was critical. 

Would a dress be good? Or should she try to play it more casual? Or should she go bold? 

“Can’t wear my work clothes… Or can I? Just plain and simple?” 

Ah, but one thing, exactly one thing was certain. 

“ He ’ll be dressed the way he always is!” 

Grimy leather armor and shabby helmet, carrying a sword not long but not short, with a round shield fastened to his arm. 

He would be wearing his normal clothes (?), and she hers, and that was how they would go to the festival together. They would go to the festival together! 

While she had been holding her head with one hand, the work clothes had found their way into the other. She tossed them into the hamper. Bye. 

Leftover were outfits she had assembled bit by bit on her occasional days off. 

But none of them seemed reasonable. There was nothing she could wear now, when it counted. 

Tragically, she just didn’t have enough experience points in everyday matters. Her level was too low. 

It was clearly too late for regrets, but she wished she had tried to be more fashionable on a regular basis. 

“Maybe… Maybe I don’t need to worry about underwear…” 

Yeah. That would be all right. For sure. 

—No! You need to figure out your regular clothes, never mind your underwear! Argh, I’m getting confused! 

She thought she had heard once that when you were this confused, the important thing was to not show it. 

Letting out an involuntary little scream, she picked up one article of clothing after another, deemed each not quite appropriate, and tossed it aside. 

Then she wondered if the thing she had most recently discarded might actually be best, grabbed it again, and put it to her chest, only to throw it away once more. 

Her date with him was in the morning. All this fretting was wasting valuable time. 

She was so preoccupied with these concerns that she didn’t hear her uncle’s knock. 

“…Ahem. Excuse me. Is now a good time?” 

“Oh! Eep! Uh…oh… Dadd—I mean, Uncle?!” 

She dove for her bed and wound the blanket around to cover herself. 

When she checked, the door was still shut. She put a hand to her ample chest to calm her pounding heart. 

“O-okay. Come in.” 

“Pardon me. What…? What is all this?” 

Her uncle could hardly be blamed for his sigh as he entered the room. 

She didn’t even try to make an excuse, but only averted her eyes from the mess in embarrassment. 

“Planning to open your own clothing store…?” 

“Ha… Ha-ha-ha.” 

She scratched her cheek in a gesture of unmistakable embarrassment toward her exasperated uncle. 

“…Just make sure you clean it up,” he said. He didn’t have to add anything else. “Anyway, I…hm. Now’s a good time. I have something for you.” 

“Huh? What’s that?” 

In response to her puzzlement, he offered her a startling blue dress. The dazzling colored cloth was decorated with lace and embroidery. 

Her uncle’s expression was difficult to describe, except for the wistful reflection in his eyes. 

“My little sister…your mother wore this when she was your age.” 

“Oh…!” 

She thought it was truly beautiful. She took it and held it tentatively in front of herself, to see how it looked. 

“I wonder if I can wear it. Will it look good on me…?” 

“It’ll be perfect,” her uncle said. “Your mother had longer hair, but otherwise you’re her spitting image.” 

“R-right. Right! I’ll try it on.” 

Mommy wore this? Do I…look like her? 

Inexpressible feelings welled up at that thought, and she hugged the dress to herself tightly. 

“Careful, it’ll wrinkle.” 

“Oh, r-right… Gotta watch out. But… Hee-hee-hee!” 

She had all but smashed it against her huge chest, and now she hurriedly smoothed it out again so it would stay neat. 

The smile on her face, however, she couldn’t help. She spoke her next words sincerely. 

“Thank you, Uncle!” 

He blinked and raised his eyes to the ceiling for several seconds before shaking his head. 

“…It’s nothing. Don’t mention it.” And then his craggy face softened just a bit. “It belonged to your mother, after all. Now it’s yours. Wear it with love.” 

“I will! I’ll treasure it.” 

As he closed the door, her uncle warned her not to hurry and trip in it, to which she responded at the top of her lungs, “I won’t!” 

Then she flung off the blanket around her and tried on her mother’s dress. 

The billowing skirt felt a bit alien to a girl used to wearing farm clothes. 

But the foreign sensation also brought home the fact that she was breaking the routine, and that was exciting. 

She donned a hat with a big ribbon to accompany the dress. 

This’ll do it! 

She spun around in a quick inspection of her appearance. There was no mirror to look in—but then, a girl couldn’t have everything. 

The only issue was her shoes, which weren’t very stylish… 

But this is enough to make me a proper lady, anyway! 

“All right, let’s go!” 

She threw open the door. But she saw only her uncle waiting in the kitchen. 

He had the milk out and seemed to be in the middle of something. 

“Uncle, it’s festival day. You’re not going to go out…?” 

“I’m too old for that sort of thing. I’ll stay here with the whaddaya call it—ice crème.” He had learned how to make the frozen treat, but frowned as his mouth formed the unfamiliar name. “What about you? Not going to stay out the whole day?” 

“Nah. What if you need to go out? We can’t just leave the farm alone.” 

“That so?” he murmured as she waved good-bye. 

She was a bit distracted that he seemed to want to say something, but… 

“See you later!” 

“Mm. See you. Be careful.” 

She was out of time. Cow Girl went quickly out the door. 

The sky was blue, the smoke from the fireworks clearing. The autumn sun washed over their hill, and the wind swept by in a rush. 

And there he was, standing in the sun, scanning the area as he always did. 

Just as she’d expected, he wore all his usual equipment. The dirty armor, the low-quality helmet, the sword of a strange length, and the round shield. 

Ah, but— 

I’m different today! 

“Hey! Sorry to keep you waiting.” 

“Not at all.” 

She waved to him, trying to act as casual as possible. 

He returned with his usual bland answer, then cocked his head in thought before adding, “I haven’t been waiting very long.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yes.” 

“Let’s go, then!” 

“Yes.” 

He nodded, then prepared to set off ahead of her at his routine brisk pace. 

But before he could, Cow Girl spun and seized his leather-gloved hand. 

“Erk…” 

“It’s gonna be crowded. You wouldn’t want to get separated, would you?” 

Even to Cow Girl herself, it smacked of pretext. She wished her voice wouldn’t scratch. 

Maybe his gloves would stop him from noticing her pulse pounding through her palm… 

It was hard to say if he was aware of her feelings. Perplexed, he said, “It may be crowded…in town.” 

“W-well, it can’t hurt to be prepared.” Cow Girl glanced away and scratched her cheek with her free hand. She could feel the heat on her fingertips. She must have been bright red. “I mean, we need to kind of—get used to it.” She grabbed the brim of her hat and adjusted it so he wouldn’t see her blush. She gently adjusted her grip on his hand. “Because I’m—I’m not used to it.” 

“I see.” He nodded. “That is important.” 

Cow Girl nodded, too, and walked along with her hand in his. 

“…H-hey.” 

“What is it?” 

“Uh, I mean—” Gazing straight ahead, Cow Girl asked what she had been dying to ask. “My clothes—I mean…what do you think?” 

“…” 

It was the same road they always walked on. The same scenery they always saw. 

The same him. A different her. Holding hands. 

The same silence he always lapsed into when he thought. Then— 

“They suit you. I think, anyway.” 

It was enough to make her every step lighter than air. 

“…Hee-hee-hee!” 

Cow Girl felt like she might just float up to the sky. 

§ 

It was a flood of sound. 

Horns blew, drums pounded, flutes sang, and footsteps and laughter filled the streets. 

Shopkeepers called out, street performers yelled, and the voices of passersby rolled past in waves. 

It was palpable in the air even before they reached the town gate, but inside, things were on an entirely different level. 

“I know they do this every year,” she said, grasping his glove tightly, still blushing, “but it’s always amazing.” 

“Yes.” 

His helmet moved in response. 

Today of all days, his strange equipment didn’t stand out too much. After all, everywhere they looked, performers danced in the street and put on impromptu shows. And there were more than a few visiting adventurers who didn’t remove their equipment in town. 

If anything, it was Cow Girl who drew all the attention. 

An elegant young woman was holding hands with an adventurer in a grimy helmet and armor. Curious eyes followed her one after another. 

I wonder how I look to them. 

She enjoyed the passing thought. 

Maybe they thought she was an aristocrat mingling with the populace, and he was her bodyguard. 

No… I guess that’s a little much. 

She was the niece—the adopted daughter—of a local farm owner who had a fair amount of land to his name. 

And her companion was a known veteran around these parts, a Silver-ranked adventurer. 

Of course they all knew that she was no young noble. And yet… 

“Guess I had a pretty good idea.” 

“Of what?” 

She snickered at his questioning helmet, then made a show of straightening her hat. 

“Where you would take me first.” 

“Hm.” 

He stared up at the sky silently, thinking. The stream of people broke around them as they stood still like rocks in a river. 

They weren’t really in anyone’s way. She waited for his response, smiling. 

After a moment, he murmured as if in sudden realization: 

“I haven’t had breakfast yet.” 

“Oh,” she said, putting her hand over her open mouth. 

He was right. 

She had been so concerned with her clothes and preparations that the morning meal had slipped her mind. 

He gazed at her unflinchingly as she covered her eyes. 

“Shall we get something at a stall?” 

“…Yeah. That sounds good,” she agreed. 

She felt bad for her uncle, but it was too late for that now. 

He was right there with her. She would start by apologizing to him. 

“…I’m sorry. I just kinda…totally forgot.” 

“No.” He shook his head slowly. And then, after a moment, he added, “These things happen.” 

She enjoyed peering into the stalls and wondering where they would eat, but eventually, she couldn’t stand her hunger any longer. 

The late breakfast they finally got from one of the vendors was surprisingly expensive for what it was. Fried thick-cut bacon mixed with potatoes. That was all. 

But it was simply delicious. 

“Oh!” she said, laughing. “This is our bacon!” 

“Is it?” he replied, inserting some food through the visor of his helmet. “I see.” 

The salty, greasy potatoes delighted her tongue. 

She wolfed down her breakfast, blowing on the food to keep from burning her mouth. 

He ate steadily, silently, but neatly—as he always did. 

Then they took the empty, unglazed plates and shattered them before setting off again. 

Lively voices called to them from every side. 

“Plum brandy for the lovely couple? Melts in your mouth!” cried a liquor vendor. Cow Girl stopped there. 

“What do you think?” he asked, pointing. “Do you want a drink?” Well, since they were here… 

They were presented with two cups of a faintly sweet-smelling fruit liqueur in small earthenware vessels. 

She sipped hers daintily. He, however, swallowed his in a single gulp. 

“Won’t it go to your head if you drink it all at once like that?” 

“It’s not a problem,” he said very seriously. “Brandy wakes you up.” 

“…Isn’t that just a way of saying you’re kind of out of it right now?” 

“It’s not a way of saying anything.” 

“Oh, really?” She detected a slightly cornered tone in his voice and snickered. 

She was just teasing, just joking. If he had really been feeling ill, she would certainly have noticed. And then she would have dragged him back to his bed and tucked him in. 

The festival was fun, yes—but all the more reason she didn’t want to ruin it by pushing him too hard. 

“You sure were out late last night, though. What were you doing?” 

“Finishing up something that needed to be done.” 

She was all too used to these non-explanations by now. But she didn’t press him further, simply saying, “Huh.” 

Warmth was spreading through her chest, and she was starting to feel cheery. She wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol. 

“I thought you were asleep,” he said in the same aloof tone as ever. Did he notice how she was feeling? “Were you awake that whole time?” 

“Oh, haha… I just kinda…couldn’t sleep.” 

“I see.” 

He didn’t press her, either. Together they merged back into the swirling, celebrating crowd. 

There was never enough time. 

An elf archer tossed plates into the air and shot them down to boisterous applause. A dwarf had set up a stall selling beautiful engraved swords he said he had made himself. A rhea musician played a stirring tune for all to hear. 

Wherever they went, the familiar town had something new to show them. 

They had been walking around for a while when he suddenly stopped. 

“Huh? What’s up?” 

She peered into his face but, of course, could see no expression there. 

He only muttered, “Hm.” Then— 

“…Wait a moment.” 

“Well, sure, but…” 

He pulled his gloved hand away from hers. 

Suddenly alone, she did what she always did and leaned against a wall while she waited for him. 

She held up her now empty hand in front of her face and breathed gently on it. She wasn’t exactly lonely or upset. But as she watched the throng of adventurers and travelers flow by, a thought occurred to her. 

This relationship of him going, her waiting was not likely to change. 

This was how it would always be. 

They had seen different things. 

Ten years. 

Ten years since she had left her home and their village had been destroyed. 

Five years since she had been reunited with him, now an adventurer. 

She didn’t know how he had spent the five years they had been apart. She knew nothing of the days before he became Goblin Slayer. She didn’t even know what had happened in their village. She had heard the stories, of course, but that was only secondhand. 

She remembered holding her uncle’s hand as empty caskets were put in the ground. 

But that was all. 

She didn’t really know what had happened, or why, or where everyone had gone. 

Had there been fire? The fields, what about them? The animals? Her friends? Her father. Her mother. 

What about the bird’s nest she had kept her own little secret, the treasure she had hidden in the knot of a tree? 

Her mother’s apron, the one Cow Girl had been promised once she got older? Her favorite shoes? The cup she had gotten for her birthday, whose green color had faded though she had taken such care of it. 

One after another, the precious memories came back to her, now almost like ghosts. 

What did she have left? One small box, with the things she had found in town that day and determined to bring with her. 

If—it was just her imagining. But if. 

If she hadn’t left the village that day, what would have happened to her? Would she have seen the same things he did and survived? 

Or would she have died and left him alone? And if so, would he have taken vengeance for her? 

Or… What if he had died, and she had been the one to live? 

What a terrible thought. 

At that moment she heard, “Sorry to keep you waiting.” The familiar armored form appeared before her out of the crowd. 

“No problem.” 

She shook her head as she straightened her hat. He held a small object out to her. 

“What’s this?” she said, peering at it. 

“When we were small…in the village,” he murmured, “you liked things like this.” 

He was holding out a small, handcrafted ring. 

It was silver—or it appeared to be, anyway. She knew it had to be imitation silver. Something a roadside vendor had cooked up to part children from their pocket change. 

In other words, just a toy. 

She found herself smiling. Then laughing. 

“Ha-ha-ha! …That was when I was a girl.” 

“Was it?” he said in a small, clipped voice. And then, “I guess it was.” 

“Yeah.” 

She nodded. Nodded, and put on the ring. 

It may have been handcrafted, but it was cheaply made. It didn’t even have a fake gem. Just a metal band. 

But it caught the sunlight and glittered, bright enough to make her squint. 

“…But,” she whispered, “I still like them.” 

“…Do you?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Thank you,” she managed to squeeze out, and then Cow Girl slipped the ring into the pocket of her dress. 

She kept her left hand on it so that she wouldn’t lose it—her right hand, of course, was in his. 

“Shall we?” 

She smiled and started off, hand in hand. 

She couldn’t see his face behind his helmet. But… 

…He was smiling, too. She was pretty sure. 

She trusted he was. 

§ 

It was almost noon when a voice called out to the two of them. 

“Well, if it isn’t old man Gob Killer!” 

Cow Girl craned her neck to see who it was even as she fretted about what to do with her ring. 

She didn’t recognize the relatively high-pitched voice, but the recipient seemed to. 

The helmet turned around to look squarely at Scout Boy, who was pointing at them. 

Beside him were the rhea Druid Girl, Rookie Warrior, and Apprentice Priestess. 

Cow Girl realized the young adventurers even spent their time off together. 

“Whoa, dude, are you on a date with the farm girl?!” 

“Hey, you should be more polite to someone so much older!” 

Rookie Warrior sounded very interested indeed, but Apprentice Priestess tugged on his sleeve. 

Gob Killer? Leave it to a kid to come up with a nickname like that. Cow Girl smiled. 

She grinned up at his helmet in a deliberately meaningful gesture. 

“A date? I wonder. What do you think?” 

“Hold on,” he said bluntly. “I’m only twenty.” 

Her smile widened. He hadn’t denied it. 

“Whaaaa?!” 

The boys gave strange shrieks, and finally Cow Girl couldn’t hold herself back any longer. 

“He sure is. But no one knows since he always has that helmet of his on.” 

“…It’s a necessary measure.” 

His voice sounded a bit more brusque than usual. 

He was pouting . Her day kept getting better and better. 

Everyone said they didn’t know what he was thinking because they couldn’t see his face. But for someone who had known him as long as she had, it was easy enough. 

“Um, could you…give us some help?” Apprentice Priestess asked them hesitantly. 

Vwip. Goblin Slayer’s steel helmet turned toward her. 

“Is it goblins?” 

“No, not at all. Umm…” 

“Oh…not goblins?” 

His dull reply left Druid Girl glancing around uncertainly. 

Next to her, Scout Boy said, “You’re pretty dense, man!” and guffawed. “No way any goblins are showing up here!” 

“They will.” 

“Huh?!” 

“Goblins will come.” 

“Really?!” 

Yes. What? No way! Back and forth they went. Cow Girl watched them with a sort of helpless amusement. 

“Let boys be boys. Did you two need something?” 

She crouched down to eye level for Druid Girl and Apprentice Priestess. 

They glanced at each other, then at Cow Girl’s chest, emphasized by the arm she was resting under it. 

Then they each looked down at themselves and sighed. Easy enough to understand. 

“Don’t worry. You’ll keep growing.” 

“…That’s not really reassuring.” 

“Yeah, it’s still…” 

The two of them got red-faced and fidgety, staring hard at the ground. 

Cow Girl smiled inside as she gave them both a pat on the head. 

“Anyway, what’s on your minds?” 

The girls nodded, then glanced back and pointed at the entrance to a tavern behind them. 

A huge crowd had gathered there, and in the middle of the circle was a small table. On top of the table was a statue of an open-mouthed frog. 

A drunk was standing at a white line drawn on the road, holding a jangling handful of silver balls. 

“Hrah! Yaah! Haaah!” 

He flung the balls one after another, but to no avail. Each one bounced off the table and onto the ground. 

The shop owner standing next to the statue gathered up the balls with practiced ease and said in a loud voice: 

“Step right up, ten balls for one bronze coin! Land one, get a mug of ale! Or lemonade for the boys and girls!” 

“They won’t go in,” Scout Boy said with a huff. 

He had been training with Heavy Warrior’s party, but he was still a child. Fifteen was the minimum age to become an adventurer, and that would have been several years before for this boy, but he still could not have been twenty yet. 

Cow Girl realized he must have lied about his age, but she felt no inclination to bring that up. 

“Yeah. I think those silver balls are rigged.” 

“Now, now, kid. That’s not funny.” 

The trainee warrior spoke half in jest as he handed over a bronze coin, and the owner responded with a smile and a tone that suggested he’d had this conversation before. 

Then the two boys tossed the balls one after another, but they came nowhere near the target. 

A great sigh… came from the girls with them. 

“…They get caught up in these things so easily.” 

“Boys stink, huh?” 

They weren’t much more mature, but they tried to pretend they were. 

Cow Girl heard out the girls’ complaints with an “Uh-huh, uh-huh.” 

Boys. They’re trying to look cool… 

“…and girls want them to,” she said, glancing at her old friend. 

The expression behind the steel helmet was, as ever, impossible to see and yet easy to guess. 

“What is it?” 

“Give us a demonstration?” 

“Hrm.” 

Goblin Slayer swept his gaze over the four children and Cow Girl. 

Then, with a small nod, he pulled a bronze coin from his pouch and went up to the tavern owner. 

“Shopkeep.” 

“Yessir!” 

“One, please.” 

What happened next was almost too quick for the eye to follow. 

He rolled the balls around in his palm with a clink , then tossed them into the frog’s mouth. 

There was nothing unusual about his technique. 

He simply had his mark. But he was precise, and fast. 

One went in. Two. Three, four. Then five and six. 

For several seconds, the balls rolling down into the frog statue created a sound much like a ribbit . 

“Wow!” 

“Whoa…” 

The amazement on the children’s faces was plain to see. 

And not just the children. 

The onlookers ooh ed appreciatively and began to clap. 

Heh! Cow Girl stuck out her ample chest almost as if she were the one who had put on this stunning display. 

People thought he was only good for goblin slaying. 

But that wasn’t true. There was more to him than that. 

“Geez, mister, ya couldn’t have held back? For my sake?” 

“No.” 

As he made his deeply serious reply to the owner, Cow Girl gave him a congratulatory pat on the back. 

“You always were good at these games, even when we were kids.” 

“Yes.” 

There had been a tavern in their hometown as well, although the statue had not been a frog, but a woman with a water jug. At each festival, he had won three glasses of lemonade for her, himself, and his sister. 

Come to think of it, I remember him practicing skipping stones in the river before every festival. 

She realized with a rush of fondness that he had always been the type to prepare thoroughly. 

“Wow, way to go, man!” a server said. “Six lemonades? Coming right up!” 

“Yes.” 

He dipped his helmet once, just as he always did. 

Then he turned to the boys and explained in a measured tone. 

“And that is what you do.” 

“…R-right.” 

“Now you try.” 

Goblin Slayer passed the four remaining silver balls to the young boys with a jangle. 

Scout Boy took two, at once frantic and stoic. 

“D-don’t you have any other advice?” 

“Practice.” 

That was all he said. 

“Bleh,” the boys whined. Goblin Slayer nodded at them and stood seriously. 

“G-give it your best shot!” 

“Hey, you gotta throw better than that!” 

“Ha-ha-ha! Aww, don’t be so hard on him.” 

So the girls watched the three boys— 

“Oh…” 

Cow Girl realized it wasn’t wrong to think of him with that word. 

Was it strange? 

No, it wasn’t. It really wasn’t. 

Of course, it had been ten years since then. It was a lot of time to build experience. She had learned just as many things as he had. 

But all that was just an accumulation. 

The roots are still the same. 

That was a principle she believed in… No—it was something she hoped was true. 

“Drink?” 

“Sure, thanks.” 

She took the cold glass from his hand. It was well water with lemon and honey in it. 

That refreshing chill, she thought, hadn’t changed in ten years. 

“Oh, yeah,” she said, pretending something had just occurred to her as she watched the children determinedly toss the little balls out of the corner of her eye. “Since you got it for me, why don’t you put it on me? The ring.” 

“Where?” 

He gazed intently at her fingers from her thumb to her pinky. 

“I mean…my ring finger,” she said, starting to regret she had said anything. “…How about it?” 

“On which hand?” 

“What do you mean, which? The—” 

The left hand. 

She shook her head, somehow unable to get the words out. 

“Ri—” 

She took a breath and searched in her pocket, pulling the ring out with her left hand. 

“Right hand…please.” 

“All right.” 

And then he put the ring on her finger without a hint of ceremony. 

She held it up to the sun, and it gleamed brightly. 

Well, I guess I’ll have to take it off when I work. 

But at least for the festival, she could leave it on. 

With the sweet-sour taste of the lemonade in her mouth, Cow Girl resolved to have all the fun she could. 

§ 

Now, let us leave behind the frog statue outside the door and follow the shopkeeper inside as he goes into the tavern for more lemonade. 

“I shall not stick my nose in too far, but…” Lizard Priest nibbled luxuriously on a fried sausage covered with copious amounts of cheese. It was not rude in lizard culture to talk while enjoying one’s food. “I wonder if it will go well… Of course, I certainly hope it will.” 

“Ahh, things in this world turn out for the best eight or nine times out of ten,” said Dwarf Shaman, pounding his belly like a drum as he took a gulp of his stiff drink and proclaimed, “It’s fine!” He glanced to the side with a sly smile as he said, “What I’m really worried about is…” 

The last person at the table, High Elf Archer, glared like she was hunting prey. 

“Grrr…” 

“What are you groaning about, Long-Ears?” 

“Because!” She pounded the table, pointing outside the tavern as her ears flounced. “I tried that earlier, and I didn’t get a single one in!” 

“All that means is that shooting and throwing are different things.” 

“It’s not fair! I’m a high elf! We’re descendants of the gods!” 

Then she took a desperate swig of her lemonade. 

She had blown one bronze coin after another and still ended up having to purchase her own drink. It was the sourest lemonade she’d ever had. 

“Well, such is the way of the world. Milady Ranger and milord Goblin Slayer have different talents.” 

Lizard Priest’s tone suggested he was talking to a child. And Dwarf Shaman was only too happy to add his opinion. 

“Sure it ain’t just that you’re sore about losing to Beard-cutter?” 

“ Sniiiiff … I-I’m not sore.” 

Lizard Priest hissed with amusement as High Elf Archer ground out the words between her teeth. 

“…Oh, wait a second.” 

The elf suddenly flitted her ears in surprise, raising her head and turning to the window. 

“Something the matter, milady Ranger?” 

“Look out. They’re moving.” 

She was right. The two of them were leaving the ball game behind. 

Cow Girl shuffled regretfully, while Goblin Slayer strode as boldly as ever. 

“Um, they’re saying… ‘Say hi to Guild Girl for me’ and ‘Yes.’” 

Can’t he think of anything friendlier to say? 

High Elf Archer puffed out her cheeks in annoyance, playing with her lemonade glass, now covered in condensation. 

Dwarf Shaman stroked his beard, seemingly amused by this. 

“I can’t think of a sillier use for an elf’s ears.” 

“Oh? Don’t you know anything about human culture, dwarf?” High Elf Archer gave him an unusual and confident smile, her ears standing straight up. “If you can do silly things, it shows you have enough resources to afford the luxury.” 

“Sounds to me like the excuse of someone who got so caught up in what she was doing that she forgot her purse someplace.” 

“That has nothing to do with this.” 

“This is why I hate elves! Always trying to hide their problems.” 

“Strong words when dwarves can only ever think about money!” 

And then the two friends were off again on one of their usual arguments. 

Lizard Priest watched them in pleasure, slapping his tail on the floor. He waved down a nearby waitress. 

“Excuse me, Miss Server!” 

“Yes, sir!” 

The attentive response came from a padfoot—a beast girl. Her hands, feet, and ears were those of an animal. She bustled over to him. 

“My.” Naturally, Lizard Priest’s eyes widened a bit as he recognized the girl who stood there, chuckling. 

“Pardon me, but are you not one of the Guild’s girls?” 

“Oh, yes. I’m working two jobs.” Padfoot Girl hid her smile with a tray, but couldn’t conceal her laugh. “Look around. Everyone’s so busy today, they’ll take all the help they can get.” 

“I see, I see. I’m glad this rising tide seems to be lifting your boat as well.” Lizard Priest nodded somberly, using one of his sharp claws to indicate the menu on the wall. “I request another two or three of your fried sausages. And if you could ensure the cheese is especially copious…” 

“Sure, sure. By the way, if you want, we have sausages with herbs in them, too.” 

“Ah, herbs, you say?” 

“And others with cartilage…” 

“Indeed!” 

“Plus some stuffed with cheese!” 

“Oh, my!” 

Needless to say, his eyes had never sparkled brighter. 

So lunchtime passed uneventfully.