Goblin Slayer - Volume 6 - Chapter 4

Chapter 4 – The Men With No Names

Hardly a week later, people started using the new training grounds, even though they weren’t actually finished.

The early summer sunlight bathed the grassy hill, and a pleasantly warm breeze came blowing through. What better weather could there be to tempt one to work and sweat?

“Yikes—ow! Watch out, now my hand is numb!!”

“Don’t drop your shield hand! You want me to split your head open?!” “Yipes! Ack! Waah—!”

Metal rang against metal in the circle of white sand.

The complex (one might almost say magical) training facility was still under construction, but even a total greenhorn could put up a fence. The circular space for mock battles was the first thing that had been finished, and eager young hands were already putting it through its paces. After all, the area behind the Guild building was too confined, and it was nice to have some loaner equipment on hand to try.

“Your hand is numb? I don’t care if it falls off! Don’t lower your shield!

Your shield needs to be your most faithful companion in a fight!” “Couldn’t we, y’know, take this just a little slower?!”

At the moment, it was Female Knight and Rhea Fighter—the young fighter dressed in leather armor and carrying a round shield—who were competing in the ring.

Well, competing might have been a strong word. Female Knight had the duel by the scruff of the neck and was enjoying herself. As for the rhea fighter, it was all she could do to squeal and get her shield up to block the incoming attacks.

And she needed to: the practice blades might not carry an edge, but getting hit with them could still leave one with worse than a bruise.

“What’s wrong? Get on your game! If you can’t stand up to this, how are you ever gonna deal with a dragon’s teeth and claws?!”

“I’m just Porcelain! I don’t wanna think about any dragons!!”

“Don’t you know the parable of the random encounter with the dragon?

Whoop—there go your feet!” “Eek!!”

An exemplary sweep from Female Knight took Rhea Fighter’s feet clear out from under her, sending her tumbling gracelessly to the sand.

Laughing uproariously, Female Knight pressed her advantage, lashing out with the hilt of her sword. One blow from a hilt like this, with the sword held in reverse and raised above the head, could be critical.

Gasping and shrieking, Rhea Fighter tried to escape the trap, only to stumble again.

Female Knight was ruthless, or perhaps lacked something in sympathy; in any event, she came on without mercy. It almost crossed the line into cruelty.

And she wondered why no one wanted to marry her… “Whoa…”

“Yeah, holy crap.”

Rookie Warrior and the red-haired wizard looked on, their expressions stiff, trying not to think about the fact that it would be their turn next. They had never realized that sitting outside that circle, trying to steel themselves for what was coming, could be a form of training itself.

Where did they think they were—the impregnable Great Labyrinth in the land of utmost cold? It would be impossible to go there, or to get back.

“Hey, don’t get distracted, you punks.”

The butt of a spear gave each of the young adventurers a gentle bonk on the head. And who should be holding that spear but Spearman, dressed not in his usual armor but in civilian clothes, a silver tag hanging around his neck.

“It’s easy to get distracted by girls. Believe me, I know. But if you don’t focus, next thing you know, you’ll be dead.”

“Uh, that’s not what I was doing.”

“Yeah, and I don’t really have the same problems you do, Spearman…” One grumbled as the other chuckled to himself. “Listen, you two,”

Spearman started with a frown. “I don’t know what you think of me, but you don’t sound like you’re ready to learn anything.”

“Yeah, but,” Rookie Warrior said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “you’re always getting shot down by that receptionist, right?”

“I only just got here, and even I know about it,” the wizard added.

A vein in Spearman’s temple made a visible twitch, but it’s possible neither of the boys noticed.

“Oh, I see,” he said with a stiff yet endlessly kind smile. “Aren’t you kids clever? Well, you’re not the only ones who can play that game.”

“?”

The two of them looked at him questioningly, whereupon Spearman stuck up his pointer finger as straight as a spear and continued, “On your recent adventure, you went rushing in, used up your magic, and ended up not being able to do jack.”

“Erk…”

“And you’ve always spent all your time hunting giant rats, so you didn’t have the endurance for a longer battle and drank your entire reward in Stamina potions.”

“Guh?!”

These things were both true. Embarrassing secrets the boys would rather not have broadcast too widely. Nobody knew except their party members, and…

“Th-the receptionist? She told you…?”

“Darn straight. She asked me to look out for you guys, make sure you had the physical strength you needed.” Spearman chuckled quietly then rose as easily as a ghost and took up a fighting stance. Rookie Warrior and the wizard boy both settled into deep stances, looking as terrified as if they were preparing to battle a warrior back from the dead.

“Let’s play hide-and-seek. I’ll be the hunter and you’ll be the hunted.”

It was only as Spearman spun his weapon with a flourish and resumed his stance that the boys realized how angry he was.

“Yikes, let’s get outta here!” “Y-yeah, gotta go!”

Rather than apologize or reflect on what they had done, they elected to speed off like hares at the sight of a hound. It was undoubtedly the right decision.

“Hey! You’re not getting away that easy!”

The boys set off running around the training area so fast that they left their equipment (including the wizard’s staff) lying on the ground. Spearman went storming after them.

Construction workers, along with adventurers on break, watched the commotion wearily. Of course, everyone knew that Spearman was not serious. He was maintaining a speed that would allow him to catch the boys if they flagged even slightly—but judging such a thing was impressive in itself.

All those watching privately agreed that despite his appearance, Spearman was good at looking out for others.

Instruction at this place would generally be handled by retired, high- ranking adventurers. But there was nothing to stop active adventurers from providing a little mentorship of their own. Maybe just to pass the time, or even to supplement their own training.

The training ground wasn’t even finished yet, and already adventurers happily used it as a place to congregate and talk.

“…”

Goblin Slayer watched all this without a word, his hand moving restlessly. He was sitting in an open field, neither part of the completed training area nor the part still under construction.

Birds went singing through the blue sky, and the breeze sent gentle ripples through the grass.

If one were to look in his direction, one would have seen two young women waiting anxiously for him to finish what he was doing.

One was the rhea druid, the other the apprentice cleric who served the Supreme God.

“This is how you do it,” he said, at last showing the girls the product of his labors. They blinked at it.

It was a simple sling, a strip of leather tied to a small stone so that it could be thrown.

“Huh? Is that all there is to it?”

“It is surprisingly straightforward.”

“Yes,” Goblin Slayer said with a nod. “Shepherds sometimes carry them to discourage wolves.”

“It looks like something you could make in a hurry if you needed to.”

“All you need is some string. Ammunition is easy enough to come by.

There’s nothing to lose by learning how to do it.”

This had all started when they had seen him pitch a stone at a certain festival. It had seemed to them like the perfect skill for two people who stood on the back row and needed a way to defend themselves.

When Guild Girl mentioned that there were two young adventurers who wanted to learn to use a sling, Goblin Slayer surprised himself with how readily he replied, “Is that so?” and agreed to help them.

Now Goblin Slayer got to his feet. “Swords are often proclaimed to be the best weapon for humans, but slings are better,” he said, slowly starting to twirl the device. He made sure he went gradually enough that the two beginners could follow his every move. Given that in battle, heft, spin, and strike were usually a single motion for him, this was a display of considerable care.

“Humans are unsurpassed in throwing, whether stones or spears. Our bodies are built for it.”

He raised the sling higher, slowly increasing the rate of rotation, picking a target. Mindful of the possibility of an accident, he aimed directly away from the training ground.

Over in the weeds, a dummy had been dressed in armor and helmet— castoffs from the Guild workshop. It was not very tall—to represent a goblin’s height, needless to say.

“This is the result.”

As he spoke, Goblin Slayer let the stone fly; it whistled through the air and whacked into the dummy’s helmet. The headgear rolled into the grass, where Goblin Slayer walked over and collected it, casually tossing it to the two girls.

“Wow!”

“Eek!”

The girls couldn’t help but cry out. It was only natural: the stone had punched clear through the helmet’s metal exterior and leather lining and was rolling around inside the bowl. What would have happened to the skull of anyone wearing this particular helmet when it was hit by that stone didn’t bear thinking about.

“In this way, even someone as relatively weak as a rhea should be able to deal with at least one encroaching enemy.”

“In any event, my own teacher was a rhea.” This near whisper brought a series of blinks from Druid Girl.

Goblin Slayer approached them with his bold stride, collecting the stone from inside the helmet. It was sharpened, like an arrowhead. Something he had picked specifically for throwing like this, focusing on power over midair stability. He added softly that such preparations were sometimes effective.

“If you can keep away that first enemy, it’s possible that your party members will come and help you.”

“Only…possible?” Apprentice Cleric asked doubtfully.

“Yes.” Goblin Slayer’s tone was utterly serious. “It simply represents one more card you can play at your moment of need. If that’s enough for you then practice with it.”

“Mr. Goblin Slayer, I really think you have a harsh way of saying things,” Druid Girl said reprovingly. No wonder that sweet priestess of yours always seems so stressed.

“Is that so?” Goblin Slayer asked, genuinely perplexed. The two girls let the matter drop, picking up slings. They wound up the strings with a great deal of “Is this right?” and “How about this?” before lobbing their own stones at the dummy.

Some of their shots landed, and others missed. Some didn’t even go the right direction. But Goblin Slayer made no move to say anything about any of their efforts. If they had questions, they would ask him. Otherwise, it was best to let them focus on their practice. That was how Goblin Slayer had been taught, and he felt he should do the same.

Those who don’t try will never be able to do.

Now, at last, he thought perhaps he understood what his master—Burglar

—had meant.

And was he, finally, able to do it?

He had no answer. He had no way to answer.

Goblin Slayer let out a breath, sitting down where he was almost as if in resignation.

At that moment, however, a voice interrupted his thoughts. “Heh-heh-heh!

Don’t you all look very dedicated.” A shadow fell over him.

“Oh…” Goblin Slayer turned to see Guild Girl, holding an umbrella and smiling.

“…So you came.”

“Of course. Just to observe, or maybe…well, not inspect. But yes, I’m here.”

She plopped herself down next to him, arms around her knees. She was in her usual work clothes. Maybe they were a little bit warm for the start of summer, because a trickle of sweat ran down her forehead.

It was clear enough that bureaucratic work such as hers could not be done in just any old clothing. She may also have been a bit shy, but in any case, she wasn’t about to open her collar or lie back on the grass.

“…Aren’t you hot, Goblin Slayer?”

“No,” he said with a shake of his head. “Not especially.” “Really?”

“What would I gain by lying about it?”

The answer didn’t seem to make Guild Girl remotely happy; she sniffed and muttered, “Forget it.” After a moment, she asked, “What do you think of our Obsidian and Porcelain adventurers?”

“Hmm,” Goblin Slayer said, watching the girls practice their slinging. They were certainly enthusiastic. And serious. They were good girls. But that was no guarantee that they would survive.

“I don’t know.”

“Oh, you…” Guild Girl puffed out her cheeks and raised her pointer finger, shaking it slowly, reproachfully. “You’re supposed to answer a question like that with something banal and inoffensive!”

“Is that so?”

“It is. Especially when your answer’s going to be written down.”

“I will remember that,” Goblin Slayer said and rose. He could feel Guild Girl looking up at him.

It was time.

“Hey, everyone! How about some lunch?” “Fresh from the farm!”

The clattering of a cart could be heard, accompanied by women’s voices: Priestess and Cow Girl.

There had been no specific decision about this. It wasn’t a formal arrangement. They had no obligation to bring lunch.

This was a simple act of good-heartedness.

Goblin Slayer was profoundly grateful that Cow Girl’s uncle would do something like this for the adventurers. The conceited thought that it might all be for him never once crossed his mind.

“Oops, I better go and help,” Guild Girl said. She brushed grass and dirt off her skirt as she stood up. She yawned a little, folding up the sun umbrella and clasping it to her side. Then she pattered off through the grass like a small bird.

“Oh, that’s right,” she said, turning back with a smile. The wind played with her braids. “Should we classify this under ‘visiting men on duty’?”

Goblin Slayer didn’t answer. Instead, he turned to the girls, hard at work on their slinging and said, “Take a break.”

Both of the young women were red in the face from exertion. They nodded eagerly and headed over to the cart. He watched them go then turned his back on the growing crowd of adventurers gathered around the food and began walking away.

He felt a slight twinge of regret for having been asked to help with training like this and for having accepted.

“Hey, Goblin Slayer!”

It was Spearman who stopped him. He hadn’t noticed the adventurer come up alongside him.

Spearman watched Guild Girl go, her braids bouncing, then he exhaled and looked square at Goblin Slayer’s helmet.

“Where’s the big guy at?” he asked, meaning Heavy Warrior. “Where’d he go?”

“He took the other children to a cave today.”

Half-Elf Fighter and the rather quick-witted Scout Boy had gone with him. No adventure was ever totally without risk, but nothing was likely to happen on an expedition like that.

Goblin Slayer was quiet for a moment then asked softly, “What do you think of that boy?”

“Ahh, the wizard brat?” Spearman smiled ferociously.

The boy was just then over at the cart, getting a bottle of lemon water that had been cooled in the well. The fervor with which he drank it down suggested how hard Spearman had run him.

“He’s got guts. Can’t speak to his magical abilities, though.” “Is that so?”

“What’s gotten into you, though?” Spearman said with a sharp sidelong glance at the grimy steel helmet. “Mentoring at the training grounds? I thought you were focused on that cleric of yours.”

“That is not necessarily the case,” Goblin Slayer said brusquely, and then he began to stride off.

He seemed intent on leaving the area as quickly as possible. That left Spearman to look up at the sky, unsure quite what to do.

“Sigh…”

The sun was dispiritingly high. It looked like it would be another hot summer.

“…Hey, you free tonight?” Spearman asked.

“Hrm…” Goblin Slayer grunted. He glanced in Cow Girl’s direction; she was looking back at him. She smiled, waving a hand she held at her hip. The two of them seemed to be talking, somehow.

Then Goblin Slayer nodded. “…Yes. I think it’s all right.” “Let’s go get a drink, then.”

“…You mean alcohol?”

“Does a man drink anything else?”

Goblin Slayer had some trouble grasping what Spearman meant, or perhaps what he intended. What possible benefit was there in inviting him for a drink?

“You’re inviting me?”

“You see anyone else around here? Let’s grab the big guy, too. Three men. No holding back.”

“…I see.”

“Come on, humor me.”

Goblin Slayer gazed silently up at the sky. The sun was past its zenith, shining down on the gentle slope. In this place, it was easy enough for him to read the passing time, no matter the season.

It was his older sister who had taught him to do this. He could never forget.

“…Very well.”

“Great,” Spearman said, smacking Goblin Slayer on the shoulder with his fist. “It’s settled, then.”

§

The clear blue sky seemed to extend forever.

The boy lay panting in the grass; he could feel the little green blades pressing into his sweat-covered back and cheeks.

He lay on his back, spreading his arms and legs wide, gulping oxygen into his lungs. It was lack of oxygen that made one short of breath. If you breathed, you would get oxygen. That was why the breath became ragged.

The early summer breeze blew sweetly across his face as one thought circled around and around in his mind: he was most certainly not pathetic.

Spells depleted the user’s strength, and adventures frequently included a lot of tromping through fields and mountains.

Why? Well, horses were expensive. Horses had to have feed, stables.

They needed shoes and equipment.

If you were only going from town to town, post to post, maybe it wouldn’t matter so much. But adventures commonly took people to remote underground labyrinths, or supernatural lands untrod by human feet.

It would be hard enough with a horse or a personal carriage, and in some ways, renting one would be worse. Brave adventurers with long experience said that adventure was a walking trade, and it was absolutely true. Hence, a wizard needed stamina as much as any warrior. He knew that.

Yes, of course he did—and yet… And yet… “It just doesn’t…”

“…S-soooo tired…”

Yes, their opponent had held back. But there was a difference between Porcelain and Silver. Between the tenth rank and the third.

The second voice, joining in the boy’s complaint, came from Rhea Fighter, splayed out beside him on the grass. She was a mess, having been worked to the bone by Female Knight until a few minutes prior. She had tossed aside her armor, shield, and sword, perhaps unable to bear the heat, and now lay spread-eagled in the grass. Her chest (not that large, but pretty big for a rhea) heaved up and down.

The boy glanced over, but when he caught sight of her sweat-soaked shirt, he forced himself to look back at the sky. He felt a little embarrassed, and a little bit as if he had done something wrong.

His head throbbed with the heat and the pace of his breath, but he managed to move it just a little. When she was done, it would be his turn with Female Knight.

“S-so… Did you…get the hang of it…?” “…I dunno.”

In other words, it had been nothing more than a session of being smacked around and falling down.

Wizard Boy grimaced and let out a groan, but Female Knight didn’t seem to think she had been especially mean to the young adventurer. At the very least, it could be considered training in how to keep your defenses up even when confronted with an overwhelmingly strong opponent—so it was all fair game.

Spearman would no doubt feel the same way if anyone asked his opinion. Strength and endurance were even more important than quick thinking, when it came down to it. Adventurers who seriously hunted dragons and ogres would naturally outclass a couple of Porcelains.

So yes, the mentors held back. But… “…Aren’t they hot like that?” the rhea girl said. “No clue.”

A short distance away, Rookie Warrior rested his head on Apprentice Cleric’s knees. Everyone looked absolutely exhausted. Maybe Druid Girl had gone with Scout Boy, because they didn’t see her anywhere.

Rhea Fighter grumbled that she should have practiced slinging, too, but the wizarding boy gave a click of his tongue.

“There’s nothin’ to learn from a guy like that.” “You think so? He is Silver-ranked, after all.” “But he never fights anything but goblins.”

“And he’s obsessed, and stubborn, and you never know what he’s thinking,” the boy added in a pouty mutter. “Goblins? An adventurer should be able to kill a goblin in one hit.”

“Even I wouldn’t lose to a goblin in a one-on-one fight,” the rhea agreed. “Right? ‘Goblin Slayer,’ my ass!”

“They call him that because he kills goblins, don’t they?” This rebuttal came not from Rhea Fighter but from Apprentice Cleric. “Look, I’m not saying I don’t have my doubts about him.” She ran a hand through Rookie Warrior’s hair as she spoke, and he made contented little noises in response.

“But I don’t think someone who’s done nothing should go around criticizing someone who’s actually done something.”

“…”

“I heard you didn’t even manage goblin slaying.”

“You can just shut up!” The boy spat at the sky. “I hear you never hunt anything but giant rats, yourself.”

“I mean…that’s all we’re capable of right now,” Rookie Warrior said, almost in a whine. Unlike the rhea fighter, he was still wearing his armor, sword, and club. He had simply loosened the fasteners of his equipment ever so slightly to allow his body to relax.

“We’ve finally gotten to where we understand how to attack and defend against giant rats. But if there’s even three of them at once, we’re pretty much done for.”

“But rats are poisonous, right?” the rhea girl said. “Isn’t fighting them all the time dangerous?”

“Well, that’s why antidotes and potions keep draining our wallets…” “The next time my level as a cleric increases, I plan to ask the deity for the Cure miracle.”

Then, she said, the two of them might be able to save a little money and get better equipment. Change his sword for something with a broader blade, maybe get some mail for better protection. Helmets were hard to see out of, but maybe they could at least get a sturdy cap of some kind…

“…Pfft.” The boy seemed to find none of this remotely interesting. He clicked his tongue dismissively, at which Rhea Fighter shot him a look. “Whatever,” he muttered, looking away so she couldn’t see his eyes.

“Hello, everyone! How about some lemon water?” Priestess appeared, strolling up the hill, smiling widely. She was carrying a huge basket filled with small bottles and packages of food. “I have some snacks here, too…”

She was not eagerly received. Maybe nobody felt like eating after dashing around or swinging their weapon all over. Rookie Warrior just groaned, “Urrrgh,” and Rhea Fighter said, “I think I might just throw up anything I eat…”

Apprentice Cleric just shook her head silently, perhaps unwilling to be the only one to eat.

“Er, but… If you don’t eat, you’ll never make it through the afternoon,” Priestess said, knitting her brow. Obviously, though, she couldn’t force them to take the food.

Wizard Boy certainly had no specific intention of helping Priestess, who stood there looking quite at a loss, but nonetheless, he raised his hand and said, “I’ll eat.”

“What, seriously?” Rhea Fighter asked.

“Yeah,” the red-haired boy replied, lurching upright out of the grass. “I learned once that…if you don’t eat after you work out…you’ll never gain any muscle.”

“Crap, really? I better eat, then.” “…Okay… Me too…”

“I guess I’ll have some, too, then. Thanks.”

Lunch consisted of simple sandwiches: bacon, ham, vegetables, and some cheese squeezed between a couple pieces of bread. All the same, the salty flavor was very agreeable to their sweaty, enervated bodies.

At first, the group intended to have something to drink with their food, but soon, they were ravenously wolfing down the provisions.

She really does understand, doesn’t she? Priestess found herself thinking with some admiration.

That farm girl had been helping Goblin Slayer out for years now. She knew exactly what adventurers would need after a hard morning of training.

What they needed…

“My sis was amazing! If those goblins hadn’t used poison, she woulda beaten ’em!”

“Right,” Priestess said quietly, strengthening her resolve. Then she sat down next to the boy.

“How are things? I mean…how are you feeling?”

She was simultaneously asking everyone there and him alone. “Sooo tired!” Rhea Fighter answered immediately.

“Yeah!” Rookie Warrior added, audibly exhausted.

“I’m managing, somehow,” Apprentice Cleric said with a touch of pride. “…”

The red-haired boy, however, didn’t say a word; he merely snorted. “Um…” Priestess said.

He brushed me off.

Her brow furrowed awkwardly, and she decided to just change the subject. Rather than standing frozen, waiting for inspiration to strike, it was better to act immediately. That was something she had learned from Goblin Slayer.

“Hey,” Priestess said, fixing in on Rhea Fighter. “I don’t seem to see the rest of your party around…”

“Oh, that. Our leader was the second or third son of some noble house somewhere,” Rhea Fighter said, taking a big bite of her sandwich and chewing noisily. “But then his big brother went and got himself killed, so suddenly there was no heir, and the family wanted our leader back. And that was the end of our party.”

“Ah…”

Well, such things certainly did happen. Second or third children—anyone but an eldest son, really—could find themselves in a socially unpleasant position. If they wanted any role besides standby in case anything happened to the oldest child, they had to go out and get it themselves. They might be able to get their parents to grant them a bit of land, but otherwise, establishing themselves through martial deeds was an option or, perhaps, marrying into another house…

Knights’ families were especially severe this way. Knighthood was, in general, a single-generation title. Parents couldn’t pass it down to their children. An eldest son might be granted opportunities for service and training, a chance to make his name, but any children who came after him were unlikely to be so lucky.

Hence a good number of adventurers came from families of such standing. There was no distinction between men and women here. Second and third daughters of noble houses were a copper a dozen among adventurers.

And the survival rate of these self-proclaimed knights-errant was remarkably high. They had equipment, they had know-how, and sometimes they were even versed in swordsmanship, all of which contributed to their durability.

But once in a while, something would happen to the eldest son, and then these adventurers would be called back to the families they had left. For the party leader in question… Well, the path to become the family patriarch had opened to him, and he hadn’t even been injured in the meantime, so he could count himself lucky.

For whether or not one had family connections, quality equipment, knowledge, experience, or skills, inevitable death still always waited in the wings.

“I guess it’s not like he’s going to have it easy, exactly.”

Nobles have their own problems and all, Rhea Fighter thought to herself. She spoke so knowingly that it was comical, and Priestess couldn’t help but giggle.

At the same time, she was a little worried. This meant that this young woman was going to embark upon a dangerous path all alone. As she recalled, rheas reached adulthood at around thirty, so strictly speaking, Rhea Fighter was probably older than Priestess.

“Isn’t soloing difficult?” Priestess asked.

“It’s not easy, but hey—I have my dreams!” Rhea Fighter answered, puffing out her chest proudly. “I’m gonna be big! So big, no one will care that I’m little!”

“Man, I hear that,” Rookie Warrior said, shoving the last piece of his sandwich into his mouth. “When I said I was going to become the strongest guy around, they laughed at me. Said I was too rustic for that!”

“Yeah, exactly!” the rhea girl said, clapping her hands.

“Of course they laughed,” Apprentice Cleric said. “If you turn out to be the strongest, think how much worse the other country rubes will look!” She smiled with a hint of pride; in some ways, it was seeing him excited like this that made her proudest of all. “Heh-heh! Bet now you’re glad you decided to come with me on my training!”

“I’m glad I didn’t leave you all by yourself. It would’ve been dangerous.” “I’m sorry, who didn’t leave who?”

“Guh?”

“What, don’t want to admit it?” And on and on they went, arguing.

Priestess squinted happily; she felt like she was seeing something rather joyful. The two arguing children reminded her of her own party members.

“What good friends you are,” she said.

Absolutely not!—was something they could hardly say in response.

The two of them looked at each other; each muttered something then shut their mouths.

The conversation broke off there.

A gust of wind caressed cheeks gone red from exertion.

“………I just don’t get it,” the boy growled. “But anyway, I gotta focus on killing some goblins, and killing them right. That’s my priority.”

That’ll show the punks who laughed at my older sister.

Priestess wasn’t quite sure what to say to this display of vitriol. She had been an adventurer for less than a year. She hardly had enough experience to go offering unsolicited advice. Especially, she felt, when it came to this young man’s feelings.

That was why— “I knew—”

That was why she bit her lip as she spoke. “I knew a wizard, once.”

Her throat constricted, and her voice trembled. She had to get ahold of herself.

“She said that…she wanted to fight a dragon one day.” “…A dragon?”

Dragons—true dragons—were utterly terrifying foes. They weren’t like the creatures that sometimes skulked around fields and mountains. They overflowed with power. They had strength and stamina, intelligence and magical power, authority and wealth.

That was precisely why dragon slayers were so much praised and held in awe.

“That’s… It might as well be a dream. It’s impossible.”

“Of course it was a dream,” Priestess said with a smile, no edge in her voice. “It doesn’t have to be anything more than that.”

Yes—yes, she was sure of it.

That time, the moment they visited that first cave, was still there. Just because the party was immediately shattered…

…doesn’t mean the value of what everyone said just disappears. Now Priestess thought she could understand that, at least a little bit. It was a precious thing—not something to mock or ridicule.

No matter how unrealistic, no matter how out of reach, no matter how likely to fail.

Dreams were dreams.

It wasn’t a matter of whether they could be realized.

They were absolutely not something for goblins to trample on. “…”

The boy found there was nothing more he could say. Or perhaps he intended to say something, but before he could open his mouth again:

“Hello, all my cute little newbies! Looks like you’re working hard!”

A high, clear voice, pleasing to the ear, came rolling over the grassy plain.

They looked toward town to discover three unusual but familiar figures coming toward them.

“In the afternoon, your favorite elf will take you on a tour of some caves!” “Who’s anyone’s favorite elf, Long-Ears?” From beside the ranger, Dwarf Shaman gave her a pointed elbow to the ribs. “I grant it’s our day off, but I happen to know you were asleep until practically noon.”

“You know what they call the time before noon? Morning. At least among elves.”

“I guarantee that’s not true.”

The friendly banter continued as they got closer. Priestess glanced at Rookie Warrior and Apprentice Cleric as if to say, See? Neither of them would quite meet her gaze. But never mind them.

“Caves? Does that mean…goblins?” Priestess asked.

“Oh, please. Are you trying to sound like Orcbolg?” High Elf Archer waved a hand as if she were shooing away a bug.

“I’m talking about a bear’s den—well, former bear’s den. Hibernation season is over and he’s out and about for the spring, so it should be a good way to get used to spelunking.”

Priestess nodded in understanding. Unlike sewers or fields, there was a knack to moving and using weapons in caves. If the kids could practice doing those things in a cave with no monsters, it could only benefit them.

“Er, let it be said that we have yet to take our lunch,” Lizard Priest said, bringing his hands together in a strange gesture. His breath came out the nostrils situated on his huge jaws. “And it appears you have prepared meals. With your indulgence, perhaps we may partake…?”

“Oh, sure. It’s sandwiches,” Priestess said. She dug through her basket and produced several wrapped lunches. “They have ham and bacon, vegetables… Oh, and cheese.”

“Ah! Truly a gift from heaven! Nectar! What a fine and wonderful thing this is!”

“We have some that are just cucumber and cheese, if you like. And there’s wine, too.”

“All right!”

“Ho-ho-ho! Aren’t you the thoughtful one. Thank you, don’t mind if I do!”

Priestess set down the basket, and her three friends dove for it, each eager to be the first to get their food. She gave a wry smile at the sight. Even as she watched them, the early-summer breeze came up again.

Priestess clutched her hat so it wouldn’t fly away, closing her eyes to appreciate the wind sprites as they brushed her cheeks.

“Oh, what about Goblin Slayer—?”

Is he going to have lunch?

Before she could finish her question, Priestess looked around: she didn’t see him anywhere.

Huh?

Then she spotted him—in the distance, talking to two other adventurers, Spearman and Heavy Warrior.

“Hrm,” Priestess breathed, almost as if imitating him. She was a little bit lonely—but a little bit glad.

“…Heh-heh.”

Yes, there was no question: this was a good thing.

§

“I’m going, then,” Goblin Slayer said to Cow Girl. He was in his room performing a quick check of his equipment. “I’ll be late tonight. I won’t need dinner.”

He put his sword at his hip and affixed his shield to his arm, put on leg protection and hung his item bag from his belt, then finally put on his helmet.

He was dressed and ready to go out on an adventure, but Cow Girl was used to all this. “Okay, sure,” was all she said in response.

He had been off helping to train some novice adventurers, and yet this was what he did the moment he got home. The fact that he came home at all

—was it his way of trying to be considerate?

“Uncle said he had some errands to run, so he’ll be late, too. I guess I’ll just stay here allll alone, all by myself…”

“Don’t forget to bar the door. Keep the fence gate shut, and close the shutters on the windows.”

“I know about all that. You’re such a worrywart.” She chuckled, and Goblin Slayer fell silent. She took the opportunity to brush some dust off his armor.

He went “Hrm”—did this displease him?—and then turned his head from side to side, checking his helmet’s mobility.

“So I know I’m ready,” Cow Girl said. “But what about you? Do you have your purse? That’s the most important thing, you know.”

“Erm…”

He obediently rifled through his item pouch. The little bag of coins was there.

“I have it.”

“Good, then!” Cow Girl took him by the shoulder and made him turn around. She adjusted the frayed tassel on his helmet. “I can come get you if you get falling down drunk,” she said, “but just try not to cause too much trouble for your friends, okay?”

The word friends caused Goblin Slayer to cock his head slightly, but after a moment, he responded, “Okay,” and nodded. “I don’t intend to.”

Goblin Slayer carried no light as he walked the road from the farm to the town, then through the town to the tavern. Traversing night-dark fields was very much part of his training, and once he reached town, he didn’t need a light anyway.

The special confusion of a bustling town at twilight greeted him; it was a situation he was not familiar with, and he proceeded silently through it.

People pushed and jostled. Not just adventurers, but travelers, as well as the workers building the training facility, were everywhere.

Goblin Slayer made his way along, glancing this way and that, until he saw the sign he had been told to look for.

“…Hmph,” he grunted as he pushed his way toward it, finally extricating himself from the crowd. At the same time, he reached a hand into his item pouch, making sure he hadn’t been the victim of any kind of pickpocketing. All was well.

The sign bore the inscription THE FRIENDLY AX and was itself in the shape of a hatchet.

Goblin  Slayer  pushed  through  the  swinging  door  and  was  instantly enveloped  in  an  ear-shattering  cacophony.  The  cavernous  interior  was illuminated by the reddish glow of lamps, and all the many round tables were full.

The building itself was smaller than the Guild branch office, but then again, that was a multipurpose structure. From the perspective of the old system, under which places like this had a tavern on the first floor and an inn on the second, the Ax was fairly large.

It used to be that adventurers’ lodgings doubled as places to find work— but now that was part of history. The Guild system had been widely adopted, and adventurers, who had previously been little more than a bunch of street toughs, had acquired a certain kind of public status.

Even today, there were a few shops that worked with the Guild to offer quests, but for the most part, adventurers’ inns had fallen into decline.

Then again, it was said that the legendary tavern The Golden Knight never assigned so much as a single quest, but still…

“Hey, Goblin Slayer! You made it!”

As the armored adventurer lingered just inside the door, a powerful voice called out to him. His helmet turned, scanning the inside of the bar as if taking stock of a cave he had just entered. There—there was the source of the voice.

In one corner of the tavern, in a seat from which he could see the entire room, sat a handsome and tough-looking man, currently waving his arm.

“Over here, over here!”

“You’re late, man! We’ve already got started!” “Sorry,” Goblin Slayer grunted.

The cup one of the men raised was already almost half-empty, and some of the snacks were clearly missing. But the biggest hint was that both adventurers’ faces were already flushed.

Goblin Slayer seated himself somewhat awkwardly at the circular table.

The other two men were dressed in civilian clothing; Goblin Slayer alone was wearing his armor. It was impossible not to find it slightly humorous. Unlike the way so many young people envisioned things, adventurers didn’t normally go around town in full gear.

Yes, Spearman and Heavy Warrior were both canny enough that even now they each carried a short sword at their hips, but it was probably overkill. The little glances that came their way were probably from travelers who were unaccustomed to adventurers.

These three men were of some renown: The Frontier’s Baddest, Spearman. The Frontier’s Kindest, Goblin Slayer. And the leader of The Frontier’s Coolest Party, Heavy Warrior. (The reason they couldn’t be called “famous faces” was because of one of them in particular…)

“Why did we not go to the Guild tavern?” Goblin Slayer asked.

“Because I don’t want rumors spreading that I was having a rowdy party with some guy who won’t even take off his armor,” Spearman shot at him.

“He’s just saying that,” Heavy Warrior said immediately. “He’s embarrassed to be seen drinking with you.”

“Is that so?”

“Especially by Miss Receptionist, if ya know what I mean.”

“Aw, shut yer trap!” Spearman growled. Then he jerked his thumb at the menu on the wall. “Anyway, hurry up and order something.”

“Yes,” Goblin Slayer said, studying the menu. There were at least a dozen kinds of alcohol alone, from ale to fire wine to grape wine.

“……Hmmm,” Goblin Slayer muttered.

“Listen up,” Spearman said with an exasperated sigh. “Times like these, you don’t think about it. Just go with an ale!”

“An ale, then.”

“Good! Hey, Miss! Three ales!” “Taking charge, huh?”

Heavy Warrior couldn’t suppress a smile and a quiet chuckle.

“What?” Spearman demanded with a glare, but the warrior calmly replied, “Nothing.”

The server placed three brimming mugs of ale on the table with a practiced hand. “Here you go, three ales! Enjoy!”

The waitress was a centaur, still young. One would have to be careful not, in a drunken lapse, to call her a Padfoot. Centaurs were quite a proud people and had no such soft thing as pads on their feet.

It was probably the same with minotaurs, some of whom became Pray-ers.

Not that minotaurs as a group usually worried about such details… But to get back to our story.

The waitress set the cups down, her generous bosom bouncing, then walked away (on all four of her feet), her tail swishing. It was impressive how readily she could weave through the crowded tavern with such a large build.

Watching her muscular behind closely, Heavy Warrior breathed, “I know boobs are good, but a butt is good.”

“Huh, so that explains why you’re so into that knight friend of yours—she rides a horse!”

“She has nothing to do with this.” Heavy Warrior paused a moment then said, “Guess we couldn’t have a chat like this at the Guild tavern, huh?”

There, you never knew when a woman might be watching—or listening.

Heavy Warrior sighed and picked up his ale, sending a ripple through it. “How about a toast, then?”

“To what?” Goblin Slayer asked quietly. He had also picked up his mug. “Er… Ah, hell. Too much trouble to think of something. Let’s just go with the usual.”

Spearman nodded, following the others’ lead in raising his drink. “To our town!”

“To the gods’ dice!” “To adventurers.”

“Cheers!” they exclaimed and then drained their mugs.

§

Someone—none of them could have said which one—suggested going outside to walk off the drinks a bit.

The streets were packed with people who had enjoyed some wine and were now out on the town. The three adventurers worked their way through the crowds, eventually winding up on the banks of a river.

The river burbled beside them and the stars shone above. The two moons shone down on them.

The evening breeze was pleasant on their alcohol-warmed bodies. It would have been impossible to be in a bad mood on a night like this.

It was only natural to hum a song or two.

Let the earth turn sour and the wind grow ill And the world fall dark for all time

There won’t be a moment when this shimmering jewel With four bright lights doesn’t shine

For I’ll walk the path that seekers will

As I’ve sworn, with these friends of mine.

To the ends of the earth and the home of the wind, Though all’s a dream, I’ll go

Those four bright lights in that gem never end Or gutter or burn down low

And as for us, we’ll never forget Our friends as we walk the road.

It was a half-forgotten song of military valor from long, long ago. A bard with his lute could make it sound beautiful and brave, but three drunken adventurers were lucky even to qualify as out of tune.

“The hell?” Spearman seemed to have had his fill of singing after a couple of verses, because he broke off in the same register as the tune.

His glare settled on Goblin Slayer. Something was bothering him. “What’re you gonna do?”

“What do you mean?” “You know what I mean!”

Ahh, he’s gone, Heavy Warrior thought, looking up at the stars.

Should they have brought along that witch? Bah. She would probably just be staring off into the distance. Maybe smiling ambiguously. No, you couldn’t count on her at a moment like this.

“I mean the receptionist, dumbass! Plus you’ve got that elf and your farm girl and that priestess! You’re crawling with ladies!”

“…”

Goblin Slayer didn’t speak for a moment. Finally, he said quietly, “I don’t think anything will be possible until all the goblins are gone.” He paused another moment. “I…”

Then he fell silent. Spearman gave him a sidelong glare. That was understandable enough.

It wasn’t too difficult to guess what kind of a past a man named Goblin Slayer must have.

Hence, Spearman gave a dramatic sigh then shrugged his shoulders with exaggerated annoyance.

“There it is.” 

“A goblin?”
 

“No, you nut.” Spearman snorted. Heavy Warrior laughed out loud.

Then the muscular fighter nodded and said, “Hey, it’s not like I don’t get it.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s like…” Heavy Warrior made a broad gesture at the sky, as if searching for something invisible. “It’s like, a man wants to be free, right? King of his own domain.”

“A king, huh!” Spearman smirked as they walked along. He wasn’t making fun; it was a grin of understanding. “Sounds good to me. There’s that old story about the mercenary who became a king.”

“Too bad I ain’t got any smarts,” Heavy Warrior said, giving himself a tap on the side of the head.

“If you study, you will gain some,” Goblin Slayer said. “You have money as well. You must have a certain intelligence.”

“Problem is, I don’t have the time.” Heavy Warrior shrugged, and the sword on his belt, which he diligently wore even when drunk, rattled. “And you can’t start studying after you become a king. That would just mean you were a stupid king, and nothing’s worse for the people than a ruler with no brain.”

“Yes.”

“But if I start studying now, I won’t be able to go on adventures, and that’ll put the rest of my party through hell.”

“I see,” Goblin Slayer said. He crossed his arms and mumbled thoughtfully. Finally, he produced his conclusion: “It’s difficult.”

“You got that right,” Heavy Warrior said soberly. Hard enough to make you give up your weapons and equipment and everything. His voice, however, was light and cheerful. The way the edges of his lips turned up was proof of a smile.

“Not that things are boring the way they are.”

“Plus, you’ve got your lady knight, huh?” Spearman interjected. “Shaddup!” Heavy Warrior gave him a kick.

“Ow!” Spearman exclaimed. The muscles of a trained warrior practically qualified as weapons themselves.

Heavy Warrior ignored the shouting, leaning on the railing of the bridge they were on. Goblin Slayer stood just beside him.

“I doubt it’s such a bad thing.”

“…”

“I’m sure it isn’t.”

“Guess not,” Heavy Warrior said, meeting Goblin Slayer’s somber words with a sly smile. “…Yeah. I guess I wouldn’t mind having her along, either.”

“Feh! You unattached guys have all the luck!” Spearman said with a click of his tongue. He leaned back against the railing and looked up at the stars. He squinted to see a light, at a height just past their reach, beyond the far side of the sky.

“You’re just greedy,” Heavy Warrior teased him.

“You idiot,” Spearman shot back. “As a man, you’re born wanting two things: beautiful women and the utmost strength. What else could you aim for in life?”

“You’re sounding like one of our kids again…”

Did he mean Scout Boy or Rookie Warrior? To seek to be known as the strongest of all adventurers was a privilege granted to youth.

“Yeah, the strongest, that’s right,” Spearman said, almost pouting. “Because I believe that when I am the strongest, I’ll be able to do anything.” He spat up at the heavens—not that it would change the rolls of the gods’ dice. “Women will love me, people will thank me, and I’ll be able to do the world some good. Nothing wrong with that, right?”

“Love you? Actual women?” Heavy Warrior snorted. Maybe it was some gentle payback for earlier.

“You better believe they will!”

“Hmm,” Goblin Slayer muttered. “I cannot picture it.”

“Aw, you be quiet!” Spearman glanced at Goblin Slayer while keeping his face skyward. As usual, the adventurer was wearing his metal mask. His grimy steel helmet. There was no way to know what expression lay behind it.

I’ll bet our dear receptionist would know.

It was just proof of how much and how often they had talked together. Spearman wondered: if he put on a helmet, would she know what his expression was?

He sucked in a deep breath then let it out. “And what about you, Goblin Slayer?” he asked. “What did you dream of when you were a kid?”

“Me?”

“Think there’s anyone else around here who kills enough goblins to go by that name?”

“…I suppose you’re right.”

Goblin Slayer lapsed into silence, staring into the river. Even in the light of the twin moons, it looked dark and black, like spilled ink.

Where did the river come from, and where did it go? He remembered asking his older sister once.

She had told him that it came from the mountains and went to the sea. He had once thought that he would follow it back to its source, just to see it. But he seemed unlikely to get the chance now.

“…I wanted to be an adventurer.”

“Huh!” Spearman said, giving Goblin Slayer a jab with his elbow. “Well, that’s one lifelong dream checked off the list, isn’t it?!”

“No,” Goblin Slayer said with a slight shake of his head. “It is difficult.” “It is, huh?”

“Yes,” Goblin Slayer nodded. “It is not so easily done.”

That right? Heavy Warrior added to himself. He let out a long breath. “What you wanna do, what you gotta do, and what you can do don’t always line up, do they?”

“It’s enough to make a guy nuts,” Spearman agreed.

The three men went quiet then, looking up at the moons. The wind blew across the river, pregnant with the promise of summer.

What we wanted.

To be renowned warriors. Great heroes or kings; part of history and legend.

To find some item from the Age of the Gods, rescue princesses, fight dragons, and save the world.

They’d wanted to explore hidden ruins, discover the secrets of the world and bring their truths to light.

They had wanted to be surrounded by gorgeous women, loved and admired—and just as smart as anyone they might meet.

They longed to wield weapons they had well and truly mastered, performing feats of strength that would be spoken of for generations to come. Someone who people would point to, no matter what the task, and say, Him. He can do it.

Most likely, they realized, at this point, that such stories were not to be theirs.

They were Silver, the third rank, the highest rank of adventurer to be out in the field. And that meant something to them. They never dismissed that achievement or felt it was so much trouble to be Silver that they would have been better off staying at Bronze or even Steel rank.

And yet.

And yet, truly… “So, well…”

He was Goblin Slayer.

He was not the red-haired boy. That was reason enough.

“…At the very least, I want to let her do what she wants to do.” The men all nodded.