Friday, 19 October 2018
Chapter 05
“I did
not agree to this!”
“Ah… Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha…”
The
next morning, High
Elf Archer was
traveling down the
mountain
path…enclosed in
a wooden cage.
Priestess was beside
her, smiling
awkwardly. Both of them were dressed in
rags.
The
elf’s long ears
were twitching angrily;
she grabbed the
bars of the
cage and gave them a rattle.
The
pole that ran
through the top
of the cage
so that it
could be carried
was,
like their outfits,
all part and
parcel of making
the “prisoners” look
realistic.
“Why do
we have to be the spoils of battle?!”
“Because I and the others never would
be.”
With the men as captives, the act would
no longer be convincing. Goblin
Slayer offered no harbor in this storm.
He had dyed his always-grimy armor black
from head to toe; it was a very
strange
sight. He could
have passed for
the spirit of
some dead soldier
recently back from the grave.
“Ho! Oh! The foolish lady adventurers
begin to rail again!” said an evil-
looking
dwarf who was
carrying the cage
from the front.
“Master monk,
perhaps we should teach them a lesson…”
“Heh-heh-heh! Fine
offerings they will
make to the
god of external
knowledge. I shall let you do what you
wish with them.” The response came
from
a dark lizard
monk who walked
ahead, smiling maliciously.
He had
been quite enthusiastic ever since his
disguise had been prepared and he had
painted his face and scales, using
pigment to cover them in uncanny patterns.
High Elf Archer bit her lip with a growl
and changed targets.
“Hey, you know it’s okay to be a little
angrier!!”
“Oh,
I think…I’ve sort
of gotten used
to this kind
of thing…” Priestess,
sitting
in one corner
of the cage
hugging her knees,
smiled in defeat.
The
expression, combined
with her willowy
body and delicate
beauty, made her
look
the very picture
of a prisoner.
A fine performance.
Of course, the
real
problem was that it wasn’t a performance
at all.
“…”
The
cage had one
other inhabitant, someone
who hadn’t said
a word. It
was Noble Fencer.
She, too, sat in a corner of the cage
with her legs drawn up to her chest—
whence she stared into space and didn’t
move a muscle.
Her fair skin, however, had lost its
luster; her rose-tinted lips had turned
blue.
Priestess came over to her slowly, moving
on all fours.
“Um, aren’t you cold…?”
“……I’m fine,” Noble Fencer said simply.
Normally,
that might have
been enough to
deter Priestess, but
this time
she only giggled a little bit.
It was a better response than Sure or
I see or Is that so? or All
right, then.
She
thought back to
how he had
been when they
first met; he
wouldn’t
have offered more than one of those.
“Me, I’m cold… So I’m going to keep close
to you, okay?”
“……Do what you want.”
Noble
Fencer looked away
pointedly. Priestess nodded,
even though the
fighter couldn’t see her, then drew her
knees up like the other girl.
The snowy path seemed very long. The cage
swayed back and forth in the
blizzard.
They
were marching toward
the fortress that
towered upon the
snowy
mountain. It was not something that would
be easy or pleasant for the women
to reach on foot.
So…were they trying to be kind by making
us play prisoners?
There
was insensitive, and
then there was
insensitive, Priestess thought,
holding gently to Noble Fencer’s
shoulders.
“Hachoo!”
Someone gave a dainty sneeze from the cold.
She
tried to cover
her red face
with her mouth,
but it was
too late. The
elf’s sharp ears had picked up the
direction of the sound, in which she now
looked
with a grin.
Noble Fencer was
staring at Priestess
in a way
that was
not very ladylike.
“I… I couldn’t help it. It’s cold out.”
“……Yes. It is,” Noble Fencer muttered,
but there was a hint of a smile at
the edges of her lips. Priestess was sure
of it.
Ohhh…
Part
of her was
proud to have
evoked this reaction—but
she was a
little
too embarrassed to consider it a lucky
break.
“You’re
right, though,” High
Elf Archer said,
the color of
her face
uninspiring. “It
really is cold
out here, especially
in this getup.”
Her ears
twitched restlessly. “I think my ears are
going to freeze clean off.”
“They don’t call it the snowy
mountain for nothing,” Goblin
Slayer said
from outside the cage. He signaled Dwarf
Shaman to stop. Then he reached
into his item pouch and pulled out a
blanket, although its usefulness against
the cold was minimal.
“It’s
a bitter wind,”
Dwarf Shaman said.
“What do you
say, Scaly—er,
monk?”
“I myself must dress warmly lest I be
rendered immobile.” The lizardman
was
wearing his normal
outfit, augmented with
a very heavy
cloak. He
narrowed
his eyes slightly.
“Some say the
fearsome nagas were
annihilated
by the chill.”
“Racial weakness, eh? No helping it,
then. What say we get a fire going
and warm our bones?”
Dwarf Shaman reached into his bag of
catalysts for a flint, along with one
or two large stones.
“Dancing flame, salamander’s fame. Grant
us a share of the very same.”
No sooner had he intoned the words than
the stones in his hand began to
glow gently from within. The casting of
Kindle consumed one of his spells—
but none of them considered it a waste.
“The
stones won’t burn,
just warm up,
so—yipes! Hot, hot!
It’s a good
compromise.”
“I’ve
got some very
bad memories of
that spell,” High
Elf Archer said,
reflexively covering her leg. Dwarf
Shaman snorted.
“If you don’t like it, I don’t have to
give you one.”
Shortly thereafter, the rocks were nicely
heated; Dwarf Shaman wrapped
them in cloth with a practiced hand and
placed them in the cage. Even High
Elf Archer, who had looked none too
pleased just a moment before, accepted
a stone, blinking.
“Er, thanks. You’re pretty considerate,
for a dwarf.”
“Th-thank you…!” Priestess said.
“…”
Each
of the three
had her own
reaction. Dwarf Shaman
simply thumped
his belly with a ’Tis nothing! , causing High Elf Archer to
sigh.
“You could stand to be a little more open
about your feelings,” the dwarf
said. “Still and all. Beard-cutter, got
anything for us?”
“Hmm.
I had intended
to wait until
we arrived at
the castle, but…”
He
grabbed a handful of something in his
item pouch and pulled it out easily. He
tossed it into the cage, where Priestess
caught it.
In her hand were several small rings,
each set with a blue gem.
“Those
rings have the
Breathe spell sealed
inside,” Goblin Slayer
said
calmly. This was a spell that would allow
one to breathe freely.
About the only spell caster Priestess
could think of who might be capable
of
doing such tricks
as this was
Witch. Even if
the thought of
the buxom
magician made Priestess keenly aware of
her own all-too-thin body.
She put that aside and said, “Goblin
Slayer, sir, if you’re giving us rings to
breathe underwater, does that mean…?”
In the back of her mind, Priestess
pictured those ruins they had visited, the
ones ruled over by an ogre. Goblin Slayer
had used a scroll inscribed with the
Gate spell to launch a high-pressure jet
of water transported from the bottom
of the sea toward the monster.
“Of course you have that,” Priestess said.
“The
rings won’t work
for long,” Goblin
Slayer said sharply.
“But they
will help take the edge off the cold,
even out here in the snow.”
“Awesome! Why didn’t you say so sooner,
Orcbolg?!”
High
Elf Archer clapped
her hands, flicked
her ears, and
with a great
show of joy put the ring on her finger.
“Mmmm!”
she said. To
all appearances, it
was true that
the ring helped
with the cold. Perhaps it made sense, of
a sort: snow was just frozen water,
after all.
“The
ring alone doesn’t
do that much,
but combined with
the dwarf’s
stone, I’m pretty warm,” the elf said.
“Oh, uh… Let me try, then…” With a good
deal of reluctance, Priestess
put on her ring. The moment she did so,
the chill was blunted all around her
body, as if she had buried herself in a
blanket.
“Oh!” she exclaimed involuntarily. “This
is amazing!”
“Isn’t it?” High Elf Archer said, closing
her eyes and looking as proud as
if she had come up with the rings
herself.
Dwarf Shaman, listening to this, snorted
out a laugh.
“Hey, what?” grumbled High Elf Archer,
pouting.
“Goodness…” Priestess
sighed and looked
at Noble Fencer
just beside
her. She was met with a forceful gaze and
icy eyes. “Here, why don’t you try
a ring, too?”
“………I don’t need it,” Noble Fencer
replied, shaking her head so hard
her golden hair quivered violently.
“………I’m not cold.”
“Come on, how can you say that…?”
Suddenly,
Priestess remembered the
younger girls at
the Temple. It was
the
sort of thing
that they would
have said pointedly
(whatsoever their
reasons) when they went out in winter in
only the thinnest vestments, even as
their noses dripped with snot.
Gently, Priestess took Noble Fencer’s
hand. As expected, it was freezing
cold.
“Here, I’ll help you put it on.”
“……I
told you, I’m
not— achoo! ” She sneezed,
then quickly looked
away from the surprised Priestess. “……I’m
not cold.”
“…Sure,
sure.” Priestess struggled
to suppress a
laugh. “I’ll make
sure
everyone knows. But I’m still going to
put this ring on you.”
“…………Hrm.”
And so, no longer taking no for an
answer, Priestess slid the ring onto the
fighter’s finger.
The blue stones glittered on the girls’
hands.
“Heh! Guess I can’t run away anymore now
that I’m wearing this.” Even
High Elf Archer seemed to be getting in
on the fun, giggling as she spoke.
“……”
Noble Fencer remained silent and sullen, paying the others no mind, but
the three of them stuck close to the warm
stones. The warming effect granted
by
their rings with
the pretty blue
stones might not
last very long—but
the
rings themselves would be left over.
“Heyo,
girls, that’s enough
chitchat. Back to
looking frightened.” Dwarf
Shaman tried to look as menacing as he
could in hopes of encouraging them
in their act.
“Come on, dwarf, you don’t have to spoil the moment!”
“Moment?
Speak for yourself,
Long-Ears. What kind
of slaves show
up
laughing and gossiping?”
When
he put it
that way, she
couldn’t very well
argue. High Elf
Archer
pursed her lips in annoyance but went
quiet.
“Take the lead,” Goblin Slayer said. “My
night vision is too poor.”
In
fact, it would
be quite unusual
for an agent
of chaos to
carry a torch.
Goblin
Slayer took the
pole of the
cage on his
shoulder, now following
Lizard Priest.
“Leave it to me. Best you follow closely,
my wandering knight.” With a
hissing, throaty chuckle, Lizard Priest
moved forward in somber strides.
The great black gate of the fortress was
nearly before them, impossible to
miss against the snow-whitened mountain.
§
“We request entrance!”
Lizard
Priest’s booming voice
could be heard
even over the
howling of
the
blizzard. A dragon’s
roar, indeed. There
was no way
the fortress’s
inhabitants could have missed him.
“Your visitor is a servant of the god of
external knowledge, a priest of the
eye of the green moon! Brothers, will you
not open this gate to me?!”
Lizard Priest was (in fact) a cleric, and
one who had applied himself long
and diligently enough to rise to Silver
rank. He had the bearing to pose as a
high-placed member of any religion.
As
the last echo
of his voice
vanished into the
storm, Dwarf Shaman
nudged Goblin Slayer with his elbow.
“Hard
to believe he’s
just acting, eh?
I don’t think
the little girl
would
quite have been up to it.”
“True.”
“Given
how scantily clad
shrine maidens of
the evil gods
tend to be, it
might’ve been interesting, though.”
“Is that so?”
“What’s
this? I thought
you liked her
display at the
festival. Don’t you
want to dress her up?”
“I’m not interested.”
The
two spoke quickly
and quietly, facing
forward so they
would still
seem to be faithful disciples of Lizard
Priest.
After a moment, Dwarf Shaman said, “I
wonder if this goblin paladin or
whatever is strong. What do you think,
Beard-cutter?”
“I don’t know,” he murmured. “But we
should operate on the assumption
that he’s stronger than us.”
“You mean so that whatever the reality
is, we’ll be prepared?”
“Yes.”
“I
suppose if we
assumed he was
a fool and
he got the
drop on us,
that
would only prove we were foolish.”
Goblins were stupid, but they weren’t
fools. Such had always been one of
Goblin
Slayer’s most important
tenets. He nodded
wordlessly at Dwarf
Shaman.
“Hmmm.”
There was no
response to Lizard
Priest’s summons. The
gate
remained shut fast, the only answer the
crying of the wind.
Very well, then. Lizard Priest gathered
up the sleeve of his ostentatiously
colored robe and withdrew something from
it: a wood-carved eye, the work
of
Dwarf Shaman, made
in imitation of the brand
they had found.
This he
held up.
“The blue eye of the god of external
knowledge looks upon you! Brothers,
those who share in knowing, open now this
gate!”
At last, something happened.
The very slightest of gaps appeared beneath the gate. This was followed
by a clatter of pulleys, and gears turned
by chains, and with a mighty groan
the door began to open.
Goblin
Slayer watched the
gate with absolute
concentration. How many
goblins would he find operating it?
Whatever the number, their enemy had a
huge fighting force. Now things were
getting interesting.
“Um… This
is going to be okay…isn’t it?”
At the soft but unexpected voice from
behind him, Goblin Slayer moved
only his eyes behind his helmet. From the
other side of the bars, Priestess was
looking at him with a trace of
nervousness.
“Do
you think they’ll…throw
us straight in
the dungeon or…or
anything?”
“Most likely.” Goblin Slayer nodded, but
only the tiniest bit—the goblins
could see him. “It’s better than being
made a sacrifice.”
“Is… Is it?”
“Yes.”
“But…you’ll rescue us, right?”
“That’s my intention.”
Priestess opened her mouth to say
something further, then quickly closed
it again. Her expression softened as if
she had given up.
“Well… All right, then.”
With
that, she exhaled
gently. Even with
the various magical
heaters, it
fogged the moment it left her mouth.
He could have said It’ll be all right, or You can trust me, or I won’t let the
goblins lay a finger on you—anything to
give the girls some comfort. But he
hadn’t. He never did.
Of
course, if he
were suddenly all
warm and cuddly,
she might suspect
that someone had stolen his armor. But
still…
He is truly hopeless, she
thought. She didn’t
know why it
made her feel
like
smiling, but she
suppressed the impulse.
She could feel
Noble Fencer
beside her, her body stiff; if from
nervousness or fear, Priestess didn’t know.
“It’s okay,” Priestess said. “Goblin
Slayer is here. Everyone’s here.”
“They’re coming,” High Elf Archer said
sharply, picking up her ears.
“GROOOBR!”
The creature that appeared was small
beside the gate it emerged from, and
its yell was slight compared with that of
Lizard Priest.
It was a single goblin, dressed in
tattered priest’s robes. He was no doubt
trying to look as intimidating as
possible, but his little, unsteady steps looked
rather comical. Yet, somehow the silly
quality, as if he was a caricature of a
proud high priest, made him uncanny as
well.
“GORARO! GORBB!!”
The
goblin stopped in
front of Lizard
Priest and gestured
imperiously,
waving his hand and screeching something.
Lizard Priest, still holding up the
holy sign, nodded gravely along. Goblin
Slayer and Dwarf Shaman kept their
heads bowed like good disciples, silent
and without talking.
“What’s he saying?” High Elf Archer
whispered to Priestess.
“No
idea,” she murmured
back, shaking her
head. How was
she to
understand the goblin language? “Do you
think that’s the goblin paladin?”
“He sort of looks more like a high priest
to me.”
“……You’re wrong.” Noble Fencer’s voice
interrupted their whispering.
“………That’s…not him.”
The fire of anger burned in her eyes; Priestess
couldn’t miss it.
Oh…
A
little thought made
it all too
clear where the
goblin had gotten
his
priestly vestments.
“It’s
okay…,” she said,
hugging Noble Fencer.
She wasn’t sure
her
feelings came across, but she hoped so.
Now, then.
“In that case, might we request an
audience with the ruler of this fortress?
The paladin himself?”
“GORA! GORARARU!”
“Oh,
these? These are
my two faithful
servants. And these
others, my…
gift.”
Lizard Priest made
a sweeping gesture
that encompassed the
cage; he
looked truly lordly. “We managed to
capture a few pathetic adventurer girls.
One of whom, I might add, already bore
the mark of an offering.”
“ORRRG! GAROOM!”
“Ah, very much so, I understand. Lead us
to the prison. We must cut off
their limbs so they don’t escape.”
The goblin priest nodded and, with a
gesture that was a comical imitation
of Lizard Priest’s own, motioned the
party inside.
Naturally, Lizard
Priest didn’t understand
goblin speech any
more than
the rest of them did. But their language
often sounded like a child throwing a
tantrum, and the meaning was generally
about the same:
I want that. Gimme. He did it. It’s his
fault.
What to do, then? The lithe tongue hissed
a prayer:
“O
Mapusaurus, ruler of
the earth. Permit
me to join
your pack,
howsoever briefly.”
This
was the Communicate
miracle, a work
of telepathy. By
borrowing
some
of the power
of his forebears,
who had hunted
in packs, Lizard
Priest
was able to understand and make himself
understood.
“Nothing
can go forward
if the two
sides don’t understand
each other.
Normally this spell is used for
evangelism, but…”
Such
was what he
had told them
around the table
at the inn
the night
before, sitting beside Dwarf Shaman, who
worked tirelessly on his sewing.
“I suspect it will be necessary for us at
some point to learn a few words of
the goblin tongue.”
That had been Goblin Slayer’s very
serious response. And now…
“Phew! Looks like it worked, somehow,”
Dwarf Shaman said.
“We are still only through the gate.
Don’t let down your guard.”
“Y’don’t have to tell me twice.”
The dwarf let out a short breath. Goblin
Slayer shot him a look, then took
in their surroundings.
Goblins.
They
were in the
courtyard of an
old castle. Once
upon a time,
a spring
had
delivered water to
the area, and
banquets had perhaps
been held in
this
marble
plaza. But now,
the spring was
dried up; the
place was covered
in
snow,
all signs of
grass and trees
vanished from the
garden, any sight
of
knights or nobles long since past. Now it
was the province of goblins, and as
such, it had become a waste heap caked
with blood and filth.
“This
is a dwarven
fortress from the
Age of the
Gods? Look what’s
become of it…”
For someone who loved adventure and the
unknown as much as High Elf
Archer did, this pained whisper was
understandable.
“They have no idea how valuable this is…”
“Look at them all, though,” Priestess
said, biting her lip in an attempt to
suppress the tremble in her voice. “We
have to do something about this…”
It
was a stroke
of good luck
that the goblins
saw them only
as pitiful
offerings. The
little monsters knew
how easily such
prisoners could be
reduced
to weeping and
sniveling, no matter
how proud they
looked or
sounded.
The goblin horde numbered well beyond the
dozens.
Goblin
goons were everywhere:
the garden, upon
the walls, in the
watchtower and the crenels. Each of them
wore poor equipment—although it
probably seemed of the highest make to
goblin eyes—and each of them was
watching the newcomers closely.
Their
gazes carried flashes
of curiosity and
lust, but mostly
they were
filled
with a terrifying
hunger. The eyes
of an animal,
of a brainless
beast,
would have been better. At least wild
creatures didn’t stare with such malice
and greed.
“……”
Priestess
forgot herself in
her efforts to
shield Noble Fencer
from their
eyes;
she hugged the
other girl harder.
She knew from
experience that it
would only egg the goblins on, but she
did it anyway.
“……”
In the meantime, Goblin Slayer was
carefully observing the environment
from under his helmet. The geography, the
architecture: if he didn’t take it all
in, then he was almost certain to die in
whatever he might attempt.
Death hardly concerned him; but what he
couldn’t stand was the thought
that these goblins would remain to work
their evil.
“GORARA.”
“Mm. Come, now. He says to follow him,”
the lizard said, going after the
goblin.
“Sure thing, master priest. C’mon, tin
man.”
At Dwarf Shaman’s encouragement, Goblin
Slayer hefted the pole of the
cage.
They
left the courtyard
full of goblins,
heading down a
staircase that
dribbled
with rotting runoff
from the trash.
Their footsteps echoed
eerily in
the stone basement. It was dim and
gloomy, and an indescribable stench rose
up from somewhere. They doubted it was
from a storehouse. Why keep food
in cages?
They were in the dungeon.
The
bars and locks
were of dwarven
make, sturdy yet
beautiful. The
chains within were equally breathtaking.
Perhaps they had been used, at some
time
long past, to
bind agents of
chaos, or those
evildoers who would
have
threatened this fortress.
Now, though, this place was under goblin
control, and these rooms were
the
last residence of
unfortunate young women.
Imagine such a
poor soul
chained down here, trying to stop her
nose against the unmistakable smell of
rotting corpses…
“…”
Priestess heard a sound. It was Noble
Fencer, who had clenched her teeth
and let out a low groan. Her body was
stiff in Priestess’s arms.
“ORAGARR.”
The goblin fiddled with the rusty lock,
and the door of the cell came open.
The
floor was slick
with some unidentifiable liquid.
The chains were
nearly red with rust.
Being underground, the air carried a
chill, though it was better than being
outside. The stink of rot drifted along
with the cold.
There was only a hole in which to do
one’s business, and it was already
full
of waste. As
if that weren’t
enough, a human
arm had been
tossed
carelessly into the pit as well.
High
Elf Archer gave
a strangled gurgle
that echoed loudly.
We need
hardly mention elves’ superior senses…
Although human eyes couldn’t see as well
as elven ones, the smell and the
sense of the place all reached back to
Priestess’s formative experiences. She
gave a scratchy, whistling intake of
breath. She was used to this sort of thing
—maybe, probably, so she liked to
think—but even so…
“…Eugh…”
Even
so, she couldn’t
help but think
back to that
first adventure. The
young
warrior striding before
her, then convulsing
with poison before
her
eyes. The wizard he had helped to kill. And the fighter,
swarmed by goblins,
violated in the worst possible way.
All instead of her. They had died while
she had survived. While she was
alive now. But wouldn’t her turn come one
day?
It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s… It’s okay.
She
recited the name
of the Earth
Mother under her
breath to keep
her
teeth from chattering. She glanced
at him.
Or at least, she tried.
“GAROU!”
“Hh—ahh!”
She
felt something grab
her head; she
screamed. The goblin
priest had
reached into the cage and pulled on her
hair with inhospitable violence.
“ORAGARAO!”
Open the cage and put this girl in the
cell!
Whatever
deity they were
to be sacrificed
to, it seemed
it would begin
with her.
Dwarf Shaman and Goblin Slayer exchanged
a look and nodded, then set
down the cage.
Lizard Priest said gravely, “That is well
and good, then. However, if you
mean to… enjoy these offerings, first I
must meet the paladin, and—”
“Hrrraaaaahhhhhh!”
As
the door of
the cage was
opened, Noble Fencer
did something
altogether unexpected:
she forced her
way out of
the cage, reaching
out for
the goblin who was amusing himself with
Priestess and wrapping her hands
around his neck.
“OGA…?!”
“Hraah!
Haaaaahhhh!” Howling like
a wild animal,
Noble Fencer took
advantage of her larger body size to slam
into the monster.
“GORARA…?!”
“Eep!” Priestess yelped. The half-crazed
goblin priest had pulled a stone
knife from his belt and grazed her with
it. A thin red line of blood appeared
on her cheek, and she shrank back. Even
as she did so, Noble Fencer knocked
the knife from the creature’s hand.
“ORAGAGAGA?!?!”
“Goblin… Goblin! Goblin!!”
She
straddled him, lashing
out with her
fists. Each time
he hollered and
struck out, fresh bruises appeared on
Noble Fencer’s pale skin, but she paid
them no mind.
“Aaaagh! Die! Die, you piece of filth!”
A nose broke; eye sockets shattered.
Teeth bent. A chin was struck.
“GARAO?!”
Even
goblins were not
apt to miss
a disturbance of
this magnitude. The
other creature in the basement room, who
had been waiting in anticipation of
having its fun with the prisoners, raised
a cry.
Then the goblin guard did a very
goblin-like thing: rather than face down
the attacker, he dashed up the stairs to
summon his comrades.
“Feh.” Goblin Slayer clicked his tongue.
His movements were rapid and
precise.
Dumping
the cage to
the ground—and ignoring
the indignant objections
of High Elf Archer—he drew the sword at
his hip and sent it flying.
The blade cut through the air soundlessly
before burying itself in the head
of the goblin on the stairs.
“ORAG?!”
The
creature came rolling
back down the
staircase, convulsing, not
comprehending what
had happened to
him. Goblin Slayer
leaped at him
immediately.
“Hmph.”
He gave the
sword a twist,
severing the spinal
cord, and when
this
definitive final blow
had been dealt,
he wrenched the
sword out and
kicked the body away. It tumbled the rest
of the way down the stairs, landing
in the pool of waste and sinking down
into it. That would hide the body.
However, Goblin Slayer, never one to let
down his guard, kept a close eye
on the top of the staircase, their link
to the surface.
“GORA?”
Just as he suspected. A patrolling goblin
had picked up the ruckus on the
stairs and was coming to investigate.
Goblin Slayer quickly adjusted his grip
on his sword and called out to his
companions, “We’ve been detected. Another
one is coming.”
“Aaaaaghhh! Aaahhhhhhhh!”
Noble
Fencer was still
blindly beating the
dead goblin priest.
The
creature’s hideous,
uneven teeth broke
the skin on
her fists, but
she hardly
noticed. In only seconds, both her hands
were covered in blood.
“St-stop!
Please stop!” Priestess
begged, approaching the
young woman.
“This isn’t the time to—ouch!” One of the
flailing arms shoved her backward
and she landed on her behind.
The slap of cold stone against her frail
bottom was rather painful, but she
pushed the sensation aside and said, “Er,
ah, shall I use Silence…?”
“Nah, lassie, no sound at all would
attract as much attention as too much
sound,” Dwarf Shaman said. “In which
case, ahem…”
He
began digging through
his bag, muttering
as he passed
over first one
object and then another.
“Looks
like there’s no
choice,” Goblin Slayer
muttered, gripping his
sword tighter. When he took care of the
goblin that was coming toward them
now, it would inevitably make the
situation worse. Should he simply take on
the goblins now? No… The odds were too
much against them.
As
he was making
these rapid calculations,
Lizard Priest, who
had been
quiet until that moment, spoke up.
“Mistress ranger, give a scream!”
“Wha? Er, who, m-me?”
High Elf Archer, who had been trying to
stop Noble Fencer, was caught
off guard by this sudden summons, her
ears bouncing in surprise.
Lizard Priest slapped his tail against
the ground in irritation. There was a
note
of anger in
his voice as
he said, “Do
as I ask and scream!
We haven’t
any time!”
“Y-yeah, sure, okay. A scream… A scream…”
She took a deep breath through her well-formed lips, opened her mouth,
and…
“N-nooooooo! Stop! Stooooooooopppp!”
Her voice was so clear and piercing it
could have cut thread.
Elf voices carry very well. Her shout
echoed through the basement, up the
stairs, and reached the surface, if only
just.
“GORARA.”
The goblin near the top of the stairs
seemed to grasp what was going on.
He
stopped, picturing the
brutalized woman. He
made a vulgar
gesture and
glanced at Goblin Slayer where he stood
on the stairs.
“GORARURU?”
Goblin
Slayer shrugged, and
the goblin gave
an ugly laugh
and a
dismissive wave of his hand.
“You’ll be by later, is it?”
Goblin
Slayer stared at
the creature as
it walked away,
the disgusting
smile still on its face.
They
had managed to
buy back a
small measure of
the time they
had
wasted. He wouldn’t squander it again.
The
original plan had
been to take
the “sacrifices” to the master
of the
fortress
for inspection. If
there was going
to be a
chance to take
out the
goblin paladin—if such a thing
existed!—that would most likely be it.
But the plan was in tatters now.
“Well, I expected as much,” Goblin Slayer
muttered dispassionately as he
closed the door, put in the blocks, and
then went back down the stairs.
The
guard’s body had
floated back up
to the top
of the waste
pool;
without hesitation, he kicked it down
again.
He looked over to where Noble Fencer was
still pummeling the corpse of
the
goblin priest. “Bring
that goblin over
here, too. It
isn’t much, but
we’ll
hide
him.” The heavy
slap of struck
flesh had transformed
into a watery
splorch.
“Come…on… Stop already!” High Elf Archer
said, tearing Noble Fencer
off the corpse. She grabbed the girl by
the shoulders and pulled, throwing her
body
weight into it.
She might have
looked delicate, but such was
the
difference in strength between a Silver
and a Porcelain rank that she managed
to dislodge the warrior.
“Excuse
me, but what
do you think
you’re doing?” High
Elf Archer
demanded. “I thought we explained how
this was going to go!”
Noble
Fencer, now sprawled
on the dirty
floor, regarded the
archer with
dark eyes. “……I have to kill the
goblins.”
“Aww, man…!”
It
was no use
trying to convince
her otherwise. High
Elf Archer pursed
her lips, making her displeasure plain.
Her ears stood up in annoyance amidst
her
disheveled hair. That
unpredictability was what
she liked best
about
humans.
She had to
admit she even
enjoyed complaining about
all of
Orcbolg’s strange decisions. At least
sometimes. Just a little bit…!
The
adventurer who sat
before her—both hands
covered in blood
but
nonetheless a
serene expression on her face—was
different. How she
was
different, High
Elf Archer couldn’t
exactly say, but
she found it
unmistakable.
“That’s why I was against this…!”
“I’m just glad we got away without
suddenly having to let off a spell… I
guess,”
Dwarf Shaman said,
sighing and shaking
the wine flask
at his hip.
Hearing a splash from within, he took out
the stopper and took a long swig.
Then
he brushed droplets
out of his
beard and burped
once. The spirits
of
wine were just right for a danger
narrowly averted.
“This
isn’t what we
planned on, but
we’ve got to
play the hand
we’re
dealt.”
“Yes, I suppose there’s nothing for it.
It’s better to have her with us than
to
leave her alone
to cause trouble
unaccounted for.” Lizard
Priest sounded
awfully calm.
High Elf Archer raised an eyebrow. “And
what if she gets us caught up in
something
else, something even
worse?” She put
her hands on
her hips and
glared
at Noble Fencer.
Her anger at
the young woman,
who was standing
there
with her hands
still covered in
gore as though
none of this
concerned
her, seemed to be welling up again.
Priestess, sensitive to what was going
on, tried to head things off. “C-calm
down, just please, stay calm! This isn’t
the time to be getting angry…!”
“You should be the angriest of all!”
“Wha?!”
High
Elf Archer suddenly
stuck out her
hand and brushed
Priestess’s
cheek.
The girl winced
involuntarily at the
stinging pain. Goblin
weapons
might be crude, but a blade was a blade.
The red line along her cheek was still
dribbling blood.
“She decided to launch a surprise attack,
and you’re the one who paid for
it!”
Priestess’s eyes flickered. She pressed
her small hand to her cheek.
“I’m
fine,” she insisted.
After some consideration, the
expression she
settled on was a smile, one that said she
could deal with a little scratch. Her
brave face only seemed to infuriate High
Elf Archer further.
“You’re not fine, you’re hurt—!”
At
least—yes, at the
very least, that
adventurer could apologize
to
Priestess.
High Elf Archer reached out as if to grab
Noble Fencer, who stood staring
into space—
“Calm down.”
“Orcbolg…!”
—and found a grimy gauntlet stopping her.
The smallest of tears seeped out at the
edges of High Elf Archer’s eyes. It
was
her agitated emotions
that were to
blame. She couldn’t
be calm just
because they told her to.
“But—but
she said she’d
come with us,
and now look—!”
High Elf
Archer
said petulantly, pointing
at Noble Fencer.
She just wanted
to make
herself understood.
But Goblin Slayer shook his head. “I’m
telling you to calm down.”
He grabbed the murdered goblin and
dragged him, robes and all, into the
pool of waste. With a disgusting sound,
that corpse, too, sank into the muck.
Goblin Slayer looked away from High Elf
Archer, whose shoulders were
heaving with her angry breath.
“Hey.”
“Oh, y-yes!” Priestess said, quickly
straightening up.
“Start by attending to yourself, then
give her first aid. That hand will rot.”
There was a moment’s silence, followed by
a grunt. Goblin Slayer seemed
to be weighing whether to go on.
Then: “There will be a scar, as well.”
“…Sure. Should I use a potion…?”
“Start with herbs.”
Priestess
nodded with a
“Yes, sir,” then
pattered over to
Noble Fencer.
Antiseptic and
pain-killing herbs wouldn’t
have the dramatic
effects of a
potion,
but they were
still tried and
true. Goblin Slayer
made sure Priestess
had applied the ointment to her cheek
correctly, then he nodded.
“Sorry
for the trouble,
but please check
whether there are
any survivors
among the prisoners.”
“On it.” Dwarf Shaman took another swig
of his wine as he answered. He
was always quick to respond to a call.
“Come with me, Scaly. I’m going to
need help if I have to drag anyone out of
any cells.”
“Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Yes,
conventional wisdom does
hold that spell
casters
are physically weak, doesn’t it!” Lizard
Priest said. Just a little joke: a way of
fighting back against the oppressive
atmosphere of the prison.
Touching
the tip of
his nose with
his long tongue,
Lizard Priest said
to
Goblin Slayer, “I presume you do not mind
if we tend to the injuries of any
wounded we find?”
“Save
your miracles,” Goblin
Slayer replied. “No
matter what you
do,
there won’t be any prisoners in good
enough condition to join the battle.”
“Indeed, a point well taken,” the lizard
said, making that strange gesture
with his hands.
As
he departed, he
whispered, “I understand
your feelings, but
perhaps
this time emotion should be left for
later.”
The elf’s ears picked up on his murmur.
“I don’t think it’s enough to just say we
had no other choice and let this
slide,” she said after a pause, her face
in a pout. Goblin Slayer stood before
her silently, his arms crossed.
Goblin
Slayer felt that
something was off—partly
due to the
“goblin
priest,” a hideous and seemingly
contradictory thing if there ever was one—
but
the prisoners were
more concerning. Supposedly,
no girls had
been
kidnapped
from the village.
Which meant that
they had most
likely been
brought here from some other village the
goblins had raided.
“…”
Had
the goblins forced
their prisoners to
walk along that
snowy road,
then? Was that even possible?
How large an area were the goblins
operating in? And was it this “goblin
paladin” leading them?
“I don’t like it,” Goblin Slayer said.
He
had been talking
to himself, but
High Elf Archer
replied sulkily,
“You’re telling me.” Then, making no
effort to hide the unhappy twitching of
her
ears, she stared
into his mask
and said, “Why
did you bring
that girl
along?”
The
helmet left his
expression as unreadable
as ever, but
he answered
dispassionately, “Because we need her.”
“Oh
we do, do
we?” the ranger
said, spitting out
a little mocking
laugh.
“Well, maybe you should give her a
spanking, then.”
“Whatever the case, if we don’t get out
of here we won’t be able to return
home.
And,” he added, as calmly as always, “there are goblins to slay. We’ve
taken on the challenge. We will either
succeed, or we won’t.”
“This… This isn’t the time to be talking
like that…!”
“…I know.”
But.
“I do…believe me, I know.”
His
voice sounded uncharacteristically tired.
High Elf Archer
suddenly
found she couldn’t speak.
“……”
Orcbolg?
she mouthed silently to him.
Maybe the word didn’t reach him. He
slowly let out a breath. “I’ll stand
guard. Once you’re done checking the
prisoners and helping anyone you can,
get your equipment ready.”
“…Here?”
“That’s right.”
“………”
“I don’t think you’ll manage much
fighting dressed that way,” he said to
the elf.
Specifically, in
a basement prison
surrounded by waste
and rot and
corpses.
High Elf Archer muttered her agreement.
She pressed a finger to her brow
as if forcing back a headache. “Just to
make sure I’m clear on this: here? ”
“That’s right.”
“And you want us to change our clothes?”
“That’s right.”
Argh, for crying out loud. Orcbolg hasn’t
changed a whit, has he?!
“Excuse me,” the archer said with a sigh,
“but elves have this little thing
called modesty…”
“If it bothers you, use this as a
curtain.”
“Ergah?! …Gah! You!”
He had grabbed a blanket from the cage
and tossed it at her; it landed over
her head.
High
Elf Archer’s expression
of anger slipped
for just a
second; she
quickly tried to get it back, but it was
too late. Goblin Slayer already had his
back turned anyway.
High Elf Archer set about tying the
blanket securely around her neck, then
changing her clothes underneath it. She
couldn’t help feeling pathetic.
She
gleefully discarded the
dirty rags she
had worn in
her guise as a
captive
adventurer, replacing them
with her usual
hunter’s garb. She
put on
her armor to keep her safe in battle;
slung her bow across her back; and as for
her
underwear…well, forget it.
She didn’t understand
why anyone would
bother with it anyway.
Oh, man… What am I even angry about?
This
wasn’t like her.
It wasn’t like
her at all.
She slowly felt
her anger
ebbing away.
Huh?
High
Elf Archer paused,
mystified, as she
inspected her armor.
Orcbolg
had given her the cold shoulder, and yet
she was hardly even upset about it.
Partly it was because she was used to it
by now, but…
If
that were all,
I wouldn’t care
about him ignoring
me when it
came to
her , either.
“Hrrm…” High Elf Archer’s ears quivered
thoughtfully as she considered
this riddle.
So…there’s something different when it comes
to her and Orcbolg.
What could it be? How was it different?
She turned these thoughts over and over
in her mind until they threatened
to stir up a whirlpool.
She
still didn’t find
an answer—what came
to her instead
was the one
word the two of them seemed to share.
“Goblins.”
Goblins, goblins, goblins, goblins,
goblins, goblins!
High Elf Archer found herself trembling;
the word resounded in her mind
like a curse.
“Ahhh,
sheesh! This just
isn’t good…!” She
smacked her cheeks with
both hands, rubbed the edges of her eyes.
She couldn’t seem to center herself.
She couldn’t get these feelings to go
away.
She couldn’t find an answer.
Things were at their worst.
Yes, but.
“………There
really is just
one thing to
do, isn’t there?”
She let out a
groan, her ears twitching, then stuck her
head out from under the blanket.
Goblin Slayer was still standing at the
top of the stairs, keeping a watchful
eye on the door there, his equipment at
the ready.
High
Elf Archer spoke
softly to his
back. “I’m sorry,
Orcbolg.” She
opened
her mouth but
found she couldn’t
quite go on
speaking. She looked
for the words, then tried again. “I…lost
my head a little.”
“That happens,” Goblin Slayer said, not
turning around. “To you, to that
girl, to me.”
His words were as calm as ever, even a
little cold. High Elf Archer found
her cheeks nearly relaxing into a smile.
“Even you, Orcbolg?”
“That’s right.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen it.”
“Is that so?”
“It sure is.”
“I see,” he murmured without much
interest, then turned his head.
It
was just an
instant. High Elf
Archer remembered something
Priestess
had
told her once.
How when he
was thinking, when
he was about
to say
something—he would go silent.
“I’ll tell everyone else,” he said
quietly. “If you think I should.”
High
Elf Archer poked
a hand out
from under the
blanket and gave a
reassuring wave as if to say, It’s okay.
“Nah. I’ll tell them myself.” She paused,
then said, “Thanks.”
She
pulled the blanket
aside with a
flutter, glad that
the motion hid
her
face at that instant—hid the gentle smile
that had crept onto it.
“You’re surprisingly…considerate, Orcbolg.”
“…Is that so?” Goblin Slayer murmured.
Then he said, “Do it quickly. I
want the other girls to change as well.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
She
couldn’t see his
face—and yet, High
Elf Archer thought
she knew
what his expression was.
That was enough for her.
§
“Nobody there.”
“All right.”
When
High Elf Archer
popped her head
back inside the
door and
delivered her report, the party quickly
moved out of the basement prison.
The
nauseating smell of
goblin is not
a pleasant thing.
The stone castle
was not a great deal less rank than the
underground room, but somewhat, and
Priestess took deep, grateful breaths.
“Is it really…okay to leave those people
there?” she whispered.
“Safer than bringing them to stumble along
behind us, I can only think,”
Lizard Priest said.
Fortunately—or perhaps,
as it were,
unfortunately—they found several
captive
girls, wasted but
alive. They had
freed the young
women, but as
Lizard Priest said, it was impossible to
bring them along.
And as important as he knew time and
miracles were to the party, the fact
that they had been unable even to heal
the young women…
“We have to get back there and help them
as soon as we can,” Priestess
said, looking back regretfully.
“Right
now I’m wondering
if we can
even help ourselves,”
Dwarf
Shaman muttered, feeling his way along
the stone wall.
He was the one leading the party along.
The stone fortress had no chinks
or
cracks, truly the
work of dwarves.
When pitted against
some attacking
bandits, the work of those craftsmen was
going to tell.
The party walked along in formation now,
with High Elf Archer scanning
for enemies and Dwarf Shaman charting the
way forward.
“Anyway, Beard-cutter, where d’you plan
to go? Are we heading for the
main keep?”
“No,”
Goblin Slayer said,
shaking his head.
“It’s still too
early to attack
the enemy leader.”
“…”
Noble Fencer shivered at the calm
declaration. To prevent any repeats of
her
earlier outburst, she
was now second
from the last;
Priestess stood with
her.
Ever since receiving High Elf Archer’s
brief but heartfelt apology, Noble
Fencer had said very little.
“Never
seen a blade
quite like that,” Dwarf
Shaman had said
to her. “It
looks like quite a piece of work—but
what’s that metal?”
Then,
and only then,
she had murmured
in response, “………
Aluminum…… The
blade was forged
from a red
gem with a lightning-
hammer.”
“Aluminum, is it? Can’t say I’ve ever
heard of it. Mind if I have a look?”
Instead of an answer, she shot him a
glare of refusal. Dwarf Shaman only
shrugged.
“Hmm,” Goblin Slayer grunted. “Let us
head for their storehouse first.”
“Armory, or food?”
“Both. But let’s start with the weapons.”
“Right this way, then.”
The party advanced through the stronghold
like shadows, without a sound.
Nobody
in the group
had ever carried
too much in
the way of
noisy
equipment. Only Priestess and Goblin
Slayer were even wearing metal armor,
and in Priestess’s case it was only thin
mail. Goblin Slayer was wearing mail
along with his leather armor.
The
only sounds in
the corridor now
were the shushing
footsteps of fur
boots, and each of them breathing.
The
adventurers brought their
formation together so
that they were
walking
in a line.
They were alert
for traps, keeping
an eye on
the area
around
them as well
as on their
companions, but they
weren’t nervous, and
they never let their guard down.
After
all, of the
six adventurers there,
four of them
were of Silver,
the
third rank. Navigating labyrinths came as
naturally to them as breathing.
“…Something’s coming,” High Elf Archer
said, stopping where she stood
with
her ears bobbing.
She crouched down
and pulled out
her great bow,
readying
an arrow and
drawing it back.
She was aiming
at the corner
just
ahead.
Without a word, Goblin Slayer reached for
the sword at his hip, moving
out in front of Dwarf Shaman. From his
new position in the order, the spell
caster reached into his bag of catalysts,
while Priestess gripped her sounding
staff. Lizard Priest swished his tail and
looked easily back over his shoulder;
Noble Fencer ground her teeth.
At
last they heard
two sets of
defenseless footsteps approaching
the
corner.
“…”
There
was only the
slightest whisper of
air as a
bowstring was drawn.
High Elf Archer’s arrow flew through
space, piercing one goblin through the
eye and pinning him to the wall.
“GROOAB?!” At what must have seemed like
the sight of his companion
collapsing against the wall, the second
goblin gave a cry of confusion.
Before he ever processed what happened, a
sword was growing from his
throat. Goblin Slayer had thrown it at
him without hesitation.
“We have to hide the bodies,” he said.
“If we have to go to all that trouble
anyway, why didn’t we just hide in the
first place?” High Elf Archer asked.
“This
is better than
if they had
found us and
the sounds of
battle had
alerted anyone else to our presence.”
He approached the corpses with his bold
stride; he pressed a boot against
the bodies and pulled out the sword and
the arrow, tossing the latter to High
Elf Archer.
“Urgh,” she said as she caught it, as if
now it suddenly bothered her; she
wiped the blood off quickly. The blood of
a wild animal might have been one
thing, but goblin blood was not something
to be tolerated.
“How many spells and miracles do you have
left?” Goblin Slayer asked,
glancing at his companions.
“Um…”
Priestess tapped a
pale finger against
her lips in
thought. “I
haven’t
used any at
all, so I’ve
got three left.”
She counted on
her fingers:
Kindle they had used on the road, while
Communicate they had needed upon
entering the fortress. “The others have
both used one each, so they each have
three left, so… Nine altogether?”
“Hey, now,” Dwarf Shaman said jovially.
“You’re not counting our new
friend there.” He pointed at Noble
Fencer.
She
had been standing
at a distance,
ignoring their conversation
as she
stared intently at the goblin corpses,
but now she muttered, “…Two more.”
Is
that all? Priestess wondered—meaning not
her spells, but the words she
was going to use.
Priestess
furrowed her brow
but said, “Thank
you very much,”
with as
much
enthusiasm as she
could muster. Noble
Fencer, however, pointedly
continued to look away, not so much as
glancing in the party’s direction.
“Hmmm…” A little mutter escaped from
Priestess. The gesture reminded
her of the apprentice girls at the
Temple—specifically, it reminded her of the
most troublesome ones.
“Anyway, that’s eleven in all, isn’t it.”
“Hmm.
Certainly we aren’t
anywhere near exhausting
our resources,”
Lizard Priest said. “I suppose you won’t
mind if we make use of a charm here
or there?”
“No,” Goblin Slayer said. “Consider it
nine spells.”
“What’s
this, then?” Lizard
Priest said, blinking.
“How did you
get that
number?”
“We should preserve our two Lightning
spells.”
Noble
Fencer shuddered at
this. Her eyes,
as clear as
glass, fixed on
Goblin Slayer. Her voice was thin and
immensely quiet.
“………Can I…kill goblins?”
“If all goes well.”
His
words were so
brief. Noble Fencer
continued to gaze
at the
expressionless helmet, until finally, she
gave a small nod.
“We can’t kill any more goblins until we get rid of the ones
we’ve already
done in, right?” High Elf Archer, seeming
to have ignored the discussion of
spells and miracles, tapped one of the
dead monsters with the arrow she was
still
holding. Despite the
cold, they had
only wrapped their
hips and feet
in
fur.
Crude spears were
their weapons. It
looked like they
hardly possessed
anything in the world.
“Do
you have some
idea how to
do it?” Goblin
Slayer asked, rifling
through his item pouch as he spoke.
“An
idea? Hmmm… Well…
Oh!” Her ears
jumped up eagerly.
She
beckoned
to Dwarf Shaman
with a gleam
in her eyes
like a mischievous
child. “Dwarf, hand over your wine. The
whole jug.”
“Oh-ho.” Dwarf Shaman smiled, as if there
was a joke afoot. “What’s the
story, Long-Ears? Looking for a little
liquid inspiration?”
“Just pass it here, already.”
“Yeah, all right. There’s some left
still. Don’t drink it all.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t drink it.” She
pulled out the stopper with a pop and
took
a good sniff, frowning
at the sharp
smell of the
spirits. “I promise,
I
won’t drink a drop.” And then she turned
the bottle upside down and emptied
the contents onto the floor.
“Oh
no!” Dwarf Shaman
moaned as if
the world were
ending. That he
didn’t simply scream was testament to his
instincts as an adventurer.
He did, however, look like he was going
to bounce right off the ground up
to High Elf Archer’s small chest as he
grabbed for the jug.
“Now look what you’ve done, you stupid,
anvil-chested—”
“I asked nicely, didn’t I? Now come on,
this was necessary—we have to
do what we have to do.”
“How
is it necessary?!
How can it
be what we
have to do?!
My—my
wine!”
“No,
she’s helped us.”
Goblin Slayer was
already moving. He had
guessed what High Elf Archer had in mind;
now he wiped away the dripping
blood with a rag and seated the corpses
against the wall. He tilted the heads
down so their wounds wouldn’t be obvious,
and kicked the spear one of the
goblins had dropped so that it rolled
over to his side.
“Hrrrrrrgh…!” whined Dwarf Shaman.
“Heh!
See? I helped.
Oh, don’t worry.
I’ll get you
a new bottle
later.”
Looking quite pleased with herself, High
Elf Archer set the wine jug next to
the goblins.
“Oh…!”
Priestess said. Her
eyes started to
shine, and she
nodded in
understanding. “There
isn’t a goblin
alive who takes
his work seriously,
is
there?”
“That’s the idea,” the ranger replied.
She winked and made a giggle deep
in her throat.
Now the corpses seemed to be nothing more
than two drunk goblins. The
strong smell of spirits would help mask
the odor of blood.
A couple of goblins who got to drinking
while on guard duty and then fell
asleep—surely it would be nothing
remarkable.
“If we can’t keep them secret, we can
hide them in plain sight,” High Elf
Archer said.
“But why do we have to use my wine to do it?” Dwarf Shaman moaned,
biting
his nails with
regret as he
watched the liquid
dribble along the
stone
floor.
Lizard
Priest gave him
a hearty slap
on the back.
“Be not dismayed,
I
shall treat you as well. We will need to
toast our ranger’s fine turn of mind.”
Dwarf Shaman looked up at the priest with
an unhappy grunt, but Lizard
Priest rolled his eyes in his head.
“Do you not think so, milord Goblin
Slayer?”
“I do.” He nodded. “Drinks will be on
me.”
After
this offer, there
was really no
more room for
complaint. Dwarf
Shaman groaned and muttered again and
finally let out a deep breath.
“Hrm. Erm. Well… If Scaly and
Beard-cutter both feel that way, then…”
“Indeed,”
Lizard Priest said.
“But for now,
we must hurry.
Where is the
armory?”
“Sure, right. Over here.” Dwarf Shaman
led the party off with a wave of
his hand.
Immediately beside him was High Elf
Archer, chuckling triumphantly.
“You
long-eared, anvil-chested…! When
we get back
to the bar,
you’re
gonna treat me ’til your head spins!”
“Yeah,
whatever. I’ll keep
you watered for
as long as
you like, so
don’t
get so angry.”
And the argument went on. Priestess
smiled to see them trading friendly
jabs again.
Thank goodness.
In the basement earlier, there had been a
real argument. It’s never a good
feeling to see your comrades fight with
each other. So now…
I’m really, really glad.
With that heartfelt thought in her mind,
Priestess knelt down right where
she was. She held her sounding staff in
both hands, as if clinging to it. Lizard
Priest looked at her and nodded. We’re going ahead, he seemed to be saying.
Then Priestess closed her eyes, just as
she always did.
“………What are you doing?”
The voice, quiet, came unexpectedly from
beside her.
“Oh,
uh, I—well…” Priestess
felt her heart
beat faster, but
she nodded
without
rising. “I’m praying
for the repose
of their souls…
Although I’m
doing it quickly, because we don’t have
much time.”
Suddenly, she felt her hand, wrapped
around her sounding staff, grasped
by that of Noble Fencer. Priestess looked
mystified, but Noble Fencer shook
her head firmly.
“……That’s not necessary.”
“Huh? But…”
Before
she could say
that everyone is
the same in
death, Noble Fencer
gave
one of the
bodies a vicious
kick. The goblin,
which had been
leaning
against the wall, slumped over onto the
ground.
“………It’s not necessary.
Not…for…bastards…like these…!”
Noble
Fencer seemed to
be working herself
up to speak
even more
forcefully when it came:
“Let’s go.”
Low and sharp, blunt and
dispassionate—just the way he always spoke.
They looked up and found that the rest of
the party had proceeded ahead
into
the fortress; only
Goblin Slayer had
remained behind with
them. His
sword
and shield were at the
ready, and his
helmet turned slowly,
scanning
the area.
Was he…waiting for us?
Priestess did not, of course, ask the
question aloud. She didn’t need to.
He was always waiting for them. She had
learned that well in the last year.
“Okay…
We’ll be right
there.” Quickly, but
with care, Priestess
closed
her eyes and prayed that the dead goblins
would be well in the afterlife. She
stood, dusting off her knees, then smiled
at Noble Fencer.
“Come on. Shall we go?”
“………”
Noble Fencer said nothing but averted her
eyes, and then she headed after
the party at a stiff pace.
Well,
now. Her expression
changing to a
confused smile, Priestess
scratched her cheek and shook her head.
“Does she…dislike me?”
“I
don’t know.” Goblin
Slayer shook his
own head firmly,
but then the
helmet cocked curiously. “Do you wish to
be friends with her?”
“Hmm…”
Now that the
question came up,
Priestess put a
finger to her
lips and looked at the ground and
thought.
I just…can’t seem to leave these people
alone.
The
thought was rather,
although not entirely,
similar to one
she
frequently directed at the adventurer in
front of her.
She smiled, her expression like a
blooming flower.
“You know, I think I do.”
“Is that so?” He nodded. “Then you should
do so.”
That
was all Goblin
Slayer said before
he turned and
walked off. Her “I
will!” followed after him.
Ahead, down the dark tunnel, their
companions waited for them.
The armory was not far away now.
§
Even goblins are smart enough to lock a
door. Including the huge metal one
they found in one corner of the stone
labyrinth. There was even a step stool
placed nearby, the knob being out of
reach of the diminutive goblins.
“Right, time to switch,” Dwarf Shaman
said.
High
Elf Archer stepped
up to try
herself against the
door. “Sure, just
leave it to me…is what I’d like to say,
but I’m not sure I’m that confident…”
First,
she scraped the
surface of the
door with a
bud-tipped arrow she
drew from her quiver. Confirming that
there was nothing there, she perked up
her big ears, listening for any sound
inside the room.
She
didn’t hear anything
moving. Given how
dank and polluted
this
goblin hideout was, it was surprising not
to hear so much as a rat scurrying
around.
Goblins no doubt
found rodents to
be good snacks—a
subject she
didn’t want to think about, although she
had to admit she was grateful for the
fact.
“I’m pretty sure there’s nothing inside…
I think,” she said.
“Open it,” Goblin Slayer instructed.
“Destroy the door if you need to.”
“In
the worst case,
we might,” Lizard
Priest said. He
brought his hands
together in a strange gesture, then took
out a dragon fang that could act as a
catalyst. “We wouldn’t want any goblins
sneaking up behind, so we shall act
as guards.”
“Right you are,” Dwarf Shaman responded,
and the three men circled up
around the women.
High
Elf Archer pulled
a branch as
thin as a
needle from somewhere
in
her outfit and began looking for the
keyhole. Her movements were small but
fairly
clumsy. She was
a ranger, not
by any means
a thief or
a scout. An
adventurer in town had taught her simple
trap disarmament and how to pick a
lock—along with
a touch of
gambling. Granted, all
of these had
been very
useful in satisfying her own curiosity…
“Careful now, okay?” She glanced to the
side as she worked, clicking her
tongue. “If you stand right next to me
like that, you might get caught by any
trap that goes off.”
“But I’ll also be able to give you first
aid right away,” Priestess said with
a
cheerful smile. She
had sat smack
on the ground
right next to
High Elf
Archer.
She had a
firm grip on
her sounding staff
so that she
could start
praying at a moment’s notice.
“Honestly, I wish I had the Precog or
Luck miracles.”
Her concern for her friend High Elf
Archer was only half the reason. The
other half was disappointment about her
own powerlessness.
“Well,
it’s not your
fault. It’s the
deity who decides
which miracles you
get, right?”
It was kind of High Elf Archer to point
this out, but not being able to do
anything to help still stung.
Maybe
the elf had
a sense of
what was going
through Priestess’s mind,
because
with a trickle
of nervous sweat,
she said, “We
really could use an
actual scout here…”
“Mm,”
Priestess said, “but
you’re so kind
as to seek
out traps and
pick
locks for us anyway…”
We’re counting on you, okay?
At that, High Elf Archer’s ears flicked
modestly.
Now,
she was going
to have to
concentrate. Goblins might
not be smart
enough to build very subtle traps, but a
dwarf fortress left over from the Age
of the Gods might be home to more tricks
than what the little devils had put
there themselves.
A
keyhole that sprayed
poison gas, or
a doorknob that
grew unbearably
hot
were the best
things they could
hope for. Some
doors would erase
the
memory of anyone who used them without
intoning the proper spell.
And
whether such brutal
fates awaited them
or not, the
goblins’ cruelty
was a matter of some renown…
“……”
High
Elf Archer glanced
back over her
shoulder. Noble Fencer
was
staring vacantly into space.
Is she really okay?
No,
of course she
wasn’t okay. High
Elf Archer knew
she couldn’t
imagine
what awful things
that girl had
been through. It
was a miracle
she
had kept her sanity.
Ahh, no time for that now. Concentrate,
concentrate!
She bit her lip, focusing on her fingers
as they checked the keyhole.
After a few minutes, she felt something
give, and the lock unlatched with
a
clack.
“…Phew. Got it.”
“Good
work” were the
only words Goblin
Slayer said. Even
as the elf
chuckled and puffed out her chest, he
raised up his leg and gave the door a
solid kick.
There was no reaction.
“Seems safe enough.” Lizard Priest all
but slithered his way to the front of
the group. Kicking the door open just in
case there was anything inside was a
tactic as old as time.
“Well, of course it’s safe. I checked it, didn’t I?”
“You told us yourself that you didn’t
know what you were doing,” Dwarf
Shaman growled, following after the
triumphant High Elf Archer.
Goblin Slayer, who had continued to watch
the hallway after breaking in
the door, nodded at Priestess.
“Oh, light,” she said. “Coming right up.”
“Thank you.”
She
grabbed a torch
out of her
bag and lit
it as she
had done so
many
times before.
A goblin fortress. Deep at night, a
blizzard howling all around; not even
the
light of the
stars reached them. Goblins
could see well
in the dark,
so
these
conditions didn’t bother
them, but not
so humans. At
the very least,
they would need fire while they explored
the storehouses…
“There, got it.”
“……”
Priestess let out a breath, a red flame
dancing on the torch in her hand. It
wavered as her exhalation passed over it.
Then she turned and walked up to Noble
Fencer, who was looking at her
intently.
“Hold on to this, okay?”
“Hold on to…what…?”
Noble Fencer was surprised to find
herself spoken to; she didn’t seem to
think
Priestess could possibly
mean her. But
Priestess insisted, calmly
and
quietly, “The torch. Look after it,
okay?”
“……”
Noble
Fencer didn’t say
anything, just stared
at the proffered
light, but
Priestess took her hand and wrapped it
around the base of the torch.
Noble
Fencer shuddered to
see a flame
before her very
eyes. As she
looked
around hesitantly, Priestess
thought she saw,
at the same
time, a
frightened little girl.
“……”
The young woman opened her mouth; a
little sound escaped her as if she
were
trying to say
something, and then
she held the
torch with both
hands,
looking into the flame.
“………I understand.”
That
was all she
said, in a
whisper, and then
she scuttled into
the
storeroom.
The
hallway fell dark
once more. Priestess,
however, could feel a smile
creeping across her face.
Goblin Slayer walked up beside her at his
usual, almost violent pace.
“Why did you ask her to hold it?”
“Just…a hunch.”
The question was rather sharp, but
Priestess’s answer was gentle. By now
she could tell from his voice that he
wasn’t angry.
“I thought she must be feeling…well,
bored, and I didn’t want that.”
“Is that so?”
I assume you’ve got a plan anyway…
So much Priestess thought but didn’t say.
To
be suddenly thrown
into somewhere new,
scurrying from place
to
place. To stand around staring vacantly,
not sure what you’re supposed to do.
That—that
was something Priestess
understood all too
well. She was an
orphan who had been raised in the Temple,
after all. An abandoned child.
“Didn’t you notice?”
“Notice what?”
“When I gave her that torch, she was a
little embarrassed.”
“Is that so…?”
With that mutter, Goblin Slayer and
Priestess headed into the storehouse.
A
moldy smell made
their noses prickle,
and dust threatened
to make
them sneeze. They closed the door behind
them. Immediately, Dwarf Shaman
jumped toward the hinges, pounding the
pins into place.
“Normally, I’d leave it open,” he said
with a shrug, replacing the peg and
hammer in his bag. “But we wouldn’t want
any nasty little monsters sneaking
up behind us, now, would we?”
“Truly
spoken, but now
if the enemy
should appear in
front of us,
our
escape will be blocked behind.”
Someone
let up a
great guffaw then,
but whether it
was Lizard Priest
or
Dwarf Shaman, no one was quite sure.
“Stop
it already.” High
Elf Archer frowned,
but Priestess joined
in the
chorus of laughter.
Only Goblin Slayer and Noble Fencer were
silent. The young woman still
held the torch, raising it slowly above
her head. Every movement of the flame
produced
dancing shadows. In
the unsteady light,
Goblin Slayer examined
the equipment in the storehouse.
“For an armory…” As he spoke, he casually
reached into a nearby barrel
and
pulled something out.
It was a
crude pickax, cheap-looking, covered
in
mud
and rust, obviously
well used. A
glance also revealed
spades scattered
about, and other tools good for moving
earth. “…there isn’t much in the way
of arms or armor.”
“You
don’t think they’re
just digging holes?
They’re goblins, after
all.”
High
Elf Archer sounded
totally disinterested. She
couldn’t have cared
less
about
arms or armor.
Instead, she had
her ears up,
listening carefully for
footsteps from outside.
“Or
perhaps they are
digging for something,
mining.” Lizard Priest
reached out, a lazy sweep of his tail
stirring the air. He picked up a spear that
had
fallen carelessly among
the pickaxes and
said, “If this
so-called goblin
paladin exists, I assume he has more in
mind than simply enlarging his nest.”
“Makes
good sense to
me,” Dwarf Shaman
said, looking around,
but he
didn’t
sound happy about
it. The place
might have been
dirty, but the
stonework still boasted the delicate
touch of the dwarves; no average person
could have imitated it. “This is a
dwarven fortress. There must at least be ore
deposits around.”
“But,” Goblin Slayer said, “do goblins
know how to forge swords?”
What could they possibly be digging for?
Nobody had an answer.
The shadow of the goblin paladin, the
enemy whose face they did not yet
know, loomed over all of them.
Even Goblin Slayer was at a loss for an
answer here. Who else would be
able to fathom what he couldn’t?
“Whatever
the case…,” Priestess
murmured, grasping her
sounding staff
as if to push back the oppressive
atmosphere. When she found she could get
those
first few words
out of her
mouth, the courage
to continue welled
up.
“Whatever
the case, if
these goblins are
planning something, we
can’t just
leave them here.”
Her
resolute words produced
nods of agreement
from the other
adventurers.
“We have to do something about these
weapons and equipment, too…”
“Ahh, leave that to me,” Lizard Priest
said. “I’ve a little spell for moments
like these.”
He
scattered some dragon
fangs and made
a strange hand
gesture,
bringing his palms together.
“Well, t’aint to be helped,” Dwarf Shaman
whispered at this. “Mm. You,
girl.”
“…! …?”
Noble
Fencer, who had
been entirely focused
on carrying the
torch,
jumped
and made a
half-voiced sound in
answer. She looked
at Dwarf
Shaman’s beard, which he stroked; he gave
a small grunt and then indicated
the nearby equipment with a jerk of his
chin.
“Lend me a hand. We’re gonna bring out
some of those weapons.” Then,
as
if he already
knew exactly what
he was looking
for, Dwarf Shaman
reached
into the pile
of mismatched equipment
and pulled out
a sword.
“Beard-cutter ain’t exactly kind to his
toys. And you’ll never get by with just
that dagger.”
There
was a grunt—from
Goblin Slayer, of
course. “I believe
I use my
equipment appropriately.”
“Heh-heh!” It
would have been
possible to take
the quiet chuckle
for
annoyance, but in fact it was just High
Elf Archer laughing.
For
her part, Noble
Fencer took a
second to register
that she had
been
asked
to help. But
when it sank
in, she quickly
started gathering up
equipment. A
sword, a spear,
a club… This
was all goblin
equipment. But
even so, she was not a large person. She
might have been a warrior, but there
was a limit to how much she could carry.
And on top of that…
“I
don’t think a
goblin chest plate
is going to
fit you,” Dwarf
Shaman
declared.
Noble
Fencer’s generous bust
was more than
could be contained
by the
found chest armor.
Looking
on from one
side, High Elf
Archer gave a
little snort and
suggested peevishly, “Just give it a good
push, why don’t you? Squeeze it in
there.”
“Y’long-eared lout! A girl with an anvil
for a chest might not know it, but
armor that doesn’t fit is more liability
than help!”
Dwarf
Shaman ignored High
Elf Archer’s reply
of Who’s an
anvil?! ,
instead staring at Noble Fencer.
She
could use both
a blade and
magic, and she
was wearing light
armor
that allowed her to make the most of
both. At the moment, the only weapon
she
had was a
dagger. Not the
sort of thing
that would make
someone a
company’s main source of firepower.
“Best start with a sword, then…”
“…!”
Noble
Fencer frowned noticeably
at this and
backed away from
Dwarf
Shaman.
“Hmm?”
“……I don’t……”
Her voice was so soft. Dwarf Shaman
looked at her curiously; she glared
at his beard.
“……I don’t need……”
“……”
“…I don’t need…a weapon…!”
Her voice was still quiet, but there was
an unmistakable note of anger. Her
otherwise expressionless face began to
crumple.
“Hmm.” Dwarf Shaman, perhaps a bit taken
aback, blinked and fingered
his beard. Then he smiled broadly, as if
he had just eaten a delicious meal. “I
see,
I see! So
you’re not interested
in gear. Excellent!
Now that’s the
beginning of a friendship!”
“……”
Now it was Noble Fencer’s turn to be lost
for words.
As she stood there blinking at him, Dwarf
Shaman went on as if it were
the
most obvious thing
in the world:
“How are you
going to get
along, not
being able to say the things you want to
say? Hmm?
“At
least outerwear, then,”
he muttered, pawing
through the contents
of
the storehouse.
It
might have all
been goblin light
armor there, but
it was also
mostly
stolen. Everything was covered in dirt
and grime, but it could all stand up to
practical use.
A leather overgarment. Steel-reinforced
gloves. Maybe a little something
metal to protect the head…
“…? …?!”
Noble
Fencer was totally
flummoxed to find
herself swept along,
Dwarf
Shaman
equipping her with
first one thing
and then another.
No race could
outdo
the dwarves when
it came to
evaluating the quality
of weapons and
armor.
This, then that, first one thing, then
another. Equipment on, equipment off,
new equipment, until her head was
spinning.
“Hey
now, take it
easy, okay? Don’t do everything
at once…” Priestess
offered this half-hearted attempt to save
Noble Fencer, but she didn’t sound
very hopeful.
She
somehow came across
like an older
sister… Or maybe
more
precisely, someone
who was trying
very hard to act like
one. She put
her
hands
on her hips
and wagged her
finger, repeating, “Come
on, stop.” She
was
trying to sound
severe but not
doing a very
good job. “You’re
only
causing trouble for her.”
“Hrm…”
Dwarf Shaman grunted,
then looked into
Noble Fencer’s face.
“Am I causing you trouble?”
For
a long while,
Noble Fencer didn’t
say anything, trying
to look
anywhere
but at the
dwarf. Silence. Then
more silence. Then
finally:
“…………A little.”
“See?” Priestess said, trying to conceal
a smile.
“Well,
goodness gracious, pardon
me,” Dwarf Shaman
said, also trying
not
to grin. The
way his mouth
curved up a
little anyway was
rather
charming.
He gathered the equipment together and
hefted it on his back quite nimbly
despite his small size. Then he glanced
at the young woman.
“I’m
not done saying
my piece yet,
though. Beard-cutter there,
he’s
something else, you understand?”
“Not
counting his weird
streak,” High Elf
Archer said with
a giggle she
couldn’t hold in. “Orcbolg never says
anything but ‘Is that so?’ and ‘That’s
right’ and ‘Goblins.’”
She glanced at Goblin Slayer, who was
leaning against the wall in a sullen
silence, and gave a catlike smile.
Priestess
offered another one
of her It’s
hopeless looks and
said, “He is
who he is.”
Finally, Goblin Slayer couldn’t restrain
himself from saying, “Is that so?”
It was no bad thing for a group of
adventurers like this, deep in the heart
of
danger, to find
the ability to
laugh—even if such
was not one
of the
precepts Goblin Slayer commonly
articulated.
If being serious is the way to win, he’ll
be serious, Priestess thought. But if
it’s not, well…it would be better if he
could relax a bit…
“I’m
sure milord Goblin
Slayer is quite
acquainted with his
own habits.
Now,
then.” That was
Lizard Priest, his
hissing breath bringing
the
impromptu roast to a close at just the
right moment. He slapped his tail once
on the floor, then looked around at the
group. “Is all in readiness?”
“I suppose we can save the gibes for
later. All set, Scaly.”
“Mm.” The lizard nodded somberly, then
made his strange hand gesture.
“O my forebears who sleep under layers of
rock, with all the time that has
piled upon you, guide these objects.”
No
sooner had he
spoken than the
dragon fangs scattered
on the floor
began to boil away.
And
then, behold: the
weapons and equipment
began to rust
and
deteriorate before their very eyes,
starting with whatever was exposed to the
air.
“W-wow…” Priestess had heard tell of this
ability, but it was considered
to be an evil miracle and so not often
seen. “Is this the Rust miracle…?”
“Ah, you know it?” Lizard Priest seemed
both surprised and interested by
her
question. “Indeed it
is. Destroying objects
with Weathering takes
rather
too long.”
“I’ve never actually seen it myself. What
about our items?”
“It won’t affect us. Though this isn’t a
prayer I would often call upon in
battle.”
Priestess
felt a rush
of relief at
that. The thin
mail she wore
under her
vestments was important to her.
I know it’s a consumable, but still.
“It takes a good deal of time to prepare,
but is useful at times like this,”
Lizard
Priest explained to
her, swishing his
tail as if
he was rather
pleased
with
himself. “Ahem. So
we have freed
the prisoners down
below and
destroyed our foes’ equipment. I believe
everything has gone to plan so far,
has it not, milord Goblin Slayer?”
“Yes,” Goblin Slayer said, nodding
slowly. He took a waterskin out of his
item bag, uncorked it, and drank between
the slats of his helmet. “However,
we must not let down our guard. There’s
no telling what may happen.”
That, of course, was something all the
adventurers here were fully aware
of. No one in this world knew whether it
was fate or chance that controlled
the dice the gods rolled.
The
possibility of the
unexpected was precisely
what made it an
adventure.
