by Kumo Kagyu
They pushed open the door with a creak and were greeted with a wave of noise and body heat. Along with the lively chatter of the drinkers packed into the seats came the mingled aromas of wine and meat.
“Mmm!” High Elf Archer narrowed her eyes appreciatively, her ears bouncing.
“I thought you didn’t like wine.”
“Fair enough,” High Elf Archer said with a wink. “But I love an upbeat atmosphere.”
“Is that so?”
“It sure is… Oh, two, please!” She cheerfully held up two fingers to the waitress who came out to greet them. Luckily, there were seats available.
The waitress, who was dressed in a provocative outfit and walked with a seductive gait, led them to a round table some ways from the center of the room.
Goblin Slayer set down his pack and sat, the old wooden chair groaning quietly.
High Elf Archer, on the other hand, settled down with the lightness that was the specialty of her people and elicited not a sound from her chair.
“…Hey, I keep thinking,” she said, her thin, white finger indicating Goblin Slayer. “Can’t you at least take that thing off at mealtimes?”
“I cannot.” The helmet moved gently from side to side. “What if goblins attacked?”
“Right here in town?”
“Goblins can appear in town.”
She gave a tired, helpless smile.
It was not difficult to understand her perspective. After all, Goblin Slayer’s strange appearance did stand out, even among adventurers, with the grimy leather armor, the cheap helmet, the sword of strange length, and the little round buckler fastened to his arm. Luckily, it wasn’t unusual around here to see adventurers who kept their equipment on, even in their day-to-day. However…
“What’s that…? An adventurer?”
“I thought it was an undead or something…”
“Yikes, it looked at me!”
“So I wasn’t just imagining it…”
…this restaurant was not frequented exclusively by adventurers. And the various travelers there had obviously noticed him.
There were only one or two other customers who appeared to be adventurers, sitting in a corner of the tavern where they wouldn’t be too conspicuous. One was tall while the other was a diminutive rhea.
He might have been a wizard, judging from the cloak that covered every inch of skin. His appearance was not that unusual among adventurers.
Perhaps discussing a quest, they appeared to be arguing vehemently, though their voices did not carry.
High Elf Archer flicked her ears suspiciously, but eventually lost interest.
“So,” she said, turning her gaze from the two adventurers back to the helmet. “What are you going to do?”
“About what?”
“About the festival tomorrow. I heard, you know.” A mischievous smile played across her face, and she pointed at him. “You’re going to spend the morning playing around with that girl from the farm and the afternoon with Guild Girl, aren’t you?”
“I am not playing.” His response was utterly brief. He fixed his gaze on her from within his helmet. He might have been glaring at her, but his visor made it impossible to tell. “You have sharp ears.”
“Well, I am an elf.”
She made a point to twitch the knifelike ears she was so proud of and wore a catlike grin.
“Sounds like she’s made plans for your afternoon together, so that’s taken care of.”
“Hrm.”
“I just thought maybe you had something to do in the morning, since you’re finally going on a date and all.”
“Is that so?”
“It is.”
“…Not yet,” Goblin Slayer grunted, shaking his head. “I haven’t even thought about it yet.”
“You’re impossible,” High Elf Archer said, widening her eyes and kneading her brow as if to relieve a headache. “But at least you’re always you, Orcbolg.”
Her expression quickly changed to one of interest, her ears flitting up and down. “Anyway, what if you take her someplace she likes?”
“Someplace she likes…?”
“Yeah, or do something she enjoys… You’ve known her a long time, right?”
This time it was Goblin Slayer’s turn to seem perplexed. High Elf Archer nodded with satisfaction.
“Also, you have to say more than just I see, That’s right, Is that so?, Yes, and No.”
“Hrk…”
High Elf Archer ignored the gulping Goblin Slayer, turning her attention to the menu on the wall.
“What to order, what to order?” she said, in a tone that expressed her joy clearly even without the help of her ears bobbing along.
Her purse must have been bulging with the earlier day’s reward. Left to her own devices, she would probably have burned through it in a flash.
“Anything you want to eat, Orcbolg?”
“Anything is fine,” Goblin Slayer said quietly. “You’re paying. Get whatever you like.”
“Sheesh. I can’t tell if you’re trying to be considerate or what.”
“It’s my nature.”
“Yeah, I know.”
High Elf Archer sighed, but her annoyance lasted only a moment.
“Excuse me!” She waved to a waitress, then proceeded to request a large swath of the menu. She started with a wild greens salad of some sort, and when she found out there was a top-quality grape wine available, she didn’t hesitate to add it. At this point, Goblin Slayer could not help breaking in.
“I will not be able to see you home if you get drunk.”
“Erk,” she said, her ears trembling as if this were completely unexpected. “I can’t believe you think I would get too drunk to walk.”
“Wouldn’t you?”
“That only happens on very rare occasions!”
She sniffed, but Goblin Slayer continued in a clipped tone, “I have things to do after this.”
“Sigh…”
She turned her head away as if disinterested.
The servers wove their way through the crowded restaurant like adventurers dodging traps. Her eyes followed the steam rising from the plates they carried, until her gaze found its way back to Goblin Slayer.
“…You need any help?”
“No.” Goblin Slayer shook his head, then after a moment’s thought, spoke again. “I’m all right for now.”
“Hm.”
Then they fell silent, making no effort to talk until the food arrived.
To the other customers, the silent adventurers were just one more strange part of the scenery.
The food that finally arrived included soup, bread, and cheese. And wine.
The steaming soup was grain boiled in sweet cream. The hard, black bread could be dipped in the soup to soften it up. The moist cheese was salty and savory for an excellent accompaniment to the soup.
“I bet I know someone who’d like this place.” High Elf Archer laughed, prompting an “Indeed” from Goblin Slayer.
“Not that dwarf, though. I’m sure he’d complain about the wine tasting like water or whatever. Guaranteed.”
“You mean fire wine?” Goblin Slayer gulped some of the wine through his visor. “It’s a good tonic, and a good fuel. Also useful as disinfectant.”
“I assume you’re not joking. But that stuff is not fit for drinking.”
She giggled, her laugh ringing like a bell.
“Orcbolg… That reminds me.” She pushed her plate aside, leaning in so her face was close to his. She appeared cheerful, but her voice was strained.
“What?”
“Today… Did you know that girl did some shopping at the workshop?”
“Yes.”
“That girl” was likely Priestess.
Goblin Slayer nodded.
“Well, what do you think of the equipment she bought?”
“Hm?” This time, he shook his head. Through the very slight haze of the wine, he pictured her from that afternoon. He poured some water from th
e carafe into his glass and took another gulp. “I didn’t ask.”
“Oh, really?”
High Elf Archer blinked, muttering, “Unusual” in surprise as she played with her glass.
“Hmmm. Well, maybe I should keep it to myself, then… You wanna know?”
“If you want to tell me, then I’ll listen.”
“If the question was whether I wanted to, I’d say I do. But she really didn’t say anything to you?”
“No.”
“I’ll keep her secret, then,” High Elf Archer said with a wink. This was not a typical elven gesture. She had picked it up from living in town. She smiled, amused to be borrowing human body language. “I think it’ll be more interesting that way.”
“Do you?”
“Sure do.”
“Do you, now…” Goblin Slayer nodded once more, then searched in his item bag.
He pulled out the leather pouch containing his reward, almost smiling as he reached inside.
“I will pay while you can still remember.”
Clack, clack, clack. He lined up three gold coins on the table.
In an instant, the elf’s expression changed from relaxed to hostile.
“I said I’d treat you.”
“Sometime—”
Goblin Slayer, most unusually, cut himself off. It sounded as if he himself didn’t believe what he was about to say.
“…Sometime, I may…ask for your help.”
“Paying in advance, huh?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm.”
We must be drunk.
Her and Orcbolg both.
Well, I guess…huh. It’s okay.
“No need.”
“…I see.”
Goblin Slayer nodded impassively.
High Elf Archer stuck out a pale finger, drawing a lazy circle in the air.
“You can pay me back by going on an adventure!”
“Erk.”
“Didn’t I tell you already?” the high elf adventurer asked as she took a sip of wine. “Oh, non-goblin-related, of course.”
“…”
Goblin Slayer was silent. He probably had no idea what to say. High Elf Archer held herself back, waiting to hear what would come out of his mouth. Elves were used to waiting. Ten seconds, ten years—it made no difference.
“All right… Thank you for your help.”
“Great!”
Now that she had his promise, High Elf Archer puffed out her cheeks. She narrowed her eyes like a cat and let out that laugh that formed in the back of her throat and emerged like the ring of a bell.
“Now come on, let’s eat. It’s gonna get cold.”
“Right.”
As he set to his meal, Goblin Slayer glanced at the corner of the tavern. But the two adventurers were already gone.
“Hmph,” he snorted in displeasure, then tore off a piece of bread.
“By the way,” he began.
“What’s up?”
“Do you know what the fragrant olive means, in the language of flowers?”
The dinner consisted solely of High Elf Archer’s favorite foods, but Goblin Slayer wasn’t one to complain.
And when he had carried her up to the second floor of the tavern and paid for her room, requesting that the meal be put on her tab, he left the building.
§
He always knew what he had to do.
He constantly had to think, look ahead, stay vigilant, plan countermeasures and execute them.
What Goblin Slayer had to do at this moment was dig a hole.
It was night—the twin moons were already among the glinting stars filling the heavens.
All alone, he silently thrust the shovel into the ground, digging, digging.
The warmth from the wine helped ward off the chilly night breeze.
He was outside the town gate, on a footpath off the main road. It cut through a field, but not a wide, flat grassy plain. There were hills, copses of trees, reeds. Away from the road, the land was wild.
The place was largely deserted, which was why he’d chosen to dig his hole there.
It was about as deep as a person was tall. Not a dwarf or a rhea, but a human.
He lined the bottom with the thin sharpened stakes he had whittled and hid the opening with the earth he had dug out. The soil rested on a blanket over the mouth of the pit. At a glance, one would never suspect there was anything there.
He did this several times, then scattered small, bright stones around the area.
“Now then…”
The trouble was all the leftover soil.
Goblins could use it to strengthen the walls of their cave, and so wouldn’t be bothered by it, but he didn’t have the same luxury.
Doing landscaping by hand was quite troublesome for an adventurer.
Goblin Slayer put the earth into sacks he had prepared beforehand.
Now they were sandbags.
He cinched up the mouths of the bags, then carried them two at a time, one on each shoulder.
He hid them in the rushes not far from the hole, building up a half circle.
It was uncertain whether this would help them later. But it couldn’t hurt to be prepared for everything.
If nothing else, Goblin Slayer never begrudged necessary labor.
He piled the sandbags carefully, leaving no gaps, then finished by giving them a few smacks with the shovel to pack them in.
“…Mm.”
Finally he nodded, satisfied.
It would do for the holes. The other places were all prepared. This had been the last.
All that was left was the trap he had built with the remaining stakes, the rope, and the wood, but there were only so many places he could set it up.
Goblin Slayer checked the sky, trying to judge how much time he had by the slant of the moons. The nights were long, and morning came late in fall and winter. Even so, he doubted he had much longer to work.
He quickly pulled the wooden boards out of his pack by their ties.
He moved over to shrubs and trees, doing some delicate work before he rose.
“Time to hurry.”
He took up his baggage on his shoulders then ran under the moons like a shadow.
He was past the reeds and through the trees when it happened.
“Hey, what are you doing there?!”
A voice came slicing through the air like an ambush. Goblin Slayer stopped dead.
There was the crunching of plants under boots, the scrape of them brushing against armor.
“Hm,” Goblin Slayer muttered, but his hand did not move to his sword.
No goblin spoke the common tongue so fluently.
“Who’s there?” he asked shortly. A rustle came as if in answer.
A tall person enveloped in an overcoat appeared.
The person’s boots, just visible under the hem of the coat, were well used, the toes reinforced. Clearly an adventurer.
But the harsh voice that responded offered no answers.
“I’m asking the questions here.”
The timbre caused Goblin Slayer to murmur, “A woman…?”
“…Once again. Who or what are you?”
Almost immediately, a white light, piercing to eyes adjusted to the dark, shot into the sky.
“I am Goblin Slayer.”
With one finger he casually pushed away the blade at his throat.
He sounded put out, almost like he was fighting a yawn.
A long sword—blade one-sided—and a skilled sword fighter.
True, it had happened too quick for a response—but he had also chosen not to respond.
It would be foolish to ask who an opponent was and cut them down in the same breath.
Even one in the grip of bloodlust could understand that much.
Shrouded in her coat, the woman narrowed her eyes doubtfully.
“You…slay goblins…?”
“Yes.”
“…Sounds insane.”
“I see.”
It lifted the chain with the silver tag that hung there.
“A silver rank tag… Silver-ranked adventurer?”
“It would seem,” Goblin Slayer said with a nod, “the Guild has recognized me as such.”
“…I see.”
The sword retreated like a breath of wind and returned to its scabbard with a click.
The sheer smoothness of the motion suggested this was a high-ranking adventurer. Certainly at least Copper, Goblin Slayer guessed.
“It seems I was too hasty. My apologies.”
“No, it’s fine.”
“I thought you were an undead or something…”
The woman sounded awkward as she apologized, but her tone had softened.
Goblin Slayer shook his head gently. It didn’t particularly matter to him.
The problem was—
“Hey, don’t I keep telling you not to do that?”
At that moment a voice, bright as the breaking of the sun, came from behind her.
“She jumps to the worst conclusions about everybody. Don’t worry, I stopped her.”
“The fact remains that he was suspicious.”
The next voice was cold as cut ice. Two new people.
With a crinkle, the grass parted, producing a short adventurer also in an overcoat.
It would be easy to mistake this person for a rhea, but they carried a full-sized sword at their hip.
They must be human. A rhea wouldn’t have the muscle to swing that weapon.
The other person carried a large staff and was dressed more smartly than the other two. Obviously a magic user of some type.
And all of them, to judge from their voices, were women. Parties composed entirely of women were relatively rare.
“So, what’s the story? I’m curious myself,” the diminutive swordswoman asked.
Before Goblin Slayer could say anything, she took a couple of nimble steps forward.
With a gait as lighthearted as her question, she closed the space between them as though she were out on a stroll.
“Hrm…,” Goblin Slayer muttered, and after a moment’s consideration, gave his answer.
“I am taking precautions.”
“Precautions? Hmm…” She peered around Goblin Slayer, then said indifferently, “Strange equipment you’ve got…”
“Is it?”
“Ah, sorry. I don’t mean to make fun of you. I just think it’s amusing.”