Goblin Slayer, Vol. 3

by Kumo Kagyu

  Her voice was so cheerful that Goblin Slayer could tell she was grinning under her hood.

  Nonetheless, her clarification evoked no reaction from him. He had no idea what might be amusing about his grubby leather armor and cheap-looking helmet, or his sword and shield.

  But as the women took stock of him, he scrutinized them in turn.

  They were not from the local crowd of adventurers. And they were not goblins—of that, at least, he was sure.

  “…I don’t think he’s involved. Most likely.”

  After a time, the adventurer with the staff spoke in her frigid tone.

  “Frankly, I can hardly believe someone this weird even exists.”

  “I…suppose so. Granted he hides his face and skin, but I agree this seems a bit much.”

  The response came from the first woman. Her sword still in its scabbard, she continued in an oddly boastful tone, “I saw the difference in our abilities. He won’t be a problem.”

  “You think? If you say so, I guess it must be true.”

  The girl, who had cocked her head while her companions discussed, ended by clapping her hands.

  “Well, mister, sorry to bother you!”

  “It’s fine.” Goblin Slayer shook his head slightly, then set his cargo on the ground. “Did you come to see the festival?”

  “Huh? Oh, uh, well… I guess so. It’s just near here, right?”

  “Yes.” Goblin Slayer nodded. “This is the town that will hold the harvest festival.” Then, after a moment’s thought, he added, “If you need an inn, you had best get one soon.”

  “Oh, wow. Okay. I see. It’s pretty late now. We’d better get going. Sorry!” she added one last time, and pattered lightly away.

  The other two hurriedly collected themselves as she slipped farther and farther away.

  “Argh, she’s always—! We shall take our leave of you, then. Apologies for the trouble.”

  “Sorry.”

  The other two followed the departing girl, melting away like shadows.

  Goblin Slayer, now alone, simply muttered, “Hm.”

  He had placed a small stone where the short swordswoman had stood just a moment ago.

  As he recalled, it was the exact spot where he had dug and concealed a hole.

  Was it martial training, the way she walked, magic, or simply luck? He didn’t know.

  And speaking of things he didn’t know, he couldn’t determine why the women had been using this footpath and not the main road.

  “……”

  But thinking about it brought him no answers, so he simply dismissed the question.

  They were almost certainly just adventurers who had come from elsewhere to see the festival.

  And they were not goblins. That was enough.

  Still, he had felt sure that people would not come through this area…

  “…I’ll have to pick my places even more carefully.”

  There was much to do.

  And he always knew what must be done.

  The feather pen scraped along the sheepskin paper under the candlelight.

  An honor though it was, she couldn’t help feeling she lacked the wherewithal for this great responsibility.

  If asked how much she had learned outside the Temple, she would have no ready answer.

  It was an immense thing to write the prayer to be offered to the goddess.

  “Sigh… Everyone before me did such a great job…”

  She eyed the clothes she had just received, piled in a corner of the room, and exhaled.

  She saw them each year, and while they always captured her heart, she had never imagined that she herself might be wearing them so soon.

  What can I say about the goddess?

  Should it be different from the prayers they offered daily? What even was a prayer?

  “What would he say…?”

  The vision of an expressionless steel helmet flashed through her mind, and she couldn’t repress a gentle smile.

  I’ll say what I’ve seen. That’s all I have.

  “………All right.”

  I’ll do my best. With that decision, letters began flowing onto the page.

  Her penmanship was not excellent, but the words were no one’s but hers.

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

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

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

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

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

  “Oooh… Ummm… Ohhh…”

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

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

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

  And in the middle of it all crouched Cow Girl.

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

  But that was a minor problem.

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

  So the problem was—

  “I have no idea what to wear!”

  This was critical.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  Yeah. That would be all right. For sure.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “O-okay. Come in.”

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

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

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

  “Planning to open your own clothing store…?”

  “Ha… Ha-ha-ha.”

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

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

  “Huh? What’s that?”

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

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

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

  “Oh…!”

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

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

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

  “R-right. Right! I’ll try it on.”

  Mommy wore this? Do I…look like her?

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

  “Careful, it’ll wrinkle.”

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

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

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

  “Thank you, Uncle!”

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

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

  “I will! I’ll treasure it.”

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

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

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

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

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

  This’ll do it!

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

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

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

  “All right, let’s go!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “See you later!”

  “Mm. See you. Be careful.”

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

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

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

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

  Ah, but—

  I’m different today!

  “Hey! Sorry to keep you waiting.”

  “Not at all.”

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

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

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let’s go, then!”

  “Yes.”

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

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

  “Erk…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “…H-hey.”

  “What is it?”

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

  “…”

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

  The same him. A different her. Holding hands.

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

  “They suit you. I think, anyway.”

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

  “…Hee-hee-hee!”

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

  §

  It was a flood of sound.

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

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

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

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

  “Yes.”

  His helmet moved in response.

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

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

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

  I wonder how I look to them.

  She enjoyed the passing thought.

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

  No… I guess that’s a little much.

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

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

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

  “Guess I had a pretty good idea.”

  “Of what?”

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

  “Where you would take me first.”

  “Hm.”

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

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

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

  “I haven’t had breakfast yet.”

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

  He was right.

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

  He gazed at her unflinchingly as she covered her eyes.

  “Shall we get something at a stall?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  But it was simply delicious.

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

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

  The salty, greasy potatoes delighted her tongue.

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

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

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

  Lively voices called to them from every side.

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

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

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