Goblin Slayer, Vol. 1

by Kumo Kagyu

  “That’s me.”

  “Oh, thank goodness. I didn’t know who you were. The boss is asking for you. He says the work’s done.”

  “All right. I’ll be right there.”

  The Adventurers Guild wasn’t just for handing out quests; it hosted all kinds of entrepreneurial activity. Besides the offices, there was an inn, a tavern, an item shop, and an equipment shop. Of course, it wasn’t absolutely necessary to have stores like these be a part of the Guild building, not really. But as far as the state was concerned, it was convenient to keep the ruffians in one place as much as possible rather than have them wandering the city.

  When he stood up and walked off, it was to one of the workshops at the Guild. Through the building, into another room farther in. In front of a glowing forge stood an old man relentlessly swinging a hammer, working a sword that had just come out of the mold into a true, tempered weapon.

  Granted, it was a mass-production item that didn’t take too much to forge; nothing compared to the swords of legend. But then, too, the ability to forge essentially the same sword, over and over, with almost no variation, was a remarkable talent.

  “…You’re here.” The old man eyed him. The blacksmith’s facial hair was so full he could have passed for a dwarf. It might have been long hours at the forge that caused him to squint one eye nearly shut and open the other unnaturally wide. It was not an attractive look.

  “You place order after order but only for the cheapest goods. Tell me, how’m I supposed to fill my coffers that way?”

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. Just be more careful with my products.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Hrmph,” the old man muttered, “wouldn’t know a joke if it bit him in the… Hmph. Over here.” He beckoned. When Goblin Slayer approached, the smith thrust the armor and helmet at him.

  “Should be fine, but try ’em on to be sure. I’ll adjust them if need be. No charge.”

  “Thank you.”

  His dirty, bent, crushed armor had been made good as— Well, not as good as new, but as good as it had been before his encounter with the ogre. At the very least, he could trust it with his life once more.

  “And a scroll? Were you able to get one?”

  “You gave me the gold, so I’ll get you the goods. But scrolls are rare. And expensive.” The old man gave an angry snort and turned back to the forge. He pulled out the simple iron sword he had crafted, inspected it, then returned it to the fire with a cluck of his tongue. “When some adventurer finds one and comes to sell it, I’ll get it for you, but that’s as much as I can do.”

  “I know. That’s enough.” He passed a bag of gold coins to the apprentice, then walked to a corner of the workshop where he would be out of the way.

  The smith had even attached a new cotton-padded gambeson to wear for protection under his armor. How kind of him.

  Gloves, mail coat, armor, chest plate, and then the helmet. He put on the equipment mechanically, in his accustomed order. As he did so, he heard the puzzled voice of the apprentice boy.

  “Hey, boss. That guy’s a Silver-ranked adventurer, right?”

  “So I hear.”

  “Why’s he use that armor? If he wanted to move silently, we have mithril mail or…”

  “Don’t you know, boy?”

  “No, sir. Why not a good magical sword instead of a scroll or…”

  “Because only a munchkin would be dumb enough to take some enchanted blade to deal with goblins!” The smith struck the iron with all his strength, a clear sound ringing out as the hammer met the sword.

  “That is a man who knows his business.”

  Aren’t I popular today? he thought. As he came back from the workshop to the lobby, he saw someone rushing toward him. Tap-tap-tap footfalls were accompanied by the bouncing of a gorgeous chest and a face wreathed in a smile.

  “Goblin Slayer, sir!” Priestess waved as she bounded over to him.

  “Yes, what?”

  “Here, look at this!”

  She reached breathlessly into her sleeve and pulled out her rank tag. It was no longer porcelain white but a gleaming obsidian.

  Oh. Is that what this is about?

  He nodded to his beaming companion. “You’ve moved up from tenth rank to ninth.”

  “Yes, sir! I’ve been promoted!” The rank system adventurers lived by was based on the amount of good an adventurer had done in the world—some referred to this as “experience points” or the like, but it was, in essence, based on the rewards they had earned for hunting. Those who had earned a certain amount could be promoted in rank, pending a brief personal evaluation. There could hardly have been an issue with Priestess’s personality, so this promotion was effectively an acknowledgment of her growing strength. “I wasn’t sure they would give it to me, but I think that battle with the ogre counted for a lot…” She scratched one blushing cheek with her finger.

  “I see.”

  What’s an ogre again?

  Oh, right—it was that creature they’d encountered beneath the ruins, wasn’t it? He nodded. So their little expedition had been quite important, in the end. After a moment’s thought he added shortly:

  “Good for you.”

  “I owe it all to you, sir!” Her gaze, her beautiful eyes, bored into him. He caught his breath. What should he say? There was a long pause.

  “Not at all,” he finally squeaked out. “I didn’t do anything.”

  “You did so much!” she responded with a grin. “You saved me when we first met.”

  “But I couldn’t save your companions.”

  “True, but…” Her face stiffened for a moment. She couldn’t quite finish her sentence—understandably.

  Even he still remembered the awful scene all too clearly. Warrior, Wizard, Fighter, who had all lost everything. Her party had been trodden into the dust.

  Priestess swallowed but continued resolutely. “But you did save me. I want to at least thank you for that.” Then she smiled. On her face, the smile was like a fresh bloom. “So, thank you!” she said with a deep bow. Goblin Slayer, predictably, was at a loss for words.

  Priestess said she would go to the Temple and let the Mother Superior know about her promotion. He stood, watching her depart with her delicate steps and her hands wrapped tightly around her sounding staff.

  He was silent.

  He looked over at the front desk, where his old friend still seemed occupied with paperwork.

  “I’m going to unload the cart,” he said, and she waved in response.

  He left the foyer and headed for the entrance of the Guild Hall. He took the vegetables and produce from the cart one by one and set them near the entrance to the kitchen. Working under the hot sun, sweat began to bead on his forehead beneath his helmet in no time.

  But it was important to protect the head. He couldn’t let down his guard. That’s what he was thinking when:

  “Hey… You have a moment?” a cool voice called out suddenly from behind him.

  He put down his load and turned around slowly.

  “Orcbolg? What are you doing…?” It was High Elf Archer. Her long ears were standing straight up.

  “What, Beard-cutter is here? So he is! Should you be up and about yet?”

  “I heard you slumbered for three days…but you seem perfectly hale now.”

  “His footsteps give him away, don’t they?” the elf replied to the dwarf and the lizardman, who were lined up with her. It seemed the three had settled in the city after their goblin-slaying trip.

  Traditionally, adventurers had always been wanderers, changing their base of operations whenever it was convenient or necessary.

  “This is a nice place,” the elf said, “very comfortable. But what are you doing?” She leaned in with great interest.

  “I’m unloading this cart.”

  “Hmm… Wait, don’t tell me… You’re strapped for cash, so you took a job as a delivery boy.”

  “No,” he said annoyed. �
�Did you want something?”

  “Oh yeah. This guy, uh…” The elf trailed off meaningfully, jerking her thumb at Lizard Priest. The lizardman’s tongue flicked up to his nose and back. His hands fidgeted incessantly.

  “Milord Goblin Slayer, I… Hrm…”

  “What?”

  “I humbly request, some…haa…”

  “What is it?” Goblin Slayer asked.

  Dwarf Shaman interceded with a smirk. “Scaly here wants some cheese.”

  “He ought to just come out and say it,” High Elf Archer suggested, narrowing her eyes like a cat. The lizardman hissed at them, but the two seemed to pay him no mind. Perhaps they were pleased to have seen this side of their otherwise unflappable companion. It was normally the lizardman who was the mediator for the group.

  Goblin Slayer could see he wasn’t going to get out of this. They had been together for only one quest so far. There were too many things he didn’t know.

  “Will this do?”

  He opened one of the packages on the cart, pulled out a round of cheese, and tossed it to them.

  “Oh-ho!” The lizardman caught it, and his eyes rolled wide in his head.

  “You can pay the Guild for it.”

  “Yes, yes, understood, milord Goblin Slayer! Oh, sweet nectar! It is worth its weight in gold!” He was practically dancing. He opened his mouth and took a big bite of cheese.

  The elf gave a helpless smile. “I guess even the most serious guys have to let themselves go every once in a while,” she said.

  “I see.” Goblin Slayer nodded. He didn’t feel bad about it. He reached for the next item on the cart.

  He grabbed hold of the wooden crate, picked it up, set it down. Then the next and the next. It was simple work, but he didn’t dislike it. When he looked up from it a few crates later, though, there was the elf, still standing there.

  She shifted restlessly as she watched him at the repetitive job.

  “Wh-what? Should I not be here?”

  “No.” He shook his head slightly. “But it’s going to be hot today.”

  “Li…listen!” Her voice was a little too loud. Her ears bobbed up and down, up and down.

  “What now?” he asked with a sigh.

  “Um, we’re…we’re checking out some ruins now…”

  “Ruins.”

  “Yeah, like we went to on our last quest. Trying to figure out what the evil spirits are planning and everything…”

  “I see.”

  “But our party doesn’t have a good forward guard, right?” I mean, I’m a ranger; he’s a priest. Shorty is a spell caster. She played with her hair as she spoke and didn’t quite look at him.

  “Right,” he agreed. Everything she’d said was true.

  “So, I mean…” She trailed off and looked at the ground. He waited for her to continue. “I thought maybe…maybe we should talk to you…”

  He was silent. Was that it? He lifted another box without a word.

  The elf’s ears drooped, and he set the box back down.

  “I’ll think about it.”

  He could practically hear her ears spring up. “Right! Sure! You do that!” With a little wave, she set out for the front of the Guild Hall. The dwarf followed her, stroking his beard with one hand and pulling along the lizardman—still entranced by his delicious prize—with the other.

  “How about that, Beard-cutter? Life’s so hard for long-ears. She ought to just come out and ask you along!”

  “Quiet, dwarf. I’m not out of arrows yet.”

  “I’m quivering in me boots, lass.” It seemed the elf was not out of earshot. Goblin Slayer watched the two walk off, bickering loudly.

  Before he knew it, he was almost done unloading the cart. He let out a puff of breath and shook his helmet. The sun was high in the sky. It was nearly summer.

  Then…

  “Yaaah!”

  “Heeeeyah!”

  Suddenly, shouts rang out, accompanied by the clear tone of metal on metal.

  The sound of a sword fight. And it wasn’t sudden. He just hadn’t been paying attention.

  He craned his neck to find the source of the disturbance. It was coming from the plaza behind the Guild building—right in front of him.

  “Ha-ha-ha, you call that a strike? You couldn’t kill a goblin that way!”

  “Damn! He’s too big; he’s getting in my guard! Circle around right!”

  “All right, here we go!”

  A heavily armored warrior was wielding a great sword as easily as a matchstick and fending off thrusts from two young boys. One of the boys was the scout from the heavily armored warrior’s party, and the other…he was the rookie warrior who had been headed to the sewers. His movements had the broad character of an inexperienced Porcelain rank, but he was doing well in that he was trying to find the flow of combat.

  “Not a bad plan,” the overdressed warrior responded, “but it doesn’t work if you shout it to your opponent!”

  “Yrrrahhh?!”

  “Waaagh!”

  The gulf of experience and strength was simply too great. Warrior handled them easily.

  It seemed Goblin Slayer was a bit too conspicuous as he stood watching them train.

  “Well, if it isn’t Goblin Slayer,” said a low voice with more than a hint of suspicion. It was the woman in knight’s armor. As he recalled, she was also part of the armored warrior’s team.

  “Haven’t seen you for a few days,” he called. “I was starting to think that ogre put an end to you. But here you are, alive and well.”

  “Yes.”

  “…Is that how you talk to everyone you know?”

  “Yes.”

  “…I see…” Knight furrowed her brow as if she had a headache and gave a measured shake of her head.

  He didn’t think it was as strange as all that, but he kept it to himself. He did say, however, “I didn’t think that warrior was a member of your party.”

  “Oh. He’s not. We were doing some sparring with the kid here…” Apparently, they had noticed the other young warrior practicing his sword work nearby and invited him to join in.

  Most of the would-be warriors who came up from the country with a sword and a dream were self-taught in the use of their weapons. Even this one chance to train with a real adventurer might save the boy’s life someday.

  “Now I’ve just got to teach those girls to act like ladies…”

  Across from where the scout and the young swordsman were boldly facing down Warrior in his heavy armor, a cleric and druid girl were leaning against a low wall, watching the match with undisguised excitement.

  “And that meathead is probably getting tired about now. Maybe I ought to jump in,” Knight said, with a twisted bit of a grin. She hefted her huge shield and her sword—her pride and joy—and jumped over the wall and into the fray. “All right, now you’re in trouble! I thought I heard there were some mighty warriors here, but all I see are a couple of weaklings!”

  “Whaat? How can you even be a paladin talking like that?!”

  “Here’s my answer!”

  “Some training!” groaned Warrior, who always attacked from the front—this was why people liked him. His great sword spun like a hurricane, his huge shield stopping one blow after another. He danced away from each sharp retort and found an opening in return. Cleric and the druid girl were just coming to the aid of the hard-pressed young men when…

  “That knight can’t quite mind her own business, can she?” A laugh as clear as a bell followed. When had someone come up beside him?

  “Pardon the intrusion, my dear Goblin Slayer, but how about you drink this? It’s very hot out here…” She had come out the kitchen door. Now she offered him a cup.

  “Thanks,” he said, taking it. He gulped it down with one great slosh into his helmet. It was cold and sweet.

  “It’s got a bit of lemon and honey in it,” Guild Girl said. “It’s supposed to be good for fatigue.” He nodded in agreement. It might make a good addition to hi
s field provisions. He would have to remember it.

  “There’s some talk these days about a new building that would be dedicated to that kind of training,” she said, nodding at the sparring party.

  “Oh?” He dabbed at the beads of liquid on his lips.

  “We could hire some retired adventurers to teach. So many beginners just don’t know anything at all.” If we could teach them even a little bit, maybe more of them would come home. She looked into the distance and smiled. Guild Girl had seen many adventurers come…and go. That it was only the paperwork she had to deal with didn’t soften the blow. It wasn’t hard to understand why she would want to help newcomers.

  “And…,” she added. “Even after you retire, you still have to live. Everyone needs something to fill the time.”

  “Is that right?” He gave the empty cup back to her.

  “Yes, it is,” she insisted with her usual peppy nod, her braids bouncing. “So you’d better take care of yourself, too, all right?”

  He was quiet a moment. “That seems to be everyone’s advice for me lately.”

  “I’m going to wait until you’re healed up before I give you any more quests. Maybe a month.”

  “Erk…” He groaned.

  “And next time you work till you collapse, six months.”

  “That would…be a problem.”

  “Wouldn’t it, though? So please learn your lesson this time.” She giggled. Then she told him she had finished the paperwork for his deliveries. He turned to go back into the Guild Hall, the shouts and clangs of the young adventurers flying at their mentor still sounding behind him.

  The girl, his old friend, was standing impatiently next to the cart. When she saw Goblin Slayer, her face lit up. He called to her quietly:

  “Shall we go home?”

  “Yes, let’s!”

  The cart was much lighter than it had been in the morning.

  When he got back to the farm, he found some sunbaked rocks and began building a stone wall. The foundations of a wall were already in place, but with goblins, you could never be too careful. Even Uncle grudgingly acknowledged the value of the wall, with the logic that it would help keep away wild animals.

  Goblin Slayer worked silently until, after the sun had passed its zenith, his old friend came with a basket on her arm. They sat on the grass together, eating sandwiches and drinking cold grape wine for lunch. Time passed at a leisurely pace.