by Kumo Kagyu
“…Ahh,” she said, the joy unmistakable in her voice. “You’ve come. It is you, isn’t it…?”
There was the faintest rustle as the woman, her buxom body covered in just a single thin piece of cloth, stood from her prayers.
Behind her blindfold—which served only to highlight her beauty—her gaze shifted, and a breath escaped her rich lips.
It might seem like seduction, or perhaps a certain devilishness. But her aura was, without question, that of a pure priestess.
“It seems things are well.”
“Yes… Thanks to you.” The archbishop, Sword Maiden, smiled like an innocent little girl, her red lips softening. She made a motion with her hand, almost like a bit of a dance; the acolyte bowed her head and retreated soundlessly.
Goblin Slayer watched her go, the steel helmet concealing his expression. Sword Maiden looked at him with great warmth.
“I’m afraid I troubled you for that girl’s sake…”
“It was nothing,” Goblin Slayer said, shaking his head. “My duty.”
The previous winter was still fresh in his memory, when he had done battle with some goblins on the snowy mountain in order to rescue a noble girl. The young woman had tried very hard to appear brave. Goblin Slayer didn’t know what had happened to her after her rescue. Apparently, she was in contact by letter with Priestess and High Elf Archer, but it didn’t occur to him to ask them about her.
“…I can’t say she’s completely better,” Sword Maiden said gently, as if she sensed what Goblin Slayer was wondering. “Her wounds are deep and pain her greatly.” Her lips pursed slightly. “But she has stood back on her feet. She’s doing all that she can, to the extent of her ability.”
“I see.”
“…And what about me?”
Goblin Slayer hmphed and said, “I heard on the way here.” Then he let go of the cart’s crossbeam with a clatter. “I brought the ancient texts.”
“So you have. I’ve heard the story.” Her lips pursed again, perhaps in annoyance at not being able to ask him personally. But at the very least, there seemed to be no change in the fact that he was looking out for her.
She moved along the marble floor almost as if she were skating across it, approaching the cart with no evident concern. Her pale, delicate hand reached out and brushed the surface of the wooden chest.
“Perhaps you’d be so kind as to open it for me?”
“Yes.”
Goblin Slayer took the sword at his hip and used the tip to pry open the chest. It wasn’t something a normal adventurer would do, risking their beloved weapon.
But this was Goblin Slayer. Sword Maiden knew that, so she wasn’t surprised by what she noticed.
The chest opened with a screech of protest. Inside were the clay tablets, buried in soft detritus. Sword Maiden ran her hand along the profusion of characters engraved into their surface, as gently as a lover.
“This writing is old… Very, very old. I think the words might pertain to magic… Perhaps.”
Maybe all this would have been surprising to someone who didn’t know who Sword Maiden was. But as the archbishop of the Supreme God, ruler of law, she would certainly have a miracle of appraisal.
“Does it say anything about goblins?”
“I’m not sure,” Sword Maiden replied with a sad shake of her head that caused her golden hair to ripple soundlessly. “I’m afraid I can’t quite say. I would have to read a little more closely…”
“I see.” Goblin Slayer nodded. “In that case, I’m not interested. I will leave them with you.”
“And I will keep them. Thank you.” Sword Maiden put a hand to her bountiful bosom and gave a deep bow. It was not the way an archbishop would normally behave toward a mere adventurer—even if she had once been an adventurer herself.
She raised her head slowly, then her sightless eyes looked at the clay tablets as if they were a gift.
“I’ll take them to the library later.”
“…You yourself?”
“The responsibility has been passed to me, hasn’t it? I’d better see it through.” Before Goblin Slayer could say anything else, she added an emphatic “Right?”
She looked like she was dancing as she moved closer to the man in his crude leather armor. A faint, sweet smell tickled his nose, perhaps the perfume she was wearing.
“Will you be back again soon?”
“No.” This caused Sword Maiden to squeeze the sword and scales. “We will head south immediately.”
“Is that so…? …I see.” The strength went out of the hand that held the symbol. “How unkind,” she murmured. “I don’t believe this trip involves goblins…”
“My friend…,” Goblin Slayer started. “My friend…invited me. I could not refuse.”
“You’ve got that kind heart…”
Her words were not a reproach, exactly, but there was a barb in them.
Goblin Slayer, however, responded, “One never knows when or where goblins may appear.”
“That’s certainly true.” She laughed, and it was like the sound of a bell; it hung in the air as she backed away.
She straightened her clothes (though they didn’t really need it), adjusted her grip on the sword and scales, and gave a quiet cough.
“Be careful, if you’re going to travel the river.”
“Careful of goblins?”
She ignored the question, saying quietly, “There have been reports of boats sinking.”
I wish you safety in your travels.
Goblin Slayer let her make the holy sign over him with her fingers. Then he nodded and set off at a bold pace. He didn’t look back.
Just as she had hoped.
§
“I, uh… I bought what they said, but… Am I really supposed to wear this?”
“It’s something, isn’t it? Humans think of the most interesting things. I just thought it might look good.”
“This is cutting-edge fashion even for the capital. It’s only recently that having your arms and legs so exposed has become popular.”
“I’ve got a sneaking suspicion this is going to be a little too small…”
There was a spray of water, and the four girls’ voices flew prettily around the riverbank.
It was the next day, and the five adventurers and two tagalongs were riding a raft. The water vessel had a white sail, and the wind pushed it gently upriver.
Trade wasn’t especially frequent between the elves’ village and the water town. The forest dwellers were quite proud, with little interest in money and even less in whatever baubles humans might produce. And when two sides could not fulfill mutual needs, then trade could not flourish.
Rather, most of the boats on the river were bound for the pioneer villages that stood along its banks. Very few of them went farther south, to the forest of the elves.
There were, of course, exceptions…
“If I’d known we were going to be traveling by raft, I might’ve stayed home!”
“We were able to borrow it, and that is enough.”
They had already drifted past several villages, and the sun was climbing to its height. They had just bought some bread from the farmers at the last of the riverbank settlements marked on their map, and Dwarf Shaman was busy complaining.
As he took one of the pieces of buttered bread being passed around, Goblin Slayer said, “What is there to complain about?”
“You’re a surprisingly even-keeled man, Beard-cutter.”
“Is that so?”
“I should say so… Here, Scaly.”
“Ah, many thanks.”
Lizard Priest was piloting the raft with deft strokes of a pole. He settled the vessel in the lock, then let out a hissing breath.
Locks are devices designed to regulate the difference in water level between a canal and a natural river. When heading from the upstream to the downstream, the water in the lock would be gradually lowered to the downstream height. This meant that regardless of what you were riding on, the
re was bound to be a bit of a wait. A perfect time for a bite to eat.
Lizard Priest stuffed the bread into his jaws, his eyes rolling. “Mmm. But to think, it seems my tongue has become accustomed to the products of that farm so that now I wish for them.”
“Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Well, look who’s become a gourmand! How about it, Beard-cutter? What about you?”
“If it is edible, that is enough,” Goblin Slayer said softly, glancing around. He was looking at Cow Girl, who was sitting over by the other women, tearing off pieces of bread and eating them. She glanced in his direction, too, and their eyes briefly met.
“…Perhaps I do not quite mean that,” Goblin Slayer added then looked down at his hands. He was whittling some wood with a knife, preparing something. Somethings, rather. One was a short club with a strange groove carved into it; the other looked more like a sharpened spear. When he finished with the grooved thing, Goblin Slayer put his blade to the tip of the longer object.
As he worked, he took the bread that he held in one hand and jammed it lazily into his visor.
“Hey, mind your manners!” Cow Girl exclaimed. “Chew your food properly.”
“Sorry,” he replied, sparing a glance in her direction and shoving the bread in a little more slowly. Then he looked down and resumed his work.
“Sheesh,” Cow Girl grumbled, but Dwarf Shaman grinned and looked at what Goblin Slayer was doing.
“Got a spear there?” He picked up one of the objects with interest.
It was a simple wooden spear, nothing special. It didn’t even have a proper tip.
“I am not skilled enough for my arrows to penetrate water. And a raft has no stones to pick up and throw. I need a ranged weapon.” Goblin Slayer grabbed one of the weapons and held it up to the light, inspecting the work. Apparently, he found it unsatisfactory, because he resumed shaving away at it.
“One must be prepared,” he said brusquely. “More so than usual.”
“Ahh. I know what you mean. I heard the same rumors.” Dwarf Shaman set the spear down with a sour look then sat on the raft. He pulled the stopper from the jar at his hip, pulled a cup from his bag, and offered Goblin Slayer a pour of fire wine. A rich aroma of alcohol wafted from the cup. Goblin Slayer shook a hand in refusal, so Dwarf Shaman drank the thing down in a single gulp.
“Sunken ships… You don’t think they’re just accidents?”
“It would be best not to assume so. As in everything.”
There were only so many ships that traveled upriver. Most of them were adventurers, or the handful of merchants who had found favor with the elves. Hunters, perhaps, or medicine people. Some came seeking caves or ruins, or to collect rare herbs or animal parts with the indulgence of the forest’s masters.
They had gone up the river on rafts, and they hadn’t come back down. That in itself wasn’t necessarily surprising. The only reason anyone knew the boats had sunk was because the elves, as a sign of goodwill, had sent the washed-up remains of the vessels back.
There were some who said, under their voices and without real proof, that maybe the elves had sunk those boats.
“It could be goblins,” Goblin Slayer said confidently, with a glance at High Elf Archer. She was stuffing buttered bread (not the most refined meal) into her face, her long ears bouncing up and down. “Mmm. Eating somewhere new is the greatest.” She puffed out her cheeks squirrelishly, a gesture Priestess couldn’t help but laugh at.
“True. I lived in the Temple myself, so I know what you mean.”
“Last time I was here, I walked along the banks. Going by boat is a new thing for me.”
Or rather…by raft. She twirled her pointer finger in a circle in space.
“Right,” Priestess agreed, putting some bread in her mouth, chewing delicately, and swallowing. “Is this that bank?”
“Yeah, it sure is.”
It had been more than six months now since the two of them had bathed in that hot spring, looking up at the stars.
“Well now, is there a story here?” Guild Girl asked solicitously, leaning over.
Priestess and High Elf Archer looked at each other with exaggerated expressions of thought.
“A story? Hmm.”
“What story could she be talking about?”
It wasn’t precisely a secret to keep to themselves, but it was a valuable enough memory to act important about.
High Elf Archer’s ears flopped happily. Guild Girl shot her a suspicious look. “I’ll have to make sure to question you thoroughly about this at your next interview.”
“Hey, that’s abuse of authority, isn’t it?”
Guild Girl had dealt with far too many people like High Elf Archer for this little quip to upset her mask. “How tragic, to serve so loyally and yet have adventurers keep secrets from me!”
Being two thousand years old (that’s twice a thousand), High Elf Archer should have been equally poker-faced, but instead, she ground her teeth in frustration.
“Aww, but I wanna hear, too,” Cow Girl said, clapping her hands. “I want to hear all kinds of things about life outside town!”
“Huh. Well, in that case… This was back before I met Orcbolg…”
And thus, Cow Girl’s interjection became the pretext for a story of adventure.
Out of the corner of his eye, Goblin Slayer could see the women chatting amiably. High Elf Archer’s ears flounced and she gesticulated frequently; Cow Girl listened with a smile. Guild Girl whispered about backroom secrets of the Guild, Priestess’s eyes wide.
Goblin Slayer gathered up the ten or so sharpened sticks he had prepared, putting his woodworking tools back at his belt.
“When the lock opens, I will take over from you.”
“Very well,” Lizard Priest replied, slapping his tail down. The resulting jostling of the raft provoked cries from the women.
When the lock finally did open, the raft flowed with the water out into a valley.
“W-wow…”
How many moons could it have taken to carve out a piece of land like this? The river was itself like a scar left by time. The ravine was almost like one giant slab of rock, now in several layers. The mountain must have existed from the Age of the Gods, and the river would have been working away at this place for just as long.
The rocks were so large as to block out the sun at times, casting their shadows before them; among them, the burbling of the river and the blowing of the wind could be heard.
This explained it. This was why the village of the elves was sometimes called a land apart, “the country of shadows.” It didn’t feel like part of the mortal realm.
“This is incredible…!” Cow Girl exclaimed, looking at the massive stones as the raft wove its way through them. Everyone understood how she felt. There were a great many things in the world that were beyond any fantasy of hers.
“My home is just through here,” High Elf Archer said, standing on the raft with no apparent sense of danger and puffing out her slender chest. “How about it? Even the dwarves never built something like this!”
“You’re right, Long-Ears, we don’t seek to compete with the work of the gods. Mastery of the hammer and chisel is our goal.” He stroked his beard then added with a smirk, “And I’m guessing the elves didn’t build these, either.”
“Hrrrmn!” High Elf Archer’s ears went straight back, and she lit into the dwarf as usual.
Everyone around them was used to this, and no one let it distract them from the scenery. Priestess made a variety of inarticulate noises, blinking rapidly. “This is amazing…”
“I’ve read about this in Guild paperwork, but seeing it firsthand is really something,” Guild Girl said.
“No kidding.” Cow Girl nodded. “Takes your breath away, huh? Hey…”
What do you think? she was about to say, but the words never left her lips.
When she turned around to ask, she found him standing at the back of the raft, staring far beyond the edges of the valley.
“How doe
s it look?” Goblin Slayer asked softly, his hand on the tiller.
Lizard Priest considered, making his strange palms-together gesture, his eyes scanning the area constantly.
“Hmm. Above or below, perhaps.”
“I agree.”
“This is no ocean. On a river, we’re unlikely to encounter a kraken.”
“Kraken,” Goblin Slayer repeated. “What’s that?”
Lizard Priest’s eyes rolled in his head. “More likely than not, I would guess above.”
“Understood.”
This was a side of him she had never seen. He looked just like he always did, and yet somehow different. Cow Girl put a hand to her bulging chest to calm her heart.
“Ah—”
She swallowed some saliva. But just as she was about to try again to say something, High Elf Archer’s clear voice cut her off.
“Hold on!”
The ranger already had an arrow in her bow. The adventurers glanced at one another once then sprang into action.
Priestess clutched her sounding staff firmly, while Dwarf Shaman began rooting through his bag of catalysts. Lizard Priest grasped a dragon fang in his hand, and Goblin Slayer, one hand still on the rudder, lowered his hips.
“Think we’d best take down the sail. Give me a hand,” Dwarf Shaman said, squinting against the sun.
“Oh yes, be right there…,” Priestess said, going over to him.
Goblin Slayer, diligently working the pole, looked at the two young women. “Get down and cover your heads with cloths.” His voice was sharp.
“Oh, uh, r-right, sure…!” Cow Girl nodded quickly. She rifled through her belongings, pulling out a rag.
“Over here, quickly!” Guild Girl looked equally nervous with her own cloth.
The two of them huddled together under the coverings, trying to make themselves as small as possible. Each thought she could feel the other shaking, but maybe it was herself.
They didn’t know. That ignorance was their companion as they sat holding hands tightly.
Lizard Priest stood above them to protect them.
“…From the banks?” he asked.
“Probably,” High Elf Archer answered. “Something’s coming. A…a lot of somethings!” She drew back her bowstring, her ears working quickly up and down to catch any sound.