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Goblin Slayer Side Story: Year One, Vol. 2

Page 11

by Kumo Kagyu


  At the reception desk, the night staff member—Guild Girl—sat in her chair, her head bobbing as she dreamed.

  Despite the smells of rust and mud that accompanied him, Goblin Slayer walked without making a sound. With the quill pen that sat ready on the reception desk, he wrote a simple report on some sheepskin paper, set it down gently, then put a paperweight on top of it.

  “…? Oh… Er, oh…!”

  At that moment, Guild Girl came to with a small squeak, shivering as she looked up. When she first took in the steel helmet, she flinched backward, but then hurriedly straightened up so she was sitting properly.

  “I-I’m sorry. That was very rude of me. Um…”

  “My report,” Goblin Slayer said. Then, as if it had just occurred to him, he added, “From the goblin hunt.”

  “Uh, right…” Guild Girl took the paper in hand and skimmed it. Sitting up even straighter, she said, “I’ll have a look at it.”

  A scrawl of writing ran across the paper, as if it had been thrown onto the page. He himself felt it was abominable penmanship. His older sister had taught him to read and write back when he was very young. He’d had few chances to use the skill since then.

  Even if your letters aren’t very nice, if you write carefully, it’ll be okay.

  So his sister had told him. He thought he had tried to write carefully.

  “Okay, good… Um, was there anything unusual?”

  “There were goblins,” he said. “Not very many. I killed them all.”

  “…Sounds like everything’s in order, then.”

  Guild Girl giggled quietly, double-checked the paperwork politely, and nodded. She put the report carefully into a paper holder and filed it away.

  “I deem this quest finished. Good work! I’ll get your reward ready now.”

  “…”

  Guild Girl lifted her bottom out of the chair to stand. Goblin Slayer’s helmet turned in the direction of the workshop. The lights were all out, as expected. The fires of the forge were probably still burning, but even if he requested something from them now, they probably wouldn’t start working on it until the next day.

  “…No,” he said, shaking his head. “I will take it tomorrow.”

  “Are you sure?”

  The helmet moved again, nodding this time. He seemed to think this marked the end of the conversation.

  Uh, well, then. Guild Girl, however, moved her fingers restlessly, as if there was still something more she wanted to say.

  Goblin Slayer waited silently. “Ahemmm,” she managed. “As a matter of fact, this quest was issued a number of days ago, but nobody would take it…”

  “Is that so?”

  “Well, the reward isn’t very good. But, uhh…”

  “What?”

  She sucked in a breath, causing her ample chest to rise, and the rest of her words came out in a stream. “So you’ve really been a big help! Thank you very much!”

  Goblin Slayer merely replied, “I see.”

  Then, with one of his characteristically blunt “All rights”, he headed directly for the door, leaving a trail of muddy footprints.

  He pushed the double doors open and went outside, listening to them fall silent behind him as he looked up at the sky. The light of the stars was faint, and the moons were shadowed as well. A pale light was already visible at the edges of the eastern sky.

  “Hrm,” he breathed quietly, and then he walked down the path with his bold, indifferent stride.

  It would soon be summer, but the morning air was still cold. He could feel the dew as he walked.

  The farmhouse wasn’t far, and his feet knew the way well, but sometimes it seemed to take a surprisingly long time. Maybe he was tired. That was his conclusion, feeling as if he were watching himself from behind.

  And then he didn’t think any further about it. There were other things that required his attention, his consideration. The underbrush nearby, the shadows of trees, the far side of the spreading field. Was there nothing moving there? And if there was, what was it? Any footprints? Any tracks? He didn’t sense any aura of anything, that ill-defined presence.

  “Aura?” his master had demanded. “Who believes in that sort of crap?”

  Everything could be understood by seeing, hearing, smelling, touching, tasting.

  “Then you’ve just got to think about what it means.”

  That was what his master had smirkingly declared after the usual round of battering him.

  “There’re those who can get to a conclusion without thinking, but you, you’re too stupid for that, understand? …Take it as a rule of thumb.”

  Then his master had kicked him back down again as he tried to get up, and he had gone tumbling across the ice.

  It was then that he had learned his teacher was apt to do such things. But only later would he come to understand that knowing something and being able to act on it were different things.

  “……”

  When he got to the farm, he noticed himself immediately making a circuit of the fence.

  That was a bad sign.

  Checking for the enemy should be a habit, but it shouldn’t become habitual, shouldn’t be performed by rote. That would give the goblins the chance to sneak by him. It would leave him unable to respond to a goblin who did something different from usual.

  He shook his head to free his helmet from the dew, went back the way he’d come, and started again. When he’d finished a complete circuit, there was still time before sunrise. He went to his shed and took out some daggers and broken helmets, placing them on a shelf.

  It must have been the fatigue that made his arms and legs feel heavy. But there were no guarantees that goblins wouldn’t appear when he was tired.

  “…Hrm.”

  He grasped a dagger in shaking fingers, took up a stance, and flung it. Miss. Another throw. Hit.

  That wasn’t good enough. He didn’t want to know that he had hit but to be sure that he would hit.

  When he ran out of knives, he collected the daggers from his missed throws and tried again, until all the helmets had been knocked down.

  It was about then that the sun was finally peeking over the horizon. He squinted behind his visor against a light that seemed to stab through his eyes and into his brain.

  “…Hrm.” He grunted briefly. In the new light, he could see that parts of the stone wall were broken down.

  Goblins?

  That wasn’t the only explanation. It could be some child’s prank. Or perhaps it had just crumbled naturally. There was nothing that didn’t need upkeep. He collected the helmets and daggers and set them aside, then walked over to the wall. He crouched down, running a hand along it carefully to check it. He decided that no person (or, by extension, goblin) had done this. He let out a breath.

  “…You’re quite the hard worker.”

  That was when he heard a voice behind him, unexpected. He stood slowly.

  It was the owner of the farm, probably come out of the main house. He looked like he had just gotten up, but he was fully awake.

  “One man alone just can’t do everything, you see? It would mean a lot to me if you’d help.”

  The owner stood with the sun at his back, watching Goblin Slayer, who replied, “More to the point,” and shook his head softly. “It would mean trouble if goblins came here.”

  “…” The owner made some kind of face, but he appeared as a shadow to Goblin Slayer, who couldn’t make out his expression. Then the owner crossed his arms and made a sound somewhat like a cow makes, deep in its throat. “…About the girl…”

  Goblin Slayer straightened up. “Yes, sir.”

  “She came home awfully depressed last night.”

  “…”

  “Try to…have some consideration for her, maybe.”

  Goblin Slayer was silent, his helmet fixed in the direction of the owner, who started to shift uncomfortably.

  “Have consideration,” Goblin Slayer echoed. “Meaning?”

  “I m
ean… Pay her some mind, spend some time with her… It could mean a lot of things.”

  It was a terribly vague response; the owner himself sounded like he wasn’t quite sure of the answer. But Goblin Slayer replied, “I see,” and nodded. It sounded, to an extent, like something he could do. “I will try.”

  “…Right. I hope you will.” The farm owner let out a breath, visibly relieved, then turned around and headed back into the main house. Halfway there, though, he stopped. “And also,” he added over his shoulder. “Clean yourself up a little… You smell something awful.”

  Goblin Slayer thought for a moment but ultimately said nothing as he watched the owner go. The odor was, after all, a necessity for killing goblins.

  “……”

  Still holding the helmets and daggers, Goblin Slayer went back in the shed, tossing them in a corner. In their place, he took out the oil-soaked rag he used to prepare his equipment. Still silent, he ran it over every surface of his armor. Even then, it could hardly have been called clean. But he threw the rag aside when he was done wiping and headed directly for the house.

  There came a sudden creaking ache in his head, which he decided must be due to dehydration. He would need to have water before he slept for an hour or two.

  “…Oh, welcome home.”

  No sooner had he opened the door than a rich and familiar aroma greeted him. She was standing there in the kitchen with her apron on, smiling hesitantly in front of a pot over the fire.

  “Er, uh… Want some breakfast?”

  Goblin Slayer thought for just a moment before responding, “I will have some.”

  “Oh, ah, r-right…!”

  She turned into a flurry of activity around the kitchen, setting out dishes. He glanced in the direction of the table, where the farm owner, already seated, was shooting him a hard look.

  Goblin Slayer sat down across from him, uncertain of what to say. But before long, he offered softly, “Tomorrow, I believe I will be able to pay rent again.”

  “…That right?”

  A few moments later, breakfast was on the table in front of him. It was stew.

  Words of thanks were said, and breakfast began. Goblin Slayer moved his spoon silently.

  “…”

  “…”

  Cow Girl was looking at him as if she wanted to say something.

  Goblin Slayer considered but, unable to think of anything, stayed quiet.

  At last, she closed her mouth again, dropping her eyes to her place setting.

  So Goblin Slayer put his spoon in his empty bowl and said, “…What should I do?”

  “Huh?”

  “…”

  “…Er…” She couldn’t quite get anything out; she looked to her uncle, flummoxed, for help. He shrugged silently. “…I’m…going to make some deliveries,” she said.

  “I see.”

  “You’re…saying you’ll help me…?”

  That…makes me happy, I think. At that, Goblin Slayer repeated, “I see.” Then: “Wait an hour.”

  “Oh, uh, sure!” Cow Girl nodded so hard her whole body shook. “Okay. I’ll be waiting!”

  Goblin Slayer stood without another word and left the house at a stride. Maybe it was the flavor of the food, or the fatigue that dogged him, but his legs felt as heavy as if he were manacled.

  Still, he brought each foot up, then set it down, working his way forward. As long as he kept going forward, he would reach his destination. Eventually. He would get there.

  He entered the shed, sat down against the wall, and closed his eyes.

  It’s all the same, Goblin Slayer thought.

  All things should be habit, but not habitual, not performed by rote.

  All things should be studied, then considered, and then acted upon.

  But he also knew that studying something didn’t translate into the ability to put it into practice.

  Sometimes things simply didn’t go the way you planned.

  §

  Cow Girl peeked into the shed, uncertain what to do. She could see him sitting curled down in a corner of the characteristically cluttered building.

  Not sitting… He’s asleep.

  He had come home from work, eaten enough to fill his stomach, then sat down and slept. To think that he would then help her with her own chores while barely pausing for some rest honestly didn’t make her happy.

  On the other hand, she wanted to do something with him—something that didn’t involve goblins.

  No. Stop pretending.

  She was genuinely pleased that he had eaten the meal she’d made and had said he would help her. That was the emotion foremost in her mind, for better or for worse.

  So that’s…why I nodded.

  “……Sigh.”

  Unable to make a decision, Cow Girl looked back and forth between the cart, all ready to go, and the pale darkness.

  An hour had passed already. They had some leeway, sure, but this was fresh produce. It couldn’t sit forever.

  She had been standing indecisively for several minutes when she heard the distant lowing of a cow, and she let out a breath.

  She gave a gentle tap on the already open door and called to him, “…Hey, you awake?”

  “…” He rose heavily, not saying a word. Cow Girl squeaked without meaning to.

  “Y-you were already awake…?”

  Then he’d seen her standing there fidgeting and thinking.

  Her voice had started to scratch, but he replied, “No,” as curt as ever. “I just woke up.” He sounded a touch hoarse. “I’m sorry.”

  “N-no problem…” Cow Girl shook her head gently. “It’s okay… I’m fine.”

  “I see.”

  He took a long swig from a carafe of water (when had he gotten that?), and then, after a moment’s silence, he started walking. His stride was bold and without hesitation; he passed by Cow Girl quickly.

  “Oh wait…!” He was already picking up the crossbar of the cart and preparing to head out by the time she called after him.

  “What?” He paused respectfully.

  Cow Girl fretted about what to say, but finally decided to simply say what she was thinking. “I-I’ll go with you, so…!”

  “I see.”

  Cow Girl jogged over and fell in behind the cart. His visor might have hidden his face, but she still didn’t have the courage to walk alongside him.

  “O-okay, here we go!”

  “Yes.” The response was as brief and detached as ever. Cow Girl gave the cart her mightiest shove, thinking that maybe this was the best she could hope for.

  The wheels started turning with a creak, then settled lazily into motion.

  It all seemed so much easier than usual. Maybe it was because he was pulling for her.

  “It’s n-not too heavy…?”

  “No.”

  Hardly any words at all. She thought about how tired he must be, but she didn’t say anything.

  “…”

  “…”

  They walked together under the morning sky, in time with the wheels’ creaking and the summer wind gusting past them. When Cow Girl looked straight ahead, all she could see was a pile of produce; she had to peek around the side to catch a glimpse of him. Even then, of course, she could only see his back and his steel helmet.

  “Uh, it’s getting warmer, huh?”

  “Is that so?”

  “It might get hot… Summer’s coming and all.”

  “Yes.”

  “Aren’t you warm?”

  “No.”

  Cow Girl fell quiet. Neither of them spoke further. She settled back in behind the cart, looking at her feet and focusing on pushing. Sweat ran down her forehead and dribbled onto the ground.

  It was a short trip from the farm to town, a small blessing—perhaps. She didn’t have much hope that she would be able to hold any kind of long conversation with him.

  More than anything, though, she didn’t want him to see her like this.

  Even she knew how unhapp
y she must have looked.

  §

  They passed through the gate into town, and when they had pulled up in front of the Guild, he stopped the cart. Cow Girl only noticed when the creaking of the wheels ceased. She hurriedly let go of the cart, and meanwhile, he came up beside her with his casual gait.

  “I’ll unload.”

  “Oh, r-right.”

  His tone brooked no argument. Cow Girl nodded and reached out for the pile of produce herself.

  She caught a sidelong look at him as he silently hefted up the heavy wooden boxes and set them down.

  As for Cow Girl, she couldn’t do it—even though she was finally here, huffing and puffing and working away.

  I guess it must be…because he’s an adventurer.

  She couldn’t tell under all that armor, but she assumed he must be pretty well built.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “N-nothing…!”

  She realized she’d been staring at him so intently that she had stopped moving, and she quickly went back to work. She still didn’t know what to talk about, but at least this time, she knew what she ought to do.

  It was good to have work to do, Cow Girl thought. Pick up the cargo, set it down, pick up some more. Again and again.

  Even once they had finished that job, next they had to hand it over to the Guild. Cow Girl wiped the sweat from her brow and steadied her breathing as she looked at him.

  “……”

  “So, um…”

  She couldn’t quite speak. It wasn’t because of the harshness of her breath. The cat had her tongue.

  She kicked listlessly at the flagstones with her toes. He watched her silently.

  It was intensely uncomfortable, and Cow Girl looked at the ground. “It’s… Yeah. It’s okay now. Thanks.”

  “I see.”

  Is that it?

  But naturally, she still couldn’t bring herself to voice the question.

  He nodded curtly, then turned around and began striding away. She could only stand there and watch him go. She reached out her hand, then drew it back, clutched it to her chest.

  She felt so warm. Maybe it was the sweat. The warmth burned in her chest. Maybe it was because of her hand? Maybe both.

  “……”

  Cow Girl stood that way for a while, looking up at the sky. It was painfully blue.

 

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