by Kumo Kagyu
…This has to stop.
She shook her head, feeling, somehow, completely pathetic.
She knocked on the back door of the Guild and let the staff know their order was here. She got the signature on her paper.
They told her a few other minor details had to be taken care of, and she frowned, having forgotten this part. It meant she would have to go into the Guild lobby. Where he was.
“Something the matter?”
“Oh no.” The staff member appeared worried about her, but Cow Girl simply shook her head. “It’s just hot today.”
“Ahh. It’s almost summer, isn’t it?”
Trivial chitchat. The sort of banal exchange she simply couldn’t have with him.
Cow Girl felt it squeezing her heart as she said, “Okay, then,” and quickly excused herself.
She pattered along, feeling like she was swimming in a sea of lively adventurers, toward the Guild Hall.
It overwhelmed her no matter how many times she saw it—almost made her dizzy.
There were so many people there, wearing every kind of gear, carrying every type of item imaginable. She scanned the panoply of equipment for someone trudging his way along in grimy leather armor and a helmet.
“Oh…”
There he was—sitting on a bench in a corner of the waiting room.
Cow Girl found she couldn’t speak to him immediately.
“—”
“”
She didn’t know what he was doing. But beside him was the figure of a woman.
She was beautiful. Her clothing clearly traced along the alluring lines of her body, her face hidden under a broad-brimmed hat.
That was the adventurer Cow Girl had engaged for a brief job once. Now she was talking with him, in what seemed to be a very chipper mood. She laughed as she passed him some kind of scroll.
“…”
Cow Girl could feel the heat drain from her chest, and she shook her head, dazed.
That can’t… That can’t be her.
It couldn’t be. The rumors had been about someone in robes, a strange woman who gave off the same vibes as he did.
Not her—probably not, Cow Girl thought.
“Oh…”
He was looking her way.
He had only moved his helmet, but somehow, she knew.
They must have been done talking. He nodded briefly to the witch, then strode over in Cow Girl’s direction.
“Wha— Ah— Oh…”
Cow Girl was nearly frantic. She’d never imagined he would come up to her.
Maybe he wouldn’t realize she’d seen him. But what if he did?
Well, what if he did? It wasn’t like she’d done anything wrong. But still…
“What’s wrong?”
“N-nothing’s, er, wrong.” Her voice went up an octave and the end of her sentence jumped. It was a pretty poor job of lying, if she said so herself.
But he only breathed, “I see,” and nodded that helmeted head.
Did—did he believe me?
He didn’t speak, yet, she was terrified. He was often silent and said little even when he did talk. So this was perfectly normal, and yet…
What was he like, when we were little?
She felt like she remembered him talking quite a bit. But that had been five years ago. As clear as the memory felt, she found the details hazy.
What about him? she wondered. How much did he remember of her from five years before?
Cow Girl had no way of knowing.
“Is there something else you need help with?”
“N-no… It’s all right. I’m fine.”
“I see.”
And there, of course, the conversation ended.
Cow Girl looked from the floor to the helmet and back, then noticed that passing adventurers were staring at them.
Maybe they were standing too close to the entrance. The adventurers went by, casting sidelong glances their way.
I could maybe blend in, but I guess he stands out…
Cow Girl smiled ruefully to herself. She reached out toward his sleeve, but in the end, she let her hand drop.
“Let’s move over to the side, okay?”
“Yes.”
It wouldn’t do to be in the way. She moved aside a few steps, and a second later, he followed her.
…I feel like he’s…taller than before, maybe.
She’d never had to raise her eyes to look him in the face in the past.
She’d always believed she could beat him in a fight. Or a footrace, or anything.
Not anymore.
The feeling became a sigh that slipped out of her mouth.
Predictably, he tilted his steel helmet and asked, “What’s wrong?” but she once again repeated, “Nothing.”
There was nothing in the world that didn’t change.
In the course of five years, everything changed.
I wonder if I was…a nuisance.
He didn’t say anything. Of course not. And Cow Girl didn’t have the courage to ask. The chattering of adventurers all around her had grown so grating. She couldn’t stand it.
She opened her mouth, even though she wasn’t sure what she was going to do with it. “H-hey, um…”
“You’re here!!”
At that instant, a voice that sounded like the ringing of a bell cut through the noise of the crowd. Cow Girl looked up in surprise and turned to see a small figure hurrying toward them.
The rush of the air blew back the person’s hood, revealing an intelligent face, eyes gleaming—a woman.
She was coming at them like a cat pouncing on its prey…
“Oh…”
“You didn’t come by today, so I’d given up on seeing you. Gosh, and there I was, waiting for you the whole time!”
An instant later, the woman had passed Cow Girl by and swept him up in a great hug.
He ignored Cow Girl’s astonished stare, saying only, “I see,” and nodding.
“But I, in my magnanimity, shall forgive you! Considering that your diligence takes so much of the work out of finding you.”
“Is that so?”
“It is indeed!”
The woman—even Cow Girl could tell she was a wizard—continued to embrace him with unfettered joy, chattering away. Oddly, though, the overall murmur of the room didn’t seem to encompass this spell caster. Only he and Cow Girl had noticed her. Cow Girl blinked, feeling as if her world were being torn apart.
“My hopes and dreams are about to be realized, but there’s a problem! I desperately want your help, what do you think?”
“Goblins?”
“Unfortunately, most sadly, and very happily, that is indeed the case!”
“I see,” he said again, the helmet turning to look around.
Cow Girl shivered as the gaze behind the visor settled on her.
“I’m sorry, but I have a quest.”
“Er, ah, a—q-quest?”
“Yes.”
Cow Girl bit her lip, wringing her hands together.
She couldn’t accept this. How could she ever accept this?
She couldn’t accept this, but they were a quest giver and an adventurer, or so he said. And in that case…
“…Then my only choice is to understand.”
“I see.”
Still those same two words, still the end of the conversation. Cow Girl, unable to say anything else, dropped her eyes to her feet again.
That’s why she didn’t notice. Didn’t see the wizard—Arc Mage—look from her to him and back and nod knowingly.
“Well, goodness gracious me. Right. You, go get provisions from the tavern.”
“Mm.” He grunted, but then repeated quietly, “Me?”
“Surely you don’t mean to make a girl carry the cargo,” Arc Mage said. She snapped her fingers as if she were performing a magic spell and took out a gold coin. “Cider, too, of course. Take plenty of time deciding what we need—consider that an order from your quest giver.”
&n
bsp; “…Me?”
“Yes, you.”
Goblin Slayer grunted again, then said simply, “Understood,” and took the coin.
Cow Girl’s face was starting to crumple, like a child who had been left out of a game.
“Oh, heavens,” Arc Mage said, and laughed uncomfortably. “Don’t make that face. This isn’t what you think it is.”
“…Really?”
“I promise. Never has been, never will be.” Arc Mage chuckled and brushed Cow Girl’s face. Cow Girl caught her breath: the gesture felt like something a mother would do, though she no longer remembered for certain what that sensation might’ve been like.
The tension drained out of her body, and she felt the warmth beginning to creep back into her heart. It felt so kind that she once more thought she might start crying, though for the opposite reason this time.
“I’m a little slow,” Arc Mage said. “Specifically, a little slow to regret thinking nothing of being slow.”
“…Uh. So, so you…” Cow Girl groped for the words. “You’re…the quest giver?”
“And a wizard and maybe a sage. It’s hard to describe anyone in a single word.”
“Uh-huh,” Cow Girl said, not really understanding.
Not understanding at all, in fact—yet all the same, the meaning came through. So Cow Girl said “Uh-huh” again, and then, “Thank you.”
“Thank me? After I hurt you so much? Even if it was accidental, though.” Arc Mage gave Cow Girl a meaningful look and chuckled again. Even Cow Girl picked up on what she meant and went red up to her ears. She realized now how embarrassing her behavior had been. She wished there was a hole she could crawl into.
“Come, come,” Arc Mage said, unable to restrain another little burst of laughter. “I’ll tell you a secret. Not to apologize, exactly. Just because. It’s a special little something I just learned recently myself.”
“…A secret…” Cow Girl blinked. “You mean magic?”
“All words are magic. Ready? He—”
He may seem dense and hard to talk to, but if you say something to him, he does listen.
A few minutes later, he came back, and Arc Mage left Cow Girl to go over to him. He nodded once to each of them, then said simply, “I’m off,” and started walking.
Cow Girl saw them depart, then went over to the reception desk to finish the paperwork she’d forgotten about.
It must have been the heat of the summer morning.
All that Cow Girl remembered of her—of Arc Mage—was that one conversation.
Just that one simple memory.
“Okay, now.” In the chatter-filled tavern, Spearman unrolled the quest paper he’d taken down. “This is our quest for today—make sense?”
“Let’s, see…” The luscious beauty sitting across from him nodded wondrously. “It looks…rather…difficult, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah, right?” Those breathy, halting words. Spearman nodded eagerly at her.
“A…warlock, I, see.”
And so it was. Spearman sighed to himself. Any given spell caster was likely to be able to read and write, but…
Ugh. If she finds out I can’t read, boy, will I look lame.
For the sake of his dignity, he had to hide the fact at any cost.
Naturally, even Spearman didn’t want to just throw himself headlong into a random quest he’d found, with no idea what it entailed. Thus, he took his quest papers, not to the reception desk, but to the scribes, so they could read them to him.
This quest, allegedly, had to do with a warlock who had taken up residence in a cave near a village. He did bizarre experiments and cast hexes that caused the trees to rot and the animals to fall ill.
The quest had come from a village chieftain at the end of his rope, but Spearman was concerned. He didn’t have a spell caster of his own, and that was dangerous.
Spearman was a warrior. He didn’t know any magic. But he was all too aware of just how threatening a foe he faced.
Magic wasn’t necessarily the only way to fight magic, but there was little substitute for knowledge and experience.
And he was in too deep now to turn back.
Most of today’s quests were gone. Only a smattering of goblin-hunting ones were left. Spearman didn’t want to be one of those buffoons who put a quest back on the board because he’d bitten off more than he could chew.
Come to think of it, I haven’t seen that weirdo around today.
The adventurer in his grimy equipment would gladly have taken those goblin quests, Spearman suspected. He didn’t have any idea what was so great about killing goblins, but that adventurer was set on his course of action.
“You’re so strong, there’s someone who would like to party up with you…”
The receptionist girl looked like an angel. No, a goddess! He had thought so ever since he first laid eyes on her. He couldn’t be wrong.
He felt like things weren’t bad between them. Even better, really: he thought they were quite good. He let the feeling carry him. He was on top of the world.
The one the receptionist had introduced him to had been the witch, the woman in front of him now. They’d worked together on more than one occasion before. She was beautiful. Great rack. Excellent all around.
“What, do you want to do…?”
“Er, r-right. Well, you don’t have to use magic to kill him just because he’s got magic, right?” The smile on Spearman’s face was something of a bluff—Fake it till you make it! he thought. “Stab a guy with a spear and down he goes.”
“Heh, heh…”
Witch gave a meaningful laugh at this. A sweet aroma seemed to accompany every breath she let out, perhaps the product of the tobacco she was always smoking. Spearman had no idea what it was, but he was just as glad she did it. Women like that were always more fun to talk to.
“Anyway, just leave it to me. We can work together, just like the time we stopped that Rock Eater, right?”
“I suppose, so…” She agreed with a slow, elegant nod.
And more importantly, we’ve worked together enough that I have a sense of who she is.
He wasn’t so pathetic that he had to know every detail about a woman’s background before he could talk to her. But after several adventures together, working as a team, they’d begun to trade jokes—it would be fair to call them friends.
Feeling as nervous as if he were going into battle right now, Spearman picked up his lemon water to calm his nerves.
“Say.”
“Hrm?”
Witch’s sudden interjection caught him completely off guard. He looked at her over the rim of his glass, but her expression was hidden beneath the brim of her hat.
“…Why…do you, always…talk, to…me?”
“No reason not to, right?” he answered immediately. He didn’t hesitate at all. He hoped it communicated how silly he thought the question was.
“Is, that”—Witch blinked her long eyelashes—“because of, the way…I look…?”
“Doesn’t hurt.” Spearman nodded seriously. There wasn’t a man in heaven or on earth who wouldn’t praise the appearance of a beautiful woman. If he had been confronted with a mermaid, Spearman would have complimented her on the way her scales shimmered.
In fact, he found it the more attractive when a woman was aware of her own beauty.
“…” His answer must have surprised Witch, because her eyes opened wide.
I think she might be younger than I’d realized.
“…Hey, I can pretend not to notice if you want.” Spearman suddenly felt embarrassed for some reason and tried to cover for himself.
“Then…” Witch swallowed, causing a gentle motion in her slim, pale throat. “My abilities, with magic?”
“Definitely part of it.” Another serious nod.
How much of a coward did a man have to be to not acknowledge when a woman possessed a finely honed skill? Didn’t matter if it was her beauty, her hair, or her clothes—or her swordsmanship, her learning, h
er faith, or even her magic.
“Gosh…” Witch pulled down her hat and slumped into her chair. “…Is there, anything else?”
Spearman grunted, then muttered, “Hold on,” and looked at the ceiling.
The answer couldn’t be no. It was just hard to put into words.
“…You remember we took the quest for that farm girl a while back?”
“Yes.”
A nice, easy job, like going for a stroll. See one girl to a field somewhere, then get her home again.
Sure, it would have been dangerous for someone with no combat ability. That’s why there’d been a quest, and why a couple of adventurers had taken it. But…
“It was boring, the reward sucked, but you went along with me without so much as pulling a face.” Spearman spoke even as he organized his thoughts, finally concluding with, “Yeah, that’s it… I thought you were good people.”
“…I see.”
Just that soft whisper, and then she took out her pipe slowly. She packed it with tobacco, struck a flint to it, took a puff.
“…I, don’t view…myself as such…an easy woman…you understand?”
“But knowing someone appreciates your looks, your skills, and your heart—that’s got to make you happy, right?”
Spearman grinned, showing his white teeth, a heartfelt smile.
Witch didn’t say anything. She just shook her head, seemingly speechless.
“I’m curious—what was it you were talking about with that girl?”
A hawk screeched and circled overhead. Arc Mage, leading the way across the pathless field, glanced back.
Goblin Slayer, laden with cargo so heavy it forced his shoulders down, grunted under his helmet. “Nothing special,” he said. Then he added, “I simply helped her with work.”
Arc Mage smirked, took a dainty sip of the cider, and swallowed noisily. Her eyes were tender as she said, “That’s not what I meant. I meant that witch.”
“I requested her to do some work for me.”
“Ah, that makes it all clear. And when you’ve got a perfectly good magical worker right here in front of you. Though I guess I am your quest giver.”
Most lamentably, that leaves me unable to take on your requests.
Arc Mage giggled (was something funny?) and kept walking at a lively pace. Goblin Slayer, carrying the baggage, trod through the brush behind her.
