by Kumo Kagyu
“But you’ve already said it isn’t about goblins.”
“Yes, well, that’s—that’s true, but…” Guild Girl, looking small in one of the chairs, seemed like she might break into tears at any moment. Clinging to a sheaf of papers, she said in a small voice, “It…it really does have to be goblins with you, doesn’t it?”
Goblin Slayer was silent. There was no guessing his expression under his helmet.
After a moment, he gave a quiet sigh.
Then he turned, walked quickly up to a chair, and sat down more aggressively than necessary. He looked at her sitting across from him and said:
“Be brief, please.”
“Certainly!”
Guild Girl’s face shined like a child’s.
She quickly straightened her papers, arranging them once more on the tabletop. The sheepskin paper she spread out in front of him appeared to be the résumé of some adventurer. Name, race, gender, skills, and a quest history were all included.
“I’d like to ask you to be an observer, Mr. Goblin Slayer.”
“An observer.” He nodded as if already convinced. “Is this for a promotion test?”
Adventurers were divided into ten ranks, from Porcelain to Platinum.
Ranks were determined based on how much reward one had gained, how much good one had done the world, and one’s personality. Some referred to these collectively as “experience points,” and that wasn’t inaccurate. It was, in effect, a simple measure of how much good one had done people and society.
But of course, there were those adventurers whose excellence stopped at their fighting skills. An adventurer’s personality was valued at least as highly as his or her abilities. Thus, higher-ranked adventurers would serve as witnesses at a test—essentially, an interview.
In this way, for example, a vagabond with amazing skills from who knew where could rank Silver or Gold immediately. Or rather, such a storybook system was the ideal. But it didn’t work out that way.
A male adventurer whose party members were all females, for example, would find it difficult to advance. Regardless of the circumstances, few people were willing to trust someone who looked like a philanderer with important quests. However strong they might be, fools whose strength was their only asset would remain Porcelain-ranked for life. Meanwhile, the best adventurers knew they were being watched and tried to act in a trustworthy manner.
…With the exception of a few of the historically extremely rare Platinums.
“But…” Goblin Slayer sounded uncertain. It was an unusual thing for him. “Are you sure I will do?”
Heavens. Guild Girl answered as if it didn’t bother her at all. “What in the world do you mean? You’re Silver-ranked, too, you know.”
“The association decided that arbitrarily,” Goblin Slayer said.
“That just shows how grateful everyone is to you.”
Guild Girl sounded confident, as proud as if she were talking about herself.
Goblin Slayer fell silent. For a moment, he looked up at the ceiling, but before long he grabbed the paper.
“Who’s being tested?”
Guild Girl gave a joyous nod the moment she realized he accepted, her braids bouncing.
“Th-thank you very much! It’s several members of a single party, each moving from Steel to Sapphire, in other words from eighth to seventh rank…”
“Please let it be this time… Please, please let me advance this time…”
In the hallway outside the interview room, a prayer sounded among the waiting adventurers.
The speaker was a middle-aged man dressed in rags.
Probably a monk—well, not just any monk.
His body was shrunken with age. With him was a beaten wood staff, probably a kind of weapon. His forehead was shaven, but apparently he had no oil to put on it, and his pate was covered in thin hair.
“Shut it, Gramps! You don’t have to chant all the time just ’cause you’re a monk. You’re bugging the hell outta me!”
The critic was a young man with hard eyes who very much looked the part of a warrior.
His words were harsh, but he himself fidgeted as if unable to stay calm. Each time he did so, his well-used armor and battle-ax bumped into each other with a scrape of metal on metal. They weren’t rusted, but they had seen better days. Not top-quality equipment.
“Damn. I should’ve at least polished ’em…”
“Too late now. The old guy’s the only person here with his own house. Makes you want to get religion,” a young wizardish woman whispered placatingly to the man with the ax. “And a little polish wouldn’t have made much difference, anyway.”
Ever-so-slightly pointed ears peeked out from her torn hood—a half elf. Her spell book, which she paged through restlessly, looked well used, too. The cover was falling off and had been reattached with glue.
“Ahh, take it easy. Won’t do any good to get upset…”
The speaker then gave a belly laugh. He was a young man, short—indeed, barely half the size of anyone else there. He wore unblemished leather armor, a dagger at his hip, and fur-lined boots on his feet.
He was a rhea scout—or anyway, so one assumed.
“Yeah, I know,” said the ax-wielding warrior. “But there’s a big jump between Steel and Sapphire—in both pay and quests.”
“If we can advance today, we can finally stop hunting rats in the sewers,” the elf wizard added.
The warrior resumed, fast as a swinging ax, “We can finally do better than the interest on our debts. Gramps here will be able to keep himself. This is important.”
“I need this, too. Spell books are expensive. If a prayer is what it takes to get us that rank, I’ll pray all day,” the elf muttered philosophically. She glared at the rhea scout from under her hood. “Anyway, don’t act like it doesn’t concern you.”
“Yeah, ha-ha-ha…” The rhea scratched his head in embarrassment. “I’m, y’know, I’m pretty scared of danger. And I don’t have any debts, so…”
“You bum.”
“Coward.”
The warrior and the wizard sounded exasperated, but the scout only shrugged.
“Next, please!”
Guild Girl’s cheerful voice floated out of the meeting room.
“Oh! That’s me!” The rhea scout jumped up nimbly.
The bald-headed monk clung to his armor, practically on his knees. “Please… Pleeease be strong…”
“I know, I know, bug off,” the scout said, brushing the monk’s hand away. He opened the door…
“…Yikes.”
…and his eyes went wide.
Three people sat in the meeting room. First, there was a guild employee, the bright-eyed receptionist. (One day he was going to spank her till she cried.) Second was another slim woman wearing the uniform of the guild. Who was this now? The rhea scout cocked his head. He couldn’t quite recall if he’d seen her before. And then there was a higher-ranked adventurer—but a very strange-looking one.
Cheap-looking helmet. Grimy leather armor. Equipment barely suitable for an adventure. He didn’t have his sword or shield, but there was no mistaking him.
“G-Goblin Slayer…”
“Is there any problem?” he asked.
“N-not at all, sir.” The scout answered the brusque man with an obsequious laugh, reaching back to close the door.
The truth was, the rhea did not hate the man called Goblin Slayer, the man who had gotten to Silver rank by taking simple goblin jobs. The rhea wanted money. He wanted fame. He wanted to be well spoken of. But he hated being afraid, and he didn’t want to die. He was confident Goblin Slayer must feel similarly. If he genuinely disliked anything about the man, it was that expressionless helmet…
Goblin Slayer watched the rhea scout sit down across from him.
The scout trembled slightly. He didn’t hate Goblin Slayer, but he didn’t find him easy to deal with, either.
“So, uh, this is it, huh? Advancement test.” The rhea gave a weak laugh and rubbed his palms tog
ether. “Let’s bust through Sapphire, past Emerald, Ruby… What do you say we go right to Copper?”
“I doubt we’ll go quite that far,” Guild Girl answered with a smile. She flipped through some papers in her hand. “I can’t help noticing your brand-new armor and boots.”
“Oh, you can tell?” The corners of the scout’s lips turned upward, and he stuck his small feet out on top of the table. His boots were unscuffed, thoroughly polished, and so black light could hardly escape their surface. “They’re pretty high-quality. I had them matted and everything. They’re perfect for me.”
“Really!”
He failed to sense what was coming.
“Why is it you’re the only one to have done so well for yourself when all of you have taken on the same quests?” Her tone was terribly businesslike, ordinary. “Those are quite luxurious even in light of your party’s aggregate reward. I hope there hasn’t been a miscalculation.”
Guild Girl bulled ahead, ignoring the way the rhea scout suddenly went stiff.
“Some rather ambiguous reports suggest that unlike your friends, you’ve been taking on quests on your own.”
“Oh, that’s, well, it’s—”
The scout hurriedly pulled his feet off the table.
He looked right, left. There was nowhere to run. He spoke as quickly as he could think.
“Y-you know, I recently had a care package from home…”
“A lie.”
The cutting words came from the employee who had remained silent until that moment.
The smile froze on the scout’s face, but inside he cursed himself.
She wore the sword and scales around her neck, the symbol of the Supreme God.
“I swear on the name of the Supreme God. What he just said was a lie.”
The Sense Lie miracle. Damn these seers!
That’s why he hadn’t recognized her. She was an inspector—a guild employee, but also a priest of the Supreme God, ruler of law and justice.
What was this? Had they suspected him? But why?
Guild Girl made a show of flipping through her papers. We know everything, the action said.
“It looks like you got new equipment after that raid on those ruins the other day… Oh, I get it.”
With a smile and a giggle, she clapped her hands and nodded.
“You told the others you were going ahead to scout, found a treasure chest, kept the contents for yourself, and sold them!”
“Erk…”
That was exactly what he had done.
On dives in ruins, monsters and traps were many and lethal. It was only natural that the rhea scout volunteer to do reconnaissance and that his companions agree. He had entered the ruins delicately, explored several twists, and then…
He’d found a treasure chest.
It wasn’t booby-trapped, and picking the lock was easy. Inside were dozens of coins, ancient but gold. Empty treasure chests were not a rare thing. And there was still plenty of room in his pack.
“Y-you see, th-that was… I…”
He laughed awkwardly, scratched his head like a scolded child, and nodded. It would be most to his benefit simply to apologize, he decided.
“I’m…very sorry.”
“Well, this does make things difficult.” Guild Girl laughed.
It was all too obvious that her flipping through the pages was just for show.
She had already foreseen all of this. The guild had an inn and a bar, and they weren’t just for the benefit of lower-ranked adventurers. The flow of money never lied.
“It’s people like you who give rheas and scouts a bad name.” She shook her head in disgust. “Well, it is your first offense… I think demotion to Porcelain and being barred from adventuring in this town is appropriate.”
“W-wait a second! How is that fair?!” Without meaning to, the rhea found himself leaning over the table and shouting. “I nip one little treasure chest, and you’re going to chase me out?”
“Excuse me?” Guild Girl’s tone was cold, and her exasperation was obvious—indeed, she was quite tired of him. “Just one treasure chest? Don’t be dumb. You can’t repair a broken trust with money.”
And one who would betray others’ trust had no right to be an adventurer.
Of course, being an adventurer meant fighting. No one asked about your history. There were uncouth people among the adventurers. There was no end of arguments—all the more important, then, that one be as sincere as possible. An adventurer who was not trustworthy was just a scoundrel.
And the guild dealt in trust and trustworthiness.
The rhea was capable enough to be promoted and had just been granted clemency because this was the first time. Did he not understand that?
“You are hereby demoted on grounds of falsifying a reward. If you wish to stay here, though, you may.”
“Erk…”
The rhea scout was at a loss for words. He struggled to think of some way to turn this situation to his advantage.
Everyone does it. No. That wouldn’t get him out of his punishment. Maybe if he said someone had threatened him, forced him to do it…
“It won’t help to try anything funny.”
She was right. The minister of the ruler of justice was watching him, eyes shining.
His only hope… He turned to his one escape, the person in the room most like him.
“C-come on, Goblin Slayer… I’m asking you, as a fellow adventurer…”
Beseeching eyes. Ingratiating smile. Rubbing his palms together in desperate supplication.
The adventurer, who had sat with his arms crossed silently throughout the entire scene, replied with a touch of annoyance, “Fellow?” His answer was point-blank. “I am an observer. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“But you… You’re an adventurer, too…”
“Yes, I am.” Goblin Slayer looked down at the pleading rhea. “Just like the ones you tricked.”
“…!”
The rhea scout turned bright red and glared at the two of them. For a brief instant, he had a vision of himself drawing his dagger and leaping at Guild Girl.
It was just possible.
“……”
But he would have to go through Goblin Slayer, a warrior strong enough to solo goblin quests that normally demanded an entire party. How much chance did the rhea really have in a hand-to-hand struggle?
“……”
Feeling Goblin Slayer’s gaze fixed on him from beneath that helmet, he swallowed heavily. He was as clever as any scout and certainly no fool.
“…You’ll regret this.”
His feelings flowed over into his parting words as he kicked back his chair and fled the room.
Guild Girl let out a breath as the door slammed shut. “Declined for promotion. Phew… That was terrifying…”
The smile perpetually pasted on Guild Girl’s face finally came off, and she slumped in her seat. At the end, under the scout’s glare, she had unconsciously begun to shake. She didn’t know what might have happened had Goblin Slayer not been there.
“Thank you very much, Mr. Goblin Slayer.”
She looked up at the steel helmet next to her, her braids hanging limply.
“No.” Goblin Slayer shook his head quietly. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Hardly! I remember how bad it was back when I was doing the association’s training course in the Capital.”
Still slumping, Guild Girl gave a faint smile.
“All those lowlifes who couldn’t open their mouths without making a lewd remark. Thought they’d pick me up just because I was pretty and young.”
“There are far too many of them, aren’t there? Especially in the Capital.” The inspector gave a sigh of exasperation and gently stroked the sword and scales.
“We have to take on people like that all by ourselves, so…you know?” With a little nod, she put one hand on the desk and pushed herself upright. Her braids bobbed. “It really makes you feel so much better to have someone you trus
t as your observer!”
“Does it?”
“Yes, it does.”
She always showed such confidence when talking about Goblin Slayer. He must have understood, because he quieted a little, then rose slowly from his seat.
“…If we’re done here, I’m going back.”
“Oh, sure. If you stop by the front desk, I’m sure they can get you your honorarium…”
“All right.”
Goblin Slayer headed for the door with his bold, casual stride.
Seeing him there, Guild Girl suddenly found herself speaking up.
“U-um!”
Now she’d done it. She’d said it. Guild Girl felt a twinge of regret.
Goblin Slayer, his hand on the doorknob, turned slowly. “What is it?”
Guild Girl hesitated.
The courage that inspired her to call out had vanished as quickly as it had come. She opened her mouth, paused, then decided to say only what was appropriate.
“…Good work today.”
“Sure,” he said as he turned the knob. “You, too.”
The door closed with a soft clack.
Guild Girl, left behind, stretched out on the table again.
“Phewww…”
The surface of the desk felt good against her cheek.
“Nice work.” Her colleague, the inspector, patted Guild Girl on the back with a softening of her implacable expression.
“I’m afraid that guy will just do something else.”
“Well, living adventurers are a precious resource. And he didn’t do anything clearly illegal…” It would be much worse if he threw away the whole framework of adventuring and became a serious troublemaker. “There are certainly all kinds of adventurers, from Lawful Good to Chaotic Evil.”
“As long as they are adventurers, they’re allowed to make that choice… Anyway, nice work.”
“Not at all. It’s simply my duty as a priest of the Supreme God.” The inspector smiled and waved away Guild Girl’s gratitude, but she could only sigh again.
“And from the perspective of the God of Law, was what I did just now…right?”
“Many people misunderstand the God of Justice, even the writers of our pageants.” The inspector cleared her throat with an “ahem,” itself a rather theatrical gesture. “Justice is not to punish evil, but to make people aware of it.”
