Goblin Slayer, Vol. 2

by Kumo Kagyu

  Truth cackled at Illusion’s distraught Oh!

  Now just hand out a little oracle to some heretic sect, and it’ll be perfect!

  I wonder…, Illusion murmured, but it was too late.

  The dice were already rolling.

  …Oh.

  Seriously?

  Then, he and she showed up.

  The water town was an old city two days east of the frontier across the plain, a great white-walled fortress that sat at the confluence of many rivers, under a canopy of trees so green as to be black.

  Travelers came from far and wide to this city, built on a fortress from the Age of the Gods. It was full of boats coming and going, merchants with their goods, languages of every kind, chaotic and beautiful. Positioned on the western edge of the interior and the eastern edge of the frontier, the water town was the largest city for quite a ways.

  A carriage clattered and bounced over a bridge, passing through a castle gate in the middle of a lake.

  The gate was engraved with the crest of the God of Law: the sword and scales, the symbols of law and justice. Even on the frontier, where monsters and villains ran rampant, the light of the law shone. People could live in peace, even if only tenuously.

  The carriage ran along ruts that had been carved into the flagstone over hundreds or even thousands of years. Some time later, it stopped in a large parking area, and adventurers jumped out one after another.

  “Ahh… My butt’s sore!”

  High Elf Archer gave a great stretch to loosen up a body that had endured much jangling on the long carriage ride.

  The sun was high in the sky and would soon reach its zenith. It was noon.

  All around them were shops supplying travelers, and the smells of food and drink wafted on the air: The scents of searing meat and sizzling fat. The sugary odor of baked sweets. The town had everything, from foods that could be found anywhere to startling foreign offerings.

  The vendors were much the same.

  Here, a dwarf merchant bellowing at the top of his lungs; there, an elf clowning about to attract customers. A rhea fruit seller was dashing about, selling apples as fast as she could move. Humans called out to one another. Farther away, a lizardman was preaching a sermon. And was that a dark elf running a shop?

  “Oh-ho! Looks like a lovely place,” Dwarf Shaman said with a twitch of his nose, taking it all in. He slapped his protruding stomach. “An anvil for a chest, a wheel rut for a bum—you’ll get a balance yet. Time does wear away all things!”

  “…Looks like it’s worn you away quite a bit.”

  “Ho-ho-ho! But I stand tall among the dwarves!”

  High Elf Archer glared at Dwarf Shaman as he guffawed in his usual great voice.

  Priestess, an unintended victim of the dwarf’s comment, reached back and awkwardly tried to cover her underdeveloped rear end with her hand.

  “A-anyway, shouldn’t we go meet our quest giver?”

  “Yes.”

  She had learned well from her mentor Goblin Slayer, master of the forceful change of subject.

  He showed no sign of noticing this, though, as he pulled the now crumpled sheepskin page from his bag. It had gotten quite wrinkled from the careless way he had shoved it into the bag, but he didn’t appear to notice that, either.

  “It seems we can find them at the Temple of Law.”

  “This way, then!”

  High Elf Archer’s argument was going nowhere fast, so she cut it off with an elegant flourish of her hand in the direction of the Temple.

  “You know the way?”

  “I’ve been here before.”

  Then, she smiled widely and set off at a jaunty pace.

  This, in fact, was the town where she had heard the song of Orcbolg—Goblin Slayer.

  She made a show of swinging her hips as she walked down streets she knew and the others did not. Her four companions followed behind.

  The streets were of closely laid flagstone, well traveled by carriages, and rivers crisscrossed the city everywhere, forded by ferries. The town was an incredible place, not least because of how it used the old ruins with hardly any alteration.

  There were buildings, of course: shops and inns, even small apartments, all decorated with beautiful carvings. The streets were like a living fashion show, with people wearing the latest styles of both the frontier and the interior. The water town was the very epitome of a cosmopolitan city.

  “But, um, well… Do you really think there are goblins here?”

  Priestess looked down as she walked, as if her old vestments embarrassed her compared to the dresses of the girls walking by. Those were elegant, gorgeous, and womanly clothes. Not like hers, worn with the day-to-day work of adventuring.

  She ought to have been embarrassed at being ashamed, though.

  “I suspect so.”

  Goblin Slayer’s blunt response gave no indication whether he noticed her discomfort. Either way, Priestess was grateful for him. He never got distracted.

  “Oh-ho, hmm?” Lizard Priest stuck out his tongue in a show of interest. “And milord Goblin Slayer, what makes you say that?”

  “This place has the air of a village that’s been targeted by goblins.”

  “The air…?”

  Dwarf Shaman gave a dubious snort from his round nose. The only things he could discern in the air were the smells of water, stone, and the food at a nearby shop. There was no hint of the rotten stink unique to goblin lairs.

  “Can’t rightly say I follow.”

  “That’s ’cause dwarves are so thick.”

  “As if you understand him any better.”

  High Elf Archer snickered at Dwarf Shaman as he stood with his arms folded and his head cocked.

  She didn’t seem to mind even when he fixed her with his most intent glare. She just waved her hand.

  “Now, now, elves live in the forest. I don’t expect to know anything about city smells.”

  Dwarf Shaman was about to retort but was suddenly hushed.

  From behind High Elf Archer, Lizard Priest had let out a sharp hiss.

  “The middle of town is not the place for your commotions.”

  “I know that. For someone so scaly, you sure are prickly.”

  “You’re just soft, dwarf,” the elf said.

  Lizard Priest clicked his tongue, and this time the two fell quiet. Priestess giggled at the scene.

  The elf and the dwarf didn’t have it in them to argue anymore. They walked slowly through the sparkling town of water, taking in the sights. It was common here to see those who had words but were not human, as well as other adventurers.

  Only Goblin Slayer was constantly alert to their surroundings.

  “I don’t know about smells or whatever, but I really don’t think goblins are going to jump out at us right here in town,” High Elf Archer said with an annoyed sigh.

  “You can’t be sure.” Goblin Slayer’s response was sharp. “I recall it happening once.”

  Though his weapon was not drawn, he moved in much the same way as he did through a cave, with a bold but remarkably quiet stride.

  He was the only one who attracted odd looks from passersby: an adventurer in grimy leather armor and a cheap-looking helmet, walking through town as though he were in a dungeon.

  Perhaps some took him for some new kind of performer; it was nothing he could help. And if High Elf Archer hid her face from embarrassment, well, he couldn’t help that, either.

  Despite all this, he was unlikely to change his ways.

  “And where is this Temple of ours?” Lizard Priest’s tail waved gently behind him.

  “Look, you can see it already. Right over there.”

  High Elf Archer pointed with a slim finger to a building across the river. It was a stunning shrine made of white marble, featuring countless pillars. Even those seeing it for the first time understood that it was a temple.

  The Temple of Light and Order, emblazoned with the scales and sword that represented law and justice.

>   “Wow…,” Priestess breathed at the sight. The Temple of the Earth Mother where she had grown up was hardly a poor building, but…

  …This place practically screamed that it was the home of a god.

  Her face relaxed with happiness, her cheeks a touch red with excitement, and turned back.

  “Goblin Slayer, sir! It’s incredible!”

  “Is it?”

  He couldn’t have offered a more blunt response.

  Perhaps they just had different ways of looking at it. It was clear to everyone that he was evaluating the Temple as a possible goblin nest.

  “Gosh…!”

  Priestess puffed out her cheeks, even though she knew it was childish.

  Come to think of it…

  She realized she had forgotten to ask the most important thing of all.

  “Um, Goblin Slayer, sir?”

  “What?”

  “Is the quest giver a priest of the Supreme God?”

  “No.”

  He answered as if it meant nothing to him, then said:

  “It’s the archbishop.”

  At that, Priestess’s enthusiasm evaporated.

  “Whaaat?!”

  She would never have imagined the quest giver might be her.

  Priestess gripped her sounding staff with both hands and let out an inadvertent cry. The person responsible for the law all across the western frontier. No, more than that. For she was known as…

  …Sword Maiden.

  There were many visitors to the Temple of Law.

  In part, it was not just believers in the Supreme God who came to supplicate there.

  The building was also a court, where judgments were made in the name of God. Cases ranged from simple everyday disputes to matters of life and death.

  There was a ceaseless flow of those who wished to have their cases heard in the merciless light of God.

  Deeper into the Temple, they passed through a waiting room full of such people.

  Past the courtrooms where cases were heard, past hallways narrow with bookshelves to the innermost place, silent and lined with marble pillars.

  In this deepest part of the Temple was a worship hall where an image of the Supreme God in the form of the sun was revered.

  It was like something out of a myth.

  The sunlight slipped down between the pillars in great golden sheets. There was no out-of-place noise; the silence was absolute. This was a holy place.

  And at the altar knelt a woman, long staff in hand, praying.

  She wore white robes over her robust figure. Her golden hair glittered in the sun. Her staff, which depicted a sword from whose hilt hung a set of scales, showed the equality of justice and law.

  She was so dazzling one could only think that if the Supreme God were to be incarnated as a woman, this would be her.

  Distressingly, her eyes were hidden with a black kerchief. Not that it in any way impugned her beauty; the cloth may even have made it all the more striking.

  “—?”

  Suddenly, she looked up.

  The sacred silence had been shattered by bold, casual footsteps.

  “G-Goblin Slayer, sir! Please try to be quieter…”

  “This is an urgent job. If they don’t mind our entering, there’s no reason to wait.”

  “I thought you seemed like the impatient type, Orcbolg.”

  “Everyone’s impatient compared to an elf!”

  “Such clamor is unbecoming. Be it a foreign deity or no, we are in the house of God.”

  Loud, lively, rough, robust. To her it was tremendously nostalgic.

  “”

  The edges of her mouth softened ever so slightly, and the sleeve of her garment moved like a wave on the ocean.

  She—Archbishop of the Supreme God, Sword Maiden—slowly rose.

  “Goodness. Who might you be…?”

  “We’ve come to slay the goblins.” Goblin Slayer answered dispassionately, in a clear tone and with what sounded like a quiet smile.

  His attitude flirted with insolence, but he didn’t sound flippant. It was a tremendously adventurer-like way to speak.

  Priestess stood beside him, goggling, painfully trying to figure out how to make her greeting.

  This is Sword Maiden here!

  The archbishop beloved of the Supreme God.

  The Gold-ranked adventurer who, ten years before, had been the demise of the Demon Lord.

  Not a hero of legend, but a unique presence who had emerged from humankind.

  She was vastly beyond Priestess, freshly promoted to Obsidian. The difference between them was like the gulf between a goblin and a dragon.

  When she had been an acolyte, Priestess probably could not have brought herself to be in this awesome place at all.

  “I, um, that is, it’s…it’s an honor to meet you,” Priestess said in a strained voice, making a small bow. Her eyes shone and her cheeks were red.

  “A most honored warrior and…a sweet, most honored priestess.”

  From beyond the kerchief, a gentle gaze brushed Priestess’s cheek and then moved on, or so she felt.

  She could hear her own heart pounding inside her little chest. She hoped it wasn’t audible to anyone else.

  “And these august personages are…?”

  “Mm. Their compatriots—their party members,” Lizard Priest said when the gaze settled on him. “I venerate the most fearsome naga, but rest assured, I shall give you all my support.” His unusual palms-together gesture was solemn.

  Of course, his gesture differed from the way clergy of the Supreme God showed respect to one another. But that was not the point. What was most important was that he show his intention to respect others.

  Everything began from that point. Without a flicker in her smile, Sword Maiden drew a cross in the air with her finger.

  “Welcome to the Temple of Law. I am honored to receive you, O scaled priest.”

  High Elf Archer and Dwarf Shaman, for their part, evinced little interest in the goings-on.

  They gave slight bows from behind Lizard Priest, but they had their heads together, whispering to each other.

  “Hmm. Quite something for human work,” said the dwarf.

  “Yeah. What a beautiful picture,” said the elf.

  Their admiration seemed to be focused on the ceiling high above their heads.

  There, rich brushstrokes composed a mural depicting the battles of the Age of the Gods.

  They had seen cave paintings before, drawn in blood on the walls of ruins, but this was something else entirely.

  Order and chaos, Illusion and Truth, the gods raged against each other with body and spirit and soul.

  Against a field of stars, miracles and magic whirled about, flew back and forth, shined, burned. Finally, the gods reached out for a cube and began to indulge themselves in throwing it.

  The board they played on was this very world, and the pieces they played with, everyone in it.

  Hence why those with words, those who prayed, tried to live correctly.

  The two of them, who were kin to the spirits that filled this world, were not unlike the gods. While elves and dwarves respected the gods, however, they did not mindlessly worship them. The gods were very much “with” them; they would listen to the gods’ advice, but not be their slaves. This was why there were so few elf priests—though the dwarves still cleaved to the smithy god, themselves.

  “Ho-ho. How very…adventurer-like you all are.”

  An eccentric warrior. A pure priestess. A foreign priest. A dwarf magic user. And an elf ranger.

  The archbishop gave the five of them a small, strange smile.

  …?

  Priestess thought the smile brimmed with loneliness and longing.

  “And if so, then we are like each other. I welcome you wholeheartedly.”

  It took but a moment.

  Sword Maiden made a wide sweep of her arms, as if to embrace the adventurers. The gesture evoked a loving mother yet beguiling like a harlot urgi
ng someone into her bedchamber.

  An average human man would have given a heavy swallow right about then.

  Goblin Slayer, however, ignored all of this. “Enough complimenting each other. Tell us the details of the quest.” He was oblivious to the mortified look that came over Priestess’s face.

  “N-now just a minute, Goblin Slayer, sir…”

  Too much was too much.

  Priestess grabbed his gauntleted hand and pulled him close.

  “You can’t talk that way to the archbishop…”

  “I don’t care.”

  But Sword Maiden was gently shaking her head.

  “I am most pleased that such a hardy adventurer has come to me.”

  “Are you?”

  “May I ask, out of personal curiosity,” she murmured, “if kin of yours were to join with chaos, could you kill them?”

  “No,” Goblin Slayer replied bluntly. “I have no living relatives.”

  “Is that so…?”

  Goblin Slayer watched the bright red lips from inside his helmet as they whispered.

  “So. Where are the goblins?”

  Behind him, the other adventurers sighed.

  “It began about a month ago.”

  Sword Maiden nodded to the others to sit on the floor, then sat with her feet together, looking forlorn.

  “Late one night, I sent an acolyte girl to deliver a message from this Temple…”

  “Was she killed? Or kidnapped?” asked Goblin Slayer.

  “…She didn’t come back that night. The next day, her body was found in a back alley.” A look of grief came over her face.

  “Hmm.” Goblin Slayer cupped his chin in his hand, thinking.

  “According to the person who found her, she appeared to have been cut up while she still lived.”

  Sword Maiden’s words were calmness itself without a moment’s hesitation. But behind them was a slight tremble.

  Was it terror? Intimidation? Or perhaps profound pain, sadness. Priestess couldn’t be sure.

  “That’s… Well, that’s awful,” Priestess said.

  “The very fact of murder is sad enough, though it happens from time to time…”

  “While still alive…,” Goblin Slayer muttered quietly. “At that location?”

  “…Yes.”

  “Was any part of her eaten? Or was she merely killed? Do you have any other details…?”