Goblin Slayer, Vol. 2

by Kumo Kagyu

  Tattoos? No, they couldn’t be. These were…

  “Oh, these…”

  The archbishop traced a crooked line that ran across her arm with a slim white finger. As her fingertip pressed into the soft flesh, she almost seemed to be stroking it lovingly.

  Priestess had only seen these in books, but still she looked down self-consciously. She couldn’t bring herself to keep looking at them.

  “The marks of a mistake.”

  Sword Maiden smiled, speaking of the scars all over her body as though they were hardly worth noticing. The expression seemed to bubble up of its own volition.

  “They hit me on the head, from behind… That was more than ten years ago now.”

  “Oh, um, I…”

  Priestess understood now all too well what that meant. What should she say? How should she say it? Her voice grew strained, and she didn’t look at the other woman.

  “Are you…all right…now?”

  Sword Maiden stopped moving for just a second. If her eyes hadn’t been hidden, surely Priestess would have seen her blink. “You’re quite a kind person, aren’t you?” she said softly, and her expression faded until she looked like a carving. “Most, when I tell them, say that they’re sorry.”

  “I—I just…”

  …couldn’t think of anything else to say, Priestess thought, but the words caught in her throat.

  She could hardly say that to Sword Maiden.

  “Hee-hee… You shouldn’t worry.”

  Sword Maiden reached out and picked up the birch branch. Her movements were so elegant and precise one would never have thought her eyes were covered. Then, she slapped the branch against herself like a whip, a soft “Mm!” escaping her lips. Priestess averted her eyes, but couldn’t help glancing, glancing, glancing.

  Sword Maiden finally stopped working herself over with the branch, as if she knew Priestess was watching.

  “With these eyes…,” Sword Maiden murmured and put her face close to Priestess’s.

  Priestess gulped quietly.

  “With these eyes, I see many things… A great many things.”

  Priestess let out a single strangled breath through her nose. A mildly drunk feeling came over her, not unlike when she had smelled the sweet, flowery aroma.

  “Things you cannot imagine…”

  “Oh…”

  Then, just like that, Sword Maiden left the overawed Priestess and withdrew into the billowing steam of the bath. She cloaked herself in the clouds like a shy girl. The ripples of her flaxen hair were merely shadows now.

  “That man with you…”

  “What…?”

  Priestess shook her head to clear the warm fog from her mind.

  “Goblin Slayer—isn’t that what he called himself? He seems a most…reliable person.”

  “Oh, uh, ahem… Yes. He really is.”

  Priestess had the innocent look of a child revealing a treasure. The edges of Sword Maiden’s lips turned up ever so slightly in an enchanting smile.

  “I am most glad that your investigations seem to be proceeding smoothly.

  “But…,” she added, with candidness reminiscent of him. “…No doubt one day he, too, will disappear.”

  Priestess swallowed gently.

  She sees me.

  She could feel those sightless eyes on her; it made her skin tingle. Sword Maiden’s eyes were covered. And yet, Priestess felt Sword Maiden was looking straight through her, into the depths of her heart…

  “U-um, I—I…!”

  “Yes. Best get out of the bath before you get light-headed.”

  Priestess had stood without realizing it. Sword Maiden gave her a long, slow nod, and Priestess fled the bath, stumbling slightly on the slick white floors, desperate to escape that gaze.

  She didn’t quite know how she had managed to dry herself or put on her nightclothes after she got to the changing room. She only knew that suddenly, she was standing in the hallway of the Temple of Law, the night breeze blowing around her.

  Sometime during the evening, the rain had abated, revealing a starry sky, beautiful and cold. The twin moons seemed to cast a chill, even though it was summer. Looking at them, Priestess hugged her shoulders and shivered.

  She knows.

  It came like a flash of insight, like a revelation.

  That woman knows.

  Knows what?

  About the goblins.

  She felt a chill in her heart far greater than the one on her skin.

  “Whoop, this is it.”

  Orcbolg—that is, Goblin Slayer—had said they should meet at the Adventurers Guild.

  It was, of course, next to the town gate—larger than the guild in their frontier town but smaller than the Temple of Law. It had an administrative office, tavern, and inn, along with a manufactory and sundry among other amenities. All like the guild back home, but this one was quite different in appearance.

  It was built of white stone, which lent it an air of tranquillity. It looked like it could have been a bank. Not that High Elf Archer had ever been to a bank. What struck her instead was the sheer size of the place.

  “Whoa, look over there. That’s a high elf…!”

  “No way. I’ve never seen one before!”

  “Whoo! What a specimen! And I don’t just mean as an elf!”

  She had been to this city before, but the nearby adventurers still watched her with fascination. Their mouths said whatever they wanted, and their eyes bored into her with stares of curiosity or lust.

  “……”

  High Elf Archer furrowed her brow very slightly. It had never bothered her before, but she had grown used to her comfortable life in the frontier town.

  This is kind of…upsetting.

  Maybe it was because unlike the little frontier town, this was a big, advanced city.

  There were a great many adventurers milling about. High Elf Archer looked around with a flick of her ears.

  “Let’s see, where’s Orcbolg…? Ah, there he is!”

  There was no mistaking that cheap-looking helmet and grimy armor. Goblin Slayer was sitting heavily on a bench in a corner of the room, arms crossed. It was how he always sat, if not the usual place he would be. But there were other things that were different from usual.

  A party whispered together, clearly mocking him. Perhaps they thought he couldn’t hear them, but to High Elf Archer’s long ears their voices were as clear as if they’d been shouting.

  “Geez, what’s with the filth?”

  “Yeah, what river’d he wash up from? Gimme a break. We’ve got standards around here!”

  High Elf Archer glared at them and gave a “hmph.” She didn’t like anything about this. She walked through the hall toward the bench, as if wading through the adventurers’ stares, and deliberately stomped along in a way quite at odds with her usual silent footsteps.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting, Orcbolg.”

  Then, she sat down next to him—right next to him. She cuddled up to his side. Like a cat, she watched an excited mutter run through the rabble of adventurers and smiled. That’d show them. High Elf Archer chuckled under her breath.

  “Sorry. I kinda fell asleep. Were you able to send your letter?”

  “Yes,” he answered blandly.

  Well, it didn’t seem like he was mad at her for oversleeping. That helped her relax just a bit. She didn’t have to worry about it, either, then.

  Whether or not he knew what she was thinking, he showed his receipt to High Elf Archer. It boasted a wax seal indicating the letter had been accepted.

  “I found an adventurer going the right way, so I asked him to do it. I’ve already paid him, as well.”

  There was a post system—anywhere the roads went, a post-horse could go. Most mail went that way, but with a bit of money, you could also hire an adventurer.

  After all, adventurers were just roughnecks with armor, weapons, and strength. If you paid them enough, they’d see your letter got to its destination—especially handy in
emergencies or if the letter had to reach some remote place the postal system couldn’t go. And if you filed the quest through the guild, they would confirm when it was completed. That helped prevent couriers from running away with your item or just throwing a letter away and pretending they’d delivered it.

  Of course, one would never entrust an unknown young tough, however strong he was, with an important delivery. One of the advantages of the guild ranking system was knowing who to trust with your packages.

  “Come to think of it, I’ve never written a letter,” High Elf Archer said, adding a “hmm” as she looked intently at the quest form. “What’d you write? Reporting back that you made it here safe?”

  “Yes, in a way.”

  Uh-huh…

  She was pretty sure she understood, and it brought a slight blush to her cheeks. High Elf Archer all but tossed the receipt back at him. He must have written to that farm girl. I’m sure of it. “Gosh, Orcbolg, so you do have a soft side.”

  “Do I?”

  “Sure do.”

  “Really…”

  Uh-huh, uh-huh. High Elf Archer’s ears bounced up and down happily; she was quite taken with the conclusion she’d jumped to.

  “Okay!” She hopped off the bench, feeling renewed.

  Her hair blew behind her as she stretched, trailing through the air like a shooting star.

  “You needed to do some shopping, Orcbolg? A weapon or something?”

  “Yes.”

  Goblin Slayer nodded, then stood slowly. He tapped his hip with one hand. He indicated the scabbard, often occupied by his sword with its strange length or some primitive, stolen armament. During the previous day’s adventure, his usual willingness to unflinchingly throw away his weapons had left it empty.

  “I don’t trust a dagger… You’ll buy clothes?”

  “Sure. That sewage really stinks. I’d hate for the stench to get stuck on me…” You’re the only one who doesn’t seem to notice. High Elf Archer narrowed her eyes at him. “You dousing me in goblin guts was way worse, though.”

  “Erk…” Goblin Slayer groaned quietly, still standing there in front of her. “…If it upset you that much, should I apologize?”

  “Go ahead. I don’t care.” She gave a light, easy wave of her hand. Perfectly calm. “I guess if you apologized, I could probably stop bringing it up.”

  “…I see.”

  His response, of course, was the same as always.

  So was the atmosphere in the Guild Hall. The mob of adventurers, of staff, all were looking at them with curiosity. And some, perhaps, with envy. What’s a high elf doing with a vagabond like that? Everyone had their own theory: There was some mistake, or someone was being had. So on and so forth.

  “I noticed,” Goblin Slayer said quietly, and every ear in the room tried to catch what came next, “that despite the sewers here, there are no giant rat–slaying quests.”

  “Huh. Now that you mention it, I guess you’re right.”

  As she craned her neck to look at the quest board, High Elf Archer happened to notice some snickers. Even if they didn’t speak, their expressions said it all. Country boy. She could see them looking almost straight down their noses. You think there’d be rats in our sewers? In a town this nice?

  But High Elf Archer only gave a happy little chuckle and looked around the room.

  “Well, shall we go?”

  When, with a smirk, she took Goblin Slayer’s hand, the mutter became a roar. She enjoyed that more than she could say. The sensation of his rough leather glove in her hand was novel, too, and her smile only broadened.

  “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

  They were soon back on the road she had come down shortly before, heading back toward town.

  “What?”

  “Do you need underwear under there?” I’ve always wondered.

  Goblin Slayer gave an unusually deep sigh at her words.

  “Don’t ask me.”

  High elves would ask what they liked, of course, and she paid scant heed to his reaction. Holding his gloved hand with a kind of fascination, she glanced at his face.

  “So. Just a sword you needed, Orcbolg?”

  “No. Some other things, too.”

  “Hmm.”

  High Elf Archer thought back to everything in Goblin Slayer’s item pouch.

  All the items she couldn’t identify, all the things she’d never seen. All the equipment she would like to know the feel of. An irresistible curiosity bubbled up in her little chest, and without a hint of reluctance, she smiled and asked:

  “Whatcha gonna buy?”

  “So, what’s with that thing, anyway?”

  The next day, back in the sewers once more, the elf was looking at Goblin Slayer with one hand on her hip. He had a new sword on his belt, oddly sized of course, and a small cage hung next to the scabbard.

  Inside, a little bird with light green feathers chirped cheerily. The sound seemed out of place in the polluted sewers.

  Goblin Slayer gave her a puzzled look.

  “You don’t know this bird?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “It’s a canary.”

  “I said I know that,” High Elf Archer replied, ears back.

  Beside her, Dwarf Shaman tried to hold back a chuckle.

  “You’ve been upset about this since last night, haven’t you?” the dwarf said.

  “Doesn’t it bother you? It’s a bird! A little canary!”

  They proceeded slowly and quietly into the sewers, through the dark, but her anger wouldn’t cool. Her long ears, perfect for scouting, bounced restlessly up and down. For a second, her almond-shaped eyes darted to Goblin Slayer behind her.

  “Well, it’s not going to destroy us if we touch it, right? Like your scroll?”

  “Do you believe canaries are fatal to people?”

  High Elf Archer’s ears gave a great jump, and Dwarf Shaman managed to let only a low chuckle escape him.

  “G-Goblin Slayer, sir, I don’t think that’s what she meant…,” Priestess broke in, unable to let this pass.

  She shuffled along in the middle of their line, holding her staff with both hands.

  “What?”

  Goblin Slayer looked back, and she found herself staring at his metal helmet. She was suddenly lost for words.

  It had been one night since the bath. She hadn’t slept a wink, but when she had gotten up in the morning…nothing. Maybe all her nervousness had simply given her a strange fit of the imagination.

  Sword Maiden had appeared at breakfast and said a word of thanks to the party as she passed by. All hint of the previous night’s indecency had vanished from her bearing, as if it had never been there.

  Yes…I’m sure it’s nothing. It was always nothing.

  Just a mistake on her part. Of course it was. It had to be…

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Oh, nothing…”

  Priestess went stiff at Goblin Slayer’s brief, quiet question. She exhaled gently.

  “That is, what I mean is, why did you bring a canary with us?”

  She glanced toward the birdcage. The grass-colored creature was hopping happily up and down on a branch.

  “I mean, it’s cute, but…”

  The man in front of her was Goblin Slayer. He was not one to be frivolous or irrational when it came to killing goblins.

  “Canaries make noise when they sense poisonous gas.”

  “Poisonous gas…?”

  Goblin Slayer nodded, explaining in his typical dispassionate tone:

  “The goblins in this nest are educated. It would not surprise me if they had set traps such as you might find in old ruins.”

  “Come to think of it, don’t human miners use birds to detect bad air underground?” Dwarf Shaman gave a knowing nod, holding his bag of catalysts. “All things considered, dwarves are less worried about poisonous gas than we are about dragons coming after our treasure.”

  “Oh, really?” High Elf Arch
er smirked as she peeked around the corner, then motioned the others to follow her.

  Goblin Slayer went after her, taking slow, careful steps. He had one hand on his sword. The other held the torch, and his shield was mounted on his arm. Just as always.

  “I heard once of a dwarf kingdom that was destroyed when they dug up some underground demons,” Goblin Slayer said.

  “…Well, that’s bound to happen once in a while,” Dwarf Shaman said morosely and then fell quiet. It seemed Goblin Slayer had struck a nerve.

  It has always been the way of things for countries to fall, prosper, war, and fall again for every kind of reason. The world has never lacked for lands both rich and ruined.

  “I see,” said Lizard Priest, his tail waving behind him. “And if I may ask, milord Goblin Slayer, where did you come by such knowledge?”

  “A coal miner,” he said, as if it were obvious. “There are many in this world who know much that I do not.”

  After a few minutes’ walking, they came to a dead end, though not a natural one. The path was blocked by a waterway as wide as a stream, and something had destroyed or swept away the stone bridge that had once crossed it.

  High Elf Archer stuck her thumb up and held out her arm, eyeballing the distance.

  “We might be able to jump it, if we had to.”

  “Any other routes?” asked Goblin Slayer.

  “Let us see…” There was a rustling sound as Lizard Priest unfolded the old map. The ancient drawing was covered in a variety of newer marks, reflecting the adventurers’ discoveries. He traced waterways and passages with his claw, then gave a slow shake of his head.

  “This large waterway appears to bisect everything. Although there is a possibility one of the other bridges is intact.”

  “A thin hope.” With some surprise, Dwarf Shaman leaned out over the water and poked at the broken stone.

  “Whoa, don’t fall in,” High Elf Archer said, grabbing him by the belt.

  “Sorry… Mm. This is the work of many a flood over many a long year. It didn’t wash away just yesterday.” So muttering, Dwarf Shaman came back to the hallway. He showed everyone a bit of debris he’d collected, then crushed it in his hand.