Goblin Slayer

Then again, the man she’d be working with today wasn’t someone who was very concerned about people’s appearances.

“I guess I could consider it…a good-luck charm,” she said. She set her ribbon and the little bottle on the vanity so she wouldn’t forget them, then picked up a delicate tool and started rapidly applying some makeup. Only as much as she felt like, though. A bit of whitening powder on the cheeks, a dash of rouge on her lips. She puckered her lips briefly, and then everything was perfect.

She took out her outfit for the day (chosen the night before) and began to pull it on. For underwear, something new and lacey. Not that it made any real difference, of course.

It’s not like anyone’s going to see it.

She seemed to recall her friend the high elf saying something to that effect in a conversation they’d had long ago. A giggle escaped her at the thought.

With her underwear on, she moved on to her blouse and pants, then her boots, all perfectly fitted to her body. Going-out clothes—not her usual uniform. They were going to get dirty, she knew, but she was still careful not to get makeup on anything as she dressed.

Finally, she took her hair, which she’d let loose the night before so it would be relaxed and wavy, combed it carefully, and then braided it.

Everyone had their own preference for the order in which they did their hair, makeup, and clothes, and even Guild Girl wasn’t sure what the “right answer” was.

But with her skin clean, her makeup on, and her clothes and hair just so, doing up the buttons…

…feels right, somehow.

When she’d done everything, she stood in front of the mirror and twirled around. Then she adjusted her hair a bit. In the end, she hadn’t used the eye drops, so she’d go with
this
ribbon today—and she didn’t think it looked bad, not at all.

“All right…!” She turned to the mirror and gave it her best smile. The woman in the mirror smiled back at her: not an adventurer, but not a Guild employee, either. Instead, the hostess of a dungeon exploration competition.

Yes, this was perfect.

She was singing her own praises, but sometimes you had to. How could you do your work for the day if you went into it without confidence?

“I’ve got my notebook, my stylus…” She’d be outside today, so she’d picked a sturdy metal stylus. Guild Girl grabbed her bag, full of her writing supplies and everything else she might need, and slung it over her shoulder, then turned toward the door.

“Oops, that’s right…”

She pattered back to the vanity, grabbed the other ribbon and the small jar of belladonna liquid, and added them to her bag. Consider them good-luck charms. Even if she wasn’t sure they would help. Then she left the house, her steps light, locked the door behind her, and headed out into the world. The town was already turning lively—everyone knew this was a festive morning.

§

Festive morning or no,
some
people were trapped down in the dark, weaving spells!

Three brief words of true power. A sigil formed with the fingers, and Warlock’s thoughts (her surly, annoyed thoughts) came together. The filthy teeth she’d scattered on the cave floor began to bubble and puff up. Bones formed, sinew and blood vessels stretched as internal organs fashioned themselves—it was a sickening sight all around. When it was over, she was faced with ten or so dirty little creatures with green skin.

“And…
Facio…ministeralis…goblin.
Form goblin servants,” Warlock said, the little devils with their gleaming gold eyes all following after her. It made her look the very picture of an evil mage, but in fact, these things were goblins in appearance only. They were golems with minimal autonomy, hardly different in principle from the Dragontooth Warriors of the lizardmen.

Still, that didn’t mean they could be put to any arbitrary use Warlock wanted. When one failed to have respect for life, tragedy inevitably ensued. Balance was exacted in all things, including magic. Hadn’t the great sage said it?
“I’ve seen things you humans wouldn’t believe.”
To be able to say that…

Goblins aren’t smart enough to come up with that—or poetic enough.

Hell, if they had been clever enough to understand something like the value of life, they wouldn’t have been goblins. Warlock leaned against the stone wall, making no attempt to hide the fatigue she felt at the shaving away of both her mental and physical strength. She looked around at the other wizards who had each summoned their own troop of goblins.

“Excellent work.” The voice came from behind her, sounding honeyed; Warlock felt her shoulders twitch. She looked over to find an elf woman crossing her arms, looking disgustingly elegant. Warlock wanted to tell her to do something about the way she reeked of face powder, but instead the woman just stood there grinning. Gods, this was awful. She had no idea how Warlock felt—she was
enjoying
herself.
Gods.

“Maybe not quite fit for an archfiend’s wasteland fortress, though,” the elf went on.

“…You say that like you’ve seen one of those.”

“Who says I haven’t?”

Warlock went quiet for a moment, then replied slowly, “Goblins. They only belong in abandoned mines—you know, holes in the ground.” Goblins were only foot soldiers. Warlock looked down at the creatures around her. The real threat was whoever controlled the goblins, like the archfiend the elf had mentioned or some great magic user.

Goblins themselves weren’t remarkable at all. They weren’t important, and they weren’t threatening.

So…was she complimenting me just now?

Before Warlock could ask, the elf woman drawled, “I mean, damn, we could make some decent money with these things.” Warlock was forever wondering if this woman had no impulse at all to hide her uncultured side. Instead, she sighed. “What, like you never thought of it,” the elf woman retorted.

“No, I never did, and
if
I did, we couldn’t do it anyway,” Warlock said with all the snappishness of someone who hasn’t given up on trying to bring a recalcitrant child around. She used magic for a living. That meant using all kinds of words, yet when it came to this woman, she never knew what to say. Why waste her energy trying to explain when the woman would never listen to her? Strength should be conserved. Especially by wizards.

“Why not?” the elf woman asked, her eyes gleaming like those of a child needling her mother. It was infuriating.

“Why not?” Warlock repeated with a derisive snort. “Because that’s how magic
works
.”

Indeed it was. Although the less people knew about magic, the more eager they were to speculate and explain. They were like someone feeling an elephant in the dark, or perhaps like an ant frightened by an elephant’s footsteps. They couldn’t calm down until they’d forced the phenomenon into some familiar category. Having done so, they believed they understood it and thought very highly of themselves for their understanding.

Warlock couldn’t stand it. She gave a disgusted cluck of her tongue. Given the choice between a know-it-all idiot and a stupid idiot, she’d take the one who knew they were stupid any day of the week.

Even if it would tire me out having to entertain them…

“Where are the other idiots?” Warlock growled. “I know they’re not stupid enough to forget about their jobs.”

“They said they were going to check out the festival to find breakfast for us.”

“An idiot with an excuse is an idiot invincible,” Warlock said.

Was it considerate of them? Yes, probably. After all, she was going to be stuck here making goblins all day; it was her job. She might grumble, but she was getting paid for it, so she wouldn’t complain too loudly…

But I know them. They just wanted to eat some street food.

The ax wielder, yeah, and the monk, too. The real problem was the weird lady next to her.

“And why aren’t you out there with them?”

“I happen to like it underground.”

“Uh-huh.”

Warlock wasn’t interested in the flimsy excuse; she met it with something equally noncommittal and then started looking around. The interior of the ruins or the cave or wherever they were was now bursting with goblin servants and their wizard masters.

She’s not wrong. It does look like some fortress of shadows or something.
The goblins milled about but kept to their assigned places in the cave. Nobody would have noticed if there were real goblins mixed in among them. Not even Warlock. That was how it was, even for self-proclaimed intelligent people. That was the sort of thing best left to specialists, not guessed at by amateurs. It was Goblin Slayer who’d come up with this idea in the first place, and the now-exhausted wizards wouldn’t be much help.

Anyway, not my business if something happens. Out of my hands. Above my pay grade.

“Just wanna say one thing,” the elf woman added. Warlock managed to ask
What?
without words, shooting a sour look in her direction. “The face powder is a personal preference.”

Warlock squinted at her, unsure what she was saying. Warlock hadn’t even been thinking about the powder. There were too many people in the Four-Cornered World for her to fret about things like that. She was a lot more concerned about people who wanted to boss her around or tell her what to do—and a lot more eager to avoid them. If this elf woman was doing what she did because she liked it, then let her do what she liked. Warlock truly, sincerely could not have cared less.

“…Huh” was all she said in response, the word, like her sigh, slipping away into the darkness.

§

Had there ever been so many people gathered in front of these ruins before? Priestess and the king’s younger sister stood holding hands, openmouthed at the scene before them in the morning fog. The fog came from countless mouths, so numerous that the chill wind couldn’t blow it all away.

In this enormous crowd, there were hardly any spectators—ordinary people who weren’t adventurers. There were a few vendors selling various grilled meats (dog, cat, or chicken; your choice) or hawking treats and drinks, but everyone else present was an adventurer. Or perhaps she should say an adventurer hopeful. Most of them didn’t even qualify as rookies yet.

They walked this way and that, dressed in whatever gear took their fancy, the excitement and nervousness visible in their gaits. The majority of them were orphans or from destitute families, forced into adventuring by necessity. They weren’t there just to have fun—but, well, in some ways it was a matter of perspective. It was always helpful to expand the definition of who was an adventurer and thus attract more of them.

I doubt I could have imagined this way back then, though
, the king’s younger sister thought and then bit back a laugh. She was already thinking of the luxuries of the palace and her temple as “way back then.”

You had to be astounding to get people to listen to what you had to say. It was important for anything to be fun and interesting if you wanted to attract people. No one ever wanted to listen to a dirty, seedy-looking nobody mumble on about something difficult or inconsequential.

“I know it must not look like much compared with the festivals in the capital…,” Priestess said, smiling with some embarrassment.

“Who’s comparing?!” the king’s younger sister replied promptly. She clenched her fists emphatically, producing a salutary jangling from the sounding staff in her hands. Unlike before, she was pleased to be standing next to Priestess with all her gear in order. Mistakes were mistakes, but to learn from them and move forward—that was something to be proud of. “I’m really surprised by all the people who want to be adventurers, though.”

“Right,” Priestess agreed. “We have an awful lot of registrants each year.”

“My big brother says there were almost no novices around for a while there…”

He had been referring to a time well in the past, an era she knew only from his stories. The tales of the legendary Dungeon of the Dead, with its endless loot and the adventurers attracted thereby, were the exception, not the rule. The thought reminded her that there must still be people in the world today who were altogether uninterested in adventuring. That was part of what made events like this so necessary.

I have to pay close attention and make sure it all goes off smoothly
, the princess thought, nodding to herself with fresh resolve. Then she spotted a stall selling ice treats and found herself drawn to it. She had been presented with milk-based frozen treats before and knew how they tasted, but she thought this smelled a little different than usual. When she asked about it, she was told it was made from the milk of an animal from a far-off land.

It’s always good to be able to try new things
, she thought.

“One, please.”

“Coming right up.” The middle-aged shopkeeper nodded a bit brusquely—he looked like the brusque kind—and passed her a frozen treat poured over a baked good. The king’s younger sister handed him a silver coin and took the snack, then pattered back to Priestess, who was bowing to the shopkeeper (maybe she knew him or something); meanwhile, the king’s younger sister took a bite of the treat.

It was chilly and sweet. It had a richness to it—what
was
richness anyway?—but it wasn’t too heavy. The sweetness of it was positively mysterious, not like sheep’s or cow’s milk. There was only one word to describe it:

“…Delicious!”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Priestess said with a giggle.

The king’s younger sister smacked her lips at this most precious (and tasty) of acquisitions, but then she had a thought. “You want a bite?”

She held out her spoon. Priestess said, “Er,” looking around in distress, but then finally nodded. “Well, since you’re offering…” She took the wooden spoon almost with embarrassment and tasted some of the treat. “Mmm…” She licked it off, savoring the sweetness, and the gentle blush in her face turned to a smile.

The two of them, as similar and as different as sisters, looked at each other and giggled.

A frozen treat in winter—what an innocent thing. It was already so chilly, and the treat so cold, that it made them want something warm—in other words, it made them want to check out the other stalls. One should enjoy the heat of summer in summer, and the cold of winter in winter. Hadn’t some poet said that?

“It’s really surprising, though,” the king’s younger sister said.

The two of them were wandering about in front of the entrance to the ruins, taking in everything they could on the pretext of careful observation. In part because this was
the
event before winter solstice, every strong (or strong-willed) youngster from every pioneer village seemed to be in attendance.

Priestess, busy looking at the panoply of equipment, all of it either without a scratch or obviously just dragged from a storeroom somewhere, cocked her head and asked, “What is?”

“Well, um,” the king’s younger sister started, looking for the words in thin air. “I mean Goblin Slayer.”

She had no idea whether a given adventurer’s equipment was good or bad, but she understood this much:
His
equipment was in a far worse state than that of any of the participants in this contest.

“He came up with the idea of making goblins with magic and using them for targets. I thought that was really smart.”

“Huh?” Priestess said, blinking. “But those aren’t really goblins, right?” She was sincerely perplexed.

“They aren’t…?”

“No, they really aren’t.” Priestess sounded supremely sure, supremely direct. She sounded so right and yet so mistaken. No, that wasn’t what drew the other girl’s attention.

Did she always come off like this…?
The king’s younger sister felt a bit dizzy. She thought—she was pretty sure—that it must have been because of the ice treat. Not because she’d seen a completely unexpected side of the person who’d been her direct motivation for entering the Temple.
Yeah, I’m sure that’s it. The sweets.

She nodded to herself, then looked around at the contest participants in hopes of finding some other topic of conversation.

To repeat, the king’s younger sister, having spent so much of her life in the palace, couldn’t tell good adventurers and equipment from bad ones. Yet, even so, there were certain people who grabbed her attention. Say, for example, the three-person party over there.

“Still…I’m really not sure about participating as the leader of the party. Do you really think it’s a good idea?”

“…A wizard isn’t a very typical leader, and having
you
support
me
is out of the question.”

“Hey, don’t you think that’s a little harsh?”

“No, I just think you’d stand out like a sore thumb.”

“It’s not an issue of how you act so much as how you look.”

“Hrmm. Not sure how I feel about that, but all right. Say, I’d like to get something to eat before we start…”

The conversing party consisted of a warrior with blue leather armor and a sword across her back, a wizard wearing a light-pink robe, and a green-clad, spear-wielding—

“Oh!”

“Whoa!”

Let’s prescind, on this occasion, from worrying about which girl made which sound. The king’s younger sister and the green-clad warrior, a young woman with black hair, stopped dead in their tracks and stared at each other.

Huh.
Priestess turned back with a questioning look, and the moment must indeed have seemed odd to her. After all, the king’s younger sister (the girl she was supposed to be showing around) was standing frozen next to three adventurers Priestess didn’t recognize. “Is anything the matter?” she asked.

Perhaps some little blunder on her own part. It was the black-haired girl who reacted first. “Y-Your Hi—” She was promptly interrupted by a jab from the wizard’s staff directly into her ribs. “I mean,
you’re here
! It’s been so long!”

“Er, uh…” Priestess looked back and forth between them, confused. Yes, she was here. Had she met this person before? When? Who was she? Before becoming an adventurer, Priestess had served at the temple, so she’d met a great many people. Not to mention a great many more since joining lay society to begin adventuring.

She had a good memory, but even she was drawing a blank for a second. She quickly clapped her hands, though. “You were at the grape harvest…!”

Yes, that was it. She’d been wearing a dazzling outfit as befitted the occasion, and she’d been alone. Above all, though, the black-haired girl had grown up somewhat since they’d met last; she seemed more adult, somehow. That was why Priestess hadn’t recognized her immediately—but now that she did, there was no question.

Priestess’s face lit up; she took the other girl’s hand tightly in hers. “I’m so glad to see you’re doing well! Are these people the friends you talked about…?”

“They sure are!” the black-haired girl said, a grin as bright as the sun spreading over her face. “My precious friends!” Her two companions blushed a little to hear her say this so forthrightly. Behind the black-haired girl, the wizard pulled her hood down a little farther, and the warrior scratched her cheek self-consciously. Priestess found it touching and smiled. She wished she could say that so openly to her own party members.

“So are you all going to participate in the dungeon exploration contest?” she asked.

“Y-yeah. I mean, yeah! Yeah, that’s exactly what we’re gonna do. Just, you know, to test ourselves out!”

“That’s terrific!” Priestess nodded, taking the somewhat stream-of-consciousness nature of the girl’s answer to be simple nervousness. She didn’t know what the girl’s current rank was, but everyone had their own path to walk in life. Priestess was well aware of exactly how blessed she was to be surrounded by Silvers. For that reason, it wouldn’t have crossed her mind to compare her situation to someone else’s.

If she’d been able to stay with her original party members, who knew what point she might be at now? It wasn’t an easy thing to imagine of anyone. Even if the thought did depress her from time to time.

“I’m surprised, though,” Priestess said, forcing herself to sound cheerful in an effort to chase away the dark feelings that welled up from deep within her. “I never imagined you two knew each other!”

“Er, uh, yeah!” the king’s younger sister said, nodding. Then, thinking better of her tone, she corrected herself: “Yes, indeed we do!” She seemed at once nervous and yet uninhibited, and that set Priestess’s mind at ease as well. Even after the tragedy of being abducted by goblins, she was able to act upbeat—an admirable thing.

Then there was another of Priestess’s cherished friends, Female Merchant. It made Priestess realize that people progressed and developed in their own individual ways. But as long as they
were
moving forward, that had to be a good thing. It had to be.