Goblin Slayer, Vol. 14

“You think Orcbolg’s been acting funny?”

“Orcb—? Er, yes. I do.”

Cow Girl was thrown off for a second by the nickname—she never could seem to get used to it, no matter how many times she heard it—but then she nodded.

They were at the tavern just before noon: The adventurers had cleared out, there were no other customers, and the whole place was uncommonly quiet. Under the circumstances, even the high elf—who looked beautiful simply grunting “hmm” and grabbing a handful of leafy vegetables—didn’t really stand out. The only people around to see her were Cow Girl and Priestess, along with Padfoot Waitress, who was pretending to take her time cleaning but was really catching a surreptitious break.

The elf’s pointed ears gave away that she was less interested in the conversation than she was in soaking up the sunlight, so it was Priestess who, after taking a sip of soup with a thoughtful expression, nodded and said, “Do you think it has to do with the dungeon exploration contest, then?”

“Yeah, seems like,” High Elf Archer replied.

So I was right.

Cow Girl let out a sigh. It hadn’t just been her overthinking things; the other women in his own party had noticed it, too. Was this a bit of a serious problem?

Or should we be happy that he’s turned a little softer?

Maybe the fact that she was even asking the question showed how far gone she was, as well.

“Come on, it’s not like acting weird is something Orcbolg just started doing today,” High Elf Archer groused, flicking her long ears and nibbling on the vegetables. The mercurial emotions of mortals must have seemed so trivial to an immortal creature like her. Or perhaps she’d learned to see even these little ripples in the heart the way a human would.

That was why (would it be fair to say that?) she circled one finger in the air and smiled. “
Goblins, goblins, goblins.
So he’s started to get away from his favorite topic a little. Shouldn’t we be happy about that?”

“Do you think we can be?” Cow Girl asked, cocking her head uneasily.

“Sure I do!” the elf replied immediately. It seemed the anxiety she’d felt just a moment before had vanished completely.

The instantaneous shift almost blinded Cow Girl; she squinted and replied, “Ummm, right, then. I’ll be happy. Happy, happy…”

“The question is what to do about it, isn’t it?” Priestess volunteered. She was sucking on her spoon (most unladylike) and twiddling her fingers in thought. “The issue is, we don’t know what caused it. I mean, sometimes you can get depressed for no reason, but…”

“You don’t think he was just too busy?” Perhaps bored of nibbling on leaves, High Elf Archer was now chewing on some diced carrots. She seemed very pleased that other long-eared vegetable lovers had recently joined them. The harefolk was one thing, but Priestess sometimes felt the new elf occasionally looked askance at her vegetables…

“She’s just shy!”
High Elf Archer had exclaimed, completely unbothered. Nothing solves a problem like giving it time.

“Think about it. There was the kerfuffle with the wine, then he went to the desert, then the three guys went off somewhere, and then
he helped out with the dungeon exploration contest,” High Elf Archer said, counting on her fingers; indeed, he had been getting around quite a bit lately. And a fair amount of what he’d been doing was virtually unrelated to goblins. “I’m sure it just got to be too much for Orcbolg.”

“I don’t know… I kind of like that he’s doing so many different things,” Cow Girl said.

“So…do we ask him to rest for a while, then?” Priestess suggested.

“If he’d just stay on our farm… I’d like that.” Cow Girl’s smile took on a touch of self-deprecation to hear herself repeat the same words. It
would
make her happy—but she couldn’t ignore the part of her that knew of what he dreamed. Once he settled down, someone as tired as he was might not get up again. She knew he of all people would keep on walking—but she couldn’t help thinking,
What if…?

“I guess maybe I wouldn’t want that after all,” she murmured.

“You… You wouldn’t?” said Priestess. She didn’t seem to grasp what Cow Girl was feeling and only cocked her head in confusion.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Cow Girl waved it away. “I guess I just wanted to figure out if there was anything I could do for him. That’s why I wanted to talk to you two.”

“Hmmm…,” Priestess murmured.

“Sure,” said High Elf Archer as if it were perfectly simple. “It’s not that hard.”

“It isn’t?”

“If his body is tired, he should rest. If his heart is tired, he should do something fun. It’s as simple as that.”

“Ah!” Even the somewhat perplexed Priestess nodded when she heard this explanation. “You’re right. It’s one thing if doing something ridiculous or outrageous will be of any benefit, but it’s not usually that straightforward.”

Cow Girl giggled to hear her invoke those familiar words with such a studious expression. Priestess shot her a questioning look, but— Oh, never mind. Today was…well, it wasn’t a bad day by any means, but it wasn’t exactly exhilarating, either. She couldn’t seem to make herself focus on work around the farm. And yet, she couldn’t work up the
excitement to come do anything in town, either. Instead, as a sort of escape, she’d invited the girls out on the pretext of asking for advice. (Although, of course, she really did want advice.)

She didn’t quite have the courage yet to call them friends, not even just in her own mind.

But being able to see them and talk to them makes this meal worthwhile.

“Let me tell you what that means,” High Elf Archer said in a lovely voice, as if she’d read Cow Girl’s thoughts. The high elf, whose blood ran back to the Age of the Gods, sat there holding her half-eaten carrot and smiling a smile as bright and warm as the morning sun. “We just have to take him somewhere—on a proper adventure.”

§

“So where’re y’off to this time?”

“…” Goblin Slayer grunted softly. “Me?”

“See anyone else here?”

The light that drifted in through the window of the cramped workshop glittered with floating dust. He didn’t see the apprentice, who would normally have been bustling around doing grunt work. Maybe he’d been sent on an errand, or perhaps he was eating lunch. Goblin Slayer could hardly imagine how other people spent their days.

Thus, after a moment’s thought, he took the items he’d purchased—his preparations—and put them in his pouch. Before noon, after noon. It would be time to get going soon; he couldn’t dawdle here. He took some gold coins from his money pouch and placed them on the counter, then shook his helmeted head from side to side. “Nowhere special,” he said in his typical dispassionate tone, and then recognizing that this was not enough, he added, “Goblin hunting, I expect.”

“Hmm.” The workshop boss, not sounding very interested, rested his chin on his hands. The coins shone dully in the light, but although he glanced down at them, he didn’t touch them. Instead, he fixed his gaze on the helmeted face in front of him. “Never changes, does it?”

“Mm.” Goblin Slayer nodded.

No, it never changed, nor did he have the slightest intention of changing it.

Goblins were weak. Say what you would about them, they were the weakest of monsters, hardly threatening. In terms of the danger they posed, even the largest-scale goblin infestation would mean the potential destruction of only perhaps a single village. They were nothing compared to dragons, demons, trolls, or dark elves.

He had been to the Dungeon of the Dead, to the snowy mountain, to the desert; he had faced down a dragon and been a facilitator for the dungeon exploration contest. The world was overflowing with threats, dangers—and adventures—he couldn’t even imagine.

But none of this made him any less content with his role, which was to slay goblins.

Goblin Slayer had a thought. “How is the girl doing?”

“Which girl?”

“The one with the black onyx.”

“Ah, her…” The boss, chin still resting on his hands, looked disinterestedly out the window at the sleepy midday streets. “She comes by to get oil and whatever else. A real regular by now.” He then added brusquely, “Not that I’m going to lower the price for her.”

Goblin Slayer’s only response to this was: “I see.”

The boss’s one good eye turned and fixed Goblin Slayer with a stare. “Hope she doesn’t pick up all of
somebody’s
bad habits.”

“I try to buy only what I will need.”

“For goblin slaying.” The boss spat the words out, sighed pointedly, then shrugged elaborately, provoking a series of cracks from his stiff joints. He swept the coins on the counter toward him, after which the man felt the gaze upon him was somehow softer than it had been before. Or perhaps—softer than it had been the first time
he’d
come into this shop. “What, haven’t y’anywhere you’d like to go?”

“Hmm.” The truth was, he’d never thought about it. He had no plans to go anywhere. Well, if there was a quest, if goblins appeared, that would be different—but that wasn’t something that could be planned.

Somewhere he wanted to go… He wondered if in fact there had ever been such a place for him. Beyond the borders of his country, perhaps? The desert. The elf village. The old ruins. All places he had never even dreamed of.

And were there any hopes or desires within his own self?

“Ah,” he said as a place he had never seen manifested itself in his mind. A place that had never been anything but a dream to him. Someplace he had heard of time and again in bedtime stories but which he had never once believed he would really visit. “Beyond the northern mountains.”

§

“Beyond the mountains?” Guild Girl asked, her voice bouncing like a ball as she abandoned any attempt to keep the fluttering of her heart from her tone.

“Yes.” The helmeted head nodded. It looked rather out of place on the street at noon—the street full of ordinary sights.

He wore grimy leather armor and a cheap-looking metal helmet. On his arm was a small, round shield, and at his hip was a sword of a strange length. One wondered what had happened to the shimmering Silver-ranked adventurer who’d helped out with the dungeon exploration contest.

It was hardly an outfit to wear on a date, even if that date was just going shopping with a young woman. Guild Girl had planned in advance for this day, made sure her request for leave was in early, and gone home specifically to change clothes, and now here beside her was…

I guess we don’t exactly look like a pair.

Her in her clean white blouse, him in his armor covered in dark-red stains of unknown provenance—it wasn’t a good look. Even her hair, which she’d gone out of her way to comb and braid, looked comical beside the tattered tassel on top of his helmet.

But she liked him just fine this way and felt no displeasure at the situation.

“Beyond the mountains. You mean the dark country of night that extends across a lonely wilderness?”

“Yes.”

She couldn’t resist a chuckle at this most characteristic of responses.

I might laugh it off as just machismo if I didn’t know that famous story.

It was a tale that had once caused many a pulse to race but which fewer and fewer people now knew. A barbarian of the north, a usurper, pirates, mercenaries, generals…and a king.

This macho man had cut his way through many enemies, conquered a mountain of treasure, and ultimately possessed many thrones. It was the sort of legend one could carve only when the light of civilization did not yet burn brightly, and an iron sword was all one needed to bend the world to one’s will. The story of a great man that would make a fine tale to tell to any boy.

And even this man beside me was once a boy who dreamed of being an adventurer, wasn’t he?

It was such a sweet thought that Guild Girl couldn’t help smiling; it was enough to make her want to give him a hug. Whether or not she would restrain herself—maybe that was the difference between her and his old friend who lived on the farm.

“Hmm…” Enjoying the feeling of his words rolling around in her head, she spotted a shop selling accessories. A profusion of colorful ties. She would pick a few. She wondered which might match her hair. “Which do you like best, Goblin Slayer?”

“…Me?”

“Yes, you.” Had it been unfair for her to ask not which one would look good on her but which one he liked?
No, no
, she thought.
That’s called strategy.
It wasn’t fair for her to fret about his thoughts. Let him fret about what
she
thought a little.

Scarlet. Pink. Black and white. One dark green, another blue.
Even purple might be nice
, she mused.

He studied the ties from behind his visor, taking care that they not be blown away by the gusts, which had begun mingling the breeze of fall and the wind of winter. The shopkeeper shot them a
less-than-welcoming glance, but Guild Girl let it roll right off her back. She couldn’t have cared less at that moment.