Goblin Slayer, Vol. 14

“I don’t know much about colors,” Goblin Slayer said but took one of the ties in his gloved hand. She looked closely at it.

“White, you think?”

“Your usual hair tie is yellow, and the Guild uniform is black. I thought something close to that might be good.”

Oh, for crying out loud…!

She could almost have laughed at herself for how little it took to get her heart racing. To know that he saw her at “usual” times, knew and remembered her, and was considering that in his decision.

Still, though…
Guild Girl tried to keep her feet on the ground as she pointedly pursed her lips. “I asked which color
you
like.”

“Hrm…” He grunted, then went silent—and, after some thought, finally concluded: “I don’t dislike white.”

“I suppose I’ll accept that for today.” She laughed wholeheartedly and took the white hair tie in her hand. “I’ll take this, please.”

Goblin Slayer nodded, passing some silver coins to the shopkeeper. The total lack of hesitation was one of his charms.

“Thank you very much,” Guild Girl said, hugging the hair tie to her chest and smiling at him. “My goodness, though… The north. You’ve never been beyond the snowy mountain yet, have you?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Not yet.” He sounded as if he believed he never would, either.

“Hmm.” Pouting again. She didn’t think the way he’d said that was very fair. “What would you do if I said you
could
go?” She trotted out ahead of him, then spun to face him. In the corner of her vision, she saw her braid flutter like a tail.

Goblin Slayer came to a halt without even his customary grunt—just stopped cold. Right in the middle of the crowd. Passersby shot the two of them suspicious looks, then swerved around them. He took a step forward, as if forced ahead by the silence itself. “
Can
I go?”

“I’m asking whether you want to.”

He grunted softly: “Hrm…” Then he fell silent again and stilled. She could tell at a glance that he was thinking.

I wonder what his face looks like right now—behind that visor.
Was he expectant? Did he think this excursion would be fun?

No, no—she’d known him for years. She knew what he was thinking about. His party members (though he still seemed somewhat reluctant to call them that). His farm.

And, she had no doubt, goblins.

None of that had changed in all their years together. But certain things had.

He thinks about something other than just goblins now.

Changes could be either good or bad. But Guild Girl thought this was a change for the better. Someone who had never changed before was making the attempt to become the slightest bit different.

And how can that not be a good thing?

After a long moment, the answer finally came: “…If it’s indeed possible.”

It was far too passive to call it a promising response. Guild Girl took a breath, let it out, and looked at the ground. No matter what expression she brought to bear on him next, it would take courage. She mustered up her nerve, then almost jumped forward and reached out to take his gloved hand in hers. “In that case, I have just the adventure for you!”

I hope I can get my smile under control by the time we eat lunch!

§

“The north, you say… Hmm, hmm.” Lizard Priest shivered and huffed to himself.

It was the next day, in a corner of the waiting area of the Adventurers Guild. The five adventurers sat on a bench, conferring about the quest. It was nothing like the plain sheets of parchment they normally saw—which was to say, the goblin-slaying quests. It was lavishly decorated, the text studded with elaborate, ornamental script; even the
ink somehow seemed to be of higher-than-average quality. Notably, it appeared the quest had never even been on the bulletin board; there wasn’t so much as a pinhole in the paper.

All of which meant…

“This is a quest fit for Silver-ranked adventurers!” High Elf Archer exclaimed, puffing out her slim chest. Lizard Priest might have been thinking about how cold the journey would be, but the elf seemed in high spirits. “I think it’s a great idea. An uncommonly excellent choice coming from you, Orcbolg!”

“I see.” The helmeted head nodded.

The high elf grinned like a mischievous child and said, “I’ll take it—
we’ll
take it. I’m going on this quest, by hook or by crook!”

“You don’t even know what the quest is about!” Dwarf Shaman, ignoring the elf’s triumphant (but still elegant) gesture with her fingers, grabbed the paper in his own thick hand. It took him a moment to parse the letters that danced across the page, but finally he said: “Survey the northern frontier?”

“Yes.” The helmet nodded again. “I don’t fully understand it myself, but there was something about a battle, reconciliation, and an alliance… It seems the area recently became part of this country’s territory.”

“Hoh.” Dwarf Shaman stroked his beard, his face darkening. “So there was some fighting.”

“Er, um.” Priestess placed a slim pointer finger to her lips and looked up at the ceiling. “Major battles with other nations ceased after the reign of the previous king,” she said. At least, that was how she seemed to remember it. “There was the situation with the Dungeon of the Dead, and then—you remember, the Demon Lord appeared. I believe it was around that time.”

“Don’t you think it was basically payback for all those wars?” High Elf Archer said with a touch of sarcasm. Sometimes all you could do with humans was laugh at them.

Plagues and zombies had enveloped the land—a terrible threat, all culminating in a tremendous battle with the forces of Chaos. Well,
admittedly, humans couldn’t have denied that it was the result of their own insatiable appetites.

Having said that…

Priestess didn’t know much about restoring the resources of an exhausted country, but she knew it couldn’t be easy. Observations and surveys like this would be an important part of that process. “Are they sure they want to entrust something like that to us?” That was what concerned her.

“Yep,” Dwarf Shaman said, shifting in his seat, leaning toward her and handing her the paper. She thanked him and took it; even a quick glance made clear the beauty of the penmanship, an immediate and obvious difference from the average quest. Priestess, however, showed no sign of anxiety or lack of confidence. Perhaps she felt such emotions—just a little—but if so, they didn’t make it into her expression.

All one saw in her face were questions—and answers. It was like she was proceeding through a dungeon, testing the floor with a ten-foot pole.

Dwarf Shaman, heartened by the growth he saw in his companion (which he was sure Priestess herself hadn’t yet noticed), gave a hearty laugh. “Eh, leave the politicking to the more important people,” he said. People could always have a drink and understand each other, so long as no one was bent on starting a fight. To a dwarf like Dwarf Shaman, this conviction was perfectly natural; he accepted it without any discomfort.

Goblin Slayer appeared to agree, for he extended a gloved hand and pointed to something on the paper. “It appears they wish to establish an Adventurers Guild there eventually, as well.”

“Huh. And they want us to go have a look first, eh? Well.”
Glug.
Dwarf Shaman took a swallow of the fire wine at his hip, licking the stray drops out of his beard. “Sounds like they want to show us off.”

“I don’t know anything about that,” Goblin Slayer said. However, it was clear what this unusual adventurer most likely
did
understand. As someone who held to the basic precepts of a scout—including “know what you need to know”—he must have figured it out.

These five adventurers—the strange-looking warrior, the cleric of a
foreign religion, the dwarf, the elf, and the lizardman—would have to look like a most unusual party to the northerners.

Yet, they seem to want to say, we are indeed adventurers.

Silver-ranked adventurers at that—and no doubt they would be expected to act like it. That much, even Beard-cutter here surely grasped. Dwarf Shaman was certain of it.
I s’pose you could call that growth, too, after a fashion
, he thought. They should probably take the quest. Only a truly old person would try to hold back youth when it was finally stepping out into the world.

“Much as it pains me to agree with the anvil, I’d take this job, too.”

“I’m no happier than you are, having to go along with a barrel.”

“Oh! I-I’m going, too!” Priestess raised a small hand quickly, already ignoring the jabbering argument beginning between the elf and the dwarf. Maybe she didn’t feel she needed to intervene, or maybe she was simply used to it by now. “What about you—are you all right?” In any event, her considerate gaze now settled on…

“Mmmm…” His face was blue as if from worry—well, bluish-green—well, it had always been that color, thanks to his scales. Lizard Priest stretched out his long neck. “
Ahem
, they say that the one who gives in to fear is far from a naga, so I suppose I must go. Yes, I suppose I have no choice, but…” A sigh escaped his great jaws, and he rolled his eyes in his head. “Verily, it must be cold indeed beyond the mountains to the north.” One could hear in his voice as he forced the words out how profoundly he meant them.

Priestess stifled a laugh at the lizardman’s tragic act. All of them understood perfectly well that for him, the chill was a real matter of life and death.

The elf, of course, had an easy answer to this. “What if you bought a new cloak? And maybe some kind of magic equipment?!” She was going to snow-clad mountains but seemed altogether unconcerned about the cold—a very high elf sort of detachment.

Lizard Priest crossed his arms, nonplussed by her sanguine attitude, and grunted. “I cannot rely overmuch on equipment. As one who seeks to be a fearsome naga—”

“C’mon, that’s the same thinking that got your ancestors wiped out by the cold.”

“Gnrrr…” Lizard Priest was apparently unable to come up with any other rejoinder.

“Ahhh, leave the man alone,” Dwarf Shaman said, but even he was wearing a wry smile. It wasn’t often, after all, that their lizardman was to be seen hanging his head, at a loss for words. High Elf Archer poked his scales playfully, amused by the unusual sight.

Priestess found Dwarf Shaman looking at her as if to say,
Do something about this
. So she offered, “I’ve been granted a new miracle; perhaps it might help a little…”

She’d secretly been wondering when to tell them about it. It seemed like it would be childish to sound too proud of it, yet at the same time, to mention it too casually would seem disrespectful. Besides, she did want them to congratulate her for it… Maybe that was what made her such a child.

“That’s awesome!” High Elf Archer exclaimed, casting away Priestess’s hesitation in a couple of words. Her curiosity focused on the young cleric quicker than a leaf danced in the autumn wind. “So when was this? When did this happen?”

“It was…just after the dungeon exploration contest.” Priestess scratched her cheek shyly as her elder friend leaned in. She was a little embarrassed, but she was also joyful—and she’d resolved to stop trying to be humble when it wasn’t warranted. The words she ultimately came up with were
thank you
, and she was sure that was the right thing to say. “It felt like…like the Earth Mother spoke to me.”

After that experience, she had stayed in the temple and purified herself, observed several days of silence, and finally…

Finally?

This word that welled up within her—could it be attributed to inexperience or to the fact that the austerities were such that any ordinary person would have found them difficult?

I wonder which.

It was hard to feel confident when she didn’t know the answer. At
length, she decided taking a step forward was better than doing nothing. “Be everything else as it may, I’ve been granted a miracle… It feels like the Earth Mother acknowledged me.”

“Well, that’s great. Congratulations!” It was wonderful; the elf couldn’t have seemed more pleased if it had been she herself who had been blessed with this divine gift. She gave Priestess a big hug, and the younger girl felt her heart leap at the verdant smell of the forest that wafted from the elf’s slim body.

“Thank you,” Priestess repeated, graciously accepting the embrace.

Goblin Slayer watched the two happy women intently, then finally said, “…Me, I’ve only heard of what’s beyond the northern mountains in stories.” His tone was somber; no doubt he’d been thinking about this utterance very carefully. The helmeted head turned toward Lizard Priest, and he added dispassionately, “I would like to go on this quest, but I won’t force you to come along.”

Lizard Priest didn’t respond immediately. The party shared a glance; then Dwarf Shaman started: “You heard the man. Beard-cutter says he wants to go beyond the mountains to the north, to the land of darkness and deep night.”

“Gee, just that description sounds depressing.” High Elf Archer whistled. “But if he wants to go, who am I to deny him?”

The two of them smiled like kids who were in on a joke. Priestess seemed to share their sentiment; she stared at Lizard Priest, whose head was bowed. After what seemed a long time, he exhaled heavily and said, “I suppose I am left without a choice. Nagas, after all, do not flee.”

“Is that so?”

“Indeed it is.” Lizard Priest nodded without much enthusiasm. Priestess was secretly relieved.
I’m much happier with all of us going together
, she thought. It seemed best to her.

The adventurer called Goblin Slayer, the one she respected and sought to imitate, was certainly…different. But he was also
becoming
different, changing bit by bit. He’d helped run the dungeon exploration contest. He’d suggested they go on a proper adventure. And now
he wanted to journey to the far-northern reaches. If helping him do so would repay even a fraction of her debt to him…

But that wasn’t all. Of course it wasn’t.

“All of us going on an adventure together—this’ll be fun!” Priestess said.

“Now you’re getting it!” High Elf Archer’s eyes sparkled like stars.

This was how adventures were supposed to be.

§

Ahem. However.

“Hrm… Where did I put it…?”

Getting ready
for an adventure could be a real struggle. At the moment, Priestess was in her room on the second floor of the Guild building, turning the place upside down.

Failing to prepare for an adventure was no different from preparing to fail—that much, Priestess had learned on her very first quest. To make the same mistake twice would be disrespectful to her first party members. If they’d all survived, if they had all been together now, no doubt they’d be laughing, trading banter, getting ready to go with her.

“No doubt”… Am I sure about that?

It was just a possibility. No matter how vividly she imagined it, it could only ever be a fantasy.

Priestess shook her head, then grabbed her traveling bag from where it sat on the corner of a shelf. “Oof… It’s a little dusty…”

Equipment and the like suffered even when it was only left to sit, unused.
Always be prepared
had a nice ring to it, but keeping every single piece of your equipment fighting fit at all times was a tall order.

I’ve heard that adventurers who travel a lot just buy what they need when they need it and then sell it afterward
, Priestess reflected. That sounded like a waste to her, but that choice meant she had to care for her belongings so they would be ready when she needed them.

“I hope it’s not bug-eaten or anything…”

She pulled a winter ensemble out of the bag: heavy cloak, tall boots,
and so on. She had a sentimental attachment to them; they were nice items she’d bought when she’d wanted to look good for her promotion exam. Once winter was over, there’d been nothing for it but to put them away, but their moment had come again.

“I’ll be asking a lot of you,” she told them. Then she nodded in satisfaction, gathered up the outfit, and headed downstairs, outside, so she wouldn’t be a nuisance. She found a nice, sunny spot behind the Guild in which to set up shop. She spread out a cloth and laid the equipment on it. The cloak, the boots, the rope and hook. She made sure she wouldn’t be leaving home without the contents of her Adventurer’s Toolkit.

Because they would be going somewhere not only cold but far away, she wanted to make sure she inspected all her equipment, not just the cold-weather gear. The last thing she wanted was to toss the grappling hook only to have the rope snap and send her plunging. To be fair, Dwarf Shaman would probably save her with a Falling Control spell, but still…

Don’t let your guard down, act without hesitation, and don’t use up your spells. That’s what
he
would say.

Fate and Chance between them were impossible to avoid, but one could give oneself the best possible odds.

“Now to air them out… The problem is these thick clothes.” Just letting them sit in the sun would be a good start, but it would pay to go the extra mile. Priestess stood and took the back entrance to the kitchen—she had asked for help ahead of time.

“Ah, you’re here.” As soon as she came to the door, she was welcomed by Padfoot Waitress with a beaming smile.

Even just a quick peek into the kitchen, where the rhea chef bustled busily around, was enough to get her a face full of steam. She smiled—the delicious aroma alone was relaxing—and bowed her head. “Yes, thank you. Sorry for the trouble.”

“Aw, don’t mention it. I mean, you’re a real regular around here, right? I can at least do this much for you.” Padfoot Waitress turned toward the chef and shouted, “I’m stepping out for a second, okay?”
before trotting over to the stove. She grabbed a giant stewpot in her arms as if it weighed nothing at all. “Okay, let’s go! Outside, right?”