Goblin Slayer, Vol. 14

At the same time, the abstracted nature of it made this version of the Four-Cornered World, boiled down to a few dozen squares, seem vast.

Yes. It seems tremendous…at the same time as it seems very small.

That was how the battlefield looked to Priestess. There were too many pieces, both allied and enemy, to run around willy-nilly. And because the king was in the center, he would need two moves at the absolute least to reach any of the corners. And that was only if the path was already free of impeding enemy soldiers…

“It looks like I’ll have to take out some pieces. Can pieces be captured if they land on the same square?”

“No. Rather, by sandwiching them between two other pieces.” The
húsfreya
flicked her fingers, controlling the white and red armies almost as if by magic. A piece caught between two pieces, or else between another piece and the throne, or else between another piece and a corner, would be taken. The only exception was the king: So long as he was in the vicinity of the throne, he could be captured only by being surrounded on all four sides.

A game of sheep and wolves, then
, Priestess thought, remembering something they used to play for fun back at the temple of the Earth Mother. There had been so many young children there—herself included—and nobody could live by faith alone. The older nun with the beautiful brown skin had taught Priestess how to play, and when she had gotten some experience, she’d instructed the even-younger girls.

As a child, Priestess had been especially happy when she was able to beat her erstwhile teacher, but as she grew and took on new roles, she saw that the sister had been holding back with her.

She was so good at that game.

Priestess couldn’t help a smile of nostalgia, even if she knew this wasn’t really the time. She felt less like she was playing a war game and more like she was engaging in that familiar childhood pastime.

“So what if I pass between two of your pieces in one of my moves?”

“That’s all right; your piece is safe.”

“I see…” Maybe it was the way Priestess nodded at each rule, confirming all the details: The chieftain, watching them from his high seat, spoke as if offering her a lifeline.

“If you need to make some notes, that would be all right.”

“?” Priestess gave him a look of curiosity. “No, thank you, I’m fine.”

“Sure?”

Yes, she was. She nodded. On all her adventures thus far, she had never written any notes. “I just want to make sure I understand the rules. Might I ask for a practice game before we have our proper match?”

“What do you think, dear wife?”

“I think it’s quite all right,” the
húsfreya
said with a placid smile and a nod. “Neither at play nor in earnest is a young maiden my enemy.”

“I hope that doesn’t mean you’ll take it easy on me,” Priestess said. She faced the game board squarely, ready to go. She would be in command of the white army. “Because even your play, you should treat earnestly…!”

And then the battle began.

§

“Hey, are you sure about this, Orcbolg?”

“Sure about what?”

This conversation, of course, was taking place among the adventurers, who looked on with bated breath. Arrayed around Priestess as she studied the board, they had their eyes fixed on the battle unfolding on the tabletop. The embattled white army was doing its best to fight its way past its red opponents, but…

“I’ve got to be honest; I don’t think she can win,” High Elf Archer said, dropping her voice even lower and whispering to the metal helmet. Perhaps it wasn’t very politic to rain on her much-younger friend’s parade as she stared intently at the board. But at the same time, to fail
to analyze one’s fighting strength while on an adventure could hardly be called a good thing, either.

But Goblin Slayer, for his part, only tilted his head in puzzlement. “Is that so?”

This guy…

He was always so serious, but at that moment she couldn’t stand it. She huffed quietly.

“I was so sure, Beard-cutter,” Dwarf Shaman said, his wine in one hand and intense interest on his face. “I was so sure you were going to take her on yourself.” This strange adventurer was, after all, the party’s leader. It would naturally be he who answered any challenge for a demonstration of skill.

“No, that would be me, then,” High Elf Archer said, puffing out her modest chest proudly and flicking her long ears. “For elves have hardly ever lost a battle.”

“That’s because when yeh live long enough, you’re bound to win eventually.”

“Say that again!” High Elf Archer managed to yell in a whisper, a neat trick, but she didn’t harangue Dwarf Shaman any further. After all, her precious friend was in the midst of an intense confrontation. That was more important than sniping at a sarcastic dwarf.

Goblin Slayer, also appearing deadly serious, said quietly, “I’m not very good at board games.” High Elf Archer and Dwarf Shaman looked at him as if they couldn’t believe what they were hearing. “We did some tabletop practice before the dungeon exploration contest, and it didn’t go well.”

He added in a whisper that the dice just never seemed to go in his favor.

Now the elf and dwarf looked at each other, and Lizard Priest laughed aloud. “Hence why you always have sought my opinion?”

“Instead of relying on my own ideas, it’s quicker to ask a specialist.” Goblin Slayer nodded firmly. He understood every situation perfectly, his judgment was always right, and he always led them directly to victory…

…was exactly the kind of idiotic thinking Goblin Slayer never wanted to fall into. He felt that if he possessed that kind of genius, he would not be hunting goblins.

The snake’s eye was always waiting. It could mean failure or much ignorance. The amount that other people knew was always greater than the amount that he knew. And that being the case, there was only one question that bothered him.

“Has it been a nuisance?”

“Perish the thought.” Lizard Priest lifted his head from beside the hearth (perhaps he was finally warm enough) and looked at the board. He was just in time to see another white soldier be pincered by the red army and captured. Yet Priestess, thoughtful but not worried, made her next move, and her next, moving her pieces along. If those soldiers had been living people, they might or might not have trusted their commander, but they would have moved without hesitation.

“It is the leader’s role to be decisive and swift. It’s not as though you simply accept what I say wholesale.” Lizard Priest’s eyes rolled in his head, and he looked at Goblin Slayer. “Milord Goblin Slayer, you are a fine leader.”

“…I see.” Goblin Slayer grunted softly; then from within his helmet, he could be heard to repeat under his voice, “I see…” He said, “That’s good, then,” and fell silent.

For a time, the
stofa
was dominated by the sound of the two young women shuffling pieces around. The onlookers continued to hold quiet conversations, exchanging their opinions of the game in whispered tones. High Elf Archer’s ears must have been able to pick up every word without so much as trying. She, if anyone, ought to have known which way the room was leaning, but she looked troubled.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have let the girl do it, then? Maybe we should have had this guy handle it.” With the words
“this guy,”
she nudged Lizard Priest gently in the neck with her elbow and sniffed.

“Did you not know?” For the first time, Goblin Slayer looked away from the board, turning toward High Elf Archer. His gaze behind his
visor was that of someone seeing something they could hardly believe. “She is a far more capable adventurer than I am.”

§

“Hmm… Hmmmm…”

Priestess looked at the board, now well into the mid-game, and made a perplexed face, just as the gods in heaven sometimes did.

This doesn’t look good for me…

She’d sought to break through the center of the enemy formation, but that now appeared to have been a mistake. Although the red pieces were divided into four groups, there were twenty-four of them, as opposed to just twelve white pieces. If she tried to meet force with force, her king would be struck down and never get away.

And thus she found herself—disappointingly but inevitably—in the current situation.

The red army, after all, was not a bunch of goblins. They were grizzled old hands who were just as capable as the white soldiers. The number of battles they had survived since this board and its pieces were born into the world far outstripped the number Priestess had been through.

The king was safe so long as he was in the vicinity of the throne—but only the king. Other soldiers could be trapped and crushed against the throne. The corners were the same. Which meant…

“This is a siege game, isn’t it?”

She’d been distracted by the word
“throne,”
but the way to envision this was as a castle, a stronghold. And the area around the throne was the ramparts. That explained why the other soldiers could be cornered and destroyed against it.

As the one entrusted with these soldiers’ lives, Priestess didn’t intend to give up until the bitter end, but even so, she was starting to see her limits.

“You’re quite right. Speed is your friend,” the
húsfreya
said, presumably pleased to see Priestess fighting so hard. Where Priestess
frowned, the
húsfreya
smiled as she moved her soldiers around the board. “And that makes checkmate.”

“Oh…!”

She’d been careless—well, no, not really. It was simply the consequence of being cornered bit by bit. To escape, to reach one of the corners, the king had to press himself against one of the far edges. Deny himself one direction of movement. That was where the enemy could lay a trap. And Priestess had walked right into it.

“Haaah…” She sighed deeply and stretched herself out on the table. Careful not to touch the board, of course. “It’s tough, this game…”

“You find it boring?”

“No!” Priestess said, looking up with conviction. “No, not at all!”

Indeed, it was hard. The rules were simple, but the game was deep. Or…perhaps all games throughout the world were like this. Simply played but rich and profound. There were no guaranteed ways to win. Would it even be interesting, if you could win a game so easily?

“What would you like to do? Would you prefer to take red for the next round?”

“Let’s see…” Priestess put a finger to her lips, barely noticing the grinning
húsfreya
. A small sound escaped her as she thought, and then she shook her head with fresh certainty. “Thank you. But no. May I try playing as white again?”

“You’re quite certain?”

“Yes, ma’am!” Priestess smiled so brightly, one would never have believed she had just lost a game. “I have a little experience with siege battles myself, you know!”

§

Having said that…

There was no way Priestess could win. The shrine maiden of sadism, who administered
hnefatafl
as if it were a holy rite, and the devout follower of the Earth Mother simply specialized in different fields.

What’s more, a beginner who had just learned the ropes would
simply never outplay an experienced commander. That would have been blasphemy against every game.

The king of Priestess’s white army was once again taken without managing to escape. However, she exclaimed in admiration at each new play, by turns agonized and overjoyed by the swinging struggle of attack and defense taking place on the board.

“I see…

“Wait, you can make a move like that?!

“Amazing…!

“One more game, please!”

Her face was bright with each exclamation.

Of course, in a real contest, there are no do-overs. That’s to be expected.

“I was treating that as the real game, but how can I refuse?”

If her opponent, the
húsfreya
, was willing to accept it (even if with a wry smile), then there was no problem at all.

Over and over, the two young women moved their pieces about the board, the tapping and clicking echoing throughout the room. Priestess’s play was not very impressive, but ever so gradually, she showed improvement—or at least began to get used to it. In the end, though, she couldn’t possibly hope to prevail over her foe, the
húsfreya
.

The northerners began to whisper among themselves until finally…

“You can’t press there. Keep a soldier over there.” A voice, sharp yet solemn, spoke. It was the prisoner, scars still fresh on his face.

“Huh? …Oh!” Priestess blinked, then returned her piece to where it had been and gazed at the board. She counted the squares with her fingers, considered the position of her forces versus those of her opponent, and then exclaimed, “Oh! Yes, of course…! Thank you very much!”

“’Twere nothing.”

Priestess moved her piece to a new location (
tap, tap
) and made a huff of triumph. It must have been a pretty decent move, because for the first time, the
húsfreya
said, “Well, now…,” and began looking troubled.

Naturally, though, the other onlookers weren’t about to keep their peace at this. “Hey, now, no advice!”

“That’s right. The audience should be seen and not heard! It’s not fair!”

“What’s not fair? I just helped a young lady in trouble,” the prisoner said, crossing his arms as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. He fixed a mocking smile on his face. “And you call yourselves Vikings—you’re a sorry lot!”

“Ooh, now you’ve done it!”

It was, perhaps, a testament to their self-control that these hot-blooded people had stayed quiet for so long. They pressed close around the players and all began shouting at once.

“Go right!”

“No, up!”

“Yes, there.”

“No, not there!”

“Pick up that piece!”

“No, it’s too soon!”

“Move your king!”

“No, wait!”

“This is ridiculous! Is that move even legal?!”

“I’ll show you what’s legal!”

“Hey, somebody bring a
hnefatafl
board!”

“Ahhh, it begins!”

Boards were veritably slammed down on benches, and a slew of contests began. And then the people watching
those
games started shouting, and drinking, and singing. Well, if it wasn’t noisy now! The silent observation of the battle from a moment ago seemed as if it had never existed.

“Well, now…” The
húsfreya
smiled again awkwardly. There certainly wasn’t going to be any more council going on in the
stofa
.

“Hrr… Hrrrr… Hrrrgh…!” High Elf Archer’s ears were trembling. “Hey, I wanna try this
hnef…hnefatafl
, too! Teach me!”

“Hoh…! We cannot turn down the request of an
álfr
…!” The
northerners prepared a board reverently, and one of them sat down across from her. Dwarf Shaman couldn’t help but smirk at the affectations High Elf Archer’s young opponent tried to show before the woman with whom he was infatuated.

The dwarf sipped a thin
bjórr
(it had taken some doing to decide which beverage to enjoy after his mead) and nudged his friend next to him. “Say, Scaly. Sun’ll be high soon.” Indeed, it was already high in the sky, sunlight pouring into the
stofa
through the skylight.

“Hrrrm… Which, I suppose, means I must do what I must do.” Lizard Priest heaved himself up and requested a game from the nearest available northerner. “And, of course, some goat’s milk,” he added. (He would never forget that.)

He and his opponent were soon surrounded by a rotating cast of northern observers. The meeting, which had begun as a grave and serious council of war, appeared to have gone offtrack. How many of the northerners even remembered that this was supposedly going to be a “test” of the strange visitors from the south?

Goblin Slayer and the chieftain, watching the entire situation unfold, shared a brief exchange:

“I’ve won.”

“So it would seem!”

The point hadn’t really been to win at a game of
hnefatafl
. It had been to convince the northerners, the Vikings, to recognize the party’s strength. It was second nature to Goblin Slayer to ensure that the victory conditions were always clear. And from that perspective…

“One—one more game! Just one more, please!”

“You’re quite obsessed! There will be no end to it.” Despite her tone, the
húsfreya
was smiling and lining her pieces back up. What else could make her act that way? Likewise, why else would the northerners start giving advice of their own accord, or open up to the party, even start having conversations with them?

“Because the girl is an adventurer,” Goblin Slayer said. To him, the logic was clear as day.

“I don’t exactly
feel
like I’ve lost…” The chieftain followed the metal
helmet’s gaze to where the two young women were alternately agonizing and rejoicing over their battle, and he let out a chuckle.

Yes, it would be blasphemy against games for a brand-new player to handily beat a far more experienced opponent. But for a brand-new player to
enjoy
the game as much as an experienced opponent—that was like a revelation from the gods.

That was what games should be. All those who prayed knew that this was what the gods who watched over the board of the Four-Cornered World wanted. For the scene before Goblin Slayer now was the very picture of how the gods enjoyed themselves.

“…But lose I have,” the chieftain said.

“No.” Goblin Slayer shook his head. “We won.”

Yes, the victory conditions must always be clear.

She was an adventurer. Their rest was over. The enemies were goblins. It was the same as always. Nothing had changed.

Therefore, something else followed naturally:

“We’re going to kill all the goblins.”