Goblin Slayer, Vol. 14

“Are you…sure that’s all right?” Female Merchant asked, but even she wasn’t sure what she was asking or of whom. There were several people in the young king’s throne room who might have been appropriate interlocutors.

The king himself, for example, or the silver-haired lady-in-waiting who stood like a shadow, or the cleric of the Earth Mother who was cheerfully reviewing some paperwork. Having cajoled her way into being sent as an observer from the temple to the frontier, she hardly seemed bothered by her brother’s tough but fair advice. She had possessed a merry disposition born of ignorance and naïveté, but through cruel experience, it had begun to transform into an unmistakable strength. It was enough to make Female Merchant smile—and, admittedly, feel a little jealous.

“Seems there’s a great many things that require our attention,” muttered King as he wrote a report. “Where does it start, I wonder?”

“Perhaps from the moment we installed one of our country’s knights as chieftain in the north?”

“Ha-ha-ha! Now, there’s a mistake.” King grinned and tossed aside the quill pen he had been using, grabbing a new one instead.

How many does that make this month?
Female Merchant mused, counting in her head. She let out a tiny sigh. Quill pens might be an extravagant luxury, but they were also consumables. They had to be shaved and sharpened several times a day. Nonetheless, King couldn’t simply use the cheapest available products. Both the ruler who used them and the merchant who had procured them for him would have been the object of much chatter and scorn.

But then if I find rich products for him, the twittering only continues…

Politics made everything more difficult. Female Merchant had become all too familiar with that fact of late.

“His father was northern nobility. He grew up here in our land, but he was born among, and his blood belongs to, the people of the north,” King said. He was sharpening a new quill pen with his dagger, pleased at the chance to take a break from his paperwork. “They say he killed someone in a blood feud and had to flee.”

“Blood
fyood
?” asked King’s Sister, who was lounging on a bench. She pronounced the word awkwardly, unsure what it meant. “What’s that?”

“The northern way. When a member of one clan dies, the matter is resolved through revenge battles and killings with the other clan.” The silver-haired lady-in-waiting was staring out the window, hardly acting as if she was in the presence of the royal family.

“How barbaric,” Female Merchant said before she could stop herself; her brow knitted, but she worked hard not to let anything more show on her face. She knew, at least from the reports, that there was more to the northerners than just battle.

But King simply laughed. “It
is
barbaric.” He was taking undue care inspecting the tip of his quill, eager to delay his return to work as long as possible. “That’s why the northerners settle most things with indemnities and avoid battle.”

What if an agreement on the indemnity couldn’t be reached? Female Merchant shook her head gently. Did she have to ask? Just think of the environment that had forged those fearsome northern dwellers.

“And—how do I put this?—it has something to do with expunging the family’s guilt, but…”

Female Merchant was intrigued; the young king was hardly ever lost for words. “Your Majesty?” She cocked her head politely but received a dry laugh in return.

“He’s my uncle.”

“Your uncle, sire?” An unusual word here. “At that age? And…a northerner?”

“That vagabond? My father took his older sister as a concubine and welcomed the wanderer and his father as generals.”

“Ah…”

It was a common enough story. Typical—although everyone would have their own opinion of it. A royal or noble absolutely needed a son; one could even say it was their duty, in a way, to take precautions if need be. A mistress, a concubine, a lover, or any number of other things. So long as they were of appropriate status, it might even be called a good thing.

A bizarre murder, for example, might turn out to have been an attempt to get rid of a hidden prince, the result of seed sown carelessly in a prostitute. Such hellish tales could be found if one went far enough back in the past.

Even the fact that I’m in this room…

Was that why the red-haired cardinal had exited in such a hurry, leaving only herself and the attendant? (King’s Sister notwithstanding.)
Is that really what he was thinking?
She understood: It wasn’t overbearingness on his part, nor was it simply to cause trouble. Although to agree to the implied invitation would be to invite catastrophe on herself later.

“I’m not sure about any of that…,” King’s Sister mumbled, kicking her legs as if to say none of it had anything to do with her—another runaway. The kicking would have been unladylike in a dress; in the vestments of a cleric, it was that much worse. Female Merchant looked uncertainly at the lady-in-waiting, who simply shook her head in an
oh fie
gesture.

Maybe it’s okay.
This wasn’t the temple. It was the castle, King’s office, her older brother’s personal chamber, and there were only friends around. Female Merchant knew well that it was hard to find such places and such moments.

“My dad died when I was little anyway,” King’s Sister added.

“That was before the battle in the Dungeon of the Dead. Father… No. Let’s drop the subject.” King waved a hand as if trying to wave away the conversation, meeting his sister’s surprised look with a grim one of his own. “In any case, about the time of the battle with the Demon Lord, it finally seemed that they might be able to repay the indemnity.”

And when he had gone up north, he had been able to help a certain clan that was in dire straits… He met a princess, fell in love, got married, and became king. He and his queen seemed to be quite close.

It was like a saga, Female Merchant thought. Like one of the ancient ballads playing itself out upon the earth.

One might wish to be like them but certainly could not be. She herself was the same way. To realize one would never be like the heroes of those songs was painful—but that was what made them shine so bright and seem so beautiful.

Perhaps the reason they couldn’t speak publicly about it here was precisely because these were the deeds of someone in a foreign land, a follower of a foreign religion.

“That was the battle when the Hero appeared, isn’t it?”

And, above all, because of the radiant exploits of that young girl. It was only natural to favor the deeds of one’s own heroes against those of other countries.

“I didn’t know that familiars of Chaos had appeared in the north as well.”

“Thanks to the Hero, we were able to clean them up right away. But there were always going to be vestiges, leftovers.”

It was the glory of the northerners, one heard, to fight with their own “northern barbarians.” The barbarians. An army of Chaos that had come from far away. But the battle was growing fierce, too fierce for them to carry on alone. And so…

“So they came to us.”

“And we happened to have a knight who had married one of their princesses. Nice and simple.”

“So,” King said, “where is the problem?” Meanwhile, he finally gave up any pretense and simply tossed the quill pen down on the desk.

Female Merchant smiled slightly as she extended her pale fingers, taking the quill and dipping it in the nearby inkpot. “Only that it seems likely to inspire unrest.”

“Some nice, ambiguous chatter will fix that.” The young king sniffed with boredom, then rested his chin in his hands like a waiting lion.

Those who hated him would be expelled; those who loved him would be honored. Those who wished for unrest would be put out, while those who sought harmony would be his friends. If things were explained that way, then people could find whatever other justifications they wanted for each individual instance. The fact was that no matter what he said or did, there were always going to be people who saw it as unsatisfying or unfair. He didn’t have the time to entertain every single one of them.

And yet, I can’t actually fall into that mindset, either. Such is the duty of being king.

“The talk is of why you would have sent a survey now, of all times,” offered the silver-haired lady-in-waiting, who sat by the window with her arms crossed. “And frontier adventurers, of all people.” She didn’t look very interested—but then, she never did; figuring out how she really felt was not easy. At the moment, her small, doll-like face was looking squarely at King; her eyes, like beads of glass, were narrowed in a squint.

Why did one have the sense that her gaze was equally directed at King’s Sister?

“Anything personal in the choice?”

King denied it categorically. And again: not possible. But the repetition sounded less than convincing. “It’s certainly a matter worthy of the attention of Silvers… But we also had the recommendation of the bishop of the water town.”

“And the Temple of the Earth Mother made the same recommendation!” King’s Sister said brightly. The young ruler glanced at her, then let out a sigh.

Female Merchant placed her pointer finger gently to her lips, then
nodded. “I must admit, I have felt some concern, a sense that Chaos was brewing in the north…”

Such feelings were always born of a bevy of small details, notes, and information. For example, there had been quite a few sunken merchant vessels lately. That in itself wasn’t strange—sea travel was dangerous, sea-based commerce was dangerous, and it would have been even more unusual if
nothing
ever sank. But even so, it seemed to be happening a little more than usual recently. They were beginning to see shortages in goods from the north.

The northerners were not simply warlike barbarians. They were also accomplished seamen and merchants. Suppose that the goods they conveyed, the trade they did via the northern sea, was ever so slightly disrupted. It would be like a drop of ink in a great river—nothing would immediately and obviously change.

And yet, nobles and merchants with something dark in their backgrounds were suddenly holding their breaths. She could see shadows on people’s faces.

Was the world in danger? Was it time for the Hero to make her appearance? Hardly. But still, there was something sneaky that couldn’t be overlooked. Something that slipped out of the corners of people’s mouths or lurked in the margins of written papers with their rows of letters.

Detecting such things was, the lady-in-waiting had taught her, precisely the basis of cloak-and-dagger operations.

I sense Chaos.
That was what Female Merchant thought whenever something caused the brand on the back of her neck to prickle.

“I agree.” King leaned forward, head still in his hands, looking completely in earnest, and smiled like a lion. “Which is precisely why we adventurers have to jump into action, isn’t it?”

“Majesty…”

With King looking like he might leap up and throw on his armor at any moment, Female Merchant could only sigh.

What really bothered her was the realization that it didn’t bother her.