Goblin Slayer, Vol. 15

The first town gate she ever saw was so much bigger than she’d imagined.

It was so tall that she had to crane her neck to look up at it, which she did for a long moment before steeling herself and taking a step forward.

She walked resolutely, her footsteps clacking on the hard, tightly packed stones. Was it the gallant footsteps or the Dai Katana and greatbow the girl carried on her back, practically dwarfing her? Something made passersby look at her with interest, their gazes sharp enough to pierce. But when it came to piercing gazes, the girl’s was as sharp as anyone’s. It caused the interested onlookers to glance away, uneasy, and that was enough; the girl ignored them and walked on.

She was practically in enemy territory here. Everyone was on guard; no quarter would be afforded to her. And if she let her own vigilance slip, even for a second, this pack of wolves would be on her; they would tear her apart.

At least, so the girl believed. In her mind, there was no room for doubt.

Still… Still, the place was enough to make her dizzy. The road was stone. The buildings were stone. The sky seemed narrow and cramped, far away above the towering buildings. It was extraordinarily unsettling not to be able to see the horizon. The breeze was
fetid, and the body heat from the crowd was overwhelming. Her ears were assaulted by a cacophony of sounds; it was chaotic, nary a blank space anywhere. A person could go mad in a place like this.

The girl shook her head and picked up her pace, as if she knew she would regret coming to a halt even accidentally. Her destination—everything was all right. She knew where she was going. At least…she was pretty sure she did. She’d imagined she would find it right away, but this town of stone was starting to sap her confidence. She couldn’t show weakness, though. Her lip stiffened.

She worked her way through what seemed like a labyrinth to her. No weakness. No weakness. She couldn’t look like a mark.

Thankfully, it didn’t take as long as she’d feared to find her destination, and she made it there before twilight. That was due in part to the fact that all the streets had names, and there were plenty of signs saying which was which. Did that mean this was a trap? Or that even the people who lived here couldn’t remember them all?

Well, even if it was a trap, there was nothing to do but spring it. The girl stood in front of the building she’d been looking for, a tavern with a sign shaped like an ax, and took a piece of paper out of her pouch: a letter, creased and worn from being opened and refolded so many times.

The girl studied the characters intently, looking back and forth between the paper and the sign to make sure she had it right. She did. This was the place.

There was a pair of saloon doors at about chest high, swaying gently open and shut. They hardly looked big enough to serve as doors. From the entrance came sound, light, noise, and an aroma of herbs and spices she had never smelled before. The girl, her senses overwhelmed, started to think she might not have the courage to take that next step.

But she couldn’t let herself be beaten now. That was exactly what her enemies wanted.

The girl clenched her fist, got a good running start, and went charging into the maelstrom.

The hinge cried out at her assault, attracting another round of stares from those within, but the girl responded with her own look like a honed blade, sweeping away the too-interested gazes. At the same
time, she looked around the tavern—and then, finally, her tense face bloomed like a flower.

She’s as beautiful as ever!

With her lush hair tied easily on her head, it was as if the boisterous atmosphere didn’t touch her beauty. Her figure was robust and yet womanly, showing how pathetic the girl’s own spindly body was. She had her hair tied up the same way, in imitation of the older woman, but she couldn’t help thinking that there was no comparing the two of them.

What should she say? Should she call out to the woman? Her mind ran in circles—but she mustn’t panic. She forced down the impulse to shout and run over to the woman, instead taking a serious, careful step forward. It gave her the time to, somehow, wipe the smile off her face as she walked along in time to the creaking of the floorboards.

The other woman hadn’t noticed her yet. Perfect.

Her relief was short-lived, however. The other woman was wearing—unbelievably—what appeared to be the outfit of a menial laborer.

The girl was somehow able to fend off the rush of blood to her head—but that, too, was only for a moment, until she saw the way the drunkard at the table reached for the woman, altogether too friendly. When the girl saw the woman try to push the man’s hand away, disgusted, she finally lost control.

She dashed forward so hard that it seemed she would leave footprints in the wooden floor, and she reached for the katana on her back.

The man caught sight of her just before she drew her sword. She didn’t care. How could she care?

“Get away from my sister!”

Whoosh!
The sword sliced past the man’s nose and grazed the tabletop. She’d been trying to cut off his arm, but the man had already moved out of the way.

What inexperience! Tears of rage and humiliation beaded in her eyes, but still the girl howled, “Where did you take the princess, you bastard?!”

“Huh?”

“Wha—?”