“…Fwoo…”

“Mmm…!”

“Phew…”

Three women together can be quite a ruckus, but at this moment the trio of young ladies was simply exhaling. The dim stone room billowed with perfumed smoke, a white mist that kept them from seeing even the face of the person next to them. The backrests of the marble benches were in fact parts of large boxes, and it was from them that the steam emerged. Dressed in only thin clothing—High Elf Archer was wearing nothing more than a towel—they relaxed and let the sweat flow. This foreign steam bath was the perfect thing after exhausting themselves in the desert.

“…Ahhh… Humans think of the strangest things…,” High Elf Archer said, her ears drooping, looking as lazy as her voice sounded. It seemed a long time now since she had worried about baths as being a place where the sprites mixed. Her hair was damp with the rising steam; she looked the picture of contentment.

“It’s very different from sitting in front of the fireplace, isn’t it?” Priestess said.

“You know, some castles and grander mansions are heated by a fire kept in a big granite room,” Female Merchant added, her tongue too lazy to form the words quite properly; she, too, looked utterly relaxed. “It’s because the stone takes heat so well. I have to say, using it for a steam bath is…unique.” As she spoke, Female Merchant worked her hand along her neck muscles. Perhaps her scar was hurting her.

Priestess, holding her belongings delicately, decided to try to change the subject. “…Well, um, here we are in town. But…what do we do now?” Yes, that was the problem. Priestess closed her eyes languorously. No, she thought, it’s not actually a problem at all.

Maybe her blood flow had improved. She let herself sink into the heat, so different from, more comfortable than, the burning of the desert. Even here in this country of sun and sand, steam baths were ubiquitous. She heard you could even get a massage elsewhere in the building.

But there wasn’t time to get the kinks worked out of their muscles. There were things they had to do. That’s right, it wasn’t a problem. It was a question of how to solve the problem. Having entered the city with the Myrmidon’s help, the party had found lodgings and was already onto the next thing: Rest and recuperation, that had to come first. And then they would find the information they needed to make their next move.

When you didn’t know your right from your left, it was rarely advisable to charge ahead. Lizard Priest and Dwarf Shaman had said they would go find a bite to eat and check out the town while they did so. Goblin Slayer went off on his own, saying he had somewhere to go. That left the girls to themselves…

I wonder if they were being considerate.

He had left them with only the brusque command, “Rest,” but they had all known one another quite a long time now. She could guess what he was thinking.

Unlike before, she very much had her choice now. She simply had to speak up. Still, Priestess had simply replied to him with “Right,” and she, Female Merchant, and High Elf Archer had come to this bathhouse.

If she wasn’t in good physical and mental shape, she wouldn’t be able to pray to the goddess when the moment came. “This is enemy territory, after all.”

One should relax when it was the time to relax and be on guard when it was time to do so. Priestess stretched out an arm, got some water from the basin against the wall, and washed her face. The splash of the water, the chill against her overheated skin, felt wonderful.

“I’m…,” Female Merchant said diffidently, “…thinking of doing some business.”

“Business?” High Elf Archer asked, her ears flicking.

“Mm-hmm,” Female Merchant replied with a quick nod. “We lost our carriage, but I’m carrying some items that would be perfectly good for commerce.”

Now that she mentions it…, Priestess thought. She seemed to recall Dwarf Shaman had precious gems sewn into his clothing. He’d described it to her as one way of preparing to travel, and now she saw what he meant. Luggage or cargo might get lost, but the clothes on your back tended to stay with you. Priestess pulled the cloth tighter around her and whispered, “I understand.”

Female Merchant nodded. “I know a business that used to trade with our country before the usurpation of the throne. I’ll ask around there.”

“By yourself?” High Elf Archer narrowed her eyes. Then she leaned toward Priestess as if hoping to enlist her support. “Isn’t that a bit dangerous?”

“I kind of agree,” Priestess said, putting a slim finger to her lips in thought. “We don’t know what’s out there… And as you are our quest giver, we’re technically your bodyguards.” Yes, even though Female Merchant knew some magic, even though she carried a sword and knew how to use it, and even though she was a former adventurer herself, she couldn’t be allowed to go off on her own in hostile territory…was what he would say anyway.

“I really don’t think we can let you go alone,” Priestess insisted.

“I see…”

Priestess blinked to see Female Merchant turn her eyes to the ground as if disappointed or depressed. Then she had to squint and force herself not to laugh. High Elf Archer must have noticed it, too, for a bell-like giggle formed deep in her throat.

It was profoundly pleasing to the two of them to have their friend act her age for once.

“Then this is two, two!” High Elf Archer said enthusiastically. She held up two lovely fingers on each hand, gesturing at Priestess and Female Merchant.

They both looked back at her blankly, as if to say: Two?

“Yep!” High Elf Archer said, jutting out her modest chest. “It’s weird, the way Orcbolg went off on his own. It should be two by two—It’s dangerous to go alone!”

That meant that Female Merchant, quest giver though she was, was being treated not as an interloper but as one of the team. There was no way to be sure whether it was really intentional, but elves’ deep thinking sometimes did reveal the truth.

Female Merchant’s eyes went wide for a second, and then a smile bloomed on her face like a flower. “Right! That’s…fine, then,” she said with a nod. Like an obedient child, Priestess thought. Even though their two ages weren’t so far apart. Even though, indeed, Female Merchant looked the most adult among them. Priestess envied her that, just a little. But in fact, she was the more experienced; Female Merchant the less. And in that case…

“I’ll be happy to—”

“I’ll do ‘business’ or whatever with her, so you stick with Orcbolg!”

High Elf Archer had stolen a march on Priestess. The two fingers she had been holding up were now just one, pointing right at her.

“Er, uh…” Priestess blinked several times. “I was going to say I would go with her…”

“Aw, you two were practically joined at the hip all the way through that storm. We haven’t seen her in ages. I wanna talk to her, too.”

It sounded somehow odd to hear an elf casually use the expression “ages,” and Priestess giggled in spite of herself. High Elf Archer gave her a look, apparently thinking Priestess was making fun of her. “D-don’t get the wrong idea,” Priestess said with a wave of her hand.

“I’m—”

She looked at Female Merchant.

“—fine with that… If you are?”

“Yes,” Female Merchant said with a firm nod. “I was hoping to talk to you both a bit myself.”

“That settles it, then!”

High Elf Archer was something of a strong wind herself. Priestess pursed her lips, feeling as if she had been treated just as much like a child as Female Merchant. But worrying about being treated like a child, let alone getting pouty about it—wouldn’t that be the most childish thing of all?

With that in mind, Priestess nodded. “All right. I’m going to go ahead, then. I know Goblin Slayer is used to working solo, but…”

“But this isn’t goblin slaying yet,” High Elf Archer said with a guffaw, and even Priestess couldn’t help a smile. As she was gathering up her belongings, Female Merchant looked at her curiously. “By the way, why did you bring your chain mail into the bath…?”

“Well, I’d hate to lose it, you know?”

High Elf Archer could only look at the ceiling without a word.

§

Priestess’s nose prickled as they went outside; there was a familiar aroma of some sort in the air. It was a bit like white tea, perhaps.

Leaving the bathhouse, fresh and clean, Priestess was struck afresh by the way the town sprawled before her. It was a riot of sun-dried, lacquer-darkened brick buildings. Glass—the thin, transparent stuff was just as expensive here as it was in her home—was absent from the windows. The road was brown earth, packed hard from all the feet that passed over it. Specks of sand came riding in on the wind. The people walking along the path wore clothes she had never seen before, carried objects she didn’t recognize. And over it all hung the shadow of the huge, round-roofed palace.

I know our castles back home are imposing, but this…

Castles built as defensive structures, for war, were intimidating, certainly, but this building was something different; it seemed designed to communicate how much smaller than it you were.

But this was a town, and those who lived here were people. The platinum rays of the sun as it sank in the sky were the same as anywhere. Children ran around barefoot. Elderly people played board games on tables set up at the side of the road. A woman, perhaps someone’s wife, was purchasing fruit at a roadside stand.

Those are melons, if I’m not mistaken.

She had eaten one once. So this was where they came from…

Of course, it was not all bright and cheerful. Priestess knew all too well that there was more than that to the Four-Cornered World. She knew from experience that things happened all the time to upend a person’s life.

She wondered sometimes if that was really acceptable.

For example, consider the people sitting in the gloomy shadows by the road, dressed in reeds, perched in front of empty bowls. And if you turned the corner just there, a seamy pleasure district might be not far beyond or perhaps an opium den. Over in the market, she was sure slaves were being sold. Perhaps some had fallen to that depth through debt, or failure to pay their taxes, or crime, or by being on the losing side in a war.

It was not a question of good or bad: It was a fact; it was the world Priestess lived in.

And then there’s goblins.

Obviously, goblins weren’t the only monsters threatening this world. Perhaps it was a mistake to focus on them and them alone. Ogres, giant eyeballs, dark elves, trolls, Mokele Mubenbe, greater demons, ice witches, cultists. And these were only the terrors of the world that she had seen with her own eyes. It was impossible to believe that goblins were truly the greatest danger. And yet…

That’s right…

When was it they’d been in the water town? Goblin Slayer’s words floated in the back of her mind.

“The air of a village that’s been targeted by goblins…”

There were shadows, somehow, on the people’s faces. The wind reeked, somehow. She felt an unpleasant tingling on her neck. Perhaps it was just, in a word, her imagination. But then again, intuition was essentially applied experience. Was she able to sense things she hadn’t before because of her accumulated experience, or did she merely feel like it?

“…” Unable to reach a definite conclusion, Priestess grasped her sounding staff as if in supplication and hurried through the town. She saw soldiers standing guard at every crossroad: people with curved blades at their hips, watching the road vigilantly. When she thought about what had happened on the road, she decided she would have to be careful of the soldiers—careful exactly because there were soldiers present.

Thus, she tried to make her way through town as innocuously as possible, so as not to attract attention. Not moving too fast. Not looking around too much.

On their way to the inn, they had passed by the place Goblin Slayer had said he would visit. She remembered it was about…

“Um, excuse me…”

“Buh?” Priestess’s inexpectant utterance sounding silly even to her own ears. She looked over to see a woman in familiar clothes—that was to say, clothing from her own country.

“Ah, I knew it!” the woman exclaimed jovially, grinning at Priestess. A long ear twitched from beneath the cloth around her head. An insignia of the Earth Mother dangled from her neck.

“An elf…?”

“Thank goodness. I knew you had to be from the same land as me. I was so scared to ask one of the locals around here.” The young elf woman, still smiling, approached Priestess, who looked around in some confusion. She had certainly not envisaged this situation. “I’m actually looking for directions to the bathhouse. You wouldn’t happen to know…?”

“Oh, y-yes.” What exactly should she say? Priestess nodded even though she wasn’t actually sure what to do. “I do, uh, know the way…”

What was this feeling, the nagging sensation that something was off? Was it because of her acquaintance with High Elf Archer and all the elves she’d met in that village? In comparison with them, this girl just seemed…

“Stop that.” Priestess’s harried thinking was interrupted by another unexpected voice, this one calm and clear. It came from the roadside shadows. From a red-haired girl, also with long ears.

This red-haired elf walked toward them with authority, glaring at her fellow elf with a cutting look. “You’re a fake. I know it—It’s obvious from the way you talk.”

“Heavens, what are you talking about? I was simply asking for directions…” The scarfed elf tried to look puzzled, but her anxiety was impossible to conceal. The red-haired elf didn’t say a word. Priestess looked from one to the other of them in confusion, and then she noticed something about the first elf.

Sweat beads…

“…Pardon me very much!”

“Huh?!”

When you have an idea, act immediately. That, she had learned time and time again, was the key to survival.

Priestess reached out, under the elf’s scarf, running her hand along her cheek. She did feel something wet on her palm, but it turned out what she had seen gleaming was not sweat, but white face makeup. Beneath the cake of powder, she saw flashes of blue-black skin.

“A dark elf…!”

“Pfah…” The elf—or rather, dark-elf girl—gave a click of her tongue, then spun around and set off running. Priestess grabbed her sounding staff and was about to brandish it, but thought better of it. Making such obvious trouble with guards on every street corner didn’t seem like the best plan…

“Good thinking. That was the right decision,” the red-haired elf said with a smile.

Oh… Priestess blinked. She wasn’t an expert on telling elf ages, but was this woman rather younger than she had thought…?

“…She was in cahoots with the guards. They’ll be on you in a flash, claiming you were talking to a drug dealer or something… Oh look.” The red-haired elf indicated a soldier coming their way with his sword in his hand and a dangerous look in his eye.

Priestess weighed the options in her mind, the best way to talk her way out of this, but the elf was already on it. Before Priestess could say whatever she had been about to come up with, the red-haired elf waved a hand in front of the soldier in a mysterious gesture.

“We haven’t been talking to anyone,” she said.

“…” The guard looked flummoxed for a second, but then nodded. “You haven’t been talking to anyone.”

“You can go about your business.”

“I’ll go about my business.”

Priestess didn’t know what she was seeing, if it was some bizarre trick or sleight of hand or something. The soldier turned unsteadily and walked back to the intersection he had been guarding a moment before.

“The effect won’t last long. Now’s our chance. Let’s go.” The red-haired elf wiped some sweat from her brow with a sigh and started walking. This time Priestess didn’t see any disturbed makeup on her face. She followed the elf, still alert and careful.

“That’s how it starts,” the redhead said without turning around. “Then they say they need to check your belongings for contraband and they lift some of your money.”

“So it’s all a con?”

“Maybe not all of it—they are real soldiers.” The red-haired elf shrugged slightly, and Priestess just bit her lip without a word.

It had been an intuition of Chaos. She didn’t believe that all people everywhere had to be completely perfect at all times. Even the gods didn’t desire that. But corruption and injustice were the seeds of Chaos. When they blossomed, they would put down roots, spread, and become intractable. And then they could choke the beautiful flower of a country, like an invasion of witchweed.

“Why…?” Priestess asked simply, but the red-haired elf seemed to take it in a different sense than she meant it.

“Self-satisfaction,” she answered with a laugh. “Wanted to build up some karma.”

Priestess could hardly speak. She had never really been the doubting type to begin with.

But to doubt everyone all the time…

One couldn’t survive that way, either. She took a deep breath and let it out, her shoulders slumping. It was just like when you were in a cave. Be vigilant when it was time to be vigilant. If something happened, respond immediately. She had been saved this way. The very first thing she needed to do was evident.

Priestess stopped and bowed her head. “Um, th-thank you very much!”

The red-haired elf blinked at her, then looked a little uncomfortable—downright embarrassed, in fact—as she scratched her cheek. “It really wasn’t all that serious. Uh, hey… You’re an adventurer, right?”

“Yes, I am,” Priestess said. “I’m trying to find a place called the Golden Mirage…”

“That’s perfect, then.” The red-haired elf came to a halt and gave her a smile befitting a girl of fifteen or sixteen years old. “I was on my way here, too.”

Priestess looked up in sudden realization. A beautiful pavilion stood over her, as if it had just this moment appeared, like an illusion.

§

The instant she stepped inside, Priestess was, shall we say, overwhelmed. The multistory building was constructed around an open central courtyard, and the entire place was far larger than it had looked from the outside. The individual rooms were arranged in a corkscrew shape, so that they looked down on the circular center area. And everything she saw gleamed of gold—but that wasn’t all.

Water. There was a waterway in the center of the building with ostentatious amounts of water in it. Real water here in the desert—enough to use for a bath!

Priestess came to a stop without really meaning to; around her, people of all races shared whispered conversations:

“Rumor has it this place is a literal illusion…”

“…Hasn’t it started yet? I’ve been trying to get reservations for months…”

“Don’t get excited. The master’s chosen guards are all very skilled—”

“Hey, look at that. Isn’t that the owner of that huge store?”

A woman whose lower half was that of a snake slithered along—and humming in the water tank deeper in, was that a merfolk? Some of the servers had two heads, and some of the customers had bodies completely covered with bizarre tattoos.

Priestess stared openly for a moment before she snapped back to herself, shaking her head. No, no. She couldn’t just stand there transfixed. She quickly followed the red-haired elf, who was heading inside as if all this was old hat to her.

Truly, everything in the building seemed astonishing. Priestess could smell the smoke wafting from pipes attached to glass bottles. Servers walked by with plates of food she had never seen before. There was a quick thump thump from a table where someone was stabbing a dagger between the fingers of their open hand—some kind of gambling, she guessed. Waitresses sauntered down the halls, hips swaying, dressed in clothing so revealing it was enough to make Priestess blush. The padfoot standing in front of the door deep within the establishment must be some kind of guard. He was well muscled, as might be expected, but he also appeared to be wearing armor underneath his clothing. He bulged in strange places, and then there was the piercing horn growing on his face!

“That person there… Is he a unicorn person?”

“Not sure about that.” The red-haired girl laughed. “Think he’s what they call a rhino man.” She sat in a place at the counter from which she could see the circular courtyard, and Priestess, as if drawn along inexorably, sat down beside her. Across the counter from her, a slim employee in a mask—a woman?—waited for her order.

“Umm…” Priestess looked up at the menu hanging over her head. It was in the common tongue, sort of. She could read the names of the drinks, but she didn’t actually know what any of them were. The red-haired elf laughed when she saw Priestess’s distress, and held up a finger to the masked employee. “You have anything without alcohol in it?”

“We do not in fact have anything containing alcohol,” the employee said with a shake of their head. “Tea or other drinks, yes. And food.”

“Just bring me something sweet and cold, then, please. And a bite to eat. Chef’s choice.”

“Oh, uh!” Priestess squeaked. “Me too, please. I’ll have the same…!”

“Very well.” The masked employee bowed respectfully to Priestess, refusing to taunt her for her obvious inexperience. She—Priestess still thought they were a she—went into the back, and Priestess let out a breath. She glanced over to discover the red-haired elf relaxing, completely at ease.

Priestess’s eyes settled on the elf’s ears, then she mumbled, “Huh?” and blinked. Those ears were awfully short for an elf but a little long to belong to a half-elf. “You’re an elf—”

She chose her words carefully.

“—adventurer, aren’t you?”

The woman grinned a little and shook her head. “No, a changeling.”

Priestess recalled that this was the name for the offspring of an elf born to a human mother. It wasn’t clear whether such children were the product of long-dormant ancestral blood finally awakened, or if they really were a trick played by the fae…

Whatever they were, they were born different from humans. This woman must have encountered a good deal of grief in her life.

Before Priestess could apologize for her mistake, the woman went on, “And I’m not so much an adventurer as…” She seemed totally unperturbed, proof that she was already comfortably walking her own path in life. Priestess was suddenly ashamed that she had considered apologizing and glanced at the ground. “…a professional purveyor of derring-do.” The red-haired changeling smiled a touch shyly. Priestess gawked at this unusual locution.

“A professional…?”

“Well, because it’s my job, see. I mean, it’s more than that, but…” She almost sounded like she was making an excuse.

“…Your drinks, ladies.” The masked server returned, soundlessly setting down cups and plates on the table. “Peach nectar diluted with water, stewed with jujube and ice sugar, then put over milk.” Continuing, the masked server indicated the plate. “And this is oil-seared skate.”

“Skate?”

“The rays that fly through the sand sea.”

Oh, that must be the sand mantas…

Priestess nodded, then offered her thanks to the Earth Mother and began to eat. Why not? She didn’t seem to see that distinctive, cheap-looking helmet anywhere in the establishment. And that being the case, it would be against her faith to let good, warm food go cold. After she finished praying, the first thing she tried was the oil-seared—which was to say, basically, fried—fish.

“…!”

The piping-hot food crumbled into little bits in her mouth, releasing a full-bodied flavor of fish. It was like fresh-baked buttered bread, like a white bread made with refined flour. It was wonderful, but then, it was also very hot. Of course she reached for the quartz cup.

“Eep… Wow…!” The sweet, cold drink threatened to spill out from her mouth, but it was so refreshing. She swallowed noisily, and she could feel it run all the way down to her stomach, a wonderful, soothing chill.

“Mm… Yep, very good,” the red-haired changeling said with a smile, smacking her lips and clearly in excellent spirits. Priestess found this a novel sight, for High Elf Archer had no interest in meat or fish.

But she couldn’t spend all her time being intrigued. She wasn’t here for fun. Priestess whispered probingly to the masked employee, “Um, excuse me. I think a member of my party may be here—have you seen him?”

“What manner of person do you seek?”

“Erm.” Priestess held up a long pointer finger and fell into thought. How best to explain him? “He’s got a helmet, leather armor, chain mail…a shortish sword and a round shield on his arm…”

…Uh-huh, that’ll do. She smiled a little to realize that just the litany of his outward appearance was more than enough to make clear who she was looking for. Then Priestess noticed that the masked employee seemed a little stiff, perhaps uncomfortable. “…In that case,” she (?) said, “perhaps you had best begin with a look at the person on the stage.”

“Stage…?” Priestess looked up just as the lights went out, and a single large light was shone on the stage in the center of the room. The crowd fell silent, waiting expectantly for something that was clearly about to happen.

The red-haired changeling whispered in Priestess’s ear, “Ooh, it’s starting.”

Oh boy, was it starting.

§

Long ago, they scattered our sand like the stars,

then laid to rest on a faraway brilliant land.

Bend an ear to hear our whispered words:

a tale of the sound of the wind…

There was a single clear ring of a bell, and then a faint voice spread out like a ripple. Shuffling forward onto the stage came a birdwoman with tanned skin and black wings. She appeared to be young, yet, her mien was detached and chilly, and her wing fingers grasped a curved blade.

The scimitar caught the faint light of the fire burning in the brazier, glinting and glowing like a living thing. Surely this was a blade of renown.

Suddenly, whoosh, the sword was released into the air, and the girl took two stern steps onto the stage. She spread out her wings as if she was falling to the ground, but then with one great flap she leaped up, and the sword was in her hand again. She drew a simple yet graceful arc in the air with her body, performing a stupendous sword dance.

The girl slashed and danced in time with a melody being played behind the stage. It was an old story of heroism, an ancient tale of valor left to future generations by a woman poet. A lake deep underground in the depths of the earth. A dark dragon who ruled there. The adventurers who challenged his black fortress. They beat their way through mobs of goblins and vampires, enlisted the aid of a dark dwarf, and finally descended to the deepest depths.

Only one of them noticed the shadow on the surface of the water: a rhea scout who sounded the alarm. In an instant, the dark dragon rose up with his great, long neck, with his terrifying acid breath that scorched and seared all it touched.

A lizardman warrior interposed himself between his friends and the blast. But his scales were burned away, his flesh dissolved, and he fell to his knees. A cleric of indeterminate age immediately invoked a healing miracle, but the enemy did not wait for her to act. A warrior-witch, bearing a musical instrument on her back and the blood of devils in her veins, rushed forward to buy them some time. Her Hexblade bit into the dragon’s scales, and the lizardman took advantage of the opening. He gave the beast one good smash with his great golden staff, and the monster fled back to the murky depths.

The lizardman, though, howled out the name of his ancestors and pursued the creature into the deep. “If I can strike you down with my weapon, my deeds shall be the stuff of songs. I wish, I only wish, for women to sing of me with smitten hearts.”

And thus, he broke the monster’s neck underwater with a single hammering blow…

The dancing girl communicated all this not with words, nor even a song, but simply through the way she danced with the sword. Her tanned skin took on a gentle ruddiness with exertion, beads of sweat gleaming like pearls. Some in the audience must have noticed that her expressionless eyes were staring right at a young man in the seat of honor—the owner of the establishment. This dance, utterly impassioned, utterly single-minded, was being offered to him alone.

It was a dance of love, so dedicated and unmistakable that Priestess found herself blushing to see it. “Incredible…,” she whispered without quite meaning to, and the red-haired changeling, likewise a little flushed, replied, “Truly.”

All the patrons gathered here in this building were transfixed by the performance. Priestess had been so taken, in fact, that she couldn’t immediately snap back to reality, but found herself letting out a long breath. The applause from the crowd was scattered and sounded distant, no doubt because the rest of the audience was just as lost in their own amazement as Priestess was.

The dancing girl bowed her head deeply and disappeared into the wings, but the specter of her act remained on the stage.

“They say she’s the best dancer in the country,” the red-haired elf said cheerfully.

“Yes, and…dragon slaying.” Priestess almost hummed the words, as if they came from a dream. She closed her eyes; it was such a nostalgic expression, dragon slaying. She had never encountered a real dragon like the kinds they spoke of in fairy stories and legends. Perhaps one day she would find herself on such an adventure. Just like the thoughtless banter she had exchanged that one time.

She felt all this, even though she understood that a dragon was not a facile creature, and meeting one might not be strictly pleasant.

“Ha-ha-ha… Well, a girl can dream,” the red-haired elf said, brushing her hair off her long ears. Her laughter sounded strained, though. “But you know what they say, ‘Let sleeping dragons lie.’”

“Because they’re so dangerous, you mean?”

“I guess so—dangerous in pretty much every way.” She provided no further explanation but rolled the quartz mug around in her hand. “I guess it’s up to you whether or not you believe them.”

“Uh…huh.” Priestess tried to make a polite sound, but she didn’t really follow. The elf girl seemed to sense this immediately. “What? You’ve got some kind of thing about dragon-slaying?”

“Oh, no. I just… I had a friend who talked about it once…a long time ago.”

Friend. Could she really call him that? Priestess wasn’t always sure. Him, the girls. One of the girls was still alive, but Priestess didn’t have the courage—rather, had yet to find the courage—to go see her. Doing so would demand, she felt sure, far more nerve than confronting any dragon.

The red-haired changeling looked down quietly, brought the cup to her lips, and drank audibly from it. “Sometimes you have friends you can’t see anymore.”

“Yes… You do.”

Priestess didn’t know anything out the changeling’s past, just as the elf couldn’t know what had happened to Priestess. But neither of them had to say anything to know they had each been left behind.

I’m sure it must be one of the things that keeps her going.

Just like one of the things that made Priestess continue to adventure was her companions—her friends, from her very first party.

Her thoughts were shortly interrupted, though; her memories violently dispersed. All thought of the dance on stage was cast out by a chaotic commotion that started over by the entrance.

§

“Give it back…!”

“Aw, it’s right here, kid!”

“My sword… Give it back…!!”

Priestess felt herself flinch but turned and looked to discover a young man surrounded by several thugs. Well, more properly, it seemed the young man had come lurching through the entrance and flung himself at the tough guys. One of them, a lizardman with bluish scales, tauntingly held up a sword in a beautiful scabbard. The young man, meanwhile, was a mess; he had obviously been worked over pretty good. The conclusion seemed obvious: The goons had beaten him up and stolen his sword.

“I beat you fair and square, punk. You want it, come and get it.”

“Dammit… Give it back…!!”

It was clear to all and sundry that the gang had stolen the sword from the young man. But when the victim launched himself at his persecutors, tears in his eyes but nonetheless undaunted, no one moved to help. They knitted their brows, drew their mouths, looked away, and generally refused to show interest in the commotion, so unbecoming of this elegant establishment.

Maybe getting beat up by lizardmen was just something that happened in this country, in this land?

It’s too much, Priestess thought. And so she shoved back her chair and stood. The masked employee gave a soft click of the tongue, summoning the unicorn-person guard, whose full-body armor creaked and cried as he moved forward. As for the red-haired elf, she smiled a little even as she sighed.

“Hey.”

Because there was someone who was quicker even than the four of them. Metal fasteners clinked on his boots in time to his steps as he approached the scuffle, his shoulders swaying. He had leather outerwear that looked military—They took him for a spy.

“I thought I was here to enjoy a little song and dance… Quietly.”

“Hrngh?!” The blue-scaled lizardman turned his unusually large eyes on the spy. The spy simply held up his hands, unhurried. In fact, he looked downright relaxed. “Hey now, no need to get angry. I’m just suggesting we take this outside.”

“I hear you,” the lizardman said with an unpleasant hiss of amusement, his eyes rolling in his head. “Good idea. Outside it is.” The lizardman stepped away from the struggling young man, heading for the door with an almost slithering motion. The spy went behind him, mindful of the lizardman’s long, curling tail. The lizardman looked at him with his glassy eyes as if seeing him for the first time. “It’s a hobby of mine, knocking smart shits like you off their high horses.”

“Oh?” The spy smiled. “You’re welcome to, if you can.”

Priestess wasn’t completely clear on what happened next. It looked to her like the spy smashed a fist into the back of the lizardman’s head with uncanny speed. There was an instant, though, when she was completely befuddled as to what had happened. She only heard a thump as she saw the lizardman collapse, and she spotted a silver flash arc out from his palm. The flash grazed the spy’s hat, then buried itself in the wall of the building. It was steel wire attached to some kind of sharp spike the lizardman had launched from his hand.

“I thought I said outside.” The spy, all but expressionless, broke the steel wire with his bare hands, then picked up the lizardman and flung him casually through the door.

And then it was all over.

The lizardman’s posse spared the spy a quick, withering glare before they charged out after their leader. The other customers, along with the guard and the masked employee, saw that the matter had been resolved. Everyone turned pointedly back to their own business, and the hubbub of the bar promptly resumed. Much of the talk seemed to be about the dance; it was as if the fight just now hadn’t even happened.

“Sorry about the mess.” The spy pulled a gold coin from his pocket and flipped it to the masked employee, who snatched it out of the air. Priestess suddenly realized the employee had a blade in her hand, one so sharp it looked like a poisoned needle. When had she drawn that? The server put her weapon and the gold coin away calmly , and nodded once. It appeared to be directed at the wings of the stage, and Priestess could just spot the dancing girl hovering in the shadows, not backstage as she had expected. She had her hand on her sword, but she looked relieved now, and with a nod in the direction of the owner’s seat, she retreated back inside.

I had no idea. Priestess blinked. She hadn’t even seen them all move.

“Let’s see here…” Quite indifferent to the scene around him, the spy was picking up the sword that had fallen from the lizardman’s hand. Even Priestess could tell it was a beautiful saber, housed in an ornate scabbard. The spy looked at it critically, then tossed it to the young man standing unsteadily on his feet.

“Y-yikes…!” He grabbed it and hugged it to himself, looking at the spy in confusion. The spy flicked up the brim of his hat and seemed to smile, although his mouth was hidden by his overcoat. “You’re a lucky guy.”

“…!” The young man hugged the sword even tighter and, overcome, fled the building without even saying thank you. The spy watched him go, then turned lazily back in Priestess’s direction. He raised a bashful hand. “Hey.”

“For crying out loud,” the red-haired elf said, but her wry smile suggested there wasn’t much she could do about any of it. “Are you finished?”

“Eh, guess so,” the spy replied with a glance at the doorway through which the young man had departed. “Just now.”

“Hmm.”

“Just one thing left. Link up with the others and have a little run.”

The conversation seemed downright intimate. Priestess was getting a good idea of the relationship between them just listening to it. She was stiff with nervousness, but she forced herself to press her petite bottom back into the seat. “Is he a…friend of yours?”

“Mm-hmm,” the red-haired elf said with an awkward scratch of her cheek. “Handles scouting duties.”

“Who’s the girl?” This time it was the spy’s turn to ask, but the red-haired girl got out of her seat saying, “Listen, I thought we weren’t supposed to draw attention to ourselves.”

“Hey,” the spy grumbled, “he shot first.”

“You just wanted to look good,” the red-haired girl teased with a giggle. “That swagger—what’s going on there?”

The spy looked properly abashed, mumbled something, but then said “Yeah, you’re right,” with a defeated nod. “But where’s the harm? I was just having some fun.”

“No harm done.” The red-haired elf shook her head, smiling affably, and jogged over to him. She was probably happy to see the spy had done something much like she had. Priestess understood the feeling, if only intuitively.

“Ahem.” Priestess tried to pick her words carefully. “Well… Take care.” It was a platitude, but it conveyed what she truly felt. It was more than enough to convey her good wishes to this person whom she had known so briefly.

“Yeah, you too.” The red-haired elf smiled gently, then took a gold coin out of her purse and slid it across the counter. The masked employee collected it without even glancing down at it, then gave an elegant nod of the head. “We hope to see you again.”

“Thanks.” The red-haired elf waved genially, then went trundling off after the spy like a girl on her way out for the night. They were each a different height, yet walking side by side, the ease between them communicated how long they had known each other. Years and years. Priestess idly watched them go, then let out a small sigh. She didn’t understand what she felt was envy.

§

The unusual pair emerged from their unusual conference shortly thereafter.

“Yeesh, I knew you looked strange, but you ask strange questions, too. Pain in my behind.”

“I believe I provided sufficient compensation.”

“Of course you did. I know that! Sorry, just complaining. There’s been more work than I can shake a stick at ever since my underling set up that shop.” The young woman snorted— Was she a rhea? No, perhaps a dwarf. She had no beard, but the profuse hair gave her away, as did her footsteps, which bespoke rippling muscle despite her slim frame. Her luxurious clothing and the long boots in which she stomped across the floor spoke to a significant reputation.

Even as she grumbled, the young dwarf shot a glare toward the owner’s seat. Someone in a cheap-looking helmet followed after her, a man in grimy leather armor, carrying a bottle full of some liquid and with a scroll stuffed in his item pouch.

“And if a person dares complain to him, his raqsa, the dancing girl, either gets all upset or whips out that sword. Gods…”

Not that anyone could really complain. Whether the birdwoman was in a good mood or not, her dancing brought in good money.

The wizard who could control black sand; the dancing girl who had come up from a slave; the masked assassin; the padfoot warrior—despite her continual muttering about her subordinates who had stepped back from frontline service, the dwarf woman sounded basically pleased.

Her former subordinates had gone their own ways. That was why she didn’t have enough hands. But those subordinates had started shops that were making money. No denying reality. For practical people such as her, bemoaning the state of things seemed to be a sort of sport. Goblin Slayer had never expected a proper answer anyway, so this was all just fine.

“Y’know, I used to know someone like you,” the dwarf said suddenly with a leering glance at the cheap-looking metal helmet as she worked her way industriously along. “Had a thief who couldn’t tackle a tower for the fear of it. A dumb country whelp who just needed to find some spine and climb up the outside.”

“I’ve done that,” Goblin Slayer said nonchalantly. “How did it go for him?”

“Oh, he did it,” the dwarf said, equally unconcerned. “Real scary barbarian, that one.” She was silent for a second, then frowned and whispered, “It ain’t like me, but…for once, I can’t find anything else to say. O Barrel-Rider’s disciple.” She straightened up and held her small hands out toward the adventurer and his cheap armor. “Good luck and good courage to you.”

“…I’ve never trusted to my own luck,” Goblin Slayer replied, clasping the dwarf’s small hands in his own gloved one. “But I will make best use of what I’ve been given.”

“You do that.”

This and the handshake seemed to be enough for the two of them. The dwarf woman nodded to the masked employee and the horned guard, then happily put the building behind her. Goblin Slayer looked slowly around the room, then started walking disinterestedly along. Priestess resolved not to make a peep until he arrived where she was sitting at the counter. She had just had an object lesson in the complicated procedures and etiquette demanded in a place like this. It would do no one any good if she interfered with what he was doing.

“Sorry, it seems I kept you waiting.” This was the first thing out of his mouth, clear and certain. “In addition to getting information, I had to do some shopping. It all took longer than I expected.”

“Not at all,” Priestess said with a courageous smile and a gentle shake of her head. “It’s all right.”

“Is that so?” His tone was nonchalant, almost mechanical, but Priestess perceived the slightest change in him.

Is something…different?

He didn’t hesitate to… Well, he never hesitated. But even so, she couldn’t resist the thought.

And compared with him…

How was she? She had felt nothing but lost ever since they’d arrived in this country; she didn’t rate her own performance very highly. She felt so inexperienced, like a freshly minted novice who hardly knew her left from her right. She certainly didn’t feel like someone who deserved a promotion. Jealousy would be beyond the pale. She wasn’t even in a position to feel such a thing.

I do get so tired of this lack of self-confidence.

“What’s the matter?”

“Er, ah…!” When she realized that she was being watched from inside the helmet, Priestess hurriedly waved her hand. “N-nothing, it’s nothing! Just…” Her voice was cracking. She swallowed. She could still taste the faint sweetness of the drink from earlier. “I just feel bad…making you do everything…”

Yes, that was what it came down to. She hadn’t accomplished anything. Hadn’t been of any help. She was just…here.

She hadn’t contributed in the battle. Or when they were moving. Or when there was trouble. Or now, when there was information to be gathered. She hadn’t been able to do anything about the thief in this foreign town, or stop the fight at this bar. Even if she had come to the Golden Mirage with Goblin Slayer from the start, what good would she have done? She could only have stood to the side, listening to his conversations. When Priestess thought about all this, she felt keenly that she was and always would be inexperienced.

But…

Even as she had these thoughts, she couldn’t help thinking that maybe, just maybe, she had done what she could. For example, she had made sure to have on hand whatever was necessary (like the all-important Adventurer’s Toolkit!) and to provide it when it was needed. She kept her eyes up during battle, using her sling to support her allies as best she could. During rests between adventures, she tried to take care of everyone, handing out food and water and so on.

And then there were the miracles that she alone in the party knew. Of course, Lizard Priest was far, far beyond her as a cleric. And it wasn’t as if she was the best user of miracles the world had ever seen. She sometimes screwed up. But still.

I wasn’t even rebuked this last time…!

She still had some bad memories about the Purified miracle, but this time she had succeeded. The thought brought her a little bit of happiness. Even the gods had acknowledged her. Almost as soon as she had the thought, she had another one: That was going a bit far. She admonished herself to remain humble.

But at the same time, she let the thoughts flow. The battle with the ogre, the fight beneath the water town, her dance at the harvest festival, the attack on the fortress and the training ground. Sure, she had failed at the elf village, but then she had challenged the Dungeon of the Dead, and had managed to play a small part at the snowy mountain as well. The events surrounding the wine for the offering had made her feel inexperienced, sure, but… When she actually counted out her activities like this, she started to think: Could it be that she was working harder than she realized? If she wasn’t, why would they talk of promoting her?

She was never going to be able to do everything by herself. Even the Great Hero, even the archbishop of the water town, had worked with their own parties to save the world.

Heh, no, no. Maybe it was a certain kind of evidence of her growth that she was even willing to compare herself to august groups like those. It said in the Scriptures: “The moment one thinks one is enlightened, one is not enlightened. Such a one is still deluded.” In the end, Priestess’s thoughts kept swirling around the same place. She understood her lack of self-confidence was one of her failings, but she had no good way to measure her growth, either. It was a question with no sure answer, and it left her feeling like she was chasing her own tail.

“No.” For this very reason, it was a great joy to her to see him shake his head. “The more cards one has to play at the crucial moment, the greater a help it is.”

As ever, he said a little less than she would have liked.

“…” Priestess pursed her lips in a pout but soon giggled at her own childishness. The laughter helped buoy her spirits, and she smiled and said, “Listen.” She put up a finger to emphasize her words. “I don’t think that’s really a compliment.”

“Hrk…”

“What you’re really saying is that I’m just there, but I don’t do anything.”

This provoked a quiet grunt from inside Goblin Slayer’s helmet. Priestess placed a gold coin on the counter with no small conviction, then began to shuffle away. When she reached the door of the building, she turned, her golden hair rippling. On her face was a broad smile. “So I’m going to help her for real—you’ll see!”

It was a statement of her intentions, as well as a sort of vow. If she didn’t manage to do it, then she would not accept promotion even if it were offered to her. And just the ability to say this made her feel more confident, even if she had no special basis for it.

“…” The unusual adventurer in the cheap-looking metal helmet was silent for a while, then simply said what he always said: “Is that so?”

So Priestess, too, answered as she always did: “It certainly is.”

He brushed past her and out of the building. Priestess pattered after him. Behind them, the masked employee was giving a bow of the head. “We await your next visit.”

“Of course,” Priestess said with new certainty, turning back to offer a brief bow of her own.

Next time— Next time she would make sure she could come here with full confidence, even if she was alone. That was her goal, what she wanted to become. Like the red-haired elf. Like Witch. Like the archbishop. Or perhaps, like a Silver-ranked adventurer.

“I’ve decided on our destination.”

“Don’t tell me…the castle?”

“No.”

They went through the door as they had this conversation. There was no sign now of the lizardman who had been tossed out nor of the spy or his red-haired friend. Priestess didn’t think she had been in the building all that long, but it suddenly seemed like ages since she had felt the outdoor air on her skin. And at last she realized what it was she was smelling, the faint, familiar aroma.

Huh, so that’s it…

The air here might seem different, but the smell of rain, it seemed, was the same everywhere. For reasons she didn’t understand, the thought made Priestess very happy.