Twilight bathed Crossbell's fashion district in a soft, golden glow, the fading light casting long shadows over the cobblestone sidewalks and the perfectly paved, brick-lined streets. The entire area felt like a grand spectacle— filled with the warmth of steampunk-era lights that hung elegantly from tall, iron posts.
Sleek, colorful vehicles rolled smoothly down the streets— polished creations of brass and glass— blending technology and luxury. Massive billboards lined the skies, all which displayed elegant advertisements for high-end fashion, perfumes, and dining— their neon lights flickering to life as the night began to settle in.
The air was filled with music— smooth jazz, swing, and classical pieces playing from speakers hidden throughout the district, which created a rhythmic backdrop for the laughter and chatter of Crossbell's elite. Shops lined both sides of the streets, with their windows gleaming with displays of expensive clothes, shoes, and accessories. The entire district gave off the aura of an upscale world that existed in its own bubble— a place where wealth and luxury were celebrated.
Goblin Slayer walked with his companions through the throngs of elegantly dressed residents, with his arms loaded with shopping bags. Despite the usual tension in his posture, tonight he was different—more at ease, and more open.
He glanced at the scene around him— his crimson eyes taking in the grandeur of Crossbell as they moved from shop to shop. While he wasn't quite used to this kind of environment, after the heart-to-heart with High Elf Archer earlier, he couldn't help notice how light he felt. His usual stoic expression had softened, and he even found himself enjoying the moment.
Beside him, High Elf Archer strode ahead— her light green hair catching the soft glow of the streetlights. She wore a beautiful white and gold dress she had just picked up from one of the more extravagant boutiques, with the fabric shimmering with every step she took. Her arms were adorned with shopping bags, and she happily slurped on her iced coffee, with a blissful grin on her face as she led the way.
"This place is amazing," she said, her voice bubbling with excitement. "I never realized the Fashion District was THIS fancy! I've heard about it, sure, but being here is something else entirely!"
"You're telling me," Dwarf Shaman chimed in, while walking alongside Lizard Priest. His thick fingers wrapped around the straw of his iced coffee as he took another long sip. "Look at these folk— rich and spoiled, the lot of 'em. Practically all human, too. I don't see many like us walkin' about."
He gestured around at the residents of Crossbell— most of them human, and dressed in their finest— tailored suits, elegant dresses, and lavish accessories. They strolled the streets without a care in the world, while chatting and laughing as if nothing existed outside of this bubble of luxury.
Arc Mage, who walked just behind High Elf Archer and beside Goblin Slayer, let out a knowing chuckle— twirling a lock of her blond hair between her fingers. "That's because you're in the heart of the Pendragon Empire's playground for the rich," she said, her voice carrying the kind of authority that came from extensive knowledge. "Crossbell is where all the nobles and merchants go to spend their fortune! It's designed this way— everything from the stores to the architecture. Every aspect of this place is meant to reinforce the idea that those who have money are the ones who matter."
High Elf Archer tilted her head, glancing back at Arc Mage. "Really? I mean, yeah, I figured this whole place was fancy, but... I never thought about it like that."
Arc Mage nodded, while gesturing toward one of the glowing billboards that advertised a high-end perfume with a beautiful human model smiling down from above. "It's all part of the Pendragon Empire's design. Crossbell thrives on the idea of excess— everything here is about catering to those with the wealth to afford it. And because it's the heart of the Empire's commerce, they've created a system where only the privileged get to experience this level of luxury."
Dwarf Shaman let out a low hum of approval. "I'll give 'em that, lass. They've done a fine job making it look good, even if it's a bit over the top."
Lizard Priest— who had been silent up until this point— spoke up, his deep, thoughtful voice adding a layer of contemplation to the conversation. "It is true that this place offers an unparalleled sense of safety and comfort. Those fortunate enough to be born into Central County world live in a paradise of wealth and security— even if they're not necessarily living in Crossbell."
He then paused, with his eyes scanning the elegantly dressed people laughing, as they carried shopping bags filled with expensive goods. "But beyond these walls... It is a different story. Those in the frontier are left to fend for themselves— facing dangers that those here could never imagine. It's a harsh contrast, but it's one that the system has perpetuated."
Goblin Slayer nodded quietly, as he took in Lizard Priest's words. He adjusted the shopping bags in his arms, his demeanor more relaxed than usual. "This place," he said after a moment, his voice thoughtful. "It's easy to speak about it from a moral high ground, when comparing it to how people live out in the frontier, but… I don't see it that way, not entirely," the teenager mused, before further explaining, "I see everything around us as a look into what the future could hold— not just for a select few, but for everyone across all of Zemuria."
Arc Mage smiled wryly. "Exactly. That's why the true Crossbell exists— behind the veil of luxury and pretty lights, there's a wealth of resources that are accumulated for the sole purpose of innovation, for the future," the blond woman said with a giddy look in her green eyes, before chuckling as she reached up to adjust her glasses. "The Empire's future, to be exact. But still, the future nevertheless!"
High Elf Archer looked around, her green eyes wide as she absorbed the information. "Huh... I guess I never really thought about it like that. Guess that makes sense why this place always looks different when I come here… But, still..." She smiled as she twirled in her dress, the gold trim catching the light. "It's hard to blame people for having fun here, you know? They're not the ones to blame for living the life they were given."
Goblin Slayer's lips curled into a small, almost imperceptible smile as he watched her. He couldn't deny that he was enjoying himself, too. "Are you one of those people who we shouldn't be blaming, Arthemis?" He asked playfully, with his tone lighter than usual.
High Elf Archer glanced over her shoulder at him, her grin widening. "I sure am! Besides, like you're one to talk, "Guild Leader"!"
He let out a quiet chuckle, surprising even himself. "Like you said— can't blame us for living the lives we were given…!"
"That's the spirit!" High Elf Archer chimed, turning to lead them toward yet another upscale establishment— her excitement palpable. "Now come on! Just one more store, I promise!"
"You said that last time. And the time before that," the gray-haired teenager pointed out, with his tone teasing as he followed her.
Arc Mage raised an eyebrow. "Don't you remember the rule of the Fashion District, Ashta? There's always one more store!"
Lizard Priest chuckled softly, with his long tail swishing behind him as they approached the entrance of a boutique. "Indulgence is the lifeblood of this place, after all."
As they stepped inside, the music shifted to a lively swing tune, and the cool air from the store's vents washed over them. High Elf Archer immediately darted toward the racks of clothing, with her eyes gleaming with excitement.
Goblin Slayer shook his head, though the small smile remained on his lips. "She really loves this, doesn't she?"
"She does," Arc Mage said with a knowing smirk. "And I think you're starting to as well."
He didn't respond right away, but there was a softness in his expression that wasn't usually there.
The restaurant they had chosen for dinner was a Tekkadenese fusion sushi spot. The entrance was framed by an indoor, artificial river that wound its way through a serene zen garden— complete with smooth stones, bonsai trees, and raked sand patterns.
Neon lights bathed the restaurant's interior in a soft, electric glow— bouncing off the sleek glass tables and giving the entire space a modern, almost club-like atmosphere. Overhead, gentle fusion jazz played— a smooth blend of traditional gagaku instruments mixed with modern club beats, creating a tranquil yet lively ambiance.
Goblin Slayer, seated cross-legged on a cushion at a low, traditional table, found himself enjoying the aesthetic of the place more than he'd expected. The soft light, the elegant decor, the music— it all felt strangely calming. But as he stared down at the chopsticks in his hand, he frowned.
'… What kind of snobby place doesn't even offer forks?' He wondered to himself, while trying and failing yet again to pick up a slippery noodle from his bowl of yakisoba. Watching as the lone noodle coiled back on top of the pile of food he had in his bowl, the teenager let out a low groan before looking up to glance around the table at his companions.
Dwarf Shaman sat nearby, holding a sake bottle to his lips as he guzzled the fine alcohol straight from the bottle— clearly enjoying himself, though there was a scowl on his face.
He slammed the bottle down, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Bloody bastards," he grunted. "They're all culture vultures…! Stealin' bits and pieces from everywhere, mixin' it up to make it their own. Hmph!" Despite his grumbling, a look of impressed satisfaction crept onto his face as he raised the bottle again. "But damn if this sake ain't delicious."
The table in front of them was a feast for the senses. Sushi boats overflowed with colorful rolls— dragon rolls, caterpillar rolls, spicy tuna— alongside bowls of steaming ramen, garlic fried rice, tempura vegetables and shrimp, and delicate slices of sashimi. A mix of traditional Tekkadenese dishes with a modern flair. Seaweed salad glistened in small bowls, while yakisoba and tempura filled the air with their fragrant aromas.
Lizard Priest was already devouring his meal— his massive bowl filled to the brim with everything he could pile in. His eyes were half-closed in bliss as he chewed through a mouthful of food, occasionally muttering between bites. "Best thing... I've ever tasted," he mumbled, before diving back into his bowl— scarfing down the food as though it were his last meal.
High Elf Archer, seated gracefully across from him, raised an eyebrow and gave him a teasing smirk. "You say that about everything you eat," she quipped, while popping a piece of tempura shrimp into her mouth.
Lizard Priest, unabashed, simply nodded as he chewed— too content to argue.
Arc Mage, meanwhile, was idly picking at a bowl of seaweed salad— her gaze drifting over the restaurant's intricate decor. "You're not wrong, Mr. Bhaston," she began in her usual analytical tone, "Businesses here who come from Great Victoria are infamous for adopting cultural practices from other nations— especially Tekkadenese culture. They cherry-pick the aspects that are exciting, like food, fashion, and entertainment, while discarding what they deem unnecessary. It's a process of selective appropriation— essentially, plagiarism on a grand scale."
Dwarf Shaman gave her a sidelong glance, taking another swig from the bottle. "Plagiarism, aye? That's puttin' it lightly. Buncha thieves, I say! Just like the bloody Empi-imph?!" Before he could say more, Arc Mage suddenly leaned over and shoved a whole onigiri into his mouth— cutting him off mid-rant.
"Shhh," she whispered with a sly smirk. "The walls have ears, remember? Taboos exist for a reason...!"
Dwarf Shaman, wide-eyed and caught off guard, chewed slowly— grumbling through the onigiri but clearly enjoying it. "Hmph," he muttered, swallowing the rice ball. "Bloody delicious."
High Elf Archer, seemingly unbothered by the drama, dipped a piece of dragon roll into soy sauce and a bit of wasabi before popping the entire thing into her mouth. She chewed happily— her minty-green hair shimmering in the neon light as her bright eyes wandered over to Goblin Slayer. He was still struggling with his chopsticks, awkwardly trying to maneuver a noodle out of his bowl.
"Hold up," she said with a playful laugh, while leaning over toward him. "Here, let me help."
Before he could protest, she deftly used her own chopsticks to grab a bite of yakisoba, lifting it up toward him with a grin. "Say ahh," she teased, her tone soft and affectionate.
Goblin Slayer's cheeks immediately flushed red. He hesitated for a moment, clearly embarrassed, but High Elf Archer's playful demeanor was impossible to resist. Slowly, he leaned forward, his face inches from hers, and shyly took the bite from her chopsticks. His eyes widened as he chewed, the flavors bursting in his mouth.
"You were right, Jaree," he said quietly, glancing over at Lizard Priest. "This IS the best food ever…!"
Lizard Priest nodded sagely, his mouth full of food.
High Elf Archer smiled, with her own cheeks tinged pink. "Knew you'd love it here," she said, while dipping her chopsticks back into his bowl to help him with another bite. She couldn't hide the satisfied grin on her face as she leaned in again, offering him more.
But before the moment could continue, Dwarf Shaman dramatically slammed his sake bottle down on the table— standing up with a dark shadow falling over his face. His expression was overly serious, like he was about to make some grand declaration.
"I will not," he said in a low, intense voice, "sit by and watch my culture be bastardized any longer!"
Arc Mage, Lizard Priest, High Elf Archer, and Goblin Slayer all stared at him— bewildered.
"That's it!" Dwarf Shaman declared, marching around the table. He wedged himself between High Elf Archer and Goblin Slayer— causing her to yelp in outrage, as he pushed her slightly aside. He turned to face the confused teenager, who now had a single bead of nervous sweat trickling down his cheek.
"Uhhh...?!" Goblin Slayer started, but Dwarf Shaman cut him off by snatching the chopsticks from his hand.
"Ye've been doin' it all wrong," Dwarf Shaman said gruffly, handing the chopsticks back to Goblin Slayer and positioning his fingers properly. "Hold 'em like this. Now watch—ye pinch with the top stick, aye, just like that. Slowly now. There ye go."
Goblin Slayer, under Dwarf Shaman's careful instruction, slowly picked up a piece of his caterpillar roll. He dunked it in soy sauce and a bit of wasabi, finally managing to get it into his mouth without dropping it.
Dwarf Shaman grinned, patting the gray-haired teen on the back. "There ye go, lad! Ye did it!"
Goblin Slayer chewed, the taste hitting him immediately. "Thanks… I knew I was doing something wrong there— I just didn't know what it was," he said, smiling sheepishly.
Dwarf Shaman chuckled, stepping back to his side of the table, but not before accidentally bumping High Elf Archer again with his backside.
"Watch it, old man!" High Elf Archer snapped playfully, while shoving him slightly.
Dwarf Shaman barked out a laugh. "Aye, I'll get outta yer hair, lass!" He reassured, before bowing dramatically to Lizard Priest and Arc Mage, as they clapped for him.
"Well executed," Arc Mage said, while grinning in delight.
Lizard Priest gave a slow, approving nod. "It's good to teach others the ways of different cultures."
As Dwarf Shaman settled back into his seat, Arc Mage glanced around the restaurant with a soft smile. "I have to admit, the Tekkadenese culture is fascinating. They've really perfected the art of blending tradition with modernity. The fusion of aesthetics is... Perfection."
Dwarf Shaman raised an eyebrow at her. "Careful, lass, ye're soundin' like a bit of a culture vulture yerself."
Arc Mage smirked, not missing a beat. "Oh, I know: I'm an "Otaku"!"
Dwarf Shaman snorted, shaking his head. "Aye, that's just a fancy way of sayin' "weeb," ye know."
Arc Mage just smiled back. "Guilty as charged!"
As laughter filled the air, the group settled back into their meal, the neon lights reflecting off the shimmering water of the artificial river beside them. The fusion jazz played softly in the background, and for this moment, all was right in their world.
Goblin Slayer knelt by the low chabudai table in the hotel suite, and was intently watching as Arc Mage demonstrated the intricacies of the portable gramophone he had bought for Remi. The wooden finish gleamed under the soft light of the lanterns, its brass horn curving elegantly upward. Arc Mage, seated beside him, carefully turned the dials with a practiced ease.
"First, you set the needle down," she explained, her voice patient and steady, "and then— just like this— it picks up the vibrations and plays the sound." The soft hum of the vinyl filled the room briefly before she flicked a switch. "Now, here's the radio function. These dials control the frequency. See? AM and FM, but we're going to focus on FM for better quality."
Goblin Slayer followed her every move, his hand mimicking hers as she guided him. "This is for Storm Lord, you said?" She asked, her lips curving into a small smile.
"Yes," he replied, adjusting the dial as instructed. "They're a musician. I thought they'd like it."
Arc Mage nodded approvingly. "That would explain the amplifier and guitar you got."
Behind him, High Elf Archer lounged casually on the couch— her bare legs resting gently against the side of the teenager's shoulders. Her eyes, a bright green, remained fixed on him with a warm curiosity.
Lizard Priest, sitting on the opposite side of the room, subtly caught the affectionate look in her eyes as she gazed at the back of Goblin Slayer's head— a soft smile forming on his lips as he sipped his tea.
Dwarf Shaman snored in the corner— collapsed into the oversized papasan chair. He was far too intoxicated to appreciate the peaceful scene, with his loud snores the only disruption in the calm.
"Now this," Arc Mage continued, adjusting another knob, "changes the station. Let's see if we can find something interesting…"
After a brief moment of static, a boisterous voice boomed from the gramophone's built-in radio.
"Welcome back to The Rohan Experience! I'm your host, Joe Rohan, and today we have an amazing guest with us— the Prince of Zemuria himself, the Knight of Diamonds, Arthur Pendragon the Third!"
Goblin Slayer's hand paused on the dial. He glanced briefly at Arc Mage, who was equally intrigued.
"Arthur," Joe Rohan's voice continued, "It's an honor to have you here, man. How's it feel being royalty, huh?"
A smooth, composed voice responded— full of regal poise. "Thank you, Joe. It's an honor to be here. I've long admired your show. It's a refreshing place for open dialogue."
Joe chuckled, clearly pleased. "Well, we're gonna dive right in, Arthur. A lot of stuff's been happening in Zemuria, but what's on everyone's mind is what's being done about the tragedy at the Sahara Outpost. I mean... Ten thousand people, soldiers of the Empire, wiped out by Albion and picked off by the Moon Lord. What's your plan to make good on your promise for justice?"
Arthur's voice shifted, growing heavier with gravitas. "First, I extend my deepest condolences to the families of those who lost their lives at the outpost. Every one of them has my word— justice will come. The Empire does not forget its fallen."
High Elf Archer leaned in closer, her legs shifting slightly as she listened intently. Goblin Slayer's hand hovered over the dial, but he stayed quiet— focused.
"Promises are good, Arthur, but what are you gonna do?" Joe pressed. "I mean, reports say the outpost was wiped out before anyone from the Royal Army even got there. Who's responsible for that slow response?"
Arthur hesitated briefly before answering. "I… I must admit that our lack of presence within the Muhati Desert is a contributing factor of that. And I take full responsibility for all that went awry in the following aftermath," the prince said with humble conviction in his voice, before going on to say. "The Royal Army was sent in to eradicate Blackwatch from the area, no matter the cost, but… By the time they arrive to survey the area, they'd found all forces beneath Moon Lord to be eradicated."
"Eradicated, huh? Then who do you think did it?" Joe asked, his voice eager. "Was it Storm Lord, maybe?"
Arthur let out a low, thoughtful hum. "It's likely. Storm Lord has been known to act independently— clearing out threats without coordinating with the Royal Army, including diplomats who I tried sending to Delrivkat. Their unwillingness to cooperate with us continues to complicate matters."
"Complicate? More like obstruct," Joe countered. "Storm Lord's been nothing but a pain in your side, right? You can't get anywhere near Delrivkat without them sending your boys back with broken bones!"
Arthur's voice was steady, though tinged with frustration. "That's exactly why I've ordered my soldiers not to go within a kilometer of Delrivkat. As far who cleared out Blackwatch from the area, I can't imagine anyone else who would have done it. The Adventurers' Guild didn't even know about the outpost's destruction, until two days after it happened. As far as I know, the guild doesn't have information even as to where Moon Lord's basecamp was."
Joe's voice sharpened. "So, what you're saying is, it had to be Storm Lord. But let me ask you, Arthur— what got them off their lazy asses to do what the Royal Army and the Adventurers' Guild should've done, a year ago when Blackwatch first moved into the Muhati Desert?"
Arthur took a deep breath, his tone reflective. "Perhaps we've overstretched ourselves, Joe. The Empire has expanded beyond its reach. I've realized that now, and I'm working with my father and the cabinet to focus on securing the outer rim of Central County, before we even consider more expansion."
Joe's voice became more serious. "Stretching an empire too thin is dangerous, Arthur. What about the people in the frontier? What'll happen to them if you're pulling back forces to secure the rim?"
"That's a good question," Arthur admitted, his tone thoughtful. "Central County lies along the West coast of Zemuria, where the Avalon Sea meets the Atlas Ocean. Our focus will be on securing the Muhati Desert, the Highwind Plains, and the Cheyenne Marshes first— eradicating Blackwatch from those areas. Everything west of the Iron Flower Mountains will receive more attention, at least for the time being. Our eventual goal is to eventually secure our reach, all the way to the East Coast— providing the same protection and comfort that those living in Central County."
Joe nodded, his tone speculative. "One of the Empire's biggest criticisms is its failure to provide a first-world living standard to all of Zemuria. How do you plan to fix that?"
Arthur responded earnestly, "That's a problem I hope to solve within the next decade or so. It's why we're depending on the heroes of the frontier to continue sending resources back to Steelport's manufacturing plants."
Joe leaned in. "Yeah, but that's a tough sell, Arthur. How do you expect the frontier to support the Empire if they're not getting anything in return?"
Arthur's voice was firm. "We'll be funding the Adventurers' Guild ourselves. Frontier residents won't have to pay for help from adventurers anymore. They'll be part of the Royal Army, and the Guild will continue providing security."
"Mercenaries, then?" Joe pressed.
Arthur sighed. "If that's what you want to call them, Joe, then yes."
Joe quickly added, "I'm not trying to step on your toes, Arthur. I just call it like I see it."
Arthur's tone softened. "I understand, Joe. And I agree that freedom of speech is important. But in these trying times, we need unity— not anarchy."
Joe shifted gears. "What about the Forgehart Clan? You really think they'll let the Royal Army occupy their stronghold? Because from what everyone knows already, they have more reasons to align themselves with Blackwatch than with the Royal Army."
Arthur's voice darkened. "Blackwatch preys on fear. They're terrorists. And I'm aware of the bloody history between the Empire and the natives of Zemuria. I'm working tirelessly to right those wrongs. My vision is for prison reform, more rights for everyone. One day, I hope we'll stop calling them "subjects" and start calling them citizens— including the Forgehart Clan."
Joe was impressed. "That's a radical view, man. What'll the higher-ups in Great Victoria think of that?"
Arthur replied passionately, "Great Victoria should govern itself, in the same way that Zemuria needs to govern itself. It's time to hand the torch to the people."
Joe chuckled. "That's noble, Arthur. But let's circle back to the Forgehart Clan. What if diplomacy doesn't work? Cause I have to be real with you man: everything you said is nice, and progressive, but none of it aligns with the alpha-power hierarchy structure that orc society runs on. Change through them is made by strength. Arthur— not by empty promises."
Arthur responded firmly, "Violence only creates more violence; I'm hoping to avoid engaging in battle with the Forgehart Clan. I also recognize that orc culture is different from our own; in their eyes, a community is only as strong as the one that leads it. Which is why my Royal Court and I will be leading in the morning to make our way to their stronghold— I believe negotiating in person with the Forgehart Clan's chieftain is the best way to avoid bloodshed."
Joe acknowledged it, his tone neutral. "That's all you can share?"
"I'm afraid so, Joe."
Joe's voice softened as he wrapped up. "Well, Arthur, thanks for joining me and being real. It's been an honor."
"The honor is mine, Joe," Arthur replied, his voice sincere.
Joe ended the show with his usual enthusiasm. "And that's it, folks! Another killer episode of "The Rohan Experience". Thanks for listening, and remember— stay curious!"
Goblin Slayer sat frozen— his wide eyes locked on the radio. His body was rigid, every muscle tense. He barely breathed, his face ghost white— drained of what little color he had to begin with. The lively conversation from The Rohan Experience faded into the background, replaced by the thundering of his pulse in his ears.
He couldn't move. Couldn't speak.
Arc Mage, sitting beside him, noticed his reaction. She raised a single brow, more curious than concerned. An intrigued grin crept across her face as she observed him, tilting her head slightly as if studying a rare specimen. "What's this now…?" She mused, her voice lilting— clearly entertained by his uncharacteristic reaction.
High Elf Archer, still lounging on the couch behind Goblin Slayer, leaned over his shoulder. Her hands rested gently on his armored shoulders, and she turned her head to get a look at his face. When she saw his expression, her heart jumped.
Her casual demeanor vanished, quickly replaced with escalating concern. "Orcbolg? Hey, are you okay?" She asked softly, giving his shoulders a gentle shake. His shuddering, stiff body made her panic even more. "What's wrong? Say something!"
Her worry caught Lizard Priest's attention. His reptilian eyes flickered toward Goblin Slayer, sensing something was very wrong. Even Dwarf Shaman, who had been snoring blissfully in the papasan chair, stirred awake at the commotion— rubbing his eyes and blinking drowsily.
After a long, agonizing pause, Goblin Slayer finally spoke, his voice quiet and sober, almost as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. "... We need to leave."
High Elf Archer blinked, her hands still gripping his shoulders. "Leave? What, why? What's happening?!"
Goblin Slayer's voice shook slightly as he stood up abruptly, before gathering his belongings with an urgency they hadn't seen in him before. "We need to get to the Evergreen Forest... Before the Knight of Diamonds and his court arrive at their stronghold."
Lizard Priest stood as well, watching Goblin Slayer carefully. "Why the haste, Mr. Ashta? What danger do you foresee?"
"There's going to be a battle— I know there is," Goblin Slayer muttered, his tone grim as he strapped his sword to his side. "The Forgehart Clan has been anticipating an invasion— when they see Arthur and all the soldiers he'll have with him, they'll more than likely take that as an act of aggression. We need to be at the fortress near their stronghold before that happens."
High Elf Archer's face paled. She stood up, gripping his arm now, her voice laced with worry. "Why don't we wait it out then? It'd be safer if we just let the conflict resolve itself, wouldn't it?"
Arc Mage, still seated, smirked knowingly as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place in her mind. "Ah… I think I understand." She leaned back, crossing her arms. "You have personal ties to the Forgehart Clan, don't you, Ashta?"
Her eyes sparkled with accusatory glee as she added, "It's like you said to Xavniik: you're willing to die, so long as your guild can outlive you! You want everything in place before you go out to help the Forgehart Clan fight that battle, don't you?!"
Goblin Slayer flinched, guilt flashing across his face as he froze mid-movement. He swallowed the lump in his throat and turned to face his companions, all of whom were now staring at him— each with a different expression.
Arc Mage was grinning, her gaze sharp, as if waiting for confirmation of her theory. High Elf Archer, Lizard Priest, and Dwarf Shaman looked surprised, the weight of the situation finally dawning on them.
Dwarf Shaman, still shaking off the remnants of his drunken stupor, blinked at Goblin Slayer. "Wait, is that true? What she said?"
The teenager hesitated, with his fists clenching and unclenching before he finally spoke. "Yes," he admitted quietly. "I want to help them. They did right by me... And they could be allies." He paused, struggling with the words, before adding in a softer tone, "Some of them... Are my friends… I don't want them to die."
The room fell silent for a moment. High Elf Archer, clearly conflicted, opened her mouth to speak but couldn't seem to find the right words. She gripped his arm tighter, her voice breaking slightly as she asked, "And when we got to your fortress, did you really expect us to just let you go out there alone?! Against an entire army?! While we sit there and do nothing?!"
Her voice wavered with frustration and fear as she shook her head, stepping in front of him. "No," she said firmly, her green eyes brimming with passion. "I won't let the Royal Army kill you…! I refuse to stand by and watch them hurt someone I care about! I WON'T let that happen— NOT AGAIN!"
Goblin Slayer shuddered, visibly uncomfortable. "I don't want any of you to get hurt eith-"
Lizard Priest cut him off with a calm, knowing smile. "-Do not forget the words of the great warrior, "We fight not because we choose to, but because we must protect those we love"." He then stepped forward, before placing a reassuring hand on Goblin Slayer's shoulder. "We're not asking for your permission, friend. We're telling you— we'll fight by your side. No matter what lies ahead."
Goblin Slayer swallowed hard, panic rising in his chest as he tried to steady himself. His emotions were a storm within him. Before he could respond, Dwarf Shaman, still slightly swaying from the alcohol, staggered over to the group. "I dunno what all this ramblin' is about..." He slurred, scratching his beard, "but if it means a chance to kick the Royal Army's arse, count me in!"
The group then huddled closer to Goblin Slayer, each one placing a hand on his shoulders in a show of solidarity. High Elf Archer's grip tightened, her gaze fierce. Lizard Priest stood tall, his eyes calm yet resolute. Even Dwarf Shaman managed a determined smile, despite his inebriation.
Goblin Slayer's eyes welled up with emotion, a worried smile tugging at his lips. "I… I don't want to lose any of you… I… I can't lose anyone else…"
Arc Mage, who had remained quiet, stood up with a stretch— her confident smile never wavering. "Oh, come on— man up, Ashta! Didn't you already tell Xanviik that you wouldn't let anyone die on your watch— no matter how much of an impossible goal that really is?" She sauntered over, leaning casually against the wall. "You knew this was coming, kid, and Xanviik already wrote those letters of recommendation— it's too late to back out now."
Dwarf Shaman raised a brow at her, his voice thick with suspicion. "Wait, are you... Actually gonna help us fight, if it comes to that?"
Arc Mage let out a laugh. "Oh, hell no— not if I don't have to! I'll be staying in the fortress, where it's safe. But I'll be rooting for you all, don't worry," the blond woman replied bluntly, before her sardonic smile darkened. "Do not be mistaken though: I'll still step foot onto the battlefield, to see what's left that I can do a vivisection on… If there even is a battle, of course."
Goblin Slayer, surrounded by his friends, felt a mixture of dread and relief. These were the people willing to fight by his side—willing to risk everything for him. And in that moment, he silently affirmed his resolve.
'I won't let any of you die.'