The next morning came with the crisp mountain air and the faint smell of burning coal that Goblin Slayer was becoming familiar with. Rising early from the comfort of the guest bed, the teenager's mind was still buzzing with thoughts from the previous day, as he began getting himself ready for the day— strapping on what remained of his armor, before meeting Grusha in the living room, where she was nose-deep in a book.
After exchanging pleasantries of how one another slept, they made their way to the Chieftain's long-hut— the same massive iron and wood structure looming over them like a fortress within a fortress from the night prior.
Inside, the long-hut was bustling with orcs, warriors, and workers alike, all gathered for breakfast. It smelled of cooked meat, freshly baked bread, and strong ale. Grusha led him to a long table where plates of food were already set. They sat side by side, the noise of conversation filling the space around them.
As they ate, Grusha spoke between bites, casually pointing out the various members of her clan. "Over there, that's Chief Forgehart's eldest son. He's next in line to lead the clan. And that's my cousin, Harka—she's one of the best archers we've got." She nodded toward a group of orcs nearby, her voice light and teasing. "But don't worry, none of them are interested in you like Sofia was last night~!"
Goblin Slayer grunted, keeping his attention on his food. "I wasn't worried."
Grusha chuckled, leaning back in her seat. "Sure you weren't!" She then took a swig of ale and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "You'll be mining today, right? You ready for that kind of work?"
Goblin Slayer nodded, his expression focused. "I'll manage."
"Good. Mining's tough, but it's honest work. If you need help, just ask one of the others— they already know the ropes."
After they finished their meal, the two of them parted ways. Grusha was off to join her patrol— her greatsword slung over her shoulder, as she joined a group of other orcish warriors. Goblin Slayer, meanwhile, made his way toward a group of miners waiting near the entrance of the stronghold. The group greeted him with gruff nods and silent approval, and together they began their trek up the steep trail leading deeper into the Iron Flower Mountains.
The trail was rugged, winding through rocky terrain and dense patches of forest. The scent of pine hung heavy in the air as the group climbed higher, the sounds of wildlife gradually fading away as the landscape turned more barren and cold.
After what felt like hours of walking, they reached their destination: the Shiver Rose Mine. The entrance was carved into the side of the mountain, a massive arch of stone that looked like it had been hewn by giants. The inside was dark, lit only by the occasional lantern hung on wooden beams.
The mine's overseer, a broad-shouldered orc with a thick beard, approached Goblin Slayer and handed him a pickaxe. "You've got a quota," the overseer grunted. "Two-hundred kilos of metal by the end of the day. It'll be delivered to Torug, as payment for your helmet."
Goblin Slayer gave a sharp nod and hefted the pickaxe over his shoulder, following the other miners into the depths of the mine.
The work was grueling. The rhythmic sound of pickaxes striking stone echoed through the tunnels, the air thick with dust and the stifling heat of the enclosed space. Goblin Slayer worked tirelessly, the hours blending together as he chipped away at the stone, sweat dripping from his brow and soaking his clothes beneath his leather pieces of weathered armor.
His muscles burned with every swing of the pickaxe, but he pressed on, determined to meet the quota. The thought of the new helmet, forged by Torug's skilled hands, drove him forward.
After over twelve hours of hard labor, the group finally called it a day. They had met their quota, and Goblin Slayer could barely stand from the exhaustion. His body ached, his hands raw from gripping the pickaxe for so long. His stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since breakfast.
The miners trudged back down the trail toward Forgehart Stronghold, their pace slower than before. The sun had long since set, and the night air was cool against Goblin Slayer's sweat-soaked skin.
By the time he reached the stronghold, Goblin Slayer was nearly stumbling with exhaustion. His mind was foggy, his body screaming for rest. But before he could collapse, he knew he needed to clean up. Dragging his feet behind him, the gray-haired teenager made his way to Grusha's apartment— using the wall as support to carry himself up five-flights of stairs, before finally knocking on her door with what little strength he had left.
After a moment, the door opened, and Grusha stood there, still in her scaled, sleeveless-armor, but clearly more relaxed after her patrol. She raised an eyebrow at the sight of him, drenched in sweat and dirt. "Rough day?"
Goblin Slayer nodded, not trusting his voice.
"Come on in," she said, stepping aside to let him inside.
The warmth of her apartment enveloped him as he stepped through the door. The fire in the hearth crackled softly, casting a soft glow over the tapestries and weapons that lined the walls. Grusha closed the door behind him and locked it, giving him a small, sympathetic smile. "You look like you could use a bath."
Goblin Slayer didn't argue. He was too tired to do anything but agree. "Where's the bathroom again?" he asked, his voice hoarse from the long day.
Grusha smirked. "Past the kitchen, on your left— I'll go get you another towel."
She headed toward a small cabinet as Goblin Slayer trudged toward the bathroom— his legs feeling like lead.
As he entered the bathroom, he glanced at the sink and the shower, still marveling at the ingenuity of it all. He turned on the shower, the sound of water filling the small room as he stripped out of his filthy clothes.
A few moments later, Grusha knocked on the bathroom door. "Towel's here," she said through the door, and he heard the soft thud of her placing it down.
"Thanks," he muttered, stepping into the shower.
As the warm water washed over him, Goblin Slayer felt the tension in his muscles slowly begin to ease. The dust and grime of the mine sluiced away, leaving him feeling refreshed for what else the night had in store for him.
Grusha eyed Goblin Slayer, as he stepped out of the bathroom— towel wrapped around his waist, water still dripping from his hair. A playful grin tugged at the corner of her lips. "You clean up well," she teased, her eyes gleaming mischievously. "So... Ready to eat?"
Goblin Slayer raised an eyebrow, still feeling the fatigue from the day, but hunger gnawed at him more than exhaustion. "Yeah. I could eat."
"Good," she said, clapping him lightly on the shoulder. "Let's head to the long-hut. They'll have plenty of meat from today's hunt waiting."
Soon enough, they were walking down the paved streets of Forgehart Stronghold, the night air cool and crisp, with the moon hanging high above— illuminating the streets in pale light.
Once inside, the sight was much the same as it had been that morning, though the crowd was larger. The long-hut was lively, filled with orcs of all shapes and sizes— warriors, workers, and even younglings, all gathered to feast. The massive hall, with its high ceilings and walls decorated with mounted monster heads and historical weapons, seemed even grander at night— lit by roaring fires and glowing lanterns.
Grusha led Goblin Slayer to a long table near the center of the room, where large platters of roasted meats, bread, and jugs of ale were already set out. The aroma was overwhelming, and Goblin Slayer wasted no time tearing into the food alongside the others.
As they ate, Grusha pointed out various members of her clan with subtle glances and whispers. But it was when Goblin Slayer was focused on a slice of meat that he felt a presence beside him. A small hand placed itself firmly on the edge of the table. He glanced over to see Sofia— the Chieftain's youngest daughter— standing beside him— her gaze sharp and unwavering.
She was small compared to the rest of the orcs, but her posture radiated authority, even for someone her age. Her dark hair was tied back neatly, and her green skin was a few shades lighter than Grusha's. Despite her youth, there was something serious about her.
"You're the outsider," Sofia said, not bothering with any formal greetings. Her voice was direct, almost commanding.
Goblin Slayer stopped eating, glancing at her before replying back, "I am."
Sofia crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing as she studied him closely. "Tell me about yourself. I want to know who you are."
Grusha, sitting beside Goblin Slayer, hid a smirk behind her hand, clearly amused by the child's boldness. "Careful," she teased softly. "Sofia doesn't ask for pleasantries; she demands them."
Sofia shot her a glance but didn't say anything in response. She kept her focus on Goblin Slayer, clearly expecting him to answer.
He paused, unsure of what exactly to say to someone so young and yet so serious. After a brief moment, he gave a slight nod, meeting her gaze. "I kill goblins," he said simply.
Sofia's expression didn't change. "Is that all there is to you?"
"For now, yes," Goblin Slayer replied, his voice calm.
Sofia seemed to consider his words for a moment before she nodded, almost as if she were judging whether or not that was good enough for her. "Phenomenal," she said finally, her tone as no-nonsense as ever. "The clan could use someone who knows how to deal with vermin."
Grusha couldn't hold back her laughter this time, and Goblin Slayer glanced at her, slightly confused. 'Is she…? Is she talking about goblins, or… Or is she talking about ACTUAL vermin? Like rats?' He wondered to himself, to which the orc woman seemed to understand as though she were a mind reader.
"Goblins! She was talking about goblins," Grusha said between chuckles. "Vermin. Goblins. Same difference, really."
Sofia, still standing firm, leaned in a little closer to Goblin Slayer, her voice dropping slightly as she asked, "And what us? Other than earning yourself a new piece of headgear, is there something else you're seeking from my clan?"
Goblin Slayer hesitated. "I… I was hoping for an alliance one day," he admitted. "I'm making my own guild, and I could use your clan's help."
Sofia studied him for a moment longer before she nodded, satisfied with his answer. "Then you'll have to prove yourself to us." With that, she turned sharply and walked back toward the table where her family sat, leaving Goblin Slayer to his thoughts.
Grusha leaned back in her seat, watching Sofia walk away. "Well," she said, nudging him with her elbow, "looks like you've caught more than just the attention of the Chief's daughter— she actually took the time to talk with ya! That's pretty impressive, Goblin Slayer!"
After the feast and Sofia's unexpected interrogation, Grusha led Goblin Slayer to her uncle's forge. The air outside was crisp, the moon and stars blanketed across the sky still looming over the tall walls of Forgehart Stronghold. The sounds of metal striking metal rang out, mixing with the ever-present scent of coal and iron.
The sight of Torug's forge was one that had been lost on Goblin Slayer, since his initial encounter with Grusha's uncle. Now that he had felt more comfortable with his new environment, the gray-haired teenager was able to have a better appreciation for Torug's forge— the sight of massive bellows puffed out clouds of steam, and warmth of the heat from the furnace could be felt from outside the workshop. Inside, the walls were lined with tools, ingots of various metals, and partially completed weapons hanging from racks. It was a place of craft and pride— a testament to the Forgehart Clan's expertise.
Torug stood at his workbench when he heard the door to his business opening up, all while in the midst of carefully inspecting a gleaming helmet. He turned at the sound of footsteps and grinned broadly when he saw Grusha and Goblin Slayer approach.
"Ah, there he is," Torug said, his deep voice booming. He held up the helmet, its surface gleaming under the forge's light. "I've been waiting to hand this over."
Goblin Slayer stepped closer, eyeing the helmet. It was crafted with precision, the dark, metallic hue of the alloy giving it an almost ethereal quality. From what he could tell, it felt far more durable than the shoddy iron helmet he had worn before, and the design was simple but refined, with enough detail to show Torug's craftsmanship without being overly ornate.
Torug handed it over with pride. "This here is made from orichalcum. Stronger than steel by far, and lighter too. Not many blacksmiths can work with it, but in the Forgehart Clan, it's a tradition. You won't find anything more durable on the side of the mountains— especially not for fighting those goblins you seem so fond of slaying."
Goblin Slayer held the helmet, feeling its weight and running his fingers along the smooth edges. He could tell it was designed to be both practical and protective, with minimal embellishment to ensure it wouldn't hinder his movements. The visor was narrow enough to protect his eyes without sacrificing visibility, and the ventilation would allow him to breathe easily even in the thick of battle.
"You've done good work," Goblin Slayer said, placing the helmet on his head— fitting perfectly over his head full of voluminous gray hair.
Torug grinned, crossing his arms over his chest. "That's just the start, lad. You should consider coming back. Let me make you a full set of orichalcum armor. With that, nothing will touch you— not goblins, not monsters, not even Pendragon's damned soldier-boys that he's so fond of sending out here."
Goblin Slayer gave the offer some thought. 'Having a full set of that sort of armor would be invaluable, but it would be at the cost of whatever element of stealth I've still got left. I already know that the goblins are going to be wary of my presence— once they catch a whiff of this freshly forged new helmet, that is.'
"I'll… I'll consider it," he said after a pause, his voice steady beneath the helmet.
Torug nodded, clearly pleased with the response. "Good. I'll be here when you're ready."
Grusha stepped forward, giving her uncle a brief hug. "Thanks, Uncle; you've really outdone yourself!"
Torug chuckled, waving a hand dismissively. "Just doing what I do best, lass. Now, you two get out of here, before I put you both to work!"
With that, Grusha guided Goblin Slayer out of the forge, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder as they walked. The helmet gleamed under the morning light, and Goblin Slayer felt a small sense of relief knowing he was better protected than before.
And as they made their way back through the stronghold's busy streets, Grusha glanced at him with a smile. "You know, Uncle Torug doesn't make offers like that to just anyone. He must like you."
Goblin Slayer tilted his head slightly. "I'll keep that in mind."
Grusha smirked and let the conversation drop as they made their way back to her apartment.
Once they reached her building, Grusha opened the door to her apartment and let Goblin Slayer step inside. She locked the door behind them, just as she had the previous night, and motioned for him to make himself comfortable.
"One more night before you head out," she said, her tone more casual but with a hint of something playful. "You've got a lot ahead of you— might as well enjoy some comfort, while you can."
Goblin Slayer nodded, setting his helmet down on the table before glancing out the window— feeling safe enough to do so. The view was the same as before— starry skies, the stronghold's lights below, and the towering mountains on the horizon. But for a brief moment, he felt at ease— a rare feeling that he allowed himself to experience, if only for a short while.
Grusha moved to her kitchen, pouring them both a drink from the small keg of ale she kept on the counter. "Here," she said, handing him a mug. "Let's end the night on a high note— have a drink with me."
Goblin Slayer took the mug but said nothing. As he took a sip, he could feel the warmth of the stronghold, both in the literal sense from the fire burning in the hearth and the more subtle sense of belonging he hadn't quite expected.
Grusha watched him for a moment before sitting beside him. She didn't say much, but the comfortable silence between them spoke volumes.
When morning came, Goblin Slayer and Grusha sat together in the Chieftain's long-hut— sharing their last meal before he set off once more. The long-hut was lively, as it always was during breakfast— with orcs laughing, clinking mugs, and enjoying hearty plates of meat, eggs, and bread. The warm atmosphere was in contrast to the unspoken tension between Grusha and Goblin Slayer as they ate side by side.
Grusha kept her tone casual, her green skin flush with the heat from the fire and perhaps a little from something else. She nudged him playfully as they finished their meal. "You know, now that you got a little taste of the good life, you're hella gonna miss this place. The food, the safety, the running water... M-Me, maybe?"
Goblin Slayer glanced at her, his expression hidden beneath his helmet, though his voice held a hint of something softer than usual. "H… How could I not?"
She chuckled, though it was slightly forced. Grusha was clearly trying to keep things light, but there was something else in her tone. After a few more moments of silence, she finally admitted, "Yeah… And, uh… As cheesy as it sounds, I… I think I really am gonna miss you. Like, I'm not even bullshitting right now when I say that I really, really, don't want you to go."
Goblin Slayer paused, considering her words. He wasn't used to people being so straightforward with their feelings. 'This… This has probably been the nicest anyone's ever been to me, since… Since Vivi was still alive,' the gray haired teenager realized silently— the revelation being bittersweet, as not only did it remind him of his deceased older sibling, but it served to remind him as well of what everyone else had thought of him, up until that point.
"I… I know, but… I'll return," he said, his voice calm and steady. "And… You're right: I'm going to miss this… Going to miss you too, Grusha."
Her eyes softened, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. That reassurance seemed to ease her, and she nodded, her hand resting on his for just a moment before she pulled it away. "So then don't keep me waiting, Goblin Slayer."
After breakfast, Goblin Slayer walked alone through the paved streets of the stronghold. The sky above the Iron Flower Mountains was clear, the morning sun casting a golden glow on the dark brick roads. Orcs were busy with their daily tasks, the clang of hammers and the hum of industry filling the air.
As he made his way toward the stronghold's gates, two guards in full orichalcum armor stepped in front of him. At first, Goblin Slayer's instincts kicked in, his hand subtly moving toward his short sword, but the guards showed no signs of aggression.
One of them then stepped forward, presenting a finely crafted wooden box. "A gift," the guard said, his voice gruff yet respectful. "From Lady Sofia."
Goblin Slayer blinked beneath his helmet, momentarily surprised. 'A present? From that child? Why? We only spoke briefly, and even then… Didn't she say that I had to prove myself first? Whatever the hell that meant? Why would she bother giving me something like this?'
Brushing off the confusion that those thoughts brought, the gray-haired teenager gingerly opened the box to find a sleek, lightweight tomahawk. Its handle was smooth, and the blade gleamed with a dark sheen of— appearing expertly crafted, and balanced for one-handed use. 'Looks like something Torug would forge… Come to I think of it, he probably did make this thing.'
"She wanted to make sure you came back safely," the guard added. "So you'll return to her."
Goblin Slayer studied the tomahawk for a moment before hooking it onto his belt, opposite his short blade. "I'll make sure it's put to good use; tell her I said thank you."
The guard nodded, and with that, they stepped aside, allowing Goblin Slayer to continue on his way. As he neared the gates of Forgehart Stronghold, the tall walls and towers loomed overhead. He glanced back at the stronghold one last time, thinking about his time spent here.
Grusha, with her fiery spirit and unspoken affection. Sofia, who had shown him kindness in her own quiet way. And the Forgehart Clan, who had taken him in, if only for a short while.
Stepping onto the "Fallen Pedal Trail," Goblin Slayer began his trek through the Iron Flower Mountains. The path wound through craggy cliffs and thick pines, the air cool and fresh with the scent of snow from the higher peaks. As he walked, he reflected on what he had learned at the stronghold. He specifically thought of Grusha's words— her belief in his potential to lead his own guild.
"So long you keep your mind open to more than just goblin killing, that is! I mean, eventually you're gonna run out of goblins in the area to kill…"
"… You'll get there soon, Goblin Slayer… I think you have what it takes."
He wasn't entirely sure what the future held, but for the first time in a long while, he felt the faint stirrings of hope.
"I… I can do this… I can do this," Goblin Slayer murmured to himself beneath the visor of his brand new helmet— as though he were whispering a mantra.