Disclaimer: I do not own Goblin Slayer.

Betaed by: Zim'smostloyalservant and an anonymous friend.

Chapter 4

And so, time passed, with the Sewer Slayer becoming another odd and irregular fixture in the guild hall of a certain bustling frontier town.

"I'm sorry, what do you mean?" Cowgirl asked, eyes wide behind her helm. Guild Girl smiled and Inspector grinned, while the overseeing adventurer looked bored.

"You've been approved for promotion to Obsidian rank. And since the second rank doesn't require review from the capital branch, you can receive your tag immediately, and all associated benefits."

"There aren't any, really," Inspector admitted, earning a smiling glare from Guild Girl, who pulled the tag out of a drawer.

"But how could I be promoted? I only do the sewer quests. I've never even been on a goblin hunt, or escort work," Cowgirl objected. She wasn't even a full-time adventurer, for the Earth Mother's sake.

"True, which is why you've been kept at Porcelain for this long. Promotion from Porcelain to Obsidian is typically showing an acceptable degree of reliability as an adventurer and demonstrating basic competency in the rookie-level quests. So, your not adventuring even once a week hurt your chances, as did as your only doing the local sewer quests. But after years of sticking to this pattern, we can only conclude even if as part-timer, you are indeed reliable. And you have never once failed a quest. It doesn't hurt that you always have earned cooperative marks on filling out your paperwork and giving report. Also, you've done it all solo. While we prize teamwork, so many completed quests solo is a sign of capability," Guild Girl exclaimed, with her smile firmly on going through the paperwork.

"Takes all kinds, I suppose," the old adventurer shrugged, sitting to the right of the desk.

"Guess this makes you our guild's first Sewer Adventuring Specialist," Inspector cheered, clapping her hands.

"Er, thank you," Cowgirl said, accepting the Obsidian tag and handing in her chipped and stained Porcelain one.

X X X

Padfoot Waitress had the upper hand for the time being, but she knew her territory far too well to ever underestimate her opponents. The stakes were always high, and disaster was always near.

She was the waitress of the Adventurers Guild Tavern, and her adversaries were the customers and the limit of supplies. Every time the customers came in, they sought greatness, comfort, relief, and merriment. And her duty was to give all or any combination of those. She had only brief moments to assess what was needed. A celebratory atmosphere after achieving grand victory. Something soothing and recuperative after a frustrating brush with death. Peace and refreshment mourning the loss of comrades, or the frustration of yet another failed quest.

She was not an adventurer, but she saw herself as a vital part of the adventurers' lives. Aside from welcoming them back, the food she served could be the last meal many of her adventurers ever ate, so she had to make it a good one.

And it wasn't just serving food with a smile and the appropriate attitude and volume. She had to keep the dining room clean and smelling nice, and waiting until it cleared out wasn't an option. Filth and associated stink were her personal goblins, she thought, cropping up endlessly, and if you didn't pay attention, they'd overrun you.

And back in the kitchen, she had to convey the orders and portions to the chef and stick her paws in to help where she could, hoping she didn't get a wood spoon across her paws for her troubles. The storeroom also had to be checked to double-check the chef's calculations and ensure no vermin, mold, or some pigling thief had gotten into things. Even the loading area was her territory, to her reckoning. The moment food and supplies passed into the guild's custody, it was her sacred responsibility to see that mighty hoard spent wisely and justly, bringing joy to all!

And it wasn't just adventurers she served, either. And no, she didn't mean Apprentice Smith! That derpy dorky kid who was the same age as her! Ha, she only gave him food because she always ended up making too much or needed someone to test her latest fun culinary experiments on.

No, she was talking about the Guild Staff. Especially the flowers of the guild, and what scrawny flowers they were. Unnatural, to sit on their duffs all day and cast such blooming blossoms and wide tussles but such tragically tiny waists. They might thwart her with their unholy diets to date, but one day she would wear them down and spring, then it would be a row of proper pot bellies rounding things out. And with these bountiful portions, she'd soon have to say goodbye, those girls either whisked off by handsome or pretty adventurers enchanted with their beauty or promoted to higher spots fitting their solid confident stature. Then she'd get a new crop of tragic hourglasses to work on. Borf!

But that fantasy was for another time!

She swept through the crowd for late dinner. Her tray carried more drinks than meals now. The diners had switched to drinking mostly, with the holdouts being late arrivals. Some were laughing with rosy cheeks, others slumped in morbid contemplation. Odds are, she'd have to carry more than one big boy in armor to his room. No matter! She'd dragged full-grown lizard men away to sleep it off before, and she'd do it again! Waitress work wasn't for the faint of heart, otherwise she'd have help, but none had yet risen to her standards of excellence, to the chef's amusement and possible frustration.

And tonight had a special occasion. Female Knight, the warrior formerly known as Female Paladin, had requested a table for a girls' night. The blonde human warrior was yet again feeling put upon, something about her partner making off with their two boys and accusing him of leaving the girls out. If anything, Padfoot Waitress kind of assumed it was more the Knight saw Druid Girl as a sacrifice left behind. A good girl, loved her drink, but held it only moderately well, and a healthy appetite with a fondness for meat; but her tendency to thrust herself to the center of things could get old quick, she imagined.

The waitress remembered the failed efforts of her to teach her party math. Such an epic fail, and it wasn't the students to blame, as the Knight had practically transformed into a cackling villain while crunching numbers like a champ. Even for adventurers, Padfoot put that woman in a category with Goblin Slayer. The un-eating enigma who never set foot in her tavern. WHY!?

Anyway, party of four – that hot witch, Druid Girl, Female Knight, and the guest of honor, Sewer Slayer. She interpreted the order to have been that Female Knight had heard the slayer of sewers had been promoted, and voted herself to ensure the other lady adventurer got appropriate laurels, and turned it into a vengeance celebration for feeling left out.

Anyway, that was frittatas for four, with rolls and fried potatoes for sides. As for drinks, Witch was easy with grape wine, Female Knight would drink anything from beer to corn spirits, and even one night Dwarven fire wine, Druid Girl would get the hard cider while she minded her mentor, and well, Padfoot Waitress had no idea what Cowgirl would want.

People were so silly, the nose knows; even if hers looked human, it was still a padfoot nose. The Sewer Slayer getup might have covered her nice cowgirl scent, but she noticed her rival in bosom seemed like Sewer Slayer enough to hunt down the truth.

Why moonlight as a secret adventure? Unimportant. What was important was that table seven was running out of beer! She was needed, and must answer the call before it could be made!

X X X

"You really should commit, you know," Female Knight said, before taking a bite of a frittata. She'd switched from knocking back mead to eating, which seemed a bit backwards to Cowgirl. But then, she wasn't experienced at drinking like the blonde woman.

"Oh?" Cowgirl asked, carefully eating a piece of frittata through her visor. She still wasn't as skilled at that as Goblin Slayer, but it didn't make a mess.

"Yes. At least that unwashed Goblin Slayer does a lot of goblin quests. Instead of this part-time stuff," Female Knight said.

"Hmm, there are… many paths," Witch remarked.

"Well, some lead nowhere. At the rate you're going, you'll be old and gray before hitting Sapphire," the knight grumbled, before stuffing a whole frittata in her mouth.

"Oh, that's fine. I'm not in this for the rank-ups," Cowgirl waved off the concern. Druid Girl perked up at that. Cowgirl found the tiny Rhea adventurer interesting. She'd always imagined druids as rather earthy, like rangers or wizards with leaves and such. But her dresses were nicer than what Cowgirl wore, with only a few adornments of leaves and nice hats.

She'd also managed to hear she and Scout Boy were currently locked at Porcelain, as they had lied about their ages. Their seniors were clearly good people to accept penalties for employing the underage and giving both enough of a share in the party raids they could be so well-equipped and well-fed.

"Do you need the money then?" Druid Girl asked. Cowgirl had noted her quietly getting quite the share of frittatas. Rheas were known for their appetites, just like holding their spirits second only to Dwarves. Though weren't they supposed to not like shoes?

"Not really," Cowgirl admitted.

"Wanting to… prove… yourself?" Witch asked, taking a puff on her pipe.

"Uh, I don't think so?" Cowgirl pondered aloud, scratching the back of the helm.

"Don't tell us you fight giant vermin down in the sludge and don't know why," Female Knight demanded.

'Uh, I started by accident? Why do I keep this up? I've got to tell them something, and 'I don't know' has been taken off the list.'

"It's a hobby!" she blurted out loud, fearing she'd taken too long to answer.

"…Huh?" the Knight and Druid asked together. Even Witch seemed pretty wide-eyed, taking a sip of wine.

"Er, I need to get home, bye! Thanks for the night out!" she said, making her exit.

"…She kills giant rats because she enjoys it?" Druid Girl asked her senior. Female Knight grumpily chugged her drink.

"Maybe she is that weirdo's sister, after all."

"Huh," Witch remarked.

"Dessert?" Padfoot Waitress asked, startling the women.

It was only when she was halfway home that Cowgirl realized she had forgotten to take off her equipment and would have to hide it somewhere on the farm. No problem, she knew this place like the back of her hand, how hard would it be to hide something until she could smuggle it back to her guild locker?

X X X

"Hmm, not goblins?" Goblin Slayer wondered in the early morning light, inspecting the bundle of adventurer gear he'd found buried by a tree beyond the fence line.

"Mph?" Cowgirl wondered in her room, scrubbing herself down with the wash water. She just felt a strange feeling go down her back.

X X X

As the dishes were cleared from breakfast, Goblin Slayer put the dirty bundle on the table and unfolded it enough to let the helm slip out and fall over with dull clank. The Farmer raised an eyebrow, grabbing the last plate.

"Isn't your shed for tinkering with this stuff?" the landlord asked.

"Yes. And this is not mine. I found it buried by the eastern fence. Goblins would not stash tools for later. Also, aside from smelling like a toilet, it is too well-maintained for goblin gear," Goblin Slayer replied. His friend started scrubbing the dish in her hand more vigorously.

"Well, it's not mine, if you're asking. What's left of my old arms and armor are here in the house. Though I recall burying your armor was an old trick to get stenches out."

"I see."

"Well, maybe some adventurer left it there. It's not far from the road, right?" Cowgirl said amidst her scrubbing, taking the last dish from her uncle.

"It was not near the road, either," Goblin Slayer said.

"Well, it's not goblins, so no problem, right?" Cowgirl said, getting a good bit more suds on the counter than usual.

"Hmm, yes."

"Probably some adventurer who can't afford a storage locker stashed it there to get the smell out and keep it from being stolen."

"Well, they did a lousy job hiding it, and it's on the property, so you could sell it if you like. Finders-keepers is sort of an adventurer rule, right?" the Farmer said, looking more at her than Goblin Slayer, who was inspecting the helm.

"…No. What do you mean, storage locker?"

"Oh! Well, I heard from the tavern waitress that lots of adventurers stash their stuff in lockers that are rentable in the guild hall. For stuff you don't want on yourself at all times, but you don't have a room, or something you trust to stash them in," she said quickly.

"I see."

He had not known about that function of the guild. He would need to see some of these lockers. It could be worthwhile to store extra supplies there in case he was ever attacked from the guild or had to deploy rapidly from there. Assuming it was adequate.

"So, what about the armor? Going to put it back?" she asked.

"No, goblins might find and use it."

"Urg, so what then?" Cowgirl pressed.

X X X

The Smith raised an eyebrow.

"There's a story here. I'm too old to care normally, but this time…"

"Listen, this should cover it, can I have it back please!" Cowgirl whispered frantically, pointing to the bundle resting on the shelf behind the shop counter, with a white cloth wrapped around her head. Three Porcelains watched the scene with amusement, before the old man glared them back into browsing.

He accepted the purse she was offering with one hand, judged the heft, and peeked inside to confirm what kind of metal she had there. Yes, it was quite likely enough to buy back the whole set, including the belt pouch.

Now, he was certain that Goblin Slayer had not stolen that gear. That adventurer had never haggled once, and in his own way was the definition of good manners. He had no proper respect for weapons, but he also wasn't obsessed with magical weapons or "legacy weapons", like so many fools. Weapons were tools, they demanded respect, but that also meant not thinking too highly of them and neglecting your own skills as a result.

Sewer Slayer never had odd requests, but naturally gossip whirled around strange adventurers as it did around weirdos in any workplace. How had Goblin Slayer gotten her gear, and why had he sold it instead of returning it? The only answers he could think of was some sort of argument, with her gear being seized and sold like a parent trying to block their kid's ambition. Or that Goblin Slayer had either not known who it belonged to and turned it in, exactly like he said. Well, more or less; that boy was more miserly with his words than Smith was with comments. Or maybe this girl had decided to quit and sent him to sell her stuff, only to change her mind.

"Well, it's none of my business," he huffed. He really did want to know, but grilling the distressed girl was just not in him. He plucked out a few coins and dropped the purse before setting the bundle on the counter.

"Huh?" She said, reaching for both but stopping.

"Consider that an idiot fee, whatever happened. I'm a proud shopkeeper, as well as tradesman. It's beneath me to sell back someone's property. But take these coins as a warning that I won't be so nice a second time. Even a smith who only makes horseshoes should never lose respect for the hands of the forge," he said.

She bowed slightly, muttered a thanks, then scampered off with her money and stuff.

"…So, you going to buy anything? I ain't got room for window shoppers," he snapped at the onlookers.

X X X

"Sir, I have been promoted to Silver Rank," Goblin Slayer said as he began to lift a stone, helping the Farmer replace the damaged section of the stone wall. A tree had fallen, and the wall here had been weakened by successive winters. The damage was relatively minor, but the Farmer saw it as reason enough to divert time and effort to properly repair the structure before it became a pressing need.

He almost dropped a rock on his foot. Turning a mild brown-eyed glare on his tenant, he reminded himself that while others might have planned to drop a bolt at that moment, the boy had no guile for such things.

'Though hardly a boy now, he's what, eighteen now?' the Farmer reminded himself.

"Is that right?"

"It is."

Well, it wasn't like the Farmer hadn't seen this coming. After Goblin Slayer was promoted to Sapphire, with each promotion he'd told himself an adventurer surely couldn't go higher only slaying goblins. But each promotion had been announced with the same deadpan lack of ceremony, and marked with a special dinner.

Feeling his age, the Farmer could only admit he'd seen this coming while pretending it would somehow swerve away before it arrived.

'Well, what now, smart guy? You can't deny he pulled it off. You felt bad about giving him an essentially impossible goal, justifying it as only mostly impossible, and he managed to pull it off. What are you going to do now?'

If that was his conscience, he didn't need to hear it. There were times in life where a man had to break his word or discard decency and sanity. But he couldn't call this one of those times, much as he might want to.

"So, what will you do now?" he asked, placing the rock and carrying on with the task. His niece was out in the fields; the last thing he wanted was for her to come over wondering why they'd take such an unscheduled break.

"I am uncertain. The condition has been met, but I feel no more prepared to fulfill the promise I made."

"Hmm, life is full of hard calls," the Farmer commented. At times like this, he could not help but wonder what might have been had this boy gotten in his wagon too on that day. Would he have grown too like this man but without the quiet, watchful madness, or something else entirely? Surely, whatever he'd become, it would have avoided a situation as strangely awkward as this.

'Don't waste time on could-have-beens, deal with what's actually in front of you,' he admonished himself.

"Maybe leave it to her."

"…How so?"

"You told her you'd have to make Silver before marrying her, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, that wasn't quite saying you would marry her. Just because you need to get a sword to fight someone with a sword, doesn't mean you will fight with the sword after getting it, necessarily. Mine's not seen blood in ages, after all. So, tell her of course, but wait to see if she asks. The promise went both ways after all, right?"

"I see," Goblin Slayer said.

And so, they carried on the task. They could have gotten it done in one day, but the Farmer deemed progress sufficient enough there was no need to neglect other tasks. Goblin Slayer would need at least one day off fully before the Guild Girls let him take another brace of quests.

Of course, his niece had her customary squee, followed by forced dignity over excitement. She told him he was practically a lord now, surely. He denied it flatly. She seemed to wait for something, and didn't get it. But she didn't ask the question, either.

Going to bed that night, the Farmer contemplated this. No obstacles remained, or did they? Well, he supposed if neither was looking to bend the knee and pick up the prize before them, that was a resolution of its own.

"Nothing to do but take it a day at a time."

X X X

"You've got a party!" Cowgirl cheered at the table. The Farmer paused in his meal as well.

This was new. He knew the boy had worked with other adventurers before, but his understanding was that it was never anything official, and always varied from one-time deals to brief associations. Not like a proper party of adventurers or a unit of soldiers.

He seemed to recall the guild had forms for forming a party. When had that ever come up?

"It's only one adventurer," Goblin Slayer said.

"Oh, have you known them long?" Cowgirl asked eagerly.

"No, I have not."

"Hmm, are they a Silver, too?"

"No, Porcelain," the young man said.

"Eh, is that allowed, for Silver to party with a rookie like that?" the Farmer wondered aloud.

"The receptionist hasn't said it is a problem."

"Oh, the young adventurers must be looking up to you. That's wonderful," Cowgirl practically sparkled, clearly imagining something.

"Is it?" Goblin Slayer asked.

"Sure is!"

The Farmer sighed; the only thing else learned about this rookie was that they were a cleric. It was only later that he realized to exasperation that the boy or girl question hadn't come up.

X X X

"Is it really necessary to cover our scents with their… guts?" Priestess asked Goblin Slayer. She was utterly adorable, Cowgirl thought, unable to hold back a smile.

"It is. When is the best time to attack a Goblin nest?" Goblin Slayer demanded in his usual blunt tone.

"Oh! Morning and dusk," the Priestess answered quickly.

"And why are those the best times?"

Cowgirl stood by and listened to the interrogation of sorts. She knew more about goblins than the average girl from who lived with her, but still, this quizzing reminded her how little she knew compared to him. It wasn't just a chore to linger for him, having already gotten the paperwork for the delivery; she found herself of all things comparing his review of goblin slaying to her sewer hobby. There was no comparison, of course, he was leagues above her.

Yes, she couldn't help but envy this girl a bit. She was privy to a part of Goblin Slayer's life she'd never get close to. And brave, as she doubted that she could ever be. Even with that backup mace she'd hidden under the floorboard of her room…

Then he was done with the quizzing and went to see Guild Girl. She wasn't close enough to overhear that, but Priestess was not pleased by something; the argument was brief, but it was there. Good, so even with that adoring look in her eyes, this girl wasn't just following him blindly. Cowgirl might trust him enough to be led around blindfolded but, er, what was her trail of thought there again, she wondered?

"I'm going," he said to her. He'd accepted a quest, maybe more than one.

"Okay, do your best. Any idea how long?" the farming girl asked.

"One quest, but it will require more scouting and preparation than normal," he said.

"I see," Cowgirl said. The Priestess giggled, then looked bashful when a puzzled Cowgirl looked at her.

"Be careful on the way home," he told her. Some might have resented how that could be taken as an order, but to her it was as loving a goodbye as any she could hope for.

He was on his way then. Priestess bowed slightly and daintily to her, and then was off after him.

Off to adventure. She wondered what that was like.

She decided the day after tomorrow, she would sweep the sewers again.

X X X

She should not have gotten greedy. It was her own fault. And now she was in this mess.

Taking another sewer outing, going against her established schedule. What had she been thinking? Bad enough she'd asked Uncle and he'd so readily agreed after confirming all was in order or ahead of schedule.

And he'd walked in on her in line to report her success to Inspector.

Stupid, stupid, please don't look this way. Couldn't the adventurers in front of her stop arguing over a reward and either accept the quest or leave?!

She had not gotten in line as soon as she could. She'd heard a High Elf was here. Elves weren't rare in towns like this, but High Elves? They were said to be direct descendants of the fairies and the gods. Their history didn't just stretch back to the ages where gods walked the Earth, they had elders who lived those days in their youth. It was said they were so naturally beautiful no mere mortal could look upon them and not be enamored. That their skills were so advanced that they seemed like magic even when it was purely mundane, and their magics and enchantments bordered on divine.

Yes, she had wanted a look. And, well, the High Elf was cute, but that just it. While watching for a bit made it clear the High Elf was a girl, one could at first glance mistake her for a very pretty boy elf. Her outfit was not manly exactly, but it was well-made ranger gear with tall boots and not really fitting the image of high elven women and their, umm, great beauty.

Yes, the more she looked, the more she could appreciate perhaps for how unexpected this ancient girl was, while grilling Guild Girl for something.
But it was rude to stare, so she stared at something else.

A Lizard Folk, and strangely dressed, with leathers and a great feather headdress. He towered over nearly everyone in the room, but seemed to radiate calm as he watched his elf and dwarven companions berate each other over not knowing the name of someone, apparently.

It was rude to stare, so she finally got in line for Inspector. But she was listening, so heard the Lizard Priest clarify, they were seeking Goblin Slayer.
Hopefully her helm covered her gasp. And the next one when the name seemed to summon the man himself. It was so absurd, even the ones seeking him seemed stunned to broach the subject.

For some reason, the elf thought he was needed for an orc purge or something. He asked if they were goblins.

'What even…?' Cowgirl thought, staring forward.

Then, to her immense relief, it was clarified they wanted him for a goblin slaying job. And adjourned upstairs to discuss it.

"This is my chance," Sewer Slayer whispered.

"Huh? What was that?" Inspector asked, eyebrow raised, leaning forward at the smelly adventurer in front of her, before drawing back and getting out the scented handkerchief she kept for just such eventualities.

Cowgirl proceeded to give her report, undress, redress, and haul home in record time. Only to learn he had stopped by the farm to check in on his way in and sent a message boy to tell her he was going back out, as he'd missed her.

"Er, things not go well with your town friends?" her uncle asked as she ate her dinner that night with smooth and expressive motions to mask the expression behind her smile.

X X X

He went on an adventure with a party. The very same one that she'd been admiring in the line.

It was great news, she was certain. She knew most adventurers just picked quests off the board based on rank, reward and their skills. To be specifically sought out for a quest by clients was a sign not only of skill, but of recognition. Goblin Slayer was famous! Bards might be singing songs about him in taverns, weavers might be making tapestries… Er, maybe better to just stick with songs?

Still, as she tended the cows in the field, she did wish he'd told more of this unique adventure. The only thing he'd stated was that they needed to kill some things that were not goblins. Oh, and apparently, he needed to restock some tools.

She sighed, looking up to the sky. As much as she loved him, there were times he was a bit much. Or maybe not enough?

Well, she was just a yeowoman; contemplating big questions was above her station and inclination.

X X X

"Tips for the sewer quests?" Guild Girl asked the duo of rookies.

"Yes, please!" Rookie Warrior said, bowing his head and clasping his hands together. Apprentice Cleric copied the gesture next to him, and spoke too, "Anything would be appreciated."

Guild Girl sighed. It was not going well for these two. A farm boy and an assistant of a country temple, looking to climb the ladder by adventuring. Moving up ranks in society wasn't easy even in the nobility she'd been born to; for commoners, the best bets were becoming adventurers or joining the clergy of the various gods. But even there, it was chance and not a guarantee. The wealthy and well-connected could afford better gear, often had actual training from experts before joining, and that was not even getting into veterans from the wars.

These two had likely sunk their savings into their mostly low-quality gear. Traveling to a guild could be an ordeal too; they both had the accents indicating isolated villages.

And most importantly, they'd been failing at the most basic quests more often than not.

In short, they were on the verge of being broke, and Rookie Warrior had lost his sword on the most recent failure.

Most new adventurers fail in the first year, a common saying among the guild staff and adventurers alike. Supposedly, it was that half died across the kingdom, and then you had those who quit after realizing it wasn't the easy path to riches and fame that they somehow believed it was. Then you had those who suffered defeat with maimed bodies or minds, who crawled away never to return. And of course, there were cases like this, those who simply didn't seem able to cut it.

"I'm sorry. It's not like any of us staffers have been on adventures. We can only tell you the quest details," Guild Girl answered. The two wilted under the words. She kept smiling, as trained, as ordered, as demanded as one of the flowering faces of the guild, but it was more hollow than usual.

There was one staffer who had been an adventurer. Her dear and terrifying mentor had not just been an adventurer, but challenged the Dungeon of the Dead. That woman would surely have some wisdom to dispense, even if it was just to get these two to quit before they died pointlessly.

But her role really wasn't to help them, if you read between the lines. The guild wasn't a real guild, meant to look after its members like every other craft. It was a regulatory agency, to match work with workers and leverage the work it provided to enforce certain standards on its workers, all while retaining a degree of separation from those workers to deny serious liability if they failed or went rogue.

It really wasn't fair. Even for this world, where the highest gods rolled their dice, she was convinced the worst things came from mortal kind. Their own branch's rookie fatality rate wasn't as bad as rumors said, but she attributed that to a certain grimy adventurer taking on the Porcelain quests that had the highest fatality rate bar none.

Guild Girl was certain the situation could be improved with just a little investment in time and resources; it could even provide some employment for retired adventurers having trouble adjusting to villager life. But that dream of hers was for the future, if it was anything. She had to try and help these two now.

"Have you tried consulting the Monster Manual?" she asked, pointing toward the desk where her latest addition of the tome was kept, free to use for any registered adventurer. The guild didn't offer much, but it did offer something. Besides, at least the cleric should be literate, even if she'd only been an acolyte.

"There's hardly anything on giant rats, or… roaches," the girl shuddered.

"Well then, probably the best thing you can do is ask for help from other adventurers," Guild Girl ventured.

"We tried, but well, most of them just went through these so easy and so long ago, they have nothing," Apprentice Cleric moaned.

"And taking a loaner weapon, that's just another debt we can't afford," Rookie Warrior admitted.

"It's over, isn't it? We can't afford to go home, even. He's going to be sold as a slave to some noble's plantation, and I'll be sold as a, a, a… ugh!" The cleric girl grimaced, fists clenching over her stomach, working at her white cleric's gown. From her companion's look, this wasn't the first time his partner had predicted such doom.

"Well, sounds like you need an expert," Inspector said, leaning in next to Guild Girl.

She gave her counter neighbor and unfortunately best friend a look at the invasion of her workspace. Alas, as her coworker had no line, she couldn't just tell her to return to her seat. The cross-classed bureaucrat and acolyte of the Supreme God was a good person at her bottom, but her craving for entertainment in a job like this could make her… trying company.

'I've learned more about what species are compatible to make kids from her stories than I ever wanted.' The 'favorite' was the one about the mermaid who fell in love with a sea serpent and started a family that became a new race of PCs.

"An expert?" the two asked, one hopeful, the other cynical.

"Hohohoho," Inspector laughed as befit her class of origin. Guild Girl wondered how much her paperwork was backed up to enjoy this so much. The longhaired woman could even claim with some justification that she was actually working right now, she realized.

"Surely you've heard of Sewer Slayer? She may not be as famous as our other resident slayer of unimpressive things, but she's got her own little niche in our fine guild branch, ya know," Inspector said, arms folded under her bust, grinning like the cat she didn't have.

'If she wasn't nobility, I'd swear she has some cat padfoot blood in her tree somewhere,' Guild Girl thought at the other staffer's antics.

"Ugh, isn't she Goblin Slayer's sister or something?" Apprentice Cleric grimaced.

"So what? There's a saying about beggars being picky: Don't," Inspector said, wagging a finger at them and leaning in deep enough she was actually touching Guild Girl's shoulder now.

"Well, we were kind of rude to Goblin Slayer," Rookie Warrior admitted.

"Oh, bad idea! You should try and at least be civil with everyone here, never know when you'll need somebody to watch your back or give you a hand up when there are no witnesses around," Inspector chided. Guild Girl decided to intervene.

"Goblin Slayer isn't the type to hold grudges. You might ask him for help, too."

"Hey, goblins aren't what they're fighting. And besides, his whole thing is: 'I just want goblins. Where are the goblins?' Right? Right! So, go with the one who's obsessed with what you need to kill. Besides, you three have a connection – you both stink up the air like you just don't care," Inspector rhymed.

"…Well, it's not like we have any other ideas."

X X X

"Advice on the sewers?" Sewer Slayer asked. She was standing at one of the high tables with an arm resting on it, the two young adventurers on the other side of it. These tables normally seemed used by parties to share information that didn't warrant sitting down in the tavern, but it also worked for chats out of the major traffic floor area.

"Yes, we really need to win this time," Apprentice Cleric said.

"And I lost my sword," Rookie Warrior admitted.

"Oh, well. Let's see…"

She started with asking how well they knew the sewers. She was pretty sure she'd explored most of it and memorized it, including the connecting caves. Checking maps took time you couldn't always afford. A torch in addition to a lantern was a good idea, as fire was useful as a weapon in addition to how lanterns left you with free hands. How the roaches could get even bigger than the ones they mentioned, but were often heralded by the approach of the 'smaller' ones.

It surprised her how much she had to say on the sewer monsters, and the area itself. She'd picked up a lot, it seemed.

"Still, you need a better weapon, a dagger isn't enough. Can you punch hard?" Sewer Slayer asked.

"I can fist fight," he said, seeming a tad offended at the notion. Well, he was a boy, she supposed. She held up her palm over the table, and after the two exchanged a look, he punched her hand in the leather-covered palm. She barely reacted, but nodded at the force.

"Not enough, it won't stun a roach or a giant rat," she said matter-of-factly.

"Really, you'd punch one of those things?" the cleric said, eyes a bit hooded.

"Well, you shouldn't have to, but sometimes it helps," Sewer Slayer said. She punched the air between them, pulling it back. Though she supposed that didn't say anything, though they seemed a bit stunned.

"Anyway, a weapon. I have a spare, so could lend you mine."

"But I've never used that kind of weapon," Rookie Warrior admitted.

"You asked Spearman for a spear, so what's the matter now?" Apprentice Cleric inquired, giving him a look.

"Well, we could go back to the yard, and I can give you some pointers."

"Er, how much for the loan and lessons?"

"Huh? Nothing. I'm just an Obsidian, we're basically comrades, right?"

"Right, thanks!" the young warrior said, but the cleric frowned.

"That doesn't seem right. We can't just take so much and give nothing in return."

"Well, you took that magic candle from Witch, right? How is this different?" he said to her with a smile. He took the offered mace in his hands, and it almost plunged to the floor. With effort, he brought it up to a serviceable angle.

"…Maybe we should carve you a club?" Sewer Slayer suggested.

"Good idea," the cleric said as her partner tried to act like the mace was no big deal.

"A great club and a standard club," Sewer Slayer decided.

Later:

"Feel better?" she asked in the training yard as the two attached the leather straps to the handles so the clubs wouldn't easily be dropped. The great club was closer to her mace, letting her offer more instruction, while the standard cub was closer to a sword, which he had some experience with.

They'd insisted they would pay her back, as they could only afford the timber for one of the clubs and she'd covered the rest.

"Still, they're only pieces of wood," the cleric sighed, looking one over.

"Good hard wood will kill lots of stuff if you hit it hard enough. And unlike bladed weapons, they don't break and chip so easily and don't get stuck in things often. Bugs in particular, their armor might deflect a blade, but the impact of force with these will still damage even if the armor only cracks."

At the last, she offered to accompany them. They refused at first, because they literally could not afford to split the meager reward. And the offer of doing it for free was stunning to them, but still refused.

She realized later why they couldn't accept her offer, after putting away her armor and mace and making her way home. Adventurers could team up, but an adventurer unwilling to take risks and prove themselves, wasn't an adventurer. Those two today didn't just need the money, they needed to prove to themselves they could be adventurers. The tools, the advice, they were one thing, but if they couldn't do the most basic quest on their own, they weren't fit to be adventurers.

She wished them the best. Adventurers, what would it be like to be one, she couldn't help but wonder.

Author's Note:

And so once more the not epic saga continues!

Thanks for reading.

Long days and pleasant nights to you all.