Now that I think about it, I’ve really gone to a lot of places and met a lot of people.
The thought drifted pleasantly through her mind, and she shook her head gently from side to side. “Trying to fit all those people into just one thing… It’s not—Uhhh, I mean… Hmm.”
Indeed, it seemed impossible. But that didn’t mean that, within her, some were worthier than others. When she realized that, Priestess finally felt the pieces fall into place.
“I think maybe everyone likes being different, and it’s important for us to accept that,” she said.
Yes. Priestess nodded as if to affirm her own words. She was sure. She knew there were people who disliked things that she loved, while there were probably people who loved things that she found intolerable. The húsfreya of the north was trying to learn a new language, and the centaur racers set crowds of every kind cheering.
And yet Priestess had found the culture of the north dizzying, and the centaur princess had claimed adventurers made no sense to her. To be different was not to say you couldn’t walk together, and to walk together is not to say everything had to be the same.
“Anyway, that’s what I think,” Priestess concluded, and then she scratched her cheek, a bit embarrassed, a bit shy. She’d only said what was on her mind, and although she’d said it quite fluently, it would never have passed as a proper sermon.
More to the point, she wondered if maybe the “king’s little sister” shouldn’t have spoken so freely…
“…You sound like one of those people who want to claim that even goblins have their virtues,” the paladin said.
That made Priestess freeze. She turned to look at him, and he snorted in disgust.
He hasn’t…figured me out, has he? She glanced at the two women behind her, but they were both shaking their heads.
Of course not. He didn’t know. Priestess put her hand to her chest, now slightly larger because of the padding, and breathed a sigh of relief.
Still…
That subject came up awfully suddenly.
“They exist, you know,” Priestess said. “Good goblins.”
“…What?” the man asked, incredulous.
Priestess smiled. “Didn’t you know? The sea goblins—they were wonderful people.” The paladin looked positively flummoxed. Priestess then added, “I grant, the gillmen don’t much like being called that.”
But it was okay.
This was the question she’d been asking herself since the day she became an adventurer.
She looked the paladin straight in the eye. “Yes… I daresay there might be a good goblin out there.”
He goggled at her. This was obviously completely unexpected to him. Although she wasn’t sure if he was more baffled by the fact that she didn’t agree with him or by the answer she had given.
“True, a ‘good goblin’ would be one that didn’t attack humans. He would probably still hate people and probably still think stealing was good. I don’t think that would change.”
The Four-Cornered World was wider, bigger, more complex and varied than anyone knew. There were good things and also bad things. And while one couldn’t simply accept the bad things, still… Yes, even still…
“The world will never be quite the way I want it or quite the way you want it.”
There were certain things that should be done. Things that even the gods had entrusted to Fate and Chance.
“…”
For a moment, the man didn’t say anything—although Priestess thought she caught the sound of grinding teeth. Then he exclaimed, “You must pardon me! It seems you fail to understand what our true problems are!”
You can practically smell the ash on him.
That was the aroma Priestess detected as the man stood up from his chair so fast he almost kicked it over and exited the room at a brisk stride—different from that other person’s.
Priestess didn’t bother to watch him go but slumped against the back of her chair, letting it hold her up.
“…Considering he was watching the proceedings in a noble box with the king’s own little sister, his manners seemed somewhat lacking.” Priestess heard a sigh from behind; it was Guild Girl, half scowling and half chuckling.
Still slumped in the chair in a most unladylike fashion, Priestess gave the woman behind her a dubious look. “Did I go too far…?”
“It was a theological debate. I would say you went just far enough.”
Priestess felt maybe Guild Girl could have lent her a hand. No, then again, maybe not.
They shared a silent exchange, and then Cow Girl handed her a drink, laughing. “Nice job.”
The magical carafe brimmed with cold, pure water. The device had stunned even Priestess, let alone Cow Girl, when they first saw it, but this was no time to be shocked.
“Thank you,” Priestess said, taking the water and drinking greedily.
“Very nice work,” Cow Girl said again, and then she directed her next question at Guild Girl. “I don’t know much about the Supreme God’s teachings, but they’re not…that, are they?”
“Certainly not.” Guild Girl was brimming with confidence on that point. She puffed out her chest, as if emphasizing the carefully curated body that was the source of that confidence. Even Cow Girl was taken with her attitude, her certainty that she had nothing to be ashamed of. “Rejecting things by constantly invoking the name of justice—it’s not that at all.” That, she had to admit, was something she had heard from her friend. She smiled bashfully.
She can be very…cute sometimes.
Cow Girl was the tiniest bit jealous, but she decided to stop at simple admiration. “It would kind of stink if we couldn’t have festivals anymore. Where would we get all our fun?”
The harvest and grape festivals represented a prayer for abundance, of course, but festivals were also times of joy. If it was wrong to enjoy them, she didn’t know what she would do.
“You know,” said Priestess, who had finally wetted her lips and throat with the water. She and the other girl—the real little sister of the king, who was resting soundly at that moment—were completely different people. “Do you think he even noticed I was pretending?”
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