How Not To Summon a Modern Private Military Company in Another World Chapter 8: In the Village

Upon hearing those words from Claes, all the eyes were on him literally.

"Goddess...demon race..." Harvin muttered and his eyes widened. He was familiar with the word demon race and it sends shivers down his spine.

"Yes...we were literally summoned here without our consent and in order for us to go back to our world, we have to exterminate all of them."

Albert shook his head and sighed. How did it co to this? He didn’t know Claes was such an impatient man. He wanted to establish friendly relations with the denizens of this world first, learn about their customs and politics, and then eventually to the topic of demon race. But there’s no going back as it was already spilled now.

"Elder... these travelers must have loose screws on their head," Rowan mocked, scoffing as he jabbed the butt of his spear into the dirt. "Summoned by a Goddess to exterminate the demon race? What kind of joke is that? As expected, we shouldn’t really take them in, they’re crazy."

A few of the other villagers chuckled nervously, though it was the kind of laughter born out of disbelief rather than amusent. So shook their heads, muttering to each other about how outsiders were always full of wild stories.

Albert closed his eyes briefly, exhaling in frustration. He didn’t bla them. If soone ca up to him claiming divine teleportation and interdinsional demon wars, he wouldn’t have believed it either. Still, Claes had effectively torpedoed his diplomatic opening.

"Major..." Albert said under his breath, his tone tight. "Next ti, maybe don’t lead with the ’Goddess sent us to kill demons’ part."

Claes frowned. "What? I’m just telling them the truth."

"Yeah, and they think we’re lunatics now," Ward muttered beside them. "You might as well tell them we ride flying dragons next."

The younger villagers snickered again, whispering among themselves. "Summoned by a Goddess," one said mockingly. "Maybe they drank too much fairy wine before getting here."

"Well, whatever the case, you guys may co in. We have plenty of food and a place where you can rest,"

"Rowan, open the gate."

The younger man frowned but obeyed. With a frustrated grunt, he signaled two others to pull the wooden beam securing the entrance. The crude chanism creaked as the heavy gate swung open, revealing a narrow dirt path that led deeper into the village.

Albert exchanged a quick look with Ward and Claes. "Stay alert, but keep your weapons down. We’re guests now," he said quietly.

The team moved forward in formation, Atlas n first, Marines following a few ters behind. The villagers parted, watching the group enter inquisitively.

Once inside the periter, Albert slowed his pace, letting his gaze travel across the settlent. The first thing that struck him was the simplicity, no paved roads, only compacted dirt and stray patches of grass. Wooden houses lined both sides of the narrow streets, their fras built from rough-hewn logs and thatched roofs of straw. Smoke curled from crude stone chimneys, carrying the faint scent of firewood and baked bread.

It was... dieval.

No power lines, no plumbing, no signs of modern life. The only running water ca from a stone well in the center of the village square, where won in long dresses, dirndls, Albert recalled from old European history, were drawing buckets of water with hand-cranked pulleys. Their clothing was simple but neat, mostly earth-toned, with aprons and shawls tied around their waists.

The n, on the other hand, wore tunics made of linen or wool, tied at the waist with leather belts, and simple boots caked in mud. So had cloaks slung over their shoulders or caps to ward off the morning chill. Everything about the place scread pre-industrial, no smoke-belching machinery, no sound of engines or tal clanking beyond a blacksmith’s hamr in the distance.

Ward leaned close and muttered, "Jesus... this is like stepping into the twelfth century."

Claes gave a small grunt. "More like tenth, judging by the architecture."

Albert remained silent, observing every detail. The wooden beams were reinforced with straw and clay, the fences were unevenly carved, and livestock road freely in fenced yards, goats, chickens, a few thin cows.

As they moved deeper in, curious eyes peeked from every doorway. Children clung to their mothers’ skirts, pointing at the soldiers’ gear and whispering excitedly.

"Mom, look! Their clothes shine!" one small boy said, staring wide-eyed at an Atlas operator’s plate carrier.

"Don’t stare," his mother hissed, pulling him back gently.

The soldiers’ boots left crisp prints in the dirt as they reached the center square, where Harvin stopped and turned toward them. "You’ll forgive my people," he said, gesturing with a small, apologetic smile. "We don’t see outsiders often, especially not those who dress like...what do I call your outfits."

"They are out of combat uniforms," Albert replied. "Don’t worry too much about it. So, the information. We want to know where we are right now, what country we are in, and the date."

Harvin blinked, as though he hadn’t expected such strange questions. He leaned slightly on his staff and gave a small, confused smile.

"You truly do not know where you are?" he asked, studying Albert’s face carefully.

Albert shook his head. "No. Like I said, we were... brought here. So, if you could tell us where exactly we are, it would help."

The elder nodded slowly, still unsure whether to treat their story as madness or sincerity. "Well," he began, glancing toward the villagers who were eavesdropping from a distance, "this is Aldo Village. We’re part of the eastern frontier of the Kingdom of Altfordia."

Albert frowned slightly. "Kingdom of Altfordia," he repeated under his breath. "Never heard of it."

"Of course you haven’t," Rowan muttered from nearby, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "You’re not from this world, right?"

"Rowan," Harvin warned, before turning back to Albert. "As for the date, today is the twenty-third day of the Ninth Moon, Year 763 of the Solar Era."

Ward blinked. "The what now?"

"How does it work?" Albert asked, brow furrowing as he tried to make sense of the strange system.

Harvin shifted his weight slightly, tapping the bottom of his staff against the dirt. "The Solar Calendar is what we use across most of the continent," he explained patiently. "It was established long ago by the scholars of the First Kingdom to track the seasons. Each year is divided into twelve moons, each moon having thirty days. Every seventh day is a Restday, when no labor is done. After twelve moons, a new year begins, thus, this year marks the seven hundred and sixty-third since the founding of the Solar Era."

Albert nodded slowly, doing the math in his head. Twelve months, thirty days each, three hundred and sixty days a year. So basically, sa structure as Earth’s calendar but with a different epoch.

"I see...thank you for the explanation. Well, truly we are in another world. Thank you for your hospitality in taking us. Your na is Harvin right? My na is Albert Spencer, I’m the CEO of Atlas, a private military contractor. This man is Ward and the one who told you that we are summoned is Major Claes, United States Marine."

Harvin couldn’t understand what those words ant but they were soldiers. Far from the typical soldiers. They don’t have swords or spears or shields. They don’t even look like a mage. Well, not that it matters as they were going to leave the village anyways.

"Well, do you have any questions? Because we will leave this village before the sun sets," Harvin said.

"Leaving? Why is that?" Albert asked.

Harvin sighed. "The truth is we are evacuating. The surrounding area is infested with monsters and there is a word that there might be a horde of goblins attacking this village in the evening."

"Goblin...monsters," Albert repeated those words.

"Don’t tell you don’t even know what monsters are?" Harvin asked, his voice rising slightly in disbelief.

Albert exchanged a quick glance with Ward and Claes. "We have monsters where we’re from," he said carefully, "but not the kind you’re talking about, I think. You said goblins?"

Harvin nodded grimly. "Aye. Small, vile creatures, green-skinned, sharp-toothed, and cruel by nature. They travel in packs, attack livestock, raid hos, and steal food. But when they co in a horde..." He trailed off for a mont, his weathered face tightening. "When they co in a horde, they destroy everything. Kidnap won..."

He paused, as if recalling bitter mories and it pained him to continue.

"We already posted a request from the Adventurer’s Guild in the capital. It was one week ago and no one seed to have accepted it."

"Adventurer’s guild?"

"They are an organization ford to take up all sorts of tasks, from slaying monsters to escorting caravans and guarding nobles," Harvin explained.

Albert raised a brow. "So... basically, you hire them like rcenaries?"

Harvin tilted his head, considering the term. "rcenaries... yes, that’s one word for it. They’re not bound to any lord or crown. They serve whoever posts a request, so long as the pay is right."

Ward smirked quietly beside Albert. "Sounds like a fantasy version of us, boss. Private security, free contracts, profit-driven operations."

Claes gave a dry laugh. "So it’s a PMC, but with swords and magic."

Albert gave him a look. "Pretty much. Only difference is, these ones work on rumors and honor contracts, not corporate law."

Harvin didn’t understand their strange words, PMC, corporate, but he smiled faintly.

"You see, the Adventurer’s Guild is what keeps villages like ours from being erased from the map. When monsters threaten, we send word and pay a bounty. But... no one ca this ti."

Albert frowned. "And why is that? If the threat is real, why wouldn’t they respond?"

Harvin’s expression darkened. "Because Aldo holds no value. We are far from the main roads, our fields yield little grain, and our mines ran dry years ago. The Guild sends its best adventurers where there’s coin to be made. The capital, border cities, rchant routes, those are worth their ti. But a backwater like ours?" He shook his head slowly. "To them, our lives are worth less than the reward we offer."

Albert exhaled slowly. "If the Adventurer’s Guild acts like a private contractor network, then what about your kingdom? Doesn’t the crown have an army or local garrisons to protect settlents like this?"

At that, Harvin gave a small, bitter laugh. "Protect? From what? The king’s soldiers guard trade routes, noble estates, and the cities that pay taxes. Out here?" He gestured at the surrounding wooden houses and dirt streets. "We are beyond their sight. If we burn, the court in the capital will not even hear of it until the ashes cool."

"So you’re telling ," Claes said, stepping forward, "that the kingdom knows monsters attack villages, and they still refuse to send troops?"

Harvin nodded solemnly. "That is the way of Altfordia. To the crown, Aldo is nothing but a forgotten corner of the frontier. We are too small to matter, too poor to protect, and too far to reach in ti."

Albert clenched his fists subtly at his sides. "And how many villages have fallen like this one?"

The elder’s eyes grew distant. "Too many. So swallowed by goblins. Others burned by orc raiders or beasts from the wildlands. Each year, more disappear. The Guild posts their nas on boards in the capital, but no one spares a thought for them."

Ward lowered his voice. "It’s like we’re in so post-collapse region. The governnt’s gone soft, power concentrated in the center."

Albert nodded grimly. "A feudal power structure, no logistics chain, no communication grid. It’s survival of the richest."

Claes muttered, "Pretty damn familiar, huh?"

Albert didn’t answer. His eyes were still fixed on Harvin. "If your people are evacuating, where will you go?"

"In the city near the capital. Or perhaps start a new village in so fields."

"That’s so depressing to hear," Ward said in a whisper, only Claes and Albert heard it.

"If only those monsters weren’t a threat, we would live peacefully in this village."

"So you don’t want to leave if not for the monsters’ threat?" Albert asked.

Harvin nodded his head. It was the truth, he was born in this place, and grew in it.

"In that case, hire us, in your world’s terms, we are adventurers for hire," Albert suggested, earning him the look of Ward and Claes.