-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 7
Chapter Title: Paulownia Mercenary Corps (1)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
[Continent-wide common language patch completed.]
"One room. And food and drink too."
It was the first village Attila had reached after several days of leaving the savage forest.
He spoke fluent common tongue to the innkeeper.
"Huh? You look like one of those western barbarians, but you speak the common language?"
In response to the innkeeper's question, Attila flashed a confident smile.
But soon, he ran into an unexpected obstacle.
"So you're saying you don't have a single coin to your name?"
"...That's right."
"Then get lost."
The innkeeper grumbled curtly and returned to his work.
'Damn it.'
He had been looking forward to a hot shower, a proper meal with some booze, and sprawling out on a bed with clean sheets.
'Guess it's another damn night camping.'
As he grumbled and turned to leave the inn—
Rough-looking men entering the place bumped into Attila.
"Watch where you're going!"
"Huh? A barbarian? What the hell is this beast that can't even speak coming crawling into town for?"
"What's this bastard now."
One of the men kicked at the bear cub.
But his opponent was of the bloodline called the forest calamity, the grizzly.
The cub dodged the attack and clamped down on the man's ankle.
"Gahhh! You little shit!"
Attila smirked at the sight.
The cub seemed satisfied too, panting happily as it returned.
As he stepped out the inn door, a harsh voice rang out.
"Hold it, you barbarian scum."
Attila's feet stopped.
His eyes, reminiscent of a starving wild beast, turned back, making the man flinch and draw a dagger.
"What're you staring at, you animal? You're leaving an arm behind today. And that mutt's head too."
There was no reply.
As if it just occurred to him, the man snickered.
"Well, a barbarian wouldn't understand the common tongue anyway..."
"Put your weapon away if you don't want to die."
A brief silence fell.
"...Huh? What? You speak the common language?"
"This is impressive. Did you study your letters back in the village? Hahaha!"
"That hilt poking out from under your cloak—looks like an axe handle. Did you chop some wood on your way here?"
Attila sighed at the men's mockery.
He'd planned to deal with them quickly and leave, but it seemed the bear cub was even angrier.
The cub leaped at one man's chest and went berserk.
"Argh! This little bastard for real!"
The furious man swung his dagger at the cub, but Attila wasn't about to just watch.
With a crunch, followed by a tearing scream that echoed through the inn.
"My hand...! My hand...!"
The man's hand was gripped in Attila's fist.
The man howled at the sight of his grotesquely twisted fingers, then yelled back at his comrades.
"W-what are you doing? Attack him!"
Only then did the three men behind hurriedly draw their swords, but Attila's fists, charging like a gale, slammed them to the floor one by one.
Attila clicked his tongue.
"I told you to put your weapons away."
* * *
That night.
Attila was receiving the innkeeper's lavish hospitality.
"Anything else you need, warrior? Heh heh."
Empty plates and bottles piled up.
The stuffed cub lay asleep on the table, belly bulging outward.
"So those guys earlier were part of a bandit gang?"
"Yes, sir. They come to the village now and then to pillage—real nasty bunch."
"With that level of skill?"
"Oh, warrior, those punks we saw? The village watch could handle 'em easy. Hell, I wouldn't even need the watch—if I were three years younger, I'd sort 'em out myself."
Attila stared at the innkeeper, then chuckled.
"So what's the problem?"
"Well... it's their boss and his main crew that scare us."
The gist was that their leader was a former knight who'd ruled a small fief, now running a bandit crew with his men, raiding nearby villages to survive.
In the Bawang Hero Chronicle world, fallen knights turning bandit and preying on common folk was commonplace.
The continent now was chaos incarnate.
'And that's when he shows up.'
The protagonist of Bawang Hero Chronicle, the man who'd later be called the southern overlord.
'Charles Ainheart.'
Lost in pleasant thoughts of the protagonist he'd created with such affection, an old man entered the inn.
Introducing himself as the village chief, he sat across from Attila.
"I heard from the innkeeper. A warrior of truly immense strength..."
"Get to the point."
Of course, Attila could guess what he wanted.
"Please. Wipe out the bandits for us."
"You think one barbarian warrior can handle that?"
Contrary to his words, Attila was confident.
In the war against the Blood Axe Tribe, he'd slaughtered over fifty enemies.
Not counting the archers he'd killed near the grizzly's cave.
"I've lived long enough to pride myself on reading people. And my eyes tell me you're a once-in-a-century great warrior."
The old man's tongue was slick.
"That all?"
"Oh, and not just that..."
The chief sighed.
"You thrashed those punks today, warrior. They'll run straight to their boss, of course, and tomorrow this village'll be turned to ash."
Ah. So that's it.
Only then did Attila notice the unease in the chief's expression, and he looked sheepish.
But something felt off.
"What's the lord doing while bandits run wild like this?"
"Our lord took a grave wound leading the last fight against them."
"And the grand duke?"
This was one of the direct territories of the grand duke called the southern hegemon, the Gascony Duke.
Gascony was the one who'd schemed to coax Gundika into uniting the western barbarian tribes into his own army.
In the original story, Gundika succeeded in unification and even formed a vassal contract with him.
'Only to get crushed by Charles Ainheart.'
"The steward's already gone to report. A subjugation force should arrive in a few days."
I see. So it's right before they come down.
Attila nodded, then asked,
"What's the reward?"
"What do you..."
"I'm asking what you'll give me if I wipe them out."
The chief, staring blankly, placed a leather pouch on the table.
"It's everything I can offer. Mix of silver and copper coins, but it adds up to one gold coin."
One gold coin.
Not bad, considering a day's stay with bath and two meals cost three silvers.
Still, a bit cheap for risking his life.
"Do you know the size of the bandit gang?"
The innkeeper answered.
"About ten properly armed and equipped. Including those greenhorns earlier..."
"Half a coin per head—five gold coins. The greenhorns are free."
The chief paled at the fivefold jump in price.
Attila leisurely drained his bottle while waiting for a reply.
"Understood. But right now..."
"This is the advance. The rest after the job's done."
Attila pulled the pouch close, scattered a handful of coins on the table, and downed another bottle, signaling he was done talking.
The innkeeper swiftly pocketed them with a beaming smile and brought out more drinks.
* * *
The next day.
Standing at the village outskirts, Attila stretched as he watched a dozen horses charging through a cloud of dust.
'Catch those horses and sell 'em—make a nice bit of coin.'
After filling his belly with fine booze and food the night before, Attila lay on the soft bed, sorting his thoughts.
'The easiest way to the Fairy Kingdom.'
If only there were one.
At this point in time, the Fairy Kingdom's existence wasn't even known to humans.
To cut to the chase, Attila didn't know its exact location either.
'I was an idiot and didn't set one.'
- The fairies' sanctuary. That beautiful floating island hovered majestically above the northern seas of the Kriel Dora continent.
A line from the original text.
Even if pinpointed, in this world without flight tech, no physical means could reach it.
'And that's the least of it.'
To reach the northern sea, he'd have to cross the lands of giants and snowfolk.
Beyond them lurked even greater ominous barriers.
'Even if he somehow made it to the northern sea.'
The floating island moved through the skies, and powerful magic emanating from it formed a labyrinthine barrier around its vicinity.
That's where the fairies' sanctuary was, damn it.
Why there?
To make it mysterious.
'If I'd known it'd come to this, I wouldn't have written it that way!'
But.
'That's exactly why it's worth going.'
An island floating in the air—and moving, no less.
A massive living magical entity!
If there was any transcendent power to return him to his original world, it had to be there.
The problem was getting there.
'Guess I have no choice but to meet that guy.'
Charles Ainheart.
He'd known of the Fairy Kingdom since childhood and eventually reached it with a few comrades.
But Attila wanted to avoid Charles if possible.
'That guy's insanely strong.'
The strongest swordsman in the Bawang Hero Chronicle world.
If Munjuk's strength was 100, Charles was easily over 300.
Stronger than hero Munjuk by three times? Ridiculous?
What else would a protagonist be?
'Of course, he's not that strong yet.'
There was another awkward reason.
Charles's path pierced the core of the Bawang Hero Chronicle story.
Attila didn't want to meet him and twist history needlessly.
"Keep a low profile for now and lay low."
With Gundika's ambitions crushed, continental history was already shifting.
The barbarian warriors he led were set to show great prowess in the Gascony Duke's war.
'Annoying, but I'll have to clean that up later.'
Then the cub nudged Attila's foot.
Staring down at the cub's face, Attila tilted his head.
Lately, he could read its expressions.
"What? Hiding won't keep me out of sight?"
The cub panted in agreement.
Attila fixed his gaze on the now-distinct faces of the approaching bandits.
"Don't jinx it."
With earth-shaking hoofbeats, an armed bandit with a long spear charged at the front.
"You the one! The arrogant bastard who speaks the common tongue!"
Attila launched himself straight at them, kicking off the ground into a leap.
"True barba...!"
The Dragon Jaw Axe, swung like a tempest, cleaved him and his horse in two.