Helmut: The Forsaken Child - H.F.C Chapter 44 (Part 1):

Travels, Incidents, and an Encounter
It all began there.

Three days after parting with the Pace Mercenary Corps, Helmut stopped by a certain village.

Having enough money, he decided to end his days of sleeping outdoors and comfortably rested at an inn. Even if the bedding was hard, it was incomparably comfortable compared to Helmut’s previous sleeping arrangements.

Along with food, it was one of the few luxuries Helmut enjoyed in the human world.

Helmut entered the inn’s dining room for dinner. Noticing the dining room was unusually empty, he saw six menacing-looking men occupying a corner.

‘Mercenaries?’

It was unclear, but they were certainly swordsmen. With their developed muscles, calloused grips, and swords at their waists, they looked to be of a rough sort, drinking from early evening.

Ignoring them, Helmut looked at the menu. Not understanding it anyway, he pointed at something labeled “recommended” and ordered a beer.

The server, sensing the atmosphere around the other table was not ordinary, brought the food with caution.

Helmut drew his sword and began to clean it. Though a fine sword does not damage easily, it requires regular maintenance.

Remembering Darien polishing the sword daily, Helmut had bought an oil-treated cloth at the forge.

However, his actions caught the attention of the men. They began to jeer and laugh, with two approaching Helmut.

“Hey kid, that’s a nice sword you’ve got there.”

“Let me see it.”

“No, thanks.”

His refusal was crisp, turning the two men’s faces red with anger.

One, incredulously, slammed his palm on the table.

Bang! The wooden table creaked as if hit by an earthquake.

“Can’t you understand human speech?”

“Hand it over, can’t you hear?”

‘This is picking a fight.’

A needless display of force. It wouldn’t intimidate him. Helmut replied indifferently, his face expressionless.

“I said no, are you deaf?”

“Ah, this bastard!”

One of the men reached for Helmut’s collar aggressively.

However, his wrist was suddenly caught. Helmut had effortlessly stopped him.

“Ha! This is…”

The man struggled to free his hand, but to no avail, his face changing color as he exerted all his strength.

But his hand remained immobile, as if stuck between rocks.

‘What is this!’

Sensing something was amiss, another man swung a fist at Helmut.

“You gonna let go now?”

Helmut, about to draw his sword, hesitated for a moment.

‘I shouldn’t kill in the village, right?’

That would only cause trouble. Even if his mercenary license verified his identity, it wouldn’t excuse a murder.

Helmut forcefully pulled the gripped wrist, causing the man to lose balance and unintentionally strike his companion.

Thump! The man stumbled onto the next table, yelling out in pain.

“What are you hitting for? It hurts!”

“No, I was swinging at that kid…”

The man stuttered, glaring at Helmut, but dared not advance further.

Sensing something off, the rest began to stand, readying themselves.

Helmut looked between them and his aggressors, then coldly said, “Scram.”

His dark eyes flashed intensely, his demeanor emitting a chilling killing intent.

Instinctively feeling threatened, the men hastily retreated to their comrades, all wary of advancing further.

Helmut, unconcerned with their response, sheathed his cleaned sword.

‘My order is late.’

Looking up, he saw a server, frozen with a beer glass in hand.

“Where’s the food?”

The server hurriedly placed the beer before him, saying, “It’s coming right away.”

Helmut, noting their reluctance to start more trouble, relaxed and prepared to enjoy his meal.

*

Troublesome groups boasting of their strength are common everywhere, especially in outskirts where law enforcement is lax.

In the Kingdom of Kinen, where two princes vie for succession, causing political turmoil, such areas suffered from poor security.

Not officially registered with any mercenary guild but skilled with the sword, these lowly ruffians lived by preying on others. They were a nuisance, connected secretly to dark organizations, nobility, or trade guilds, exploiting merchants and small villages for their gain.

These groups typically avoided provoking officially recognized mercenaries or guilds due to potential complications.

However, a fourteen-year-old boy was a different story. His fine sword contrasted his humble attire, and his appearance suggested nobility rather than a trained physique.

Compared to the rugged mercenaries, his pale, aristocratic features made him seem like an easy target, possibly a naive noble youth in disguise.

After Helmut disappeared into his room, the unfortunate server found himself surrounded by the rough guests.

“Is that kid really a mercenary?”

“Yes, yes, definitely. He showed a mercenary license when renting his room.”

“A third-rank mercenary?”

“Yes, yes.”

It was natural for an innkeeper in such a remote area to be unfamiliar with mercenary affairs.

Thus, the innkeeper failed to notice that Helmut was associated with the renowned ‘Pace Mercenary Coeps.’

Had he known, the situation might have been different, as being part of a well-regarded group itself was a testament to not being an ordinary third-rank mercenary.

“So what if he’s a third-rank mercenary? Just a kid.”

“His gaze was fierce, though.”

“That gaze would be gone by now. He drank five beers.”

“Drunk and barely able to keep his eyes open.”

“Yeah, he’ll be fast asleep soon.”

“Not even able to open his eyes.”

The men exchanged meaningful looks, persistently plotting despite their lowly nature.

Otaku_Tensei

I'm currently Translating the following novel: Helmut: The Forsaken Child. If you want to support me and read more chapters please subscribe to my Patreon!

•