How Not To Summon a Modern Private Military Company in Another World-Chapter 52

The sun was already low by the time they made it back to the central plaza.

Engines idled. Radios crackled. Somewhere in the distance, a helicopter wound down, blades still spinning as its rotors bled off speed. The base kept moving, but the tempo had shifted. Less urgency, more routine.

Ward checked his tablet again.

"Intel is pushing the full session to tomorrow," he said. "Too many moving parts. They’ll want time to digest what you already gave them."

Ragna cracked her neck. "Good. My brain’s tired."

Mira rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Agreed."

Albert nodded once. "Fine. We’ll call it for today. You three need somewhere to sleep."

Ragna’s ears perked. "You have beds?"

Ward snorted. "What did you expect, straw in a barn?"

"Don’t mock straw," Ragna said. "It’s comfortable."

Mira gave her a flat look. "You snore in it like you’re dying."

"That means it works," Ragna shot back.

Lyris stayed quiet, taking in the flow of people around them. She watched how soldiers stepped aside for vehicles without needing shouted orders, how no one lingered uselessly, how even the ones joking still moved with purpose.

Albert noticed her watching.

"You’ll get used to the noise," he said. "First night’s always strange."

"Your world is loud," Lyris replied. "Even when nothing is attacking you."

He gave a small shrug. "Silence makes people nervous where we come from."

Ragna blinked. "Silence is nice. Means nothing is trying to kill you at the moment."

Ward laughed under his breath. "Different cultures."

He jerked his chin toward a side lane.

"Come on. Guest block is this way."

They cut away from the main traffic, following a narrower road between two warehouse buildings. The smell of oil faded. The mechanical noise softened. Ahead, a row of simpler structures came into view.

They were smaller than the soldier barracks. Single-story units. Each had a small number plate beside the door and a narrow window with blinds.

"Temporary housing," Ward said. "We use it for visiting personnel, civilian contractors, or in this case... local partners."

Ragna eyed the nearest door. "Looks like a noble’s storage shed."

"Inside’s better," Ward said. "Relax."

He keyed a code into a small black panel beside one door. A soft beep answered him, followed by a quiet click.

Mira flinched. "That sound again. How does that work?"

"Electronic lock," Ward said. "Combination only. No key you can lose."

She leaned closer to the panel, but kept her hands off it. "You trap lightning in a box and make it open doors for you?"

"Something like that."

He pushed the door open and stepped aside.

"Ladies first."

Lyris entered cautiously.

The first thing she noticed was the light.

It came from a fixture mounted on the ceiling. Clear. Steady. No flicker. No smoke. No smell of burning oil.

She raised a hand toward it on reflex, then stopped. "How does it keep burning?"

"It isn’t burning anything," Albert said behind her. "It’s electrical."

Ragna walked in next and stopped dead.

The floor was covered in some kind of firm, thin material instead of bare boards. A simple rug lay near the door. Two beds stood against opposite walls—raised wooden frames, real mattresses, straight and neat. There were pillows. A low cabinet. A small table with three chairs. A box on the wall that Mira recognized from the command room.

"Another talking panel?" she asked.

"That one’s just a screen," Ward said. "No one’s on the other end unless we call them."

Ragna marched to the nearest bed and pushed down on the mattress with both hands. It gave under her weight, then bounced back.

Her eyes lit up.

"This is... soft."

"Try lying on it," Ward said.

She did.

She dropped onto the mattress like she was body-slamming a training dummy. The bed creaked but held. Ragna let out an involuntary sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a growl.

"Oh no," she muttered.

Mira raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"I’m never sleeping on tavern planks again," Ragna said. "My standards are ruined."

Mira stepped farther in, fingers brushing along the smooth surface of the table. No scratches. No stains. No uneven legs.

"This much order feels unnatural," she murmured. "But... not unpleasant."

There was a door at the far end of the room. Lyris moved toward it and opened it slowly.

She froze in the doorway.

"Albert," she said, voice odd. "There’s a... metal room with a... bowl? And another strange basin..."

Ward walked over. "Bathroom. You’re welcome."

Ragna sat up on the bed. "Bathroom?"

Mira joined Lyris in the doorway and stared.

There was a toilet, compact and spotless. A sink with a mirror. A shower stall with a glass door.

Mira pointed. "What is that?"

"Shower," Ward said.

"You mentioned that before," Lyris said. "Something about... water indoors?"

Albert nodded. "You stand in there. Turn that handle. Water comes out from above. Hot or cold. You wash. No hauling buckets."

Ragna appeared over their shoulders. She stared up at the shower head.

"This place has a built-in rain spell," she muttered. "You’re telling me you can make it rain inside whenever you want."

"Yes," Albert said.

She squinted at him. "And you call this... technology."

"Correct."

Ragna grinned slowly. "I think I like technology."

Mira cleared her throat, cheeks a bit pink. "And the... other one?"

"Toilet," Ward said. "You don’t want the details. You’ll figure it out."

Lyris swallowed. "Clean water... carried here through pipes. Waste carried away so it doesn’t contaminate wells. No smell. No stagnation."

Her tone had shifted. This wasn’t just curiosity. It was calculation.

"You have this in every building?"

"Almost," Albert said. "Sanitation is non-negotiable."

Mira glanced at Lyris. "If every city had this, half the plagues I’ve studied would vanish."

"Exactly," Lyris said quietly.

Albert checked his watch again. "You’ll have a chance to try it after dinner. Ward will show you how not to flood the room."

"I flooded a room once," Ward said. "That was enough."

Ragna smirked. "You? The mighty Ward? Flooded your own bathing room?"

"I didn’t know the seal was broken," Ward muttered. "Shut up."

Lyris stepped back into the main room.

"You said ’after dinner,’" she said. "Are we eating more of that fried food?"

"We rotate menus," Ward said. "Tonight’s probably simpler. Standard mess hall. Rice, meat, vegetables, maybe some of the fast food if supplies line up."

Ragna flopped back on the bed again. "I will follow wherever your food leads."

Mira sat on the edge of the other bed, testing the mattress, then sitting properly, back straight.

"If we’re staying here, how do we contact you?" she asked. "Do we shout at the walls until the glowing panels answer?"

Ward held up his tablet. "I’ll be in and out tonight. But in an emergency, pull that cord."

He pointed to a red cord near the door.

"Someone at central will notice and come check. It’s basic, low-tech, but it works. We don’t want you playing with the comms system yet."

Ragna eyed the cord. "So if goblins burst through the wall—"

"There won’t be goblins bursting through the wall," Albert said evenly.

"Hypothetically," Ragna insisted.

"Then you pull the cord," Ward said. "And scream. In that order."

Mira nodded slowly. "Reasonable."

Albert moved for the door.

"Mess hall in twenty," he said. "Ward will fetch you. Take the time to breathe. You’ve had a long day."

Lyris hesitated. "Albert."

He looked back.

"We will be allowed to move freely?" she asked. "Or will we be under guard at all times?"

"Inside this building block, you’re fine," he said. "Outside, you stay with an escort for now. Not because we think you’ll cause trouble. Because someone else will panic and shoot you if you wander into the wrong zone."

Ragna frowned. "Your people are that jumpy?"

"They are that trained," Albert said. "Unknowns without clearance near sensitive equipment get treated as threats. We’re easing people into the idea that you exist and you’re not hostile."

Mira inhaled slowly. "We’re... a security risk."

"Everyone is," Albert said. "Including me."

He gave them a short nod, then stepped out. Ward followed.

The door shut with a soft click.

Silence settled.

Not complete silence. They still heard faint hums through the walls. Distant engines. Voices outside. But inside the room, it felt contained. Safe.

Ragna rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling.

"So," she said. "We are now ’liaisons.’"

Mira lay back on her bed too, but more carefully. "We agreed to help them avoid stepping on every cultural landmine in the kingdom."

"And fight demons," Ragna added.

"And feed you endlessly," Mira said dryly.

"Important detail," Ragna replied.

Lyris didn’t sit yet. She walked to the narrow window, lifted the blind a little, and looked out.

She saw part of the base street. A pair of soldiers walked past, helmets off, laughing about something. One carried what looked like a cup of coffee. The other had earbuds in, some faint rhythm leaking out.

Farther away, workers moved crates under floodlights that had already flicked on for the evening.

"This place doesn’t rest," she murmured.

"Soldiers rotate," Mira said. "Some sleep while others work. We’ve seen that before."

"Not like this," Lyris said. "Our armies rotate, but they still depend on sunrise and sunset. Candles and torches. These people erase night with their lights."

Ragna yawned wide, revealing sharp teeth. "They can erase night all they want. I’m still sleeping when I’m tired."

Mira let her eyes close for a moment.

"Don’t," Lyris said. "If you fall asleep now, you’ll be useless at dinner."

"Dinner," Ragna mumbled. "Yes. Food."

Mira opened one eye. "You’re part wolf and part black hole."

"Thank you," Ragna said, missing the insult completely.

Lyris let the blind fall back into place, then finally sat on the chair. The wood was smooth, joins tight. No wobble.

"I don’t know if I trust them yet," she said. "But I trust what they’ve done for Aldo."

Mira stared at the ceiling. "You trust results."

"Yes."

Ragna shifted on her bed. "Do you think the guild will be angry when they find out we took a job and ended up joining a foreign... whatever they are?"

"They’re not a kingdom, not a guild, not a church," Mira said. "They’re something else."

Lyris folded her arms. "The guild will be angry because there is something powerful in the world that they didn’t discover first."

"True," Mira said. "The nobles will be angrier."

Ragna snorted. "Good. I’ve always wanted to see a duke choke on his own entitled fumes."

Mira smiled despite herself. "You may get your wish sooner than you think."

A knock came.

"Mess call," Ward’s voice said. "You three alive in there?"

Ragna rolled off the bed in one motion. "Yes. Hungry, too."

Lyris stood. "Coming."

They filed out.

The sky had shifted to full dusk. Overhead, floodlights flooded the central areas with clear white light. The stars were still faintly visible beyond the glow, but much dimmer than they would have been on open road.

The mess hall sat near the center of the base—a wide, low building with double doors and a constant stream of in-and-out traffic.

As they approached, a wave of mixed smells hit them—rice, meat, vegetables, spices, something baked, something fried, and the faint bitterness of coffee.

Ragna inhaled deeply. "I could live here."

"You can’t," Ward said. "We have sign-up forms and background checks."

"Background what?" Ragna asked.

"Never mind."

Inside, the hall was simple—rows of tables, metal trays, a serving line. Soldiers in uniform sat in clusters, eating and talking. A few glanced up as the adventurers entered, curious, but most went back to their meals.

Noise filled the space. Cutlery against trays. Chairs scraping. Voices overlapping. A radio in one corner played something with a steady beat.

"Grab a tray," Ward said. "Follow the line. Don’t overthink it."

They copied what others did.

Mira held the metal tray like it might vanish. Lyris watched the line ahead, observing how each soldier moved, how they portioned food without needing orders. Ragna focused entirely on the food.

The options were simpler than the plaza stalls earlier.

Rice. Stewed vegetables. Grilled chicken. Some kind of baked pasta. Bread rolls. A salad option that Ragna ignored immediately.

She reached for a large scoop of rice.

"Start modest," Ward said. "You can come back for seconds."

She glared at him. "You underestimate me."

Mira added vegetables, then a smaller portion of meat. Lyris did the same, keeping things balanced.

At the end of the line, cups and drink dispensers waited—water, something labeled "iced tea," and something darker with a familiar scent.

Coffee.

Mira sniffed it. "This smells like the bitter potion alchemists drink when they haven’t slept."

"That’s accurate," Ward said.

Ragna filled her cup with iced tea. The cold hit her teeth and made her eyes widen. "It’s sweet."

Lyris chose water.

They found an open table near the edge of the hall. Ward sat with them. A few soldiers at nearby tables nodded in greeting, then returned to their conversations about engine problems, patrol schedules, and a card game from last night.

Ragna dug in without ceremony.

The chicken was seasoned but not as intense as the Popeyes earlier. The rice was perfectly cooked. The vegetables were crisp.

"This is... not tavern food," she said through a mouthful.

Mira took a careful bite of the pasta.

"It’s all... consistent," she said. "Same texture, same flavor throughout. Do you use measuring spells?"

"We use recipes," Ward said. "And people who actually know how to cook for large groups."

Lyris tasted the stew.

"It doesn’t taste like it’s been reheated three times," she said. "Our army rations... never tasted like this."

Ward shrugged. "We figured out a long time ago that starving or miserable soldiers fight worse. So we try not to starve or ignore them."

Ragna pointed her fork at him. "So your world is brutal and terrifying, but you know how to treat your fighters."

"Most days," Ward said. "We mess up too."

They ate in relative silence for a while.

Across the hall, a group of mechanics argued animatedly about whose vehicle had the worst breakdown last month. Near the far corner, a medic told a story that made his entire table laugh. A pair of officers reviewed something on a tablet between bites.

Mira watched them.

"No one salutes you here," she said to Albert, who had joined them halfway through. "In the field, they snapped to attention. Here, they act... normal."

Albert cut into his chicken. "Formalities get in the way when people are trying to rest and eat. They already know who I am."

"Your rank doesn’t hang over their heads at every moment?" Lyris asked.

"It does," Ward said. "But we ignore it during meals as much as we can."

Ragna frowned. "If a duke walked into a noble banquet, everyone would stand."

"And say nothing honest," Mira added.

Albert took a drink of coffee. "We have our own versions of that. Formal events. Briefings. Inspections. I don’t need it in the mess hall."

A young soldier approached their table, hesitating.

"Sir," he said to Albert. "Sorry to interrupt."

Albert looked up. "Go ahead, Corporal."

The soldier glanced at the three adventurers, then back at Albert. "Are those the locals Gamma picked up?"

"Yes," Albert said. "Problem?"

The soldier shook his head quickly. "No, sir. Just wanted to say... thanks. You pulled us off rotation early so Gamma could respond. If they hadn’t been out there..."

He didn’t finish the sentence.

Marla’s face flickered in Lyris’s mind. Tovin’s wrapped leg. The child who called Ward’s rifle a thunder stick.

Albert nodded once. "They did their job. So did you. Get some rest."

"Yes, sir."

The soldier looked at the three again, offering a small, awkward half-bow.

"Welcome," he said. "To... uh... here."

Ragna grinned. "Your words are as clumsy as ours."

He flushed, muttered, "Yes, ma’am," and hurried back to his table.

Mira hid a smile behind her cup. "Your people aren’t used to guests."

"We’re used to contractors," Ward said. "They usually want more money, not more explanations."

Lyris rested her elbows lightly on the table. "We’re not here for coin."

"Everyone’s here for something," Albert said. "Coin, safety, purpose. Revenge."

Ragna’s chewing slowed for a second, then resumed.

Mira looked down at her tray. "If we help you fight the Demon Lord, coin will be the least of our concerns."

"Agreed," Lyris said.

Albert finished his meal, set his fork down, and sat back.

"You’ll have a light itinerary tomorrow," he said. "Medical check. Basic safety briefing. Uniform adjustments."

Ragna froze. "Uniform what?"

Ward smirked. "We can’t have you walking into restricted zones in bright guild gear. You’ll get reflective vests at least. Maybe base badges."

"You will not take my armor," Ragna said flatly.

"No one’s taking your armor," Ward said. "We’ll just make sure our people know you’re not intruders."

Mira nodded. "Identification markers. Sensible."

Lyris tilted her head. "What is a medical check?"

"Doctors make sure you don’t have anything that will kill you in the next week," Ward said. "Or us."

Mira stiffened. "You think we’re diseased?"

"We think you come from a world with different illnesses," Albert said. "We’d be irresponsible if we didn’t check. It goes both ways. Our bodies aren’t used to your world’s diseases either."

Lyris absorbed that. "You’re afraid of invisible threats."

"We’ve lost more people to invisible threats than visible ones," Albert said. "Plagues. Contamination. Radiation. You learn."

Ragna pointed at him with her fork again. "Your world is insane."

"Correct," Ward said.

The rest of the meal passed with smaller questions. What was in the iced tea. Why the plates were metal. Why some soldiers had different badges on their uniforms. Why the coffee tasted like it could strip paint.

By the time they stepped back out into the night, the base had settled into its evening rhythm.

Floodlights glowed. Patrols walked along the wall. Somewhere above, a drone buzzed on its preprogrammed route.

Ward walked them back to their quarters.

"Try to sleep," he said at the door. "Tomorrow will be heavier on your heads than your swords."

Ragna rolled her shoulders. "Can anything be heavier than all this new information?"

"Yes," Ward said. "Forms."

She blinked. "Forms?"

"Paperwork," Mira translated. "He means bureaucratic spells."

Ward grimaced. "Don’t call it that."

Lyris gave him a small nod. "Thank you for the tour."

He shrugged. "You said yes. I’d rather you know what you said yes to."

He left them there.

Inside the room, the lights hummed softly.

Mira stood in front of the mirror for a long moment, touching her own reflection like she expected it to ripple.

Ragna went straight to the shower stall and stared at the controls, lips moving as she memorized which handle did what.

Lyris sat on the bed this time. The mattress dipped under her weight but held.

She unlaced her boots slowly, one by one.

"Do you regret agreeing?" she asked quietly.

Ragna turned the hot water handle a fraction. A stream of water hissed out of the shower head. She flinched, then grinned.

"Not yet," she said.

Mira traced the outline of the mirror frame. "Fear is not regret," she said. "I’m afraid. But I’m... curious."

Lyris lay back at last, staring up at the smooth white ceiling.

Outside, a helicopter engine spooled up somewhere in the distance.

Inside, the room stayed steady. The light stayed constant. The hum stayed low.

"Then tomorrow," Lyris said, "we learn how to live in two worlds at once."

No one argued.

The base breathed around them.

For the first time in days, they slept without keeping a hand on their weapons.