WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS
Translator: Hydrogen B
Editor: Abstract
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES
Chapter 205: Tap Tap, Then Thwack (2)
= = =
“Bake bread!”
General Olf of Martai had no intention of feeding his men miserable black bread, watered-down sour wine, stale-smelling jerky, and old fruit in the name of supplies.
Several highly capable battalion commanders served under him, and one of them commanded a unit Olf had personally raised.
It was called the Field Oven Corps.
“Stack the stones, then pack mud into every gap.”
The Field Oven Corps was exactly what the name suggested.
After setting up a supply base, they built ovens there and baked bread.
In some ways, it was half madness, but General Olf knew better than anyone that food mattered most.
And right now, this battlefield was perfect for using the Field Oven Corps.
The conditions for deploying them were limited.
They were useless in short campaigns, and they meant little in fast advances.
But the moment a siege turned into a long one, the Field Oven Corps came into its own.
Most of all, well-fed soldiers fought well. That was a settled fact.
Famous strategists all said the same thing. Olf followed that principle faithfully.
So Martai’s Field Oven Corps began sending smoke into the sky.
They fed the fires with logs, mixed water into the flour they had brought, and began kneading dough.
In less than a day, a rich aroma spread in every direction.
“Come on, eat well! Mangonels? We don’t need that crap!”
Olf personally walked among the soldiers and urged them on.
“Who are we!”
“Lions of the East!”
The soldiers shouted back. Martai’s morale did not waver.
It helped that the commander moved in person like that, but the key was the bread.
Some of the soldiers baking it were famous even in Martai for their skillful hands.
Quite a few were men who would return to the city and keep running bakeries after the war.
Martai had broad wheat fields east of the city, and Martai wheat was considered top-tier.
The rainfall was just right, and above all, those wheat fields had once been called the Blood Fields decades ago, land where battle had broken out time and again.
That meant countless human and animal corpses had sunk into the earth and made it fertile.
Of course, the land had also changed through the work of people devoted to farming, but it was still a place with history running deep.
Built on that fertility, Martai had grown wheat for a long time, so its bread had always been good, and flour-based dishes were well developed there too.
People said food decided status, and on the central continent, white bread was a symbol of wealth.
Martai was different.
Its abundant wheat output made white bread an everyday food.
That history had continued for over thirty years, so naturally, master bakers emerged among those who baked bread.
Some even went to the central capital and opened bakeries there.
That kind of bread. One of Martai’s proudest foods.
Olf had returned to headquarters and was reviewing plans when an urgent report came in.
Bad news.
“The supply base was hit.”
“Hit?”
If Martai had to name its single most important concern right now, it was supply.
What was the point of surrounding the enemy if they starved first themselves?
Naturally, Commander-in-Chief Olf had assigned his most trusted men to the supply force.
Three battalion commanders, plus an escort captain, four men in total, were among those Olf trusted most, and each could be called either a strategist or a fierce field commander without exaggeration.
Among them, Olf put the 2nd Battalion Commander in charge of supplies, the one with the quickest mind and sharpest instincts.
He was not the type to handle anything carelessly.
The messenger was sweating profusely.
“Explain in detail!”
Olf snapped, and the messenger swallowed hard before continuing.
“A black panther and two enemy soldiers approached, stole bread from the ovens, and set fire to several tents.”
“Those useless bastards?”
Olf’s anger flared as fiercely as the flames in those tents.
Of course it did.
He knew how vital the supply line was, which was why he had already diverted part of his strength there.
The enemy was trapped. Even if a few crawled out to strike, how much could they really do?
The ones who had smashed the mangonels before?
If those bastards came out again, he would welcome it.
With fire in the commander’s eyes at the report of last night’s raid, the messenger could not keep talking.
Did that bastard Zimmer get careless and let this happen?
Zimmer was the 2nd Battalion Commander. Smart, sharp, meticulous, not a man prone to mistakes.
Then why had he not come in person to report?
“Zimmer?”
At the mention of the 2nd Battalion Commander’s name, the messenger answered at once.
“He said he was pursuing the raiders.”
Olf let out several heavy breaths, then spoke.
“Strengthen security. If this happens one more time, I won’t forgive it.”
In war, a commander who lost a battle could be forgiven. A commander lax in vigilance could not.
* * *
Enkrid hit the supply base with ease.
Truly with ease.
“Shall we go?”
“Let’s.”
There was nothing difficult about it. Smoke rose plainly above them from what the enemy was doing, and tents stood in long rows.
The guard force was large and had no obvious gaps, but that was not the issue.
“Grrr.”
Esther moved first.
The panther sprinted, with Enkrid and Rem right behind her.
Esther looked lighter than usual.
With one swipe of her forepaw, she half cut through an enemy shin, then smashed a skull with her tail in a fluid motion that left enemy eyes spinning.
“Raid!”
There was no need to drag it out. Enkrid charged in and slit the throats of two or three men who rushed him, and through the stench of blood came that rich, savory smell.
In truth, that smell had been teasing his nose for a while already.
While the enemy panicked, Jaxon lit several tents on fire, and Enkrid grabbed a few loaves with Rem and bolted.
On the way back, they deliberately looped through the forest.
If the enemy chased on horseback, it would be a problem. Men chasing on foot were easy to shake.
Their stamina was on a completely different level.
After running for hours without rest, no pursuers remained in sight.
“We should’ve just cut them all down.”
Rem clicked his tongue in regret. Enkrid shook his head.
“This is enough.”
After they returned, they shared the bread.
“You were told you can report tomorrow.”
A sentry told them first on the way back. Marcus, the Battalion Commander, had already looked out for them.
Enkrid, Rem, and Jaxon slept off their fatigue and rose fully rested.
A blazing bright morning on the third day of the battlefield.
Summer sunlight came early. Enkrid finished morning training under that sun, washed up, and headed in.
“This bread is incredible.”
Kraiss marveled all over again.
Well, it was good.
“Don’t overeat.”
Enkrid lightly smacked the back of Kraiss’s head and went to find the Battalion Commander for his report.
Right below the wall, he saw something boiling in a pot.
All the commanders were gathered around the bubbling stew.
Thanks to not having fought a battle yet, their armor was still clean.
By contrast, Enkrid’s armor still bore bloodstains. He had wiped it down, but the marks remained.
“So, you checked the supply base and came back?”
Marcus asked, seated on a backless wooden chair.
“I set some fires while I was there too.”
“I see.”
Marcus only nodded, and the Elf Company Commander beside him muttered, “A hobby, or a specialty?”
He meant setting fires.
Enkrid had already been thinking it was becoming a habit, but what worked better than fire for damaging a supply base?
“Want a bowl?”
The 1st Company Commander offered, lifting the stew ladle. It smelled pretty good.
“Who cooked it?”
As Enkrid spoke, the Frontier Defense Captain personally brought him a chair.
It was the same kind of backless wooden chair as the Battalion Commander’s.
Sitting down and catching the stew’s aroma, Enkrid thought bread dipped in it would taste twice as good.
“Hang on.”
Enkrid went and brought the bread they had stolen.
It was a baguette, hard outside and soft inside, crisp and fragrant from a proper bake.
“Here.”
They tore the baguette and dipped it into the stew.
“Mm, excellent.”
The 1st Company Commander said it with unusually flushed cheeks.
Hadn’t someone said this man was obsessed with food?
Kraiss might have said that.
Enkrid tasted it too. It was delicious.
Crunch.
The crust felt hard at first, but the moment he chewed, it gave way softly, and the white crumb mixed with saliva and coated his tongue.
Then the rich, oily stew swept through his mouth.
It really was excellent.
“So, they were preparing in earnest?”
“They’re planning to starve us out after cutting us off. They were even building ovens and baking bread.”
“That bastard Olf didn’t get his reputation as a war maniac for nothing.”
Marcus said with a grin, confidence written all over his face.
The enemy still held the advantage in overall strength.
They had cavalry, and enough breathing room to run field ovens.
Even so, Marcus never lost his composure. Only now did Enkrid understand what Marcus was relying on.
He could not exactly call it repayment for that trust, but he meant to do his part.
If he did not step up, who would protect the seasoned jerky and orange marmalade?
Food mattered.
Even now, everyone was too busy chewing to talk.
As they ate, two nobles approached.
Their clothes were impressively clean.
As spotless as the commanders’ armor.
One of them, a man with a forehead noticeably wider than the others, spoke first.
“Have you considered peace?”
The younger one beside him followed up.
“Even at a glance, the gap in strength is this severe, so if we can settle it with words somehow...”
Most of the noble riffraff in Border Guard were either title buyers or men whose family status had fallen, leaving them minor baronets at best.
What high noble would come here otherwise?
But the situation had changed quite a bit now.
Once the kingdom stabilized, maybe some count or viscount would reach in here too.
Before that happened, Viscount Bantara and others were already trying to stake their claims first.
Enkrid knew nothing about politics and did not care to, but thanks to Big Eyes Kraiss, he had learned the rough outline.
That bastard never stopped talking.
Then again, what did it matter?
Whoever came at him could be driven back.
Real fights, swords, combat, battlefields.
Those things gave Enkrid a strange thrill.
Maybe he had rotten tastes too.
Why did his heart race at battle and bloodshed?
No, from the start, he had wanted and admired those things. That was why he wanted to become a knight.
He had not started with some lofty mission. In the beginning, he had simply imagined himself charging across a battlefield.
After that brief thought, Marcus looked at the two nobles and chuckled.
“What? You see signs this city might grow, so you think you can become something too? So instead of fighting Martai, you want a convenient peace, and then you’ll claim you stood at the center of it?”
Was that it? Enkrid let it pass. If Kraiss had heard it, he would have nodded to himself.
Whatever else, Marcus had sharp political instincts. He had hit the core.
“Shut your mouths and get inside. If you don’t want to die, offer your thanks to the named hero here.”
He was a company commander now, but originally just a common soldier.
He came from some rural village and had joined the military to make a living by the sword.
Nobles had no reason to bow to Enkrid.
He was a hero to soldiers, not a hero to nobles.
“Hmph, I said what I had to say.”
“It was a proposal, just a proposal. The enemy force looked dangerous, so we made one.”
The two nobles kept spouting nonsense, and Marcus waved them away.
After they left, Marcus lifted his wooden bowl, slurped down stew, and spoke.
“They’re the kind of bastards I want to cut down. Don’t you think?”
He was looking at Enkrid.
“Killing nobles is a grave crime.”
Enkrid answered, and Marcus replied in a flat tone.
“Could challenge them to a duel and kill them by accident.”
“And who would accept your duel challenge, Commander? They’d just send a proxy.”
That was the 1st Company Commander’s reply.
“I’m speaking figuratively.”
As he listened, Enkrid asked a question that had popped into his mind.
“What does named hero mean?”
“That was cool, Independent Company Commander.”
Instead of answering directly, Marcus gave a thumbs-up.
“I’m planning to copy that myself later.”
The 1st Company Commander chimed in from the side.
The Frontier Defense Captain only nodded.
Enkrid felt no shame about what he had done on impulse.
He only thought these people were a little, just a very little, irritating.
“So what are you planning after this?”
They were nearly done eating. As Enkrid started to stand, Marcus asked.
“I plan to go a few more times.”
“A few more?”
The first strike was unexpected, sure, but the second would not be. They would be ready.
No matter how strong Enkrid was, no matter how wildly Rem rampaged with an axe, if they got surrounded, they would not survive.
“Something keeps nagging at me.”
Enkrid answered. It was not empty talk. When they hit the supply base, burned several tents, and headed back, he had felt something strange.
It was in the realm of instinct and gut feeling.
Like Big Eyes hiding Krona.
So Enkrid figured the enemy was hiding something else.
He wanted to confirm it.
He even gave the operation a name.
Operation Tap Tap, Then Thwack.
Tap once, and if a chance appeared, strike hard. That was the core of it.
Enkrid laid out the basic frame, and Kraiss filled in the details.
Back in the barracks, as they discussed when to go and where to hit, Kraiss said,
“Then this time, let’s go at sunrise.”
His tone was calm, but anyone with even a little grasp of strategy would have called it brilliant.
Enkrid thought it made sense.
Last time they had raided deep at night, so this time they would do it in broad daylight. It seemed good.
“This will be fun, brother.”
Audin replied after hearing the plan.
The key to this operation was the bear.
= = =
Join our discord at https://dsc.gg/wetried