WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Abood

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◈ Friedrich's Battlefield

Chapter 104: The Battle of Novakia’s Border Defense (3)

Ivar managed to keep his posture steady for only the first few meters.

His balance gave way and his body tilted, but by bracing his hand against the cliff face he barely regained his stance, avoiding the danger of tumbling headfirst down the slope. His arms and legs struck the uneven rock multiple times, yet by desperately shielding himself he prevented any fractures.

After descending several dozen meters in this manner, covered in scrapes and bruises, Ivar rolled to a stop and landed inside Fort Lecoa.

“E-enemy forces have breached from the rear! Intercept—!”

A Novakian soldier standing watch at the rear spotted Ivar’s descent and shouted toward his comrades. Bearing with the pain still throbbing through his body, Ivar dashed forward, drew his machete, and cut the man down.

Immediately after, Acht landed in the spot where Ivar had come down. Beside him, another soldier failed to roll properly and crashed onto the ground on one arm, yet even so, he rose at once and moved forward.

The jaegers continued one after another, finishing their descent and landing, though not all unscathed. Some struck headfirst and lay motionless where they fell.

Even so, more than seventy percent of the force made it into the fort’s interior without serious injury. Counting those wounded but alive, the total exceeded ninety percent. 

This was the result only men hardened by the harsh terrain of the northern continent could achieve, and the losses were within acceptable limits.

By the time all two hundred had finished their descent, a portion of the Novakian troops stationed at Fort Lecoa were already attempting to form a counterattack. 

Around thirty infantrymen who had been on guard duty, along with part of the archers armed with longbows, turned their ranks toward the rear.

“Kill them all!”

Ivar snarled the words and charged into the ranks of enemy soldiers. The jaegers followed with a battle cry.

“FIREE!”

The shout came from a knight who seemed to be the commander of Fort Lecoa. At his order, several dozen archers facing them released their arrows in unison.

Even as he sprinted forward, Ivar instinctively picked out the archer aiming for him. Trusting his intuition, he twisted his body at the instant the arrow left the string. 

His judgment proved true. The arrow grazed his cuirass, veered off its path, and flew diagonally behind him.

The archer, stunned that his shot had been evaded, reached to nock another arrow, but Ivar gave him no chance. In an instant he closed the distance, and with a single stroke took the man’s head, longbow and all.

Another archer, trying to fire an arrow into Ivar’s face from point-blank range, was cut down on the spot by Acht. Though several of the jaegers fell to enemy arrows, the rest surged upon the archers reaching for a second shot and the infantry who had formed ranks.

Even skilled archers were weak in close combat. Though they resisted fiercely, Novakia’s hundred-strong elite archer corps were slain one after another. 

As for the infantry, they were not poor soldiers, but they had not anticipated so many enemies breaching the fort. Unable to overturn their overwhelming disadvantage in numbers, they too were cut down rapidly.

Even the soldiers who had been manning the catapults and ballistae, or carrying ammunition from the storehouses, joined the defense. 

But they bore only short swords for self-defense. Against the reach of machetes, they could mount no effective resistance, and were likewise swiftly slaughtered.

“Damn you all!”

The commander of Fort Lecoa, realizing defeat was inevitable, still made no attempt to surrender. He seemed to have discerned that Ivar was the leader of the raiding force, and with his sword raised firmly, he came charging.

Out of respect for that bravery, Ivar faced him head-on.

The heavy strike of the longsword was parried aside by Ivar’s machete, and in the same motion Ivar swept his blade to sever the man’s neck. 

But the enemy commander knocked it away with his metal gauntlet. Swinging his left arm, he aimed a punch at Ivar’s face, yet Ivar ducked low to avoid it and quickly leapt back to gain distance.

Entrusted with such an important defensive stronghold, the enemy commander proved himself a skilled warrior. Upon his fine steel cuirass was engraved a family crest, it was clear he was a noble.

Ivar and the enemy commander readied their weapons once more and closed in again. The commander unleashed a slash of terrifying speed. Ivar slipped low across the ground to evade it and, at the same time, swept his leg out.

Caught off guard by the unorthodox move, the commander lost his footing and fell. Ivar was already rising, machete swinging down toward his foe’s neck.

For a moment it seemed the fight was decided. But the commander, even as he fell, kicked against the ground and slid his body upward by a head’s breadth. Ivar’s blade struck only the steel of his breastplate, glancing off with a metallic clang.

The enemy commander swung his sword toward Ivar’s leg, but Ivar kicked his right hand, halting the strike. Using the imbalance of his own body to his advantage, he spun and drove the tip of his machete down into the commander’s face.

The blade pierced through the enemy’s upraised left palm, then into the unprotected center of his face beneath the helm, shattering bone and crushing the brain. At last, the commander’s resistance ceased. His body convulsed for an instant, then moved no more.

“…What a troublesome bastard.”

Ivar muttered bitterly as he rose, pulling his machete free from the corpse.

Looking around, he saw that the enemy was nearly wiped out. The jaegers had taken no prisoners, exactly as he had ordered, and the defenders, for their part, had not sought to surrender even when their numbers dwindled.

The men of Fort Lecoa had resolved themselves to hold the fort or to die. The last of them fell, throat slit, scattering blood across the ground.

“Ready the catapults and ballistae at once! And prepare the bows as well!”

Confirming the slaughter was done, Ivar gave his next command. According to the prearranged plan, the jaegers moved swiftly, half to man the catapults and ballistae, the rest to strip longbows and quivers from the bodies of the slain archers.

On the handling of catapults and ballistae, Ivar and the Velek Mercenary Band had been trained by the Arelian army during the winter. 

Though the models used by the Kingdom of Novakia differed somewhat in appearance and finer details, the basic mechanisms were the same, and there was no issue in readying them to fire. 

The jaegers swiftly loaded the next rounds, adjusting the aim and angle. While that preparation advanced, the half equipped with longbows formed ranks under Acht’s command. 

For the Velek mercenaries, who had relied on hunting as part of daily life in the northern continent, skilled bowmen were many. Among them, Acht was the finest archer of all, which was why he was regarded as the next leader of the band.

It did not take long before both those manning the catapults and ballistae and those bearing bows were ready to attack. Confirming this, Ivar fixed his gaze forward, toward the northwest where Vantor Fortress stood.

“…Fire!”

At their commander’s order, the eight small catapults and eight ballistae were loosed. Massive stones and bolts thick as pillars tore violently through the air. At the same time, nearly a hundred arrows from longbows arced skyward, whistling as they traced their parabolic flight.

・・・・・・

“…Why has the supporting fire from Fort Lecoa stopped?”

Surveying the battlefield, Julius sensed something amiss and voiced his unease.

From the southeast, the rain of arrows that had been falling without pause from Fort Lecoa had ceased, and even the catapults and ballistae, which had been firing intermittently between reloads, had not loosed a single shot for several dozen seconds.

“Could it be that Fort Lecoa has also come under attack? By that jaeger unit from the northern continent?”

“No, that should not be possible… Even those jaegers could hardly reach the fort so easily. As per the royal command, we increased both the mountain patrols and the lookouts during battle.”

Turning back toward the fort with a hardened expression, Julius heard Paulina give that reply, as she too shifted her gaze toward it.

Last year, when a hundred-strong band of jaegers invaded the Kingdom of Edelstein’s territory, and it became known they were mercenaries from the northern continent who had drifted into the Kingdom of Arelia, the Kingdom of Novakia had been informed of it as well.

Naturally, they had taken measures with the presence of those jaegers in mind. Patrols in the mountains around Vantor Fortress and Fort Lecoa had been more than doubled, and before the battle began, additional sentries had been deployed around both the fortress and the fort.

Although not as harsh as the far north, the Kingdom of Novakia still possessed lands whose natural environment was more severe than that of other regions in the west of the continent.

 The knights and soldiers who had survived in such lands carried a firm pride, that even in mountains and forests, they were warriors in no way inferior to northern mercenaries.

For the enemy jaegers to slip past their patrols, discover a hidden route to the rear of the fort, infiltrate with a force large enough to seize the fort, eliminate all of the sentries, and reach the stronghold itself, such a notion was difficult to believe.

It was unthinkable that there existed mercenaries on this continent so superior that Novakia’s proud warriors could not stand against them.

Yet, contrary to the thoughts of Julius and Paulina, the distant silhouette of Fort Lecoa, high above, was clearly amiss. The catapults and ballistae showed no sign of operating, nor did arrows fall.

Then, a visible change occurred. The catapults and ballistae which should have been aimed at the first wave of enemy assault troops before Vantor Fortress, began to shift their alignment and angle.

“No friendly troops are visible at Fort Lecoa! I see what appears to be enemy light infantry!”

The knight assigned as signal officer, chosen for his keen eyesight and tasked with communicating with the fort by flag, turned back toward Julius and the others, his face pale, and shouted.

At that moment, something was seen launching from Fort Lecoa. Countless dark specks took to the sky, steadily growing larger as they drew nearer.

“Your Highness!”

“An attack is coming from the flank! Brace yourselves—!”

Almost simultaneously, as one of the bodyguard knights threw himself in front of Julius to shield him, and Paulina raised her voice toward the interior of the fortress, the destructive force that should have struck down Vantor Fortress’s enemies instead came crashing into the fortress itself.

Footnotes: 

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