WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Abood

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◈ Friedrich's Battlefield

Chapter 108: Breakthrough at the Border

The Kingdom of Edelstein’s territory lay with the sea to the south, while the other three sides were encircled by mountains.

To march outward across those ranges was difficult, and at the same time, they served as natural defensive lines that were easy to hold. Thus, the land enclosed within the mountains had naturally settled into the kingdom’s domain.

These mountains were known as the Yudit Range. The range had several gaps and passes of lower elevation, and these became the routes for either contact with neighboring states or for waging war against them.

Along the northern border with the Kingdom of Novakia there was one such gap. A highway ran through it to cross the border, and on the Novakian side stood a fortress that also served as a checkpoint.

Built as one with the bridge that spanned the river flowing through the broken line of the mountains, this fortress was the linchpin of Novakia’s southern border defense.

The river beside the fortress was of sufficient depth and volume that, in principle, one could not enter Novakia from Edelstein except by crossing the bridge under the fortress’s watch.

Ordinarily, the fortress housed a garrison of one hundred soldiers. But after the Kingdom of Novakia’s surrender to the Kingdom of Arelia, its strength had been tripled.

By order of the King of Arelia, Novakia was to send troops against Edelstein to exert military pressure. This notice had reached the fortress commander from the royal house itself.

The reinforcement of the garrison to a full battalion was explained as a measure to prevent Edelstein, having noticed Novakia’s movements, from launching a counter-invasion.

It was in mid-June that the Kingdom of Edelstein’s army approached this fortress.

“…The living hero of Edelstein. As an ally, there was no one more reliable as a general, but now that I must finally cross blades with him as an enemy… truly, it is terrifying.”

The enemy had appeared before the fortress and pitched camp; now, with dawn, they formed ranks and readied themselves for assault. Watching the regiment arrayed before him, the fortress commander muttered to himself.

Above the enemy headquarters flew the royal army’s banner, and beside it a flag bearing a crest shaped like a flower. There was no mistake, this was the standard of the House of Count Hosenfeld.

The hero’s regiment was deployed before them. That fact alone caused the knights and soldiers defending the fortress to waver and grow tense.

Of the two regiments forming the backbone of Novakia’s army, one had been stationed on the western frontier, the other in the east at the capital Cēsis.

By contrast, in this southern region of the kingdom, long bordering a friendly neighbor, forces had always been few and limited to a single battalion for security and border control.

And even this battalion could not be called formidable. The knights were one matter, but the soldiers were largely men who had failed to be assigned to the main regiments.

Though all had been concentrated now in the fortress, they could hardly be relied upon. They could not be compared to the elites who had fought to the death on the western frontier, or who had defended the king to the last in the capital.

On top of that, morale was low. Their kingdom had just surrendered to a neighbor; it was only natural their spirit would not be high.

Even so, this was a defensive battle against, at most, three times their number. There was still a chance of victory.

The terrain was in their favor: they held the fortress. From the south, the only path leading to it was the bridge across the river.

The enemy could not use their numerical advantage there. If the defenders aimed well at the foe forced to march exposed across that narrow span, they could strike them down.

If they could inflict enough casualties, the enemy would surely fear taking further heavy losses and retreat. Even if they did not withdraw, they would likely refrain from pressing another assault. All the defenders needed to do was endure a few attacks at most.

After that, once reinforcements arrived from the capital, their duty would be complete. A simple matter.

Having arranged his thoughts this way to steady his own nerves, the commander next opened his mouth to calm his subordinates.

But his first words were cut off by a report from a soldier in the watchtower, facing north.

“E-enemy to the north as well! Their number… about two hundred!”

“What! How can there be so many enemies to the north!”

Shouting, the commander ran along the walls to the northern side. There, from the northwest, he could indeed see a force of around two hundred approaching.

The soldiers’ equipment was unmistakable: the matching breastplates and helmets of the Edelstein royal army. The distance made details unclear, but their color and shape were plain enough.

“What is the meaning of this…? There is no way our patrols could have been so lax as to let such a force cross the river unnoticed…”

At the gap in the Yudit Mountains that formed the border, the river on the Novakia side was not easily crossed without a bridge, a raft, or small boats.

If a force of two hundred had approached the river and prepared rafts or boats to cross, there was no way they would have escaped the notice of the patrols, which had already been reinforced beyond peacetime levels.

And once discovered, all that would have been required was to station a few dozen men on the opposite bank. That alone would have been enough to prevent the enemy, forced to cross in small groups, from ever establishing a foothold.

Nor was it realistic for a force of two full companies to break through the rough mountain terrain further upstream, beyond the river’s source.

God’s creation in nature was fearsome. For hundreds of men to move in order and maintain cohesion across such impassable ground, with no proper paths, was impossible.

Perhaps the famed jaegers from the northern continent could manage it, but there had been no word of Edelstein possessing such troops.

And yet, here now was indeed an enemy detachment of two hundred approaching the fortress’s northern side.

The standard they bore also carried the crest of the House of Count Hosenfeld.

“…The hero’s son, then…”

With a face as if biting down on bitter worms, the commander muttered.

The man said to have been adopted by Edelstein’s living hero. Rumor held he was an extraordinary strategist, but what sorcery had he used to achieve this?

“What do we do now! We’re caught between them!”

“We’ve got no preparations at all to fight on the north side!”

“This fortress wasn’t even built to be defended from the north!”

“W-why do neighboring kingdoms keep attacking us one after another…?”

“If that many men managed to circle around to the north… doesn’t that mean the enemy has some secret passage we don’t know about?”

In the midst of a national crisis, just as they had been straining themselves to defend the southern frontier, this sudden, unexpected situation arose.

The morale of the garrison sank even further. Once one man raised his voice, others followed, and curses, complaints, and defeatist speculation filled the air within the fortress.

As one soldier had shouted, this stronghold had been designed solely to face southward and guard the bridge at the border. On the northern side, toward Novakian territory, the walls were not especially high, and above all, the gate was not built for strength.

There were no defenses such as ballistae either. This was by design so that, should Edelstein seize the fortress and bridge by raid or stratagem, the Novakians could easily recapture it by direct assault.

Had they known enemies would come from the north, they would have made defensive preparations. But as it stood, nothing had been done. There were no stones readied for throwing, no reinforcement of the gate. There was simply no time now to prepare properly.

The enemy’s northern force was smaller than their own, not enough to bring down the fortress by itself. But it was enough to force the defenders to divide their strength.

If they split off enough men to hold the north, then the southern side would be left undermanned. Combined with morale already in tatters, the chances of holding the bridge and gates would be slim indeed.

“......”

With so little prospect of victory, was it still right to fight? Should he order his men to face the hero’s regiment advancing from the south, while also under attack from an unexpected force striking from the undefended north?

Was it his duty to send his subordinates to their deaths in vain?

And yet, guarding the border was their mission. If they did not fight, the armies of the southern neighbor would flood in unchecked.

The order from the royal house was to hold the line as it was. In that case, it was the soldier’s duty to carry it out to the utmost. It was his duty as a knight sworn to loyalty to the crown and country.

What was the right course?

“From the south! A handful of knights are approaching, bearing a white flag! Looks like an envoy!”

As the commander, pale-faced, struggled with his decision, a lookout on the southern wall cried out.

Soon after, the enemy envoy was admitted into the fortress. He was introduced as Baron Eugen Stamitz, a cavalry battalion commander. Surrounded by Novakia’s knights and soldiers, he did not falter, but raised his voice with fearless composure.

‘Lay down your arms and surrender. Do so, and your safety will be guaranteed. If you quietly obey our instructions and disarm, you will be temporarily detained, but once the confrontation along this border is concluded, you will be released without ransom. This I swear in the name of Count Matthias Hosenfeld.’

As the soldiers murmured at such an extraordinary offer, the commander could not help but let slip a bitter smile.

“…So. We’ve been thoroughly outmaneuvered.”

Only two months earlier, the Kingdom of Novakia had been crushed by Arelia and forced to surrender. With their nation’s future, their families’ fates, all shrouded in uncertainty, there were few who could fight with spirit.

The knights, officers who had sworn oaths upon their investiture, were one thing. But the common soldiers beneath them could not possibly maintain high morale.

And now outnumbered several times over in front, struck by enemies to their undefended rear, and faced with a dire situation.

Then came the enemy’s message: Lay down your arms, surrender, and in the end you will be sent back to your families. Seemingly merciful, yet in truth a terrifying move that shattered their will to fight.

With the name of Count Matthias Hosenfeld pledged as guarantor of the promise, the persuasion was complete. Such a commander would never betray his word. His name alone was enough to believe it.

Was this the handiwork of Count Hosenfeld himself, who surely knew every art of controlling soldiers’ hearts? Or of that clever foster son of his? Either was plausible, the commander thought.

“Commander… what are your orders?”

“Sir, your command…”

From beside him, his adjutant and company leaders spoke. Even in the hardened expressions of these men, those who should have been the fiercest of the battalion, the desire not to fight was plain. And who could blame them?

Even if the knights themselves intended to fulfill their duty, it no longer mattered. Order them to fight, and the soldiers would not stand.

“…We will accept the offer of surrender. This is a decision I make by my authority and responsibility alone. The order to yield is mine, and all blame shall fall upon me.”

With an expression mingled of frustration and resignation, the commander made his bitter choice.

・・・・・・

“It seems the fortress has fallen without a fight. Good.”

Watching a knight emerge from the northern gate of the border fortress, Friedrich murmured, leading his force of two hundred.

The one who came forth was not an enemy knight, but a tall knight whom Friedrich knew well as a fellow officer, he served as adjutant to the cavalry battalion commander, Eugen Stamitz.

The fact that he had been allowed to pass through the fortress and ride toward them meant the defenders no longer had any will to resist.

“This too is thanks to your cooperation. I’m grateful.”

Turning back as he spoke, Friedrich looked over the two hundred assembled behind him.

Only a few, including Friedrich himself, were mounted. Beside him, Oliver and Yurika also sat on horseback.

And of those standing in ranks as infantry, the only true soldiers of the Edelstein army were the dozen or so men at the very front.

Behind them, arrayed in three lines, were peasants dressed in the kingdom’s standard helmets and breastplates. Yet they were not even Edelsteiners.

They were common folk from the southern reaches of the Kingdom of Novakia. Now they had been made to wear such garb and stood trembling in the formation.

Further back still were men without even helmets or armor. Instead, they wore hats made to mimic the shape and color of helmets, and cloth cut and painted to resemble breastplates, fastened across their chests.

In truth, they had no fighting strength whatsoever. But from a distance, the formation appeared unmistakably as soldiers of the Kingdom of Edelstein.

That was the force of two hundred under Friedrich’s command.

Footnotes:

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