WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Abood

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◈ Friedrich's Battlefield

Chapter 112: A Victorious Battle (1)

In early July, the forces of the Kingdom of Novakia completed their march toward the borderlands of Edelstein.

They had originally been scheduled to advance in June. But dealing with the flood of refugees from the south, together with the need to revise their supply plan after Edelstein’s scorched-earth campaign had devastated that region, forced them to delay their campaign.

The assembled host numbered around 2,500, consisting chiefly of the remnants of Novakia’s royal army. King Oscar of Novakia himself, together with Crown Prince Julius, personally led the force.

After Novakia’s surrender to Arelia, King Childebert’s treatment of them had been merciful.

Though the Novakian royal family had resisted to the bitter end, he did not put them all to the sword, nor did he allow uncontrolled looting and violence against the people. Indeed, he put a stop to it swiftly.

Even now, the ongoing occupation, carried out in preparation for annexation, had been relatively lenient.

What Childebert demanded in exchange for this mercy was that Novakia continue to exert military pressure on Edelstein.

As support for Arelia’s coming offensives from the west, Novakia was ordered to keep its army stationed on the border with Edelstein, forcing that kingdom to commit part of its strength to defending its northern frontier.

If they fulfilled this role with the current march, contributing to Arelia’s conquest of Edelstein, then their efforts would be counted as proof of loyalty to the Arelians.

The royal house of Arelia would, as their protectors, reward them accordingly: Novakia would be annexed under more generous terms than other conquered territories, with local self-government and lighter taxes to the crown.

The Novakian princess, Oscar’s daughter and Julius’s sister, would be married into Arelia’s royal kin, and the House of Novakia would be preserved as a ducal house, entrusted to continue ruling this land.

It was precisely because Novakia bordered Arelia’s enemies, the Kingdom of Edelstein and the Rigald Empire, and would become a crucial land for future invasions and border defense, that such exceptionally lenient terms were offered.

Yet for the royal house that had long ruled Novakia, there was no choice but to cling to these merciful conditions laid out by Childebert.

Even if he lost his title as king, the House of Novakia would remain the rulers of this land. They could not burden their people with harsh taxes and suffering if it could be avoided.

And Oscar was the current head of the Novakian line, inherited through some thirty generations stretching back before the kingdom’s founding.

He could not so easily allow his house to be destroyed and its bloodline extinguished. For those reasons, Oscar made the bitter decision to march.

He brought with him as lieutenant his heir, Crown Prince Julius, so that the people would begin to see the succession of the Novakia house.

For Oscar, this offensive would be his last work as monarch. Once Novakia was annexed into Arelia and the political adjustments had settled, he intended to retire in atonement for having surrendered.

This advance carried many layers of meaning. Unlike the original plan, its purpose was no longer merely to exert military pressure to the south, but now included a concrete objective: the recapture of the border fortress seized by Edelstein.

Without reclaiming the fortress as a base, even a standoff with Edelstein would be impossible.

In terms of strength, the enemy enjoyed the advantage, fielding two full regiments. But Novakia was in no position to pick and choose its battles.

With the weight of Arelia’s demands pressing behind them, there could be no hope without victory. They had to win at all costs. And for that reason, King Oscar himself, the kingdom’s supreme warrior, took command of the host.

From the capital of Cēsis to the borderlands was a march of about ten days. With many conscripts unaccustomed to campaigning, the army’s progress was slower than that of a purely regular force. By the time they arrived, they were already greatly fatigued.

“…Indeed, the effect of a scorched-earth campaign is something fearsome. Though if possible, I would rather not have had to experience it on the receiving end.”

In the command tent of their camp, set at some distance from the Edelstein forces and the fortress they aimed to retake, Oscar wore a wry smile.

“…To think that Edelstein, who until so recently was our ally, would employ such a ruthless stratagem…”

“It cannot be helped. We were the ones who cast aside that friendship and showed the first signs of marching. We are in no position to complain.

…Besides, compared to what a scorched-earth campaign might be, Count Hosenfeld’s method was still merciful.

He did not slaughter the people, nor did he ruin the fields forever with salt. We must accept that Edelstein ravaged our south only as an unavoidable measure.”

Perhaps because he had been charged by his father the king with overseeing the refugees, and had witnessed firsthand their pitiful state after being driven from their homes, Julius spoke with a pained expression of his dismay at the enemy’s tactics.

In reply, Oscar’s voice carried resignation as he tried to reason with him.

Though the Ferdinand Regiment under Count Matthias Hosenfeld had devastated the society of southern Novakia, they had inflicted little killing upon the people themselves.

There were said to have been only a few cases where civilians were wounded or slain, and those only when they attacked despite warning—in which case Edelstein could claim it as self-defense.

What was more, the refugees had been allowed to take whatever property they could carry. The knights and soldiers of the Ferdinand Regiment had not seized their valuables.

Even though they had once been allies, once Novakia showed signs of hostility, they could not have protested had Edelstein retaliated without mercy. And yet, Edelstein had shown restraint.

Most likely, even in this hardship, the royal house of Edelstein intended to withstand Novakia’s pressure, then face Arelia’s decisive strike head-on, and bring down Childebert.

Afterward, they meant to restore friendly relations with Novakia. That was surely the reason for their restraint.

If that was their intent, then Novakia had no grounds to voice complaint.

“Even so, it doesn’t change the fact that we are in dire straits. How much can we truly fight under these conditions…?”

Thinking on the state of his own army, Oscar could not help but let out a sigh.

They had revised their supply plan in advance, in response to Edelstein’s scorched-earth tactics. Additional merchants had been hired, and every effort was made to strengthen the supply system.

Even so, the march did not proceed as they had hoped. The granary region of the south could no longer provide grain, and on top of that, tens of thousands of refugees had fled into the capital.

As a result, food shortages were already beginning around Cēsis. In truth, this was no time to be mustering an army and marching out. The merchants they had hired did what they could, but even so, supplies did not arrive as scheduled.

And along the line of march, there was almost no food to be found. In some places, wells had even been filled in.

The 2,500 men under Oscar’s command were not yet starving outright, but they lacked sufficient meals, went hungry, and at times even suffered from thirst.

To keep marching and camping for days in such a state naturally drained them, body and spirit. Even before the fighting began, the frailer conscripts were already worn to exhaustion.

On top of that, in the last two or three days, more and more soldiers had fallen ill. Many were struck with fever, nausea, or diarrhea.

Oscar suspected the culprit was the provisions left in a small town they had used for rest along the way.

The Edelstein army had evidently not had time to burn every city, and so a few buildings and a small stock of food had been left behind.

Ravenous for a proper meal, his soldiers had eaten it with his permission, but the spread of sickness could only have come from that.

This was to be the king’s last battle, one he wished to fight with every ounce of strength left to him. But it seemed fate would not permit it to be so easy.

・・・・・・

“As expected, it seems clear that many of their soldiers are far from being in any fit state.”

“Aye. Even from here, it’s plain their army’s morale is abysmally low… To have achieved so much before the battle has even begun. Remarkable, the stratagems devised by that young Friedrich.”

On the morning of the decisive clash, gazing across the plain from Edelstein’s main camp toward the enemy lines, Margrave Rebecca Eisenhut exchanged words with her adjutant.

The plan had been ruthless: utterly devastate the borderlands on the Novakian side, crushing any hope of an offensive, yet still leave a path open for restoring friendly relations afterward.

It was a scheme devised by Count Matthias Hosenfeld’s heir, and it had borne fruit splendidly.

Thanks to it, the enemy was gravely weakened even before the fight. Even the formations of the regular troops looked slack and unsteady, while the conscripts were nothing more than a rabble herded together to stand.

The lack of provisions had drained their strength and morale, and according to the scouts’ reports, illness had begun to spread among them as well.

The method used to cause the sickness had been simple. In towns too large to burn completely, the Ferdinand Regiment had deliberately tainted part of the remaining food, leaving it behind as though overlooked in the destruction.

Knives used to cut bread and meat, spoons for soup or gruel, dishes for serving meals, all had been touched with human or animal filth and then abandoned.

Some foodstuffs themselves had likewise been soiled, though only just enough not to leave a smell. Those who, unaware, ate from them or used them, the unlucky ones at least, soon fell prey to fevers and stomach pains.

Once it began, the spread was inevitable. In an army’s camp life, though the knights were one thing, the rank-and-file soldiers shared everything as part of communal living.

A man who used the same utensils as a sick comrade. One who drank from the same barrel of water. One who handled the same gear. One who slept in the same bedding. Illness passed from one to the next in rapid succession.

And so, with many tormented by hunger and no few stricken by sickness, they now faced the decisive battle. There was no way they could muster their full strength. The enemy had already been reduced to a weakened force simply by marching here.

In terms of raw numbers, the forces were nearly equal. On Edelstein’s side stood the bulk of the Albrecht Regiment, less the battalion kept stationed at the Elzass Corridor.

Alongside are the troops Rebecca had summoned from her own Eisenhut Marquisate, as well as levies from nearby noble domains, and even conscript units called up from her estates.

Together they numbered just over 2,000.

And in the fortress behind them, the Ferdinand Regiment stood ready as reserve. By any measure, the enemy had no chance of victory.

Even so, the army led by King Oscar of Novakia, whatever agreement he might have struck with King Childebert of Arelia, showed no sign of surrender. They intended to fight to the end.

“If they are determined to fight, then we will simply meet them head-on. The last desperate struggle of warriors who share the same ancestors, I shall crush it utterly, leaving not a shred behind.”

Rebecca, descended from the people who long ago had crossed the Judith Mountains from Novakian lands into Edelstein, spoke with a face betraying no emotion. From her vantage, she gazed down upon the descendants of her own distant kin.

Footnotes:

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