WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Abood

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◈ Friedrich's Battlefield

Chapter 32: Battle of the Mountain Pass (1)

On the southern slopes of the mountain pass, fifty ambushers waited silently in the forest at dawn, bathed in the early morning sunlight filtering through the trees.

After the war council, the detached unit had immediately visited nearby farming villages to recruit volunteers. Though concerns about insufficient applicants had lingered, they proved unfounded.

The villagers' desperation to protect their homes from potential devastation, combined with the attractive terms, avoiding frontline combat while earning five hundred Slone, had drawn willing participants. But above all, invoking the name of Matthias Hosenfeld sealed their cooperation.

To the people of the kingdom's western territories, the prestige of Matthias, the living hero who had once defended their homeland, carried far greater weight than Friedrich had anticipated.

Each village's quota filled effortlessly, and the required fifty volunteers assembled without delay.

Friedrich resolved to personally apologize to Matthias later for recruiting volunteers with such high payments without authorization. If they achieved victory under these disadvantageous circumstances, he believed forgiveness would surely follow.

The fifty ambushers who had replaced the volunteers in the forest had departed their campsite in the predawn hours when the sky was just beginning to lighten. Concealed within the woods near the midpoint of the mountain pass, they had waited until now, so far without encountering any enemy scouts.

"They should be about ready by now, Yarg and his hundred men have probably finished preparations and begun their advance."

Oliver muttered, his voice barely above a whisper as he chewed through hardtack and dried meat before washing it down with water. 

"......"

Nearby, Friedrich ate his morning rations in silence, with Yurika pressed close beside him.

Though her presence would only hinder the hundred-strong force advancing through the mountain pass, leaving her behind at the rear camp despite her knightly status would have been too shameful. So Friedrich had included her among the ambush party, both to witness the outcome of his strategy firsthand and to respond if unforeseen circumstances arose.

The other knights and soldiers likewise kept low, concealed among the trees and underbrush as they hurried through their meals. Occasionally, the faint murmur of conversation between nearby men drifted through the air.

And then—

"Scouts!"

A hushed but sharp warning cut through the air. Oliver, then the other knights, relayed the alert from west to east across the ambush party's position.

All conversation ceased. The forest fell so silent one would never guess fifty men lay concealed within it.

Archers nocked arrows without a sound, poised to loose at a moment's notice.

"...There. Right beside the mountain path."

Yurika's whisper grazed Friedrich's ear as he scanned for the enemy scouts. Ahead of their position, where the tree line thinned near the path, an enemy scout sprinted through the underbrush.

The scout remained unaware of their presence, but that didn't mark him as incompetent. Venturing alone into the woods at this early hour, moving swiftly despite treacherous footing while maintaining cover demonstrated more than adequate skill. Their lack of detection spoke less to the scout's failure and more to Oliver's foresight in positioning them deeper in the forest.

The scout passed through undisturbed and soon turned back westward, never suspecting the ambush.

"......"

Friedrich met Oliver's gaze and returned a firm nod.

Had the scout noticed that half their detached unit had been replaced with conscripts, he would have suspected an ambush and proceeded cautiously back to his forces. Yet the scout retraced his path with the same unwavering speed, even hastening his return.

This suggested Friedrich's strategy remained undetected.

Moreover, the scout's return seemed unusually swift. Even for one skilled in woodland traversal, reaching the Edelstein side of the pass and returning so quickly defied reason.

Most likely, he'd spotted their hundred-strong unit advancing and rushed back to report.

Their westward march meant battle would soon commence. Friedrich drew a quiet, steadying breath.

"...There's Yarg's group. Move out."

After some time had passed, Oliver gave the order upon confirming the hundred-strong unit led by Knights Yarg and Noela were advancing westward along the mountain path. The fifty ambushers rose to their feet.

They kept their postures low and moved as silently as possible, shifting westward to prepare for an immediate ambush while edging closer to the northern side of the path for a swift strike. The uneven terrain and need for stealth meant the hundred-strong force on the path soon overtook them.

"Hold. Take cover."

Oliver commanded them to stop just short of the path, at a position where they could still observe it clearly. The fifty concealed themselves once more among trees and thickets, while Friedrich and Yurika were hiding together behind a large tree.

Before long, a single soldier emerged from the woods on the opposite side of the path. The man dashed across and rejoined the fifty ambushers.

He was the scout Oliver had dispatched when they first set out.

"Reporting. No enemy ambushers have approached the northern side of the mountain pass."

Though unlikely that the Arelian forces with their numerical advantage would deploy ambushers so early, the risk remained. Should both sides' hidden troops clash unexpectedly on the path, chaos would ensue.

Thus, Oliver had stationed a soldier in the woods opposite their position to monitor for enemy movement.

"Good work. Then all that remains... is to await the right moment for our strike."

Oliver spoke while gazing toward where their hundred-strong unit would soon lure the enemy back.

As Friedrich steadied his breathing behind the tree, Yurika gently ran her fingers through his hair.

・・・・・・

Baron Vincent Alanbure, entrusted by Countess Cecilia Fargiere with command of a three-hundred-strong detachment from Arelia's northern plains invasion force, greeted the dawn at a campsite overlooking the western entrance to the mountain pass.

"Listen up, you bastards. Stay sharp. We'll grind these Edelstein dogs into dust and carve through the mountain pass by day's end."

A martial aristocrat of the court and veteran officer since the days of the Loire Kingdom, Vincent called out to his knights and soldiers as he inspected their ranks.

Their response came in booming cheers. These three hundred were trained regulars, and coupled with their overwhelming advantage, their morale ran high.

"Your Lordship. At this rate, victory is assured."

"Once we break through the mountain pass, this battle is as good as ours. The greatest honors will go to you, my lord."

"And those of us fighting under your command might expect some modest rewards, no?"

Vincent chuckled at the familiar banter of his veteran troops.

"Fools. Don't count your victories before they're won. How often must I say it? Victory is a mirage until grasped in hand... Though I'll admit, with you lot fighting at your best, this one should solidify soon enough."

The groundwork had been laid by that Fargiere girl. Thanks to the strategies of their overall commander, Vincent's forces now faced the enemy detachment with triple the numbers.

Unless the enemy had some scheme prepared, no tricks were needed here. A straightforward assault would overwhelm them through sheer force. With training equal on both sides, even equal casualties would leave two hundred of his men standing when the enemy was wiped out. In reality, the enemy would likely break from wounds and desertion long before then, their victory would come at far lesser cost.

"...She's grown well. A commander worthy of her house."

Vincent murmured to himself while thinking of the late Count Fargiere, his former superior and a brilliant general. Now that man's daughter, Cecilia, had made a name for herself as a strategist while directing their forces.

Just then, a soldier came sprinting toward him. The young scout he'd sent out an hour prior, chosen for his keen eyes and swift feet.

"My lord! I've returned!"

"Good work. That was unusually quick... Did you encounter anything unusual?"

Vincent questioned the scout, who struggled to catch his breath after sprinting back at full speed, his face urgent as he rushed to report.

"Yes, my lord! The enemy detachment who are about a hundred strong, are advancing through the mountain pass toward us! They'll likely arrive within the hour!"

"...I see. Rest now."

After dismissing the scout, Vincent pondered alone for a moment.

Advancing with their full force so early in the morning, the enemy must already be aware of the numerical disadvantage. Their plan was likely to catch his forces unprepared for an assault, aiming for a sudden reversal by taking the commander's head.

Not a bad strategy, but naive. His decision to send scouts at dawn had given him the upper hand.

"Rejoice, you bastards! The enemy saves us the trouble of marching, they're coming to us! Don your armor, take up your weapons, and prepare for battle!"

Vincent's rallying cry drew roaring cheers.

Well-rested and well-fed, the three hundred troops brimmed with vigor. Though earlier than planned, this changed nothing.

Knights and soldiers who had worn only their cuirasses now fastened gauntlets and boots, placing helmets and weapons within reach. Squad leaders mustered their men for roll call, confirming no desertions or illnesses. After receiving reports from each platoon commander, Vincent finalized preparations.

Mobilizing an army took time, nearly half an hour had passed. Once ready, he arrayed his forces.

Two hundred fifty infantry formed the front line, backed by fifty archers in a compact but orderly formation. Vincent took his place at the forefront alongside his knights.

The conventional role of a commander was to remain at the rear headquarters, overseeing the battle and issuing orders, especially in large-scale engagements. Yet Vincent chose to lead from the front.

In smaller clashes like this, a commander's presence at the vanguard could galvanize his troops. That was his calculation. As a noble clad in costly full plate armor, Vincent knew he wouldn't fall easily.

Before long, the lookout he'd stationed near the pass's entrance came sprinting back.

"My lord, I report! Enemy sighted! They advance through the pass at speed!"

“Understood. Join the ranks... Listen well, you bastards! The enemy will be upon us shortly! Stand ready to fight at any moment!"

Vincent's voice boomed as he turned, prompting knights and soldiers to move as one, donning helmets, leveling spears and swords, poised for battle.

Footnotes: 

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