WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Abood

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◈ Friedrich's Battlefield

Chapter 36: Hero

The Arelian main force, having regrouped after their retreat, awaited word from their detached unit, presumably finished with their assault by now.

The report arrived that afternoon. In the command tent, Cecilia fell silent as the messenger delivered news of the detachment’s fate.

"...I see. Lord Alanbure is dead."

Her expression remained unchanged, but her usually calm voice carried a tinge of loneliness.

Baron Vincent Alanbure had been more than a trusted subordinate. He’d told her stories of her father, fallen in battle when she was young.

Closing her eyes briefly in mourning, Cecilia spoke again.

"So their defeat came from an ambush? Our detachment clashed with their hundred-strong unit head-on, only for dozens more to strike from the flank?"

"Y-yes. That was the battle’s progression."

"These ambushers, were many lightly equipped?"

"...Now that you mention it, yes. Some lacked even cuirasses, let alone helmets."

"I see... Someone devised a strategy mirroring my own."

Recruiting militia from mountain villages, dressing them as regulars to blend into the rear ranks, while the actual soldiers hid as ambushers. At a glance, their numbers appeared unchanged, fooling scouts.

A near-replica of her own tactic using militia to mask ambushers. Unlikely Matthias had copied it after deducing her strategy; he’d have simply allocated more troops to the pass from the start.

Which meant someone in Edelstein’s detachment had conceived it independently.

What kind of mind...? A strange kinship flickered in Cecilia as she smiled faintly.

"Your Excellency. Our next move?"

Her adjutant spoke once the messenger departed.

"...A retreat, regrettably."

Her voice stayed calm, her expression unshaken.

“Begin withdrawal preparations immediately. Relay this to the detachment as well. We depart tomorrow and rendezvous with them by the day after. Full retreat once we confirm the enemy won’t counterattack."

"Understood."

The adjutant saluted and exited the command tent.

"...Deferred again. Count Matthias Hosenfeld."

Alone, Cecilia whispered the name of her father’s killer. A smile graced her lips, but her clenched hands trembled.

・・・・・・

Two days after defeating the enemy detachment and confirming their full retreat, Edelstein's forces returned to the northern plains where the main army waited.

Throughout this, Friedrich remained useless.

With Oliver handling post-battle logistics and withdrawal preparations flawlessly, no one begrudged the rookie his rest, not after exceeding expectations in his debut battle. Even Gregor who arrived with two hundred reinforcements, took one look at Friedrich and ordered him to recover.

The journey back passed in a daze. Yurika guided his horse while he swayed numbly in the saddle.

And when they arrived, he left the debriefing to Oliver ,retreating once more into his tent.

The battlefield refused to leave him.

Screaming soldiers. Rows of corpses. Noela’s mangled face. The stench of blood and viscera haunted him, surfacing without warning to twist his gut. Phantom wails and sobs made him clamp hands over ears. Time blurred.

"Friedrich. Are you there?"

He couldn’t say how long they’d been back with the main force. Curled beside Yurika and trapped in the loop of memory, the voice outside the tent startled him.

It was Matthias.

"...Yes, sir."

"I’m entering."

Friedrich’s weak reply was met with the tent flap opening.

"Don’t strain yourself. Remain seated."

He’d staggered up to salute, then slumped back down at the command. Yurika mirrored the gesture before tactfully withdrawing to Matthias’ blind spot.

Matthias studied Friedrich from above.

"Oliver briefed me on the mountain pass. Your strategy secured the victory. Well done."

"......"

Friedrich groped for a response, but his mind was fog.

Matthias’ blue eyes held no anger at his stupor, only calm.

"...Here is what I believe. Those who died for victory and for defending this kingdom, they are the true heroes."

Matthias began abruptly.

Heroes. The word struck Friedrich. He’d never heard Matthias use it himself.

"In this era, war is unavoidable to protect our land. And where there is war, there must be death. People will die. That is why I have never stopped winning. If I cannot spare the lives of those under my command, then I must at least ensure their deaths have meaning. By securing victory, by safeguarding this kingdom, we make martyrs into heroes."

His voice remained measured, as always, but the gravity in it was palpable.

"I fought as a knight, rose young to command, and now they call me a hero. I know what they expect of me, unshakable triumph. A cause worth dying and grieving for. The bereaved tell me so themselves. That they take pride in fathers, spouses, children who fought under the 'hero' and became the foundation of victory."

A faint sigh escaped Matthias.

"The 'Living Hero.' This title carries the weight of hundreds of deaths, both past and future. To be called a hero while still breathing is to bear this forever... And this fate awaits you."

Friedrich stiffened.

"Continue winning with that mind of yours, and you’ll shoulder the same. Dead comrades. Endless victories. Until history remembers your name."

Friedrich’s breath caught. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—imagine such a path.

"Friedrich. Your crime of posing as my illegitimate child is hereby pardoned. Your service and victory have atoned for it. If you wish, you and Yurika may leave my retinue. Renounce your knighthood. Desert the army. The choice is yours."

Matthias’ voice cut the silence. And with that, he left.

Footnotes: Militia: Local non-professional fighters, often farmers or villagers given minimal training and equipment.

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