WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS
Translator: Abood
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
◈ Friedrich's Battlefield
Chapter 50: The Prince and the Duke's Ambition
In the ducal capital of Remcheid within the Bachstein Duchy, a military encampment now sprawled across the outskirts, housing roughly five hundred Arelian troops and an equal number of assembled ducal forces.
Three days prior, they had thrown open the Elzass Corridor's checkpoint, welcoming the Arelian army. But this initial force of five hundred border guards marked only the beginning. More troops would soon pour through the pass into Edelstein's heartland.
Upon the ducal castle's ramparts, Prince Konrad stood rigid, surveying the sea of tents below where three banners fluttered side by side: the royal house, the ducal house, and the Arelian kingdom.
"Do you regret this?"
The sudden question made Konrad turn. Duke Ernst Bachstein had ascended the battlements to stand beside him.
This man who had proposed inviting Arelian forces to besiege the capital, force the royal family's surrender, and seize the throne, was both Konrad's coconspirator and architect of their treason. Their plan was to survive as a vassal state under Arelian domination, enduring limited exploitation to maintain nominal independence.
"...No, I don't regret initiating this. But unease lingers. Will Arelia truly send the promised forces?"
"Set your mind at ease. Arelia wouldn't squander this opportunity. They'll commit every available soldier to crossing our border without losses, then marching straight to the capital via the highways. With our guidance, their success is assured. Especially under Count Fargiere's command."
The invading Arelian forces would be led by the famed strategist Count Cecilia Fargiere, or so Konrad had been told.
"True enough. The remaining question is whether we can secure Ostburg Fortress before the Ferdinand Regiment arrives."
They had assumed the royal family wouldn't learn of Arelia's incursion until too late to dispatch the rapid-response Ferdinand Regiment. Time enough for Arelian and ducal forces to mass here.
But their plans required adjustment when Crown Princess Claudia who’s still unaware preemptively mobilized that very regiment as rear support.
Konrad had only learned of the rear support deployment in midwinter. Though he'd subtly urged Claudia to reconsider, the crown princess naturally never altered plans.
Her precaution now forced Konrad's faction to act before Arelian forces could fully assemble.
"That matter too is now resolved. Our ducal battalion will reach Ostburg Fortress by day's end. I've entrusted command to a supremely capable knight, its capture is certain. Any schedule deviations thus become irrelevant."
Ostburg Fortress, strategically positioned along the highway bordering ducal and royal lands, stood as the operation's linchpin.
Normally a supply hub for royal troops advancing northwest, its sizable defenses housed only minimal garrison troops despite stockpiling vast resources.
Reaching the fortress before the Ferdinand Regiment made capture effortless. A battalion could then hold out until sufficient Arelian forces arrived. While the elite Ferdinand Regiment excelled in field battles, siege warfare favored numbers over skill.
Securing this supply hub would all but guarantee victory, enabling ducal and Arelian forces to march straight to the capital. Conversely, if the fortress held, their invasion would falter while royal defenses strengthened. Ostburg's fate determined Ernst's entire scheme.
"All will be well, Your Highness."
Noticing Konrad's trembling hand, Ernst spoke with deliberate confidence.
"...Yes. All will be well. I trust you, Ernst."
Konrad steadied himself with a breath as Ernst smiled and descended the ramparts.
Left alone, the prince again surveyed the camp, these armies fighting to crown him.
His gaze drifted southeast beyond the plains, toward the horizon where his sister waited. The beloved sister who had sent him off with such kindness.
"...Forgive me, Sister."
A single tear traced Konrad's cheek as he whispered.
He knew. Learning of his betrayal would break her heart. She would rage, despise him, or even despair.
Yet even so.
"...Even so... I want... to be king."
The throne of Edelstein. The crown. The title. He craved them all.
Awareness of his reputation haunted him, the gentle prince, quiet and mild. Unlike his bold, regal sister, he stood perceived as frail. Weak.
He knew and admitted even to himself that Claudia's royal gifts dwarfed his own. He had long accepted this judgment.
But some hungers refuse suppression. The thought of dying without ever challenging fate became unbearable.
History brimmed with usurpers. Even King Albrecht Edelstein whose name graced a royal regiment had seized power.
Why then shouldn't he grasp for the crown? Why alone must he submit, a royal-blooded consort demoted to noble househead? He too was a king's son.
"Sister. Father. Mother... Please forgive me. Please..."
When had such thoughts taken root? Even he no longer knew.
But this much was certain—he would be king. Even as a puppet. Even reviled as a traitor. The crown alone mattered. This singular desire had driven him here.
Not that he'd kill Claudia for the succession. His beloved sister would live, granted as comfortable an existence as possible despite constraints.
Nor would he murder his father Sigismund to seize throne and crown. The current king would abdicate, spending his remaining days peacefully with the queen.
Not that forgiveness would ever come. No apology could suffice.
Yet retreat proved impossible now. The plan advanced. Blood already stained their hands, his royal guard detail captured by ducal forces, while his personal escorts had drawn blades against their "attackers," unaware their prince conspired with the foe.
Two of four bodyguards and three ducal soldiers lay dead, the royal house's faithful shields and the ducal house's loyal swords all wasted.
More would die before the crown rested on his brow. He knew this when choosing his path.
Now only forward remained, no matter how dark the road.
・・・・・・
"...The promise shall be kept, Your Highness. The crown will surely be yours."
Back inside the castle, Ernst murmured this to himself while envisioning Konrad's face,the prince he'd raised as his standard-bearer.
What drove Ernst to rebel was his belief in Lutetian supremacy.
The Lutetians of the western continent and Denorians of the central lands, though branching from the same root over a millennium ago, bore subtle physical distinctions discernible to their peoples.
Among Lutetians, who once built the vast Lutetian Kingdom and enjoyed prolonged prosperity, some believed themselves the continent's greatest race, a chosen people.
Ernst was such a man. Since youth, he'd nurtured this conviction in secret, his ideology now a minority view.
His Lutetian supremacism bred anti-imperial sentiment.
When the Lutetian Kingdom flourished, the central lands were backwaters, their Denorian inhabitants mere barbarians. Yet now the Lutetian state of Edelstein consorted with the Denorian Rigald Empire—no, groveled before it.
The royal family endured imperial, political, economic, and cultural pressure without meaningful resistance. The people forgot Lutetian pride, accepting their status as minor subjects scorned by imperial citizens.
These Denorians, mere upstarts who lucked into hegemony, now tamed and exploited Ernst's people. Such humiliation could not stand.
The empire deserved no trust. No equality could exist between nations with tenfold power disparity. Their current ‘friendship’ persisted only because the empire prioritized its eastern war against the Shival Kingdom.
When circumstances changed, the empire would flip its palm without hesitation. This ‘alliance’ was illusion, just another means of exploitation.
Left unchecked, gradual Denorian encroachment would someday consume them whole. The proud Lutetian identity would perish.
This, Ernst would never permit.
Thus Ernst acted, seizing this singular chance to distance Edelstein from the empire and align with their Lutetian kin in Arelia.
With Arelian support, he would swiftly seize control, capturing the royal capital and installing Konrad who’s of pure Lutetian royal blood as king, then restructuring the surrendered army with loyal officers.
The Bachstein Duchy and royal territories. Mines and ports brimming with wealth. Thousands of troops at their command. Opposition would crumble; the usurpation complete.
Whether Arelia honored promises of Edelstein's independence remained a gamble, but such risks were inevitable. Certainty had never been expected.
For all his tyrannical reputation, the Arelian king showed relative leniency to subjugated rulers. Given Arelia's stretched military resources, Ernst calculated they'd likely keep their word for now.
They would submit to Arelia as promised, avoiding provocation. Let the Arelian king believe maintaining vassalage easier than crushing them, prolonging stability.
Should Arelia later move to annex Edelstein? So be it.
Even a brief reign would fulfill Ernst's vow to Konrad. Becoming part of a Lutetian-led Arelian hegemony beat imperial absorption.
This worldview drove Ernst, liberating Edelstein from the empire, preserving Lutetian pride. Conviction, not malice, made him a traitor.
The first stage succeeded effortlessly.
Ernst hid his heart while reading others'. Drinking with his future son-in-law revealed Konrad's warped ambition. Persuasion required little effort.
The Bachstein ducal court and army housed fewer than ten politically influential figures, all Ernst's kin or sworn retainers.
These men were longtime confidants. Some shared his ideology, while others were easily bought with promises of land and titles.
Using trusted agents, Ernst invited Arelian forces while deceiving his own troops, claiming the duchy had already declared war on the crown. Victory or death. Lavish rewards for all.
The execution was flawless so far. Once Ostburg fell, Arelian troops would spearhead the advance.
Victory was certain. Ernst strode onward with this conviction, and new Arelian forces would arrive by afternoon. Preparations awaited.
Footnotes:
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