WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Abood

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◈ Friedrich's Battlefield

Chapter 54: The Recapture of Ostburg Fortress (3)

That marked the signal to begin the assault.

Without wasting the precious seconds of confusion that gripped the enemy, the infantry burst out from the covered wagons. Friedrich, who had been posing as the driver, stood up and seized the crossbow he had placed by the coachman’s seat.

“Open the gate fully! Surround the gate! Hold this position at all costs!”

Today, he wasn’t serving as Oliver’s strategist, Friedrich himself was leading this detachment. Shouting with all his strength, he leapt down from the driver’s perch and sprinted toward the back of the wagon.

Yurika followed close behind. She yanked her sword from the knight she had just felled and moved to shield Friedrich’s flank as they retreated. Midway, she removed her helmet.

The helmet had been crafted for someone else’s head. As she pulled it off, the padding she had used to fill the space tumbled out, and her long black hair spilled freely into the air.

“Don’t let them open the gate! Kill them all!”

“Someone, get more soldiers! The enemy’s infiltrated the fortress!”

Naturally, the ducal troops weren’t about to stand idly by. A female knight on the ramparts who’s likely their commander shouted orders, her voice joined by what appeared to be her aide. Other knights and senior soldiers, finally grasping the situation, began barking commands of their own.

Even as they scrambled into action, one soldier lunged at Friedrich, trying to run him through with a spear. Yurika, quick to react, hurled her discarded helmet at him. As the soldier flinched, Friedrich leveled his crossbow and pulled the trigger.

With one enemy down, the two pushed forward and reached the front of the gate, where their comrades were rapidly forming a semicircular defensive line.

Friedrich, Yurika, Oliver, Gunther, Yarg, and twenty infantrymen, already surrounded by twice their number in enemy troops.

“Kill them! Slaughter them all and shut the gate completely! These few worms can’t possibly—!”

His words were cut short. A grizzled veteran soldier charged forward, only to be instantly slain by Yurika. Apparently unaware that she had just downed a knight moments ago, the man had approached with clear overconfidence, dismissing her due to her youth and appearance. He never even managed a proper defense before her blade sliced clean across his throat.

From another direction, a group of enemy soldiers rushed in together.

“Hold formation! Make up for our numbers with positioning! Defend your posts and don’t give them an inch!”

Oliver shouted commands as he fought alongside the others, slashing his sword from within the formation.

With around twenty men, they had just enough to form a semi-circle around the gate. As long as each person protected the one beside them, the number of enemies they had to face head-on at any moment was roughly the same.

True, the enemy held the numerical advantage within the fortress, but not all of them were stationed at the western gate. In fact, perhaps anticipating an attack from the Ferdinand Regiment, the bulk of the ducal troops appeared to be positioned on the eastern side.

Even now, soldiers who had burst out of the barracks in response to the alarm were about to rush toward the eastern gate, thinking the Ferdinand Regiment had launched an assault. Only after being redirected to the western side did some halt in confusion, delayed by the disarray.

This brief chaos in their redeployment meant the imbalance in strength wasn’t as fatal as it could’ve been, at least for defense. Total victory wasn’t necessary. As long as they could hold the semi-sealed gate until it was opened and the cavalry allowed in, the operation would be a success.

A few soldiers not engaged in the formation threw their weight against the gate, pushing it open inch by inch. Meanwhile, enemy troops approached from multiple directions but hesitated before the solid, tight formation blocking their path.

Friedrich hadn’t factored this into his calculations, but the two wagons roughly parked in front of the gate were now proving a blessing in disguise. The covered wagons, occupying a large portion of the gate’s approach, made it difficult for enemies to charge in all at once.

Between the two wagons, Gunther was holding the line nearly by himself.

“GAAAHHHH!! DIE, YOU BASTARDS!!”

With a sword as massive as his own towering frame, Gunther swung the weapon effortlessly with one hand. Enemy soldiers attempting to charge through the narrow gap between the wagons were either crushed under his savage strikes or recoiled in fear from his storm-like onslaught.

Some tried to stab at him with spears to take advantage of their longer reach, but Gunther deflected each thrust with the shield gripped in his other hand. His attacks were wild and ferocious, yet his defenses were solid and unyielding. It was a style of combat that showcased the very best of his abilities.

Friedrich had once thought if Gunther ever stood on the front lines swinging his weapon at common soldiers, he would be unmatched. That prediction had come true, and Gunther now fought like a demon unleashed.

“Archers! Take the walls and rooftops! Kill the ones opening the gate!”

Just as it seemed their mission might succeed, the Bachstein forces proved they were no easy opponent. The enemy commander, a female knight who had given the first order, shouted once more, and in response, the archers of the ducal army began firing from elevated positions.

Arrows rained down, and two soldiers working to open the gate collapsed where they stood.

To make matters worse, the initial confusion among the defenders was beginning to fade. More and more of the enemy were arriving, and the imbalance in numbers grew severe. No matter how tight their formation, they couldn’t hold forever when facing such overwhelming odds. The defenders were gradually pushed back, and soldiers began to fall, struck by enemy swords, spears, and arrows.

“Someone get to the gate mechanism! Shield-bearers, cover them! This is do or die, there’s no third option!”

“All units, take two steps back! Tighten the formation!”

Oliver and Friedrich each shouted out, their voices cutting through the chaos. Knight Yarg and another soldier dashed toward the gate, now partially open, while several shield-bearers rushed to guard them. With everyone stepping back in unison, the formation closed its gaps.

The enemy’s assault intensified. Friedrich’s comrades fought desperately to hold the line, clinging to their positions with grim resolve. Arrows flew, angry shouts echoed, and death cries rang out. Weapons clattered to the ground, and spurts of blood arced through the air.

Friedrich was not just shouting orders, he fought too. From within the semicircle formation, he pulled back the string of his crossbow, loaded another bolt, and loosed it. He aimed toward the enemy archers positioned above, harassing them to keep their heads down.

All around him, Yurika darted through the fray. In such a compact battlefield, an individual’s prowess could tip the scales. Acting as a mobile attacker, she sprinted to the weakest points of their line, cutting down enemy soldiers in the blink of an eye.

Oliver now wielded a bow, providing cover for the soldiers still struggling to open the gate. Born into a noble family and raised to become a knight, he had trained with more than just a sword since childhood.

As Friedrich reloaded his crossbow, he scanned their surroundings. They had brought down a fair number of foes, but their own casualties were rising rapidly. The line wouldn’t hold much longer, maybe a few more seconds. One side of the gate was now open, but the other... would they manage in time?

Just then, Friedrich spotted a surge of enemies charging the left wing of their formation. Leading them was the female knight, the enemy commander herself, charging in with over a dozen soldiers. She was gambling everything on this one assault, aiming to shatter their formation in one decisive blow.

“Gunther!”

They had come too far to lose now. That thought burned in Friedrich’s mind as he shouted to Gunther. The big man turned, their eyes locking for a second. Friedrich then pointed first at the oncoming enemy squad, then at the wagon bed behind them.

Gunther looked like a brute, and certainly fought like one, but he wasn’t stupid. On the contrary, he had a sharp mind for quick decisions and grasped Friedrich’s intent instantly. Without hesitation, he turned and began rummaging through the piled cargo in the wagon for something he could throw at the incoming enemies.

To cover the gap left by Gunther stepping out of the line, Friedrich raised his crossbow and fired a bolt directly into the space between the two wagons, forcing back an approaching enemy soldier.

Only someone with Gunther’s size and raw strength could pull off what came next. From the jumbled cargo, he picked the last thing anyone would expect.

The prisoner, Knight Roman.

Bound tightly in rope, Roman had been lying still in the wagon bed. And now, Gunther hoisted the compactly built, well-trained adult man like he was a sack of flour.

“RAAAAHHHH!!”

With a guttural roar, Gunther hurled the knight like a cannonball into the enemy.

The tied-up Roman flew through the air, landing square in the center of the charging enemy group. Several soldiers were bowled over on impact, knocked flat by the sheer force and surprise of the human projectile. The rest stumbled into the pile of bodies, momentum broken. The charge was completely halted.

More than half the enemy squad was down, and the remaining five or six, enraged or desperate, surged forward, aiming to break through the defenders’ battered formation in one final push.

“Stop them even if you die trying! Just a little longer! Hold out!”

Oliver loosed the arrow he'd already nocked, sending it flying straight into the chest of an oncoming enemy soldier. The man crumpled mid-charge. Without hesitation, Oliver tossed his bow aside, drew his sword, and dove back into the formation.

Thanks to Oliver and the soldiers’ desperate efforts, the formation somehow held, but not without a breach. One enemy soldier slipped through the gaps.

And that one was the enemy commander.

“DIIEEEEE!”

Her target was obvious: Friedrich, crouched inside the formation with his crossbow halfway through reloading, completely defenseless.

He knew he couldn’t make it in time. There was no way to reload, no time to draw his sword. So instead, Friedrich braced himself, raising the crossbow like a flimsy shield against her deadly swing.

But the strike never landed.

Without a sound, Yurika flew between them, intercepting the attack. Using the momentum of her dash, she unleashed a powerful slash. The enemy commander, to her credit, reacted with remarkable speed and raised her sword just in time to block the blow.

“I won’t let you kill Friedrich!”

“You, how dare you wear Roman’s armor!”

Their blades clashed and their eyes locked, filled with fury. Words of venom exchanged mid-fight, they leapt back simultaneously, reset their stances and then lunged again.

Steel met steel in a rapid exchange. The two women crossed swords several times, evenly matched. No decisive blow was landed.

The enemy commander was every bit Yurika’s equal.

For a commander of the ducal forces who were said to have little real combat experience, her technique was outstanding. She more than made up for her lack of experience with sheer skill, and her fearless, unwavering composure in the face of a true deathmatch proved she was no ordinary opponent.

“Yurika!”

Friedrich shouted her name.

Without looking back, Yurika unleashed a particularly fierce slash, forcing the enemy commander on the defensive. Seizing that brief opening, she leapt backward, putting distance between them.

It was just a moment, but it was enough.

Friedrich, who had finished reloading, fired his crossbow.

The bolt flew straight toward the enemy commander’s heart. But she twisted her body at the last instant. The bolt struck her shoulder instead, and she collapsed to the ground.

“Clear the way! The charge is coming!”

It was Knight Yarg’s voice that rang out.

The gates were now wide open.

Friedrich and his group quickly broke formation, pressing themselves against the walls on either side of the gate so as not to obstruct the coming assault.

“Hold the gate! Stop them no matter what!”

Clutching her wounded shoulder, the enemy commander forced herself up and screamed. Her soldiers rushed forward in desperation to block the entrance—

—only to be utterly swept aside by the cavalry unit that surged through the gates.

Footnotes:

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