WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Abood

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◈ Friedrich's Battlefield

Third Arc, This Country is Our Home.

Chapter 72: Feast of Victory (1)

Kingdom of Edelstein, Royal Capital Sankt Waltrude.

On a stretch of the main avenue running through its commercial district stood a dining establishment.

It wasn’t quite a luxurious place catering to the nobility, nor was it something you’d call common fare. Rather, it was the kind of place frequented by commoners when they wanted to splurge a little, perhaps for a special occasion or an important meeting.

On a spring night in the year 1009 of the Unified Calendar, the restaurant had been reserved in its entirety. Within it had gathered the officers of the Kingdom Army’s Ferdinand Regiment.

“Now listen, all of you. I’m sure you understand this already, but the royal family we serve, House Edelstein, has just recently suffered a terrible tragedy: the loss of a prince, one of their own blood.

It hasn’t been long since that misfortune, and for the Kingdom Army to be seen openly hosting a feast during such a time… it is hardly something to be proud of.”

So spoke Baron Eugen Stamitz, captain of the cavalry battalion, addressing the knights seated with drinks in hand. This establishment, in fact, was owned and operated by one of his cousins.

“So I’ll give you just one… no, two strict orders.

First: no rowdy nonsense. Second: do not step outside.

Keep the drinking, eating, and chatting confined to this place. Understood?”

“Sir!”

The knights responded with discipline to the strict orders from their superior, second only to the regiment commander. Among them was Friedrich, seated toward the back of the establishment alongside Yurika and Knight Oliver Falke. He gave a solemn reply too.

“Very good. Then… to our victory! And to the comrades who fell!”

“To our victory! And to the comrades who fell!”

Voices rose in unison as they echoed Eugen’s words, raised their cups high, and the banquet began.

It was tradition to hold a feast after a victorious battle. To share in the joy of survival, and to remember fallen comrades not in silence but in celebration. After the battle on the Northern Plains last year, the same was done on the first night of their leave.

This particular feast was held for the officers, but the soldiers too would be gathering in their own ways around now, whether in someone's home or at a casual tavern or eatery, surrounded by familiar faces.

“You seem a lot more at ease than last year, Friedrich.”

“...Yeah. Back then I was still finding my footing, but tonight I think I’ll actually be able to enjoy myself.”

Prompted by Oliver, Friedrich answered while tipping his wine cup.

He hadn’t quite been able to relax during the banquet last year. It had been just after he’d resolved to become Matthias’s successor, a weighty decision still fresh on his shoulders, and the loss of comrades like Knight Noela had remained raw in his memory. He couldn’t shake it off as easily as the others.

But this time was different. He hadn’t forgotten the comrades lost in the recapture of Ostburg Fortress or the battle against the ducal army, nor did he take their deaths lightly. But he now understood that this, too, was the Ferdinand Regiment’s way: to honor the dead with a forward-facing spirit. And he accepted that without resistance.

A little over a year had passed since he’d joined. And now, Friedrich thought, he was finally starting to embody the spirit of this regiment, of the Kingdom Army itself.

“That’s the spirit. The others would be glad to see you like this… Come on, drink up!”

“Hey now—Friedrich’s not that good with alcohol, remember?”

As Oliver refilled Friedrich’s cup to the brim with wine, Yurika slipped her arm around Friedrich’s and gave him a cautionary glance. Sandwiched between the two of them, Friedrich let out a helpless laugh.

Lively exchanges like theirs were happening all throughout the room. Thanks to Eugen’s earlier warnings, no one was being rowdy or unruly, but the hall echoed with laughter, voices raised in toasts, and cheers celebrating their victory and honoring the fallen.

The restaurant’s thick stone walls and sturdy doors, along with advance notice given to the neighbors about tonight’s private event, meant there was little concern about how loud they got.

At the very back of the establishment, the core figures of the Ferdinand Regiment sat quietly at their table, watching their subordinates enjoy themselves. They were: Regiment Commander Matthias, his adjutant Captain Gregor, Baron Eugen Stamitz, and the veteran infantry battalion captain, Knight Barthold.

“…Well, it can’t be helped with how many major battles we’ve faced recently, but the faces among our officers sure have changed. Maybe not a full generation, but still, definitely a much younger lot now.”

It was Barthold who sighed as he spoke.

Out of the regiment’s hundred-plus officers, over a dozen had been replaced in the past year and a half—due to battlefield deaths, injuries leading to discharge, or retirement due to age.

Naturally, most of the new arrivals were young knights. The average age among the officers had noticeably dropped.

“The kingdom is in wartime now. That’s just the way of it,” said Matthias.

“Takes me back to when we were young.” 

“Those days weren’t easy.”

As Matthias answered, Eugen, arms crossed, murmured with a sense of nostalgia.

At the time, the Kingdom of Edelstein had been at war with its western neighbor, the Kingdom of Loire, and had struggled in the early stages. Before suffering two crushing defeats, the Kingdom of Loire had a larger population than it does now, and Edelstein was hard-pressed by a numerically superior foe.

Arnsberg Fortress had then still been in Loire’s hands, and it became a strategic foothold from which they launched repeated offensives. The Kingdom of Edelstein was forced to endure desperate defensive battles to fend them off. Matthias and his peers were still in their twenties, young officers doing everything they could to support a royal army rapidly losing its veteran knights to death and injury. The force was growing younger, but not by design.

The tide began to turn when Sigismund succeeded the throne after his predecessor retired due to illness. Long before his coronation, Sigismund had envisioned a new regimental system, and once he became king, he brought it to life. 

He appointed the then-young Matthias, who had just inherited the Hosenfeld house after his predecessor's death in battle, to command one of the new regiments. This led to a sweeping victory on the Beiral Plains.

Since then, Matthias and his closest comrades had protected, nurtured, and led the Ferdinand Regiment.

And soon, it wouldn’t be long now, they would finally begin passing it down to the next generation. The time was coming to entrust their role to those who followed.

“We’ve gotten old, haven’t we?” 

“Indeed. Our days as rookies feel like another lifetime. Half the ones who stood beside us back then… are gone now.” 

Gregor said this as he quietly tilted his cup. Following his words, Barthold spoke again, showing his agreement.

Death in battle. Discharge due to wounds, illness, or age. One by one, comrades of their generation had dwindled, and those still in service who had firsthand experience of the Kingdom of Edelstein’s most difficult days had become few and far between.

It was the natural course of things. Time moves on, and no one is exempt.

“...There’s nothing wrong with stepping aside.,”

Matthias murmured, repeating the very words once spoken to him by his liege, Sigismund.

Their generation would one day leave the army behind. Their era as the lead actors in the story was coming to a close. But that didn’t signify an end, it meant watching the new generation they had raised take center stage. It meant entrusting the legacy they had built to those who followed.

What lay ahead wasn’t just sorrow. There was a quiet pride and satisfaction that only those who had survived the battlefield and lived through the turning of an age could understand.

Footnotes: 

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