WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS
Translator: Abood
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◈ Friedrich's Battlefield
Chapter 87: Northern Mercenaries
The marchioness and her daughter were missing.
It was believed that the imperial party had been attacked on the road. Many bodies, guards and attendants, had been found. Though it seemed the marchioness and her daughter had escaped the initial assault, their current status was unknown.
This report, sent via messenger hawk from the Ferdinand Regiment, struck Arnsberg Fortress like a thunderclap.
No one was more shaken than Ambassador Christopher Langford himself. Upon hearing the news, he was stunned silent, then panicked, staggered on unsteady legs, and finally collapsed, fainting and being carried to his guest chamber.
"Ambassador. How are you feeling?"
That evening, having heard Christopher had regained consciousness, Joseph made time to visit him.
"...‘Good’ wouldn’t be the word I’d use."
Christopher said with a weak smile, his head lowered as he sat in his chair.
"What's the current status of the search?"
"Another imperial knight’s body was found deeper in the forest. However, there’s still no sign of the marchioness or her daughter. We believe they made it through the forest and escaped south into the royal domain's western territory.
The Ferdinand Regiment's cavalry is currently combing that region. Lord Hosenfeld, who had already arrived at this fortress, departed again to take command in the field. Our own regiment has dispatched two cavalry companies as reinforcements."
"...I see. I’m deeply sorry for the trouble we’ve caused your kingdom."
"It is we who must apologize. To allow such an incident to occur within our borders, and on one of our most secure roads is inexcusable."
Perfectly monitoring a border was impossible. Every nation faced the risk of allowing a small force to slip through especially along a frontier during wartime. No matter the security, if a dignitary chose to travel such an area, there could be no guarantee of absolute safety.
Even so, as the highest-ranking Edelstein military officer present at the ambassador’s side, Joseph couldn’t avoid offering an apology.
Christopher shook his head at Joseph’s words.
“No… this is my fault. I spoke of realizing my ideals, yet I brought my wife and young daughter to a border zone where war is already underway. I provoked the Kingdom of Arelia while keeping my beloved family at my side.
And I chose to stay here in the fortress with the majority of our escort, leaving my wife and daughter behind. I… I’m a hopeless fool.”
He paused, drawing in a deep breath.
Silence settled in the room.
Faint voices from outside filtered in. Knights and soldiers calling out as they scrambled to prepare for the possibility of a second attack, one that might take advantage of the current chaos.
“If I had just listened to your advice and withdrawn with my family and the full escort, maybe even if we’d been attacked… it wouldn’t have ended like this. Instead, I left them vulnerable, got most of our guards killed, and let even the servants die.
And now my wife and daughter are still missing. This is all my fault. I was so obsessed with my ideals, I lost sight of reality entirely.”
“…If blame is to be assigned, it should fall first upon the King of Arelia, who permitted such a cowardly and barbaric act. Personally, I still believe in the ideals you speak of, Ambassador. And the search continues with everything we have. It may be difficult, but please, try not to lose hope.”
Leaving those words behind, Joseph left the guest room.
No matter how many comforting words he offered, coming from a foreign general like himself, they would mean little. They would not ease Christopher’s grief.
Better to focus on leading the response—
That, he thought, would be of far more help to Christopher.
・・・・・・
The northern region of the Ludna Continent was a harsh land for humans to survive in. Vast in size, yet sparsely populated.
Multiple tribes clustered across regions, forming loose communities that could just barely be called nations. In most of them, the king’s power was weak, and internal tribal conflicts were constant.
A year ago, in a small kingdom located in the western part of the northern region, conflict erupted when the royal bloodline came to an end. What followed was a brutal struggle, one that could only be called a civil war.
In the aftermath, one tribe lost many of its kin, had its territory seized, and was driven from its homeland with nowhere to go.
That tribe was the Velec, led by Ivar.
Believing there was no longer a place for them in the north, Ivar gathered the six hundred or so survivors of his people and fled westward, toward the western edge of the continent. They spent nearly all the wealth they’d managed to carry from their homeland to charter two ships along the coast and crossed over into the Kingdom of Arelia.
Now, all they had left was the strength they’d honed surviving that harsh land.
Ivar reorganized his people into a mercenary company and offered their services directly to the King of Arelia.
Northern tribes, more reliant on hunting and foraging than agriculture, produced many capable trackers. Fortunately, among the survivors, roughly half or around three hundred, were experienced hunters. They readily adapted into skilled light infantry.
Recognizing their potential, the King of Arelia granted them temporary contracts with stable provisions, ensuring none of them would go hungry.
And now, to test their value, the Velec Mercenaries had been deployed for this very operation. Ivar himself had accompanied Marquis Robert Montesque with a hundred of his warriors. Of those, fifty were sent deep into enemy territory to capture or kill the Imperial ambassador and his family.
Late at night on the day the fortress was attacked, one of those infiltrators having slipped back across the lightly guarded border returned with his report.
“You let them escape? You launched an attack with fifty men, and this is the result?”
Ivar scowled, eyebrows furrowing as he snapped his question.
“W-We... about that...”
The soldier, still visibly fatigued from the long journey back, began explaining what had happened.
First, the infiltration itself went smoothly.
For the Velec Mercenaries, men hardened by life in the northern reaches of the continent, crossing these southern mountains and forests was as effortless as a casual stroll.
Every one of them had keen night vision, and by the light of the moon, they could travel even in the dark. Their small numbers helped them evade patrols as they slipped across the border, hiding in shadows and nature alike.
They took position in the woods by the roadside, waiting for the imperial envoy to evacuate eastward from the fortress. To pinpoint the group's movements, they sent scouts westward.
Those scouts returned the next day with strange news: something seemed off about the imperial group. The number of guards was oddly low, and when they observed the party during a rest stop, the ambassador himself was nowhere to be seen, even though his wife and daughter were present.
Upon hearing that, the unit commander split the force in two.
Believing the ambassador might be following behind for some reason, he assigned thirty-five men to intercept that presumed second group. The remaining fifteen were sent to attack the lower-priority targets, the wife and daughter.
That decision in the end proved to be a fatal misjudgment.
The thirty-five were stuck lying in wait for an envoy that never came. Meanwhile, the smaller team of fifteen failed in their assault, simply because they were too few in number.
They had succeeded in taking out several guards during the initial strike. However, the remaining escorts resisted far more fiercely than expected, and even the servants fought back with desperate determination.
Three of their own were killed in the process. In exchange, they managed to kill most of the guards and attendants, but the marquis, her daughter, and a few others escaped.
Of the twelve who survived, ten immediately gave chase. One was sent to inform the other group of thirty-five. And the last, this very soldier standing before Ivar now, had been sent back to report.
“That concludes the report. I’m sorry.”
“…No point in blaming you. This failure lies with Acht who was in command. And even that is understandable. No one could have foreseen that the imperial ambassador would stay behind at the fortress.”
Ivar let out a sigh as he spoke to the soldier, whose face was still twisted in frustration.
They had only learned the ambassador had stayed behind in Arnsberg Fortress when he appeared atop the battlements just before the battle began. A messenger had been dispatched to gather information from the enemy, and that was how they found out. But by that point, there was no way to relay the new situation to the infiltration unit.
He had wanted Acht, his young aide likely to succeed him soon as commander, now that Ivar was nearing fifty, to gain experience and achievements of his own.
And should the other fifty men remaining with the main force end up receiving separate orders from Marquis Robert Montesque, it would fall to Ivar to handle the situation. Otherwise, there was no telling how Robert might treat the Velec warriors under his command.
For two reasons, Ivar had stayed with the main force and sent Acht with half the soldiers into enemy territory. In hindsight, though, it seems that decision wasn’t the right one.
If it were me, I would've abandoned the ambassador and taken fifty men to strike the wife and children instead. That would’ve guaranteed results. But Acht insisted on achieving complete success as planned, and failed to adapt. I was the one who appointed him to lead the assault team. This mistake is mine.
After ordering the reporting soldier to rest, Ivar headed to the command tent to meet Robert. He wasn’t in the mood, but reporting in was unavoidable.
“…So you botched it. I’ll give you credit for getting fifty lightly armed men deep into enemy land, but I guess your combat skills aren’t all that impressive either, huh?”
Inside the command tent, Ivar explained the situation. The one-eyed veteran general stared him down, but Ivar’s face remained expressionless.
Even after hearing about the failure, Robert showed neither disappointment nor anger. That’s because, as the commander of this offensive, he’d already achieved everything necessary.
Killing or capturing the imperial ambassador and his family had always been a secondary goal, meant to test the Velec Mercenaries' capabilities. At best, it was the kind of thing that would humiliate both the Rigald Empire and the Kingdom of Edelstein if it succeeded.
Even if the ambassador’s family had been killed and the Rigald imperial family flew into a rage, it wouldn't have posed any real problem.
The Empire was already entangled in a dispute with its eastern neighbor. Opening another front against the Kingdom of Arelia now would be a foolish move.
It was hard to believe they’d launch a two-front war just to avenge some clueless noble who thought it was a good idea to take his family on a tour of a border region between allies and their enemy.
On the contrary, if the imperial family did retaliate with a half-hearted force, it would actually work in Arelia’s favor. While conquering the Kingdom of Edelstein, Arelia could crush the Empire’s reinforcements and weaken their military strength. That would make a future confrontation with the Empire much easier.
As far as side benefits from testing the northern mercenaries went, this was more than enough. Even if they failed, the only loss would be a few expendable sellswords.
These intentions of the Arelian royal family had been made clear to Ivar beforehand directly by King Childebert Arelia himself. The king didn’t bother with flowery words or vague diplomacy.
He spoke plainly, with nothing to hide. Ivar actually liked that about him. Far more trustworthy than someone who just knew how to talk.
“So, chieftain of the barbarians. What now? Will you give up after one failure and turn tail?”
“…Of course not. I will personally lead the remaining forces and either kill the ambassador’s family or take them alive. We’ll show our true worth and bring back results worthy of His Majesty.”
Ivar responded solemnly to Robert’s taunting words.
“Need any support?”
“None. We’ll cross the border on our own on the way back as well. As long as you keep your forces here on the Beiral Plains a while longer, and keep the enemy from committing too many troops to the search, that’ll be more than enough.”
“I see. Then go ahead and show us this ‘true worth’ of yours. That is, if you barbarians want to keep being fed by His Majesty.”
“Understood.”
Robert didn’t bother hiding his contempt. Even so, as a commander, he still ensured the necessary coordination. Ivar found that ruthlessly practical attitude just as appealing as the king’s openness.
That night, Ivar took his remaining fifty men and once again slipped into the Kingdom of Edelstein, hidden by the darkness and the wild.
Footnotes:
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