While Fiel and Oscar cleared the battlefield, I met with the prisoners Viktor had rescued. The prisoners' condition was poor. They appeared to have suffered from cold and hunger while being dragged around.
But they were foreigners who couldn't communicate.
"Light a fire first. They'll die of hypothermia."
"General, do you happen to speak French?"
When the fire was lit, two of them brightened up and warmed themselves, but one man with strangely fierce eyes, alive with intensity, didn't even think to warm himself by the fire and instead looked at me as he asked. He was a man with an unusual presence about him.
"I do. Where are you from?"
"The two others and I are from Brabant."
"Hold on, did you say Brabant?"
The Brabant I knew was a duchy in the Flanders region. In other words, it was the southern region of what is now the Netherlands, but the problem was that this was Burgundian territory—Beren's eternal enemy.
"Where is this place?"
"This is Feuzen, which I rule."
