Well, we ended up spending most of this winter out
[cdb]on the battlefield.
So I was thinking, if we put an end to the war before
[cdb]next winter rolls around, maybe we could all go back
[cdb]north and...
And? Speak plainly.
I wanna have a snowball fight.
Dimitri said that's how all the kids in Faerghus play
[cdb]during the winter.
Figure it would be good to try at least once now that
I'm living here in the Kingdom.
Yes, a fine idea! The sport's rather profound, if I do
[cdb]say so myself.
Dividing into factions and formulating strategies
[cdb]makes it just as much a battle of minds as it does one
[cdb]of hurled snow.
Hold on, strategy? This sounds kinda intense for a
[cdb]kid's game.
It is. When we were still in the throes of our youth,
Lambert, Matthias, and I faced off in such a
[cdb]contest.
With our squires in tow, we traveled to the northern
[cdb]mountains to do battle.
Hey, that sounds like fun. So what happened?
I was the first to fall. I hid in the shadows, biding my
[cdb]time and observing the enemy's movements until the
[cdb]moment was right to strike.
And yet, such an opportunity never came. While his
[cdb]subordinates fought freely in the open, His Majesty
[cdb]launched a surprise attack on my position.
Unfortunately, my men and I were unable to land
[cdb]even a single blow on him. Our defeat was a matter
[cdb]of course.
Now I know where Dimitri gets his tendency to rush
[cdb]into battle alone. Like father, like son, huh?
Indeed. Still, it's difficult to feel wronged when
[cdb]you've been defeated in such a swift and skillful
[cdb]manner.
My downfall left only Lambert and the margrave.
A man notorious for his rotten character,
[cdb]even as a child.
His strategy was not to attack outright, but to
[cdb]prepare an ambush for His Majesty in one of the
[cdb]more densely wooded groves.
Seriously? All that for just a snowball fight?
No wonder Sylvain is so cunning. Anyway, what
[cdb]happened next?
And? What happened next?
We were all familiar with Matthias's ignoble tactics,
[cdb]so His Majesty was careful to avoid the cowardly
[cdb]ambush which had been laid for him.
At last, just as the opposing generals were staring
[cdb]each other down...
Gunnar—the current Count Galatea and noble many
[cdb]years our senior—emerged from the wood to put a
[cdb]stop to it!
In the end, our final showdown that day was between
[cdb]his hands and the scruffs of our necks. All while our
[cdb]ears rang with his dire warnings about the mountains.
That sounds like Ingrid's dad, all right. Guess that
[cdb]means nobody won, huh?
You guys must've been pretty disappointed, huh?
All that effort and nobody actually won.
Yes. The story dates back several decades, but I still
[cdb]remember it as if we were trudging through the snow
[cdb]only yesterday.
Say, if you do end up mustering an army for one of
[cdb]these snowball battles...I would be honored to
[cdb]observe, should you have me.
Tell him he's welcome to watch.
Ask him to join in.
You'll be the first person I tell. Oh, but it's gonna
[cdb]have to wait till the war's over.
Nothing like a little friendly competition to lighten
[cdb]the mood after years of bloodshed.
Why don't you join us? As one of the combatants,
I mean. I'm sure Dimitri and the margrave
[cdb]won't mind.
You won't be facing the same opponents, but maybe
[cdb]then you'll finally settle the score. For old time's sake.
Hm, a sound point. Very well. I'd be thrilled to
[cdb]partake when the time comes.
You know, of late I've been dreading the coming
[cdb]winter...but now I feel I may actually look forward
[cdb]to it.