Vikings: Lords of the Ice Sea

Chapter 263 Large-scale Recruitment

That afternoon, after the wooden bridge was erected, the shrike did not continue its journey but instead set up camp according to procedure.

Through long-term training, the standing army has developed a detailed process for constructing field camps. With the various units cooperating in an orderly manner, a temporary camp can be built quickly.

After dinner, the shrike arranged for the officers on night watch to return to their tents to rest.

In the dead of night, dozens of blurry black figures appeared outside the camp. They cautiously lay prone on the ground, taking advantage of the moment when the sentries turned their heads to climb up the stockade wall. Finally, as they drew closer, the leader quickly rolled into the trench, only to be impaled by the barbed wire there, his body covered in blood, and he couldn't help but scream in agony.

"There are enemies!"

Sensing a small number of enemies, the sentries on the stockade blew their whistles, and nearby comrades raised their crossbows and fired at the shadowy figures. The sentries in the remaining sections also picked up their crossbows and fired at anything suspicious outside the camp, as if they had an inexhaustible supply of arrows.

This is indeed the case.

After the improvement of the blast furnaces, Britain's pig iron production increased every year. In addition, with the Tyneburg Arsenal and the Lundinium Arsenal operating at full capacity, the standing army could use crossbows to its heart's content, and its level of luxury exceeded that of any army in Western and Northern Europe.

Throughout the latter half of the night, the sentry troops fired more than 20,000 crossbow bolts. At dawn the next day, as visibility gradually improved, the sentries discovered about a hundred corpses lying outside the camp, all located on the northwest side of the camp.

After two hours of busy work, the regular army dismantled the tents and temporary fences and continued their march toward Athlone.

At 10 a.m., the scouts returned with news that Atlon was under siege by more than four thousand rebels. The shrike remained calm, maintaining its normal marching pace, and arrived at the designated position at 2 p.m.

A large river, the Shannon, flows from north to south across central Ireland. The Standing Army's destination—Athlon—is located on the east bank of the Shannon. It is the largest settlement in the vicinity and the most suitable crossing point for heading west.

The shrike rode up to a high place and observed the chaotic siege camp outside the city. Most of the rebels were dressed in rags, but there were also a few members who looked respectable, probably minor nobles or gentry who had betrayed the city.

"What's the name of the rebel leader?"

One of Aemon's barons replied, "Sven, that's a common name for rebel leaders."

Years ago, Vig helped Ivar conquer Dufelin, and Lord Swin fled. He later sought refuge with Irish tribes and launched several encirclement wars.

In one battle, Sven was trampled by cavalry. As he lay dying, he instructed the tribal chief to inherit the name, so that "Sven" would become an eternal curse hanging over Ivar and his successor.

After hearing about "Sven's" deeds, the shrike was unimpressed.

"Throughout Britain, Ireland has seen the most frequent rebellions, not because of Swain, but because of Ivar and the likes of you who act recklessly. Don't look at me like that; these are His Majesty's exact words."

At this moment, the two infantry regiments deployed into a wide horizontal line, and the shrike stopped chatting and ordered his troops to launch an attack.

The rebels were mainly light infantry, lacking cavalry and heavy infantry. The Shrike chose the most classic tactic - spearmen slowly advanced to entangle the main enemy force, and then sent cavalry to attack the flanks and rear.

One hundred and twenty paces apart, the four hundred longbowmen who had been concentrated and drawn from the enemy ranks stopped in place. The commander aimed at the air and fired a brightly colored feathered arrow, which landed far away in the enemy ranks.

He ordered the entire army to launch arrows at this angle, using a rate of twelve arrows per minute, not to pursue accuracy, but to launch as many arrows as possible before the two armies clashed.

In less than three minutes, the longbowmen hurled nearly ten thousand arrows at the dense formation in front. Lacking iron armor, the rebels suffered heavy casualties in the rush and could only shrink into dozens of shield walls of varying sizes to defend against the arrows.

Di~
The enemy formation was thrown into chaos. Viking soldiers leveled their spears and, urged on by the whistle, launched a charge. Simultaneously, over four hundred cavalrymen, lying in ambush behind a low hill a kilometer away, spurred their horses to the battlefield upon receiving the signal. Halfway there, the cavalrymen found the surviving three thousand-plus rebels had already routed.

"Damn it, this is a complete waste of time," the commander thought, feeling utterly bored, and ordered the cavalry to mop up the fleeing soldiers in small squads.

At this point, most of the routed soldiers fled to the lake area to the north, using the dense reeds to evade pursuit. Even as cavalry and mountain infantry worked until dusk, more than two thousand men still escaped the battlefield.

After defeating the rebels, the Shrike ordered the city guards to open the gates, showing no respect to the local lord, who was also a count.

"From this moment on, I will take control of central and western Ireland until His Majesty arrives. Any objections?"

The local lord's face flushed red, and he dared not clash with the shrike: "No."

Despite the dire situation in western Ireland, the Shrike did not underestimate the enemy and act rashly. Instead, it focused its efforts on building pontoon bridges and repairing roads, attempting to develop Athlone into a suitable logistical base to support the King's main forces.

Londinewum.

On the very day the standing army set out, Vig issued a mobilization order for the entire territory, conscripting all the nobles and militia of Britain.

After two weeks of waiting, more than 8,000 people had gathered in Lundinium. Wieg, not wanting to waste any more time, ordered them to set off the next day, and also brought an additional 500 guards and the Third Infantry Regiment.

The remaining thousand guards and the newly formed 4th Infantry Regiment were not mobilized and, together with the several thousand militia that arrived later, garrisoned Rendinium to guard against attacks from West Francia.

To give his eldest son, Frode, more experience, Vig temporarily transferred him to the Third Infantry Regiment, instructing him not to reveal his identity.

"what?"

Frode was about the same age as Eamon, not yet fifteen. Based on his cousin Leif's experience, he originally thought he would also stay with his father, but unexpectedly he was thrown into the lower-level troops.

Freed from his father's control, he felt a sudden sense of relief. "Yes, Father."

Subsequently, the commander of the 3rd Infantry Regiment, Breken, took him away and assigned him to the 2nd Company of the 1st Battalion as a clerk. "Your Highness, please come to me if you encounter any problems."

"No need, Earl."

Frode knew his father's personality well; until the war ended, he could only stay obediently at the grassroots level. But that was fine too; serving as a company clerk was far more relaxed and comfortable than staying by the commander's side.

Having ascertained the location of the Third Company, Frode took a deep breath and walked straight to the tent where the company headquarters was located. Inside stood a middle-aged man with a worried expression.

"Reporting, I am Bob, a first-year student in the Command Department of the Army Academy, and I am assigned to serve as a trainee clerk in the Second Company."

Frode handed over the War Department's transfer order, which was signed at the end by War Secretary Bavers, the War School, and Regiment Commander Brecken.

After verifying that everything was correct, the middle-aged man looked at the young man with a youthful face and became even more worried. "I guessed that the higher-ups would send a student to fill in temporarily, but you look too young."

After complaining for a long time, the man, who identified himself as Invalon, arranged for an old soldier to take Frode to collect his equipment and familiarize him with the situation.

(End of this chapter)