Vikings: Lords of the Ice Sea

Chapter 72 Encounter
That evening, Esserwolf hosted a grand banquet to entertain the knights.

Having witnessed the terrifying fighting prowess of the Frankish knights, the old king, intending to innovate his tactics, proposed to the envoy named "Lamberto" that he purchase warhorses.

"Hmm, let me think about it." Lambert's eyes darted around as he tentatively offered a price.
"According to the Anglo-Saxon used in your country, a qualified warhorse costs three pounds of silver, and a fine stallion costs five pounds of silver."

“No problem,” Esselwolf slammed his glass on the table. “I’m willing to pay thirteen hundred pounds of silver, and a thousand pounds of woolen cloth. When is the delivery date?”

This guy isn't even haggling? Hmm, the rumors are true. With its wool exports and silver mines, Wessex is indeed wealthy.

Lambert suppressed his inner elation and feigned difficulty, saying, "It is indeed difficult to procure so many warhorses in such a short time. I will immediately write back home and, if King Charles's royal horse farm does not have enough warhorses, I will have someone purchase them from earls in various regions to ensure your requirements are met."

Tamworth.

Based on Gunnar's observations in Oxfordshire, he initially judged that Wessex had amassed three thousand troops, with over six hundred in armor. Gunnar's response was to call in reinforcements from within the country, allowing the army to gradually rebuild its strength.

In mid-March, as the snow melted, the Vikings, who had rested for many days, set off south, prioritizing the defeat of Wessex, their biggest threat, before dealing with the remaining four smaller nations.

"Five thousand six hundred Viking warriors should have no problem fighting against three thousand from Wessex."

On the bumpy horseback, Ragnar repeatedly calculated the strength of the two armies. Even with the reinforcements of four minor forces, he still held the advantage.

On the morning of the third day, a small fortress appeared ahead. The main building was a stone watchtower left over from the Roman period, surrounded by a stone wall about five meters high.

"Are there Mercian troops stationed inside?"

Ragnar approached to observe and saw at least a hundred soldiers behind the battlements, so he sent a Mercian prisoner to persuade him to surrender.

A few minutes later, the bruised and battered prisoner ran back and said that Lord Latworth was determined not to surrender.

"After capturing Tamworth, there are still Mercianians who dare to fight to the death? What a rare warrior!" Ragnar exclaimed, then ordered his troops to deploy and prepare for a strong attack.

Half an hour later, the battering ram was assembled. Pascal suddenly said, "Your Majesty, after capturing Tamworth, we captured a group of young servants. They are the sons of various nobles. I remember one of the boys claimed to be the second son of the Lord of Latworth."

He suggested postponing the attack, rode to the supply wagon, and found a register of prisoners. Sure enough, his side had captured the son of the Lord of Latworth.

"Great!"

At the same time, the left wing.

Seeing that the central army had not yet launched an attack, Vig simply found a shady spot under a tree to sleep. "Yoren, the troops remain in place. Send out scouts to reconnoiter the surrounding area. Call me if there are any developments."

Leaning against the rough trunk of the oak tree, his consciousness gradually faded.
After an unknown amount of time, Yoren shook Vig's body and said, "My lord, the enemy has surrendered, and we are taking over the fortress."

"Okay, help me up."

Despite the soreness in his thighs, Vig stood up with the help of his shield guards. In the distance, the Mercian banner atop the watchtower had been replaced by Ragnar's Thunder Banner, and Viking soldiers were taking over the defenses.

"Is it done so quickly?"

Upon entering the fortress, Vig and the nobles had lunch together. Just as they were finishing their meal, a soldier ran in with a report: "Our left flank is moving southeast. I don't understand what's happening." Glancing at Vig and Ulf, who both looked bewildered, Ragnar quickly asked, "Have some soldiers deserted, or is the entire left flank in disarray?"

"About five or six hundred, carrying Lord Ulf's River Fish Flag."

At this point, the high command members lost their appetite. Vig and Ulf ran to the stables to try and gather the troops as quickly as possible, while the rest followed Ragnar to the top of the watchtower, their eyes fixed on the hills to the southeast.

Two mounts charged out of the gate one after the other, the strong wind making it hard for them to open their eyes. Halfway there, Ulf roared at the top of his lungs, "I'll go after those idiots first, you gather the rest of the troops."

"it is good."

After separating, Vig rushed to his unit, his patience nearing its limit with these troublesome fellows. "What on earth happened?"

Sensing their leader's murderous intent, the shield guards absolved themselves of responsibility: "This is not our fault. The scouts reported that a small group of Mercian soldiers had been spotted behind the southeastern hills. A bunch of bored raiders went out on their own, and Ulf's soldiers followed behind them. We tried to dissuade them, but to no avail."

"Odin above, why did you send these people to torment me?"

As his blood rushed to his head, Vig felt a sudden tightness in his chest, and the scenery before his eyes flickered between light and dark. He almost collapsed to the ground.

"grown ups!"

"Never mind me, gather the troops. If this drags on any longer, I'm afraid hundreds of Ulf's men won't survive!"

After taking five minutes to regroup, Vig led his troops to catch up with their allies. By this time, their figures had disappeared behind the low hills. Looking into the distance, one could only see flocks of birds taking flight and soaring into the boundless blue sky.

Not long after, a scout rider ran back with news that his side had routed an equal number of Anglossians and was organizing a pursuit.

"Still chasing?"

Vig's spirit was numb; he didn't get angry, but instead sent his rider to report to Ragnar. Whether to pursue or regroup, it was all up to the latter.

The horse's hooves rolled over the knee-high grass, and a gentle breeze carried a few dandelion fluff balls across its mane. Vig gripped the reins and stopped atop the low hill.

Ahead, the terrain stretched out in undulating waves, like a green carpet crumpled by a giant, rising and falling to the horizon. At this moment, Ulf's men were completely disorganized, chasing after the scattered Anglo-Saxon soldiers in all directions. Some rushed into the woods, while others fought and chased each other on the slopes.

Witnessing this scene, Vig closed his eyes. Based on his combat experience, he knew that regrouping the troops before these Viking warriors exhausted their strength was just wishful thinking.

Suddenly, a guard reminded him, "My lord, His Majesty has caught up with us too."

Turning his head, Vig discovered that the entire Viking army was moving towards this place. Under the leadership of their respective commanders, Niels, Ivar, and Leonard led thousands of men like a dark cloud, surging towards them with murderous intent.

"A small group of looters acted on their own initiative, resulting in thousands of people being mobilized at once. This battle was far too hasty."

With things having come to this, Vig could only lead his troops forward, their target being a hillside two miles away, where the highest point would be best for him to observe the surrounding area.

(End of this chapter)