Viking: Master of the Icy Sea

Chapter 159: Last-Minute Betrayal

"After fighting for so many years, the defenses back home in Northern Europe are still the weakest."

After capturing Randers, Niels continued his previous routine: he pillaged supplies, forcibly conscripted able-bodied men, and left a small detachment to guard the wooden fort. Following a single night of rest, they pressed onward to the south.

In this manner, every wooden fort and small settlement along their path fell. A week later, he arrived at the ultimate objective of this expedition: Schleswig.

The local lord was named Hrolf, the younger brother of King Erik. His vision was far broader than that of the other Danish nobles. Because of this, he had borrowed a group of craftsmen from Erik to bolster his defenses. The palisade stood roughly sixteen feet high, bordered by deep moats excavated on the outside, with towering arrow towers erected at regular intervals. At first glance, it made Niels feel as though he had returned to Britain.

"Boss, what is our next move?"

Niels cast a ferocious glare, looking every bit like a gambler pushing all his chips to the center of the table. "We keep fighting. Breach the walls, and I will grant you all your own fiefdoms at the victory feast."

As of now, his army had swelled to three thousand five hundred men. Half of them were his fellow Vikings, forcibly conscripted into service. These men harbored deep resentment, but considering their families back home, they could only swallow their fury and march along.

Under Niels's orders, the auxiliary troops began felling timber, preparing to construct large siege engines.

Watching the clumsy movements of the auxiliaries, a personal guard approached his commander. "Boss, are you certain the craftsmanship of these country bumpkins is good enough to build catapults and siege towers?"

"No, I am not that stupid. We are just putting on a show to draw Hrolf's attention." Siege warfare was Vige's specialty, not his. Niels was unfamiliar with such operations, but he had a much better plan.Noticing his commander's meaningful smile, the guard pressed further, "And then?"

"I cannot say. Focus on your own duties, and you will get your rightful reward after the battle." Waving the guard away, Niels sat cross-legged on the grass and sank into deep thought.

Behind the battlements, Hrolf looked at the expeditionary force spread across the clearing outside the city, his eyes locking onto the thunder banner that symbolized Ragnar. He could not help but curse out loud.

"Damn it all! Your son gets beaten by Swedish nobles, so why the hell are you taking it out on us Danes?"

The only saving grace was that his territory was located at the southern tip of the Jutland Peninsula, giving him ample time to conscript village militias. Furthermore, seven minor nobles had fled to him for refuge, swelling his defending forces to fifteen hundred men.

After cursing for a while, Hrolf turned to a noble on his right and threw his arm around the man's shoulders, his eyes brimming with tears.

"Farvel, you are the most loyal of them all. You rushed here to reinforce me the moment you received the news. Alas, my mind must have been poisoned by demons back then to fight you over a simple farm. I even slapped you, and for that, I am truly sorry."

"It is nothing. I have long forgotten the past."

That afternoon, the enemy forces outside the city launched a symbolic assault, only to be repulsed before they could even get close to the walls. This greatly boosted the morale of the defenders. That evening, Hrolf hosted a grand banquet to entertain the minor nobles who had come to his aid.

"We just need to hold out for a while and wear down the enemy outside, then we launch our counterattack. I heard the lords of Aalborg and other regions were killed. When the time comes, you may all take your pick of their lands."

In Hrolf's grand vision, once he won this battle, he would use those vacant territories to buy the loyalty of these minor nobles. Riding high on his newfound prestige, he would crown himself King. Then, he would ally with Norway and Sweden to form a united front against Ragnar's forces.

'Wait until my brother passes away, seize the throne, then find a way to conquer Sweden and become the true King of all Vikings...'

After downing cup after cup of sweet, mellow mead, Hrolf's consciousness began to blur. The other six minor nobles were dead drunk, and Farvel, overwhelmed by the alcohol, staggered outside to vomit.

Once no one was around, Farvel slipped into a pitch-black house, gathered ten of his trusted aides who had been waiting in ambush, and crept to the north wall under the cover of darkness. After silently slitting the throats of the night watchmen, he dropped numerous hemp ropes down from the battlements. Then, he raised an oil lamp and swung it back and forth toward the enemy camp outside the city.

Before long, a group of figures draped in black cloaks scaled the wall. Farvel asked in a hushed whisper, "Where is Niels? Does the promise still hold?"

A relatively short man pulled back his hood, his expression solemn. "Rest assured, it is exactly as Erik Jr. promised. You will not be shortchanged. How does Zealand Island—the future site of Copenhagen—sound to you?"

"Zealand?"

Farvel's expression shifted unpredictably. Staring at the increasing number of armored warriors climbing onto the wall, he reluctantly agreed.

From beginning to end, this entire scheme was born from the mind of Erik Jr.

Years ago, when Niels was courting Princess Eve, he had tried to win favor with his beloved by treating her older brother, Erik Jr., to countless drinks. That was how the two had grown close.

Then, earlier this year, the situation in Sweden drastically changed. Erik Jr. correctly guessed that Ragnar would deploy troops to assist Sweden, so he sent an envoy to contact Niels, urging him to take up the mission. Along the way, Niels was to conveniently raid Schleswig and eliminate Hrolf, the ambitious uncle who coveted the Norwegian Crown.

To ensure the operation went smoothly, Erik Jr. provided the most detailed map of Denmark available and even recruited Farvel to act as their inside man.

The only thing he had not anticipated was that Niels would exhaust his entire fortune, willingly severing his own escape routes, to turn an agreed-upon raid into a campaign of total conquest.

Up on the walls, the number of armored soldiers quickly surpassed a hundred. Niels prepared to move out and seize the gates. Just before he left, the man in his forties, Farvel, stopped this remarkably ordinary-looking young man. "Do you want to be the King of Denmark?"

"What else?" Niels flashed a broad, wicked grin. "If this does not end with a crown, how could it possibly be worth all the hardship I have endured?"

With that said, he decisively led his troops to storm the gates. The Viking warriors standing guard were swiftly dispatched. As the heavy wooden gates swung wide open, the thousands of men lurking in the darkness erupted into earth-shattering battle cries.

At that moment, whether they were the Anglo-Saxon militiamen from Nottingham or the coerced Danish conscripts, every heart overflowed with boundless greed. Visibility was poor in the dead of night, making it impossible for commanders to restrain their troops. As long as a man was bold enough, he could seize more wealth in a single night than he could spend in a lifetime!

Without any need for rallying cries, over three thousand men surged through the city gates like a raging flood. Caught entirely off guard, Hrolf had no time to mount a proper defense. Under the protection of his shield-bearers, he fought a retreating battle and ultimately fled into the night.

"These lunatics dare to pillage my capital!"

Watching the fires blazing all around him, Niels felt an immense wave of irritation, but he had no choice but to turn a blind eye to his soldiers' atrocities. Flanked by his personal guards, he strode into Hrolf's manor and interrogated the trembling maidservants.

"Where is the lord's treasury?"

Following a maidservant down into a dimly lit cellar, Niels lit the wall sconces on either side, illuminating five wooden chests of varying sizes piled before him.

There was a small chest of Silver Pennies, a chest of amber, a chest filled with Silver utensils, and another stuffed with luxurious garments. The final wooden chest felt remarkably light. When Niels pried the lid open, he was instantly mesmerized.

"So, is this a reward from the gods?"

It contained nothing else but a Crown forged of pure gold. Trembling, he cradled it in his hands. He breathed heavily onto the metal, polished it clean, and carefully placed it atop his head. Though it was slightly too large, it imbued him with an indescribable sense of peace, as if all his worldly anxieties had completely vanished.