novelraw Chapter 226: Ruins
Chapter 226: Ruins
On August 21st, Wigg's forces arrived at Londinium, only to find the city gates wide open and the battlements completely devoid of defenders.
Following his orders, the field infantry battalion led the advance into the city, followed closely by the First and Second Infantry Regiments. Once it was confirmed that there were no ambushes lying in wait, Wigg rode his gray horse through the gates, returning to the city he had been away from for two long years.
According to the accounts of the local residents, Gunnar had forced the bishop to baptize Princess Enya two days ago. He then held a hastily arranged coronation ceremony, crowning her as the Queen of the Kingdom of Britain.
Afterward, the main force of the Frankish army departed by ship from the southern docks. Gunnar, fearing interception during the voyage, secretly led his direct subordinates to Hastings, planning to board ships there and return to his homeland.
"A Queen? Is there really any point in tormenting a little girl?"
Wigg stifled a yawn. Surrounded by his guards, he arrived at the royal palace. The outer walls were marred by large pools of dried blood and scorch marks from thick smoke. The interior was in complete disarray, and several water wells were choked with the corpses of maids and commoners.
"This place is unlivable," Wigg muttered, shaking his head. He ordered his army to organize the populace to properly dispose of the bodies and prevent the outbreak of disease.
Entering the main hall, he found it completely empty. Every single item—including the window glass, the candlesticks, and even the throne—had been stripped away. Amidst his annoyance, he could not help but find the sheer absurdity of it somewhat amusing.
"Ah well, out with the old, in with the new. From now on, the entirety of the British Isles rests on my shoulders. Even though there is nothing left, at least I will not have to repay that forty-thousand-pound debt," he mused aloud.
At that moment, a voice called out from the crowd. "Lord Prime Minister—no, Your Majesty. There are certain debts you must repay."Wigg turned to see his old subordinate, the Prime Minister's Secretary, Loki. "You survived. Well then, let us address this matter of debt. Why must certain debts be repaid?"
Loki replied, "Previously, in order to raise funds, Paffis issued something called banknotes. The populace could purchase one for a single pound, with the promise of receiving 1.6 pounds after three years. Many of the buyers were minor nobles from the direct territories. To secure their loyalty, I strongly suggest you consider this carefully."
'Banknotes?' Wigg thought in surprise. 'Who would have guessed that eunuch had a talent for finance?'
After pondering for a moment, Wigg decided to handle the matter on a case-by-case basis. If those minor nobles were still alive and willing to swear fealty, he would compensate their losses at his discretion. As for everyone else, they were out of luck.
As for this secretary who had served three consecutive Prime Ministers, Wigg allowed him to temporarily remain in his post to continue assisting Gorm in maintaining order.
"Thank you for your trust, Your Majesty."
Dismissing the idle personnel, Wigg gathered the high-ranking officers of his army. Looking at their barely contained excitement, he spoke calmly. "Gentlemen, I know exactly what you are thinking. Leif, bring the map over."
A short while later, Leif entered the main hall carrying a stack of maps. Wigg picked out a detailed map of Britain and pointed to Wessex in the southwest.
"This is the most prosperous region in all of Britain, and it is yours for the taking."
When it came to Wessex, Wigg had only one stance—war. On one hand, he needed to eradicate this unstable element; on the other, he needed land to reward his meritorious officials. If he spared Wessex, he would be forced to carve up the royal estates to satisfy Joren, Butcherbird, and the others. If he did that, what would be left for him? Would he not have fought all this time for nothing?
Staring intently at the territory of Wessex, Butcherbird's breathing quickened. "Your Majesty, when do we strike?" "We march tomorrow. Londinium is in ruins, and there is no joy in staying here. We will leave behind two thousand auxiliary troops to clear the rubble and collect the bodies. I will return once they have finished their work."
The following day, Wigg appointed Baron Viper as the acting county governor. He then led his remaining eight thousand men upstream along the River Thames, taking two days to reach Reading.
At that moment, the yellow dragon banner of Wessex still flew high above the wooden palisades. Wigg had no patience to demand a surrender; instead, he immediately ordered his troops to dig moats and construct a siege camp.
In September, six Knarr ships arrived on the river near Reading, using the heavy ballistas on their decks to bombard the palisades. (In the past, Ragnar had spent a fortune rebuilding the stone bridge over the River Thames, incorporating a wooden section that could be raised to allow ships to pass upstream and downstream.)
Observing those strangely shaped ballistas, Butcherbird offered his assessment. "Their accuracy is quite high, but their destructive power pales in comparison to a counterweight trebuchet. If we were facing stone city walls, the latter would be much more suitable. By the way, where is the rest of the fleet? Why haven't they followed us?"
Thorkel crossed his arms and replied casually, "Over six thousand Frankish soldiers evacuated Londinium by ship. Without unified command and trying to avoid the storms, they scattered everywhere. Joren is busy leading the fleet to capture prisoners. Word has it they've already caught over eight hundred men."
After two days of relentless bombardment, multiple breaches appeared in the northern palisades of Reading. Wigg ordered a general assault. Thousands of soldiers rowed longships toward the riverbanks, storming into the town in small squads for brutal street-to-street fighting. At the cost of over a hundred casualties, they successfully captured the settlement.
Having conquered Reading, Wigg marched southeast along the road toward Winchester. Taking in the scenery on both sides of the path, he was suddenly struck by an inexplicable illusion that he had traveled back in time more than a decade.
Arriving in the Winchester suburbs, he gazed at the lush reed beds along the banks of the River Itchen and the grayish-green mallards paddling across the water. The feeling only intensified, as if he were still the Earl of Tyne, serving as a siege commander under Ragnar.
Looking back on the past, Wigg felt his enthusiasm wane. He dumped the tedious task of setting up the camp onto his subordinates and slipped away to the riverbank to pass the time fishing.
In the afternoon, an envoy from the city found him, claiming that Ethelbald wished to surrender under the condition that he could continue to serve as the Duke of Wessex.
Watching his buoy suddenly dip below the surface, Wigg lifted his rod and reeled in the line, replying to the envoy with clear impatience.
"In the past, Ragnar spared Wessex because he expanded too quickly and lacked the means to control such vast, newly acquired territories. The situation is entirely different now. My army expects to be granted fiefdoms, and only Wessex can satiate their appetite."
By then, he had nearly finished reeling in the line. Wigg grabbed a landing net, dipped it into the water, and scooped out a violently thrashing river fish.
"Fighting wars day in and day out... it's been far too long since I enjoyed a good fish soup." He unhooked the catch and tossed it into the empty wooden bucket beside him.
Seeing the envoy hesitate, looking as though he wanted to speak but couldn't find the words, Wigg pointed at the wooden bucket. "Back then, Ragnar caught far too many fish. His bucket couldn't hold them all, so he released a massive fish named 'Wessex' back into the water. Today, this is the only fish in my bucket. What possible reason would I have to let it go?"
Realizing Wigg's unwavering resolve, the envoy returned to Winchester to deliver the grim news to his King.
"A fish? That barbarian actually dared to compare my kingdom to a river fish?"
With all his hopes completely dashed, Ethelbald slumped weakly onto his throne. He drank himself into a drunken stupor with wine, desperately trying to escape his cold, cruel reality.
In mid-October, the walls of Winchester were breached. The great Viking army utterly crushed the defenders' resistance, completely obliterating Wessex less than half a year after it had been restored.