Viking: Master of the Icy Sea

Chapter 296: Unexpected Events

During the wait, Vig ordered the troops to repair Esbjerg's defensive facilities, dig trenches, and construct barracks. He also dispatched the Marine Battalion to operate in the surrounding areas, waiting for an opportunity to intercept and kill the messengers of Louis the Younger.

Having been ordered to recruit immigrants in Denmark last year, the Marine Battalion was quite familiar with the local terrain. They dispersed into multiple small interlocking combat squads, lying in ambush within the easily concealed woodlands.

The biting chill of the harsh winter lingered in the air. The sky was overcast, with only a few faint rays of light piercing through the gaps in the clouds to barely illuminate the snow-dappled forest floor. Leif lay prone in the roadside bushes, his eyes locked onto the quiet, desolate woodland path.

Around noon, he finished a small piece of hardtack, pulled a tin flask from his coat, and took a small sip of the warm clean water.

The tin flask issued by the War Department was of excellent quality. Even clean water left overnight did not spoil, unlike the old leather water skins that always had a faint, strange taste no matter how many times they were washed.

After finishing his meal, a wave of drowsiness washed over Leif. He grabbed a handful of lingering snow and scrubbed it against his cheeks, then delivered a swift kick to a dozing soldier beside him, resuming their long and tedious wait.

In the afternoon, the dull, rhythmic clatter of hooves approached from a distance. Leif's gaze swept over his surroundings as he signaled the troops to maintain absolute silence.

Soon, five blurry figures on horseback emerged from the other side of the woods, their silhouettes gradually sharpening in the sparse light. Wrapped in thick furs, they hunched their backs against the biting wind. Their horses exhaled plumes of white mist, looking utterly exhausted.

The sound of hooves grew closer. Two warriors lying in ambush by the road suddenly surged with power, yanking backward with all their might. A tripwire snapped up from the snow. The lead horse crashed heavily to the ground, and its rider, carried by momentum, tumbled over a dozen times before quickly falling still.

The remaining four riders were severely shaken. In a panic, they drew their longswords, desperately trying to control their startled, spinning mounts. Unfortunately, it was already too late.A feathered arrow sank deep into the eye socket of one rider. Without even a grunt, he toppled backward. Another rider was pierced through a gap in his chainmail at the left armpit by a flanking feathered arrow; his body jolted violently before slumping limply against his horse's neck in convulsions. A third man wrenched his horse around in an attempt to flee, only to be met by a blanket volley of feathered arrows, killing both him and his steed on the spot.

The final survivor ceased all resistance, raising his hands and speaking rapidly in the Frankish tongue. Leif ordered his men to drag him off his horse and instructed the troops to erase all traces of the ambush. The soldiers dragged the corpses into pre-dug pits by the road, covering them with dirt, dead branches, and decaying leaves. Any feathered arrows left at the scene were also retrieved.

Before departing, someone performed a final check of the road, using a branch to carefully sweep away the footprints left behind, before kicking some loose snow over the area to conceal it entirely.

The area returned to silence, as if nothing had ever happened. A few pitch-black ravens landed on the tips of the fir trees, looking around in confusion. They let out a series of raucous caws, suspecting they had flown to the wrong place.

At sunset, Leif led his small squad back to an abandoned village that served as their temporary rallying point. The longhouse in the center of the village billowed with thick, pungent coal smoke, stinging their eyes so badly they could hardly keep them open.

"Did the War Department make a mistake? Fobbing us off with this low-quality coal!"

After complaining a bit, he tore open the five intercepted letters and struggled to read the obscure and difficult Latin.

'This is bad!'

Upon finishing the first letter, he hastily skimmed through the rest, immediately gathering them up and stuffing them into his coat. He dashed to the courtyard's stable. "Notify the deputy battalion commander and have him take over the military affairs. I have an urgent matter and must return to Esbjerg!"

Late that night, Leif arrived at the command post. Pushing open the door, he saw Fridleif and several attendants organizing maps. "I intercepted a group of messengers! I have urgent military intelligence!"

Two minutes later, Vig walked out of his bedroom draped in a heavy coat. He quickly read through the five letters and realized that this war had just become much more complicated.

After the disappearance of "Louis the German", his three sons—Carloman, Louis the Younger, and Charles the Fat—divided the realm and established their own households according to Frankish tradition. They received Bavaria, Saxony, and Swabia respectively, and conflicts between them were rife. However, on this particular matter, the three brothers had reached a rare consensus, believing this to be the prime opportunity to eradicate the Viking threat once and for all. Rather than taking the chance to launch a surprise attack on Saxony, Carloman and Charles the Fat had instead massed their forces to assist, aiming to push all the way into Sweden in a single, decisive campaign.

"It is a good thing I arrived in time."

Vig passed the letters to his attendants and walked over to the table, pulling out six blue wooden figures representing the Franks and placing them in the southern region.

After studying the map for a few minutes, he instructed Leif, "Have your men pull back. We shouldn't alert the enemy army."

"Yes, sir!"

On the fifteenth of March, a new fleet arrived at Esbjerg. In addition to the scheduled troops, Earl Douglas voluntarily joined the war with two hundred Highlanders. His reasoning was simply that he was too bored and didn't want to miss an opportunity to hack people to pieces on the battlefield.

"As you wish."

Vig was swamped with administrative duties and had no time to entertain them, so he simply assigned Earl Douglas to operate alongside the Royal Guard Battalion.

He currently commanded five thousand eight hundred soldiers. Including the over six hundred Danish militia recruited recently, his total military strength had expanded to six thousand two hundred men.

Estimating the time, Carloman and Charles the Fat must have already set out. Vig hesitated no longer. He swiftly led his troops south, marching for three days before intercepting the Frankish reinforcements in southern Denmark.

To confuse the enemy, Vig's vanguard flew the sword-and-axe banner of the Kingdom of Norway and mixed in the six hundred temporarily conscripted infantrymen. As a result, the moment they clashed, the Frankish vanguard reported back to their center command: operations were proceeding smoothly, and the enemy was on the verge of collapsing.

Five minutes later, the message relayed by the Frankish messengers changed: the battle was deadlocked, the enemy showed tremendous resolve, and they appeared to be the Royal Guard of the Kingdom of Norway.

A few minutes after that, a rider with an arrow protruding from his back galloped up to the center army and reported to Carloman, "The situation has changed! The force facing us is the army of the Snake of the North! Your Majesty, we cannot hold them off!"

With those words, the rider tumbled from his horse. Carloman grabbed him by the collar, asking rapid-fire questions, but unfortunately, the rider had already passed out, losing consciousness completely.

He climbed onto his horse and gazed at the small oak forest stretching across the north, watching the routed soldiers continuously stumbling out from the trees. His mind was in turmoil, a single question repeatedly echoing in his thoughts:

'When did Vig Tynefort get here?'

On the northern side of the battlefield, upon learning that the First Infantry Regiment had repelled the enemy vanguard, Vig realized things had gone awry. His original plan was for the troops to feign weakness. He hadn't expected that Butcherbird, in a moment of carelessness, would fail to hold back, prematurely exposing their true combat strength and identity.

The next moment, a battle report arrived from the front. The enemy's center army was hastily changing its tactics. They had pulled back the cavalry that was preparing to charge, opting instead to link their supply wagons end-to-end to establish a defensive line in front.

"An impromptu formation change? I didn't think Carloman had the nerve to attempt such a highly difficult maneuver. In that case, I will have to switch my tactics as well."