Viking: Master of the Icy Sea

Chapter 297: Axe-Wielding Guards

Wigg made a temporary adjustment. He ordered the First Infantry Regiment and the Danish militia into the oak forest to create the illusion of a massive frontal assault. Meanwhile, he led his main forces around the frontline, bypassing the western side of the battlefield to flank the Frankish army from behind.

Along the way, he encountered hundreds of light infantrymen deployed by the Frankish army on their left flank, situated in the woods on the western edge of the battlefield. They were equipped with iron axes, iron swords, and oval shields. A few lacked iron helmets, revealing a bizarre hairstyle: the back of their heads were shaved completely bald, leaving only the hair on their foreheads.

"Ha, from what corner did Carloman dig up these country barbarians?"

Wigg could not be bothered to tangle with this group. He ordered the nearest marine battalion to drive them away.

Leif spread out his formation, ordering all units to fire at will as they slowly advanced toward the weirdly coiffed enemy.

After enduring multiple volleys of feathered arrows, the enemy light infantry were forced to huddle together. Once the distance between them closed to a mere thirty paces, they suddenly let out a deafening roar and charged, hurling their throwing axes.

At the exact same moment, several members of the mixed squad formations hurled their javelins. Both sides suffered casualties.

"What on earth?"

Leif was startled by the sudden storm of throwing axes, quickly recovering to blow his brass whistle and signal the attack.

As the clash devolved into brutal melee combat, the light infantry initially fought with fierce bloodlust. However, once that initial surge of reckless courage faded, they found themselves completely outmatched. Unable to contend with soldiers clad in brigandine armor who utilized their highly coordinated mixed squad formations, the enemy was gradually forced to retreat."Sound the horn! Tell them to stop chasing!"

Leif's orders were to drive the enemy away, not to annihilate them. Having achieved his objective, he had no intention of wasting time on these barbarians. He rallied his troops and continued marching south to catch up with the retreating main army.

Bypassing the woods on the western flank, the main force led by Wigg arrived at the southwest edge of the battlefield, appearing directly in the rear sights of the Frankish army. Charles the Fat gazed at the Viking ranks and instinctively gasped in awe.

"Fast. They are simply too fast."

In mere moments, the Second Infantry Regiment flawlessly transitioned from a four-column marching formation into a wide offensive line. Without the slightest hesitation, they threw themselves directly at the Frankish infantry's shield wall.

By this time, Charles the Fat's cavalry had finished forming up and launched a thunderous charge from the southernmost tip of the battlefield. Yet, they crashed right into the bristling spear formation of the Third Infantry Regiment, rendering their assault largely ineffective.

Engaging Wigg's army for the first time, the knights of East Francia quickly realized just how incredibly resilient their foes were. Every single infantryman wore iron armor. Even when their formations broke and the clash descended into chaotic melee combat, the soldiers remained deadly. Their combat prowess and sheer tenacity far surpassed that of any feeble militia.

Before long, the knights felt their morale plummeting. By the time they finally disengaged and retreated to regroup on a low hill to the south, they looked back only to see that their own infantry shield wall had completely collapsed.

"Excellent, wonderfully done!"

Witnessing the outstanding performance of the Second Infantry Regiment, Wigg cheered loudly and ordered his attendant to send a flag signal.

"Have the Second Infantry Regiment rest and reorganize on the spot. Order the First Guard Battalion and the Mountain Infantry Battalions to tail the routed enemy forces and charge the center of their army from south to north. Tell them not to stop until they punch straight through the enemy lines!"

Over in the main camp, Carloman had finally adjusted his formations. He had positioned the bulk of his supply wagons directly to the north, establishing two distinct defensive perimeters to block what he believed was the main Viking force emerging from the northern oak forest. He deployed the remaining wagons on his eastern and western flanks to prevent enemy cavalry from sweeping in.

After this elaborate series of maneuvers, Carloman had completely exposed his most vulnerable southern flank to Wigg's actual main force. Realizing the sheer magnitude of his own stupidity, his vision darkened, and he nearly tumbled from his saddle.

"Send the Royal Court guards to the south! Hold them off long enough for our cavalry to launch a flanking assault!" Receiving their king's frantic orders, the guard members shoved their way through the chaotic masses and the randomly scattered supplies, hastily scrambling to throw together a crooked shield wall.

Before long, the routed soldiers under Charles the Fat's command arrived. Fleeing in absolute panic, they stampeded toward the newly formed guard line, only to be met with a merciless volley of warning shots from allied crossbows that instantly killed dozens of them on the spot.

Realizing the ruthless cruelty of their own comrades, the routing soldiers wept and wailed, abandoning the frontal approach and pouring into the formation through the outer edges. Their blind terror spread like a plague, infecting countless others.

Within moments, a massive downpour of feathered arrows rained from the sky. They struck the surface of the shield wall with a relentless barrage of dull thuds. Peering through the narrow gaps between their shields, the Frankish army could see the Vikings rapidly closing the distance.

Relying on their decent morale and high-quality armor, the Frankish army managed to hold the line against the charge, frequently thrusting their spears and iron swords through the gaps in their shields.

After a protracted struggle, the Viking soldiers began to tire. They pulled back a short distance to the south, allowed their front and rear ranks to swap positions, and then launched a renewed assault. Battle cries shook the heavens, and arrows swarmed through the air like locusts. Yet, despite the bitter fighting, neither side managed to achieve a breakthrough.

"These Frankish barbarians are surprisingly stubborn, aren't they?"

From the rear, Wigg climbed atop a hastily constructed ten-foot watchtower. He observed the grueling battle his Guard Battalion was fighting, as well as the Frankish knights actively regrouping on the western side of the battlefield. His mood grew increasingly impatient.

Suddenly, he caught sight of Douglas, who was currently standing idle. "Earl, I need you to tear that shield wall wide open. Can you do it?"

"Highland warriors never disappoint."

Delivering his boast, Douglas led his men into the fray. Their tactics were remarkably similar to those of the Varangian Guard. They charged forward brandishing devastating two-handed weapons and wore two layers of armor: standard-issue brigandine armor on the outside and heavy chainmail underneath.

Ordinary sword strikes and spear thrusts landed heavily against their bodies, producing a nerve-grating scrape and a dull thud. Weapons simply could not pierce their protective gear. This oppressive weight of heavy armor granted them a terrifying defense, rendering them practically immune to standard attacks and fueling their utterly fearless charge.

Crack!

A massive two-handed axe swung down with explosive force, shattering a wooden shield into pieces. Splinters of wood and fragments of metal trimming flew through the air. Douglas and his men could not be bothered to parry enemy counterattacks. They simply repeated their brutal hacking motions, using their massive, heavily armored frames to ram, shove, and trample through the crowded ranks, violently carving out a bloody path for the forces behind them.

The Frankish army was completely stunned by this horrifying, frenzied assault. The shield wall was torn open, leaving a gaping wound that could not be sealed, and panic spread like a raging plague along both sides of the breach. Even more armored Viking warriors surged into the formation, rapidly widening the gap. The Frankish defensive line completely crumbled as terror fully transitioned into a chaotic rout.

At the same time, the cavalry units commanded by Carloman and Charles the Fat had finished reorganizing. They launched coordinated offensives, executing a brutal pincer movement from both the north and the south, aiming directly for Wigg's royal standard. However, they were swiftly blocked by the Second and Third Infantry Regiments. The spearmen formed a dense thicket of lethal thrusts, while the archers and crossbowmen relentlessly fired off high-angle shots until it seemed the entire sky was blotted out by an endless rain of arrows.

The Frankish knights wore heavy armor, but they lacked the tradition of armoring their warhorses. As wave after wave of arrows plummeted into their ranks, their mounts suffered catastrophic casualties. Forced to fight on foot, countless dismounted knights wildly swung their longswords and iron flails, dragging the Vikings into a ferocious, muddy melee.

The brutal slaughter raged on. Just as the Frankish cavalry attempted to pull back, Wigg finally unleashed the four hundred horsemen of his Ranger Battalion. While their raw charging and close-quarters combat abilities were somewhat lacking, they had absolutely no trouble tangling with the retreating foe. With the Frankish cavalry completely stripped of their momentum, the two infantry regiments swarmed forward, thoroughly crushing them once and for all.