Viking: Master of the Icy Sea

Chapter 322: Comparison of Strength

In early November, the Governor of Londinium sent inspectors to evaluate the military training of the militias in various towns. Surprisingly, Luton Town actually met the passing standards.

The moment the grueling training finally ended, uncontrollable cheers erupted from the crowd. Traditionally, commoners were subjected to forty days of corvee labor each year, but they much preferred taking on other tasks over this dull, exhausting military training.

As the militia disbanded, Fridleif took out a small pouch of Silver Pennies to pay the instructors' wages. After sending the group on their way, the entire training cycle was officially over, and his life returned to a peaceful state.

That evening, Austra suggested to her husband, "The Queen sent over many daily necessities and had someone pass on a message. She wants us to return to the Royal Palace and stay for a few days when we have some free time."

"Now that the militia training is over, the rest of my time is free." Fridleif, thoroughly tired of rural life, decided to take his wife back to the city to relax.

In the Royal Palace Back Garden, Fridleif saw his two younger brothers flying a kite. He walked over for a casual chat, and Frede casually complained:

"The Army Academy has taken in a lot of new students recently, and the short-term training class has doubled in size too. During mealtimes, the dining hall is always so packed that I can never grab my favorite fried cod. Brother, give me some money. The cod at the food stall right outside the academy is pretty good, so I plan to settle my lunches there from now on."

Fridleif grabbed a handful of Silver Pennies from his pocket, eliciting a loud cheer from Frede. His third brother, Greger, also clamored for money, so Fridleif had no choice but to dig out another two pence to send him happily on his way.

He momentarily ignored his two brothers, his mind racing. 'With the Army Academy expanding its scale and twelve counties conducting militia training, is Father still thinking of expanding the army?'

Fridleif headed to Wigg's office. The latter was reading a document before picking up a quill to draw a mark on the giant map hanging on the wall.Noticing the Crown Prince's confusion, Wigg took the initiative to explain, "Saxony has been very chaotic recently. It has to do with the silver mines in the Harz Mountains.

"As early as the third century, scattered mining camps appeared in the Harz Mountains to extract copper and lead. After Charlemagne conquered Saxony, the scale of local mining expanded somewhat, but it still primarily focused on copper. That was until a massive silver mine was discovered last year, drawing the covetous eyes of the neighboring feudal lords."

"This is good news," Fridleif said. "Hopefully, Francia will erupt into a civil war over this."

Wigg shook his head. "In recent years, Charles the Bald and his nephews have maintained their restraint. If they encounter a dispute, they no longer muster their armies for war; instead, they resolve the issue through negotiation.

"The reason is very simple. In their hearts, I have become a threat that cannot be ignored—one that surpasses even the Moors of Iberia and the various tribes of Eastern Europe.

"Britain only has a population of 2.6 million, yet we must face the hostility of the entire Frankish world. Fortunately, the Royal Navy controls the seas; otherwise, the Frankish allied forces would have landed on our shores long ago."

At this moment, Fridleif shifted his gaze toward Northern Europe. Wigg understood his implication but still shook his head and sighed.

"Following years of continuous warfare and a massive influx of immigrants pouring into Britain, Northern Europe's strength has been severely depleted. Norway, Sweden, and Denmark combined now have a total population of just over eight hundred thousand.

"In the last war, the Northern European allied forces led by Halfdan Whiteshirt fought a decisive battle against Carloman and his brothers. Prior to that, I had already defeated Carloman's brothers, but even so, the Northern European allied forces still couldn't beat Carloman's remnants. You'd best not hold too much hope for them."

After sending the Crown Prince away, Wigg processed the remaining official documents. A report submitted by the Ministry of the Army showed that out of the twelve directly governed counties and ninety towns, only forty percent of the towns had met the militia assessment standards.

The Army Ministry's assessment standards were as follows:

The militia must execute a short-distance march in a four-column formation, with the number of stragglers not exceeding five percent.

With the militia fully formed up, cavalry would charge to a distance of fifteen meters; the militia must not rout. The militia must deploy into an offensive line and launch a spear charge against wooden targets, knocking down over seventy percent of the targets within a specified time limit.

In addition, scout riders and longbowmen had separate assessments. Their situation was slightly better, reaching a fifty percent pass rate.

At the end of the report was the Army Ministry's evaluation: even if they met the assessment standards, the militia still required an additional month and a half of advanced training before they could be organized into infantry regiments and undertake various combat missions.

"The intensive training system has been successfully promoted, and the issue of reserve troops has been alleviated. What we are desperately short of right now are military officers."

Wigg flipped through the teaching syllabus of the Army Academy. It was a curriculum he had personally written back in the day. He couldn't find any areas worth condensing, making it impossible to shorten the instruction time.

At noon, after Wigg and his family had lunch, he returned to his office to continue processing documents. Due to his busy schedule recently, he didn't even have time for a midday nap.

At three in the afternoon, Wigg finished reviewing the last document and began receiving visitors, patiently listening to the various demands of the nobles and merchants.

Two hours passed. A ship captain hailing from the New World walked into the office. Wigg vaguely remembered meeting this man. "Captain Toril, how has Bjorn Ironside been doing lately?"

The captain accepted the glass of sugarcane rum offered by the King and began detailing the situation in the New World.

Following continuous waves of immigration, Bjorn had built a settlement at a river mouth in the New World, boasting over a thousand residents. Honoring the customs of the native inhabitants, the settlement was named Quebec.

Quebec's core industry was trade. The Vikings traveled upstream into the Great Lakes region, selling iron tools, textiles, and glass beads while purchasing furs from the locals. They then shipped these goods back to Britain to sell, reaping exorbitant profits of more than ten times their initial investment.

"Can three-masted sailing ships enter the Great Lakes region?" Wigg asked.

The captain shook his head. "They cannot. There are shallows and rapids along the way, making it impossible for large sailing ships to pass. We can only use traditional oared longships. Certain sections aren't even navigable, requiring us to drag the ships across the land.

"Oh, right! Some lunatic ate too many wild mushrooms and actually proposed digging a canal and dredging the riverways to allow large ships into the Great Lakes. Haha, he's absolutely dreaming!"

Seeing his guest's glass empty, Wigg simply opened a whole bottle of sugarcane rum for him and continued asking, "Aside from the Great Lakes, have you explored any other regions?"

Toril picked up the topic again. Quebec had dispatched two two-masted sailing ships southward. The first hit a reef, while the second sailed south along the coastline, stopping at a certain river mouth to rest and trade with the locals. The natives called that place Massachusetts.

Late at night, the Vikings were ambushed by the natives. More than half the crew were killed or wounded. With only about twenty men left, they barely managed to sail the ship back to Quebec.

After experiencing this, Bjorn temporarily lost his desire to explore southward. He was currently amassing warhorses. Cavalry held a crushing advantage against untrained natives. Bjorn planned to scrape together a cavalry unit of fifty men before considering any further outward expansion.

After hearing this, Wigg's tone revealed a hint of regret. "What a pity. If you had dispatched ships further south, you might have run into the navy's exploration vessels."

Toril's face showed confusion. "Why didn't your exploration vessels take the original route?"