Viking: Master of the Icy Sea

Chapter 382: Chain Reaction

"A secret weapon? Is it a trebuchet or a ballista? Greek artisans are already constructing the relevant facilities in the capital. Are we supposed to bombard each other with trebuchets?"

Kotsel directed his curious inquiry at Douglas, who simply scratched his head in response.

"I have no idea either. When I traveled to Londinium for an audience last year, rumors of it were already spreading among the populace. However, the Emperor and the Cabinet kept their lips tightly sealed. They only mentioned that this weapon excels in sieges and naval warfare. Uh, I imagine it must be something akin to Greek Fire."

Knowing the war could not be concluded in the short term, Douglas settled for the next best option. He directed his forces to attack the remaining settlements in western Moravia, intent on occupying the region known as Bohemia.

In early March, news arrived from Londinium.

The Emperor had no intention of dispatching reinforcements. Instead, he ordered the understrength Third Field Division to return to Paris. The Duke's mission was no longer to conquer the entirety of Moravia, but merely to hold Bohemia.

"Why transfer the troops away?"

Kotsel was utterly baffled. Douglas had a vague inkling of the Emperor's true intentions, but he chose to keep it from these Moravian nobles, unwilling to risk these loudmouths leaking critical military intelligence.

Britain.

Ever since Wigg received the latest reports from the frontlines, he concluded that the war had devolved into a bitter stalemate. If he dispatched more troops, Basil could easily match his numbers.The Eastern Roman Empire boasted abundant financial resources. They could pour an endless stream of Balkan mercenaries onto the battlefield, bleeding the Viking Empire's manpower dry.

Of course, cannons could instantly shatter this deadlock and blast open the towns of Moravia one by one.

However, any new tactic or weapon was only ever at its most devastating during its initial debut. If he deployed cannons in Moravia, the enemy would naturally develop countermeasures, and the weapon's effectiveness in future conflicts would be severely diminished.

'Deploying cannons on a secondary battlefield is far too wasteful,' he mused.

He was much more inclined to unleash this ultimate weapon in the critical theater of Northern Italy, aiming to annihilate the Frankish remnants in a single, decisive stroke and finally bring an end to the war between the Vikings and the Franks.

After spending the entire night pacing his office in deep thought, Wigg finalized his strategy: launch an offensive in the south while holding the line in the north. He would let Douglas and Kotsel's forces stall for time along the northern front. Central Europe was vastly underdeveloped and blanketed in dense forests, making it the perfect environment to bog the enemy down in a messy war of attrition.

Even if the East Roman Army managed to push into East Francia, it would barely affect him. Regions like Bavaria, Pomerania, and Saxony were not under his direct jurisdiction anyway; the enemy could ravage them for all he cared.

During the Cabinet meeting the following day, Wigg officially declared total war.

"The facts have proven that a war with the Eastern Roman Empire is inevitable. We must fight this battle to clearly define our respective spheres of influence. Pass down my orders: command the directly governed counties and the great nobles to immediately assemble their troops. Simultaneously, use the kingdom's silver mines as collateral to issue fifty thousand pounds in bonds."

Once he finished outlining his plans, the Prime Minister raised an absolutely crucial question: "Who will command the army?"

"I will lead the troops personally."

The ability to command massive military formations was exceptionally rare. A supreme commander's responsibilities included, but were certainly not limited to: mapping out marching routes, securing logistical supply lines, strategizing major campaigns, and adapting tactical commands in the heat of battle.

Furthermore, a commander had to be intimately familiar with the distinct personalities, capabilities, and service records of dozens of high- and mid-ranking military officers. They had to be careful not to place men with old grudges in the same vanguard, and should any internal conflicts arise between divisions, the commander needed enough personal prestige to thoroughly suppress the infighting. Looking across the entire empire, Wigg was the only man capable of leading such a massive army. The remaining commanders simply lacked the necessary experience and caliber.

By early May, the rigorous military assembly and training had concluded smoothly. The massive Viking army crossed the Strait of Dover and sailed steadily along the coastline until they reached Harfleur.

Upon disembarking, they transferred to oar-driven longships and proceeded to row upstream along the River Seine. According to their strategic blueprint, the Viking army would navigate all the way to the upper reaches of the Seine, march across a designated stretch of land, and then follow the Saône and Rhône rivers southward until they finally arrived at the coastal city of Marseille, overlooking the Mediterranean Sea.

On the twentieth of May, while the ground forces were still enduring their grueling march, the Royal Navy's reinforcements triumphantly dropped anchor in Toulon. This reinforcement fleet consisted of four formidable gunships and twenty-four conventional warships. Combined with the twelve warships already stationed in the western Mediterranean Sea, the Royal Navy now commanded an imposing armada of forty warships in the region.

"Is this the secret weapon mentioned in the reports?" Hadvard asked as he and his deputy, Galos, stepped onto the deck of a gunship, running their hands over the cold, heavy bronze of the cannons.

It did not take long for Hadvard to issue an order, commandeering a captured dhow equipped with a lateen sail to serve as a target for a live-fire demonstration.

The sky was a pristine, vivid blue, and the sun generously bathed the earth in its golden warmth. The breakwater was absolutely packed with spectating sailors and their families. Children giggled and chased one another as they weaved through the dense crowd, occasionally drawing sharp rebukes from exasperated adults.

Suddenly, the sharp, piercing blast of a war horn tore through the air. The bustling crowd instantly fell silent, and thousands of eager eyes locked uniformly onto the four gunships.

What followed was a truly deafening roar.

The broadsides of the four gunships simultaneously erupted in massive bursts of orange-red flame. Thick, acrid clouds of white smoke instantly shrouded their hulls.

Cannonballs shrieked as they violently tore through the air. The captivated audience watched as over a dozen towering columns of water violently erupted around the pitiful target ship. The remaining projectiles smashed brutally into its wooden hull, shattering the timber with terrifying ease. Seawater violently surged through the gaping breaches. The targeted dhow listed heavily to one side before slowly slipping beneath the waves, leaving nothing behind but expanding whirlpools and a pathetic smattering of floating debris.

The era of naval warfare had permanently shifted. Hadvard tightly clenched his fists, his heart pounding.

From this day forward, the Vikings would unquestionably dominate every single ocean in the world.

After merely two days of rest and resupply, an impatient Hadvard led his mighty fleet out to open waters, setting a direct course for the nearest major port—Genoa.

A thousand meters out from the port, the thirty-six conventional warships halted their advance. The four gunships broke formation, creeping forward slowly until they formed a horizontal firing line roughly three hundred and fifty meters away from the enemy's docks.

Seeing the approaching threat, the Frankish army frantically mobilized. Twenty heavy trebuchets unleashed their payloads in rapid succession. The massive stones shrieked as they plummeted from the sky, but they merely crashed into the sea, throwing up huge, futile geysers of seawater well short of their targets.

"Fire!"

The first gunship unleashed a thunderous roar, completely engulfed in a blinding flash and billowing white smoke. The remaining three vessels immediately followed suit. The explosive reports of the cannons merged into one continuous, earth-shattering boom that made the very surface of the sea tremble.

Solid iron cannonballs howled toward the docks, brutally pulverizing the wooden piers into splinters. A sturdy stone warehouse took a direct hit, its thick walls instantly caving in and sending massive plumes of suffocating dust into the sky.

In merely a single devastating volley, four Frankish trebuchets were utterly obliterated. The defending Frankish army was terrified out of their wits by this apocalyptic display of destruction. Men broke rank entirely, abandoning their fortified positions and fleeing for their lives in every direction.

Back on the decks of the gunships, the artillerymen operated like well-oiled machines. Working in dedicated crews of six, they divided the labor seamlessly—sponging the burning barrels clean, ramming in fresh powder and shot, and immediately launching a second devastating barrage. This time, the Vikings smashed three more trebuchets into unrecognizable scrap.

Eventually, the final enemy trebuchet was reduced to rubble. No longer able to hold back their bloodlust, the thirty-six conventional warships surged aggressively toward the docks like a pack of starving wolves. They ruthlessly employed their ballistae to launch dozens of fire pots, incinerating any remaining ships, the shattered piers, and every building unfortunate enough to stand along the waterfront.

"That's enough! Our reserves of fire pots and cannonballs are limited. We'll need them for the battles to come!"

Hadvard ordered the flagmen to signal the rest of the fleet, commanding the armada to pull away from the blazing, shattered coastline and set a steady course for their next target.

The very next morning, the fleet arrived off the coast of Pisa, relentlessly employing the exact same brutal tactics to flatten the port. From there, they carved a path of destruction all the way down to southern Italy, annihilating coastal towns like Naples and Salerno one by one.