Viking: Master of the Icy Sea

Chapter 388: City on the Water

On August 1st, Alfred was still trekking through the mountains.

Suddenly, cheers echoed across the hills and valleys ahead. He rubbed his ears in disbelief, assuming his mind was playing tricks on him.

Before long, leaning heavily on his crutch, he reached a mountain pass where his narrow line of sight suddenly opened up. The mountain path finally stopped its upward climb, gradually leveling out before stretching into a steady descent.

In the distance, a wide, verdant, and vibrant valley unfurled before them. The valley floor was blanketed with lush, dense forests, divided by a meandering stream, while a few faint wisps of cooking smoke curled into the distant sky.

They had made it out.

That afternoon, the Frankish Army arrived at a small town at the bottom of the valley. The settlement was named Bolzano. It was built along the river, with a large number of rough wooden cabins and a few stone buildings scattered on both banks.

Under the astonished gazes of the locals, a massive group of ragged Frankish Army soldiers, who had long since discarded their armor and helmets, fell to their knees. They kissed the warm, soft earth beneath their feet, tears streaming down their faces uncontrollably.

Charles the Bald and the high-ranking officers of the Frankish Army crowded into the Lord's longhouse, indulging in the local, coarse alcoholic beverages and tough salted meat. After licking the last remnants of oat porridge from the bottom of his bowl, Alfred inquired about the enemy situation in the vicinity.

"My Lord, there are no enemies," the Lord of Bolzano replied. "This is the heartland of the Alps. From here to Bavaria in the north stretches over a hundred miles of treacherous mountain roads, fortified by strongholds. Those Viking barbarians in Bavaria could never make it through!"

Hearing this, Alfred's worries were mostly dispelled. A heavy wave of exhaustion washed over him. He found a random corner to lie down and rest, sleeping straight through to the next morning.The subsequent journey was relatively easy. The Frankish Army traveled south along the road for three days, completely leaving the Alps and entering the Veneto plain.

Along the way, the Frankish Army had lost all their horses, as well as a massive amount of armor and weapons, leaving only just over six thousand weak and frail remnants of their force.

Listening to the numbers reported by the various units, Charles the Bald looked dazed, questioning the very necessity of their harrowing journey.

But no matter what, the Frankish Army had finally shaken off the pursuit of the Viking cavalry. They headed southeast toward Padua to rest and reorganize.

That night, after entering the city, Charles the Bald sent out a new wave of messengers, urgently requesting Basil to send reinforcements. The targets of his desperate pleas for help even included numerous countries across the Balkan region.

On August 2nd, in Turin, on the western edge of the Po Valley.

After capturing Milan, Wigg sailed upstream along the Po River to attack this city, which housed a massive stockpile of supplies. To secure these provisions intact, he promised to grant the defending general the title of Earl.

However, the other party was not satisfied with this condition. Instead, he demanded to become the Duke of Turin, governing the western half of the Po Valley, encompassing Milan, Pavia, and other key towns.

After five days of intermittent negotiations, Wigg lost his patience, suspecting the man was deliberately stalling for time.

That afternoon, twenty bronze cannons unleashed three devastating rounds of volley fire, collapsing the watchtowers in the northeast corner of the city. As the dust settled, to the sheer horror of the garrison, hundreds of captured militiamen shouted in unison:

"The deadline to surrender is tomorrow morning! The Emperor guarantees the safety of all residents, excluding the defending general and his family! Anyone who brings the head of the defending general will be rewarded with the title of Earl!"

At four in the afternoon, a small-scale commotion broke out within the city. About half an hour later, dozens of corpses were pushed off the city walls, and the leading figure was none other than the greedy defending general.

The mastermind behind this plot was the defending general's nephew. Wigg accepted his fealty and promised to officially enfeoff him as an Earl after the war. By evening, the Great Viking Army had taken full control of the city. After a night of inventory, they found that the confiscated grain was enough to sustain them for eight months.

In addition, over a hundred river galleys were anchored at the city's eastern docks. In subsequent military operations, the Great Viking Army could use this fleet to transport supplies along the Po River, significantly reducing their logistical pressure.

Capturing Turin meant that the final town in the western Po Valley had fallen into their hands. Wigg did not waste any time; he immediately led his main force downstream.

On August 5th, Charles the Bald received news that the Great Viking Army was ignoring the towns in the middle and lower reaches and rapidly heading toward the lower Po River.

'This is bad. Wigg's target is still me!'

Charles the Bald anxiously looked at the map. His six thousand remnant soldiers lacked the necessary combat power. The only way forward was to contact Venice and request the Governor to allow the Frankish Army to take refuge on the island, and then use the fleet to transport them to central Italy.

Alfred was appointed as the envoy. Carrying the King's handwritten letter, he rode overnight to reach the east coast.

To the east lay a vast lagoon, separated from the Adriatic Sea on its northeastern side by a series of intermittent, narrow sandbars, connecting to the open ocean only through a few scattered waterways.

Within the lagoon were scattered islands of various sizes. The largest of these islands boasted dense clusters of buildings. At a quick glance, they seemed not to be built on land at all, but rather to have grown directly out of the seawater.

Alfred stepped onto the pier and paid to hire a long, narrow boat. Before long, the small craft approached the Rialto islands and sailed into a wide, main waterway.

Dense rows of houses lined both banks. The first and second floors were built of sturdy stone, while the third floors and above featured wooden attics. The doorsteps of many homes were completely submerged in water, with stone mooring posts standing right outside their entrances. The mansions of wealthy families sported arched windows and stained glass, while the homes of commoners appeared plain and crowded.

The waterway was bustling with small boats shuttling back and forth, their boatmen calling out to one another to warn of their approach and request right-of-way. Observing his surroundings closely, Alfred noticed numerous glass workshops, indicating that the shipbuilding and salt industries were also highly developed here.

"My Lord, we have arrived."

The small boat docked at a busy stone-stepped pier. Alfred navigated through the narrow streets and alleys, flanked by towering structures of wood and stone. In a desperate bid for space, the upper-floor windows nearly brushed against the houses opposite them. Clotheslines crisscrossed over the alleyways, heavily laden with drying laundry and bedsheets.

Due to the influence of the tides, the river water frequently washed over the lower steps, leaving the streets somewhat damp and emitting a faint, sour stench. After what felt like an eternity traversing the labyrinthine alleys, a wide, open square unfolded before his eyes. A sprawling church was currently under construction here; scaffolding clung to sections of its exterior walls, where workers were busy adding decorative touches to the facade.

On the opposite side of the square stood the Governor's Palace. Its towering watchtowers overlooked the entire city and the lagoon, featuring narrow arched windows that bore a distinct Byzantine influence.

The entrance to the palace was heavily guarded by soldiers. Alfred stated his identity and handed over Charles the Bald's handwritten letter. After a brief wait, he followed an administrator inside.

Up to this point, Venice still nominally submitted to the Eastern Roman Empire. At the outbreak of the war, the Governor had received orders from Constantinople, requiring him to assist the Franks' operations to the best of his ability.

Without much hesitation, the Governor allowed the remnants of the Frankish Army to take refuge on the island, provided they surrender their weapons and armor. This was to prevent these men from plundering the city and repeating their actions from the previous year when they raided Corsica and Sardinia.