Viking: Master of the Icy Sea

Chapter 403: The Crown Prince's Plan

A week later, the hull of the Kestrel rose and fell with the gentle waves as it sailed toward the northeastern port of Puerto Rico.

Even though it was winter, the climate in Puerto Rico remained sweltering. Dock laborers wearing linen tunics with rolled-up trouser legs hurried back and forth, shouldering heavy cargo.

Once the ship was securely anchored, Captain Enrique and his first mate eagerly stepped onto the pier. Two sailors followed closely behind, carrying a wooden crate as they made their way toward the Governor's mansion under the peculiar stares of the onlookers.

Passing by a small stall, Enrique tossed over two Silver Pennies to an Indigenous vendor, purchasing four cups of light ale and a large platter of Fried Fish.

The vendor asked curiously, "What is inside that crate?"

"Guano, perfect for use as fertilizer." After speaking, the captain opened the wooden crate to reveal several pale yellow Stones. This drew a crowd of curious onlookers, including Vikings, Franks, Lombards, and the Native people of Puerto Rico.

After hastily finishing his lunch, the captain left the dock area. He passed through the low City Walls and headed toward a Stone Fortification situated on the city's higher ground, where four lethargic guards stood outside.

"I am the captain of the Kestrel, and I have found an island with massive amounts of Guano!"

The shouting of the captain and his sailors echoed into the mansion. Baron Lyke rushed to the main gate without even bothering to finish his meal, questioning the group, "Have you verified this?"

"Yes, the purified Saltpeter is flammable."Baron Lyke let out a long sigh, the heavy anxiety that had been accumulating in his heart finally dissipating. Half a year ago, he had received wind from Londinium that the Cabinet was considering replacing him as Governor, planning to appoint a naval officer from the Old World to take his place.

If a Guano island had truly been discovered, he would be able to claim some of the Merits. Even if issues were found during his transition of power, he would not face excessively harsh punishment.

Quickly, Baron Lyke summoned the judges, auditors, and temple Shamans of Puerto Rico to jointly inspect these precious samples.

After confirming that the samples could indeed be refined into Saltpeter, the administration dispatched another Brigantine. Following the route and coordinates provided by Enrique, it set out for an on-site survey. If the situation proved true, everyone involved would receive their share of Merits.

The Governor warmly invited Enrique into the dining room. "Congratulations, Captain Enrique. It won't be long before I should be calling you Knight Enrique. Do you have any thoughts regarding your future Fiefdom?"

The New World was vast and sparsely populated, meaning the Fiefdoms of Nobles here were significantly larger than those in the Old World. For instance, Baron Lyke's Fiefdom covered the western half of Puerto Rico, an area of about four thousand five hundred square kilometers, surpassing even a few Earldoms back in the homeland.

"Er, I have not decided yet." As this involved a foundation that would be passed down through his family for generations, Enrique was in no rush to make a decision.

For the following half month, with nothing else to do, he poured all his energy into studying the documents and maps of the Caribbean Sea. Even after excluding the territories of twenty Nobles, there was still an abundance of islands available for selection.

'Hmm, if I am Enfeoffed as a Knight, I will pick one from these options. But if I am made a Baron...'

Amidst the dull and tedious wait, the second sailing ship returned with even more Guano, confirming the validity of Enrique's information.

In January of the year 875 AD, the Kestrel set sail to return to the homeland. Its cargo hold carried Cane Sugar, tobacco, cocoa, Guano, and a joint letter from the Governor and his officials.

More than a week later, the sailing ship gradually approached North America, passing through an archipelago along the way. In Enrique's opinion, the scenery here was far superior to any other region in the Caribbean Sea.

The ocean surface was a brilliant Sapphire hue. In the shallow waters, the sea transformed into a translucent, pale aquamarine, revealing vast expanses of coral reefs beneath the surface where vibrant, multicolored schools of fish darted about freely.

The edges of the islands were lined with endless stretches of pristine white sand beaches. Beyond the sand lay dense groves of coconut trees, swaying gently in the balmy sea breeze, occasionally dropping a few ripe coconuts.

In a daze, a strange feeling sprouted within Enrique. He had found the Fiefdom he truly desired.

The Kestrel continued its voyage along the North American East Coast. This eastern shoreline boasted more than twenty ports, all serving as territories for Barons and Knights, primarily producing Furs, tobacco, and wheat.

Over the past two years, tobacco had rapidly grown in popularity across the Old World, yielding excellent economic benefits. The downside was that tobacco quickly depleted soil fertility, meaning a plot of land could only be cultivated for two years.

Once the land's vitality was exhausted, the Lords would casually scatter some clover seeds across the fields, leaving them as fallow land for grazing Livestock. They would then organize the Exiles to chop down forests and open up new tobacco fields through Frontier Expansion.

Land in the New World was practically worthless. Even the lowest-ranking Knight could possess a Fiefdom of two to three hundred square kilometers. For them, the cost-effectiveness of intensive, careful farming was far inferior to the simple and brutal method of clearing forests to expand.

After fulfilling a specific labor term, the Exiles could obtain a plot of farmland measuring tens of acres, beginning a day-to-day life as Farmers. Alternatively, they could join hunting parties, braving the risk of conflict with the Indigenous People to venture into the forests and acquire Furs.

In early February, the Kestrel followed the ocean currents and arrived in Boston. They planned to rest and resupply here for two weeks before riding the North Atlantic Current back to the homeland.

After years of development, Boston now boasted a Town population of two thousand residents, surrounded by twelve Villages, bringing the total population to over five thousand. The primary reason for this growth was the exceptional eloquence of the temple Shaman, who had smooth-talked a large group of Indigenous People into swearing allegiance to the Empire.

Unfortunately, this Shaman was transferred to the headquarters due to his outstanding Merits. His successor was Mediocre and completely unable to replicate his predecessor's work.

Once the ship dropped anchor, Enrique headed toward the Lord's Residence in the center of the Town. Passing by the temple entrance, he saw a young man delivering a speech to the crowd, seemingly regarding Bjorn.

Soon, Enrique overheard an astonishing fact: Bjorn was dead!

Driven by curiosity, he pulled out two Silver Pennies to fish for more information.

Bjorn had not died in battle, but rather in a hunting accident. Afterward, his surviving offspring had begun viciously fighting over the family estate. The youngest son had fled to Boston with the will, attempting to board a ship bound for Londinium.

Was this truly the end of a legendary navigator?

Enrique felt a complex swirl of emotions and decided to help the young man.

March, 875 AD. The Imperial Palace.

Upon hearing the news of Bjorn's passing, Wig sat in silence for a long time to process it, then asked the young man for the will.

The contents of the Parchment were quite simple. Bjorn had left behind numerous children; he divided Quebec, Greenland, and Iceland among his three most favored sons, while distributing the shares of the West Sea Fur Company among his wives, concubines, and all his children.

In the past two years, the total market value of the Fur Company had stabilized at forty thousand pounds, an absolute fortune. It was no wonder they were tearing each other apart over it.

Wig asked, "Who did Bjorn pass his Damascus Steel Sword, Riptide, to?"

The young man replied, "He believed I was his most outstanding heir, so he entrusted both Quebec and the Scabbard Sword to me. It's just a pity that my other brothers look down on my Greenland bloodline, using it as an excuse to deny my right of inheritance." Wig pondered for a moment. "Ahem, I will have the Royal Navy escort you back to Quebec. Assuming our investigation finds the situation to be true, the estate will be divided according to Bjorn's wishes. If the will is proven false, it will be distributed according to Viking Tradition."

After the young man left, Wig found himself immersed in his own memories until an attendant delivered a report from the armory.

He finished his sweetened hot cocoa, calmed his emotions slightly, and picked up the report, reading it word for word:

The armory has processed the Guano brought back by the Kestrel. The resulting Saltpeter is of extremely high purity, far exceeding the effectiveness of the wall soil supplied from the directly governed territories. We strongly recommend that the Department of Overseas Affairs initiate large-scale mining operations.

'If we dispatch personnel for mining now, we will be able to acquire Guano in bulk by next year. It seems we cannot count on it for this year.'

Starting this February, tens of thousands of Nomads had flooded into the Carpathian Basin.

Initially, their targets were local Villages, or perhaps Serbia and Croatia to the south. The Cabinet had not paid them much mind, never expecting that this group of people would actually dare to attack the Empire's territory!

Although the Emperor and the Cabinet had no interest in starting a war, the enemy had taken the initiative to provoke them. They had to retaliate, both as a response and as a deterrent to the factions in Iberia, the Italian Peninsula, and Eastern Europe.

After finishing lunch, Wig summoned Enrique to the main hall. "Where is the Fiefdom you desire?"

Enrique pointed to a tiny speck on the edge of the Caribbean Sea map. "Right here. I have sailed across more than half of the Caribbean Sea, and there is no island more perfect than this one."

Nassau?

Based on the captain's description, the corresponding imagery surfaced in Wig's mind. "You have quite the eye. You picked an excellent location."

He took a brief moment to promote Enrique to a Knight, Enfeoffing the two-hundred-square-kilometer island to him, before heading toward the conference room surrounded by his attendants.

Not long after the meeting began, everyone noticed that the Emperor was coughing slightly. At this moment, the Crown Prince put forward a proposal. "Father, let me lead the troops into battle this time. This is my duty, whether it is for you or for Greger."

The Crown Prince as the supreme commander?

The Cabinet members exchanged glances, the eyes of the majority filled with profound worry.

For the longest time, the Emperor had never been absent from a single major campaign; he was the very symbol of the entire army. The soldiers were accustomed to his presence. If the Crown Prince were to take command now, morale would undoubtedly take a hit.

However, the Prime Minister harbored a different perspective. The Emperor was over fifty years old, and decades of continuous warfare had taken a toll on his health. If they let him ride into battle while ill, the risks would be astronomically higher!

He cleared his throat, taking the lead in expressing his stance. "I agree with His Highness's proposal."

Initially, Wig had intended to lead the expedition personally. But upon second thought, the Empire would inevitably welcome a new master sooner or later. He might as well use this opportunity to let the Crown Prince try his hand at leading an army into battle, treating it as the final test for his heir.

He looked calmly at Fridleif.

"The enemies this time are Nomads. I will try to give you as many Rangers as possible, roughly two thousand five hundred. If the number of Rangers is insufficient, you will need to recruit them locally in Eastern Europe. Make sure you handle this carefully.

"Take these next two days to draft a tactical plan, and we will discuss it during the Cabinet meeting. Remember, the Empire has just been through two consecutive major wars and is lacking in manpower. Do your utmost to avoid conflicts with the Balkan states. Even if we defeat them, we do not have enough troops to control the region."

After the meeting adjourned, Fridleif left the Imperial Palace and headed to the residence of his cousin, Leif.

In 856 AD, Leif had participated in the Second Viking-West Francia War as a royal guard. He had served in the military ever since, accumulating a rich combat resume. Taking various factors into consideration, Fridleif determined that he was the most suitable candidate for Chief of Staff.

Inside the study, Leif poured a glass of Sugarcane Rum for his cousin. "I am out fighting campaigns all year round, leaving my two children severely lacking in discipline. Their academic performance just won't improve. Who would have thought we'd be at war again so soon? I truly don't get a moment's rest."

He flipped through the documents Fridleif had brought. "How do you plan to fight this?"

Fridleif explained his tactical plan:

"During the spring and summer seasons, Nomadic Tribes will encamp in one place for fifteen to thirty days, waiting until their Livestock have grazed the grass bare, before beginning their long-distance migration.

"The flocks of sheep need to graze as they travel, and their convoys are mixed with many of the elderly and the weak, along with a massive number of oxcarts and Carts. Therefore, their migration speed is quite slow, only covering ten to fifteen kilometers a day.

"I referenced the curriculum from the Army Academy, which involves having the infantry utilize the cover of a Wagon Fort to counter the enemy's Light Cavalry on the open plains. If their Light Cavalry avoids battle, we will simply chase down their migration convoys, marching thirty kilometers a day, giving the Nomads absolutely no time to stop and rest.

"When the time comes, the field army will be at the vanguard pursuing them, while the Garrison Regiments and the Prisoners of War construction teams will build Defensive Works in the rear. We will construct a Fortress every thirty kilometers to compress the enemy's area of operations, ultimately forcing them to engage in a decisive battle on our terms."

Leif's thoughts were quite similar to his cousin's. He took out some Paper and Pen to sketch out the rough structure of a regiment-level Wagon Fort, specifically highlighting the Cannons positioned along its perimeter.

"Last summer, the armory developed a new type of Cannon. While it sacrifices some Range and destructive power, it is significantly lighter and perfectly suited for field maneuvers. It can fire solid projectiles weighing about three pounds, with a Range of five hundred meters.

"These lightweight Cannons are ideal to be distributed among the Infantry Regiments. Paired with a massive number of Crossbowmen, it will be more than enough to handle sieges from cavalry forces several times our size.

"There is one more thing. Our uncle's military texts mentioned the war between the Han Empire and the Xiongnu. When the Han army marched beyond the frontier to fight, the Xiongnu would pollute the water sources with diseased and dead Livestock as they retreated, causing severe casualties. For this campaign, we must increase the proportion of water transport wagons, and simultaneously hire more cavalry to scout for clean, medium-to-large rivers."

Judging from the intelligence sent back from the frontlines, the main body of this migration consisted of the Magyars; it did not include the Pechenegs or the Khazars.

Leif suggested recruiting ethnic groups other than the Magyars to join the fight. Since the Empire was not lacking in coin, using nomadic Mercenaries to fight Nomads was a highly cost-effective transaction.

The two men discussed late into the night, drafting a preliminary tactical plan.

Since Britain lacked manpower, Fridleif only intended to mobilize thirty thousand soldiers, including two field infantry Divisions, two thousand five hundred Rangers, and ten Garrison Regiments.

He also planned to conscript eight thousand Prisoners of War to be responsible for constructing Defensive Works, while concurrently recruiting at least three thousand steppe cavalry to meet the army's Reconnaissance needs.

The expeditionary army would depart in April, traveling by ship to the mouth of the Elbe River, where they would then transfer to riverboats and sail upstream toward Bohemia.

On the fifteenth of March, the Crown Prince presented his tactical plan at the Cabinet meeting. No one voiced any objections. The next day, the Empire officially entered a state of war.

Hearing that the target of this war was a Nomadic Tribe, the civilian population was generally optimistic. They frantically bought up War Bonds, desperately trying to snatch a sliver of profit from this grand feast.

After three weeks of mobilization, the expeditionary army had fully assembled, boarding their ships one after another at the Londinium docks.

As the nominal King of Pannonia, Greger was only fourteen years old and had not yet graduated from the Army Academy, so he lacked the qualifications to participate in the war. He could only stand beside his parents, watching the massive fleet of sails gradually vanish over the distant river horizon.