Vikings: Lords of the Ice Sea

Chapter 159 Changing One's Mind at the Last Minute
"After so many years of fighting, the defenses of our homeland in Northern Europe are still the weakest."

After capturing Landes, Nils followed the same tactics as before: looting supplies, conscripting able-bodied men, leaving a small detachment to guard the wooden fort, and resting for a night before continuing south.

Thus, all the wooden forts and small settlements along the way fell, and a week later, he arrived at the final destination of this expedition—Schleswig.

The local lord, Horst, was King Eric's brother. He had a broader vision than the other Danish lords, and thus borrowed a group of craftsmen from Eric to strengthen the defenses. The fortified walls were about five meters high, with deep moats dug outside, and towering arrow towers erected at intervals. At first glance, Nils seemed to have returned to Britain.

"Boss, what's the next step?"

Niels' eyes were ferocious, like a gambler who had bet everything. "Keep fighting. Break through the city walls, and I'll give you land at the victory banquet."

To date, his army has expanded to 3,500 men, half of whom are Viking compatriots he forcibly conscripted. These men harbor resentment, but for the sake of their families back home, they can only suppress their anger and follow him.

Under Nils's orders, the auxiliary soldiers began cutting down timber in preparation for building large siege weapons.

Seeing the clumsy movements of the auxiliary soldiers, one of the guards approached his superior, "Boss, are you sure these country folk are skilled enough to build catapults and siege towers?"

"No, I'm not that stupid. I'm just putting on a show to attract Horst's attention." Siege warfare is Vig's specialty, and Niels is not familiar with this kind of operation. He has a better way.

Noticing his superior giving him a meaningful smile, the guard pressed, "And then?"

"It's not convenient to disclose. Focus on your own affairs; you'll be rewarded after the war." After dismissing his guards, Nils sat cross-legged on the grass, lost in deep thought.

Behind the battlements, Horst looked at the expeditionary force spread across the open space outside the city, and at the thunder banner symbolizing Ragnar, and couldn't help but burst into a tirade:
"Damn it, your son got beaten up by Swedish nobles, what right do you have to cause trouble for us Danes?"

The only saving grace was that his territory was located at the southern tip of the Jutland Peninsula, giving him more time to conscript village militias, and seven minor noble families had also come to seek refuge, expanding the city's garrison to 1,500 men.

After cursing for a while, Horst turned to a nobleman on his right, and with tears in his eyes, put his arm around the latter's shoulder.

"Favel, you're the most loyal one. You came to our aid immediately after receiving the news. Sigh, I was completely bewitched by the devil back then. I actually fought with you for a farm and even slapped you. I'm so sorry."

"It's nothing, I've long forgotten about the past."

In the afternoon, the enemy forces outside the city launched a symbolic attack, but were repelled before they could reach the city walls, greatly boosting the morale of the defenders. That evening, Horst hosted a banquet for the minor nobles who had come to the rescue.

"Hold on for a while, wear down the enemy outside the city, and then launch a counterattack. I've heard that the lords of Aalborg and other places have been killed; you can choose any of them then."

Horst envisioned that once he won the battle, he would use the remaining territories to win over these minor nobles, establish himself as king based on his prestige, and then unite with Norway and Sweden to jointly oppose Ragnar's power.

"Once my brother dies, I'll seize the throne, then find a way to take over Sweden and become king of all the Vikings."

As Horst drank cup after cup of sweet and mellow mead, his consciousness gradually blurred. The other six minor nobles got completely drunk, and Fawel, unable to hold his liquor, staggered out to vomit.

Once everyone was out of sight, Fawell entered a dark house, took ten trusted men who were ready to pounce, and under the cover of darkness, went to the north wall. After killing the sentries on watch, he lowered several ropes from the battlements, then raised an oil lamp and waved it back and forth at the camp outside the city.

Soon, a group of figures cloaked in black climbed the city wall. Fawell asked in a low voice, "Where is Niels? Does the promise still stand?"

A shorter man removed his cloak, his expression solemn. "Don't worry, just like little Eric said, you'll get your share of the benefits. What do you think of Zealand (the island where Copenhagen is located in later generations)?"

"Xilan?"

Fawell's expression was uncertain as he looked at the increasing number of armored soldiers on the city wall and reluctantly agreed.

From beginning to end, everything stemmed from Eric's scheme.

Years ago, Nils was pursuing Princess Eve. To win her heart, he treated Eve's brother Eric to drinks many times, and the two became acquainted as a result.

Until the beginning of this year, the situation in Sweden changed drastically. Young Eric guessed that Ragnar would send troops to aid Sweden, so he sent someone to contact Niels and asked the latter to take on the mission. On the way, he was to plunder Schleswig and deal with his uncle Horst, who coveted the Norwegian crown.

To ensure the operation went smoothly, Eric Jr. sent over a map of Denmark that was as detailed as possible and also contacted Fawell as an inside man.

The only thing he hadn't expected was that Nils would spend all his wealth and willingly cut off all escape routes, turning the pre-arranged plunder into a complete conquest.

On the city wall, more than a hundred armored soldiers stood guard. Nils prepared to set off to seize the city gate. Before departing, Fawel, a man over forty years old, stopped the unremarkable-looking young man and asked, "You want to be the King of Denmark?"

“Otherwise?” Niels grinned. “If it weren’t for this ending, how could it be worthy of the hardships I’ve endured along the way?”

Having said this, he resolutely led his troops to attack the city gate, where the Viking warriors on guard were easily dispatched. As the gate swung open, thousands of men lurking in the darkness erupted in a deafening roar.

At this moment, both the Anglo-Saxon militia of Nottingham and the Danish youths who had been coerced were filled with boundless greed. With limited visibility at night, commanders had no way to control their troops; with enough audacity, one could earn a fortune in a single night that would last a lifetime!
Without any prompting from their superiors, over three thousand men surged through the city gates like a raging flood. Caught off guard, Horst had no time to organize a defense and, under the cover of his shield guards, fought his way back, ultimately escaping unscathed.
"These lunatics dare to seize my capital!"

Seeing the flames raging everywhere, Nils was extremely displeased, but he could only ignore the soldiers' misdeeds. Surrounded by his guards, he strode into Horst's mansion and questioned the trembling maids.

Where is the Lord's Treasury?

Following the maid to a dimly lit cellar, Nils lit the candlesticks on both sides, and there were five wooden boxes of different sizes piled up in front of him.

A small box of silver pennies, a box of amber, a box of silverware, and a box of fine clothing. The last wooden box was very light. When Nils opened the lid, he was suddenly stunned.

"So, this is a reward from the gods?"

There was nothing else inside except a crown made of pure gold. He held it in his arms with trembling hands, breathed on it, wiped it clean, and put it on his head. Although it was a little too big, it gave people an indescribable sense of peace, as if all distracting thoughts had disappeared.

(End of this chapter)