Vikings: Lords of the Ice Sea

Chapter 215 Black Armor
On June 14, Vig led his army south, officially becoming involved in the War of the British Succession.

Three days later, his army arrived outside York.

Since Ivar fell into decline, Magnus, the sheriff of Yorkshire, led the militia back to his territory and sent messengers to Rendinium to negotiate.

As a young man, Magnus followed his father in business and acquired some rudimentary accounting skills. During his service in the Royal Guard, he was noticed by Ragnar because of this rare skill (by Viking standards) and was appointed Sheriff of Yorkshire.

For him, this job had both advantages and disadvantages. The advantage was that he was in charge of the affairs of the entire York region, holding a high position and great power. The disadvantages were equally obvious: Magnus missed the wars in which Ragnar fought against Denmark and Sweden, and was not made a baron, remaining only a knight to this day.

To go further, he recruited five hundred militiamen into Ivar's army, addressing the latter as His Majesty. Now that Ivar has died, Magnus intends to pledge allegiance to Gunnar, with his core demand being to be made a baron.

The problem was that before Gunnar's reply arrived, Vig Tynburg's army came first.

Surrounded by his confidants, Magnus hurriedly climbed the northern city wall and looked out at the scattered riders in the open space outside the city.

These riders wore light gray coats, had iron swords hanging at their waists, and a few carried bows and arrows on their backs, but were not equipped with lances.

"Scout?"

Magnus ordered the city gates closed, ignoring the light cavalry rushing back and forth. "Assemble all the militia, half to defend the north wall, and the rest to defend the east, south, and west walls."

"My lord, this is the army of the Serpent of the North!" The confidants were filled with fear and advised their superior not to rush into a decision.

"Are you teaching me how to do things?" Magnus used his authority to force everyone to obey.

Now that Ragnar and Ivar have passed away, and Sigurd is on his deathbed, Magnus feels he has no one to serve. He will serve whoever offers him the most benefits, whether it is Vig or Gunnar.

At noon, dust rose on the distant horizon, and a long column of four marching soldiers appeared in Magnus's view.

After half a day's march, the soldiers' legs felt like they were made of lead. Their backpacks weighed heavily on their shoulders, and the shirts beneath their cloth armor were soaked with sweat, leaving white stains in circles (the Duke must have been out of his mind to make his men march in iron armor). The dirt road was trampled by countless pairs of hard-soled military boots, raising fine dust that clung to their sweaty faces and necks.

During the march, the troops remained silent, with only the rhythmic sound of footsteps, the occasional "clack" of metal plates clashing together, heavy breathing, and the marching music played repeatedly by the military band.

The marching song has a cheerful and melodious tune, and after several months of intensive training, almost everyone can hum it.

Amidst the continuous music, thousands of soldiers bowed their heads, their eyes fixed on the heels of those in front of them, conserving every ounce of strength. Spears were slung diagonally across their shoulders, their tips gleaming coldly in the sun. Officers were positioned on both sides of the column, responsible for maintaining the marching formation.

Suddenly, a rapid bugle call sounded from the center of the army, followed by a large number of messenger riders galloping back and forth. As if whipped, the entire massive column came to a halt. All the soldiers looked up at York not far away, where the outlines of the stone walls and watchtowers were clearly visible.

There was no panic; the officers' gruff shouts immediately resounded throughout the various companies:
"Stop! Unpack your bags! Put down any other items! Quickly!"

The soldiers moved swiftly, almost instinctively, throwing each soldier's backpack, along with pots, pans, and digging tools, onto the roadside with a thud. Their burdens lightened abruptly, but the atmosphere suddenly became tense.

"Line up! Spread out! Quickly!" The junior officer strode through the ranks like a sheepdog herding sheep. A soldier who was a little slow was lightly nudged in the back with his elbow: "Get moving, you idiot!"

The soldiers were no longer marching in a single column; they quickly moved to both sides and deployed into an offensive formation.

After a long period of training, the process of the marching column turning into a line was swift and noisy. Before the dust had even settled, the weary marching dragon had disappeared, replaced by a wide, heavy, and well-defined bayonet square, standing in the open space north of York.

"First Infantry Regiment, advance!"

Accompanied by a marching tune, the black cube, which had transformed from thin black lines, slowly approached the city wall, stopping at the edge of the crossbow's range.

On the city walls, Magnus's confidants were sweating profusely as more and more black-clad soldiers came into view, eventually forming five thousand-man square formations around the city. Scattered light infantry (the "Mandarin Duck Formation," light infantry responsible for driving away the enemy) were positioned in front of the squares, followed by heavy cavalry and mountain infantry. Once the formations were complete, the entire legion fell into a tense silence, with only the banners fluttering in the breeze.

Gazing at the black snake banner below the city, the confidants trembled with fear. "My lord, forget about that wretched baron. Survival is the most important thing."

"Shut up!"

After carefully considering his words, Magnus stepped out of the city gate and faced the silent and dangerous army alone.

As he drew nearer, the light infantry at the front of the phalanx drew their bows and nocked arrows, startling Magnus into shouting, "I am the Lord Mayor of York, and I request an audience with His Excellency the Duke!"

Seeing this, the nearest squad of light infantry approached and roughly searched him. After confirming that he posed no threat, they let him pass.

Magnus walked toward the central black flag at the back of the formation. As he passed a soldier, he subconsciously touched his black coat and felt a hard texture on his fingers.

armor?

Magnus panicked and reached out to touch the black overcoats of the surrounding soldiers, only to find they were all made of iron armor. Staring at the vast array of black figures, he froze on the spot, unable to move, until the central guards came to urge him on and dragged him to Vig.

"Lord County Chief?"

Vig rode on the back of the grey horse, looking down at the Viking civil official. His original mount, Greywind, was old and retired to the horse farm. Vig had chosen a gentle and strong steed from among its offspring, which he named Greywind II.

Upon hearing the Duke's question, Magnus raised his head and reported the amount of food and militia that Yorkshire could provide.

“Ivar is incompetent and Gunnar is despicable; neither of them is worthy of being king. Your Majesty, I have been looking forward to your arrival.”

After staring at the man for a long time, Vig reluctantly accepted his allegiance and allowed him to lead five hundred militiamen into the legion to do dirty work such as odd jobs.

Having taken control of Yorkshire without bloodshed, Vig continued south, passing through Leeds and Sheffield. The garrisons in both places offered no resistance, and while providing supplies, they also told Vig that their Earl was stationed in Nottingham and hoped the Duke would join him soon.

(End of this chapter)