Vikings: Lords of the Ice Sea

Chapter 260 Achievements
Leaving the lower reaches occupied by the Saxons, the fleet reached the middle reaches of the Elbe, where the east bank was the territory of the Oboderites (broadly classified as West Slavs).

For a long time, the locals had a poor relationship with the Franks and were generally at a disadvantage. Hafdan suggested winning them over to participate in the raids and jointly attack Magdeburg upstream.

"is this necessary?"

After capturing a large amount of weaponry from East Frankish, the Vikings possessed 1,800 sets of iron armor. Nils, looking down on these forest barbarians, suggested bypassing them to avoid wasting time.

Sensing a decline in his authority within the military, Hafdan decided to do something to turn things around.

That afternoon, he personally led a small fleet deep into a tributary on the east side, only to be ambushed by the locals.

A sharp whooshing sound came from the dense pine forest on both sides, and countless arrows rushed towards the people on the ship. The iron armor made a dull thud as it struck the arrows made of animal bones.

"What are these bastards doing?" Hafdan crouched behind the port side, raising a shield in his right hand to shield his head.

After a long barrage of arrows, the hulls of the six longboats were riddled with arrows, and less than a third of the survivors remained. Once the local archers were exhausted, the survivors swerved their boats around as fast as they could, managing to escape the ambush in a sorry state.

"His Majesty?"

At this moment, someone discovered that Hafdan's body was riddled with five arrows and his lips were trembling. Fortunately, he was protected by his armor and managed to get back to the camp for treatment.

Medical care was provided by the accompanying shamans, whose treatment methods were modeled after those of the Tynburg Order. They would first clean the wound with strong liquor, then pull out the arrowhead and stitch it up, causing Hafdan to curse in pain.

Upon arriving after hearing the news, Nils asked in surprise, "Did you say something wrong? Or did you offend their gods?"

"I was ambushed before I even met them! These ungrateful forest savages!"

Niels was speechless. He suspected that Hafdan's men were wearing French armor and were mistaken for French soldiers by the locals, but none of that mattered anymore.

He covered his mouth and nose as he walked out of the filthy, smelly, and chaotic treatment area, muttering to himself:
"Hanging out with this kind of scum always makes me miss the days I spent under Ragnar. Compared to Ivar and Vig, Hafdan and Uber are far inferior now."

Hafdan was wounded and unable to participate in the subsequent battles. His 1,500 personal troops remained in the area to carry out a brutal reprisal against the Obdrid tribe on the east bank.

Niels had no interest in such a low-return activity and directed the fleet to continue its journey, arriving in Magdeburg on March 10.

Located on the west bank of the Elbe River, this town was founded half a century ago (805 AD) and has since developed into a major military and trading center in eastern Frankish territory. It was recently elevated by the Papacy to the status of a vicar general's residence.

“What a prosperous town, with at least three thousand inhabitants.”

Niels ordered his fleet to anchor on the west bank, surrounding Magdeburg on its south, west, and north sides, while simultaneously blocking the upstream waterways, preparing for a long-term siege.

"Lexa, you and the Swedish lords guard the west flank."

"Uber, you take your men and guard the north side."

Uber, as the King of Denmark, was nominally a vassal of Nils, but the latter disregarded the young man's authority and assigned him tasks as if he were a subordinate.

"Understood." Uber showed no anger, his reaction was indifferent.

Niels's three thousand men were responsible for the south of Magdeburg. Their roles were clearly defined: some felled trees to build siege equipment, while the rest gathered food nearby. More than a week passed, and the work proceeded smoothly. Niels spent his free time hunting, enjoying himself immensely.

One night, after dinner, he chose a shield maiden to serve him in bed as usual. Perhaps it was just his imagination, but he sensed a resemblance to Princess Eve in the shield maiden's eyes and brows.

Touched by memories of his youth, Niels decided to keep the other person, saying, "From now on, you'll stay by my side."

"Yes, my lord." The shield maiden obediently nestled into the lord's arms.

"My lord? Perhaps in a while, you should call me Your Majesty."

Outside the camp, the lingering chill of winter had not yet subsided; the north wind howled through the branches of the black pine forest, and the cold pierced through the Frankish soldiers' heavy wool cloaks and the chainmail beneath.

They lay prone on the cold hilltop, watching the enemy camp where figures moved about, and could vaguely hear commotion coming from afar.

Finally, the arm of the Duke of Bavaria, the eldest prince, slammed down.

"Deus adjuva (God help me)!"

The roar abruptly shattered the silence. The next moment, four thousand soldiers erupted in the same battle cry, merging into a surging, roaring torrent that swept towards the camp where the campfire flickered.

Upon discovering that the eldest prince had dispatched all his troops, a count advised him, "What if reinforcements arrive from the camps to the west and north of the city?"

Carloman exhaled a puff of white mist. "The enemy forces on the west flank are cobbled together from dozens of Swedish noble families, lacking unified command and posing little threat. The enemy forces on the north flank belong to King Uber of Denmark; they will not come to our aid. Simply put, my four thousand infantrymen will launch a night raid on Nils's three thousand men, and we are certain to win this battle."

The count asked in bewilderment, "What makes you so sure that Uber won't come to the rescue?"

Looking towards the battle to the northeast, Kaloman's tone was light:
"Because it was he who released the information. Three days ago, I went hunting in the forest, but in reality, I was negotiating privately with his messenger. Uber was worried that Nils would usurp the throne, so he leaked the deployment of Nils' camp and promised not to participate in the rescue."

Caught in a surprise attack, the southern camp was thrown into chaos. Amidst the shield maiden's screams, Nils, shirtless, rushed out of his tent, his expression one of despair, unable to believe the sight before him.

"I'm just one step away from getting everything I want. Why?"

The camp was in complete chaos, with figures entangled in combat everywhere. The campfire was kicked away by soldiers from both sides, and the rolling firewood ignited the animal-hide tents. Flames spread between the tents, and thick smoke billowed, making it seem as if one were in purgatory.

After a half-minute pause, Nils rushed back to his tent, donned his armor, and then gathered his few personal guards, holding the tent and refusing to retreat, while waiting for reinforcements from the other two camps.

As time passed, fewer and fewer Viking warriors remained to resist. He stood on tiptoe, gazing at the dark and silent north, where any remaining hope vanished without a trace.

"withdraw!"

Nils led dozens of his personal guards into the hellish scene of fire and shadow. He swung his sword to parry and slash, panting heavily as his lungs burned with pain.

Reaching the riverbank, the fleet anchored there was set ablaze by rockets fired by the French. Nils and his guards found a surviving longboat on the edge of the river, pushed it into the Elbe, and rowed downstream.

On the riverbank, dozens of Viking warriors were pushed to the side, and their last resistance vanished as French pikemen thrust in unison.

(End of this chapter)