Vikings: Lords of the Ice Sea

Chapter 274 Winter Camp
Rurik's guess came true. In order to protect the winter camp, the chief did not flee, but instead gathered the troops of the vassal tribes and quietly guarded the east bank of the Dnieper River.

With winter approaching, Rurik did not delay for long. Once his forces had grown to six thousand, he ordered his troops to cross the river by boat and head straight for the Pecheneg camp.

On the eastern shore, the grasslands were all withered and yellow, whistling in the biting wind, as if even the earth sensed the impending carnage. Thick clouds obscured the sun, leaving only an iron-gray halo that pressed heavily upon the boundless wasteland.

Half a day later, Rurik saw a large group of figures in the distance, about three thousand people, sixty percent of whom were nomads, and more than a thousand were slave soldiers equipped with round shields and wooden spears.

“Look, below the flag is the chief of Pecheneg.”

Rurik pointed to the flag in the distance, surrounded by about two hundred cavalrymen in lamellar armor.

"Understood, I will launch the attack immediately." As per the pre-battle plan, Niels led an 800-man squadron as the vanguard, slowly moving toward the enemy's central banner.

The front row consisted of spearmen clad in iron armor, while soldiers on the left and right flanks pushed light two-wheeled carts to prevent cavalry from attacking the flanks. A small number of elite archers were stationed on the outermost edge.

As the battle broke out, the nomads once again employed their usual harassment tactics, with numerous horse archers charging toward the square formation with strange cries, hurling arrows from dozens of paces away.

A chaotic rain of arrows came head-on, clashing against the spearmen's iron armor with dull thuds. Only a few unlucky ones were hit in the face, falling to the ground with cries of pain.

At the same time, the elite archers on the outermost edge launched a counterattack. They were also equipped with iron armor and aimed their bows at the nomads wearing tattered sheepskin coats, easily shooting down more than a dozen targets.

Soon, the loosely formed archers attracted the attention of the horse archers. After a brief exchange of fire, the horse archers realized they were not gaining an advantage, and some of them could not contain themselves and drew their scimitars to charge.

Once the cavalry charged within twenty paces, the archers retreated into their ranks, and the spearmen halted their advance. The first two ranks crouched on the ground, their spears raised diagonally upwards, forming a standard bayonet formation.

Nils ordered the archers to shoot down the reckless nomads and commanded them to continue. Time passed, the chieftain blew his horn, and in an instant, countless horses swept in, the ground trembled, and the riders let out shrill, terrifying screams, which turned some of the Viking youths pale with fright.

"Stay put! Anyone who retreats will be executed on the spot!"

Niels showed no fear. In his view, the vast majority of the riders were untrained herdsmen. The charging formation was chaotic, with some riders too close together, slowing each other down, and others too far apart, resulting in a loose formation.

Unbeknownst to them, a group of cavalrymen on fine horses charged to the front, but unfortunately, their numbers were too small. They barely managed to break through a gap, and only a handful managed to squeeze inside before being stabbed to death by the Viking infantry's spears.

Meanwhile, most of the cavalrymen riding inferior horses fell behind, witnessing their brave and fearless comrades fall one after another. Most of the herdsmen instinctively slowed down, circled around to the flanks, and hurriedly fired a volley of arrows.

The moment the arrows left the bowstring, they felt they had fulfilled their duty and deserved the cheap wine bestowed upon them by Chief Horus, so they turned their horses around and retreated, marking the end of this massive charge.

As the Viking army drew closer, the chieftain changed tactics, sending his personal guards to gather the fleeing nomadic riders and instead attack the Rus' formation from the rear.

Unsurprisingly, the Rus' collapsed under the charge of the heavily armored cavalry, but Rurik and Nils were unfazed. Having anticipated this, they chose to abandon these rabble and continue their attack on the nomads' central banner.

With only a hundred paces left to the chieftain's banner, Niels turned to look at the scene behind him. The withered yellow grassland was filled with countless fleeing Ross soldiers and nomadic riders. The nomads were now consumed by murderous intent and had seemingly forgotten to rescue their own chieftain.

Niels remained expressionless. He had experienced too many wars, and this small scene was not enough to shake his rationality. "Fire!" Only the chieftain, twenty guards, and more than a thousand poorly equipped slave soldiers remained around the banner. They were subjected to a barrage of fire, and the slave soldiers completely collapsed. Some fled in panic, while others gathered together and turned their spears on their greatest enemy in life—the chieftain.

After personally beheading two slave soldiers who rebelled in the face of battle, the chieftain led his guards in a flight of honor, and the nomads wandering the grasslands immediately withdrew.

After the battle, more than 600 slave soldiers requested to surrender, and Rurik agreed, allowing them to elect officers for their own ten-man and hundred-man units to serve as auxiliary troops.

In this battle, Rurik's side suffered even greater losses, with most of the Rus' troops fleeing, leaving only 800 men. However, this force was essentially dispensable and did not affect their combat effectiveness.

After resting for more than half an hour, the group continued their journey. Led by slave soldiers, they found a sheltered woodland at dusk.

The next morning, a nomadic rider came to negotiate, suggesting that both sides cease hostilities and make peace. Horus promised not to harass Rurik's caravans again.

"roll!"

After drinking a large bowl of oatmeal and horse meat porridge, Rurik set off again. At ten o'clock in the morning, Horus sent another messenger, offering to pay the corresponding compensation and promising to marry off his sister.

"Money is unimportant, and Horus's sister is unimportant. I only care about this trade route, and I must use your destruction to warn the remaining Pecheneg tribe!"

At 2 p.m., the team arrived at the winter camp. Looking around, the camp was surrounded by a low wall made of horse-drawn carts and miscellaneous items, and inside were hundreds of thick felt tents.

Rurik patted Nils on the shoulder. "Old man, take care of them!"

Nils gathered all the archers and, under the cover of the spearmen, advanced to a distance of a hundred paces to fire at the enemy behind the low wall.

After an unknown amount of time, as he watched volleys of arrows rain down on the nomads' camp, Nils remained indifferent until the archers ceased firing.

"My lord, we've run out of arrows."

"All 20,000 arrows are used up?" Nils stared blankly at their empty quiver for a moment, then ordered the infantry to launch an attack.
The battle lasted for half an hour. Seeing a large number of Viking soldiers pouring into the camp, a desperate Horus chose to set fire to the camp. The spreading fire caused indiscriminate casualties on both sides. Nils had no choice but to temporarily withdraw from the camp until the fire was finally extinguished.

"What ruthless barbarians!"

Rurik gritted his teeth and sighed. After the fire, all the furs and livestock in the camp were gone. Only a few burnt gold and silver utensils were found in the ruins. From a profit perspective, this war was undoubtedly a loss.

"withdraw!"

Rurik paid no attention to the fleeing nomadic riders; instead, he chose to let the survivors spread his fame, thereby intimidating the rest of the Pecheneg tribe.

(End of this chapter)