Vikings: Lords of the Ice Sea

Chapter 281 Post-War Issues
On March 2, a massive fleet consisting of ten two-masted warships and twenty hull ships arrived in northern Denmark.

Upon witnessing the black dragon flag flying high on the mast, the nobleman in charge of the port was overjoyed and ordered his men to proceed upstream to Aalborg as quickly as possible.

“What a huge ship,” the nobleman exclaimed, looking up at the largest two-masted sailing ship in the world, estimating that its carrying capacity was three times that of an ordinary cog (three hundred tons).

Soon, a small two-masted sailing ship approached the dock, and a young officer in a black double-breasted uniform and a tricorn leather cap stepped off. His collar was embroidered with shamrocks and three horizontal stripes in white silk thread.

With a hint of disdain, the naval captain surveyed the low-rise houses around him and said in a commanding tone, "Have your men prepare to ensure the convoy doesn't delay unloading its provisions. During the anchorage, the Marine Corps battalion will take over port defenses. Any questions?"

"clear."

The nobleman dared not offend these big shots. Now he was keenly aware of the disparity in strength between the two countries. If war broke out, this fleet alone would be enough to transport two thousand armored soldiers and take Aalburg without any effort.

Over the next half hour, the fleet docked one after another, first transporting a full-strength marine battalion. Apart from the different name, its equipment, tactics, and organization were exactly the same as the original mountain infantry battalion, responsible for small-scale conflicts along the coast.

Di~
"Hurry up, the first company is responsible for port defense, the second and third companies are responsible for building the pier and barracks."

Deputy Battalion Commander Invallon blew his sharp brass whistle, urging the soldiers to speed up their movements. Last year, after the war ended, he tentatively applied to the War Department for a transfer, which was approved in just two days. He was sent to school for six months of further study, and then thrown into the newly formed Marine Corps battalion, earning him the nickname "Lucky Invallon" from his colleagues.

That afternoon, Uber arrived at the scene on horseback and found a large group of soldiers cutting down trees, building piers and camps, and hiring local residents to help, as if they were no outsiders.

"No, after this battle, I want to build a large trebuchet in the port. I heard that my cousin (Little Eric) has similar facilities in Bergen and Oslo. I'll ask him to lend me some people then."

Having made up his mind, Uber met with Fleet Admiral Yolen, who bowed respectfully to avoid an awkward situation. "Your Majesty," he said, "according to the agreement, you are required to fully assist the fleet in recruiting immigrants."

“No problem,” Uber said with a friendly smile, as if the two were old friends who hadn’t seen each other for years. The most important thing was to survive this year’s famine.

With the king's permission, Joren made the following arrangements: he ordered the main force of the fleet to anchor at the mouth of Aalborg, and dispatched a marine battalion and seven hundred sailors to advance south, recruiting immigrants along the way.

"Remember, in addition to guarding against bandits, you must also pay attention to hygiene. Before drawing water, carefully observe the upstream of the river or well to ensure it is not contaminated. Furthermore, no one is allowed to drink untreated water; those who disobey will be severely punished!"

"Understood!" The commander of the Marine Corps Battalion in charge of this operation was Leif. Although he was young, he had experienced the Second Viking-West Frankish War, the British Civil War, and the suppression of the Irish Rebellion, and had plenty of experience to command this force.

On March 5th, Leif led his team south, accompanied by a hundred supply wagons loaded with cheap grains such as barley and oats, which could be sold locally for high prices to purchase more draft animals and supply wagons.

"My hometown has fallen to this state?"

Ingvaren was originally a farmer in Denmark. More than ten years ago, he moved to Britain with his family and witnessed the devastation on both sides of the road, which made him feel quite distressed.

Unburied corpses by the roadside had been pecked into bones by ravens. The fields were overgrown with weeds. After turning through a forest, a fishing village appeared ahead. Three longboats were being towed onto the riverbank, their hulls stained with dark red marks. Dozens of men were carrying wooden barrels from the boats.

At the village entrance, many fish drying racks were erected with wooden frames, and women silently smoked salted fish, the fishy smell mixed with the pungent smell of smoke in the air.

"Hey, don't be nervous. We are the British Navy, ordered to recruit immigrants." Seeing the black flag fluttering and the uniform black cloth armor worn by the troops, everyone's wariness eased slightly. Vig had plenty of money; his army probably wouldn't care about their own dilapidated state.

Faced with the stark disparity in military strength, the local residents put away their weapons and listened to Invalon's explanation: "It is estimated that at least 30,000 people will be recruited this year. The first few batches will be allocated relatively flat land with better conditions, while the subsequent immigrants will need to cultivate the land themselves, clear the shrubs, and drain the swamps."

In recent years, tens of thousands of Danish immigrants have gone to Britain. The residents have heard about the benefits they receive, and when they get together to discuss it, only about 10% will accept the recruitment.

Observing the wooden barrels being carried by the residents, Invallon guessed that the group had looted some food from other areas, hence their reluctance to relocate.

The relocation was entirely voluntary, and he said nothing more. He dispatched a squad of soldiers to escort ten households northward before continuing their journey.
On March 11, the convoy arrived on the outskirts of Aarhus. This town had been besieged by the French army, and the surrounding area had been repeatedly requisitioned for grain. The fields were desolate and ghostly, and wolves could be seen along the way. They came in packs and even dared to attack lone scouts.

Outside the stockade wall, the Marine Corps explained their purpose, and the local count breathed a sigh of relief. "By Odin, we have finally been waiting for you. Give me 20,000 bushels of grain, and I will not interfere with any subsequent actions."

“Too much.” Leif bargained down eight thousand bushels, then sent riders to inform the fleet.

Soon, three Kirk ships laden with grain docked at the pier. The lord was overjoyed and assigned twenty shield guards as guides to fully support the Marine battalion's operation.

"Apart from the area around Aarhus, you can do whatever you want with the rest of the region. Just a heads-up, the countryside is teeming with bandits, so if you suffer any losses, don't blame it on me."

Leif: "You've never tried bandit suppression?"

The lord sighed. “Suppress them? The largest band of bandits has five hundred men. I lack food and cannot conscript militia or vassal troops. I can only let them run rampant. Famine is rampant in the territory. Even if we suppress them, sooner or later other starving people will become new bandits.”

The next day, Leif, led by the Shield Guard, headed west. He was able to recruit more than 20% of the population in each village, and some villages even had all their residents migrate. He quickly gathered more than 3,000 people.

Upon receiving the news, the main fleet arrived in Aarhus to transport immigrants back to Britain. England maintained order at the dock and chatted with the captain, who was in his fifties, when he had a spare moment.

"Finally, we can go back," the captain said, gazing at the immigrants boarding the ship one after another, as he took out a tin pot containing sugarcane wine and sipped it.

"Why?" Invalon, a new recruit to the Navy, patiently tried to find out some useful inside information.

Captains and sailors have always preferred the southern routes. Each time they went to Lisbon, the crew could bring some items to sell locally and then buy spices to resell back home.

On a single voyage, the crew could earn forty silver pence from wages, voyage allowances, and spice profits—equivalent to the cost of a cow and a pig. This was a perk tacitly approved by the Admiralty.

"So profitable?" Invallon gasped, thankful he had joined the navy.

The old captain patiently explained, "The navy is different from the army. Every long voyage inevitably results in casualties: people die of illness or are swept to the bottom of the sea by storms. If the higher-ups cut back on benefits, how many people do you think would be willing to continue to suffer?"

(End of this chapter)