Vikings: Lords of the Ice Sea

Chapter 355 Sacrificing the Small to Protect the Large
"The Rangers are too troublesome. They're like a swarm of flies. If you wave them away, they immediately scurry to the side, but if you're not careful, they'll gather again, making it impossible to have any peace."

Recently, Gunnar has been suffering from the cavalry, who are natural scouts and even better than the Moorish tribal light cavalry.

He rode up to the nearby hills, his mount stamping its hooves impatiently, kicking up a fine dust. Gunnar tightened the reins, watching his army.

The sun was high in the sky, and countless soldiers marched along the winding dirt road. The roadside grass was trampled and withered by their feet. In the distance, the vanguard disappeared on the horizon, while the rear guard had not yet left the rolling hills behind them.

Gunnar sighed inwardly, "Chaos, utter chaos."

Many militiamen, dressed in coarse cloth, carried farm tools they had brought from home: chipped sickles, rusty pitchforks. The heavy bundles bent their backs, and their steps were slow and unsteady. Officers rode on horseback, their shouts rising and falling. The whole column moved forward like a wounded python, struggling to crawl forward under the scorching sun.

The Southern army numbered 30,000, more than half of whom were poorly trained conscripted militia, severely slowing their advance. They could only cover thirteen miles (about twenty kilometers) per day, compared to the Vikings' marching speed of twenty miles (about thirty kilometers). At this rate, they would eventually be blocked by the enemy.

That afternoon, Gunnar received a report that twenty scout battles had taken place that day, resulting in the loss of two hundred and thirty cavalrymen.

Clearly, the Vikings have intensified their search of the area; they're coming soon!

In the central command tent, Gunnar and the other commanders stared at each other, but no one spoke. He was forced to make a difficult decision:

Sacrifice the small to save the large. A portion of the militia continued along the original route, while the main force of the Confederate army turned southeast, making a detour to avoid Viking reconnaissance, and then sped north to try and reunite with Charles the Bald as soon as possible.

An Italian nobleman asked, "Which unit would you like to send on the mission?"

“Of course, it’s the slowest-moving team,” Gunnar said firmly, pointing to a small dot on the map.

"Actually, this mission is quite easy. After we split up tomorrow, we just need to get to this town as soon as possible and defend it using the stockade walls. Vig won't waste time dealing with you."

July 11th, 5 PM.

After fierce fighting, the 4th Ranger Battalion broke through the French cavalry's obstruction and reached the outskirts of a town.

"finally reached."

Acting battalion commander Havelun observed the town before him, which had walls and moats, with rows of tents scattered outside the town and smoke rising from the chimneys.

Smoke from cooking fires?

Havelun rubbed his eyes, his mood instantly plummeting. If there were 30,000 troops stationed here, there would be far more than just these tents and cooking smoke.

Meanwhile, the Viking army was traveling at breakneck speed, and he, filled with anxiety, ordered his rangers to search everywhere. At sunset, the rangers discovered extensive ruts at a fork in the road thirteen miles to the south, suggesting that the main southern army had traveled in a different direction.

Late at night, an exhausted Havelun returned to camp and reported the known information.
"Your Majesty, we have been tricked by Gunnar. He used thousands of men as bait, stationing them in the target town, while the main force of the Southern army marched along this route."

After the other party finished speaking, Vig took out a ruler and outlined the marching routes of both sides on the map, determined a new objective, and ordered Leif and other staff officers to plan the marching route.

On the afternoon of July 12th, the 2nd Ranger Battalion located the French camp, where only four thousand militiamen and a large amount of supplies remained; the main Confederate force had fled again. As more and more militiamen were shaken off, Gunnar's marching speed gradually increased, covering approximately fifteen miles that day. The cost, however, was that the Confederate army had already shrunk by more than eight thousand men before even engaging in battle.

After a moment's thought, Vig predicted that the three armies would encounter each other in the Reik Fields.

He found Havelen, the acting commander of the 4th Ranger Battalion, and asked him to lead the Rangers ahead of schedule to occupy the hills on the west side of the Reik Fields.

"As ordered!"

Havelun summoned his officers and ordered them to take entrenching tools and enough rations, and to leave the camp before dusk, galloping north on horseback.

As time passed and the last rays of the setting sun disappeared below the horizon, the rangers slowed their horses to prevent them from tripping in the darkness.

The officers at the forefront lit torches and used the stars and compasses to determine their direction. The cavalrymen swayed slightly with the rhythm of their horses' movements. Some of them dozed off, their heads drooping unconsciously. At one moment, they suddenly awoke, looking around blankly, staring at the vast, boundless plain.

Late at night, Havren ordered a rest. The cavalrymen dismounted one after another, the saddles clanging slightly, the rustling sound particularly clear in the silence. After being unsaddled, the steppe horses snorted wearily, eagerly lowering their heads to nibble on the grass.

Except for a few unlucky sentries, the remaining cavalrymen lay curled up and on the ground until dawn broke in the eastern sky.

"Get up! Wake up!"

The officer urged the soldiers to get up, and everyone saddled their horses and continued northward. Midway, they came to a stream, and the steppe horses lowered their heads to greedily drink the clear, cool water.

Having replenished their water supply, the warhorses noticeably quickened their pace. Ignoring the scattered civilians they encountered along the way, Havelun finally reached the western hills of the Reik Fields at two o'clock in the afternoon. The surrounding terrain was flat, with lush wild grass, and in the distance, the river, named the Marion River, flowed slowly in a northeast-southwest direction. Its riverbed was wide, and the water only reached the calves.

After reconnaissance, this shallow stretch of water was found to be about three kilometers long and was the only section in the vicinity suitable for large-scale crossings.

"Your Majesty is not mistaken. If Gunnar wants to go north, he must go through this route."

Havel wrote a brief report in coded language and had a messenger report it to the king. Not long after, more than a dozen small black dots suddenly appeared in the north. They circled the hills in the distance and then retreated.

"Oh no, the enemy is almost here!"

Havelun ordered his cavalry to quickly cut down a small patch of woods below the hill, and the branches and trunks were dragged to the front of the slope to form a simple low wall.

As sunset approached, over two hundred French cavalry arrived. They slightly adjusted their formation, then leveled their lances and charged towards the hills. The rangers did not engage them directly, but instead took cover behind a low wall, firing arrows at the Frankish warhorses.

Seeing this, the French cavalry dismounted and charged up the hill with shields and longswords, engaging in fierce fighting with the rangers behind the low wall.

The rangers' sabers were mainly used for slashing, making it difficult to penetrate armor and cause serious injury. They were forced to pick up entrenching tools and swing them at the enemy's iron helmets, which surprisingly proved to be quite effective.

In less than ten minutes, the rangers repelled the Franks. Watching the enemy retreat into the distance, Havel ordered the soldiers in good condition to continue logging, in preparation for the next enemy attack.

(End of this chapter)