Vikings: Lords of the Ice Sea

Chapter 377 Stripping the Title
Two days later, Kozel arrived in the capital of Moravia. The stone walls there were largely completed, and Greek craftsmen were setting up heavy crossbows.

Inside the city, one could occasionally see large groups of regular soldiers carrying spears, their shields adorned with black eagle designs, and wearing lamellar armor in the style of the Eastern Roman Empire, likely weapons provided by Basil.

Upon entering the palace, Kozel noticed that there were many more guards than usual, and many of them were unfamiliar faces. His panic intensified, and he felt an urge to flee immediately.

Around nine o'clock in the morning, nobles from all over the country arrived one after another. Kozel followed the crowd into the hall and almost fell down along the way.

Before long, the crowd erupted in uproar, and Kozel looked up. The old king was announcing the crimes of his nephew and seven other nobles. Finally, the old king ordered the eight men to be stripped of their noble titles and issued a bounty, to be paid for their lives.

Fortunately, he wasn't after us.

Kozel wiped the sweat from his brow and roughly understood what had happened.

The old king had always been inclined to side with the Romans, while his nephew Swartop sided with the Franks, and the two sides often clashed.

Nowadays, neither the traditional faction nor the East Frankish faction is conducive to the old king's rule. Moreover, with the Frankish states destroyed, even if the old king eliminates his nephew's power, it will not attract external interference.

Over the next two hours, the old king announced various reform measures and urged certain nobles who were in arrears with their taxes to make up their debts within a month.

At noon, a banquet was held at the palace. Kozel was restless throughout the banquet, his eyes occasionally sweeping over his five accomplices, worried that someone might not be able to withstand the psychological pressure and reveal their true thoughts.

Once the banquet was over, he left the palace as quickly as possible, riding his horse northwestward at breakneck speed until he returned to his home in Zatay.

Two days later, Kozel received word that Swatop and his associates had disappeared, possibly hiding within the country or fleeing to Croatia in the south. This incident further complicated the situation in Morvia.

When news from Movia reached northern Italy, the remnants of the Frankish forces did not respond.

Although Swattop was the person they supported, that's all in the past. Bald Charlie now has a more worthwhile target—Corsica.

After recapturing Sicily, the Eastern Roman Empire fulfilled its promise and handed over the captured Moorish sailors and ships to the Franks.

In early August, seventy ships of various kinds left the port of Pisa and sailed for most of the day before the rugged coast of Corsica appeared ahead.

The fleet sailed toward a bay where dozens of bloated corpses and thousands of arrows lay on the beach, and the watchtowers on the cliffs were reduced to ruins, clearly the site of a fierce battle.

The landing was carried out in an orderly manner. Frankish soldiers jumped into waist-deep water and rushed to the beach to form a shield wall. Their chainmail and lamellar armor gleamed brightly in the blazing sun.

Alfred stepped onto the beach, his boots sinking into the sun-baked sand. He smelled sea salt, charred wood, and a nauseating stench. It was the smell of war, from Britain to the western Mediterranean, nothing had ever changed.

The Earl of Orléans divided his army into three parts, each advancing inland. Alfred led the northern army, advancing along the dry riverbed. The heat was suffocating; the heavy armor became an oven, and every soldier was drenched in sweat. Occasionally, the rustling of animals darting away came from the bushes.

As the sun set, they encountered their first enemy. Almost instantly, the Moorish pirates emerged from behind the cliffs, dressed in loose linen clothes, wearing iron helmets, their scimitars gleaming orange-red in the sunset.
"Shield Wall, form a defensive formation!"

The battle erupted suddenly and brutally. The pirates' arrows rained down from above, mostly blocked by shields and armor, but screams still rang out from time to time. Alfred saw a young soldier fall backward, an arrow lodged in his eye socket, blood splattering onto the dry ground.

After firing five volleys of arrows, the Moorish pirates howled as they charged towards the Frankish ranks. Alfred parried with a slash, then backhanded his longsword into the attacker's chest, warm blood splattering onto his hilt, carrying a strong, metallic stench.

After a brief exchange of blows, the well-organized Franks gained the upper hand and began a gradual counter-offensive. The battle ended as night fell. The French suffered thirty casualties, while the pirates left behind more than ninety corpses.

Before setting off, the Franks inquired about the local situation from the fishermen and learned that the largest group of Moorish pirates on the island numbered no more than three hundred.

Indeed, starting the next day, Alfred led over a thousand soldiers deep into the northern part of the island, but never encountered any large-scale pirate groups.
The inland areas are sparsely populated and rugged, with eagles circling in the azure sky and the occasional tinkling of goat neck bells in the distance. Corsican villages are usually situated in easily defensible mountainous areas, with watchtowers built on the mountaintops to observe for pirate attacks.

The main local crop is wheat, which is grown in terraced fields and irrigated valleys. Small, scattered plots of land are also used to grow chickpeas, lentils, and grapevines.

Near the village entrance, a shepherd asked the group of fully armed soldiers, "Who are you?"

Alfred asked the guide to relay his words: "Don't you even recognize your own king's banner?"

The king? When Corsica was repeatedly plundered by Moorish pirates, the king never cared about our lives.

The shepherd muttered under his breath and hurriedly led his flock back to the village.

From the perspective of the locals, the arrival of the Frankish army was a complete disaster. As soon as they entered the village, they immediately summoned the villagers, demanding that they pay back taxes from the past few decades, and also providing a quarter of their able-bodied men as laborers.

Alfred understood the villagers' resentment, but he was powerless to do anything about it. Hundreds of thousands of Frankish refugees were pouring into Italy, urgently needing food and all kinds of supplies. The significance of recapturing Corsica lay in this, and no one could change that.

After a twenty-day campaign, the Franks wiped out the Corsican pirates and collected enough grain to feed 20,000 people for a year.

"Not enough, far too little." The Earl of Orléans was very dissatisfied with the performance of each unit, complaining that the soldiers were eating and drinking excessively during the requisition period, causing serious waste.

Suddenly, the count lowered his voice and proposed a bold idea:

"Why not go to Sardinia in the south and 'borrow' some food from the locals? Sardinia is three times the size of Corsica, and it has a stable environment with a much higher food production than Corsica, which is plagued by pirates."

Alfred was shocked. "Isn't this a bit much? Sardinia is nominally allied with the Eastern Roman Empire. Are you going to plunder your ally's territory?"

Count of Orléans: "What nonsense are you talking about? It's a loan, not a robbery! Once we reclaim West Francia, we will repay the locals with interest."

(End of this chapter)