Vikings: Lords of the Ice Sea

Chapter 404 Pannonia
In early May, Frode arrived in Dresden aboard a river oarsman. Further east lay the territory of the Duke of Bohemia.

Frode ordered the main force to continue, while he led a contingent of the Royal Guard to the nearby Ellis Mountains to inspect the newly developed silver mines.

After conquering the Frankish Empire, Vigé suspected the existence of silver mines on the eastern border and sent prospecting teams to explore the nearby Ozil Mountains for an extended period.

Last spring, the prospecting team finally found a silver vein in the Model Valley and quickly began large-scale mining, which is expected to produce 5,000 pounds of silver per year, as well as minerals such as copper, lead, and zinc, second only to the silver mine in the Hartz Mountains.

After a half-day journey on horseback, Frode arrived at a valley where five vertical shafts had been excavated, extending vertically into the ore vein. Miners were digging tunnels horizontally underground to extract the ore.

Tall wooden wheels are scattered along both sides of the riverbank. Some of these wheels drive ropes and winches, slowly pulling up large baskets of ore or several miners covered in mud who have just finished a round of work, propelled by water power.

The ore was transported to the riverbank by railcars, where it was crushed into small pieces by a hydraulic ore crusher and then smelted into silver, copper, and lead ingots.
The supervisor explained to the Crown Prince that the difficulties faced by the mining area were not due to a shortage of labor or banditry, but rather to water accumulation in the underground tunnels.

Twice a day, morning and evening, miners would scoop up water from the ground with wooden buckets, which would then be hoisted to the surface by a lift. This drainage method was inefficient and took up valuable working time.

Frode, who was not good with mechanics, could only pass the problem on to the professionals. "I wrote to the University of London and the University of Tynburg, asking them to allocate more resources to the research."

The following day, Frod entered Bohemia and was warmly welcomed by Duke Kozel.

"Your Highness, the situation is not good. Rumor has it that two more Magyar tribes have migrated from Eastern Europe, bringing their total population to over 100,000. They are expected to be able to provide 25,000 light cavalry."

Since the beginning of spring, their activities have spanned Bohemia, northern Italy, and the southern Balkans, plundering poorly defended rural areas, leaving many farmers afraid to leave their fields.

"Understood, I will take care of them."

Frode bid farewell to the Duke and led his army to Brno, the old capital of Moravia, where a tributary flows into the Danube, making it suitable as a logistical base.

For the next two weeks, Frode arranged for soldiers to build riverboats and assigned tasks to nearby noble territories, such as Bohemia, Bavaria, Tyrol, Carinthia, and northern Italy, asking dukes and counts to provide conscripts and provisions.

On June 1, with all preparations complete, the expeditionary force expanded to 40,000 men, including two field infantry divisions, fourteen garrison regiments, four thousand light cavalry, and one hundred and twenty artillery pieces.

By this time, the Magyars had received news of the army's assembly and were arranging for their herders to evacuate eastward. Frode did not rush to pursue, but marched south along the Danube at a normal pace.

This section of the river has a rapid current, with towering cliffs on both sides covered in vines, their tops exposed grayish-white rocks. On the north bank, Devon Castle stands atop the cliffs, where two hundred Viking soldiers are stationed.

Leaving the canyon, the Danube River widens again, and ahead lies a town called Pressburg (Bratislava), surrounded by a wooden fortified wall.

Further east lay vast, flat, and open lands. With the Magyar cavalry's rampages, the Viking garrison lost control of the outside world and retreated to Pressburg awaiting reinforcements.

The lieutenant colonel of the garrison reported truthfully: "Besides Pressburg, there is another battalion stationed at Nitra Fort to the northeast. Nitra Fort lost contact half a month ago. It is possible that it is still holding out, or it is possible that it has been breached by the enemy."

Leif asked, "How far apart are the two places?"

Lieutenant Colonel: "About forty miles, a two-day journey."

Leif located Nitra's position on the map and whispered to his cousin, "Should we send a troop to scout ahead?"

The crown prince shared the same idea. He believed he lacked his father's military talent and decided to proceed cautiously, first probing the enemy's strength before formulating the next plan.

The weather was clear, and the sun generously shone upon the earth. An army of a thousand men departed Pressburg. The main Viking force lay in wait within the town and in the western mountains, silently awaiting their opportunity.

This force, personally led by the deputy commander of the 1st Division, Havelen, consisted of a field infantry regiment, two ranger companies, eight three-pound bronze cannons, and 180 supply wagons carrying food, weapons, and drinking water.

Large wheat fields were scattered on the outskirts of the city. Due to the Magyars' rampant plundering, the farmers sought refuge in the town. The fields were overgrown with weeds, and wild boars and deer could occasionally be seen gnawing on the wheat seedlings.

The further away from the town, the more desolate the scenery becomes. The wheat fields disappear completely, replaced by an endless grassland, with lush green grass reaching knee-deep, interspersed with abundant wildflowers. It seems that only this winding army and the vast sky exist between heaven and earth.

In the afternoon, a stream appeared ahead, resembling a silver ribbon in the sunlight. Havel rode closer and discovered that dozens of villagers' corpses were submerged in the stream, having been dead for more than two days. The stream emitted an indescribable stench, attracting swarms of annoying flies that hovered around them.

The officers shouted at any soldier who tried to get water. The experienced veterans looked grim, while the new recruits looked horrified and disgusted, turning their heads away.

The column changed course, choosing a shallow spot upstream where the riverbed was firmer and the current was slower. The rangers galloped across the river, spreading out on the opposite bank to maintain order, nervously scanning the distant bushes.

Then, the main force began to cross the river. The horses' hooves splashed into the water, creating muddy spray. The soldiers pushed the supply wagons with great effort to the north bank.

When the last soldier, his boots soaked, stepped onto the north bank, the most dangerous situation had passed, but the tension in the entire unit had not disappeared.

Havelun gazed at the large flock of birds rising in the distance and secretly rejoiced, "His Highness and the Chief of Staff were right. By equipping us with more waterwheels, we avoided the enemy's scheme."

At dusk, the Vikings arranged their supply wagons into a square, serving as a makeshift camp. A few dark figures could be faintly seen on the distant horizon, most likely Magyar light cavalry.

The next morning, the infantry regiment continued their march, and the number of Magyars wandering in the distance increased, expanding from a few scattered dark figures into a boundless, raging tide.

"Formation!"

Upon hearing Havelun's command, the Vikings skillfully formed a square with their supply wagons. Spearmen filled the gaps between the wagons, embedding the butts of their spears deep into the ground with the tips pointing outwards. Groomsmen led their horses to the center of the square, while gunners loaded their volleys and waited quietly for the order to fire.

At this moment, a few rangers who were out on patrol returned one after another. Behind them were thousands of nomadic light cavalry who launched a charge, the dust raised by their hooves almost obscuring half the sky.

"Longbowmen and crossbowmen, fire freely; gunners, await orders."

The maximum lethal range of a shotgun is one hundred meters. Haverren remained calm, watching the enemy's figure get closer and closer.

The steppe cavalry halted their charge at a distance of sixty meters, circling the wagon formation at high speed and hurling light arrows towards it. The next moment, several deafening explosions drowned out the collective screams of the steppe cavalry, as bronze cannons at the edge of the wagon formation began to spew forth orange-red flames. Boom! Boom!
The scorching iron balls rained down on the nomads not far away, and in an instant, men and horses fell, and blood and flesh flew everywhere.

"Free fire artillery!"

The gunners, wearing cumbersome cloth armor, quickly cleaned the breech with wet brushes, stuffed in powder packs and shot, and fired again at the slightly flustered nomads.

After being hit by five rounds of shrapnel, the centurion in charge of the attack finally recovered. The enemy seemed to be using some kind of new weapon that they had never seen before. Each shot could kill more than ten soldiers and terrify the horses.

Stunned by this terrifying weapon, the nomads' offensive began to falter. Their howls lost their wildness, and their formation started to break apart. Realizing that the Vikings' defenses were formidable and that continuing the fight would only increase casualties, the centurion sounded his horn and ordered a retreat.

Soon, the surviving riders turned their horses and retreated, only to be hit by another round of shrapnel before they left.

Once the enemy had withdrawn from the longbowmen's maximum range, the nine Mandarin Duck Formation squads went out to clean up the battlefield, scavenging water bags and dry rations, and bringing back the wounded who were unable to evacuate to the wagon formation.

The Magyars had long inhabited the northern coast of the Black Sea, and the Vikings, unable to understand their language, had to rely on translators to inquire in Slavic and Pecheneg languages. After much communication, Havren obtained a rough estimate—five thousand nomads.

"Five times the size of the cavalry besieging the infantry, you really think highly of me." Havelun chuckled and sighed, showing little concern.

Every day at noon and evening, ten rangers would return to Pressburg to deliver the message. If communication was cut off, the main Viking force would be mobilized as agreed.

Now that Havelun has assessed the enemy's fighting strength, he only needs to hold out for two more days, and the mission will be successfully completed.

In his view, the wagon formation was only 150 meters long on each side, which was not wide enough for the battlefield. The nomads could only deploy no more than a thousand cavalrymen at a time, so the defensive pressure was not great. Moreover, the wagon formation had no shortage of food and drinking water, so it could be used to hold out indefinitely.

For the next hour, the nomads ceased their attacks, and the grasslands temporarily returned to calm.

In the evening, the soldiers from each platoon gathered together, used the captured wooden shields and a small amount of coal to start a fire, and cooked a large pot of stew, which included oats, smoked sausages, onions, beans, and fish sauce. In addition to the staple food, each person also received a cup of sugarcane wine or hot cocoa, as well as a small packet of tobacco.

After dinner, Havel divided the 1,200 people into four groups to take turns on guard duty, and they made it through the night without any major incidents.

The third day, early morning.

The nomadic army in the distance had not yet dispersed. Havren was munching on a hard bread when he suddenly saw a small group of armored cavalry about two hundred meters away, observing the chariot formation. A blue flag was erected next to them.

"The enemy commander?"

On a sudden impulse, he called over the artillery company captain, "Quick, give them a surprise."

The artillery captain wiped the crumbs from his mouth, quickly gathered all the gunners, loaded solid shot into the eight cannons, and carefully aimed at the enemy's location.

"On my command, fire!"

Almost simultaneously, eight field guns roared. The captain had no time to pay attention to the enemy's movements, so he ordered the artillery to load a second round of solid shot and then fire again.

The captain eagerly climbed to the top of the carriage. Through the faint white smoke, he saw that the armored cavalry had already scattered, leaving only a flag behind and several corpses lying on the ground.

Not long after, a slight disturbance occurred in the distant nomadic army. Havelun frowned. Could it be that the shelling just now had killed the enemy commander?

Throughout the day, the nomads did not launch an attack. The Viking soldiers were relaxed, but Havelun remained highly tense.

If the enemy commander is wounded or killed, his subordinate centurions will surely retaliate. He convened a meeting of officers from all units and mentioned the Third Viking-Frankish War of 868 AD.

"Seven years ago, our army was about to encounter the French army in the Rikers Plain. On the eve of the decisive battle, His Majesty ordered me to lead the rangers ahead to seize the nearby hills. After a long march, we seized the hills and engaged in a night battle with the French heavy cavalry."

That was the toughest battle of my life. You haven't experienced it, so you don't know how brutal it was. Everywhere you looked, there were flickering shadows; sometimes you couldn't tell if the enemy was on the other side or if they were friendly.

After much deliberation, Havelun raised the alert level for the night, dividing the soldiers into three groups, preferring to reduce their sleep time in order to enhance defenses and prepare for an enemy night raid.

As it turned out, his decision was absolutely correct.

In the latter half of the night, when the night watchmen were most exhausted, the nomadic army began its movement. They abandoned their horses and fought on foot, quietly approaching the wagon formation.

From a distance of several dozen paces, the Viking soldiers saw many reflections in the darkness, immediately woke their comrades, and shot at the swaying shadows with crossbow bolts.

After several screams, the nomads launched a fierce attack. Half of the soldiers fired arrows from the rear, while the other half charged towards the wagon formation with round shields and scimitars, yelling as they did so.

In an instant, a multitude of arrows fell into the wagon formation. The frightened horses neighed loudly, trying to break free of their reins. Some soldiers were shot dead in their sleep, while the survivors looked around in bewilderment, falling into a brief state of chaos.

Bang!
The gunner lit the fuse and fired grapeshot at the large swarm of figures. The nomads launched a dense infantry charge, which greatly increased the power of the grapeshot. Each round of firing could kill a large number of soldiers, just like harvesting wheat in autumn.

With the aid of artillery, some sections repelled the enemy at the front, while others were locked in fierce fighting, with spearmen thrusting at the swordsmen and shieldmen outside the supply wagons. Havelun ordered the archers and crossbowmen to abandon ranged attacks and take up melee weapons as reserves to fill gaps in the defensive line.

The melee lasted for some time, and the nomads' armored elite suffered heavy losses. Even when ordinary tribesmen charged into the wagon formation, they were still unable to defeat the fully armored Viking infantry.

Finally, the bugle call to retreat sounded, and a large number of figures retreated into the darkness. The artillery company did not stop firing and fired another round of grapeshot and two rounds of solid shot.

The night raid failed, and the nomads abandoned their attack on the wagon formation and gradually withdrew.

On the morning of the fourth day, after confirming that the enemy had gone far away, Havelun moved the wagon formation several hundred paces away, avoiding the gradually decomposing corpses. The infantry regiment then remained in place until reinforcements arrived.

(End of this chapter)