Vikings: Lords of the Ice Sea

Chapter 405 Cavalry Group
The reinforcements included the 1st Division and two garrison regiments. After they joined forces, they tallied their achievements:
They killed 1,900 light cavalrymen, while suffering 80 casualties and 200 wounded.

After a three-hour march, they arrived in Nitra at dusk.

The town was built on a hillside. During the half-month siege, the nomads breached the outer walls of the town, and the remaining two hundred defenders retreated to the inner fortress on the hillside.

Lacking armor and engineering skills, the nomads were extremely poor at breaching fortifications. Their human-powered catapults lacked the power and accuracy to destroy the stone-built inner fortress. Thus, the defenders miraculously held out until reinforcements arrived.

Compared to their former enemies, Havelun believed that the nomads were not as capable of direct combat as the Franks and Greeks. They only relied on their high mobility to create a numerical advantage on local battlefields, using superior numbers to overwhelm the settled peoples and besiege them with several times the strength of their own troops.

Despite securing the first victory, Frode did not rush into action, instead ordering the construction crew to build a fortress between Pressburg and Nitra.

Moreover, fortifications were also being built about twenty miles north and east of Pressburg. The Magyars' raids on various regions caused a large influx of refugees into Pressburg, significantly reducing construction costs.

Frode planned to recruit 4,000 refugees to expand the construction workforce to 12,000, and build numerous fortifications in the plains to squeeze the nomads' living space.

At the same time, he sent out field troops to conduct reconnaissance, still with the same configuration of an infantry regiment, an artillery company, and two ranger companies, to search for enemy nomadic camps.

More than ten days later, the nomads tried to besiege an infantry regiment again, but still failed to capture it. Instead, they attracted a large number of Viking rangers and lost many of their people.

Left with no other choice, many nomadic camps temporarily relocated, avoiding the increasingly dangerous western plains, crossing the Visegard Mountains, and hiding in the vast eastern plains.

Borshaw consulted with the other two tribal chiefs and elders:

"Now that we've withdrawn from Viking territory, they shouldn't be chasing us. Sigh, we didn't expect the Vikings to be so formidable. We chose the wrong target. We should have focused our raiding efforts on the Balkan Peninsula in the south, or the Slavic tribes in the northern mountains."

With the retreat of the Magyars, everything returned to calm.

Tens of thousands of Vikings were busy cutting down timber and quarrying stone, seemingly devoting all their energy to building fortresses. The Magyars focused their raids on the Balkans and reaped considerable profits.

In early September, Borshau declared the establishment of the Güt Khanate and proclaimed himself Khan. Out of respect for his role in overseeing the migration, the people tacitly accepted this title.

Five days later, before the new Khan could rejoice for long, he received news that the Viking army had crossed the Visegard Mountains!
"What does this mean? Are you saying I have no way to survive?"

Borshaw thought he had made a concession and that the Vikings should accept it and stop, but to his surprise, they continued to pester him.

Fight? Flee? Negotiate?
He thought about it all night but couldn't make up his mind.

After leaving the Visegard Mountains, the Viking army split into five groups. The crown prince led the main force of 15,000 men, including 1,000 heavy cavalry and 3,000 rangers. The other four detachments were deployed near the main force, 10 to 15 miles apart, to search for nomadic tribes scattered across the plains.

The size of the detachment increased, including two infantry regiments, a ranger battalion, and sixteen field guns, totaling 2,600 men.

In early September, the sun was still scorching, the wild grass was a pale yellow, and occasionally a gentle breeze would blow, creating undulating waves.

Havelun, as usual, became the commander of a detachment. He rode a light chestnut steppe horse and gazed at the distant horizon. To the accompaniment of a melodious and cheerful marching tune, the soldiers moved at a steady pace, slowly crawling across the boundless sea of ​​grass.

In the afternoon, a team of scouts found Havelun and claimed to have discovered the abandoned camp of a nomadic tribe.

After walking for two hours, the sight before them slightly cheered up the exhausted soldiers.

Ahead lay a large, circular open space, with embers of dark gray campfires flickering in the wind, sending up fine dust. The air was thick with a mixed stench: burnt cow dung, extinguished firewood, and the lingering stench of livestock.

Based on the number of campfires and other traces, the scouts estimated that the tribe had about four thousand people and that the camp had been abandoned for no more than a day.

The tribe's migration route is easy to identify: a wide "road" trampled by herders, livestock, and cartwheels, like an ugly scar, extends from the camp and points clearly to the southeastern horizon.

Havelun wrote a letter in code: "Your Highness, our tribe has discovered traces of a nomadic camp."

He ordered the rangers to deliver the secret letter to the crown prince, then turned around and pursued the enemy southeastward.

The next day, Havelun maintained his normal marching pace, knowing that he would be overtaken sooner or later unless the nomads abandoned their slow-moving herds.

At ten o'clock in the morning, a thin cloud of dust rose on the horizon as hundreds of nomadic riders swept in, attacking the few rangers who were on guard outside the perimeter.

"Sound the horn and tell them to retreat!" The rangers had more important tasks, and Havelun didn't want them to waste time with the nomadic riders.

As the rangers retreated, the enemy began harassing the infantry, not approaching but hovering at a distance. Light arrows were hurled, tracing a long distance before weakly striking a soldier's cloth armor or embedding themselves in the nearby grass, causing little harm.

Havel sent out two companies of mountain infantry, and the Welsh longbowmen, under the cover of their allies, exchanged fire with the nomadic horsemen.

Having lost more than ten of their companions, the nomads let out a sharp, incomprehensible whistle and scattered like a flock of startled birds, trailing the marching column at a distance, waiting for the next opportunity to pounce and tear them apart.

On the third day, the lingering smell of the livestock grew stronger, and the nomads' harassment became more frequent, but with little effect.

At noon, a low, gentle slope appeared ahead. Havel rode his horse to the top of the hill, where his view suddenly opened up.

On the yellowing grassland, a long convoy of nearly a thousand wide-wheeled carts meandered forward, stretching all the way to the horizon at the edge of the field of vision.

On either side of the convoy and further afield, flocks of sheep covered the entire grassland. They flowed slowly across the ground like a gray-white tide, numbering in the thousands. Nomads on steppe horses galloped back and forth along the edges of the flocks, ensuring that this massive and bulky caravan did not completely break apart.

"The whole army is ready for war!"

Upon hearing the deputy division commander's order, the military band stopped playing marching music, the drums beat rapidly, and the various units quickly deployed into formation.

The target was exposed to the soldiers without any warning. The soldiers were excited and a sudden urge to kill arose in their hearts. They gripped their weapons and waited for the officers to blow the charge whistle.

The next moment, a middle-aged herdsman went to the low hill, introduced himself as the tribal chief named Luntu, and then respectfully knelt on the grass.

The tribe had only a thousand adult males, no chance of defeating two thousand heavy infantry, three hundred cavalry, and those terrifying new weapons. If they abandoned their baggage and livestock and fled, the tribe would not survive the winter. Fighting and fleeing were both impossible; the only way to survive was to surrender.

The military merits that were about to be obtained were gone, and the junior officers and soldiers cursed and swore. Havelun ordered them to shut up, and then smiled at the tribal chief.

"On behalf of the Emperor, I accept your surrender."

Before the operation began, the command had contingency plans in place. Havelun organized the clerks of each company to count the number of people and livestock.

"Four thousand people, fifty-three thousand sheep, and two thousand six hundred cattle. It seems you're living quite well. Did you plunder them from the Balkans?"

Havelun sighed a few times and sent someone to inform the main force to quickly bring the tribe back to the rear.

On September 10th, a thousand rangers roared in, bringing with them the Crown Prince's orders:
The chieftain and four hundred able-bodied men went to the central army to await orders, while the remaining nomads returned to the western side of the Visegard Mountains and chose a wooden camp to settle temporarily.

"As ordered."

Obeying the strong is the law of survival on the grasslands. Luntu accepted the order and selected four hundred strong young men to follow the messenger to the central army to meet up, and also brought five thousand sheep as a gift for their new master.

Escorted by Viking cavalry, the remaining nomads turned back, driving their herds northwest. After migrating for several days, they arrived at a camp under construction.

The camp was a standard square, and many laborers were busy digging trenches, about two meters deep. Fertile soil was turned over and piled on the inside, forming a sloping earthen mound.

Behind the earthen slope is an unfinished wooden stockade wall, about five meters high, with rammed earth in the middle and wooden stakes on both the inner and outer sides, which can accommodate archers to shoot from it.

Wells are being dug inside the camp, and a large number of soldiers are building warehouses and barracks, constructing them according to the specifications of permanent fortifications.

After the war, abandoned military camps can be relocated to residents and developed into a town.

The tribal shaman asked in a low voice, "Is this our camp?" If surrendering could earn them this kind of settlement, it wouldn't be a bad deal.

“No, your temporary accommodations are on the west side of the mountains, and they’re the same size as here.” The garrison lieutenant colonel put down his hoe and handed over a bottle of sugarcane wine.

He continued, “However, once the war ends, it is estimated that you will be allowed to return to the east side of the mountains. At that time, assuming you are willing to switch from nomadic to settled life, you may be able to obtain a camp on the east side of the mountains.”

After accepting Luntu's allegiance, the crown prince rewarded him with a large amount of silver, wine, and dyed cloth. He also learned about the movements of the surrounding tribes from Luntu and dispatched various teams to pursue them.

More than a week later, Luntu successfully dragged four other neighbors into the mess, all of them small tribes with populations of 2000 to 5000.

These tribes were not Magyars, but Pechenegs or Khazars, belonging to the peripheral forces of the Güt Khanate, and had no psychological burden even if they betrayed them.

The crown prince questioned the four chieftains to obtain more information. He then arranged for the garrison to build camps in the rear, while the field troops continued to advance to catch up with the migrating nomadic tribes.

When the news reached the Khanate's court, Borshaw became even more agitated and, under the influence of alcohol, whipped the slaves.

In the past six months, the Güt Khanate has absorbed many small tribes and now has 160,000 nomads. The territories of the three Magyars are located on the eastern side of the basin, while their vassal tribes have been settled on the western side. If this continues, these outsiders will eventually all submit to the Viking Empire!
With things having come to this point, Borshau had to take action. As Khan, he summoned the armies of the three tribes and marched westward in a grand procession.

At the end of September, the sky was overcast, and the boundless waves of grass surged with withered yellow. More than two thousand Viking soldiers continued their journey as usual. Havelun yawned on his saddle, seemingly waiting for something.

Suddenly, a group of rangers returned in a panic, looking disheveled, with a few white foams at the corners of their mounts' mouths.

"Cavalry! A large contingent of steppe cavalry!" The ranger sergeant's voice was hoarse as he pointed sharply in the direction they had come from.
"In the southeast region, five miles away, a large contingent of Magyar cavalry, at least tens of thousands, is approaching!"

Havelun remained calm, ordered two squads of rangers to request reinforcements from the main force, and then instructed the remaining troops to change formation.

In fact, the vast steppes could not conceal secrets; the Vikings had already received news of the Khanate's main force gathering. Three days earlier, Frod convened a war council, appointing a certain detachment as the vanguard to lure and tie down the Magyars' army, thus facilitating a true decisive battle.

Haverren had experienced a siege before and had relevant experience, so his squad was chosen as bait to carry out this extremely difficult mission.

Before long, the wagon formation was completed. Food, tin water jugs, and military supplies were piled up on the grass in the middle, and the horses were tied to wooden stakes and neighed restlessly.

The earth began to shake.

In the distance, a thin black line faintly appeared, then quickly filled the entire field of vision like a black tide bursting its banks. Tens of thousands of steppe cavalry surged in, kicking up clouds of dust.

Hundreds of meters from the wagon formation, the cavalry, as if struck by an invisible dam, suddenly split to both sides. In the blink of an eye, they completed the encirclement, trapping 2,600 Vikings inside the wagon formation.

At this moment, the grassland returned to calm, with only the sound of the cold wind blowing the flags and the heavy breathing of the horses remaining.

Havelun stood at the back of the wagon, gazing at the endless column of cavalry, the immense pressure almost suffocating him. He raised his voice, trying to boost morale.

"Don't worry, His Highness's reinforcements will arrive tomorrow. After this battle, you'll be rewarded with plenty of military merit and money!"

After the last battle, the reputation of the new weapon spread throughout the grasslands. Borshau sent two thousand slave gun-and-shield soldiers to slowly approach the wagon formation.

Bang!
A hundred meters apart, the chariot formation emitted several loud bangs. Instantly, the slave soldiers' shield formation seemed to be struck by an invisible force, revealing several bloody gaps.

Taking advantage of the weakened shield wall, the Viking archers fired arrows, felling hundreds more slave infantrymen and crushing their morale.

"Don't be afraid, don't be afraid," Borshah reassured his frightened mount, his face extremely grim. To break through this chariot formation, slave soldiers and ordinary tribesmen would be of no use; the royal court's direct forces and the elite troops of each tribe would have to be deployed.

Is it worth it?
Borshaw hesitated until a centurion came to report.

"Khan, we have discovered the movement of the main Viking force. They are expected to arrive here by noon tomorrow."

(End of this chapter)