105.
105.
How many sieges had it been this time?
Three? Four?
To me, who could now be considered to have shed the beginner's label, the core of a siege was making our forces and the enemy face each other directly.
Climbing walls with ladders, smashing the gate with battering rams, and—though I had never once used one—transporting troops onto enemy walls with siege towers...
In the end, when you thought about it, all siege weapons were really nothing but simple, and you could even say somewhat crude, methods.
'Still, there was no other way. I had no choice but to get used to it by now.'
"Form up! Form up!"
"Only a man who wants to die drops his shield!"
"Treat your shield like your own body! Your spear like your own arm!"
"Does anyone need more arrows!? Damn it, isn't this the right place?"
[Shwaaak— Shwaaak— Tang! Tatang!]
The area around the eastern wall where the siege was underway looked, with a little exaggeration, almost like a camping trip.
Of course, arrows were flying and at any moment rocks the size of a child's torso could come crashing down, so not a single moment of tension could be released, but...
It was, so to speak, like a jjimjilbang—a sauna. Like a scorching kiln... The first time you went in, it was so hot and suffocating that you couldn't bear it, but after doing it several times, you gradually adapted.
I was beginning to see those things in the eyes of my soldiers.
Confidence, composure, conviction.
They knew how to win and how to get hurt a little less. They could die occasionally, but that was a risk they had to accept as long as they did this work.
The result of clothing men who deserved the phrase "manly men" in the skin of discipline was truly astonishing.
"Konungr...! What brought you all the way here!"
"The ladders were going up, so I followed them here. Jarl Oleg. How is the situation?"
The eastern wall was divided into three sections, each commanded by Ubba, Oleg, and Refil.
Thus, the center section where the enemy's gate stood was the responsibility of Oleg and his warriors.
Since they were the men who had conquered Huntadun, I had jokingly given them the nickname "Fort Hunters"—Pod Hunta, so to speak.
I heard that many of them liked the name so much that they carved rune script into their weapons, armor, and gear.
Was this how unit traditions were established? It wasn't bad at all...
There was room for trouble if my successor couldn't firmly rein them in later, but my path ahead was still too long to think ahead that far.
I had to make use of anything good.
"That is correct, Konungr! Hup!"
[Shuuuuk— Pak!]
Oleg's face showed no agitation at all as he blocked an incoming arrow with his shield.
If someone looked down from the top of the wall, they would surely see large square wooden shields bobbing and moving along.
The various symbols drawn on them might become a trauma for the enemy.
Most of them bore the symbol of Hel, which was half a woman's face and half a skull, so it could be a little intense for someone seeing it for the first time...
"We will climb the wall soon! There is hardly any moat here, and the wall on the Örn side of the gate seemed flimsy! If all goes well, we could make this fortress fall today itself!"
[Shwaaak— Tak!]
This time an arrow came flying and lodged itself in my own shield.
The sight of a king and his vassal standing calmly in the middle of a battlefield exchanging words, as if holding an umbrella in the rain, should have been strange. Yet the warriors around us were too busy doing their own work.
Only Leon, who had stubbornly followed me all the way here, was fretting over the arrows flying everywhere.
"That would be truly excellent! I shall not disturb you any longer! Be aware that I always have great expectations for the conquerors of Huntadun, Jarl Oleg!"
"...! It is an honor! Konungr...!"
I nodded to Oleg as he rendered a military salute, then turned on my heel and headed further to the rear.
Tall wooden palisades were lined up. Behind them, it was the place where the wounded—those with injuries large and small—were being cared for and taking their rest.
The men who were resting in the shade of the palisades lifted their heads in wonder at the sight of some large creature moving around, and then hurriedly tried to rise when they realized it was their Konungr.
But I told them not to move a muscle and to stay lying down, worried that the wounds they had just managed to treat would split open or tear.
'The medical side of things also needs to be more systematically structured and developed...'
For now, the goodwill of Emperor Michael of the Eastern Roman Empire had been a great help. The high-level Muslim personnel he sent were grateful for my generous treatment and freely shared the knowledge they possessed.
Among that, their medical knowledge was so far ahead that it surprised me greatly.
People who knew how to disinfect, for whom stitching wounds was common practice, and who knew the concepts of simple surgical operations and hygiene.
Naturally knowing the importance of all those things, I actively incorporated them. Soon, this knowledge was widely spread, centered around Leon and the Norseman apprentices under him—they became apprentices because I attached them as Leon's laborers—and the result was the field hospital now before my eyes.
Actually, "field hospital" was too grand a term. It was merely laying out blankets or cloth in a spot that was reasonably dry and fit for lying down, then tending to the affected areas. Yet even at this meager level, it saved people who would have died on the spot and rescued many who would have suffered greatly.
All the clever Jarls under my command had recognized its importance.
Thus, our culture was developing even amid ceaseless warfare.
"Konungr, the attack has begun!"
The position of Konungr was a position that led, and at the same time, a position akin to that of a celebrity.
I imitated the politicians of my previous life and wore a smile on my lips while I offered words of goodwill to those lying down. They all froze up and left me feeling awkward. It was at that moment that Seutorolpeu's booming voice rang in my ears.
"Then rest well. Rest is just as important as fighting well."
"Ah, understood! Konungr Helgi! It is the honor of my household! My father will never believe my words!"
"Haha. I shall bestow a written note myself."
"Thank you!"
After giving a final word of goodwill to the brown-haired wounded man who seemed about to shed tears, I rose. Then, just as Seutorolpeu had said, I could see our troops climbing the ladders in earnest.
[Do not stop—! Get up quickly—!]
[Do not let them be—! We must block them at all costs!]
Oleg's voice, faintly audible, and a figure who appeared to be a Mercian commander—judging by armor that was clearly of good quality—caught my senses.
'Watching it from below, it felt quite new.'
At Jorvik, because Ecgberht, who had turned his back on the two Cyning and let us into the fortress, we had to fight an unplanned defensive battle.
But now, to be in the position of attacking a fortress myself...
I had fought mounted and I had fought on foot, so did that mean all I had to do now was fight at sea to experience every form of ancient combat?
"Aah! Not if they fall from there...! No—! Don't turn your arm that way...!"
As I let the thoughts drifting through my head play out against the backdrop of the battle, Hrolf must have been itching all over, for he began pacing in place and dispensing an endless stream of backseat advice.
'What advice could there possibly be for assaulting or defending a fortress...'
A warrior clinging to a ladder could do nothing but thrust upward, and a warrior atop a wall could do nothing but thrust downward—that was the nature of a fight fought across a rampart.
There was not a single element in that space where strategy or technique could find a foothold.
That was precisely why I had always judged siege warfare to be an exceedingly simple form of battle.
It was unavoidable, until the age of cannons.
'Until I step in myself, that is.'
Because Ubba and Refil had repeatedly warned me that a blind arrow could kill even a bear, I was standing here like this right now... but seeing Hrolf, who simply could not stay still, and seeing my warriors keep falling from the ladders, the blood had begun to slowly boil within me as well.
"Hmmm—"
"You must not, great Konungr!"
"—Mmmm... Hm?"
As I let out a long sigh, Leon, who had caught on to something, hurriedly gestured to stop me. Frantic waving.
"What is the meaning of that, Leon?"
"Jarl Ubba gave me firm instructions...! That if there appears any sign of the Konungr leaping into the fray, I must stop you at all costs!"
"...Ubba did?"
Well, from the perspective of Ubba, who was the cool-headed commander type, my way of fighting must have been incomprehensible. If I happened to die or suffer a grave injury, all operations could grind to an immediate halt.
Especially for Ubba, who had just recently been forced to personally fill my place in the forest battle, he would very much prefer it if his supreme commander would just stay still, for heaven's sake.
And when I calmly considered the matter, Ubba's thinking was not wrong—but that did not make it right, either.
Because I was no mere supreme commander.
"Stop me...? By what means, exactly?"
"...Pardon?"
At the words I delivered with a grin, clever Leon's brain momentarily shut down, and I let out a great laugh at his dumbfounded expression, then turned my body and strode forward with vigor.
"Ha ha! A jest, Leon! This time I must be the one to charge you! You are not to move from here!"
"Ko—Konungr Helgi...!"
"I am a warrior before I am a Konungr, Leon!"
I was a warrior before I was a Konungr.
It was a line I had blurted out hastily to fabricate something to fob Leon off with, but it was also the phrase that best explained the man I was right now.
"Konungr Helgi!"
"Helgi Ragnarsson!"
"Great Warrior of Hel!"
My guards, stirred by my fighting spirit, drew their weapons as one and raised a war cry, and within my heart, as I strode forward with them at my back, an irrepressible battle lust slowly rose to a peak.
[Shwaaak— Shwaaak— Shuuuuk—]
My spirit, gradually heightening, allowed me to avoid the arrows flying before my face with nothing but a tilt of my head, and the warriors, seeing their king walk proudly forth, all cried out my name or the name of my goddess.
[Surrreung—!]
Soon I walked between the warriors who parted to either side, reached the foot of a ladder, and without hesitation climbed up the sturdy wooden structure.
"Konungr—! Goddammit! What are you all doing! Get every last ladder up! You sons of— Everyone, come out! I'm going first!"
Starting with Oleg, who was greatly alarmed by my sudden action, the somewhat slack atmosphere changed in an instant, and a genuinely seething will to fight swallowed up this entire space.
But whatever became of the atmosphere around me, it held little relevance for me.
At some point in the past, the moment I entered battle, all the energy of my flesh and spirit had come to focus solely on my immediate vicinity, allowing me to perceive every space my senses touched.
Was this what the enlightened masters meant by the state of selflessness?
Climbing the ladder with the swiftness of a tiger, I immediately swept aside three spears thrust at me, batted away about six arrows that flew from either side, and caught some with my bare hands.
As the distance gradually closed, the expressions of the enemies who thrust their spears, driven by desperation, grew ever more frantic—fearful, horrified.
And at last, when the greatsword gripped in my hand judged itself to be within range and blazed with light all across its body.
[Huuung—!]
A heavy sensation that only I could perceive rent the wind.
The greatsword, cleaving through everything in its passing trajectory while trailing a green tail, left a long scar behind it.
[Chwahaak—! Hooduduk—!]
"Uu—uaaaaaagh!"
"Sh—shoot...! I said shoot!"
The enemies who lost their heads and had their chests split apart with a single stroke fell as one beneath the rampart, leaving thick trails behind them, and only the survivors, seized by instantaneous panic, let out screams.
Unwilling to grant the enemy time to recover, I stepped on the end of the ladder, which felt just slightly insufficient, and leaped over the rampart in a single breath.
'Hup!'
[Shwak— Shwaak— Puk!]
"Kuk! Aaakh—!"
"Where are you shooting, you bastards!"
"St—stab him...! I said stab the devil!"
Firing arrows in this narrow space, they were only hitting their own allies.
I sidestepped and swatted away clumsy arrows from all directions while severing the hafts of the spears thrust at me.
[Huuung— Suhuk! Huung—! Suhuk!]
When I made a long cut, the enemy's wrist went with it; when I cut short, I sliced off only the keen spearpoint, then turned aside and parted the follow-up strikes and arrows that rushed in.
[Shwak— Suk—]
The condition of my body was so euphoric that I could not even feel the weight of the heavy armor I wore. Desperation seeped into the hands of the enemies who kept failing to strike the large figure before their eyes, and just as the Norsemen climbing up behind me and the ladders newly raised on both flanks scattered the enemy's focus.
At last, I took a vigorous step forward.
[Huuuuung—!]
When teaching children to fight, it was a cut you instructed them to avoid if at all possible. A horizontal slash.
In this narrow space, a horizontal slash was no different from suicide, but just as Ubba had misjudged me out of concern for his brother and loyalty to his Konungr, that rule was, at least for me, a false one.
[Chwahaahak—!]
"Wh—what..."
I dared to say it: I was the mightiest warrior of mankind.
"All who wish to live! Throw down your weapons! I am Helgi Ragnarsson—!"
With an unrestrained roar, I burst open the battle fever within my chest and immediately launched myself forward.