196. The Crow Caller (2).
196. The Crow Caller (2).
[huung-! hung-! huuung-]
A javelin had no need to be beautiful.
Even if it was somewhat crude, it was sufficient as long as it served its purpose.
This referred both to the javelin as a projectile weapon itself, and to the act of throwing a spear.
[pak! peobeobeok! pak!]
"Ack!"
[ihihihing-]
"Kek!"
[kwajik! kung!]
"Aaaack-!"
But when the hundred-odd javelins that embroidered the sky all at once accurately rained down upon the Frankish standard-bearers, I felt that my horsemen's skill was beautiful.
"It's chaos! We split up!"
[ppababam- ppabababam-!]
Not a horn, but the newly introduced Byzantine wind instruments let out a clamorous, ear-catching percussive sound, and my horsemen, leaving the collapsing Frankish standard-bearers in the center, split to both sides and charged.
[seureureung-]
seu-eup-!
In an instant, the air that filled my lungs spread throughout my entire body, transmitting power from the crown of my head to the tips of my toes; I drew my long sword in a single breath and, together with the spear that came stabbing at me, cut down the rider and horse alike.
[hwiing- seogeok!]
"Uh-"
An enemy who passed behind me leaving only that single syllable.
After that, I saw the enemy horsemen hesitating in an instant between our allies who had collapsed and blocked the path ahead, and the North Sea army swiftly passing by on both sides.
[seogeok! hwik! puk! huuung- pak!]
"Kek!"
"Eok!"
[ihihihihing-!]
[pureuk- pureuk- dugu- dugu- dugu-]
All the screams that reached my ears were solely from the Frankish horsemen and the horses they rode.
The North Sea horsemen following behind Torbjörn and me silently thrust their spears and brought down their swords, unseating every enemy they faced with an almost indifferent bearing, and when Torbjörn and I, who had been charging at the very front, finally converged, the last Frankish horseman scattered blood and dropped to the ground.
"Form ranks!"
"Follow Hel's banner!"
"Don't rush out!"
This was only the beginning, but to the already excited horsemen I barked from both flanks to get a grip. I swiftly reined in the formation that had been disordered by the skirmish just before.
Their momentum was sharply alive, so we should have driven the enemy like this.
Camembert, a born fighter, let out a rough breath and was about to surge forward at any moment, but I firmly controlled him with both thighs; I quickly surveyed the front and realized that the Frankish army's movements were more agile than I had expected.
'Look at these guys?'
We had clearly crushed the Frankish cavalry much faster than they had anticipated. Yet the men of Reims overcame the agitation of the soldiers who naturally followed and turned their shields and spearheads towards us, the first rank lowering their bodies as if sitting down.
'They've dealt with cavalry a lot.'
Indeed.
In the heyday of Emperor Charles the Great, the Franks' greatest enemies were precisely the Saxons, the Avars, and the Saracens of Iberia.
Among them, the Avars and the Saracens of Iberia were renowned for their skill with cavalry, so it would not be strange if methods to counter them had developed and been passed down.
"They're too big to swallow in one go! We'll go around!"
[buuuuuung-!]
[ppam- ppababababam-!]
[pureureuk! pureuk-! dugu- dugu- dugu-]
"Don't lose sight of the Fylkir's banner!"
At the very front, Camembert sharply wheeled under my touch, and behind him followed the heavy footfalls of the heavy cavalry, the blaring metal trumpets, and the resounding horns.
Soon after, a mighty war cry rang out beyond the Frankish formation, and the warriors of Tostein's island kingdom, each calling upon the power of God, hurled themselves at the Reims ranks.
"Aaaaaah-! Thor-!"
"O-din-!!!"
"Hel! Watch over me!"
"Kill them all!"
"Iyaaaa-!"
[dudududu- kwang! hwirik- hwirik- pak! taeng- kok!]
As if utterly indifferent that the opponent right in front blocked with a shield or thrust a spear, the island kingdom's warriors each shouted the name of the God that surfaced in their hearts and threw their bodies without hesitation.
Naturally, many warriors died or lay dying, and though they suffered fatal wounds, their assault, which astonishingly pressed forward with sheer mass, was punching holes here and there through the Reims army's solid defensive line.
"These mad bastards— kek!"
"Die!"
"No! Theoto! Die, you son of a bitch!"
"You die!"
A brutal melee of stabbing, slashing, hitting, and biting each other broke out here and there, and anyone could see that the Reims ranks were being thrown into disarray, yet the defensive wall that kept our cavalry in check still held firm.
"Do not waver! Do not be seized by fear! This is our land! For Carolus Imperator! For the Franks! For God! Fight until you die!"
[dugu- dugu- dugu-]
'Is that bastard their commander?'
Within the clamor of a battlefield that seemed instantly thrust into the very heart of hell, my superior hearing caught a voice rallying the soldiers even amid the noise of those who aimed their spears at us with resolute faces or who desperately wrestled on the dirt against the North Sea army on the opposite side.
When I turned my gaze there, a man came into view who stood firm in the middle of the infantry ranks, receiving the care of his guards. His beard, just beginning to show grey, was well-groomed, and the helm on his head and the armor around his body were clearly of fine quality.
However, his stance and manner of speaking did not seem like those of a general worn and battered on the battlefield.
Could it be that the Bishop of Reims himself had come?
According to the intelligence of Lothar II, the Bishop of Reims was the inseparable soulmate of the West Frankish Emperor.
'If I catch him, will the West Frankish Emperor finally show his noble face?'
As I smacked my lips and prepared to charge straight in, something strange snagged my senses.
The sound of a tightly twisted rope unraveling came from the eastern gate of the Rouen fortress, which served as a giant folding screen for this chaotic battlefield.
[geureureureung-]
[iyaaaaa-! aaaaak! puk! kwang! peoseok! seogeok!]
A mechanical noise, alien to this space filled with the din of battle, resounded, and soon the thick gate of Rouen fortress began to open.
"Reinforcements! The brothers of Rouen fortress are with us!"
"Put more strength! Slaughter all those Norsemen!"
"God wills it!"
Through the gap in the gate, the garrison of Rouen fortress began to pour out, and the Reims army, seeing that sight, attempted a counterattack with voices full of hope.
But for them it was misfortune, and for the North Sea army a most welcome sound rang out from the northern side of the battlefield.
[buuuuuung-!]
"Sons of Hel, forward-!"
"You who were forged by the winter of Nordland! To the battlefield!"
"March with one step! Master your instincts! Obey discipline!"
[cheok! cheok! cheok! cheok!]
Even while heading into the heart of chaos on a battlefield where ordinary men would instantly lose their wits, not a single one's stride wavered.
The captains of hundreds stationed at intervals in the ranks maintained an iron discipline with furious shouts, and at their head, the faces of Refil and Stórolf leading them were visible.
"Damn it! We have to break through them! Attack! Attack! Don't bother about the rear! Attack!"
At that sight, the Reims commander's eyes grew round; he gave up even keeping us in check and threw all his strength at Tostein's army.
"These bastards dare! We can't lose either! Leave the rear to the Garm Brotherhood! Kill the ones right in front of you first!"
[iyaaaaa-!]
The voice of Tostein, whose red hair, jutting out from under his helm, was striking, thrust his blade toward the Reims army.
With two forces colliding with the sole purpose of breaking through each other, the Rouen army had come out of the gate from the west, and the Garm Brotherhood was closing in from the north to crush every enemy on this field.
'He dares turn his back on me?'
Given that they were already encircled, the Reims commander's judgment that they had to enter Rouen fortress wasn't bad, but had he not underestimated the power of our cavalry far too much?
"Torbjörn! Sound the horn! Horsemen! Form ranks! Form ranks! Form ranks!"
My enormous voice, which momentarily drowned out all the noise of the battlefield, made the wits of the excited beasts and riders flash alike, and Torbjörn, who snatched out the horn with nimble movements, filled both cheeks with breath and blew.
[buuuuuuuuuuuuu-!!!]
Before the horn's echo even departed, all five hundred-odd horsemen who had finished forming ranks directed their horses' heads toward the enemy, gazing solely at me.
"I will erase them! Sound the charge! Raise your spears! Charge! Charge-!"
[buuuuuung-!]
[ppam- ppamppababababam-!]
[ihihihihing-! pureuk! pureureuk! pureuk! dugu- dugu- dugu-]
No sooner did I spur Camembert's flank with my heel than my black horse tossed his head and leaped forward.
"Brothers! Charge!"
"Fylkir! Fylkir-!"
"Helgi Ragnarsson!"
Only the up-and-down motion of Camembert, the path ahead, the enemies blocking my way, and the trajectory of my weapon remained in my mind.
Naturally, their commander had staked everything and ordered them to break through Tostein's army, but the soldiers who had to face the heated cavalry in the rear right now could not afford to do so.
Dumbfounded faces. All of them with mouths agape, pupils shaking. Before faces that had no idea what to do, I closed the distance far faster than they could think and bore down upon them.
[dagak- dagak-]
'Huu-'
As I exhaled the breath I had sharply drawn in and smoothly slid the shaft I held in my right hand forward, human flesh kicked off the earth and rose with a slight recoil.
[puk! keoheok! kwajik!]
A Reims warrior, stabbed exactly through the left chest and dying instantly, spat blood, and before those droplets even fell from the air, another warrior's helm split apart.
Eok!
Leaving behind a warrior who could not even leave that single-syllable scream and toppled backwards, I let go of the spear shaft that had served its purpose and split in half.
[seureung-]
The corpse impaled on the spear that had briefly stopped in midair passed beside me as I moved forward, and I transferred the greatsword from my left hand to my right, delivering a short downward slash using the moment Camembert's hooves touched the ground.
[huung- chok!]
"Kuk-!"
He would have felt only brief pain. Before my meteorite sword, which split even iron swords as if cutting paper, a helmet was not a good piece of armor.
[pureuk-! pureuk-! pureuk-! dagak- dagak-! dagak-!]
[huung- huung- huuung-]
When Camembert took one stride, the blade moved two or three times, and spears, swords, hand axes, helmets, and shields bravely thrust at me in the face of death were all equally split into two pieces.
"Ack-!"
"Kek!"
"Keureuk!"
Those who could leave a single-syllable scream were the lucky ones.
[seogeok! peoseok! seogeok! chwak- pusyut!]
[dageunik! dageunik!]
Where the black horse, racing like a gale, had passed, only the sound of the sword cutting something and fountains of blood gushing from the severed spots remained.
At last, when the brave warriors of Reims who had been watching that sight could no longer thrust their spears at me and could not bring themselves to block Camembert's path,
the noises that had vanished returned to my ears, and before my eyes stood the Reims commander whom I had marked as prey.
"Wo- wo- Camembert. Wo-!"
[pureureuk! pureuk! ihihihihing-!]
Having galloped at full force with his master after a long while, Camembert, his body thoroughly heated, reared up on his forelegs and let out a long neigh, resisting the strength of my thighs that tightened around his waist, but in the end he tossed his head and snorted according to my will.
Before him, the enemy commander, who had gone pale, looked a bit older than he had from afar; indeed, the skin of his face and his physique showed that he had lived a life somewhat removed from combat.
[seuk-]
That greenish sword had cut so many men, trees, and steel, yet its edge was not chipped and not a single drop of blood clung to it.
"Wha— what is—"
[teolsseok]
When I thrust the tip of the giant sword forward, the enemy commander simply collapsed where he stood, and the guards around him forcibly moved their trembling bodies to block the space between him and me.
Look at them, fulfilling the duty given to them to the very end even before certain death.
The Frankish warriors indeed knew courage.
[iyaaaaaaa-!]
[aaaaak-!]
[Push them back! Send them to the Seine!]
[Retreat! Retreat to the fortress!]
[Close the gate quickly!]
The din of the battlefield playing like background music told me that this fight, into which four armies had been instantly entangled, was drawing to a close, and at last I lowered my head, which had been surveying the field, and looked again at the enemy who still sat collapsed.
"I am the Fylkir of the North Sea, Helgi Ragnarsson. You, splendid commander, will you surrender?"
If not, then only death awaits.
Having somehow grasped the unspoken words, the enemy commander, his expression a mixture of fear and humiliation, bowed his head with great difficulty and replied to me.
"I am Hincmar, Archbishop of Reims. I and my subordinates surrender to the Fylkir of the North Sea. I beg you, show us mercy."
All of you, lower your swords.
As he quietly addressed the guards around him, both his eyes were tightly shut.
☆☆☆☆☆ Reference Materials ☆☆☆☆☆
This is talent.jpeg
It was a chaotic battle...!
First of all, because the North Sea army's scale was so massive, defeat was actually predetermined... but they suffered far too heavily...!
The absence of information is so terrifying...!