Chapter 322: Stone Battle (1)

‘Facing an overwhelmingly powerful enemy force, you abandon your strongholds and wage guerrilla warfare.’

This is a rational approach.

But when you study military history, you’ll find many who chose not to do this and instead engaged in pitched battles or launched surprise attacks—only to be defeated. This wasn’t solely because those commanders were foolish or reckless.

The moment you abandon your strongholds, the supply problem becomes nearly impossible to solve. Moreover, this was an era before nationalism or strong central authority had emerged. The soldiers’ anxiety about abandoning their own villages was considerable.

Eugene’s pragmatism and the abundance of guides proved catastrophic for the Viking coalition.

“Beyond that ridge lies Jarl Garm’s village.”

A prisoner captured from the pirate archipelago pointed at a stone mountain. One of the allied Jarls had a village beyond it.

“The terrain is terrible, and I don’t see any sea or rivers nearby. You’re saying a village that large is out there?”

“My lord. The way he’s talking is suspicious. Shall we make an example of him too? We have prisoners to spare.”

“It’s true! Why would Garm have left a village behind if he didn’t have confidence it wouldn’t be found?”

The tribal warrior pressed a skinning dagger to the prisoner’s forehead, and the captive screamed out.

“Believe me! I swear on my life…”

“Forget that. Swear with your life.”

“I swear with my life!”

The Vikings prided themselves on their cruelty, believing themselves the masters of torture, from the blood eagle onward. But today they learned that the interior had its own share of demons.

Both sides loved fighting and killing, but the Dark Elves slaughtered and butchered livestock as part of their daily routine. The prisoners intuited that this skill could just as easily be applied to humans.

-My relatives live there. Even if I die, I won’t tell you a thing.

-This is your last chance. Tell me the location.

-Are you going to threaten me with your faith again? Go ahead! The Sovereign is already watching me. If I die with dignity, he will gladly take me to Valhalla.

Eugene glanced up at the sky for a moment, then nodded.

-I’ll kill you slowly. Slowly enough that the Sovereign grows bored waiting and leaves.

Twenty-four hours after the first interrogation began, the brave warrior was now begging for a merciful death. After witnessing that brutal scene, the other Vikings prostrated themselves.

“Your Excellency! We don’t have time for this! At this very moment, monks are dying at the hands of those vicious savages!”

The Bishop of Kent Monastery pleaded earnestly. He had joined forces with the holy knights after hearing of the situation while attempting to convert a conquered village.

-We’ll handle the rear guard. Please escape quickly!

-But if you do that, the priests…

-‘Those who die on the path of faith are not dead—they still live, only you cannot see them.’ Don’t worry about us. Go!

In addition to the priests who had previously been enslaved, armed priests captured after the defeat were now added to the tally.

The Bishop of Kent Monastery wanted to rescue them all. Not only were priests from his own order captured, but priests from neighboring orders who had chosen sacrifice in the name of justice were all brothers.

Of course, Eugene had no intention of rushing in blindly. His greatest concern, as always, was not a glorious victory, but minimal casualties.

“Calm down. They’ve tasted the benefits of hostages, so they won’t treat the prisoners carelessly.”

“But these are people who don’t understand reason!”

“That’s exactly why we need to target the village. Don’t we need some usable hostages of our own to attempt negotiations—prisoner exchanges or anything else?”

“Ah! I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

He wasn’t wrong. Even villains who despicably used clergy as human shields would still value their own families’ lives.

“Do you plan to rescue everyone who’s been captured?”

Valda asked with concern. She was accompanying the army, having come out of the Moving Castle ahead of the mountain campaign.

“From what the prisoners told us, the banded Vikings are quite cunning. The moment we get entangled with hostages, it becomes a headache of a fight.”

“I have no intention of being dragged along to that.”

The couple whispered so only they could hear, then glanced at the relieved bishop as he departed.

“They’ll demand concessions we can’t accept in exchange for the hostages. Like leaving this entire area untouched.”

“If we let things slide because of hostages, other Vikings will do the same.”

Valda was gentle in temperament but no idealist. She could be ruthless when necessary. Otherwise, it would be impossible for her to manage the family in Eugene’s absence.

“Still, if the captured priests are sacrificed, there will be talk. Even if they can’t exactly blame you.”

“That’s why we need to capture as many villagers as possible. It’s better to present generous terms to an opponent who refuses and then attack them, rather than simply rejecting negotiations and attacking outright.”

As they crossed the stone mountain, a wide basin appeared. A large village had formed along a stream flowing down from the mountains.

“What a perfect location.”

Thanks to the prisoner who had visited here several times, they found it immediately. Otherwise, they would have passed by without ever discovering it.

“Well guided.”

Eugene personally led the guide to the cart where the other Viking prisoners were held. When the guide climbed aboard, Eugene tossed him a gold coin.

“A gold coin!”

The guide caught it with trembling hands. Giving rewards to prisoners was rare enough, but gold instead of silver?

“For excellent information. When the war ends, I’ll release you with minimum survival equipment.”

Eugene said this loudly enough for the other prisoners to hear.

Among Vikings, the concept of a compatriot who sold out their own was rare. The extraordinary information fee became a tremendous motivator for the prisoners, who had previously followed out of fear alone.

“Guard.”

“Yes, Your Excellency.”

“Remember this man. If anyone harasses him or tries to take the gold coin, kill them.”

“I will follow your orders.”

Everyone witnessed how their lord protected even the smallest details. The Vikings, already inclined to share information freely, looked at Eugene as if hoping he would call on them next.

*

Meanwhile, in the basin Viking village, they were busy producing battle rations.

“Can’t I just eat one? I’m so hungry.”

The girl’s stomach growled repeatedly as she packaged steamed potatoes and dried fish.

“No! You need to think about your brothers and father, fighting tirelessly through the mountains against the enemy!”

“Okay.”

Faced with the united front of her mother and aunt, the girl quietly conceded.

“Today’s frog gruel will have frogs in it too.”

“Ugh.”

Frogs were an ingredient even Vikings were reluctant to use, except in extreme famine. But when all food had to be scraped together and sent to the warriors, there was no choice.

CRASH!

At that moment, a boy burst through the door as if to break it down.

“The Britannian army is coming! We have to run right now!”

“How did they get here so soon?!”

“There’s no time to talk! Hurry, go west!”

The confusion was brief. As a born raiding people, they excelled at responding to plunder. The problem was that none of the village’s inhabitants had ever been attacked by a cavalry force of this scale.

Thud thud thud thud!

“Damn it. We’re too late! Everyone, fall back!”

“We need to set up obstacles at the village entrance…”

The villagers’ faces contorted as they saw the light cavalry already forming a blockade to cut off their retreat.

“How many of them are there?”

For Vikings, horses were a privilege reserved for a few of high status, including their lord. The cavalry circling the hills to form an encirclement was a sight beyond their imagination.

“Come back! I said it’s too late!”

“If we’re trapped, we’re dead!”

Some villagers tried to escape through gaps where the encirclement hadn’t yet formed, but it was a reckless act.

“We don’t need to capture everyone. Kill only those bearing weapons.”

Rex and his tribal horse archers aimed their bows according to the rules of engagement.

“Come and get some, you… Kgh!”

“Kuh!”

Those who charged forward with axes and spears fell with arrows piercing them from both sides. Then a few boys, their faces twisted with anger, tried to pick up the weapons the fallen had dropped.

“Don’t pick those up!”

“But Mother!”

“The living have to survive!”

But the women stopped them. They had noticed the horse archers immediately aiming their bows at the boys.

“Wise choice. Capture them all.”

As the boys retreated with frustrated faces, Rex lowered his bow and picked up a lasso.

Meanwhile, Eugene stood at the front of the village. They had barricaded the entrance, and villagers armed with farming tools and axes had taken defensive positions.

“Stop the attack!”

An old man came out of the village with both hands raised.

“We have no intention of fighting recklessly. Only women, children, and retired warriors are here.”

He had been brought to Britannia as a slave, but over time had assimilated with the Vikings. He had been granted free status, taken a wife among them, and built a home.

“You. You’re Britannian?”

“Yes, Your Noble Lordship. If you guarantee our safety, we will surrender immediately.”

Surrender before battle began carried great weight. Raiders like the Vikings might respond with ‘So what?’ but civilized nobles treated such surrender with some dignity.

The old man knew this long-standing custom and had managed to rally support among the villagers to surrender.

“I won’t guarantee anything. Just become prisoners.”

“What?!”

When Eugene flatly refused, the old man who had been confused became even more flustered.

“Do you think I’m a fool? What meaning does the surrender of a hollow shell have when the lord and warriors are all gone? I know this is Jarl Garm’s village! He despicably used clergy as hostages and shields, so I will respond in kind! Drop your weapons immediately and come out and prostrate yourselves!”

The old man had appealed to mercy while emphasizing their harmlessness, but Eugene gestured to the horse archers.

When fire arrows took aim, screams erupted throughout the village. Ordinary arrows could be weathered with cover, but when they intended to burn the entire village to the ground, there was no answer.

“A noble Britannian lord cannot do this!”

“Burn it! When their backsides get hot, they’ll come running out on their own.”

The Dark Elf horse archers eagerly fired their fire arrows. This was exactly the kind of work they loved.

When fire arrows began falling on their own rooftops, the villagers abandoned all defense and rushed to put out the fires.

“You don’t have to burn everything! We surrender! Everyone, come out quickly!”

When the old man cried out desperately, the villagers one by one dropped their weapons and came outside. Even a child could see that the military disparity was insurmountable.

Once the villagers were tied up, subordinates who had inspected the communal food stores brought carts and loaded them. At the sight, Rex smiled.

“The Vikings got one thing right. They gather all their food in one place and tell us to take it freely.”

“Normally, each of these people stores food in their own homes. But this is wartime. They’re barbaric in most things, but when it comes to general mobilization orders, they’re quite advanced.”

When war broke out, under each Jarl’s command, the villagers gathered their food in one place. The storehouses, built on one-meter pillars to keep out rats, had chutes at the bottom.

“Open it.”

“I love this moment.”

The Dark Elves opened the gates blocking the chute. Grain poured into the carts in a steady stream.

Squeal-!

Neigh-!

The village livestock were also being slaughtered everywhere, transforming into meat. The Dark Elves were the world’s finest experts in this kind of work.

“My Lord! I don’t think there’s ever been a campaign as rewarding as this one!”

Everyone performed their duties with happy faces. In some ways, they shared similar DNA with the Vikings. Desires that had only accumulated under Eugene’s command were now being fully released in Midgard.

*

The allied Viking lords were stationed in the White Mountains. The name derived from the rock salt found throughout the area.

“This isn’t the time to be fighting a war like this.”

“After last year, the harvest was bad again this year. And when winter comes…”

Their situation wasn’t good either. Jarls like Garm, whose villages were hidden, had only brought their subordinates. The rest had to hide their people in various safe havens.

They were called safe havens, but they were far inferior to the villages. When winter set in, cold and hunger would swallow them whole.

“The enemy!”

And now, when new forces were appearing, the warriors under their command were growing increasingly anxious.

“The Britannians really don’t think about consequences, do they?”

“Bring the priests!”

Many Midgard lords did not yet fully grasp the existence of the Moving Castle. That was why they couldn’t understand what kind of audacity had led to a campaign of this scale.

Sending such a large army from Britannia to here was madness. Whether they succeeded or failed, the country would be severely shaken.

“We have to hold out no matter what. If they push in, we’re all dead.”

“Damn fanatics.”

That was why the lords gathered here believed this massive campaign wasn’t motivated by secular gain.

The prevailing opinion was that it was a crusade born of pure vengeance or religious fervor. That was the secret to the Vikings—normally difficult to unite—forming an alliance.

*

Before long, Eugene’s army faced the battle-ready Viking coalition. A shallow stream flowed between the two forces.

“There are quite a lot of them.”

“They mobilize everyone except the boys and the elderly as warriors.”

Valda and Eugene surveyed the lined-up Vikings. More than half wore no gambeson, armed with nothing but a single axe or spear.

But all wore fierce expressions, ready to fight. There was almost none of the fearful look typical of conscripts. Vikings were, in principle, composed entirely of volunteers.

A man who hid when it was time to fight was dishonorable and suffered a severe blow to his reputation. Furthermore, he was considered a doubter of the Sovereign’s faith, so all who could bear arms came to the battlefield of their own accord.

“Who gave you permission to crawl in here?”

“You’ll all become fertilizer here! We’ll farm your corpses!”

Well-armed Huskarls shouted at Eugene’s army, pressing axes to the necks of kneeling priests.

“Fight! You cowardly bastards!”

A Huskarl grabbed a stripped female priest by the throat and shouted, urging them to cross the stream and attack.

“Those who believe do not die even in death, and those who live in faith never truly die…”

“What’s this woman babbling about?”

Smack!

The female priest, who was praying calmly instead of begging for mercy, was struck across the face. When her screams echoed, the bishop and holy knights looked ready to shoot lightning from their eyes.

“We must rescue them immediately!”

“Now is not the time.”

The bishop and Homi spoke simultaneously.

“Oh?”

Eugene looked surprised as he turned to his sole retainer. She usually focused on serving him and rarely offered military opinions.

“The stream is shallow and there are no archers in sight. We shouldn’t give the enemy time. We should charge immediately to rescue the hostages.”

“Bishop. A shallow crossing is still a crossing. Among the prisoners we took from the previous village, there were more arrow-makers than food-producers. I didn’t see any bows in the village, which means there must be a hidden archer unit.”

Someone who had lost their voice suddenly found it again—how much had they been holding back?

But Homi was the opposite. Having lived in silence, she understood the value of words. She had developed the excellent habit of speaking only after careful thought and certainty.

Valda, a founding member alongside Eugene, and Homi, who had accumulated merit both great and small—the military capability expected of her was high, so she studied diligently and was frugal with words.

‘Now it would be sufficient to entrust her with an army.’

‘Not yet.’

‘I’ve spent years as a scout. More than sufficient.’

The couple communicated in sign language, hidden from the excited clergy.

A commander’s greatest virtue was sensing traps and knowing when to strike and when to withdraw. Homi, who had always served as a scout forecasting all manner of situations, was competent in this regard.

Meanwhile, the Vikings continued their threats.

“Come! Come and fight!”

“Are you just going to watch? Don’t you care about these people’s lives?”

Eugene calmed the bishop and holy knights, then sent a signal behind him.

“If you insist on seeing blood…”

A Huskarl who had been about to cut the female priest’s throat and display her froze. People began appearing from Eugene’s camp, dragged forward one after another.

“No!”

“Hannah! Mother!”

The Viking warriors screamed at the hostages kneeling on the opposite side.

“You bastard! You despicably took women as hostages?!”

“Is the priest you were about to slaughter not a woman?”

Eugene was exasperated before the berserking Huskarl. They had raided an entire large village, so they had far more hostages. As a result, the warriors of Jarl Garm’s tribe, one of four that formed the Viking coalition, fell into confusion.

“Calm down. Don’t let their despicable tricks get to you.”

“Calm? You said calm? Would you say the same if your family were captured?”

It wasn’t just infighting. Criticism was also directed at those holding the Garm villagers.

“You sons of bitches! You should be ashamed of becoming the Britannians’ lackeys!”

“…”

The warriors holding hostages on Eugene’s side were also Vikings. They were the tribe that had been offered chicken and had to choose an oath.

-It’s time to choose. No going back. Judge wisely.

-We will fight under the Count’s banner.

Abandoning their faith or land was out of the question. The Vikings chose to serve as mercenaries. One consolation was that the promise not to treat them as meat shields was genuine.

-You’re lending us these?!

-I’m not lending. I’m giving.

Every Viking who joined was issued a sword. In the iron-poor and impoverished Midgard, swords were luxury items used only by the most elite.

Eugene’s campaign treasury, accumulated from successive victories, was full of iron weapons, so he could distribute them freely. In battle they would use their familiar spears and axes, but the swords at their hips alone were enough to raise the Vikings’ spirits.

“We demand a prisoner exchange! Hand over everyone you’ve captured, and we will return them all without exception. Remember that this is an extremely generous offer.”

Eugene’s shout only increased the murmur among the Viking coalition. The number of hostages was incomparably in his favor, so a full exchange was unquestionably generous.

“What are you doing? Hurry up and accept!”

“Damn it! Didn’t we tell you to hide all the villagers? To think they all got captured like this—what kind of mess is this?”

“Are you joking right now? Our villages provided all that food, and you ate it happily!”

The furious demands of Garm and his warriors made the Jarls bite their lips.

Their families’ safety had turned their eyes upside down, but the moment the prisoner exchange ended, they would truly have nothing behind them. Moreover, they were already short on food to feed the warriors, and if they had to take on the villagers as well, their stores would be emptied in an instant.

One of the Jarls made a decision.

-Kill them.

He exchanged signals with his subordinates holding hostages through eye contact. In this situation, there was no other way than to trigger a spontaneous battle.

Slash!

Shing!

Priests were beheaded here and there, collapsing to the ground.

“No! Oh no!”

“May divine punishment fall upon those cruel beasts!”

As the Garm tribe screamed, the bishop and holy knights drew their swords. They looked ready to charge at any moment, even defying Eugene’s orders.

“S-shall we kill them?”

The converted Vikings looked at Eugene in confusion, and he sighed, shaking his head.

“What’s done is done. Even if we kill them equally, we gain nothing. Leave them alive. They’ll be useful later for luring out Garm’s warriors.”

As the hostages were being cleared, Eugene issued orders for the waiting troops to advance.

“Shield wall!”

“Block the crossing!”

The Vikings also formed a solid defense at the stream’s edge. If they charged head-on into that position, even Eugene’s army would suffer casualties during the crossing.

“Archemers, stand back. Caracal Special Forces, advance!”

The beautiful light-armored female warriors formed at the front.

The arrows that had targeted watchtowers at Knut’s port city were mostly recoverable, but now each shot would be used once. Eugene had no intention of wasting precious arrows here.

Dark Elf female warriors holding staff slings in teams of two loaded fist-sized stones. With the stream nearby, suitable ammunition was plentiful.

“Give them a stone rain.”

The female warriors spun half a turn and swung the staffs. Their tightly muscled limbs uncoiled like the ropes of a catapult.

Whoosh!

Whoosh!

The Vikings watched in a daze as the stones soared high into the sky and rained down upon them.

“Damn it…”

They had never experienced this kind of attack, but one thing was certain. Their shields seemed too thin to stop it.