—————————————————————–
Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Shio
—————————————————————–
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
How long had the history of fighting existed? Probably since the Earth came into existence, or even before.
Then how long had the history of siege warfare existed? Probably since the concept of a home was created.
From sunny hills to caves, trying to block them, or break through them. Siege warfare evolved with time.
Anyway, we had now created a few toys, derived from Roman knowledge, to confront the essence of civilization built on this land by the Romans several centuries too early.
“It’s fortunate there are many good trees around. Why don’t the Angles make ships with these trees? I really can’t understand. They must have forgotten all the wisdom of their ancestors.”
While I supervised the general housekeeping of the camp, setting up the perimeter and meticulously checking various drainage facilities, Ivarr and Sigurd led the carpenters and craftsmen in cutting down nearby trees and enthusiastically making various siege engines.
In fact, Vikings, or rather we Norsemen, didn’t really fit with siege engines.
I once thought that for Norsemen, a siege engine was just a long axe to break down the wooden doors of farmhouses. But surprisingly, we were well-versed in siege engines and their operation.
In the past, seeing such mismatched advanced items like preparing a circular site for building a fort, or catapults (!!) to be placed within Aros’s walls, I had doubted the existence of aliens… but in fact, all of this was knowledge learned while working as mercenaries under the Roman Empire that had survived until now.
And did you know what was even more surprising? We were still working as mercenaries for Eastern Rome, not the fallen Western one.
‘In that sense, perhaps we were the true descendants of Western Rome.’
What was the basic motto of the Roman Empire? Guardians of civilization? Wrong. Wasn’t plunder, fraud, and ruthless trade war the very identity of Rome! Add to that polytheism and slavery!
Therefore, the kingdoms of the Norsemen, the spiritual successors(?) of ancient Rome, were truly the Third Rome, and their holy city Uppsala was certainly Nova-Nova Roma following Miklagaror (Constantinople). Refute, and you were kebab-Slav.
“How is it, Helgi? Isn’t it quite impressive for something made in the past two weeks?”
Sigurd’s voice, boasting about the freshly made siege engines as if they were his own children, was full of pride.
“It’s really great, Sigurd. At this rate, Edmund will surrender trembling.”
“Haha! I wish that were true, but I don’t think that spirited king will surrender so easily.”
In this now familiar scenery, we had already spent about two weeks in this camp.
With the addition of 25 ships and 1,000 warriors led by Sigurd, about 1,600 people were staying in this camp (the rest were performing their assigned roles in Dover and Rendlesham), and with the additional 400 troops that Sigebryht of Rendlesham had persuaded and brought from the major lords of the east, a large force of 2,000 men was encamped outside the walls.
‘It’s a ridiculously small number for a siege…’
The reason we could intimidate a city surrounded by solid walls with this number was simple. The city was smaller than expected, and the walls were low. Moreover, hadn’t we already greatly defeated the enemy in the field?
If we could just concentrate well on one side, it seemed like we could really overcome those mediocre-height walls.
‘I know that in East Asia during this period, the basic unit of troops played in the tens of thousands…’
Well, anyway, what was important now was crushing Edmund’s will to resist and those walls. It was the era of the Tang Dynasty and Unified Silla in Northeast Asia, but unless they had the capacity to send tens or hundreds of thousands on an expedition all the way here, those numbers were actually meaningless.
And in my opinion, 2,000 men were enough for this place now.
“Edmund will never open the gates and come out. But we can’t keep surrounding this castle forever. Someone might come running from around to save that loud-voiced cyning.”
Ivarr, who had approached me and Sigurd as we examined the catapult with a sling attached and the siege ram with a roof, reminded us of the operation plan one last time.
“We’ll throw some stone fragments gathered from around, launch a few dead cows to break their morale, then smash the gates and climb the walls. Of course, we need to fill that waterway first. Fortunately, we have shovels and two hands, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”
‘He’s talking as if it’s so easy when he’s not the one digging.’
Still, it was fortunate that the surrounding ground wasn’t too hard, so the shovel blades went in smoothly.
“Well, is there anything else I don’t know?”
As I, Sigurd, and the section leaders gathered around all shook their heads, Ivarr nodded and finally gave the attack order.
“Then let’s begin.”
“Yes, Jarl Ivarr!”
“Understood!”
People scattered efficiently to their assigned positions.
Amidst those systematic movements, I moved towards the Aros warriors assigned as reserves. Soon, I heard Sigurd’s shout from among the siege engines poking their heads towards the walls.
“Fire!”
“Pull the ropes!”
[Click! Thud! … Whee- Boom!]
The sight of five stones launched into the sky simultaneously at Sigurd’s signal and hitting the gate was almost surreal at a glance.
“Reload!”
“Turn the pulley. Spread the sling again. There, organize the ropes! Ropes!…Now loading the stone, everyone get out!”
“Alright, one- two- hup!”
“Heave!”
[Clank!]
“Ready!”
“Then fire!”
“Get out of there, I said!”
“Pull the ropes!”
[Click! Thud! … Whee- Boom!]
“Good heavens, if I were on those walls, I would have prayed to Odin. To please let me die by the enemy’s blade. Dying like that is truly terrible.”
Storolf, the super rookie seeing this sight for the first time, gripped his shield and spear tightly with wide eyes, as if he were on those walls himself.
“Then it’s fortunate, Storolf, that you’re on the opposite side of those walls.”
“Indeed it is, Jarl Helgi.”
[Whee- Bang!]
“Whew- that one hit properly?”
I whistled while following the trajectory of another launched stone. There were many ownerless houses around (they must have all fled), and after dismantling a few of them, they made quite good ammunition. The catapults alone should work hard for at least half a day, right?
As the warriors’ movements in handling the catapults very carefully, lest the tightly twisted ropes break or unravel, became more and more proficient, time flew by quickly, and the attack that had started after breakfast finally ended by dinnertime.
The morale of our army, which received smooth supplies without separate plundering as Rendlesham and the surrounding villages in our rear base, or base camp, additionally submitted to our forces (Sigebryht had very actively persuaded the local lords), was stern.
On the other hand, the walls that had been happily beaten for half a day and the Angles on them didn’t look to be in a good mood even from this distance.
‘Edmund is not visible either.’
He had been shouting at the top of his lungs as if he had rented this world when he was boasting, but when the actual fight started, he disappeared… It was a wise move as a king, but at the same time, it was an act that lost our respect.
If you asked what use it was to gain the enemy’s respect, I had nothing to say. What I meant was that it didn’t save face. And this thing called face was extremely important in warrior society.
“Whoa- Whoa- Let’s go, you.”
[Snort! Clop- Clop-]
With Storolf and a few guards behind me, I slowly rode my horse towards the front of our army’s line, which was stretched out in a long line in front of the camp that had finished today’s quota of firing.
I held the horse’s reins, while Storolf held the rope binding one of Edmund’s guards captured in the last battle.
This prisoner, tightly bound and walking with somewhat tired steps, was an Anglian warrior who had charged at me without giving up until the last moment. He had been knocked down by a blow to the head from my shield, but fortunately hadn’t died.
I wanted to use this friend to talk to Edmund once more.
If I gave him a chance to look around at the cracked walls and the terrified expressions of the people, Edmund might come to his senses a bit. Even if not, that was fine. All of this process was part of the siege. We must continue to erode their will.
‘Hoo- Well then.’
Taking a deep breath, I shouted loudly towards Beodericsworth, which was clearly tense:
“Edmund! I am Helgi Ragnarsson! Here is your faithful warrior! If you agree to talk with me, I will release him!”
Despite the many people surely behind those walls, my shout echoed and dominated this space without any resistance. Fortunately, there was no mishap like having to block arrows as we had experienced in Canterbury last time.
‘That’s good, if arrows had flown again, I was gritting my teeth ready to throw dead livestock for the rest of the evening.’
“Jarl Helgi! Please wait a moment! The Cyning will answer soon!”
“I understand, brave Angle! Let your Cyning know that I am ready to talk at any time!”
It seemed like I might start to enjoy talking with the people beyond the walls now.
“Amazing. That Edmund still has the courage to face the Jarl. I worry he might wet himself!”
The Anglian prisoner, tightly bound all over, looked even more dejected at Storolf’s scathing criticism.
“Storolf.”
After calling the name of the super rookie with the nasty habit of taunting captured enemies and their lords, and giving him a look not to do so, I gently scratched the neck of the brown horse that was shaking its head trying to get rid of flies.
[Snort- Snort-]
Eventually, a few new heads appeared on the previously quiet wall, and finally Edmund’s now familiar brown head popped out.
“Is that Jarl Helgi there?”
At last, Edmund’s low voice reached my ears clearly in the space where even the wind and leaves seemed to hold their breath.
“I am indeed Helgi, Cyning Edmund.”
“I see, so you are Helgi Ragnarsson.”
Fortunately for him, the wound from my spear in the previous battle seemed to have missed any vital organs, as he didn’t appear to have much trouble moving, but judging by his poor complexion and slow movements like an old man, he didn’t seem to be in a normal physical state.
… Did he shout all day in such a physical condition? He must have extraordinary willpower.
“Hunta! Lord, thank you! You’re alive!”
“My Cyning…!”
No sooner had we begun our staring contest than Edmund, recognizing the prisoner tied up beside me, shouted loudly as if screaming, and the prisoner, whose name I now knew to be Hunta, showed emotion as if he might burst into tears.
As I watched that scene somewhat sourly (doesn’t it make me look like the bad guy? We both fought risking our lives equally), Storolf, reading my mood, jabbed the prisoner’s side.
“You barbarian! Infidel! Respect my warrior’s honor! Jarl Helgi, you are a hero capable of handling 100 warriors! Please show mercy befitting that! I beg you…!”
‘… Where did that attitude go from when we first arrived, when he was enthusiastically insulting us? Now he’s looking for honor and mercy?’
Did he come to his senses after getting beaten by a few catapult shots from behind the wall? No, rather than that, how could he care so much about his warrior while showing so little concern for the well-being of the people trembling behind the walls…
“Calm yourself, Cyning Edmund. I will return your warrior now. Please accept my small gift. Storolf?”
At my instruction, Storolf untied the tightly bound ropes. And Hunta, as if unable to believe this situation, moved cautiously towards the gate despite my gesture to quickly go to his master.
‘Stop looking back and just go in already.’
What would I do with you if I caught you again?
Edmund, who had been watching this series of farces with a tense expression, finally seemed to realize that I sincerely intended to talk, and asked in a slightly relaxed voice:
“I thank you for your mercy, truly honorable heathen. So what do you have to tell me? Let me say first, regardless of your kindness, I will never kneel to an infidel.”
To Edmund, who had quickly spat out what he wanted to say first, I had only this to say:
“Do you not want to live, Cyning Edmund?”
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
With that, chapter 16 is done! Honestly, Edmund reminds me of Edmaris from Reincarnated as a Slime. They both talked big game until it came time to face the consequences.
Thank you SO much for reading! As usual peeps, hit up Oihs in the Arcane Translations discord for any grammar errors.
Dude is so dead
Thank for the chapter!
Well, there’s a reason why he’s known as Edmund the Martyr