Chapter 421: THE Truth -2
Lothair would never admit it loudly to the shivering Frankish infantry forming up behind him, but the deep fear was chewing on his bones.
He had fought countless wars for Emperor Louis. He had slaughtered rebellions and crushed rival lords.
But this was different... Fighting the Iron Kingdom felt like trying to stop an avalanche with a wooden shield.
However, fear wouldn’t win the war.
Lothair pushed the dark thoughts to the back of his mind.
He was a commander of thirty thousand men, and he had a job to do.
"Get the men moving," Lothair ordered sharply, clapping his hands together. "I want the vanguard pushing into the tree line right now. Keep the bronze cannons strictly in the center of the column. Do not let the carts sink into the mud, or I will personally whip the engineers."
"Right away, Lord Lothair!" Gauzlin saluted quickly, eager to escape the conversation.
The Frankish Marshal ran down the beach, screaming loud orders at the infantry captains.
Slowly, the massiveh beast of the southern army began to crawl into the Norwegian forest.
It was an nightmare from the very first step.
The ground wasn’t flat... It was a rugged, uneven mess of exposed tree roots, hidden rocks, and ankle-deep mud.
The carts carrying the fifty bronze cannons started to groan and crack under the immense strain.
"Push, damn it!" a Frankish sergeant roared, whipping the back of a draft horse. "Put your shoulders into the wheels! Push!"
Dozens of exhausted soldiers shoved their shoulders against the spokes, slipping and sliding in the freezing dirt as they tried to haul the heavy artillery up a steep, pine-covered ridge.
The primitive muskets slung over their backs constantly snagged on the low-hanging branches, slowing the march to a painful crawl.
"Keep your eyes on the trees!" Lothair yelled, riding a stolen Danish warhorse near the front of the massive column.
"If you see a shadow move, you shoot it!"
The forest was entirely too dark. The ancient pine trees grew close together that they almost blocked out the morning sun.
They marched for hours.
Though Lothair kept his hand resting heavily on the hilt of his broadsword, the expected Viking ambush never came.
No rifle bullets rained down from the high ridges. No screaming berserkers charged out of the thick brush.
It was just... quiet.
"Maybe they really didn’t guard the back door..." Gauzlin muttered, riding up beside Lothair.
The Marshal was sweating heavily despite the freezing air, his face flushed from the ride. "We have been marching for nearly four hours, my Lord. We haven’t seen a single northern scout. Not even a footprint."
"That doesn’t comfort me, Gauzlin." Lothair grunted, his eyes scanning the dense undergrowth.
"King Erik knows we landed. He has to know. Thirty thousand men and fifty heavy bronze cannons do not just sneak onto a beach."
"Then where the hell are they?" Gauzlin asked, wiping his wet brow.
"Are they just cowering behind their steel cannons at the port? If they are, we will just haul our bronze to the ridge and blow them to absolute pieces from behind."
"Send the forward scouts ahead," Lothair ordered, ignoring the Marshal’s sudden burst of empty confidence.
"Tell them to push another mile up this ridge. I want to know what is waiting for us before I drag these cannons any further."
Gauzlin nodded, quickly signaling a dozen lightly armored Frankish riders.
The scouts spurred their horses and kicked up wet dirt as they disappeared into the dark, twisting path ahead.
The massive army ground to a temporary halt. The infantry entirely collapsed into the snow and mud, gasping for breath and rubbing their freezing, blistered hands.
The engineers hammered wedges under the cannon wheels to keep them from rolling backward down the steep hill.
Lothair sat tall in his leather saddle, unmoving... He listened.
He hated the silence.
In his long experience, silence in enemy territory meant you were already walking inside the jaws of a trap; the teeth just hadn’t clamped shut yet.
Nearly twenty long minutes passed.
Suddenly, the rapid sound of galloping hooves echoed through the dense trees.
One of the forward scouts burst through the thick brush, his horse panting and covered in white foam.
The scout looked terrified.
He wasn’t bleeding, and there were no Viking arrows sticking out of his shield, but his face was pale.
"Report!" Lothair commanded, kicking his horse forward to meet the panicked rider.
"Did you find King Erik’s defensive lines?"
"No, Lord Lothair!" the scout gasped, pulling hard on his reins to stop his nervous horse.
"We didn’t find any men! We didn’t see a single Viking rifleman!"
"Then why the fucking hell are you shaking like a wet dog?" Gauzlin snapped angrily, riding up beside Lothair.
"Because of the road, Marshal!" the scout stuttered, pointing a finger back toward the dark trail he had just ridden down.
"The road?" Lothair frowned. "We are in the middle of a wild Norwegian forest. There are no roads here, just hunting trails."
"That is what we thought, my Lord," the scout swallowed hard, "But just a half-mile ahead... the dense trees suddenly stop. The mud and the rocks are gone."
"What do you mean the mud is gone?" Lothair asked quietly, his hand gripping his sword hilt.
"It is a road, Lord Lothair," the scout whisperedg.
"...a flat road cutting through the forest, leading straight toward the port. It is paved with crushed gravel and thick wooden beams. It is wide enough to fit our heavy bronze cannons side-by-side."
Lothair stared at the scout.
Why in the name of the gods would the Iron Kingdom spend incredible amounts of time and resources building a smooth, heavy-duty artillery road in the middle of a dense forest, unless they fully intended for someone to find it?
"Gauzlin..." Lothair said softly, not taking his eyes off the dark trail ahead.
"Yes, Lord Lothair?" the Marshal asked, sounding entirely nervous now.
"If you were King Erik, and you had ten thousand repeating rifles..." Lothair murmured, "Would you actually bother hiding in the bushes to ambush an army of thirty thousand men... or would you just build a convenient road to lure them where you wanted them to stand?"
"...."
The silence hung heavily in the pine forest.
Lord Lothair stared at the scout, his mind spinning with complex traps.
He had convinced himself that King Erik was a tactical genius, luring thirty thousand Frankish soldiers into a paved deathtrap.
"Hmm..." Marshal Gauzlin rubbed his chin.
He looked down the trail, not looking scared at all. "I really don’t think so, Lord Lothair."
Lothair snapped his head around, his eyes narrowing. "You don’t think what?"
"I don’t think it is a trap," Gauzlin shrugged smoothly,"Maybe they are just building new villages. Or maybe they are getting ready to build a logging camp right here in this forest."
Lothair blinked.
He lowered his hand from the hilt of his broadsword, caught off guard by the simple answer.
"A logging camp?"
"Of course, my Lord~" Gauzlin chuckled, waving his hand at the endless sea of pine trees surrounding them.
"Look around us... Norway has endless resources. They need timber to build those ironclad ships and trading cogs, don’t they? And the mountains are probably full of raw iron. Maybe they are ready to make new forges here too."
The Marshal pointed down the path toward where the road supposedly began.
"After all, why else would they go through the hell of building a flat road out here?"
"King Ragnar is obsessed with industry. You cannot haul thousands of tons of timber and raw iron ore through the mud on foot. They need carts. They need proper roads. We just happened to stumble onto one of their new supply routes."
A very strange feeling washed over Lord Lothair.
Lothair’s paranoid tactical mind ran through the logic again and again.
A road for logging.
A road for moving heavy iron from the mountains to the port.
It made absolute sense... it was the most normal, practical reason in the world.
The Iron Kingdom was expanding its infrastructure.
It wasn’t a magical death trap designed specifically for the Frankish vanguard... it was just a road.
For the first time in a very long time, the great commander didn’t think of that.
He suddenly felt incredibly stupid. He had been so terrified of the Iron Kingdom’s reputation that he was seeing ghosts hiding in the trees.
"..." Lothair let out a breath that turned into white mist. "You might actually be right, Gauzlin."
"Of course I am right, my Lord~" Gauzlin grinned widely, "These northern savages are finally learning how to lay down some gravel. We should thank them for doing the hard labor for us. This road will save us hours of miserable marching."
However, Lothair quickly shook off his embarrassment.
A good commander didn’t dwell on his own foolishness; he adapted to the clear advantage.
"Get the carts moving,"
"If there is a paved road ahead, we take it. I want those bronze cannons hauled onto the gravel immediately. We push for the port before the sun starts dropping."
"You heard the Lord!" Gauzlin roared, pulling his horse around and shouting at the infantry.
"Move your lazy asses! We have a clean road ahead!"
The relief that washed over the thirty thousand Frankish soldiers was palpable.
The struggle of pushing fifty heavy bronze cannons through the mud had nearly broken their spirits.
Knowing there was a flat surface just half a mile ahead gave them a massive burst of energy!
The massive draft horses snorted and pulled with everything they had.
The wheels of the artillery carts groaned in protest, slowly grinding their way forward through the thick brush.
Though the march was still exhausting, the promise of the road kept the men pushing.
When the vanguard finally broke through the dense trees and stepped onto the paved surface, a genuine cheer erupted from the Frankish ranks.
It was exactly as the scout had described... it was a flat road made of tightly packed crushed gravel, supported by evenly spaced wooden beams to keep the earth from sinking.
It was wide enough to easily fit two heavy artillery carts side-by-side.
"By the heavens..." a tired Frankish engineer gasped, dropping to his knees and patting the gravel with his hands. "It is actually solid. We don’t have to push the wheels anymore!"
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