Xantos's army had been sitting in Suth Seaxe for the past few years, glowering across the border at the Saxons. With the chaos and defeats on the other fronts, the orders to advance had never come, and the men were constantly spending what little money they had in the taverns.
One blustery autumn day Delta Foxtrot Sveinsson, Jarod Cain Weather-Hat, and Ed-boy Yngvarsson were whiling away the time in one of these taverns. Barbarossa Eight-Fingers was with them too, for while he was a furious and bloodthirsty fighter on the battlefield, he was also a amiable companion, once he had calmed down of course. As the four companions passed the time in conversation, the door suddenly flew open, and NRDL the White stepped into the tavern.
NRDL was a young man, still green around the edges, but turning into a fine warrior none the less. For the past year he had been running messages between the various armies of the Viking. While not necessarily the most pleasant man to be around, he was popular in Lord Xantos's camp, for he brought news of the battles that the men were desperately craving. Thus Delta signalled the bartender for another round of drinks, and pulled up a seat for NRDL.
"Aha my boy!" Delta yelled as he slapped NRDL on the back, much to his chagrin, "It seems like years since we've last seen you!"
"It's barely been a year," NRDL replied.
"I suppose you're right," Delta muttered, "Still, when you're as bored as we are every day seems like twenty."
"Aye," Jarod replied, "I remember telling Ed-boy that we should ride the horses to some village for some market they were holding
in three days time. Of course I happened to forget the date and showed up at his tent the next day!"
Ed-boy nodded. "And we still went to the village anyways!"
Barbarossa looked up from his drink and rolled his eyes, "Just shut up so that NRDL can tell us about the fighting already."
Everybody suddenly hushed up and looked expectantly at NRDL, who sighed and took a swing from his tankard.
"Did you hear the news about Mierce yet?"
"What news?" asked Delta, "Didn't we take the province already?"
"Aye, but the Saxons came back in force and King Sigurd was forced to leave the province without a fight. It happened not long after I last arrived in Suth Seaxe."
"I always took Sigurd to be a coward," muttered Ed-boy.
"The Saxons outnumbered him nearly three to one," rebuked NRDL, "and half of King Sigurd's force was peasants."
"So we lost Mierce," said Barbarossa, "What about Middle Engle?"
"The Saxons had managed to shuffle some reinforcements to help their strongholds. A fat load of good it did them too.
Lord Cnut just cut them down with arrows and catapult rocks before charging in to finish off the rest.
It was a horrible blood-bath. All of their fighting troops were killed by hails of arrows, so only the peasants and garrison troops were left to face our huscarls.
All told I think that we lost twenty-five of our soldiers to kill almost ten times that number of Saxons."
Delta smiled into his tankard as Jarod scowled. "Cut down by arrows?" Jarod muttered, "where in Hel is Cnut's honour?"
"What we need now is victories, not honour," replied Delta. "Honour won't bring the dead back to life."
"Aye, but maybe they'll die a little easier," retorted Jarod, "But enough of this. What else happened, NRDL? What were the king's
plans once the campaigning season came again?"
"Only a simultaneous attack on four Saxon provinces at once. Some said that the King was mad, but most of the targets were lightly defended, and several were merely feigns to keep the Saxon army holed up in Mierce. Overall I'd say that the plan was far too ambitious, but not foolhardy."
"And how did the King know that these targets were lightly defended?" asked Barbarossa.
"From his spies, I suppose.
A couple of them had apparently told him that the Saxons where gearing up for an offensive, so the King wanted to keep them on the wrong foot for as much as possible."
The men around the table nodded slightly. "And how did things go?" asked Ed-boy.
NRDL shook his head. "Not good. The New Welsh Army met the forces of Lord Ælfweard in Wrocen Saetan. Er... you know who Lord Ælfweard is, right?"
"No," said Delta, "Enlighten us."
"Well Lord Ælfweard is pretty much the best general the Saxons have period. He's probably even the best general in the whole of the
British Isles."
"What?" bellowed Barbarossa, "Surely you haven't forgotten about Lord Xantos?"
"I'll admit that Xantos is an able general, but Ælfweard is still better. Perhaps not by much, but by enough. Remember about the
defeat of the Old Army of Wales? Well, Lord Ælfweard was the general of the Saxon army at that battle. And let me tell you, the New Welsh Army didn't fare all that better.
Lord Ælfweard was outnumbered nearly two to one, but all of his men were veterans from earlier battles.
We managed to kill half of his force, but still, we were never in danger of winning.
The army attacking Hwiecce was mostly peasants, but against sixty or so archers would have been able to win easily.
However the Saxon King had managed to gather together a band of sixty horsemen before the battle.
The results were predictable.
The attack on Middel Seaxe didn't go anywhere.
The Saxons didn't want to advance into catapult range and we didn't have the troops to tackle them head-on.
Eventually a snow-storm just blew through and both sides returned to their camps."
Jarod frowned at NRDL. "A snowstorm? Were we really campaigning so late in winter?"
"Aye, we did," replied NRDL. "However we happened to lose a lot of supplies in Middel Engle."
"What?" asked Delta, "Lost how exactly?"
"The Saxons came in force to take the province back.
The last I heard the defenders had retreated to a couple strongholds and were waiting for reinforcements."
"That can't be all the news you have!" exclaimed Barbarossa. "Surely you have more."
"Aye, but I hardly want to keep Middle Engle waiting."
Everyone around the table frowned as they puzzled out NRDL's statement.
"So... you got that promotion your wanted?" asked Ed-boy.
"I suppose that you could say that."