[RFC Europe] The Empire of the North

SouthernKing said:
update is ready and depedning on laziness, motivation, and other factors should come sometime within the next few days.

Once this story is done I have planned out my next story. I plan for that story to be quite unique. You will see once it happens :p
Click to expand...

Whoo!
 
Sounds great! Can't wait :)
 
It took place on a hilltop in northern Yorkshire, roughly halfway between Jorvik and Edinburgh, where the frontiers of Viking England met an independant Scotland.

King Alfred V of Edinburgh had just ascended to the throne of Scotland a few weeks earlier, having recieved it from his father, Alfred IV. The late Alfred had been sickly for years before his death, and passed on one goal to his only son and heir: to claim Jorvik in the name of the Scots. The young king's goal was now to unite all of Britain under the Scots.

Of course, in Jorvik, the local Norse warlord Gunther had much different ideas. He had just won a long battle for control of Norse England, and he had set his sights on the throne of Roskilde. Ever since the Hawk's death in 881, six different kings and three regency councils had ruled the vast Norse empire. Currently, the last of those regency councils had oversight over all Norse territory. If one Norseman could gather enough support, he could claim the throne. Gunther planned to unite his forces and capture Scotland in the name of the Vikings. In addition, the Scots were threatening the future of Norse rule in England.

So as Gunther gathered his forces and recruited new soldiers, Alfred was doing the same. He sent out the Royal Scottish Messengers to gather an army strong enough to take on the Vikings. Men between the ages of 15 and 40 were assembled in Edinburgh with promises of riches and loot from Jorvik and the surrounding countryside.

One of these messengers had to go to Babbenburh, a town along the coast, to recruit the town to fight the Vikings. Babbenburh was wedged between a Viking-controlled coastline to the north and the main bulk of Viking territory to the south. If Babbenburh could be convinced to fight the Vikings, then it would prove a great problem for Gunther's army. However, the day before, the Vikings had taken Babbenburh. The messenger didn't know that.

To avoid Viking patrols, the messenger rode directly south, then cut east. However, unknown to the messenger, there was a Viking patrol of two border guards that had camped out on a hill directly along the messenger's path.

The messenger rode up a hill and stopped to look around at the valley around him. On the hill directly to his south, the two Viking border guards were waking up and eating an early morning meal at their campsite.

Both guards were actually from Mercia, to the south. Their names were Marcellus and Harold. Both had long, dirty blonde hair that hung loosely over their shoulders, fair skin, and thick leather armor. Neither was wearing a helmet at this point, although both had axes holstered on their backs and hatchets on their belts.

Harold noticed the messenger. "See that rider over there?"

Marcellus squinted, "Yeah, I see him."

"Well, he's up to no good, I tell you. Let's see what exactly it is he's doing."

The messenger noticed the camp, but thought little of it, as he thought that the border was a bit south of there, and that their reckoning of the region was inaccurate. Harold and Marcellus didn't exactly see it that way.

Harold yelled, "Oi! O Horseman! Tell us what you are doing all the way out here!"

The messenger replied, "I am an unarmed messenger heading for Babbenburh!"

"And where are you from?"

"Edinburgh!"

"And what is your message?"

The messenger began telling his pretold lie. "I am to pick up a message, not to deliver it!"

"Well, did anyone tell you that since yesterday Babbenburh is controlled by Gunther of Jorvik?"

The messenger's expression turned into one of sheer confusion. "Are you sure?"

Marcellus replied this time. "Of course! And since you are headed into our territory, you must pay a small price! Head over here!"

The rider, a red-haired, freckled boy of fifteen, rode over to the campsite nervously. Harold and Marcellus briefly inspected his horse.

Suddenly, Marcellus pulled out a sword from under the horse's saddle. "Ah ha! You are armed! You lie!" Then Marcellus noticed the coat of arms of the Royal House of Edinburgh on the hilt. "And you come in the name of that idiot king! Go on, Harold, chop his head off!"

The boy had no time to protest before an axe cleaved right through his neck.

That one death changed the course of British history. Had the messenger gotten through to Babbenburh, it would have revolted, and with the Vikings tied down there, Alfred planned to assault Jorvik, free it from the Viking overlords, and unite all England under one banner, the banner of Alfred the Fifth.

That never happened. Instead, barely a week later, Gunther of Jorvik marched his army into Edinburgh, claiming Scotland for the Vikings. Alfred tried to flee for Ireland but was caught by Viking vanguards and killed. With Alfred's head, Gunther returned to Roskilde and was able to gather up enough support to depose the hated regency council and claim the throne for himself. He became Gunther II the Beheader, the Norse empire's strongest ruler since the Hawk had been murdered, cutting off the Olafsson line. Gunther the Beheader would start a new era in Norse history.

Spoiler :
eotnedinburgh0000.jpg

 
Great update!!
 
Nice work! :goodjob:
 
hurrah!
 
I just found this, and subbed! Can't wait for next update! (And has anyone noticed that there are two Chapter 4s?)
 
trexeric said:
I just found this, and subbed! Can't wait for next update! (And has anyone noticed that there are two Chapter 4s?)
Click to expand...

I keep thinking the prologue is chapter 1 when I am doing the chapter numbering. I will fix that.

Also, on the OP, I got the date of the last chapter wrong (its actually 903, the link says 904)

Apparently, my counting skills need some improvement :sick:

Next chapter should come in 5-10 minutes.
 
Many members of the Norse ruling houses had led Viking raids over the centuries. Robert Gunthersson was the latest of these. Robert was the second son of Gunther the Beheader, and was at the age of thirty. His elder brother Olaf Gunthersson had been born five years before Robert, but had been killed in an ill-fortuned battle against a much larger French force at a village a short distance out of Paris known as Versailles, leaving Robert as heir to the throne currently occupied by an ever more sickly Gunther.

Olaf’s death was two years past. Olaf’s army had been small and almost completely destroyed at Versailles. In an ironic twist of fate, a much larger army, now led by Robert, was using Versailles as a base camp for an even more important battle. Gunther’s condition had gotten worse, and he was barely able to walk nowadays. Still, he wished for Robert to lead the army deep into the heart of France.

So thus it was that Robert found himself waking and walking outside in that very same village. The bulk of the Vikings were just waking up and preparing to walk to the battle. Over the horizon, Robert could hear the faint shouts of early morning battle at the walls of Western Europe’s grandest city. The Vikings, with their brand new trebuchets, were already bombarding the city, while warboats were blocking the Seine River.

Robert saw his old friend and best lieutenant, Chartrand, along the main road through Versailles. The lieutenant said to Robert, “Report from the walls, sir. We have almost dug a tunnel into the city. Perhaps if we can get people into the city and open the northeast gate, we will be able to easily charge into the city and take it.”

Robert smiled. “Good thinking, Chartrand. Now let’s go there and see.”

After an hour’s walk, they reached the northeast wall of Paris. The upper half of the wall was extensively damaged, with whole sections missing. However, it still posed a formidable defense to the Norse siege.

French crossbowmen manned the top of the wall, firing arrows back at will. Viking trebuchets fired back, sending large projectiles, some even on fire, into Paris, lighting parts of the city on fire. One smacked into the wall, sending a section of it crumbling inwards and sending half a dozen crossbowmen falling to their deaths, screaming.

Meanwhile, a tunnel was being dug under a destroyed section of wall. This was near the northwest gate. Along the road, a few thousand Vikings sat and waited. The precipice near the gate lay destroyed and undefended. Rubble was strewn all over the ground near the tunnel entrance.

Two Vikings emerged from the mouth of the tunnel and shouted, “We’re in!” Robert nodded to Chartrand. “Gather your best men and let’s go in.”

A few minutes later, Robert and Chartrand’s vanguard group clambered out from the tunnel into the burned-out ruins of a gatehouse. There was fighting on the street outside as a few French soldiers vainly attempted to protect the gate. Their numbers were equal, but the Vikings were clearly winning the fight. Robert yelled, “Charge!”

The group of thirty new arrivals attacked the French defenders. Robert brought his axe down into the brain of a French swordsman, instantly killing him. Chartrand chopped the leg off of a Frenchman, then quickly swung his axe around to parry the sword of another.

Slowly, the French gate guard dwindled to less that two dozen against at least seventy Vikings, whose numbers were increasing as more came through the tunnel. The French guard captain was attempting to get his remaining guards to surrender, but it was too late as Robert chopped his head off.

As the last guard fell Robert ordered, “Open the gate!” A dozen Vikings holstered their axes and pushed the large gate open.

The Viking army waiting outside stood up to attention. Robert raised his axe with one hand like a flag and bellowed with all his breath, “CHARGE!”

Chartrand’s vanguard began running behind Robert as he charged into the city. A stampede of axemen followed them into Paris. The stampede of Vikings easily overran any French soldier in their path, branching out, killing, lotting, burning.

Once all of Paris had been taken, Robert and Chartrand stood on an island in the middle of the Seine River. A soldier walked up to Chartrand and gave him something.

Chartrand gave it to Robert. “You may want to raise this, sir.”

Robert smiled. “Thank you, Chartrand.”

Minutes later, the Gunther’s flag, a modified version of Olaf’s flag, was flying over Paris.

Spoiler :
eotnfallofparis0000.jpg
 
Another good update SK. How easy is the French campaign going?
 
Ah, Paris. Fine wine, restaurants, romance... IS THAT AN AXE???!?!?!!

Great update! :Goodjob:
 
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