In early May, Frode's river galley arrived at Dresden. Beyond it lay the lands of the Duke of Bohemia.
Leaving the main army to continue onward, Frode took a detachment of Imperial Guards into the nearby Ore Mountains to inspect a newly developed silver mine.
Ever since conquering the Frankish Empire, Vig had suspected that rich silver deposits existed along the eastern frontier. Geological survey teams had spent years exploring the Ore Mountains.
The previous spring, they finally discovered a silver vein in the Mulde Valley.
Large-scale mining soon followed.
The mine was expected to produce 5,000 pounds of silver annually, along with copper, lead, zinc, and other minerals, making it second only to the famous silver mines of the Harz Mountains.
After half a day's ride, Frode reached the valley.
Five vertical shafts had been sunk deep into the ore vein, while miners excavated horizontal tunnels underground.
Along the riverbank stood enormous wooden waterwheels.
Some powered ropes and winches that slowly hauled baskets of ore—or mud-covered miners finishing their shifts—up from the depths.
The ore was loaded onto rail carts, transported to the river, crushed into smaller pieces by water-powered stamp mills, and finally smelted into silver, copper, and lead ingots.
The mine superintendent explained that labor shortages and bandit attacks were not their biggest problems.
Water was.
Twice each day, miners filled wooden buckets with groundwater before the elevator hauled them to the surface.
The process was painfully inefficient and stole valuable working hours.
Frode knew little about machinery.
"I'll write to Londinium University and Tynecastle University."
"They can devote more resources to solving this."
The following day, Frode entered Bohemia, where Duke Kocel welcomed him enthusiastically.
"Your Highness, the situation has worsened."
"Rumor says two more Magyar tribes have migrated from Eastern Europe."
"Their total population now exceeds one hundred thousand, enough to field around twenty-five thousand light cavalry."
"Since spring they've been raiding Bohemia, northern Italy, and the Balkans."
"Poorly defended villages are being looted everywhere."
"Many peasants are now afraid to work their fields."
"I understand."
"I'll deal with them."
After leaving the duke, Frode marched toward Brno, the old capital of Moravia.
A tributary there flowed into the Danube, making it an ideal logistics hub.
Over the next several weeks, the army built riverboats while neighboring nobles received mobilization orders.
Bohemia, Bavaria, Tyrol, Carinthia, and northern Italy were all required to provide levies and grain.
By June 1, preparations were complete.
The expeditionary army had grown to 40,000 men, including:
Two field divisions
Fourteen garrison regiments
Four thousand light cavalry
One hundred twenty artillery pieces
By then, the Magyars had learned of the imperial mobilization and had already begun withdrawing their herds eastward.
Frode refused to rush.
Instead, the army marched steadily south along the river before entering the Danube.
This stretch of the river flowed swiftly between towering cliffs draped in ivy, their summits exposing pale gray stone.
On the northern bank stood Devín Castle, garrisoned by two hundred Viking soldiers.
After leaving the gorge, the Danube widened once more.
Ahead lay the town of Pressburg (Bratislava), protected by a wooden palisade.
Beyond it stretched an immense plain.
Because of relentless Magyar raids, the Viking garrison had lost control of the countryside and remained confined within Pressburg while awaiting reinforcements.
The lieutenant colonel commanding the local regiment reported honestly,
"Besides Pressburg, another battalion is stationed at Nitra Castle to the northeast."
"We lost contact with them half a month ago."
"They may still be holding..."
"...or they may already have fallen."
Leif asked,
"How far?"
"About forty miles."
"Two days' travel."
Leif located Nitra on the map before quietly advising his cousin,
"Send a force to investigate?"
Frode had already reached the same conclusion.
Unlike his father, he didn't consider himself a military genius.
He preferred caution.
First test the enemy's strength.
Then decide what came next.
The weather was perfect.
A thousand-man force departed Pressburg.
Meanwhile, the main Viking army concealed itself within the town and nearby western hills, patiently awaiting its opportunity.
The expedition was personally commanded by Havrun, deputy commander of the First Division.
His force consisted of:
One field infantry regiment
Two companies of mounted scouts
Eight three-pound bronze cannons
One hundred eighty supply wagons carrying food, weapons, and drinking water
Large wheat fields surrounded the town.
Thanks to constant Magyar raids, farmers had abandoned them.
The crops had become overgrown with weeds.
Wild boars and deer wandered freely through the neglected fields.
The farther the army traveled, the bleaker the landscape became.
The farmland vanished entirely.
In its place stretched endless grasslands.
Waist-high green grass swayed beneath colorful wildflowers.
The winding column of soldiers seemed like the only sign of humanity beneath the enormous sky.
That afternoon they reached a stream sparkling like a silver ribbon beneath the sun.
Havrun rode closer.
Dozens of villagers' corpses floated in the water.
They had been dead for more than two days.
The stench was indescribable.
Clouds of flies buzzed endlessly overhead.
The officers immediately shouted for everyone to stay away from the water.
Veterans merely frowned.
The younger soldiers looked pale with horror and disgust.
The army changed direction and selected a shallow crossing farther upstream where the current ran slower across a firm riverbed.
Mounted scouts dashed across first, spreading out on the opposite bank while nervously scanning the distant grass.
The main force followed.
Horses splashed through the muddy water.
Soldiers strained to push heavy supply wagons onto the northern bank.
When the last soldier climbed ashore in dripping boots, the most dangerous part had passed.
Yet no one relaxed.
Watching birds suddenly take flight in the distance, Havrun silently congratulated himself.
The Crown Prince and the chief of staff were right.
Bringing extra water wagons saved us from the enemy's trap.
That evening the wagons were arranged into a square, forming a temporary camp.
Dark silhouettes appeared on the horizon.
Almost certainly Magyar cavalry.
At dawn the following morning, the regiment resumed marching.
More and more nomads appeared.
A handful of riders became dozens.
Dozens became thousands.
"Form ranks!"
At Havrun's command, the soldiers efficiently assembled the wagon fort.
Supply wagons formed a square.
Spearmen filled every gap.
The butts of their pikes were driven deep into the earth while the spearheads pointed outward.
Teamsters led draft horses into the center.
Artillery crews loaded canister.
Then waited.
The mounted scouts gradually withdrew into the formation.
Behind them charged thousands of steppe horsemen.
The dust cloud raised by their horses nearly obscured half the sky.
"Longbowmen and crossbowmen—fire at will."
"Gunners, await orders."
Canister remained lethal only out to roughly one hundred meters.
Havrun calmly watched the enemy approach.
The nomads halted their charge at sixty meters.
Instead they galloped around the wagon fort, showering it with arrows.
Then—
BOOM! BOOM!
—------------------------------
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