After suffering fifteen casualties, Santan's unit defeated the Frankish scouts—killing twenty and driving off seven.
"Pack up. Don't waste time!"
With losses this severe, Santan had no choice but to abandon the mission and head five miles west to an oak forest, where a mountain infantry company was stationed.
An hour later, nine wounded men received temporary treatment there. The friendly unit also provided two wagons so Santan could transport the injured back to the main camp.
"I've only been promoted to platoon leader for less than a month, and this happens…"
"I wonder how command will judge me."
By dusk, Santan returned to camp.
He sent the wounded to the field hospital and personally took a wagon full of captured armor to company headquarters to make his report.
The company commander counted the stacked helmets and immediately understood the reconnaissance mission had failed.
"Looks like luck wasn't on your side."
Santan described the engagement.
"The enemy scouts were equipped with crossbows…"
Since Santan couldn't read or write, the company clerk wrote the battle report for him.
Half an hour later, the report reached battalion headquarters.
The battalion commander sensed the significance and forwarded it to division command.
Step by step, the report moved upward—
until it reached Vig.
"Mounted crossbowmen again?"
"How many times now?"
One of the staff officers answered:
"This is the third engagement against mounted crossbow units."
"Judging from the exchange ratio, Frankish scouts have become more effective."
At the current rate, the Franks were rapidly expanding the use of mounted crossbows.
Crossbows reloaded slowly—
but compensated for their lack of ranged capability.
Training mounted archers was too difficult.
Mounted crossbowmen suited the Franks' current situation much better.
This was dangerous.
The enemy hadn't collapsed after defeat.
They were actively adopting new tactics.
Vig stared at the map spread across the table and decided to raise the stakes.
He instructed Leif to send an encrypted message back to the palace:
Mortgage the Crown's company shares and raise private loans to recruit more Eastern European infantry and steppe cavalry.
Leif stared at him.
"Including shares in the paper mill, brewery… and the football club?"
Vig nodded.
"Everything except the newspaper, ironworks, armories, and shipyards."
"Also sell off all undeveloped land east of Londinium."
"The Crown Prince lacks experience—put Herigifu in charge."
"Raise at least fifty thousand pounds."
At this point—both sides were locked into a struggle to the death.
If Frankia still couldn't be defeated—
Vig intended to put everything on the table.
A total national mobilization.
March 22
The expeditionary army reached the Loire River.
Across the southern bank stood Tours, whose defenders were urgently dismantling the floating bridge across the river.
This section of river was narrow—
only 150–200 meters wide.
Vig ordered soldiers to cut timber and build large numbers of trebuchets to bombard the city across the water.
At the same time—
he dispatched rangers to search for boats nearby.
Eventually they found twenty small vessels at a fishing village thirty miles upstream.
Taking advantage of the defenders' carelessness—
Viking infantry crossed the river by boat.
By the time the defenders noticed—
an entire infantry regiment had already secured the southern bank.
Frankish defensive priorities were places like:
Paris
Harfleur
Calais
Tours had only 2,500 defenders, most of them newly raised militia.
"Quick—drive them back into the river!"
The Count of Tours personally led 1,500 men and committed everything at once.
It accomplished very little.
The first fifty cavalrymen rode forward—
and were met by concentrated arrow and crossbow fire.
Most horses were killed.
Only a dozen riders reached the Viking line—
where they were skewered by dense ranks of spearpoints.
The following infantry suffered constant missile fire.
Their charge slowed immediately.
Especially the militia—
lacking armor, they huddled together under shields, trying to avoid arrows coming from every direction.
In the end—
only around three hundred heavy infantry actually reached combat.
Moments later—
the Frankish line collapsed.
The Vikings lacked cavalry and achieved little in pursuit.
March 27
Two infantry regiments moved east of Tours.
They cut timber to establish camps—
and began tunneling.
After repeated operations, Viking engineers had become highly skilled.
Efficiency improved dramatically.
Only twenty days later—
the tunnels reached beneath the walls.
Vig ordered a full assault.
After taking the city—
he gathered local fishermen and questioned them separately.
The objective:
collect hydrological information about the Loire.
Seasonal water levels.
Locations of hidden reefs.
Fast-flowing sections.
Areas likely to ground ships.
Two days later—
he received Uhtgard's report.
Angers had fallen successfully.
Vig nodded.
"Nantes, Angers, Tours…"
"I now control the major settlements along the lower Loire."
"River fleets can transport troops and grain directly inland."
"Logistical pressure has been reduced enormously."
"Phase One has been completed."
Some time later—
the Eastern European infantry hired by the Cabinet the previous year arrived.
Four thousand men.
Total expeditionary strength rose to fifty-seven thousand.
Vig organized them into four garrison regiments, inserted small numbers of officers and interpreters, and intended to use them for low-value operations.
Upstream—
lay Orléans, one of central Frankia's great cities.
Settlement there dated back to Roman Gaul.
Later rebuilt by Emperor Aurelian.
Population approached ten thousand, second only to Paris.
May 1
Vig departed Tours.
Forty-five thousand soldiers advanced along the river by land and water toward Orléans over one hundred kilometers away.
The next afternoon—
while the army was making camp—
an unexpected visitor requested an audience.
The sentry asked bluntly:
"Who are you?"
The middle-aged man removed his cloak.
"Jean de Boival."
"I heard the king seeks capable men."
"I wish to swear loyalty to him."
The sentry blinked—
then burst out laughing with his companions.
"Oh, I know you."
"The general who got lost."
Someone went to report upward.
Before long—
a squad of Royal Guards arrived.
They searched him, asked several verification questions—
then escorted him to the riverbank.
The king was fishing.
The sun was slowly setting in the west.
Warm evening air lingered over the river.
Vig sat on a low stool, resting his chin in one hand, quietly watching the scenery.
The current flowed gently.
Large reeds lined the banks.
A white egret suddenly rose from the reeds, skimmed the surface, caught a fish—
and glided toward a sandbar.
Across the river stretched broad open grasslands.
Several cattle grazed lazily, their shadows lengthening under the setting sun.
Without turning his eyes from the water, Vig asked:
"Count…"
"What do you want?"
He already remembered the man's history.
Last year—
Charles had retreated to Paris and shifted all blame onto Boival.
His titles were stripped.
He was imprisoned.
Later—
Boival bribed the guards and escaped.
The count replied in Latin:
"Your Majesty."
"I have a way to help you capture Orléans quickly."
"Please accept my loyalty."
—------------------------------
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