On May 10, Ragnar convened the commanders of all divisions to discuss their next move.
After this decisive victory, no one mentioned heading to Flanders anymore. Everyone unanimously agreed to march straight on Paris and extort a hefty sum from "Charles the Bald."
With a consensus reached, the army advanced south along the roads—only to be blocked by enemy forces at Amiens.
Negotiations failed. Ragnar ordered Vig to take charge of the siege. Vig gathered ships to construct pontoon bridges, sent troops across to the southern bank of the Somme, and completely encircled the town.
"How long will it take?" Ragnar asked.
Vig replied, "It won't be easy. In The Gallic Wars, Caesar called this place Samarobriva. The Romans later built extensively here—walls, libraries, amphitheaters, public baths. In the fifth century, the Franks captured the city and renamed it Ambianorum, which eventually became Amiens."
After rambling on with what sounded like idle trivia, Vig finally made his point: Amiens was a Roman legacy city. He would need at least one month.
"You take your time," Ragnar said. "I'll move on ahead. West Francia is strong—if we delay too long, Charles the Bald will raise another massive army."
Ragnar decided to leave Vig behind to conduct the siege while he personally led the remaining 13,000 troops—including reinforcements from Little Erik—straight toward Paris.
Watching the main force depart, Vig stretched lazily and began organizing timber cutting and siege-engine construction, choosing the safest and most methodical approach to taking Amiens.
To sap the defenders' morale, he instructed the crossbowmen on both banks of the Somme to let fleeing boats pass, while focusing their fire exclusively on reinforcements attempting to enter the city.
When word spread that the besieging commander was the Serpent of the North, the defenders lost heart before a battle was even fought. Boats slipped away under cover of night.
Vig also deliberately left an opening on the southern side, allowing civilians to flee with their personal belongings. After twenty days, the trebuchets outside the walls were finally completed. The Count of Amiens, utterly despairing, escaped by boat on a dark, windy night—abandoning a city whose population had largely fled.
On June 1, the remaining garrison sent envoys to negotiate. Vig allowed them to leave with their families and property—he even permitted them to keep weapons and shields for self-defense.
That afternoon, the garrison fully withdrew. When Vig's men entered the city, they found it nearly empty. The count had taken the silver and cloth with him, and soldiers and civilians alike had carried off their valuables.
All that remained were three hundred suits of armor, just over two hundred warhorses, and warehouses piled high with grain.
After inventorying the spoils, Ulf muttered, "This is too little. We practically worked for nothing."
Vig tossed the ledger to Sebert Stormwind.
"If I remember correctly, you and those Swedish nobles weren't idle. You raided nearby estates several times. Didn't you get anything?"
In the early Middle Ages, productivity was low. Most barons and knights lived in wooden manors, lacking funds to build stone fortresses. Over these weeks, Ulf and the Swedish raiders had stormed fifteen estates, reaping substantial loot. His complaint now was clearly greed.
Vig raised his voice.
"His Majesty is urging me to reach Paris as soon as possible. Since you want more spoils, no problem—I'll recommend you as the first wave in the assault. Once we breach Paris, your rewards will be plentiful."
Leaving three hundred men to secure Amiens, Vig led five thousand troops south. Along the way, Ulf quietly approached him.
"Uh… I think the matter of attacking Paris could be discussed further."
Ulf was getting old. He only wanted to profit while he could. Storming Paris was something better left to the young—or to the Swedish raiders.
After Ulf left, Leksa and the other Swedish nobles slipped into Vig's tent one by one. They had fought outside Béthune and seen firsthand the strength of the Frankish elite. If assigned as the first assault force, lightly armored raiders would be nothing more than expendable fodder.
When everyone had gone, Leif, who had been quietly sitting in the corner, asked,
"Uncle… you never intended to send them in first, did you? You were just scaring them."
Vig smiled, pleased by his nephew's insight.
"That's right. Ulf is the sort who muddles through life, and Leksa's group aren't true hardliners either. There's no need to indulge them too much."
Three days later, Vig arrived at the Seine River.
The Viking army had seized the bridgeheads on both banks, but Île de la Cité still flew the fleur-de-lis. Over a thousand Frankish troops were stationed there. The wooden bridges connecting the island to the banks had been burned, making further assaults extremely difficult.
Entering the northern bridgehead, Vig found Ragnar and the nobles looking grim.
"What happened?" he asked.
Ivar sighed helplessly.
"When we captured the bridgeheads, we interrogated prisoners. Charles had already fled with his family and wealth. The nobles and merchants left as well. Only one loyal count remains on the island with about a thousand soldiers. Father sent prisoners to persuade them—but they're determined to hold out to the last man."
From Vig's perspective, Île de la Cité's ten-meter-high stone walls made a direct assault prohibitively costly. The only option was a prolonged siege—building trebuchets on both banks and bombarding the island with stones and fire pots until the defenders surrendered.
Seeing Vig's expression, Ivar sighed again.
"If even you have no solution, Paris will have to be put aside for now."
The command staff now faced a painful decision: what came next?
Ragnar had hoped to repeat his old tactic—forcing Charles to pay enormous tribute to resolve Britain's financial crisis. Instead, Charles chose to flee, using mutual exhaustion to cripple the pagan army.
With the Harfleur Fortress controlling the mouth of the Seine, Viking ships could no longer sail upriver. Reinforcements had to march from Calais overland, making transport risky and wasteful—unsustainable in the long term.
Trapped, Ragnar worried that delay would invite intervention from Middle Francia or East Francia. After some thought, he reluctantly proposed a plan.
"Vig, take your five thousand men west and incite rebellion in Brittany. I'll lead the main force around the area, searching for Charles. If he still refuses to come out, you continue south and stir up rebellion in Aquitaine."
Vig replied calmly,
"The people of Brittany—the Bretons—originated from Britain and are closely related to the Welsh. They are not the same people as the Franks, so inciting rebellion there will be easy.
"But Aquitaine is different. Its people are Franks—same culture, same faith as the king. Even if they resent Charles's rule, they will never cooperate with Vikings."
Ragnar's patience was nearly exhausted. He ran a hand through his hair irritably.
"No matter what—deal with Brittany first. The bigger the disturbance, the more likely Charles will be forced to fight."
"Understood."
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