Shieldwall

"Hyah!" Ragnar kicked Ares in the ribs, spurring it to keep up with his father's frenzied pace.

Finan had been left behind, much to his disappointment, in the carriage with the women and 100 men to guard the caravan. At the same time, Harald took a similar number, splitting his men in half as he gathered his best with him to massacre the enemy camp.

Harald finally slowed down, indicating that they were getting close as Ragnar rode up alongside him, "Father, why don't we use the fact that we know of their presence to our advantage?"

"Hmm, there are multiple ways we could use such intel. What do you advise?" Harald raised his eyebrows, looking at Ragnar for an explanation.

"Let me lead a contingent of 20 men forward, wearing our best armor to act as bait. When the mercenaries take the lure, we'll spring our trap and let the remaining troops charge in." Ragnar smiled as he thought of how their last bait attempt went.

Harald clenched his jaw, pondering whether to spend time searching for their camp or drawing them out. With a curt nod, he eventually decided on the latter, "Alright, lad. I'm confident in our men this time. I'll let you lead them into the fray, but be careful and remember your training." The Baron smiled as he patted Ragnar on the shoulder.

Ragnar nodded, grateful for his father's trust, before turning around to bark orders at the men, "I want all knights with me. What we'll be doing is dangerous, but only momentarily. If you can withstand the initial charge, then we'll catch them off guard."

Everyone quickly gathered around, understanding their role in the operation. All the selected knights had steeled gazes of determination as Harald had taught them the art of war, allowing them to come to terms with their potential death.

As such, the entire army of 100 men split off into two parties, one that waited behind for the signal around a couple of 100 meters back and the other that lackadaisically waded forward.

Ragnar's group chatted amicably, playing the part of men just travelling through while still being aware of their surroundings as the quiet thrum of blood rushed up into their ears, drowning out the sounds of nature and heightening their awareness.

Ragnar kept his hand lazily on his sword handle, ready to pull it out at any moment, to defend the life of Marquise and his men should he come unto danger.

Their horses slowly trotted forward, coming upon a blockade within a couple of minutes after they broke apart from their group.

A single caravan flipped over with goods of spice and food spilt everywhere, blocking the road and causing them to halt in their paces.

"Ragnar," Marquise called out to him and pointed at the front of the flipped over carriage that currently pinned an elderly man who was crying out for help.

"Halt!" Ragnar commanded as he turned to Marquise and nodded. They'd come to the blockade, and it was only a matter of time before the looters came forth. Their expensive armor and low numbers were worth the risk for any greedy mercenary contingent. Now, the only thing to do was wait and appear unconcerned enough to spur an attack.

"Marquise, I want you to approach the elderly man but stay a decent distance away. We need to figure out whether he's part of the ploy or not." Ragnar warned in a low whisper.

The elder Frenchman smiled as he turned to approach the man, "And don't stray too far! I've heard there are wolves in the area." Ragnar called after him with a chuckle.

An odd high pitched whistle resounded in the silent field as the hairs on Ragnar's neck stood up in alarm. A "schnik" followed, causing Ragnar to drop and roll as an arrow sailed over his head just inches away from landing on its target.

He quickly glanced up to see around 15 men charging from either side of the clearing, "RAIDERS!" Ragnar roared as he stood up and drew his Falcata, the polished steel blade drawing the attention of their greed.

Another arrow flew in his direction, causing Ragnar to twist into it, allowing the shield to take the blow for him. "Take out those fucking archers!" Ragnar tutted as he bellowed out commands in the short few seconds it took for the raiders to reach their position. The knights quickly formed an imposing organized circle of the shield wall. In classic Viking style, their shield wall covered every orifice of their vitals.

"BRACE!" Ragnar bellowed out as the 30 or so raiders slammed into their shields, pushing a couple of the knights back under the sheer force of bodies.

The wall held under pressure as the momentum of the initial charge subsided. Slits opened along the shield wall as the knights plunged their swords into the gaps, stabbing at anyone close enough to take a sword to the throat or chest.

"Marquise! The signal, now!" Ragnar turned around to shout at the spearman, who was athletically leaping above the shield wall to stab at the heads of the men before it.

The Frenchman stopped before pulling out the horn that Harald had given him. A low groan broke through the din of battle as the horn blared out.

It was at that moment one of the knights faltered; distracted by the signal, he let his shield slip, taking a sword that slipped through to the gut as he went down in agony.

Due to being positioned inside the circle, Ragnar quickly noticed the man going down and ran to cover him, kicking the vagabond that tried to break through the gap in the chest. "Don't falter!" Ragnar raged as he slashed down at one of the looters, cutting through his leather shoulder guard as the man collapsed with a contorted expression of pain.

A soft rumble shook the ground that steadily grew to a stampede as Harald came into view, leading the rest of his men into the fray. "GET THOSE BASTARDS!" The Baron yelled as he threw his axe once again, flying straight into the skull of one of the raiders.

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Second time for the win? How'd everyone like that chapter! Can you imagine the battle in your head?

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