Nearby riders couldn't resist joining them.
Thousands of hooves thundered across the prairie.
Dust clouds merged with drifting gunpowder smoke until the northern battlefield disappeared entirely.
Standing atop a baggage wagon in the centre, Borsho stared anxiously toward the smoke-covered north.
He had no idea what was happening.
Messengers galloped away to investigate.
Soon...
Heavy fighting also erupted on the southern flank.
Visibility there vanished as well.
Only the centre remained relatively clear.
The four Viking infantry regiments continued their steady advance.
Protected by hollow squares on both sides.
Followed by long trains of baggage wagons.
Borsho committed his slave infantry and elite cavalry.
They barely slowed the advance.
The slave infantry collapsed almost immediately.
The Magyar cavalry became entangled with Viking cavalry and mountain infantry, unable to halt the infantry regiments.
When the distance closed to roughly one thousand metres...
The Vikings halted.
Hundreds of small carts carrying iron launch tubes were wheeled forward.
Borsho's eyes widened.
No...
The sky filled with blazing rockets.
They howled overhead before plunging into the dense cavalry formations around the Khan's headquarters.
The steppe horses had never witnessed such horror.
Terrified, they ignored every command, bolting wildly in all directions.
"Restore the formation!"
Borsho coughed violently through the thick white smoke while desperately trying to regain control.
Then someone shouted nearby.
"The Khagan is dead!"
"The Khagan was killed by fire magic!"
"Run!"
Rumours spread with unbelievable speed.
By that point...
Whether Borsho was actually alive no longer mattered.
The army believed he was dead.
The result was the same.
"Retreat!"
Realising everything was lost, Borsho fled with his household guard.
Only after escaping the smoke did he discover that both wings had already broken.
Across the endless grassland...
Fleeing horsemen scattered in every direction.
Those idiots have ruined everything...
Grinding his teeth, he abandoned all thoughts of fighting the Vikings again.
Instead, he planned to hide in the Carpathian Mountains throughout the winter.
Meanwhile, on the western side of the battlefield...
Frode could see little beyond smoke and dust.
Piecing together reports from every sector, it appeared the enemy was retreating.
He looked at Leif.
"...Have we won?"
Leif sounded equally uncertain.
"I... think so."
He simply couldn't believe the Jute Khanate had collapsed so easily.
Suspecting a feigned retreat, he advised the Crown Prince to consolidate the army.
Only the one thousand surrendered steppe cavalry were sent in token pursuit.
By afternoon, casualties had been counted.
The enemy had lost:
2,700 killed
More than 3,000 slave infantry captured
Viking losses were even lighter:
300 dead
800 wounded
After such enormous preparations...
The results disappointed everyone.
Frode.
Leif.
Viper.
Douglas.
As temperatures continued falling, Borsho would inevitably withdraw into the Carpathians for winter.
The war clearly wouldn't end this year.
As commander, Frode accepted responsibility without complaint.
He recorded the battle exactly as it had unfolded.
Then he requested additional troops and supplies from Britain.
The offensive would resume next spring.
Five days later...
An envoy from the Jute Khanate arrived requesting peace negotiations.
Since only auxiliary tribes and slave troops had been lost while the Khanate's core forces remained intact, Frode rejected the offer outright.
"The Empire has invested enormous manpower and resources in this campaign."
"And Borsho thinks one sentence is enough to make us withdraw?"
"Dream on."
"Next year Britain will send even more soldiers."
"We won't stop until that delusional barbarian has been crushed."
The envoy quietly replied,
"Your Highness..."
"Borsho is already dead."
His attendants stepped forward carrying a wooden chest.
Inside lay a severed head...
Already beginning to rot.
Silence filled the command tent.
Frode stared blankly for several moments before summoning Luntu and the other seven surrendered chiefs.
"Identify him."
Looking upon the former Khagan's head, Luntu instinctively shuddered.
He took several deep breaths before finally suppressing his fear.
After a long pause, he bowed.
"Your Highness."
"It truly is Borsho."
The envoy continued.
"The previous war was started solely by Borsho."
"His wives, concubines, and children have also been delivered."
"You may deal with them however you wish."
"We never intended to offend the Viking Empire."
"We merely sought a land where our people could live."
Frode asked,
"If Borsho is dead..."
"Whom do you represent?"
"The new Khagan."
"Ineu."
Luntu thoughtfully explained,
"Ineu was chief of another major tribe."
"He and Borsho were close."
"He probably assassinated him when no one was looking."
"I understand."
"You may leave."
Most people were dismissed.
Only Leif, Viper, and Douglas remained.
Leif recommended accepting negotiations.
Viper and Douglas agreed.
The reasons were simple.
The plains east of the Visegrád Mountains were immense.
Finding nomadic tribes there would always be difficult.
Even if more troops destroyed the Jute Khanate completely...
The Vikings still couldn't permanently control those grasslands.
Sooner or later...
Other steppe tribes would simply migrate in and begin raiding all over again.
Leif summed it up neatly.
"With Ineu replacing Borsho, internal struggles are inevitable."
"We don't even need to intervene."
"Nomadic empires rise quickly..."
"...and collapse just as quickly."
"In a few years, the Jute Khanate won't pose much of a threat."
After long consideration, Frode sent both his own opinion and those of his advisers back to Britain.
If the Emperor and the Cabinet raised no objections...
He was willing to accept Ineu's request for peace.
Over the next two months, the Viking army halted its advance.
Instead, it built fortified camps east of the Visegrád Mountains in preparation for winter.
In early December...
Orders finally arrived from Britain.
Following the Emperor's instructions, Frode opened formal negotiations with Ineu.
The first issue concerned the frontier.
The Viking Empire would retain:
The plains west of the Visegrád Mountains.
The mountain range itself.
A strip of plains immediately east of the mountains, where eight subordinate tribes would be settled.
The remaining terms proved surprisingly generous.
The Emperor did not demand Ineu's submission.
Nor did he show any interest in turning the nomads into imperial vassals.
Regarding trade...
He was equally uninterested.
Exports of iron were placed under strict annual quotas.
This included:
Swords
Armour
Iron cooking pots
Farming hoes
Even iron pots?
The envoy was astonished by the Emperor's stinginess.
"Your Highness..."
"Couldn't these restrictions be relaxed?"
Frode smiled pleasantly.
"Certainly."
"If any tribe accepts our faith..."
"...and begins farming..."
"...its annual iron quota may be increased accordingly."
The Carpathian Basin possessed excellent natural conditions.
If the Jute Khanate gradually transformed into a kingdom that combined agriculture with pastoralism...
Its appetite for conquest would decline dramatically.
That, in turn, would greatly reduce the Viking Empire's defensive burden along the Pannonian frontier.
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