At present, Niels and Halfdan commanded a combined force of 1,800 men, with only 600 suits of armor—far inferior to Oleg's army outside the city. Their only hope lay in reinforcements.
On August 20, unable to withstand his cousin Ubbe's repeated pleas, Little Eric finally arrived with 2,500 men.
His forces camped on a low ridge about one kilometer north of the siege camp. Ostensibly, they had come to mediate, but in reality they coordinated with the defenders inside the city.
If Oleg assaulted the city, Little Eric would strike Oleg's rear.
If Oleg turned to attack the ridge, Little Eric would dig in and hold, waiting for Halfdan and Niels to come to his aid.
After hearing this explanation, Ubbe scratched the back of his head and asked in confusion:
"Cousin, we have 4,300 men—a thousand more than Oleg. Why don't we take the initiative and attack?"
Little Eric replied patiently:
"We don't have enough armor. Once you've seen a real battlefield, you'll understand. One heavily armored infantryman is worth two to four ordinary warriors. Knights are even stronger—on open ground, cavalry can crush loosely formed heavy infantry and unarmored light troops. By my estimate, one knight equals two to three heavy infantry.
"Of course, that changes in confined terrain where cavalry can't charge—"
He paused to drink half a waterskin, then looked at Ubbe in disbelief.
"You spent over ten years at court. What exactly did you learn?"
Ubbe hesitated, his eyes reddening.
"My father never had time to teach me. He planned to send me to Tynemouth or Dyflin to study under Vig or my elder brother, but my mother refused. She couldn't bear to let me travel far.
"She taught me Latin herself, arranged for two knights to train me in horsemanship and swordsmanship, had Chancellor Pascal teach me administration, and asked Lord Æthelwolf, the Sea Minister, to teach me continental history and culture. She thought that was enough."
Why did you listen to her?!
Little Eric slapped his forehead in frustration, silently cursing his aunt's short-sightedness. She had completely neglected to cultivate her son's command ability.
It was said that whenever Vig went on campaign, he always found time to write notes and draw maps. After more than a decade of warfare, the material he accumulated could fill an entire bookshelf. If Ubbe had learned even half of Vig's skills, he would be more than capable of handling the wars in the north.
After a long sigh, Little Eric pointed toward the Royal Guard camp in the distance.
"What do you think of them?"
Ubbe answered honestly, "They look very well defended."
"Of course they do," Little Eric said.
"The Royal Guard aren't fools. After fighting multiple wars, some officers learned from Vig how to build fortified camps and construct siege engines.
"Others learned from Gunnar—wedge-lance charges, daily cavalry drills, and how to organize formations during a charge. Fortunately, sea routes make it difficult to transport cavalry in large numbers, or this war would already be unwinnable.
"From Niels, some learned how to train archers—rapid fire, indirect fire, and precision shooting. From your elder brother, they learned close combat and infantry tactics: shield walls, wedge formations, and defensive circles.
"Meanwhile, Vig, Ivar, Gunnar, and the others all copied each other's strengths. That's why this generation of Viking nobles far surpassed their Anglo-Saxon and Frankish counterparts—and helped your father build a vast realm spanning Britannia and the north.
"When we first campaigned against the Franks, I personally led troops to reinforce them, hoping to learn something. But the war was already over. I regretted that for a long time.
"And you—my foolish cousin—wasted your time on riding, swordplay, and Latin instead of learning command. Now you expect a third-rate commander like me to teach you how to fight… Ah, my poor, shortsighted aunt."
Seeing Little Eric's deployment, Oleg abandoned the idea of storming the city. He convened the Royal Guard officers and the barons to discuss their next move.
"A direct assault would be too costly. We can only wait outside and wear them down—or negotiate."
His words immediately sparked heated debate.
The barons, fiercely loyal to Ragnar, insisted that Niels be punished for desecration, and demanded that Halfdan renounce the crown and personally travel to swear allegiance to King Sigurd.
The officers were more moderate.
"According to the townsfolk of Schleswig, Niels didn't desecrate the coffin—he just made a ridiculous chair. There's no precedent for this, and it's hard to define it as sacrilege.
"As for Halfdan, he did violate the will by crowning himself king, and should step down—but we shouldn't push him too far."
In summary, the officers only demanded that Halfdan renounce his kingship and refrain from interfering with Ragnar's funeral. The barons refused to tolerate such leniency. The deadlock persisted.
That night, rumors spread through the camp. Stirred by instigators, the 1,500 conscripted militia assembled by the petty nobles mutinied. Carrying torches, they surrounded Oleg's tent, demanding that he reach an agreement with the rebels so they could return home.
"Everyone, calm down," Oleg said loudly.
"I understand your hardships. Tomorrow, I'll send envoys to negotiate with Halfdan."
He glanced at the seventeen barons and numerous knights whose expressions flickered uncertainly, then soothed the crowd and persuaded them to return to their tents.
Using the mutiny as leverage, Oleg forced the royal petty nobles to compromise. The next morning, he sent messages to Gothenburg and the northern ridge, proposing negotiations.
Niels and Little Eric agreed. Ubbe had no say. Only Halfdan resisted.
After careful consideration, Halfdan decided to temporarily relinquish the crown. Once civil war erupted in Britannia, no one would be able to stop him from becoming king again.
In the end, everyone took a step back. They agreed to jointly host Ragnar's funeral, spreading word across the Viking world and inviting people from all lands to attend.
Regarding the tomb's design, the five leaders held differing opinions. After consulting the shamans of Uppsala, they settled on a conventional plan:
Inside the burial chamber would lie a Viking longship bearing the former king's coffin. Above it, a massive earthen mound would be raised. Niels further proposed transporting great stones to construct a stone circle in front of the tomb—a suggestion most accepted.
"I'm worried we don't have enough time," Oleg said.
Niels thumped his chest. "There's plenty of time later. One day it will be finished."
By mid-September, over two hundred Viking chieftains gathered in Gothenburg. Among them was Rurik from Eastern Europe, who arrived with a small escort. He noticed that Vig, Ivar, and Gunnar were absent, sending only envoys.
"They won't even leave their own lands," Rurik muttered.
"Has Britannia fallen into such chaos?"
On September 25, Bjorn arrived by ship from distant Greenland. Learning of all that had happened, he said nothing, standing silently at the edge of the crowd to bid farewell to his father.
When the funeral began, Oleg, Halfdan, Ubbe, Niels, and Little Eric took turns delivering speeches before the assembled chieftains, seizing this rare opportunity to build prestige and promote their visions.
Oleg's speech was measured and orthodox, calling on all to honor Ragnar's will and swear loyalty to King Sigurd.
Halfdan removed his mail shirt and wore only a bearskin cloak, displaying his martial prowess and urging the people to uphold the warrior spirit rather than be softened by weak Anglo-Saxons and Franks.
Ubbe, still young, forced himself to remain composed. He proclaimed himself the rightful Duke of Denmark and recounted the injustice suffered by his mother. The crowd was captivated by these tangled court intrigues, whistling and jeering—greatly undermining the solemnity of the funeral.
Niels, having been warned in advance, was forbidden from bringing out the gilded throne, severely diminishing the impact of his speech.
Little Eric spoke last. His command ability and personal strength were unimpressive, and he failed to draw followers. His speech was bland: he spoke of his father's long friendship with Ragnar, the blood ties between their royal houses, and announced plans to expand trade—turning Oslo and Bergen into the most prosperous commercial hubs in the north.
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