Proclaw finally woke up after being knocked unconscious. His head was still buzzing. It took him a while to realize what happened after witnessing the scene in front of him.

"I... lost the battle."

The leopard skin was stripped off his body, his helmet was also taken off, his hands and feet were tied while he was leaning on the wheel of the carriage, and even his mouth was tied with a rope.

He was tied together with several of his cronies, and standing in front of him was a group of Varangians. They must be Russian horse bandits, even if they were dismounted, their clothes and weapons proved everything.

Everyone also saw the captive's open eyes, even though he suddenly closed them again.

"Stop pretending to be an idiot." Proclaw was kicked violently several times, and he whined and yelled in pain.

"Tell me! Who are you?" The question was asked in Norse.

Then someone shouted impatiently: "If you ask in our language, does this guy understand?"

"It's me." A shorter warrior stepped forward. He was a northern Slav, or even the son of a Boyar noble.

"Who are you?"

The words were changed into Slavic, and Proclaw could basically understand it, but how should he respond? His mouth was still tied. He whimpered for a while and finally got his mouth untied.

"Have you thought about it? You are dressed like a leader. Who are you?"

Originally, Proclaw wanted to arrogantly call himself the leader of Polotsk, but then he thought about how he was being treated as a wild boar and had his hands and feet tied up.

.

His silence made the Russians very impatient.

"Is this guy mute?"

"Not necessarily. I'll ask again." That's all. The boyar's son heard the news again, but the other party still kept silent.

"He doesn't understand you?"

"No. I think he's being stubborn. I'll just give him another beating."

The soldiers were all chattering, as if the torture would make the prisoner speak, so someone picked up a wooden stick and began to pound it, but saw that the prisoner simply closed his eyes, as if commanded.

"Wait a minute!" The son of Boyar stopped his companion. "The boss asked us to make sure they were not beaten to death. This guy doesn't want to talk about it now. There will always be time to talk about it. In the worst case, we will take them back."

"It's really boring." The soldier threw away the wooden stick and walked aside angrily.

Proclaw wanted to be beaten to death, but he still sat here without the courage to bite his tongue and commit suicide, so he could only wait for an unknown fate.

At the same time, Fisk made great progress in cleaning up the battlefield. A large number of arrows were recovered, and the enemy's weapons were also recovered.

Men, women, and captured soldiers gathered together. The dismounted soldiers inspected all the corpses with swords, refinished the seriously injured, and pulled away the lightly injured. They would deliberately stab the corpse's arms and other non-fatal places, and those who pretended to be dead could easily reveal their secrets.

, and then were tied up and taken away.

The battle is over and a large number of enemies have fled into the forest. It is certainly possible but not necessary to chase them.

"The fight is over." Quetzal took off his mask and rode up. The horse was stationed in front of Fisk. The little prairie man with a big face dismounted deftly. You said: "These people are really weak and very poor.

.My people didn’t find much loot, but they captured some slaves. You...you have to give me some money when you get to the Great Lakes in the North."

Fisk thought what this guy said was funny: "You still want to sell slaves? They are really poor. Even if you want to sell slaves, we may not buy them."

"Huh? How do you say this?"

"Let's not talk about it for now." Fisk waved his hand, "Let's see how many slaves we captured."

All the prisoners sat together and a head count showed that there were as many as 200 people.

How many enemies managed to escape? But there were nearly 200 dead bodies. The battle was fierce, and the people who were actually killed were not outrageous. Fisk's original intention was not to kill them all. He was more concerned about the current battle situation.

satisfy.

He gathered his team leaders again and asked everyone: "Are there any casualties in your team?"

No one claimed that anyone was killed or seriously injured, but there were a few who were slightly injured. They were hit by the enemy's stray arrows. Unfortunately, the inferior arrows could only scratch the Russian cavalry, and the minor injuries were nothing.

"Be careful even with minor injuries. We also brought alcohol, so apply it on it. I hope you don't drink it secretly."

The Russians have extensive experience in all kinds of wars. The highly distilled ale is finally turned into a base liquor with a purity exceeding 95°, which is diluted with water for debridement.

Fisk noticed that many of the prisoners were wounded, and if their injuries were allowed to cause fever, they would suffer. He ordered his subordinates to clean the wounds of the wounded and then apply alcohol. The wounded did not understand, and they screamed in pain after the alcohol debrided them.

, in the eyes of others, this is the Ross gangsters deliberately torturing for fun.

Finally, the soldier reported the situation to Fisk: "The guy in the leopard skin is awake."

"Did they say anything?"

"Don't say anything. His mouth is as hard as stone. His eyes are like begging us to kill him."

All this was expected by Fisk. He shook his head: "Just let them be tough, at least they won't die, right?"

"Yes. We don't dare to use force."

"Very good. Those guys are not ordinary warriors. You might know Lambert a little bit. We can find out after we take them back."

A small-scale battle was originally planned, but the enemy was too weak, so Fisk took advantage of the situation and launched an all-out attack, defeating a mere 150 cavalrymen with no one killed.

It is not easy to stay here for a long time. The corpses of the enemy are abandoned and all the prisoners are taken away.

The prisoners were like gifts captured alive, tied hand and foot and placed on horseback. The captured small carriages were also used, and a group of captured prisoners were placed on them. Desheng's cavalry evacuated as quickly as possible, but

Victory still has a price.

"Have a good rest after you go back." Fisk ordered loudly on the way back: "Our horses will be fed with the captured grain, and we will have a good sleep. However, you are not allowed to play with the women you caught, otherwise you will be fined with military pay!"

The last request left the soldier speechless. Why shouldn't he play with those female prisoners? At worst, he could spend his own money to buy the captives he likes and make them his wives and concubines according to the rules set by the king.

Fisk wanted to be like this, and the soldiers complained and had to give up.

They set out early in the morning, finished the battle at noon, and waited until sunset before the cavalry finally returned.

Vitebsk ushered in the triumphant army, and people standing on high places hurriedly blew horns and waved flags to welcome them.

The soldiers who stayed behind hurriedly rode on horseback to greet them. Svalgardpo and Wladyslav both came, and they were surprised that Boss Fisk also escorted many prisoners of war.

At this moment, the captured Proclaw finally saw the target of his battle - the fortress on the large marsh. Unfortunately, he came here as a prisoner of war.

All the prisoners were thrown inside the fortress. They looked extremely haggard due to hunger and thirst, but on the whole they had no fear, as if they were completely appointed.

A dozen people who were originally wearing leopard skins were specially brought out to wait for their orders.

Fisk walked into a separate room in person. Lambart learned that the Polotsk army was coming early in the morning. He was in a mixture of anticipation and worry. Now seeing the bald general again, he looked anxious: "You! We won the battle.

?”

Fisk said with an iron face: "Ross suffered no losses, but a large number of your people were killed."

"This..." Suddenly it felt like a stone was pressing on his heart, and Lambart took three steps back, not knowing what to do.

"Caught some men wearing leopard skins, just like they came. Do you know them?"

Hearing this, Lambart's heart tightened again: "I recognize it. Those are the soldiers of our big leader. Ah! Maybe the big leader has died in the battle."

"Big leader?" Fisk was suddenly ecstatic, but he suppressed his emotions. "Maybe your big leader is not dead. Come on, let me see the prisoners, maybe that guy again."

Lambart walked out of the dark house of house arrest with an anxious and heavy heart. Under the setting sun, he saw many people sitting helplessly on the ground. His appearance instantly caused a collective commotion among the prisoners.

Proclaw, who had his eyes closed for this reason, opened them slightly. Even in the dim light of the setting sun, he saw that it was not his nephew who was walking towards him.

"Lambart, this kid is not dead? Can he move freely among the enemies?"

Indeed, Lambart has no restraints, and he clearly looks like he has surrendered. How could the most ferocious militant turn into a traitor? The captured people were shocked and puzzled.

It was too embarrassing for his nephew to see him like this, so Proclaw lowered his head, but he was easily recognized by Lambart.

"Uncle!" Lambart walked over hurriedly, squatted down and shook Proclaw's shoulders vigorously: "What happened? You... were defeated?"

"Shut up!" Proclaw asked loudly, "What's wrong with you? Are you dead? Are you a traitor?"

"I...I didn't."

Finding a window to vent his anger, Proclaw added: "You must have told the Russians the information. I was defeated and your people were killed, but you still have the nerve to stand here."

Lambart felt like he had eaten a piece of dung. He was very uncomfortable and didn't know what to say.

But Lambart's work had come to an end, and Fisk came and pulled him away. After asking, he finally understood that the leader of Polotsk was in his hands. Fortunately, he was not killed. Of course, according to the values ​​​​of the Vikings,

Fisk actually expected this guy to die in battle, and his capture was worthy of contempt.

"Your name is Proclaw? Very good. You don't seem to want to talk now? Don't worry, I will let you speak on your own initiative."

Fisk's Slavic accent was a little weird, but the other party could still understand the main content. It seemed like he was waiting for a torture? Proclaw looked serious, but he remained silent.

"As expected, it is as hard as a stone. Let me tell you, I am Fisk, the cavalry captain of the Kingdom of Ross. The army you saw is only a small part of Ross. Even so, it is easy to massacre your Polotsk. Then

, do you really want Polotsk to disappear forever? Or are you willing to have a good chat with me? I will give you a chance to negotiate. If you don’t speak, you will refuse. If you refuse me, it means that the people of Polotsk must die.

."

Lambart paraphrased these words carefully, and at the same time hurriedly advised: "Uncle, everything has changed. We must survive first, and have a good talk with this group of people. We still have the possibility of survival."

It is unbelievable that my nephew can say such things. He is completely different. Who knows what kind of ecstasy soup this kid drank in the Russian camp.

But he had to make a decision, because the bald guy was making a fuss about the lives of the captured people.

Silence means destruction, even if Proclaw has realized that the other party is actually asking him to surrender on behalf of the entire Polotsk. He can quibble that the so-called entire village alliance is not his own, and he cannot convince the crowd by making peace without authorization. Such words of the Russians
To be continued...