Fires crackled in the distance behind them, the entire Tribe had gathered together in a massive column. To see an entire civilization on the march was definitely a sight to behold, their chief leading the Vanguard of the movement. They had been settled for so long and across such an expanse that it had taken some time to gather the men together. In the distance, the neighbors of the Langobardi had taken note to the rising clouds of smoke, the shift in the animals as they fled the massive army on the march. Some would say that the Gods themselves had warned the enemies of the Langobardi that the tribe was on the move, that once more the fierce Langobardi people intended to make war. It would have been wise to let the Langobardi travel through, to provide them shelter and food and send them on their way...but the enemies were not wise, and the world would forever remember the day that Godehoc made good on his promise to the Gods.
The Battle of Chomutov was but the first in a series of brutal conquests enacted by the Langobardi as they migrated southerward, while also serving as the first taste of combat for Godehoc after several long years of peace. Whether out of foolishness or desperation, the neighboring tribes had rallied a considerable force together and set out to intercept the Langobardi people as they had made their march south. It was confidence, or madness.
"Kill them all!" Godehoc shouted at the top of his lungs, the Langobardi soldiers slamming their weapons against their shields as they had formed into a cohesive unit, blocking their enemies from getting to the women and children in the back. The Langobardi's were dressed in varying degrees, some wearing heavier armor and others daring to show into battle with nothing but their weapons and their testament to their Gods painted on their bodies. Unfortunately, the Langobardi had unified in a way that was unexpected, a total mobilization of their people.
The massive force seemed unstoppable as the wall of spears and shields kept the enemy tribes at bay while the skilled Langobardi hunters put their bows to new task, arrows flying through the air and striking into the weakly armored tribesmen as they threw themselves fruitlessly upon the wall of Lombards. Godehoc himself participated in the fierce melee, leaving the actual command of his troops to another while he soaked his blade in the blood of his enemies until they were driven before him and their ruin smote upon the countryside.
---
Months had passed since the battle and it had been nothing but easy conquest after easy conquest. Foolishly his enemies had mustered their entire army to purpose in the Battle of Chomutov only to be met with ruin. Each push forward saw the Lombards meet with success after success as the local tribes were left defenseless. Pillaging occurred in gross amounts, the villages looted and their women stolen into the night as the Lombard army descended upon the lands as if it were a plague. Some women chose to take their own lives rather than live in disgrace, others still fought to their last breath to withstand the invasion. Children, barely 8 summers old put to the sword as the Lombards moved in. Every liberty imaginable was allowed to the Lombard troops as they carried their tireless campaign out.
News, however, was not all that grim. There had been a birth, Godehoc seeing life fill the lungs of his first daughter. The fruit of his new wife's labors would prove valuable in the future, and Godehoc gave praise to Godan that the child was born healthy with no defect. Born in the weaning months of winter, in the first month of the new year, was Engelberga.
"We've occupied most of their lands, father. They cannot hold out long."
Godehoc's son spoke. The chief giving a somber nod. It had been months since they had defeated their enemies army at Chomutov and the tribe was starting to grow restless with the war. There was a desire to settle down, to prepare for the next harvest season. It would be many summers before the tribe would be willing to leave, so Godehoc had chosen to be absolutely certain in his conquest.
"Spare no man. Take this land and make it known who we are, then we are done."
Godehoc instructed, his voice hushed as he held the small babe in his arms, examining her. His duties to the tribe had seen him removed from the battlefield, a fact which he loathed. His son, however, was coming into his own as a warrior and a general. The youngman was the lead element of multiple assaults which subjugated the local populace to the Lombard way. It was through his guidance that many battles were ultimately won, and under his leadership that the tribe would depend when Godehoc took his place in Godan's hall upon death.
---
As anticipated, the last of the tribal leaders capitulated to Godehoc's son, Claffo, almost four entire years since the migration had begun. The tribe had already begun to settle the land, but with the defeat of this last chief their position had been cemented. Word reached Godehoc that his old lands had been occupied and taken by those that had either hid like cowards or those that had ran northwards to escape the fury of Godehoc's army as it marched south.
It did not matter. His tribe had found a new home, and with that home came peace. But peace would not last. Even this far south, the bitter winds of winter grew colder and Godehoc knew that this arrangement would be a temporary one at best. For the sake of Engelberga, Godehoc would find a suitable land for his people. To this end, Godehoc renewed his vows to Godan and once more took to sporting a beard, as his ancestors had done before him.
