Chapter 38: Wilhelm III’s Revenge
“Today, we drive out the barbarians that have sat in Iceland for hundreds of years! Today, we stand side by side with our former enemies in Scandinavia against our common enemy! Today, we push the Triple Alliance back into the sea!”
-Friedrich Augustin III
“On second thought, never mind.”
-Fylkja Aleta, at the conclusion of the First Liberation of Island
“Oh, actually we’re back now.”
-Fylkja Aleta, during the Second Liberation of Island
Friedrich Augustin III had become close friends with Fylkja Aleta, and during his reign he moved to normalize relations between the two Germanic empires and hopefully to end the constant warfare between the two of them.
The first test of the newly forged Norse-Reich alliance was in 1424, when Aleta declared war on the Triple Alliance itself to liberate Iceland. The Acatl conquistadors had sat on the frozen island for decades after being pushed out of Norway, with neither side willing to attack the other due to the harsh conditions of Norway and Iceland and the huge number of Mexica and Norse troops stationed in their respective territories.
Once Aleta had secured an alliance with the Reich, though, she had enough confidence in a victory over the Mexica which would drive them out of Europe once and for all.
Friedrich Augustin accepted the call to war and mobilized the British legions. Within a month, almost eighty thousand Romans were launching an amphibious invasion of Iceland, where eighty thousand Nahua troops awaited them.
Friedrich Augustin and his son personally led the legions which stormed the beaches of Reykjavik and assaulted the Mexica garrison stationed there, which was commanded by Huey-tlatoani Snorri II Acatl.
The Battle of Reykjavik was a complete victory for the Reich, with over half of the Mexica force destroyed by the legions and the rest fleeing to eastern Iceland to link up with the thirty-thousand strong garrison there.
In August, the Reich forces assaulted what remained of the Mexica army, which began showing signs of complete collapse. Fylkja Aleta hadn’t even sent any troops to Iceland and she was winning the war. It was only a matter of time before the Mexica were driven out completely.
That was, until Snorri was deposed in a coup and his kinsman Tlacaelel seized the throne. As the Norse holy war had been directed at Snorri, and Snorri was no longer Huey-tlatoani, the war was called off inconclusively, with a disappointed Friedrich Augustin returning to Berlin.
In Central Asia, Shah Rukh, the second Lord of Asia, died comatose in November. He was succeeded by his son, Khadagh (or Babur, as some called him).
Friedrich Augustin immediately called for another war to finish off the Mexica, but it was the Mexica who acted first in declaring war, calling a holy war for Orkney and the Faroes. Aleta immediately called in the Reich. The imperial legions promptly destroyed the invasion force, and Tlacaelel surrendered by 1427.
Seeking retribution for the Mexica’s insolence, Aleta immediately called for a holy war against the Mexica again, and Friedrich Augustin joined in the war. This time, only one legion was needed to crush the Mexica garrisons, but sieging the cities took much longer due to the harsh conditions of Iceland. Meanwhile, the Malians invaded again.
Husavik, 1429
Tlacaelel sat in his throne room. It wasn’t much and certainly couldn’t be compared to the throne room of the Acamapichtli Huey-tlatoanis in Tenochtitlan, but at least it was his.
The Romans and Norse had been sitting outside the walls for weeks now. Over the decades the Acatls had made sure the walls of Reykjavik and Husavik would be able to survive any siege, sending spies to Constantinople to study the strength of its walls. Now he laughed. Those Romans would freeze before they could get anywhere, he thought.
As for the Norse…well, they were led by a woman, and Tlacaelel simply glanced at his wife, who was chatting with his grown sons and daughters. He didn’t think his wife was capable of being a Huey-tlatoani, so would the Fylkja be any better? The Norsemen were less equipped for sieging cities, he recalled, preferring to raid and loot instead.
But it had to come to this. Everything Erik Thorvaldsson had wanted the Acatls to do, it was all for nothing. They were being driven back, and they had been sitting on an island of snow and fire for decades now.
A messenger rushed in.
“What is it?” Tlacaelel said. “Have the Romans given up?”
“No,” said the boy, looking alarmed, “They’ve got thunder-sticks!”
“WHAT?!” said Tlacaelel. “Impossible! They could never have gotten in touch with the people of Tawatinsuyu!”
He was proven wrong as the unmistakable sound of thunder boomed across the city, followed by a loud crash and roar as parts of the wall exploded, Nahua men screaming as the Vikings and Romans stormed through the breach into the city.
“No, NO, NOOOOO!” screamed Tlacaelel. “This is impossible! How did they get those blasted thunder-sticks before we could even reverse-engineer an effective version of them? This is a complete disaster!”
Another messenger rushed in. “Sir, the enemy has breached the city, the garrison’s been overrun by now. Our scouts report that the western portion of the island and Reykjavik has also been overrun. I recommend that you head to the port now.”
Tlacaelel sighed. So this was how it all ends, he thought, this was how the mighty colonial empire of the Mexica, Erik’s centuries-long plan of revenge against those who had wronged him ended, not with a bang, but with a loud boom as Husavik went up in smoke and flames from the cannons.
The sounds of battle grew closer.
“Uh, sir? We should probably get going,” said the first messenger.
The second messenger was already out the door.
“Oh, yes, right,” said Tlacaelel, “Guards, escort my family to the docks, I will meet them there.”
The jaguar warriors motioned to his wife and children and herded them and their servants out, leaving just Tlacaelel and his messenger in the palace.
“Let’s go,” said Tlacaelel.
“Yes, sir,” said the messenger.
They rushed out of the palace just as an artillery bombardment blasted surrounding buildings to pieces and the Imperial Aquila was raised overhead, side by side with the Three Crowns of the Empire of Scandinavia. They made it to the docks, where all of the Nahua settlers and government officials had already embarked on the ships, ready to make the long journey across the sea to Cemanahuac.
Tlacaelel and his messenger stepped onto the nearest longboat, the one where the rest of the Acatl family and the most important government officials sat in. The rowers pulled on the oars, pushing the ship away from the docks just as the berserkers stormed the harbor. They rowed as fast as they could, fleeing the burning and freezing city of Reykjavik as the Romans and Norse celebrated their victory.
Soon, Iceland was just a speck on the horizon, and then it was gone, just as it was two hundred years ago before Ocuil Acatl arrived.
Tlacaelel watched as smoke rose from the former Mexica stronghold, the last remnants of his feared family's once-mighty empire. “We’ll be back,” he said, biting back tears. His sorrow quickly turned to anger and rage.
If he couldn’t have an empire here, he vowed silently, he would have one in Cemanahuac.
Westwards they sailed, sailing into the sunset for the last time, never to return to Europe, just as their ancestors had fled Aztlan to escape the oppressive Azteca nobility. After two hundred years, the Mexica Triple Alliance had been defeated for good.
"All this has happened before, and it will happen again," he muttered, quoting his ancestor Ocuil Acatl.
Celebrations across the Reich for the ultimate defeat of the barbarian menace were short-lived, as the Persians promptly invaded.
In other news, Aleta sent Friedrich Augustin a puppy as thanks for his help.
