Chapter 1: The Lion Prince
"Of course, ce ne sera pas facile." Prince Kion sighed as he gazed out along the coast of Brittany alongside three others, all on destriers.
"What are you talking about, Kion? This just means we get the fun part again, Nous sommes des chevaliers après tout!" Bunga laughed.
Before them lay the feisty sea, which crashed against the sand and rocky cliffsides. Kion felt the gentle ocean breeze flow through his shoulder-length golden-red hair and cooled the four young men despite the suits of chainmail, plate pauldrons/greaves, and surcoats over them.
"I wouldn't be so eager, Bunga." The Norman Knight beside him said in a deep and powerful voice.
Sir Bunga de Albon's fair skin contrasted his thick black hair, which hung down from his head even further than Prince Kion's. Despite the young mens' athletic physique, they paled in comparison to the titan beside them.
Sir Beshte de Pithou stood almost seven feet tall with a barrel chest and broad shoulders to match. Kion often wondered if the metal from his armor could've made suits for three knights with his physique so imposing.
Lastly, the smallest of them sat a young man with reddish-blonde hair cut incredibly short. Unlike the others, he had no surcoat over his armor, nor did he carry a sheathed sword. Instead, he wore a metal crucifix around his neck.
"Look at them all, Dieu aie pitié."
Ono crossed himself while gazing upon hundreds of Norse longships descending upon the Angevine Empire's Northern Coast like a pack of ravenous hyenas ready to devour everything in their path.
The carved wooden heads of dragons and other monsters seemed to shout out in terrible snarls, but rather, it was the war cries of the Norsemen inside.
"How many do you think there are?" Kion asked Ono, who peered closer at the invading fleet.
"Those are the big ones. Hundred-twenty men per ship, maybe eighty-six, make that eight-four ships." Ono said, noting how two of the ships lost control in the waves and crashed into the rocks, sending hundreds of terrified Vikings to a watery grave, their weapons, shields, and armor weighing them down and their fellow raiders making no attempt to help them.
"I guess, Njǫrd was upset with them!" Bunga laughed, only for Ono to give him a stern look.
"Ce n'est pas drôle! Like it or not, they're children of Christ too." Ono said, crossing himself and reciting a prayer. The Knight's face hardened.
"Tell that to the men they slaughter, the villages they pillage, the women and children they take as slaves."
"Enough!" Kion growled, silencing Bunga.
"I'd say just over-ten thousand." Ono muttered, returning to his count.
"Que le Christ soit avec nous! Ten-thousand of twenty-thousand came here to face us?!" Beshte huffed in disbelief.
"Ivar the Boneless wants revenge for his brother, Ubbe. But his Great Summer Army will meet the same fate as Ubbe's Great Heathen Army." Bunga assured Kion while patting his left shoulder pauldron.
The Prince smiled slightly. Four years earlier, the great Norse King Ragnar Lothbrok led a great Viking raid intended to pillage the northern coast of the Angevine Empire, including its capital of Angers, only to face annihilation in a decisive battle in Normandy by his Father, King Simba.
Two years later, Ragnar's son Ubbe assembled a mighty host to avenge his father, known as the Great Heathen Army. However, at the time, King Simba was away on pilgrimage, and Kion's older brother on Crusade in Spain.
Mustering the full might of the Angevine Empire in England and France, Kion won a decisive victory in Southern England and destroyed the Great Heathen Army, including Ubbe.
As of late, word spread that Ubbe's brother, Ivar, called upon all remaining fighting men among the Norse to seek revenge for his father and brother, assembling roughly twenty-thousand.
Kion expected most of this army would sail east towards Normandy to confront his father or perhaps to England to force Simba to cross the channel. Instead, the hammer would fall upon Brittany, where Kion reined as duke.
At last, the longships began to land and desire Norse warriors in the hundreds.
"Four-thousand against ten-thousand. I suppose worse odds have been faced." Kion said.
"Oh yeah! Now we're talking!" Bunga cried, drawing his sword and holding it high. Beshte, and Ono, however, looked horrified and crossed themselves.
"Kion, Le diable t'a pris! We can't fight a host such as this alone! We must pull back to the nearest castles and Brest, then send word to your father and brother for reinforcements. They could have almost forty-thousand men here between them!" Beshte cried only for Kion to shake his head.
"Ivar sent the rest of his army to bog them down, I'm sure of it. Perhaps they don't have siege engines, but should we hide behind our castles. The Norse will lay waste to all of Brittany." Kion crossed himself and gazed at the sky.
The sunlight glimmered across his red surcoat and the three golden lions of the Plantagenet sigil.
"I will not allow such violence to occur on Christ's children. Till the Angevine Empire ends!" Kion roared, drawing his sword and filling the hearts of his companions with the fire of courage, and they did the same.
"The Lion Guard will defend!"
The Plantagenet Prince led his Lion Guard away from the cliffside and further inland, taking a deep breath as he did so. However, just before they left, he and Ono looked back and took particular notice of how the warriors disembarked from the ships.
Several hours later, Kion and his Guard stood among two hundred other Knights of Brittany clad in the same kind of chainmail and plated armor, with most already covering their heads with great-helms and sugarloaf helms over their coifs.
Each Knight wore his coat-of-arms or that of his retainer. Behind the knights stood four-hundred mounted sergeants on coursers wearing chainmail without anu plate and flat-top enclosed helms.
These shock cavalrymen rested on the left flank of a mighty host, with a matching two-hundred Knights and four-hundred sergeants on the right, protecting the sides of twenty-two hundred spearmen, axemen, and swordsmen, adorned in mail or gambeson with kettle-helms. Lastly, eight hundred or so crossbowmen and archers stood in the rear.
Kion gazed upon his army with a heavy heart. Seasoned warriors and those still in the flower of youth stood ready to lay down their lives for the sake of Brittany and their Prince. These weren't just men from the dutchy of Brittany, but men from across his Father's Empire, Anjou, Normandy, Aquitane, and England. Their lives were in his hands now, and should he fail, how many widows and orphans would cry out to God in agony.
"Don't let them intimidate you, Kion! Every one of our men is worth ten of these brainless vikings!" Bunga declared.
"Technically vikings refers to them coming to raid. I think in this case-" Beshte started.
"Épargnez-moi les détails, big guy!" Bunga moaned before donning his great-helm, earning a chuckle from Kion and the others.
"Hey, Prince, or do you prefer duke! When do we get to send these pagans to Hell!?" A gravelly voice graded against Kion and the others as they heard an Anglo-Saxon butcher the French language with his tongue.
Looking over, Kion saw a Saxon huscarl adorned in chainmail with a round-plumed helm, circular shield, and ax approach him, an impatient expression on his face.
"Janja, show Prince Kion proper respect!" Beshte huffed out in Anglo-Saxon English with an iron expression.
"Sorry, your highness, but me and my boys have been itching to crack some Norse skulls! How much longer do we have to wait!?"
"Stop speaking French! Lord have mercy, you're butchering God's finest language!" Bunga groaned in French.
"Latin is better than French." Ono said with a smirk.
Kion gave the Englishman a disciplined look.
"You'll get your chance, Janja. I put you and your huscarls in the center for a reason." At this, Janja smiled and chuckled like a hyena.
"Good, may Christ have mercy on them, cause we sure won't!" Janja returned to the other Saxons in the center. These Englishmen wielded round shields similar to the Norse, unlike the various French infantry around them who used kite shields. However, some of Janja's huscarls wielded two-handed axes instead of shields.
By then, the Norse-army deployed just past the beach sand on flatter grass ideal for cavalry charges, something Kion noted well. Gazing upon the invading army from his position, he ignored their jeers and promises to burn every church in France then take their women and children as playthings.
Bunga seemed to steam in his armor, but the Angevine army didn't advance.
"You see it too?" Kion asked, noting how the Norse center was thinner than its flanks, the same formation Ubbe used against Kion in England, hoping to encircle him. However, Kion broke the Heathen Army's center with a charge of his Knights in the center, leading to their route and destruction.
"Oui." Ono said, wearily nodding. Kion knew the Norse could be clever when it came to war, and this reeked of a trap. Luckily, it merely confirmed his and Ono's suspicions from earlier.
The Prince smiled before donning his sugarloaf helm, covering his head entirely.
"Anga and Fuli will have quite the surprise waiting for them."
"Are we going to fight!?" Bunga cried.
Kion rode out with Ono to the front of his army.
Ono raised a crucifix upon a staff over his head, and each man bowed their head before crossing themselves.
"Christ dans les cieux, priez pour votre protection, et pour le soin des âmes de ceux qui peuvent périr ici aujourd'hui. Car c'est à toi qu'appartient le Royaume, c'est à toi qu'appartient la puissance, c'est à toi qu'appartient la gloire, maintenant et pour toujours!"
"Amen!" The Angevines echoed back.
"Son's of Christ! We fight today for the sanctity of our home, for the lives of those who live here! I swear before God that I will lead us to victory, Gloire à Dieu!"
Kion's army roared louder than the Norse despite their numerical advantage. Kion returned to the head of his Knights on the left with Ono, and with a hand signal, two trumpets shattered the air.
"Allons-y!" Bunga raised his lance and prepared his destrier charge, only for Beste to grab him by the coif.
"Hey!"
"Not yet!" Kion growled, emphasizing their infantry's advance. Kion could see the dishearted expressions in many of the Norsemen's eyes behind their round helmets, even from afar. They clearly hadn't intended for the Angevine infantry to advance upon their center, adding further evidence to Kion's suspicions.
However, changing formation now would've been suicide, as Kion's cavalry could quickly cull them within such disorder. The Angevine infantry marched in good order, maintaining their formation while the missile troops moved up to flank them.
The Norsemen-adorned in mail or padded wool locked their shields together while bowmen similarly raced to their sides in an attempt to harass the infantry.
"Halte ! En joue ! Détachement!" Kion tightened the reins of his destrier when he saw his crossbowmen and archers half, then unleash a volley of bolts and arrows not at the shield-wall, but the Norse archers.
Ono and Beshte struggled to watch as the missiles pierced through wool and buried themselves into flesh. A dozen or two dropped dead, while many more collapsed, unleashing horrific wails of agony across the battlefield.
"That's it boys, Donnez-leur!" Bunga cheered alongside many Knights and sergeants.
Part of Kion wished to join in, but instead, the Prince remained somber of such things, and he remained vigilant of the entire battle. The Norse archers tried to return the punishment with a volley of their own. However, the initial Frankish barrage resulted in their arrows scattered and disorganized, with many missing their marks.
As the minutes passed, Ono nodded with growing optimism as he saw both squads of Norse archers waver, with many fleeing.
"God smiles on us today!" Bunga cried.
"Soyez attentif, Bunga. The battle is still early." Beshte reminded him with a stern expression.
"Really? Take a look, mon ami!" The young Knight laughed while emphasizing the Norse center. There, Janja's Huscarls and Norman heavy-infantry hacked, slashed, and bashed their way through the thin ranks of Vikings, overcoming their armor with a combination of brute strength, proper anti-armor weapons, and masterful skill.
The Norsemen stood like mighty giants, but the Saxons and Franks matched their stature. Janja and his men had delighted expressions as they carved through Norseman after Norseman with their axes.
"Not so fun when you're facing warriors who fight back instead of frightened peasants, is it cowardly raiders!" Janja snarled as his ax caved in the face of a Viking berserker.
Both Norsemen and Franks formed up with shields and spears near the flanks, neither gaining any advantage over the other. That was until one saw the berserker die.
"Floki!" His companion screamed, turning red in the face and charging straight for Janja, throwing off his helmet and armor.
"Ohh look, he's going berserker!" Bunga cried.
Kion and the others nodded.
"How far do you think he'll make it?" Kion asked Beshte, who moved his helmet up enough to stroke his chin.
"Il n'arrive pas jusqu'à Janja." The Prince nodded.
"I'll take that bet." Kion said, revealing two livre coins.
The berserker came within feet of Janja, only for a Norman axman to step out in front of him.
"Gaaaaah!" The berserker held up an ax in each hand and screamed like the devil himself. The Norman blocked both weapons in two swift motions and buried his knee into the berserker's stomach.
All the rage and fury faded from the Viking who's face went white before collapsing to his knees. Kion's mouth dropped, and he could only watch as the Norman splattered the berseker's head like a melon.
"Too bad!" Bunga laughed.
"Merde." Kion cursed before handing the coins to a Beshte. Yet even as he did so, the Prince sat up sharply when he saw the Norse center waver.
"We've got em now! Come on boys!" Janja snarled. The Angevine infantry pressed on with blazing enthusiasm, and within minutes they broke through the center.
However, even as this occurred, Kion saw his suspicions confirmed. Hundreds of Norse infantry surged from dozens of the beached ships to reinforce their center.
"Woah!" Bunga muttered.
"Looks like you saw correctly, Ono."
"We saw it, Kion." Ono said humbly. Had their Knights charged the center, they'd indeed have broken it, only for their momentum to break with it and leave them at the mercy of swarming axmen. However, instead, these Vikings slammed headlong into the Angevine center, which instantly reformed.
"Now!" Kion snarled, raising his lance. The other Knights joined him in a great chant.
"Gloire à Dieu!" Kion roared.
"Continuez, braves chevaliers!" Beshte huffed while holding up the Plantagenet banner.
"Allons-y!" Bunga added.
The two wings of shock cavalry surged forward, stirrup to stirrup in conroi formations. When the Viking spearmen felt the ground shake, they turned with looks of horror upon the charging knights, who created a thunderous sound, like that of a roaring lion.
Kion calmed himself and slowly lowered his lance when they came within a few meters of the Norse. What followed was something that became second nature to him. His lance snapped after two blows, but Kion quickly drew his sword and went to work, slashing and hacking at the necks of Viking after Viking, striking under their helms and cleaving heads from shoulders.
"Allons-y!" Bunga cried again, following Kion's example, Beshte similarly striking down warriors with the banner itself, while Ono simply held up the cross and prayed in Latin.
All around him, the Angevine Knights and sergeants killed their enemies with ruthless efficiency while scattering the others. Kion gained a slight reprieve and looked around at the great host of Vikings, who still held a clear numerical advantage, but now panicked across the beach like a flock of frightened chickens.
"Come on!" Janja snarled, leading the infantry on and into the broken horde.
"French bastard!" Kion threw up his shield quickly but felt the crushing blow as an ax nearly caved it in.
Kion tumbled from his destrier and slammed into the sand, feeling a sharp pain in his back and legs.
"Kion!" Bunga cried in terror.
Kion looked up, and through the slits in his helm, he saw a massive Viking warlord looming over him. Blood and sweat trickled down across the man's scarred and chiseled face through a thick beard.
"Ivar." Kion growled.
"Die!" Ivar the Boneless brought down his two-handed ax, but Kion rolled aside, even in his chainmail. Seizing a fistful of sand, the Prince sprung up and threw it into Ivar's face.
"Gaah!" The Viking groaned, desperately trying to get the coarse material out of his eyes. This distraction allowed Kion to get back up and into a fighting stance opposing Ivar, who now grunted like a mad dog, baring his teeth.
"I'm told your God was a carpenter, so am I. I'm going to carve a blood eagle into your back!" Ivar snarled, hurling his ax towards Kion, who lurched backward and avoided the first blow. Planting his back-foot, Kion swung his cracked shield back and knocked the ax aside, giving him an opening to punch Ivar across the face with the pommel of his sword.
The Viking warlord gasped, spitting out blood and a tooth.
"Too bad you're a carpenter. I was afraid I might face a warrior!" Kion retorted. Even through his visor, Kion saw the nerve twinge on Ivar's face as it turned red.
"Gaaaahh! When we're through here, I'm going to burn your towns, pillage your churches, and take your women as concubines!" Ivar declared. He entered into a feral rage and swung his ax around repeatedly.
Kion moved cautiously, knowing the ax could severely injure or even kill him despite his armor. Waiting for the right moment, he came forward and showed his own immense strength, catching the ax by its blade and holding it in place before bashing Ivar's side and kicking his stomach.
The Viking nearly toppled over and barely saved himself from losing his head to Kion's sword.
"That's right, you pillage, plunder, enslave, and murder, but then run away when warriors come to challenge you. I suppose your father and brother learned that the hard way."
"Gaaaaaaahh!" Ivar the Boneless turned red, and Kion thought he saw steam fume from his ears for a moment.
"Die French dog!" Kion braced himself when he saw Ivar enter a berserker state and charge him like a bull. The Prince raised his shield up but felt himself almost lifted into the air when the Viking's ax shattered the top of his shield.
"Merde!" Kion groaned, feeling the ax rake across his helmet and nearly split it open, bringing horrific pain over his left eye.
"Kion!" Bunga, Beshte, Ono, and several other knights desperately tried to reach him but to no avail. Kion ripped his cracked helmet off despite his immense pain and saw blood dripping down the chainmail coif over his head and neck.
The Prince sprung back up and tossed his broken shield aside. He and Ivar stared each other down with tenacious gazes.
"Today, I avenge my father and brother! They will drink to my victory in the halls of Valhalla!"
Kion narrowed his eyes and thought back to all the suffering Ivar, and the other Vikings brought to Northern France and England.
"Votre père et votre frère sont en enfer!"
"Gaaaaaah!" Ivar charged Kion, only for the Prince to grab his sword by the blade and thrust it sideways into the ax's blade, ripping it from Ivar's hands. In the same motion, Kion bashed his sword's pommel across Ivar's face with an unforgiving murder-stroke, sending the Viking sprawling to his knees.
"Gloire à Dieu!" Kion roared. He raced forward and slashed down just as Ivar grabbed his ax's handle. With a single blow, he severed Ivar's head, and his body collapsed into the sand.
Kion panted heavily and almost hunched over.
"Continuez, braves chevaliers!" Beshte huffed, and Kion saw a Norseman practically go flying after Beshte crashed into him.
"Kion! Praise the Lord you're safe!" Bunga cried when he and Ono also reached their Prince.
"Christ aie pitié, are you ok?" Ono asked, carefully placing his hands over Kion's face. Ono and Beshte's excitement faded when they saw a scar over their Prince's left eye.
Kion felt Ono wrap a cloth around it but smiled upon smelling the distinct scent of burning wood. A new series of terrifying wails carried across the Norse host when they saw an uncontrollable wildfire engulf their entire fleet, spreading from one ship to another.
The Vikings desperately attempted to put out the flames but to no avail.
"Hmp, nowhere to run now." Kion and the others heard a familiar voice chuckled. Smiling, they turned to the nearest cliffside where two young women soaking wet rested on the rocks, one with a crossbow on her back and purplish hair, and the other with a few daggers, bright yellow hair, and green eyes.
"Well done, nice and quick." Kion complimented.
"S'il vous plaît, did you really doubt my speed!?" Fuli laughed as Anga shook her head.
"They didn't do it alone." A muscular woman with long-black hair said while revealing herself.
"Of course, Jasiri. Saxon women are no less fierce than their Huscarls." Jasiri smiled confidently as she kicked aside a Viking prisoner beneath her feet.
Kion exhaled deeply and turned back to Beshte, who nodded and mounted his horse. The Norman Knight rode in front of the Angevine army, keeping them from advancing any further.
"Lay down your weapons or die!" Beshte's thunderous voice reached every one of the invaders, and within moments, they complied.
"Victory is ours! Praise God!" Janja roared, and soon it echoed across the entire army.
Kion, Bunga, Ono, and their female companions all crossed themselves before smiling up at the sky.
"Prince Kion!"
He turned to see a rider dashing across the beach with an almost panicked look.
"Monseigneur, I bring word from your mother and father!" Kion's eyes went wide, and his heart raced as the pain flared up in his scarred eye.
Author's note
So this is my first human Lion Guard fic, a bit different I suppose, but given my passion for medieval history it's certainly something I've had fun writing
This story will be more inspired by history than based on it, but it will include civilizations both real and based on real ones
I've included characters from my other fics like Kopa (Not Kion's brother), Radcliffe, Vegter, and ect
So until next time,
Please review, comment, suggest or ask(VIA PM)