Everyone on the British Isles already knew about this. This world had not invented radio, but even without radio, there were always ways to communicate, such as the oldest method of beacon fires. The British Isles differed from Earth in geography; at the narrowest point, the strait between them and the mainland was roughly sixty kilometers wide, and beacon fires had been set on mountain peaks near the cities.
The beacon fires had been lit the moment the attack began, but before the fleets across the strait could come to help, the battle here had already ended. Once the cities were breached, the Red Mad Wolves attacked too quickly for anyone to form any effective resistance.
Those ancient steamships took far too long to get underway, so by the time the fleets arrived, the battle was already over.
By the time the Red Mad Wolves occupied the entire cities, those fleets had stopped firing as well. There was no need. Though their cannons could eliminate some of them, their ammunition was precious too. Without the mainland's mineral resources, their supplies would become extremely scarce.
That meant they had to hold out through the winter, and winter alone required several rounds of icebreaking. The number of shells needed for that was no small amount.
So no one aboard those fleets made a move. They could only watch as everyone in the two cities was finally overrun. In truth, if they had been willing, they could have evacuated the cities' residents to the islands long ago, but they had not done so.
This outcome had been destined long ago.
Two days later, the Red Mad Wolf packs gathered along the shore. They seemed to sense the humans across the sea, but they had no way to cross the ice, so they could