Vikings: Lords of the Ice Sea

Chapter 168 Good News

For the next two weeks, Ragnar built a simple hut near the farmhouse. He changed out of his gorgeous robes embroidered with gold thread and personally fished, cooked, and cleared the surrounding weeds with a sickle, just like an elderly rural farmer.

During his stay, almost all the nobles of Northern Europe flocked to visit this most famous Viking ruler in history. Tired of being pestered by the crowd, Ragnar decided to leave the farmhouse where he had lived for many years.

Before departing, he erected a runic stone on a nearby cliff, facing the gray-blue sea to the east, and held a small sacrificial ceremony alone. In the swirling, acrid smoke, Ragnar suddenly turned around, looking at the endless line of soldiers and banners behind him, and the nobles standing at the front of the procession. A sense of desolation welled up from the bottom of his heart, and tears involuntarily slid down his cheeks.

Ignoring the many astonished looks, he softly recited an unknown poem.

The city walls crumbled, and frost and snow covered the throne.
The lord who held the cup turned to dust.

Only the mournful cries of seabirds could be heard.
A response to the feast in my memory.

In this situation, Gunnar also shed a few tears. He participated in this operation for 10% of the reason that he was homesick, and for 90% of the reason that he was observing the physical condition of his old superior and old brother.

Seeing the latter's aging, he felt complicated. He should have felt fortunate, but tears kept falling down his face, and he even felt a very slight regret.

Not long after, Gunnar wiped away his tears, and with them, he also wiped away his inner weakness. The great cause was not yet accomplished, and he could not afford to slack off in the slightest.

After the ceremony, the group headed to the port of Kalmar. The day before their departure, a lord arrived late with dozens of followers.

Looking at the tall, muscular red-haired man, Vig tentatively asked, "Rurik?"

"It is an honor to have the renowned Serpent of the North remember my name."

Rurik gave the other a warm hug and, led by the latter, went to see Ragnar.

That evening, Rurik invited Ivar, Bjorn, Vig, Gunnar, Niels, and Om to a drinking party. Twelve years had passed since the hunting party disbanded, and he looked at his six former companions, recounting their deeds and titles one by one.

In contrast, Rurik's reputation was limited to Eastern Europe. In recent years, he became the lord of Novgorod and maintained good relations with the Rus' tribes in the middle and lower reaches of the Dnieper River, keeping trade routes to Constantinople.

As he downed cup after cup of mead, his speech became increasingly erratic. "I never imagined that we would all find our place, coming from humble beginnings to where we are today. It hasn't been easy."

The next day, Rurik bid farewell to his old acquaintances. Gazing at the endless sails on the sea, he couldn't help but sigh: "To personally lead a large army to conquer Northern Europe, with all the lords bowing down. There is no greater pleasure in the world than this. I wonder if I will ever have the same power in my life."

After spending half a day enjoying the sea breeze on the cliff, Rurik got down to business. He had heard that Ragnar had exiled a large number of guards, so he came all the way from Novgorod to recruit one or two experienced officers to help him train his army.

"It is said that the situation in the middle and lower reaches of the Dnieper River is not very stable, and we should make preparations in advance. Over the past ten years, Ragnar has experienced countless battles, and those expelled guards are experienced and may have mastered some new tactics."

When the expedition ended, he returned to his own territory. None of the thousand men he had taken with him had died in battle. One man fell into the water on the way, and twenty-three others died from various diseases. Rather than defining it as an expedition, it was more like an armed parade, a mere trip to Northern Europe.

After listening to her husband recount his experiences over the past few days, Helgeve yawned repeatedly. "How's the situation back home?"

Vig: “It’s all abandoned. The houses are dilapidated, the former wheat fields are overgrown with weeds, and all the villagers have fled.” Herijief then asked, “Didn’t the king give you any spoils of war when you went on your expedition to Northern Europe?”

"Without a war, the lords in various places surrendered before they even met, so where would the spoils of war come from? On the way back, the prime minister scrambled to raise money to pay the wages for our overtime service, and then sent us away."

"Is that so?" Harrigif was slightly displeased with the king's behavior. She had dragged her husband away for more than half a year and complained about why he hadn't given her more things.

She murmured to herself for a long time before curling up in Vig's arms and falling into a deep sleep.

Perhaps the gods heard Herijief's prayer and decided to grant this noblewoman's small wish. Some time later, a court messenger braved the snowstorm to arrive from Landineum, bombarding Vig with a bombshell of "good" news that left Vigie completely bewildered.

Early May 855 AD.

From the end of the annual meeting until the beginning of spring, it is the most relaxed time of the year for Vig.

Last year's results were good, with over 7,000 immigrants, bringing Tyne County's population to 53,000. The excess immigrants were sent to the five northern counties. Across the entire territory, his jurisdiction has a population of 270,000, with over 50,000 Vikings.

With the population and income steadily increasing, he had been living a particularly comfortable life lately, sometimes spending time with his family, sometimes reading alone. One afternoon, as he was flipping through the biography of the Roman Emperor Aurelian, he suddenly heard that a court messenger had arrived.

He put down his book and quickly went to the main hall on the first floor, where he took an imperial edict from the other party.

He tore off the red sealing wax, glanced at the first few lines, and instantly slumped into his seat.

Pascal is dead?

After Ragnar conquered Northumbria, he kept Pascal by his side, entrusting him with various clerical tasks. As time went on, Pascal's political talents gradually became apparent, and he was appointed Prime Minister, serving for more than eleven years.

As a surrendered Anglo-Saxon nobleman, Pascal dedicated himself to bridging the conflict between the Viking conquerors and the Anglo-Saxons, striving to persuade the king to protect the monasteries within his territory and endeavoring to maintain this fragile balance.

In recent years, piracy has almost disappeared, and crop yields have increased significantly (due to the three-field system and heavy iron plows). The people have been able to enjoy a rare period of peace and stability. In addition, Pascal's frugal and hardworking nature has led to his popularity among the people soaring, far surpassing that of surrendered nobles such as Theowuff.

"He's worked so hard for over ten years, it must have been tough for him. I wonder which unlucky guy will take over this mess?"

Vig was saddened by Pascal's passing and his mood somber. He slowly read to the end of the letter, only to discover that the person Pascal recommended before his death was none other than the Serpent of the North, Vig Tynburg.

Hey!
Seeing the Duke clutching the letter tightly, the messenger assumed he was overjoyed and quickly offered his thanks: "Your Excellency, to deliver this good news to you as soon as possible, I have traveled tirelessly and barely rested."

Unable to bear the messenger's incessant chatter, Vig gave him a sum of money as a reward for delivering the good news, and instructed a maid to arrange for him to rest. He then read the edict several times, sighing softly.

"This is truly an unexpected development."

(End of this chapter)