Vikings: Lords of the Ice Sea

Chapter 318 Andalusian Horses
In mid-July, more than a hundred students from the Army Academy passed through Luton, including Prince Frey, who excitedly sought out his brother’s residence, only to be greatly disappointed.

"You actually have the leisure to grow corn and pumpkins? Your job is so easy?"

Frode put down his hoe and replied irritably, "A relaxed workload is actually a good thing; it means the area is stable. If I'm overwhelmed with work, it just proves my incompetence."

Frey rolled his eyes, made a few sarcastic remarks, and then stepped aside to avoid getting beaten up. "Fine, I won't bother you planting corn. Our summer internship is over, and we're heading back to Rendinium. Is there anything you want me to tell you?"

"I just sent out a letter yesterday, there's no need for this."

Frey looked around and found the place rather boring. He slipped into the kitchen, picked up five smoked chickens and a smoked pork leg as a snack for himself and his classmates, and then left with a yawn.

The next day at noon, Frey returned to the palace and recounted his experiences in Cambridgeshire, where his internship involved assisting with the construction of drainage windmills and bridges. Before long, he steered the conversation to his brother's life, complaining that he looked much like a country farmer while farming.

"After I graduate, please don't let me take a local position; I can't live like that."

"What do you want to do?"

Frey: "Cavalry, of course!"

The cavalry was indeed impressive, Vig was not surprised at all, but he was not prepared to throw his son into this dangerous branch of service. After thinking for a moment, he made a decision in secret.

Since this guy is good at civil engineering, why not send him to the engineering corps after graduation to be in charge of building bridges and roads, operating torsion crossbows and counterweight catapults, hone his skills for a few years, and then pick a suitable piece of land to settle him down?

Recently, intelligence systems have infiltrated the Livonia region, continuously transmitting information such as the location, population, and output of various tribes to Gotland, which is then compiled and sent back to Britain.

Two years later, assuming conditions permit, Vig plans to bestow the title of Duke of Livonia upon his second son, select a geographically advantageous port to build a town, and then slowly expand outwards.

"Eastern Europe has vast land and its development potential is far better than that of Norway and Sweden."

He wrote down a rough plan in the memo and continued to work on the backlog of documents.

The first document records a dispute over a shipwreck. Last month, Leonard's Kirk was en route to Winchester to sell goods when it sank off the coast of Cornwall. Leonard suspected that the local lord had deliberately set incorrect light signals to mislead the Kirk toward the reef.

"Another shipwreck?"

To my recollection, this is the fourth shipwreck in Cornwall this year. Vig wrote a reply at the end of the document, requesting that the lords of both parties involved come to Rendynewme and that the Minister of Justice send someone to conduct an on-site investigation.

The second document records the demands of the wealthy businessman Harry.

His textile factory recently achieved a technological breakthrough, enabling him to apply a more durable red dye to fabrics. Simultaneously, the workers have creatively invented a double-dyeing process: first, the fabric is dyed yellow with Michelia champaca, then dyed again with indigo dye, ultimately resulting in green fabric.

Unfortunately, Harry discovered that his competitors were soon selling the same red and green cloth. Suspecting they had stolen trade secrets, he asked the King for justice.

Harry's dyeing patent was valid for ten years, and Vig wrote a reply instructing the Justice Secretary to handle the matter according to patent law. Undoubtedly, with his two dyeing technologies, Harry's textile factory would expand rapidly, completely surpassing his competitors, but Vig had no intention of interfering, letting the market develop naturally.

Turning to the third document, one finds records of recent horse trade.

British merchant ships carried furs, spirits, whale oil, amber, and dyed cloth to Lisbon. On the return journey, spices and olive oil took up less space, leaving most of the cabins empty.

At the beginning of the year, the Minister of the Navy and the Governor-General of Lisbon reached a deal: Britain would provide them with much-needed iron ingots in exchange for permission to purchase warhorses. On their return voyages, spare cargo space would be used to transport the warhorses, alleviating the domestic shortage.

The procurement plan looked promising, but it wasn't until the first batch of Andalusian horses arrived at the port that the Minister of the Navy realized the seriousness of the problem.

The kingdom's three-masted merchant ships, with a carrying capacity of three hundred tons, purchased thirty warhorses in good condition when they departed from Lisbon in early June.

Suspended by thick canvas straps, they swayed and wobbled across the ship's side amidst the shouts of the crew and the creaking of the pulleys, finally landing in the makeshift livestock pens below the main deck, their restless neighing and heavy breathing echoing in the narrow space.

Leaving the waters near Lisbon, the ship sailed north along the coastline. A week later, it encountered a storm. Raging waves crashed against the hull, and salty, icy seawater poured into the cabins. The livestock pens became slippery and muddy. The biting cold and violent rocking relentlessly ravaged these land creatures.

Soon, a young stallion fell ill. It began to refuse to eat, its once glossy coat quickly lost its luster, its eyes became sunken, and its panting sounded like a broken bellows.

To prevent the remaining horses from getting infected, the captain had the crew work together to drag the sick warhorse to the edge of the deck and then push it into the waves.

During the subsequent voyage, the merchant ship experienced two more torrential rains, making the lower decks damp and foul-smelling. Some of the warhorses' hooves rotted and became inflamed, unable to support their weight and forced to lie on their sides in the filthy, damp haystacks. As time passed, their health deteriorated, and they were gradually thrown into the sea by the crew.

After a month-long voyage, the merchant ship docked at the port of Rendinium. The surviving warhorses were carefully lifted to the ground by a wheeled crane; only eighteen remained.

Accustomed to the bumpy environment, the warhorses struggled to adapt to the solid ground, their four hooves trembling slightly. Their skin had lost its former silky sheen, covered in filth and hardened salt, and their ribs were clearly visible beneath the loose skin.

Upon seeing the devastating scene, the veterinarian who rushed to the scene sighed, "They will need at least six months to recover, and it is expected that some of the horses will not be able to recover and will only be used as training horses or stallions."

Overall, the loss rate of these warhorses reached 40%. Including various expenses, the kingdom needed to pay seven pounds of silver to acquire one warhorse.

"We wasted so much money and all we got were eighteen skinny horses. It's not even certain they can recover. It's a complete mess!"

Vig was utterly speechless at the deal. If seven pounds of silver were used to produce armaments, ten sets of standard cloth armor could be obtained.

Judging from past battles, each heavy cavalryman is roughly equivalent to three heavy infantrymen. Purchasing warhorses from Lisbon is now too inefficient; it's better to produce armor and equip more heavy infantry.

Vig paced back and forth in his office, clutching the documents. After a long while, he returned to his seat, smoothed out the crumpled paper, and demanded that the cost of the warhorses be reduced to less than six pounds, or the deal would be canceled.

(End of this chapter)