Vikings: Lords of the Ice Sea

Chapter 33 River Fish Dinner
During this period, Vig frequently summoned local villagers and learned that Tyneburg comprised nineteen manors and twenty-three villages, sparsely populated with most of the land abandoned. In particular, after the war, nearly a quarter of the population chose to flee.

"Let them go, so they won't stay in the country and cause me trouble," Vig thought to himself.

From the morning onwards, he met with representatives who had come from all over the country. The village chiefs of all twenty-three villages were present, generally dressed in coarse linen clothes and looking timid. In contrast, the gentry class owned horses and dressed more respectably.

In the evening, the banquet officially began. Of the nineteen gentry, five came in person, while eight others made excuses for not attending and sent their sons or nephews instead. The remaining six gentry ignored Vig, saying they disdained to pledge allegiance to a heretic.

"I am Vig. I once visited Constantinople and, based on my merits in the battles of Mancuni and York, I was appointed Lord of Tyneburg by the King. From now on, I hope you will accept reality and abide by the new order."

As is customary, the gentry sat at the long table on the right, while the village representatives sat on the left. At this moment, they all turned their heads and watched the man who called himself the Lord of Tyneburg in silence.

This man was tall and upright, with sharp eyes, a high nose bridge, and a face as sharply defined as a meticulously sculpted marble sculpture. His smooth black hair was tied in a ponytail, a stark contrast to the rough and slovenly image that everyone had expected.

Furthermore, being a Viking, he could also speak Anglo-Saxon, although his pronunciation wasn't perfect, it was enough for everyday communication.

The gentry on the right whispered among themselves, believing that the new lord was no ordinary Viking barbarian and that he had come with ill intentions.

An elderly local gentry member spoke first, "Do you intend to issue new laws, or continue with the old rules?"

Vig gave what he thought was a kind smile. “Everywhere follows its own traditions and beliefs. I won’t interfere. Just pay your taxes on time. If you are robbed by outsiders, feel free to come to me for help.”

An outsider? You are an outsider.

They exchanged glances, tacitly accepting the new lord's rule. Now that the old royal family had fallen and the south was submitting to the new king, as long as the new lord didn't go too far, there was no need for these northern country bumpkins to continue to resist.

The worries that had been building up in their hearts for half a year dissipated, and under the leadership of a certain fat country gentleman, everyone began to enjoy this ordinary dinner.

There were only three dishes: stewed fish, bread, and a mixed stew made with turnips, radishes, and peas. The only drink was five jugs of mead, and everyone barely managed to share a cup, not even enough to soothe their throats.

The Viking barbarians are too shrewd. Even though there's plenty of livestock in the fields to the east, they don't know to slaughter a cow to entertain their guests.

Many gentry inwardly complained, but outwardly showed no sign of displeasure, praising the lord for his ingenuity in hosting the river fish dinner.

"Don't say that. I know you don't like this dinner."

As soon as he finished speaking, Vig slammed his wine glass to the ground, sending countless shards flying and leaving everyone speechless for a moment. The next moment, Vig rose and drew his longsword, and a group of tall, ferocious-looking Viking soldiers surged out from both sides of the main hall, clearly having planned this for a long time.

Gazing at the sharp weapons so close at hand, the guests breathed heavily, their chests heaving, like a flock of terrified sheep.

"Don't worry, this isn't directed at you."

Vig smiled again. "I am grateful that you are willing to attend the banquet. But some people do not think so. Not only have they refused my invitation, but they have also insulted His Majesty the King, calling him a filthy and lowly heretical barbarian. What do you think I should do?"

He stared blankly at the Dragon's Breath sword. In the dim candlelight, the intricately patterned blade reflected a beautiful yet deadly light. "This sword is called Dragon's Breath. I won this Damascus steel sword in a duel before the emperor in Constantinople. Roughly speaking, I've been learning Anglo-Saxon for the past six months and haven't used it in a long time."

This guy's crazy! He's got something wrong with his head!

The elderly gentry swallowed hard and asked in a hoarse voice, "Are you planning to attack them?"

"Yes, it is my duty as a lord to govern this region and quell rebellions. I will depart early tomorrow morning, and I ask all of you elders to bear witness."

To make a name for himself in the first battle, Vig deliberately went all out, not even sparing the Anglo farmers around Tynburg.

As the sun rose, sixty-one local farmers, each holding a pitchfork, lingered outside Tyneburg, their expressions sorrowful, as if they were prepared for never to return.

To boost morale, Vig had no choice but to incentivize them with financial rewards.

"By estimation, the winter wheat in various places is almost ripe. I swear to all known gods that for every estate you conquer, you are allowed to harvest the local wheat, and how much you can take depends entirely on your abilities."

After hearing these words, the villagers' dull and lifeless eyes gradually brightened, and they each went home and picked out several intact sacks, their previous fear completely dissipating.

Thus began Vig's first campaign after taking office. The force consisted of twenty armored shield guards, two hundred and thirty Vikings (fifty peasants stayed behind to guard the house), sixty-one local peasants, and thirty-six representatives from various regions to observe the battle.

In terms of supplies, the team had twenty horse-drawn carriages (the horses of the guests were temporarily requisitioned). Instead of carrying much food, they transported many wooden parts, which were assembled into battering rams and ladders upon arrival at the designated location.

To ensure the element of surprise, Vig urged his team to speed up and reach the first target by noon the following day.

"Finally we're here."

He rode his gray horse to a low hill with a wide view. At first glance, the outermost part of the estate was surrounded by a low fence, covering an area of ​​about 1000 acres, resembling a square with sides of two kilometers.

The residential land, woodland, ponds, and orchards total about 150 acres, dozens of acres are planted with other crops, the remaining 400 acres are planted with wheat which looks like it is about to ripen, and finally 400 acres of land are fallow.

Two-field system.

This was the standard agricultural practice in early medieval Britain, where half the land was planted with winter wheat and the other half was left fallow to allow the soil to slowly accumulate fertility.

After observing for a few minutes, Vig judged that there were no ambushes around and ordered his troops to move toward the center of the manor.

Upon discovering the arrival of this unidentified army, the farmers who were working immediately fled to their home for shelter.

Contrary to expectations of a wooden building, the manor's main residence was actually a four-story brick and stone watchtower covering an area of ​​200 square meters. A wooden wall surrounded the watchtower, and as time passed, more and more armed peasants appeared atop the wall, seemingly preparing for war.

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(End of this chapter)