Vikings: Lords of the Ice Sea

Chapter 375 The New Trade Pattern
After the allegiance ceremony concluded, one of the leaders brought up the situation in Moravia and inquired about the Empire's stance.

Fearing that a big mouth might leak the information, the censors did not make a direct statement, only saying that the emperor was paying attention to the matter and that there would be a response later.

"Gentlemen, Pomerania has long been coveted by East Frankish and Moravian, and occasionally Viking pirates raid its coast. From this moment on, under the witness of Peren (the chief god of Slavic polytheism), you are officially included under the protection of the Empire. Any attack on you is tantamount to an attack on the Empire!"

The most tangible benefit Pomerania received was the protection of a powerful authority. The leaders were in high spirits, and the meeting ended in a harmonious and congenial atmosphere.

On March 28th, the ravens whisperer embarked on his return journey home. En route, he encountered a storm and was forced to make a brief stop off the west coast of Denmark to await repairs to his sails.

With nothing to do, the yak whisperer strolled around the neighborhood. In his memory, there should have been large tracts of dark brown, tilled land outside the wall, and scenes of farmers sowing spring wheat.

At this moment, outside the wall, there were no furrowed fields, only boundless grasslands. The new green grass rippled in the breeze, dotted with moving white dots—a thousand sheep. Their bleating drifted on the wind, leaving the raven whisperer stunned.

What about the farmland here?

The port's minor lord explained, "In recent years, there has been constant warfare. Most people have either died or fled, and the farmland has been abandoned and can only be used for grazing."

After the Second Danish-East Frankish War, Vig and the participating nobles divided up the Danish lands, and the Danish royal family's territory was limited to the vicinity of Aalborg, equivalent to that of an ordinary count.

Not long after, the East Franks attacked Denmark again in 867, triggering a decisive battle between the Vikings and the Franks.

This time, East Frankish easily occupied the entire Jutland Peninsula, and took advantage of the ice-covered Great and Little Belt Straits to plunder Funen and Zealand, causing Denmark's population to decline again, totaling less than 50,000.

After the war ended, British textile companies discovered a brilliant business opportunity: Denmark was not far from Britain and had large tracts of flat, uncultivated farmland, perfect for grazing sheep.

The heads of various chambers of commerce approached the Nordic nobles, leasing land from them at low prices. They then began large-scale sheep grazing, and the harvested wool was regularly transported to Britain as raw material for the textile industry.
The raven whisperer pressed further: "To whom did you lease your land?"

The young lord gazed at the sheep covering the hillsides, his eyes filled with melancholy, like an old farmer who had sold his land at a low price.

"It's all the same. The Pontiland Chamber of Commerce, the Harry Chamber of Commerce, and eight other textile chambers of commerce have all approached me, requesting to sign long-term leases, with annual rents that are almost the same."

The territories were severely lacking in labor, so they had no choice but to agree to their demands and sign leases for twenty or even forty years. Alas, times have truly changed. In the past, merchants were subservient to us; now, we are the ones patiently pleading with them.

The Crow Whisperer felt heavy-hearted; this place wasn't far from his hometown. In his childhood, the village's able-bodied men would typically set sail this season to trade, fish, or plunder. Now, the merchants, fishermen, and plunderers had all vanished, leaving only one common identity—employees of a textile company.

The lord is right, times have indeed changed.

In April, the ravens returned to London, where more than two hundred ships of various kinds were moored at the dock.

They transported raw materials (mainly wool) from various places, processed them into different kinds of goods in Londinium, and then resold them back to various parts of Europe. The docks were bustling and noisy, thirty treadmill cranes worked tirelessly, and the whole city was immersed in an unprecedented prosperity.

The raven whisperer stepped off the pier, and a pungent aroma wafted from a nearby barbecue stall. The vendor was sprinkling a red powder he'd never seen before onto grilled fish. He bought a serving, ate only two bites, and quickly handed the rest to the equally curious crew member.

"What strange spices! Where did they come from?"

The vendor pointed to the sailboat on the right, "The New World, it's said to be called chili pepper. Besides this, the sailors also brought back a novelty. Look over there!"

Not far away, an old sailor sat on a wooden crate, took out a small handful of dry, broken brown leaves, and put them into a strangely shaped ceramic tube.

After being lit, the leaves did not burn fiercely, but rather smoldered, emitting a peculiar and pungent wisp of smoke. Under the curious gaze of the surrounding residents, the old sailor took a deep breath.

At that moment, time seemed to freeze. The man inhaled the smoke deeply into his chest, closed his eyes for a moment, and then the smoke escaped from his nostrils. Amid the residents' murmurs, the old sailor exhaled smoke with relish. Several of the boldest residents asked to try it, but without exception, they were choked and their eyes watered. They cursed and returned the "burning leaves" to the sailor, which resulted in laughter from the crowd.

"What is this?" the Crow Whisperer asked as he walked over.

The old sailor replied languidly, in a low voice, "Tobacco, a crop of Native Americans. In the last two years, settlements in Puerto Rico have also begun to cultivate it on a small scale. Both Frankish and Viking immigrants have gradually come to enjoy this novel pastime."

According to the old sailor, the towns in the New World developed rapidly due to the influx of Frankish exiles. The three towns also deliberately recruited natives from nearby areas, and their populations generally exceeded two thousand.

"so much?"

The ravens tugged at his beard, feeling it necessary to increase missionary efforts in the New World and send out more shamans.

In the afternoon, the Crow Whisperer went to the palace to report, only to find Vig not in his office. He followed his attendant into the back garden and saw a barbecue grill set up on the lawn, where Vig was leisurely grilling lamb and chicken wings, occasionally sprinkling a pinch of spices, including that spicy red powder.

"Is the matter in Pomerania settled?"

The Speaker of Crows handed the pledge of allegiance to the attendant beside him. “Things went smoothly. The leaders only asked for the protection of their hereditary rights and did not ask for monetary compensation.”

Vig had prepared a reward of ten thousand pounds beforehand, and being able to save that money put him in a good mood. He casually handed a skewer of roasted chicken wings to the Crow Whisperer, "Want to try some?"

“I tried it at the docks, and I couldn’t stand the taste,” the Raven Whisperer quickly refused, changing the subject to the three temples in the New World.

Vig: "No rush. The Royal Navy controls the sea routes to the New World. The Moors and Visigoths lack navigational technology and won't be able to build a two-masted sailing ship suitable for long voyages for another twenty years."

The current focus is on Moravia, where the situation is volatile. You need to dispatch a group of bold and decisive shamans to the border region to win over the support of the lower and middle classes.

(End of this chapter)