Vikings: Lords of the Ice Sea

Chapter 62 Gathering
"I had completely forgotten about this tradition."

Vig slapped his forehead and immediately stated the troop strength provided: "Forty shield guards, one hundred archers, and three hundred Viking warriors. In terms of supplies, in addition to the rations we bring ourselves, we also have twenty thousand arrows."

After registering the information, Vig left the camp and instructed his troops to choose a clean place to set up camp. He himself, along with a few trusted men, entered the town.

Sheffield, serving as the forward base for this expedition, was severely affected by its own army. Shops along the way were all closed, and passersby hurried along, deliberately keeping their distance from the soldiers as if avoiding a plague.

Sensing the indifferent looks from the local residents, Vig rode his gray horse to the tallest building in the town center.

"The townspeople were harassed, and the surrounding villages were looted by sporadic troops. What's worse, during our stay, the lord was obligated to entertain the high-ranking officers of the allied forces. After all this turmoil, all those years of hard work have been for nothing. Phew, thank goodness I didn't choose the southern territories as my fiefdom."

At the gates of the lord's mansion, Vig identified himself and, led by a slave, entered the main hall, where he found Ragnar sitting in the main seat, glaring angrily at a Viking warrior.

"Ivar still hasn't sorted out that mess? What is he doing in Ireland? Forget it, I can't wait any longer. I reckon the Mercian royal family has already received news of our army's mobilization. If we delay any longer, things might change."

Waving away Ivar's envoy, Ragnar turned his gaze to Vig. "How many people have you brought this time?"

"Four hundred and forty people."

Ragnar suppressed his anger and gestured for Vig to take a seat. Including the troops provided by Tyneburg, the allied forces had amassed a total of 5,300 men. For the first time in his life, he had commanded an army of more than 5,000 men, and he was incredibly excited. He picked up his wine glass and left his seat.

"It is said that during Orpha's reign, Mercia was the most powerful country in all of Britain, and it exchanged letters with Charlemagne several times. Such a powerful monarch must have accumulated a considerable fortune. Once our army conquers Tamworth, I will only take the crown; the rest of the wealth is yours to enjoy!"

Ragnar's generosity ignited the atmosphere. The nobles coveted the treasures left by the King of Aufa, and the middle-ranking leaders planned to win a fiefdom based on their military achievements. Amidst the clamor of the crowd, the banquet officially began.

The first thing to appear was a whole roasted deer, its skin coated with honey, pepper, cinnamon, and thyme, and placed on a spear. It was carried into the hall by two burly servants.

Thanks to the spices Bjorn brought back from the Mediterranean, the roasted deer tasted a level better than usual, and Vig couldn't help but take a few more bites.

Then, a servant brought out a roasted swan on a huge silver platter. To be honest, the dish was quite ordinary in taste, and its value as a showpiece far outweighed its value in terms of actual consumption.

Next came roast pork, beef stew with turnips, smoked salmon, eel pie, and other meat dishes, as well as a small amount of apples soaked in honey.

"How much has it cost since Ragnar arrived in Sheffield and held a week-long series of banquets?"

Vig's gaze swept over the dishes on the long table, then glanced at Lord Ragnar and his wife, Lord Sheffield, standing beside Ragnar. Judging from their forced smiles, he estimated that the total cost of the banquet was at least ten pounds of silver.

"Besides the expenses of banquets, when the army is stationed outside the town, it usually chooses to procure supplies nearby, which inevitably involves requisitioning food, livestock, and warm clothing from civilians—this is a hidden expense."

At that moment, a palace guard burst into the hall, interrupting the revelry. "Your Majesty," he cried, "over a hundred soldiers are involved in a brawl, and the camp is about to spiral out of control." Ragnar asked, "What's the reason?"

"Over a dispute over a prostitute, soldiers of Lord Vig and Lord Ulf got into a verbal altercation, which attracted a crowd and eventually escalated into a large-scale brawl."

My people are causing trouble?

Vig put down the venison steak he had half-eaten, left the hall with a gloomy face, and rode off to the allied camp outside the city, accompanied by his old acquaintance, Ulf.

Braving the howling wind, Ulf complained on the bumpy horse, "It's all the fault of these brats who don't know any better, making it so that we can't even get enough to eat."

“These guys really deserve a beating. We’ve only been camped for less than half a day, and they already have the energy to cause me trouble. Maybe I’ve been too lenient with them.”

Based on their past relationship, the two quickly reached an agreement. Upon arriving at the military camp, they did not delve too deeply into the details, allowing the guards to whip the soldiers who had instigated the disturbance and expel the prostitute who had caused the conflict.

Having resolved the conflict, the two lords returned to the town along the same route. "I heard you're building a stone castle. How much will it cost?"

Vig: "The inner walls and the main castle cost more than 300 pounds of silver. Fortunately, there were stone buildings left by the Romans nearby, which greatly reduced the cost to about 150 pounds of silver."

"So expensive?" Ulf's voice echoed across the wilderness. "It's equivalent to three years of Liverpool's total revenue. No way, that place is too poor. After the war ends, I'll apply for a better fiefdom."

"A transfer of fiefdom? Would His Majesty agree to that?"

In response to Vig's question, Ulf's face tightened. "After conquering Mercia, His Majesty can only rely on us nobles to rule the people. His energy is limited, and he can't possibly hold onto all the territory. At worst, I'll try to achieve more military merits and give the Queen a generous gift. No matter the cost, I must get myself a fiefdom."

After hearing this, Vig was puzzled. Liverpool later developed into the second largest city in England, with excellent natural conditions, and it was impossible for it to be as bad as Ulf described.

"Hey, what's with that look? That place is far from trade routes, and it's all swamps. To save money, I've been eating eel almost every night, and I've even thought about developing other industries."

In Ulf's account, this man was not just a brute who knew how to kill; he tried to develop commerce and attract some small merchants and artisans to settle down, but unfortunately, he was quickly squeezed out by Mancuni upstream.

What's most infuriating is that Manchoni imports raw materials such as wool and timber from Liverpool, processes them into woolen fabrics, farm tools, and other goods, and then sells them back to Liverpool, reaping huge profits. He even mocks Ulf for not knowing how to manage his territory.

Driven by anger, Ulf built warships and declared that merchant ships passing through the Mersey estuary would be subject to a transit tax. Leonard, lord of Mancuni, sent a petition to York. At the Queen's urging, Ragnar declared the Mersey estuary transit tax illegal and immediately abolished it.

Thus, Ulf's efforts to revitalize industry and commerce failed, leaving him no choice but to return to herding and fishing. This prompted Vig to express deep regret.
“I understand your predicament. The West can only support one town. You can’t compete with Leonard’s Manchuni. This has nothing to do with your own talent. You really should get a different fief.”

(End of this chapter)