144.
144.
The ING- element in Ing's name actually referred to a spring goddess older than Odin, Thor, Tyr, or Hel, in a sense. Gods associated with seasons, the sun, or the moon had origins that stretched back so far that they could be regarded as ancestor gods.
That name, which had existed since ancient times, naturally developed into various forms, and one of them was Ing.
My brothers poured their hearts into devising names as if their own children had been born, and among them was a name like 'Ingvad,' derived from Ing's name.
I decided to put the matter off for now. In truth, choosing the child's name was deeply tied to matters of faith, so I had to see that the decision rested with my mother, who was Hel's high priestess and the elder of the household.
If the men here tried to name the child something like 'Hel's Super Strong One' or 'Helgi's Neck Crusher,' it meant nothing. Those were, honestly, more of a joke to ease my tension than anything serious...
'It was a joke, right...?'
Even Sigurd maintained that childish demeanor despite Aeseltris's due date approaching, and in some ways, that was a talent. I was dying of nervousness, but how could he be so utterly carefree...!
I heard that Bagsecg or Olaf had seemed to put something down after I made the Fylkir declaration and had gone to stay with Björn in Uppsala.
The eldest brother of the family showed his face on the day I returned and then vanished straight to Uppsala. I heard he served as the caretaker of the split rock called 'Helgi's Proof,' and surprisingly, the income from the surrounding commercial district was said to be quite profitable.
... I worried it might become a sacred place like Mecca, but that wouldn't be bad either. A gathering of people meant money flowed, and it meant strong bonds were forged.
I had a lot to say about Islam, but when considering its merits alone, the inexplicable cohesion had to be admired. It was the very image of a religious group that rivaled Catholicism.
Since the faith of the North was still only in the stage of establishing a system, far too early to discuss tolerance, I intended to take all the advantages I could.
Though I had no intention of becoming a prophet, of course.
'... Since they already called me a demigod, was it something worse than that...?'
Indeed, whenever I thought along the lines of faith, my head grew hazy. I had pulled down the gods, yet the result was that I was the one being lifted onto that seat. I wished the age of reason and rationality would come as soon as possible, but that was not something I could manage by my own strength. I could only persist and endure.
"How about Alexandros? Fylkir."
Ing and my new house. The house Leon had completed with great care was a massive mansion that felt somehow straddling the border between the North and Rome.
It was a house literally built with gold poured into it, complete with running water and the very first water and sewage system.
It had a pasture for two cute and finicky reindeer named Maria, and it overlooked the eastern district of Árós clearly.
A voice came from beside me as I watched the procession of ships heading to Uppsala and those arriving in Árós, swirling a cup of mead.
A welcome guest. It was Damian.
"Alexandros?"
Transliterated into our northern tongue, it would be something like Aleksander.
"Isn't it better than a name like dragon's fang? Keke."
Damian, who had apparently heard about it somewhere, laughed under his breath as he brought up one of Sigurd's crazy names. He had not changed much since the day we parted in Chersonesus.
He still moved carefully and spoke in a quiet, measured tone. However, perhaps because Michael's rule had stabilized, the sharp glint in his eyes that I had seen before was gone.
Hrólfr. Yes, he exuded a similar relaxed, easygoing air to Hrólfr, which made me think that the situation in East Rome was better than I had thought.
"Personally I admire Alexandros the Great, but it would be difficult to name my first child after him, wouldn't it?"
I felt sorry for the unborn child, but the moment he was born, all the people of the North Sea would likely whisper his name.
I could not give such a child a Greek name.
"Of course, Fylkir. Then what about the name for the next child, or a third?"
Damian made the suggestion in a somewhat earnest tone in response to my amused reply.
This was a signal to steer the conversation toward official matters.
"We haven't even decided on a first name, and you're already on about a second...? More importantly, there must be a reason for this suggestion. Speak plainly, Damian. You know me well. The ways of the Romans do not suit this place."
When I subtly set the stage, Damian smiled faintly as though he found me easy to talk to, and he gently accepted my blunt invitation.
"Though you say unsuited, it shames me to say that the nobles of Constantinople would have to learn from you, Fylkir. Are you not officially a man who wears the purple? You can no longer be considered a foreigner."
What was this fellow asking for that he was heaping such praise on me? Let's hear it.
"The Helgi Ragnarsson I knew was a Konungr who controlled a vast waterway. Yet within less than a year, he became the Fylkir who conquered Britain."
After pausing for a moment and taking a sip of wine, Damian looked out at the landscape below. A vast, endlessly dynamic city.
"The Roman Empire suffered a drought, Fylkir. In truth, it was nothing extraordinary—farming is a matter of human effort and heaven's will. That is why we build granaries in preparation, is it not? But moving the army in winter was a blunder. The remaining grain was scarce, and the crops had failed as well."
He was referring to Basil's revolt. I recalled that they had moved to suppress Macedonia. Compared to the North, it had not seemed like much of a winter, so I had not given it much thought, but indeed a sudden winter campaign had been a burden for the Empire as well.
The result of that, Constantine, was in my arms, and now Maria, a daughter of a powerful family in the Roman Empire and Constantine's own mother, had joined me with her household and wealth... In a sense, the true victor could be seen as Árós.
The high-quality personnel Maria brought were human resources that would have been hard to hire even with money elsewhere.
"Who could have known? That a foreign rex (king) who crushed a treason and kept the Empire stable would now also save the Empire with grain? The endless columns of grain coming down the Dnieper firmly imprinted the name of the North Sea in the minds of the Empire's people. More precisely, the name Helgi, beloved of the goddess Hel, took root in Rome. Would you believe it, to the point of portraits and statues being made?"
I had been pleased simply because we had opened a water route, but the snowball had rolled far larger than I had expected.
In this age, famine was not a rare occurrence, and in practice, there were more days of hunger than days of feasting in winter.
But to think even the Eastern Roman Empire had suffered that.
"I am glad the citizens of Rome escaped starvation, but I sold it and received Roman silver and gold in return. It was not out of vague goodwill."
"What use are gold and jewels if there is nothing to eat? Whatever the intention, the demands of the citizens and the Senate are clear. There is a need for Rome to grow closer to the North Sea. As this also aligns with His Majesty Michael's intentions, I have come."
"So that was it. I had almost thought you had accepted my offer."
When I had parted ways with Damian before, I had extended a scouting offer to him. Naturally, Damian had slipped away like an eel.
"Haha. In a way, this is also accepting that offer. Fylkir. How could an old man like me endure such a long journey again? If you would only receive me, I have come to stay here as well."
Oh?
"Is that true?"
"It is."
"Haha! I welcome you with open arms!"
Wisdom was not something you could buy. Damian was a man adept in court protocol and statecraft, and fluent in Latin and Greek. From what I could tell as he spoke, he seemed to have acquired some of our northern tongue as well, and he had even handled diplomacy with the Khazars. He was a man of inestimable value.
This was truly a great gain.
"Your warm welcome of this old body weighs upon my heart."
At my show of great delight, Damian again lifted his wine to his lips. A small smile also touched the lips of this Greek eunuch.
I would grant him a position akin to a diplomat between the Emperor and the Fylkir, perhaps the head of the East Roman embassy in Árós. That was likely what Damian and the Emperor desired.
"The east district of Árós was planned to become the center of administration, public order, and the military. I will grant you a building closest to my mansion. All construction is being handled by Leon, along with scholars from Rome and the Islamic world, working alongside our Árós carpenters. It should be comfortable for you."
"You show such kindness that I am at a loss for how to repay it. I swear I will devote my full strength to Árós and the Fylkir."
Rome and the Emperor would have their place in that sentiment, but I let it pass. Oaths—especially Roman ones—were only valid as long as profit followed.
'This much distance was sufficient for now. A moderately cooperative relationship.'
That was my thought, but Michael and Rome were more proactive than I had expected.
"The power you wield, Fylkir, has fed the Empire, so a fitting price must be paid. For the sake of continued exchange between our nations, I will present you with warhorses and horse keepers. Furthermore, if you wish, you will be able to procure warhorses from the Khazar Khanate as well."
"Horses...?"
"Yes. In addition, imperial regulated goods such as dyes and silks will be added to the list of trade items."
This was turning out to be far more substantial than I thought. I could expand the cavalry.
"And this, of course, is not an official position..."
Damian drank the wine again. This time he took a large gulp, so this was the main point.
"His Imperial Majesty has said that even if a conflict were to break out between the North Sea and the Franks, he would not concern himself with it at all."
*****
Afterwards, Damian talked about various idle matters and even gave me some parenting tips before taking his leave, and my head was buried in countless thoughts.
'A conflict with the Franks, huh.'
Were Damian and East Rome ordinary people? My North Sea Empire was a new player that had just surfaced, while East Rome was a seasoned veteran who had enjoyed this game for many long years.
In their eyes, it likely seemed that my empire and I had a high chance of clashing with the Franks.
The Emperor had placed his bet on me, though there could be others who thought differently.
According to the information Damian let slip as if in passing, East Frankia was continuing a local war with Moravia, and Italy was to move its army to drive out the Muslims in the south.
In fact, the greatest concern of the current Frankish Emperors was the divorce problem faced by Lothar II of Lotharingia.
Lothar II wanted to divorce his current wife, who had produced no heir, and his wicked uncles were bribing the Papal See, insisting that divorce was a grave sin.
It was a pathetic sitcom, but to me and the North Sea Empire, it was precious time to tighten our internal affairs.
"Fylkir. I was told you were looking for me."
"Ah, Eirik. Come in."
"Yes, Fylkir."
The western part of Árós, transforming into a center of trade, commerce, and agriculture. My old house in the midst of it had, by nature of my frequent absences, gradually become something like an office for the household.
Since it had originally been built as the Great Temple of the goddess Hel, the North's first multi-story building, it had symbolism and still retained its practicality.
Eirik, Björn's eldest, came in; he was in charge of the overall administration of Árós in place of Hrólfr, who, with Leon, was roaming from mountain to mountain enjoying culinary pleasures.
Though it was said he would not live long because of a constitutionally weak body, Eirik's health had greatly improved while staying in Árós, and he was truly a born administrator.
It was a little regrettable that Hrólfr's absence was not strongly felt, but it would be a good thing for the old man.
'Although, Hrólfr was the overall director of the 2nd North Sea Athletic Games.'
I could not let talent go to waste.
I had to work them—make them labor, extract efficiency, and pay them accordingly.
If a thing failed, I recorded it as a failure; if it succeeded, I recorded it as a success. That was how I laid down the foundation stones one by one.
"Eirik. I will need to summon all the jarls and konungrs around the time the harvest ends. It would be good to align it with the games. Would that be possible?"
The end of the harvest was around mid-fifth month of summer. Since it was now the first week of the fourth month, there was roughly a month's time.
Considering the harvest season was chaotic (especially Árós's harvest, which was like a massive festival—with a slight exaggeration, all the fields of eastern Scandinavia were dyed gold), it might have been an unreasonable request, but Eirik nodded without a shred of hesitation, like a warrior standing on the battlefield.
"Of course. Fylkir."
Good.
This harvest feast would likely be the grandest in Norseman history.