272. Wind (2).
272. Wind (2).
"Thus, if even a tiny spark were to be ignited in this substance, soon a great flame would—"
Norrland was more refined and its city scale had grown, but ultimately it was a garrison city with limits, pressed up against the northern mountain range.
It was a hilly region close to the mountains, somewhat ambiguous for designation as a capital. The pure white of the mountain peaks that looked as if they would never melt was a charming sight for the eyes, but actually living here? Well, I wasn't so sure.
Heading further down from here, wheat fields immediately spread out, and descending a bit more from there led past marshlands being reclaimed in various places, straight to Árós and Uppsala.
"Now then, I shall light it! Everyone please stand back!"
"Distinguished guests, do not cross the line marked at your feet!"
"It is dangerous! Please follow the instructions!"
"What is this? How dangerous can it be for them to be acting like this?"
"Oh, just wrap it up and set the fire already! I survived the Frankish hand-axes and spear-points, I tell you!"
The murmuring crowd, gathered with Jarls and Konungrs, bobbed their heads about with intense curiosity like örn meerkats, and the veteran instructors of Norrland, suddenly saddled with managing the distinguished guests, broke into a cold sweat while pushing the audience back as much as possible.
In the center of that crowd, I, similarly swiveling my head this way and that, watched ahead as Fadlan, an engineering professor of the University of Árós, his hands trembling, hurriedly backed away, received a torch, and brought it to the liquid that left a long trail.
[Ssweuk- Hwareureuk! Hwareureureuk! Hwaaak! Huuk- Huuk-]
Immediately, a fierce fire blazed along the pitch-black trail, a crimson flame writhing its entire body within a great brazier prepared in advance.
"By Hel, what in the world!"
"Is it Surtr!? The sport of Surtr!"
"Fylkir, good heavens...!"
Do not use my title like an exclamation!
From here and there, the voices of lords tinged with a measure of surprise and fear burst forth.
[Hwareuk! Hwareureuk! Huuk-]
It felt like ages since I had last heard fire making such sounds. How long had it been since I had seen such a massive flame? As if they had all become members of fire-worshipping sect, the lords, entranced in unison while staring at the great flames, soon opened their mouths as one and avidly tracked the blazing heat.
"I know not what that black liquid Jarl Fadlan has employed is, but this is a tremendous discovery. Fylkir."
"If we could wield this Surtr's fire at our will, we would have no equal at sea any longer."
"Only at sea? Horses are creatures that throw every kind of fit if they merely tread wrongly on a single small stone by the road. It would be quite a sight to raise this Surtr's fire precisely along the road where the enemy cavalry would charge."
"All good ideas, but seeing how Jarl Fadlan handles that substance, we might all be killed before it can ever be used on a battlefield."
Centered on the three Konungrs who had nearly entirely retired after the great war five years prior—Bagsecg, Olaf, and Halfdan—the lords of the North Sea's far-flung realms who had come to attend the regular muster held between late summer and autumn carried on a heated debate.
The lords of territories bordering nomads like the Khazars and Magyars, chiefly Konungr Rurik of Novgorod and Jarl Haskuldr of Kiev, were inclined to employ it boldly even if it meant shouldering some risk, while the lords of the comparatively more stable western parts of the North Sea Empire in Britain were skeptical about using this Surtr's fire right away.
And at last, just as was their custom, the three old Konungrs began to argue among themselves, their voices gradually rising, when Fadlan, having kept clear of the flames, approached and continued the remaining explanation.
"As you can see, it can produce such a ferocious flame. It was discovered by fishermen on the western coast of Kaupang, and because there is a place like it in my homeland of Edo where I was born and raised, I was able to recognize it. However, as many Konungrs and Jarls have remarked, this flame cannot be a perfect weapon. First, it is dangerous to use in regions where the wind blows strongly, and carrying it in large quantities is difficult to maintain and store. Furthermore—"
It's petroleum, after all. Not the refined stuff from the 21st century like gasoline or diesel, but some kind of raw black liquid before refining. As Fadlan had said, the circumstances of this substance's discovery were that some Jarl on the western fjord coast of Kaupang sent it to the University of Árós for analysis after seeing his local villagers scooping up some black water and drinking a cup each, claiming it was an offering to Hel.
I could not help admiring the courage of those villagers who had immediately drunk that foul-smelling, evil-looking black water, even as I felt a pang of regret. I could only hope their lives would not be greatly affected. Since they only drank one cup each, they should survive, right? I had quickly sent men to strictly forbid the drinking of petroleum and dispatched medical personnel, so I had done all that could be done.
In any case, men like Rurik or Haskuldr in the eastern part of the empire had probably heard tales of, or even witnessed firsthand, the Roman fire wielded by the Eastern Roman Empire.
No matter how well-seasoned and sea-soaked a ship might be, once a highly viscous petroleum mixture was poured upon it, there was no option but to burn. Eastern Rome had repelled the invasions of the Muslim powers at the height of their glory with this Roman flame.
If looked at in this light alone, it seemed like some invincible weapon, but in this world, there was nothing quite as foolish as the word 'invincible.' Just as Fadlan had noted, because it was a substance that had to be sprayed directly upon the enemy, it was greatly affected by the wind; if mis-stored, it could self-detonate; and being heavy, a large amount could not be carried at once.
The calm Mediterranean and Black Seas might be usable enough, but in the seas of the western North Sea, where high and rough waves would thrash fore and aft at every turn, one might reach Valhalla the very moment they opened the lid of a flame thrower to launch the stuff.
Therefore, it was right that the army not use it right now.
"—Thus, in my view, finding a method to enhance the viscosity and stability of this substance, reducing its size, and then creating a throwing weapon that warriors could hurl like stones would appear to be the most ideal. We at the University of Árós have selected this as our highest priority project, and—"
The death engineer who had produced all manner of siege weapons for the current North Sea Imperial Army. Fadlan soon transformed into the visage of a university professor seeking to win a project, conjuring images of a grenade not yet even made into the lords' heads and subtly beginning to appeal for the need for funding.
"Hmm. Indeed, if one could manage to raise Surtr's fire at the right place and time, it could create a breakthrough in urgent situations."
There were those who analyzed it rationally.
"Ah— it reminds me of scaling the fortress of Verden together alongside the Fylkir! If only we could have used Surtr's fire then, our task would have been far easier! I miss those days...!"
General 869 had also appeared.
In any case, judging by the reactions of the lords nodding their heads with grave expressions, it seemed Fadlan's new project was set to begin with fervent support (funding).
Truth be told, the scholars of the University of Árós could live without worry for their entire lives on my funding alone, but human desire usually works such that obtaining one thing makes one wish to obtain yet another.
Not only Fadlan, but even Kyrillos, representing the humanities at the University of Árós, was procuring funding for the analysis of ancient language systems spanning the northern Sámi and the Finns beyond from the nomadic tribal chiefs—Jarls—who were growing ever plumper.
Desire channeled in such a good direction was something to cheer on, never, ever something to think of obstructing.
"As you have all witnessed, this substance is as dangerous as Surtr's Fire, yet it holds great potential."
By nature, my jarls were men of significant wealth with few outlets for spending it, and so they were constantly on the lookout for opportunities.
Naturally, jarls eager to curry my favor by investing heavily in whatever I showed interest in had their hands shooting up here and there, each one declaring their intent to invest with Faḍlān, when my voice rang out low.
In an instant, the jarls shut their mouths like startled fish and turned only their wide, shining eyes toward where I stood. Beside them, Faḍlān clicked his tongue with the expression of a fisherman who had just lost a catch he had already reeled in.
"I shall personally support this research at once, so, Jarl Faḍlān, proceed with every avenue of study that you can pursue."
"Thank you! O great Fylkir!"
At my words, Faḍlān swallowed his clicking tongue and nodded brightly, beaming like a child. Come to think of it, this freed slave scholar from Baghdad had a son now, hadn't he? The name was most likely Ahmad—Ahmad ibn Faḍlān.
"Deadlines and results are of no particular concern. The safety of you and your research staff must be regarded as the highest priority."
"I shall most certainly do so."
"And Konungr Halfdan, please bring the relevant motion before the Thing at Kaupang. I must directly manage the region where this Surtr's Fire emerges. Let us ensure it is absolutely never consumed by people, and offer the residents of nearby villages extra compensation to either resettle them elsewhere or encourage them to join the guard force that watches over the Surtr's Fire."
"Kaupang shall obey the Fylkir's command."
Ever since Konungr Halfdan and Jarl Harald had submitted to me, Kaupang had been obeying me as if it were a second Árós.
It was convenient, but there was something subtly strange about the feeling. The expansion of the village bus—city bus—intercity bus system I had launched five years ago had proceeded smoothly, so that now one could travel by carriage and passenger ship from Kiyiu all the way to Dublin. Truly, it was a magnificent achievement that unified the North Sea Empire in a genuine sense, but as a side effect, I increasingly felt that people were following my words blindly.
'Was it really all right for things to be going this way? Am I not piling up more work for myself or my son? Should I just grant independence to everything when the right time comes?'
In the end, weren't thoughts like these only possible because I had a full belly and a warm back? Trust yourself, Helgi Ragnarsson. I was doing well!
"Good. Then let us conclude the matter of Surtr's Fire here. Thank you all for observing with me. Some of you have sons training as members of the Garmr Brotherhood here in Norrland, and each of you surely has other business, so let us meet again at the evening feast! Attendance is free, of course! Hahaha!"
"Ha, hahaha! We shall attend without fail! O Fylkir!"
"Hahaha! Unless both our legs are severed! How could we not attend!"
"Ah— A feast hosted by the Fylkir himself! I already feel nostalgic for it...!"
No, if you really didn't want to come, just don't come. And General 874, were you now reminiscing about the future?
After ordering the dismissal with a broad wave of my hand, I hurried my steps. Behind me, I could hear the voices of jarls, either catching hold of Jarl Faḍlān to discuss Surtr's Fire and the funding further, or rushing off to find their cherished sons.
Following Hrolf's proposal to foster a sense of belonging among the members of the North Sea Empire, I had been summoning its jarls every year between late summer and autumn. Yet, I found that more than the jarls, I myself was feeling an increasing sense of belonging to the North Sea.
Perhaps Hrolf had aimed for this? Knowing me so well, he might have seen what I could not.
[Stomp— stomp— stomp-stomp]
Leaving behind the road well-paved with cut stones, I stepped into the grass not yet frozen, moving past the insects fleeing this way and that from the advance of a giant, and in the distance, my family came into view.
Ehehe! Eh-eh! Ragnhildr! Shouldn't you sit back down? Siii-lo!
The faint voices carried on the wind were laced with a sweetness I simply could not ignore, revealing to me precisely why fish underwater fell for an angler's lure.
As a smile crept onto my face and the corners of my eyes crinkled before I knew it, Sigmarr noticed my approach and ran to me first, followed by little Randulfr and then the dainty Ragnhildr trailing behind.
"Father-!"
"Daaa-ddy-!"
Sigmarr and Randulfr, not yet seven, did their utmost to act dignified as they shouted "Father," while Ragnhildr, not yet five, laughed brightly, her soft hair—so like Inga's—fluttering in every direction.
I gathered Sigmarr, who had reached me first, to my left side, then Randulfr to my right, and then ran to Ragnhildr, who still had a long way to go, scooping my daughter into my arms and lifting her high.
The ticklish scent unique to small children, and Ragnhildr's little fern-like fingers tugged at the hair Inga had braided for me.
As I chimed in with the voice of Sigmarr, who buried his head in my shoulder, and the babbling of Randulfr, who was chattering about what a superb archer he was, I walked a little further and saw the bright smile of Inga, who had risen from her long chair.
And there, squirming in her arms and kicking and reaching out in every direction, was Ingifríðr, our youngest daughter.
"Inga, you wouldn't believe the amazing thing I saw today."
"Oh, really? Strange. I feel a sense of wonder every single day, myself."
My wife, who grew more beautiful the longer we were together. Her initial shyness had now faded, and with a touch that grew ever more skillfully familiar with me, Inga smiled playfully, drawing my chin toward her. Soon our two lips met and then parted.
At the sight, my children either feigned disgust or pushed their own lips forward clumsily. In that moment filled with laughter and happiness, Ingifríðr's pure giggle flowed like music.
Eh-heh heheh! Eheh-heh! Heh-
Winter was soon to come, but the people of the North Sea no longer feared it.
*****
Called the Shaitan of the North Sea, the demon of the sea, the most vile Frank, and suchlike, Alfred of Wessex stared in silence at the shadow of land flickering in the distance.
It was soon to be Andalus.
☆☆☆☆☆Author's Note☆☆☆☆☆
Gautier, D.L., Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
It's the North Sea oil field...!
What must it feel like, this status of being an oil-producing nation...? Of course, to General 874 and the people of the 9th century, it's practically useless... but we know all too well, don't we... the power of this black water...!!!
Under Helgi's abstract and ambiguous blessing, all resources are increasing...! And even the black substance beneath the earth is growing, surging up on some beach in Norway...!
We can't use it right away, of course lol
The decisive weapon of the Eastern Roman Empire, called Greek Fire or Roman Fire, was the force that sustained the empire, but it seems to have been tricky to use... meaning there is no such thing as an invincible weapon...! But still, it's certainly a nice thing to have lolol
I'm gradually thinking about introducing the various tattoos commonly associated with vikings, but records about these tattoos are surprisingly scarce... however, looking at the account of the Volga journey written by Ahmad ibn Faḍlān, there is mention of tattoos, which makes me think they perhaps adopted the culture as they came into contact with the nomads...!