292. The Whale (2).
He had grown, Kiyiu.
The fortress stood tall beyond the Dnieper River, with the air of a final boss. Should I call it a city now? The massive scale of its walls made it abundantly clear why this place was the hottest spot north of the Black Sea.
I had once set up a garrison on that low hill over there, but now it had all been swallowed into the city, nestled demurely within the yet-modest embrace of the walls.
To my eyes, as a siege expert(?) who held the achievement of Gate Destroyer, Kiyiu's walls had a peculiar feature. Normally, walls are built facing open ground—that is, a clear, wide area—to block an approaching enemy. But Kiyiu's walls rose highest toward the Dnieper River, and the solid stone wall construction was centered along the riverbank.
The reason was likely to keep the now-collapsed Khazar Khaganate in check, but as a result, the riverside wall construction came with dockside works, and before anyone knew it, Kiyiu boasted a harbor that rivaled Novgorod's.
The logistics of the Dnieper River, which had been blocked during the brief war between the North Sea and the Khazars, now surged forth as if unleashing pent-up force, and the great, ferocious river that once held a vast and desolate beauty was now teeming with human challenges.
Everywhere, ships with unfurled sails moved and descended in unity toward their respective destinations. This was the future of the North Sea. The thought suddenly struck me.
The Dnieper, the Don, and the Volga. The three lifelines that formed the eastern North Sea. If one looked closely at these rivers, it was clear that their winding mid-sections came very close to one another.
Looking at the lateral branches snaking out like serpents between the three great dragons, a single word flashed in my mind.
Canal.
If only these three rivers could be connected? If the potential of this land could be maximized? If the North Sea's dominion became far more entrenched here than I had imagined?
Then truly, wouldn't a monster beyond imagination spring forth?
Well, building a canal wouldn't be something completed in a snap, so I would have to meet with Leon, who was busy with the Árós-Uppsala super-metropolis construction, and discuss it.
I instinctively realized this was a surprisingly plausible idea.
The Baltic Sea, which Árós people called the Eastern Sea and those from the Rus' region centering on Novgorod called the North Sea, and the massive Lake Ladoga, the hub of northern logistics. Then, starting from the White Sea visible beyond to the east, three river lines flowing continuously downward, and finally, a land of great waterways connecting to the Black Sea and the Caspian Sea.
Just how much gold, silver, and treasure would accumulate on these waterways? If that project were completed in this still-desolate land, how many cities would arise and how many people would greet a new life?
A life overflowing with everything, which this steppe had never known before.
And if it all came to pass as I envisioned.
An unknown realm. The deep, dense forests of the frozen north. We would have the capacity to enter Siberia.
The Earth is round, so if I kept walking outward like this, I could meet everyone in the world...!
For now, though, it was a tale of the distant future. But it was a fun thought, wasn't it? All the seas in the Northern Hemisphere would become mine! Territory radiating outward in a circle centered on the North Pole?
It was a foolish flight of fancy, a vain delusion.
"Fylkir. Over there, that is the flag of the goddess Hel. Jarl Haskuldr seems to be coming across in person."
While I was lost in thought, gazing at Kiyiu's dazzling development and the dynamic power of the North Sea upon the Dnieper, Seutorolpeu's brave voice cut in from beside me.
Looking where Seutorolpeu's burly arm pointed, the golden mask of the goddess Hel embroidered on blue cloth flashed brilliantly.
It was an extravagance that almost made me laugh out loud, but if it was the lord of Kiyiu, bordering the Eastern Roman Empire no less, such luxury should be called an investment.
Honestly, if he was doing this well, I thought perhaps he might as well just declare independence now, but a tightly-knit cooperative relationship could be a win-win.
[Bwoooooo-!]
[Fylkir-! Fylkir-! Fylkir-!]
At the resounding blast of the horn and the sight of those approaching while chanting 'Fylkir' like some kind of incantation, I could only laugh.
*****
The reunion with Kiyiu was a joyful one. As with all reunions, but especially when facing people and places dear to you, the joy swelled even greater.
Now, all of them possessed a tremendous identity and pride as people of the North Sea, people of the goddess Hel and Fylkir. It was said that not only here in Kiyiu, but even people from Polotsk to the north, Novgorod, or of Finnic and Sámi origin would now introduce themselves as 'a North Sea person from such-and-such tribe/region.'
A feeling of sets dividing within the vast circle called the North Sea.
The abundance certainly played a part in how people could melt so rapidly into this unheard-of culture called the North Sea as if into a furnace, but my power—avoiding unnecessary killing and achieving various mythological feats—had likely played a larger role.
As with all things in the world, one cannot explain this miraculous result by removing any single factor. At least it seemed my efforts had shone through, which was a relief. Anyway, I felt that kind of emotion.
Together with the direct thousand-man unit that had mounted up and moved alongside me, and Seutorolpeu, we ate and drank to our hearts' content at the grand feast prepared by Jarl Haskuldr, and shared all sorts of stories.
I exchanged pleasantries with Jarl Haskuldr and one by one, the various tribal chiefs of Rus' origin who had come under Kiyiu's influence, or various Khans from the steppe, exchanging hearty well-wishes.
Seutorolpeu and my other warriors talked with the Garmr Brotherhood dispatched to Kiyiu, or the warriors and traders of this area, swapping all manner of rumors.
It was a phenomenon typical of a North Sea city. The North Sea was so interested in the outside world that it was right to call it a trade empire, and since skalds would immediately turn any rumor heard from beyond the cozy boundaries of the North Sea into song lyrics, there were surprisingly many people quite knowledgeable about the situations of neighboring countries.
So, the smooth talkers among my direct thousand-man unit spun the curious tales they had seen and heard on the eastern steppe (such as my breaking of the Holy Gate), while in turn, the people of Kiyiu spoke of the current state of the Eastern Roman Empire to the south, or the situation of the Magyar-Bulgar peoples to the west.
The west and south were chaotic, and the Fylkir had stabilized the east, so clearly the east was the hot ticket! Invest there, then!
Astonishingly, the main interest of these North Sea people, whose economic sense was alive and well, was how to properly manage the jars of silver coins buried in their front yards—that is, most of it was about financial investment. Not that Hrólfr hadn't already set up something akin to a bank, even assigning an official office to it. It was a ruse devised by Hrólfr, whose skill at passing off work was second to none, because he could no longer handle the various taxes and tributes pouring in from across the wide North Sea.
To my 21st-century eyes, it looked just like a bank no matter how I saw it. I knew nothing about finance, yet a bank had spontaneously emerged...
The North Sea Empire, where Abbasid and Eastern Roman silver coins were circulated along with barter. Maybe it was time to start minting North Sea Empire silver or gold coins? Long ago, Leon and Hrólfr had roamed the northern mountains of Norrland and surveyed them, reporting that besides the lucrative copper veins currently being worked, they had also discovered gold and silver veins.
My brother Ubba on the island of Britain also reported finding gold and silver mines near my direct holdings.
According to my hypothesis, the reserves of these gold and silver veins, influenced by the goddess Hel's blessing, were highly likely to be increasing even as I thought this. Should I really try to make these properly?
But this pleasant dilemma was forced to hold its breath before a new wave of chaos that soon arrived.
"So. What did you say your name was? Could you tell me once more?"
It was the second day of the joyous feast in Kiyiu. The time was when the sun, hung at the highest point in the sky, was beginning to slide slowly west.
Today, as expected, the people of Kiyiu, who had been diligently feasting under the pretext of the Fylkir's glorious visit, had to greet unexpected guests.
The warriors of Kiyiu, who had fought against Sagarya Khagan in the east just two months prior, thought a new enemy had invaded, and after a brief commotion, they learned that those who came from the steppe in the west were not our enemies.
"Giving my name to the strongest one in this world is something I can gladly do as many times as needed. O glorious one, my name is Vladimir. My friends also call me Vladimir Rasate."
Vladimir Rasate.
That 'Rasate' part, as I understood it, was the name of the fortress where this man now kneeling before me on one knee like a nomad had been captured as a prisoner when he was very young.
A tragedy that occurred when Boris Knyaz (King) of Bulgaria, who was Khagan at the time, tried to win easy military glory for his young, naive heir.
I had heard it became the catalyst for Boris of Bulgaria to halt all military activity and plunge into internal reform. And now, the very subject of that fascinating tale knelt before me.
What on earth was the heir of Bulgaria doing here...? Had Kiyiu's power grown this much?
"Quickly, raise your head and stand, heir of Bulgaria. Your father, Boris Knyaz, once gave me crucial aid when I was entangled in the Eastern Roman civil war."
Basil, who had been routed by Michael and me and fled. If Bulgaria's Boris had sided with Basil back then, the Eastern Roman civil war would have sunk into an unimaginable quagmire. At that time, the lords of Anatolia were wearing masks of neutrality and watching for opportunities, and Basil himself, holed up behind walls, could still command no small number of soldiers.
Of course, it would have just taken a little more time. I could never picture a scenario where I lost to them, but it was clear that Bulgaria's Boris had saved me the trouble.
"How could the victory of the Emperor of the Eastern Romans and the great Fylkir possibly be due to my father's help? But your saying so fills me with nothing but gratitude."
Another noteworthy point was that the entire conversation Vladimir and I were having could be understood by all the North Sea people around us.
Vladimir spoke the language of the North Sea quite proficiently.
I had been breaking into a cold sweat, consciously or not, under the blind stares and excessive reactions of the fanatics hovering around me (especially Haskuldr), so I was happy to hold a normal conversation like this.
"So, Vladimir of Bulgaria, have you come here to enjoy the feast with us? Hahaha!"
I set the stage by throwing a goodwill-filled question to Vladimir, who had slowly risen with a humble posture, and Vladimir, who displayed his dignity with careful movements and a modest demeanor, dropped a bombshell without hesitation.
"Fylkir. I, Vladimir of Bulgaria, with the tribes that follow me, beg to submit to the Fylkir."
"Hahaha— ...?"
?
What on earth was this about.
I froze in my laughing posture, and those beside me who had been smiling and raising their cups also stopped all movement.
Vladimir Rasate. What a master of the ice-cold attack. To wield such freezing magic.
Anyway, this kind of shock was a first since my brother Rurik of Novgorod suddenly begged to submit. Still, having had this experience before, I quickly recovered my expression and continued laughing naturally as I asked what on earth he meant.
"—Haha! My, I have heard unexpected words from an unexpected guest. As I understand it, you are the heir of Bulgaria, and Knyaz Boris of Bulgaria merely expressed his desire to cooperate with me. He did not seem like one to ever bow his head to anyone?"
"What you say is true. O strongest and wisest one. I know well that this action of mine is a great discourtesy and burden to the Fylkir and my father. But, Fylkir, you who have already accepted our eastern kinsmen (the Bulgars)! If not for you, all those who follow me will die. By my own father's hand...!"
What the hell was happening in Bulgaria, that neighbor beyond the Danube River.
☆☆☆☆☆Reference☆☆☆☆☆
Hellerick, CC BY-SA 3.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0>, via Wikimedia Commons
The picture that flashed in Helgi's mind.
It is the integrated waterway system of the Eastern North Sea(...)...!
The insane project connecting the Baltic Sea, White Sea, Black Sea, and Caspian Sea...!!! But actually, if you look closely, the canal length that actually needs to be connected is shorter than you'd think...!
In reality, it's called the Unified Deep Water System of European Russia, UDWS, and it is the protagonist that made Moscow be called the port of the five seas—the Baltic Sea, Black Sea, the Black Sea's accessory the Sea of Azov, White Sea, and Caspian Sea...!!
