35.
35.
Haraldr Halfdansson. The powerful Konungr who effectively ruled the west of Árós, the only son of "the Black" Halfdan (Halfdanr Svarti).
Considering that Konungr Halfdan was of the same generation as my father, Ragnar, this young prince was a contemporary of mine and the de facto ruler of the west.
Just as two tigers on one mountain inevitably fight over territory, the kings of the west and the east had been fierce rivals for generations. Therefore, as I headed to the reception room anticipating a proper sense of tension, I was slightly surprised by Harald's reaction as he brightly smiled and clasped my arm.
"Helgi Konungr! It is an honor to finally meet you like this. I am Haraldr Halfdansson, son of Halfdan Gudrødsson, Konungr who rules the lands west of the fjord (Vestfold) and the gateway to Skagerrak, Kaupang."
"Well met, Harald. I am Helgi Ragnarsson, Konungr of the Danes and the Svear following my father, and ruler of this place, Árós, and of Northumbria beyond the sea."
I refrained from mentioning in front of Harald that I had been elevated with the title of King of all Norsemen. There was no need to make trouble, and above all, this man seemed far more likely to become a friend than an enemy.
Wasn't reading body language, expressions, and the discreet tone seeping between words and sentences the very basics of diplomacy?
Judging by Harald's expression as he vigorously grasped and shook my arm, he seemed to want something from me. Indeed, if he didn't, why else would the heir to a kingdom come to see me?
"There is no one in this land now who does not know your name, Konungr Helgi. Even the Sámi and the Finns, who live in the ice beyond the snow-capped mountains of the far north, know the Konungr's name."
The Sámi and the Finns—the grateful tribes who passed down the sauna tradition to us. Come to think of it, bath day was coming soon; should I build a sauna room? For me to use, and for my family to use.
"Here, please sit. I shall order some drinks brought out."
"To share a cup with a Konungr who has already become a legend in his own lifetime—my father will be envious."
"Ha ha. The Halfdan of Kaupang is a hero to be compared with my own father; would he truly envy an inexperienced man like me?"
"You are too modest, Konungr Helgi. Never before have I seen my father admire someone so deeply. He even considered your father, the great Konungr Ragnar, a worthy opponent."
Shaking his head from side to side as if to dismiss such talk, Harald's golden hair shone brilliantly this way and that. A radiant blond, like a white snowdrift touched by a red torch. My brother Sigurd was also famously handsome, but the Harald before my eyes seemed to be on an entirely different level.
'Still, I would win in a fight...'
I was confident I could make a scrawny guy like this bleed from both nostrils with a single punch.
...
Due to a vague sense of defeat I felt, the incessantly praising Harald did not seem entirely pleasant in my eyes. I was sure I had put points into the Charm trait too... maybe being too big was the problem.
Well, Hrolf had once told me... that while I was handsome enough to make a bird in flight look back, the overwhelming force I projected was even more prominent. Perhaps it was like the feeling of a boss monster from games like White Soul or Elden Ring.
My mother's words urging me to marry suddenly surfaced in my mind, and for a moment, my vision went dark.
'Mother, will I ever be able to marry?'
Of course, regardless of my thoughts, Harald, who was of a similar breed to Sigurd, chattered on merrily, intoxicated by the sound of his own voice.
"The Battle of Eoforwīc has already been turned into all sorts of songs on the lips of countless poets and spread among the people. At this rate, you might become the first human to ascend to Valhalla while still alive! Ha ha ha! I can just picture Goddess Hel and Odin already fighting over your soul!"
"Thank you, Harald."
I thanked the guards who hurriedly brought in mead, well-roasted meat, and a few cabbage leaves at my glance, then offered a seat and a cup to Refil standing beside me, and we truly began to eat and drink and talk.
It might look like we were just having fun, but this was strictly diplomacy and political business.
Sending Harald here to establish a personal connection with me was nothing less than a statement of intent from Konungr Halfdan, who held a tight grip on the logistical hub of the west, Kaupang.
A statement from the ruler of the fjords that he had no desire to quarrel with me.
'Likely due to internal circumstances.'
Through my grandfather and father, we had beaten everyone around us into submission and aggressively pursued expeditions, thereby gathering people and wealth to lay the foundation for centralized rule. By my generation, through the power and authority I wielded, Árós had begun to form into a great city the likes of which Scandinavia had never seen.
Watching us, what did Halfdan Gudrødsson, that mighty warrior king who once thought himself a match even for my father, think?
Should he just quietly accept being absorbed? Or, must they change to become like us?
Judging by the ambition settled deep within Harald's two eyes—even as he chuckled, talking of the women he'd bedded, songs, and hunting—it was clearly and heavily likely the latter.
'Wolves on all sides.'
What in the world am I to do with you all?
"Ha ha ha! It has truly been so long since I've enjoyed myself like this! If I have the chance, I absolutely must invite the Konungr to Kaupang! The men of the fjord never let a guest leave in a sober state!"
"Ha ha! That sounds wonderful, I shall make sure to visit one day, so do not cast me out!"
"How could you say such a thing, ha ha ha ha!"
"Ha ha ha ha!"
I would observe a little longer.
*****
Harald, whom I thought would simply deliver his message, gather some information, and then quickly return, had been staying for a solid week.
At first, I thought, 'What a persistent bastard!' but as time went on, my thoughts changed.
From what I could see, Harald had truly come here because he was curious about me and my city.
All day long, he excitedly went back and forth across the city—the commercial districts, the residential districts, the temple district where my house and the mansions of high officials stood, the expanding outskirts, and the roads opening up to the mountain ranges to the north. Watching him, he was like a dog thrilled by a rare outing.
Since his hair was gold, he was like a Golden Retriever.
I am absolutely not insulting him; I simply find it hard to come up with an apt comparison. If he wished, he could call me a black dog. ...As long as he is confident he can survive the beating, he can call me that all he wants.
Anyway, Harald, who roamed around almost every single day, seemed so deeply impressed by Árós that he spilled all sorts of plans to me, saying he wanted to build such a splendid city himself one day... and within those plans were dissolved all the political problems facing the current Konungr of Kaupang.
In the first place, under the North Germanic tribal system, where settlements stretched out along the coast were each governed by their own Thing and Jarl, centralization was exceedingly difficult. To achieve that, one needed either unimaginable productivity and power like me and Árós, or a justification compelling enough to shut the mouths of every chieftain around.
And without such things? The only option was to force them to their knees by might.
So then, did the Konungr of Kaupang have the power to force to their knees all the surrounding Jarls and the Thing that existed in that very old and powerful city of Kaupang?
In Harald's case, his opinion on this matter differed somewhat from his father, Halfdan's.
Naturally, Halfdan, who had spent his entire life in large and small battles and vicious internal power struggles, wanted to cut down every single thorn in his side, but Harald was thinking of leaving Kaupang as it was and instead developing a place called Tønsberg, located closer to Árós.
Looking at Harald's face, which revealed his firm resolve, all I could say was to keep up the spirit and that I would gladly help with anything he needed... but my gut feeling told me that the west of Árós would soon become very noisy.
In any case, after Harald, who had been draining my house of meat and drink for quite some time, finally departed, I could at last tend to the affairs of my domain in greater detail.
First, I built a sauna house outside using sturdy timber to enjoy a steam sauna, and I reorganized the various systems that had become chaotic relative to the city's explosive growth.
Saying I 'reorganized systems' sounds rather grand, but if you look closer, there really wasn't much to it.
I organized my household guard, which I had continually recruited in case the war dragged on, into squads of ten and hundreds, formalizing their unit structures. Excluding those who had followed Ivar and those who remained in Jorvik, there were already a thousand warriors I couldn't let languish, so I assigned them to public support—a soldier's time-honored tradition.
Since the roads to the east and south were already paved, I formed patrol units as part of their mounted training, and the remaining personnel were thrown into road construction and local security stabilization work alongside Olaf's 'gifts' (?), who were diligently paving the western road.
Someday I would have to separate the military and the city guard, but for now, there was no problem at all. It wasn't as if we were training in complex tactical formations...
Of course, I only gave these broad directives. The distribution of training time, patrol shift schedules, training timetables—all the work of managing and placating the continuous stream of supporters for a force that had already absorbed a thousand men was entirely entrusted to Refil and Stórolf.
It would be rough at first, but a system of their own would soon emerge.
I wanted the people under me to make many mistakes. After all, everything I was trying to do from now on was the kind of work that could only advance by crashing into failures and cracking our heads open.
In my heart, I wanted to immediately create a legislature, judiciary, and executive branch, draft a constitution, and, since the population was only about twenty to thirty thousand, gather everyone in a big open field and implement direct democracy...
But didn't I know full well that was impossible? Until the telegraph, not guns and germs and steel, was invented, such talk was a pipe dream. I had to solve slavery, sort out the religious issue, get married, and keep a close watch on the situation across the sea on the island of Britain.
The major tasks were roughly these. It was all nothing but headaches, but plenty of good news came in too.
A harvest that came in without fail, a bumper crop. Healthy grains piled up neatly in huge granaries, and every household overflowed with smoked and salted fish and all sorts of meat.
Therefore, the out-of-season increase in the cat population was also good news. The more heroes to fight the Rat Demon King's army, the better.
The sheep flocks, whose numbers had clearly increased enough to be listed as an export item, were moved to the vast pastures stretching along the mountains outside the city and entrusted to shepherd boys. What was interesting was that the shepherds of Árós had absolutely no fear of fighting wolves. To the point where you'd wonder if they were told to guard sheep but only went around hunting wolves—increasingly, people in Árós were styling themselves with wolf pelts.
Besides grain and animals, the goods brought back from this Britannia campaign were greater than expected.
So much was suddenly released onto the market under the name of plunder that I worried the prices might fluctuate wildly and send people to check the temperature of the warm sea waters, but fortunately, such a thing never happened.
As it turned out, most of the frugal-minded people of Árós had each taken the precious money—either brought back by those who returned safely, or delivered as the plunder of those who died—stuffed it into small jars, sealed them tightly, and buried them in their front yards (...). After this winter, I suspected the merchants would go racing east and west like mad. It was their chance to absorb a massive amount of silver coins...
In that vein, the Jarl of Gotland had also subtly proposed an eastern expedition when he swore fealty to me, but I was genuinely busy and, more importantly, was keeping my focus to the west, so I deferred it to a later time and refused.
I thought this was a time to catch our breath, not to set out on another expedition. Of course, the warriors and I were in fully charged condition, but my heart was leaning entirely towards Hugh's way of thinking.
And so, one day when the last month of summer and the first month of winter were crossing over.
As I was deliberating with Hrolf and several craftsmen about the city's sewage issue, a person came looking for me from a place I had truly never expected.
"So, I heard you were looking for me."
"An honor. The greatest of warriors. Helgi Ragnarsson, Konungr."
The keen, honed spirit possessed only by those who have crossed the line of death, the confident greeting of a true warrior—a corner of my heart swelled with joy.
"My name is Helgi Geddason, brother of Hrørekr, Konungr of Garðaríki. Undeservedly, I share the same name as Konungr Helgi."
So, the king of the Varangians, from beyond the eastern sea, had sent his greetings to me.