79.
79.
"What in the world are you trying to do, Konungr Bagsecg?"
Those were not Konungr Halfdan's words. They were mine.
I had already known that Ivar and Ubba were plotting something. In truth, my brothers were all men overflowing with ambition and ability—even the retired Björn was no exception.
Since they had set aside their own grand dreams and gathered beneath my banner, I had long anticipated that they would inevitably attempt something.
Whether it was expansion, internal reform, or whatever else it might be.
But Bagsecg's... surprise reveal like this was something I honestly had not expected.
And so I had no choice but to ask.
Bagsecg, just why did you do it?
At this question of mine, Konungr Bagsecg straightened his posture in the great chair that was more than large enough to bear his massive frame, and spoke to me clearly.
"It is I who wishes to ask you, rather. Konungr Helgi. If we do not do this? Then what in the world are we to do at that point?"
"...What do you mean by that?"
"Do not pretend you do not know. Konungr Helgi. I have heard well from my son-in-law that you are a humble man, but this is not a matter that will be resolved by you holding back, I tell you."
At an answer so different from what I expected, I cast a glance at Konungr Halfdan seeking help, but the ruler of the fjord was deep in sunken-eyed concentration, wholly absorbed in thinking about something.
Thus, with no obstacle whatsoever to interrupt Bagsecg, the words that followed from him were like a waterfall.
"Just look at what you have already accomplished, I say. There are no more who starve to death, and those dying of wretched diseases have diminished. Is that all? The conquest of the island of Britain, which none could achieve. The securing of direct trade routes with the Roman Empire. Securing the loyalty of the lords beyond the Eastern Sea."
And breaking Rock Slayer, even proclaiming Ragnarok—the twilight of the gods. Bagsecg, who seemed to know my deeds in more detail than I had thought, shook his head, saying he had only mentioned the great ones.
"I must speak words that would grieve the ancestors. But in truth, whether you look at your father Ragnar, Konungr Helgi, or myself, or Konungr Halfdan here and any of our forefather Konungrs... I declare without hesitation that there is not a single one who has achieved a feat such as yours.
What is more shocking is that your age, having accomplished all of this, is a mere twenty winters, and it has been scarcely two years since you rose to become Konungr, I say."
[Huuugh—]
At this point, perhaps because he himself had accumulated much within his heart, Bagsecg let out a soft sigh. In that visage, the spirited warrior still brimming with vitality was nowhere to be found; only the face of an old king, weary from long years of politics and war, remained.
"...Even if the Jarls do not wish it, word is now circulating among the local Things to accept you as Konungr, I tell you. Do you truly think that the countless Jarls gathered here came purely to attend your wedding? Those suspicious, sluggish bastards?"
He ended his long speech with a question, but his words had been thrusting reality before me from the start, consistently. Not like some man's baseless conviction, but simply the facts as they were.
"You say something as well. Konungr Halfdan."
"...Even if all those words are true, tradition and law must be upheld. That is what I believe. Konungr Bagsecg, Konungr Helgi."
Konungr Halfdan's voice, having at last recovered his far-departed spirit, resounded lowly.
His heart had been shaken by the unexpected desertion of his vassal lords and the appearance of Olaf, yet he had not lost his center.
But within his eyes, I could see some chilling light glinting, and it seemed a great clash would erupt if I did not mediate.
"Did I not say so? If the law is thus, then would it not be a matter of simply creating a new law, a new rank?"
"How long do you think a rank created in such a way would last?"
"Would that not depend on what those below do?"
My voice now pressed down upon the momentum of the two Konungrs, who were on the verge of gradually dredging up their old grudges against each other.
"That is enough. The situation has indeed taken a rather grave turn, but in any case, is this not my wedding? Let us stop here. It is a thing that must not be fought over any further than this."
At that, the veins that had been bulging in their necks subsided.
Rubbing my throbbing temples absently, I decided to adjourn the meeting first.
"Now, as for this... Fylkir that Konungr Bagsecg spoke of, I shall not discuss it right at this moment."
"But—"
"Even if all the practical realities you have spoken of are true, it is not something that can be accomplished rashly without any procedure, as Konungr Halfdan said. So let us delay it. Let us postpone it, and give the people more time to think."
"...Hmm. Since you speak so firmly, I understand."
Though he conceded with difficulty, Bagsecg did not take his gaze off Halfdan until the very end. Of course, Konungr Halfdan did not avoid Bagsecg's gaze either.
'*Sigh*— Nothing is ever easy.'
"Now, let us go back out alone. We must calm the Jarls and inform them of the conclusion, must we not?"
Thus, the Council of the Three Kings was concluded without reaching any conclusion, and the first day of the Great Assembly of Árós, upon which a nuclear bomb had fallen, was tidied up in a chaotic atmosphere.
*****
"So, what did you say...? You kicked away that Fylkir or whatever it was?"
For the first time in a long while, the Ragnarsson brothers were gathered together.
The Jarls bearing dozens of different expressions had each dispersed, and left in the hall were the four brothers, along with the two newlywed grooms who had entered with stumbling, swaying steps.
With six pairs of green eyes seated together in one place, a rather nostalgic feeling came over me, but the complicated thoughts in my mind took precedence.
Halfdan, whose dark circles had descended to his cheekbones, confirmed the words that had come from my mouth once more in a half-dreaming, still dazed voice, while Ivar and Ubba instantly stirred from their seated positions.
"Would it not have been better to just push through? Why not shut your eyes tight for a moment and accept it?"
I shot down Halfdan's words with a light shake of my head—he looked to be in a state of mental and physical weakness—and my gaze fell upon Ivar and Ubba.
"What on earth were you thinking? Fylkir...?"
To be honest, it was absurd.
"That word was coined by Bagsecg, it is true, but our thoughts run somewhat similar. What do you think this means, Helgi? It means that not only we brothers, but many people no longer regard you as a mere Konungr."
Wetting his lips with his tongue, Ivar drew up a chair and sat as if he had been waiting for this moment.
"This is an opportunity, brother. Something none of us have ever witnessed is about to appear upon this land through you...!"
His voice was earnest and impassioned, almost like a plea. It was so filled with sincerity that for a moment I even caught myself thinking, 'Huh? Is that so?' But to my eyes, it was premature.
As if sensing my unspoken thoughts, Ubba, who had been sitting across from Ivar, threw himself into the conversation.
"Whether Fylkir or Konungr, the truth is those titles have long since lost their meaning. You saw the Jarls in the assembly hall today, so you must know this yourself—the name Helgi Ragnarsson has already surpassed the limits of Konungr long ago. What is needed now is solely your will. Nothing more. Helgi."
The spark was contagious, spreading to Halfdan's eyes as he sat silently rubbing his head. And amidst the fervent gazes of my brothers, I thought:
'If I unify all of the North, what do I do next?'
Even if I'm possessed by a strategy game, does that mean I'm obligated to play map-painting in reality as well? This was reality, not a game. A reality where stabbing drew blood and striking shattered bone...
And yet, as I recalled the looks in my brothers' eyes, and Bagsecg's, and those of Hásteinn and Togeunbaldeu, Rurik, Oleg, Djur, Haskuldr... the countless Jarls—a different thought raised its head from one corner of my mind.
'...On the other hand, what reason is there not to unify?'
Why was I reacting with such resistance?
Simply because it was bothersome? Because it stole away precious time with Inga? If that was the case, wasn't I the one fleeing from this reality?
'The rice has ripened so thoroughly it's already become a meal.'
If it had merely been one Konungr and a few brothers urging me on, I would have refused outright. But I could not forget the expressions on the Jarls' faces when Jarl Hestein and Konungr Bagsecg had delivered their speeches.
It was as though they had been waiting for this very opportunity. As if the catalyst they had sorely needed had appeared before their eyes.
The lords from beyond the Eastern Sea had practically been smiling.
However, there would still be some—like Konungr Halfdan—who found my full ascension objectionable, so giving it a little more time to simmer seemed wise.
"If there is a burden I must bear, I will not shirk it. That was my oath. If people need me, I will never back down."
At my declaration-like words, the faces of my brothers brightened.
"But this is too hasty. If we handle this momentous matter clumsily, it will only breed trouble. We should send the Jarls back to their respective domains, let them discuss this matter at their local Things, and then have word sent back to Árós."
"...And if there are those who refuse, like Konungr Halfdan?"
The words Sigurdeu—who had oddly been silent until then—now uttered were as venomous as if dipped in poison. Was this man already suffering from marriage stress?
"Then those regions would remain independent. I will not turn away those who wish to come under my banner, but I have no desire to force this upon those who refuse."
"Hmm."
"For the immediate moment, that much should suffice."
Grinning—
Ivar's remark, with eyes gleaming and one corner of his mouth hooked high, was deeply meaningful.
And Ubba's expression, equally nonchalant, bothered me greatly.
I was just about to tell the two of them to please stay put, or at least inform me of part of their plan beforehand, when Björn, who had been seated wordlessly, abruptly cut in.
I had assumed he was dozing off since he had simply bowed his head in silence, but there was not a trace of drowsiness to be found in our eldest brother's eyes.
"There's a matter that is separate from your discussion, yet not separate at all."
At that, all gazes converged, and amidst his brothers' questioning stares, Björn continued speaking.
"It is about Hásteinn. As Ivar said, he did not come solely to congratulate you on your marriage."
I knew it.
"The lord of the western land of the Franks, the Dux of Breizh, sends his regards to you along with a gift."
Breizh. That was the land commonly known as Brittany. The stretch of land at the edge of France where the descendants of the Celts, or of Brito-Romans, lived. The last I checked, it had been under West Frankia's influence.
"I seem to be hearing a lot of unexpected news today... Should I just send my thanks in return?"
"Do you truly think the lord of Breizh sent Hásteinn simply to offer congratulations? That is on the surface. What he wishes to convey through Hásteinn is a check against the king of West Frankia, Karl 'the Bald.'"
Bald?
In an instant, my brothers' gazes all shot toward Ivar.
"What... you bastards, why are you all staring at me with those eyes...!"
At Ivar's thunderous outburst, we all turned our heads back in unison, pulling out the combs from our clothes and running them through our hair.
[Sseuk—]
[Sseuk— Seuseuk—]
"You... you... sons of bitches...!"
Ivar's face gradually flushed red as he trembled.
Quickly tucking the pure white hair comb Inga had gifted me back into my clothes, I asked Björn, who was likewise stowing his own comb.
"Wasn't Breizh under the king of West Frankia? What on earth is happening over there?"
To begin with, the term 'West' Frankia was a laughable name in itself, but I decided to ask the pressing question first.
"The kings of the Franks are no different from our Konungrs. It's simply that the power of their Thing is somewhat weaker? Lords with strength always hate interference. You would do well to remember this point, Helgi."
"Thank you. So it's an internal power struggle? Things like that happen every day, don't they? Wouldn't Hásteinn's strength alone suffice for something like that...?"
Internal strife and civil war were practically another name for empires.
Wasn't it an unavoidable fate, especially for the pan-Germanic kingdoms and empires that had Salic Law—put very simply, the splendid inheritance system of partible succession?
This was precisely why I thought endlessly expanding territory was no answer...
Anyway, at my question, Björn let out a short laugh—
"Yes, I thought the same. But it seems this time the lord of Breizh is in earnest. Hásteinn apparently praised your name whenever he had the chance, your having seized Northumbria—seems the lord of Breizh was swayed by that—"
Hásteinn, not just a master of battle, but his gaslighting was not to be underestimated either.
Björn, who had been leaning against the backrest of the Árós-made custom single leather chair renowned for its comfort, pulled his body closer to the table and looked at each of his brothers' faces in turn.
"—It seems Salomon of Brittany now wishes to become a king."
Aha.
So it was a matter of ambition again.
The entire assembly of Ragnar's ambitious sons nodded their heads, and Ivar, who had belatedly pulled out his comb to carefully comb his own hair, wore a grim expression.