Being a Viking Isn’t Fun – Chapter 37

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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Shio
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Garðaríki. Holmgard.

If you interpreted the name directly, it meant the land where villages were gathered. Or, the land of cities.

It was the land you reached after crossing the rough and cold sea to the east, beyond our Uppsala.

Of course, before that, you had to pass through a few tribes that spoke a slightly different language from ours, but it wasn’t a long journey if you traveled by one of our ship.

In fact, you could reach it much faster than Britain if the weather was favorable.

Naturally, with the short distance between us, there had been a long history of fighting, trading, and intertwining through blood ties, but they were definitely people different from us.

Like all tribal nations of this era, without a particularly powerful Konungr, they shed an incredible amount of blood due to complex political and economic disputes between villages, tribes, and even within tribes.

So, they sought a powerful Konungr from outside to mediate among their equals.

That Konungr was none other than Hrǿríkʀ Geddason.

Originally, those eastern people called us Rus (rowers), but now they’ve accepted the name for themselves.

Among those Rus people, Hrǿríkʀ was known as Rurik, the man reputed to have come closest to hegemony in that chaotic eastern land.

“Rather, it is my honor, Helgi Geddason. Sharing a name with a brave warrior is truly an honor.”

“Thank you, Konungr! But please, don’t feel uncomfortable because of my name. I’d be grateful if you called me Oleg. I’ve lived longer as Oleg than as Helgi, so the name has become more familiar to me now, haha!”

“Is that so? Then I will do just that, Jarl Oleg. I can’t send a precious guest away empty-handed, so please, join me for a cup of honey wine. How about it?”

“It would be my honor, Konungr! Finally, I can taste the famous honey wine of Aros!”

Thanking the guards who hurriedly brought honey wine, well-roasted meat, and a few cabbage leaves at my gesture, I offered a seat and a cup to Oleg.

I then began to eat and chat in earnest with Oleg, who seemed more excited about the drink than the meeting.

It may look like play, but this was clearly diplomacy and political work.

Oleg coming to see me in person was something I hadn’t anticipated, especially considering his brother Hrǿríkʀ’s political position in Garðaríki and his blood ties to Gotland.

“So, I’ve always listened carefully to news about my eastern brothers, but I didn’t expect Konungr Hrǿríkʀ’s brother to come in person. Has something happened in Novgorod, by any chance?”

Novgorod, my kingdom’s eastern trade frontline, had strong ties with Visby of Gotland, the land ruled by Aslaug’s father.

It was the place that managed the waterways through which Ivarr and numerous Norsemen had spread to the east.

“Thanks to Konungr Helgi’s concern, my brother Rurik and Rus’ most precious city are safe. Those horse riders below us have been showing some disrespectful movements lately…but for them, killing each other is a daily occurrence.”

There were three main groups of horse riders below Rus: the Khazar Khaganate that controls the Black Sea and the Caspian Sea, the Magyars to the left of that, and the Bulgars further left, above the head of Eastern Rome.

We were not ones to shy away from fights, but the belligerence of those horse riders was beyond imagination.

So it was understandable that Oleg’s face involuntarily grimaced.

That region was truly a place where the weak were killed or sold.

Feeling a sudden pang of pity, I refilled his empty cup.

“Thank you, Konungr!”

“Drink plenty. For you, I could release all the alcohol in my underground storage.”

“You are truly generous, Konungr Helgi!”

This time, I also had my adjutant Refil sit down and poured honey wine, fragrant and sweet, for him. But just then, the guard waiting outside made his presence known.

“Konungr Helgi, Dróttning Aslaug has arrived.”

“Mother? Quickly, escort her in.”

“Yes, Konungr!”

Unable to sit still when an elder arrives, I quickly got up from my seat, and Refil and Oleg hurriedly followed suit.

Come to think of it, she was a grandmother to Refil. Oh my, how time flew.

“Helgi!”

Mother entered, illuminating the whole room with a bright smile, called my name, and approached Oleg.

When two people with the same name were in one place, these awkward situations arose.

The two seemed to share an unexpected friendship that I hadn’t anticipated and greeted each other with very pleased expressions.

“Dróttning Aslaug, you haven’t aged at all. Time has passed by the twin flower of Gotland (Linnaea borealis). When you walked, men lined up, attracted by that fragrance.”

“Stop it, Helgi. I see my face every day. But twin flower, how long has it been since I heard that…You haven’t changed at all.”

“Is that so? My wife says I should lose some weight; she criticizes me every day. She once told me to go hunting deep in the woods, saying that some fresh air might bring back my old appearance.”

“Haha—It must have been a joke, Helgi. Is Konungr Hrǿríkʀ doing well? Oh my, why does the word ‘Konungr’ before his name still feel so unfamiliar!”

“My brother is the same as ever—still foolish and aged just like 20 years ago. I thought he might change a bit after becoming a Konungr, but a colt grows up to be a horse, right?”

“Yes, that’s right…”

As Mother and Oleg reminisced about the distant past, Refil and I exchanged glances, wondering if we knew anything about their conversation, but unfortunately, there was nothing to gain.

“…Time really has flown by.”

“No matter how our names change, no matter what title is attached, to us, Dróttning will always be the twin flower.”

“Thank you, Helgi.”

The conversation that had been full of joy now carried the weight of time—the emptiness and loneliness of those who had withered before it. Something that everyone must face as they aged, fell ill, and eventually died.

The words of those who were gradually approaching the end of their days couldn’t help but be tinged with the passage of time.

But it was not something to lament forever. My stepmother Aslaug, well-versed in strategy and aware of this fact, began to explain the relationship between Oleg, Rurik, and Gotland.

Originally, the Geddason brothers, warriors from Visby, the land ruled by Aslaug’s father, the Jarl of Gotland, were famous for their strength and skill in battle. With the support of the wealthy Jarl, they often embarked on eastern expeditions and soon made a name for themselves as mercenaries for various tribes.

Through various twists and turns, they were crowned as kings by the people of Novgorod, bringing them to where they are today.

Naturally, with their weak support base, they heavily relied on the Jarl of Gotland and Uppsala, forging a strong trade alliance between Visby and Novgorod.

‘The Jarl of Gotland was asking me casually for a reason.’

The current Jarl of Gotland, Visby, as the brother of my mother Aslaug, had a reputation for being very bright in commerce, a worthy successor to his father, who was renowned as a wealthy man in the area.

Since we were both busy, we never had a chance for an in-depth conversation. If the opportunity presented itself, it’d be wise to meet with him.

“Helgi, talking with old friends always warms my heart, but now I must ask—what brings you here without any notice?”

The two middle-aged people, who had been laughing and chatting like children while recalling old stories, very naturally transitioned into business talk as if they had never stopped.

“Since my wife is not here, I’ll say this—but a conversation with a beauty always brings me fresh vitality, Dróttning. Since you brought it up first, I have no choice but to speak. Actually, besides congratulating Konungr Helgi on his great victory, there is one more reason.”

Unlike when he spoke frankly, Oleg’s expression rarely trailed off, revealing that this was a matter he found difficult to convey.

“Please, speak freely, Jarl Oleg. Nothing will leave this room.”

“Of course, Konungr Helgi. How could I doubt the Konungr’s honor? It’s not that kind of problem. However…”

Oleg paused, stroking his lush mustache as he pondered.

“However, it’s because it’s truly an unexpected matter. Does the Konungr know of Miklagard?”

“Miklagard?”

Miklagard—the great city, the capital of the Roman Empire that still existed.

Constantinople.

Why did that story come up from Oleg?

“I’ve heard of it. Isn’t it the capital of the Romans?”

“That’s right, Konungr. I can say with certainty that it is the most beautiful and magnificent city in the world. The name Miklagard is not an exaggeration.”

Oleg’s expression changed as if he were dreaming, seemingly gazing at the Miklagard of his memory.

“However, that magnificent city is still a place where people live. The story may get a bit long, but is that alright?”

Since enough time had passed to empty a whole jar of honey wine, Oleg asked if mother Aslaug might be uncomfortable. Of course, my stepmother didn’t budge at all. Rather, her eyes seemed to sparkle, befitting someone well-versed in strategy.

“You’d better give up if you’re thinking of sending me away, Helgi.”

“Hoho—You really haven’t changed at all. I understand. I will speak.”

Then Oleg, having drained his cup, revealed something no one at the gathering could have anticipated.

“By any chance, has the Konungr heard the term Varangian (Væringi)?”

“Ivarr mentioned it once. He said if you follow the waterway down from the great lake Ladoga beyond the eastern sea, you reach the land of the Romans. If you take the waterway to the right, you reach the Khazar city of Itil…He said that’s what the Romans call us. Am I correct?”

“You know precisely, Konungr Helgi. Jarl Ivarr, the Konungr’s brother, also traveled as far as Itil. Thanks to him, we established trade with Itil and the robe-wearing people (Muslims) beyond, so we are indebted in many ways.”

“Indebted, you say? Rather, my brother Ivarr must have received help. I remember him boasting about the ring he brought from Itil.”

Ivarr certainly had an adventurous streak.

“Yes, he was a great adventurer. However, the story I’m about to tell now is not about the Khan of Itil, but about the Romans.”

I ordered another portable brazier and some warm furs, since we couldn’t bring a large hearth to the second floor.

Soon, I draped the fur brought by the servant over Mother’s shoulders.

Of course, Oleg continued speaking even during this.

“The current Roman emperor is a man named Michael (Μιχαήλ). I’ve never seen him in person, but there are rampant rumors that he’s a drunkard. He might be a good friend, but it’s a pity I don’t have a chance to meet him.”

Oleg, now talking more freely and draining his cup again, was rapidly depleting my honey wine stock. But I couldn’t treat a guest poorly.

I poured him more honey wine, indicating that he should continue.

“Thank you, Konungr Helgi. May Thor’s blessing be with you. Anyway, under Emperor Michael, there is a Norseman named Ingvar (Yngvar). He’s the captain of the Varangians serving the Roman Emperor.

He’s commonly referred to as Jarl Ingvar. The last I heard, he had gained the favor of two emperors and entered a place with a complicated name—Senet? Seneta? Anyway, he seems to be quite a powerful person.”

The casually dropped information seemed intriguing and hinted at potential future connections…But for now, it was important to listen to Oleg, who appeared to be getting quite drunk.

“Naturally, he has also helped a lot with our Novgorod trade. In the meantime, a letter arrived. It wasn’t from Jarl Ingvar but from his daughter. The letter was sent by Eudokia, the wife of Basil (Basíleios), the current emperor’s adopted son and co-emperor, and a loyal subject…I’m sorry. Even if you see it that way, I don’t fully understand it myself. That’s what was written in the letter.”

Setting aside the dizzying titles, Refil, Mother, and I focused on Oleg’s words.

“…Where was I? Ah, in the letter sent by Eudokia, the wife of co-emperor Basil, there was a request for help. It was written in runes, saying there was no one to trust, so she was asking even her fellow people for assistance…”

Michael, Basil, Eudokia. These were names I was hearing for the first time, but…

An unfamiliar sensation tickled my nerves. Amidst the feast of unfamiliar names, my instincts sensed a strong opportunity.

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[Shio here~!

Helgi really got robbed of all his honey wine LOL.

Anyways, with this, we’ll be going back on track for a release every 2 days. I apologize once more for the delay. Life became a tad bit annoying, but we should be good now.

Notes:

1: Eight Formations: A strategic battlefield formation attributed to Zhuge Liang, a famous military strategist from the Three Kingdoms period. It involves eight tactical arrangements designed to counter various enemy maneuvers.

Six Flower Formations: A less commonly referenced formation, typically associated with the organization of troops or martial artists in a hexagonal pattern resembling a flower. It emphasizes coordination and adaptability in battle.

Eight Gates Golden Lock Formation: A complex and often mystical formation found in Chinese folklore and wuxia fiction. It involves eight gates or paths that can trap or confuse the enemy, symbolizing different strategies or challenges that must be overcome.]