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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Shio
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Oleg, his breath thick with the scent of honeyed mead, had brought news that might prove sweeter than any wine. Yet Helgi remained wary.
“As Konungr of the Danes and Svear, it is my duty to lend an ear to any brother or sister in need,” Helgi began, his voice low but commanding.
As the fierce wind outside began to calm, the crackling of the fire grew more distinct. Helgi’s words carried through the room.
“However, Jarl Oleg of Novgorod, I must ask: What assistance do you and your Konungr seek from me?”
At this direct question, Oleg straightened, his eyes suddenly sharp and clear.
“If I may be so bold, Konungr, I ask that you come to Novgorod. This land is too distant to reach Miklagard. My brother and I would be honored to serve you there. But Novgorod can offer no aid to our sister in Miklagard as things stand…”
Helgi hesitated, considering the gravity of Oleg’s desperate plea. “I understand. I will give it thought,” he finally replied.
“I know I ask much of you, Konungr. One who rules over the Danes, Svear, and all Norsemen cannot act lightly. Even if you decline, we will bear no resentment. Simply hearing my plea shows your generosity as a ruler.”
Oleg maintained his humble posture as he was escorted to the door.
After his departure, Helgi returned to the chamber, where his stepmother, Refil, awaited. The cold wind still rattled the windows, a stark reminder of the world outside.
Despite the late hour, Helgi summoned his guards, instructing them to gather those he had named.
What were the Rus of Novgorod plotting? It was time to strategize.
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“You should go, Konungr.”
It was late at night in the Norse city, where many slept, save for the mischievous adults sneaking over walls.
The streets were silent, except for the warriors of the Garm Brotherhood on night patrol.
In the heart of the city, the legendary Konungr, already becoming a myth in his own time, sat with his closest advisors.
I sat at the head of a long table in a bear skin chair, flanked by my two mothers. Hrolf, freshly returned from a year-long expedition, had just uttered those words after hearing the news.
Go? Just like that?
Could such an important decision be made so easily?
I studied Hrolf’s face, wondering if he spoke too hastily. But his eyes were clear, and he seemed certain.
If the Konungr wished to go, he could go.
Ah—
I realized then that this wasn’t the Joseon Dynasty.
Aros was becoming my center, and indeed the center of Scandinavia, but it didn’t have to be a capital.
The kings of this era, except those in the Eastern Roman Empire or among the Muslims, had mobile courts. A king’s freedom of movement was vital.
Looking at other Konungrs and Jarls—Halfdan of Vestfold in the west, Rurik of Novgorod in the east, the Cynings on the British Isles, even my own father who had ascended to Valhalla on an expedition—it was clear that a king needed to lead from the front.
Being confined to one place wasn’t necessary.
I could somewhat understand what the blank expressions on the faces around me were conveying.
‘If you want to go, just go. Why wake those who were sleeping soundly?’
Although they thought it, no one would dare say it. I felt a bit apologetic and addressed Hrolf.
“Can I really leave my post so easily? The moon festival is near, winter preparations are underway, and we must be ready for any potential invasions,” I said.
Those still half-asleep nodded mechanically, but my two mothers and Hrolf shook their heads.
“Konungr Helgi, as you said, winter is coming. Who would invade now? The sea is unforgiving, though it seems gentle to you…And remember last year? Even with you and I away, the people of Aros lived well,” Hrolf replied.
That was true.
I’d heard they partied so enthusiastically that they emptied half the granaries. It was likely an exaggeration, but still.
Even in ancient Egypt and Babylon, they complained that the youth didn’t listen. It was an eternal problem, not one to be resolved.
Hrolf’s words began to clear my mind. This was why I couldn’t let him retire. He had to be kept close, for the glory of Aros.
“Hmph.”
The complexity in my mind, stirred by Oleg and Novgorod’s sudden invitation, began to unravel. I rose and moved to the window. The wind outside had calmed.
[Creak-]
I opened the sturdy wooden window and felt a unique pleasure in the city’s stillness under the moonlight.
The Garm Brotherhood moved about with bright yellow torches among the densely packed wooden buildings, surrounded by darkness.
Though somewhat plain, this beloved city needed advanced technology and precise planning to reach its full potential.
“If you’re going to cross the eastern sea, you should hurry, Konungr,” Hrolf said, sensing my decision.
“You should set out before the festival. Delay, and the waterways might freeze over.”
He was right.
“I’ll gather people and supplies and leave with Oleg in two days,” I decided.
“Moving many warriors will be difficult,” Hrolf cautioned.
“We’ll take twenty warships and ten merchant ships,” I said. “If the expedition is prolonged, we’ll continue sending supplies as long as the sea routes remain open.”
“The Jarl of Gotland will be pleased,” Hrolf noted.
“So it’s settled,” I concluded.
Earlier, I had been reluctant, but now this eastern expedition was taking shape. Though smaller in scale, the ruler of Visby would be satisfied.
“While I’m gone, I’ll leave Aros and Uppsala in Bjorn’s hands. It’s about time he became active again,” I said.
“Indeed,” Hrolf agreed.
Hrolf and I, both disliking idleness in capable people, shared a smile. My stepmother Aslaug’s smile deepened.
Halfdan’s wedding was set for next summer. I just needed to return before then.
Well, that seemed to settle things.
“Alright, let’s leave it at this and talk again in the morning. Thank you all for responding to my call despite the late hour. I’m grateful to both my mothers as well,” Helgi said.
“You don’t need to say such things,” his birth mother replied.
“It’s fine,” his stepmother added.
“We only did what was natural, Konungr Helgi!” Hrolf exclaimed.
“Call on us anytime!” Storolf added.
His mothers smiled slightly, a kind of relief showing on their faces.
Perhaps their worries about how their young son would handle such heavy responsibilities had eased a bit.
Led by Storolf, Refil, the chief judge, the dock manager, and the highest councilor of the Thing all bowed their heads and began to file out of the room.
Helgi felt sorry for those who had been fully awakened from sleep due to the evening wind, but…what could he do? This was the life of a public figure. Serving the nation was never an easy task.
“Ugh—I’ll be retiring now as well, Konungr Helgi. I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” Hrolf said.
“As always, thank you, Hrolf. Take care on your way back,” Helgi replied.
“You’re too kind, Konungr. While we’re grateful that you listen to our opinions, please don’t forget that, in the end, it’s you who leads,” Hrolf said, and bowed politely as he withdrew.
Seeing the white hairs sticking out here and there on the back of Hrolf’s head as he left, Helgi called out to him unnecessarily.
“By the way, Hrolf, how old is your son this year?”
“Ah—You mean Hrollaugr? This will be his second winter,” Hrolf replied.
“Ha. It’s already been that long. That tiny little fellow…” Helgi mused.
“Haha! That’s how you are to me, Konungr. Time really flies,” Hrolf laughed.
“I’ll personally bring a gift for young Hrollaugr when I return,” Helgi promised.
“If you do that, it will be an honor for my household, Konungr,” Hrolf said.
Hrolf turned away with a smile.
After seeing him off and confirming that his two mothers had retired to their rooms, Helgi finally entered his own room and lay down on the bed he had badgered craftsmen to make.
A soft handcrafted bed with carefully treated leather and a wooden frame, filled with goose and sheep’s wool.
‘Hrollaugr. Hrollo. Rollo.’
As he listened to the crackling of small logs in the portable brazier brought by the servants and gazed at the faint moonlight coming through a corner of the window left slightly open to let out smoke, Helgi’s consciousness slowly drifted off to sleep.
He played with the name of Hrolf’s young son, Hrollaugr, as he fell asleep.
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“What? Are you really saying you’ll go?” Oleg’s eyes widened in surprise.
He probably thought Helgi would wait until spring, but Helgi was the type to act quickly once he made up his mind.
In other words, he was impulsive and instinctive.
Helgi had caught an indescribably sweet scent from Oleg’s proposal—the scent of opportunity.
To Oleg, who was holding his head and wondering if he was hearing things due to drinking too much mead last night, Helgi repeated:
“That’s right, Jarl Oleg. Let’s depart in two days.”
Refil and Storolf were already selecting personnel. He had heard they were having unexpected headaches because all the warriors wanted to participate, but in the end, the group would likely be composed mainly of new recruits.
The veterans who had fought in the last war needed rest; they might have physical or mental ailments they weren’t aware of.
With 20 warships, that meant 800 warriors—about 80% of the newly recruited warriors in Aros. There would be additional recruitment in winter.
While there were plenty of people, grain, and money, it was better to grow gradually like this.
“Ah, I understand. Konungr Helgi! I’ll prepare right away!” Oleg finally accepted that this was real and shouted with an excited face.
His face showed joy, relief, admiration—and a hint of regret.
‘Regret?’
What could he be regretting? Helgi thought he would soon find out.
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[Shio here~!
I wonder if Helgi’ll get into another battle soon. It feels like it’s about time for something negative to happen, right?]
Probably regret that he dragged Helgi into their disputes when he should be looking after his own people…