Being a Viking Isn’t Fun – Chapter 45

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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: FusionX
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Former Chief Attendant and currently a monk, some time had passed since I met Damian, who, perhaps due to his dramatic change in status, had shaved the hair around his crown.

Indeed, whether due to the close relationship between the Khazars and the Eastern Romans, specifically Petronas, the Strategos of Cherson, and the Khazars, the Khazar raiding party that Haskuldr and Djur had anticipated never even showed its shadow in Kyiv.

While Damian remained by my side, and his servant headed to Cherson, we truly had nothing to do. We expanded the temporary encampment a bit more, further maintained the drainage system, added decorations here and there with wooden materials brought by the villagers who had become much closer to us since we ate and drank together, reinforced the flimsy tents…

We were somehow building another small village next to the village already situated on the large hill, but wasn’t it fine as long as things were good? Moreover, since all 800 of my warriors couldn’t possibly head to Constantinople with me, I thought I should have my warriors spend the winter in Kyiv.

Incidentally, they could also protect the waterways and defend against potential raids from western tribesmen or horsemen.

Especially regarding Árpád of the Magyars, I had given special instructions to Haskuldr. Since they had already received furs as tribute, things would be quiet this winter, but if by any chance he returned, he was to leave word that the King of the Rus wished to meet him.

Even if I called myself the King of Aros or the Norsemen, he wouldn’t know where that was or care much, so wouldn’t mentioning the names of those right next to him pique his interest?

Having roughly taken care of the urgent matters like that, and occasionally receiving news from Aros through merchants traveling along the Dnieper River, amidst the snowfall that covered the entire field in white overnight, finally, Petronas of Cherson responded.

That the path to Constantinople was open.

Rurik and Mirosław, who had to return to rule Novgorod and Polotsk respectively, expressed their regret to me and left with the warriors they had brought.

Unlike when I first set foot on this land, they seemed to have resolved some of their old grudges, even playfully joking with each other as they left Kyiv.

Of course, a cold wall still seemed to stand between Rurik and Oleg, and Haskuldr and Djur. But the distance between Kyiv and Novgorod was quite far.

As long as they were all under my banner, there wouldn’t be any conflict, at least not openly.

Therefore, my retinue heading to Cherson was as follows:

Damian, my guest and sole source of information, a kind of guest strategist.

Storolf, Refil, Oleg, Djur. And 120 Aros warriors with 10 merchant ships.

The merchants, eager to sell the furs and amber brought from Aros in Cherson, said they would follow me despite the winter winds.

Of course, I didn’t dare underestimate nature, but even the winter winds here… compared to our homeland in the north, with a bit of exaggeration, weren’t that cold.

Since we lived in such a harsh environment, I felt a strange sense of pride in this. A pride like, ‘My land is harder to live in!’

I hadn’t felt particularly cold while living in Aros, but having come down all the way to the Black Sea, I could definitely feel it now.

Anyway, having finalized the personnel like that, we set sail the very next day after Cherson’s messenger arrived, riding the dawn wind.

Thirteen ships lined up on the great Dnieper River.

Since my flagship was a bit larger than the other longships, it could easily accommodate five more people.

Riding the gentle winter wind, pleasantly sailing down the Dnieper River, we soon passed the river’s mouth, rounded the western coast of the Crimean Peninsula, and entered Cherson.

‘Oh-‘

I remembered the time I first landed in Dover, Kent, on the British Isles. The time I was awestruck by the stone buildings I saw for the first time.

Now, looking at the walls and well-maintained docks of Cherson, I felt an even greater sense of wonder and welcome than back then.

‘If Britain held the remnants of Rome, this place is still living Rome.’

Just as I felt, living, raw Rome was before my eyes.

High and wide ramparts, walls. Beyond them, buildings and docks made entirely of white stone. And red roofs.

Ships, different from ours, busily coming and going in each section of the meticulously measured and constructed docks.

People who looked different. Romans.

“Salve! Konungr Helgi. Welcome. Petronas of Cherson greets you on behalf of the Basileus of Rome, who rules all things A caelo usque ad centrum (from heaven to the center).”

Surprisingly, contrary to my expectation that the haughty Romans would look down on us, the man at the forefront of the crowd, who seemed to have brought all the city’s main officials to greet us, politely bowed to me.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Petronas. I am Helgi Ragnarsson, Konungr of the Norsemen and Rus.”

[Clasp-]

When I extended my arm to the politely bowing Roman, he hesitated for a moment before grasping my right forearm. A handshake where he grasped my wrist, not my forearm. There was a subtle difference in detail, but it was a universal expression of goodwill. It meant, ‘My hand holds no weapon.’

“Cherson welcomes Konungr. As you must be tired from your long journey, would you allow my subordinates to guide Konungr and your warriors to their resting places?”

“Of course, Petronas of Cherson. I would be grateful for that.”

“It is my duty.”

The slight smile on the Roman’s lips and his gestures felt unfamiliar.

Having lived among rather blunt and straightforward people, it wasn’t easy to face politicians like Damian and Petronas.

[Clap- Clap-!]

“What are you waiting for? Escort our guests.”

As he raised his arm, clad in a splendid garment made of unfamiliar fabric, and clapped, the maids waiting nearby moved in unison, guiding my warriors to their respective spaces. Damian, Refil, Oleg, Djur, and Storolf, who were the only ones left of my retinue, were personally guided by Petronas.

“Konungr Helgi, this way please.”

“Thank you for your generous hospitality, Petronas.”

“It is my pleasure.”

The road, paved with stones of uniform size meticulously arranged for comfortable and stable walking, was impressive.

The residents of Cherson were clearly diverse. Some looked like us Norsemen, others like Arabs, and some were somewhere in between.

They all looked curiously at us, tall and heavily armed, but seeing Petronas at the front, they didn’t seem too concerned.

The atmosphere, somewhat detached from the chaotic situation in Rus and its surroundings, was striking.

It meant Rome’s power was still alive.

Walking without pause, we reached the end of the spotless road and stood before a large brick building that looked familiar.

“This is where I usually reside, though humble. Konungr Helgi. I have instructed my servants to prepare water for you to wash and clothes, so please rest as much as you wish. When you are ready, inform my servant and I will prepare a feast.”

I had seen something similar in York, Britain. My office there had been built in this style.

A building that looked like a rectangular piece of paper cut from a notebook and stretched vertically. However, the round roof of Cherson’s building was striking.

I hadn’t seen such a round roof in Britain…

“Thank you, Petronas. I’ll be bold and ask, can I expect such a warm welcome for those who came with me as well?”

“Of course. Rome does not disrespect its guests, Konungr Helgi.”

Petronas bowed his head as if offended by my words, and I couldn’t help but smile at his theatrics.

Returning his bow, I followed the maid who was patiently waiting and stepped through the gently opened door.

I didn’t know much about Roman history, but would the Romans treat barbarians who lived outside their territory, those who didn’t speak Latin, well? In my case, I was probably an unexpected variable. Normally, one wouldn’t receive such hospitality.

They would probably just allow some trade at the border and open a few markets…

In that sense, we were truly generous people. It even reminded me of my homeland in my past life.

When guests arrived, we Norsemen would bring out everything we had, regardless of whether it was food or alcohol, and tell them to help themselves.

Most of us didn’t have much, but we believed that if we didn’t treat our guests well, Odin, who wandered the world during the second month of winter, would personally reprimand us.

Surely not.

Surely our descendants wouldn’t forget this beautiful tradition and refuse to offer food to their son’s friend who came to visit? Oh, what was I thinking.

Anyway,

From the moment I entered this Roman building, which I should call a mansion or a villa, a fragrant grape scent tickled my nose, and servants busily carrying water jugs were visible here and there.

“Oh-?”

“Oh-!”

“This isn’t right…”

Refil, Oleg, Djur, and Storolf, uttering such foolish words, were being led away by beautiful maids with bewildered expressions, as if they couldn’t resist. They gave me helpless looks.

‘And these are supposed to be my guards…’

Shouldn’t they at least try to resist the honey trap? I was the one who needed protection.

“The hospitality of the Rus was good, but the hospitality of Rome is on a different level. Of course, the illustrious Konungr, proficient in Latin, would already know this.”

As I watched my guards being led away with foolish grins, Damian subtly interjected.

This man, who had been so cautious at first, seemed to have lowered his guard considerably the moment I spoke Latin.

To the old man subtly revealing his Roman superiority, I replied, “I look forward to it,” and asked the maid patiently waiting to continue guiding me.

“See you later, Damian.”

“Rest well, Konungr Helgi.”

The sly old man gave me a knowing look as I passed. He probably thought I wouldn’t notice, but there was nothing I couldn’t see.

“This way, Konungr…”

The maid, carefully watching her every move, bowed her head and led the way.

The building, constructed in a square shape, had a garden in the center, with square hallways surrounding it.

The sweet grape scent I had noticed earlier was coming from the center of the garden, where they were busily transferring wine from a large jar to smaller ones.

‘Wine…’

The last time I had wine was when we raided the bishop’s stash in York? It was delicious, this was good news.

“Here we are.”

Lost in thought, I climbed a few stairs and arrived at a large door. The elegant dark blue door had various engravings, mostly crosses and related imagery.

“Konungr, I will assist you in removing your armor and weapons.”

The maid, still bowing her head, spoke in a low voice. Due to my height, I could only see the back of her head.

“I can remove my armor and weapons myself. Rather, could you prepare some water for me to wash and some simple food?”

“Please speak freely, honored guest. I will do as you command.”

The small back of her head retreated slightly and exited the room, still bowing.

‘Hmm, she’s pretty.’

…

Since I had no problems with my… functions, unlike Damian(!), it was natural to have such thoughts. Business was business, and biological needs were biological needs.

However, thanks to my indomitable willpower, I wasn’t swayed by base instincts…

Sometimes I wanted to abandon this cold, icy rationality, but it wasn’t something I could control. Since this was the life I had designed(?), I couldn’t complain to anyone. What could I do? I had to accept it.

Still, everything in life has its trade-offs.

Thanks to this, the probability of dying from a stray blade or being backstabbed was extremely low. As the saying goes, a man must be wary of three ends, and the most important of those is the end of his…

I was satisfied.

‘I should seriously consider marriage when I return.’

“Ugh-”

[Creak-]

The soft bed frame groaned under the sudden weight.

[Creak- Creak-]

It still held, a testament to the skilled craftsman who made it.

‘Should I soak in some warm water first?’

Norse warriors abhorred warm water. They considered it a symbol of weakness… But I was half modern man, so I wanted to enjoy a hot bath after so long.

As I sat on the bed, removing my chainmail, and placing my spear, shield, axe, and sword beside me, I heard a voice from outside saying they had brought warm water.

The fragrant scent of food and grapes reached me even more strongly, so I quickly told them to enter.

A beautiful woman, a silver tray, fragrant fruits, sweet wine.

I hadn’t lived a life of luxury, but such things weren’t bad from time to time. This rebellious thought crossed my mind.

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[Hey bitches its not shio but Daddy Fusion, shio is still stuck building his college or some shit like bro just crashes out i swear so im stuck here picking up the slack.
Anyway i havent read the novel so this is my best guess at translating everything properly so go easy on me you shit stains, love ya bois fusion out.]