I Became a Viking in the Game – Chapter 47

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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: FusionX
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So, what’s bad about being a king?

The more I thought about the future that was fast approaching, the more I felt like I was walking on thin ice. Seeing my subordinates groaning from the previous night’s excessive drinking and physical exertion… it made the devil within me want to awaken.

Then, what’s good about being a king?

I could make those sleepyheads work to their hearts’ content, regardless of what they had been up to while I was asleep.

“Storolf, are you sleepy?”

“No, sir!”

“Then are you tired?”

“No, sir!”

“Then why are you so sluggish? Lead the warriors and run a lap around the garden right now.”

“Yes, sir! Garmr Brotherhood, fall in!”

Fall in! Fall in! Double time, move! Don’t dawdle! Run! Go!

[Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump!]

‘They say maintaining discipline is the hardest thing…’

Strategos Petronas’s favor(?) was so generous that all 120 Aros warriors who had followed me to this distant land enjoyed a luxurious evening. But a professional is someone who does what they have to do, come rain or shine…!

These were all professional warriors, so it was essential for them to be ready to face the enemy anytime, anywhere…!

Moreover, no matter how favorable the Strategos here was to me, you never knew what could happen in human affairs. Even if it seemed a little harsh on those suffering from hangovers, it would be good for them to lightly jog around the spacious garden, awakening their minds and bodies.

It was absolutely not because I hated seeing them relax comfortably.

Anyway, the place we were at right now was Rome, after all.

It was a place where, if you got stabbed while being careless, it was your own fault.

“Haha- Konungr Helgi, your warriors are quite elite. I thought they were just physically strong, but it seems they also possess the sturdy spirit of the old Imperial legions.”

As I silently watched the warriors, already past one lap and onto their second, running in formation, Damian’s gentle voice reached me from beside me.

“You flatter me, Damian. My warriors and I still have much to learn.”

“That’s what makes it scary. The insatiable Konungr and the warriors who follow him… Rome will not make an enemy of you, Konungr. Of course, that’s only if reason still remains.”

“The morning breeze seems to have improved your eloquence, Damian. Your words are pleasant to hear, but they are also the kind I should be most wary of.”

“Haha- Oh my, does it not work on you? It is true that I have lived my life serving noblemen, smooth-talking like my tongue, but there was not a single ounce of ulterior motive in what I just said. Konungr Helgi.

They are truly strong warriors. And you are even stronger.”

“Oh my, it seems you’ve reached the level of manipulating even sincerity, that’s enough. I’m embarrassed.”

“Hahahaha!”

I thought Refil, Oleg, and Djur would have fallen asleep dead drunk after enthusiastically downing wine with me last night… To think their alcohol tolerance was this high.

Or did they have some extraordinary drinking party skills? Like subtly shaking their cups and spilling the alcohol through their sleeves…

Well, it wasn’t important.

Refil, who took after his father in being a heavy drinker, woke up as if nothing had happened and, after checking on my safety first, went to maintain the ships as per my instructions. Oleg and Djur, on the other hand, drank like dogs and then passed out like dogs, were still lying in bed.

Thinking of them made my warriors, who were now on their third lap around the garden, seem admirable… As expected, everything is relative.

“Storolf! That’s enough! I told you to run to loosen up, not to the point of throwing up!”

“Thank you, but Aros warriors are not weak! Konungr! Isn’t that right, brothers!”

“That’s right! Konungr! Watch closely!”

“Uwaaaaah!”

“Actually, I kind of want to stop… Ugh! Blegh-”

Stop running, you bastards.

Their run finally ended after they completed a full ten laps.

866 AD. The second month of winter. YLIR. Odin’s month. Odin’s Day.

Departure day.

The hospitality of Cherson continued for three more days, and by the time the residents had become accustomed to our presence and were bargaining with each other using their goods and silver coins, the permission from Constantinople finally came.

To be precise, an official letter bearing Emperor Michael’s approval arrived.

Just how much money did he have? The letter, sealed with a golden stamp, was delivered to me, but there was no grand ceremony like in old historical dramas, “Receive the imperial edict! Kneel before me!”

The Strategos of Cherson simply praised the emperor with formal greetings and a few proverbs like Bible verses, and then handed it to me.

‘The king from a foreign land who admires Rome and has come to visit’ – this title seemed to have softened things considerably.

The content of the letter was exactly that.

Beautiful rhetoric in elegant Latin, praising God and the emperor appointed by God, filled half the letter.

The actual content was very short: it welcomed the foreign king and formally invited him to the chariot races and Christmas celebrations commemorating the birth of the co-emperor’s child.

‘Chariot races…? Christmas celebrations…? Ah, that’s right… Christmas is coming soon? Huh-‘

Christmas?

I wasn’t a Catholic or Protestant in my past life either, but I knew about Christmas.

It was a public holiday, a day off. Like Buddha’s Birthday, it was Jesus’ Birthday in English.

Was Christmas a public holiday even in this era? For some reason, I felt a strong nostalgia for the 21st century after a long time, but I didn’t let my emotions get the better of me.

“I heard it’s a son.”

I was unconsciously stroking the envelope of the letter, impressed by the golden seal, when Petronas approached the terrace where I was sitting and spoke.

A son?

“You mean the child born to Eudokia Ingerna, the co-emperor’s wife?”

“That’s right, Konungr. A very healthy son, they say. The whole city is abuzz, wondering whose child it really is.”

“Oh my, there’s no better gossip to chew on at the end of the year.”

“Exactly! Gossip to chew on, that’s the perfect expression. I can already picture the Patriarch’s troubled face.”

Petronas’s face as he chuckled ‘kekeke’ resembled that of an enlightened Buddhist monk. This man also had a young wife and children… I didn’t ask about his family in detail, but…

“The moment you cross the gates of Constantinople, you must not trust anyone. Konungr Helgi. Sometimes you even have to doubt yourself.”

The lighthearted laughter vanished, and with a sudden shift in mood, Petronas offered serious advice.

“The two emperors, Empress Eudokia, the clergymen, soldiers, physicians, all of them… They can change their words without batting an eye, even those sworn in God’s name, if it’s for their own benefit. Everyone already knows that you were with me, so many will try to approach you. After all, I was appointed Strategos by the previous emperor, and, though it’s shameful to admit, my influence is not insignificant.”

“I see, thank you for letting me know in advance, Petronas. Then what is it that you desire? The downfall of Basileios?”

“Oh- I only desire one thing. The stability of the empire. To be more honest, the stability of the Black Sea and Cherson. The current emperor, Michael, has been very interested in the Black Sea, Anatolia, and the enemies beyond.

Of course, it can be attributed to the achievements and influence of the deceased Caesar Bardas… But they were victories achieved under the emperor’s permission.”

Petronas’s eyes, as he stroked his chin, were looking somewhere far away.

“But what if co-emperor Basileios harbors different thoughts, and, by some miracle, succeeds?

As the newly crowned emperor, he would have to seek achievements that would contrast with our drunkard Emperor Michael, who is unpopular with his subjects but popular with the citizens. The opposite of Anatolia and the Black Sea.”

“You mean Italy and the Adriatic Sea?”

“That’s right, esteemed Konungr Helgi. Your wisdom sometimes surprises me.”

“You already explained everything, so it would be strange if I didn’t know.”

“Many people wouldn’t understand even after explaining this much, Konungr.”

Clicking his tongue ‘tsk tsk’ with a light laugh, Petronas raised his hand, which had been stroking his beard, and ran it through his hair. Gray hairs were impressively scattered among his neatly combed hair.

“But this is just my thought. You must judge for yourself, Konungr. As someone who first met and served you, I simply offered the advice I could give.”

This is why they say soft words bring soft words in return. Diplomatic rhetoric is important for this reason. Even now, look, Petronas’s words, which carefully save face for me until the very end, are swaying a part of my heart, aren’t they?

High diplomacy skill.

The only thing he lacked was that my mind was as strong as steel. I no longer owed Petronas anything due to the Magyar issue.

I would decide on my next course of action after entering that city.

“Of course, Strategos Petronas. I am a man of clear accounts, so I will not forget your hospitality.”

“Your words alone have eased my heart. Konungr Helgi.”

“Then, now that I have received everything I need and preparations are complete, it’s time to depart.”

“I will see you off to the docks.”

“Thank you.”

As the 120 warriors and 10 merchant ships, which had concluded very satisfactory deals under Petronas’s favor, seemed to be finishing their departure preparations, Petronas and I rose from our seats and exited the building.

Wearing silk clothes, now familiar to the touch, I felt the pleasant weight of the sword at my waist as I walked. Our brisk steps finally reached the docks, filled with the smell of the sea. There, I was greeted by Damian, who was talking with the merchants of Cherson.

“Konungr Helgi. You are looking more and more radiant every day. When you walked towards me from afar, I thought the legendary Heracles had returned.”

“Your compliments never get old, Damian. Thank you.”

“It is my pleasure, Konungr.”

The white-robed, beardless old man took a step closer to me, pretending to bow. I, too, bowed slightly in response.

“When you arrive in Constantinople, look for Rentakios. Of course, he will find you first.”

Rentakios. Rentakios.

“I understand.”

Important names were exchanged in that brief moment, and after casually straightening our backs, we exchanged our final greetings.

And finally, after bidding farewell to Petronas, I boarded the longship, and, facing the wind that would feel cold to the people here but only refreshing to us Northmen, we pushed off from the shore.

“May God’s blessings be with you-!”

The people of Cherson shouted as they watched the ships leaving the docks one by one. Those who had been waving to the receding city also sat down one by one, enjoying the gentle rocking.

The sea was so calm compared to the Baltic Sea, it felt surreal.

We sailed along the coastline at a speed that felt like gliding over the surface of a lake, and soon we reached the mouth of the Danube River, where Roman officials were stationed. We informed them that I, the King of Rus, was heading to Constantinople as the emperor’s guest.

We leisurely rested, leaving behind the busy officials.

And finally, after brushing off the snow that had piled up overnight,

thanks to the officials who had worked like lightning under the emperor’s seal, all procedures were completed without any problems. We sailed south along the coastline and finally, after crossing a narrow strait,

we reached the grand city.

“Konungr Helgi! There, that is ‘the City’ (εἰς τὴν Πόλιν, is tim ˈbolin, Istanbul)!”

Under the brightly shining sun, the Golden Horn, like the tip of the sun god’s spear piercing the sea, a vast city.

The Queen of Cities, in all her majesty, welcomed the longship from the north.

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