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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Shio
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Viking or Vikingr.
Actually, I wasn’t a historian—I was just someone with limited historical knowledge who started playing a game called [Europa Kings] to fix that. I barely knew anything about European history or the Vikings. At best, I held a Level 1 certificate in Korean History, which only covered Korean history, let alone the era I was living in now.
But as a person who’s lived in this era (whether it was Earth-Original or Earth-237), the word ‘Viking’ must’ve been coined by future generations. Like me, everyone simply referred to themselves as Danes, Sviar, or Norseman.
‘Japanese pirates of 9th-century Europe, known for their lethal hit-and-run tactics using long, slender ships to dominate the waters with ease. People far more successful than typical pirates.’’
This would probably be the common image of Vikings.
It wasn’t exactly wrong, but it wasn’t exactly right either.
First of all, one had to note that all regions of Europe during this era (since the concept of “countries” only came into existence in the far future) overflowed with pillagers and people who’ve single handedly committed massacres.
How could there possibly be war crimes when human rights didn’t exist in the first place?
Truthfully, I may just be defending Northern European society because I lived in it. But in this era, plundering and trading weren’t mutually exclusive, and that was exactly what Sigurd was trying to teach me. In essence, it was the way of the Vikings.
“Bjorn sailed over the western sea and plundered the Franks, the Muslims beyond, and even Rome beyond that.”
“To be exact, it wasn’t Rome (Roma) but Luna (a village located above Pisa).”
“Haha! I heard later from Bjorn that Hastein (Hasteinn) tried to persuade him to become the Konungr of Rome, but they found the wrong village!”
Haha-haha!
Even the iron-willed Bjorn must’ve been flustered. I could imagine them shouting, “Isn’t this Rome?!” “I don’t know either!” The Hastein and Bjorn duo were thorough but were so disorganized sometimes that they turned into fools. They’d been on a great expedition for six winters now (859 AD).
“Ah-! What a pity! My brother Bjorn! You could have become the Konungr of Rome and taken the second seat in Valhalla!”
‘Roman Konungr…’
It felt like an incredibly apocalyptic term. For the Romans, wouldn’t it literally signify the day of the Earth’s destruction?
“But look, Helgi. Don’t you remember too? Those treasures that filled the island of Munso, all kinds of things made of gold and silver…”
Munso Island was situated just south of Uppsala; it was the land my father had prepared for Bjorn on the day he came of age. Although small, Munso Island once thrived as a prosperous gateway to the sea leading into Uppsala. However, with the rise of Aros, it had now diminished into nothing more than a strategic stronghold.
“But my most beloved brother, all those shiny things are nothing compared to the greatest wealth that Bjorn and Hastein have brought.”
Snakes came to life and danced madly in Sigurd’s flickering eyes.
“Honor. Such great honor that even those great gods would admire and envy! The very honor of conquering Rome, albeit fake…!”
Sigurd spoke with unmatched intensity, his eyes burning with a blazing passion.
“Of course-”
Sigurd’s burden sometimes overflowed when he compared his achievements to the epics of his older brothers. And when faced with those deep emotions, the best you could do was change the mood with lighthearted words.
“-we must not forget the fact that they were thoroughly beaten by the Western Muslims on the way back.”
“Haha! They lost half of the ships they dragged along. The souls of countless warriors must have been embraced by Odin and Freyja that day.”
I heard that the Konungr of the Muslims blocked the narrow cape (known as Gibraltar, the Pillars of Hercules) and almost killed Hastein and Bjorn. Although, I found it far more commendable that the Norsemen were able to break through that seemingly impenetrable defense line…
“Moreover, I once heard Bjorn say while drunk that he would definitely recover those treasures sunken at the bottom of the sea. He finds it such a waste it keeps him up at night!”
“What? Hahaha! How could someone that barely learnt how to swim find them? Hahaha!”
Actually, he said, “I will make the Konungr of the Western Muslims pay dearly for sinking half of my fleet!” But…Well, a good story always needed a little spicing up.
Sigurd’s long-winded laughter eased my mind, and the guards, who had been nervously whispering and glancing at us, seemed to be relieved by it as well.
“Yes. I still remember. When we welcomed Bjorn and Hastein in the hall of Uppsala with father, Hastein was shivering and saying that he would never set foot in the land of the Western Muslims again… It’s already been six winters.”
“Back then, we were kids.”
“What? I was an adult! You…”
Sigurd’s eyes, which turned to look at me, showed a hint of embarrassment. He was probably recalling my somewhat cute childhood appearance. It made sense; even Mother often said she missed my cub-like childhood-self, saying I grew up far too quickly.
“You…were a big bear. Now you’ve become an even bigger bear. I’m very curious to see what you’ll look like after just three more winters here.”
Shaking my head, I simply ignored his offhand remark, “I remember when Hastein first saw you, he thought you were a newly hired Huskarl by father and offered you a drink.” In my opinion, my childhood self was definitely an indisputably pretty boy. This was slander.
“Anyway, Bjorn reached Rome beyond the Western Muslims, and Ivarr sailed over the eastern rivers and traded with Miklagarorand the Eastern Muslims beyond.”
I had an age gap with my two older brothers, Bjorn and Ivarr. To put it simply, if the 840’s were the heyday of Father Ragnar, and the 850’s were the heyday of my two older brothers, then the heyday of Sigurd and I would be the 860’s. Of course, unlike Zlatan in his 40’s far past his prime, father was still actively engaged. However, my stance on this [Viking] thing was a bit different from the rest of my family.
“Then where should Halfdan (“Hvitserk”), you, and I head towards?”
“What about Ubba?”
“Ubba is…”
Sigurd momentarily became speechless at the mention of the name. If I was the monster of our family, Ubba was the oddball. He would exclaim things like, “I don’t need meaningless things like honor and wealth!” Finding the methods farmers used to plow fields and the craftsmanship of the Eastern Muslim silver coins we received for slaves and leather far more interesting.
“…He probably won’t go.”
He was a brother who shared a lot in common with me, especially when it came to serving Mother with utmost devotion. We got along well, and I heard that he was helping Bjorn in the hall of Uppsala along with Halfdan. News said that he was even filling the sudden vacancy left by Father Ragnar who left on an expedition, without much effort at that.
“Father also headed west again, Helgi.”
“Hmm.”
As they say, brothers would be brothers. Sigurd also seemed to have Father on his mind.
“West, east. We always only knew the sides. But I think a little differently. The stories coming from beyond the southern rampart (Danevirke) are very fascinating.”
“Beyond the rampart?”
“Many people have forgotten now, but there are many descendants of the Saxons on our land too.”
“I believe you’re not simply going south because the east and west have been preempted, Sigurd.”
I asked with concern, wondering if my emotional and romantic brother had made another impulsive decision. However, Sigurd’s response contained unmatched confidence.
“Oh- no, Helgi. No way.”
Some of my suspicion dispelled at the sight of him shaking his head firmly.
“You should know that the very reason for further strengthening and expanding the rampart was because of that cruel Konungr of the Franks, Karl.”
The ruthless Frankish Konungr, Karl, known to history as Charlemagne, mercilessly slaughtered countless Saxons in Verden and burned their sacred tree. This brutality forced many Saxons to flee north and east, leaving the name of Karl, Konungr of the Franks, as a symbol of terror even to this day.
“I remember hearing a story from father that grandfather often raided the coast of that arrogant Frankish Konungr.”
“Because they are not as fast as us at sea.”
Sigurd, who smiled in satisfaction at my knowledgeable response, continued.
“But Karl’s name, like our grandfather’s name, has now become a name of the past, Helgi. The land of the Franks is now a mess. No matter where you poke, they cannot properly respond.”
This was due to the chronic disease of all empires, succession disputes and internal strife.
“What I’m trying to say now is not simply to rob those fools, Helgi.”
Sigurd’s flushed face radiated with determination, causing me to step back a little.
“It’s to take the land of the Saxons. Us.”
What?
“So now, you’re not just saying to bring back gold ornaments or horses, but to outright take the land?”
“What reason is there that we can’t do what Karl of the Franks did?”
“Well, I don’t know, Sigurd.”
Of course, there were special cases like Hastein, who settled down in the northwestern end of the Frankish land, Nantes, but the full-fledged invasion that Sigurd was suggesting was unheard of.
“If it were just me, or even with Halfdan, I wouldn’t have even thought of such a tremendous adventure, but with you? I feel like we can definitely accomplish something great.”
Sigurd’s serpent-like pupils, seemingly devouring me with fervent desire, were a bit burdensome. But it was nothing to me, who had lived as the idol of all Norsemen for over 17 winters. The content was just a little chilling.
‘A conquest project?’
Let’s say that we somehow managed to occupy it, could we really handle the Christian wave that would inevitably follow? Was it truly a good idea?
“Sigurd. Let’s not act hastily. This is a problem that needs to be pondered over time.”
“Haha-”
Sigurd, probably amused by my deeply furrowed brow, chuckled lightly and shrugged, as if to reassure me not to worry.
“-I’m not saying to invade right now, Helgi. Of course, it will take time. I just came to tell you that there’s a chance. The land of the Franks is in a much more complicated state than you think right now.”
“I see.”
In a way, it was fortunate that this impulsive man was capable of rational thought. However, given that it was Sigurd—who valued secrets and oaths more than his lighthearted behavior—who mentioned Haldan’s story, it was clear that this decision had been carefully considered.
‘I’ll have to talk to Father once.’
Of course, I didn’t know if Father would personally approve of the adventurous spirit of his youthful sons. Especially since he had just set sail again to prove his good health…
“So, you should also think about what I said-”
Amid Sigurd’s enthusiastic sales pitch, his shrewd smile beaming, I noticed a messenger urgently riding towards us on horseback, his expression frantic, accompanied by the pounding of hoofbeats.
Since news without notice was bad news, anxiety unknowingly surged within me as I gazed intently. And Sigurd, who had been talking excitedly, also read my expression and turned his eyes toward the approaching man and horse.
“A messenger? What’s going on?”
In the distant corner of the sky behind the messenger, a menacing dark cloud loomed, spreading ominously.
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And with this, the tone of the story shifts. To be honest, Sigurd may be my favorite character so far. Describing his serpent-like eyes has to be the most fun thing about translating this novel so far.
Do you guys have a favorite character so far? And if so, why?
Had a little trouble on who was speaking because of punctuation but dang. Sigurd sure can talk a lot…