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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: FusionX
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I accepted the proposal.
The emperor’s proposal to join him in war.
Thinking about it, there was nothing for me to lose.
I didn’t know the scale of Symbatios’s rebellion, but honestly, I didn’t think the might of Constantinople would be inferior. More importantly, I couldn’t imagine a scenario where we would lose a battle I was a part of.
Besides.
The Varangians were the emperor’s personal guard. Unless Michael did something crazy like leading a frontal charge, we would be standing somewhere in the third rank of the formation, and it was obvious that we would simply return to the city.
Of course, this was just my thought. As with most things, especially predictions about battles, they weren’t really helpful.
Michael, who learned of my participation through Jarl Yngvarr, who repeatedly expressed his gratitude, led me around the city, which was busy preparing for war, drinking wine everywhere we went.
“Konungr Helgi! Now that we have seen the grand squares that Rome boasts of, let’s go meet the most precious treasure of this city!”
“The most precious treasure…?”
For a moment, the words, “Are you talking about Leon, whom Eudokia Ingerna just gave birth to?” almost escaped my lips, but I managed to swallow them back down. Fortunately, Michael, completely oblivious to my hesitation, excitedly quickened his pace.
Even so, his legs were much shorter than mine, so his pace was similar to my leisurely walk.
“That’s right! Konungr Helgi! It’s the place where you can most intensely feel the power of our empire! Let’s go!”
I had hoped, but it wasn’t Leon after all.
We passed a building that was once a large bathhouse dedicated to the god Zeus, but was mostly destroyed in a massive riot about 200 years ago during the reign of Emperor Justinian the Great. It was now used as a military supply depot, prison, and silk factory. Beyond it, a majestic structure filled our view.
“The Hippodrome…! I hear that in Rome, ruled by the Pope across the sea, there is the ancient Colosseum. But even the Colosseum cannot compare to this magnificent building, Konungr Helgi. What do you think? Of this awe-inspiring sight? Take a good look…!”
They say the emperor loves two things: alcohol and chariot races. His eyes, anticipating my reaction, were shining brighter than ever.
‘That’s… the look of a true enthusiast…’
In my experience, attempting a logical conversation with someone deeply engrossed in something was foolish.
For example, asking, “Is it right to be giving a foreign king a tour of the city when a rebellion is happening and all your subjects are working their bones off?” Or,
“Is it appropriate for an emperor to be visiting the Hippodrome when war is imminent?”
Such questions were likely to backfire, so in this situation, as an outsider, the right strategy was to actively agree. In other words, to give an enthusiastic reaction.
“Indeed, I pondered last night, alone on the terrace of Boukoleon, about where the power of the empire that encompasses the West and East comes from, but it was a foolish endeavor.
This massive and long beauty, it’s a sight worthy of your boasting, Your Majesty. Just imagining the chariots racing madly within and the countless citizens watching, my soul rejoices!”
“Oh-”
Actually, a part of it was sincere. It wasn’t just flattery to please the emperor, I genuinely felt that way.
Remember the small athletic competition I held with the Rus people in Polotsk? We were merely throwing javelins, stones, swimming, and boxing.
These people had built this massive structure and were enjoying a sport that captivated the entire city.
I heard there were green, blue, white, and red teams… and that the green and blue teams enjoyed a rivalry and popularity like Real Madrid and Barcelona.
The cheering squads of these chariot racing teams were already powerful forces in themselves… and naturally, members of the imperial family were also involved.
The emperor, by the way, was a huge fan of the green team.
“Konungr Helgi…! I knew it from the moment you spoke Latin, but you are truly a man of culture…! I am ashamed. Many citizens of this city, even some of my own subjects, fail to understand this greatness! Ah- I have finally met a friend who truly understands my heart…!”
Emperor Michael was now looking at me with wide, teary eyes, as if he was in shock. To drive the point home, I extended my large right arm to him.
“There are many in this world who are blind to such wonderful things. But isn’t it because of cultured people like us that these beautiful cultures can endure?”
[Slap-!]
“You are absolutely right…!”
Michael, grasping my arm, smiled brightly.
“Come, let me show you the inside! There are stairs leading directly to the imperial box seats from Boukoleon, but I personally find the main gate (Carceres) of this grand arena more beautiful…! Have you seen the countless statues lining the walls of this arena? Each one is worth more than-”
At this point, he was the embodiment of passion meeting profession…
In a way, Michael was a true benevolent ruler to the citizens of the city.
He may seem incompetent, but he had used his uncle Bardas to effectively drive the Muslims of the East, the Abbasids, beyond Armenia. And he held chariot races almost every other day, even those not on the annual schedule. For the citizens, it was practically a golden age.
Perhaps that was why Michael was even more obsessed with chariot races. As if he instinctively knew where his life depended on.
‘If Basileios wasn’t so ambitious, this co-emperor system might actually work out…’
I briefly entertained that hopeful thought, but it was impossible. Could two tigers coexist peacefully on the same mountain?
Anyway, I was faithfully achieving my goals. The emperor now considered me a friend, so all that was left was to finish the war well, maintain a good impression, and steal all the engineering books from the library.
I followed the emperor, who was walking twice as fast and talking three times as fast as before, with a spring in my step, under the grand arch of the Hippodrome.
The Roman expedition ceremony was more magnificent than the obelisk standing in the center of the Hippodrome.
Brass string instruments played powerfully, and the sky was filled with flowers and paper confetti scattered by the citizens.
The emperor had reportedly offered prayers for victory with his empress (his wife in name only) in a small church within the Boukoleon Palace, under the watchful eyes of the patriarch, and bowed in respect.
Since it was a space reserved for members of the imperial family and their immediate guards, the Aros and Varangian warriors waiting outside seemed a bit bored. However, no one showed it, as I stood before them, adorned with the armor and white cloak personally bestowed by the emperor.
Finally, the emperor and his entourage exited Boukoleon and the Chalke Gate. Amidst the citizens’ cheers, they entered Hagia Sophia and performed a ceremony where God declared victory. Afterwards, at the Forum of Constantine, in front of the generals of each legion, co-emperor Basileios, and the archbishop, the emperor condemned the audacity of the rebels and delivered a speech proclaiming God’s decree of victory, drawing enthusiastic responses.
The people cheered fervently at the emperor’s words, but their eyes darted around, eager to catch a glimpse of the foreign king from the north, the Konungr of the Rus who “admired Rome and personally stepped forward to aid the emperor and Rome in their time of need.”
And as it turned out, my appearance, clad in the visually impressive Roman armor and white cloak, was quite pleasing to them. The people cheered even louder for the emperor, and some even shouted my name in their broken pronunciation.
“Konungr Helgiaai (Helgii)-! Helgaai-!”
“War King (Rex) Helgi-!”
The Aros warriors, as well as the Varangian guards, including Yngvarr, seemed to puff up their chests at the reaction…
Strictly speaking, it didn’t make sense for me, a temporary mercenary, to usurp the command of Yngvarr, the leader of the long-term mercenaries, but no one, including himself, seemed to find it strange.
Therefore, since no one in this Varangian mercenary group was making a move, even though we were about to go to war, I had no choice but to take action.
I sought out Basiliskianos, the captain of the guard, who seemed extremely busy due to Michael’s dereliction of duty, and listened to a rough outline of the operation plan.
We had to at least know where we were going, right?
Symbatios was the Strategos of a place called the thema Thrakēsiōn, located south of Constantinople, across the strait. He had persuaded Peganes, the Strategos of the thema Opsikion, famous for Nicaea, located just north of Thrakēsiōn, to join him in rebellion.
The official reason was to condemn Basileios’s appointment as co-emperor and his vain ambitions.
But the real reason was that the position of Strategos of Thrakēsiōn was not enough of a reward for his contribution in eliminating his father-in-law, Bardas.
In short, it was a power struggle between Basileios and Symbatios…
According to Basiliskianos, Peganes, who had joined the rebellion, was a longtime friend and subordinate of Symbatios, so he had probably been forced to participate. But the soldiers under them wouldn’t be too happy about this rebellion, which lacked a clear cause.
‘If Basiliskianos is right, this civil war is practically over.’
From this perspective, Emperor Michael’s relaxed attitude made sense. The central army under his command were seasoned troops, trained under the deceased Caesar Bardas and further tempered through battles with the Abbasids in the Middle East.
But if everything was going so smoothly, why couldn’t I shake this uneasy feeling?
“Then, I must go and finish the preparations for the expedition, Konungr Helgi. You just need to lead the brave Varangians and listen to His Majesty’s words.”
“I apologize for asking unnecessary questions when you are so busy, Basiliskianos. Thank you for your time.”
“On the contrary, I should thank you. Everyone seemed too excited about going to war, and I was worried, but seeing someone like you showing such concern puts my mind at ease.”
The sincere and intelligent-looking Roman saluted me and hurriedly left to fulfill his duties.
His white cloak billowing behind him seemed to illuminate the promised victory that lay ahead.
The might of Rome was beyond imagination.
The emperor’s personal troops that crossed the strait from Constantinople alone numbered 3,000.
This was the number gathered in just three days under the enraged emperor’s mobilization order.
Their name was Tagmata.
And each member of the Tagmata was a heavy cavalryman.
Was this even possible? 3,000 heavy cavalrymen.
Soon, Basileios, who had crossed the strait before Emperor Michael and personally mobilized the Optimatoi (Optimatoi) and Boukellariōn (Boukellariōn) troops, joined them. The army swelled to 18,000 in an instant and began rapidly marching south along the wide, flat road.
Their target was Adramyttion, known as the gateway to Thrakēsiōn.
It was a strategic point where those coming down from the north and those coming up from the south were bound to clash.
20,000 rebel troops from the two thema (Theme) led by Symbatios and Peganes were already waiting for the imperial army there.
“Whew- They’ve gathered quite a force, Konungr. My sword will be busy today!”
The Northmen, finally free from the Romans and enjoying their own(?) time, were positioned to the right of the Scholae (Scholae), the elite unit of the Tagmata guarding the emperor, forming a reserve force.
With 120 Aros warriors and 1,000 existing Varangian guards, a total of 1,120 men formed a square formation. I felt like nothing in the world could scare me.
“I doubt we’ll have to move, but warm up your bodies, Storolf. Same goes for the other lieutenants.”
“Yes, Konungr!”
“Yes, sir!”
‘…’
Normally, Storolf would be on my right and Refil on my left, but today, Jarl Yngvarr, standing to my left, received my orders with a voice that belied his age.
As my orders spread throughout the ranks and the 1,120 Varangians started to loosen up, the scouts of the two armies, who had seemingly been engaged in an endless staring contest, finally started to move.
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[anotha one]
