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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Simzy
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There were many things I wanted to ask. As he likely already knew through Rentakios, I had informed the Emperor that there was a high probability his sister, Tekla, was involved in this rebellion. Furthermore, Patriarch Photios had also expressed suspicion towards his predecessor and rival, Ignatius, along with a few other names.
Everything after that was the Emperor’s responsibility. I figured he would confine them to a monastery somewhere… but it was no longer my concern. It would have been pointless interference.
So, I didn’t ask, and the Emperor didn’t bother telling me about the complex political affairs of Rome. For the past month, he had only sought my insights on the future, not advice on past events or their handling. This, in a way, was a declaration of his will. His resolve to fulfill his duties as Emperor.
Of course, perhaps the memory of his mother Theodora’s regency had left him traumatized, as the Emperor was particularly averse to having the Empress or the wives of his subjects present at official functions. However, in private, he always kept Eudokia Ingerna and his son by his side. He said he had decided to divorce his other Eudokia, his show-wife.
Unlike the past, Michael’s authority was currently at its peak, and considering the pro-Emperor faction and the inherently opportunistic nature of the Patriarch, there wouldn’t be any significant difficulties. The citizens already knew. A little compensation to the current Empress’s family, the show-couple, would suffice.
Eudokia Ingerna was a beauty, with gorgeous blonde hair, a perfect blend of Northern and Roman blood. After a few conversations, I realized her true charm lay in her eloquence. It was quite a struggle to stop her and her father, Ingvar, from prostrating themselves before me. Baby Leon had a string of snot hanging from his nose, but the lines of his face, his brow, and the bridge of his nose – anyone could see he was Michael’s child. I almost burst out laughing.
Anyway, I had only spent a few winter months there, but perhaps because I had experienced such momentous events, I felt that familiar pang of sadness, the kind you feel when parting with a close friend.
With a purple robe in a wooden case between us, Michael and I clasped hands firmly.
“Konungr Helgi. There is much to say, but I believe this won’t be the last time. I’ve been truly, truly grateful. Thank you.”
“There’s nothing to be grateful for, Basileus Michael. Rather, I’m the one who has received so much. If you need help, find me through Kyiv. If possible, I’ll surely come.”
The strength in our clasped arms loosened. I received the wooden box containing the purple robe from a servant and handed it to Refil. Then, with a final farewell, I turned my back.
“Farewell then, Michael.”
“Safe travels, Helgi.”
Crossing the smooth marble floor, I boarded the longship.
“Storolf, signal our departure. Let’s go back.”
“Yes, Konungr!”
[Boooooooo- Wooooo-]
The long blast of the horn filled the harbor of Boukoleon,
[Paaaam- Paaaam-]
and the responding brass trumpets, carried by the wind, gently pushed the longship forward.
Slowly catching the wind, the longship surged ahead.
Three warships and dozens of merchant ships followed, gradually disappearing beyond the Golden Horn.
The Emperor and his entourage remained long after the fleet had vanished beyond the city walls.
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The return journey was much smoother.
With no need to stop for departure procedures, we sailed directly northeast and reached the docks of Cherson within a day.
“Welcome back, Konungr Helgi.”
“Damian. You look better?”
“Thanks to your efforts, Konungr.”
Damian, this sly old fox. The strategos of Cherson, Petronas, had been appointed to the position of treasurer. Damian, who had taken a sort of acting strategos position in place of his young son, greeted me warmly.
“Securing the Bulgarian Knyaz as a firm ally. Was that your plan from the beginning?”
Having grown accustomed to the Romans’ habit of holding feasts at every opportunity, I instructed my warriors, who had fought alongside me in this distant land, to eat and drink their fill. Damian and I then conversed, just as we had during the first feast. Damian asked me about the Emperor, and I asked him about Bulgaria.
“The Bulgarian Knyaz, Michael… or rather, the one previously called Boris, only bowed his head to Rome a few years ago. Of course, outwardly he submitted to the Emperor’s majesty… but the truth is different. The more practical reason was a ploy to counter the threat from the East Franks and Moravia to their west.”
Damian shook his head slightly, and tales of Bulgaria flowed from his lips.
“He seems to be playing both sides, between the Pope in the West and the Patriarch in the East, but in reality, it’s no different than drawing our Empire in to oppose the belligerent East Franks. Therefore, the most important thing for him was the swift resolution of the Empire’s instability. There was no reason for him to turn his back on His Majesty Michael, who had already quelled the rebellion and even prevented the assassination. The moment Konungr thwarted Basileios’ plot, his fate was sealed.”
“…I see.”
I suddenly turned my head and looked at the young boy sitting next to me. Seven years old. It was his first time on a ship, and although he looked exhausted, he hadn’t complained once. A precocious child.
His dozing form somehow tugged at my heartstrings.
“Still, Constantinos is fortunate.”
Damian’s eyes, following my gaze to the child, held a tinge of wistfulness.
“Did you know the former Patriarch, Ignatius, was once the Emperor’s son?”
“Is that so?”
This was the first I’d heard of it.
“The Roman Emperor’s throne is such a heavy burden that no one has held it for long. It was a chaotic era. Perhaps even more so than now…”
The old man’s face, as he reminisced about the past, was etched with resentment and regret rather than longing. These feelings weren’t directed at anyone in particular, but rather at everything about that time.
“What fate awaits the sons of deposed rulers? If they are not killed, they are castrated and sent to a monastery. Ignatius still hasn’t lost the fire in his heart, so compared to that suffering… Constantinos, that child has gained great fortune. He has come to follow in the footsteps of a hero from legend.”
This old man. His flattery has improved. He’s become quite adept at weaving compliments.
“I wonder if following me will truly be good for this child…”
It would be a better ending than death or castration…
Amidst the laughter and chatter of my men, and the gently flickering flames, we ate and enjoyed Damian’s hospitality. Two days later, we set sail again.
“Think it over carefully, Damian.”
“Thank you, Konungr Helgi. I will certainly do so.”
On the day of our departure, I made Damian an offer. I asked if he would consider assisting me. Damian, the slippery snake, smiled faintly and said he would think about it. I wasn’t sure what would come of it.
He didn’t seem to have any intention of returning to Roman politics, so was he planning to retire? In any case, I wished him luck.
The Dnieper River, as we sailed up it, felt different from when we descended. It was now early February, according to the Julian calendar.
The river, which hadn’t frozen much during the mild winter, flowed smoothly. Unlike the rushed descent, fueled by Eudokia’s letter and a sense of urgency, the leisurely journey allowed me to appreciate nature, which in itself was healing.
Personally, I preferred winter to summer, mainly because there were no insects. This wasn’t a laughing matter; it was a serious issue. No matter how much of a legendary warrior I might be, I was no match for the relentless attacks of mosquitoes craving my blood, or the giant tinkerbells that swarmed any light source.
In such matters, even I was helpless. I might be a formidable warrior among humans, but before nature, I was just another piece of delectable organic matter.
Therefore, I was quite content as we sailed upstream, carried by the cool breeze.
I had brought five warships and ten merchant ships from Kyiv, and now, on the return journey, I was leading thirty more ships behind them.
People, knowledge, resources, and honor.
Through this journey, which had exceeded my expectations, the Northmen and Rus’ who accompanied me no longer seemed to treat me as a mere Konungr. Perhaps it was the result of spending time with the Emperor. It felt like the level of respect had increased a notch.
“Konungr Helgi! Kyiv is in sight!”
A sharp-eyed warrior at the front shouted, and soon, I too could see the village atop a high hill, situated to the left across the vast river.
Next to it, I could see the encampment I had established for my warriors on a smaller hill.
And beside that, there was something strange.
‘Is that… a Mongolian-style dwelling? The kind used by nomads… what was it called, a ger?’
With my improved physical abilities, my mental acuity had also sharpened. I wasn’t sure of the correlation, but my mind could now readily access memories from my previous life.
Those tents looked like something I had seen before.
From afar, it was a comical sight: the Kyiv village perched on the highest point, the encampment of the Aros warriors below it, and even further down, on the grasslands, a large nomadic settlement.
“Konungr. I heard the news, but I didn’t believe it. I’ve never seen houses like those.”
Refil, standing next to me, frowned as he gazed at the distant scene. He certainly hadn’t seen houses like that. This was my first time seeing them in person as well.
“Indeed. It seems Haskuldr had good reason to be urgent in his message.”
From what I could see, there were about 100 to 200 dwellings. Was that the size of a single tribe? I wasn’t sure.
‘The Prince of Magyar…’
The chieftain’s son… What should I call him?
“Let’s hurry, Refil. It seems our guests are waiting.”
“Understood, Konungr.”
The unfurled sails caught the wind and pulled the ship forward. As we approached, the three settlements became abuzz with activity.
Soon, the prow of the ship reached the same spot where we had first landed. As the dragon’s head gently touched the shore, I first saw Jarl Haskuldr and the Kyiv and Aros warriors standing around him. They were lined up, apparently to welcome me. Heh.
[Clank]
With the sound of my armor clinking, I stepped onto the land with a pleasant thud and stretched my back and arms.
Watching the other ships landing one after another, I walked toward Haskuld, followed by Refil, Storolf, Oleg, Djur, and my new vassal, the engineer Leon, with Constantinos in his arms.
“Konungr Helgi. Welcome back. Kyiv is yours.”
Seeing Haskuldr bow respectfully, I felt a palpable sense of having left Rome. The warrior’s straightforward greeting, without bowing or prostrating.
Feeling a sense of familiarity, I patted his shoulder and ascended the hill with him.
“Thanks to you, I was able to return safely, Jarl Haskuldr. I’d like to ask if everything has been alright… but clearly, it hasn’t. What business do those horsemen have here?”
If they had wanted a fight, Kyiv would have been in flames by now. They must have something to say if they were waiting so patiently.
I sensed Haskuldr tense beside me, reacting to my aura.
Indeed, my journey to the Eastern Roman Empire seemed to have elevated both my body and mind. It might sound like something from a cartoon, but that was the only way I could describe it.
Come to think of it, I was now nineteen. Nineteen years old, which would be twenty in my previous life. An adult.
“Indeed, Konungr. The Gyula of Magyar has come personally, leading a tribe. His name is Arpad, and he commands great respect among the Magyars. His father is named Almos, and he is called a Kende.”
Gyula and Kende…?
Familiar titles nestled among unfamiliar names.
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