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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Simzy
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“Oh~ Ho~ Ohhhh~ Echoes of eternity~ Oh~ Ho~ Ohhhh~ Valhalla, calling me~”
[Ding- Ding- Diri Ding-!]
[Doom-! Doom-! Doom-! Doom-!]
Her white fingers plucked the harp strings, creating melodies, and the voice flowing from between her blood-red lips became a beautiful song, resonating in my ears.
The decibels of her voice were perfect for my taste.
Dressed in white cloth accented with red decorations, complementing her pale skin, she sat perched on a nearby rock, singing. I diligently beat a drum made of animal hide, chiming in with the lyrics I knew.
“Wind and waves will guide me~ Wind and waves will set me free~”
Oh- Ho- Ohhhh-
While singing the chorus together, I felt all my stress melt away. Was this freedom of the soul? Was this the inspiration of Bragi, the god of art, that Sigurd spoke so much about?
Listening to Inga’s singing, which seemed a million times better than tone-deaf Sigurd’s, made me want to set sail somewhere immediately.
With Inga, of course.
[Dirring- Diriring- Diriring!]
[Clap clap clap clap!]
“Oh my…! You sing so beautifully!”
“Whoo-! Whoo-!”
Time had passed, and it had already been two weeks since the Sami father and daughter appeared with the meteorite.
867 AD. The sixth month of winter. The first day. March 18th by the Julian calendar.
I was in a meadow near Aarhus with Inga, the girl who loved to sing. Around us, having just finished a song, were my mother Asta, Inga’s father Eret, Refill, Storolf, and a few guards.
The rest of my vassals were carrying out their assigned tasks.
I had instructed Leon to work with Hroltfr on the sewage system, a project that had been in the planning stages for years, alongside Aarhus’ redevelopment… but I heard he was too excited about the numerous undeveloped mines around Aarhus, unsure of what lay dormant within, and was too busy poking around to draw up blueprints.
Hrolf, who had to follow him around, complained to me constantly.
Bjorn, staying in Uppsala’s hall, took on the role of guarding the split boulder, which people were starting to call “Helgi’s Proof.” This wasn’t something I asked him to do, but something he did of his own volition, so it couldn’t be considered work.
Therefore, I had instructed my reliable brother to select a suitable location between Uppsala and Aarhus, prepare the land, and construct a large building.
Bjorn had immediately put on a tired expression upon hearing this, but I knew it was an act. The man who managed the vast city of Aarhus effortlessly…
The massive building Bjorn would construct was planned to accommodate up to 300 people and would serve as a grand library for the North. I had brought numerous books from Constantinople and planned to bring more.
It was time for us Northmen to finally have a hall of knowledge, as well as a place to store them…!
I couldn’t establish a university yet, as there were no teachers available, but I planned to open it freely to those who craved knowledge.
It would take a long time to catch up to Constantinople this way… but every journey starts with a single step. Rome wasn’t built in a day.
Anyway, that was enough for now regarding construction and redevelopment.
Eric, Bjorn’s eldest son, whom I appointed as Aarhus’ chief administrator, was more talented than I expected.
My nephew, who had been in poor health, had recovered significantly while recuperating(?) in Aarhus.
As if to make up for the time he had to spent in bed, the young talent, having overcome his terrible illness, diligently carried out my instructions, consuming lamp oil at an alarming rate.
My first order was to establish a roster of the Gothi, the priests.
I couldn’t stand by and watch the primitive administrative network, where the center was the center and the periphery was the periphery, any longer. We had to learn from existing precedents.
Having closely observed the roles of the central administration and the Church in Constantinople, I had to admit it. I couldn’t rule every corner of my territory like the Roman Empire, not yet.
Even the Roman Empire suffered from countless provincial rebellions.
So, one step at a time.
First, to grasp the detailed roster of the minor and mid-ranking Jarls and Gothi, who effectively ruled the small villages that were barely even considered peripheral, and to have them, in turn, grasp the status of their villagers.
This was the top priority. A census, so to speak.
Only then could my voice reach the people below.
Of course, it would be ideal if the Jarls and Gothi of each region cooperated with my plan, but since they might not…
The task connected to this was the expansion of military power.
Last winter, the number of men I led on the eastern expedition was approximately 1,000. So, I entrusted Bjorn and Hrolf with additional recruitment, and when I returned, the number had increased by another 1,000.
A paltry figure compared to the Roman Empire’s shocking standing army of 3,000 heavy cavalry, but an unbelievable 2,000 regular troops from a city estimated to have a population of 30,000.
This was possible primarily due to Aarhus’ tremendous productivity.
The next reason was that the children born around the same time as me, the so-called “Helgi Generation,” were reaching the age of physical adulthood by 21st-century standards.
If you look closely, the reason the medieval population didn’t increase wasn’t because they didn’t have many children. It was because the children died as soon as they were born.
I didn’t have to look far. Wasn’t my father, Ragnar, a case in point? Surprisingly, he was the only son of his father, Sigurd, and Aslaug was his second wife, while my mother, Asta, was his third.
His two sons from his first wife died of illness.
If this was the case for a Konungr ruling a region, what about the people below him?
This was a truly serious problem.
However, with my arrival, all of this changed…
Children no longer died.
As a result, the number of people knocking on the doors of my mother Asta’s and the goddess Hel’s temple increased day by day, and it was not surprising that the proportion of women—mothers with children—was particularly high.
Naturally, the spiritual inheritance of religion, passed down from parents, continued, and children followed the goddess Hel…
People seemed to think that the goddess of death took away all the deaths lurking around children… Since I was the one who advocated for the eradication of superstition, I couldn’t damage the authority of the goddess Hel, whom I had elevated to monotheistic status.
Here, I decided to take a step back.
No matter how much I talked about reason and rationality, even in the 21st century, all sorts of superstitions had to be meticulously observed when it came to children. Beyond this… future scholars would sort it out. I didn’t know anymore.
Anyway, for this reason, the rapidly growing number of children of my generation, especially the boys, seemed to have a great sense of mission, as if they were born alongside ‘Konungr Helgi’ himself… So, additional recruitment wasn’t a problem.
Rather, Hrolf had a hard time explaining the number of troops and the city’s capacity to support them to the overwhelming number of people who flocked to join.
I had noticed many friends training with shields whenever I walked down the street lately… It seemed I didn’t have to worry about their martial spirit.
In addition, Eric was in charge of assigning living quarters and re-educating the highly educated Islamic slaves who had come with me from Constantinople in language and culture.
Aside from the chilling weather of the North, the slaves seemed reasonably satisfied and treated me almost like a god.
Perhaps they were well-trained as slaves… but judging by their behavior after seeing the rock I split, they seemed to be under some sort of misapprehension, but I left them be.
Once their re-education was complete, I planned to deploy them all to the library. They were valuable assets who knew Latin, so I would pay them handsomely… occasionally send them on merchant ships… entrust them with transcribing books…
First, I would have to release them from slavery. Since they had already converted from Islam to the Roman Church upon being enslaved, converting them once more to the Norse faith wouldn’t be a big issue. Those who refused to convert, even at the cost of their lives, were already dead, so I didn’t have to worry too much.
These people would be the vanguard of my intellectual revolution project. They would be followed by the priests who would be educated by them… and below them, the children would be educated… By establishing this tradition, I would reconstruct the Norse faith as a religion that prioritized human reason.
“Such beautiful singing again today, Inga, Helgi. Your voices harmonize so well… Don’t you agree, Jarl Eret?”
“I do! Indeed, High Priestess Asta!”
Of course, all the major projects I explained earlier weren’t actually… important to me right now.
Having put my men to work, I was enjoying perhaps the happiest days of my life.
[Slide-]
As I put down the drumsticks and waited quietly, Inga, also putting down her harp, came to my side and gently took my right hand in hers.
A cool yet warm sensation climbed up my fingers, and my left and right brain, unable to withstand the burning stimulation, unfolded all sorts of fantasies before me.
A wedding, the first night, the names of our children, love that doesn’t cool even as we age, the names of our grandchildren, death we face together.
Twelve sons, ten daughters.
Inga, chuckling at my gaping smile, led me with lively steps to the long table where her father and my mother were seated. Unable to resist her gentle pull, I followed lightly behind her.
Inga, bouncing like a deer, and I, lumbering like a bear, were having a sort of official courtship under the watchful eyes of our parents.
Of course, this wasn’t orchestrated by me or my brother Bjorn, who were practically clueless in these matters… My mother, Asta, had pushed it forward with her bulldozer-like drive.
Because of this, I was temporarily exempt from all duties. No one dared to defy the High Priestess of Hel, who radiated a pale, glacial aura from her eyes…
Since becoming an official couple, Inga had become even more proactive in approaching me. Holding my hand like this, occasionally snuggling against me while singing.
Honestly, we were still a clumsy couple who hadn’t even properly kissed yet, but I was incredibly happy every moment.
“Huh- I feel this every time I see you, but Konungr Helgi, you’re truly tall…! My daughter is tall too, but standing next to the Konungr, I think you two make a well-matched couple!”
“Everyone says that when they first see my son. I still can’t forget what Jarl Hastein, Jarl Bjorn’s friend, said when he first saw my son.”
Ah-. When Hastein returned from the western expedition with Bjorn, he asked if I was my father’s new guard. I was 11 years old then…
Eret, who turned out to be the owner of a large reindeer farm, exclaimed in admiration as he looked at the two of us standing side by side.
As he said, both Inga and I were quite tall. She reached about my chest, so she was shorter than Storolf but about the same height as Refil.
Because of this, there hadn’t been many suitors for Inga, who was past marriageable age and the same age as me. Considering Eret’s wealth as a large farm owner, her height shouldn’t have been a disadvantage, but being too tall could be a burden.
Also, Eret, who dearly loved his daughter, had driven away all the good-for-nothing men who came after her money. And since Eret himself was a powerful local figure, he was even considering leaving the farm to his daughter.
Eret’s Svear wife, Inga’s mother, had sadly passed away.
Eret, who had lived with his daughter since then without remarrying, readily agreed to my mother’s proposal for Inga and me to court, and even suggested we hold the wedding immediately… but my mother dissuaded him.
A fleeting pang of pain crossed my mother’s face as she said let’s give the children some time, as if recalling her own experience of falling in love with my father, Ragnar, too hastily and at too young an age, without even a proper wedding ceremony. Only I noticed it.
I quietly took my mother’s hand.
The result of the two weeks that had passed was this: Four happy faces, two hands clasped together.
As my mother, across the table filled with laughter, was saying she would ask my stepmother Aslaug about Halfdan’s wedding date, a voice calling for me came from afar.
“Konungr! Someone has come from Aarhus!”
Storolf’s hurried approach seemed urgent, so, still holding Inga’s hand tightly, I shouted,
“What is it, Storolf!”
“Bamburgh, someone has come from Bamburgh in Northumbria! They say a messenger from Jarl Sigurd has arrived!”
Sigurd from Northumbria? What was going on?
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