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Legends Never Die: The Battles to Come (ch. 136)
🕑 Added 2025-11-12 17:20:28 +0000 UTCAnother winter came and went, bringing spring once more and marking the first year of a united Scandinavia.
The months following my conquest were no less challenging than the conquest itself. The iron needed to be struck while it was hot, so I took advantage of the months leading up to winter to solidify my rule in the newest territories that fell under my domain. There were endless meetings, countless deals that needed to be made, bureaucracy that was created from scratch needed to be set in place. All in preparation for what I knew was coming.
“Allvaldr,” Ulfar uttered, bowing his head and kneeling before me in my favorite meeting room of the palace. The spinning room I’d created in Crete was a rough draft for the one I perfected for my own use. The open-air room was lavishly decorated with statues carved from my own hand and the first of the stained glass windows detecting stories of Thor, the Allfather, and more hovered overhead, casting the room in a colorful hue.
Ulfar wasn't my first choice for the task that I had in mind. Too connected to the politics that was once more finding it's footing as stability was brought to Scandinavia. His father was a political animal, but Ulfar himself was a competent man. Smart, capable, decisive. He should not suffer for my dislike of his father.
“Allvaldr,” Hjalmar echoed, kneeling next to him with his head bowed. Yet he still watched me from the corners of his eyes, and it was good that his gaze hadn't changed. I could practically see him planning to rob me.
He was closer to my first choice, but still not at the top of the list. If I was being honest, the task was one I was inclined to trust only to Thorkell, but that wasn't an option any longer. I needed him here, in Scandinavia, not half a world away.
“Rise,” I commanded, giving them a gesture and they did so. “Do you know why I have summoned the two of you here?”
“No, Allvaldr,” Ulfar answered.
Allvaldr. The title I had taken -- my people's equivalent to Emperor. ‘Holder of All Power’ sounded quite grandiose, and it was. It was also more true than not. Empress Irene and now Emperor Charlemagne traced the legitimacy of their titles through the Roman Empire. Because my lands were never ruled by Rome, such a title as ‘Emperor’ meant little, so a new one had to be created. Though it was but one of many that had been placed upon my shoulders.
“I'm sure that you are aware that with the arrival of spring and the end of the conquest, many young men will seek to follow in my footsteps. Sailing to the Mediterranean to find their fortune,” I said, and there was a brief look of contrition passing over Hjalmar's face. “How many do you think will set sail?”
There was a beat of loud silence between us before Hjalmar found his voice, “As many that can fit in a longship,” he said and I nodded.
“Aye. I expect some will travel by foot once the ships are underway,” I said, a sigh in my voice. It was something I’d anticipated well in advance, but as much as my success in the Mediterranean helped me, it was also hobbling me. Thousands, if not tens of thousands of young men were eager to make their fortune. I had proven that it was possible there. With the wealth I had taken from that distant sea, I had built an empire.
I expected an entire generation of young men would sail to the Mediterranean and never return. Some would, and they would bring tales of either failure or success. Which would only encourage others to make the journey, leaving my kingdom with a steady hemorrhage of young men of fighting age. It wouldn't be a fatal bleeding, but it would be a steady loss of talent and strength.
It was unavoidable too. Short of smashing every ship and binding people with chains, they would leave. Which left me in search of ways to mitigate the bleeding rather than searing the wound closed -- creating opportunities closer to home first and foremost among them. Sailing halfway across the world was no small risk, and raiding always came with its own risks. Since I became King of Denmark, I had been preparing for this eventuality by laying the groundwork for trades.
Blacksmithing, woodcarving, carpentry, glassworking, and more. The first generation of tradesmen had graduated from their trade schools and apprenticeships. They weren't yet masters, but they were capable and there was much to be done in building my empire. I had already expanded upon those learning opportunities across my dominion, and that would prevent some from leaving. It was easier to stay and find a good trade to ply than it was to leave and risk the unknown.
Other opportunities consisted of the garrison forces that I was establishing across Scandinavia. Garrisons of five thousand warriors would police and guard a region, alongside the Rangers. There were few things more tempting than good pay that you didn't have to fight for. They would repel the raids that had been robbing at my borders, most of them sponsored by Charlemagne and Irene. They would hunt bandits, keep the roads safe, and serve as a maintenance force for infrastructure.
But that still wouldn't be enough. It wasn't enough. Which was why I had summoned Ulfar and Hjalmar here.
“Both of you distinguished yourself during the conquest,” I said, gesturing for them to take seats across from me. They did so with some hesitation. “You earned your arms and armor. You displayed a keen sense of tactics. You are respected by your men and others. It is for these reasons I have a task for you both, should you accept it.”
“Should?” Hjalmar echoed, sounding surprised that it was a choice.
“The men -- be they boys or warriors, will need a steadying hand on the journey to the Mediterranean, and within King Hoffer's territory. We discussed the matter years ago, long before I returned to Denmark, about how our people would flock to his kingdom. How there is a risk of… destabilizing elements hiding in the migration of hot blooded warriors.” Which was a polite way of saying that someone would do something stupid and try to overthrow Hoffer.
I expected him to be entrenched and his rule stabilized, but an influx of thousands of plunder hungry raiders would be a task for anyone to manage.
“What I ask of you is that you each take a thousand men under your command. You will be outfitted with supplies, ships, and funds to support the endeavor,” I continued, earning their full attention. “With that, leverage yourselves into positions of authority amongst those that set sail. Organize them under your command, however large in numbers they might become. That way, rather than a disunified mob of hundreds of individual ships, it shall appear to be a sanctioned expedition.”
Some, of course, would still strike out on their own, but most wouldn't. Most would flock to those they saw as winners -- Ulfar and Hjalmar had distinguished themselves, far more than either likely realized. They were my chosen pieces when it came to winning two of the great battles during the conquest, and they’d won much renown before then by participating in a saga's worth of battles, both big and small. People would flock to them for much the same reasons that people had flocked to me.
“You want to make the flood of warriors leaving the empire seem like it was your idea?” Hjalmar summarized, sounding like he was impressed and scandalized in equal measures.
“Essentially,” I admitted. “That way, in five years time, when you return… I suspect most will return with you.” I couldn't stop hot blooded young men from trying to reenact my success, so I would instead act as if I were giving them my blessing. That came with its own problems, but they were manageable.
“What will happen in five years time?” Ulfar questioned and I offered a thin smile.
“A Great Raid,” I answered. “One similar to what I conducted upon the Umayyad Caliphate, only on an even grander scale.” It was a move that Charlemagne already anticipated. He understood what I was trying to do all too well.
Building an empire was a costly thing. My spoils from the Mediterranean could only go so far. It had fueled the conquest and construction, but my budding economy would consume itself without further funding at the rate I was building. Which meant that I either had to slow things down, which was unacceptable given the various deadlines I aimed to meet to ensure we were ready when Charlemagne was in a position to look to the new empire on his northern border. Or I could secure another influx of funds to fuel my construction for another decade to come.
And, by that time, the bulk of the foundations would be set and settled, meaning I could afford to slow my construction efforts.
“I imagine that would be enough to tempt us back,” Hjalmar snorted, but then he caught himself, looking at me with the expectation that I would be offended.
“Aye, I imagine so,” I agreed whole heartedly. It wouldn't be as simple as it was with the Umayyad Caliphate. In the end, they had been painfully outmanuvered, caught between a rock and a hard place before I slipped a knife between their ribs and twisted it. Word had already reached me that Charlemagne had sent his eldest son Pepin to the court of Ecbert to prepare them for our eventual arrival.
Pepin was maimed in body, but from all that I had heard, Charlemagne valued him for his keen mind and sharp wit. He could not be the heir, however much Pepin might wish to be, but he served his father loyally.
Come five years from now, I expected we would meet a prepared foe when we arrived on the shores of Britannia.
“During that time, I want you to elevate those of merit -- as you two were elevated,” I continued. “Find those skilled and capable, and test them. Raid freely along the Frankish and Roman coasts. Have them earn their iron. Come five years, I expect you to return with a thousand Ironclads each.” It would also be a good way to repay Charlemagne and Irene for the sponsored raids into my borders.
The Great Raid itself would be an excellent way to explore and weaken Britannia. I intended to leave its shores with every scrap of wealth found on the island, destroy local leaders and preserve those that I would have future use for. All the while, I would learn the terrain and prepare for another invasion.
One far in the future, another ten to fifteen years perhaps. One that would come once the islands had recovered and my children would be grown. Ragnar and Magnus would be old enough to participate in the Great Raid, allowing them to earn their own renown. My shadow would be a long one, but this would prove that they could stand on their own two feet. Then, in the future, I would launch an invasion with the intention of conquering Britannia with all of my children.
It would be an important step in preserving the alliance with the Abbasids. The strait between Francia and Britannia would be a vital artery between my empire and the Caliphate. It would be too important to leave in another's hands.
Britannia would be the last time I would expand. However long my reign might be, whatever wars would come and go -- I had no intention of expanding beyond the borders I had erected. The rest of my life would be spent building the empire that my children and grandchildren would inherit. Any expansion that would come after would come from my children as they earned their own renown.
“You honor us, Allvaldr,” Ulfar was quick to accept the mission. It was a good opportunity, and he understood that. The Mediterranean was full of wealth, it would give him a chance to prove his leadership, and by the time he returned, he would have cemented himself as a natural leader.
I had taken care to separate the nobility from the military. It was impossible to completely separate the two -- ours was a martial culture, and people followed those that had proven themselves in war. However, I wanted to circumvent the issue of any talented general deciding it was a sign he should rule the empire. Thus I bound the military heavily to the crown rather than to the local Jarls.
“Why me?” Hjalmar questioned, earning my attention. “Ulfar, I understand. But it should be obvious I only got this far riding on his and his father's coattails.” Ulfar seemed aghast, though I wasn't sure if it was because of the naked honesty or he somehow thought his father's meddling with his career was hidden. “Why expect anything from me?”
I considered the answer for a moment, before I settled on honesty. “You're capable enough. More than you realize, I think. But the truth of it is… you don't look at me like I'm some god. Actually, you look at me like you're planning to rob me. It's quite refreshing.” A smirk grew as his jaw dropped and closed with a click, only to begin floundering like a fish gasping for air. “Despite all that is said of me, despite all that I am capable of… I am a man. Human. Perhaps I have a divine ancestor, and their blood shows in me -- but my father was Erik Sigurdson, a man, as am I. Even those closest to me tend to forget that. You… you simply don't care.”
It took him a moment to find his voice while Ulfar seemed pensive. Swallowing thickly, Hjalmar shuffled much like a child caught doing something he shouldn't. “I wouldn't think to steal from you, your grace.”
I raised an eyebrow, “Out of respect?”
“You'd catch me,” he admitted with a hesitant smile. Then he inclined his head, “By your will, Allvaldr.”
I accepted that and made a gesture for them to be dismissed. I didn't need to worry. Things were well in hand with them. Though it did set one other thing in motion, so I stood up to deal with it.
My palace had continued its expansion over the years. The core of it had been completed by the end of my first year as King of Denmark, but in the years since, the western and eastern wings had been completed. Each wing, much like the core building, was five stories tall with various amenities that one would expect from a palace. It seemed entirely too large for one family, but that was the point.
I strode by various statues and pieces of art -- some had been made by my own hands, but there were a few made by others, the popularity of such endeavors growing as my teachings spread. It was something I hadn't expected. My hobby of art had passed on, people assigning importance to it simply because I did. It was unintended, but I welcomed it.
All the while, my head swam with plans and thoughts for the meetings that would soon come.
Unlike Norway, Denmark, and Saxony, the newest territories I had conquered had no defined kingdom. They were only defined by the will of the gods, which had me, in essence, creating several nations from the various tribes that now settled the area. It was a tedious affair, and with King Hoffer, Astrid's father, the precedent was that each territory would possess a king to rule over things.
Leaving me to create those kingdoms. Which naturally raised the question of who would lead them.
My brothers felt like obvious choices. Halfdan and Haldur both were capable leaders. They were kin. More than that, with them as kings they would count more towards the Dynasty tree, allowing more Dynasty boons. To that end, I was inclined to put a son at the head of every kingdom, even if I knew that it would be a poor idea.
It would give several of my descendants not only a claim to the throne, but also power to claim it with. As much as I liked to believe none of my descendants would fall to such depravity as kinslaying for the sake of power… as King, as Allvaldr, I couldn't believe something merely because I wanted to.
Which left me pondering how exactly to forge stable kingdoms, and who would lead them.
At the very least, I did have one easy answer.
“Krum,” I greeted the Bulgarian noble, emerging from the palace to the gardens where he sat on a bench patiently. The man looked up, and he had changed in subtle ways since he agreed to come with me in a desperate gamble to gain the support he needed to liberate his people. Then, he had been a lean man, gaunt from a year of recovery, running, and hard living.
He had proven himself during the conquest. He had learned his lessons well from his defeat at my hands and studying my way of waging war. My focus had largely been elsewhere during the conquest, if I was being perfectly honest, but that was because I knew I could trust him to handle his end of things without issue.
It seemed like quite a shame to let the man go -- he was obviously talented at warfare, and I could use a man like him in court. However… he was more useful elsewhere. In particular, as a thorn in the side of the Romans.
“High King Siegfried,” Krum greeted me, standing up. We clasped forearms, and I gestured for him to follow me. “I’m surprised you have the time to meet with me.” From another, it might have sounded like a reproachful remark, but from him it was more of an idle remark.
Because, just as I was establishing several kingdoms, their structure and territories, I was also attempting to codify hundreds of individual tribes' laws and practices. It was anything but a simple task.
“You have been a reliable ally. Something I hope remains true in the future. Our alliance was always temporary in nature, true, but an enemy of the Romans is a friend of mine,” I said, earning a thin smile with hints of teeth.
He nodded as we walked through the garden, which was filled with flowers, statues, and various medical herbs. “It is time for me to return home,” he agreed.
“You will return with an army and funds,” I said, as promised. It was something for which I was making use of the flux of hot-blooded warriors leaving my empire. They would be looking for a fight and for spoils, and aiding Krum with his liberation of Bulgaria was a natural starting point. “Two thousand warriors led by some of my veterans, as well as funds for mercenaries and to arm your own people. To rebuild what the Romans have destroyed.”
A grunt escaped the back of Krum’s throat at that, and I could almost see him swallowing a remark. Still, he left it unsaid and inclined his head to me, “The aid is more than I expected. I thank you for it,” he said instead.
I was uncertain if Bulgaria would ever successfully rebel. It was too close to Constantinople for the Roman Empire to accept when they had the strength to remove such a threat that was practically on their doorstep. What I did expect to happen was that Krum would spend the remainder of his life being a problem for the Romans, regardless of success.
My hope was the establishment of an ally near the Black Sea and the Dnieper River. So long as that was true, I will have gotten what I wanted from the alliance.
We reached the edge of the gardens, “I wish you luck in the battles to come,” I told him, knowing that the next stage of things was crucial. I had established my empire, but now I needed to foster alliances. The alliance with the Abbasids was a useful one to have, but I couldn’t rely on them exclusively. I needed to increase the pressure on Rome.
Which had me taking this new approach -- as I established my kingdom, I had created a sphere of influence. I wanted to draw various allies into that sphere and use them against the Romans.
I had no idea what the future held, but I couldn’t be sure if the death of the Roman Empire would happen in my lifetime. I needed to prepare for the possibility that Rome would survive the defeat of Charlemagne when we inevitably clashed for the final time. Just as I needed to prepare for the possibility that I would be the one defeated in that final clash.
One thing was certain, however.
The next few years will decide the future for centuries to come.
Comments
TwoJacksAndAnAce
At this point it’s certainly between 800 and 810 id say, likely about 805 as historically Irene became sole Empress in 797 and it’s been a few years since then.
ThePolarParadox
Hot damn, it seems like Morrigan's on the ball with info gathering. I hope Sieg gets to befriend and turn Pepin. He already recognizes his competence.
GeneralBlack
I love this fic so much... Can anyone tell me the exact year?
