novelraw Chapter 378: Are you a spy, then?
Chapter 378: Are you a spy, then?
"I also came because the Caliphate is quietly organizing something massive in the south..."
Ragnar stopped walking, "Hmm? What do you mean?" Ragnar asked, his voice entirely flat and deeply suspicious. "Are you a spy, then?"
For a tense moment, the wind howled around them. Then, Ardashir’s serious expression cracked.
The wealthy trader threw his head back and let out a loud laugh.
"A spy? Oh, by the heavens, no..." Ardashir chuckled, "I am far too wealthy to risk getting my fingernails pulled out in a dirty dungeon... No, no, King Ragnar. It is nothing quite so sinister as an assassination plot."
Ragnar relaxed his shoulders, "What is the Caliph doing then?"
"He formed a massive council of his best scholars," Ardashir explained, "The rumors of your explosive powder and iron ships have finally reached Baghdad. The Caliph seems to be planning to ask you to send him some of your manuscripts."
After hearing such words, Lord Commander Leofric, who was walking slightly behind them with the lockbox securely tucked under his arm, let out a scoff.
"Send our manuscripts?" Leofric muttered, "Tell him to go to hell."
"Careful, Lord Commander," Ardashir winked. "The Caliph has an army that would make the old Roman Empire look like a band of lost children."
Even so, Ragnar didn’t look angry.
"I knew this day would come," Ragnar whispered.
Ardashir tilted his head, looking at the Norseman with genuine curiosity. "You are not furious, King Ragnar? Most warlords would completely lose their minds if they heard another empire was trying to copy their magical weapons."
"Most warlords are idiots who think a single secret can stay hidden forever," Ragnar answered smoothly, "Now or later, most of my inventions will be around the world. You cannot put explosive powder back into the dirt. Eventually, a spy will steal a blueprint, or a merchant like you will sell a stray repeating rifle, and the rest of the world will figure out how the magic works."
"A very pragmatic way of thinking..." the Persian merchant nodded approvingly. "Then you will happily give the Caliph your weapon designs when the message arrives?"
"No," Ragnar stopped again, "If I am going to share my knowledge with the east, I don’t want them to take only weapons. If they only take my guns, my cannons, and my steel, they will just use them to slaughter each other."
"If the Caliph wants to trade knowledge," Ragnar declared firmly, "he must take all of it. They should also take the education. The printing presses that teach poor children how to read. The modern plumbing and hygiene systems that stop diseases from wiping out entire generations. The soap, the crop rotations, the medicine. If they want the power to destroy, they must also take the power to heal."
Though Ardashir was a man who primarily cared about hard profit, he found himself stunned into silence.
"You are a very strange man, Ragnar Ulfsson," Ardashir finally smiled.
They finally reached the gates of the inner keep.
Ragnar unclasped his fur coat, handing it to a nearby servant, while Ardashir shook the rain from his purple silks.
"This way," Ragnar gestured, leading the Persian merchant down the corridor and straight into the Great Hall.
The hall was buzzing with quiet activity...
Gyda was sitting near the hearth, reading afreshly printed book while baby Floki slept in a crib beside her.
At the large table, Louis the Stammerer was hunched over a piece of parchment.
"Louis!" Ragnar called out cheerfully, walking into the room. "Put down the charcoal... I brought you a present!"
Louis blinked, "A present?"
"Well... you are in luck," Ragnar grinned, walking up to the table. He turned to his commander. "Leofric. Put the box on the table."
"Gyda, Louis," Ragnar smiled proudly, gesturing to the foreigner standing next to him. "This is Ardashir. A merchant from Persia. And inside that box is the answer to every single nightmare we have been facing."
Gyda closed her book, walking over with a curiou expression. "Persia? You sailed a very long way, Ardashir. Welcome to our home."
"The honor is entirely mine, my Queen." Ardashir bowed, "Your beauty completely rivals the brightest stars over Baghdad."
Ragnar rolled his eyes, tapping the top of the lockbox. "Don’t flirt with my wife, merchant. Open the box for Louis before he pulls all his hair out."
Ardashir chuckled, pulling the brass key from his robes and unlocking the iron lid.
"...books?" Louis stuttered. He reached in and pulled out one of the scrolls, unrolling it across the table.
He stared at the highly complex mathematical shapes and the strange, entirely unfamiliar numbering system. "I cannot read a single word of this."
"It is the work of Al-Khwarizmi," Ragnar explained, leaning his hands on the table. "It is advanced algebra. Ardashir speaks perfect Norse, and he is going to help you translate every single page into our language."
"I will begin tomorrow morning..." Louis cheered.
"Fair enough," Ragnar chuckled, grabbing his own cup of wine. "Drink up, merchant. Tomorrow, Louis is going to work you to the bone translating those scrolls."
Ragnar suddenly felt a soft hand grab his forearm. He turned his head.
"Ragnar..." Gyda whispered, "I need to talk to you... alone."
Ragnar’s brow furrowed. "Of course," Ragnar nodded. He stood up, offering a smile to the table. "Excuse me, my friends. Leofric, make sure Ardashir’s cup doesn’t go empty."
Gyda didn’t wait. She turned and walked quickly toward the doors at the far end of the hall.
They walked in silence through the dimly lit corridors of the inner keep until Gyda pushed open a door that led out into the royal garden.
"Alright, my love," Ragnar said, stepping closer to her in the air. "What is wrong?"
Gyda crossed her arms over her dress, she looked up at him, her eyes filled with a deeply unsettled worry.
"Sven just sent a raven from the southern borders," Gyda whispered, mentioning the name of Ragnar’s most trusted spymaster.
"It arrived while you were at the docks arguing with Ardashir..."