Viking: Master of the Icy Sea

Chapter 242: Beating the Grass to Startle the Snake

Cambridge.

Following the attack, the situation across the county grew tense overnight. Suspicions deepened between the investigators and the local residents, drastically slowing the pace of the land survey.

"That greedy Viking King, I curse his soul."

"Why dispatch so many soldiers to Cambridge? Does he want to strip us of everything we own?"

As a seasoned veteran of the agency, Blackfish had been granted permission to operate alone. Disguised as a commoner, he wandered the area, frequently overhearing the populace slandering the King.

After blending in for some time without finding a single clue regarding the counterfeit silver coins, he requested additional funds. He adopted a new disguise as a traveling peddler, venturing to various locales to gather intelligence.

"Come take a look! Canary Islands bay leaves, perfect as spices for stews or to keep pests out of your wardrobes!"

"Dyed silk threads! Red, yellow, blue, and green! Sew them onto your garments—beautiful and affordable!"

Relying on his assortment of trinkets and an honest, simpleton-like facade, Blackfish infiltrated manors and villages alike, casually probing for information while hawking his wares. After over a dozen days of investigation, his sharp instincts latched onto a critical detail.

The closer he traveled toward East Anglia, the more frequently the counterfeit silver coins appeared. It became evident that the forged currency did not originate in Cambridgeshire, but rather in East Anglia, northeast of Cambridge.He sought out the inspector in charge of the case overnight, requesting to expand the scope of their investigation into East Anglia.

(East Anglia was Edmund's territory, formerly one of the Anglo-Saxon Heptarchy kingdoms. Over a decade ago, Edmund surrendered to Ragnar and was bestowed the title of Earl.)

The inspector harbored reservations. "Great nobles are not like the barons and knights of the direct royal domains. If a dispute arises, the dukes and earls across the kingdom will all pay close attention."

After a few minutes of hesitation, the inspector summoned two detectives. Combining everyone's intelligence, they indeed verified Blackfish's theory. Left with no other choice, the inspector agreed to expand the search radius.

Time marched into late October.

The land survey in Cambridgeshire had long concluded, yet the local tensions showed no signs of easing. An infantry regiment was stationed across five large towns and villages, ready to suppress any rebellion at a moment's notice.

Meanwhile, as the agents of the intelligence system delved deep into East Anglia in search of clues, they inevitably alarmed the lord of the region.

"The populace in Cambridgeshire is spreading rumors. Why is Wigg coming to cause trouble for me?"

Upon receiving the regional reports, Edmund cursed vehemently, his anger tinged with a thread of genuine fear.

By now, the great nobles had gradually become aware of the intelligence system's existence. These operatives were not bound by the cabinet and answered only to the royal family.

Such a massive operation proved that Wigg had already set his sights on him.

Edmund called in his five most trusted confidants, ordering them to uncover the agents' intentions as quickly as possible so he could mount a timely response.

Two days later, a knight returned to Norwich to report his findings to the Earl.

"My lord, someone assassinated an investigator in Cambridge. The military discovered a batch of counterfeit silver coins in the killer's residence, and the intelligence system took over the case, ultimately tracing the trail right into East Anglia."

Edmund nodded in satisfaction, admitting to himself that he had misjudged the man. He never expected this hulking brute to be so capable. Opening his drawer, he prepared to reward the knight with something, but suddenly felt a pang of suspicion.

"How do you know all of this in such detail?"

"Er," the knight mumbled, scratching the back of his head with a sheepish look. "I spotted someone asking around in a tavern, so I tailed him when he left. I ended up getting cornered by him and two of his accomplices in an alleyway.

"Then we got into a nasty brawl. I killed two of them, captured the injured one, and beat a lot of information out of him. It's just a shame his wounds were too severe; he breathed his last not long after."

Noticing the Earl's deathly pale face, the knight hastily added, "I found a cart afterward and dumped the bodies out in the wilderness. There were absolutely no witnesses, you can rest assured." "You... you..." Edmund's voice trembled. He wanted nothing more than to strangle this battle-crazed idiot to death.

After chasing the fool out, he walked over to the window to gaze out at the scenery beyond the castle walls, his heart filled with overwhelming remorse. Had he known this would happen, he would have sealed those silver ingots away in a cellar and waited ten or even twenty years before spending them.

"Paffis, your wealth has doomed me."

Two years ago, when the decline of the Frankish army became obvious, Paffis had fled northeast of Cambridge with his nephew and a few cronies. He had retrieved the silver ingots he had embezzled from the silver mines over the years, intending to make a clean getaway.

By sheer coincidence, Edmund had caught wind of it all. He happily confiscated the wealth, then tortured Paffis to reveal his other hidden stashes and the list of cronies planted in various regions, which included the manager of the silver mine in Nottingham.

Once the interrogation was over, Edmund slaughtered Paffis and his entourage, ensuring the outside world never heard from the man again. Some suspected the eunuch had absconded with the funds, others guessed he had fled to Normandy, and a few even believed he remained hidden within the Kingdom of Britain, waiting for the perfect moment to incite a rebellion against Wigg.

Later on, Edmund fell into a financial crisis and had no choice but to melt down Paffis's embezzled silver ingots and silverware, minting them into silver coins to cover his expenses. In the end, he had never hired any assassins to kill the investigators—the intelligence system had gotten it completely wrong from the very start!

However, even if he had nothing to do with the assassination, there were still four grave crimes he could not wash his hands of:

Hoarding Paffis's wealth, harboring the fugitive silver mine manager, privately minting silver coins, and murdering agents of the intelligence system.

Faced with such a litany of offenses, even the generous and magnanimous Ragnar would never pardon him lightly, let alone Wigg of Tyne, a man renowned for his strict and meticulous nature.

'If this blows up, that Viking barbarian will absolutely not tolerate me. I must make plans early.'

After pondering for a long time, Edmund penned a letter to Scunthorpe, north of Cambridge, inviting Earl Buden to a meeting.

Back when Edmund had sent men to locate the eunuch's second treasure stash, Buden had taken advantage of his territorial proximity to seize the vast majority of the wealth. Edmund intended to drag the man down with him to shoulder some of the impending pressure.

'Kid, that money didn't come for free. Don't even think about remaining uninvolved.'

Two days later, the sixteen-year-old Earl Buden received the letter. Though it offered no explanation, his instincts screamed that trouble was brewing.

'That damn old goat, what crooked scheme is he plotting now?'

Buden brought along a squad of knights, ordering everyone to don cloaks as they kept a low profile and traveled to an abandoned village within the borders of Cambridgeshire.

In a courtyard overrun with wild roses and stinging nettles, he met the deeply troubled Edmund.

"Brother Buden, you've finally arrived. Disperse your men; I need to speak with you alone."

Buden waved his knights away and sat impatiently on a stone step. Immediately after, he received terrible news from Edmund—Wigg knew that the two earls had divided Paffis's treasure and was dispatching intelligence personnel to investigate.

Buden's first instinct was to simply return the money, but unfortunately, less than half of the wealth—originally worth a thousand pounds—remained. Panic immediately set in. "I'll find someone to borrow money from right now."

"Calm down, Brother Buden. The money is no longer important."

Edmund forced a distressed expression. "I had someone go to Londinium to gather intel. Word has it that Wigg's true target isn't the coin. He intends to frame us as Paffis's accomplices and strip both of our families of our lands."

"W-what do we do?"

Having inherited his title only two years ago, Buden's inexperience showed. He was easily thoroughly spooked by Edmund's bluff. Losing his wits completely, he tightly gripped the older man's arm, begging for a solution.