Viking: Master of the Icy Sea

Chapter 275: Another Betrayal

After the battle, Rurik returned to the West Bank of the Dnieper River. Upon receiving news of Hurus's total annihilation, nearby chieftains of the Rus Tribes arrived one after another to celebrate this hard-won victory.

Hurus was only eighteen. Given enough time, he would have likely become the nomadic overlord of the entire middle reaches of the Dnieper River. Fortunately, this young wolf was slaughtered by Rurik, eliminating a series of subsequent disasters.

"To Rurik! Thank you for everything you have done for us!"

"To King Rurik!"

The chieftains raised their glasses in celebration. When they had their fill of food and drink, someone proposed a bold suggestion: "Nowadays, the nomads harass us increasingly often. A single Tribe cannot cope alone. It would be better to elect a King (Sucker) to organize the strength of the various tribes and defend against these Pechenegs."

By the end of the banquet, a total of twenty-three tribes acknowledged Rurik as King. He gladly accepted, planning to choose a strategically defensible clearing on the West Bank of the Dnieper River to build a Castle as a resting place for passing merchant caravans.

Initially, he chose Niels to serve as the garrison commander, but faced private dissuasion from his confidant, Hrolfr.

"Your Majesty, Niels possesses outstanding talents, surpassing even you and all the Nobles under your command. In recent years, you must have heard of his deeds in Denmark. This man's ambition is far too vigorous. If you allow him to guard an external region, he will betray you one day!"

Rurik hesitated. "Niels has made major contributions this time. If I do not reward him, it will affect my reputation. Furthermore, allowing resentment to breed in his heart will only increase the likelihood of rebellion."

At this moment, Hrolfr offered a mutually beneficial suggestion. "I heard some news at the banquet. It is said that the Varangian Guard of the Eastern Roman Empire has suffered heavy losses. Their commander died in battle, and Emperor Michael III is urgently pressing for replacements.How about this: let the chieftains of the Rus Tribes jointly recommend sending Niels to the Eastern Roman Empire to succeed as the commander of the Varangian Guard. This reward is more than enough."

In recent years, the Eastern Roman Empire had begun hiring Viking soldiers. Vikings were tall, had a martial tradition, and lived in poverty, making them the highest quality mercenaries.

Witnessing the ferocity of these Barbarian mercenaries, Emperor Michael III spent vast sums to establish a Varangian Guard. This name derived from the Old Norse word Var, meaning an oath.

"Niels is the most excellent commander I have ever had. It is a great pity to send him away."

Rurik took a small sip of ice-cold Mead. Hrolfr did not persuade him further, but quietly stood to the side, resembling a harmless statue.

The next morning, Rurik informed Niels of this "good" news. The latter vaguely guessed the underlying intentions. He did not lose his temper, instead taking advantage of Rurik's lingering guilt to make a demand.

"Since the Varangian Guard has lost over half its men, I cannot set off alone. I must recruit a sufficient number of soldiers."

"Very well, except for the Royal Court guards, you may choose whomever you wish." To send off this old acquaintance as quickly as possible, Rurik agreed to let Niels pick volunteers himself.

Thanks to the extremely high wages offered by the Eastern Roman Empire, Vikings and Rus Tribesmen signed up enthusiastically. Niels carefully selected five hundred men. The Middle and Lower Dnieper River had not yet frozen over, so he set off immediately after recruiting enough members.

In mid-December, Niels's fleet reached the mouth of the Dnieper River and headed to a nearby Greek stronghold to report.

At the pier, a middle-aged Civilian Official named Tytus came to greet them. "You are finally here!" At Niels's signal, the five hundred members formed a square formation in the clearing, waiting for inspection. Tytus walked slowly through the ranks, carefully observing the physiques of these Varangians.

"Excellent. Strong builds and a certain degree of discipline. His Majesty will be pleased." Tytus asked Niels in a heavily accented Norse language, "Are you their commander?"

"Yes, I am Niels, the White Raven of Cnut, nephew of Ragnar."

Niels's past experiences were far too convoluted, and it took a long time to finish narrating them. Tytus nodded slightly, leading this group of shouting, gawking, inexperienced Barbarians to the barracks.

After resting for five days, taking advantage of favorable winds, Tytus led the fleet carefully along the coastline, arriving in Constantinople at the end of the year.

As the twenty Longships passed through the Bosporus Strait, the first thing to catch their eyes were the Theodosian Walls standing tall along the coastline, stretching endlessly like the spine of a giant. The towering, thick stone walls appeared majestic and solemn beneath the gloomy sky.

"By Odin, I never thought I would visit this place a second time."

Nothing had changed. The entrance to the Golden Horn was still blocked by a massive iron chain, supported by countless buoys floating on the sea. Its surface gleamed with a cold, icy light, guarding the port district behind it.

Although winter was the off-season for sailing, as the trade center of the Mediterranean Sea and even the entire Western world, the port of Constantinople remained bustling. Merchant Ships from Egypt, Syria, the shores of the Black Sea, Italy, and even further afield were anchored here, their Masts standing like a forest. On the shore, figures dressed in various garments wove through the biting wind, resembling a tireless colony of ants.

"Truly worthy of being called the city the world desires. Even if Londinium, Paris, Oslo, and Novgorod were added together, they would not equal half of her prosperity and grandeur."

Niels had seen grand spectacles, but a scene of such scale and diversity still left him profoundly shaken. Suddenly, five massive double-decked galleys sailed past, and Niels hurriedly ordered the fleet to steer clear.

Tytus called out a greeting to a Military Officer on the Warship, then introduced it to Niels:

"This is the largest Warship in the empire, known as a 'Dromon'. The standard crew for this type of vessel is one hundred and eighty men: sixty sailors and one hundred and twenty Oarsmen. Both the upper and lower Decks are manned by Oarsmen. The bow is equipped with two types of rams: an underwater ram to destroy the hull, and an above-water ram to break enemy ship oars."

Niels stared at the dragon-shaped sculpture on the bow, guessing it to be the nozzle for Greek Fire, used to incinerate enemy vessels. The stern Deck housed a heavy Ballista.

"Haha, it looks exactly like the Ballistas in the fleet of Britain."

Tytus immediately retorted, "This device originated in Greece and has been used for over a thousand years. What does it have to do with the Barbarians of Western Europe or Northern Europe?"

Niels paid no mind to the origin of the Ballista, instead observing the dimensions of these Dromon Warships.

The Dromon was longer than Wigg's New Sailing Ships. Thanks to the densely packed oars on the upper and lower decks, the combination of rowing and wind power allowed these galleys to unleash bursts of speed far surpassing the New Sailing Ships in a short amount of time.

The drawback was that the center of gravity of such vessels was too high, making them less resistant to wind and waves and unsuitable for harsh sea conditions. Furthermore, they carried too many crew members, which correspondingly reduced cargo space.

Finally, he made his assessment: 'In coastal waters, this type of Warship holds a greater advantage. In the open ocean, it cannot compare to Wigg's new two-masted sailing ships.'