Viking: Master of the Icy Sea

Chapter 280: Surging Undercurrents

Returning to Constantinople, Michael III bestowed upon Basil the honorary title of "Scabbard Sword Royal Guard." Subsequently, Bardas suddenly interjected, suggesting that Basil be sent to a certain military district in Anatolia to serve as a general.

At that moment, Niels, standing in the corner, sensed that the atmosphere had grown somewhat eerie.

He had recently used his free time to learn Greek and had mastered some key vocabulary, such as military district (thema) and general (strategos).

Currently, the Eastern Roman Empire implemented a military district system, where the district general governed the military, administrative, and judicial affairs of their jurisdiction, similar to a governor.

Bardas recommending Basil to serve as a district general was clearly a promotion, yet the latter's expression looked as if he was trying every possible way to decline.

'Why?' Niels fell into a long period of contemplation.

Suddenly, Michael III engaged in a direct conversation with Bardas. The two spoke faster and faster, while the attendants and eunuchs in the hall kept their heads bowed, as if they had heard nothing at all.

After an unknown amount of time, Bardas walked out of the great hall with a smile. His expression was amiable, showing not a trace of anger.

Inside the hall, Michael III dismissed the "idle personnel," including Niels. The attendants and eunuchs looked as if a heavy burden had been lifted, fine beads of sweat dotting their foreheads. Niels followed the crowd out of the hall, lost in thought.

'Bardas recommended Basil for a post outside the capital. Nominally, it is a recommendation, but in reality, it is an exile. Is he trying to drive him out of the central government?''This is bad. The relationship between Michael III and Bardas has been shaken. There is going to be immense trouble ahead.'

Leaving the imperial palace, Niels wandered aimlessly through the streets, pondering the circumstances he might face in the future.

As a foreigner, he lacked roots in this land. Even if he participated in a coup, he would be unable to seize more power and might instead be used as a scapegoat.

After a long time, he pulled a long face and muttered to himself, "I finally managed to get used to this new environment. Can I not just enjoy a period of peace and quiet?"

Meanwhile, in Londinium.

Winter brought fewer affairs to manage. At this moment, Wigg was in his office leafing through the travel journal of an ancient Roman merchant, his mood relaxed and content. After finishing his midday meal, he took his customary nap on a lounge chair, enjoying a rare holiday in the year.

Waking up naturally, Wigg finally welcomed a task: receiving the envoy from the Kingdom of Denmark.

"Understood," he replied.

Yawning, Wigg made his way toward the main hall. Along the way, he caught the idle chatter of two attendants complaining about the football league from late last autumn. Piqued by interest, he stood by the corner to eavesdrop.

"Thinking back to the Stirling Team's performance, I am still furious to this day. To think they actually lost to the weak Cornwall team and were inexplicably eliminated, especially that damn—"

Noticing the King's arrival, the two attendants hurriedly bowed in greeting before scurrying away, looking exactly like two unlucky students caught by their teacher.

Inside the great hall.

Wigg walked toward the throne, pondering the situation Ubbe currently faced.

As time passed, the rumors surrounding the Siege of Magdeburg intensified. Ubbe's reputation had suffered a severe blow. Although there was no direct evidence, the majority of people firmly believed that he was the one who had betrayed Niels.

These rumors had even been adapted into a drama—"The Night of Magdeburg"—which wove in a love triangle between Niels, Ubbe, and a certain shield-maiden. It was universally welcomed by all the theaters across Londinium.

'Sigh, reputation is like a piece of porcelain. Once shattered, it can never be restored.' Shortly after, the envoy entered the hall and presented Ubbe's diplomatic letter to Wigg.

Upon opening it, Wigg discovered that it was a letter requesting aid.

Nearly a year had passed, and Denmark still had not recovered from the trauma of war. Famine had driven the populace to become bandits, and the expansion of these bandit groups further devastated agricultural production. This caused even more people to be displaced, plunging the realm into a vicious cycle.

If they could not secure enough grain, Ubbe feared that a large-scale rebellion would erupt within his borders. By then, the Frankish army would exploit their vulnerability and invade, which would be a tremendous loss for the entire Viking world.

'He is asking me for grain?'

Wigg stroked his chin, feeling that this matter was open to negotiation. "Your King guessed correctly; I do not lack grain. After the situation in Ireland stabilized, the kingdom's grain prices plummeted. Nowadays, the price of a bushel of wheat has dropped from two silver pennies to one point seven silver pennies. The price of barley is not even zero point eight pennies. Farmers are using their surplus grain to brew ale, which has caused alcohol prices to drop as well. I can provide thirty ship-loads of grain in aid. The condition is that, from now on, you will fully cooperate with British merchant ships in recruiting immigrants."

The envoy attempted to bargain, "That will not do. One year at most."

Wigg gladly accepted. "Very well, one year it is."

One year was enough time to absorb thirty thousand immigrants. Including other regions, the total number of immigrants was expected to exceed forty thousand. The vast majority would remain in the southern crown lands, while the troublemakers would be thrown into western Ireland to become the subjects of the direct-rule barons.

With the audience concluded, Wigg left the spacious but poorly insulated great hall. He returned to his study, retrieved his account books, and added a new entry at the very end.

The current financial situation was acceptable. Although the expenses for both war and immigration had been massive last year, the royal family's income had grown rapidly. Last year's revenue had reached nineteen thousand pounds, barely enough to cover the expenditures.

This was especially true for the island of Ireland. After the war ended, Imon shifted from his previous half-hearted compliance to genuine submission. He was willing to pay homage, offer tribute, and permit all activities of the Teyneburg Order within his duchy.

The direct tribute paid by the island was not considered substantial. However, a market spanning eighty thousand square kilometers with a population of over half a million was enough to generate tremendous commercial value, indirectly providing high commercial tax revenues.

Recalling the local conditions, Wigg drafted a royal decree ordering the duke, the five earls, and the direct-rule barons scattered along the coastal regions to construct roads and ports. This would facilitate the flow of goods and allow the island to integrate into Britain's unified market as quickly as possible.

'The cost-effectiveness of levying an agricultural tax is simply too low. It requires hiring a large number of officials and inevitably sparks dissatisfaction among the populace, not to mention the "skimming" that occurs through the intermediary channels. Collecting commercial tax is still far more appropriate.'

Stamping his official seal, Wigg moved on to process a document sent over by the cabinet. It was from the Canary Islands.

Over the course of three years, the Canary Islands had developed rapidly, capturing two-thirds of the domestic cane sugar market. Their products were sold as far away as Northern Europe and Eastern Europe.

Every year, the tribute paid by Helgi, along with the commercial tax from the Sugarcane Company and the luxury taxes, exceeded one thousand three hundred pounds. In a few more years, once the citrus saplings and grapevines matured, the profits they provided would at least triple.

At the end of the report, Helgi was once again requesting the procurement of ships. He also wanted several doctors skilled in medicine to help treat the Guanche people on the islands. This would improve relations between the two sides and help recruit more laborers for the plantations.

'Skilled in medicine?'

Wigg was amused by the phrase. He planned to pick out two shamans who possessed a rudimentary knowledge of healing and send them over. Nowadays, hospitals were being constructed everywhere across the kingdom. He could only send some third-rate individuals to placate his vassals.

Quickly writing down his reply, Wigg walked back to his lounge chair to continue reading the travel journal. He had to admit, the travel logs penned by the Romans were quite fascinating.