Viking: Master of the Icy Sea

Chapter 332: Triumph

Upon learning the request of his chief meritorious official, Basil sank into deep thought in his seat.

According to the rumors about Niels, the man was like an insatiable beast with an intense lust for power. Why would he voluntarily withdraw from the central authority?

'Could these rumors be false? Is Niels actually a rare, loyal subject who only did what he had to do out of absolute necessity?'

Basil cast a cold glance at the middle-aged eunuch standing in the corner of the hall, suspecting a failure in their intelligence gathering. The chilling look left the eunuch breaking out in a cold sweat.

At this moment, Basil faced a dilemma. If Niels was truly loyal, allowing the man to retire meant the Empire would lose its most capable military commander.

Throughout the entire war, he had commanded over ten thousand hastily assembled mercenaries, tying down the main forces of Bulgaria for a prolonged period. Even at a severe disadvantage, he secured a massive victory. His command ability far surpassed that of many Greek generals, placing him in the same tier as the outstanding military leaders of history.

Conquering Bulgaria was not the end. The Arabs in the east were growing increasingly powerful, and a future conflict with them was inevitable.

The most ideal scenario would be for Basil and Niels to each lead a division of the army. One side would tie down the enemy forces, while the other struck at their weak points, perfectly replicating the victory achieved in Bulgaria.

However, assuming the rumors held truth, Niels had successively betrayed Ragnar and Ubbe, harboring an irrepressible greed in his heart. Keeping such a man close would inevitably lead to a rebellion sooner or later.

'Should I heavily rely on him?''Eliminate him?'

'Or let him retire and remain idle from now on?'

The first option carried too much risk. Basil had ascended to the throne through a coup, and his greatest fear was that someone else might seize power using the exact same method. After weighing his options for a long time, he decided to stick with his original plan: replace him with a simple-minded barbarian to command the Varangian Guard.

As for the second option, Niels had established rare and extraordinary merits. His attitude was completely submissive, and he had never stepped out of line. Basil simply could not find a justifiable excuse to execute him. If he forced the issue, it would undoubtedly terrify the generals stationed across the realm.

After pondering for a long time, Basil realized he had no other choice.

Basil's gaze wandered across the map before settling on a decision. He would grant Sudak, an abandoned seaport in the southern part of the peninsula, along with the surrounding lands to Niels as a hereditary fiefdom. He would let Niels and those retired Varangians settle and multiply there, providing the Empire with an endless supply of high-quality heavy infantry.

Furthermore, the Crimean Peninsula was frequently harassed by nomadic tribes. Allowing the retired Varangians to make their homes there would help alleviate the defensive pressure on Chersonesus, the largest Greek town located on the southwest tip of the peninsula.

"Thank you for your generosity, Your Majesty."

Niels bowed respectfully and handed over the seal that represented his command over the Varangian Guard. An indescribable sense of loss washed over his heart, but he, too, had no other choice.

As early as the beginning of the coup, he had noticed anomalies within the Guard. By his estimation, out of the twenty centurions, at least three were Basil's spies.

After ascending the throne, Basil's control over the Empire deepened day by day. He planted more and more informants within the Guard, leaving Niels with virtually no secrets to keep.

The remaining mercenaries were even less reliable. While they respected Niels for his military achievements, that did not mean they would fight for him. As long as Basil offered a suitable price, it was entirely predictable that half of the mercenaries would defect on the spot.

After personally writing the royal edict, Basil stamped it with the Emperor's seal and said with a hint of regret, "You are the most capable general I have ever seen. I am truly reluctant to let you go." Receiving such high praise, Niels surprisingly revealed a trace of melancholy.

"Command ability is not an innate talent, but a lesson accumulated through decades of battle. I was born into a rural farmer family in Sweden, raised from a young age by my uncle, Ragnar. I learned swordsmanship and archery, following him as he adventured and waged war everywhere.

"At first, the shield wall was the only tactic we knew, and fighting relied entirely on personal bravery. Later, as we experienced more and more wars, my brothers and I each gained our own insights. We learned from one another, eventually growing into what we are today."

Looking back on the past, Niels felt that the happiest years of his life were still those spent serving under Ragnar. Unfortunately, everyone had their own desires. Ivar, Gunnar, Wigg, himself, Bjorn Ironside, Sola, Aslaug—the endless internal strife ultimately dismantled the Golden Age of the Vikings.

The Britain of today appeared powerful, but in Niels's eyes, it had already deviated from the traditions of the past and could no longer be considered a true Viking nation.

"The beautiful era has passed, and the tragedy is that we destroyed it with our own hands. Heh, I truly wish time could have stopped back then."

In March, the East Roman Army returned to the outskirts of Constantinople. The soldiers stayed up all night, polishing their armor, organizing the captured battle flags and weapons, and sorting them onto carts.

Early the next morning, war horns sounded in unison. The Golden Gate on the western city wall slowly opened under the combined force of machinery and manpower. This gate was not made of actual gold, but was a symbol of glory and power, reserved specifically for the passage of the Emperor and triumphant armies.

The clergy were the first to enter the city, followed by the spoils of war and the captives, and then the various divisions of the East Roman Army. Because of their outstanding military achievements, the Varangian Guard marched ahead of their allied forces.

Niels rode a white horse, draped in a magnificent cloak, his armor gleaming beneath the March sun as he expressionlessly accepted the cheers of the populace. Behind him marched the heavily armored soldiers of the Varangian Guard in formation. The menacing appearance of their two-handed battle axes drew countless gasps of awe.

Closely following them were the remaining participating troops. Further back, as the Emperor's carriage passed through the Golden Gate, the cheers of the crowd reached an absolute crescendo.

The Emperor stood on an ornate chariot drawn by four pure white steeds. The gilded body of the chariot was inlaid with a multitude of gemstones. Draped in a purple robe, he stood tall and majestic, holding a globus cruciger in one hand while waving to the populace with the other.

Also standing on the chariot was a eunuch. Following tradition, he held a golden laurel wreath suspended over the Emperor's head, repeatedly whispering the reminder: "You are ultimately but a mortal."

The Emperor ignored the eunuch's muttering; his ears were filled only with the praises of the populace. Petals rained down from the houses lining both sides of the street, while vendors seized the opportunity to peddle a specially made "victory bread" or other souvenirs.

The triumphal procession marched east along Mese Avenue, the widest and most sacred thoroughfare in Constantinople. The parade would make brief stops as it passed through important landmarks like the Forum of Theodosius.

After a long while, they reached the final destination of the triumph—the Hagia Sophia. The Emperor, the generals, and select meritorious soldiers entered to participate in the ceremony.

At two o'clock in the afternoon, the Emperor made his appearance at the Hippodrome. Following the proper procedures, he executed one captive and pardoned the rest to display his merciful heart. What followed was a grand chariot racing spectacle.

That evening, a grand banquet was held in the imperial palace, the scene lavish to the extreme. Niels forced himself to be patient as he conversed with those around him. Holding out until the banquet finally concluded, he exhaustedly took his leave from the palace.

Even at this late hour, the entire city remained steeped in a festive atmosphere. The taverns were packed to the brim, and street performers acted out plays with themes of victory. Occasionally, drunkards wandered the streets, singing praises of the Emperor's glorious triumph. Niels could not be bothered to pay them any mind. This lively celebration belonged solely to these Greeks. His heart was entirely consumed by the thought of getting far away from this place and enjoying the peaceful tranquility of the countryside.