Viking: Master of the Icy Sea

Chapter 380: The Leaked Plan

At the end of the year, Wigg reviewed the work summary submitted by the Cabinet. Since the Empire had seen no wars throughout the entire year, the economy had grown rapidly. The population of Londinium had swelled to forty-seven thousand, with the textile industry absorbing the vast majority of the new citizens.

Massive quantities of textiles were exported from Britain to Continental Europe, bringing Wigg a colossal tax revenue. The fiscal revenue for the year 871 reached one hundred and seventy-five thousand pounds, with the commercial tax accounting for over seventy percent.

On the expenditure side, two new major expenses were added in 871: casting artillery and expanding Londinium.

Initially, the armory's production cost was one hundred and fifty pounds per bronze cannon. As techniques improved, the cost was compressed to one hundred and twenty pounds, bringing the total expenditure for cannon casting to fifteen thousand pounds. Fortunately, with the rapid economic development in 871, the Cabinet did not complain much.

The expansion of Londinium cost over twenty thousand pounds. However, once the various projects were completed, the city hall would sell off the land plots in batches. They would quickly recoup the construction funds and even make a massive profit.

In summary, the fiscal expenditure for 871 was one hundred and five thousand pounds, leaving an annual surplus of seventy thousand pounds.

"That much? Even after paying off all the war bonds, I will still have fifty thousand pounds remaining."

A healthy treasury was the key to maintaining a monarch's rule. Having witnessed the collapse of the old dynasty, Wigg placed immense importance on this matter.

Over the years, he had lived frugally, insisting on pouring massive amounts of funds into economic development and opening up external markets. Like a snowball rolling down a hill, his efforts had compounded until, today, he had finally forged a powerful and prosperous Empire.

A strong treasury meant the nine departments had ample funding, ensuring that the completion rate of their various tasks met expectations. Wigg flipped to the last page of the report, which detailed matters concerning the New World.The situations in Boston, Charleston, and Puerto Rico were stable. Meanwhile, the Caribbean Governor and Baron of Puerto Rico had sent over a roughly sketched map that included the Caribbean Islands and western Central America.

The Governor claimed that Central America was in turmoil, with most factions currently in a period of decline. Seeing this as a golden opportunity, he requested authorization for further military action.

Wigg stroked his chin. "What does the Cabinet think?"

The Prime Minister shook his head. "The western Mediterranean Sea, Northern Italy, Moravia... there are potential conflict zones everywhere. It is ill-advised to deploy our army to the New World to wage war against a bunch of native nations we have never even heard of."

Wigg shared the same sentiment. He left his seat and paced back and forth around the room.

Current firearms technology was still lacking and had not yet formed an absolute advantage. After pondering for a long time, he forbade the Governor from interfering in the wars of the native kingdoms, limiting their actions to selling textiles, alcoholic beverages, and iron weapons at most.

Time marched on to January of the year 872 AD.

Central Europe, Hradec, situated on the upper reaches of the Elbe River.

Late at night, the biting wind howled past, carrying flurries of snow. While most of the residents had already fallen asleep, the town lord's banquet was still in full swing.

In the center of the hall, thick oak logs burned fiercely in a stone fire pit. Sparks occasionally crackled and popped, only to quickly fade away. The woolen cloth tapestries hanging on the walls swayed gently in the firelight, causing the embroidered hunting scenes to flicker in and out of the shadows.

"Drink up! Have another glass!"

Various types of roasted meats, along with honey-smeared cheese and white bread, covered the long table. Twenty-three nobles sat gathered along its sides.

Most of them sported thick beards, wearing heavy woolen robes and leather boots. The wine in their silver goblets reflected the dancing flames. The group occasionally grumbled about the year's poor harvest and the new taxes recently imposed by the King.

"The standing army has been expanded to two thousand men, yet the King still thinks it's not enough! To think he's actually levying a luxury tax. With him bleeding us dry like this, the prices of wine, whiskey, mead, cane sugar, and spices are going to skyrocket!"

"Not just that, but dyed cloth has also been categorized as a luxury item. It's all the fault of those blasted Greek advisors!"

Resentment gradually accumulated until, finally, a young noble at the head of the table roared, "I say we rebel! Rostislav is nothing but a puppet of the Greeks! He is unfit to rule this kingdom!" In an instant, a dead silence fell over the hall. Everyone kept their mouths shut, staring blankly at the increasingly agitated young man. Not long after, a middle-aged noble stood up to excuse himself. "I have some matters to attend to. I'll be taking my leave first."

The rest of the guests followed suit, offering a variety of excuses. Rebellion was the gravest of crimes, and they wanted nothing more than to avoid this impending disaster.

Even after the crowd had dispersed, the young noble continued to ramble on, only coming to his senses when his guards reminded him.

He exhaled a breath reeking of alcohol. "Where are my guests? Where did everybody go?"

Soon enough, the news reached Kotsel in Žatec. Unable to contain his fury, he drew his longsword and frantically hacked at the long table in his lord's hall.

"Gods above, why did I ever contact that loud-mouthed imbecile?!"

According to the previously formulated plan, he was supposed to launch the rebellion in early April, leading a Viking army into the east to overthrow the old King's rule and establish himself as a Duke, or perhaps even the new King.

Now that the plan was exposed, Kotsel could no longer keep it under wraps. He urgently summoned the minor nobles and gentry from the surrounding areas, forcing them to choose a side.

"The King is incompetent and foolish, reduced to a mere puppet of the Greeks. I plan to gather an army to defend Moravia's ancient traditions. What say you all?"

A small minority agreed, while the vast majority remained silent. However, five minor nobles who had converted to the new faith loudly protested, vehemently condemning the lord's treasonous actions.

Kotsel gave no verbal response. He merely cast an indifferent glance at the guards lining both sides of the hall. In the blink of an eye, the five minor nobles were hacked to death by a flurry of swords. Their corpses were dragged out of the hall, leaving trailing streaks of dark red blood across the floorboards.

Having thoroughly intimidated the crowd, Kotsel forced them to sign their names on multiple declarations of war. These declarations would be dispatched to various regions, completely severing any route of retreat for the participants.

"Excellent. I thank you all for choosing the right path."

Once everything was settled, Kotsel found Agent Red Snapper in the backyard and demanded that he contact the Viking army immediately.

The agent explained with a bitter expression, "My lord, the weather is freezing. By declaring war prematurely in the middle of winter, our side is completely unprepared. I estimate we will have to wait for quite some time."

With that said, he mounted his horse and left Žatec, riding at breakneck speed toward his nation's border, some forty miles to the northwest.

Three days later, the news reached the military camp in Magdeburg, throwing everyone into chaos. A third of the military officers were away on leave, and the supply wagons and ships needed for the expedition were nowhere near ready. They would not be able to mobilize for at least a month.

Similarly, the Duke's family residing in Regensburg was equally unprepared.

The calculating Duchess clutched the letter, complaining repeatedly, "The weather is far too bitter. Those farmers only want to huddle in their homes for the winter. This war simply cannot be fought right now."

Douglas shot her a sideways glance. "And so, you plan to use this excuse to brush off the Emperor?"

Douglas ordered his two sons to head to various regions and conscript the militia. Regardless of the outcome, he had to take action to prove his loyalty to the Emperor.

On the tenth of January, Agent Red Snapper returned to Žatec. After delivering a string of bad news, he reported the sole piece of good news:

Dresden, situated on the western side of the border, had secretly stockpiled two thousand suits of armor and a massive cache of weapons. According to the emergency contingency plan, this equipment was currently being transported to Žatec. Kotsel was told to find a way to hold out until February.