Ch 16: Muster

Called the Chosen One by the local residents, Vig didn’t have much resistance to the title. Having inexplicably arrived in this world, he truly deserved the appellation “Chosen One”.

Having witnessed the Chosen One’s power, Leonard accepted the invitation, on the condition that his neighbor Ulf also participate. “I don’t trust that fellow. If I go out to sea alone to pillage, he might take advantage of the opportunity to attack my territory.”

Helpless, Vig agreed to go to Konsel to persuade Ulf.

Compared to Leonard’s territory, Konsel appeared quite dilapidated. The entire settlement had only slightly more than sixty households. Residents on the street were stooped, pale-faced, and not much different from a slum.

“As poor as this, no wonder they have to steal other people’s game.”

Tying up his horses, Vig pushed open the wooden gate of the Lord’s Longhouse. The light inside was dim. A tall, thin middle-aged man wearing a tattered fur coat was curled up by the bonfire dozing. He went over and woke the man up,

“I am Ragnar Rosbrock’s Shield-Bearer, inviting Lord Ulf to Gothenburg. Where is he?”

Rubbing his eye sockets and yawning, the middle-aged man replied: “I am Ulf. Thanks for Ragnar’s kindness, but unfortunately, I’m temporarily unavailable, because my neighbor Leonard is about to attack. Sigh, just because of a reindeer, it has become like this. He really doesn’t act like a Viking.”

Amidst the other’s rambling complaints, Vig heard a completely different version. This game was initially shot by one of Ulf’s Shield-Bearers, escaped wounded into Leonard’s territory, and then triggered a series of disputes.

With differing positions, both sides had their own accounts. Vig wasn’t interested in deciding who was right or wrong, and calmly replied: “I’ve reached an agreement with Leonard. He’s willing to put aside the conflicts and participate in the pillage, on the condition that you also come.”

“You persuaded that stingy fellow?”

Ulf’s voice suddenly rose, instructing his wife to pour a cup of honey wine for the guest. “How did you do it?”

“I made a kite, and directed the thunder from the sky into an earthenware pot.”

With the territory’s safety secured, Ulf agreed to participate in the pillage. If they didn’t make some quick money, they probably wouldn’t even be able to pay the wages of their eight Shield-Bearers.

Two days later, Ulf and Leonard held a sacrifice ceremony in an open space, swearing under the witness of the gods that they would absolutely not attack each other for three years.

Returning to Gothenburg, he reported the results of his mission to Ragnar. The latter repeatedly muttered the nickname “Chosen One”. “I didn’t expect you to have this kind of talent. Well done. Counting Leonard and Ulf, there are a total of twelve nobles who have promised to participate in this pillage.”

With these nobles leading the way, Ragnar estimated that this pillage could gather at least three thousand Vikings. In order to transport this large army to Britain, he had an obligation to provide enough ships and various supplies, which would undoubtedly be a huge expense.

Noticing the other’s troubled expression, Vig decided to invest his savings in this pillage operation, for two reasons:

First, these goods were not convenient to carry around. If they were stored in Gothenburg during the trip, there would be a high probability of theft.

Second, this would help him gain some say in this pillage and further enhance his reputation.

“Is that true?” Learning that his subordinate was willing to invest all his savings, Ragnar was deeply moved, left his seat and poured a cup of honey wine for him,

“Thank you for your generosity. After the successful pillage, we will divide the spoils of war according to contributions. If the operation goes smoothly, this investment worth twenty pounds of silver will at least double!”

In March, AD 843, the weather gradually warmed up, and Vikings from various places arrived one after another. Hundreds of longships were moored on the west side of the sea in Gothenburg. More than three thousand foreigners flooded into this village, completely shattering the peace of this coastal town. Various brawls frequently occurred, causing the Shield-Bearers responsible for maintaining order a great headache.

“Stop, don’t force me to use my hands.”

Seeing that persuasion was fruitless, Vig was forced to knock down two drunken men who were causing trouble, throwing them into the nearby pigsty. Before he could catch his breath, he heard a woman’s scream from a distance.

“Why haven’t we set sail yet? This life is simply unbearable!”

Not long after, Bjorn hurriedly arrived with two people, casually replying: “King Eric is still left. This guy puts on a big show, always likes to make a grand entrance last, probably this old geezer hasn’t set off yet.”

As time went on, Gothenburg’s public order deteriorated sharply. Ragnar’s second wife, Sola, lost several strings of jewelry, Ivar’s silk was stolen, even Bjorn’s collection of maps disappeared without a trace, and a large-scale search yielded no results.

To this, Vig let out a long sigh. Thankfully, he had invested that batch of goods in this pillage operation, otherwise he would have also suffered losses. In this tense atmosphere, he would sleep every night with his chainmail under his pillow and the Dragon’s Breath Sword in his arms, fearing that these two top pieces of equipment would be stolen.

In mid-March, King Eric arrived in Gothenburg with twenty longships. Including Ragnar, thirteen nobles gathered for this pillage, the total number of raiders exceeding three thousand five hundred, including a quarter of Shield-maidens.

In terms of equipment, the number of those with iron armor did not exceed three hundred. The vast majority of people only had a round shield and an iron axe.

On the eve of the expedition, Ragnar specially invited a group of Shamans from Uppsala to hold a sacrifice ceremony. Vig was very uncomfortable with this bloody scene, and walked alone to a quiet corner, staring blankly at the leaden gray sea to the west.

（Note: Uppsala, near present-day Stockholm, Sweden, was a sacred site of Norse Paganism during the Viking Age.）

“The renowned Chosen One is actually avoiding the sacrifice site. Is there any special reason?” A Shaman wearing a black cloak came out of an alley, finding that the other party didn’t bother to pay attention to him, so he simply took off his cloak and called himself Raven Speaker.

“Is there something you need?” Vig was very wary of this thirty-something-year-old bald man. Tall and thin, with pale skin, and several dark blue runes tattooed on his face, he gave an enduringly frightening impression.

The Raven Speaker’s eyes were sharp, as if he could see through Vig’s thoughts. “You feel repulsed by the sacrifice ceremony, and actually, I feel the same. Unfortunately, tradition has always been like this. The elders hold the power, newcomers have no room to refute. Rashly suggesting a change will only bring scourge. In this aspect, Uppsala is no different from ordinary territories.”

Vig insincerely refuted: “Change? I have never had a similar proposal.”

At this time, taking advantage of the other’s inattention, the Raven Speaker suddenly stretched out his cold, pale hands, like iron clamps, firmly grasping Vig’s wrists,

“Vig Hakanson, the Chosen One of the Aesir Gods, you are destined to achieve great things, and I am your best assistant. Maybe you don’t trust me for now, but one day you will accept my help. The road ahead is long, may you achieve your wish on this journey.”