Ch 42: Invitation

Regarding Ivar’s tribute, reactions varied. Nobles whistled, some even pinched a slave’s fair face, casually praising:

“Ivar, you’re so creative. Next year, I’ll also send some beauties to Your Majesty for warmth.”

“Silence!” Sola, with a gloomy face, scanned everyone, finally looking at her notoriously fierce stepson, “Lord Derwent, what are you doing? This isn’t a slave market or a courtyard.”

“Respected Your Majesty, I am paying tribute,” Ivar calmly met the Queen’s gaze, “If you dislike them, you can dispose of them as you wish.”

At this moment, the atmosphere became extremely tense. Involving family conflicts, Ragnar quickly diverted the topic.

“What happened in Ireland? Do you need me to send the Royal Guard to help?”

“I was careless and tricked by the locals. You don’t need to act personally. Next spring, I’ll call Vig, bring some more raiders, and guarantee to wipe them all out.”

What? What does this have to do with me?

Vig, who had been standing at the end of the line, silent as a statue, raised his head for the first time, looking at Ivar in astonishment, but ultimately didn’t speak, planning to find a private opportunity to chat with him later.

Banquet.

Vig chose a seat next to Ivar and inquired about his experiences over the past half year.

Ivar tore off half a roasted quail, put it in his mouth, and chewed vigorously, “In April, I went to my fiefdom, and spent half a month capturing the previous lord’s fortress. That guy actually built a stone fort, far more troublesome than an ordinary wooden fort. By June, I had my shield-bearers recruit four hundred raiders in York. After gathering eight hundred men, we started shipbuilding.”

“Eight hundred Vikings? You didn’t conscript local militiamen?”

“No, the Anglo-Saxons are cowardly and not very useful. I simply left them all at home to farm peacefully.” Ivar drained most of his wine cup, recounting his experiences at sea.

Departing from the Derwent River Mouth, the fleet sailed west to the Isle of Man, where he effortlessly eliminated two local nobles. After supplementing food and fresh water, Ivar continued towards his destination—the Liffey River Mouth in eastern Ireland.

As planned before departure, Ivar intended to establish an outpost at the Liffey River Mouth, then develop inland along the river channel, gradually clearing out scattered forces in various places, and ultimately becoming a king in his own right.

However, the first stage of the plan went wrong.

“Damn it, we were too late; the Liffey River Mouth was already occupied!”

Mentioning the situation at the time, Ivar was filled with resentment, “There was a wooden fort—Dyfflin—ruled by a Viking chieftain named Sven, who called himself king. I fought him three consecutive times. His warships were huge, and we suffered many losses. When we escaped back to the Isle of Man in September, less than five hundred men remained.”

（Dyfflin is a transliteration of the Norse word “Dyfflin,” meaning black pond, located approximately near modern-day Dublin.）

Interrogating prisoners, Ivar learned that Sven was a noble from northern Norway, who had led a fleet to the Liffey River Mouth years ago and subsequently established a settlement on the south bank of the Liffey as a long-term base.

After years of development, Dyfflin had a population of three thousand, able to field over a thousand Viking warriors.

“A thousand warriors, plus large warships,” Vig calculated Sven’s strength, his tone exceptionally serious, “According to you, first, a naval battle with Sven, and then a siege after winning—it’ll be very troublesome. I suggest seeking aid from the king, requesting some Royal Guard.”

“Do you think I haven’t considered that?” Ivar glanced at Sola, sitting next to Ragnar, “That woman dislikes me. If the Royal Guard interferes, I’ll definitely lose a lot of the spoils of war afterward. Wouldn’t this battle be fought in vain? Besides, Sven isn’t that tough. You and I together are enough.”

After the banquet, Vig found Gunnar to buy a batch of armor. To prepare for next year’s war, he selected thirty sets of finely crafted iron scale armor, and including the matching iron helmets, the total cost was sixty pounds of silver.

He didn’t have enough money and asked if he could buy on credit and repay the arrears with wheat later.

Unexpectedly, Gunnar had no difficulty, “Certainly, the King gave me a heads-up. Next year, when you and Ivar attack Sven, you’ll definitely need a batch of high-quality equipment.”

The strong man pointed to two rows of weapon racks in the corner, “There are thirty iron swords there, as a gift for you. Do you need anything else?”

“Give me a batch of iron tools and iron nails for shipbuilding.”

After receiving the supplies, Vig returned to the courtyard where he was temporarily staying and found Halfdan, dressed in a white robe, waiting in the courtyard.

“Are you going to attack Dyfflin with Ivar? Can I join?”

Vig sized up the youthful boy and rejected him straightforwardly, “You’re too young to participate in combat. Besides, Ivar is your older brother; logically you should ask him. Why are you asking me? Has he already rejected you once?”

Having said that, he signaled the thirty newly recruited shield-bearers to collect their armor. If the sizes didn’t fit, they’d have to go back to Gunnar for an exchange.

However, Halfdan wasn’t planning to give up easily, clinging to him and refusing to leave.

“Hey, don’t do this. Bjorn hasn’t returned since he set sail in March. Next year, when you and Ivar go to war, Gunnar, Niels, and Orm will lead teams to suppress bandits in the mountainous region. Should I be left alone in York, at the mercy of the old witch?”

Almost instantly, Vig realized that the “old witch” referred to Queen Sola. His body froze, “Okay, go ask Ivar again. Join him as a regular Viking warrior.”

“Regular warrior?” Halfdan’s eyes brightened, and he excitedly ran out of the courtyard.

Getting rid of that trouble, Vig felt extremely relieved. He spent two days selling the honey and woolen cloth at the marketplace before finding Ragnar to bid farewell.

“Not staying longer? In a hurry to go home to your new wife?”

To this, Vig explained that he wanted to create a new type of warship and was eager to return to Tyne to verify his hypothesis.

“A new type of warship? Haha, you always come up with new tricks.” Ragnar clapped and laughed, gifting him a pot of fine wine, “May Odin bless you.”

Vig was in a hurry to leave York primarily because he didn’t want to be involved in the internal conflicts of the royal family.

Since Ragnheid died from poisoned wine, Ragnar married King Eric’s sister, Sola, for political reasons. Ragnheid’s three sons had strong opinions about this marriage. If this continues, when Sola’s son Ubbe grows older, the conflicts will only intensify.

After observing for several days, Vig concluded that Sola was a ruthless character. For safety’s sake, it was best to stay away from this extremely dangerous vortex.