IdeasGuy
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Legends Never Die: Convincing Arguments (ch. 129)
🕑 Added 2025-08-27 15:20:07 +0000 UTCEach of my kingdoms needed a unique approach to solidify my rule. In Denmark, the kingdom was small enough in terms of landmass that Miklagard and the kingsroad were enough initial evidence to support my claims that the improvements that I offered would strengthen our people and make life easier. They were examples that I could point to for all to see and it was impossible to go unseen.
That approach would not work for Geatland and Sweden. The people there were too dispersed. The most generous estimate to complete the desired road network was five years. The more realistic estimate, considering I would also be constructing a dozen other projects, was ten years. But, in my experience, there hadn't been a single construction project that wasn't over budget or completed by the estimated deadline -- fifteen years was my personal estimation. Long enough for a babe to grow into a man, hearing of my promises and seeing nothing of the supposed prosperity I was meant to bring.
They needed something more immediate. Something that would address their urgent concerns, and there were few things that concerned the Geats and Swedes more than winter.
Denmark was a harsh land, but it seemed to be a paradise in comparison to what the Swedes in particular were forced to contend with. Spring came late and winter always came early, making widespread farming difficult. Most turned to raising grazing animals to slaughter for their meat and fishing. Winter itself seemed colder brutal ice chills that could freeze a man's blood in his veins, though I wasn't sure what could be the cause of it given that Norway was at the same elevation and it wasn't quite as harsh.
The answer?
New houses.
The Geats and Swedes weren't fools. They had built homes that were well insulated to keep out the chill while retaining the heat. However, because they found what worked, they didn’t innovate -- they couldn't, in their mind. Changing what worked could mean death. Would mean death because if the so called innovations didn't work, then not only would it kill the man who took the risk, but his entire family. Winter was deadly enough that no one dared to take any risks.
Which posed something of a challenge -- how do I convince risk avoidant people to take a risk to convince them that their lives would improve under my rule?
The answer was quite simple.
I didn't give them a choice in the matter.
The defeated were taken as thralls, forcibly dispersed across the two kingdoms, and ordered to build the homes that they would be living in. They built the villages that were located nearby important and strategic resources, intermixed with migrants that were incentivised through financial gain and a tax break. Come winter, they would dwell in the buildings, and when they survived it, then others would be more willing to take the risk since it wasn't a blind risk anymore with those taken as thralls having earned their freedom.
Word would spread, and I could focus my efforts on rebuilding the scattered villages and towns.
It was another project that would be measured in decades before it was complete. But it would be time well spent, as the building would be the initial proof to convince the lands of my intentions as well as make living there a bit more survivable. Which, in turn, would allow for a larger population.
Then would come the same things I intended for Denmark -- monuments, cities, development. All the things that would allow us to endure the tide that was coming in Francia.
“I'm not the only one who has been busy,” I noted, speaking to the wind on top of a balcony that I stood on, looking off into the direction of Francia. As much as my attention was consumed by my rapid conquest of Geatland and Sweden, I made sure to keep an eye on my most dangerous neighbor with his own quest of unification.
It had been about two years since Charlemagne's quest began, starting with that meeting in Rome. It had been a year and a half since I took the crown of Denmark.
In that time, Charlemagne had made strides to officiate the unification. His efforts to conquer Hispania were still underway, but scaled back in favor of pushing towards the Roman border through Illyria and the Magyars. Rome, meanwhile, had continued to pacify Bulgaria even as they built up their military for a push into the Abbasids.
The alliance between their two empires was formalized, yet the betrothal had yet to be announced. Charlemagne sought to ease his people into the unification, but word must have spread as Charlemagne was already facing rebellions here or there. Which led to him further tightening his grip and centralizing his authority, which caused more rebellions as nobles felt their rights slipping between their fingers and fearing the oncoming changes.
I imagine that I had a hand in those rebellions -- the humiliation I inflicted upon Charlemagne in Hispania had left its mark, more so than any defeat. His star had lost some of its luster, proving that he wasn't perfect and he could be defeated and humiliated like any other man. Watching Charlemagne endure the unintended ripples from my actions made me keenly aware of the fact we built our kingdoms on the very same foundation. Meaning, the problems that he currently faced could very well plague me in the future.
Something I had no doubt that he was aware of and I didn't doubt for a second that he wanted to repay me for the humiliation.
Yet, despite the setbacks that Charlemagne endured, the unification of the West and Eastern Rome was making progress. There were marriages to bind their nobility, there were trade deals, and there were talks and councils in Rome on the next steps to truly bind their nations together diplomatically, economically, and militarily. As well as how to deal with the problems that were cropping up -- such as rebellious vassals, fearful merchants, and wary citizens.
A restored Rome was still a dream decades in the making, a far-off goal in the distance, but the Frankish King was still marching towards it with the intention of reaching it.
It was a bit inspiring, if I was being perfectly honest. Certainly motivating, at the very least.
There was other news in the lands I left behind -- Hadi had pressed Charlemagne hard by all accounts. How successful he was varied by who was telling the rumor, but what was consistent was that Hadi had claimed the western and northern coast of Hispania. Which boded well for my future plans. Comparatively, there was quite little said about Hoffer, which led me to believe that he was still consolidating his territory.
The one piece of news I did hear was months old, and that Hoffer had rebuffed an attempt to seize Norland. Irene evidently anticipated something of the gambit of leaving the territory in an ally's hands rather than earnestly returning it to Rome, but whatever precautions she made weren't enough. Hoffer still controlled the town, and he was holding the island kingdom. And, come the end of my rapid conquest, I expect he would have more recruits than he knew what to do with from the hot-blooded youths eager to make their fortune.
“Your Grace,” I heard a servant- Ulf - speak up. “A representative of the Sami has arrived.” He informed, and I hummed, still looking out into the sea. I knew of the representative as Krum had written to me about him and what he wanted. He arrived at an auspicious time.
“They let him through?” I asked, faintly amused, curious as to what they could he could accomplish.
“They did,” Ulf confirmed with a wiry grin in his voice. He saw the same opportunity that I did. And that opportunity was a show of force, after all -- seeing was believing. “Shall I send for him?”
“No need. I’ll get him myself,” I decided, tearing my gaze away from the sea and heading indoors from the balcony that offered a fantastic view of the sea and the harbor. From where I stood, I could even see Miklagard. In particular, I could see the great lighthouse that was being constructed to welcome ships to its harbor.
Ulf bowed his head to me, visibly swallowing a comment that such a thing was beneath a King. Largely because it meant arguing with a king. Or, perhaps, he was clever and chose to pick his battles. I suppose I would see, provided that Ulf earned my trust, regardless of what shade of blue he glowed with True Sight.
Stíga had developed nicely in the odd few months that it had been since we arrived and built the fortress turned city. It, and several other cities along the coast, took the overflow of migrants to Miklagard. My capital was still growing according to my plans, but the more it prospered, the more convincing it was to take the risk and travel there to find new opportunities.
While I could offer much, opportunities weren’t endless, and rather than leave them discouraged or bitter, I redirected them to other opportunities. This helped solidify my control over the territories, as my fellow Danes were more naturally disposed to me, and I proved myself as a ruler.
Stíga was still rough by my standards with dirt roads and timber buildings, but the bones of a great city were being shaped. It was almost a shame that it would be stuck in the shadow of Miklagard due to their closeness, as Stíga was also in an ideal location for a city on the straight into the Baltic Sea.
As things were, the inner citadel had a stone wall that was piled high, with the citadel itself also made of stone. The outer wall, however, was a wooden palisade that would one day become a stone wall. But, that would be a project for the future, and as things were, it wasn’t particularly needed.
Striding the halls of what would one day be the Jarl’s longhouse, I entered the throne room to find the man who was visibly impatient right up until he saw me. He immediately straightened, clasping his hands together over his fur cloak adorned with a silver pin with a gemstone embedded in it. He was an older man, one whose beard was touched with gray and white at the temples, but he still seemed strong.
“King Wolfkissed,” He greeted me with a polite bow of his head. The Sami accent was a unique one. Enough so that he felt the need to bring a servant to help translate his words. All of Scandinavia spoke Norse, at least broadly speaking. Though listening to a Finn speak Norse felt a great deal like hearing a foreign language that I didn’t understand beyond the occasional word.
“Jarl Aimo,” I greeted him, making his eyebrows climb that I managed the same accent. “Walk with me,” I ordered easily, heading to the front door that was pushed open for me. The jarl hesitated for a moment before doing as ordered. “I take it you are not here to offer your people’s surrender?”
“... No, King Wolfkissed,” Aimo answered, his tone decidedly neutral. “We are a proud people. Our knees do not bend so easily. What we seek from you is… peace.”
He wasn’t the first jarl or thegn or village elder to try to find an alternative to the options I presented them with: Submit, or fight and be defeated before submitting. One's independence wasn’t something so easily relinquished. I understood that. It was also why I refused to grant alternatives, simply because if I did it once, then that would create a precedent for others to argue for similar treatment.
“Do you speak for all of the Sami?” I asked him as we continued to walk, and I could tell that the question bothered him. Though, I wasn't quite sure why -- it could be a sore point, or it could be a hint of internal strife.
“I do not,” Aimo admitted. “My tribe is amongst the largest of our people, however, and I have been entrusted to be the voice and representative of our people as a whole.” That sounded like an over exaggeration to my ears, but even if it was half true, then that was still something that I could work with.
As we talked, we passed underneath the stone gate, and his gaze lingered upon it. Marveling at its construction. I knew all too well what he felt looking upon it -- I imagine he felt like he had stepped into an entirely new Realm.
The Sami people were semi-nomadic, relying on fishing following reindeer herds for food. They traveled in a cycle to various tried and tested locations throughout the year, settling for brief amounts of time before moving on. Unlike the Norwegian or Swedes, they didn't carve out a place to settle and to plant roots. They lived on sleds pulled by reindeer and in tents rather than buildings of wood and stone.
“Where are we going?” He asked me as we continued down the dirt roads leading towards the gate.
“There would be little point in repeating myself. I'll speak to you both at the same time, so you don't need to pass my words on,” I said, and Aimo stilled, realizing that I knew why he had been allowed to pass into the city. Walking up the steps of the palisade, I emerged into full view of the small army encampmed outside my city.
It was an army of three hundred Geats led by a man named Danr. A man in his early twenties who was something of an unexpected but welcome surprise. The Geat army avoided confrontation with my scattered armies, recruiting from various resistance movements, and chose to strike right at the heart of the whole affair -- me. They believed, rightly so, that with my death that the invasion would falter, ending my conquest at its first steps.
They were preparing for an assault on my city, creating ladders and a ram with swiftness, knowing that messages would have gone out to the nearby armies that would send detachments to crush them. They kept a close eye on the city as well, and for that reason, my arrival did not go unnoticed. It didn't take Danr long to reveal himself -- he was tall and lanky, but he moved sure footedly, yet cautiously.
He approached the palisade with a handful of archers, all who were ready to draw and fire at me. When he came to a stop, he narrowed his eyes before inclining his head, “King Siegfried,” he greeted me politely. “You do not strike me as the type to offer a surrender so easily.”
“You would be correct,” I said, returning the respectful nod. Danr had potential because, as far as anyone could tell me, there wasn't a drop of noble blood in his veins. Yet, he was charismatic and convincing enough to organize a resistance. And clever enough to understand that the body would die if he took my head.
“You have been described to me as a wise king,” Danr spoke, “So, you must see the wisdom in surrendering. I have watched your armies and this city -- you don't have more than a hundred warriors inside.”
“I have less than fifty,” I corrected, making his eyes narrow. “My honor guard that my wife Astrid insists upon. I do, however, have a trained guard force of around a hundred men, but they are not tried and tested warriors.”
“Why do you tell me this?” Danr asked, his lips pressing into a thin line that betrayed his apprehension.
“I believe you to be a clever man, Danr. You tell me,” I replied. He held my gaze for a moment before he spoke, uttering the words with a grimace.
“Because it does not matter if you do,” he ventured correctly.
“I am in this city, thus you will not take it. Nor shall you take my head with such few numbers,” I uttered with a sense of finality, even if I wasn't entirely sure if the words were true. I theorized how I would fight a hundred men, but I had never put that theory into practice. “I am willing to give you the chance to take it, however. How many men would it take to convince you to settle this conflict in a duel?”
Danr barked a laugh, “If half of what I hear about you is true, King Siegfried, then facing you with anything less than a hundred men is foolish.”
“If you are convinced it will take a hundred men to fight me alone, then why bother fighting me at all?” I asked, tilting my head at him.
“Honor,” he answered instantly, but, more honestly, he continued with, “Pride. You have come to our home and forced yourself upon us. We are not so weak willed that our spines will bend even when your heel is upon our throats.”
I anticipated that much. It was what the Rangers were created to deal with, and to that end, Danr made crushing the resistance easier by gathering them up when my Ranger started to snuff out the individual bands. I was half a mind to simply let them assault the city, luring them into a trap and cutting them all down at once. But, I refrained for one simple reason -- Danr could be worth recruiting to my banner.
He was clever. Now it was time to see if he was wise.
“In that case, I have something to show you,” I said, and that seemed to throw him off. “It's outside of the city, some few miles out. Do I have your word that neither I nor Jarl Aimo would be harmed?”
I could see the revelation happen in his eyes. The others traded glances of disbelief -- a fool, they thought me. After all, what kind of man would willingly trust their word? What kind of man would put himself in that position? A fool, a mad man, or… someone who had nothing to fear.
Someone who could be surrounded by hundreds of men who wanted him dead and could move among them with the certainty that they could not kill them. That if it truly was a fight… that I would win.
That confidence scared him. Terrified him, more like. I saw him swallow thickly as the revelation that I didn't perceive them as a threat settled on his shoulders with physical weight. He made a gesture to silence his fellows before he found his voice, “... You have my word, King Siegfried.”
“Good,” I said before looking at a handful of guards. “Open the gate,” I ordered easily. Though, the expression that I received roughly translated to ‘I will. And I will also make sure your wife hears about this.’ But that was a battle to be fought another day. Jarl Aimo followed me with obvious hesitation, and I think it also started to sink in for him what he was contending with.
A reputation was a powerful thing and a deadly tool to use in the right hands. Provided that it was unmarred and untainted… a battle could be won before it had even been fought.
I strode through the gates without fear, though accepting a humble guard of ten warriors. Danr meet me, and while the others regarded me with open hostility, he eyed me much like one would a boar you were trapped in a cage with. “Where to, King Siegfried? I am quite curious what could possibly convince us to abandon this fight and accept your boot on our necks.”
“This way,” I ushered them forward without fear. I could sense the tension in my wake, the temptation for them to strike, but Danr had a remarkably tight grip on his people. Enough to stay their hand, if for a short period of time. And, as we walked, I began to speak, “Jarl Aimo -- I'm curious, what do you fear about my arrival?”
He wasn't expecting to be addressed, but he gave the moment a few seconds of pondering before answering. “We fear the death of our ways. Our traditions. That you will build these cities and villages where they do not belong, and that will condemn our people to a slow death. One where we must become like you to survive.”
“A reasonable fear,” I admitted. “But I believe that in your fear, you haven't considered how your people can benefit,” I said, making his brow furrow.
His concerns weren't wrong, and… I strongly suspected that even with concentrated effort to preserve their way of life, they would be condemned to a slow death. Simply put… the life of a nomad was harsh. Life in the city was easier. And who didn't want an easy life?
I imagine their young would grow up hearing tales of cities or visiting them on occasion. It would capture their imagination and the would ask themselves ‘why don't we live there?’ Especially when they fell upon hard times, when hunger or disease set in. Some would leave, and provided that they were successful, it would encourage others to follow suit.
It would be a slow death that happened over centuries, I imagine. The nomadic tribes would dwindle, even if I also doubted that they would ever truly go away. Simply because I had a number of ways to foster a mutually beneficial relationship with the nomadic tribes of the Sami.
“How?” He asked sharply, but I would rather let him see proof rather than convince him with words.
I dodged the question for a time, walking along a dirt trail before we arrived at our destination. It was the edge of a cliff, overlooking one of the first villages that were being built around the peripheries of Stíga. Both Aimo and Danr visibly didn't know what to make of what they were seeing.
It was a Malahús as many had taken to calling it, or a grind-house. It was twelve water mills essentially stacked on top of one another down the side of a steep hill. The top ones received water, which turned the water wheels, which then had the water flow into a pair that were below it. The cycle repeated four more times before the water reached a reservoir that was pumped up to the initial source of water with a poloemy pump that was powered by a second water wheel.
“In each house, there is a mill that grinds grain to turn it into flour to bake bread. Fully manned, it can produce five tons of flour in a single day. Enough to bake six and a half thousand loaves of bread,” I informed with some pride. I had scoured the Imperial University in Rome for the answers that I sought to address a fundamental problem that Scandinavia had, and likely always would have.
Our low population.
Even unified and with all the quality of life improvements that would see our population grow, I couldn’t ever see us matching a unified Rome in sheer numbers. So, the answer was to use technology to allow a smaller number of people to do as much, if not more, work as Rome could with a larger workforce.
“When combined with our preexisting farming innovations, we can feed everyone in Denmark, Geatland, and Sweden three times over. With the Malahús, we can grind it for every citizen in Scandinavia, should we choose to.” It wasn’t a wise idea to put all of our eggs in a single basket -- the Malahús breaking down or being sabotaged would have great effects. But, I intended for them to be the primary sources of flour for cities.
Watermills were the answer to effectively leveraging our small population. I would make full use of them and every scrap of tried and tested wisdom that the Romans had to offer. Then I fully intended to build off that foundation that stretched back more than a thousand years. Already, the foundations for my university and libraries were being laid.
There would come a day, far in the future, that my people would look upon the Malahús and laugh at how primitive it was.
“That grain, flour, or bread will be transferred across the kingdoms through a network of roads, ensuring that every village or nomadic tribe receives what they need,” I continued. “You are not my enemies. Hunger is an enemy, and one that I will see defeated in my lands.” I would not succeed. I couldn’t. But it was a goal that I would strive towards to the best of my ability.
The strait between Denmark and Geatland was rich with fish to the point every citizen could cast nets into the sea and pull them back full of fish all day, and the strait wouldn’t empty. I intended to leverage every scrap of fertile soil and to cultivate the areas where the soil was less than ideal, but still something could grow there.
The gods had granted me the ability to make use of every resource that the land had to offer, and I would not shame them by not doing so.
“You speak as if you have already conquered us,” Danr uttered, but the quiet contempt in his voice had faded, and I saw that he was wise. He understood the implications of the Malahús. The scope of them, even if he didn’t yet understand them. That made him someone worth keeping around, if not elevating.
There would come a point in time when my empire would become marred with the petty squabbles that Rome suffered. That Francia and the Caliphates suffered. There was no form of governance that could prevent such a thing, as it wasn’t governance that was the problem -- it was people. The most I could hope to do was to establish a solid bedrock to ensure that men like Danr, men of merit and wisdom, were elevated.
“Because I have,” I told him, my tone honest but blunt. “The moment I set my gaze upon these lands, they were mine. It was only a matter of informing you.” Tellingly, he didn’t argue. I looked at Danr from the corner of my expanded vision, and I saw him chew on that. He realized the truth of it, I think.
He was facing a beast unlike anything he had ever seen before. I had no doubt that he was an experienced warrior who had fought petty jarls and bandits, but this was a scale that he hadn’t known existed, and now it arrived at his doorstep.
Jarl Aimo, however, was disconcerted. Fearful. He looked upon the Malahús like one would upon finding a snake in their bed, also understanding what it meant but resenting its existence. Regrettable, but expected. Perhaps whoever came after him would be more open-minded…
Because whether they liked it or not, no matter how hard they fought, kicked, and screamed…
Change was coming.
Comments
Thordur hrafn
Yeah, Icelandic person here. Mylluhús is better, Vatnsmylla means watermill and vindmylla is the icelandic word for windmill. Malahús sounds like Malarvegur which is gravel road so malahús sounds like some sort of house that crushes rocks, at least in my opinion. Maybe you could call it Vatnsmylluhús?
Daniel
Malahús might be the wrong kind of grinding house? I'd probably use Mylluhús instead. I *think* Malahús might refer to a building with a grinding wheel, i.e. for grinding metal. That is speculation, though. I doubt it'll impact much, so take this with a grain of salt. I'm also not Icelandic, but relying on translating the Icelandic through Danish first, so I could easily be mistaken.
Majora
Its a small point, but it was spoiled/stated that the only people who directly have system in the story would be Sieg and Charlemagne. Their rivalry is the implied ultimate conflict of the story, which shows since half the arcs so far have been fighting him or his allies. That said, i hated Hadi at first, but ive come to appreciate him as a counterbalance. Between luck, instinct, and raw one in a million talent, he can swing and hit against both of them. Its definately appealing to know there are real hidden threats in the world like hadi, waiting for a moment to shine (or be forced to shine)
Simon Anoma
I actually deeply appreciate being reminded that once Charlie is done in France, the Holy Roman-French Empire is going to march on Sieg’s Scandinavia. That is a looming threat that really frames how much story is left Plus, of course, the personal motivation to crush him AND his own ability to create Paladins… I don’t necessarily think he has a System but he’s certainly fueled by something a little higher. There are mighty forces in this world
