IdeasGuy
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Legends Never Die: Acknowledgment (ch. 128)
🕑 Added 2025-08-20 15:01:36 +0000 UTCThe conquest was off to a great start even by my standards -- there had been a steady stream of skirmishes across Geatland and Sweden to test my recruits' mettle. Small armies were allowed to gather from bands of Karl's or Thegns, and they were met with equal force. Each time, my men emerged victorious due to superior tactics, arms, and armor. Though, the victories didn’t come without cost.
There were losses. Recruits who lost limbs or lives. Such was the nature of war that no victory was entirely bloodless. But, without fail, once the recruits started to gain experience in battle, the losses took a sharp downturn. One part of it was that the recruits gained valuable experience, as there was no amount of training that could truly substitute for experience in battle. Another part was the fact that the recruits were starting to forge their armor to become ‘Ironclads’, as people had taken to calling my veterans.
The forges were working day and night to hammer out the iron of the fallen enemies' weapons, turning it into chainmail and plate armor. The chainmail came first, then the cuirass, followed by pauldrons, gauntlets, and then the legs. There was a substantial backlog for the pieces, enough to outfit some ten thousand of my warriors, but it was my hope that by the time we were ready to begin the next phase of the conquest, the important parts would be done.
In a more general sense, the conquest was right on schedule. Every village or town that my warriors brought into the fold expanded my Map of the territory, as did the findings of my Rangers. The fort that we initially landed at had already become a budding town that people had taken to calling Stíga -- the first step of the conquest. It would pair well with Miklagard.
Stíga was a natural drawing point for the Geats that submitted easily to my rule. The town swelled to around five thousand people over the course of a few months, but I was intent on dispersing them as fast as they came. As with every village and town that submitted to me, my Map was expanded.
Fertile land was revealed and marked out to me, but more importantly, so too were the ore deposits across Geatland and Sweden. Denmark, comparatively, was quite poor when it came to ore. There were some deposits, but nothing of note. At least, not in comparison to what the newly conquered lands had to offer.
Both Geatland and Sweden were rich in ore of all kinds -- iron, copper, silver, and even gold. The deposits weren’t in small amounts, either. Men could toil beneath the earth in the realm of the dwarves for a dozen generations and not manage to extract all of the wealth. That ore and mineral wealth was something I immediately capitalized on, as it was upon those resources that the next phase of my plans were built.
Additionally, there was a significant amount of fertile soil to work with -- though given the sheer size of the landmass, it was relatively small as well as dispersed, but if cultivated properly then Geatland and Sweden would be entirely self-sufficient when it came to food production. But, perhaps one of the most important resources that the new territories possessed were wood and amber.
Amber, amongst my people, was something of value but nothing compared to the value it had in lands far beyond our shores. It was a trade good that could be sold in any market in the world for a great price, and that was something of value to me once the trade routes down to the Mediterranean were up and running -- be it overseas through Hispania, or down the Dniepir River through Bulgaria and the Black Sea.
Timber, however, had a special place in my future plans. Not every building could be built with concrete or granite. The great forests of the territories, rich with game, would help build the future homes for my citizens.
However, there was good reason why most of these resources hadn’t already been discovered or tapped into. Some of them were in isolated places, such as highlands in the mountains or located far away from any soil that could support anything more than a small village. There was a degree of infrastructure that needed to be in place to take advantage of the resources that just weren’t there when there were only local Jarls and village leaders.
The first of the mining villages were laying down their roots, and in the coming years, they would become towns. Towns filled with the dispersed and defeated from battles yet to come. A road network would connect them, but constructing it would be a much taller task than the one that connected Denmark by the sheer fact that the lands were a magnitude larger. It would be a project that would last no less than a decade, which was why the foundation needed to be laid as fast as possible.
The framework that I’d developed in Crete was being expanded upon -- the villages would be settled on various resources to create a network that would steadily funnel goods towards the initial towns that would be born from the forts built upon our landing. The coast had been scouted extensively before our invasion, and I chose four locations that were ideal landing points and for future cities as the Baltic was going to be the centerpiece of my empire.
The villages and towns had the added benefit of dispersing the resisting elements that grit their teeth at our occupation. Historical enemies found themselves in the same village, intermixed with neutral Geats and Danes -- it would make it difficult for any potential rebellion to get its legs underneath it, just as the natural isolation would make it difficult for the rebels to organize.
It was an isolation I would look to maintain for some time, at least until I could further dilute their animosity with settlers from other regions of Scandinavia. But, to make the disbursement effective, there was one other thing I needed to do.
“They’ve given up fighting us on the open field?” I mused, looking over my Map as I marked the areas where reports of ambushes and raids were at their worst. In the handful of months it had been since our arrival, we had made steady progress on all fronts. There were a hundred skirmishes that happened across the frontline of my conquest of varying sizes. And, while every victory bled the willingness to fight from both the Geats and the Swedes, there were some who were clinging on to the hope that if they proved troublesome enough we would simply leave.
It was a misguided attempt. Stubbornness and denial in their truest forms. But, one couldn't survive in a land this harsh without being at least a little stubborn. So, the small bands of a dozen or even less struck out where they could -- burning supplies, ambushing patrols, and slitting the throats of my men while they slept. It was a trickle of defiance. One that barely slowed our advance. But I was intent on snuffing out the embers of rebellion before they could find some tinder and become a flame.
My answer to dealing with them was two-fold -- first was to undercut whatever rallying message that the rebels attempted to spread. Surpluses of grain and other foodstuffs were given freely; the spoils taken from the citizens were light compared to the nobility and wealthy, there were no mass slaughters, and there were no tearing down their ways of worship. Without reason to join the bands of resistance, with every engagement, their numbers would further dwindle until they became entirely defunct, either by being killed or simply abandoning the fight.
The second was to actively pursue and snuff out the bands of resistance. It would be done in several ways -- capturing members of the gangs and getting them to turn on their fellows, bribing villagers to pretend to be on their side and lure them into traps, planting traitors into their mix, or offering them tempting targets to lure them out and tracking where they returned to. It would take some time, years possibly, but when combined with all of my other projects to solidify my conquest, I was certain that the rebellious elements would die off. It was just a matter of when.
With the areas marked on my Map, I leaned back into my seat and ran a Simulation on it -- one aimed at discovering the rough location of where the bands were located. The Simulation was run a hundred times, following the estimated path that they would have taken to reach a location. Once the Simulations were done, I had a ‘heat map’ of activity with the red spots on it being the most likely points of their hideouts.
It wasn’t something that I would be able to do every time. As King, there were going to be a great many matters that demanded my full attention, and I wouldn’t even be able to give them that. Which was why building organizational frameworks to handle tasks such as these was so important.
“Send for Athrun,” I instructed a servant from behind a cloth sheet as I marked the map made of parchment before me. I heard his footsteps walk away as he rushed to obey the order. It was minutes later that Athrun emerged from the makeshift office of my tent, dressed in his Ranger attire. “These are the most likely sources. I can’t promise that each will be a hit-”
“It’s a start, Your Grace,” Athrun interjected with a small, curt nod when I passed him the map. His gaze flickered over it for a moment before he offered another nod. “Some can be nipped in the bud with general patrols, but a few of these… There are a lot of places to hide in the mountains. I’ll send some of my best.”
“Ivar, was it?” I ventured, knowing that was one of the Rangers that Athrun favored. I knew of him more because his sister had caught the eye of Morrigan as a potential spy.
“He has potential. He’s not there, yet -- leadership skills need work, but the potential is there,” Athrun said, knowing what I was considering him for. The Rangers were as much Athrun’s creation as they were mine, as they were designed to tackle a prevalent problem that persisted in all my plans for the future. Namely how remote and sparsely populated Scandinavia was.
In the Mediterranean, you couldn’t walk an hour without passing by a house, a farm, or a village. It felt like every inch of the ground had been cultivated extensively, even if I knew that to be an exaggeration. However, in Geatland or Sweden, one could walk for days without seeing another person. There were forests in these lands that were larger than the entirety of Denmark.
The Rangers were meant to be the policing force for these vast stretches of wilderness -- hunting dangerous animals, tracking bandits, and the like. They doubled as scouts into enemy territory, spies, and investigators. But, as the organization found its footing, it became clear that the number of people who covered everything we wanted the organization to be were few and far between.
We had three hundred to begin with, and that was only after we lowered our overall standards.
It became incredibly evident that we would need to divide some of the responsibilities by essentially creating a second branch of the Rangers -- one that operated domestically, where the other operated abroad in foreign kingdoms. Athrun had the latter covered, as he had always led my scouts.
The former, however, needed someone else to lead it, and Ivar was a strong contender.
“I'll give him a few men and give him free rein in how to handle them,” Athrun decided, and I nodded, accepting that.
It was my hope that once established the internal branch of the Rangers would be able to take over the role that I just filled -- internal investigations, pinpointing where bandit dens were located, and anything else I might need of them as a domestic policing force.
Rolling up the map, Athrun set it aside before taking something out of a satchel at his waist. “The reports are a bit early, but we have some initial findings from across the Baltic.” I was eager to take them from his hands and read through them.
They were in line with my expectations. “My conquest has become real to them,” I summarized the initial reaction of the various Jarls and petty kings that bordered the Baltic Sea. The defeated mercenaries had spread my intentions far and wide, but I had still felt like a distant threat. Now, however, after only a few months, both Geatland and Sweden had fallen to me. The rest of the year would be spent securing our grip on the new territories, but come spring…
“They're fortifying,” Athrun voiced, and I nodded.
“They've convinced themselves that they would fare better than the Geats and Swedes,” I said, turning a page. “It's what I hoped to see. The first two kingdoms were always going to be the easiest. They're sparsely populated and spread out. The other side of the coast is far more densely populated in a much smaller area. They'll make marriage alliances, build fortresses, and unite in the hopes of defeating us.”
Which would make their subsequent defeat easier to arrange.
All the more so because I didn’t intend to allow them to unify without end, Germania, at its height, had been able to rebuff the Romans at their zenith. I wasn’t so arrogant as to believe that I could outdo the Romans when I fielded armies a fraction of their size. Already, the grounds for future conquests were being seeded.
Assassinations, inflaming old rivalries, bribes -- anything that I could think of. I wanted the lands across the Baltic to be unified but fractured. I wanted to know where exactly I had to strike to ensure that whatever alliances they made shattered like glass when I arrived. It would be delicate, but easier to arrange than one would suspect. Because just as many dreaded my arrival, there were those who saw opportunity. If not to advance their family's standing, then to spite old enemies.
All of it, I knew, was being facilitated while I was conquering away alongside Astrid. Jill was scouting out the various Jarls and clan leaders who were amenable to bending the knee through diplomacy. Jasmine, however, was building up a network along the coast through merchants -- the selling of goods helped convince those who were uncertain of my rule that they could stand to benefit… which would further inflame tensions between them, as there were few things that people hated more than seeing an enemy doing well.
All the while, Morrigan was watching the various leaders and mapping out the tangled knot of allegiances, feuds, blood debts, and common interests.
The next phase of the conquest wouldn't be so easy, but I was confident that we were well prepared for it. And if we weren't yet, then come next year, we would be.
“Your Grace,” a servant spoke up, “It is time for the award ceremony.”
It was time for that already? “Very well,” I said, setting the reports down and standing up. Giving Athrun a nod, he bowed his head and fell in step behind me as we left my tent. Our secondary fort location was another point that would one day become a town. A natural hub where the various resources would pass through to the coast one way or another. Until then, it acted as a stronghold for the area that projected our power across the local clans and territories.
It was located at the top of a rolling hill, one of many throughout the area. A palisade and earthwork were already erected, making the location unassailable by the local populace. It was a pattern that I knew was being repeated across the two territories by Astrid, Krum, and Olek. In a dozen years, it was my hope that the sparsely populated land would become thriving kingdoms.
But, before all of that, I had to award those who had made these victories possible.
Stepping outside of my tent, I was greeted with frigid air. The cold was reluctant to loosen its grip on this land -- spring came late and winter came early. I'd give it another few months before the snow came down in force. As I left my tent, my sigh was revealed when I caught sight of a handful of men. One in particular was an irritation similar to having something stuck between my teeth that wasn't so easily dislodged.
“Thegn Hastings,” I greeted the man, and there was screaming in his eyes as he heard the title. He had been a Jarl some years ago, before his defeat and fleeing Denmark to my banner. “I am on my way to give accommodations to our brave warriors -- your son among them.”
His intentions were plain as day when he had his eldest son placed in my army, but at the lowest level. A common foot soldier so he may rise through the ranks with merit and, I imagine, some help from his father. I didn't exactly disapprove either as, by all accounts, Ulfar was a natural leader and a man of means. It was certainly better than fools attempting to ensure that their sons received officer positions. That, and I was rather uncertain about having my standing army be connected to political structure other than my own power base.
Hastings smiled, “Allow me to accompany you, my king -- I'm quite proud of my boy, and I would wish to be there when he receives his due honors.” He said, as if he hadn't already been planning to follow me or that him waiting here was anything less than an ambush.
It was unfortunate that he was clever enough to land on his feet. I didn't care much for the man, even as I nodded, accepting his presence in my retinue. He was the exact kind of leader that I’d attempted to weed out of my ranks, but his time with me in the Mediterranean had made him rich. Rich enough to become someone of note in the new order that I was building.
I didn't feel any remorse for his fall from nobility. Simply because I knew he hated me as much as I disliked him. Yet, it was the nature of politics that kept us both polite as we walked to a constructed platform that overlooked what would one day become a market square. There, several hundred warriors that had earned some level of distinction stood. I saw many of them had already earned their helms and chainmail, with a few even collecting the first pieces of their plate armor, even if they weren't the most practical of pieces.
They stood straighter at my arrival, their gazes full of wonder and expectation. When I came to a stop at the center of the stage, I swept my gaze over them. Then, I began, “Months ago, I stood before you and proclaimed you to be worthy of being called warriors of Denmark. In the time since -- you have fought. You have bled. You have killed… and some of you have lost friends. With your actions and your courage, you have proven me right -- you are worthy of the honor, and you honor me with your service.”
Rewards for military service had a range -- there were monetary rewards, which were quite common and something I freely practiced. The fact of the matter was that most men fought for riches. Or, rather, what those riches and the prospect of becoming rich could do for them. But there was also a soldier's pride to consider. Honor and glory were their own rewards, and without them, there was no hope of impressing the gods enough the Valkyries would take notice of your death. But a distant honor in death couldn't sustain a man.
Warriors wanted to know that their valor and sacrifice were seen. Acknowledged and honored by those that lead them into battle, to kill and be killed.
That was the core of this ceremony -- telling them that we saw their deeds and that we were thankful. It also had the dual purpose of motivating others to one day receive the same honors.
My speech continued, commending their bravery and sacrifice. Their reasons for being here varied. Some had performed acts of bravery, some had unusually high reported kills that could be verified by witnesses, others had distinguished themselves with exemplary service. When the speech wound down, I called them up -- sometimes as individuals, but most of the time an award was bestowed upon the unit or squad as a whole.
The process lasted hours, with words of praise being given to everyone worthy of merit. It was towards the tail end of the ceremony that Hastings’ son rose to the stage with his squad of five. Ulfar was around my age, as was the rest of his squad, with the exception of one who was a few years older.
Ulfar was what every Norseman wanted their son to grow into -- large, strong, and handsome. He wore the same kind of smile that his father did, and it might be petty of me, but I found myself disliking him for it. Still, I pushed that aside and presented the squad with a token that represented the award itself -- five raven feathers made out of silver. That way, if they’d rather sell the honor, they’d get a decent price for it.
However, as I presented the token to each member in turn, one of them in particular caught my eye. Sandy blonde hair and dark blue eyes, handsome enough with a bit of scruff around his face that told me he preferred to keep his beard short. Appearance-wise, he wasn’t that interesting, but it was in the manner that he looked at me.
It felt arrogant to think, and it undoubtedly was, but since my return to Denmark and claiming the throne… I had come to expect a degree of reverence in people’s gaze when they met me. Even when someone disliked me, it was still there, simply because my deeds had made me larger than life for most.
The warrior before me looked like he was judging how heavy my coin purse was and if it was worth the risk to swipe it from me.
“And your name, warrior?” I asked him, and he blinked, suddenly wary, like I had caught him doing something wrong.
“...Hjalmar, my king,” he answered and I clasped forearms with him, a slight grin tugging at the corners of my lips.
“I have high expectations for you,” I told him, and I nearly laughed at the sense of dread that filled his gaze when I clapped him on the shoulder and ushered him along.
He reminded me of Hadi. So, if nothing else, he had an interesting future ahead of him.
Comments
Draconic Hermit
The MC took one look at someone who looked like a Thief considering whether it was worth it to swipe his own King's coin purse and decided he liked that ones Moxie, then started to poke at him because he thinks it's hilarious. What a Chad. The Historians with a sense of humor when they're allowed to pour over his Journals are gonna have a laugh over how he essentially raised a man into great prestige purely because he found it hilarious in how much it stressed the poor lad out. The ones without a sense of Humor are gonna deny that factoid like they deny Benjamin Franklin's thesis on farts.
