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Anno Domini 826, March 4
"Come on, Sigurd, don't let the Roman beat you!" one of the Varangians shouted as they watched us train.
The Varangian was clearly confused by my movements. I made gestures that suggested an attack, only to raise my shield and wait for him to make a mistake. He lifted his shield again and again, every time he thought I was about to strike.
"Raaaaaaaagh!" the Varangian roared when he finally lost patience and slammed his shield into mine, sending splinters flying as wood crashed against wood.
Then he began hacking at me with his axe, over and over, trying to break my shield through sheer strength, while I simply blocked and blocked.
When I noticed that he had brought his legs too close together, I stepped forward twice and, without hesitation, drove a solid kick into his calf. The force and momentum lifted him off the ground and smashed his leg into the other.
He hit the dirt face-first, hard, and I was on him immediately.
"Oh, come on…!" someone shouted behind me.
While he was still dazed from the fall, I tossed my shield aside and placed the tip of my sword close to his eyes, sitting on his torso and gripping his gorget to keep him pinned.
"I beat you," I said in the Varangian tongue.
"Ah, that's not fair, Roman—since when do you kick?" he protested, pushing at me, trying to get me off.
"Well… look at it this way," I said with a smile as I stood and lifted the mail from my face, offering him a hand. "You'd be dead now, and you've just gained experience so you don't make that mistake on the battlefield."
The Varangian took my hand and stood, brushing dust from his armor.
"Well done, Basil… you're speaking quite well now," Hákon said, watching his sailor with a hint of disappointment that he hadn't beaten me. "It's just your accent—but I can't ask for much."
"I already have Greek stuck too deeply in my tongue to speak yours like a native," I replied, wiping sweat away with a scrap of cloth.
Several months passed in complete calm. I could stay at home with my mother and father, visit them almost every day, eat homemade meals prepared by my mother, who was still figuring out how to cook properly with the spices I had brought back.
Recently, my father had begun his rotation within the theme, meaning he was no longer required to take up arms for the next three years—unless there was a real emergency. It meant that, at last, he could live quietly, with hired workers cultivating his land.
One could say I had reached the pinnacle of what I had sought: far from danger—aside from pirates, but pirates are cowards who would never dare attack Ainos, simply because it is walled. The Bulgarians were far away now, and nothing could put us at risk anymore, no matter how insistent my father was about trying to get himself killed.
The architect had finished his work, all the houses were complete, and construction had recently begun on a mansion near the lake to the south. It was only semi-fortified, since I had no imperial authorization to fortify anything fully.
But a force of five hundred mercenaries training all day, growing more efficient in combat with each passing week—soon to be more experienced than most thematic soldiers of the Empire—guided by veterans of hundreds of battles as instructors… even if Varangian tactics were not ideal for the way we fought, knowing how to fight one-on-one was always a valuable skill.
We were more at ease than ever, with steady income from my forge through the sale of steel swords and spears—income that exceeded my expenses even with the added cost of four hundred sailors and two extra captains. Once the dromons were delivered in Constantinople, I brought the crews with them, opting for free oarsmen rather than the usual slave rowers, since they were far more reliable in combat.
And for the past three months, we had seen none of it—nothing but absolute peace, far from every front.
During that time, I received the reward for having aided the Byzantine dromon. The three captured ships were auctioned off, and I received half of the proceeds, along with my share of the slaves and equipment. I was also granted a third of the value of the rescued merchant ship, as dictated by Byzantine maritime law: if a ship was saved, its owner had to pay one third of the cargo's value as a reward.
In total, an easy four thousand gold coins. The merchant had been carrying silk and spices—one could become very rich by helping defend against pirates, ideally by letting them attack someone else first and then stepping in to claim the reward.
But everything was already in place. I acquired a Varangian drakkar by trading one of my transport ships, since the Varangian wanted to engage in trade between imperial cities. The exchange was simple—and he came out ahead.
And the forge's work improved day by day. As the smiths gained experience, production improved. There were even attempts by other smiths to poach my workers and take them to the capital, mistakenly believing that they were the ones who knew how to make steel.
In truth, everything depended far more on my own process than on the labor itself. And I had them bound by clauses requiring them to pay me three hundred gold coins if they left. That attempt failed—but it was entirely expected within the Empire.
After finishing my training, I resumed my conversation with Hákon, since by then I could communicate with reasonable fluency after spending hours speaking with him each day.
"You have good land," Hákon said, observing the fields that were already being worked with plows and horses by the tenants who paid me rent to farm them.
"Thank you," I replied, meeting his gaze.
Hákon crouched down, grabbed a handful of earth, and brought it to his nose, smelling it and letting it run through his fingers.
"Ah… the soil back home is cold and hard to work," he said. "I wish it were like this."
"I suppose… farmer in spring and summer, merchant and raider in autumn and winter," I replied after thinking it over.
"Exactly. I know there is good land here, and I envy how the Romans have such fertile soil—but they lack the ability to defend it, especially since their empire collapsed," Hákon said.
"Well, if you come back later and end up liking the climate, I have no problem taking your people in on my lands—especially now that I'll be fighting pirates. Veterans of the sea are never a bad thing," I replied calmly, enjoying the view.
"Just like that? No bindings or conditions?" Hákon asked.
"That they kill my enemies," I said with a shrug. "That's all I care about. I won't trouble you over trivialities."
"I'll tell them what I've seen once I return," Hákon said.
"And speaking of that, the drakkar you asked for is ready. What I don't know is how much weight it can carry or how much food fits aboard, so when you're ready, take your men. I'll handle the manumission papers afterward—just remember to bring me my share of the deal when you return," I said, clapping him on the shoulder.
"It's ready already? Can I leave?" Hákon asked with a smile.
"You've held up your end of the bargain—I can defend myself in your tongue now. The rest is for you to go home and sell my armor. I hope this time your journey is calmer, and that you keep your hunger for glory and blood in check. You're carrying the most valuable cargo you've probably ever had," I replied, starting to walk back toward Ainos.
"I understand. I'll call my men and we'll leave at once. With favorable winds, we should be there in two or three months," Hákon said.
"Good. Load everything you can onto your ship and depart as soon as possible—the sooner you return, the better," I said with a smile.
Hákon immediately went to gather his Varangians, who were already on the verge of drinking beer and relaxing after hard training—but now they had work to do.
Crates were moved to load food and the many suits of armor they would be transporting. For several hours, Hákon's men—helped by mine—prepared everything.
And while the sun was still high, the Varangians began rowing back toward their homeland. With a bit of luck, they would return laden with gold and silver.
I turned my attention back to improving my furnaces. I remained obsessed with building one that could reach steel-melting temperatures without bellows, but despite months of trial and error, I made no progress beyond enlarging the existing furnaces—which were excellent, but not what I needed.
I was sitting on a chair as time passed and darkness began to fall, enjoying the wind and thinking through ideas, when I heard a horse approaching at full speed.
"Kapetanios… kapetanios!" the rider shouted when he saw me.
I turned slowly, not setting aside my pen and papyrus. "What is it?"
"Kapetanios… pirates. One of the local fleet's ships spotted a pirate flotilla in the area. They may attempt a raid. We need you to muster your men at once to defend the city," he said, handing me a papyrus with orders.
I opened it. A direct order from the kentarchos of the garrison, requesting my assistance with everything available for the defense of the city.
"Damn it… the Varangians left today with a load of armor," I muttered. "How many pirate ships did they see?"
"According to the crew, twenty ships. They must be ravaging the coast. A ship has already been sent to Constantinople to alert the fleet, but it will take time—at least two days if they row without stopping," the rider replied.
"Shit… all right. I'll gather my men. Let's hope they aren't drunk at this hour," I said.
Without wasting time, I sent everyone nearby to find the rest. They could be asleep in their tents or in Ainos drinking—I had relaxed discipline somewhat so training wouldn't be so destructive. Now it seemed that decision was about to bite me in the ass.
I quickly began putting on my armor and attached an extra steel plate to the mail protecting my face. It was a prototype, but better that than an arrow buried in my face.
I had made other modifications—plates for forearms and legs—but that meant too much weight for armor already heavy.
As I finished, mercenaries began arriving, donning armor, grabbing bolts and crossbows, trying to ready themselves as the camp dissolved into chaos.
Every moment mattered, and my men arrived in trickles. We organized into groups and marched out with less than half the company.
As we descended toward Ainos, I saw the ships in the distance.
There were more than twenty.
"Damn it… fucking pirates," I muttered as we moved toward the city as fast as we could.
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If there are spelling mistakes, please let me know.
Leave a comment; support is always appreciated.
I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see.
-------------------------------