Ch 29: Lands

More than two hours passed, and the atmosphere in the Hall grew increasingly tense. Some Nobles even drew their longswords to intimidate others, nearly sparking a brawl.

Before the situation completely deteriorated, the three returned to the Hall, sensing the expectant gazes upon them. Ragnar cleared his throat,

“After this largest expedition in history, we have achieved unprecedented feats. As the initiator of the pillage, I feel immense pride, and I also express my deepest gratitude for your contributions.”

Having said that, he raised his goblet and led everyone in a toast. He had Pascal unroll a sheepskin scroll, which marked the various settlements of Northumbria.

“My dear brothers, I will not keep this glory to myself. Feel free to make your requests.”

“Wait a moment,” Leonard called out loudly, raising a crucial question, “Your Majesty, who exactly do you mean by ‘brothers’? Besides us, are there any new members joining?”

Leonard’s words awakened the remaining six Nobles.

The more newcomers, the less the elders would receive in benefits. After a moment of consideration, they decided to temporarily unite and put pressure on the new Monarch.

Ragnar sipped his wine, his smile stiffening. “Yes, some people have contributed greatly, and I intend to ennoble them.”

The next moment, Ivar, under the gaze of everyone, came to the center of the Hall, his expression calm and composed. “In the Battle of Mancunium, I captured the Northumbrian Royal Banner. In the sieges of Leeds and York, I was the first to scale the city walls twice, and I personally killed King Eilaud and his Queen. Are these merits not substantial enough?”

As soon as he finished speaking, the mid-level leaders attending the banquet shouted the name “Boneless” in unison, hammering the tables with their goblets, acknowledging the legendary figure’s merits.

After Ivar, Vig also walked to the center of the Hall. Feeling dozens of eyes on him, he remained unusually calm:

“In the Battle of Mancunium, my tactics helped the Army turn the tide, inflicting a heavy blow on Eilaud’s Royal Guard. In the subsequent siege of York, I was responsible for building various siege weapons. I also planned an ambush, forcing the surrender of nearly three thousand militiamen. Gentlemen, if we hadn’t had the siege engines, if we hadn’t had the towers, would we have been able to conquer York? Even if we had used traditional long ladders to breach the city walls, how many warriors would have died?”

“Chosen One!”

“Chosen One!”

The crowd chanted Vig’s name in unison, acknowledging his eligibility to become a member of the Noble Class. However, the shouts were slightly less enthusiastic than those for Ivar. After all, Viking society revered bravery, and Vig lacked the merit of slaying commanders and capturing flags; he was ultimately lacking in that respect.

But even so, he ultimately passed. From a low-level peasant in the Gothenburg countryside, after enduring countless hardships and obstacles, he finally escaped his past and became a member of the ruling class.

“To accomplish the Monarch’s tasks and earn a name that lives on after death. From this day forward, I finally have a place at the table. Phew, it has been truly difficult.”

Reflecting on the past, Vig felt a mix of emotions. If he hadn’t been ennobled this time, he was prepared to go to Eastern Europe to join Rurik or go to Constantinople to become a mercenary. There were many options; he certainly wouldn’t stay in Britain to work for free.

Subsequently, Bjorn also recounted his merits—slaying two Anglo-Saxon Nobles. Unfortunately, this merit failed to impress the crowd, and the response was lukewarm.

The seven Nobles whispered among themselves, and based on the principle of limiting royal power, they rejected Bjorn’s request.

Now that Ragnar was King and occupied the most important city of York, Ivar and Vig were his confidants. If several more loyalists were appointed as Powerful Nobles, the likes of Leonard wouldn’t have an easy time.

Bjorn, enraged, stormed out. Niels stepped forward, his face grim. “In the Battle of Mancunium, I led the Archers in wounding King Eilaud, forcing the enemy army to retreat. In the Battle of York, I also led the Archers in shooting down the garrison on the city walls.”

“It was Vig’s idea to concentrate the Archer’s fire,” Ulf said impassively, speaking word for word. “As for killing enemy soldiers, that is merely the Archers’ duty. You have no outstanding merit, and you cannot be a Powerful Noble.”

Vikings worshipped warriors who wore armor and broke through enemy lines, and they had a subtle disdain for Archers. Ulf bluntly refused Niels, asking if anyone else wished to speak.

Afterward, Gunnar and Orm each presented their merits, and unsurprisingly, they were both rejected.

Limiting royal power is inherent to the Nobles. If Ivar and Vig’s merits hadn’t been so outstanding, it is possible that many of Ragnar’s confidants wouldn’t have even gotten one position.

Sensing Ragnar’s rationality reaching its limit, Eric secretly rejoiced, while outwardly maintaining a neutral stance,

“Rewarding merit is a tradition passed down from our ancestors. Now that the number of Nobles has been determined, let Pascal give a detailed introduction of the situation in various places, so that everyone can make their selections.”

As a newly appointed Noble with no base of support, Vig knew his strength was weak and didn’t bother competing for the wealthy regions of the South. He was the first to speak, requesting Tyne as his fiefdom.

Image

This land is located on the northeast coast of Northumbria. Further north lies the territory of the Picts, which is what posterity would call Scotland.

Golden horns, silver edges, and a grass belly.

In Vig’s opinion, Tyne was adjacent to the border, suitable for future northward expansion, and it could also avoid reprisals from Mercia and Wessex in the South. It was a win-win situation.

“Have you thought this through?” Seeing his confidant choose such an unremarkable territory, Ragnar couldn’t help but advise him to reconsider. However, Vig insisted on choosing Tyne.

Seeing that his persuasion was ineffective, Ragnar nodded wearily, “As you wish.”

Subsequently, Ivar requested a piece of land with poor resources—Derwent, located on the northwest coast, also near the northern border, with roughly the same latitude as Tyne, which surprised everyone.

“I can’t compete with you guys, so I’ll just pick a piece of open space. Any objections?”

The request was granted. Ivar glanced at Vig beside him, and they shared a knowing smile.

Their ideas were similar. Vig coveted the land of Scotland to the north, while Ivar cast his eyes westward toward Ireland.

In Ivar’s view, this Island was full of large and small forces, loose and easy to conquer. Moreover, the Island had exquisite precious metal processing techniques and produced expensive ornaments such as necklaces, brooches, and goblets.

For instance, the large, ornate goblet in Ragnar’s hand was primarily silver, with a band of gold inlaid around the body, as well as enamel, malachite, amber, and mica ornaments weaving animal and bird, and geometric patterns, making it a unique treasure.

“A mere Earl/Jarl title is just the beginning for me. Only a crown is worthy of my status.” Ivar’s eyes glittered, clearly setting the King of Ireland as his future goal.