unga bunga

I would let him, but he wouldn't keep it for long. As it was, after he reclaimed his titles and former lands in the wake of Michael's defeat, he proved he was exactly the kind of man I suspected him of. He broke his word to the merchant family that had taken him in, instead marrying a noble woman to secure his position. Upon his ascension, he effectively cut contact with us publicly, offering the barest of social necessities to ensure that he would get Norland.

Others, however, were far less expected.

"I thought you were dead," I admitted to a man brought to me. We met exactly once, but he had left an impression.

Krum the Fearsome stood before me, alive and whole. Surprising, really, considering the sheer number of dead at the Red Sea. "I nearly was," Krum confessed, his gaze flickering to Magnus, who I bounced on my knee while Jill sat next to me. Alim, the one who brought Krum to me, stood to the side. "I took three arrows that nearly claimed my life before I was dragged from the field. For months, I lay in a sick bed recovering. Once I grew strong enough, I went to fight for my people once more."

I had heard that there was unrest in Bulgaria, but it didn't matter much to me. It was to be expected, really. There was longstanding animosity between the Bulgarians and Romans that didn't simply vanish because of a few lost battles. It didn't help that the Romans were hardly gentle with their occupation.

"So you did," I acknowledge, my gaze sweeping over him. He was around my age, though a few years older. His appearance was rougher, an added scar clipping his lip. Before, he had the softness of a noble, even as a warrior, but now he had the air of a man that had gone hungry. That lived in harsh conditions to find that not only he could survive, but he could thrive.

"Before you defeated us, you said that you would have words with me. I am curious what those words might be," he said. That was a bluff. If that was his reason for being here, then he'd have come much sooner.

When Krum never approached me, I had shelved an idea. It was of no true loss, but it would have been convenient if the idea worked out. That idea was to help Bulgaria reassert itself, engulfing Kiev, and in exchange for financial help, Bulgaria ensured that the Deniper river continued to receive trade from the Abbasids via a trade port on the Black Sea near the Armenian mountains.

"It is too late for us to speak of what I planned," I admitted. "Seeing as you are here because the Bulgarian resistance is faltering." Krum's jaw tightened, telling me I was right on the mark. "You wouldn't be here otherwise." To lower himself to asking help from the man who defeated him and led to his nation's downfall.

"Then I have wasted a journey, then?" He questioned, a quiet anger leaking into his voice. Which told me that Jill's Blessing was in full effect on him.

"No, I didn't say that," I corrected. "Merely that the plan that I had can't work in current circumstances." That made some tension bleed out of him, giving him hope that he could receive what he was looking from me -- freedom for his people. That wasn't something I could really give him. Not in any meaningful way. Not with the time I had left in this land, nor without taking actions I'd rather not.

I only realized my foot stilled when Magnus started to whine, prompting me to continue, "I can offer you a choice, Krum the Fearsome. The first option is that I finance your efforts. A thousand talents to support your rebellion," I said, speaking openly.

Krum's eyes narrowed, "And what is the other path?" He knew as well as I did that money wasn't necessarily the issue. It could hire mercenaries.

"You do as I did," I told him. His eyes narrowed a fraction more before I continued, "I sailed across the world to learn from the Romans, seeking to take what made them great so I could bring it back to my homeland. To prepare to become a king over a nation. In the three years that I have been here, I have trained my army. I have secured great wealth. I have made far reaching alliances. All of it to ensure that when I returned, my victory would be certain."

That was the core of it, in the end. I'm certain Horrik made plans. I currently had one festering in my own army, two hundred men that he had sent as spies, with the ringleader being a certain black haired young man. Men that would be the dagger in my back should I be careless, but also a dagger I intended to wield against Horrik. However, no matter his plans or what alliances he made, I was certain that I would take the kingdom of Denmark.

Krum's expression pinched, "You wish me to come with you."

"I'm offering you the opportunity, yes," I agreed. "Gather your strength in Denmark. There will be fighting aplenty for you to hone yourself and your allies on. You'll earn wealth and experience. Then, when you believe yourself to be ready, or you learn of an opportunity, you will be prepared to cast off the Romans."

It wasn't what he wanted to hear, but he gave no outward show of it. "This is… an unexpected offer," he admitted. I think, under normal circumstances, he would have dismissed it out of hand. Yet, he was looking at an example of someone who used the method I spoke of and found great success with it. "A generous one, I think. What shall it cost?"

"An ally," I answered easily. "One who controls the Deniper, and one who maintains a reasonable tariff on trades ships come to and from the Black Sea."

There was a pregnant pause for a moment before Krum broke it, "May I have time to consider your offer?"

"Of course. My people shall set sail upon winter's end. It would be best if you could give me an answer by then," I told him and Krum inclined his head to me. With that, the Bulgarian commander left the spinning room, heading down the stairs.

Once he was gone, Jill looked at me, "Are you sure about that offer?"

"I am. I gain much if he succeeds and lose little if he fails," I said, shifting Magnus to Jill. She took our son, resting him against her as she watched me stand up. "He was defeated by us, but I don't consider that to be a demerit against him. Not when we were his enemies, and he was fighting against a distrustful ally."

Jill let out a small amused huff. I knew why. The statement was rather arrogant. But that didn't make it any less true. Few could have hoped to win in those circumstances. "If you see potential in him, then I will defer to your expertise. Regardless, it will be a Roman headache to deal with." I would admit that was part of my motivation. I doubt that a freed Bulgaria would be much of an ally for Hoffer's kingdom, not with Constantinople acting as the barrier to the Mediterranean and Black Sea, but there was something to be said about giving the Romans a lot of enemies to juggle so they couldn't focus on him.

So, if Krum did decide to come with me, I would give him the help he needed. If we were both lucky, his rebellion would be successful. If it wasn't, I would only lose money.

"Speaking of Roman headaches, we need to take your measurements again," Jill noted, eyeing me. "You've grown taller. Again."

I glanced down at my attire to find that my sleeves were a little short, falling just above my wrist. "Am I so poorly dressed it offends the Romans?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow. I wasn't sure if that was another part of Minor Regeneration or not. My father had always been a tall man, but I think I was growing larger than him and I was growing fast. It could be a natural growth spurt, or it could be the Boon.

"Not quite," Jill mused with a teasing smile. "I meant for your wedding clothes. I need to know how many yards of silk it's going to take to make you presentable." Ah, my wedding with Jasmine. That was another thing that was fast approaching.

"Yards?"

"You'll be dressed in their style. To help facilitate the wedding," Jill decided and I nodded, accepting the decision.

"Very well. I rather like their attire, so it suits me well," I reasoned, leaning against one of the balconies overlooking Norland. I would miss this view, I knew. But I was resolved to build greater ones in Denmark.

As I did, however, I saw a bird fast approaching our position -- Morrigan. The raven landed on a perched finger as I took a small slip of paper from its leg. Setting Morrigan aside, I unfurled the letter and read the text upon it.

Yet, the contents of the letter took a moment to sink in.

Long enough that Jill started to look worried, "Siegfried? What happened?"

I scratched at my jaw, considering the news for a second more. What it meant for us.

"Emperor Constantine the Sixth is dead," I answered, making Jill go still. I could see her coming to the exact same conclusion that I did. "And Irene has declared herself Empress due to a lack of a clear heir."

It would seem that we left Rome a little too late.

...I felt some sorrow for the child Emperor's death. I wasn't too familiar with the boy, but I was aware of him. Of how excitable he was at the chariot races. Of how he perked up at hearing stories. Of how, despite his crown, he was largely a normal boy. One who had the misfortune of having Irene as his mother, as it turned out.

Constantine was never going to be anything more than his mother's puppet. I'd suspected that since the beginning. Irene was too ambitious. She coveted power, influence, and control. And, in large part, I had delivered these things to her. In the eyes of her people, it was under her regency that the Abbasids were defeated, that they conquered Bulgaria, that Greece was brought back into the fold alongside Crete, and that iconoclasm was repealed with the iconoclast turned rebels being soundly defeated in the aftermath.

Over time, she had become less subtle about her bid for power. Minting coins in her image. Holding ceremonies in the place of her son. Issuing laws and repealing others. All powers that belonged to the Emperor. I saw it. Others saw it. There was some muttering about it, but in the end, Irene had enough successes under her belt that people looked the other way.

And now the young Emperor Constantine was dead. Reportedly from falling ill with a sudden bout of fever. One day he was hale and healthy, the next he was sick, and by the third day, he was dead.

There wasn't a shadow of a doubt in my mind that Irene had killed him. I didn't have any evidence to support the claim, but I didn't believe that he had suddenly fallen ill in the slightest. I couldn't, not when I knew the woman. I hadn't thought she would -- in the end, Constantine was still her son. Even if there wasn't any maternal love in her heart, then he was still her puppet. The reason why she possessed the power that she did. Stepping out of the shadows was a dangerous thing for her, especially by taking such drastic action.

"Were there any rumors of a conflict between them?" I asked, casting a glance at Morrigan, all of us in the spinning room.

"Nothing more than one would expect from a child becoming an adolescent," Morrigan answered, a certain tightness in her expression. She didn't doubt that Irene had killed her son either. "Petty demands for chariot races and dancing elephants. Wanting certain foods at all hours of the day. The kind of things that a parent might take a hand to their child over, not murder them."

Thorkell sat on one of the lounge chairs, cracking open a walnut with his hands and tossing the contents into the air to drop into his mouth. "But it is the kind of thing you'd kill a puppet over. Irene felt like she was losing control over him. In a couple more years, he'd reach his majority and wouldn't need a regent. With her popularity being at its height, I'm betting she thought it was better to do it sooner than later."

Astrid looked ill, "To murder your own son…" I couldn't imagine it any more than she could. I simply couldn't imagine myself ever slaying Ragnar, Magnus, Scáthach or Aífe. Much less to satisfy my own ambitions. I'd rather die.

Jill reached out and squeezed Astrid's hand reassuringly. Jasmine was silent, watching the conversation take place as her dark eyes flickered from person to person as they spoke.

It reminded me of how she'd acted when I spoke to her brother about her marriage to me. She watched, but never engaged with the conversation.

Hoffer picked up after Astrid. "It's disgusting, but the real question is… how does this affect us? Irene is our… tentative ally, yes?"

I hummed, my lips thinning. "We have been convenient to her," I corrected. "She used us to deflect ire that would have been directed at her. However, as far as she is aware, we are leaving now. She doesn't stand to benefit from being connected to us any longer. And given the targets she has painted on us for her own reputation and her populist policies…" She very well could try to chase us off merely for the sake of saying that she did.

My lips thinned, "It's nothing unexpected, but it is inconvenient. I had counted on being able to use the Denipier River to sail back to Denmark. If Irene is hostile to us come spring, then we will have to use the Gibraltar Strait instead. We'd be forced to sail by Hispania, as well as Francia, before we reached our lands. That would mean at least a month of sailing if we're lucky."

It would be an inconvenient journey but perhaps a useful one. I might not get a chance to Map the coastline of Francia again. At least, not anytime soon.

All of my commanders were looking at me. As were my wives. All waiting for a decision to be made, but I wasn't sure that there was a decision to make. I didn't want to force Irene's hand and make things more complicated than they needed to be. Likewise, I didn't want to react to whatever actions she might take.

A small sigh escaped me, "We wait. The Roman Empire is going to become our enemy regardless of what we do, but I would prefer to control the timing in which they become our enemy. Giving ourselves away before we're ready would only complicate our journey, as we wouldn't be able to go home for months anyway."

Astrid looked to me, "And what of Irene?" She wanted something done, I knew. There was a fiery, indignant anger in her that demanded justice for the unfortunate child.

I didn't want to disappoint her, but I would. "Whatever consequences Irene faces for the murder of her son, in this life or the next, will have nothing to do with us," I stated firmly. In the end, as sad as it was, the death of Constantine was not our problem to solve. We were strangers in this land, and I suspect we were guests who were wearing out our welcome. Getting involved with the succession was trouble that we didn't need.

Astrid scowled, but it was Jill who spoke, "And what if she asks us to intervene? If we came to this conclusion, there will be others who did as well. The Empire could face unrest that she would wish for us to quell."

I could admit that that was a very valid question. "As per our contract, we shall fight. But, I doubt that it will come to that. As we are leaving soon, Irene can no longer afford to rely solely on us. No, it would be more accurate to say that she'll want nothing to do with us. As far as she is concerned, we are a problem that will depart in a few months. It's in her best interest to let us."

Why create a problem when there didn't need to be one during what I'm guessing would be a difficult transition of power? Irene could try to chase us out, but that carried significant risk. Why bother when she could wait for us to leave and then simply say that she had driven us away? Irene was as ruthless as she was ambitious, but that didn't mean she was foolish.

"So, we do nothing," Astrid muttered unhappily. She didn't like it, but I knew she understood. The thought of it was just striking too close to home.

"Aye. We wait and, provided she does nothing foolish, do nothing," I agreed.

…​

The days following that discussion were tense. As predicted, there was sweeping unrest throughout the Empire, and rumors came alive. People were quick to assume that the Emperor had been poisoned, but they couldn't seem to agree on who did it. The culprits ranged from the Bulgarians to the Abbasids, to Iconoclasts, to the Franks, to the Jews, to myself.

True to form, almost as soon as the word of the Emperor's death reached them, the Christian citizens began attacking the Jews en masse. And, interestingly, I noticed that there was a harsh uptick in the number of Jewish migrants settling in Norland. I could only guess what this city's reputation was amongst their people, but they seemed to view it as a safe haven.

However, for all the wild theories, Irene herself was rarely accused, and those few who did make the accusation often found themselves violently attacked for the vicious slander. I couldn't respect how she did it, but I could acknowledge that Irene had executed her plan well. To the average person, it was unthinkable she'd go so far to secure the throne for herself.

Likewise, in the days and weeks following, Irene's ascension to the throne was… tolerated. She had her supporters in place ahead of time. Her detractors were quick to protest, but protesting was all they seemed to be doing. Perhaps there were slow moving intrigues against her in the court, but I wouldn't know.

As expected, we were left completely out of it. Morrigan and her network of merchants kept a hand on the pulse of the situation to make sure we weren't going to become a target, but while a number of people were shaking a fist in our direction, that's all they were doing. There was no action taken. As we prepared to depart from the Romans and their politics, we went ignored.

To the point that I didn't even receive an invitation to Irene's coronation as Empress of Rome. That, more than anything else, told me Irene's attitude towards us. We were useful when she needed us, but now she didn't. So now we were a problem that she was quietly hoping would go away come spring.

That suited me just fine. Better than fine, it was perfect. I had less than zero interest getting bogged down in Roman politics just as I was leaving. To that end, spring couldn't come fast enough for us to finally leave. Not to mention, it was hardly like I was lacking in things to do.

"Is this really the best use of your time?" Morrigan asked me as I was in the library, one of the more private rooms. She stood at the doorway, watching as I slowly shaved away a brightly colored pigment over a… I'm not entirely sure what it was, to be honest. It was pretty to look at, though -- interwoven geometrical shapes, a wide array of colors that were layered excellently. All of it formed with shavings from colored chalks.

The only other person in the room was the monk, Gyatso. A Buddhist monk that was sent to me by Caliph Harun.

A monk that I haven't been able to speak to, leaving me incapable of learning whatever wisdom he might have.

"Likely not," I agreed with her, working with Gyatso. I had taken to doing it over the months as I found that my lack of need for sleep had freed up a lot of time for me. The man had been with me for two years now, but it was difficult to have a conversation when you didn't share a language. I was starting to suspect that I was the subject of a prank, because Gyatso didn't speak Arabic. He didn't speak Greek or Latin. He didn't speak Egyptian or Persian. I'd even tried Germanic, Frankish, and Slavic. And he certainly didn't speak Norse.

I thought he might just be mute, so I had taken to learning how to read and write several of the languages in an attempt to communicate with the monk. He never reacted, so I wasn't even sure if he could read.

At some point, I had half given up and decided to finish the art project before sending a letter to Harun asking him how exactly I was supposed to communicate with the man. Because he hardly even acknowledged my existence. If he didn't sometimes correct the colors that I picked, I'd go as far as to say the man was outright ignoring me.

"Do you have a better use for my time?" I asked her, diligently working alongside the monk. We were almost done. The outline was already marked, so I just helped fill it in.

Morrigan shook her head, "Not at the moment, no. I do come bearing news, however," she said, and I perked up. It couldn't be urgent; otherwise, she wouldn't have bothered with the preamble. "The fighting has stilled in Hispania, for now at least. The Abbasids are consolidating control over the southern half of half while Charlemagne has laid claim to the north. The Umayyad Caliph has been raiding them both and inspiring rebellions where he can."

I hummed, "Then Charlemagne took the majority of the silver mines. It's not ideal, but it's not terrible. Hoffer will be able to pillage the area quite easily," I mused. Just as I'd wanted, the war would be a long and protracted one. The fighting would flare up and die down almost yearly given Charlemagne's habit of invading Hispania.

Especially after he'd learned the hard way to be cautious of Hadi -- the rumors had been confirmed to be mostly true, Hadi had indeed slain two Paladins with a third losing an arm. Who it was changed every time the tale was told, so it was impossible to tell who the three fallen Paladins were. But all of the Paladin's were peerless warriors, so the loss of any three was quite a blow to Charlemagne.

The fact that Abd al-Rahman was still active ensured that Hispania became exactly what I wanted it to be -- a quagmire for Charlemagne to sink endless resources into.

"Something for him to look forward to," Morrigan agreed. Hoffer had taken to focusing on building up his presence on Sardinia and the Balearic Islands, getting ready for a rapidly approaching future. "A pity he won't take Charlemagne's head while he's at it."

Charlemagne's wife had perished in childbirth some months ago, along with the child. He was my enemy, but I did feel some pity for his loss. "I'd be a bit disappointed if he did," I admitted, the last shavings falling into place. Standing up, I let out a small sigh as I looked down at the design.

Morrigan chuckled, "You don't do well with idleness. T'is a commendable trait, but one that'll likely drive you mad."

"Hm. There never seemed to be enough hours in the day, until there were suddenly too many," I agreed. I had completed my Grand Quests. I had no immediate goals. I still had my personal art projects, such as this one, but… I was used to always doing something. Struggling to accomplish everything I wanted in a given day. Now, I found I had eight extra hours most days with nothing to spend them on.

So, I looked down at the piece of art for a good long minute alongside Gyatso. The man clapped his hand together, silently offering a small prayer.

Then, with zero hesitation, he lifted the slate the design was on and tilted it, making the loose shavings slide right off. I went still, watching him casually destroy a work that had taken the better part of thirty hours. Setting the skate back down, he clasped his hands once more with a serene smile.

"A mandala is to be destroyed upon completion, as all things are temporary," Gyatso uttered in accented Norse.

I stared at him for a moment. "You speak Norse?" I wasn't even sure what I was feeling. Somewhere between bewildered disbelief, indignant fury, and genuine confusion.

"I learned your tongue, yes," Gyatso answered, a smile in his voice. "Around a year ago, I believe."

"Then… why…" I didn't even know what to say.

To that, Gyatso's smile widened, "You did not ask." He bowed his head to me before he promptly left the room, as if sensing my oncoming reaction.

I don't think anyone had ever managed to so utterly infuriate me in so little time with so few words.

Morrigan's laughter certainly didn't help.

…​

Not all of the projects that I worked on in the months leading up to our departure were so light hearted and without consequence. I found myself on a longship, watching as two ships faced one another. One was completely empty, while the other had a small crew of five men operating it, who double and triple checked everything.

"This test is unnecessary, my lord's word is as good as gold," the messenger said, a man who had introduced himself with the name of Hierocles.

"If that were true, then none of us would be here," I pointed out, gesturing to the open ocean around us without a ship in sight. I held up the letter that Hierocles delivered as damning evidence, "Your lord is the type of cretin that would sell his own mother to slavery if he thought it would suit his ambitions."

It had taken Tatzates years to uphold his end of the bargain, but at long last, he had. Upon the letter was step by step instructions on how to create Greek Fire, with Hierocles having helped steal the recipe. Which was why there was a second part of the letter written in Arabic that asked me to silence the man upon delivery. A danger of knowing too much, it would seem.

To that, Hierocles said nothing as the longship gave the signal that they were ready. Giving the nod to them, I leaned forward with Thorkell and Hoffer at my sides, the three of us watching the display intently.

Upon the longship was a newly added spigot, which was in turn connected to fuel. After lighting a torch at the end of the spigot, two men began to pump a bellows that saw a great gout of flame erupt from the spigot. Immediately, the heat of the flames washed over my face as the flames themselves washed over a derelict fishing boat.

It was exactly as I remembered it. The flames clung to the boat, not merely burning the wood, but sticking to it as it burned. A thick viscous fluid is what allowed the flames to stick to a target, ensuring that they burned to cinders. The liquid floated on water, which turned the waves into a danger as even if the flames missed, a ship could sail through them in an attempt to flee.

I was surprised, honestly. "I thought he would have cheated me," I admitted to Thorkell and Hoffer, with the latter looking at the flames hungrily. I really had fully expected him to give me a fake recipe.

"As I said, my lord is honorable," Hierocles said, trying and failing to keep the relief out of his voice that Tatzates had given me the real recipe for Greek Fire.

Holding up a hand, I gave the order for the display to come to an end. The men on the ship responded -- first, they threw heavy stones off the side of their ship, which had both ensured the fishing boat didn't drift too far, but tore off patches to the hull. Instantly, the fishing vessel started to take on water, drifting down beneath the waves and leaving only a rising puff of smoke to mark that it had been there at all.

The fireship then tossed the barrels of Greek Fire overboard, also weighted with heavy stones, removing all evidence that we had the substance in the first place.

"How did you get your hands on this? It is no small feat," I said, looking at the man, thinking of what I should do with him. I would likely kill him to keep this secret. It would stain my hands with murder, but I would do it as this was a secret worth killing over.

"I… am an alchemist," the reedy man answered, shifting where he stood. "I… he…"

I tilted my head, reconsidering him. "You didn't steal it," my accusation was half a guess, but it was rewarded with a telling flinch. "Neither did Tatzates. You recreated it."

Hierocles offered a small nod, wringing his ink stained hands together as his gaze nervously flickered between the three of us. "The secrecy around Greek fire is… insurmountable, my lord. As it must be. Only three men in the whole empire know its secrets, and none of them can name the others. The workers that produce it are all killed after every batch, and they only produce it in far off hidden locations. Lord Tatzates learning even a few ingredients of the recipe was… unexpected."

Thorkell snorted, "So, he did try to cheat you." It would seem his efforts to learn Greek had come a long way.

"No… not in so many words," I said, tilting my head as I realized the scope of the deception. "I never witnessed true Greek Fire. That day against the pirates… that was your replica, wasn't it?"

Hierocles seemed a bit surprised by my deduction and managed to nod swiftly, "It was, my lord. I have been developing a recipe to recreate Greek Fire for… twenty years now, beginning under Lord Tatzates' father." I mulled the revelation over -- it wasn't a surprise that I wasn't the only one who saw incredible value in the weapon. The Romans guarded it so zealously for good reason. With but a few barrels, we nearly drove off the Abbasid fleet.

It was only natural to covet it. It was a catastrophic weapon like no other, especially if used on an unsuspecting enemy.

However, one thing stood out to me.

"Then why such a delay in delivering the recipe to me?" I asked, suspicious.

"My lord didn't want to risk you using our creation against him," Hierocles explained easily, and that did make a great deal of sense. I wouldn't want my enemies to have Greek Fire either. "But he sees your sincerity about your intentions to return to your homeland. As well as… my lord finds the venture… too risky to continue. Since your admission to Empress Irene, my lord has found himself under suspicion of stealing a cask of Greek Fire."

And that explained why Tatzates wanted him dead. "I see. You have been forthright with me, so I shall return the favor -- Tatzates has instructed me to kill you," I said, making the man pale. However, he didn't seem too shocked. He must have suspected it on some level. "Despite what you must have heard about me and my people, I am no murderer. So, I shall offer you this choice -- we can give you a dignified death, or… you can apply your talents as an alchemist for me and my people."

Hierocles, to his credit, didn't hesitate. "I would like to live, my lord…"

The man struck me as a cowardly one. One that would do whatever it took to survive. I couldn't trust him, I decided in that moment.

But I didn't need to trust him to use him.

"Good. As far as Tatzates shall be aware, you died here and your body was released into the sea. Naturally, this will mean you must remain hidden while we remain in Rome. Is that understood?" I asked, earning a small jerked nod. Then, looking at Thorkell, I spoke in Norse, "Watch him carefully. He will try to run at least once."

Thorkell nodded as I sounded off the order to return to Norland. As we set sail, Hoffer continued to look at where the ship was destroyed, at the traces of flame that still lingered on the water. "It is a powerful weapon," I remarked to him. "But a dangerous one. The more you use it, the greater the chance your enemy steals it from you. The more people that know a secret, the greater the chance it shall spill into unwelcome ears. The Romans understand this."

Hoffer understood my meaning, even as his jaw tightened.

This wasn't a weapon I could give him. The risks were simply too great. Greek Fire was a weapon to use when you had to, not when it was convenient.

He blew out a sigh, "You are right. I'm letting my greed get the best of me," he said, but his heart wasn't really in it as he watched the last flames fade away, leaving behind only the waves of the sea.

Hoffer was a bit sullen on the trip back, but the rest of us were in high spirits. It wasn't true Greek Fire, but it was still a powerful weapon. Exceptionally deadly if used correctly. We sailed into Norland, returning under the guise of patrolling, with no one the wiser that we now possessed such a dangerous weapon.

Thorkell took Hierocles, hiding him away. There was a lingering tension that the secret caused, but as days passed, it bled away as nothing happened.

Life returned to normal once more as I busied myself with preparations of all kinds, such as tallying who would be leaving with us. I had a very rough idea of the number, but for such a journey, we needed specifics. Especially if we were to leave through the Gibraltar Strait, as the amount of supplies we would need would drastically increase.

In the months leading up to our departure, a census of sorts was conducted throughout Norland, the Balearic Islands, and gauging general interest in Rome and the Abbasid Caliphate. We had people asking the citizens if they would like to return to Denmark with us, and if they did, who or what would they bring with them? We possessed hundreds of longships and a myriad of other sea vessels, so it was not as if we were short on space.

That was my thinking until I received the report.

"Forty thousand people?" I echoed, feeling… stunned as I stood on a stool with a tailor finalizing the article of clothing that was draped around me. It was of the Abbasid style -- the base of the robe was a dark red with black and gold silk thread creating elaborate patterns across its entirety. The robe went over a tunic, which was colored black, as were the trousers that I wore. A bright red sash held the outfit together that looped around my waist, in which Gram was sheathed.

I was growing fond of the Abbasid clothing, but I found that I couldn't even pay attention to the rich clothing as Jill and Jasmine delivered the news.

"Marriage is the most guilty culprit," Jill said, seated on a lounging chair. "Men of our people have taken wives here. They've had children. With their families, at the very least, we will be returning with ten thousand people. Of that ten thousand, there are four thousand local wives or husbands, with the remainder being children."

I was aware of that. Thorkell wasn't the only one who appreciated the women of these lands. Over the past few years, many warriors had taken wives, some through romance and others through conquest. After all, every single one of my warriors was considered wealthy, and pagans or not, that made them suitable husbands or wives to many. They'd then had children, some of whom were older than Ragnar. That wasn't really surprising and I had prepared for that much.

"And the other thirty thousand?" I stressed, my lips thinning as I immediately ran into logistical issues. That wasn't a small number of people. Counting my ten thousand warriors, I would be returning to Denmark with fifty thousand people.

"The Great Raid has changed people's perception of you," Jasmine answered. "To a degree. To Christians, you felled a great Muslim nation. To the Muslims, you destroyed the last holdout of a tyrannical regime."

"There's also the fact that as far as anyone can tell, everyone who follows you becomes unimaginably rich," Jill added, making Jasmine's lips twitch beneath her veil.

"That certainly helps," Jasmine agreed.

"The point is… being a pagan is less of a detractor than it once was," Jill continued. "We can cut the number down a great deal by making conversions mandatory, but that has its own issues. Especially considering… well, the Jewish population is the second biggest offender. Eight thousand of them have requested to join us." Meaning that there was still twenty-two thousand general migrants coming with us, and that alone was my original upper estimate.

Of that twenty-two thousand, there were perhaps five thousand that were the skilled craftsmen and learned men I had collected. Eighteen thousand would be the orphans and average people who saw us as a potential future, along with their families.

"Set up a meeting with their leaders -- I need to learn what motivates them," I decided, not wholly against the idea of them coming, but I could hardly allow what amounted to an army into what would be my kingdom so carelessly. To my knowledge, the Jews were largely learned men, who leaned to financial lines of work as their religion had no laws against the lending of money, as the Christians and Muslims did.

I wasn't sure how lending money made it unclean, or dirtied the one who lent it. That, I suspected, was just the frustration of men in debt, angered that they couldn't pay those debts.

"For now, we shall act with the belief that we will take all forty thousand," I continued. "I would rather be over prepared than under in this. No matter what, it shall be a long journey and I wish to be fully prepared for it. If nothing else, we need to rethink how we will return -- we lack the ships for so many, unless we were to take some from Hoffer." And the troubles wouldn't stop at journeys end. Settling forty thousand men and women would be a challenge in itself. One that I had to prepare for well in advance because that was not a task that I could manage on a whim.

"I figured as much, and have prepared for both," Jasmine said, smiling back at my grateful look. "I would recommend learning Hebrew before your meeting. Such a gesture would go a very long way."

I nodded in agreement, deciding it would be the next language I tackled. I had already mastered Persian and Egyptian, and when I stopped being annoyed with Gyatso, I intended to learn a language called Mandarin, along with one of the Indian languages that Gyatso knew. "Aye, I shall do that," I agreed before I paused for a moment. "Any word of Krum? If he comes, then I doubt he will do so alone."

"He hasn't made a decision yet, but Morrigan says that he is back in Bulgaria. I suspect he'll only decide at the last minute what to do," Jill ventured.

"It's not an easy thing to do… leaving your home," Jasmine agreed, a small sigh in her voice. Jill gave her a sad look, but Jasmine swiftly recovered. "But I think it is likely that he will come with us. He has fought the Romans. He understands their strengths, and he now knows how strong he will have to be to liberate his people."

"Well said," I agreed. "In that case, we shall act with the assumption he will join us and prepare accordingly." With that decided, the tailor stepped away from me, allowing me to present myself to my second wife and my betrothed. Jill nodded approvingly while Jasmine's eyes shone with approval.

"The clothes of my people suit you," Jasmine acknowledged.

"I'm rather fond of them," I agreed. They were surprisingly warm, too, as I learned during my talks with Harun. The arid lands of the Abbasids had shockingly cold nights in harsh contrast to the heat of the day. "With a few adjustments, I think they could serve us well in Denmark." The cloth would need to be thicker, and furs would likely be implemented, but that was hardly an issue. Mostly, I think it would be good for Jasmine to see little pieces of her home in her surroundings.

Jasmine did seem thankful for what I was proposing, but before she could respond, a messenger knocked at the door. Calling for them to enter, I saw a somewhat nervous looking messenger step inside the spinning room. True Sight didn't mark him as an enemy, so I could only hazard a guess to what he was so nervous about.

"Lord Wolf-Kissed… a Roman carrying a message from Empress Irene has arrived for you," he informed, dropping to a knee. "He shall be here shortly to deliver it."

I swallowed a loud sigh as a knot of tension formed between my shoulders.

It would seem that the Roman Empress wanted something to do with me after all. I had a sinking suspicion that I wouldn't care for the conversation.

...

I had hoped that things would be simple with my departure, but that wasn't the case. The Roman came and went, delivering Irene's message -- a invitation to attend her in Constantinople. An invitation that I couldn't refuse without consequence.

It was tempting to simply ignore the summons regardless. Extremely so. The only thing that held me back from ignoring the summons, and Irene, was one simple thing. An instruction to bring no less than five hundred of my greatest warriors with me to Constantinople.

"I don't like this," Astrid muttered to me as we made our farewells on the main dock in Norland's harbor, alongside the crowd of people who had come to see us off. "It feels like she's baiting you into a trap."

"I think there will likely be a trap, but I'm not so certain it's meant for me," I replied, glancing at the five longships that would carry me to the Empress, each manned with my best warriors as she instructed. My veterans, who had been with me since the beginning. "And if it is a trap for me, then Irene underestimates me severely." Irene clearly had a task in mind for me, and as my contract was not yet up, I was honorbound to at least hear her out.

Astrid frowned, her gaze drifting over me before she placed a hand on Gram at my waist, "If it is a trap, hold out for at least a day. We'll rescue you," she swore on Gram, and my lips curled into a smile.

"I'll do you one better -- if it is a trap, we'll fight our way to the gates, and we'll sack the city on the way out," I said, making Astrid grin. She pressed her lips to mine for a long moment, smiling into the kiss when Ragnar wretched.

Astrid broke it a second later, "In that case, I almost hope you're walking into a trap."

"So do I. I'd love to take their library with us," I replied, giving her a gentle smile before dropping to a knee before Ragnar. He was sullen, clearly not wanting me to go, but I had to. I placed a hand on his shoulder, "Until I return, you must protect your mother. She's likely to get herself into a mess of trouble unless you keep a close eye on her."

Ragnar offered a solemn nod while Astrid playfully flicked my ear. Standing up, Astrid passed me my helmet. "Come back to us, Siegfried." It wasn't a request or a plea.

"I plan to," I told her, giving her one last farewell, just as I did to the others. Astrid, as my first wife, had a ceremonial role to play in my departure, though it was usually reserved for when a warrior sailed off to war. Turning my back to them, I climbed onto my flagship and gave the order to set sail. In the crowd, I saw Jill, Jasmine, and even Morrigan. Yet, when a raven landed on my shoulder, I knew that Morrigan had decided to come with us.

Distance strained her power, I knew, but I also knew that her range had greatly increased in the time since she had first received the Blessing. Her presence was a reassurance as, despite my confidence, I was still unsure what exactly we were sailing into.

My first reaction to the summons was that Tatzates had told Irene that I had acquired Greek Fire. But that would only implicate himself. Then I thought she might know about our plans for the Mediterranean. Possible, but Hoffer was consolidating his strength in the Balearic Islands, so there shouldn't be anything to give him away. Then I wondered if Irene knew of my impending marriage to Jasmine. But, if that were the case, then why ask me to come with five hundred warriors?

I had no idea, and there seemed to be only one way to find out.

…​

The trip to Constantinople was a quick one, and I felt a little wistful as we approached the city. The first time I saw it, the ancient city was utterly overwhelming. It barely felt real, even as I gazed upon it. In the years since, the city, while still grand, became more mundane. The cracks began to show, the glamor stopped hiding the filthy streets, the shine couldn't hide the flaws. Now, three years later, I found that I was going to miss Constantinople regardless.

Flaws and all, it was still the greatest city in the world.

"No sign of an ambush," I noted as we sailed into the dock, our ships lightly thumping against the wood. We went ashore with practiced ease, and it was there that a familiar face was waiting to greet us.

"Lord Wolf-Kissed," Staurakios greeted me, not a trace of warmth to be found in his voice. Yet, True Sight did not mark him as an enemy, nor did it anyone on the surrounding dock.

"Staurakios," I replied, every bit as curtly as I approached. I knew I cut an impressive figure as I towered over the man. He barely came up to my chest now. I was clad in the armor of my design -- a padded gambeson underneath a suit of chainmail that covered my entire body, which was further clad with plate along my arms, legs, and chest. My nasal helm draped more chainmail over my face, protecting my neck, while a white wolf pelt was draped over my shoulders.

Gram rested easily in my belt, as did the two handaxes I had received as wedding gifts. A shield was in a gauntlet clad hand, and in the other was my dane-axe with a long spike jutting out the top to act as a spear.

The armor had had to be refitted no less than three times over the past couple of months. I almost wished I would stop growing soon.

"Her Imperial Majesty offers her welcome to our fair city once more," Staurakios said, offering a polite bow. Temporary lord or not, I was acknowledged nobility within Rome. "She asks that you attend her in the palace. If you would follow me?"

Offering a small curt nod, I led the formation of my men through the streets of Constantinople. There were people marked in red with True Sight, but as Morrigan had failed to inform me of any potential conspiracy between them, it seemed to be a mere personal dislike of us. We did make for quite a sight as we marched to the palace, though. Olek was rather fond of a saying that had more than proven its worth to me -- 'If you can't walk together, then you can't fight together.'

Though, naturally, my men couldn't come with me into the palace. As a courtesy, I was allowed three guards to accompany me into the palace itself. Despite my caution, I felt my guard starting to lower as this didn't seem to be what I feared it to be. We were led to a familiar greeting room where the doors swung open to reveal Irene.

She hadn't changed much, for the most part. She had always dressed the part of an Empress, so the only true change was that she wore her son's crown. The crown of the Emperor.

"Lord Wolf-Kissed, Siegfried, it is a blessing to see you once more," Irene began sweetly. And I could understand why no one wanted to believe she'd murdered her own son in cold blood in a bid for power. She was pretty and charming. "You have my gratitude for the swift arrival when I'm told you're quite busy preparing to leave our shores for the final time."

She wanted something. "Your thanks are welcome, but unneeded. I am yours to command for my stay in Rome, Empress Irene." I said, removing my helmet and dropping to a knee at the entrance of the greeting room. A few guards, but none in excess. While most of my weapons were taken, I still had Gram at my side.

I was right. This wasn't a trap. Not for me, at least.

"That is most reassuring to hear," Irene said while Staurakios walked around the table, and the servants holding obscene treasures. Interestingly, I didn't see Aetios. In the years since he bade me to conquer Greece in Rome's name, he had risen through the ranks. I couldn't claim credit for his rise -- I was the one who got him noticed, but everything since then was the result of his own actions. As far as I was aware, he and Staurakios were locked in a battle for the position of Irene's favorite advisor.

I found his absence suspicious.

"For," Irene continued, "I have need of you one last time."

"What may I do for you, Empress?" I asked, more curious than cautious. I was even a little amused at her insistence to get the last drop of use from me, even as I had been all but walking out the door.

"You are a longstanding enemy of the Frankish King Charlemagne, are you not?" She asked, though it wasn't truly a question.

I hadn't expected to hear his name from her. "I am, your majesty. Starting when I was a boy fighting in Saxony, I am largely credited for its successful rebellion. More recently, I humiliated him in Iberia by forcing him to pay a fee, else I would give his enemy an important advantage in a pivotal battle." I explained, and she nodded, a faint smile curling at her lips.

"Yes, that is what I have heard. Would it be safe to say that he is your enemy as well?" She asked, and that question was more prodding.

"It would be. Charlemagne massacred many of my people at Verdun in a gruesome display that violated a holy place. He has threatened to aid King Horrik, the man who murdered my father and brothers, and drove the rest of my family into hiding. I respect him as a king, but we are fated enemies. He will no more suffer my actions than I would his." I answered, starting to become cautious of where this was going.

That made her smile widen further. It was a calculated gesture, however, but it certainly made my mind begin to race. Was she coming into conflict with Francia?

"Then I believe that you shall enjoy this final task," Irene continued before she made a gesture, prompting Staurakios to explain just as my holes were starting to rise.

"King Charlemagne has proposed an alliance between Rome and Francia. No, it would be more precise to say that he intends to revive the Roman Empire to its previous glory," Staurakios declared, and I had to fight tooth and nail to keep my feelings off of my face. I almost hoped that I had somehow misheard him, but he dashed those hopes by continuing. "His Frankish kingdom shall act as the fallen western half of our empire. The details of such a momentous occasion are still being decided, which is what we require you for."

My first thought was that I knew with utmost certainty that the only worse news I had ever received in my life was learning what befell my family at Horrik's hands. And this was very close to how terrible that was.

My second thought was that this news might actually be worse than learning that my father and brothers had been murdered while the rest of my family had been branded outlaws by a man I had trusted.

My third thought was that perhaps it wasn't that bad, and so my final reaction was more… tempered.

"I will confess, I am at a loss for what you would need me for," I said, not being entirely honest, my guard slowly rising as I could think of a few things. There were few gifts that Charlemagne would treasure more than my head.

"Your presence shall be an insult to Charlemagne," Irene answered, her sharp gaze watching me, carefully considering my reaction. I didn't have to hide this one -- I tilted my head to the side ever so slightly. "The barbarian king wishes to style himself Roman when it was his ancestors that feasted upon the carcass of the western half of my empire. It shows that he has some sense, but he forgets himself."

That proved my third thought right -- this might not be as terrible as it had seemed.

"In every union, there is a greater and a lesser. One who is dominant and one who submits," Irene continued. "Charlemagne styles himself a conqueror. That he is the greater in this would-be alliance. While we entertain his offer, I intend to show him his place."

That was why it wasn't as terrible as it might seem. My mind raced as I considered the news, examining it from all angles. As both Irene and Charlemagne were both widowed, I suspected that they would seal the alliance with a marriage. Their marriage. With what I had seen of Charlemagne and Irene… That was a disastrous match. They were both too ambitious. Too ruthless. Too clever. Too proud. They'd scheme and plot against one another endlessly and likely wouldn't stop until the other was in the grave. Possibly at their hands.

But, they would hardly be the first royal couple that detested each other. It was just the first of many cracks I saw in this alliance. And the greatest.

The second greatest crack was I simply couldn't see this lasting. The Franks and Romans were extremely different people with very different cultures. The Romans would despise the idea of being ruled over by what they deemed to be a barbarian. Especially one from a kingdom that had swelled on the bones of what had been half of their empire. Likewise, the Franks would despise the idea of a foreign empress.

The third greatest crack, and it was a testament to how great the first two were that it was third -- there was a considerable distance between the borders of their empires. Their closest border was to the north, beyond the Bulgarians and Avars, beyond the Balkan tribes. Or, perhaps, if they reconquered Italia, up to the Alps. In either case, it would take a considerable expansion on both of their parts to share a border.

There were great and significant problems with this idea -- large glaring flaws that it was impossible that they hadn't noticed. However, both of them ignored those issues for a very simple reason.

Greed.

Irene desired to be the Empress who had restored Rome to its previous glories, to be a Restorer of the World, just as Emperor Aurelian was before her. Charlemagne, however, wanted legitimacy, the legacy. He didn't want to be a King of the Franks -- he wanted to be an Emperor of Rome.

The result was both of them trying to force this to work to get what they wanted out of it. Regardless of how feasible it was in the long term.

"I will admit, I am agreeable to the idea of tweaking Charlemagne's nose," I admitted. I didn't even have to lie about that. "Though, I am curious what exactly doing that will entail."

"Restraint on your part, I suspect," Staurakios idly remarked. "There shall be a conference in the city of Rome about the broader scope of the alliance, during which you shall attend as one of the Empress's personal guard, along with five hundred of your men. You shall be there both as a show of force, and a reminder of his humiliation."

Hm. The more that it was being explained to me, the more I understood. First, I understood what Staurakios and Irene both were thinking.

I wasn't a threat to them. To them, despite all of my victories, I couldn't hope to challenge the might of the Roman Empire. And soon, I would depart to a desolate kingdom far to the north and there, I would never enter their sight again. Part of that was their natural arrogance. Another part was how I had presented myself from the very beginning. I just didn't expect for them to underestimate me so severely.

I also understood why. And that was something I would have to consider.

A smile tugged at my lips, "That sounds like an order I'd most enjoy."

…​

Arrangements were made in short order for our departure. From what I gathered, my joining the procession seemed to be a last-minute decision. An impulsive snub. My men and I were quartered, I sent a letter back to Norland telling them where I would be and when to expect my return. Then, the next day, we set sail for Italia.

The trip was once again a short one, as we landed in Roman territory at the bottom of the landmass, and then began a long march to the actual city of Rome.

The city that gave birth to an empire.

Despite the circumstances, I was rather excited to visit the great city. I had seen it described in numerous texts, but I hadn't seen it for myself. It seemed unwise to visit when it was the seat of power for the Christian faith.

Over the night, I pondered the revelation of this attempt at restoring the Roman empire, wondering what it would mean for me and those who came after me. Many thoughts bounced around in my mind, and I doubted I would have been able to sleep even if I had felt the need. Possibilities, opportunities, risks, consequences -- all of them rushed to the fore as my thoughts jumped from one outcome to the next from late in the night to early in the morning.

It made me incredibly grateful that Morrigan was here with me, even in the form of a raven. "It all comes down to if the union will last," I mused, looking out at the sea as my ships slowed themselves to match the Roman fleet that carried their Empress. I was surprised that she would be going to Rome herself, but I suppose this was her way of checking the quality of a potential husband.

Morrigan brushed her beak against my finger and I swallowed a sigh. It would be easier if she could talk like this. Ravens could speak simple words, but I figured it'd be best to avoid doing that around the Christians. "Short term, this could be very good for us. But, if it lasts beyond a generation…"

That was the crux of the issue.

In the short term, this union could greatly benefit my people. Charlemagne was already dedicating a substantial army to Hispania. The Romans were occupying Bulgaria, but not without difficulty. The Romans would likely have to conquer up to the Franks, with the Franks sending lesser armies to aid them. That would likely delay a war with the Abbasids, but if it didn't, then Hoffer would be able to aid Harun. Possibly Harun would seek to pounce on the distracted Romans and fulfill the promised conquest of Anatolia.

More than that, Staurakios had said it best -- what Irene and Charlemagne were attempting to accomplish was monumentous. If they really attempted to follow through with this restoration of the Roman Empire, then it was a task that they would have to dedicate the rest of their lives to.

History had already given an example of what they were trying to do -- Alexander the Great and his Persianization over the course of his conquest. What Alexander had done was prudent for the most part. The vast majority of his empire consisted of Persians and he was letting them see themselves in him. However, in doing so, he alienated his Macedonian companions. Some supported his efforts, others were staunchly against them. Enough so that there were numerous assassination attempts on what they now saw as a Persian emperor rather than their Macedonian king.

An attempt to bridge Roman culture with Frankish was going to be a long, painful, arduous task worthy of Hercules. Even on the assumption that they were eventually successful, the two would spend decades quelling rebellions of all sizes.

It was what I was trying to do in Hispania, but grander. Charlemagne, in all likelihood, would spend the remainder of his life looking inward rather than expanding outward. He wouldn't be able to attack my people even if he wished to.

And, odds were, he would fail. Perhaps it would last until his death, but I doubted that his son would be able to maintain such a volatile empire. He wouldn't possess the same respect, the same reputation. Rome would do as it did throughout its history and chew itself up from the inside out at the hands of great ambitious men.

"But there's a chance," I muttered, gazing out at our destination after a few short days of marching. Rome. I saw its outskirts and I saw that it was every bit as grand as Constantinople. "A chance that it will work." I refused to underestimate Charlemagne. If there was anyone in the world who could restore the ancient empire, then I was convinced that it was him.

In that case… Rome was restored. It would take decades for it to unify, but it ultimately managed to stick together. And, in that case, a vast empire was but a stone's throw away from my homeland. From what would be my kingdom. That was a truly disturbing thought. Enough so that it made me question what I could do to prevent such a potential disaster from happening in the first place, or preparing for it like an inevitable storm.

"Fool!" Morrigan cried, though she wasn't particularly clear what made me a fool in this situation.

It mattered little as we approached the ancient city of Rome in the form of a long column. The Romans acted as the bulwark of it, arranging themselves around their Empress, who rode in an opulent chariot in its center. My own forces were placed towards the rear of the column as we weren't here to be honored. We were here to thumb our noses at the Franks, so I had few complaints about not being in the center of attention.

I was uncertain to what degree this conference was a secret, but the people of Rome seemed to know something important was happening. The Roman Empress was welcomed into the city, greeted with cheers as people flooded the streets. As far as I could tell, many of them were exactly as Otto had described to me -- beggars, prostitutes, and the lame. The flanking soldiers held them at bay, tossing flower petals over the marching formation as we entered the city.

Constantinople had tempered my expectations of Rome somewhat, but it was still a fascinating city. I could feel the weight of its history -- this was where an empire whose history spanned over a thousand years was born. The fact that it was in a state of decline was disheartening, but it was still a vast and formidable city.

If nothing else, visiting this city made the journey worth it.

The procession took a long view of the city, allowing me to gaze upon the historical buildings of significance—the Forum of Julius Caesar, the Forum of Augustus, and the temples that were converted into churches. I gazed upon the Colosseum with naked awe as the procession passed by the gladiatorial building. Then, there was a hum of excitement in me as we headed to our ultimate destination.

The Curia Julia was the senate building where Rome was ruled from. It was the beating heart of Rome, at least until the Romans lost it. It was almost unassuming in appearance for the great history it possessed. It was a wide building made of marble, with a line of pillars acting as an entrance. On one side, the building rose up, standing high with glass windows allowing natural light to stream in.

It was currently half surrounded by Frankish soldiers. A show of force, I knew, just as Irene displayed her own strength. They stood in a formation, staving off a crowd of people who wanted to see what was going on and soon the Roman contingent reinforced them. As did my warriors, though they were placed well away from the Franks.

Despite being amongst the last to arrive, I found that I was right on time.

"Come, Lord Wolf-Kissed," Empress Irene commanded me easily as the Romans prepared for her entrance. "I shall have you act as my translator. I doubt the barbarians have learned a proper tongue." She was attended by a small army of servants, and I suspected at least a few of them could speak Frankish. But that wasn't the point.

She was going to force Charlemagne to speak to me to speak to her.

I nodded, still clad in armor, and falling in line with her servants, we marched towards the double doors that acted as the entrance to the senate building. I stroked Morrigan's plumage reassuringly as she sat on my shoulder, watching as the doors swung open. We were immediately greeted by the sound of young boys singing, a hundred of them standing in the seats where Roman senators had once commanded an empire that had reshaped the world. Harps joined the melody, as did flutes and drums. It was pleasant but mostly distracting.

It was across the hall that I saw Charlemagne in person for the first time since the Saxon Rebellion.

He was regal. His beard was neatly groomed, his appearance immaculate as he wore kingly robes accented with jewelry. Adorned on his head was a crown of gold, embedded with no less than a dozen precious gemstones along the rim. He did seem a bit older than when I last saw him, but he still struck me as strong. In truth, I was the one who had changed the most since we last saw one another.

Charlemagne stood before a round table that was set at the end of the forum. Standing directly next to him was a man I had purposefully gone out of my way to avoid, but I still recognized him by sight.

Pope Adrian. He wore a serene expression, a painted-on smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, which narrowed ever so slightly when his gaze landed on me.

I wasn't the only one wearing armor, I swiftly noticed, my gaze sliding to four figures. I didn't know them all, but I knew what they were even if I didn't know them.

Four of Charlemagne's Paladins.

Astolfo openly wore her surprise over my presence. She stood next to Rinaldo, who did a better job of hiding his. Standing next to him was a Paladin I did not recognize, yet he was openly glaring at me with a blazing anger in his blue eyes. Yet, I ignored him to gaze upon the last of the Paladins in attendance.

Roland.

His gaze was impassive as he took notice of me, betraying nothing. Much like Charlemagne, he was exactly as I remembered him. A tall broad shouldered man who carried a tower shield that was the size of a man grown in one hand, and sheathed in his waist was his sword Durendal. One thing had changed, however, and it was something that I hadn't expected.

I was taller than him now by half a head. So, perhaps, it was worth refitting my armor several times.

Empress Irene strode forward as the rest of her people came to a stop, both sides facing off silently. Despite this being an occasion to restore the empire, it would be an easy mistake to make thinking that they were bitter enemies forced to make peace. The attendants of Charlemagne flanked one side of the room, openly judging the servants of Irene with cynical eyes.

Yet, Irene wholly ignored the tension as she approached alongside her chosen guard. I found myself walking behind her as she stopped on the other side of the Pope, gazing at Charlemagne with an indifferent expression. Watching the two stare each other down, neither side betraying what their thoughts were, just helped solidify my own thoughts.

They were entirely too much alike. The only way one would submit to the other is by force.

Yet, Pope Adrian held his hands aloft and spoke in Latin, "Let us rejoice! After four centuries, a Roman Empress has graced Rome!" He announced, and Irene gave nothing away at the subtle dig. The very first words of this attempt at restoration were an insult, which didn't bode well. Perhaps I was overthinking things and assuming the worst. This endeavor might not even take the first step towards success before stumbling and falling.

"And let us rejoice, for Charles the Great, King of the Franks, once more graces the walls of Rome," Pope Adrian continued, and it was rather clear whose wagon he had hitched his horse to. "Let us thank God for this most welcome reunion of West and East and entrust ourselves to His plan. For all are equals underneath the gaze of our Heavenly Father." Also asserting that Irene and Charlemagne were equals, despite only one of them possessing the title of Emperor.

With that, he clasped his hands together and bowed his head, giving a moment of silence to thank their God. I watched it all, drinking it all in. On the trip over, I had considered what I might have to do to sabotage such a union.

Now, witnessing how it was starting…

I'm not sure I'd have to do a thing.

...

The attempt to restore the Roman Empire was a real thing in history, but nothing ever came about it and it is a question of what the marriage would have meant. Charlemagne, by that time, was already considered the Holy Roman Emperor on the assumption you believe that it formed with him. The title of Emperor of Rome is a title that carries a lot of weight in Europe, so when Irene declared herself Empress, the Pope decided to pull a fast one and go 'ew, girls can't lead Rome' but the decision was largely politically motivated as Charlemagne was a friend of the church and the Pope wanted to further break ties with what would become the Orthodoxy.

So, odds are the marriage wouldn't have restored the empire in earnest as in the realms uniting. They probably would have been two separate states that allied with each other, while also calling themselves the Roman.

Now, beyond this point is technically spoilers, so I'll throw it in a spoilers box, but I would be very shocked if someone couldn't guess where this plot thread is going:In a story with a Norse ubermensch with a gamer system and magic elements -- the Roman Empire reforming like this is probably the most unbelievable element. Sieg touched on why it was so impossible in the chapter, but the idea of it was doomed to fail from its inception. Not even factoring in the cultural differences (Which were significant), or the actual distance between what would be their Capitals (Which had the West and East Empire splitting in the first place) -- matters like succession would have ended the idea before it could even begin.

In this story, it's a little different. Certain elements were moved up the timeline because Sieg enabled Irene to do so -- like repealing Iconoclasm. Which happened under Pope Adrian, but only far later in his reign as Pope. Pope Adrian was looking to fold the eastern church into the west, rather than Leo III, who wanted to concentrate power in the western church at the cost of breaking ties with the eastern church. Meaning that the unification would be happening under a pope who is looking to facilitate it for a few decades. So, the seeds of the Scism have been delayed a bit -- they're still there, of course, but they haven't had time to grow like the did in our timeline.

Irene has significantly more weight to her name due to 'her' military achievements: Conquest of Greece, defending Anatolia, the conquest of Bulgaria, while binding the satellite islands in the Mediterranean back to the throne. Because of that, and the fact that Charlemagne has been weakened by a successful rebellion in Saxony and failed rebellions in Fancia while his invasion of Hispania has stalled -- they are entering this alliance far more equal than they would have in the original timeline.

That being said -- the reunification of the Roman Empire is largely happening because I think the idea is cool. Because Rome is cool.