Late at night, Gunnar lay alone on a soft velvet bed, sipping a glass of Bordeaux's finest wine.
Life like this was… pleasant. As for that wretched place called Cambridge—he was more than happy to let it rot on its own.
Half-drowsing, he suddenly recalled Vig's proposal for a trade agreement.
The request itself wasn't unusual. Ivar, Lennard, Ulf—nearly every noble in Britain asked him to sell warhorses. Some bought a dozen, others a hundred.
Demand for horses in Britain was enormous. With such rich profit to be made, even if Gunnar refused, countless other Frankish nobles would eagerly sell.
The problem was—he didn't have enough horses to meet demand.
"I can't swallow this fortune alone… I need a competent partner."
The next day, he went to find Lambert, the Minister of Foreign Affairs. The two dismissed their attendants and strolled together along the banks of the Seine.
Lambert wasn't chosen merely for his connections—he had the guts to profit from anything, however risky.
Years ago, when King Charles the Bald sent reinforcements to Wessex, King Æthelwulf, impressed by Frankish cavalry charges, asked to purchase warhorses. Lambert agreed instantly and made a fortune—until his mistress accidentally revealed the scheme. He escaped punishment by surrendering the illicit profits.
Now facing another lucrative offer, Lambert hesitated only a moment before accepting.
"Your Grace," Lambert said cautiously, "you'll sell horses to the Britons and collect their silver and goods. But I advise accepting only certain types."
He listed a few: iron ingots, tin, furs, amber, salted fish—resources produced in Britain or the North, easily sold in West Francia.
Gunnar added, "We can ship some wine to them as well. I'll handle the British side. You take care of West Francia. Fifty-fifty split—we grow rich together."
After some thought, Gunnar chose three primary trading partners: Vig, Ivar, and Ulf.
Vig and Ivar were embroiled in war, and their demand for horses was enormous. Controlling Northland and Ireland respectively, both had enough revenue to pay.
Ulf, whose territory in Kent faced across the Channel toward Calais, was perfect for small and medium orders—he could act as a middleman.
As for Æthelwulf and Theowulf, both wealthy dukes—they could afford horses, but their political positions were delicate. Buying too many would provoke Ragnar's suspicion. Therefore Gunnar listed them as "potential clients" for future cooperation.
Finally, there was Ragnar himself—the High King of Britain, the most desirable customer of all.
Yet since Gunnar had defected to West Francia, he still had no idea how to face his old commander and friend. For now, Ragnar was… postponed.
After a brief silence, Lambert spoke again:
"And the price? What should each horse cost?"
"Keep it low—three pounds of silver each. Otherwise Brittany, Rouen, Amiens, and Flanders will steal our orders."
Gunnar glanced toward the bustling markets on the north bank of the Seine. He had originally wanted to charge four pounds, but with so many competitors, he had no choice but to reduce profit in exchange for market share.
After they reached agreement, Lambert sighed.
"Money breeds jealousy. When His Majesty discovers this, we'll likely have to surrender part of the profit to the crown."
"No matter," Gunnar replied. "As long as we earn."
After thirty-odd years of life, Gunnar trusted only his own strength. King Charles had indeed been good to him, but that didn't dispel the gnawing unease in his heart. No matter where he went, a voice whispered constantly—stockpile power, prepare for what may come.
"That's that. I'll return to Caen tomorrow and write to Vig, Ivar, and Ulf—tell them to prepare their coin."
Early October — Londinium
Vig led a caravan through the north gate. The guards didn't dare offend the duke; they merely glanced at the cargo and waved him through.
The royal palace was unusually quiet. Vig asked a palace guard:
"Where is His Majesty?"
"At the southern docks. Last month, the royal shipyard completed a new type of cargo ship. The shipwrights took her to the North Sea for trial. She returned to the Thames this morning. His Majesty went to welcome the 'Göteborg' on her maiden voyage."
At the docks, Vig found crowds packed shoulder to shoulder. With his identity verified, he walked onto the royal pier.
"Your Majesty, this year's tribute."
Ragnar took the scroll. Only three categories of goods were listed: woolens, tin ingots, iron ingots. He casually handed the scroll to Pascal and remarked:
"I heard about the war in the North. Impressive—your campaign crushed the enemy's main forces in a few short months. Yet you and Ivar suffer the same embarrassment. Victorious, yes… but instead of gaining wealth, you're scrounging for loans everywhere."
Vig replied, "The situation is manageable. Give me two years—once finances loosen, I will repay Your Majesty first."
Ragnar rolled his eyes. The boy was still pretending.
He gave up arguing and looked toward the center of the Thames.
There, the Göteborg was demonstrating her maneuvering.
She dwarfed a normal Viking longship: 25 meters long, 6 meters wide, built in the classic clinker design—overlapping oak planks like roof tiles, seams packed with tar and wool felt for watertightness.
A mast over ten meters high held a massive sail capable of catching enormous wind, greatly boosting speed under Favelable wind.
Soon, the Göteborg moored. Vig walked aboard.
Her cargo hold had two decks, with a square stern-castle—total capacity nearly 100 tons.
"In form, this cog resembles the ships of the Age of Discovery," Vig thought.
"With centuries of evolution—from one mast to three—the cog will eventually become the deep-sea merchant vessels of Europe."
He ran his hand along the oak hull, noting the twelve square oar-ports along the sides—twenty-four rowers for adverse winds.
By comparison, a Viking cargo ship needed the same number of oarsmen but carried barely a tenth of the cargo. Food and water ate up space, increasing operating cost.
In Vig's view, the cog's superior capacity, seaworthiness, and windpower meant it would soon sweep across Western and Northern Europe.
He asked the shipwright about construction costs.
"Fifty pounds of silver," the man answered.
"The larger the design, the higher the price. Some may exceed one hundred pounds."
—------------------------------
Christ🎄mas Special Discount code: FB133 (valid for 2 days only)
Pat reon Advance Chapters: patreon.com/YonkoSlayer