"Everyone, listen. I am Vig, Duke of Tyne Town, invested by the King of Britain and ruler of the entire North. Some days ago, my envoy was murdered on this island. Who killed him?"
Fearing for their lives, the islanders immediately named their local chieftain, saying he had fled to Bergen two days earlier with his family, slaves, and about twenty followers.
Vig didn't take their word at face value. He ordered his men to conduct separate interrogations, piecing together the true sequence of events.
In reality, the chieftain had not been hostile at first. He had even prepared wine and meat to feast the envoy.
Only after they had eaten did the envoy broach the topic of allegiance. The chieftain insisted he already paid taxes to the Lord of Bergen and had no reason to serve two masters at once.
Even then, the situation had not gotten out of hand—until some fool deliberately provoked both sides with inflammatory remarks, stoking tempers until the argument escalated to killing.
"And where is that loud-mouthed troublemaker?"
Vig sent soldiers to search for him. They soon learned the man had tried to flee with the chieftain two days earlier—only to have his skull split by the chieftain's own axe, apparently hated to the bone.
Vig waited four days on Shetland for clear skies and Favelable winds. Then he ordered the fleet eastward.
Entering the Fjord
Through the morning mist, the cog's prow cut through the waves behind a shallow-draft scout boat guiding them into the fjord.
Holding the wet railing, Vig stared ahead. The fjord looked as though a giant had split the mountains with an axe. Steep cliffs on both sides rose high, clothed in dense pines; smoke curled from the chimneys of cabins along the shore; two fishermen were hanging their nets out to dry.
"Seven whole years… this is my first time back in Scandinavia."
Since leaving with Ragnar, Vig had spent almost all his time in Britain. Memories of the north had faded, but now a strange, aching familiarity welled up within him.
Baron Jorund—also Count of Edinburgh—walked to the prow.
"My lord, have you considered visiting Göteborg again? After so many years at sea, I suddenly miss that place."
Instantly Vig pictured the small house he had lived in for over a decade, and the barren wheat fields around it.
He shook his head to dispel the memory.
"No. We sailed to Bergen without the king's permission—we've already gravely challenged King Erik's authority. We must not linger in Scandinavia. Once Auh is dealt with, we withdraw immediately."
Attack on Bergen
As the fleet approached Bergen, horns blared through the fjord.
Fishermen on the docks noticed the danger first, stumbling back toward their homes. Chaos erupted. A handful of locals formed a shaky shield-wall on the beach—only to scatter within seconds once they recognized the banner of the Serpent of the North.
Looking at the dense cluster of houses, Vig remarked:
"What a prosperous settlement. Compared to seven years ago, the population must have doubled."
Since Ragnar's conquest of Britain, more than a hundred thousand Norse settlers had poured westward. Trade across the North Sea surged. As a critical hub on the northern route, Bergen had swelled to a population of two thousand—Norway's second-largest settlement after Erik's Oslo.
Seeing the prosperity only stoked Vig's anger.
"If he has this much money, why refuse to pay his debt? Fifteen pounds of silver—dragged out for four years!"
At his signal, a shield-guard blew the horn for attack.
An infantry company landed first, cutting down scattered resistance near the harbor.
A few minutes later, more than four hundred mountain infantry had joined them. Under their officers' shouts, small Mandarin-duck formations advanced through the streets toward the chieftain's longhouse.
"This is a private feud between Duke Tyne Town and the Lord of Bergen. Civilians, clear the way!"
Standard-bearers waved their triangular flags, warning residents to withdraw into alleys.
After several dozen meters, a small enemy shield-wall—about twenty men—blocked an intersection.
Beep—beep-beep!
The squad leader's horn signaled contact.
"Form line—advance!"
The formation shifted from two columns into a three-rank line.
First rank: the captain and two shield-axe men in iron armor.
Second rank: four spearmen and two fork-bearers.
Third rank: four longbowmen and support crew.
At thirty meters, the captain and the axemen hurled their short spears. Without pause, they threw a second volley.
Six spears flew. One missed, but five struck shields with splintering cracks—three shields failed.
The longbowmen followed instantly, loosing twelve arrows a minute into the gaps, cutting down several men.
"Ready—charge!"
Seeing enemy morale wavering, the captain leveled his banner-spear and led eight front-rank fighters forward. Before they even reached striking range, the broken shield-wall collapsed entirely and survivors fled into alleys, abandoning the Lord of Bergen without a second thought.
Fall of Bergen
More Mandarin-duck units gathered in front of the longhouse. About eighty Bergen warriors—half armored—attempted to hold the square.
But wave after wave of Vig's soldiers poured in from every street. The defenders' courage melted. Knowing the Serpent did not slaughter captives, they surrendered after brief resistance.
Thus fell the second-largest settlement of Norway.
Entering the longhouse surrounded by his men, Vig learned Auh had already fled with his family.
"Forget it. We likely can't catch him."
He looked east at the snow-capped mountains, sighed, and ordered the longhouse and warehouses searched.
Bergen's lord was evidently wealthy. His bedchamber held two locked copper chests—one full of high-grade amber, the other packed with silver coins. The warehouses behind the longhouse were filled with furs and many imported British goods.
Among them: wheat, ironwork, woolen cloth, beer—Vig recognized that at least a third came from Tyne Town.
"He certainly doesn't look short on money… so why refuse to repay me?"
After half a day of inventory work, five scribes produced a detailed list. Vig skimmed it.
"One hundred pounds of silver, and forty suits of armor stripped from the warriors—all mine. The rest is distributed by regulation. Don't get greedy; the ships can't carry too much."
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