Legends Never Die: The Greatest Stage (ch. 134)

I would have liked to say that the final major battle of my conquest was a grand affair. That it was a last stand of all those who would resist me as my armies march on to connect my borders at Saxony. But to claim as such would be a lie, and not even a good one. In the aftermath of our second great victory, the tribes and clans along the Baltic Sea understood that resistance was futile.

Those that we propped up as rallying points found the armies underneath them melting away by the hour once it was clear that we were still fast approaching. In the month leading up to the final battle, we were besieged by those trying to negotiate terms of surrender, even offering to betray those who still intended to resist us. Most, however, simply set down their weapons and went home, waiting for the word that they now served me.

In comparison to the battles that came before, it was entirely lackluster. By the time we arrived on the chosen field, barely more than ten thousand people took to the field against us. It was foolish. Stubbornness and willful blindness, and an utter waste. But, I found that I had a strange respect for them when I stood across from them on the field. They refused to bend the knee, they refused to flee, and even knowing that they had no hope against me -- they still chose to fight and die rather than submit. 

The battle itself? It was a slaughter. They were outnumbered and outmatched, armed only with what weapons they had been able to scrounge up and their determination. They wanted no quarter and received none. Some surrendered when it was clear that the gods wouldn’t part the skies and deliver me a crushing defeat that they hoped, and those were spared.

Most, however, didn’t surrender. Even though it was clear that the battle had been lost, they still threw themselves into our spears and axes and swords. 

The result was a gruesome field of corpses like that I had never truly seen before. I spent roughly half of my life on the battlefield by this point, but I had never seen such a volume of people slain on a single field in a single place. The corpses piled up until they became small hills, blood flowed in rivers, and the stench… 

“Why… why didn’t they just…?” Ragnar said, his hand tightly clutching at mine, and his face was bloodless as he looked out at the gruesome field. He wasn’t a little boy anymore, even if he felt entirely too young. Eight years old. I was only a few years older than him when I killed my first man. When I went raiding for the first time. Fought in my first battle. 

Ragnar wasn’t me. The gods didn’t speak to him as they did me, but he benefited greatly from the Dynasty boons that I had chosen. He was quick-witted, charming, and took well to his training. He wasn’t me, but he was a prince of an empire now. And I could only afford to coddle him so much. 

So, I squeezed his hand reassuringly as I gave an answer, but I didn’t let him look away. “Pride. And fear,” I told him, watching as mercy was granted to those who were too far gone, while medical attention saved those who could be saved. “They feared the changes that I would bring, seeing it as a threat to their way of life. Their success and failures both. They clung to the dream of independence, even when they knew that the battle was lost well before we arrived.”

“Couldn’t have you…?” Ragnar asked, his tone hesitant. Like he wasn’t sure if he should ask. 

“I could have,” I admitted, knowing what he wanted to ask. There was the possibility that I could bring the territories in diplomatically, or with economic leverage, or with blackmail and bribes. “But our people value martial strength -- being able to fight, being able to win a battle, and being able to lead. Much of my reputation is built upon such things and… this approach lent well to my abilities.” 

Ragnar fell silent at that, looking out at the battlefield with me. He didn’t yet understand what it meant. He couldn’t. He was just a little boy, ignorant of the broader implications. All he could see was a field of corpses under the noon sun. So, I let go of his hand, making him look up at me. “It is a tradition to take the weapons of the fallen, so we can repurpose them into our arms, armor, and tools. I want you to help with the retrieval, Ragnar. For every blade that you retrieve… I will give you a bronze coin.”

“I don’t-” He started to deny with a shake of his head, but he cut himself off when I looked down at him. He didn’t want to do it, I knew. Yet, I gave him a gentle push forward, ushering him towards the battlefield and meeting the eyes of his huskarls. They gave me a sharp nod, knowing their task. 

Ragnar had his reservations, but he swallowed down his protests and did as I ordered. He approached one cooling corpse, looking a bit green, but he picked up a carving knife. He glanced back at me, almost pleading that would be enough, and wilted when he met my gaze before continuing with the task. 

It was a hard lesson, I knew. It was one that would serve him well. By the laws of our people, he was my heir, but it was too early to tell if that was a burden that he could carry. Even if he didn’t, however, as my son, he would be expected to lead. Our people saw war as a glorious thing and as a way to honor the gods. The stories always left out how gruesome it was. How bloody. How wasteful. 

Nearly ten thousand people died on this field, and they died for nothing. 

I admired their conviction and their bravery -- they knew they stood no chance, yet they fought to the last. I admired it as much as I cursed it because ten thousand people died on a field that they didn't need to. They were ruled by fear and doubts, and even when I toppled every argument that they could use against me, they still fought to the death because they were afraid of change. 

Ragnar made his trips, depositing the weapons taken from the dead at my feet. The first time, he all but begged me with his eyes that the first trip would be enough. By the third, he stopped. By the fifth, he was more determined and by the tenth, the shock had worn off. By the final trip, he had amassed a pile of weapons at my feet, and only stopped from returning to the field I reached out. 

“What should be done, Ragnar?” I asked him, catching him off guard until I gestured to the field. “These people were the last of the resistance. The ones that chose to fight and die even when defeat was certain. Yet, they hadn't always been so few. Mere months ago, they stood a hundred thousand strong. But with every victory, cowards left the army, until it was only them. Those cowards still walk the realm within my kingdoms. So, what should be done?” 

It wasn't the first time I had asked my children such questions -- thought exercises, as Alexios called them. Good for their development and thinking skills. However, it was the first time that the question wasn't in the realm of imagination. The sight before us gave a great deal more weight to the question. 

Ragnar didn't know how to answer for a long minute, his face scrunching with intense concentration. “A… Runestone?” He ventured, sounding wary of giving the wrong answer. He watched my reaction, and when I prompted him with a raised eyebrow, he continued. “A Runestone that praises them. Their bravery. It'll shame those that ran away, and it'll show that you respect them?” 

His answer still came out as a question, but it was a commendable answer. “A Runestone shall be erected then,” I said, earning a slight smile from him as his suggestion was accepted. The truth of it was, a Runestone was always going to be erected -- there was a chain of them going down the coast that marked every notable battle of the conquest. But he didn't need to know that. He needed to be rewarded for thinking like a prince. 

Meanwhile, the various Slavic tribes that bleed away from the army will find themselves dispersed throughout my kingdoms. The redistribution itself had been a great success thus far. Geatland, Sweden, Norway, and Finland all had their populations bolstered upwards of fifty thousand apiece. Meanwhile, the tribes and clans along the Baltic Coast had been shuffled around, surrounded by unfamiliar tribes rather than old allies and enemies. 

“So… it's done?” Ragnar asked me, and that was an excellent question, I could admit. I looked inward at the question given to me by the gods. 

Grand Quest Created!​

Objective: Unite the Baltic Sea

Description: Through Conquest, Diplomacy, or Guile, unite the lands around the Baltic Sea. Rewards are dependent on the method used to subjugate the territories. See Map for relevant territories that must be held.

Reward: 1 Boon. 1 Perk. 500 Prestige. 100 Renown

Objective: Subjugate Denmark

Reward: 1 Perk. 500 Prestige. 100 Renown.

Completed: Conquest

Objective: Subjugate Norway

Reward: 1 Perk. 500 Prestige. 100 Renown.

Completed: Diplomacy

Objective: Subjugate Geatland

Reward: 1 Perk. 500 Prestige. 100 Renown.

Completed: Conquest

Objective: Subjugate Sweden

Reward: 1 Perk. 500 Prestige. 100 Renown.

Completed: Conquest

Objective: Subjugate Sápmi

Reward: 1 Perk. 500 Prestige. 100 Renown.

Completed: Conquest

Objective: Subjugate Finland

Reward: 1 Perk. 500 Prestige. 100 Renown.

Completed: Conquest

Objective: Subjugate Novograd

Reward: 1 Perk. 500 Prestige. 100 Renown.

Completed: Conquest

Objective: Subjugate Estonia

Reward: 1 Perk. 500 Prestige. 100 Renown.

Completed: Conquest

Objective: Subjugate Lithuania

Reward: 1 Perk. 500 Prestige. 100 Renown.

Completed: Conquest

Objective: Subjugate Pomerania

Reward: 1 Perk. 500 Prestige. 100 Renown

Completed: Conquest

Total Reward: 1 Boon, 11 perks, 5500 Prestige, 1100 Renown

Bonus Objective: Complete the unification within 10 years.

Bonus Reward: Legendary Artifact

Of all the quests that I had completed, it offered the most rewards. The Prestige from the quest alone was enough to replace what I had spent on my Chosen and wives, even without considering how much I had gained with the conquest itself. The Renown, in particular, was a great reward as it would allow me to reach the end of one of the Dynasty branches. The boon, something like True Vision or my Map, was a great benefit. The Legendary Artifact? That, I had yet to see, but if it matched the quality of Gram or the Cloak of Fenrir? 

In short, the eleven perks were the least appealing reward for the quest. 

And yet… 

“No,” I admitted to him. “This was the easy part, I'm afraid.” I nearly laughed at the look Ragnar gave me. “They are united under my banner, that is true. But, what I have are twelve independent kingdoms that happen to be ruled by the same man.” Twelve kingdoms, counting Saxony which King Widukind was poised to bend the knee now that the conquest was over. “Now begins a very long and very tedious process of binding them together with laws, religious rites, economics, and bureaucracy." 

There was a reason why I chose this approach. Conquest allowed me to wipe the slate clean and enforce my way of doing things, even if the rewards in terms of perks was less than ideal by this point. The alternative was a decade, if not more, of binding tribes to my banner with marriages and promises. Over the course of three years, I laid a framework for the empire I would rule. Now I needed to expand upon it-

“But… you won't have to leave again, right?” Ragnar questioned, and that cut through my looming thoughts of the near future like Gram. 

“... no,” I reassured him. “I'll be staying home for quite some time, I think,” I told him, offering a hand for him to hold as we left the battlefield behind. “And by the time that it comes to leave again, you and Magnus would be old enough to come with me.” 

He flashed a boyish smile of pure joy, the horrors of the battlefield swiftly forgotten in the face of what he really wanted -- a family reunion. 

It was something that I quite wanted myself. While I had yet to see what the gods intended with the Legendary Artifact, I could be patient for that. Instead, I turned my attention to my Dynasty. 

I had thought long about what choices I would make with the Renown the conquest granted me. I could reach the end of a single branch, or I could take the first few choices of each branch. For a very long time, I was undecided as to what the best approach would be -- what would give my bloodline the most advantage? 

It was only on the eve of this battle when it struck me. 

I was twenty-one years old. Provided that I didn't fall ill, to a blade, or poison, I had a long reign ahead of me. It had been unthinkable before, but one day I would grow older. I would be a forty year old man- something I previously thought as ancient, but not when I could live up to eighty. Ninety. Even a hundred years old. 

There was no way of knowing if I would live that long, of course, but I had been focusing too much on the short term in what I could do for my bloodline. 

It was for that reason that I chose to reach the end of the Breeding Tree. 

Breeding III

Select a trait that will be more prevalent in your bloodline: 

Quick -- 5% increase in inexperienced gain

Hale -- Small health boost.

Comely -- An elevated baseline in attractiveness. 

Fecund -- 10% increase in fertility. 

It was best to be strong and smart, but it was better to be smart and weak than strong and dumb. That was my reasoning for choosing Quick as the trait that would become more prevalent.

Breeding IV

25% increase in fertility. Moderate health boost. -25% Pregnancy Complication Chance

Breeding V

+10 years to life expectancy, and Boon: Graceful Aging will be applied to Dynasty Members. There will be no skill loss due to age. Not applicable to age-related diseases. 

I was satisfied with my choices as they rolled in. My dynasty wouldn’t benefit from them for decades, but when Ragnar had children? Or grandchildren? The Legacies would push the momentum well beyond my lifetime. In ten generations from now? Twenty? I could only imagine what my dynasty would look like. 

It was something that the future generations would have to decide. 

…

It might have been premature at the time, but preparations to celebrate our triumph were long in the making as I took my army, twenty thousand strong, and I completed the loop that was now my territory. We marched along the coast, heading into Denmark through the border of Saxony, and then up a familiar path. 

The Danevirk was almost unrecognizable. Four years didn't seem like such a great amount of time, but it was looking at proof as we stepped onto the kingsroad. The miles long wood palisade on a dirt mound was nowhere to be seen. Instead, the palisade was replaced with tall stone walls with watchtowers every fifty yards or so, while before the wall was not a ditch but a moat. A wider and deeper one inland with stones, leaving a bridge as the only means to pass through the fortification. 

The Danevirk had been one of the first great projects completed, largely to discourage anyone from retaliating at the seat of my power while I was away. It felt good to walk beneath it, once more returning home, and the mud paths had given away to a long stone road. I sat at the head of the army, and with every village and town that we passed, we were celebrated. 

People cheered and threw flower petals, welcoming us as heroes. Not a single one of my warriors paid for their own drinks or a companion of the night anywhere we went. First, we went Hedeby and saw that it had grown well under the guidance of Kassandra, Thorkell's now wife. Then we saw the same as we took the longway, visiting Ribe. And then, finally, we returned to Alabu, Horrik's previous seat of power, and found it just as unrecognizable as the Danevirk. 

All the cities had grown by a considerable margin -- they were centerpieces and places of opportunity. However, as we made the trip to Sjaelland, I would have thought that our previous stops would have prepared us for what to expect when we reached Miklagard. 

I was sorely mistaken. 

The moment the army came into sight, the people of Miklagard cheered with such fervor that the air seemed to tremble with the force. They gathered on crowded streets and from overhead, throwing down more flowers and pedals. They danced in the streets, chanting names, and women grabbed warriors from the marching column just to give them a kiss. The joy in the capital was so loud that I only realized that music was playing when I saw instruments. 

I allowed myself a moment to bask in it, riding with Ragnar, who was determined to wave and smile at everyone we passed by. Something much easier said than done because the city itself had changed a great deal in the three years that I had been gone. Not to the point of being unrecognizable, of course, but it had developed considerably. 

Happiness: 95%

Quality of Life: 8/10

Population: 108,467

Population Growth: +8.5% increase per year

Wealth: 65,888

Security: 80% per pop

Education: 35% per pop

Religion: 99% Norse Paganism, 1% Norse Christianity

I was quite proud of how Miklagard had developed, and I knew that would only prove more true as time went by. The city was expanding, reaching a hundred thousand people in but a few years, and it bore that explosive growth grace that could only come from great preparation. All the while, I saw the construction of several monuments. 

It stole my breath away when I saw that the Colosseum's construction was well underway, as it shaped up to be every bit as glorious as the one I had seen in Rome, and I knew that once it was complete, it would surpass it in glory. There would be other monuments on the way -- great temples, a hippodrome, a library, a university, and more. I had painstakingly spent countless nights detailing what Miklgard would one day become and, thus far, the blueprint was holding strong. 

However, even incomplete, the Colosseum was still large enough to house the army and those who would bear witness to a monumental day. We passed through the gates into the colosseum, and in the center of it, I saw a raised platform. A stage where a number of people of note were gathered, but none more so that my wives and my children. 

My heart twisted when I saw Bjorn and Radahn -- both of them looking at Jill and Jasmine, searching for confirmation that I was their father. They weren’t babies. They were three years old, still so very young, but it felt like I had missed so much. They were joined by Scáthach and Aífe, the twin sisters standing next to each other without fussing or picking a fight. Magnus stood next to his mother, appearing as dignified as he could manage when he was vibrating with excitement. 

I had known that the conquest would take me from home for years, but seeing them was a balm to my spirit. 

Enough so that I almost missed the others that stood on the stage I, and my companions, rode towards while the rest of my army split off. Jill, Jasmine, and Morrigan were all there. As was my mother, my brothers, sisters, and nephews. And, with them, were Kings Hoffer and Windukind. 

The cheering swelled until I thought the Colosseum was going to crumble apart when the people saw me and the army. Their cries reached a fever pitch when I dismounted, walking up the steps of the platform alongside Astrid and Ragnar with my Chosen behind us. There was a lot I wanted to say, to everyone, but there wasn’t any time for it. Later, I told my mother with my gaze when I saw her eyes brimming with unshed tears. 

As I ascended the steps towards the highest platform, where my throne had been relocated, I saw that there was one person whom I didn’t recognize. He was a young man, around fourteen or fifteen if I had to guess. Small for his age, but well muscled, and both of his hands had blacksmith’s calluses. He seemed entirely overwhelmed when he have thrusted a pillow towards me and upon it…

The Legendary Artifact, I assume. 

It was a thing of beauty. I never thought that I would need a crown, not when the cloak I wore served the same purpose, but as I took it from the pillow, I was forced to revise that opinion. The crown was made of gold and black iron -- in the shape of fifteen swords that were pointed upwards, their crossguards interlocked by roots that held sizable precious gemstones in place. I tested its weight in my hands while the young man shuffled nervously, waiting my reaction. 

“Why fifteen swords?” I asked him, brushing a thumb over the crown. He seemed a bit caught off guard by the question, blinking at me like he never even considered it. 

“I don’t know?” The young man answered, tilting his head at the crown he had forged like it possessed a mystery that he wasn’t aware of. 

Fifteen swords. Fifteen kingdoms. 

“The gods spoke into your ear about my future plans, it seems,” I mused with some amusement and making his jaw drop. “What is your name?”

“Sindri. Uh, your grace,” he added after a moment, far more interested in the crown than me. I liked him already. 

“You did masterful work, Sindri,” I praised him, giving him a small nod before I stepped past him. I gazed out at the roaring crowd for a moment, seeing the adoration and joy in their faces. The vindication that their bet on me had proven right. 

Then, slowly, I lowered the crown upon my brow… and the addatage was quite accurate, I thought to myself as I took a seat in my throne before King Hoffer and King Windukind both approached in a long line of those to swear loyalty. 

Heavy was the crown indeed.