Legends Never Die: The Start of Something New (ch. 86) (Patreon)

Six months could pass deceptively quickly, I discovered. It felt like nothing more than a blink of an eye looking back at the months went by, but at the same time, so much happened during that time. Winter once again came and went without barely any notice except for the celebrations by my people. It didn't even get cold enough for a true chill in the air. Virtually all of my projects had taken massive strides towards completion.

Norlands prosperity had only increased. As the year long truce was rapidly dwindling, there were many on the border between the empires that feared that their homes would be burned. Most retreated further into their respective empires, but I found quite a few making their way to Norland. The population of my town was swelling, eclipsing ten thousand ordinary citizens without counting my army.

The mercenaries that flocked to my banner were being integrated into the city, becoming its guard and men-at-arms. It was a slow trickle, as few met my standards, but that trickle was still something. The town itself was thriving as my trade ships were in full swing, visiting every port in the Mediterranean, loading themselves with goods before coming back at my market.

Olek and Astrid’s project to reform the army was making progress as well. Olek was rather fond of the gladiatorial training method, and we tweaked it to suit our desires. The week for my standing army was now broken up between days of exercise and rest days. On the first day of the week, my army would lift heavy stones for hours at a time. On the second, they would recover. On the third, they would run laps through a designated trail in their armor, or carrying heavy packs. On the fourth day, they rested. On the fifth was more weight training and sparring. Six was rest. The seventh was light exercise to prepare for another long week.

The men grumbled but most accepted the training plan. Olek was looking to implement his own ideas on the lighter days – training tactics, formations, and survival skills.

Six months was enough to make the effects known on the army. They were stronger, they had vastly more endurance, and they fought better in training.

However, that wasn't all that had changed. “This is going to be a road,” I told Ragnar as he sat on my lap as we overlooked one of my latest projects. “Merchants from all over the world will come right here to sell treasures from their homeland. Roads will make it easier for them to move around, and when things are easier, it makes people want to do them.” I continued to explain to my son, though I knew that he didn't understand a word yet. Even if he did, he was too busy chewing on the wooden warrior I had carved for him to play with.

I had adopted the Roman method of road construction, which involved a long trench dug up. The base layer was sand, followed by a layer of gravel, then a layer of crushed clay and mortar, followed by a layer of cement, with the upper most layer being stone or concrete bricks. It was a large project, but I found that I had the workforce for it. It was also excellent training for burgeoning part of my army. A Corp of engineers.

Which led me to borrowing an idea I saw from King Widukind – using my army as a construction force. It helped train my engineers and it got my men used to the physical labor. Some of the accounts I had read of Roman General's were defined by their ability to build over treacherous terrain or construct massive fortresses wherever they happened to be.

“We were lucky. Crete has good stone that we can quarry from. There's a lot of marble, so that is what Norland shall be built with,” I continued, resting a hand on Ragnar as I urged my horse forward to get a better view of the ongoing project. It would take a few years, but all of Norland would have stone roads. For now, we were starting with a main road that led from the harbor to the Longhouse and library.

The library itself was another project that was coming along well. The foundation was set and they were building the framework as we spoke. I could already imagine what it would look like once finished, and my scribes were already working to create copies of texts to fill it with. Six months was enough time for those with a talent for learning and translating to make themselves known and I had them working to train others while working on the hoard of knowledge at my disposal.

“Your father is helping them build it all. Learning from the mistakes we make along the way because there are some things not even the Romans know. Nor the Abbasids, for that matter.” I continued, speaking to my son as if he could understand me. “That is very important – you have to learn from your mistakes. It's not failure to make a mistake, but it is if you repeat it.”

In response, Ragnar gargled a giggle as he determinedly chewed on the head of his toy warrior. His first teeth had already started to come in, and since then, he was constantly chewing on anything he could get his hands on. I glanced down at him, my hand rested on his stomach to keep him close. His red hair had filled out, and he looked up at me with Astrid's blue eyes.

A decision I had put off for six months tickled in the back of my head and I had no idea what I should do with it.

Family Legacies have been unlocked!

Secure your bloodline by giving them bonuses that shall endure so long as your bloodline does.

Breeding: Children have a 30% increased chance of inheriting positive traits from parents. Children have a 30% increased chance of inheriting new positive genes. Children have a 30% decreased chance of inheriting negative traits.

Customs: Dynasty members learn foreign languages 50% easier for second language. Third language decreases to 25%. Forth language decreases to 10%.

Martial: Children gain martial experience 15% faster between the ages of 5-18.

Diplomacy: Children gain diplomatic experience 15% faster between the ages of 5-18.

Stewardship: Children gain stewardship experience 15% faster between the ages of 5-18.

Intrigue: Children gain intrigue experience 15% faster between the ages of 5-18.

Learning: Children gain experience 5% to all skills faster between the ages of 1-18.

It was a boon from the gods. A way to safeguard my dynasty. Each choice acted as a boon that would help my children and grandchildren grow into themselves. Perhaps to even step out of my shadow. However, I was paralyzed with indecision on what exactly I should pick.

Legacies worked almost like Prestige, only it had its own separate resource called Renown. How I gathered Renown was a bit strange – it was tied to titles. Leadership. I didn't have very much of it, only 250, and most of that stemmed from my time as a mercenary captain. I earned more as lord of Crete, but it was a slight increase and the two sources didn't stack. It only factored the largest source. As it was, I earned some once a month, and at the rate things were, I wouldn't gain another legacy for years.

That was where my children came into play. As the description said, a hundred of the highest ranked members of my dynasty would contribute to the monthly total. If I became a king, I would earn one Renown a month. If my dynasty grew until it was filled with kings, that was 100 Renown a month. It made gaining additional Legacies far more feasible given that there would he a slight increase in price with each boon taken.

Given the logistics of the task, I doubted I could make a hundred kings of my dynasty. Nor did I think I should. Meaning that there were only so many legacies that I could acquire in my lifetime so I had to make them count. Especially when each legacy unlocked better legacies in that same… tree. Picking Martial would make my children master war with far greater ease. Learning would allow them to learn everything slightly easier, but how much of a difference would 5% really make?

Was it worth taking a less immediately useful legacy now in the hopes that the later picks would make up for it?

If I choose Breeding, would the bonuses apply to Ragnar? Because I found the thought of any child in my family being born free of ailment an appealing one.

I didn't know. So, for six months, I hesitated to make a decision. I had time. Most of the bonuses didn't start to apply until Ragnar turned one year old at the earliest.

“It'd be an easier choice to make if you could tell me what you wanted,” I told him, patting him on the belly and earning a gummy smile with a few milk teeth. “Will you be a warrior? A scholar? A merchant?” I asked him, trying to get a hint but my son offered none. And even six months later, the thought didn't fail to exhilarate me – my son. With a shake of my head, I knew I wouldn't make a decision now. “There is still time to decide.”

For now, I dismissed the window and continued to overlook the grounds. “The dwarves have yet to contact me now that I am lord of this land. So, until then, I am helping myself to their treasures.” I continued, speaking to Ragnar. The dwarves would care little for stone but they would guard their precious metals and jewels jealousy. So far, there didn't seem to be any, which could explain why I hadn't been contacted. The dwarves simply saw no value in dwelling underneath the soil of this island.

As my horse marched forward, I saw the stone houses that were being built. The road layout had to be established beforehand while rents were decided. The whole town was up and running as it transformed itself from a hastily constructed village to a deliberately designed town. And soon, city. All the while the issues that cropped up were meticulously recorded.

Drainage issues. Noise complaints. Street layouts. Accessibility. Building placement. Market placement. Where foot traffic was at its worst and why some parts of the city hardly saw any. Resource expenditure. Guard patrols. Reported crimes. And, the greatest issue of all…

Religious tension.

My presence acted as a bucket of cold water over burning flames, but the most I could do is reduce the flames to embers. And only temporarily. The issues were slowly becoming worse as the population of Muslims and Christians started to match the number of my people. It emboldened them. There were little signs of it as I made my way through Norland, the people parting for me.

Arguments were interrupted. The guards reported discrimination -- Christians barring Muslims from their stores, Muslims refusing to sell to Christians their wares. There were some attacks. And I knew the issues would only get worse when the empires clashed once more or if I set sail with my army to raid once more.

True Sight marked out a number of people that were red. Some of which were being escorted away by some guards -- one of which was Kassandra, the woman Olek had mentioned. She reminded me of Astrid, only with darker colored skin, hair, and eyes. In particular how she was handling one of the men that had been getting ready to throw stones at newly arriving Muslims.

“Lord Wolf-Kissed,” she greeted with a small curt nod as we passed.

“He's another instigator. Give him to Morrigan's people,” I informed, not even slowing down. Fear flickered across the man's face, realizing he had been caught, but Kassandra's grip was like iron. There were plenty like him. I'm not sure if it was a single plot or a dozen that all had the same goal -- to use the religious tension to give me headaches. Which was why I was was giving him to Morrigan.

Six months was also enough time for her projects to start seeing results. She tapped into the Michalis’ network of merchants and spies while developing her own small group of people to help investigate what plots she discovered. I'm not entirely sure what she was doing with them -- the prisoners or her group -- but Morrigan had fully embraced her role as a spy master.

“Of course. Also, my lord, there was a report from our patrol fleet -- a Francisco ship is heading to Norland. They're coming to speak to you,” she informed and I frowned.

“Thank you,” I replied, not sure what to make of the message as I continued on. My merchant ships had started visiting Francia by its southernmost border. Though, they did so by wearing crosses and falling proclaiming themselves to be Christians to get better deals. If it was a merchant vessel, I could understand but that didn't sound like what this was.

I shifted directions, heading up to the Longhouse and I smiled lightly when I led my horse onto the stone roads that had already been completed. It was proof that Norland was slowly becoming the town that I wanted it to be. I might even see it fully realized by the time we set sail for Denmark. It almost made me want to rebuild the longhouse because by the time Norland was done, it would be the most shabby building in the city.

Grabbing Ragnar by the back of his shirt, I picked him up and got off the horse, carrying him into the Longhouse. The doors were opened for me and it was there I saw Astrid and Jasmine amusing themselves.

“I was wondering where you got off too,” Astrid said, lowering her sword that she had been using. Now that she was free of Ragnar, she had taken up swordplay with almost religious zealotry, having missed it greatly. But she was happy to set it aside to rush over, taking Ragnar from me and planting a kiss on his cheek even as he wielded his toy as a crudgule and tried to bludgeon her with it.

Jasmine was seated at a nearby table, a book in her lap as she smiled softly at us. “What did little Ragnar think of his lands?” Jasmine asked, and I snorted.

“Dreadfully uninteresting I think,” I replied. As time passed, Jasmine seemed to find herself more at ease. She spent more time with Jill and Astrid. They were becoming friends, I think. Or they were friends. Even her pet tiger started to relax, and now he was coiled around Jasmine like a large house cat.

It made things difficult for me, in a way. Because the truce had but a few months left and that put me in a awkward position. Jasmine was my hostage, but she was also the hostage of the Roman Empire. Her life was being used as a shield to keep the Abbasids at bay. If the Abbasids attacked, or in the more likely case, the Romans did… her life was expected to be forfeit. I would be expected to kill her.

“Perhaps he would enjoy a story more? I've been reading about the wisdoms of King Solomon. He might take after his father,” Jasmine offered, holding up the book to show a leather bound cover, the title written in arabic. I could barely make it out -- Arabic was a difficult language to read, I found. It was just very different from Nordic runes, Latin, or Greek.

“If he doesn't, then maybe it could help him sleep,” I replied. Since his teeth started coming in, Ragnar was restless and in pain. He usually let people know in the dead of night when everyone was trying to sleep. Jasmine flashed a smile at that while I caught Ragnar's toy when he threw it, and before he could get upset that he threw it, I gave it back to him.

Jasmine was proving to be something of a surprise. It started slowly, but I think she realized the depths of her ignorance that day on the farm. Since then, more often that not, I found her with a book or a scroll, usually one of the texts that her brother had sent over as part of our deal. She was also helping me learn to read Arabic and I found her to be a much better teacher than Alim.

“We will be receiving guests today. Has anyone told Jill?” I asked, watching as Astrid took a seat on the floor and let Ragnar loose -- he started crawling immediately, determined to explore the Longhouse once more.

“She's already getting everything ready,” Astrid replied, a smile in her voice as she watched Ragnar. “The scouts said they were Frankish. Should we be concerned? You didn't make a lot of friends there,” she noted and I took a seat in my throne, considering the possibility.

Charlemagne hadn't been idle the past few years. “If Charlemagne wants revenge, there are easier targets,” I said, my lips thinning. Since the rebellion, Charlemagne had been stomping out a few of his own. We had tarnished his reputation, defeated several of his armies, and delivered his first true loss on the battlefield. His nobles, sensing weakness, attempted to pounce on the opportunity.

Instead, they found themselves crushed. Their lands were stripped from them, their families either killed or forced to serve the church as nuns or priests. Interestingly, instead of giving out the newly acquired lands, Charlemagne retained ownership of them. He appointed something he called a Lord Temor over the lands, who would rule them in his name for a number of years. Or, as I had heard them being called, False Lords.

There was trouble brewing in the Frankish empire, but time was revealing that Charlemagne was stronger than he had been before the Saxony rebellion. Resentful lords were replaced by men appointed by Charlemagne, who owed him personal loyalty for any success they found. And if any were found to be incompetent or treacherous, Charlemagne gave himself legal means to remove their temporary lordship for any reason he deemed satisfactory.

“I don't think he desires vengeance. He wants something else,” I said and, despite myself, I was very curious what these messengers had to say.

I didn't have to wait that long to find out. Some hours later, the frankish ship pulled into my harbor and the envoys stepped off and made the trek up to the Longhouse. I received a description of them as they approached, and what I heard only raised doubts. Doubts that were blown away when the double doors swung open and I was greeted by two very familiar faces.

One wore a simple priest robe and an adorned hat that I recognized marked him as a Christian bishop. He was thinner than when I last saw him, and he grew a short beard. He carried himself with a quiet confidence but it was undercut by hints of uncertainty as his gaze met mine.

He was joined by a warrior wearing plate armor, wielding a short metal spear while a long braid of light pink hair peeked out of the helm he wore.

I couldn't keep my disbelief out of my voice when I greeted them. “Otto? Astolfo?”