Legends Never Die: Patronage (ch. 67) (Patreon)

Constantinople was no less incredible than I recalled, I thought as my lone ship sailed into a familiar harbor. For all the troubles coming to this land had brought me, despite all of the challenges, merely looking upon the city and its opulent grandeur reminded me why I was here in the first place. It was a testament of what could be accomplished with the right knowledge applied in the correct ways.

I stood on the bow of my ship, dressed in finery but in the distinct clothing of my people. A red silk tunic that was embroidered with flying ravens at the hem, black trousers and a pair of boots that came up to my knee. I had taken Jill's advice and trimmed down my beard, making it more orderly and making sure that the wolf kiss upon my neck was clearly seen while my hair was in a long braid that fell to the center of my back. My sword was at my belt that was marked with gold and embroidered running wolves. To my people, I was dressed like a king like no other.

Despite my wishes, Morrigan had accompanied me on the journey -- the argument that she presented was simply too sound. I was walking into a den of vipers, and with her there, I could see the web of relationships amongst the high nobility. The Strategos. The Counts. The Lord Mayors and the wealthy. Jill and Astrid had wanted to come, but I wouldn't risk Astrid or our child, and while her presence would have been beneficial, Jill simply wasn't necessary. There was a very real possibility that blood would be shed, and I would have my hands full protecting Morrigan through the city.

“Your studies have suffered,” Alexios pointed out to me as the ship sailed into the harbor, a welcoming party prepared to greet us. They were all marked as gray, and I was unfamiliar with all of them. “In every topic save those related to war.,” he added, his tone marked with evident disapproval. I swallowed a wince, knowing that he was all too right.

I came here to learn, and yet I found myself pulling ahead in Stewardship more than I did Learning. I spoke Arabic reasonably well, as I did Persian, yet neither had granted me a Learning gift from the gods. I studied the exploits of past generals, and while I did learn plenty, there was no perk. Either the gods were displeased with me in some capacity, or I had been under the wrong impression of what counted towards Learning.

“I find them easier,” I admitted to Alexios while I kept an eye on an apprehensive Michalis. He was dressed in rich robes of silk, lavishly embroidered with fine stitching with gemstones embedded into the cloth while he wore rings of heavy gold. Our time apart had been kind to him and his influence had clearly grown. “But you are right. I'm not challenging myself,” I said, knowing that was the crux of the issue.

I wasn't learning topics that I found difficult to ponder. I wasn't thinking. Polyglot made it easy to learn languages, and while it was very convenient for me, the ease of the learning robbed it of the experience. And-

I was distracting myself. “I'll do better,” I told Alexios, and he seemed pleased with me identifying my shortcoming. Though, that was only the case if this conversation went well, and there was a very real possibility that it wouldn't, I reminded myself as the ship began to slow. Then, with a thump of wood against wood, I knew that we had arrived at our destination.

The greeting was very different from the first time I came here, at least, for as soon as I stepped onto the dock the party that stood at the end of it began to play music. Soft flutes and drums with some boys singing a hymn -- all of them watching me with obvious interest even as they sang. At the head of the group was a man in robes with a heavy looking token around his neck. He greeted me warmly with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, “Most noble Siegfried. You bless the city with your arrival,” he lied. “You and your lady wife.”

Morrigan sneered so hard it was a wonder she didn't pull something, “I am not his wife, you oaf.” Her Greek still carried an accent, but she spoke it rather well. There was a smile tugging at her painted black lips when she saw a brief expression of panic flicker on the man's face.

“My utmost apologies. Your… mistress, then,” he hedged. And it seemed that bringing a mistress to a party thrown by the Emperor was considered rude. I was well past the point of caring. “Please, allow us to escort you to the imperial palace where the festivities shall begin-- fifteen days and fifteen nights of feasting, entertainment, and music to welcome the new year.” He said, stepping back to reveal a carriage.

“We would be glad to. Naturally, my men shall follow,” I replied, my voice dry. The answer was self-evident-- it was expected for nobility to be followed by personal guards and servants. That wasn't why I was asking. I wanted to see his reaction to hearing that I would be joined by two dozen men. My warrior companions, each equipped with a long shirt of riveted chainmail, a dane axe, and a round shield. Not an invincible force by any means, but a notable one.

There wasn't any reaction in the messenger's face. “Of course, Lord Siegfried,” he replied without hesitation. Either the ambush would be so overwhelming that he didn't foresee problems, there wasn't one at all, or he was simply ignorant of it. No matter, I decided, approaching the carriage and getting in it. Morrigan accepted my hand to help her up, if only because of the tightness of the black dress that she wore.

It was a dark velvet that hugged her closely. Her golden necklace still hung at her neck, but it was over a white silk undershirt that clasped around her neck with a large ruby. Black raven feathers adorned a shoulder, the only shoulder that possessed a sleeve that loosened considerably at the elbow. Her other pale arm was left unadorned, save for the golden trinkets that she collected adorning her wrist. It was a striking dress, and very clearly Morrigan rather than Norse or Roman. She wore it well, even if it did restrict her movement.

“They aren't chasing us off, at least,” Morrigan remarked in Norse.

“The precautions are unnecessary. You have been given an invitation by the Emperor himself -- to attack you now would shame them,” Michalis stated, sitting across from me. Unfortunately, Alexios wouldn't be joining us. He only made the trip because Michalis, rather accurately, believed that I would only believe the invitation if he was there to verify it. “Worse, you risk insulting the Emperor with your caution. Everyone will see it as you not trusting his word.”

“Or that he's taking his duties on Crete very seriously. Enough so that he braved the waters himself with a minimal guard to leave as many men as possible in Nordland,” Morrigan replied, her tone biting and Michalis visibly swallowing a sigh.

I turned my gaze to a small window, watching the city go by as I heard Michalis continue. “I merely wish for the meeting to go well. This is an opportunity. Chares’ influence has slipped, and if we make the right connections during the celebration, we can secure our position over him.” There was greed in his voice. Hunger. He had done very well for himself with our combined efforts, and he wanted to take another step further. I understood. I wanted Chares done with so I could focus on more pressing matters. “That means putting our best foot forward.”

“Unless you intend for us to return to Crete for a full guard, your complaining accomplishes little,” Morrigan rebuked. “T'is a wonder what you hope to accomplish with wasting your breath beyond wasting our time.” To that, Michalis hid a sour look by looking away, his gaze flickering to me as if to say ‘get your woman in line.’

I ignored the petty argument -- merely another in a long line of them because Morrigan amused herself by needling Michalis. In favor, I turned my attention to the people that we passed by. They were celebrating and feasting. Fifteen days of rejoicing to welcome the new year. To think, I had barely spent a winter here. It felt a great deal longer. Still… the timing was a little off, but the celebrations themselves could be mistaken for Yule, even if I saw no sacrifices to honor the gods.

My gaze drifted to the imperial palace, every bit as grand as when I had first seen it. Swallowing thickly and steeling my nerves, I looked to Morrigan as we approached, “Stay close to me, no matter what. I will need your eyes, and if this goes poorly, I need to make sure you get out.” I told her in Germanic, catching Michalis’ attention. Morrigan's golden gaze met mine for a moment before she offered a small nod.

And, with that, the carriage rolled to a stop in front of the palace and the door was opened for us. I was the first to step out, finding that the stairs were flanked by handsome soldiers -- my gaze went over the layer plate armor. My own attempts at producing it were poor, but seeing it again made me curious. The large double doors were pushed open, revealing a veritable army of servants that lined the walls for no other purpose beyond carrying fine pottery, arts, and items of exquisite craftsmanship.

Morrigan was on my arm as we stepped forward, passing the doorway and officially entering the palace. Music drifted in the air -- stringed instruments that I didn't recognize, and more boys singing like girls. The overwhelming grandeur of the palace was still very much overwhelming -- when I first walked the halls, the casual decorations were out. They were still enough to buy an army, but they weren't trying to beat it over your head how obscenely wealthy the Empire was.

Unlike now. The servants were practically shoulder to shoulder, each carrying an item that made me want to stop to stare at it on a cushion of purple silk. Vases, pitchers, cups, swords, armor, textiles -- each more finely crafted than the last. I had prepared myself for it this time, but I still felt overwhelmed by the sheer disparity in… everything. It wasn't a fair comparison in the least as my own settlement had been standing for less than half a year, barely a fourth of a year, but I suddenly found it difficult to feel proud of it when I was surrounded by… this.

I kept it off of my face at least. Or, I hope I did as Morrigan and I walked through the halls with Michalis and my guard trailing behind me. Morrigan looked around with a gaze that could best be described as hungry. She wanted everything. Not just in the hall, but in the palace itself.

It would take time, and no small amount of effort, but I resolved myself once again -- I was here for their secrets to success. I let myself be distracted, but that was the core of the reason why I was here.

Another set of large double doors swung open, revealing a large open room. It wasn't the throne room, I noticed. Though, their sizes were comparable, which was mind boggling in itself. The royal colors hung from banners, lining the walls while the singing came from a bunch of boys on a platform. The room was filled with people -- minor nobility, the wealthy and influential, an army of servants, and the room was so full that the numbers spilled out into the garden.

Our arrival went unnoticed for the most part as dozens upon dozens of people talked amongst themselves. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Morrigan's gaze flickering, memorizing the connections between people. I, however, used True Vision.

Nearly a third of the room was marked in red.

“This should prove interesting, if nothing else,” I remarked dryly. Those that were marked red weren't actively looking at us. Most seemed completely unaware of us. I didn't recognize any of them either. I reasoned that the majority considered me their enemy by virtue of them being friends with one of my enemies, or due to religious differences. Or they disliked me due to my recent success. It could be anything, really.

We stepped onto the floor as I swept my gaze over the crowd, some taking notice of us as we neared. If only because I now stood a head taller than most of them with my latest growth spurt. Now, Thorkel was the only one that was taller than me, and I was likely to outgrow him by the time I turned eighteen. They seemed curious in large part, though a few scrunched up their noses at me. I heard a quiet muttering as word of my arrival began to spread, telling me that I was of interest.

Michalis, however, was greeted with far more warmth. “Lord Simon! How wonderful it is to see you,” Michalis broke off from us rather quickly, approaching a man in his mid twenties with a friendly smile. I didn't know the man, but he was marked gray, which meant he was at least not an enemy.

“Michalis intends to betray him,” Morrigan informed with a low whisper in my ear. “T'is impersonal based on the color of the thread. A stepping stone.”

I hummed noncomentingly. It was faintly annoying that he broke off from us so easily, but I understood the move. Michalis was a political animal, I was coming to realize. He was making the most of the support that we gave even as he tried to avoid association. Though, I knew the moment that I found the favor of the Emperor or the Queen Dowager, that I'd find him hanging off of me like an ornament.

For now, though, it suited both of our interests, so I continued onward and paid him no mind. My expanded vision caught the glances of the nobility-- most looking on in faint interest, others curling their lips as if they smelled something foul. I waited for the other shoe to drop as I paid idle interest to the entertainment-- jugglers, swordswallowers, and the most impressive of them all, the flame spitters.

It was as heat washed over my face as one of them spat a stream of fire into the air that a servant approached. “Lord Siegfried… His Imperial Highness extends an invitation to the pavilion in the garden,” he informed in Greek. I offered the man a small nod before I followed him, heading to the gardens behind the palace.

I felt Morrigan's grip tighten on my arm, and I knew she was every bit as tense as I was even if she refused to show it. There were more festivities to be found -- contests, promises of races, and even animals that were put on display. What was so fascinating about a deer, I would likely never know. But, I had little time to ponder it as the pavilion sat in the heart of the garden, isolated from the rest of it to give the illusion of privacy.

There, I saw the Emperor. He was every bit the boy he had been the last time I saw him, though now his gaze betrayed interest in the activities around us. He sat beside his mother, the Dowager Irene, who placed a hand on his shoulder as they shared the throne. She was radiant, her expression a carefully crafted mask as she wore a bejeweled crown and what had to be lengths upon lengths of silks.

They were joined by familiar faces. The two that were of note were Strategos Tatzates and Strategos Michael Lachanodrakon -- both stood by the throne, dressed in finery, the latter openly glaring at me while the former wore a smile that didn't reach his eyes. Beneath them were two more faces that I recognized -- Staurakios and Aetios. They, and the good thirty guards around the pavilion watched our approach with the utmost caution, evaluating us as much as we did them.

Morrigan clutched me closer and without moving her lips, she spoke in the barest of whispers. “Tatzates intends to betray the Emperor and lusts for his mother.”

I… almost wished that she had held off on telling me that until this conversation was done with, but it was useful information nonetheless. I swallowed a lump in my throat as we were stopped at the pavilions entrance by the guards. It was there that we bowed.

Right. Here came what was likely to be the most important conversation of my near future.

“Your majesty -- please grant me the pleasure of beheading this heathen,” Strategos Michael began, setting us off to a wonderful start. “He has come here on false presences and conspires to build an army to strike at our hearts. He certainly stayed his hand when our enemies were plundering our heartland.” Unsurprisingly, he was marked red.

I had learned a little more about the man since our paths last crossed -- Michael was a zealot. He had been the late Emperor Leo's staunchest supporter, his right hand man, and one that didn't hesitate to raze his own territory and people when it came to the iconoclast issue. A tried and tested general by any measure.

Tatzates scoffed, “It suits you poorly to lay the blame on another for your own inability to protect your territory.” He jabbed verbally, making Michael’s jaw clench as he shot a glare at his peer. “I've sent spies to verify it myself. As I know you have. Lord Siegfried hardly stood idly by and waved the Abbasids on -- he rebuffed an attack of twenty thousand with a mere two. If he were a Roman, I dare say he would have received a triumph for his heroic victory.”

It was difficult to like Tatzates, I decided even as he heaped praise upon me. Simply because I knew that he would heap blame just as easily if it was convenient for him. The only reason he was praising me now was because it made his rival look poorly.

“There is the issue of the army that is being raised,” Staurakios interjected, his voice smooth and unruffled as he bypassed the brewing argument. “Five thousand men is a full legion. Not exactly what I would call a traditional mercenary band.”

“What is there to discuss? The Pagan lied to us. He claimed to act as a mercenary, but the truth of the matter is that he built a base of operations and when it was completed, he sent for reinforcements.”

“Then why is he here?” Aetios ventured, his tone every bit as smooth as Staurakios's. He seemed to have risen in position since we last met. I imagine I had a hand in that, one way or another. “If he truly meant to betray us, then what would he hope to gain by coming here? Why not simply ignore the summons and launch an attack? Why fight the Abbasids and not instead join forces with them?”

The very worst part of it was that they were speaking in Latin, and I had to pretend that I didn't understand a word that they said. The Emperor seemed vaguely interested in the conversation while Dowager Irene sat in silence, her gaze sharp as any blade.

“Perhaps we might find more answers if we were to direct these questions to him?” Dowager Irene interjected lightly in Latin, making the others fall silent. Then, to me, she spoke Greek, “You have our gratitude for your patience, Lord Siegfried. As you might imagine, there have been certain… questions that have been raised in recent times with the… pilgrims that have trekked to join you, as well as the recent success of your settlement. Nordland, was it?” She asked as if she didn't already know.

“I would imagine so,” I agreed. “I am here to assure you of any worries that you might have, and assure you of my intentions.” I said, opening the door but offering nothing else.

It was Staurakios that spoke up, “These… pilgrims seem to be under the impression that you are a.. god.” He ventured, and there was some hesitance in his voice. Michael sneered, baring his teeth in a snarl. If looks could kill then I'd be dead a hundred times over.

“I did not expect them. If I had, then I would have warned you about their arrival long before they came. I only discovered their existence with their arrival in Nordland,” I stated, and I saw doubt. “However, they do not consider me to be a god. They consider me to be the son of one -- Thor, the God of Warriors and Farmers due to my red hair and talents for war.”

I could tell that Michael was chewing on something, veins bulging in his face. He hated me. I was an affront to everything that he believed me and he couldn't tolerate my existence. However, he swallowed it down -- that, I imagine, was only due to the fact that his position was greatly diminished by the ravishing of his lands. His failures in his duty.

“Do you consider yourself to be this… son of Thor?” Staurakios questioned, sounding faintly curious now.

“No. My father was Erik, a farmer,” I stated, and I saw expressions of flickering surprise. “Perhaps Thor’s blood does run through my veins, but at most, it is a distant ancestor.”

“A farmer?” Dowager Irene echoed, and of all the things to get caught up on, that seemed to be an odd one. “Your father was a farmer? Are you not wed to a princess?” She questioned, and I think she was prodding my story because she felt like she found a hole in it.

I imagine it would sound rather odd without context.

“He was and I am,” I confirmed. “I won much renown in Francia, enough so that my mother was able to arrange a marriage to a Jarl- a powerful count. However, even then, I intended to sail to Constantinople to see the lands of myth and legend. But, while my fleet of ships was being constructed, I decided that my army needed a whetstone to sharpen itself against, else their skills would rust. I conquered the other counts in a land called Norway, and decided that as part of Astrid's dowry, I would give a crown and a kingdom, making her a princess and her father a king.”

Tatzates gave me an odd look. I recognized it. It was as if he was trying to tell how much money was in my pocket before he tried to reach into it. Staurakios and Aetios, however, seemed ambivalent. They weren't as surprised by the story. Dowager Irene, most important of them all, seemed interested. And that was exactly what I wanted.

“You forged a kingdom and gave it away?” She asked, an odd note in her voice that I couldn't quite identify.

“I had no need of it,” I answered bluntly. “And there was hardly a point. My heart was set on sailing here, and at best, I could have been called an absent ruler.”

She held up a hand when Michael began to speak, cutting him off. “One of the issues that had you summoned was the founding of Nordland. There are those that saw it as a rather… liberal interpretation of the privileges granted to you. They said that you intended to claim the land for yourself and forge a kingdom with it.”

My lips thinned and I shook my head, “I have no intentions of staying in the Mediterranean, your Highness.” Then I paused for a moment, my lips curling down into a frown. “There is a kingdom that I desire. One that I shall take,” I began, and I saw Michael start to reach for his sword. “It is a kingdom called Denmark, and it is far to the north. Beyond even what Rome conquered at the height of its glory. There is a man there, and he and his kin are guilty of the most heinous of crimes. They murdered my brothers and my father.”

The raw anger that leaked into my voice gave credence to my story. “I was naive. I trusted the King of Denmark, who was once a Jarl, but rose to his position with my help. But I didn't understand I had become a threat to his crown, and he would tolerate me no more after he used me. One by one, he and his son murdered my family and chased them out of their homes, the land where my grandfather and great grandfather's bones were buried. They nearly managed to kill me.”

It wasn't an accurate retelling. But, I knew that it was more enthralling. After all, it was the story that I heard told about me around campfires. What I needed was her interest and favor rather than an accurate retelling of my failures.

“Yet,” Staurakios interjected, “Here you are. Building a city and an army in a far off land.” He had his doubts.

“My failures revealed my shortcomings to me. I could have taken my vengeance on Horrik and his kin after the war in Francia, but… I would have made for a poor king. I didn't know enough to understand what I didn't know. I simply understood that I fell short when I compared myself to examples of fine kings -- King Widukind and King Charlemagne.” That last name got something of a response.

“You are here to learn,” Dowager Irene repeated my words back to me. I don't think she really believed them until just now.

“I sought to trade so I might understand it better. I sought to build a city so I could understand the inner workings of them. I requested access to your university because I heard it was a great repository of knowledge. I am here to learn,” I repeated. “If I might be so bold, there is nothing that you can offer me that would make me stay in this land. But, until I set sail once more, back to my homeland, hopefully a little wiser, I am at your disposal.”

Dowager Irene shifted at that, and she understood that the words were for her and her alone. More so than even the Emperor, simply because he was a boy without a single thought in his head that hadn't been whispered there by his mother.

“Point me at your enemies and I shall see them fall. All so that I be given the chance to learn all that this land has to teach,” I finished.

And I saw it.

I had her favor.