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Legends Never Die (Ahistorical/CKIII Gamer)

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Recognition
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    • "A truce?" I echoed upon hearing the news, two weeks after Gerald had set sail for Denmark and Norway. A full month since we raided up and down the coast. I scratched at my bearded chin, my gaze flickering over to Astrid and Jill, while Michalis sat across from me. Like each time I saw him, he was dressed richer than before -- he had started wearing thick golden rings around each finger, his clothing was adorned with gold and silver.

    I was likely very close to completing his quest. All except for destroying everyone who had stolen his families lands from him. Mostly on account of the fact that I haven't taken any action against Strategos Michael. It would be nice to get a Diplomacy perk.

    Michalis nodded, "The truce was called for after the battle, but it took weeks to come to terms both sides would agree to. Those terms are a withdrawal for the Abbasids, and forbidding any military action against each other for the duration of a year."

    Out of the corner of my expanded vision, I saw Jasmine listening in, hidden away behind a pillar while Alim translated our words in a whisper into her ear. I glanced down at my cup of mead -- something that had become exceptionally valuable now that we drank most of it and lacked the means to make more. "So, they'll each take a breath and prepare for another bout?" I ventured, mulling over the news. I would have preferred a more decisive treaty that, hopefully, would have covered the length of my stay.

    "Essentially, yes. I've heard that Caliph Al-Mhadi has taken a grievous wound that may see the young Prince Harun on the throne sooner rather than later," Michalis informed and I heard a soft gasp from Princess Jasmine as she heard the news. "I suspect that they want to secure the succession and upon his ascension to the throne, resume the campaign against us."

    Annoying.

    I could have had the Caliph as a hostage.

    I brushed aside my annoyance with what was becoming practiced ease. "And the noble hostages?" I questioned, wondering why exactly I haven't received instructions. To that, Michalis winced ever so slightly.

    "The lesser nobles that you have collected are to be released back to the Abbasids. Without ransom in a prisoner exchange," He answered and I did nothing more than hum. That was insulting. They were my captives and I cared very little for the fool Romans that got themselves captured. I also suppose that explained why Michalis was the one delivering the news. "However, the Abbasids didn't manage to capture any noble of equal standing to Princess Jasmine. To that end… she will stay in Norland. With you."

    I swallowed a sigh, understanding the news for what it was. "They use me to insult the Abbasids," I said, unsurprised but still quite annoyed.

    "I believe so, yes. I know your nature, Lord Siegfried, but to others… your reputation is…" he trailed off, reluctant to even repeat what he had heard. I waved him off, already knowing that much.

    I was powerful but not well liked by the Romans. Which suited me fine. I didn't much like the Romans either. "Do they intend to use me to provoke the Abbasids to war?" I questioned, knowing that Prince Harun, soon to be Caliph Harun, was close to his sister.

    The game they played was a simple one to figure out. I was a barbarian to these people -- not just to the Romans, but to the Abbasids as well. With their Princess in my custody, their imaginations would get the better of them, and they would seek to free her from my wicked grasp. An attack, an assassination, or an attempt to free Princess Jasmine at all would be a violation of the truce. The Romans would shake their swords, either using it as a pretense to resume the war before the Abbasids were truly ready or to get greater concessions from them.

    Because, from the sound of it, the truce favored the Romans.

    To that, Michalis offered a less than helpful shrug. "That, I do not know for certain. But you will have the opportunity to find out -- your deeds have been noticed and acclaimed. I come here with an invitation to celebrate Rome's victories over our enemies." I fought off a frown when I heard that.

    I could see Irene's plan. She wished to elevate me over the generals to prevent them from rising any higher. Which would paint a rather large target on my back, making most of the Roman military feel slighted by having a Pagan barbarian honored over them. Well, I doubt that I could make them hate me any more than they already did.

    Perhaps I should make it clear to the Emperor Mother that if Romans attack me, I will consider it a breach in contract. I'm sure the Abbadids would be all too happy to unleash me on Rome now that they knew the bite of my fangs.

    "You are to be given accommodations and a gift -- You shall be acknowledged as nobility, and Crete will be recognized as your fief for a period of five years." Michalis said, and that did catch my interest. The latter part more than the former. The Romans acknowledging me as nobility would open some doors, but most would still remain closed. Crete being recognized as my fief did expand my options however.

    Up until this point, my legal authority ended at the walls of Norland. However, with this, I could settle villages. I could set and collect taxes. I could levy soldiers from the population, as small as it was.

    It would be unbinding my hands.

    I glanced over at Jill, who met my gaze with a small nod. She approved. Astrid was currently dozing off, her hands on her rounding stomach, so she missed my glance entirely.

    "Very well. I will accept this invitation and honors," I said, and with it, I realized I would need to create heraldry for myself. And my house.

    It wasn't the art project that I imagined, but I had some ideas.

    …

    It was decided that I would sail to Constantinople alone, save a few guards. Astrid wasn't well enough to travel, and while she bore her pregnancy well, she had been increasingly snappish. Putting her in with a bunch of Romans was a recipe for disaster. Because Astrid was staying, Jill was staying. She seemed sorry to miss it, but Astrid was more important.

    So, I sailed back to Constantinople once more to find it celebrating. Only unlike before, upon my arrival, I was escorted up to the imperial palace where I was given a room and an itinerary, as the servant called it. The next day, I would be paraded through the streets alongside the Strategos that had earned themselves some glory. Tatzates and Michael. After we were paraded through the city, we would arrive at the imperial palace once more where we would receive our honors from the 'Emperor.'

    It sounded like a bunch of needless pomp and pageantry, so I wasn't particularly excited as I settled into my quarters -- a lavishly decorated room with engraved furniture, feathered bed with silk sheets, a trunk marked with gold and silver, and a large disk of polished bronze. I set my sword and axe near the bed before throwing myself upon it.

    I hadn't been summoned by Irene. I couldn't tell if that was a good thing or not. I should still have her favor. More so now that I had proven myself despite the odds stacked against me. Though, the fact that the Roman generals failed to secure a decisive victory could be held against me. It was a rather irritating thought.

    If it was a good thing, then I expected that Irene would meet with me privately for whatever she wanted me to do next. With a tenuous peace with the Abbadids, the Romans had other enemies to set me upon.

    The Bulgars were likely. To my knowledge, there wasn't an open war between the nations but there were frequent raids on both sides. Hopefully, I would see some fighting there. It would be a good place to blood my fresh recruits when they arrive-

    I heard a shuffling near the window that I was careful not to react to. My mind must have wandered for some time because I noticed that it was dark outside. Someone was sneaking into my room in the middle of the night. Everything was dark, and my eyes had yet to adjust to it, so I slipped into True Sight to see-

    "Morrigan?!" I half yelped, seeing her figure wreathed in gold. My reaction surprised her enough that she almost fell out of the window that she had been climbing through. It was her. She seemed haggard and tired, but it was her.

    "Do not startle me so, fool! I thought you were sleeping," Morrigan grumbled, slipping inside. And if there was any doubt that it was her, it was gone then.

    "You were the one sneaking into my quarters," I pointed out, getting out of the bed. If Morrigan felt like I had a point on who was startling who, she didn't show it. I let out a breath, a weight on my shoulders lifting. "Where have you been, Morrigan? It's been a month since you vanished into thin air!" I whispered fiercely, not wanting to announce her presence to the palace but still rather cross with her.

    To my surprise, she did wince ever so slightly as she crossed the threshold, taking a seat on the bed. Her attention went to the axe leaning against it. "You and Jill were married? I suppose you didn't miss me desperately enough to wait." There was an odd note in her voice. A strangled emotion that I couldn't decipher.

    I swallowed a retort, "It happened during the celebration of our victories. Which you would have know had you not vanished into thin air," I stressed and I did see a flickering of guilt pass over Morrigan's face at that. "We have been worried sick. Where have you been? Your note said it would be a couple of days."

    Morrigan's golden eyes flashed, ready to get defensive, but she instead sighed. "I only intended for it to be a few days. But, what I discovered… I decided that it deserved more of an investigation." She began, sounding as sorry as I had ever heard. She would never say the words, I knew, so this was as much as I could expect. "I traveled to the battlefield in Anatolia. Where the truce was made." Now there was a tired smirk in her voice.

    My browser furrowed, "What did you see?"

    Now Morrigan openly smirked, "I saw a most intriguing connection between Caliph Al-Mhadi and Tatzates. They conspire together. Or, at least they did. Enough for Caliph Al-Mhadi to feel betrayed by Tatzates." She explained and I went still.

    I knew Tatzates was playing both sides. I had no proof that he was behind how easily Anatolia had been ravaged to disgrace his rival Michael, but I strongly suspected it. However, if Tatzates was working directly with the Caliph… that was a very different betrayal.

    "Do you have proof?" I asked, taking a seat next to her on the bed, my mind racing.

    "Not in so many words, no," Morrigan admitted, and that was regrettable. "I have uncovered a string of the conspiracy. Of which, a familiar face took part. Zafir. He was one of the points of contact between Tatzates and the Caliph." She informed and, without proof, it would be difficult to get Irene to believe the conspiracy-

    But do I need her to believe it?

    An intrigued expression appeared upon Morrigan's face, "You have a plan."

    "I have a gamble," I said, reaching out and patting her hand with mine. "A good one. Thank you for this, Morrigan… but do not do this again." I chastised her, my grip tightening ever so slightly. "I trusted that you would come back, but when days turned into weeks…"

    Morrigan looked away, "T'was important information that I gathered. I thought it necessary," she replied.

    "It is. It was," I agreed. The information was very valuable. I just… "There is no one I trust more to survive on their own, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to worry." I admitted, and I felt a pull in my gut.

    I wasn't entirely certain what it was at first until I felt the Prestige leaving me and flowing into Morrigan. I hadn't intended to bestow a Blessing, but it flowed all the same. A great deal more than what it took to bestow the first blessing -- twice as much, more or less. Morrigan closed her eyes, her breathing hitching as she seemed to feel the blessing taking shape.

    Skinchanger:
    With bonded animals, the user can slip into their bodies -- controlling them as if they were the user's body. The greater the bond, the easier it is to skinchange into the animal. The greater the skill the user has, the more animals they can control at once.

    Morrigan's eyes fluttered open, her golden meeting my blue for a long moment, neither of us saying a word.

    Then, with a lunge, Morrigan threw herself at me, kissing me with enough force that I tasted blood.

    After that, the room was everything but silent.

    …

    The next morning came far too swiftly for my liking. Morrigan slumbered in the silk sheets, all the exhaustion of a month of travel hitting her at once. Myself -- my back was covered in scratches, and was fairly certain that at some point during the night Morrigan bit my neck, because it was tender and sore. All the same, I dressed myself and prepared for a long day ahead.

    Morrigan was still sleeping when I left for the Triumph, armed with the information that she had given me. I left a few guards with her, just in case, before I found myself being ushered onto a chariot pulled by a dozen horses.

    I was at the very front of the Triumph, and I could tell people were not happy about it. Most of all, the ones that were forced to ride behind me. The people of Constantinople, I found, were simply happy to have cause to celebrate.

    They were told that Rome had won a great victory and they chose to believe it. So, the Triumph began at the gates of Constantinople, people lining the streets and cheering -- mostly for their own leaders, I knew, but they cheered all the same.

    It was difficult for me to enjoy, I found as we were led through the streets in a long winding path to the palace. I constantly expected an arrow from the rooftops, or something, the entire time. Especially considering that I could physically feel the combined glares of Michael and Tatzates on my back as they rode directly behind me. So, for that reason, I felt some measure of relief when I caught sight of the palace -- a thirty minute walk taking several hours just to arrive in sight.

    Even if the most dangerous part of the evening was rapidly approaching.

    Before the palace, there was a veritable army of servants with a crowd of people to see us at the very end of the Triumph. I got off the chariot and my gaze turned to Tatzates. He had gotten fatter since the last time I saw him. He hid it behind yards of silk, all tailored to fit him, covered in jewels and gold. He kept his expression carefully blank, almost indifferent but True Sight revealed the truth.

    He was dyed a vibrant and angry red.

    So, I felt nothing resembling remorse when I slowed to speak to him, the army of servants ushering us forward. The cheering and the music would drown out our words, I was certain. I could see some suspicion in his gaze even as he plastered on a friendly smile while Michael deliberately gave us both a wide berth.

    "I know," I told Tatzates in a low voice, speaking slowly and deliberately so he could not misunderstand my words.

    I could almost see his kind jumping to a conclusion, and I nodded, as if to confirm his suspicion. "As I understand it, he feels quite betrayed by you," I said, keeping my words vague.

    However, I spoke in Arabic so he couldn't possibly misunderstand.

    He held his expression together, but I could see the panic starting to seep in as we made our way to the palace gates. He was thinking like a rat in a corner, trying to figure out a way out as much as he was trying to figure out how he was discovered.

    Tatzates picked his lips, a nervous tell. "I don't know what you mean."

    "You do," I replied and I could tell my confidence shook him. "You know exactly what I mean. Zafir didn't have much to say about you, but Alim -- the child that was always with him? He had a great deal to say." I lied and I knew I had him. He kept it off of his face but I saw defeat in his body language and his eyes. All because of a small lie.

    I had no proof of my accusations, but I didn't need any. The fact that I was confronting him made him believe that I had proof and that I knew about his betrayal. While I didn't think Tatzates was a particularly honorable creature, treason against the crown would be a heavy burden. A source of constant concern. An ever present risk of discovery that could lead to his destruction. Even now, I could all but see Tatzates planning to murder me to keep the secret a secret.

    Yet, if push came to shove, I didn't have any proof to convince Irene of his treason. So, I would convince him that I wouldn't.

    "I don't care," I told him after a long tense moment. Doubt flickered over his face, so I continued. "I don't care about this empire. You can marry the Empress like you intend," he stiffened and I swallowed a smile. "Or you can betray the Romans to the Abbasids. I don't care. I will spend a few years in this nation then return home. Its fate after I leave is well beyond my concern."

    The words were true, to a degree. I would certainly prefer it if things didn't descend into utter chaos. Especially while I was here to deal with the conflict. But, in the end, these were not my people. I didn't like them. They didn't like me. It would be a shame to see such an ancient empire collapse under its own stupidity, but I would take it as a lesson learnt -- no matter how brilliant the start of a nation had, with enough fools and ambitious men in charge, any nation could be felled.

    Tatzates relaxed ever so slightly, "This would be quite the secret to be kept between friends. However can I express my gratitude?" He spoke flowery words, but his tone was wooden.

    "Greek Fire. I desire the knowledge on how to make it," I replied, knowing our time was short as we neared the double doors.

    "That… is a high price, my friend. It was difficult merely obtaining the substance. Learning how it is produced…"

    "You have until I leave for my homeland," I told him, knowing that it was a tall order. The sooner he got it to me, the better, but it would be a great risk to produce it on Crete. I saw the substance in action and the Roman's guard for the secret was well deserved.

    With that done, we finished just in time for the double doors to swing open and let us into the palace itself. The decorations were once again out in full force, but I found them interesting for very different reasons this time. The awe they inspired wasn't just because of how expensive they were, but for their craftsmanship. I had taken to wood carving and sculpting in my spare time, but I could admire the skill of which the vases, painting, tapestries, and more were made with.

    It was a reminder that while I was a near peerless warrior, in terms of creation, I was less than a novice.

    It was a strangely pleasing thought, I decided as I once more made my way to the throne room. The last time I had been here on an official occasion, the circumstances were very different. The doors swung open for me, and nobles lined the walls, standing or sitting at tables to welcome us. The nobles, I saw, were a uniform red. My being honored had tipped the scales for many of them, and I knew if they cheered or clapped, it was not for me.

    However, I saw something of interest as I strode down the long hallway to the throne.

    The Emperor was nowhere to be seen. Irene sat on the throne, wearing a regal dress and crown with scepter in hand.

    She wasn't even pretending that her son was in charge, I realized, as she raised a hand. I came to a stop and the throne room became silent. She let it soak in for a long moment before speaking, "War has been made upon us by the Abbasids. First, they raided and raped through our heartland, hiding behind lies and excuses. Then, in their arrogance, they sought to conquer us! Rome! The empire of the world!"

    The words weren't for me, I could tell. I didn't feel any surge of fondness for the country, but I did see Romans standing a bit taller.

    "They had forgotten what we are! We are the conquerors of the world! We are the cradle of civilization! We are mighty!" She continued, her voice echoing out the hall and her words were punctuated with cheers of agreement. "We cast off these invaders and we paid back our injuries with blood! A dozen Abbasid settlements sacked. Their Caliph wounded, their heir dead, and a princess in our hands. Their armies sent retreating to their homes while thousands of them lay dead in the valley of Ravenfeast!"

    I'm not entirely certain if True Sight was lying to me, I thought, seeing Irene was marked blue. A faint blue, to be certain, but she was trying very hard to get me killed for an apparent ally. She praised my accomplishments openly while not mentioning the accomplishments of any other. A point she was trying to make, I knew -- that I was the one who brought them these victories.

    "Siegfried Erikson, step forward," Irene said, and I did as bid. Her expression was a mask, I saw -- serene confidence but her eyes betrayed a dark amusement. I dropped to a knee, and I felt all eyes upon me. "You came to this land a stranger claiming to seek knowledge and wisdom, yet, it was you that served as Rome's greatest defender. With a mere five thousand men, you not only rebuffed an army five times the size of your own, but you slaughtered them in a single battle until you outnumbered their fleeing remnants."

    An exaggeration, but it made for a better story, I suppose. At least the truth would be recorded on the runestone.

    Despite their dislike of me, there was some cheering. Less for me and more for the dead Abbasids, I suspected. Irene held up a hand, silencing them. "For your great deeds, Rome would see you rewarded. I ask that you stand, Lord Siegfried, noble of Rome. The island of Crete shall be bequeathed to you for a period of five years with the lands, tenants, and taxes belonging to you." She announced and I had to swallow a laugh.

    Crete was next to worthless to the Romans. Or, rather, it had been for a number of years. Its population was small. What the crown got from taxes was likely less than what was plundered by pirates. But, with the pirates gone, and with Norland becoming an important trade port, by the time I gave the island back… they were giving me stone and I would hand them back a statue.

    That was the cue for two of my men to step forward. Turning to face the crowd of nobles, they unfurled a banner that was marked with the heraldry of my house. I saw flickers of distaste, annoyance, and quite a few that seemed vaguely interested as they saw my banner.

    A two headed raven, each head looking a different direction to both the past and the future. Its black wings spread wide across a red background while one of its talons clutched an axe while the other clutched a sprig of mistletoe. The axe represented war. The mistletoe, while it had once killed Baldur, had since been made the symbol of peace and love by Freya. So no other may be slain by the seemingly harmless plant.

    I expected no applause or cheering, but I didn't need any. This wasn't for them. This was for me.

    This was undeniable proof that I had come a very long way since I was just a boy on a farm, ignorant of the world beyond its fields. I now stood thousands of miles from home, in one of the oldest and most powerful empires in the world, and I was recognized as nobility.

    There was no reward from the gods for my deed, but I smiled as if I had received one anyway.

    ...

    The next chapter is currently available on my Patreon and Subscribe Star, so if you want to read it a week early, all it takes is a single dollar in the tip jar. Or, for five dollars, you can read the chapter after that two weeks before its public release! I hope you enjoyed!
     
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    • That is some banger symbolism for the heraldry. Irene is such an interesting character, I love that she genuinely considers Siegfried an ally even as she routinely puts him at risk. Girl boss energy
     
    Understanding One's Value
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    • Hadi vowed to himself that he would never underestimate just how stupid the average person was ever again. It was a vow he made only in the confines of his own mind as he was seated upon a palanquin, waving at the crowd that cheered and chanted, celebrating their return. Prince Harun took his place at the front of the procession, and to Hadi's horror, he was placed directly behind him along with Yahya.

    The people of Baghdad weren't capable of nuance. Or rational thought. They also seemed to have rather short memories. They were greeted as conquering heroes simply because the people of Baghdad only seemed to have it in them to remember one thing at a time -- the promises of sweeping over Anatolia were forgotten. Their horrific losses on Crete? Similarly forgotten about.

    The only thing they knew was that Prince Harun had defeated the Romans on the field of battle, rescuing his father and snatching victory from the jaws of defeat. Because victories washed away the stains of defeat. It didn't matter in their eyes how many battles you lost, so long as you won the last one.

    It was an important thing to remember, Hadi decided. A person could be smart. People, though? People would always be dumb.

    "How did I end up like this?" Hadi asked himself, waving at the crowd, as was expected of him. He was, somehow, one of the valiant leaders that had run off a Roman army. As if. The men had been half dead from a week of hard marching into Anatolia, and they didn't do much more than messily collide into the Roman's flank. If the Romans had called their bluff and not reacted so severely to their sudden presence, then the Romans would have won that battle.

    But they hadn't. And here he was, riding to the palace in Baghdad alongside the prince. Madness. Madness of the highest order. But, it wasn't all bad, Hadi tried to convince himself as the domed roofs, colored gold came ever closer. He would receive an accommodation, and then he could retire. A nice cushy job where he sent poor bastards to fight battles for him while he stayed far behind the frontlines. Maybe never even leaving the city if he was lucky.

    Though, in hindsight, relying on luck was a poor idea considering how astronomically unlucky he had been this far.

    "Now that we have peace, we can discuss the hostage exchange, yes?" Zafir questioned behind Hadi. Hadi had to fight to keep the smile on his face as he continued to wave at the crowd -- the hostage exchange. To say that Prince Harun was less than pleased that his sister had been captured was… something of an understatement. He had been desperate to get her back, and that was something that the Romans had been able to smell on him.

    Interestingly, Zafir was no less desperate to ransom Alim.

    "It's possible," Hadi allowed. "The Pagan has released a number of people taken during the war. I had hoped that Alim would be among them." That was the truth and Hadi wanted to avoid paying a ransom that he couldn't afford when he might not need to. "But we can send a message asking to ransom him now." They couldn't back channel during the official peace talks. Alim went unmentioned as he wasn't a noble hostage and he also wasn't included in the peasants released.

    Hadi wondered if that meant Siegfried was suspicious of Alim as well.

    Zafir worked his jaw, "I… appreciate your aid in this, Sheikh Hadi. If anything ever happened to Khalid-" Zafir cut himself off and Hadi didn't react. He didn't move a muscle.

    No. No. He didn't want to know. He didn't want to know why Alim was apparently a false identity. What he did know was this.

    "Zafir, I swear, if Alim is some lost prince, I'm going to strangle you," Hadi said just under his breath, his smile affixed to his face even as he screamed internally. Then, louder, he said, "Alim was captured once before by the Pagan, and he reported no mistreatment. We'll send a message as soon as we are able," He said and out of the corner of his eye, Zafir relaxed. Either because they would be reunited or because he thought Hadi hadn't heard the slip.

    He nodded his gratitude as they passed under the gate that led to the palace in the heart of the capital. It was an impressive building -- tall walls, large sweeping architecture, carefully maintained gardens with flowing pools of water. However, Hadi found the questions he was trying to ignore prickled at his attention.

    Was Alim an Umayyad prince? The Abbasid dynasty only quite recently rose to prominence. It had barely been more than twenty years. The rebellion had been fast and sloppy, and some of the royal family had gotten away to flee towards Spain. Caliph Abd al-Rahman currently ruled the territory and he had for about a decade. So, it made little sense that Alim was an Umayyad prince. There would be no need for hiding.

    No. He was almost certainly nobility. Disgraced nobility, perhaps? Khalid was a fairly common name, second only to Muhammad. Muhammad was the prophet while Khalid ibn al-Walid was his greatest general, the Sword of Allah.

    No- wait, what was he doing? He didn't want to think about that. He did not want to think about Alim or Zafir and their strange relationship and what it might mean for him because they were… vassals? Hired help? Well, he hadn't exactly paid either of them so…

    Thankfully, the festivities saved him. They were lowered off the palanquins and ushered into the palace by a veritable army of servants. The celebration was half because of their 'victory', but also to mark Prince Harun's ascension to the status of crowned prince. He was now the Heir to the Caliphate. And, given what he had seen, it would not be too long until he became Caliph.

    Hadi found himself swept off to seating of importance. The halls of the palace were richly decorated, with carved stone gilded with gold and silver, precious jewels embedded in them or woven into the tapestries. And, it was in the throne room that Hadi met someone he never wanted to.

    "Father," Yahya greeted a man wearing layers of silks and a feathered turban.

    Jafar Barmakid. The Vizier of the Caliphate. The second most important man in the entire empire. He was a tall, thin man with a long face and a neatly trimmed beard. He was graying at the temples, which made him seem more distinguished than old. He was likely in his mid forties to early fifties. He had to be, given his role in the Abbasid's rise to power.

    Vizier Jafar smiled lightly at Yahya, "My son." He acknowledged before he bowed to Hadi, "My Prince." Hadi went ignored, just how he liked it. "It is no small relief to see you unharmed. When we received news of your father… your brother…"

    Prince Harun acknowledged the words with a nod of his head. "I was fortunate to have reliable allies at my side on the battlefield," Prince Harun replied and that…

    That sounded like a rebuke to Hadi's ears. It was wrapped in praise, to be certain. And humbleness. A true diplomatic answer, but underneath that was a statement -- 'the people that were supposed to protect my father and brother failed in that duty.'

    The Vizier couldn't reply to that message, so he had to respond to what was on the surface. "It is a relief to hear that my son performed to my expectations," Vizir Jafar replied, his tone smooth and unruffled. Then his dark eyes flickered to Hadi, "And, of course, our newest Sheikh has performed admirably as well. I've spoken with your father a few times in recent days. I'm sure he would like to inform you himself, but your bride has been selected."

    There was so much to unpack there that Hadi didn't even know where to start. Maybe top down by order of what terrified him the most?

    His father apparently was talking to the Vizier. That couldn't mean anything good. Especially for him.

    The Vizier apparently knew who he was. Also not good, but something that Hadi had prepared himself for. To a degree. His name would be a hot topic in coming days, but everyone would be quick to forget him. Especially since Hadi was paying the minstrels and troubadour troops to highlight the Prince's achievements and to leave himself out of the songs and performances entirely.

    Thirdly, he was getting married. He sent a silent prayer that his father had listened and his bride was a homely woman. Or an ugly one. He needed a silver lining.

    Prince Harun smiled at him, "Congratulations, my friend!" He said, and Hadi wanted to weep. The Vizier's gaze honed in on Hadi much like a horse merchant would a horse -- he looked Hadi over with his eyes and did everything short of checking his teeth. "A celebration is in order. In these trying times, it is good to remember that life continues on."

    "Ah, yes. That is quite true, my prince," Vizier Jafar replied before Hadi could speak. "Such trying times. Please, rest assured that I am doing all that I can to recover Princess Jasmine." He said and Hadi fought a frown. Probing. That's what the remark felt like to Hadi. Not entirely cruel or self-serving, but much like how a healer would poke at a wound to see how much it hurt.

    Prince Harun looked away, sweeping his gaze over the throne room. "Sheikh Hadi claims that she is in little danger," he said and the Vizier's gaze shifted to Hadi.

    He was forced to repeat the same reassurance that he had to give the Prince when he first learned that Siegfried had captured his sister. "The Pagan is a heathen, but his stance on rape and pillaging has made itself known. There was an incident when he sacked Athens -- two of his men forced themselves upon women, so he allowed the women to flog those men to death." At that, Vizier Jafar's eyebrows climbed high. "Siegfried himself has no taste for wanton violence either. I have not found any evidence of him taking an unwilling woman into his bed. Or, in truth, of him straying from his three wives."

    "He is honorable," Prince Harun voiced, sounding quite annoyed about it too. "It would be easier to hate him if he was not, but he has given me no reason to doubt his honor. My sister is being treated as his guest -- he will respect that." Prince Harun said before shaking his head, annoyed with the topic. It was still a sore point for him. "The negotiations for her return shall continue while I shall reach out to Lord Siegfried myself. Until then… let us discuss lighter topics."

    Vizier Jafar bowed his head, "Of course, my prince." He said, glancing at the throne room. "But it shall have to wait until after the ceremony, it would seem." He noted, and he was right. The small window for idle chatter had come to a close as the throneroom opened the doors to allow the firsts guests of honor in.

    To Hadi's knowledge, the Abbasid Caliphate had twelve Emirs. Emir Muhammad was still recovering from his wounds, as far as Hadi was aware. They had left him behind in Acre because he wouldn't have survived the march. So, with his absence, three of the Emirs were absent. And that… was worrying, Hadi decided.

    A big part of nobility was attending social gatherings, no matter how little interest you actually had in them. Some events were so important that anything short of death was not an excuse to miss them. The crowning of the prince on the eve of victory wasn't one of them, per say, but it was a poor look to be absent.

    Of the Emirs that were in attendance, Hadi only recognized one.

    And Emir Ismail certainly recognized him based on the cold, cutting look he leveled at Hadi, despite being seated at a place of honor. Emir Ismail was an elderly man in his eighties, and he had seen five generations of his family raised underneath him. So, it was little surprise that his vast family turned out to be wastrels considering none of them had any hopes of ever inheriting his title or lands. Those lands, as it so happened, encompassed the city that Hadi had grown up in.

    Hadi pretended to not notice the Emir, idly considering what should be done. He had managed to survive his ire by staying out of sight and out of mind, but being honored like this…

    Thankfully, the attention didn't remain on Hadi. Each of the Emirs gave their greetings, taking their seats, before the rest of the nobility were allowed to enter. Slowly, the hall began to fill up. Yet, the ceremony itself could not begin until the Caliph arrived. When he did arrive, it came in the signs of servants informing the nobility, who then silenced themselves. Despite no less than three hundred people being in the throne room, it was silent.

    Which was why the sound of a wooden cane hitting the stone steps echoed out. The silk shift that the Caliph hid behind did little to muffle the noise, and Hadi sat so close to the screen that he could hear the Caliph let out a shuddering groan when he took his throne. An image flashed in Hadi's mind of the Caliph, the ruler of the Caliphate.

    Hadi had always wondered what he looked like, but there was little opportunity to see him. All official courtly meetings transpired with him behind the silk sheet, and Hadi heard rumors that anyone outside of his inner circle found the sheet between them even in personal meetings. Yet, Hadi had seen the Caliph, however briefly, in their travels back to Baghdad.

    The man had been dying well before he took a spear to the stomach. And, underneath the heavy perfumes and incense, Hadi could smell rot coming from the wound. An infection had set in, and it was killing the Caliph slowly. A finishing touch, because the man appeared to have been ill well before that point.

    "Prince Harun. Stand and step forward," The Caliph's voice spoke, but it did not come from the Caliph himself. A slave boy, Hadi knew, stood next to the Caliph and echoed the Caliph's words in his own voice. A rare talent, but a useful one for deception.

    As instructed, Prince Harun stepped forward, bowing before the silk screen. The 'Caliph' continued, "Before Allah and the lords gathered here today, I, Al-Mahdi, Third Caliph of the Abbasid Caliphate, confirm your status as my lawful heir -- my titles, lands, royal incomes, and worldly possessions shall be conferred to you upon my death. Now, kneel, Prince Harun." The Prince knelt and, as a shadow cast upon the silk screen, his father reached out as if to touch his head despite the distance between them.

    "I confer unto you a royal name. Al-Rashid -- 'To Guide to the Right Path.' Now, stand once more, Harun al-Rashid." The Caliph ordered and Harun al-Rashid stood to the applause and cheering of the nobility. Hadi watched them and he saw cold cynical eyes. The nobility, it would seem, were not so easily fooled by a victory. The loss in Crete, by all rights, should have tarnished Prince Harun's reputation beyond hope of repair.

    However, Hadi had spent no small amount of effort confusing the story. Facts were quickly muddled so that what people knew was this -- Prince Harun had been defeated on Crete, yet he still arrived in Anatolia to defeat the Romans. The severity of the defeat was played down, and Prince Harun was still seen winning the day, saving his father in the process.

    It was a necessary effort. The Abbasid Dynasty was still too new on the throne. Barely twenty years had passed since it's ascension, and al-Mahdi was the longest lived Abbasid Caliph who had ruled for a decade. If the nobles smelled too much weakness, they would pounce. Rebellions. Hostile politics because everyone thought they could use the opportunity to rise above their station.

    And if there was a civil war, then Hadi would be expected to fight in it. Knowing his rancid luck, some mad bastard would try to make him Caliph.

    The rest of the ceremony was a social affair. Everyone wanted to congratulate the Prince, who all had previously ignored as the spare, to ingratiate themselves in his favor. As Hadi was seated in a place of honor, he wasn't spared their attention as some of the nobility with a lesser presence saw him as an avenue to reach the Prince's ear. It was horrible, but it was something he was prepared for.

    He gave tepid answers, he avoided offense, and above all else, he refused any promises or deals. His father would likely try to murder him when he found out that he didn't use the moment to his advantage. Maybe his father would succeed and he would finally be put out of his misery. Though, to that end, Naeem was doing quite well for himself and the nobility saw his little brother as an easier man to approach.

    Hadi worried for his brother, but it was a distant worry. Naeem was a fool on the battlefield, but he did have a good head on his shoulders. He wouldn't make any ironclad promises, only agreeing to vague deals that could be kept or broken with little issue. A handful of hours passed and Hadi started to sense that attention on him was waning, offloaded onto Naeem, and it was as he started to slip away that he was ambushed.

    Yahya caught his eye as Hadi made to slip through a servants door, approaching Hadi before offering a small bow of his head. "Sheikh Hadi. The first wife and royal mother has requested your presence in her solar."

    Shit.

    Hadi's mind raced for a reasonable excuse to refuse the invitation but he was coming up short. He glanced in the direction of Prince Harun, who met his gaze. And, to his horror, the Prince nodded at him. Meaning that he was aware of the invitation.

    The First Wife of the Caliph and the Royal Mother of the heir was not someone that Hadi ever wanted to meet. Mostly because she was reputed to be a beautiful woman. Men often acted foolish when it came to their wives, especially when their wives were beautiful. Meeting her felt like sticking your hand in a jackals den -- maybe you would be fine, but maybe you wouldn't. In either case, it was stupid and dangerous.

    Sucking in a slow breath, he nodded, "It would be my honor." He lied through his teeth, and he idly wondered if this was what it felt like to walk to one's own execution. It certainly felt like it. Especially when Hadi noticed the subtle shift in Yahya.

    The two of them were hardly close, but they could easily hold a conversation with one another. Polite, friendly, but not friends. But something had changed in Yahya's posture and Hadi knew exactly what it was.

    Hadi was now a peer to Yahya. And that changed everything when it came to their dynamic. So, it was with a heavy tense silence that Yahya led him through the halls of the palace, into a different wing entirely, before they came to a stop in front of an ornate yet heavy looking wood door. Yahya knocked twice before stepping back and a moment later, the doors swung open by two servants.

    It was then that Hadi laid eyes on the First Wife of the Caliph.

    She rested upon a mountain of silk pillows and sheets, dressed every bit as lavishly as her daughter was -- a king's ransom in silks, jewels, and golden jewelry. A woman, either a slave or a concubine, fanned the First Wife, while another held a pitcher of what Hadi hoped was wine. Yet, what drew his attention was the room itself. A long low table would separate them once Hadi was seated, but he noticed an abacus along with a neat pile of scrolls. And as much as Hadi smelled perfumes and incense, he smelled ink and parchment.

    "Leave us, Yahya," The First Wife ordered with a dismissive wave of her hand. A purposeful dismissal considering Yahya was the son of the second most powerful man in the Caliphate. In response, Yahya bowed his head, his expression betraying nothing, before he left the room and the doors were closed after him. Which was how Hadi found himself standing alone in what felt like hostile territory.

    Al-Khayzuran looked at him, her dark eyes peeking out above a veil. "You are quite a skittish thing in comparison to how my son has described you," she voiced, sounding amused as she gestured to the smaller mountain of pillows across from her, "Sit. I command it."

    Honestly, Hadi would have sat by the door if it wasn't for her pointing at the pillows. He walked over, taking a seat and he noticed that they were filled with soft feathers while each pillow was embroidered. Al-Khayzuran watched him the entire time, saying nothing for a long painful minute before she chuckled. It was then that Hadi distantly recalled that he should probably say something. "It is an honor to meet you. Though, I will admit, I am curious why you would wish to meet me of all people."

    He saw a ghost of a smile behind the veil, "Why would it be strange for me to wish to meet one of my son's friends?" She asked, tilting her head. The veil distorted her appearance but it was clear that she was quite beautiful. "He has spoken quite highly of you."

    Hadi bowed his head, "The Prince honors me." Even if he wished that he didn't.

    "I was quite concerned you see," Al-Khayzuran continued, her tone light. "My dear Harun has the same flaw that my husband did -- trusting men who cannot be trusted." Hadi went still as with every word, her voice sounded colder. "It is a relief to see that is not the case for you, Sheikh Hadi. Even if you are not who you appear to be."

    Something was wrong, Hadi decided, every muscle slowly going tense as he met Al-Khayzuran's gaze. His heart lurched in his chest, and he had to swallow it back down. "I'm afraid… I… I beg your pardon?" He tried, not entirely sure what to say.

    Al-Khayzuran chuckled warmly at that, "My son is aware of your efforts to bolster his reputation, even at the expense of your own. He thinks this is because you are a loyal vassal and a fine friend. But, we both know that is not your true motivation, Sheikh Hadi." She said, a cup of chilled wine being placed before her and before Hadi. Hadi caught a glimpse of his reflection on its surface, and it was something of a relief that even now, his expression was calm and collected. "Lazy. Content. Cynical."

    Hadi's lips parted to say something, but he was struggling to find the words. If he ever had to describe himself, who he truly was, in three words…

    He would have chosen those three. He was content with what he had. He was lazy. And he wasn't foolish enough to believe anything blindly.

    "A far cry from the brave, ambitious warrior that others paint you to be," Al-Khayzuran laughed lightly, and to Hadi's ears, it didn't sound mocking. It was like they were sharing a joke that only they understood. "Oh, I don't disapprove. It's only natural to have a public and a private face. If anything, I applaud yours -- though, I'm certain it has caused you no end of trouble."

    He managed to smile ever so slightly at that, but it was a feeble thing. Exposed. If he had to describe how he felt in a word, then he felt exposed.

    "I see the rumors of your insight were not only deserved, but understated," Hadi replied. The affairs of the royal family were so far above him that he had never paid them any notice, but he had heard certain tales about Al-Khayzuran, the First Wife. Nothing untoward or slanderous -- simply that she was a capable woman who was suspected in having a far greater hand in matters of governance than most thought.

    "Your flattery is appreciated," Al-Khayzuran returned. "But, I did not summon you here to trade compliments. You now have a place by my son's side, and I intend to make use of you." She informed, and Hadi expected something along those lines. "Tell me, what do you know of the Barmakids?"

    That wasn't where he thought the conversation was going, but he answered all the same. "They're a powerful family. Jafar was instrumental in the rebellion, and he has served as Vizier for all three of the Abbasid Caliphs. Yahya strikes me as a competent, if overly serious man. I cannot speak for others, as I have not met any."

    "The Barmakids were raised up alongside the Abbasid Dynasty. A family of stewards is what they have been for generations. Yet, now that the Abbasids are royalty, they have enjoyed far greater power and influence. They are the administrative backbone of the Caliphate." Al-Khayzuran informed him, and that sounded more expansive than what he generally heard about them. "For the past twenty years, they have made themselves the natural choice for positions of influence. They have no lands. Their incomes are bequeathed to them by the royal family. In theory, they have no influence."

    He saw where this was going, "But in reality, they have a great deal." Nobility had a poor habit of looking down on those that lacked noble blood. It was because, in theory, the common people existed at the sufferance of the nobility. But, Hadi knew the truth.

    The common people had an influence of their own, and with it, they could topple kingdoms.

    "Vizier Jafar has groomed his son to take his position once Harun ascends the throne. Yahya does not have his father's appetite for ambition, but he still has a taste for power and influence. Under normal circumstances, I would be content to let things run their course until the Barmakids, inevitably, overstep." Al-Khayzuran paused before a ghost of a grimace passed over her veiled features, "But this… unpleasantness with the Romans, the Pagan, and Emir Muhammad have made things unstable."

    "Emir Muhammad?" Hadi echoed, uncertain about the man.

    "His lands are dangerously weakened by the massacre in Crete. He himself will die soon, leaving behind a toddler that shall require a long regency." She informed him, and that was bad news all around. "He is aware of the dangers of regents. Especially those that will have the position for a decade, if not more." It was then that she picked up her wine and one of the servants lifted her veil so she could take a sip.

    "That is where you come in," Al-Khayzuran uttered the words like a death sentence. Then she listed out the charges, "Emir Muhammad has come to respect you, it would seem. At my suggestion, he agreed that you would become regent for his son until he comes of age. By doing so, you shall act as a counter balance to the Barmakids at court. It shall prevent them from eying more power than their stomachs can handle."

    Regent. Of a domain belonging to an Emir. One of the most powerful men in the country. Dozens of Sheikh would answer to him.

    "I- does he not have relatives to oversee the regency?" Hadi tried, grabbing hold of the cup of wine like it was a lifeline.

    "None that he would trust to not slit his child's throat in the name of ambition," Al-Khayzuran replied, her tone matter of fact. That was the danger of long regencies, as history had proven. Yet, even before he accepted his fate, she continued. "As regent, your concern shall be to rebuild the Emir's lands. To that end, I will have you in connection with the Pagan -- he is disliked in the Roman court, and I wish for more friendly relations with him. If not for the sake of my daughter, then to seduce him away from the Romans when we next go to war."

    It would be simple enough to manage, Hadi thought. Siegfried and the Prince both shared a love for knowledge. If they gave him what he wanted in greater quantity than the Romans, and treated him with respect… it was possible to bring him to the Abbasid's side.

    But Hadi hadn't forgotten one glaring issue with the whole plan. "I am a Sheikh, your highness. A newly arisen one. I have not even seen the lands I own. I do not have the power, prestige, or wealth necessary to act as regent to an Emir." He would be shocked if there wasn't a rebellion the moment that they heard the news.

    To that, Al-Khayzuran smiled, "That has already been taken care of. Allow me to introduce you to your wife." On cue, the servants opened a door off to the side and a woman stepped into the room. She was tall for a woman, and she made no effort to hide it, dresses in silks and velvet, adorned with gold and jewels, her skin was a warm brown while her eyes were as green as emeralds that glittered like gold.

    "My lord husband, I am Sheba," she introduced herself, a sly grin that promised everything but peace tugging at her lips.

    She was without a shadow of a doubt in his mind the most beautiful woman that he had ever seen.

    Hadi wanted to weep.

    Could his life get any worse?

    ...

    The next chapter is currently available on my Patreon and Subscribe Star, so if you want to read it a week early, all it takes is a single dollar in the tip jar. Or, for five dollars, you can read the chapter after that two weeks before its public release! I hope you enjoyed!
     
  • Threadmarks
    • The Wider World
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    • Things were different now that I was recognized nobility. I had already possessed everything that a noble did -- great wealth, a sizable army, and noble marriages. By that logic, I was one of the most powerful nobles in the Empire. The only others that could compare were the Strategos, and they were few in number. And if it came to a fight, I felt confident I would win.

    Yet, I had lacked lands and a recognized noble name. Or, rather, the noble privileges that came with being recognized nobility. The nobility of Rome still didn't like me -- I suspected that they liked me a great deal less than when I was just a pagan barbarian now I was considered their peer in fact. However, they couldn't dismiss me like they had before. I was nobility, and protocol had to be followed. My lands were small, and only in my hands for a few short years, but Norland was already a prosperous port and its value would only increase with time.

    However, what I enjoyed the most about my new position was that I could now freely cultivate the land. I could establish villages and the like, rather than attempting to cram everything inside of Norland's expanding walls. I could make the town more self-sustaining, setting up a network of farms to feed it rather than relying on fishing like we had so far.

    Which was why I had a thick rope in my hands, thrown over my shoulder as I fought to take a step with a plow behind me with three men pushing it from behind. The plow cut through the earth, shoveling soil to the sides for the seeds that would soon be buried. There was grunting and groaning as we all worked to move the stubborn and heavy plow.

    "Faster! Faster!" I heard Thorkell calling out, working a plow that was being pulled by a stocky workhorse and a half dozen men. "Put your backs into it!" He urged and I had to fight a smile as he was red in the face, pulling with all of his might, but I still managed to hold the lead. It was an impromptu competition, with the end of the field marking the finish line. And I knew that it was a competition that would repeat itself time and time again.

    I had been mistaken about Crete's fertility. In a way. The soil was very poor for grain -- wheat would never grow here, but it was not poor for everything. Olives grew on the island almost better than anywhere else. Grapes as well. And various root vegetables. The Romans did not have four field crop rotation, and I was reluctant to give it to them. Though, I'm not sure if I could in the first place because the soil seemed only rich for a handful of specific plants.

    Another issue was that the land was more like Norway than Denmark or Francia. There would be no vast fields of crops where acres and acres of farmland would be cultivated. Despite being the exact opposite in temperament and weather, Crete and Norway were similar. Farms had to be small and spread out. Some of the largest would cover an acre, maybe two but no more. Most would barely be an acre.

    Which explained why Crete was so sparsely inhabited. An acre of farmland was barely enough to feed a small family through the year, and not if they ate only what they grew on the farm. It was a challenge to be sure, but a welcome one. The information I earned from this experience would be invaluable to King Hoffer.

    My answer to the issue was first to walk the land, surveying it with Earth Wealth, which allowed me to see the fertility of soil in lands that belonged to me. Fertile soil was marked with stakes and twine, and usually the soil was scattered about. In some places, it would be clumped together -- dispersed enough that it couldn't be called a large fertile field, but close enough that I could see a farming village set up somewhere between family farms. Other times, you could walk many miles without seeing soil that wasn't marked red.

    It took some time, but it was worth doing. Then, with all the fields marked, I chose which ones would develop what and fed them all into centralized villages. One cluster of farms would produce wine. Others olives. Another vegetables. All of it would feed into the village, who would then sell their crop to Norland as a whole.

    It wasn't a perfect system, even on paper. It would take one bad season from a village that produced only grapes to turn into wine to prove ruinous. Which is why I was subsidizing what would be wine or olive villages. When things worked, they would sell their crop to winemakers or olive presses, they would turn the crops into goods, and the goods would then be sold to merchants. To ensure that the villages that produced cash crops remained fed, and so they weren't constantly beggered by purchasing food, Norland would cover a percentage of their food costs. In the event of a bad year, the cost would be offloaded onto Norland entirely to be repaid in taxes.

    It was a system that when it worked, it would work great. But… Things didn't always work like they should. Perhaps Norland wouldn't have the money to pay for the food that its villages produced. Perhaps there was a raid and a village was destroyed to the point that a gaping hole opened up in the system, which would cause shortages, and shortages would cause increased prices, and the entire thing would become difficult to manage.

    I was still working on it. I wanted something more robust. Something that could take some heavy knocks and still function as intended. But, for now, I hadn't even gotten to the point to see if the system worked in the first place.

    Sweat dripped off of me, my shirt soaked with it until I simply tossed it off like so many others. The sun shone overhead, the sky devoid of a single cloud, and my muscles had a deeply familiar ache in them as I raced towards the finish line. Thorkell and his crew's efforts grew more desperate, and they steadily closed the gap between us but it was far too late for them to overcome me. My victory was punctuated with their cries of dismay and my team's cheering while I dropped the rope to see that I had developed more blisters.

    I chuckled, looming out at the field while I rolled my shoulder, a deep ache setting in. "I missed farming," I admitted to myself as Thorkell finished his line with far less enthusiasm.

    It was a strange thought. When I was a boy but a few years ago, I would dream of leaving the farm. Sailing off with my father and brothers to raid distant lands and finding incredible treasures. It wasn't a real thought or plan, but I always thought that once I became a warrior that farming would be beneath me. That I wouldn't ever do it again simply because I would have people to do it for me.

    But I had missed it. The scent of soil and sweat, breaking the earth, and knowing that soon, we would reap the bounty of our labor. It almost felt like home, despite being half a world away.

    "Most people don't take being called a workhorse so literal, Sieg," Thorkell pointed out, and I laughed. "Ah, well, we'll get you next time." He said and I rolled my shoulder again, already feeling a bruise forming. I looked at the horses on the other plows for a moment, seeing that their harness wasn't much different than mine. I imagined that pulling the plow made them ache as much as it did me.

    But my attention was stolen when beyond the horses I saw Jill and Jasmine approaching with a few guards and Alim to serve as a translator. Jill caught my gaze and she offered a smile as they approached while Jasmine barely seemed to take notice of her surroundings as she gazed out at the field with an odd sense of wonderment. Lagging behind her was Rajah, always alert for threats. Which he found in me, based on how his feline pupils narrowed into thin slits.

    Rajah still didn't like me much even if he stopped snarling in the direction of everyone else, provided that they didn't come too close. But I was fairly certain that was because of the blessing that I gave Jill, since Jill and Jasmine were frequently seen together.

    "What brings you two here?" I asked Jill while Alim quietly translated the words to Jasmine, who hardly seemed to listen.

    "Princess Jasmine was interested when she learned that you were setting up farms," Jill answered while Jasmine walked over to the edge of the freshly plowed field before poking the dirt. "Astrid wanted to join, but she got to the door before thinking better of it, and she refused to be carried." I felt a rush travel through me at the reminder. Winter had come and gone. Spring as well. Summer had gripped the land, and with every passing day, Astrid and I inched closer to being parents. "And Morrigan is snooping again."

    I hummed. Morrigan had yet to bond with an animal, though that was mostly because they hadn't hatched yet. Odin cast his watchful eye to this land, and because of it, it had been a simple task of getting Morrigan a clutch of raven eggs when a mother failed to return to her nest. A sign, as far as I could tell, but I knew little of such things. So, until then, Morrigan watched people the way she had since the start.

    "Why did she want to see a farm?" I asked and to that, Jill seemed pensive.

    "She… claims to have never seen one before," Jill informed and I blinked at that before turning to the Abbasid Princess, who was rubbing dirt between her finger and thumb. She seemed to sense our attention, glancing at us, before an expression of embarrassment flickered over her face. I could hardly believe it -- she had never seen a farm before. The very thought was a strange one.

    She also seemed to guess why I was puzzled. "I know farms grow things, but… I never left the palace before I followed my brother to Acre." She admitted, turning her gaze out to the field and I couldn't help but find it odd that she would eye something so mundane with a sense of wonder. I had looked upon Constantinople with that same expression. "Before that, I never even entered Baghdad properly. Father always refused me. And caught me when I tried to sneak out," she admitted with brazen honesty.

    Alim translated the words to Jill in Norse, and now Alim was speaking the language as if he had grown up speaking it. While he did, I spoke in Arabic, "You used the war as a chance to leave?" I asked, wondering if she regretted the course of action now.

    Jasmine nodded, "Everyone was so busy with preparations it was easy to attach myself to a party." Then she pointed to the soil, "What will grow here?"

    "Here? Grapes. This will be a vineyard," I said, looking out at the field. We had farmers that knew how to grow and manage a vineyard, and I had seen them in Francia. Stakes would be set up for the vines to grow on. Frustratingly, I was told that it would take at least two years, most likely three, for the grapes to mature. If I was lucky, by the time we left this land we would produce our first batch of wine.

    Jasmine looked at me with confusion, "Wine comes from vineyards, yes?"

    I wasn't sure how to respond to that, so I nodded.

    She looked back out at the field with an expression of fascination and vague disgust, "Then… grapes… grow from the dirt?" She stressed, and I scratched at my check, seeing that the news was nothing short of a revelation to her but I had no idea how to respond.

    "...Aye? Most things come from the earth." I replied and I was starting to see the depths of her ignorance.

    "What about… bread? Apples?" she pressed, her expression almost combative when she saw my blunt disbelief.

    "Apples grow on trees. Bread comes from wheat that's ground into flour, mixed with water, and then baked." I explained and I saw that my words troubled her ever so slightly. Her brow furrowed, her lips thinned before she poked the dirt once more.

    "I didn't know that," she muttered to herself more than to me. "I thought bread came from the kitchens." Then her lips quirked up ever so slightly, "I did know that apples came from trees though. I've seen them! I just wanted to make sure you weren't trying to trick me," she admitted and I found that an incredibly strange thing to take pride in.

    I was… puzzled. Confused. And I felt some stirring of pity for Jasmine, who gazed out at the farm, because we had the opposite issue. To her, she only knew the grandeur of a palace. An army of servants catering to her every whim, and she was beholden only to the most powerful man in the empire. To her, a farm truly was every bit as strange and wondrous as Constantinople had been to me.

    Her attention drifted over to the horses and plow as Thorkell gathered up the men to start making another run. She watched the plow work, "Does that hurt the horses?" she asked with some worry and I opened my mouth to say it didn't, but then my shoulder ached once more.

    Instead I pursed my lips, "It does. But I think I have an idea how to make it easier for them," I admitted and Jasmine lit up with an earnest smile. I glanced at Jill, "Do we have any spare cloth and leather?" I asked, looking out at the horses for a moment.

    Our bodies were rather different, but given our job was much the same, I had an idea of what I wanted to make. Something that would make pulling less of a pain while also making it easier to pull. I would need some wood, but that was easy enough to get my hands on. Jill seemed faintly surprised by the request, but nodded.

    It didn't take much time for a runner to fetch the supplies and upon Thorkell's completion of another row, they were eager for a break. Jasmine followed behind me like a second shadow, inadvertently dragging Jill with her. The princess was simply delighted to watch the work happen, as if it were a great play. Though, it didn't take her long to start asking questions when I used a length of twine to start taking measurements.

    "What are you doing?" She asked and as far as I could tell, she was genuinely interested in knowing.

    "What causes pain is that all the weight and resistance is located in a single point," I said, gesturing to my shoulder that was a bright red where the rope had dug into it. "I intend to make a harness that will spread out the weight." Cloth and leather to help cushion the load, while several points would hook into the wood parts of the harness to the plow. So, instead of a single point, it would be ten points to evenly distribute the pressure.

    What I wanted to make was pretty simple, truth be told, but more time consuming to do well. I was more concerned with if the idea would work at all rather than it looking good. I handed over the folded cloth and the leather to Jill to stitch together while I worked on the wooden mantle. What Lay Within helped guide my hand as I took large chunks of wood off with a hammer and chisel. And, before long, I had an extremely rough version of what I wanted. A long mantle that would loop around a horse's neck, and settle between their front legs -- there were ten hooks for the plow to latch onto.

    Attaching the padding to the mantle would take too much time, and it wasn't strictly necessary to test the harness. So, once Jill had everything roughly stitched together, I threw it over the horse's head, followed by the mantle. It roughly fit, the wood going over the padding while the wood tapered around his neck and joints to avoid impacting his mobility. The old workhorse stood idly, watching me then attach the harness to the plow with thin rope. It wasn't perfect because I had to somewhat awkwardly tie the ropes to the plow, but it was more or less what I envisioned.

    Now all that was left was to try it out. Under Princess Jasmine's watchful eye, I went out to do a new run of the field with the workhorse, and the effects were near immediate. The workhorse prodded forward with much greater ease than he had before, and it was only then that I realized that the old harness was likely choking the horse so it didn't want to use all of its strength. The ground parted as the plow did its job, and just with the two of us, and another guiding the plow in a straight path, we finished the line.

    It was a simple change, I thought while Jasmine clapped as if it were the conclusion to a play, but one that made a significant difference-

    Padded Horse Collar Technology discovered 21 years in advance.

    Learning experience awarded: 2500

    I blinked at the message before the experience was applied, crossing the threshold to grant me a Learning Perk. My first one in what felt like entirely too long. Despite myself, I smiled widely, looking over my choices.

    Early Scandinavian Ship Building
    Blacksmithing: Armorsmithing Intermediate
    Basic Architecture

    The choice was an obvious one, I decided. Armorsmithing and Ship Building were tempting, and if Crete had any trees and I wasn't half a world away from home, I could see either of the two being chosen. But what I needed was Basic Architecture. I was building a city. I was building roads. And I had seen the pinnacle of what could be made with human hands.

    Making my choice, knowledge flowed into my mind -- I had already learned some things on my own. A roof needed support, wood needed to be burnt before being buried if the stakes would serve as a foundation to avoid rot. The knowledge from the gods expanded upon what I had learned. It informed me how a roof would sag and ways to prevent it beyond planting a pillar underneath a point of weakness. It taught me how to build a stable foundation, clarifying weaknesses I had seen with Structural Analysis but couldn't understand.

    The knowledge was exactly what I needed, I decided.

    I almost couldn't wait to try it out, only for the moment of celebration to be ended with a messenger riding up on a horse. "Lord Wolf-Kissed! An Abbasid ship is sailing towards the harbor!" The man shouted and that stole my attention away from a moment of triumph. My gaze flickered to Jasmine and I could tell that she recognized the word Abbasid. A conflicted expression passed over her face before she hastily tried to hide it by pulling up the veil she wore.

    I nodded, then looked to Jill. "It's likely the shipment of knowledge that Prince Harun promised me. But, they will likely wish to check on their Princess." I informed, taking the horse from the messenger and throwing my leg over it.

    "I'll take care of it," Jill said, nodding back at me and I wheeled the horse away to gallop up to Norland. I was eager, I decided, heading down the dirt path as I envisioned it being made of stone. The knowledge did more than just fill gaps in my knowledge. It expanded upon it, giving me ideas that I never otherwise would have considered. My mind was alight with possibilities, and I hoped to learn more from these Abbasid texts.

    Making my way through Norland, I approached the wall that faced the harbor and got on top of it. As the messenger said, I saw an Abbasid ship sailing for the mouth of the harbor. It wasn't one of ours, I swiftly noticed.

    The ships that we had stolen were all marked, and most of them had been turned into trade ships. Some were sold to the Romans, some to merchants, but most were filled with purchased goods from Constantinople and then sent out across the Mediterranean Sea.

    Leaning on the wall, True Sight marked a few of the men on the ship as red. Hardly surprising, really. What was surprising was that there were two gold figures standing on the bow of the ship. I recognized only one of them.

    I sighed, finding myself rather annoyed with who was delivering my hard-won knowledge.

    "That bastard."

    ...

    The next chapter is currently available on my Patreon and Subscribe Star, so if you want to read it a week early, all it takes is a single dollar in the tip jar. Or, for five dollars, you can read the chapter after that two weeks before its public release! I hope you enjoyed!
     
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    • It's absolutely hilarious that he has literal divine instruction that Hadi is one of the few completely trustworthy people on that boat and his immediate response is still, "oh, it's that asshole."
     
    Polite Words
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    • Becoming nobility came with some unfortunate costs that only made themselves known in hindsight. The social protocols that I benefited from, which made me someone that simply couldn't be ignored, also applied to others. Noble obligations, as Jill described it. An unspoken and elaborate web of social niceties that were expected to be upheld at all times. Most of it, despite my annoyance, was stuff I already knew -- such as treating the nobility with a base level of respect.

    Most of my experience with foreign nobles came during times of war and, more often than not, when they had been captured by me. That wasn't the case here. So, no matter how tempted I was to simply kick Hadi back on his ship the moment that the deliveries were made, I couldn't. It was a harsh insult to deny someone hospitality when they arrived at your hall, and no matter how irritating I found Hadi, he hadn't done anything to deserve such an insult.

    Which is how I found myself sitting across from Hadi as he stood in my hall, behind him were a dozen men all carrying heavy chests. Beyond them was a man I had some interest in -- he wore an orange colored robe that left one shoulder exposed and a necklace made out of thick wooden beads. Both his head and face were shaved, his eyes were dark, and they looked around the longhouse with some interest. But, it was Hadi who held my attention.

    "In accordance with the deal made outside of Antioch, the knowledge gathered by Prince Harun al-Rashid has been delivered," Hadi informed and while his voice was neutral, his gaze betrayed that he would rather be anywhere other than here. "This is the first of twelve deliveries that shall be made over the course of a year." I would have preferred it all delivered at once to avoid any interruptions if war broke out once more, but I suppose that was the point. Stretching out the deliveries made sure that I wouldn't compromise it by raiding their settlements.

    It was a lesson learnt, I guess. Next time, I would have to be more specific.

    "Behind me are talented scribes who know both Arabic and Greek. With your permission, they shall start their work of translating the works under your watchful eye," Hadi continued, and by that, he meant they were spies. There was nothing stopping them from shipping the translated texts. He was dressing it up as a favor to me, because I would admittedly have some suspicions about the texts. I wouldn't put it beyond the Abbasids to give me falsely translated texts because I wouldn't know any better. So, having my own men watch over them where our displeasure for trickery was an immediate consequence would encourage honesty.

    "Lastly, the Monk Gyatso has agreed to accompany this mission. He is a Wiseman from the east, here to spread word of the Heavenly Buddha," he finished, and the monk stepped forward and bowed his head to me. His gaze was measuring as he looked upon me. I would put him around his early to mid twenties. Well muscled as well. He, however, said nothing as he rose back to his full height.

    I wasn't entirely sure what to make of his presence. He sounded a great deal like a Christian pilgrim seeking to convert others to their God, and I had quite enough of that as it was. But, I was curious about his god, I could admit, and he did seem to be a different breed of man from the Romans and the Abbasids. I knew of a land called India because of Alexander's conquest and the texts about Ashoka the Great, but I knew little of what laid beyond.

    But, I was mostly curious on why he was here. Was he a volunteer? Or was he volunteered because Prince Harun wanted to get rid of a pagan? Or did he simply assume that because we were both pagans that we would accept each other with open arms?

    I suppose I would simply have to wait and see.

    "I welcome you all into my hall as guests. You have my thanks for the prompt delivery and I am eager to see the wisdom that the Abbasids have hoarded," I greeted them with warmth I didn't feel. Half of them were spies. I didn't even need to use True Sight to see that. "I invite you all to sup with me after a long journey."

    Refuse. I tried to convey the message with my eyes as I held Hadi's gaze. I'm almost certain that he received the message, but what came out of his mouth wasn't the answer I wanted to hear.

    "You honor me, Lord Siegfried. We shall gladly partake in your renowned hospitality," Hadi replied, his tone infallibly polite.

    The reason why he had to accept the offer was obvious enough. He even glanced at Princess Jasmine, who was seated at the high table in a position of honor. She sat next to Jill, and standing between them was Alim. Jasmine knew how to look regal, I could admit. She wore her silks and jewels like they were an extension of her body, her head held high and her dark eyes focused and attentive.

    This whole deal was an excuse to check in on Jasmine. To see how she was being treated. And to steal a private moment so Jasmine could send whatever message that she liked to her family.

    It was a strange thing, I decided, and it renewed my distaste for politics. It was a secret that we all were aware of. A secret that we all knew everyone else was aware of. Yet, we didn't utter it out loud because then none of us could claim it was mere suspicion and our hands would be forced to take action.

    "A feast," Jill spoke up, and I'm pretty sure Astrid only started to pay attention when she heard the word feast. "We have reason to celebrate, I think. For you have recently been married, have you not?" She said, and Alim translated her words into Arabic.

    I knew of the marriage. And I was aware of Hadi's new position -- news had been brought over with returning Abbasid citizens who wanted to settle in Norland with their families. Hadi had married a prominent noble in a region called Egypt. To my knowledge, Sheba was of middling nobility, but she had earned vast riches and a moniker.

    The Queen of Trade.

    Some supposedly looked down upon her for gaining her wealth through trade, but her power couldn't be denied. Especially when I had greatly weakened her rivals by slaughtering their armies in Ravenfeast Valley. It was a quite telling rumor that when I heard about the marriage, the tale was phrased that Hadi had married her rather than that she had married Hadi, a regent to a powerful land.

    In response, Hadi offered a tepid smile. "I have. And my thanks," he said, his gaze never leaving me.

    And out of every feast I had ever had, it was by far the most awkward.

    …

    I was seated at the head of a long table, my wives at my side while Jasmine sat directly across from me. She wasn't the guest of the evening, but she was still a princess of a powerful empire. Seated next to her, a respectful distance away, was Hadi. His presence had an odd effect on Jasmine -- what I had seen of her was an excitable young woman with a keen, outspoken, interest in whatever matters caught her attention. However, that girl was nowhere to be found and she was hidden under a polite mask that betrayed nothing.

    Putting on appearances, I suspected. Though, Hadi wasn't much better.

    Honestly, I don't think anyone would have said a word to each other if it wasn't for Jill filling the silence with polite small talk. Something that Hadi was forced to entertain. "The reconstruction efforts have gone well then? I'm glad to hear it," Jill said while Hadi wore the same fake smile.

    "As well as we could hope," Hadi corrected ever so slightly. "It would seem Norland has earned itself quite the reputation. Most of the people coming to settle in the area tend to stay when they learn that the original holders of smithies and farms are in Norland." He informed, and I swallowed a twitch of annoyance.

    That would explain why the migrants from the Abbasids were far lower than I hoped they might be. And, from the implication, it sounded like Norland didn't have a favorable reputation in the Caliphate. That wasn't surprising. I did sack several of their cities. I'd be very confused if they did like me.

    "It's been an unexpected boon, in that regard. The land has been depopulated since the war, and my wife was quite worried about what it meant for the region," Hadi continued, his gaze flickering to me. I couldn't help but feel there was an accusation in his eyes, but he didn't voice it. "As much trouble as it caused, my wife has nothing but kind words to say about Norland itself. She called it an opportunity that was fully seized." He echoed her sentiments before his lips thinned ever so slightly.

    "Something she has prodded me to do as well," he said, slipping a hand into the folds of his silk clothing before pulling out a small scroll. He handed it to Alim, who unfurled it before frowning. "It is a letter of introduction. Norland, despite being a Roman territory, currently enjoys a great deal of freedom and we wish to make use of it by strengthening trade with your city. For while it is your city."

    My gaze slid to Alim, who looked up at me and offered a hesitant nod. Then my gaze slid back to Hadi and I found myself…

    Annoyed.

    Hadi just lied to me… but he didn't have a tell. Alim had to give it away. I'm sure that the letter was one of introduction, and I'm sure that he did desire an increase in trade. Yet, I was certain that there was something else in the letter that Alim wasn't telling me. What it was, I could only guess. That wasn't really an issue as I saw that coming, but I was more annoyed with Hadi simply because he managed to subvert Tell Spotter for no reason greater than he was simply an exceptional liar.

    "Is that so?" I replied evenly, holding his gaze and I…

    It annoyed me how irritating I found Hadi. I should be impressed with him, I knew. However begrudgingly. Hadi had proven himself to be a rare caliber of man and, enemy or not, he should have my respect and admiration. There were others who had inconvenienced me more and I respected for less.

    If Hadi detected my annoyance, he didn't show it. "Details will need to be discussed with individual Mayors, but with Norland as a neutral harbor, it would be a natural stopping point between the Romans and the Caliphate. This is a mere formality to gauge your interest," he replied, being unusually blunt and that annoyed me too.

    And I knew why, as shameful as it was.

    If he served under me, I would admire him. Even as an enemy, I respected him, but no other had managed to inspire such irritation and annoyance in me. Not King Charlemagne, who was one of the greatest and most powerful kings of our age. Not Roland, who was a mighty warrior who could face a cavalry charge and have it break upon him like the sea on a mountain. Nor Astolfo, whose skill with a spear was peerless as she delivered death to anyone within her range.

    I knew why he annoyed me so much. Why I found him so frustrating even as I respected his achievements.

    Hadi was no great king. He wasn't blessed by the gods, as far as I could tell. He was simply a very talented man. A normal man. But one that had proven to be an obstacle to me and I… I didn't mind it as much when there was a clear reason why my path was obstructed. Charlemagne and his Paladins were blessed by their God. They were more than just men.

    I'm not entirely sure when it happened exactly, but I had started to look down upon unblessed men. It was something that I only realized in hindsight. It was not as if I disliked people for not being blessed by the gods, or God. We were the honored ones. We were special. But, it was clear as day -- war was where I thrived. The only defeats I had suffered on the battlefield had been at the hands of Roland, when I had to make a deal to spare my life. I was used to crushing my enemies. Sweeping over them with fire and fury, my plans manifesting perfectly and my victories absolute.

    Yet, Hadi, unblessed as he was, proved to be a thorn in my side. A normal man was able to stop me from accomplishing every goal that I set out to accomplish. It was not even that he had outright defeated me, which would at least be enough to justify my annoyance with him. I simply didn't win as cleanly as I was used to.

    It was arrogance, I knew. Arrogance that I had earned, I think. But, it was arrogance all the same. A sign that I was letting the words of others lift me beyond what I was -- people called me a god, and while I still didn't believe that I was, I had, at some point, started to believe that I was more than a man. My victories made me start to expect them. Become entitled to them. So, proof that was not the case was… unwelcome.

    I blew out a small sigh, feeling ashamed, mostly due to the fact that I was still annoyed even as I understood the source of my annoyance. So, I forcefully shoved it away. "I don't foresee any complications with my current allegiance, so I am amenable to the idea," I voiced and Hadi seemed faintly surprised at the willful change in my demeanor.

    "It is a relief to hear it," Hadi replied, his tone still neutral but he seemed to have lowered his guard ever so slightly. "You made quite the impression upon my peers. There were many who feared that your hunger for knowledge was a feint. In any case, the deal has worked in my Prince's favor -- he has far more reason to seek out knowledge and wisdom."

    He was good at talking, I could admit. He was always careful to steer the conversation to neutral topics. "I will admit that I was surprised by the volume of the texts delivered. For what reason has Prince Harun gathered such treasures?" I asked him, and while the first delivery paled in comparison to the imperial library, by the end of the year, I would be in possession of a large library indeed if each delivery remained the same size.

    "My brother has always had a passion for learning. He found it more enjoyable than learning swordplay," Jasmine offered with a smile beneath her veil. "I recognized some of his favorites in the chests." That was interesting to know, I suppose.

    "Does he possess copies?" I questioned and to that, Hadi stole a glance at Jasmine, who made the most demure shrug I had ever seen. I frowned for a moment, considering a thought.

    The Abbasids were trying to court me. It was obvious enough. They didn't outright say it, but I could guess their game easily enough. Simply put, they didn't want me to fight for the Romans. They'd prefer it if I fought for them, but they would settle for my neutrality. And I was considering giving it to them.

    But not now. And not for a low price.

    The only thing of value to me was Rome's wealth of knowledge and Greek Fire. The Abbasids, so far, seemed to be able to match the Romans in terms of knowledge. And once I had the Greek Fire…

    I could get paid to do nothing. That was the dream of mercenaries, as far as I could tell.

    Or… I could play the Abbasids and the Romans off each other to drive up the price.

    "I will have copies made and send back the originals," I said and I saw a ghost of a smile from Jill. Either because she saw my plan or because I was actively engaging in the conversation now. "I already am doing the same with the Roman texts. If Prince Harun so wishes, he can use his scribes to produce his own copies of the texts."

    Hadi tilted his head at that, "I see. He would be most amenable to the idea, I believe-"

    Jasmine nodded eagerly, "He always complained how stingy the Romans were when it came to texts from their libraries." And I was starting to see why Jasmine was so quiet during official meetings. Now that the overwhelming tension in the room had lessened, she spoke more freely and she was… too honest.

    Hadi inclined his head to Jasmine, "So he has." Then he looked at me, "Shall I take it that you intend to recreate the Library of Alexandria?"

    Now I wore a smile, "We have already settled on a location." There were several buildings that I wanted to create, but my library would be the first of them. "Soon, we shall break ground and begin construction. I hope that within a year, it will be completed." Basic Construction helped me out some, but working with actual architects had helped out more.

    I fully intended my library to act as a central feature in the settlement, so the land around it would be developed accordingly. There were other challenges with developing a library that I hadn't quite anticipated. I was single handedly raising the prices for parchment and ink, and scribes were in short supply. The costs weren't prohibitive, but if I wanted to leave behind something in the library, then I needed to think of something soon.

    "A wonder of the world," Hadi said, glancing down at his cup of wine for a moment. "There are others," he spoke up, catching my attention. "The Pyramids of Giza, and the Great Sphinx. I had heard tales of them as a boy, but it was only when I assumed the regency over the area that I saw them myself. They are… breathtaking," he said before he looked at me. "Perhaps you shall see them yourself?"

    An offer. An invitation. And a warning all wrapped up in one.

    I had to smile at that. "Perhaps I will."

    ...

    I'm not entirely happy with how this chapter turned out, especially when it's an important one. I know I've been getting some complaints about the Hadi rivalry not feeling deserved, and that was intentional. Hadi, for all of his efforts, hasn't really been able to stop Siegfried from doing anything. He disrupts his plans, but he hasn't managed to thwart them in any meaningful way but it's still enough to get under Sieg's skin.

    Siegfried is getting a big head, and he has reason to. He's been a person of consequence since he left the farm. He bit his thumb in the direction of one of the greatest and most powerful kings of his era, he nearly effortlessly forged a kingdom, and as far as his people are concerned he's a god that walks the earth. The Byzantine Empire was something of a rude awakening and a harsh switch up from the endless adoration he enjoyed in Scandinavia, but even that proved that he can thrive in a place where just about everyone wants him dead for being a Pagan.

    The only people who have been able to meangifully challenge him are people who have been blessed by God... and Hadi. To Sieg, he is that lvl 100 character that is going to a starting area and he's getting tripped up by a level 1 enemy. It's not enough to stop him, but it's annoying that for all of his power that some dude who can't catch a lucky break can snatch the prize out of his hands at the last second. He's not even losing. He's just not winning how he wants.

    All that being said, this chapter is about Sieg recognizing that growing flaw in his character and trying to course correct.

    The next chapter is currently available on my Patreon and Subscribe Star, so if you want to read it a week early, all it takes is a single dollar in the tip jar. Or, for five dollars, you can read the chapter after that two weeks before its public release! I hope you enjoyed!
     
  • Threadmarks
    • I enjoyed the chapter, i always like seeing Siegfried self reflect and try to grow as a person

    His character development is coming along nicely.

    He already has the strength to achieve almost any goal he sets his mind to, now he needs the wisdom to recognize what goals are worthy of the effort, and what mistakes he shouldn't make.

    Hubris is the end of all great men afterall.

    I am very curious abaout what his interactions with the Buddhist Monk will be like.

    Buddhism is a VERY different religion from what he is used to. And the contrast between his worldview and that of the Monk will be Interesting to read.

    Who knows, maybe he will learn something from him and find some wisdom in his teachings.
     
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    You've done an excellent job showing the interactions between different cultures so far, really looking forward to interactions with Buddhism and the East
     
    Will he get to understand just how Large the world is. A map of the known regions alone should shock him a bit. Loved this chapter.
     
    Mystic Pentagram said:
    I didn't catch that!

    I love it!
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...

    While very likely to be a reference to Avatar, it's important to know/remember that the name "Gyatso" is simply a name considered blessed in Buddhism and is thus a very common name among Tibetans.. Avatar itself probably used it because the current IRL Dalai Lama's name is "Tenzin Gyatso".

    In fact, Gyatso is a name used by very many Dalai Lamas.. maybe Siegfried's visitor is the in-story current Dalai Lama?
     
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