Vikings: Lords of the Ice Sea

Chapter 11 Chase

After landing, Rurik revealed his identity as a businessman to the port officials and, as was customary, paid a bribe, thus obtaining the relevant documents as he wished.

"Set off two days from now, don't let being drunk delay you."

After Rurik finished speaking, the caravan members dispersed. Vig casually toured the settlement; the local streets were laid out in a grid pattern, and the houses were mainly built of brick and stone. Passing by a construction site, he noticed craftsmen mixing concrete.

interesting.

Vig pulled an Anglo silver coin from his pocket and gestured for a long time, asking the craftsman to allow him to watch from the side.

Why would those Nordic barbarians learn these things?

The craftsman was puzzled, but for the sake of the silver coins, he didn't kick them out and continued mixing concrete with his apprentice.

The process is not complicated: mix quicklime with water, then add crushed stone and river sand, as well as some other unidentifiable lime material.

After a moment of conjecture, Vig figured it was probably volcanic ash. He silently noted down the concrete formula, stretched, and left the construction site.

Upon arriving in the city center, the most striking building is the church, featuring the iconic pendentive dome of the Eastern Roman Empire. Finding the monks had no intention of dismissing him, Vig took a leisurely stroll inside. The church's interior was ornately decorated, with walls covered in colorful mosaics, predominantly in gold tones, which, combined with the sunlight, created a sacred and solemn atmosphere.

"Such exquisite craftsmanship, truly worthy of an ancient civilization that has been passed down for thousands of years."

He went outside and strolled around the nearby market when he suddenly heard a furious shout from the east, which sounded like Ivar's voice, "Borg, stop right there!"

Lord Borg?

The next moment, a white horse brushed past him, its horseshoes striking the bluestone slabs and sending sparks flying. It neighed and overturned a spice stall, filling the air with a strong, pungent aroma.

As he dodged, Vig saw the rider's face clearly; it was none other than Lord Borg, whom his group had been searching for. He instinctively followed behind.

The problem was that the chaos of the market severely hampered the pursuit. Seeing that the white horse was about to disappear around the street corner, he picked up a piece of gray cloth, wrapped it around himself, and then took a running start to climb up the nearby bungalow and began the chase from the rooftop.

The wind whistled past his ears, and the wet tiles groaned softly on the soles of his boots. As Vig leaped across the alley, two blue tiles shattered, and fragments fell to the ground with a soft rustling sound, startling a passing woman who covered her mouth and gasped.

"Whose circus performer is this?"

Despite the gasps of astonishment from passersby below, Vig remained unmoved, running and leaping across the rooftops of houses. At that moment, it was as if everything else in the world had vanished, leaving only the silhouette of the white horse in his eyes.

Soon after, the white horse knocked over a fishmonger's cart at the intersection. The silvery fish thrashed wildly on the cobblestones, startling the white horse, which reared up on its hind legs. Taking advantage of this moment, it leaped down from the rooftop behind it, grabbed its target, and rolled several times on the wet ground.

"Do not kill me!"

Ignoring the target's pleas for mercy, Vig grabbed the man's neck and twisted it sharply. With a "crack," the body collapsed to the ground.

After traveling thousands of miles, it's finally all over.

Before the guards arrived, Vig quickly ran into the alley, then ripped off the gray cloth covering his body, whistling as he swaggered into the crowd on another street. Thump!
Boom!
It was noon, and the distant, melodious church bells rang out. Large flocks of white seagulls took flight in response, circling back and forth in the clear blue sky. The blazing sunlight shone down, and it seemed as if all the sins of the world had vanished without a trace.

Back at the dockside tavern, Vig chose a corner to drown his sorrows. As time passed, the caravan members gradually arrived after receiving the message.

Upon confirming their enemy's death, Ivar and Bjorn felt deep regret and complained that Vig hadn't given them the opportunity.

Picking up his wine glass, Ivar said listlessly, "I was planning to torture this guy properly, smash all his bones, or turn him into a blood eagle. This kind of death is too easy for him."

"Hey, this is someone else's territory, what are you thinking?" Rurik complained in a low voice. "Luckily, Vig was masked the whole time, and the deceased was just a Nordic barbarian, otherwise the governor would have searched the whole city, and the entire caravan would have been in trouble!"

After this incident, Rurik was unwilling to linger. After purchasing enough food and supplies, he sailed away from the port the next morning and headed south along the western coast of the Black Sea. It took him half a month to reach the Bosphorus Strait.

Crossing the strait from north to south, three merchant ships attempted to turn right into Golden Horn Bay to anchor.

Looking out, the southern side of the Golden Horn is the city of Constantinople, and the northern side is the fortress Galata. A huge iron chain spans the sea between the two, and merchant ships from all over the world must pass through inspection before they can enter the bay.

After waiting for a full two hours at the Sea of ​​Marmara, Ivar couldn't help but complain loudly, "Damn it, when is it our turn yet!"

Rurik whispered to him, "Don't make a sound. A merchant ship preparing to leave port has been found to be carrying contraband, which appears to be something called Greek fire."

During the wait, Vig remained silent, his heart filled with mixed emotions. He gazed at the Hagia Sophia standing atop the hill, and further south, the gilded roof of the Royal Palace shone brightly in the sunlight, while the adjacent racecourse resounded with thunderous cheers.

Constantinople—the city the world longs for. I visited here in the 21st century and left with great reluctance. Little did I know that I would see it again a thousand years ago!

"The clouds drift lazily across the pond, the sun shines slowly, and the seasons change and the stars shift. Fate plays tricks on us, truly fate plays tricks on us."

Half an hour later, the Eastern Roman customs resumed inspections. One after another, cargo ships flying different flags passed through the passage in the middle of the iron chains blocking the sea. When it was Rurik's turn, he said in broken Greek, "Fur, amber, and the two ships behind me are also mine."

The port officer boarded the poorly-looking longship with a hint of disdain, inspected the cargo, and pointed southwest, saying, "Ships from Northern Europe are docked at berths three through six. Remember to pay your taxes when you disembark."

When the fleet docked at the pier, a customs official came over with four sallow-skinned laborers to inspect the goods. After weighing the goods with standard weights, they levied a 10% tariff on the value of the goods.

Rurik gestured, "No, I don't have any money. Can I use goods as payment?"

"can."

After accepting a piece of bright yellow amber as a bribe, the other party nodded happily and affixed lead seals to the goods on the three cargo ships in turn to prove that they had legally cleared customs.

"Phew, the Greeks have so many rules." Rurik rented a yard near the dock to store his goods and use it as a place to stay during his stay.

To prevent theft, he arranged for people to take turns standing guard, while the remaining members were free to act as they pleased. He himself went to the nearby market to gather information, preparing to sell the goods at the best possible price.

(End of this chapter)