Legends Never Die: Building Something (ch. 180) (Patreon)

The older I got, the faster time seemed to move. Two years passed entirely too quickly. Barely more than a blink of an eye, really. The days flowed into each other seamlessly, as there was no real emergency that needed to be handled during that time. There was just progress as the momentum was firmly on my side. 

My roads continued to be built, connecting not only every single one of my kingdoms, but now the towns that would one day become cities were added into the network of roads. They facilitated trade, and travel, and migrants who came from the south and east. The Wall, as many had taken to calling it, was making significant strides and it looked like it would be completed ahead of schedule by an entire year. 

Mikligard continued to grow at a rapid pace. 

Miklagard 

Happiness: 95%

Quality of Life: 8.5/10

Population: 345,865

Population Growth: +10.5% increase per year

Wealth: 211,156

Security: 90% per pop

Education: 40% per pop

Religion: 92% Norse Paganism, 3% Norse Christianity, 4% Judaism, 1% other religions

The Colosseum was complete and open for the public. Games were hosted every year while groundwork for a Hippodrome was being laid. The docks were forced to expand earlier than anticipated with the influx of trade from all corners of my empire. My next great project was a temple to the gods, one surpassing the Hagia Sophia, though I knew it was a labor that would take decades. All the while more buildings went up, more bath houses were constructed, roads were built, sewers were expanded, and aqueducts piped more fresh water into my capital. 

Across Denmark, towns continued to grow. My home kingdom boasted the largest population per mile, as it was one of the smallest kingdoms size wise, yet it had the largest population. It benefited greatly from the road network which was expanded in it first. Hedeby, the city Thorkell ruled over, and Ribe both rapidly grew in population with large villages taking their next step into becoming towns themselves. 

It was just progress in every direction. Both internally and afar. 

Things normalized in the Mediterranean. Hoffer consolidated his kingdom and secured the western half of the Mediterranean sea, leaving the Abbasids and Rome to fight over Crete after he sold the island to Harun. Hjalmar and Ulfar continued to maintain a steady grip on Britannia. Hjalmar's raid into the Northern coast of Rome was successful, while Ulfar maintained to be a painful pebble in the shoe of Ecbert. 

Ecbert did exactly as I thought he would and consolidated resources. His grip on the half of Mercia he did possess was tenuous at best, with his professional army mostly being tested on rebelling peasants. And Charlemagne did what I thought he would be paying for Ecbert's army. 

Meanwhile, my own efforts to finance a rebellion in Charlemagne's lands were having some success. A collation of nobles began to form from various dukes, counts, and barons who were less than satisfied with the Romanification of the Germanic roots of the western half of the empire. It was facilitated by the fact that the eastern half of the empire despised them for being responsible for the ‘downfall of Rome’ before turning around and calling themselves Roman. 

It wasn't to the point of rebellion or sedition. No more than Charlemagne had managed to brew within my own empire. There was just an under current that worked against the momentum Charlemagne was attempting to build. It was too early to tell if anything would genuinely come of it, but for now, it was progressing in line with my expectations. 

There were several projects I took pride in. And I had arrived at the shores of one of them. 

“That is the university?” Magnus questioned, flanked by his siblings. The only one not in attendance was Ragnar, who remained in the capital. Even little Hakon was with us, I carried him in one arm while Ranni insisted on being carried in the other. 

Looking at my children made me feel that much older. That time was moving far too fast. Magnus, Scáthach, and Aífe were all the same age I was when I returned from the Mediterranean and sought to become King of Denmark. They weren't children anymore. They were young adults. Young adults who wanted more independence than I would ever want to give them. 

It really was madness that Mother allowed me to sail to the Mediterranean. If either Radahn or Bjorn tried the same in a few years, I'd slap them upside the head to knock loose such a ridiculous idea. Which brought my gaze to them -- they weren't the small boys clutching at my knees as they begged for another story. They were growing like weeds, Rahdan in particular, as he was only a half head shorter than Magnus already. He was shaping up to be bigger than me by the time he was done growing. 

They were still young. But it felt like if I blinked my eyes, they'd be young men with scruffy cheeks sailing off to unknown shores. 

They were looking at me expectantly, and I realized I let my mind wander. “Hm. That's the university,” I confirmed, stepping off the ship and into Visby, Gotland. Over a decade ago by this point, there had been nothing here but a small fishing village. Now there was a town that grew by the day. 

Visby 

Happiness: 97%

Quality of Life: 8.5/10

Population: 10,865

Population Growth: +3.5% increase per year

Wealth: 35,777

Security: 110% per pop

Education: 85% per pop

Religion: 90% Norse Paganism, 5% Norse Christianity, 5% Judaism

The Jewish population, which had fled Rome as a whole when I left for my homeland settled in several places in my empire. Most of them settled in Miklagard. The rest mostly settled in Visby. They were a learned people capable of reading and writing, which made them natural scribes for the many thousands of texts I had brought with me from Harun's Houses of Wisdom and Constantinople's university and libraries. They also settled well because Visby was a natural stopping point for any ship sailing down the Swedish coast. 

Which was part of what led to Visby's rapid growth. More so than my university, even if it was the centerpiece of the town. 

I spared no expense on it, knowing how pivotal it would be for my empire's future. Enough so that it could be mistaken for a palace more than a university, as it was comprised of three tall, wide, and long buildings on the campus. The center contained the lecture halls, some large enough for a hundred students to be seated at a time. One was a barracks for teachers and students alike -- though, it was primarily reserved for exceptional students, with the rest finding lodging in Visby. Which, of course, was subsidized by the crown as part of scholarships. 

The third was the library, which contained every piece of knowledge I had managed to get my hands on during my time in the Mediterranean and more, as the stockpile had been added to. 

My admiration of the university was interrupted by a man stepping forward. Several of them, really. 

“All hail the Allvaldr!” He started, dropping to a knee in a grand display, prompting the others to follow. “Your Grace, please allow me the privilege of being the first to welcome you to Visby.” 

There was no need to use True Sight on the man. I already knew Jarl Gerald would shine a brilliant blue. After all, the man was the first of the believers who considered me to be a god. I wasn't entirely sure if I would ever forgive him for blundering his way into creating an entirely new branch of Christianity that named me a prophet, but I knew I should on account how… useful that branch had proven. 

“There is no need for you to kneel, Jarl Gerald. Rise,” I commanded, and he took the order like it came from the gods. He stood so quickly he practically jumped. “I see Visby has been in good hands.” 

“To the best of my ability, Your Grace,” Gerald said, preening ever so slightly. “Your letter said that you wished to inspect the university for your children's attendance?" 

“My son, Magnus, wishes to attend. I thought it best to let him see the grounds before commiting,” I admitted, prompting Magnus to step forward. “And, with luck, the others will be tempted-” I continued, hearing the barely concealed doubt from Scáthach and Aífe. As well as the silent glare they gave each other when they made the same sound at the same time. 

“I wanna go,” Radahn decided, leading the charge with Bjorn right next to him. The crowd parted for them, while their guards were a half step behind. I swallowed a sigh at the lack of decorum, but the concept of manners really went in one ear and out the other for Radahn. 

Gerald fell in step with me as I moved the party along, but his attention drifted to Magnus when he spoke. “I understand that Jarl Thorkell is also visiting?” He ventured, mostly for my sake. 

“He is at the university. I believed he wished his presence to be a surprise," Gerald replied, some what sheepishly. “His son, Thors, is also here.” That would be good for Radahn and Bjorn. Thors was a fast friend of them both. 

“Does he intend to enroll his son?” Magnus questioned, making Gerald nod sharply. 

“The boy is too young to attend now, but one day,” Gerald confirmed before he glanced to me. “The university is going strong, your grace. Most of the students in attendance start around Prince Magnus’ age -- the scouted students, at least. It is the right age. Old enough to grow into their talents and on the cusp of being real men.” 

Magnus didn't react to the remark, but I knew it bothered him. Largely because Jill was adamant that it was better for him to shave rather than grow the thin growth he called a beard. It was for the best, I agreed, but I did understand where he was coming from. A beard was the mark of a man. 

“There are two thousand students in attendance, correct?” I continued on, aware of the crowd around us as we made our way to the university. There was a reason why I had put off a visit until now -- Gerald fervently believed me to be a god. That was an opinion he didn't hide, took no shame in, and it spread because I saw eyes full of awe and wonder as we walked. 

Men and women bent down, bowing so deeply that their heads touched the cobblestone road before they kissed the ground we walked on. It wasn't all of them. I wouldn't even say most. But there were enough that it made me worry how such a thing would affect Magnus while he was here. 

He was a dutiful son. Calm, even tempered, insightful. But the dangers of being called a god was that you might start believing it. 

“Two thousand and eighty-six,” Gerald confirmed. “Not all are on the main grounds. There are several tradesman focused facilities across the island, but the teachers have been recalled to the main campus for your visit.” 

The ‘Guilds’ continued to appear. There was a strong preference for those who had gone to the university or mentored underneath someone through one of my trade programs. They began to organize over the initial years, but they started to formalize that organization recently. They sponsored students in trades related to their particular guild, sending them to the university for a quality education before they would be mentored by a master within the guild for another few years. Once their apprenticeship was complete, they would then establish their own smithy or carpentry or tailoring service. 

I had some reservations about the practice initially, but this far, it seemed to be a way to maintain a high level of quality amongst products produced by the tradesmen. But, while it wasn't a problem now, I could see them becoming one decades down the line through collective bargaining power. 

“Have there been any problems with the transition of control?” Alexios remained in Miklagard, recovering from a bout of illness so he couldn't attend the visit, though he wanted to. 

“There has been a degree of… friction,” Gerald admitted. “Torstien is a devout servant. Odin values wisdom, so it is a divine mission to impart and gain it. It is a departure from Alexios’ manner.” The news didn't come as a surprise, but it was unwelcome. I didn't want the university to become a religious institution, even if it was likely inevitable. 

“However, he leads with great efficiency. He opened his own purse to fund dozens of students attendance, and rewards for contracts,” Gerald was swift to continue, telling me he was biased. 

The contracts he spoke of were rewards for innovations. The gods granted me knowledge of farming, which revolutionized our ability to feed ourselves, and knowledge of ship building, which drastically improved our longships. But they could not give us all the answers. Nor should they. 

Not every contract would revolutionize an industry, but a few of them could. One that I was hoping would be solved would be the creation of clearer glass. Or a method a more powerful furnace to heat metal. Or a more effective way to remove water from mineshafts. Each one had significant potential, but even something like a cheaper means to render dyes or weave clothes would have a great impact. 

The contract would not only pay for the materials used in the discovery, but deliver a payout determined by the importance of the discovery. Such as clear glass, which had a reward of the innovators weight in gold and silver. 

“I look forward to meeting him,” I replied as we finally arrived on the grounds. It was large. Spacious, with the grounds having a garden and various areas for whatever a student might need. “But, first… the library.” 

“Of course,” Gerald said, entirely unsurprised by the decision. I suppose it was a little obvious. Considering all the effort I went into amassing such a library, it was the natural first stop. 

When the doors opened, I was greeted by the scent of parchment and ink. It brought me back to the days of hunching over a table in Constantinople with a pile of tomes larger than I was on each side of me. I had seen the designs marked on parchment for the library, but seeing it in person was something very different. 

The library was four stories tall, but the center of each floor was missing, allowing someone in the center of the library to look up and see that the walls were absolutely covered with bookshelves heavy with tomes and scrolls. Each floor was held aloft by four pillars that ran to the top of the building, which was capped with a dome covered in a mosaic. One that depicted my journey to the Mediterranean- or, rather, a retelling that only had the barest of resemblance to the truth. 

The only part I recognized was accepting the bribe from Harun Al-Rashid to stop sacking his coastline. The rest? As far as the mosaic was concerned, I deceived, tricked, and outwitted the Romans into giving me their precious knowledge rather than bribing my way into the university. I could only imagine what the other wings contained on their ceiling, because the library was divided into three. 

“The division of sections is an… ongoing development,” Gerald admitted. “There are arguments about whether they should be sorted by language or topic or alphabetical… but there hasn't been any fights about it. This week.” I don't think I was supposed to hear that last bit, but his voice carried. 

“Books,” Hakon observed, looking around us with interested eyes. “I want to stay here. Can I stay?” He asked, and based on his tone, there was a correct answer to that question. 

“I want to stay too,” Ranni seconded, her voice shy even as she made the urgent request. It truly was a wonderful how two siblings could be so different. Radahn was loud, boisterous, reckless, and usually blurted out the first thing he thought. Ranni, in contrast, was almost painfully shy. The only thing she hated more than public spaces were people trying to talk to her. So, it came to no surprise to me that she immediately fell in love with the library. 

“We'll be here for a few days,” I started, and immediately saw that wasn't anywhere near long enough for my two youngest. Hakon was still young, but he learned to speak quickly. It revealed the beginnings of a stubborn personality. “After that? When you're grown up, you can attend the university and read every book they have. And they'll have even more than this by then.” 

The reassurance did little as both of them only heard the time limit, so they squirmed in my grasp to be set down. The moment their feet hit the ground, they took off running to the nearest shelf, uncaring what they read, only that they could read it. 

Behind me, I heard a snort. “Wonder who they got that from?” I heard, and I glanced over to see an old friend. 

Thorkell wore a familiar grin, his arms crossed over his barrel chest. It was a familiar sight. “You got old,” I remarked to him, earning a laugh. The words were true. 

His blonde beard had gone gray, lines gathered around his eyes and mouth from a lifetime of smiling. Still, he seemed strong. Still himself. “I see a bit of gray in your beard. Take a look at your future,” Thorkell laughed, unbothered. “But, despite that, you look good, Siegfried,” he said, clapping me on the back. 

“How was your trip to Poland?” I asked him, knowing that's where he came from. Where he should be, if he wasn’t here trying to surprise me. I had reports, of course, but I would rather hear it from the diplomat I sent to King Siemowit. 

“Hm. Interesting,” Thorkell answered, stroking his beard. “Charlemagne financed Siemowit’s invasion, but he didn’t strike me as a puppet. More like he saw an opportunity.” 

Still not great, but it was better than the worst-case scenario. 

King Siemowit was a Friend of the Allvaldr, king of Poland that, until roughly four months ago, was a relatively minor kingdom on my border. Then, in the span of a year and with an army of mercenaries, he conquered them. Which put me in an interesting position -- what happens when the Friends of the Allvaldr conquer other Friends of the Allvaldr? 

The mercenaries came from my empire. They were mostly young men who went to go raiding, but were instead lured by promises of wealth. While Poland wasn’t a poor nation, the promised wealth did ring a few warning bells. 

“But,” Thorkell continued, giving me a measured glance. “He’s looking to become more than a Friend.” At that, I raised an eyebrow before Thorkell’s gaze slid over to my children. To my daughters and Magnus, the latter mediating an argument between them. “He wants to join the empire. Officially. And he’s willing to bend the knee for the hand of one of your daughters.”

My first, second, third, fourth, and fifth reactions were various flavors of denial. My sixth through tenth were degrees of murderous intent. Those reactions, however, were those of a father. 

As the Allvaldr?

I looked at my daughters and I could only sigh.