Legends Never Die: Plots in Motion (ch. 179) (Patreon)

Haldur’s schemes weren’t anything unknown to me. It was only a question of the depth of his betrayal. The answer was deeper than I would have liked. Far deeper. As Pepin would tell it, he was more than a willing accomplice. He was all but a ringleader in a plot I had long foreseen. It was only a question of when and by who. 

“There must be a limit to your tolerance, my son,” Mother spoke to me softly. Quietly. We stood together as part of the ceremony, watching Harald and his betrothed officiate their marriage. Haldur stood with King Ihala, both men smiling even as they whispered to one another. “He is your brother. I know. You love him, and… despite it all, he does love you. But both of you are more than brothers, Siegfried. He is a king, and you are the Alvaldr.”

I hadn’t said anything to my mother, but I didn’t need to. The Blessing I gave her so long ago, before I had even set sail to the Mediterranean, was the ability to see someone’s true face. To see what someone truly thought, even as they laughed at a jest they didn’t find funny, or smiled at someone they hated. I could only wonder what she saw when she looked to me. 

“I chose that title deliberately,” I replied to her, not even bothering to hide my sadness. “But it’s not true. Not yet, at least.” The Alvaldr. The holder of all power. 

Mother tilted her head, inviting an explanation even as her grandson was married. I indulged her. “Men can only accept so much change at once. We are a stubborn species. So, we knew that things would need to be… paced.” There were certain milestones to mark progress, such as the Great Raid. 

I formed the kingdoms out of tribesmen. I bound them together with roads. I proved we were a stronger force as a whole by stripping Britannia down to the soil. Each was a milestone of progress, all to solidify the idea of not only the empire, but the kingdoms themselves. The feats proved the empire’s worth to the current generation, but in the generations to come, they would simply grow up with the idea of a Kingdom of Estonia or Sweden. It would become normal. 

“These men are used to being answerable to none other than themselves. They are richer than their ancestors ever imagined. More powerful. And while I would have liked a little more loyalty in repayment… I never counted on it,” I continued. 

The goal of the conspiracy was nebulous. Not so much as undecided, but the conspirators' aims ranged wildly. Some wanted independence. Others wanted to dissolve the empire. A few wanted to usurp the position of Alvaldr. Some wanted to pool their resources and power together, forming power blocs so they could use that as leverage for more freedoms and privileges. They weren’t fully united in their goals, but they were all using each other regardless. 

“If I bound them too tightly at the beginning, then the Empire wouldn’t have lasted to begin with. They would have chafed under the restrictions enough that they wouldn’t ever accept bending the knee in the first place,” I continued, offering a smile as Harald and Aurora held one another, now man and wife. “So, I had to prove the worth of the Empire… before I started to tighten the leash.”

Something in my Mother’s expression flickered. “Ah,” she realized, seemingly more amused than anything. Even if it was short-lived. “I suppose reigning in kings is rather like disciplining children.”

They hadn’t overreached yet. They prodded and tugged at the leash, trying to figure out their new limitations. They were wary of my power, so they didn’t dare do anything overt, but with the rise of the power blocs, they would feel more confident. Bolder. 

I didn’t yet know what they would do. It could be an attempt on my life. Or they could attack one of the fledgling kingdoms on our border that bore the title ‘Friend of the Alvaldr.’ Perhaps they would wage war upon one another, thinking they could expand beyond the borders I had dictated for them. Whatever form the rebellion took, I knew it was coming. Just as I knew exactly what the punishment would be. 

I would crush the rebellious kingdoms and kings so thoroughly, so utterly, that it would be a hundred years before another fool made the same mistake. I would strip the kingdoms of the right to call their leaders kings. I would revoke their ability to muster armies without my approval. But, above all else, I would make a change to how leadership was inherited in the kingdoms. 

When I was done, it would be the Alvaldr who would designate the heirs of the kingdoms. 

Corruption was the bane of all empires. There was no way to stop it. There was no perfect form of government which could solve the problem. It could only be managed. My thought was to use that unavoidable fact to put the position of Alvaldr as the one who the unscrupulous needed to bribe in exchange for a favor or privilege. 

Those who wished to rise in my empire would need to beseech the Alvaldr. Bribe him or her, curry their favor, and more. It wouldn’t mean the right person would receive the position every time. It wouldn’t be perfect. There would be issues. Nothing was perfect, after all. But those problems could be mitigated. 

“I just…” I finished, my lips thinning. “I just didn’t think Haldur would be one of them.” 

Mother gave me a sad smile. “That’s a lie,” she whispered. It was a bitter draught, but she was right. The news that Haldur was more involved in the plotting than I'd hoped hadn't… hit me as it should. Not as it would have if I had genuinely been caught off guard by the revelation. Instead, it was a dull ache and a bitter sigh. 

I knew my brother. I didn't doubt his love. Not for me, or my children, but I still understood who he was as a man. Even as a boy, Haldur craved being the center of attention. He wanted to be the best at everything. There was a fire in him as hot as any in Muspelheim that drove this… need to constantly compete and prove himself against us all. 

Him using the tangled knot of plots to increase his own position was something I had entirely expected. What I hadn't… 

What I didn't want to believe was that he was one of the ringleaders. His exact goal was uncertain at the moment. Pepin had no true answers for that. Only that my brother saw the empire as something untested, fragile, and with natural fault lines for when it shattered apart. 

“You cannot afford to lie to yourself,” Mother continued, her tone stern but not unkind. “We… we lost so much to Horrik. I understand your reluctance. Your hesitance. But I have always known what your brother is. And so have you.” 

The celebrations began around us. From where I stood, I could see all of my gathered family. Magnus danced with Thusnelda. Scáthach and Aífe stood at opposite ends of the hall, their most recent fight was taking longer to mend this time, even if Aífe seemed happier for it. 

“So, what will you do?” Mother asked me quietly, and my gaze drifted to Haldur. 

I thought about my answer for a moment more, almost afraid to say the words outloud. As if that would make them more real. 

“What I have to.” 

…

The rest of the celebrations passed without incident. It was almost disappointing, in a way. Godfrey deliberately avoided my attention. I didn't confront Haldur. There was no further drama beyond the petty disputes that always cropped up when you had enough nobility in a single room. 

We offered our congratulations, our gifts, and when the time came for us to depart, we boarded our ships and sailed home. 

Neither Morrigan nor Jill were particularly surprised by the revelation that Haldur was more involved in the growing seditionist movement within the Empire. Their lack of surprise told me that I had been willfully blind. But that came to an end in the following weeks and months. Even if I didn’t have the luxury of solely focusing on internal matters.

In the months that followed, the board continued to take shape. Word reached us from across the North Sea that Ecbert was making the best of his position. Charlemagne continued to fund him, though it was with far greater reluctance. That led to Ecbert attacking the Welsh. 

Hjalmar and Ulfar both meddled in the war with supplies, funding, and more. It wouldn’t be enough to stop the inevitable -- Ecbert would take Wales, it was only a question of time and how much blood would be spilled. 

The resources Ecbert was gathering went into establishing a professional army, rather than aiding his people. He didn’t have a choice if he wanted the remotest possibility of retaining his crown. But it came at a severe cost. Already, unrest was brewing across his petty kingdom, and it seemed the first enemy he would be using that professional army on would be his own citizens. 

Which, in turn, would further unrest and that, in turn, would force Ecbert to crack down hard on the people. All of it leading to more unrest. It would take time. Years. But Ecbert couldn’t afford to lighten his grip on the kingdom out of fear we would steal it from him. Worse yet, he likely understood he was playing right into our hands with every action. Just as I had when I decided to proceed with the Great Raid when I knew it would feed into the narrative had Charlemagne established. 

While I doubted the people of Britannia would welcome our return with open arms, provided we managed to soothe the worst of their anger, they would be more pliable to our rulership. 

Meanwhile, back in the Mediterranean, Hadi had returned to his domain with a long lost son of his by his side. The entire rebellion was so short lived that beyond a few border raids, Charlemagne hadn't had enough time to exploit his absence. Likewise, Harun al-Rashid continued to consolidate power inside of the Caliphate -- establishing a professional army, appointing loyalists, taking hostages, and more. 

Jafar was summarily executed, alongside the rest of the Birkman bloodline. Replacing him as Vizier, the boy I had known as Alim, now called Khalid, was granted the position. Publicly because of his efforts during the rebellion and for rescuing the royal family, but I still recalled the strange child who knew too much about everything and everyone with but a glance. It would seem Harun saw the same potential in the young man as I did. 

Hoffer, meanwhile, managed to consolidate his territory and leadership following his defeat at Rome. Though, not without cost. He was forced to hammer out a deal with the Abbasids, essentially selling them Crete and Norland. Which did sting just a little bit, even if it was the right decision. Crete was an outlier island, far from Sicily, Sardinia, and Croatia. He gave up control over the eastern half of the Mediterranean, but in exchange, he’d secured his grip on the western half. 

Things had stabilized in the Mediterranean. Enough so that I didn't expect any problems there for another few years at least. 

Leaving me to focus on more immediate concerns. Such as my own borders and the kingdoms within. 

As promised to Widukind, the most pressing concern was the border between Saxony and Rome. Already, a string of reprisal raids had been unleashed onto Rome. Some struck from the Island of Mann, under Hjalmar's leadership, while others were simply hot-blooded men who had access to a longship and decided Rome was where they would raid for that season. There was no real structure to it, and that was by design. 

The peace between Charlemagne and I remained intact. My raids didn't threaten that peace anymore than his did. 

And, as promised, I began construction upon the wall. 

It was no small project. It was only made possible largely because of the Great Raid. There were many such projects across my empire -- expanding the Kingsroad, the fleet, and constructing various fortifications across the Baltic. None could compare to the project I promised Windukind. 

It was more than a wall. It would follow along the Ems River, which marked the border with Rome. It would be a wall that stretched some hundred and fifty miles, with six forts twenty-five miles apart. Each manned by a hundred and fifty men, for a grand total of nine hundred men guarding the wall at all times. 

Which sounded like a small force compared to the tens of thousands that marched to war, but they wouldn’t be responsible for keeping out armies. They would patrol and keep out smaller bands of raiders. The wall itself wouldn’t be insurmountable for an army, but it didn’t need to be. It could be an obstacle for them to surmount, thus giving us more time to muster if we somehow missed the signs of an invasion. 

It wasn’t a project that would be completed in any short amount of time. It was a project that would take years to complete, and at great expense. 

Spring steadily turned into summer, and then into fall. The harvest was sown and reaped before I was able to see the progress of the wall with my own eyes. A delegation was swiftly formed for the visit to Saxony, but it was a small one. 

“It is coming along nicely,” I said, gazing at a stretch of wall along the river. I was joined by a dozen bodyguards, but they stood at a distance, leaving me flanked by two men. Widukind and King Alfric, who was both King of Saxony and one of my Chosen. 

“You promised a wall, Alvaldr. You did not underdeliver,” Alfric replied, a small satisfied smile on his face. Widukind wasn’t the only one who wanted to put an end to the raids. 

The wall wasn’t just a wall. It was an embankment. Before, it was a moat funneled off from the river, lined with concrete and stones to prevent it from undermining the foundations. Meanwhile, the wall itself was twelve feet tall, with a wide walkway for fighting. It was a model that I intended to steal for the Danevirke. 

It was connected to a fort nearby. It wasn’t particularly impressive by any means. It was a citadel wrapped in a wall, and small villages were already establishing themselves outside it. They weren’t designed to be unassailable or impossible to overcome. Just that they waste the enemy’s time to do so, because they would have to, otherwise they would leave more than a hundred men at their back. 

“It’ll take four years to complete,” I said, accepting the compliment. “But when it’s done? The only way they can get into Saxony will be through the south.”

“Controlling where the enemy can appear is half of the battle,” Widukind replied. “To encase all of Saxony inside of a wall... I cannot say the idea doesn’t appeal, but it’s not practical. It would take more than a decade to complete, and I cannot even imagine the cost.”

“There is something to be said about controlling the enemy,” Alfric replied as we made our way up a staircase to walk the wall. Over the course of a year, about thirty miles of the wall had been completed with it starting at the border of Holland and the North Sea. “And of being well informed of their movements.” 

“I take it you have been approached, then?” I asked lightly, unsurprised by where the conversation was headed as we reached the top of the wall. Beyond it, and the river, was Roman territory. From where I stood, I could see Roman agents watching us, as if I was going to launch a one-man invasion into their homeland. 

The question was directed to Alfric, but Widukind answered. “I have,” he admitted freely, falling in step alongside me. “It would appear that I still harbor ambitions to be King of Saxony. As such, they offer me the crown in exchange for being a spy in your inner circle.” The words were said with a small smirk, but there was steel in his voice. 

I chuckled darkly. “I can’t tell if I’m impressed or furious at their boldness,” I replied, my jaw tightening. Then I glanced at Widukind from the corner of my eye. “I cannot ask this of you.”

“You ask nothing of me, Alvaldr,” Windukind replied softly. “All that I have done, I have done for Saxony. For the gods. I walked the road as far as I could as a king, and when the time came, I set my crown aside. Yet, I find that I can do a little more in my old age.” 

I turned to face him with an understanding of what he meant. Widukind was already an older man when I fought for him in the Saxon Rebellion, and it had been another decade and a half since then. His beard had long since gone gray, his hair white, and lines gathered around his face. He carried himself as Alexios did. 

A man who knew his time was running out, yet he had a few things he wanted to do before he faced the gods. 

“... History may not remember you fondly, Widukind, but I will. My family will,” I swore to him, understanding exactly what he was offering. Widukind had already sacrificed his reputation for the sake of Saxony. He became a tyrant in order for me to make the same sweeping reforms to Saxony as I had the kingdoms I’d created from nothing. 

Now he was willing to work with the conspirators, who sought to weaken the empire, if not outright dissolve it, as a spy. 

“So long as the Empire survives you? That will be all the thanks that I need,” Windukind replied, his mind made up. There were few I trusted more than Widukind. It was times like these that I remembered why I had been inspired to sail to Constantinople. All so that when I became a king, I could be more like him than not. 

“On the topic of spies,” Alfric spoke up, shifting the topic. Likely because he was keenly aware that the reason his crown rested upon his brow was that Widukind had given it up. “There is an opportunity for one in Charlemagne’s court.” 

Morrigan and Jill had already cultivated a number of spies inside of Charlemagne’s court, and Jasmine had developed her own network from merchant ships and caravans. But, Alfric seemed unusually pleased with himself as he uttered the words, so I gestured for him to continue. 

“Duke Ludwig of Hesse,” Alfric named the man, and I didn’t bother to keep my skepticism off my face. Ludwig of Hesse was the noble whose domain largely bordered Saxony. He was elevated to such a position specifically to stockpile resources under one man. In short, the Dukedom of Hesse was Charlemagne’s Saxony. 

I knew little about the man himself, beyond that he was in his late thirties. I was also sure he was distantly related to Charlemagne, as most dukes in the Frankish portion of the Roman Empire were.

“For what cause?” I prompted, and at that, the confident smile slid off Alfric’s face. 

“Greed, as far as I can tell,” Alfric said, and of all the answers he could have given, that was perhaps the most believable. “He falls into the camp of those who aren’t happy with the changes brought about by the reunification. I can’t say what exactly he can’t stand about it. Just that he’d prefer things to go back to the way they were. Or, failing that… to strike out on his own.”

“He’d be a fool to think he could survive the latter,” I said, mulling the information over. Hesse wouldn’t be able to survive independence any more than Saxony could. If they left the Roman Empire, then they would be pinned between Scandinavia and the Romans, so it would only be a question of who conquered them.  

“Unless he wouldn’t be alone,” Alfric ventured. “The sack of Rome, and the entire Italia campaign by King Hoffer gave Charlemagne a black eye. He won the battle, but he still looked weak. The Pope is still a captive; he didn’t manage to restore the stolen loot… He won the battle, but he lost the war.” 

Widukind nodded in agreement. “I wouldn’t call him weak, but he has been weakened. His nobility chafes under the Roman traditions and his own attempts to strengthen his position. Yet, they have not forgotten the house-cleaning Charlemagne did in the wake of the last string of failed rebellions.”

What they needed were assurances. 

I let out a small breath, already feeling the approach of winter yet again. “Emperor Charlemagne has decided to meddle in the affairs of my empire. I suppose it is only fair we return the favor.”