After the oath-taking ceremony concluded, one of the chieftains brought up the situation in Moravia and asked about the Empire's position.
Worried that someone might let something slip, Raven Speaker did not answer directly.
He merely stated that the Emperor was monitoring developments closely and that an official response would come later.
"Gentlemen, Pomerania has long been coveted by East Francia and Moravia. From time to time, Viking raiders have also struck your coasts.
"From this moment onward, under the witness of Perun, you are formally under the protection of the Empire.
"Any attack against you shall be considered an attack against the Empire itself!"
The protection of a great power was the most immediate benefit Pomerania gained from joining the Empire.
The chieftains were delighted, and the meeting ended in a warm and harmonious atmosphere.
On March 28, Raven Speaker set sail for home.
A storm struck during the voyage, forcing the three-masted vessel to make a temporary stop on Denmark's western coast while repairs were made to the sails.
With nothing else to do, Raven Speaker wandered around the area.
In his memory, the land beyond the walls should have been filled with dark plowed fields and farmers sowing spring wheat.
Instead, there were no furrowed fields at all.
Only endless grasslands stretched into the distance.
Fresh green grass rippled beneath the breeze, dotted with countless white specks.
Thousands of sheep grazed across the landscape, their bleating carried by the wind.
Raven Speaker stopped in his tracks.
"Where are all the farmlands?"
The local petty lord explained:
"There were wars for years. Most people either died or fled.
"The fields were abandoned and could only be converted into pasture."
After the Second Danish–East Frankish War, Vig and the participating nobles divided Denmark among themselves.
The Danish royal family's territory had been reduced to the area around Aalborg, no larger than an ordinary county.
Then, in 867, East Francia invaded Denmark once more, triggering the great Viking–Frankish war.
East Francia swiftly occupied the entire Jutland Peninsula.
Taking advantage of the frozen Great and Little Belt straits, they also raided Funen and Zealand, causing Denmark's population to fall again—to fewer than fifty thousand people.
After the war ended, British textile companies discovered an extraordinary business opportunity.
Denmark was close to Britain and possessed vast stretches of abandoned flat farmland, perfect for raising sheep.
Representatives from various merchant guilds approached Nordic nobles and leased land from them at low prices.
They then established large-scale sheep ranches.
The wool was regularly shipped to Britain to serve as raw material for the textile industry.
Raven Speaker asked,
"Who did you lease your land to?"
The petty lord gazed at the sheep covering the hillsides.
His expression was lonely, like an old farmer forced to sell his ancestral fields.
"All the same people.
"The Pontiland Guild, the Harley Guild, and eight other textile companies approached me.
"They all wanted long-term leases, and their rental offers were nearly identical.
"Every territory suffers from severe labor shortages.
"We had no choice but to accept, signing leases for twenty or even forty years.
"Sigh...
"The times have truly changed.
"In the past, merchants spoke to us with utmost humility.
"Now we're the ones patiently trying to stay on good terms with them."
Raven Speaker felt unexpectedly heavy-hearted.
This region was not far from his own homeland.
When he was young, the village's able-bodied men usually set sail at this time of year.
Some traded.
Some fished.
Others raided.
Now all those identities had vanished.
Merchant, fisherman, raider—they had all become one thing:
Employees of textile companies.
The lord was right.
The times really had changed.
In April, Raven Speaker returned to Londinium.
More than two hundred vessels of various sizes crowded the harbor.
They brought raw materials from across the Empire—primarily wool.
Those materials were processed in Londinium into finished goods and then exported back across the continent.
The docks were noisy and bustling.
Thirty treadwheel cranes operated tirelessly.
The entire city radiated a level of prosperity unlike anything seen before.
As Raven Speaker stepped off the pier, a pungent aroma drifted from a nearby food stall.
The vendor was sprinkling an unfamiliar red powder onto grilled fish.
Curious, Raven Speaker purchased a serving.
After only two bites, he hastily handed the remainder to an equally curious sailor.
"What a strange spice. Where does it come from?"
The vendor pointed toward a sailing ship nearby.
"The New World.
"They call it chili pepper.
"And besides that, the sailors brought back another oddity.
"Look over there."
Not far away, an old sailor sat atop a wooden crate.
He took a pinch of dried, crumbled brown leaves and stuffed them into a strangely shaped clay pipe.
After lighting it, the leaves did not burn fiercely.
Instead, they smoldered slowly, producing a peculiar, spicy-smelling smoke.
Under the fascinated gaze of nearby residents, the sailor took a deep draw.
For a moment, time itself seemed to stop.
He inhaled the smoke deeply into his lungs and closed his eyes.
When he exhaled through his nose, the smoke drifted out in thin streams.
As the crowd murmured in curiosity, the old sailor released another contented cloud.
Several particularly bold onlookers begged to try it.
Every single one of them ended up coughing violently, eyes watering as they cursed and returned the "burning leaves" to the sailor.
The scene provoked laughter from everyone nearby.
"What is that?"
Raven Speaker approached and asked.
The old sailor lazily replied:
"Tobacco.
"A crop grown by the natives of the Americas.
"In the past two years, the settlement in Puerto Rico has started cultivating it on a small scale as well.
"Whether Frankish settlers or Viking settlers, more and more people are growing fond of this new pastime."
According to the sailor, the New World settlements had received large numbers of Frankish exiles and were developing rapidly.
The three towns had also deliberately absorbed nearby natives.
Each settlement now exceeded two thousand inhabitants.
"So many?"
Raven Speaker tugged thoughtfully at his beard.
It seemed necessary to intensify missionary efforts in the New World and send more shamans.
That afternoon, Raven Speaker went to the palace to report in.
Vig, however, was nowhere to be found in his office.
Following a servant's directions, he entered the royal gardens.
There, on the lawn, a grill had been set up.
Vig was leisurely roasting lamb and chicken wings, occasionally sprinkling them with various seasonings—including the same fiery red powder Raven Speaker had encountered at the docks.
"Did everything go smoothly in Pomerania?"
Raven Speaker handed the signed oath documents to a nearby servant.
"Very smoothly.
"The chieftains only asked that their hereditary rights be guaranteed.
"They didn't demand any financial compensation."
Vig had prepared ten thousand pounds' worth of rewards beforehand.
Being able to save that money put him in an excellent mood.
He casually offered a skewer of grilled chicken wings.
"Want some?"
"I already tried it at the docks.
"I can't handle the taste."
Raven Speaker quickly declined and shifted the topic to the three temples in the New World.
Vig replied:
"No rush.
"The Royal Navy controls all routes to the New World.
"The Moors and the Visigoths lack advanced navigation technology.
"They won't be building ocean-going twin-masted ships for another twenty years.
"Right now, Moravia is the priority.
"The situation there is unstable.
"Select a group of bold and capable shamans and send them to the border regions.
"Win over the support of the lower and middle classes."
—------------------------------
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