At the end of the year, Vig reviewed the Cabinet's annual report.
Since the Empire had enjoyed an entire year without war, economic growth had been rapid. Londinium's population had expanded to 47,000, with the textile industry absorbing most of the new residents.
Vast quantities of textiles were exported from Britain to the Continent, generating enormous tax revenues.
Imperial revenue for 871 reached 175,000 pounds, with commercial taxes accounting for over seventy percent of the total.
On the expenditure side, two major new expenses had appeared during the year: cannon production and the expansion of Londinium.
Initially, each bronze cannon produced by the Royal Arsenal cost 150 pounds. As manufacturing techniques improved, the cost fell to 120 pounds per gun.
Even so, total artillery expenditures reached 15,000 pounds.
Fortunately, the economy had grown so rapidly in 871 that the Cabinet voiced few complaints.
The expansion of Londinium cost more than 20,000 pounds.
Once construction was completed, the city government planned to sell land parcels in stages, quickly recovering the investment and likely turning a substantial profit.
In total, imperial expenditures for 871 amounted to 105,000 pounds, leaving an annual surplus of 70,000 pounds.
"So much?"
Vig raised an eyebrow.
"Even after paying off all the war bonds, I'll still have fifty thousand pounds left."
Healthy finances were essential to maintaining a ruler's authority.
Having witnessed the collapse of the old dynasty firsthand, Vig placed great importance on that lesson.
For years, he had lived frugally and directed huge sums into economic development and the expansion of foreign markets.
Like a snowball rolling downhill, the Empire had steadily grown larger and wealthier.
Now, at last, he had forged a prosperous and powerful realm.
Strong finances meant that all nine ministries had sufficient funding, and their objectives were being met.
Turning to the final page of the report, Vig found a section concerning the New World.
Boston, Charleston, and Puerto Rico remained stable.
Meanwhile, the Governor of the Caribbean and Baron of Puerto Rico had sent back a crudely drawn map depicting the Caribbean islands and the lands of Central America to the west.
According to the governor, Central America was politically unstable, and most local powers were in decline.
He argued that the opportunity was too good to miss and requested broader authority to take action.
Vig stroked his chin.
"What does the Cabinet think?"
The Prime Minister shook his head.
"The western Mediterranean, northern Italy, Moravia—potential conflicts are everywhere.
"This is not the time to send troops to the New World and start wars against indigenous kingdoms we've never even heard of."
Vig agreed.
He rose from his seat and paced around the room.
Current firearms technology was still primitive and had not yet created an overwhelming military advantage.
After careful consideration, he forbade the governor from intervening in native wars.
At most, he could trade textiles, alcohol, and iron weapons.
The calendar turned to January 872.
In central Europe, near the upper Elbe, in Hradec.
Late at night, snow and bitter winds swept across the countryside.
Most residents were asleep.
The local lord's banquet, however, was still underway.
At the center of the hall, a stone hearth blazed with thick oak logs.
Occasional sparks crackled upward before fading away.
Wool tapestries hanging from the walls flickered in the firelight, their embroidered hunting scenes shifting in and out of shadow.
"Drink! Another cup!"
The long table groaned beneath platters of roasted meat, honey-coated cheese, and white bread.
Twenty-three nobles sat on either side.
Most wore beards, heavy wool cloaks, and leather boots.
Firelight danced across the wine in their silver cups.
Their conversation drifted toward this year's harvest and the king's latest taxes.
"The standing army has already expanded to two thousand men, and the king still isn't satisfied.
"Now he wants a luxury tax as well.
"At this rate, wine, whisky, mead, sugar, and spices are all going to become far more expensive."
"Not just those. Dyed cloth is considered a luxury too.
"It's all because of those damned Greek advisers!"
Resentment steadily accumulated.
Finally, a young noble seated at the head of the table slammed his cup down and shouted:
"Rebellion!
"Rostislav is nothing but a puppet of the Greeks.
"He doesn't deserve to rule this kingdom!"
The hall instantly fell silent.
Nobody responded.
Instead, everyone stared blankly at the increasingly agitated young noble.
After a moment, one middle-aged lord rose to his feet.
"I have some matters to attend to.
"I'll be taking my leave."
The other guests quickly followed, each inventing their own excuse.
Rebellion was the gravest of crimes.
None of them wanted any part of it.
Once everyone had departed, the young noble continued ranting drunkenly until one of his guards finally reminded him.
Only then did he blink in confusion.
"Where are my guests?
"Where did everyone go?"
Before long, the news reached Kocel of Žatec.
The moment he heard it, he drew his sword and began hacking furiously at the long table in his own hall.
"By the gods!
"Why did I ever recruit that loudmouthed idiot?"
According to the original plan, he was supposed to launch his rebellion in early April.
He would then lead the Viking armies eastward, overthrow the old king, and become either a duke—or perhaps even the new king himself.
Now the conspiracy had been exposed.
There was no longer any possibility of secrecy.
Kocel immediately summoned the lesser nobles and local gentry from surrounding districts and forced them to choose sides.
"The king is incompetent and has become a puppet of the Greeks.
"I intend to raise an army and defend Moravia's ancient traditions.
"What do you say?"
A minority voiced support.
Most remained silent.
Five lesser nobles who had converted to the new faith openly condemned Kocel's rebellion.
Kocel did not reply.
He merely glanced at the guards lining both sides of the hall.
In the next instant, the five nobles were cut down by a storm of blades.
Their corpses were dragged outside, leaving crimson trails across the floorboards.
Having thoroughly intimidated the gathering, Kocel forced everyone present to sign multiple declarations of war.
These letters would be sent throughout the kingdom, ensuring that all participants had no path of retreat.
"Excellent.
"Thank you all for choosing the correct side."
Afterward, Kocel met Agent Red Bream in the rear courtyard and ordered him to contact the Viking forces immediately.
The agent grimaced.
"My lord, it's winter.
"You've started the rebellion early.
"We aren't prepared yet.
"It'll probably take some time."
With that, he mounted his horse and galloped northwest toward the imperial border forty miles away.
Three days later, the news reached the military camp at Magdeburg.
Chaos erupted.
A third of the officers were away on leave.
The supply wagons and river transports needed for the campaign had not yet been assembled.
The army would not be able to move for at least a month.
The same problem existed in Regensburg.
The duke's family was equally unprepared.
The calculating duchess clutched the report and complained repeatedly:
"It's the middle of winter.
"The peasants only want to stay indoors and survive the cold.
"This war can't possibly be fought right now."
Douglas glanced at her.
"So you're planning to use that excuse when speaking to the Emperor?"
He then ordered his two sons to begin raising militia forces throughout their territories.
Regardless of the outcome, he needed to demonstrate loyalty to the Emperor through action.
On January 10th, Agent Red Bream returned to Žatec.
After delivering a long list of bad news, he finally reported the one piece of good news.
On the western side of the border, near Dresden, a secret stockpile contained two thousand suits of armor along with large quantities of weapons.
According to the emergency plans, those supplies were already being transported to Žatec.
Kocel's task was simple:
Hold out until February.
—------------------------------
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