It took three days to round the northernmost point of Britain. The longship sailed southwest along the coastline. The coastline in this area is winding and complex, with dense islands and many fjords, similar to northern Europe. The only difference is that the warm North Atlantic Current makes the climate mild and humid, which attracts many Vikings. At
noon on the fourth day, a Nordic-style temple on a clifftop came into view. Vigler ordered his men to land. They were all in armor, leaving five to guard the ship while the remaining sixteen walked up the seaweed-covered hillside to the temple.
Soon after, they were stopped by five shepherds with slingshots.
"Stop!"
Seeing this, the shield bearers silently surrounded the lord, and Yolen stepped forward with a flag: "Calm down, we have no evil intentions, may I ask where the Isle of Skye is?"
"Tell me, who are you?" The boy did not lower the slingshot, but began to whistle to call the adults nearby.
Since these twelve-thirteen year old boys ignored him, Yoran's tone gradually became harsh: "Watch your behavior, little one, do you know who you are talking to?"
He gestured to the boy at the black flag with the yellow dragon: "My master is the Lord of Tyneburg, appointed by Ragnar, the Chosen, the Serpent of the North, the hero who survived three battles at Manchuni, Yorktown and Dufilin, the wielder of the Dragon's Breath Sword, Wig Haakenson, do you understand?"
Knowing that a legendary figure had come to visit them, the leading boy lowered his slingshot, "This is the Isle of Skye, what do you want to do?"
"Looking for someone." Wig pushed aside the shield bearer next to him and strode toward a middle-aged woman who had run from afar, "Long time no see, sister, you have aged greatly."
"Wig?" Britta looked up in confusion, looking at the man who was clearly a head taller than her. Instinctively, she raised her hand to touch his cheek. "I thought that the Chosen 'Wig' that the others spoke of was exactly the same name as you. I did not expect it to be the same person. Come with me."
On the other side of the ridge, at the foot of the hillside, was a small settlement of fifty households and a simple wooden wall at the outermost edge.
At this point, most of the villagers had gathered in front of the gate to see the Chosen One, whose reputation had spread throughout Viking society. At the head of the crowd stood a one-eyed man with a stern expression. Vig took the initiative, stepped forward and embraced him. "Son-in-law, it seems you have found the life you want."
Helgi hugged him tightly. He had heard of the deeds of "the Chosen One" Vig countless times over the past two years, but he still found it difficult to connect the Chosen One with the dull boy in his memory. Surprise, shock, and other emotions surged through his heart and finally condensed into a single sentence:
"Long time no see, Vig."
...
The distinguished guest had arrived, Helgi had slaughtered the cattle and held a banquet. Vig asked the shield bearer to send two gifts, a gold necklace and a suit of chain mail.
"What a valuable gift, thank you." Helgi took the chain mail and put it on, feeling a little depressed, but still very pleased. "One, I did not expect to be worthy of wearing such first-class armor."
His smile brightened as he received the heavy gift, and he asked the slaves to bring out all the wine to entertain the guests. During the banquet, Vig mentioned the island alliance, and a half-drunk Helgi took a glass of wine.
"You are well informed. In mid-May, two settlements jointly plundered the Gaels on the west coast and suffered heavy losses. In view of the increased vigilance of the enemy, eleven nearby settlements decided to form an alliance and jointly begin plundering in the future."
An alliance?
Vig was about to ask who was really in charge of the alliance, but a five-year-old boy grabbed him. The little boy held his hand and rocked back and forth, demanding to play with the Dragon Breath Sword on his uncle's belt.
"You can look, but don't touch the blade." Vig was annoyed and pulled out his longsword to show it to his nephew a few times, then sheathed the sword, making it into a sword flower.
"Uncle, can you give me the sword?"
Vig stroked his nephew's hair, "Of course, Leif, if you have the chance to come to Tyneburg to play, I will give you an iron sword and a pony, as well as many new and interesting things."
Finally, having sent the boy away, he intended to continue asking for news of the island alliance, but he saw his son-in-law fast asleep on the table, with an overturned jug of wine soaking half his body, like a middle-aged drunkard, such as one sees everywhere in the tavern.
...
The next morning Wig woke slowly, clutching his head, and noticed that there was a great deal of noise outside. He went out the door and saw more than a dozen strangers entering Chief Helgi's longhouse one after another.
"What is going on?"
The two guards standing guard at the door said in unison, "It seems that the guests who have just arrived are from the neighbouring island of North Uist."
North Uist?
Wig had heard Helgi talking about his surroundings the night before, for the names of the islands were too many and too complicated. All he could remember was that there was an island to the west called St Kilda. There were no trees on the island, but there were plenty of gannets, puffins and wild sheep with crooked horns.
In his opinion, islands where birds gather can produce guano, which is a rare natural fertilizer, so he paid special attention to this island.
After washing himself in a basin of clean water from the well, Wig tied his loose hair in a ponytail, dressed neatly and went to the chieftain's longhouse. The shield-bearers had long been accustomed to the cleanliness of their lord and followed him silently.
Entering the door, his brother-in-law introduced him to the identity of the visitor, Stein, lord of the island of North Uist, the strongest in the union of the archipelago.
Feeling the hostility emanating from the bearded bald man, Wig suppressed a smile and said: "The kingdom of Northumbria, lord of Tyneburg."
Although both sides were lords, the so-called Alliance of the Isles had poor lands and a small population, with a total population of less than a third of Tyneburg. Moreover, the dozen or so men behind Stein were all losers. If the two sides were to turn against each other and fight, he could handle half of them.
The next moment, his sister brought a bowl of steaming mutton soup. Wig sipped it and listened inattentively to the conversation between Stein and his brother-in-law, Helgi. It sounded as if the Alliance of the Isles were about to launch a raid, targeting Glasgow, the capital of the Gaels.
"I agree!"
Helgi, who had just received his chainmail, was worried about where to use it. "It just so happens that Wig is here. He is good at sieges. York and Dufillin are the best examples. With this famous "Chosen One" at our head, we can definitely break through Glasgow."
Stein scratched his dirty beard: "No, this action is revenge for the past failure. This is an internal matter of the Archipelago Alliance. There is no need to disturb you."
Internal matters?
Vig immediately saw through Stein's true intentions and refused to participate in the war because he was afraid that it would affect his vote in the coalition.
The temple is small and the wind is strong. There are many turtles in the shallow pond. With such a small number of people, he is still thinking about calculations. This big beard is really interesting.