Building houses in a unified manner and selling them centrally. This practice had been implemented in Teyne Town for many years, so Viggo was already intimately familiar with the procedures. Once the construction team's work was firmly on track, he began delegating authority to his subordinates, gradually stepping away from the busy, noisy construction site.
One day, during his free time, Viggo went for a stroll through the market. Having been away from home for over three months, he planned to buy a few things to send back to Teyne.
Followed by a dozen plainclothes guards, Viggo, dressed as a commoner, wandered about, picking out some small Ornaments from the stalls.
With the transaction complete, Viggo was just about to leave when the peddler suddenly spoke in a mysterious tone, "My Lord, don't be in a rush to leave. I have some even better goods."
'What kind of stuff?'
Viggo scratched the back of his head, feigning the look of a foolish country knight.
The peddler gave a knowing smile and pointed to a nearby alley. "Go in there, take a right at the first fork, then a left, and look for the third house."
"Got it."
Following the directions, Viggo arrived at the house the peddler had mentioned. Pushing open the ajar wooden door, he found two fierce-looking men sitting inside.
One of them stood up. "Are you here to cause trouble, or to buy goods?"
Viggo answered calmly, "I heard there are cheap goods here. I'd like to buy a small barrel of wine and a quarter bolt of blue linen."
The man nodded, then lifted a curtain and slipped into a deeper room. After a long wait, he emerged carrying a small wooden barrel on his left shoulder and a length of light blue linen tucked under his arm.
Viggo complained, "This color isn't deep enough. You're not trying to fool me with defective goods, are you?"
"If you don't buy it, plenty of others will." The man spread out the linen to show it was flawless, then pulled the wooden stopper from the wine barrel, poured a small cup, and handed it to Viggo.
Smacking his lips, Viggo nodded. "It has the taste of Bordeaux, but unfortunately, it was fermented for too long. The astringency is a bit heavy."
"Heh, you know your stuff, kid. Whose steward are you?"
Feigning wariness, Viggo stopped making conversation. He pulled out thirty Silver Pennies to pay the bill, then hoisted his goods and left.
After exiting the alley, Viggo circled around a few times before returning to the Prime Minister's residence in the east of the city. He then had someone summon his secretary, Loki.
"There are people selling smuggled goods in the city. How should we confiscate them?"
With the stolen goods right in front of him, Loki had no room to maneuver. "Confiscating smuggled goods is Ethelwulf's responsibility. Since the crime occurred in Londinium, it requires Lord Hrolf's cooperation. My heartfelt suggestion is that you send someone to inform them instead of intervening personally."
Initially, Viggo's idea was to dispatch Utgard to strike hard, leading the knights to smash the smuggling den and follow the trail to uncover a whole string of smugglers.
However, Loki's point was valid. Rashly interfering in Ethelwulf and Hrolf's jurisdictions without prior notice would certainly breed dissatisfaction, especially with the highly arrogant Hrolf.
Caught in a dilemma, Viggo stroked his chin. "If we let them investigate, I'm worried the news will leak, and in the end, they'll only catch a few small fry."
Loki shrugged. "Your Excellency, I think that's fine. If they actually uncover something major, it might lead to some highly unpredictable consequences."
"You!" Viggo fumed, but he could only accept reality. "Forget it. Do as you say."
Things developed exactly as Viggo had predicted. Ethelwulf and Hrolf arrested a group of nobodies and confiscated a small portion of stolen goods along the way. The value of the goods was very low, presumably the defective leftovers picked over by the real culprits.
With the smuggling network taking a hit and unable to operate for a short period, Viggo shifted his attention to customs, planning to tackle the smuggling issue from the source.
The docks of Londinium were bustling with trade. Viggo, as usual, changed into casual clothes to scout the situation under the guise of a commoner.
Sunlight poured down, and the surface of the River Thames occasionally shimmered like fish scales. The masts of merchant ships moored along the shore stood as thick as a forest. Porters hunched their backs, hauling bundles of wool and woolen cloth from the ships to the warehouses near the docks, the wooden planks of the pier creaking beneath their feet. Because the textile industry was backwards, Britain's primary export was wool. This wool was processed into woolen cloth in the towns of Flandre; a portion was sold throughout the European continent, while the rest was sold back to Britain.
At that moment, an Anglo clerk was registering the number of imported bolts of cloth, stamping each one as a voucher for subsequent sales.
"A total of two hundred and eight bolts of cloth."
The registration finished, the clerk accepted two coin pouches from the captain—one large and one small. The former was for taxes, the latter a tip for his troubles.
The clerk skillfully pocketed the tip and carried the report into a nearby wooden cabin, which was filled with clamorous noise and the strong stench of alcohol.
Leaning close to the window, Viggo found three Viking employees sitting inside, each with a young woman in his arms. Regarding the Anglo clerk's report, one of them looked extremely impatient, casually stuffing the paper into a drawer and shooing away his buzzkill of a colleague.
"What a sloppy way to handle things," Viggo muttered.
Viggo roughly understood the reason for this chaotic situation. Ragnar worried that Ethelwulf and his Anglo clerks would collude, so he had inserted many Vikings into the operation.
The trouble was that these Viking officials were poorly educated, lazy, and addicted to alcohol. As long as their superiors didn't investigate, they simply dumped their tasks onto their Anglo colleagues, thoroughly enjoying a lucrative job with minimal responsibilities.
His inspection concluded, Viggo sought out Ethelwulf, demanding that he clean up customs and dismiss those incompetent freeloaders.
"Cough, cough... Prime Minister, your suggestion makes a lot of sense. Cough, cough..."
Ethelwulf still maintained his frail, elderly appearance. He clutched his chest and coughed violently, startling Viggo into quickly pouring the guest a cup of water.
After catching his breath for a long while, Ethelwulf explained the dilemma at customs. "You are a smart man. There must be Viking employees within customs; I cannot simply dismiss them."
Viggo brought out a manuscript covered in text and calculations. "Clear out the original trash and use examinations to select a batch of Viking employees who actually meet the standards."
'Select personnel through examinations?'
Ethelwulf gripped the manuscript tightly, his eyes flickering before he ultimately accepted Viggo's demand. Assuming this method was indeed viable, he planned to promote it within Wessex to weed out a bunch of useless cronies.
Having reached a consensus, the two men headed to the rear gardens of the Royal Palace. Ragnar was observing the fourth prince, Ubbe, practicing his swordsmanship. Acting on a sudden whim, the King took the field himself, consecutively striking down the sword instructor and five guards.
"Your Majesty's martial skills are unmatched!"
"Truly worthy of being the most renowned legendary hero!"
Listening to the flattery of the guards and maids, Ragnar wiped his sweat with a silk handkerchief and asked the two visiting important ministers, "What do you think?"
Ethelwulf coughed as he offered his praise. "Your Majesty's swordsmanship is masterful, superior to any knight I have ever known."
Viggo remained silent.
"Prime Minister?" Ragnar prompted softly. When Viggo still did not open his mouth, the atmosphere instantly grew heavy.