-----------------------------
If there are spelling mistakes, please let me know.
Leave a comment; support is always appreciated.
I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see.
-------------------------------
Anno Domini 826, July 26-August-4
"A great victory," I said with satisfaction as I looked at all the dead Bulgarians and the captives, now bound in chains.
"Yes…" Sigurd said, sitting beside me. "It's an excellent weapon… with a single motion I can break my enemy's arm," he added, studying his polehammer.
"I'm glad you like it… I came up with it by thinking about how you fight… well, you're a lucky man," I said, observing Sigurd's armor and noticing a dent in the bevor, clearly caused by an arrow given its size.
"The armor did its job… so the honor for my feats belongs to its maker," Sigurd said.
"Armor is useless if no one wears it. Well, now we'll see how this victory turns out… the loot should be good," I said with a smile after such a decisive win.
The Bulgarians may have been mostly poorly armed levies, wearing little more than linen clothing and scavenged armor, but there was a heavily equipped core among them. Still, a victory is a victory—especially when it's won without losing men, aside from a few minor wounds.
"Aren't you going to take part in the looting?" I asked as I watched everyone grabbing boots, checking fingers, or rummaging through collapsed tents in search of valuables.
"My duty is to protect you at all times… in battle I cannot set aside my duty in pursuit of personal wealth," Sigurd replied.
I clicked my tongue. "If only I had a thousand like you in my ranks…" I said, biting my lip. "Well… in any case, almost everything will end up in the camp's common chest, except for items of direct value like bronze or silver rings… the rest has to be sold, and many people dislike that. That's where I come in—buying good-quality material cheaply to repair it or use it as raw material," I added calmly as I remained seated on the rock, watching the looting.
That was when I noticed two Varangians arguing over something they had found.
I stood up and walked toward them as the shouting grew louder.
"Alright… alright, what's going on here?" I said, hands on my hips, looking at the Varangians.
"He took the most valuable piece of loot, even though I was the one who killed him," one of them said.
"What are you talking about? I was the one who broke his legs—you only finished him off," the second replied.
"Come on… no trouble here. You're not going to start infighting over a simple ring, are you? What is that worth—one or two silver coins by weight? Are you even sure it's silver and not copper mixed with something else, or plated metal?" I said, looking at the Varangian holding the ring, who fell silent as he examined it.
"Here, give it to me," I said, taking it from his hand. "It's copper plated with silver… worth less than a miliaresion—at most a couple of bronze coins. Are you really going to fight over something of so little value?" I added, raising an eyebrow.
"Huh…" one of the Varangians muttered, shifting his helmet.
"You both killed him, and to avoid any issue I'll give each of you a silver coin. Now keep looting—while you're arguing, the others are getting ahead," I said, pointing out how the rest continued searching.
"Right," the first said, moving on to check other bodies, and the second did the same.
"Things people fight over," I said with a small laugh.
"I believe it was more about who killed him… but your judgment is correct—both took part in his death," Sigurd said.
The looting ended, and all equipment without immediate value to my mercenaries was quickly gathered onto the supply carts: mail shirts, spears, swords, shields, clothing, fabrics—everything that couldn't be quickly exchanged for food or services.
The bronze and silver coins ended up in my men's pockets, leaving me my share as kapetanios. Once everything was done, I demanded forty percent of the looted value as a common fund to be distributed among all, with flogging as punishment if anyone was caught hiding loot or turning in less than their share.
Before long, the camp was left clean, as if a Bulgarian presence had never existed there. The battle had lasted less than an hour, the sun hadn't even reached its zenith, and I knew exactly where to go for the next visit.
So, without wasting time, leaving a group of one hundred men behind, we began moving toward that silver mine that had filled my pockets with ingots the year before.
We moved through forests and hills, remembering the path all too well, encountering no Bulgarian patrols along the way, and quickly reached the place where our looting had begun the previous year.
As we emerged from the forests and hills onto the road, we could see the village, and I began to smile involuntarily.
We had barely advanced when I noticed the guards pointing at us, staring like rabbits caught in a flashlight beam at night—until they realized we weren't Bulgarians. Unlike last time, we looked nothing like what they remembered, and without hesitation they began to run, dropping their spears and shields as they fled in panic.
"Ha… ha…" I started laughing. "Just as easy as I remembered."
"Remember—if you find Roman slaves, no one who speaks Greek is to be killed," I told my mercenaries, then repeated the order to the Varangians, making it clear that no one who spoke Greek was to be touched.
My company quickly spread out through the small village. As expected—considering that the year before we had taken almost everyone prisoner—the place was nearly empty. Only a handful of people remained, and where there was activity was inside the mansions of the local lords, where I could see many people working—most likely Greek slaves.
Once again, there were guards at the gate with bows in hand. Even without seeing their eyes, I could sense the fear at the sight of five hundred fully armored mercenaries moving freely while they could do nothing.
Before we could even speak to them, they fled toward the interior, as the complex was surrounded by a small wall meant to prevent escapes.
We used the same method as last time: we improvised a ladder with crates to jump the wall, opened the gate, and my men quickly followed me into the manor.
"Oh… looks like it's empty…" I said, somewhat disappointed when no one appeared in sight.
We began checking the kitchen for anything fresh that could serve as dinner, and while I was looking for ham or something similar, I heard a desperate, agonized scream.
When I turned around, Sigurd was holding a woman by her clothes, lifting her with a single arm. He looked at me."Should I kill her?" Sigurd asked.
"No… do you speak Greek, woman?" I asked.
"Yes… yes… I speak Greek," she replied through tears, with a natural accent that made it clear she wasn't a Bulgarian who had learned the language.
"Then there's nothing to worry about, woman… we've come to free you," I said casually. "Let her go, Sigurd—she's Roman," I added in Varangian, and my bodyguard released her.
"Uh… look what I found…" I said, holding up an entire smoked ham leg.
"Oh… good ham… a lot of salt must've gone into that," Sigurd said.
I pulled out a knife and started cutting it. "Here—looks like there won't be a fight, so we might as well enjoy the moment," I said, handing him a piece and stuffing another into my mouth.
"And what if reinforcements arrive?" Sigurd asked while eating.
"There are scouts on the roads. If anyone comes, we'll have plenty of time to react—so relax," I replied calmly. "Let's check if there's anything valuable left, or if they've already cleared the place out," I added, still chewing on the ham.
On the second floor we found no one. A shame—perhaps the strategos would've paid me well if I'd found that boyar's grandsons again.
In the cellar, however, we found more silver ingots, meaning the silver mining operation was still running as usual.
So we freed the slaves working the fields. Many were captives from the last Bulgarian raid, and we ended up freeing hundreds of prisoners. The same happened at the other mansion in the village. After that, we headed back to the silver mine and found it full of slaves extracting the metal.
After subduing the guards—who weren't even aware of what had happened in the village—we freed everyone and took everything that had been mined over the last few days, leaving with a substantial amount of ingots and raw ore.
"There's much less here than last time, Bulgarian… where did you take it?" I asked the bound guard when I noticed there weren't even close to the number of ingots from the previous year.
The Bulgarian clenched his teeth and said nothing.
"Listen, Bulgarian—if you don't talk, I'll sell you in an Anatolian slave market and you'll never have a chance to escape. You'll be trapped in the Empire for the rest of your life. So if you tell me where they took it, I'll make sure you aren't enslaved," I said, crouching in front of him and staring him down.
Just as I was about to try my luck with another guard, he spoke.
"North… Beroia," he said after a moment.
"That's north… not too far, but we could run into a lot of Bulgarians," I said thoughtfully.
"Good… Sigurd, cut his throat," I ordered.
In a single instant, Sigurd drew his dagger and slit the man's throat with one clean motion.
"Honorless dog!" another Bulgarian shouted at me when he saw it.
"Hm?" I replied calmly, looking at him. "What did you say? I fulfilled exactly what I promised. He will never be a slave—unlike you. You'll spend your entire life working the land, or a short one in a mine, suffering the same fate you were so eager to impose on Romans," I said with a smile. "Take him away."
My men seized the guards, and we began organizing everything to return to our camp. It had been a good day: by dusk we returned loaded with looted food, stolen equipment, Bulgarian prisoners, and having freed more than three hundred Roman slaves.
The following days were marked by numerous skirmishes against the Bulgarians, though in truth they were little more than brief encounters where my men simply imposed themselves. Many of the Bulgarians were poorly armed levies trying to prevent further looting in their own lands—but when faced with two-meter-tall Varangians reinforced with steel, there was little they could do. A man with a simple spear, a sword, and padded armor had few options: flee or die.
So we set about raiding nearby villages, though since we had already looted them the year before, most of the time we found only slaves. At best, they were people captured in earlier raids, whom we returned to their estates, as I legally could not hold them against their will nor take them to my settlement to reinforce my mercenary ranks or replace casualties.
While receiving constant reports from the skirmishes, I began studying maps from before the Bulgarian catastrophe and located the village they had pointed out. If they were storing silver there under any level of security, it was likely we would find noble prisoners—and, of course, a considerable haul. Reaching that point would be risky, but the journey would take only two or three days, meaning the entire operation could be completed in roughly a week.
If everything went well, I would leave immensely wealthy, with enough silver to buy two dozen dromons and devote myself fully to anti-piracy warfare—stuffing my pockets even further with the rewards for saving plundered merchants. That was why I was seriously considering attacking that village, using camouflage cloth and moving primarily at night to avoid detection by enemy scouts while crossing the first lines.
-----------------------------
If there are spelling mistakes, please let me know.
Leave a comment; support is always appreciated.
I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see.
-------------------------------