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Anno Domini 828,February-12
"Look, you just have to do something similar to this," I said, handing him a sheet of paper with several sketches and dimensions of a nao designed to transport the maximum possible amount of materials.
The shipbuilder blinked several times. More than once he closed his eyes and shook his head.
"My… my strategos… I know I told you I'm one of the best, but… I can't build that monstrosity you're asking for," said the head of the shipyard, clearly overwhelmed.
"I'm not asking you to simply build it without thought. I'm giving you the funds so that, with your knowledge, you can make it a reality. You have all the trees of Crete at your disposal—ideal for shipbuilding given the thickness of many trunks. You have the best smiths on the island available, and all the gold you need if it becomes necessary to bring in experts you trust," I replied calmly, pointing at the sketch of the nao.
"But it's almost twice the size of a two-bank dromon. Three masts, three decks… it looks more like a castle than a ship," the shipbuilder said, staring at the drawing in disbelief.
"Come on, it's just a ship a bit larger than what you've worked on before. The idea is for it to carry four or five times more cargo than our current merchant vessels and still be faster. That would allow us to reach distant destinations in less time," I insisted, trying to convince him.
"I'll see what I can do, my strategos. It won't be cheap, and there will be mistakes. I'll have to gather some colleagues. I may even need to travel to Constantinople and speak with my old master to see if this is even feasible. How much time and funding do I have available?" he finally asked.
"A year, maybe two. Around twenty thousand nomismata up front, and full authority to remove anyone who gets in the way of the project. But listen carefully—if you manage to figure out how to reach these dimensions, I don't want just one nao. I want several. Ten at minimum. Once you have a clear idea, tell me the real price and I'll make sure you don't lack funds. Think of it as an opportunity for your name to be remembered in the history of naval construction," I said with a smile, giving him a pat on the back.
"I know… it's just that right now I have no idea where to even begin. That's why I'll take a ship to Constantinople as soon as possible and meet with my master. I'll present the idea to him and see how much he charges to help me," he replied, covering his face with one hand and sighing deeply.
"Take it easy. It's not urgent. As I said, the goal is to make trade far more profitable if we can transport much more in a single voyage," I replied as I headed toward the shipyard exit.
"I hope to bring you good news soon," said the master shipbuilder, withdrawing to his home to prepare for the long journey ahead.
For the moment, my trading company was already beginning to bear fruit. With nearly one hundred and twenty transport ships at my disposal, I had the capacity to become an influential figure within imperial commerce. Moreover, I had created a system that incentivized the merchants under my command to maximize profits, forcing them to become tough and efficient negotiators.
That, of course, would take time. There would be mistakes and failures. Each of them had been given a book—copied in the printing press—with basic ideas and elementary notions of commerce and negotiation. It was inevitable that some would not be up to the task and would end up being replaced by more capable individuals.
I had also solved one of the most common problems in maritime trade: internal piracy. Mutiny to steal the cargo was frequent when poorly paid sailors transported goods worth years of wages. Killing the captain and selling the cargo was a constant temptation. To prevent this, I made them part of the profits—and constantly reminded them of what they could find in ports: heads on pikes or skeletons locked in visible cages
So I made sure that most of the profits did not end up in my pockets, but in those of my men. I took my share first, based on the production cost of the goods, but once they were sold, everything above the fixed minimum price—almost double the production cost—was divided clearly and transparently.
Of that surplus, the captain kept thirty percent, the Greek crew thirty-five percent, and the Varangian crew the remaining thirty-five percent. That way everyone was incentivized to work well. There was no need to risk piracy or place their families in the crosshairs of retaliation. And the Varangians had a very clear additional incentive: if there was a mutiny, they would be the first to crush it without hesitation.
Recently, some ships had already returned from their routes. Several vessels took the safest path, sailed to Constantinople, sold their cargo, and returned. The capital always paid well. But other merchants headed toward cities near the battlefronts, where a good-quality sword could sell for twice its usual price. Some even sailed to areas of contact with the Abbasids, where demand was constant and urgent.
One merchant ship went as far as Cyprus and negotiated directly with the owners of several cotton plantations. It secured a very favorable export agreement for me. Cotton was expensive, yes, but at that moment I held something close to a monopoly—not only on steel, but also on paper. I was practically the only one in the entire Empire who knew how to produce it systematically. Although much of the imperial administration still used wax tablets, sending information to the capital required books. And there lay my true advantage.
My flagship product was not the Bible. It was the blank books that Lysander had come up with. Buying papyrus was expensive—absurdly expensive—and in most cases it had to be imported from the East, since the provinces that produced the necessary plant were located there. That gave me an almost absolute monopoly. Even if someone discovered how to make paper, only two provinces within the Empire produced cotton. In practice, I still controlled the supply.
And even with the generous profits I had already obtained—profits that were quite literally drawing sailors from everywhere in search of work in my lands—I still wanted more. I wanted a bigger ship.
I was not thinking of something monstrous like a Manila galleon capable of carrying thousands of tons, but rather something far more ambitious than what existed at the time. A nao capable of transporting around five hundred tons, with room for even more cargo without requiring a proportionally larger crew. A tall, robust vessel, whose silhouette would allow its decks to be used as firing platforms—ideal for mounting crossbows or even scorpions and defending itself with a clear advantage.
The campaign in Sicily was going very well. Recently, the strategos of the island had won a decisive battle and forced the Sarakenoi to retreat, driving them into their last remaining fortresses. Everything indicated that the invasion would soon come to an end. That was noticeable in one very concrete way: trade with Europe had almost completely returned to normal. Finally, after nearly a year of investments and sending envoys to every possible port, the results were beginning to show.
My harbor was coming to life. Markets were starting to fill, and I had also secured an architect from the capital to build the aqueduct we so desperately needed, using the river at Knossos. It was not cheap. I quite literally spent ten thousand gold coins, but the work was underway and soon we would have water conducted directly for critical uses when necessary.
I liked walking through the market and observing the changes. It was not yet as full as I would have liked, but progress was already evident. Easily, the number of foreign merchants doing business must have reached four digits—buying local products to resell in their own markets.
With that reviewed, I headed straight to the training grounds near Knossos.
I had significantly increased the search for forge apprentices. I needed to train more smiths for the future. As tempting as the idea of establishing a public school for everyone was—to ensure a steady flow of educated people—it was not the time. That would mean pulling labor out of the fields and workshops for one or more years, depending on the program I wanted to impose. Given the labor shortages we already had, it was not viable to increase that deficit any further, no matter how promising it might be in the long term.
The sound of metal clashing carried clearly. Many of my men camped there for practical reasons: we had the river nearby and the smiths in the same location, which allowed equipment to be repaired quickly.
A new wave of Varangian migrants had recently arrived. Not as large as when entire clans had come, but still significant. Many were young—single or married—without land of their own, who had migrated following Hakon's ships. In total, around five thousand more Varangians had settled on the island.
And that was where most of them were. With the additional income from the trading company, I could afford to keep more men under contract, organized as a mix of infantry and naval forces. At the same time, we were training three thousand new Varangian warriors who had arrived, with the intention of later embarking them on the war galleys and continuing to secure the seas. Twenty dromons were enough to defend Crete, but my goal was to raise that number to thirty-five. It would likely grow even further as more Varangians arrived.
My mercenaries were no longer just mercenaries. In practice, they had become the tagmata of Crete. They did not follow the rotation system of a thematic army, because they were a permanent force of the island. Including the navy, they already numbered around seven thousand men—a considerable force.
Training was happening everywhere. Some practiced with wooden swords and padded armor to refine technique, while others repeated drills again and again with bows and crossbows, honing their aim. That was when something in particular caught my attention.
"Who the fuck let a woman into the camp?" I said angrily when I saw a young woman holding a shield and a wooden sword. "Looks like some people are forgetting discipline after spending a year without fighting the Bulgarians…" I growled as I headed toward her, fully intending to remove her immediately.
Before I could start barking orders and reminding everyone about hygiene issues and the diseases that could arise if prostitutes were allowed into the camp, Sigurd grabbed me by the shoulder.
"She's my niece… my older brother's daughter," he said, stopping me just in time.
"And you knew? Who the hell let her in? This still breaks discipline. Today it's her, tomorrow some idiot will think he can bring a prostitute into the camp, and then we'll be dealing with disease," I replied quietly, clearly irritated.
"I didn't know. Brynhildr was always… rebellious. More into bows and swords, hunting, than helping cook. It must have been my father," Sigurd said, visibly uncomfortable.
"Hakon? Why would he do something like that?" I asked, looking at him with suspicion.
"She's his favorite granddaughter. Father likes his family to know how to defend themselves. He believes everyone should know how to use a sword, and he's the one who encouraged it the most. I'll talk to her," he replied.
"Is this normal… in Varangian culture?" I asked, more out of caution than curiosity. I did not want to create an unnecessary cultural conflict.
"No. It's not common. It's more the exception than the rule. There are cases, yes—especially when they're daughters of a jarl or a great warrior—but even then they have to prove themselves in combat like anyone else," Sigurd explained.
I let out a slow breath."Great… then I'll have to split the camps if I indulge your father. Her presence could cause more problems than it seems," I said as I started walking toward her.
I arrived just as Brynhildr was sparring with one of the Varangians.
"Bend your knees and point your feet toward the center," I told the man fighting her. Then I looked at her. "Your feet are too close together. One needs to be forward if you're using shield and sword."
Her eyes locked onto mine with a dangerous glint, as if she were about to do something stupid.
She raised the wooden sword and tried to strike me in the face. I stepped aside, dodged the blow, grabbed her arm, and kicked her hard in the leg. She lost her balance and fell to the ground.
I sighed, shaking my head."Wide swings leave you open. Strikes need to be short and fast," I said calmly. Then I looked at Brynhildr. "Come. We'll have to set up a separate training area for you."
I motioned for her to follow me, already thinking about all the problems this was going to cause.
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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.
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