After one week in office, Frode discovered that the job was extraordinarily easy.
Not a single case of theft or fighting had occurred. The only two disputes involved inheritance claims. Since inheritance division was a legal matter handled by the circuit court, Frode merely sat in as an observer.
He found the routine unbearably dull.
"I'd be better off transferred to the Admiralty—or any other department."
With nothing to do, he spent his days helping his wife Ostara tend flowers in the courtyard, occasionally hunting in the woods or fishing by the river—living a life many people would envy in retirement.
This could not continue.
Frode gathered fifty royal guards and began touring the surrounding villages.
It was the grain-filling season for spring crops—barley and oats. The fields stretched in rolling shades of green. Farmers worked under the blazing sun, pulling weeds and setting up scarecrows to drive away birds.
"Your Highness, something's happening!"
Suddenly, soldiers pulled Frode off his horse and formed a protective ring of shields around him.
Through the gaps, he saw a large group of farmers rushing toward them, armed with pitchforks and bows.
What did I do?
He sent soldiers to investigate and soon learned it was only a misunderstanding.
Two adult wild boars and three piglets had entered nearby oat fields. The villagers were mobilizing to drive them out—not targeting the Crown Prince.
"Clear the road. Don't frighten the villagers," Frode ordered.
He stepped aside and allowed them to pass, then followed behind to watch the rare spectacle.
After a few minutes, he saw a woman sitting on a field ridge, sobbing loudly.
The five wild boars were rampaging through the oats, tearing up soil and snapping green stalks as they greedily devoured the unripe grain.
"A charging boar hits like cavalry," Frode said to the guard officer.
"Farmers can't handle that alone. Should we help?"
The officer sighed.
He ordered twenty soldiers to escort Frode to a safe distance and led the remaining thirty into action.
"Loose arrows!"
Ten archers fired, joined by five local hunters. Arrows whistled toward the largest boar—but with little effect.
Wild boars often rolled in mud. Over time, their hides became coated with hardened dirt and resin, forming something like armor. Their skin was already thick and tough, with a layer of fat beneath that slowed arrow penetration.
Feeling pain, the boar raised its head.
Its eyes burned with raw, feral fury.
Then it charged.
The heavy body plowed through the green grain like thunder, dirt flying in every direction.
"Scatter! They're coming!" villagers shouted in panic.
"Hold formation! No retreat!" the guard officer commanded.
The royal guards formed an irregular circle. The front rank knelt, spears angled forward, while archers inside the formation kept shooting, trying to bleed the animals down.
One boar slammed into a villager.
Its tusks hooked upward.
Blood quickly spread across the mud.
The remaining villagers fell into chaos—some stabbing at the boar's softer belly with pitchforks, others running for their lives.
"Total disorder," the officer muttered quietly.
"These Vikings have lost their old ferocity—they're no different from Anglo villagers now."
He ordered archers to stop aiming at the boars' heads and focus on the belly instead.
After enduring the noise and confusion for some time, the officer grew impatient.
He grabbed a short spear, broke formation, and ran toward the rear flank of the largest male boar.
With a powerful throw, he drove the spear into its spine.
The massive animal collapsed instantly.
Archers then concentrated fire on another large boar, causing it to bleed heavily until it finally fell.
The three smaller piglets were quickly surrounded and killed.
The chaotic, bloody encounter ended.
That evening, after a hearty meal of stewed pork, Frode and his soldiers stayed overnight in the village and resumed their inspection tour the next day.
Along the way, fallow fields and common land were thick with wild grass. Scattered sheep grazed under the watch of shepherds. Occasionally, fenced private pastures appeared, planted with clover introduced from Ireland.
Frode reflected:
"With the rapid growth of the textile industry, wool prices keep rising. Not only nobles and wealthy farmers, but even tenant families are raising sheep to supplement income. Everyone benefits. The situation looks excellent.
But eventually, the domestic market will reach saturation. The only solution is to expand overseas markets. Unfortunately, people in Northern and Eastern Europe have limited purchasing power."
If current trends continued, he feared the problem would surface during his own reign.
Finding new markets became an urgent priority in his mind.
Turning past an oak grove, he came upon a hillside planted with unfamiliar crops:
maize
pumpkins
climbing beans
This was the first time he had seen New World crops cultivated within his jurisdiction. He found the farmer responsible and struck up a conversation.
"How are the yields?"
The answer was disappointing.
"Maize yields are decent, but my family doesn't like eating it. I have to sell it cheaply at the market as livestock feed.
Pumpkins taste fine, but they don't keep you full. Eat two big bowls in the morning, and you're hungry again by ten.
The beans aren't much better.
Our family only has fifteen acres of flat land. I had no choice but to plant these new crops on the hillside. My neighbors have enough level fields—they'd rather graze sheep there. It's easier."
Listening carefully, Frode grasped the practical reality.
These crops were not useless.
They were simply better suited to hilly or mountainous regions—places like:
the northern frontier
Wales
western Ireland
By July 8, Frode had completed inspections of all settlements.
The traditional two-field system had largely been replaced by the three-field system. Iron tools were widely used. Most farmers lived at a basic but stable subsistence level.
He found little that urgently required reform.
Returning to Luton, his life slipped back into monotonous routine.
Occasionally, he visited the town's public institutions:
The Post Office
Work there was equally relaxed. Only a handful of villagers came to send or receive letters. The postman's main duty was traveling to Londinium once a week. The rest of his time was spent farming his own land.
The Temple
It was run by a recently graduated apprentice shaman. The young man lacked enthusiasm for his duties, often doing the bare minimum. Sometimes he was called to assist at the hospital. In his spare time, he sat under a tree reading miscellaneous books purchased from Londinium.
The Hospital
In contrast, the hospital was extremely busy.
Staff:
two physicians
one assistant (the apprentice shaman)
These three people were responsible for the medical needs of more than 8,000 villagers.
One doctor treated common illnesses.
The other specialized in childbirth.
Beyond clinical work, they also:
promoted hygiene practices
occasionally served as veterinarians
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