In February 870, news reached Zaragoza:
At a banquet, Gunnar had gotten drunk and caused a disturbance, severely injuring the Count of Orléans and two other nobles. As a result, Charles the Bald had placed him under arrest pending judgment.
The ducal palace immediately fell into chaos.
Charles, Oliver, and the other officials gathered to discuss the matter. They suspected that Charles the Bald had not detained Gunnar merely for assault while intoxicated. More likely, he intended to force Gunnar back into service and drag Asturias into another war against the Vikings.
A royal attendant panicked.
"No, I need to return to León immediately and report this to His Majesty!"
He rode out of Zaragoza, only to notice a young man following closely behind.
"Henry? What are you trying to do?"
The attendant recognized him as Gunnar's bastard son.
People of that status possessed noble blood yet were rejected by respectable society. The attendant had never thought much of him and initially tried to drive him away.
Mounted on a white horse, Henry replied anxiously:
"I wish to seek an audience with His Majesty and ask him to rescue my father as soon as possible."
The next moment, a heavy cloth pouch landed in the attendant's hands.
Opening it, he discovered a considerable amount of gold and silver coins.
His attitude changed instantly.
Henry was permitted to join the party.
Five days later, they arrived in León and delivered the bad news to Alfonso III.
The king leaned back on his throne and sneered.
"Heh. This is Charles the Bald taking revenge on me."
After dismissing everyone else, he noticed a tall young man still standing in the hall.
"And you are?"
"My name is Henry."
Gunnar's bastard son.
Alfonso immediately understood.
"You want me to rescue your father?"
Henry slowly shook his head.
Only the two of them remained in the hall.
Then he revealed his true thoughts.
"No. No matter what demands you make, Charles the Bald will never release him."
"He's like a drowning man desperately grabbing at anything within reach."
"If I'm right, he'll soon begin demanding grain and supplies from Zaragoza in my father's name."
"Even if Zaragoza sends nothing, he'll pretend the aid arrived, creating the impression that my father still stands with the Frankish cause."
"That would drag us into the conflict as well."
"My father has effectively become a Frankish puppet. I believe it's time to choose a new duke and clearly demonstrate our neutrality to Britannia."
Alfonso studied the young man before him.
Then he said with genuine interest:
"For a bastard, you possess remarkable insight."
"Who taught you these things?"
Henry immediately knelt.
"Bastards are different from legitimate heirs."
"They are born with everything."
"My existence is hidden in the shadows, like a weed no one cares about."
"With nothing else to do, I learned to observe, to study, and to think."
"Your Majesty, I am not like Robert."
"I care nothing for Vikings or Franks."
"You are my only master."
"My loyalty belongs solely to you."
Alfonso leaned back and closed his eyes.
The young man's ambition was obvious.
Comparing the two candidates, Henry was clearly the superior choice to inherit Zaragoza.
First, Robert had been raised at the Frankish court and thought of himself as a Frankish noble. He would inevitably favor Charles the Bald, creating future conflict with Britannia.
Second, Asturias remained locked in a long war against the Moors. Henry would make a useful fighter.
Robert's talents were mediocre by comparison.
After a long silence, Alfonso nodded.
"Very well. I agree."
The next day, Alfonso issued a royal decree.
It declared that the Duke of Zaragoza had been unlawfully detained by the Franks and that any orders issued in his name were invalid.
To ensure the duchy's continued administration, the king officially recognized Henry as Gunnar's biological son and authorized him, as heir to the duchy, to oversee all affairs of Zaragoza.
From that day forward, Henry was permitted to bear a noble surname.
He became Henry de Zaragoza.
People could also address him with the aristocratic honorific Don, calling him Don Henry.
Not long afterward, the news reached the estate outside Genoa where Gunnar was being held under house arrest.
At first he could hardly believe it.
Then he burst into laughter.
The servants thought he had finally gone mad.
"To pursue ambition without hesitation…"
"Ha!"
"He truly is my son."
"Looks like he studied well enough to learn that trait from me."
Meanwhile, Vivian was smashing furniture throughout the room.
"Stop laughing!"
"That bastard has stolen the ducal title!"
"What about our son?"
Gunnar gradually stopped laughing and wiped at the corner of his eye.
"What can be done?"
"Yes, Robert is my only legitimate son. Legally, he has the strongest claim."
"But so what?"
"I didn't become Duke of Normandy because of legal claims."
"Nor did I become Duke of Zaragoza through bloodlines and inheritance."
"I became duke because I could fight."
"Because I had value."
"From Alfonso's perspective, Henry is more useful and more reliable than Robert."
"Of course he'll choose Henry."
"You can scream and complain all you want."
"Even taking the matter to the Church would accomplish nothing."
In March, Vig left garrison forces at key strategic locations and began leading the army home.
At this point, regardless of what anyone officially declared, the war was effectively over.
The remnants of the Franks had retreated into Italy and lacked the strength to counterattack.
Likewise, the Alps prevented the Viking army from advancing further.
The conflict had lasted two years and nine months.
The soldiers longed for home.
The kingdom's finances were stretched to their limits.
A vast expanse of newly conquered territory required administration and governance.
Whatever the king's personal wishes might have been, withdrawal was the only realistic option.
During the march home, Vig sensed the growing restlessness among his commanders.
He spoke privately with them one by one, learning their true concerns.
On March 20, he led the expeditionary army to Calais, where they boarded ships and sailed back to their beloved Britannia.
At the docks of Londinium, the Crown Prince and the cabinet had prepared a grand triumph.
Golden chariots.
Cheering crowds.
Flower petals scattered from both sides of the streets.
The entire ceremony seemed copied straight from ancient Rome.
The army paraded through the city.
During the war, economic growth had slowed, but Londinium had still expanded modestly, reaching a population of 32,000.
At ten in the morning, the celebration concluded.
The golden chariot rolled through the gates of the royal palace.
Vig stepped down.
His first words were:
"How much did this war cost us?"
"And how much debt do we owe?"
The cabinet provided its answer.
Before the war, the royal treasury had accumulated goods and reserves worth £35,000.
Over the following two years, every budget surplus had been poured into the war effort.
The government had issued five rounds of war bonds, raising a total of £120,000.
In addition, the royal family had mortgaged various assets and borrowed another £50,000 from private lenders.
In total, the kingdom had spent approximately £240,000 on the war.
The value of captured treasure, armor, and supplies amounted to roughly £100,000.
Net expenditure: £140,000.
Vig stared at them.
"In other words, the Crown now owes well over a hundred thousand pounds."
"We're practically broke."
"And despite that, you still found the money to organize a triumph?"
—------------------------------
Pat reon Advance Chapters: patreon.com/YonkoSlayer