"Develop Britain and the twenty counties south of the Channel."
"Our greatest weakness is our small core population."
"We simply can't support endless expansion."
"Take this campaign as an example."
"The Pannonian Plain is excellent farmland."
"If we had several million more Viking settlers..."
"...we wouldn't have negotiated with the Magyars at all."
"We would have driven them straight back to the Carpathian Mountains."
Vig nodded.
"And after twenty years of recovery?"
"When our population has grown?"
Frode answered without hesitation.
"If our enemies fall into civil war..."
"Or are invaded by someone else..."
"Then we expand."
"We attack with overwhelming numbers."
"We crush resistance before it can form."
"Then we grant the new lands to loyal nobles and rule them indirectly."
The answer matched exactly what Vig had expected.
His own strength was fading.
Since the Crown Prince had proven himself capable, most government affairs could now be entrusted to him.
After more than thirty years of relentless labour...
Vig had grown weary.
He gradually withdrew from public life.
Fishing...
Organising his notes...
Living quietly.
Rarely appearing before the public.
One day, on a sudden impulse...
Vig sailed back to the village where he had been born.
At Gothenburg's harbour, the Emperor received an enthusiastic welcome.
Years had transformed it into a prosperous coastal town.
Public baths.
An amphitheatre.
A hospital.
A temple.
Stone walls.
Everything one might expect from a flourishing city.
Halfdan hurried over upon hearing of the Emperor's arrival.
These days he dealt mainly in furs and amber.
Years spent drinking and negotiating with merchants had long since worn away the fierce aura he once possessed.
"Your Majesty..."
"You should've warned us."
"We haven't prepared anything..."
Vig waved him off.
"No need."
"Carry on with your work."
"I'll simply have a look around."
Mounted upon Greywind IV, accompanied by a small guard of Imperial Guardsmen, Vig rode away from Gothenburg.
He studied the surrounding fields and pastures for a long while before finally choosing a direction.
"It should be this way..."
Following roads both familiar and strangely unfamiliar, he reached the fjord where he had once lived.
Standing there, however, was an imposing new building.
Did I come to the wrong place?
He walked to a nearby temple and knocked gently.
A shaman soon emerged.
Seeing the elderly stranger and the armoured guards accompanying him, he naturally assumed some nobleman had come to visit the Emperor's childhood home.
"The farmhouse over there is where His Majesty once lived."
"The original collapsed long ago."
"The temple rebuilt it."
"Oh..."
"There are also many runestones atop the cliffs."
"They're over there."
After speaking, the shaman looked at him expectantly.
Knowing exactly what he wanted, Vig motioned for one of his guards to donate several gold and silver coins.
"My lord, thank you for your generosity."
"May your journey be blessed."
The shaman dropped the coins into the donation chest.
Curiously...
The face engraved upon the gold coin looked rather similar to the nobleman standing before him.
Perhaps it was simply his imagination.
Leaving the temple, Vig inspected the reconstructed farmhouse.
It looked nothing like the home of his childhood.
Far larger.
Far grander.
Nothing about it matched his memories.
Disappointed, he continued walking.
The cliffs above were covered with runestones.
Most depicted scenes from mythology.
As he studied them, he noticed a shepherd boy below.
He ordered one of the guards to bring the child over.
"What do these carvings represent?"
The boy, accustomed to explaining them to visitors, first demanded a silver coin before eagerly answering.
"They tell stories from the Emperor's youth."
"For example..."
"Guided by Odin himself, the Emperor journeyed to a sacred lake near Uppsala."
"There, a Valkyrie presented him with his destined weapon—the Dragonbreath Sword."
"Armed with that divine blade, the young Emperor returned home and slew the cruel Nine-Headed Serpent."
"That was where his legendary journey began."
A divine weapon?
Vig stared blankly at the sword hanging from his own waist.
An overwhelming sense of absurdity washed over him.
"...You actually believe all that?"
The boy nodded seriously.
"Of course."
"When the Emperor killed the Nine-Headed Serpent, my grandfather was there."
"He even passed down one of its scales to my father."
"They say it came from the monster itself."
Vig found himself utterly speechless.
Leaving the runestones behind, he wandered further.
Eventually he came upon another grave.
Its inscription read:
"Duke of Gascony, Former Grand Admiral Joren."
Only then did he remember.
Joren had died the previous year.
Thinking back upon those distant farming days...
His memories had grown hazy.
Times.
Places.
Faces.
Everything blurred together.
It seems...
I really have grown old.
His next destination was Ragnar's grave.
Before dying, Ragnar had requested that his coffin be returned to Gothenburg to rest beside Lagertha.
The cemetery lay in a lonely place.
A raven perched silently upon the headstone.
Cold winds swept across the barren grass.
Below the cliffs, waves endlessly battered the rocks.
Time itself seemed frozen there.
Nothing had changed.
Vig stood before the grave for a long time before quietly sighing.
"This is good."
"At least you've found some peace."
Returning to Londinium...
Vig resumed his secluded life.
Day after day.
Little by little...
He disappeared from public view.
Then...
One evening...
A servant walked to the riverside.
There, the Emperor sat reclining peacefully in his chair.
Apparently asleep.
No matter how they called to him...
He did not awaken.
The servants panicked.
News spread through Londinium...
Then Britain...
Then the entire Empire.
An era had come to an end.
—------------------------
And with that, Vikings has officially come to an end.
Thank you for every chapter you read, every comment, every review, every power stone, every discussion, and every bit of support. It has been a pleasure translating and sharing this story.
I hope you enjoyed Vig's journey as much as I did.
Until the next adventure—thank you, and farewell.
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