There was a group of jet-black people gathered in front of them. Their gray hats could not hide their drooping blond hair, and their simple and plain clothes made them look like Mälaren woodcutters.
"It's very lively there. Jevlo, what are these people doing around the strange stalls?"
Now that the owner was interested, Jevro squeezed into the crowd without saying a word. He stood on tiptoes and took a glance before hurriedly returning to report: "Sir, someone is selling axes."
"Axe?" Rurik immediately became alert and began to think about something in his mind.
"It's the axe. It seems to me that those people watching are woodcutter who plan to buy the axe."
The so-called woodcutter is a woodcutter, and Rurik is a little happy that his judgment is good. Seeing a large group of woodcutter trying to buy an axe, Rurik can't help but be jealous, because these ax sellers are already in competition with him.
.
"Jevlo!"
"exist!"
"Go! Buy me an axe. No matter what price the merchant proposes, buy me one. I want to see what the blacksmith skills of the Melalen people are like."
Jevro nodded vigorously, walked forward with his five brothers, and very rudely pulled aside the hesitant woodcutter, and then took out a shiny silver coin of good quality with the intention of buying it.
After a while, Yevlo bought an ax at a "low price" of just two silver coins and dedicated it to his master.
"Sir, there are only two silver coins. It is really cheap. Maybe it is not a good thing."
Rurik took the ax and was sure of its inferiority at the first sight.
Javro continued: "Sir, I just learned that those people are selling more than twenty axes, and they are of the same style. Those merchants claim to be from Gran, oh, they are not from Malaren."
"Gren?" Rurik felt that this name was familiar yet very strange.
Carlotta trembled when she heard the term, or she was trembling with anger.
"It's them! Those guys who take advantage of others' danger."
"Oops!" Yevluo slapped his head hard, remembering what happened last year.
"You know the Gran people very well?" Rurik asked Carlotta in confusion.
"More than just understanding, we are neighbors. I really don't want to talk about what happened last year. Rurik!" Carlotta looked at Rurik's big eyes under his robe and said seriously: "Some of my lost tribesmen
They were taken away by the Granites, and they now live with the Hjelmalen people.”
"So that's it... maybe we can find them again."
Carlotta shook her head, her eyes filled with sadness and helplessness.
"You gave up on them?" Rurik asked.
"What else can I do? They chose to leave on their own. How do I know where they are now?"
Rurik seemed to understand. In fact, he did not know the exact location of the Gran people and the Hjelmalen people. Unexpectedly, both Gevlo and Carlotta pointed to the south, mentioning that those people were directly south of the Great Lake.
The territory where people move. Even with the right direction, looking at Carlotta's eyes, she no longer wants to think about it anymore.
The Granites and the Yermalonians are all "brothers" who belong to the same alliance. Oh, theoretically they and the Rus are allies of each other, but in reality? Rurik feels that he has really encountered a major crisis.
Everyone still goes their separate ways when a disaster approaches. I am afraid that only when a huge disaster befalls the Melalen people, will their leader be qualified to call on the entire alliance to unite to overcome the disaster, or in other words, helping the Melalen people to overcome the disaster first is the highest priority.
In fact, we cannot simply call it inferior. Rurik was keenly aware that the ax was made of pure wrought iron. It was completely black and the surface texture was smooth. Numerous evidences proved that this object had not been quenched.
Even if it has been quenched and treated with such intense surface treatment, the performance of an ax can be greatly improved, but it is so ordinary that it is boring.
Even so, it still has a price of two silver coins.
To Rurik, a mere two silver coins were insignificant, but to an ordinary Melalenian, two silver coins were a huge sum of money.
Only in the area around Lake Malaren, the traditional Viking life that once valued both agriculture and plundering is on the verge of disintegration. A large number of sea warriors have completely transformed into self-sufficient farmers or serfs. Most of them can survive in the warm and humid environment.
Years and months of supporting themselves, and leaving some agricultural surplus, this surplus agricultural product is exchanged for coins, and its quantity is really not much. However, Melalen has the largest market in the entire alliance, and ordinary tribesmen need to exchange at the market
Some necessities of life.
The entire tribe has a very exaggerated divide between rich and poor. The leaders and wealthy households with large amounts of land, wealth and even ships own most of the tribe's wealth.
Mild years are precious. When the climate suddenly turns cold, a sudden cold snap or heavy rain can deal a heavy blow to farmers during the harvest season.
The most populous ordinary people, a considerable number of them have experienced many natural disasters and have actually lost their land. They are forced to "work" as tenant farmers for the leader. The wheat they grow must meet the family's rations, and they must also pay a sum of money to the leader.
The rent is expensive, and if you do business to support your family, you have to pay a tribute.
As a result, they actually did not have a lot of surplus products to sell for silver coins. In fact, in ordinary people's lives, copper coins with extremely low currency values from Rome were more commonly used.
Taking out two silver coins to buy a new ax has become a bit of a luxury.
I'm afraid this is fate!
The Mellaren tribe and the nearby tribes that settled on the lake are already atypical Viking tribes. They chose a lifestyle of settling down and farming, and they are bound to face new problems after agriculturalization. They do not have large-scale
By plundering other people's wealth, ordinary people did not sit on a large amount of silver coins because of war dividends.
Completely opposite to the Melalen tribe, even if the Ross tribe is an ordinary family, as long as the men of the family have participated in all the battles, they have made hundreds of silver coins.
The permanent population of Rossburg is much smaller than that of Mälaren, but it still has a huge amount of silver coins.
In fact, as long as Rurik is willing, he can bring a large number of silver coins, copper coins and even gold coins to Malaren. Through large-scale buying, he can not only plunder the wealth of the Malaren people, but also give them the most.
The powerful Melalen tribe is experiencing a strong inflation.
Rurik did not subjectively think of transporting huge amounts of silver to severely damage the long-term price situation of the Melalen people. It would make the economy of the leader tribe a mess and give the Ross tribe a new opportunity to rise. Rurik
Ke was not so stupid that under the military pressure of the Danes and Gotlanders, he was happy to see the human shield-like leader tribe vomit three liters of blood.
Subjectively, he really didn't want to use the knife, but the five hundred pounds of high-quality Roman silver coins from the Roseburg cash box had been placed in the warehouse on Gould Island and were strictly guarded by elite and trustworthy mercenaries.
.This huge sum of money will inevitably be transferred to the Melalen tribe. As for what will happen, it is not Rurik's responsibility to take care of it.
The iron axes made by the Gran people were nothing more than rubbish in Rurik's eyes. A small ax with a long wooden handle showed poverty throughout, and the use of iron materials was too frugal.
Even the most ordinary Russian people, who have seen and used new iron tools on a large scale, all regard goods made with old craftsmanship as rubbish. Just like this, they can still price it at two silver coins.
This was the first time Rurik saw an "iron shop" outside of Roseburg. With what he had seen today, he took it for granted that the merchants in the Mälaren Market were selling this type of iron.
If the Russians' excellent ironware is sold on a large scale, there is no question of monopolizing the entire market.
There was just one variable that Rurik had to consider.
Monopoly! Any leader with a normal IQ will not sit back and watch a merchant from another tribe monopolize his own market, even if he is a good ally. The leader's method is either to impose heavy taxes or to expel them directly by force.
Not long after leaving the bustling iron shop, the faint aroma of wine filling the air immediately attracted the attention of all alcoholics.
"Kolongo, are we about to arrive?" Arik felt itchy in his heart. He asked Jevro beside him, talking about how he wanted to drink a glass of ale.
Jevro just smiled and pointed at some men sitting idle on the ground shaking their heads, "Look at these people."
"Them? What happened?"
"Haha, drunkard."
"Hiss, how many glasses of ale do you have to drink to get drunk like this?" Arik silently covered his mouth.
Rurik was a little surprised. He saw several people with faces as red as cooked lobsters, looking up at him and his entourage with dull eyes. Finally, they stretched out their right hands for no apparent reason and showed a silly smile, and then gave another carp blow.
, lying on the ground with a bang, and soon there were bursts of snoring.
This is the quality that a drunkard can show. The only thing that makes Rurik happy is that these confused guys don't look sloppy in their clothes. Their wines are also very good. They only care about being drunk and not causing trouble to passers-by.
Cologne, it's such a noisy place.
It is a large wooden house with its iconic gabled wooden roof with sharp angles, which makes it stand out among many buildings. In fact, the whole house is not big, but its sharp roof makes it look very special.
tall.
The closer you get, the richer it becomes.
Smelling the aroma of wine, Rurik saw that all the mercenaries around him were eager to try. When everyone approached the door, Arik rushed in singing a song.
There is no bellman in the tavern, and the interior is dark. There are some scratched, strange-shaped tables, and a large group of hairy, red-faced men who exude a strong smell of sweat, body odor, and even strong alcohol. They are raising their hands in high spirits.
Drinking wine from oak wine glasses, the dull sound of the wooden glasses clashing came one after another. At the same time, the group of guys also muttered and discussed some things with their inflexible tongues.
Look at these guys, Rurik's idea of asking for some information suddenly disappeared. He really couldn't expect the drunk guy to tell a thing about the Melalen people.
However, a group of people wearing burqas walked into a tavern and quickly attracted the attention of many drunkards.
"Ah! Why do I feel like a western cowboy entering a tavern and meeting a desert gangster?"
Rurik looked at the drunkard's eyes. He felt the threat completely instinctively. Fortunately, his strong cousin always inserted his right hand into his robe and grasped the hilt of the sword to give him a sense of security.
The more than ten people who came here were all dressed up in the same uniform. Even though there were hundreds of travelers who came here to visit, there were never such neatly dressed and well-built people.
The bartender, or the person who runs the tavern, was a man with a thin face and a beard tied into a pair of ponytails. He subconsciously felt that the visitor was not entirely here to beg for a drink.
This skinny guy showed off a professional smile, nodded and bowed hard towards the strongest Arik: "Dear traveler, no matter where you come from, you will be able to enjoy the most beautiful wine when you come to my shop."
Arik was a bit reserved at first. He was looking at all kinds of people from the corner of his eyes. The sword he held in his hand could be drawn out instantly and entered combat mode. The same was true for the rest of the people.
Seeing this, Arik became much less wary.
"Are you a wine seller? Come on, bring out your best wine!"
"Best alcohol? Craft ale?"
"Ale? What's that?! Is there anything better?"
The bartender was stunned: "Sir, are you sure?! It seems that you are also a young warrior. I believe in your strength, but I really can't believe in your financial resources."
Feeling offended, Arik gently lifted his burqa and deliberately patted the bulging money bag at his waist.
The bartender was shocked: "Ah! I didn't expect you to be a traveling wealthy businessman! Oh no! Guests who have come from afar, you must be from the west of the mountain. You are really rich."
Arik was a little carried away by the flattery, and Rurik, who remained silent, guessed that he and his party were regarded as Norwegians by the liquor seller.
If that's the case, it's really good. Walking around the market as a "Norwegian" might avoid a lot of trouble.
Rurik simply stood up from behind his cousin and said "boldly": "Give us the best wine, don't worry about our wealth." Rurik thought about it again and lied: "We, brothers, will go over the mountain together.
Come here to taste your best wine. Bring it quickly!"
"You! A child?!"
"Come on, we just want wine!"
"Okay, since you insist..."
The bartender turned around and left. At this moment, Aric suddenly understood his brother's actions and couldn't help but admire him a little.
The bar? It doesn't exist. There is only a place in a dark room where a large number of oak barrels are stacked. There is a hole in the lower end of each barrel, which is usually closed with a cork.
The tavern also has an inner hall. The bartender claimed to have a unique bottle of wine, so he ordered the waiter to go to the back hall to get it.
After a while, a half-grown man walked out cautiously holding a small box in his hand.
The bartender carefully opened the box and saw a transparent bottle inside.
Seeing it, no matter Rurik, Arik, or even the mercenaries, as well as the veteran soldiers selected by Arik in a thrilling way, everyone thought it was some kind of fine wine, but they didn't expect that this so-called fine wine was actually their own product.
Look at the glass bottle with the words "RUS VODKA" in Chinese characters.
In an instant, the strong interest that Arick raised almost dissipated, and finally left Arick. He did not think that the small body he currently had could withstand the erosion of a large amount of alcohol. The only reason why he did not drink now was because he did not want to get alcohol poisoned early.
Offline.
The bartender looked proud: "This is the best wine, made by us at Malaren. Look at this bottle made of crystal, and the wine filled with water. You must think it is water, but in fact it is the most beautiful wine."
, it can even light a fire.”
Not only was this rhetoric boring, Arik was even very angry. It was obviously made by the Russians, and the maker was his brother who was standing next to him.
From the corner of his eye, Arik saw that his brother didn't look angry at all, and he immediately asked, "How much does this bottle of wine cost?!"
"One pound of silver coins!" After saying that, the bartender guessed that the other party couldn't afford it, so he hurriedly put the bottle back into the wooden box and covered it with all his strength. Then he yelled wildly: "Hey, those guys in the back who only deserve to drink ale, you guys
Don't stand around, you can't afford it. If the wine bottle breaks, you and your family will be slaves for the rest of your lives to compensate for the loss of Lord Olegin."
Olegin! It’s this guy again!
Rurik straightened up with a clever move, and he suddenly asked a question that had nothing to do with wine: "We heard that the leader of the Melalen people is called Olegin. Does it mean that these wines, and the entire Cologne, belong to him?"
wealth?"
"Of course!" The bartender raised his head arrogantly and patted his chest: "That is my master, and he is also the most noble and richest leader of our Siliya Alliance."
This person used a series of beautiful words to describe Olegin, which was disgusting. Rurik was a little envious that Olegin, whom he had never met, had a loyal dog.
The bartender's words really stimulated Arik.
Arik didn't believe in evil. He took off his money bag and shook the silver coins vigorously to make a crisp sound: "You look down on us? This is a pound of silver coins of good quality. Can't I buy your wine?"
The bartender, who was about to tell the boy to bring the wine back to the bottle, immediately turned into a lap dog.
"Oh! Rich guest, of course you can buy it."
"Pay one hand and deliver the goods!"
"Okay! What a happy hero, let's make a deal!"
In an instant, the whole tavern was in a commotion. Many drunk guys were banging on the table or flapping their oak cups crazily to vent their excitement. The drunken roars were as if they were going to war.
Fighting warriors.
Arik quickly completed this costly transaction in order to earn a face. He got the wine, unscrewed the cork very skillfully in front of the bartender, and then turned around, facing all the red-faced guys, and said:
He took a swig from the bottle. The spicy distilled spirit entered his stomach. Arik shouted that it was great and threw the bottle to Jevro.
Yevloben didn't have any taboos, so he took a sip and handed it to the mercenaries.
Finally, when the bottle was passed to the last person, only the last few drops of the wine were left. But the last person was still a dignified Russian warrior, who killed the hostile Gotlanders on the sea a few months ago. It was entirely because
Not having any strong drinks, coupled with the bartender's misjudgment of everyone's identity and prejudice against financial resources, the angry warrior raised the bottle and smashed it down hard. The bottle fell on the hard ground and broke into pieces on the spot.
This scene was completely beyond the bartender's expectation, and it made the drunkards watching even more crazy.
The bartender turned pale: "Ah! You just... smashed such a precious crystal?"
Arik didn't take it seriously: "What's the big deal about a piece of crystal? Oh, your wine is very good, but the price is a bit expensive. Maybe we should bring more... several hundred pounds of silver coins when we come next time."
"How many...hundreds of pounds?!" The bartender was so shocked that he couldn't speak.
Since this group of people not only happily bought spirits, but also smashed the bottles in a completely wasteful manner, it can be seen that this group of Norwegians are really rich. A few hundred pounds of silver coins, how many slaves must be sold to make so much money
.
For a moment, the bartender thought about some rumors he had heard. While the Norwegians were robbing the Britons on the island in the west, they were also robbing the locals of their gold and silver.
He looked at the group of people wearing burqas. Even the two small children were obviously calm people.
Perhaps they are the sons of a chief of a large Norwegian tribe?
Just when the bartender wanted to ask something in detail, Arik felt that he had been too arrogant. After all, we are not Norwegians. Do we need to explain our essence as Russians in the end?
This doesn't have to be the case.
Arik waved his hand and said deliberately: "The best wine? It is indeed a good wine. Your oak barrels must be filled with ordinary ale. They are only things for lower-class people to taste. Noble people like us disdain
Taste. Go!"
Having said that, Arik turned around first, followed closely by Rurik, who tried hard to hold back his laughter. He really couldn't imagine how his naive cousin, who only knew how to fight and slash, could have the self-cultivation of an actor? It's true that a person cannot be judged by his appearance.
ah.
A group of people walked out of the tavern. The bartender looked at the broken bottle and heard the shouts of the drinkers. The more he thought about it, the more he felt that something was very strange. He immediately called the boy to him in a hurry: "Quick! Go tell Mr. Olegin
, note the dozen or so Norwegian travelers wearing burqas, they are very wealthy.”