The war finally came to an end, and Barnett had no intention of attacking the homelands of the tribes that had fought today. First, many of the routed warriors would certainly have fled back home; second, those tribes still had some garrisoned soldiers; third, his own forces had suffered casualties in this battle. To go on and conquer each of those tribes one by one, even if successful, would be a Pyrrhic victory—hardly worth the cost. It would suffice to consolidate the gains already won. Therefore, Barnett simply ordered his men to clear the battlefield and then withdraw back to his own town.
Surveying the field strewn with corpses, his own warriors were carefully selected out and carried on backs for a sea burial. As for the enemy dead, their leather, cheek pouches, weapons—anything reusable—was gathered and packed away as spoils of war. The stripped, naked bodies of the defeated were left discarded on the ground.
Of course, come morning, the wolf packs that roamed this forest in abundance would have picked the place clean, leaving nothing behind.
As they marched, Barnett's Vikings raised triumphant battle-songs, their spirits soaring. Even those wounded among them—supported by comrades—celebrated with equal fervor. After all, with the Vikings' constitution, these men would recover in short order unless they'd suffered a limb amputation. With the system spirit's aid, every injured warrior would fully heal.
Barnett himself was equally elated. As the commander of this battle, his own gains were immense.
The dozens of mail hauberks seized from the enemy represented a fortune: in this era, iron armor was worth its weight in silver—and now that his lands' fields had been cleared, those hauberks could be melted down to forge iron plows for use as farm implements.
Moreover, in this engagement, 1,300 of his troops had faced 2,000 enemy warriors—he'd lost just over two hundred men, killed nearly a thousand foes, and captured almost five hundred prisoners. It was a resounding victory. Barnett's subordinate commanders' attribute scores rose accordingly: battlefield deployment ability, adaptability, morale-boosting, ruthless slaughter, brutality, and so forth.
And the gold income—slaying so many enemies surely earned a hefty system reward in gold, right?
Thinking that, Barnett opened his system interface and saw that this campaign had yielded 2,400 gold coins. A special note read:"You have slain a powerful special combatant— the red-haired berserker. This man, red-haired and red-bearded, was fierce in battle, and has now fallen by your hand. Thus, an additional 50% bonus reward is granted, for a total of 75 extra gold coins."
Upon returning to his town, even though this war had not directly yielded piles of gold and captives as in previous raids, the townsfolk—celebrating such a great victory—greeted his army with warm acclaim. Seizing the moment, Barnett again used the system interface to recruit four more patrol cavalry troops in the town barracks with gold, and exchanged coins to raise one more unit of axe-cavalry—bringing his total cavalry forces to six squadrons, three hundred men. He also replenished all the ranks of his fallen soldiers.
With the army once more expanded, his monthly payroll soared—especially for cavalry, the most expensive branch. Throughout history, war has always been a contest of economies and treasure: no money, no army; no pay, no recruits. As lord of the land, he must increase his domain's economic output—develop industry, stimulate commerce, generate the wealth to sustain his forces. Relying solely on raids would only work in the short term, not as a lasting strategy. Professor Barnett—steeped in the highly advanced economy of the twenty-first century—understood this fully. Therefore, his most pressing task was to boost his realm's economic revenue.
"It seems I must find ways to increase income," Barnett mused. "Once I've fully cultivated the fields of both my original domain and the conquered tribes' lands—and added the newly enslaved farmers—the agricultural tax revenue should be considerable. But that will take time… I'm impatient. Although killing enemies yields system-granted gold, each successive opponent is harder to defeat. From our last battle it's clear that any tribe we attack forms alliances against us, making future wars far more difficult. If we ever face more powerful tribes, I might even lose my life on the field. And if I keep expanding, I'll eventually confront the great figures of history—can I hope to defeat them?"
He paused, troubled. "Is there any method to increase gold income quickly?" he asked the system spirit with eager expectation.
"You came from over a thousand years in the future, didn't you? Manipulating finance, cornering markets, buying low and selling high—do I really need to teach you that?" the system spirit replied. "Or have your recent beheadings reduced your intelligence to the level of lower animals?"
"Hey, watch your tone, you bastard. Of course I know about market manipulation and cornering—try telling me where I can do that. Perhaps in the Italian city-states to the south there's a chance, but here is the North— the Viking and barbarian stakes lie thick. What do you expect me to do?"
"Ha! You still argue when I say your intellect has regressed to that of a low beast." The spirit sneered. "Fine—I'm in a generous mood. I'll give you an extra method of enrichment. Tell me—what are Vikings most famous for, and best at?"
"Piracy," Barnett answered without hesitation.
"And what do pirates seize at sea?"
"Ships—holy shit, are you really this stupid?"
"Hmph. Ships? Whose ships?"
"Merchant vessels, obviously—oh, I get it now," Barnett cried, slapping his forehead.
He heard the faint click of the spirit's approval—and then, in a lecturing tone, the spirit said, "You're finally not irredeemably dim."
What followed was a thorough lesson on the Baltic and North Seas:
Maritime commerce had always thrived in Europe. Since the ancient Greeks—driven from Asia Minor to the Greek peninsula, they took to the sea and never looked back. Rome then Hellenized Europe, later fell, and the continent was plunged into endless wars—but the seaborne trade tradition never ceased.
Though lacking the Mediterranean's temperate climes, the North and Baltic Seas developed robust commerce. Control of those waters repeatedly triggered wars between nations—more often than not, the Norse prevailed.
In the Middle Ages, Viking pirate prowess and Denmark's rise secured command of these maritime trade routes, culminating in the Kalmar Union—uniting all Scandinavia under one crown for centuries. Though the Viking Era ended, Normandy's rise and William the Conqueror's subjugation of England kept these seas under Norse sway. In the Renaissance, under the legendary Gustavus Adolphus, Sweden intervened in the Holy Roman Empire's conflicts, won glory, and affirmed Sweden as the region's preeminent power—maintaining Baltic dominance…
"I am a Viking. Vikings are Norse. Since these seas belong to the Norse, they belong to me," Barnett reasoned with pirate logic.
"First you must build shipyards, construct vessels, erect quays. But recall your current system task is to conquer and occupy twelve neighboring tribes—only five are done. You must finish off the remaining seven. Those are the same seven tribes you fought in today's battle."
And thus, it seemed Professor Barnett's Age of Discovery was about to begin in earnest.