Rise of Rurik

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A crowd of jet-black people gathered in front of them, their gray hats unable to hide their drooping blond hair, and their plain clothes, which looked like a plate of Merlaren woodcutters.

"It's very lively there. Yevro, what are these people doing around the strange booth?"

Since the master was interested, Yevlo squeezed into the crowd without saying a word. He stood on tiptoe and glanced back and hurriedly returned to report: "Sir, someone is selling an axe."

"Axe?" Rurik immediately became alert, and something started to go through his mind.

"It's the axe. In my opinion, those onlookers are woodcutters looking to buy an axe."

The so-called woodcutter was the woodcutter, and Rurik was a little glad that he judged it well. Seeing a large group of woodcutters trying to buy an axe, Rurik couldn't help but envy, because these axe sellers were already in competition with him.

"Yavlo!"

"exist!"

"Go! Buy me an axe. Buy me an axe, no matter what price the merchant asks. I'd like to see what the Mellaren blacksmiths are like."

Yevro nodded vigorously, and walked forward with his five brothers, very rudely pulled the group of woodcutters who were hesitant to one side, and then took out the shiny silver coins of good quality and wanted to buy them.

After a while, Yevlo dedicated an axe to his master for the "cheap price" of two silver coins.

"My lord, it's only two silver coins. It's really cheap. Maybe it's not a good thing."

Rurik took the axe, and at first sight it confirmed its inferiority.

Yevlow continued: "My lord, I just learned that those people are selling more than twenty axes, and they are one model. Those merchants who claim to be Granites, oh, they're not Merlaren."

"Gran?" Rurik felt that the name was both familiar and unfamiliar.

Carlotta, she trembled on the spot when she heard the term, or she trembled with anger.

"It's them! Those guys who take advantage of others."

"Oops!" Yevlo patted his head vigorously,

He remembered what happened last year.

"You know the Grans well?" Rurik asked Carlotta in confusion.

"It's more than understanding, we are neighbors. I really don't want to talk about last year. Rurik!" Carlota looked at the big eyes under Rurik's burqa, and said seriously: "I am some lost clansmen. They were taken away by the Granites, who now live with the Yilmalens."

"That's it... maybe we can find them again."

Carlotta shook his head, with sadness and helplessness written in his eyes.

"You gave them up?" Rurik asked.

"What else can I do? They choose to leave, how do I know where they are now?"

It seemed that Rurik understood, but in fact he didn't know the exact location of the Gran and the Yilmalen. Unexpectedly, Yevlo and Carlotta both pointed to the south, mentioning that the due south of the Great Lake is the territory of those people's activities. Even with the right direction, looking at Carlotta's eyes, she no longer wants to think about it.

The Granites and the Yermalens, they are all "brothers" in the same alliance. Oh, in theory they and the Rus are allies to each other, but in practice? Rurik felt that a major crisis had really been encountered, and everyone still flew away from the imminent disaster. I am afraid that only when a huge disaster befalls the Melalen people, its leader is qualified to call on the entire alliance to unite to overcome the disaster, or to help the Melalen people get through the disaster first.

In fact, it cannot be simply called inferior. Rurik is keenly aware that the axe is made of pure wrought iron. Even if it has been quenched, after this strong surface treatment, the performance of an axe can be greatly improved, but it is so ordinary that it is boring.

Even so, it has a price of two silver coins.

For Rurik, the mere two silver coins were insignificant, but for ordinary Meralen people, two silver coins were a huge sum of money.

Only in the area around Lake Mälaren, the traditional Viking-style life that once emphasized both agriculture and looting has been on the verge of disintegration, and a large number of sea warriors have been completely transformed into self-sufficient farmers or serfs. Most of them can support themselves in the warm years and have some agricultural surplus, which is exchanged for coins, and its quantity is really small. However, Melalen has the largest market in the entire alliance, and ordinary people need to exchange some necessities in the market.

The entire tribe has a very exaggerated division of rich and poor. The chief and wealthy households with a lot of land wealth and even ships are sitting on most of the tribe's wealth.

Warm years are precious. After the climate suddenly turns cold, a sudden cold snap or heavy rain can hit farmers hard in the harvest season.

The common ethnic group with the largest population, a considerable number of them have experienced many natural disasters and actually lost their land and were forced to “work” for their chief tenants. The wheat they grow has to satisfy the family’s rations, and they must also give the chief a sum of money. Expensive rent, if you do business to subsidize your family, you have to pay a tribute.

As a result, they don't actually have a lot of surplus products to sell in exchange for silver coins. In fact, the very low-value copper coins from Rome are more commonly used in ordinary people's lives.

Taking out two silver coins to buy a new axe turned out to be a bit of a luxury.

I'm afraid this is fate!

The Melalen tribe and the nearby tribes settled in Yihu, they are already atypical Viking tribes, they chose to settle down and farm the way of life, and they are bound to face new problems after agriculturalization. They did not plunder the wealth of others on a large scale, and ordinary people did not sit on a lot of silver coins because of war dividends.

Contrary to the Melalen clan, the Ross clan, even if it is an ordinary family, has obtained hundreds of silver coins as long as the men of the family participated in the previous battles.

The resident population of Roseburg is much smaller than that of Melalen, but the silver coins it holds are huge.

In fact, as long as Rurik is interested, he can bring a large amount of silver coins, copper coins and even gold coins to Melalon. The mighty Merlaren clan with a strong inflation.

Rurik really did not subjectively think of sending a huge amount of silver to deal a heavy blow to the long-standing price situation of the Mellarens. The economy of the leader clan has become a mess and the Ross clan has a new opportunity to rise. Rurik is not stupid enough to cause the meat shield-like leader clan to vomit three liters of blood under the military pressure of the Danes and Gotland. .

He really did not want to use a knife subjectively, but, the five hundred pounds of fine Roman silver coins from the Roseburg cash box have been placed in the warehouse on Gould Island and are strictly guarded by elite and credible mercenaries. . This huge sum of money must be sent to the Melalen tribe. As for what will happen, it is not Rurik's obligation to manage.

In Rurik's eyes, the iron axe made by the Gran people is nothing like garbage. A small axe with a long wooden handle, it shows poverty throughout, too frugal in the use of iron.

Even the most common Russ people have seen and used new-style ironware on a large scale, and they all have a rubbish attitude towards things made with old craftsmanship. That's it, it can still be priced at two silver coins.

This was the first time Rurik had seen an "iron shop" outside of Rosberg. With what he saw today, he took it for granted that the merchants in the Mellaren market were all selling such iron.

If the excellent ironware of the Rus people is proud of large-scale sales, it is natural to monopolize the entire market.

It's just that Rurik had to consider a variable.

monopoly! Any leader with a normal IQ will not sit and watch another tribe's merchants monopolize their own market, even if they are good people of allies. The leader's methods are either heavy taxation or direct force expulsion.

Not long after leaving the lively iron shop, the faint aroma of wine in the air immediately attracted the attention of all alcoholics.

"Korlong, are you coming?" Arik's heart was itching, he questioned Yevlo beside him, and he talked about drinking a glass of ale.

Yevro just smiled, and he pointed at some men who were sitting idle on the ground shaking their heads, "Look at these people."

"They? What's wrong?"

"Haha, drunk."

"Hey, how many glasses of ale does it take to get drunk like this." Arik silently covered his mouth.

Rurik was a little surprised. He saw a few people blushing like boiled crayfish, looking up at himself and his entourage with dull eyes, and finally inexplicably stretched out his right hand to show a smirk, and then another carp slammed. , Dangdang lying on the ground, and soon came bursts of snoring.

This is the quality a drunk can show. The only thing that makes Rurik happy is that these drowsy guys don't look sloppy, and their wine is also very good. They only care about being drunk and not causing trouble to passers-by.

Cologne, it's such a noisy place.

It's a large wooden house, with its iconic gabled roof with a sharp angle, making it a bit of a standout among other buildings. In fact, the whole house is not big, only its sharp roof makes it look very tall.

The closer you get to it, the more intense you want to be.

Smelling the aroma of the wine, Rurik saw that all the mercenaries around him were eager to try, so when everyone approached the door, Arik sang and rushed in.

The tavern has no doorman, and the interior is dimly lit. There are some scratched, oddly shaped tables, and a large group of red-faced men with hairy bodies that smell of heavy sweat, body odor, and even alcohol, holding oak wine glasses high and gulping wine in high spirits, and the wooden cups collide. The muffled sound of one after another, at the same time, the group of guys also muttered some things with their inflexible tongues.

Looking at these guys, Rurik's idea of ​​asking for some news suddenly disappeared, and he really couldn't expect the drunk guy to say a thing or two about the Mellarens.

However, a group of people in burqas walked like a tavern, which quickly attracted the attention of many drunkards.

"Ah! Why do I feel like a western cowboy goes into a tavern and meets a desert bandit?"

Rurik looked at the drunkard's eyes, he felt threatened completely instinctively, but fortunately, the sturdy cousin's right hand inserted into the burqa and clenched the hilt of the sword at all times gave him a sense of security.

More than a dozen visitors all dressed in uniform, even though there were hundreds of travelers who came here, there was never such a neatly dressed and well-built person.

The bartender, or the man who runs the tavern, a man with a thin face and a beard tied into a ponytail, subconsciously felt that the visitor was not entirely here to beg for a drink.

This thin guy showed off a professional smile, nodded and bowed his back to the strongest Aric: "Dignified traveler, no matter where you come from, when you come to my shop, you will definitely enjoy the most beautiful wine."

Originally, Arik was also a little restrained. The corners of his eyes were looking at all kinds of people. The sword in his hand could be pulled out instantly and entered into a fighting state. The same was true for the rest of the people.

Seeing this, Arik's vigilance was much less.

"Are you a wine seller? Come on, bring out your best wine!"

"The best wine? 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 the burqa and deliberately slapped the bulging purse around his waist.

The bartender was taken aback: "Ah! I didn't think you were a wealthy businessman wandering around! Ah no! Guests from afar, you must be from the west of the mountain, you are really rich."

Arik was a little flustered by a burst of flattery, and Rurik, who said nothing, estimated that his party was being treated as Norwegian by the liquor seller.

If that's the case, it's really good, and walking around the market as a "Norwegian" may save 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: "Our brothers and his team crossed the mountains, just like Come here to taste your best wine. Hurry up and bring it!"

"You! A child?!"

"Come on, we just want wine!"

"Okay, since you insist..."

The bartender turned away, and now Arik suddenly understood his brother's actions, and couldn't help but admire him a little.

bar counter? It doesn't exist. There is only a place in a dark room where a large number of oak barrels are stacked, and each barrel has a hole at the bottom, which is usually closed by a cork.

There is also an inner hall in the tavern. The bartender claimed to have a unique wine, so he ordered the servant to go to the back hall to get it.

After a while, a half-sized boy walked out with a small box in his hands.

The bartender carefully opened the box and saw that there was still a transparent bottle inside.

Seeing it, whether it was Rurik or Arik, or even those mercenaries, as well as the old warriors Arik had chosen in a thrilling manner, everyone thought it was some kind of fine wine, but they never thought that this so-called fine wine was actually their own product.

Look at the glass bottle with the words "RUSVODKA" in Chinese.

In an instant, the strong interest that Arik raised almost dissipated, and finally Rurik, he did not feel that the small body he currently had could resist the erosion of a large amount of alcohol, and the only reason why he did not drink now was because he did not want to be poisoned by alcohol early on. Offline.

The bartender looked proud: "This is the best wine, made by us in Melalen. Look at the bottle made of crystal, and the wine with water in it. You must think it is water, but in fact it is the most beautiful wine. , it can even start a fire."

This statement was not only boring, but Arik was even very angry. It was clearly made by a Rus people, and the manufacturer was his younger brother standing beside him.

From the corner of Arik's eyes, he saw that his brother was not angry at all, and immediately asked, "How much is this bottle of wine?!"

"One pound of silver coins!" After saying that, the bartender estimated that the other party could not afford it, and hurriedly put the wine bottle back into the wooden box and covered it hard. Then he shouted wildly: "Hey, those guys in the back who are only worthy of drinking ale, don't watch, you can't afford it. If the wine bottle is broken, you and your family will be slaves for life to compensate for the loss of Lord Olekin. ."

Olegin! It's this person again!

Rurik straightened his body in a smart way, he suddenly asked a question that had nothing to do with wine: "We heard that the leader of the Mellaren people is called Olegin, is it that all the wine, the whole of Cologne, belongs to him wealth?"

"Of course!" The bartender raised his head proudly and patted his chest: "That is my master, and also the most honorable and richest leader of our Siya Alliance."

This person used a series of gorgeous words to describe Olegin, which was sleazy and sleazy, but Rurik was a little envious of Olegin, who had never met, for having a loyal dog.

The bartender's words really stimulated Arik.

Arik didn't believe in evil. He took off the purse and swayed the silver coins vigorously to make a crisp sound: "You look down on us? This is a pound of fine silver coins. Can't you buy your wine?"

The bartender who was about to instruct the servant to bring the wine back into the chamber immediately became a pug.

"Oh! Rich guest, of course you can buy it."

"One-handed payment and one-handed delivery!"

"Okay! What a happy hero, let's make a deal!"

In an instant, the whole tavern became a sensation, and many drunk guys were banging the table hard, or flapping the oak cup frantically, venting their excitement. The drunken roars full of alcohol were like warriors who were going to fight on the battlefield.

Arik quickly completed this bloody transaction to earn a face. He got the wine, unscrewed the cork very skillfully in front of the bartender, then turned around, faced all the red-faced guys, and took a swig into the bottle. Spicy distilled spirits entered his stomach, Arik shouted "I'm so cool" and threw the bottle to Yevlo.

Yevluo 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 nectar juice were left. The last person, however, was the dignified Ross warrior, who beheaded the hostile Gotlanders in the sea a few months ago. It was entirely because he didn't drink strong liquor, 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. The bottle fell on the hard ground and shattered on the spot.

This situation was completely beyond the bartender's expectations, and it also made the drunken onlookers even more frantic.

The bartender's face turned pale: "Ah! Such a precious crystal, you smashed it..."

Arik didn't care: "What's the point of a mere piece of crystal? Oh, your wine is very good, but the price is a bit expensive. Maybe next time we come, we should bring more... a few hundred pounds of silver coins."

"How... a few hundred pounds?!" The bartender was so shocked that he was speechless.

Since this group of people not only bought spirits readily, but also smashed the bottles with utter recklessness, it can be seen that this group of Norwegians is really rich. Hundreds of pounds of silver, how many slaves would it take to get so much money.

For a moment, the bartender thought about some of the rumors he had heard, that while the Norwegians were looting the Britons on the western island, they were also looting the gold and silver of the locals.

He looked at the group of people wearing burqas, even if they were two small children, they were obviously calm people.

I'm afraid they are the sons of some great Norwegian clan chief?

Just when the bartender wanted to inquire about something in detail, Arik felt that he had been too flamboyant. After all, everyone is not Norwegian, do you finally have to explain that you are the essence of Rus?

It doesn't have to be that way.

Arik shook his hand and said deliberately: "The best wine? It's really good wine. Presumably all of your oak barrels are filled with ordinary ale, they are only things to be tasted by inferior people, and noble people like me disdain it. Taste. Go!"

After all, Arik turned around first, and Rurik, who followed closely behind, tried hard to hold back his laughter. He really couldn't think of his stupid cousin who could only fight and kill. How could he still have the self-cultivation of an actor? It's really unbelievable.

A group of people walked out of the tavern. The bartender looked at the broken bottle, and he heard the booing of the drinkers. The more he thought about it, the more he felt that the matter was very strange, and then he hurriedly called the servant to his side: "Quick! Go and tell Lord Olegin. , pay attention to the dozen or so Norwegian travelers in burqas, they are very wealthy."

For the convenience of reading next time, you can click "Favorites" below to record the reading record of this time (Chapter 331 Iron and Wine), and you can see it when you open the bookshelf next time!

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