Upon landing, Rurik told the port keeper that he was a merchant and, as usual, paid a bribe. He received the relevant documents, as he wanted.
"Let's leave in the morning in two days. Don't waste time on drunkenness."
After Rurik finished speaking, the caravan went their separate ways. Vig casually visited the settlement. The local streets were laid out on a grid, and the houses were built mainly of brick and stone. Driving past a construction site, he found the craftsmen mixing concrete.
Interesting.
Vig took out an Anglo-silver coin, gesticulated for a long time, and asked the craftsmen to allow him to watch from the side.
"Why do Nordic barbarians learn this?"
The craftsman was very puzzled. For the sake of the silver coin, he did not send him away and continued mixing concrete with the apprentice.
The process is simple. Mix quicklime with water, then add crushed stone and river sand, as well as an unnamed ash material.
Vig guessed for a moment and thought that it must be volcanic ash. He silently wrote down the formula for concrete, straightened up, and left the construction site.
Arriving in the center of the city, the most attractive building was the church, which contained the iconic dome-sail arch of the Eastern Roman Empire. Finding that the monk was not going to send him away, Vig went inside with great interest to stroll around. The interior of the church was magnificently decorated, the walls were covered with colorful mosaics, mostly in gold tones, and combined with the brilliance of the sun, this created a sacred and solemn atmosphere.
"Such exquisite craftsmanship, worthy of an ancient civilization that has been passed down for thousands of years."
As he walked out the door, he headed to the nearby market for a stroll, when he heard an angry cry from the east, similar to Ivar's: "Borg, stop!"
Lord Borg?
The next moment, a white horse galloped past him, its hooves clashing with a series of sparks on the bluestone slabs, rusting and knocking over a spice stand, and the air was suddenly filled with a strong, pungent aroma.
As Vig dodged, he saw the rider's face clearly. It was Lord Borg, the one he and his party were looking for, and he followed him subconsciously.
The problem was that the chaos in the market had seriously affected the speed of pursuit. Seeing the white horse about to disappear at the corner of the street, he picked up a piece of gray cloth and wrapped it around himself, then ran to the bungalow next to him and began pursuing from the roof of the house.
The wind whistled in his ears and the slippery tiles made a faint groan under his boots. The moment Vig stepped onto the roof and jumped across the alley, two pieces of green tiles broke with a loud sound and the fragments fell to the ground with a rustling sound, startling a passing woman who covered her mouth and screamed.
"Whose circus performer is this?"
Faced with the uncontrollable screams of passersby below, Vig remained unperturbed and ran and jumped onto the roofs of the houses. At that moment, everything in the world seemed to disappear, and only the back of the rider on the white horse remained in his sight.
Soon, the white horse overturned a fishmonger's cart at the crossroads. The silver fish writhed wildly on the cobblestones, frightening the white horse into raising its front hooves. Taking advantage of this opportunity, he swooped down from the roof behind him, holding his target and rolling on the wet ground for several rounds.
"Don't kill me!"
Ignoring the target's plea for mercy, Vig grabbed the other by the neck and twisted it violently. The body suddenly fell to the ground with a "snap."
After thousands of miles of running, it was finally over.
Before the guards arrived, Vig ran quickly into the alley, tore off his gray cloth, whistled, and stumbled into the crowd on the other street.
Boom!
Boom!
It was midday at this point. The church bells could be heard ringing melodiously and solemnly in the distance. In response, large flocks of snow-white seagulls took off, circling back and forth in the clear blue sky. The sun was blazing, and it seemed as if all the sins in the world had disappeared.
...
Back at the tavern on the docks, Vig chose a corner seat to drink alone. Over time, the members of the caravan received the news and began to arrive one by one.
Upon learning of their enemy's death, Ivar and Bjorn felt deep regret and complained that Vig had not given them the opportunity.
Raising his glass of wine, Ivar lost interest: "I was planning on torturing this guy, breaking his bones, or turning him into a blood eagle. This way of dying is too easy for him." "
Hey, this is foreign territory, what are you thinking?" Rurik complained in a depressed voice: "Luckily, Vig was wearing a mask during the whole process, and the deceased was just a Nordic barbarian, otherwise the ruler would have searched the entire city and the entire caravan would have gotten into trouble!"
After this incident, Rurik did not want to stay any longer. Having bought enough food and supplies, he left the port early the next morning and headed south along the western coast of the Black Sea. It took half a month to reach the Bosphorus.
Crossing the strait from north to south, three merchant ships tried to turn right and enter the Golden Horn to anchor.
Looking around, the southern side of the Golden Horn is the city of Constantinople, and the northern side is a fortress called Galata. Between them is a huge iron chain blocking the way. Merchant ships from all over the world must pass inspection before entering the bay.
After waiting for two hours in the Sea of Marmara, Ivar could not help but be indignant: "Damn, why hasn't it been our turn yet!"
Rurik whispered to him: "Don't make a sound. Contraband, which I believe is called Greek fire, was discovered on a merchant ship preparing to leave the port."
Waiting, Vig remained silent throughout the proceedings, with mixed feelings in his heart, looking at the Hagia Sophia standing on the hill. Further south, the gilded roof of the palace shone dazzlingly in the sun, and the nearby hippodrome screamed like a tsunami.
Constantinople, the city of world desire. I was here for tourism in the 21st century. I did not want to leave when I left. Suddenly I met it again, a thousand years ago!
"The shadows of idle clouds and lakes are long and leisurely, and the stars have been moving for several autumns. Fate is a joke, it really is a joke."
...
Half an hour later, the Eastern Roman customs office resumed inspection, and cargo ships under different flags passed one after another through the canal in the middle of the iron chain blocking the sea. When it was Rurik's turn, he said in half-baked Greek, "The fur, the amber, the two ships in the back are mine too." The harbor
attendant boarded the long vessel with some disdain, inspected the cargo, and pointed to the southwest: "Ships from Northern Europe dock at piers 3 through 6, don't forget to pay your taxes when you come ashore."
The flotilla docked at the pier, and a customs officer came with four dark-skinned workers to inspect the cargo. Weighing the cargo with standard scales, they collected duties of 10% of the value of the cargo.
Rurik made his famous gesture: "No, there is no money, can I use the goods to make up for it?"
"Yes."
Having received the bright yellow amber as a bribe, the other party nodded happily and attached lead seals to the goods of the three cargo ships one by one to prove that they had been legally cleared.
"Wow, the Greeks have so many rules." Rurik rented a yard near the dock to store the goods, and also used it as a place to live during his stay.
To prevent theft, he arranged for the men to take turns on duty, while the rest of the crew were free to roam. He went to the nearby market to get information, preparing to sell the goods at the best price.