Beyond military considerations, Vig also planned to transform Gotland into the commercial center of the Baltic Sea. He dispatched fleets to Pomerania, Livonia, and Finland, inviting tribal chiefs to attend a major trade fair.
Early August
An unexpected guest arrived in Visby requesting an audience with the King of Britain.
"You are… Erik?"
Vig stared in shock at the elderly, heavyset man standing before him, cloaked in black and leaning on an oak staff. It had been eleven years since Little Erik seized the Norwegian throne. He had never imagined the man would still be alive.
The old man removed his cloak and revealed a calm, composed smile.
"Your Majesty, I have long abandoned the title of King of Norway, as well as the name 'Erik.' I am now a shaman of Uppsala. My only mission is to serve Odin. You may call me Wind-Chaser."
Wind-Chaser accepted the wine cup Vig offered and drained it in a single swallow. Then he explained his purpose.
To express gratitude for Vig's decisive role in the recent war, the religious center of Uppsala would henceforth honor him with the title:
Guardian of the Faith.
Vig remained silent, waiting for the real request.
In recent years, Uppsala had been heavily influenced by the Tynefort religious order—adopting new writing systems, doctrines, and administrative practices. However, the temple lacked stable revenue and could not sustain these reforms. They had come to seek support.
"What exactly do you want?" Vig asked.
Wind-Chaser answered plainly:
"Training in medical skills for our shamans… and some financial assistance."
"Very well," Vig replied immediately.
He did not consider the expense significant and agreed to allow Uppsala's shamans to travel to Londinium for training.
August 10
Tribal leaders from across the region arrived one after another. Vig hosted them warmly and announced a major policy.
To maintain orderly commerce, he pledged to protect all merchants trading in Visby. Any pirates attacking shipping routes would face direct retaliation from the Baltic Fleet.
After delivering this warning, Vig escorted his guests to the exhibition grounds near the harbor.
The displays featured a wide range of goods, including:
Grain
Textiles
Various alcoholic beverages
Iron farming tools
Sugar
Fish sauce
After introducing the products, he allowed the visitors to explore freely, with merchant representatives handling negotiations.
As expected, fish sauce—a relatively new product—became an instant favorite.
In this era, seasoning options were scarce. Spices like pepper and cinnamon were extremely expensive, far beyond what most tribal chiefs could afford. Fish sauce, by contrast, was relatively cheap and suitable for large-scale trade.
The exhibition proceeded smoothly.
Leaving the venue, Vig wandered through the surrounding area. The entire harbor had turned into a massive construction site.
According to the development plan, Visby would become a model city featuring:
A bankA postal officeA hospitalA templePublic bathhousesAn arena
The goal was not just commerce, but cultural influence—gradually spreading British systems and lifestyle throughout the Baltic region.
"Iberia has strong purchasing power," Vig reflected,
"but it's unstable and unreliable for long-term trade. The Franks are our enemies, so official trade is cut off—only small-scale smuggling remains.
"The only foreign markets we can truly rely on are Northern and Eastern Europe. Their purchasing power is weak, but I have no alternative. I'll have to push forward anyway."
After wandering for some time, he returned to the lord's hall and noticed a middle-aged man waiting outside.
Through an interpreter, Vig learned the visitor's identity: a tribal leader from Livonia named Gatova.
Gatova requested military assistance to attack a neighboring tribe in Courland.
Why would I do that?
I'm here to trade—and you want to use me as free muscle?
Maintaining a neutral expression, Vig turned to the crown prince and spoke in Latin.
"What do you think?"
Frode shook his head slightly.
"The kingdom already has too many obligations. It would be unwise to intervene in Eastern European conflicts. Even if we consider military action, we should first gather intelligence. Otherwise, we risk becoming trapped in a long war with minimal benefit."
Vig agreed.
He politely declined Gatova's request—but offered to sell weapons, provided the tribe could afford them.
Disappointed, Gatova left the hall and returned to the harbor.
He examined the goods displayed by British merchants, especially the iron sickles. They combined hardness and flexibility, swinging smoothly in the hand.
"Even as farming tools," he muttered,
"their quality surpasses the swords made by our own blacksmiths."
Reluctantly, he set the sickle down and moved to the weapons stall.
British weapons were equally impressive. Some even included captured armor. Unfortunately, Gatova had brought too little amber as payment. He managed to purchase only:
Ten iron swords
Five hundred arrows
Shortly afterward, a British merchant approached him.
"My name is Jason, from the Pontilan Trading Company," the man said.
"If the conditions are right, we might be willing to lend you money to purchase equipment."
After a brief discussion, Jason decided to inspect the tribe in person.
The next day, a Pontilan merchant ship departed Visby, following Gatova's longship to Livonia.
After two days of sailing, Jason saw the Livonian coastline.
Endless pine forests stretched along the shore. The air carried the scent of resin mixed with sea wind.
Gatova's settlement stood at a river mouth. A crude wooden palisade surrounded roughly one hundred houses.
The buildings were constructed from logs and topped with sod roofs.
Jason studied the locals' clothing, daily routines, and the farmland outside the walls—and quickly became disappointed.
The fields were temporary clearings carved from forest. Burned tree stumps and ash still lined the edges. Newly cleared soil appeared gray-black and barren. Fallow plots were overgrown with knee-high weeds and shrubs.
Their wooden plow, pulled by two oxen, barely scratched the surface of the soil.
In the distance, farmers harvested rye—some still using flint sickles.
"The farming level is terrible," Jason concluded.
"Plant one bushel of seed, harvest only two or three. They're so poor there's no profit to be made."
Jason returned to the harbor and ordered his crew to set up a trading stall.
Since silver coins were not used locally, all transactions relied on barter. The merchants sold iron tools and dyed cloth in exchange for:
Amber
Elk hides
Despite three days of effort, the total value of goods collected amounted to less than thirty pounds.
Jason abandoned the partnership plan and ordered the crew to weigh anchor and depart.
Late August
The Visby trade fair concluded.
Total trade volume fell short of Vig's expectations. Nevertheless, he remained committed to his long-term strategy. Even if profits were modest, expanding influence in the Baltic remained essential.
"Most tribes in Eastern Europe are weak," he reflected.
"When my second and third sons come of age, perhaps they can establish domains there. Better than having three brothers crowded together in Britain."
With that in mind, Vig ordered the intelligence service to establish a permanent branch office in Visby—dedicated to gathering information across Northern and Eastern Europe, ready for whatever opportunities might arise.
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