Sensing the young man's fear and helplessness, Edmund felt a surge of secret delight, though his expression remained grave.
"Our two houses are distrusted by the king, and our strength is weak. That makes us the easiest targets. We can only gamble—risk everything."
Hearing that they might have to fight the Serpent of the North, Buden grew even more terrified.
"When it comes to marching and warfare, how could we possibly compare to Vig Tyneburg?"
Edmund slowly shook his head.
"It won't be just us. Duke Imon of Ireland is Ragnar's direct bloodline—surely he covets the throne of Lundenwic. Gunnar holds Princess Enya—or rather, Queen Enya—and he too dreams of invading Britannia. And then there are the merchants of Flanders. They've suffered enormous losses. To reclaim the textile market, they will also take up arms."
At the mention of Gunnar, Buden's fear eased slightly. Frankish cavalry were formidable—strong enough to match the king's standing army and royal guards.
"When do we act?" he asked.
Edmund pulled out paper and a pen.
"Vig could move at any moment. Of course, the sooner the better."
After writing a letter to the city of Bruges, Edmund stamped it with his seal. Seeing Buden hesitate, he almost forcibly grabbed Buden's left hand and pressed his seal onto the parchment as well.
Next came letters to Gunnar and Imon. Edmund again made Buden seal them, lest the youth begin to suspect his intentions. Finally, Edmund handed the last letter to Buden.
"My relationship with Ivar and Imon's line is distant. You must arrange for this letter to be delivered—and quickly."
Buden still hadn't recovered his senses. Staring at the two seals at the bottom of the letters, he felt utterly lost.
He had merely embezzled a thousand pounds—how had it come to the point of raising troops and rebelling?
Seeing his ally's foolish expression, Edmund feared he might back out at any moment. He immediately found an excuse to leave.
"I'll have men sent to Flanders and Normandy at once. You must hurry as well."
Outside the courtyard, Edmund vaulted onto his horse and galloped out of the village at nearly full speed. Watching his retreating figure, Buden's heart trembled.
This is bad… I've been played.
That treasure was hidden in Scunthorpe—essentially his lawful spoils. Even if the embezzlement were exposed, the king would at most reprimand him and order the money returned. He would never risk offending all the great nobles by stripping him of his title outright.
By the time Buden finally understood everything, it was already too late.
Back in his own territory, Edmund dispatched envoys to contact Gunnar and the towns of Flanders.
Before long, the envoy to Flanders returned with news: the textile merchants reacted strongly. To defend the existing commercial order, they were willing to provide four thousand men, most of them untrained civilians with poor fighting capability.
However, merchants could also hire cavalry—second sons and bastards of knightly families. As long as money was no object, raising several hundred mounted troops would not be difficult.
"Four thousand men—add my levies and that brat Buden's militia, and we can muster at least six thousand. Enough to stir up real trouble."
A few days later, word came back from Gunnar as well. The Viking traitor's ambition burned as fiercely as ever. As soon as civil war erupted in Britannia, he would persuade the Frankish king to mobilize forces, with an invasion expected within two months.
Even after securing Normandy and Flanders, Edmund remained uneasy. Soon after, Buden sent word that he had convinced Imon to take up arms. Yet Imon deeply hated Gunnar's betrayal—even if Vig were defeated, further conflict would be inevitable.
"Enough. Let's survive the immediate crisis first."
Winter storms lashed the North Sea, preventing troops from Flanders, Normandy, and Ireland from crossing. Edmund's greatest fear was that the conspiracy would be exposed. He went to church almost daily, praying fervently that Vig would not discover his scheme.
As his anxiety mounted, time passed. The king and the cabinet focused their energy on land surveys in the Five Southern Counties and the dismissal of incompetent officials, showing no reaction whatsoever to the looming rebellion.
The Royal Palace — Cabinet Chamber
At this moment, the conference table was piled high with parchment volumes. Godwin took up the topmost master register and reported the results of six months of work to the king and his colleagues.
Despite numerous setbacks, the cabinet had obtained a detailed set of statistics covering population, land, and the wealth of residents across the five counties.
Gazing at the densely packed text, Godwin felt both exhaustion and relief. Under the old dynasty, his sole task had been to satisfy the whims of the royal family. He had been responsible for squeezing money from the realm, while the Lord Steward entertained the royals. Though titled "chancellor," he had been little more than a household servant.
After the new king's accession, his meticulous and rigorous nature caused the cabinet's workload to skyrocket. Yet Godwin preferred this state of affairs—far better than sinking into corruption alongside a sycophantic eunuch like Paphis.
Clearing his throat, he read out the figures:
"In summary, the five counties have 322,305 permanent residents, across 62,000 households."
As the chancellor finished, Vig quietly calculated his true strength.
The five counties held 320,000 people. Tyne County and the Northern Marches held another 330,000—650,000 in total.
By raw numbers alone, the royal demesne's population of 650,000 was not far from Ireland's 500,000.
But in reality, the difference was vast. The subjects of Ivar and Imon were overwhelmingly local natives. Due to chaotic governance, Irish loyalty to the duke was extremely low. His only reliable support came from 40,000 Viking settlers.
By contrast, the royal demesne held 140,000 Viking settlers. Moreover, Queen Herigif was Anglo, and the crown prince carried half Anglo-Saxon blood, greatly increasing Anglo-Saxon acceptance of the royal house.
Additionally, Vig had once freely shared agricultural techniques, allowing Wales to escape famine and dramatically improving local goodwill. Though Wales paid no direct agricultural tax, it contributed indirect commercial taxes and could provide excellent longbowmen in wartime.
Then there were the Picts of the Northern Marches. After many years, they had grown accustomed to Tyneburg rule. They paid taxes but were ill-suited as soldiers.
Finally came the Gaelic clans of the Highlands—poor, fierce, fearless, and cheap to hire. Excellent reserve manpower.
Taking everything into account, the crown's strength far surpassed that of the domestic nobility.
The two remaining dukes each had their weaknesses. Imon was young, his lands wracked by frequent rebellions. Theowulf controlled only Oxfordshire; Worcester, Telford, Chester, and other regions acted independently and ignored ducal authority.
The earls varied in strength. A few powerful earldoms were roughly equivalent to one of Vig's counties—but taken individually, none posed a real threat.
Unless, of course, Vig were to enrage the entire noble class and provoke a general uprising.
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