Two days later, Nils packed his personal belongings and prepared to sail for Crimea.
Over the years, he had accumulated gold, silver, and jewels worth roughly three thousand pounds—more than enough to support him for the rest of his life.
"My lord… are you really leaving?"
On the drill field, the Varangian Guards had gathered voluntarily to bid farewell to the legendary figure whose fame echoed across the Empire.
Nils's gaze swept across the countless familiar faces.
He had much he wanted to say—
but he forcibly suppressed the emotions surging within him.
Without a word, he simply led the heavily loaded wagon away.
Behind him followed two hundred retired veterans.
Each carried a massive bundle stuffed with personal equipment and savings earned through years of war.
Especially after the Bulgarian campaign, every Varangian Guard had gained spoils worth at least twenty pounds.
Along the streets, curious citizens observed the barbarians passing by.
Some guessed they were former Varangians. Others assumed they were merely hired Rus mercenaries.
Yet from beginning to end, not a single person recognized the wagon driver's identity.
After passing through the Gate of Perama, the bustling Golden Horn came into view.
Nils and his group headed toward the naval warships docked at the harbor.
Once their identities were confirmed, the captain bowed respectfully.
"It is my honor to serve you, General."
Suddenly, a large group of Rus mercenaries rushed over from nearby, loudly demanding to see Nils.
They wished to settle in Crimea with him.
Nils frowned in confusion.
"Why?"
A bearded giant squeezed to the front of the crowd.
"Under your command, we brothers became rich. But we earned too much money. If we return to our tribes, our chiefs—or others—will probably rob us.
"So we discussed it together.
"And we believe you are the most trustworthy man."
Even after hearing all the stories about me, they still trust me?
Nils suddenly burst into laughter.
It was the most genuine laugh he had given in more than ten years.
After coughing for a while, he accepted all six hundred mercenaries before him.
Turning toward the captain, he asked:
"How many ships can the navy provide?"
"Only six. Enough for roughly three hundred people.
"Pirates in the Aegean have become extremely active lately, severely disrupting imperial trade. His Majesty has dispatched most of the fleet to suppress them.
"I suggest these Rus hire civilian vessels."
Nils unlocked a bronze chest and removed a heavy sack of nomismata gold coins.
He ordered his men to hire ships immediately.
"Remember—money is not the issue."
He had no interest in haggling.
Nor did he wish to linger in Constantinople any longer.
The longer he stayed, the more likely the emperor might change his mind.
At nine in the morning, the harbor master sounded a bronze horn.
The great chain blocking the mouth of the harbor descended slowly beneath the water with the groaning of massive winches.
The captains ordered anchors raised.
Oarsmen pulled at the long oars as the fleet slowly departed the Golden Horn.
Standing at the stern, Nils watched the golden dome of Hagia Sophia gradually recede into the distance, his expression complicated.
"Years of hardship… and in the end I earned three thousand pounds for retirement and a place to settle down.
"Not a bad outcome."
He moved to the bow and gazed ahead toward the Bosporus.
Steep cliffs lined both shores.
On the western bank stood country villas and vineyards belonging to nobles.
The eastern bank was dotted with monasteries.
At times, the chanting of priests drifted faintly across the water.
Eventually, after passing the final cape, the scenery suddenly opened wide.
An endless gray-blue sea stretched before them.
The winds strengthened sharply, and the ship began rocking gently atop the waves.
The fleet advanced along the western coast of the Black Sea.
Occasionally they encountered slave ships packed with human cargo.
The slaves would be sold in Egypt, North Africa, or Iberia.
The strong and capable would undergo training to become the most trusted "Saqaliba Guards" of Arab rulers.
The rest would sink into lives of brutal labor until death claimed them.
A week later, the fleet reached the mouth of the Danube.
Marshes and forests stretched across the shoreline, with cooking smoke rising from deep within the woods.
The sailors suspected nomadic camps nearby and kept weapons ready at all times.
"I heard that long ago, the Empire built countless fortresses along the southern bank of the Danube, supported by a river fleet. It used to be the first shield of the Balkans.
"How did it decay into this?"
Nils complained for a while—
then suddenly realized something.
He was no longer one of the Empire's great officials.
He was simply a forty-something northern barbarian.
There was no reason to waste energy worrying about Basil's empire anymore.
Five days later, the fleet finally reached Crimea.
Greek villages lined the coastline.
Terraced vineyards covered the hillsides.
Monasteries perched atop mountain ridges.
Sailing along the southwestern coast, they arrived at Chersonesos, the Empire's key trade hub on the northern Black Sea.
Slaves and goods from the Eastern European steppe gathered there:
beeswax, furs, grain, wool—
all shipped onward to Constantinople.
At the harbor entrance stood a stone breakwater and a towering lighthouse upon the cape.
More than a hundred ships crowded the port.
After disembarking, Nils and the captain met with the local strategos and presented Basil's decree of enfeoffment.
"Sudakso?" the general said in surprise.
"Half a century ago, the Khazar Khaganate raided Crimea. Many settlements were abandoned, including Sudakso. Only a dozen villages remain nearby.
"My lord, with your achievements, you are fully qualified to choose land in Bulgaria instead. Why here?"
Nils answered calmly:
"I'm retired.
"I only want a quiet place to spend the rest of my life. I don't care whether it's prosperous."
The fleet remained there three days, purchasing livestock and supplies before finally sailing onward to Sudakso.
It was a ruined harbor town.
The stone walls had collapsed long ago, while thick weeds covered the surrounding land.
Mountains stretched endlessly to the north.
Two small rivers flowed down from the hills before joining together and emptying into the sea.
"With mountains behind us and the sea to the south… not a bad place to retire."
Nils directed his followers to clear the ruins within the walls and reclaim farmland outside the town.
As time passed, the local residents of southern Crimea gradually accepted the newcomers.
Many peasants married their daughters to the wealthy retired veterans.
At one wedding, Nils noticed the daughter of a Greek landowner among the crowd.
For a moment, he thought he saw traces of Princess Yvette in her appearance.
He froze where he stood, unmoving for a long time—
as though trapped within one of the countless dreams he had relived before.
Not long afterward, the two were married.
From then on, the famed general finally settled into peace.
He often wandered through the vineyard gifted by his father-in-law.
Green vines twisted stubbornly upward around wooden supports—
like memories refusing to fade.
Holding a small pruning knife with a bronze handle, Nils carefully trimmed away excess branches.
Whenever he felt the vitality pulsing within the vines, an irreplaceable sense of solidity rose from his fingertips deep into his heart.
In the afternoons, he frequently climbed the southwestern hillside beyond the city walls and rested against a massive boulder beneath the sun.
The mountain wind mixed endlessly with the scent of the sea.
Far away, ships drifted like tiny scraps of grass upon the folds of the ocean.
Sometimes birds landed quietly beside him, dazing together in silence.
And in this forgotten corner of the world—
Nils finally found a peace beyond words.
—------------------------------
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