Chapter 132: Chapter 52: The Danish Troll! Denmark, Vik Island.
As a ship slowly approached the shore, guards patrolling the harbor immediately rushed over.
"Who are you? Where are you from?"
A burly man with a big beard, from the Barbarian Race, approached, followed by seven or eight people holding long spears and battle axes, with some clad in studded armor. Their expressions were wary, but they relaxed a bit upon seeing Galavin, as he was dressed like a Saxon.
Galavin stood up, his expression fierce, and said, "Great Britain Island."
"We are underlings of Enfiss."
In Barbarian territory, you can’t show fear. If others cause you trouble, fight back. At worst, become a pirate at sea.
Here, the law is not as good as personal combat; only powerful warriors are respected.
The leader-like man considered their words, smirked scornfully, and mocked, "Virgin Possessor—Enfiss?"
"Wasn’t it rumored that he died at the hands of the Britons?"
The news spread quickly, and with Duncan’s Legendary Level, even Great Germania knew the Saxons had suffered a setback on Great Britain Island. Duncan was described in rumors here as a descendant of giant’s blood, incredibly powerful, capable of mounting a crossbow cannon like a heavy crossbow, more exaggerated than the legends of Great Britain Island.
Anyway, as long as the story isn’t too absurd, no one is really interested in listening.
To be able to kill a legendary figure of the Germanic Barbarian Race, like founding monarch-level Hengist and Hosa, one must be as mighty and majestic as the giants in legends!
It was that very smile.
Damn it!
Ever since Enfiss’s title changed to Virgin Possessor, it has been hard for his underlings to hold their heads high in front of others.
For fuck’s sake, everyone would snigger at the mention of Enfiss, causing many Saxon pirates to be unwilling to mingle with him.
Truly shameful!
Galavin glanced at Duncan inadvertently and, seeing Duncan unfazed, could only nod and say, "We need to rest here, replenish food and water, and try to recruit some hands."
This is the area that would later become Denmark.
Today’s Great Germania is still a loose tribal kingdom; the Germanic Barbarians have yet to establish a strong monarchical state. Many Barbarian chiefs and little kings share power, but when war comes, they gather to form a temporary war leader system.
The Germanic Barbarians living near Denmark are both merchants and pirates. When they can win, they are pirates; when they can’t, they are merchants.
Those who try to expand and plunder abroad always return to Great Germania to recruit people.
This is somewhat like modern society, where people who find no way out at home, yet feel a bit capable, venture to big cities to make a living, while even in their hometowns, county-level Brahmins can live quite comfortably.
It’s more or less like this; the local noble warriors of the Denmark region rarely expand outward.
The leader-like burly man glanced at them, his gaze falling on Galavin’s money pouch. They, too, were afraid of these pirates causing trouble because sometimes they even rob their own people, fleeing to places like Great Britain Island afterward.
Who isn’t worth robbing!
Why can’t you rob your own people?
Germans are never soft when cutting down their own.
"Behave. Don’t cause trouble." The burly leader gave a threatening glance and then gestured for them to dock.
This time Duncan brought Galavin along because he was very familiar with the Denmark region.
Vik Island is a small town with a population of just over a thousand, with surrounding villages housing only one or two hundred people. It’s far more backward than Great Britain, all made up of low wooden houses. The most striking building turned out to be a tavern, complete with separate minstrel boxes for returning pirates to indulge and enjoy.
That’s probably the biggest economic support here.
Duncan tread upon the muddy road here.
Inside the town, there was a strong smell of fish mixed with sewage. The residents along the way were quite sturdy, their physiques relatively robust, physically superior to the Romans.
They have meat, mostly fish, as the coastal area can easily support one or two thousand people.
There are hardly any signs of farming here. Early North Germans were still slash-and-burn farming, only changing after contact with the Empire. There are quite a few merchants who trade along rivers and coastlines, reaching as far as modern France’s port cities.
"It’s pretty much a shabby fishing village, but with quite a few battle units, even having one-star, two-star Barbarian warriors." Duncan observed quietly.
Strong strength.
Almost no elderly, mostly young adults.
During this time, the average lifespan of Germans was about 35 years, making it hard to see anyone over forty or fifty.
"No wonder when playing Total War, nobody likes to expand into Germanic areas; there’s really no economic value!"
"Developing the land would waste who knows how many years."
The group headed towards a tavern inn.
Duncan only brought five people, led by Galavin and the rest being loyal foreign troops from the Barbarian Race. He hid his identity, standing behind Galavin, looking like a fierce guard.
Inside the tavern.
They had just entered and were met with a burst of boisterous, joyful singing in the uniquely crude tone of the Germanic Barbarians.
The doors swung open.
Inside were many scantily clad servant girls and female slaves, along with over a dozen fierce-looking, half-drunk Barbarian warriors, mostly marked as Saxon pirates and Nordic raiders.
"There were so many beautiful women...Frisians, Danes, Franks...we took them only for fleeting pleasures, but in the end, we could only self..."