Spring of the year 851.
Björn and Helgi strode into Tyne Town's main hall, demanding three cog ships. "Those natives took us to task—we must make the coast respect us this year!"
Björn guzzled mead and told his woeful tale. Vig did not interrupt; he merely stroked the half–metre, creamy-yellow walrus ivory Björn held while listening.
When the story ended, Vig offered a price.
"By chance the shipyard has two cogs ready and one nearly finished. Each sells for 80 pounds (cost ~50); three total 240 pounds. Pay in silver or pay with goods?"
Cogs were purpose-built for sea trade: with just twenty to thirty sailors they could carry a hundred tons—vastly more efficient than a longship. Their downside was price: a cog cost as much as several Viking longships, so ordinary merchants had to pool resources.
Tyne Town's yard had produced five cogs. The Blue Herring remained for the duke—shipping goods to Calais, returning with Frankish warhorses and wines.
The second had been sold to Harli's Tyne Wool Company to move wool, iron, paper and salted fish to Flanders in exchange for books, glass and spices.
The third went to a Danish noble named Horst, for routes between Schleswig and the Neva mouth and trade with the Rus.
The fourth and fifth still lay idle at the south quay of Tyne Town. For comparison, a typical Viking longship sold for just 10–20 pounds and still found many buyers.
Björn: "I'm out of coin—the Frankish campaign spent everything. Can I buy on credit?"
Vig said nothing. The two stared each other down until Vig finally spoke.
"Two-hundred and forty pounds isn't petty. I need some of that to repay debts. Your request is excessive. Besides, you should ask the royal yard at Londinium—His Grace promised you twenty percent of the profits there to aid purchases."
Björn rolled his eyes. "I asked. Most cogs were sold or diverted as warships these last two years. The yard didn't profit enough to give me anything."
Vig fell silent. Helgi, seeing Vig lean toward refusal, begged instead.
"If you let us have them, we'll beat two hundred of those savages and then the beach—seals and walrus—will be ours. The profit will astonish you."
Vig still hesitated. He knew the islanders were not a single clan; they could call for help. After weighing friendship against prudence, he promised ships and arms—but on two conditions:
If war broke out between Tyne Town and the Island Alliance, Helgi must sever ties with Steinn and co.
Form a Western Sea Fur Company to exploit lands west of Iceland; the company's discoveries would have Tyne Town's priority resale rights.
Division of future profit and authority provoked hot debate. After half an hour they compromised.
Ownership: Björn 45%, Vig 30%, Helgi 25%.
Trade terms: Tyne Town would supply the company with the town's best terms for ships, iron and grain; in return the company granted Tyne Town prioritized purchase of expedition goods, with prices renegotiated every two years.
They signed on sheepskin and stamped the parchments.
The three cogs and a consignment of armor and crossbows—total value 320 pounds—transferred to the company on credit to be repaid in goods.
Björn beamed. "With what I've stockpiled in mail and plates, I can muster a hundred armored men. With them we will take the shore—then use the hides and ivory to buy more arms and take more beaches."
He imagined thousands of walrus and seals along the coast; Greenland's long, indented seaboard would supply nearly endless furs and ivory. His only regret: Iceland and Greenland's harsh climate made voluntary settlers scarce; he'd need to acquire slaves to swell ranks.
Vig kept his silence. He was quietly worried: being driven off by a handful of weapon-wielding natives would be embarrassing. He thought:
"Odin help them—let Björn and Helgi behave. Stick to the southwest fjords of Greenland and don't push further west into the Americas. Firearms aren't here yet; if you pick a fight with a massed native realm in the New World you'll be humiliated—and the blame might fall back on me."
Over the next fortnight Björn recruited raiders. With each cog carrying sixty men, he planned a 240-strong force with around forty percent armored—hoping to smash the islanders by equipment and shock.
Helgi returned to Skye briefly—he'd found a business to leave his old home with and handed the local village to a brother in trust.
By mid-April the expedition fleet assembled. Björn and Helgi led over two hundred eager raiders west toward Greenland.
After seeing them off, Vig went to the smithy with Lúkal to inspect a new cloth-backed cuirass.
He Faveled the cloth cuirass for cost reasons. Mail required thousands of rings, plate hundreds of lames—both expensive and time-consuming. Cloth armor cost far less and could be produced at scale.
"Protection will be slightly less. But widespread cuirasses raise the common soldier's morale. A man feels braver wearing something that can stop an edge."
Vig examined the dark-brown cuirass.
Outside: multiple layers of heavy linen to cushion blows. Inserted between layers were over two hundred small iron plates, riveted to the fabric. The smiths debated sewing plates with thread versus rivets; they chose rivets for durability.
For balance, plates were packed tightly on the chest and abdomen and sparser elsewhere. The inner lining was softer, multi-layered hemp to prevent chafing.
Designed this way, the cuirass offered reasonable protection while remaining light and mass-producible—suitable for equipping levies and mercenaries en masse.
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