"...Know what?" King Burgred asked, leaning so far forward he almost fell out of his chair.
"Emperor Basil and I are perfectly fine with each other," Ragnar smiled, taking another sip of his spiced wine. "We have a pact now. In fact, we signed it more than five months ago."
The Great Hall around them was still echoing with loud laughter, music, and the clinking of glasses. But at the high table, it felt as though someone had just dropped a massive block of solid ice onto the wood.
"You... you signed a pact with the Byzantine Emperor?" Alfred whispered, his voice trembling. "How is that even possible? He considers all Norsemen to be dirty barbarians... He doesn't negotiate with raiders."
"He doesn't negotiate with raiders." Gyda corrected smoothly, "But he negotiates with the only man in the world who can sell him explosive black powder..."
As such, Ragnar leaned forward, dropping the playful tone entirely. His eyes were cold.
