Chapter 4: The Merchant-Warrior's Gambit
The morning before departure, Paul found himself in a quiet corner of the settlement, ostensibly checking his gear but actually wrestling with an interface that defied every expectation he'd built about divine Viking magic.
[SYSTEM STORE ACCESS GRANTED]
[CURRENT SYSTEM POINTS: 250]
[AVAILABLE CATEGORIES: WEAPONS, ARMOR, CONSUMABLES, COMMON GOODS, RARE ITEMS]
Paul scrolled through the weapons section first, hope dying a quick death as he saw the prices. Foresight Blade: 1500 SP. Gungnir's Echo: 4500 SP. Even the basic Dane Axe of Foresight cost 800 SP—more than triple his current total.
"Great. I'm window shopping in Valhalla and I can't afford anything."
Then he found the Common Goods section.
Refined Salt: 2 SP per pound.
Paul's modern mind sparked like flint striking steel. In his old world, salt was so cheap it was practically free—a commodity taken for granted, bought in massive containers for a few dollars. But here, in 9th-century Scandinavia, salt was precious. Essential for preserving meat through winter, valuable enough to fight wars over.
"Temporal arbitrage. I'm about to corner the Kattegat salt market."
[PURCHASE: REFINED SALT - 50 POUNDS]
[COST: 100 SYSTEM POINTS]
[REMAINING SP: 150]
[ITEM RECEIVED: SYSTEM INVENTORY]
The salt appeared in what the system called his "inventory"—a pouch that only he could see or access, invisible to everyone else. Paul reached in and pulled out a handful of crystals so pure they looked like crushed diamonds. The taste was clean, sharp, nothing like the bitter tang of sea salt the Vikings were used to.
"Time to become a merchant prince."
Paul found his first target near the docks—a grizzled trader with suspicious eyes and hands that never strayed far from his knife. The man was haggling over a shipment of amber with another merchant, both voices rising in the particular cadence of men who lived by buying low and selling high.
"Excuse me," Paul said, approaching with the careful politeness of someone who didn't want to get stabbed. "I have something you might find interesting."
The merchant looked him up and down, taking in Paul's foreign accent and still-soft hands. "Not interested in whatever trinkets you're peddling, southerner."
Paul pulled out a small bag of the refined salt and offered it. "Taste this."
The merchant's expression shifted from dismissive to intrigued. He took a pinch, touched it to his tongue, and his eyes widened.
"What sorcery is this? It tastes like... like salt should taste. Pure. Clean."
"Superior processing methods from the south," Paul said, which was technically true. "Perfect for preserving meat. No bitterness, no impurities. How much would you pay for a pound of this?"
The haggling that followed was brief but intense. The merchant knew quality when he tasted it, and Paul walked away twenty silver pieces richer—roughly equivalent to twenty System Points, if his calculations were correct.
"Ten times markup. Not bad for five minutes' work."
Word spread through Kattegat's merchant community like fire through dry thatch. Paul spent the next few hours hitting every trader, provisioner, and ship captain he could find. The story was always the same—they tasted the salt, their eyes widened, and they reached for their coin purses.
"From the south, you say? What southern lands?"
"Far to the south. You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"How far south?"
"Let's just say it's a very long journey."
By mid-afternoon, Paul had sold forty-nine pounds of salt and earned back his initial investment plus fifty System Points of profit. But more importantly, he'd discovered other opportunities in the Common Goods section—quality iron selling for eight times what the locals could produce, rare spices that commanded fifteen times their System Store price.
[SYSTEM POINTS EARNED: 400]
[TOTAL SYSTEM POINTS: 550]
"Not quite enough for the axe, but getting close."
Paul continued his sales blitz through the afternoon, reinvesting his profits in more goods from the system store. Iron bars that he could pass off as "southern steel," spices that made Viking stew actually edible, small tools that were centuries ahead of anything the locals could produce.
By evening, he'd built himself a reputation as a merchant with impossible connections and accumulated enough System Points to make his first major purchase.
[PURCHASE: DANE AXE OF FORESIGHT]
[COST: 800 SYSTEM POINTS]
[REMAINING SP: 50]
[WEAPON STATS: +7 ATTACK, +1 AGILITY, +2 STRENGTH, 10% SHIELD BREAK CHANCE]
The axe materialized in his hands like something forged by gods—perfectly balanced steel with runes etched along the blade that seemed to shift in the firelight. The handle was wrapped in leather that had never known a human grip, yet felt perfectly familiar in his hands.
Paul swung it experimentally and felt the weapon respond like an extension of his own body. This wasn't just superior craftsmanship—this was something beyond what any mortal smith could create.
"Now I need armor to match."
[PURCHASE: QUALITY LEATHER ARMOR]
[COST: 150 SYSTEM POINTS - OVERSPENT]
[SYSTEM CREDIT EXTENDED: -100 SP BALANCE]
The armor appeared as a full set—vest, bracers, and reinforced boots that looked like they'd been custom-fitted to his exact measurements. The leather was supple yet strong, dyed a deep brown that would show blood less readily than lighter colors.
Paul was admiring his new gear when a shadow fell across him. He looked up to find Rollo watching him with eyes that missed nothing.
"The stranger grows wealthy quickly," Rollo said, his voice carrying an edge that made Paul's hand drift instinctively toward his weapon. "Fine steel, foreign goods, and now Ragnar's favor. You rise fast for a man who arrived with nothing."
Jealousy. The same jealousy that would eventually drive Rollo to betray his own brother.
Paul activated Success Rate Analysis, burning precious MP for the information.
[SUCCESS RATE ANALYSIS: ROLLO'S BETRAYAL PROBABILITY DURING ENGLISH RAID]
[RESULT: 12%]
[MANA COST: 2 MP - REMAINING: 10/12]
Twelve percent. Low odds, but not zero. And Paul remembered enough from the show to know that Rollo's jealousy was a poison that grew stronger with time.
"Ragnar favors those who are useful," Paul said carefully, meeting Rollo's gaze without challenge but without backing down. "As do you, I imagine."
Rollo grunted, a sound that could have meant anything. His eyes lingered on Paul's axe for a long moment before he turned and walked away without another word.
"And that's how legends die—not to enemies, but to family who can't forgive success."
Paul spent his remaining silver on supplies and one final system purchase that left him completely broke but significantly better prepared for what was coming.
[PURCHASE: MINOR HEALTH SALVES x5]
[COST: 250 SYSTEM POINTS]
[FINAL BALANCE: -200 SP]
[ITEM DESCRIPTION: RESTORES 25% HP OVER 10 SECONDS]
The potions appeared as small clay vials filled with liquid that glowed faintly green. Paul tucked them into his belt and told anyone who asked that they were "southern medicine"—healing draughts brewed by priests from distant lands.
"Five chances to cheat death. Let's hope that's enough."
As the sun set over Kattegat, Paul stood at the docks and watched the final preparations for tomorrow's departure. Longships were being loaded with weapons and provisions, warriors checked their gear with the methodical thoroughness of professionals, and the air hummed with the particular energy that preceded violence.
Ragnar found him there, leaning against a dock post with his new axe propped beside him.
"Fine weapon," Ragnar observed, running his fingers along the runes on the blade. "I've never seen craftsmanship quite like it. Another gift from your mysterious southern lands?"
"Payment for services rendered," Paul replied. "I've found that good information is often more valuable than gold."
Ragnar's smile was sharp as a blade. "Tomorrow we'll test whether your information is as good as your taste in weapons."
"Tomorrow we make history. Or die trying."
The night passed with surprising speed. Paul checked and rechecked his gear, reviewed everything he could remember about the English raids from the show, and tried not to think about the thousand ways things could go wrong. His system balance was deep in the red, his mana was still recovering from the day's expenditures, and he was about to sail into legend with warriors who could kill him without breaking stride.
But he had the best equipment System Points could buy, five healing potions that might save his life, and enough foreknowledge to tip the scales in his favor.
"Ships launch at dawn, and I board with axe in hand and potions hidden in my belt, already planning my next system store exploit."
"If I survive England."
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