Returning from the deer park, Edgar hurriedly took off his sweat-soaked chamois falcon gloves and drank a full glass of ice water to relieve the heat a little.

"How long has that lord arrived?" The king asked.

"Just finished counting the coats of arms in the hall, Your Majesty."

Edgar smiled, as if he could imagine the emissary's boredom right now.

"Prepare yourself, don't let them underestimate us."

The Normans had been waiting in the king's hall for most of the hour, and the monks and ladies, with their breasts and limbs swaying, seemed to be pointing at him and the people behind him.

"His Majesty the King has arrived!"

As the sun rises, the King of England, dressed in fine clothes, enters the hall surrounded by a large number of attendants. Through the slightly trembling eyelashes, the Normans saw the king's long golden corrugated hair hanging gracefully over the silk shawl, and although the pace was not slow, it was enough to show the heart of a humble king.

"Lord Peter, welcome to our court." The King of England greeted in the Frankish language.

"Your servant Peter salutes Your Majesty on behalf of the true Emperor of the Lord, the King of the Romans!" The Normans replied in fluent Greek, which was then translated by a courtier.

"We are very curious, what does His Majesty the Emperor need, is it worth trekking through the mountains and rivers in person, and come here?"

There seemed to be a kind of teasing in Edgar's voice, and the Emperor's calamity was obviously no secret in the north. The Normans did not have time to discern the exact meaning, but with a rare candor they shattered the impression of the English on his observance of propriety.

"To tell you the truth, Your Majesty didn't know about you originally, and I wouldn't expect your country to help us deal with those infidels, it was someone who praised Your Majesty's kingdom for its great strength in front of the Emperor, so the Emperor ordered me to send an envoy, so I traveled thousands of miles to present my credentials to Your Majesty."

The journey was carried by him lightly, in fact, from the capital, to the seven waterfalls of "Forever Fierce", "The Laugher", "The Fast Horse", and "Impassable", with the help of a group of Varyags, he pulled a boat through the turbulence on the granite boulders and slippery pebbles, and managed to avoid the Pecheneg cavalry, avoiding the end of the skull made into a wine bowl, and then reaching the Baltic Sea through the Gardariki (city-states ruled by the Rurik family), crossing the whale and fish routes. Arriving in London at the end is no easier than crossing Anatolia to the Holy City.

Taking the book and opening the lacquer seal casually, Edgar found that he didn't know a word, and he put down the paper with some embarrassment, and let the courtier in charge of translation interpret it for him.

"His Majesty Alexios wants to build a recruiting station in our royal city?" Halfway through it, Edgar almost thought his translator was joking.

"By no means a military station, His Majesty the Emperor just wants to provide the greatest convenience for the northern samurai who are willing to venture to the East." The Norman hastened to explain.

This is nothing new, in the northern towns of Kiev and Roskild, Constantinople has always been stationed in Constantinople to recruit the Praetorian Guard, and Edgar understood the intention of the Greek emperor as soon as he heard the explanation.

In recent years, letters from Constantinople have not stopped, and many pilgrims returning from the East have spread the same news that the empire of the East is collapsing and that the infidels are brutally oppressing the people of Christ.

"Our plight on the Emperor...... Deeply sympathetic. Edgar raised his horns and seemed to be making a decision.

This is not something to be fought against, I know what the Holy See is planning and what will happen in the future.

"If there are any of our people willing to join the war in the East, we will not object, and we hope that this answer will please the Lord of Lord."

Peter de Alifa was slightly stunned, he was ready to be rejected, after all, on the way here, he had already heard about the war that was going on in England.

How did it succeed? Perhaps, it could go further, such as a quasi-alliance?

At the banquet, Peter, a Norman, who was enjoying summer fruits and vegetables and cream-roasted partridges, was still thinking about something while exchanging glasses with the Count of Northumbria.

"The king is interested." Count Volsiov poured horns full for the Normans, until the foam of the honey overflowed with golden bronze trim, "Who told the emperor that our country is strong?" ”

Peter was suddenly interrupted from his thoughts, and used his drinking to disguise his previous distraction, before he replied, "Of course, the Count of Flanders." ”

This answer surprised Volsiov, who thought that it was the Holy See who had revealed his strength to the Emperor, and then felt a little sour in his heart - it was the Spaniard, not himself, who had planted in the hearts of the Gentiles a fear of the kingdom.

"Are all the king's sons engaged now?" Suddenly, the voice of the Norman came.

The earl came back to his senses, and only told the common sense of the court, and briefly introduced the marriage arrangements of the two princes.

The emperor's envoys still seem to refuse to give up: "So, Prince Alfred and Princess Frank's marriage contract has not been completed?" ”

Princess Constance of the Franks was also in the hall at this time, accompanied by the queen's maid, Eleanor.

"What do you want to say?"

"I wonder if you have the idea of marrying a purple-robed princess?"

Volsiov raised his head and looked directly into the blazing gaze of the Greek envoy with an incredulous look on his face.