November 9th 1071: County of Agder
"Our position in Ireland has grown much more precarious, cousin. I have received word from my people in Mide that Dun Sleibe is now the Duke of Ulster. His power grows while you remain stagnant."
Lodin rubbed his temples, his head throbbing with the ache that Snofrid's news engendered there.
"So Ireland is quickly being carved up into duchies, I see. Given that Mide is still not recovered from Olaf's army's rape of it, I am beginning to think that I should just give the County to someone else."
Snofrid vigorously shook her head, stabbing a fat finger on the debated territory, "Do that, cousin, and you will surrender our foothold in Ireland entirely, for the new Count will be your equal and not a vassal of yours."
A sneer retorted the Spy Master's accurate observation, "I will be damned if I make a bishophoric! I still have not forgiven the Pope for his treachery against me! Why, that damned cousin of Thora's is now viewed as almost as pious as I am and he is considered far more influential!"
Irritation swept over Snofrid's face as she turned and strode for the door.
"I will not tell you again, Cousin. You must have patience. The treasury is still gradually making its way to solvency again, but to go to war again anywhere would be to put you in financial ruin. The only battle I would approve is one against Dublin, but you have neither the power to press a claim nor the army to make good on any claim that might appear. So you must do nothing for now. Anything else and you will not only bankrupt the treasury beyond repair, but you will soon be overrun by noblemen equally ambitious and far more intelligent besides."
The door slammed behind huffy Snofrid, leaving in its wake an agitated Adgerese Count. His headache approaching migraine levels, Lodin stared at the map of Europe and snorted, "What in God's own Holy Name does *she* know?"
More than he did, apparently.
October 17th 1072: County of Agder
In late March, the oppressed and weary burghers received a boost to their power when small merchant houses first made their appearances in Agder, though it was not expected by anyone that the power of the nobility would be made weaker.
One noble did become lesser in strength however in fall of 1072 and that man was none other than Count Lodin himself and it was on October 17, 1072 that the royal doctor diagnosed him as sick, recommending bed rest and judicious application of leeches.
After one such treatment, Lodin lay in bed, feeling literally drained. "What went wrong with my rule? Why has God punished me in this way, when I already struggle to increase my power?"
There was no answer from the heavens.
All throughout the county, people began to pray. The barons prayed for the health of the Count, while the merchants, clergy, and serfs all silently prayed for Count Lodin... to die.
If only Lodin could have the same success...