Building a Viking Empire with Modern Industry-Chapter 100: Strategy

At the moment, Ragnar was standing in the Great Hall of Nottingham.. now redesignated as Regional Branch Office 2. Surrounded by his Board of Warlords, in front of them was a large oak table with a giant surveyor’s map splayed across it.

Upon this map were not just figures of armies, but charcoal lines representing supply chains, resource nodes, and the most ambitious project in the history of the 9th Century.

It had been roughly a week since Ragnar first liquidated the Mercian leadership.

After several overwhelming "Market Corrections," he now found himself controlling the entire Midlands. But holding territory was expensive.

Since the beginning of the "Hostile Audit," Ragnar had put in place measures to begin mass recruitment.

He knew his elite force of 4,000 "Iron Gear" soldiers was not enough to pave a road to Winchester while suppressing Saxon rebellions.

As such, he had begun a new wave of "Mandatory Internships" designed to train the Saxon prisoners and refugees not in war, but in the art of the pickaxe and the shovel.

Though it was not the Unionized Construction Crew he had envisioned for the future, his current needs required him to make sacrifices in safety regulations. As such, Ragnar had tasked the captured smithies of Nottingham to manufacture thousands of standardized shovels instead of swords.

At the moment, 6,000 "Interns" were waiting in the mud outside the castle, alongside the veteran security forces of the Imperial Corps.

While they waited for their shift schedules, Ragnar was discussing the "Grand Trunk Line" with his officers.

Ragnar moved a wooden block representing a "Mobile Foundry" across the map, tracing a line from Nottingham down to the border of Wessex.

"The business plan is simple," Ragnar announced, his voice echoing off the stone walls. We are not invading Wessex to burn it. We are invading to connect it. This line here... this is the artery of the new world."

He pointed to three key strategic points: Leicester, Northampton, and finally, the Thames Crossing.

"With the aid of the ’Mobile Catering Units’ pacifying the locals, we will split our workforce into three Divisions. I will lead the Track-Laying Division to Northampton. Bjorn, you will take the Security Division to secure the perimeter against King Aethelred’s scouts. And Leif..."

Ragnar looked at Leif the Elder, who was currently wiping soot from his face.

"...you will lead the Rolling Stock Division. You are taking the prototype from Titan and bringing it south."

General Bjorn, who was leaning on his massive Lucerne Hammer, agreed with the aggression of the plan but had some fiscal concerns. As such, he decided to voice them.

"Director, splitting the army? We are deep in hostile territory. If Aethelred rallies the Southern Earls, they could flank the construction site. How many men are we leaving to guard the assets in Nottingham?"

Ragnar smiled; as always, Bjorn was thinking about defense, while Ragnar was thinking about velocity.

"500 men in Nottingham, and 300 in Derby. We will establish ’Franchise Garrisons’—fortified toll booths along the road. Every ten miles, a bunker. Every bunker, a Torsion Spike."

Bjorn nodded slowly. "Like the pillboxes at Titan. But Director... what about the artillery? If we run into a castle, shovels won’t breach the walls."

Ragnar had already developed a solution regarding the most efficient use of heavy ordnance. He tapped the wooden figure of the "Mobile Foundry."

"We aren’t dragging the cannons with horses, Bjorn. That is inefficient. We are putting the Torsion Spikes on the rails."

The room went silent. The Viking officers looked at each other.

They were used to dragging siege engines through the mud until their horses died. The idea of a siege engine that moved itself was alien.

"A... Siege Train?" Bjorn asked, testing the word.

"Precisely," Ragnar grinned. "We lay the track. We roll the guns. We blow the door. We keep laying track. It is a self-sustaining loop of conquest."

Listening to Ragnar’s plans, the Ealdorman Aelfgar looked pale.

"Director Ragnar," Aelfgar stammered. "You speak of this ’Iron Road’ as if it grows. But King Aethelred is waiting at the Thames. He has ten thousand men. Even with your... ’spikes’... numbers matter."

Ragnar turned to the terrified Saxon.

"Aethelred is waiting for a battle, Aelfgar. He expects me to march into a field and charge him. He is playing Chess."

Ragnar picked up a piece of charcoal and drew a steam engine on the map.

"By the time Aethelred realizes what I am building, I will be able to move five thousand troops from York to his front door in six hours.."

Leif the Elder, who had been doing mental math regarding coal consumption, raised a hand.

"Director, about the fuel. The ’Screaming Kettle’... she gets hungry. If we run out of coal in the Midlands..."

"Then we burn the forests," Ragnar said ruthlessly. "We liquidate the natural resources to fuel the infrastructure. It is a necessary expense."

Hearing this, the officers felt a strange mix of terror and excitement.

This three-pronged operation was nicknamed "Project: Iron Horse" and would be the deciding factor in the hostile takeover of England.

Ragnar chatted with the officers for some time in great detail about shift rotations, overtime pay for the night crews, and the importance of "Percussive Maintenance" on the rail spikes before finally ending this strategic meeting.

"Gentlemen, the Board Meeting is adjourned. Get some rest. Tomorrow at the break of dawn, we break ground! Efficiency is Victory!"

Immediately upon shouting the corporate slogan, the men all slammed their fists onto the table..a gesture Ragnar had introduced to replace the chaotic cheering of the past.

"Efficiency is Victory!"

After ending the meeting, the officers dispersed to wake the "Interns." Ragnar remained in the Great Hall for a moment, staring at the map.

The lines of charcoal looked like a web, tightening around the throat of the old world.

He walked to the window, looking out at the muddy courtyard where the first batch of I-beam rails were stacked.

"I need to finish this merger quickly," Ragnar sighed into the dimly lit room. "So I can return to Titan... and to Gyda."

He sat down on the uncomfortable wooden throne of the late King Burgred.

He pulled a small locket from his pouch a small polished steel disk with a portrait of Gyda etched by acid.

He began to reminisce about the days of the not-so-distant past. It was hard to believe that he had only been reincarnated into this world less than two years ago.

In his previous life, he was a mid-level Project Manager for a construction firm in Ohio.

He had spent his entire youth gaining the certifications and ulcers necessary to manage crews that hated him, ultimately dying of a stress-induced heart attack at his desk while trying to meet a deadline for a parking garage. He had wasted his life worrying about zoning permits and HOA complaints.

In this life, Ragnar was fortunate enough to be reincarnated into a position of absolute authority.

After getting his first taste of real agency.. the ability to say "build this" and have it done without a committee meeting—Ragnar had become incredibly ambitious. He no longer desired to simply survive.

Now that he had a chance, he wanted to be like the great industrialists of history—

Carnegie, Rockefeller, Brunel. But with better swords.

Thinking of the past, present, and the steam-powered future, Ragnar leaned back and closed his eyes.

But sleep would not come easily. Because outside, in the courtyard, Leif the Elder was firing up the prototype.

WHOOOOO-WEEEEEEE!

The shrill, piercing scream of a primitive steam whistle cut through the night, causing every horse in Nottingham to panic.

Ragnar’s eyes snapped open. A wide, manic grin spread across his face.

"Listen to that," Ragnar laughed, standing up.

He grabbed his helm.

"Time to inspect the prototype."

...

Ragnar strode into the courtyard. The "Interns" were cowering against the walls.

In the center of the mud stood... The Thing.

It looked like a beer barrel mounted on a mining cart, welded to a labyrinth of copper pipes and pistons.

A fire roared in its belly. Black smoke belched from a funnel. It shook violently, rattling against the temporary wooden rails laid in the mud.

Leif the Lesser (who had arrived with the prototype) was holding a lever, his face covered in soot.

"Director!" Leif shouted over the roar of the steam. "She’s holding 80 PSI! But she vibrates like a frightened dog!"

"Does she move?" Ragnar shouted back.

"Watch this!"

Leif threw the lever.

The wheels spun. Mud flew. And slowly, with the grace of a dying cow, the machine lurched forward. It rolled ten feet. Twenty feet. It smashed through a wooden barricade Ragnar had set up as a test.

The Vikings watched in stunned silence. A wagon that moved without horses.

"It works," General Bjorn whispered, making the sign of the hammer. "It actually works."

Ragnar walked up to the hissing beast. He felt the heat radiating from the boiler.

"It’s slow," Ragnar critiqued. "And it leaks."

"It’s a prototype!" Leif defended.

"It’s perfect," Ragnar declared. "Paint it black. Paint a red dragon on the side. And load it onto the heavy wagons." 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

"We are taking it to the front?"

"No," Ragnar corrected. "We are taking it to the Thames. When King Aethelred sees this rolling toward him... he won’t fight. He will sign."

Ragnar turned to his army.

"Pack the gear! We march south! The Iron Horse is hungry, and Wessex is on the menu!"