Building a Viking Empire with Modern Industry-Chapter 102: The Grand Trunk Line

At the moment, Ragnar and his Track-Laying Division were crossing into the borderlands of Wessex.

His armies had recently split into the three-pronged strategy outlined in the Nottingham board meeting.

Ragnar was now in command of a force numbering roughly 3,000 men in total—half of which were his veteran "Iron Gear" soldiers, and the other half the conscripted "Interns" from the Midlands.

The other two armies were securing the perimeter and transporting the "Screaming Kettle" locomotive respectively.

Unlike Ragnar’s core workforce, which was filled with the most veteran members of his engineering and security units, the Saxon interns were poorly equipped with standardized shovels and mass-produced helmets.

Many of them had never held a tool heavier than a pitchfork in their lives.

At most, they would act as the manual labor for Ragnar’s grand vision; their role was to dig the trenches and lay the gravel while his troops provided "Site Security."

At the moment, it was late in the morning but not quite yet noon.

The English mist was lifting, and all that could be heard were the sounds of thousands of boots marching to the beat of the steam whistle, as the infantrymen sang another one of Ragnar’s corporate shanties.

After crossing through the muddy fields of Leicestershire, Ragnar’s forces finally found themselves in a position overlooking the trade hub of Northampton in the distance.

However, to their surprise, they also saw a Saxon army marching towards them.

It would appear that a local Earl, loyal to King Aethelred, had opted to sally forth into the field in an attempt to intercept the "Iron Road" and file a noise complaint with extreme prejudice.

As such, Ragnar shouted for his troops to hear, his voice amplified by his steel helm.

"Shift Change! Form the perimeter!"

His commands were passed onto the Sergeants and the Foremen before finally reaching the enlisted personnel.

With this command, the veteran forces of Ragnar’s army formed protective squares around the supply wagons.

The Torsion Spike battery began to take an elevated position on a ridge overlooking the construction site.

The Mobile Strike Wing (cavalry) did their jobs and took positions on the flanks, where they would soon be rushing the enemy army.

There was no cavalry to speak of in the enemy’s forces; much like everywhere else in Wessex at the moment, the professional mercenaries had deserted to join Ragnar for better pay, leaving behind small garrisons and large groups of fanatical levies to defend their traditions.

There were a few Saxon Knights, but they quickly dismounted from their horses the moment they saw the overwhelming number of repeating crossbows Ragnar had brought with them.

As such, the Mobile Strike Wing of Ragnar’s ranks slowly began to trot towards the enemy position while his infantry prepared their "Typewriters."

The Saxon interns, at the moment, were used to protect the rear of Ragnar’s line, clutching their shovels like spears.

With this formation rapidly assembled, Ragnar’s forces began to march slowly and uniformly towards the enemy army, the cavalry already beginning their charge.

As the cavalry charged towards the enemy, the thwump of the Torsion Spikes resounded in the distance as canisters of grapeshot were launched upon the enemy forces.

The kinetic impact and the shrapnel from the canisters battered the enemy forces. Quickly turning the unarmored levies into "liquidated assets." Limbs were scattered, shields splintered, and the muddy field turned red.

However, there were only five mobile spikes able to fire upon the enemy.

As such, the numbers of the enemy forces who were affected by the barrage were significantly less than in the siege of Nottingham.

Ragnar was naturally at the head of the cavalry, riding his massive stallion Calculus.

He pulled his custom-made repeating hand-crossbow from its saddle holster; it was already loaded and prepared to fire.

All that needed to be done was cranking the lever, which Ragnar and his Strike Wing did in unison.

The enemy had a few archers with them and began to fire on the steel-clad horses of Ragnar’s cavalry.

At this period in history, horse armor was rare, but Ragnar had spent a great sum of silver plating the horses of his cavalry.

After all, a horse was a capital asset; it would be a shame to write it off so easily on the battlefield.

The arrows loosed upon his cavalry fell from the sky like rain, yet to the dismay of the enemy’s forces, the arrows failed to gravely injure neither the horses nor the riders.

Instead, the munitions-grade plate armor deflected the shafts as if they were twigs.

If anything, a few arrows found their way into the leather straps, but these were not vital areas, and as such did little more than annoy the horses.

As such, the enemy levies quickly raised their spears, anticipating a clash from the heavily armored cavalry.

However, before such a situation could occur, the horses strafed out of the direction of the spear walls and galloped to the side.

While the horses maneuvered in this way, the hundreds of Strike Wing riders leveled their repeating crossbows and aimed down at the enemy at point-blank range.

As the hundreds of crossbows went off, they quickly cut through what meager defenses the levies were equipped with and shredded the bodies of the men who made contact with the steel bolts.

"Process them!" Ragnar shouted, firing three bolts in rapid succession.

After firing their magazines dry, the cavalry quickly stowed away their crossbows and unsheathed their heavy sabers as they rerouted their horses into a full-scale charge.

By now, the enemy ranks, which were comprised mostly of terrified farmers, were filled with dread.

They were being pushed forward by the somewhat more fanatical Housecarls behind them into the meat grinder.

They could not help but think that the weapons Ragnar wielded were some form of mechanical demonry.

These were uneducated men, and the rumors of the "Iron Director" filled their minds as they walked ever closer to the grey wall of steel.

When the infantry finally got within firing range, they formed a proper firing line.

The Sergeants gave the orders to loose, which resulted in over a thousand steel bolts flying downrange and into the bodies of the levies advancing upon them.

With a single volley, the hostile peasant levies were quickly overwhelmed by Ragnar’s technological superiority.

Many of them had begun to break ranks and flee back to Northampton.

As for the brave souls who remained, they were cut down by another volley before even reaching the Vikings.

Unlike previous battles, Ragnar did not immediately give chase. Instead, he raised his fist and gave the opposite order.

"Hold the line! Resume construction!"

With that, his forces came to a sudden stop. The Saxon interns in the rear were thanking God that they were holding shovels instead of spears.

After gazing upon the violent remains of the battlefield, Ragnar noticed the inefficiency of the cleanup operation required.

One of the Mercian consultants finally snapped out of his daze. The scenes of the battle that had just been waged consumed his sense of reason. Now that his mind had returned to him, he asked Ragnar about the routing enemies.

"Director... should we not pursue them? They are escaping!"

Ragnar merely shook his head and pointed his saber at the piles of bodies that lay scattered across the field before speaking the thoughts on his mind.

A wicked, corporate grin was on his face as he revealed the details of his plan.

"They have already breached their contract by attacking us. When the survivors return to Northampton and inform the garrison of the ’Typewriters’, how do you think that will affect the market confidence? When we finally roll the Screaming Kettle up to their gates and blow the whistle, do you think they will still have the will to negotiate?"

With that said, the Mercian consultants instantly thought what would have happened to them if they had chosen to stand with Aethelred.

They shivered at the thought. Luckily for them, they had chosen to invest in the winning startup.

Without allowing the consultants time to respond, Ragnar raised his sword in the air and commanded the army behind him.

"I want two miles of track laid before sundown! Get the shovels!"

With that, the army that had suffered zero casualties in this skirmish began to march—not upon the city, but upon the dirt. They began to dig.

Ragnar watched as the first I-beam rail was lowered into the trench. It clanged against the stone sleepers.

"Excellent," Ragnar murmured. "We are on schedule." 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

Though Ragnar had no way of knowing how his wife was faring back at Titan, he had a feeling that Gyda was managing the books with equal ruthlessness.

As such, he smiled as he rode Calculus alongside the growing iron spine of his empire.

The road to Winchester was being paved with steel, and the Saxons were providing the right-of-way, whether they wanted to or not.