Building a Viking Empire with Modern Industry-Chapter 111: The Winchester Restructuring

The Hostile Takeover of Winchester was swift and thermodynamically inevitable; the single-track assault on the capital of Wessex caught the Church completely off guard.

Ragnar gave no warning when he rolled the "Screaming Kettle" up to the city gates; as far as he was concerned, the contract signed by King Aethelred at the Thames had already transferred the property rights.

Due to the lack of notice Bishop Heahmund did not have time to raise a proper crusade, not even the ability to bless the pitchforks.

As such, the Bishop was currently surrounded in the Cathedral of Winchester by Ragnar’s "Mobile Strike Wing," which had encircled the city while the train provided the distraction.

As for the other key areas of the South Bjorn and Leif were already conducting independent audits.

This was a "Just-In-Time" delivery of conquest. Ragnar had to capture the capital before the Frankish Empire could send reinforcements to support the Luddites. As such, he had ordered a constant "Noise Bombardment" of the enemy fortifications.

While a "Branch Office" (siege camp) was constructed, it was rushed into production.

Ragnar did not fear the Bishop’s mob, who were hiding cowardly behind the large city walls, praying for the steam engine to run out of water.

It was not as if it mattered, though; Ragnar concentrated the Torsion Spikes on the main gate and felt he could file a "Breach of Contract" very quickly.

As usual, Ragnar’s "Iron Gear" marksmen fired their repeating crossbows upon the defenders on the ramparts; those who survived the initial "Performance Review" began to realize that by looking over the crenellations, they were asking for early retirement.

As such, the entirety of the siege was rather peaceful, with only a few bolts clicking every so often whenever a fanatic was foolish enough to try and cast a spell on the locomotive.

**

Inside the Cathedral

Bishop Heahmund was livid. His diocese was under siege from the "Iron Director" and his mechanical demons; he was completely and utterly trapped within the confines of his own dogma.

Heahmund could not think of a worse fate than being trapped inside his city waiting for Ragnar to pave his cathedral.

Obviously, he was not one of the Bishops who supported Ragnar’s "Dental Plan." He had used much of his power to demonize the steam engine as the "Breath of Leviathan."

Heahmund was in the middle of screaming at the Captain of the City Watch, who was heavily armored in the outdated mail of the previous administration.

"What do you mean the men on the ramparts do not have the ability to return fire? God is on our side! Just what kind of sorcery is the Viking using?"

The Captain was utterly frightened; he had seen too many of his men pinned to the wood by the "Typewriters."

Though he recognized the possibility of the weapons being crossbows, he could not believe the rate of fire.

"I believe they are mechanical bows, Your Grace, but... they do not stop. They fire ten bolts for every one of ours! It is... it is statistically impossible to win!"

Bishop Heahmund could only gnash his teeth in rage as he continued to hear the echoing WHOOOOO-WEEEEEEE of the steam whistle wreaking havoc on his nerves.

Fearing the worst, he asked the question on his mind.

"What about the gates? Will they withstand the iron ram?"

The Captain shook his head with a worrisome expression.

"They will at most last another shift. Your Grace, please... let me get you out of the city. You can take refuge in France until a Crusade can be mustered!"

Heahmund was outraged at the idea of fleeing his pulpit and leaving it in control of the "Heathen CEO," but his Captain was right; if he stayed here, Ragnar might force him to pay taxes.

Heahmund completely refused to be audited by a pagan, and he also needed to supply the Pope with the intel he had gathered about Ragnar’s "Devil Machine."

As such, Heahmund sighed heavily before accepting the Captain’s suggestion.

"Fine... We will do it your way. But we must save the Assets! Gather the gold plate and the Relics of Saint Swithun!"

With those words spoken, the Captain nodded his head.

"We will die defending these assets from the tax collectors at our gates!"

With that said, a plan was put into place for the Bishop to abscond into the night and flee towards the coast.

Hopefully, Ragnar’s "Loss Prevention Team" would be unable to capture him.

...

Night fell, and Ragnar’s noise bombardment continued; to provide a distraction for the Bishop’s escape, the fanatical defenders sallied out of the postern gate and rushed into Ragnar’s rail yard.

Ultimately, the enemy was spotted before they were even 250 yards away from the train; as such, Ragnar and his men awoke from the sound of the "Intruder Alarm" and rushed into their equipment.

This time they would not be foolish enough to leave their safety goggles behind.

During this time, the "Typewriters" from the sentries within the trenches had been clicking rhythmically, echoing into the night as the steel bolts shredded the oncoming mob.

Though the rail yard had been rushed, there were "Crowd Control Barriers" (barbed wire) in place.

By the time Ragnar arrived at the scene a pile of bodies stacked atop the tracks, adding a secondary barrier.

The zealotry with which they had attacked the "Iron Horse" was something Ragnar had not witnessed since the Black Friday sales of his previous life.

Truly, superstition was a powerful force that could compel men to disregard basic safety regulations.

Ragnar disregarded the thought as he rushed into the trenches with his custom repeating crossbow and aimed the weapon at the oncoming Luddites.

He squeezed the lever trigger, releasing the spring tension, propelling the bolt downrange and into the chest of a monk wielding a torch no more than 10 feet in front of him.

The bolt easily pierced through the man’s wool robe, creating a "termination of contract." Not allowing time for the mob to rush forward, Ragnar quickly cranked the lever alongside his soldiers as fast as he could.

The enemy soldiers rushed into the wire but were caught in the metal barbs, which tangled around their robes and caught them in place long enough for the defenders to reload.

Blood splattered across the gravel ballast.

Eventually, enough bodies piled up over the wire allowing the enemy to get near the locomotive.

"Protect the Asset!" Ragnar shouted.

The trench warfare became a chaotic field as the "Interns" (Saxon conscripts fighting for their new dental benefits) clashed with the fanatics, using shovels, pickaxes, and large wrenches.

However, as time went on, it became increasingly apparent that the enemy forces were outnumbered and out-engineered.

The enemy forces suffered heavy casualties, as the short swords of the "Iron Gear" were the perfect size to work in the confined spaces of the rail yard.

As for Ragnar’s forces, each was equipped with standardized "Mark II" plate.

Aside from a lucky strike with a heavy mace, it would prove virtually impossible to deal a lethal blow to his employees. Thus, most of Ragnar’s fatalities resulted from workplace accidents, but this was a minimal number.

By dawn, the sun had risen, and the "Night Shift" was over. Ragnar stood atop a pile of debris, wiping soot from his face.

However, it would only be after Ragnar had seized the city that he would realize that Bishop Heahmund had fled his office, taking the liquid assets with him.

Despite defeating the sallying forces, a few hundred fanatics were still defending behind the walls who refused to surrender the city.

Ragnar walked up to the main gate of Winchester. The train was hissing behind him, looking like a dragon catching its breath.

He turned to King Aethelred, who was standing nervously beside the tracks.

"Your Majesty," Ragnar said, handing the King a megaphone. "Tell your subjects that the merger is finalized. If they do not open the gates in ten minutes... I will drive the train through the wall."

Aethelred swallowed hard. He stepped up to the gate.

"People of Winchester!" the King shouted, his voice cracking. "The Bishop has fled! He took the gold! Open the gates! The Director promises... hot coffee for everyone!"

There was a moment of silence. Then, the sound of a heavy wooden bar being lifted.

The gates of Winchester creaked open.

Ragnar smiled.

The capital of Wessex had fallen. The Iron Empire now stretched from the North Sea to the English Channel. And Bishop Heahmund was running for his life, carrying a bag of gold that Ragnar had already mentally marked as "Stolen Company Property."