Building a Viking Empire with Modern Industry-Chapter 130: Business

At the moment, Ragnar was sitting in his executive office in City Titan, having his leg looked over by his "Chief Medical Officer," a former Saxon herbalist named Aethelred the Healer.

It had been a few days since his return from the hostile takeover at Sandwich, and his injury was well maintained due to the high-proof alcohol he insisted on using as a disinfectant.

Despite the primitive nature of medieval medicine, the man seemed to be somewhat competent, having read the translated texts Ragnar had acquired from the Andalusians.

As such, he carefully observed Ragnar's shin, which had a nasty bruise turning purple and yellow, the bone beneath likely fractured but setting straight.

"The bone will knit, Director, albeit slowly. You will have a limp when the weather turns cold. I suggest you get yourself accustomed to life with a cane before you go on any further hostile takeovers."

Receiving this news made Ragnar frown with discontent; as for Gyda, she was nearby, reviewing the casualty reports with a sharp quill.

She was more anxious about the loss of productivity than Ragnar himself was. Ultimately Ragnar sighed heavily, leaning back in his swivel chair.

"Such is the price of micromanagement..."

Ever since he had become wounded, Ragnar greatly reflected on his prior actions.

Despite knowing the danger, and the statistical improbability of winning a sword fight against a Grandmaster, Ragnar rushed into the fray, truly believing he could contend with Roland after only two years of lifting weights.

After all, he had been overwhelmingly victorious in all his previous audits; how could this one possibly be any different?

Such hubris had cost him dearly. The price of Ragnar's victory over the Holy League was steep; he lost roughly 400 "Interns" (Saxon levies), his favorite pair of greaves, and the structural integrity of his left shin.

After hearing what Aethelred had to say, Ragnar dismissed him with a coupon for the cafeteria. He was left alone with Gyda, who placed a fresh bandage soaked in a comfrey poultice over the leg.

Since the day that the Andalusian scholars arrived in City Titan and began teaching chemistry,

Ragnar had placed them in charge of more than just creating Naphtha; in fact, a large amount of the distillations they produced thanks to Ragnar's future knowledge was for medical purposes.

Such as high-concentration ethanol and willow bark extract (aspirin). The worst part of an injury like this was its potential to become gangrenous; as such, Ragnar had taken great preventative measures.

After placing the poultice over Ragnar's wounded leg, Ragnar began to laugh bitterly as he decided to use his corporate cynicism to overcome the awkward silence.

"I always thought a cane would add gravitas to my boardroom presence..."

This caused Gyda to chuckle as she patted Ragnar's hand and nodded while trying to comfort him in her own efficient way.

"If anything, it will make the shareholders fear you more. A man who walks through pain is a man who does not compromise."

After saying those two remarks, the couple returned to a comfortable silence, where they sat still in the office for a while.

While Gyda was greatly concerned about Ragnar's injury, she was just grateful that the CEO was still operational; after all, if Roland's sword had struck an inch higher, it could have severed the femoral artery.

Though she knew depreciation of assets was possible on the battlefield, Ragnar had always returned home with a higher market value in his previous campaigns.

Because of this, there was a natural inclination to disregard the possibility of a crash. Yet here he was, temporarily immobilized; it caused her to be thankful that her partner had survived, and as such, she desired to assist him in his time of restructuring.

For the time being, Ragnar would go through a phase of "Administrative Leave"; he would leave the daily operations of the railway up to General Bjorn and the newly promoted COO, Princess Elfwynn.

At the moment, Ragnar had two concerns. One of which regarded the construction of his new Coffee Mug.

For the time being, he had no plans to inform the public that Grandmaster Roland had fought bravely. Instead, he would issue a press release stating that the Grandmaster had "suffered a catastrophic failure of leadership due to outdated technology."

The other concern was the construction of an exquisite cane; as such, he began to design a shaft of polished ebony topped with a handle made of a solid silver gear.

After it was complete, he sent the blueprint to his machinists, who milled the piece for him.

The construction of his mug and cane took a few days, and by the time Ragnar received them, he was quite happy with the results.

The skull mug was boiled, bleached, and the interior was lined with gold leaf to prevent calcium leaching into the coffee.

The handle was fashioned from Roland's own sword hilt, bent into a curve. The craftsmanship was of the highest quality, and Ragnar was pleased with the result. 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

As for the cane, it was exactly how he had envisioned. It was heavy enough to be used as a bludgeon if necessary, but elegant enough for a gala.

The silver gear on top spun on a ball bearing.

Ragnar stood up, testing the cane.. It had a satisfying weight.

"It works," Ragnar muttered, limp-walking around the office.

Gyda, who was nearby, witnessed Ragnar inspecting himself in the polished steel mirror and smirked as she watched the man she loved trying on his new accessory as if he was a Viking dandy.

Noticing that his actions had been observed without his notice, Ragnar decided to joke about the whole situation.

"You are going to have to account for the reduced walking speed in the schedule, Gyda.."

Hearing Ragnar joke about his condition so casually made Gyda feel less anxious about his injury; Ragnar had quickly accepted his new depreciation schedule and vowed to optimize around it.

"I will adjust the timetable," Gyda replied, a warm light in her eyes. "How is the leg doing?"

Ragnar smiled as he tapped the cane on the concrete floor.

"It will be fine; it just needs a few more weeks of curing.."

As such, Ragnar sat back down. For now, the cane would lean against the desk; despite how authoritative it looked, rest was a greater priority than aesthetics.

Ultimately, weeks went by, and Ragnar had not informed the Andalusian Vizier of the severity of his injury.

Until he was fully healed, he would not show weakness to a potential rival; after all, Al-Hakam might renegotiate the steel prices if he thought the Director was losing his edge.

As such, he spent a great deal of time with Gyda and their child Magnus. Ragnar was greatly pleased by the time he spent during the weeks of his recovery, as he was usually so dreadfully busy with hostile takeovers that he could not spend as much time with his assets as he desired.

The time he spent with his family was filled with efficiency and quite honestly, he was thankful for the reprieve from the hustle and bustle of the life of an Industrialist.

Things progressed smoothly in the realm, but ultimately he would have to cut his vacation short.

The optical semaphore tower on the coast had just flashed a new message.

DOT. DOT. DASH.

VISITOR. ARRIVING.

NOT. FRANKISH.

HAS. GOLD.

Ragnar looked at the message transcript Gyda handed him. He took a sip of black coffee from the skull of Grandmaster Roland.

"It seems the market never sleeps," Ragnar sighed, reaching for his cane. "Back to work."