Building a Viking Empire with Modern Industry-Chapter 215: Call Across the Sea

Two days had passed since the sacred night when the three blueprints were born in the private sanctum of the Governor’s Mansion, and yet the halls of City Titan already hummed with a new and unstoppable purpose.

Since that moment of revelation the advisors had been granted the authority to summon the finest minds the realm could offer... twenty engineers of extraordinary talent, men whose genius shone so brightly that even the Iron Father himself had once compared them to the legendary craftsmen of a distant future.

Already these twenty souls, drawn from the workshops of Mercia and the hidden forges of the Welsh border, had been brought before the great table where the blueprints lay unrolled like holy writ.

Ragnar stood at the head of the assembly, while Gyda and Leofric watched.

The twenty engineers leaned forward as one.

Aldric, the first advisor, spoke. "Gentlemen, what you see before you is no mere dream. The Iron Father has conceived a network of iron conduits that will carry the waste heat from our forges directly beneath the streets and into every home and workshop of Titan. Already the central boilers are being cast. In less than a season the poorest districts will know warmth without burning a single extra lump of coal."

One of the engineers suddenly straightened, his voice trembling with disbelief. "To move heat through pipes? To warm an entire city from the very slag of our furnaces? Personally I have spent thirty years chasing efficiency in the old forges, and never once did I imagine such a thing was possible. Apparently we have been blind all our lives..."

Beside him, another engineer named Oswin the Elder traced the secondary lines with shaking fingers.

"Even so, the pressure valves and the insulation... how did you know? I see an entire city kept alive by the very waste we once discarded."

Ragnar allowed the awe to settle before he lifted the second blueprint, the one that detailed the spinning of slag wool from molten furnace waste.

"Slag wool fibres drawn from the refuse of our blast furnaces and pressed into mats that trap warmth. Already the first experimental looms are being built. With this material we can line the walls of every barracks, every warehouse, every home."

The youngest of the twenty engineers, a bright-eyed youth named Eadric, could no longer contain himself.

He rose halfway from his seat. "Every time I think of the possibilities my heart quickens. Unlike anything our grandfathers could have dreamed, this material will change how we build forever."

Gyda stepped forward then, "Since the night these designs were born, we have already begun gathering the materials. More than five hundred builders and labourers stand ready outside these walls. With your guidance they will raise the first district heating network and the first slag-wool insulated structures before the first snow falls."

One of the senior engineers spoke. "With five hundred builders and the guidance you have provided, the pace will be astonishing."

Ragnar placed both hands upon the table and looked at each man in turn. "Therefore I grant you full authority over these projects. Five hundred builders stand ready, and more will be summoned from every shire."

Godric spoke for them all, "My lord, we shall not fail you. With this genius before us we will work day and night until the people of Titan sleep warm in the heart of winter."

Ragnar nodded once resting lightly upon his shoulders as he rolled the blueprints and handed them to Gyda for safekeeping.

With the blueprints in their hands and five hundred builders awaiting their command, the work began.

...

Within an hour of the dawn bells ringing across the capital, the great eastern gates swung open to the world for the first time since the unification.

Nearly five thousand merchants, traders, and caravaneers from every corner of England poured through those gates, their wagons creaking under loads of wool, tin, grain, and salted fish while hundreds of horses stamped and snorted. In fact the entire city had transformed overnight into the greatest marketplace the British Isles had ever known.

Ragnar stood upon the high balcony overlooking the eastern plaza. Truthfully the sight filled him with a deep and abiding satisfaction, for this was no mere market day... this was the first true declaration that the Iron Empire welcomed all who came in peace and trade.

"By now the news will have reached every shire," Ragnar declared, "Within an hour the first caravans will depart for Mercia and Wessex, and by nightfall the gold and silver of the realm will begin flowing into our coffers."

Ragnar turned from the balcony and walked slowly back into the private study. He moved to the great table then began to sketch with decisive strokes while his two most trusted companions watched in silence.

"To rule an empire that spans oceans and continents, one must first see it clearly. I require a map of the known world... not the crude sketches of monks or the half-remembered charts of sailors, but a true and accurate rendering with coordinates, latitudes."

Leofric crossed his arms, "I have sailed the narrow sea a hundred times and still could not draw the coast of Francia without guessing. Apparently such a map exists only in legend."

"Indeed it does not... yet," Ragnar replied, continuing his sketch. "Across the southern sea, in the sunlit halls of Baghdad and the academies of Al-Andalus, the scholars of the Caliphate have long studied the ancient works of Ptolemy. They have translated his Geography into Arabic, added their own observations, and drawn maps with coordinates and latitudes that turn the world upon its head compared to our crude northern charts. Al-Khwarizmi and his brethren have already laid the foundation."

Gyda set her ledger aside and stepped closer, "To his surprise the Prince of Granada is now the perfect bridge. He still owes us a great debt for the blueprints we gifted him. A single message from the Iron Father will bring him across the sea without delay."

Ragnar rolled the sketch and sealed it with his personal black wax, then turned to face them both. "I will ask the Prince to bring his finest cartographers and the most learned scholars of the Caliphate. Apparently the world is larger and stranger than any man in this century yet realizes. With their help we shall reveal its true shape."

Gyda took the message with reverent care, "By now the Prince will have received word of our victory in Norway."

Ragnar turned once more to the balcony, looking out over the bustling markets where thousands of traders and horses moved.

More than a thousand voices echoed through the plaza below when the oak doors suddenly burst open.

A lone rider, cloak stained with the dust of hard travel, staggered into the chamber and dropped to one knee before the assembled council. The man was one of Ragnar’s most trusted spies.

"My lord!" the spy gasped, still struggling for breath as he pressed a sealed scroll into Ragnar’s hand.

"Three days ago the French Imperator breathed his last in the palace at Compiègne. Charles the Bald is dead!"

The words fell into the chamber like a thunderclap from a clear sky. For a single heartbeat silence reigned, broken only by the distant roar of the markets.

Then Gyda rose slowly from her seat, "Charles left no clear heir strong enough to hold the realm together... The nobles will tear one another apart for the crown!"

Leofric slammed a gauntleted fist upon the table, "Finally! The old wolf is dead and the pack is leaderless. More than a mere death, this is the opening of a door we have waited years to see! The Frankish kingdom is fracturing as we speak. If we move swiftly we can claim the southern ports before any new claimant consolidates power!"

Ragnar remained seated for a moment longer. He broke the seal upon the scroll, scanned its contents once, and then rose. "Apparently the time has come for the Iron Empire to extend its reach across the Channel."

Gyda stepped closer, "Despite the chaos that will follow, we must act with precision. The southern ports of Francia are the gateway to the Mediterranean. If we secure them now, our trade with Granada and the Caliphate will double within a year. Even so, we cannot simply sail an army across the sea without invitation. The Frankish nobles will be desperate for allies. Perhaps one of them will beg for our support in exchange for favorable trade rights and coastal strongholds."

Leofric grinned savagely, "Personally I would rather take what we want by force, but your wife speaks wisdom as always. If we offer protection to the weakest claimant, we can install a puppet king who owes everything to the Lion Banner. Within an hour I can have the Lion’s Fang formation ready to embark. Six thousand men and the new mortars will be enough to tip any civil war in our favor."

Ragnar walked slowly around the table, "After all these years of careful preparation, the gods themselves have handed us the perfect moment. Charles the Bald feared our growing power and tried to contain it with petty tariffs and border skirmishes. Now that he is gone, the Frankish realm lies open like a ripe field waiting for the scythe. More than a simple conquest, this is the opportunity to bind the West to our vision of industry."

Suddenly the doors opened once more and Bjorn strode in, his massive frame filling the entrance as he caught the last words of the conversation.

"I heard the news from the rider in the courtyard... I say we sail before the week is out. The Lion’s Fang formation has never been tested in open battle on foreign soil. Let us give the Franks a taste of what we did to the mountain of The Fang!"