Building a Viking Empire with Modern Industry-Chapter 46: Assassin in the Machine [2]

Jarl Einar lay dead, his ambitions ended by a bolt from the Valkyrie’s Sting.

Ragnar stood over Einar’s body, his chest heaving. Gyda was reloading her crossbow with methodical, terrifying precision.

"We aren’t done," Ragnar rasped, wiping soot from his face. "Einar has an army in the sewers. If they break into the palace, we lose the city."

General Bjorn burst into the hallway, his sword dripping with blood. "Director! The courtyard is secure. We caught the stragglers. But the scouts report movement in the tunnels. A lot of movement." 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

"They are coming up," Ragnar realized. "Thousands of them."

He looked at the narrow stone staircase leading down to the scullery the only exit point for the sewer network inside the palace.

"It’s a bottleneck," Gyda said, her eyes narrowing. "They have to come out single file."

"Exactly," Ragnar nodded. "And we are going to make sure they regret it."

He turned to the palace staff the "Tech-Thralls" who had fought with mops and pans. They looked terrified but energized by their victory.

"Erik!" Ragnar shouted to the one-legged cleaner. "Get the oil! All of it! The cooking oil, the lamp oil, even the grease from the kitchen!"

"Yes, Director!" Erik saluted with his mop.

"Bjorn," Ragnar ordered. "Get the Huscarls. Barricade the scullery door. But leave it unlocked. We want them to think they can push through."

He turned to Gyda.

"Mistress of the Ledger," Ragnar said grimly. "We need to close the account."

***

The Sewers of York

Beneath the city, in the ancient Roman drains, Jarl Sigurd was leading two thousand men through knee-deep filth.

The smell was atrocious. But the promise of gold and vengeance kept them moving.

"Faster!" Sigurd hissed, holding a torch high. "Einar has cleared the way! The palace is ours!"

They reached the junction leading to the Governor’s scullery. The air here was fresher. They could hear the sounds of shouting from above.

"They are fighting!" a mercenary whispered. "Einar is engaging the Builder!"

Sigurd grinned. "Then we strike from behind."

He signaled the advance. The mob surged forward, jamming into the narrow tunnel leading to the surface. They were packed tight, shoulder to shoulder, shield to shield. It was the perfect trap. They just didn’t know it yet.

The door to the scullery shook.

"Hold!" Bjorn roared, bracing his shoulder against a stack of crates piled in front of the door.

Behind him, the Huscarls stood in a semi-circle, shields raised, spears ready.

Ragnar stood on a table overlooking the door. Beside him were three barrels of oil. And Gyda stood ready with a lit torch.

"Let them push!" Ragnar shouted. "Wait for the pressure!"

The door splintered. An axe blade punched through. Then another.

With a final, splintering crash, the door gave way. The mob poured in.

"DEATH TO THE BUILDER!" Sigurd screamed, charging into the room.

He expected to find a few frightened servants. Instead, he found a wall of Huscarl shields.

And then, it rained.

"NOW!" Ragnar yelled.

Erik and the Tech-Thralls tipped the barrels.

Gallons of oil cascaded onto the attackers. It soaked their furs. It slicked the floor. It covered their shields.

Sigurd slipped, crashing into the man behind him. The entire front rank went down like bowling pins, sliding on the grease.

"What is this?!" Sigurd sputtered, wiping oil from his eyes.

"Ignition!" Ragnar commanded.

Gyda threw the torch.

The scullery turned into an oven. The oil caught instantly. The fire didn’t just burn; it roared, fed by the draft from the open sewer tunnel. The mob screamed. The men in the front tried to retreat, but the men behind them were still pushing forward, unaware of the inferno.

"Back!" Sigurd shrieked, batting at his burning cloak. "Go back to the tunnel!"

The mob turned. They trampled each other in their haste to escape the fire. They fled back down into the dark, damp safety of the sewers. Ragnar watched from the table, the heat warming his face.

"Phase One complete," Ragnar said, coughing in the smoke. "Now for Phase Two."

He looked at Bjorn.

"Seal the door," Ragnar ordered. "And then... bring the cement."

"Cement?" Bjorn asked.

"Quick-lime mortar," Ragnar corrected. "We are going to do some renovations."

....

Meanwhile, outside the city.

The remnants of Einar’s army the ones who hadn’t entered the sewers were regrouping in the woods. Father Wilfrid was trying to rally them.

"The Palace hasn’t fallen!" Wilfrid shouted. "We must attack the walls again!"

Suddenly, a horn blew. It came from the West. Wilfrid turned.

Emerging from the morning mist was a column of riders.

They were the Dublin Brigade.

Floki of the Green rode at the front, flanked by five hundred Irish gallowglass mercenaries armed with massive two-handed axes. "The Builder sends his regards!" Floki laughed, waving a contract. "And he pays better!"

The Dubliners charged. Caught between the walls of York and the Irish heavy infantry, the rebel army broke. It wasn’t a battle; it was a cleanup operation.

...

An hour later, the fighting was over.

Ragnar stood in the courtyard of the Palace. The fire in the scullery had been extinguished (mostly). The sewer entrance had been sealed with stone and mortar, trapping any survivors in the dark until they surrendered or starved.

Captured rebels were being lined up against the wall. They looked wet, burned, and terrified.

Jarl Sigurd was dragged forward by Bjorn. He was covered in soot and smelled of burnt hair.

"Director," Sigurd gasped, falling to his knees. "Mercy! I was misled! Einar forced me!"

Ragnar looked down at him. He didn’t look angry. He looked tired.

"You tried to burn my factory," Ragnar said softly. "You tried to kill my wife. You tried to destroy the future because you were afraid of a book."

He turned to Gyda. "What is the penalty for Industrial Sabotage?"

Gyda opened her ledger. It was charred at the edges, but legible.

"Termination," she said simply.

Ragnar nodded. He looked at the assembled Huscarls, the Tech-Thralls, the Monks, and the Irish mercenaries. "We are building a new world," Ragnar announced. "In this world, we do not kill for glory. We do not kill for revenge. We kill to protect the Asset."

He pointed to Sigurd. "This man is a liability."

Bjorn stepped forward. He raised his axe.

Ragnar turned away. He walked over to Gyda. She was wiping a spot of blood from her cheek.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I am fine," she said. "But the scullery is ruined. We will need a new floor."

"I’ll design it," Ragnar promised. "Stone. Fireproof."

He looked at the city of York. Smoke rose from the chimneys, but it wasn’t the smoke of war anymore. It was the smoke of the foundry, starting up again.

"The rebellion is over," Ragnar said. "Now... we have a country to run."

He took Gyda’s hand. "And I think," he added, a small smile appearing, "I finally earned that vacation."

Gyda squeezed his hand.

"Two days," she negotiated. "Then we have to balance the books."

"Deal."