Building a Viking Empire with Modern Industry-Chapter 77: Conquest

The grey light of dawn filtered through the reinforced glass windows of the Governor’s temporary office in the Titan Construction Zone.

Ragnar was quickly awakened; the rhythmic pounding of the pile drivers had ceased for the shift change, which was a rare occurrence at this point.

Because of this silence, the Director was finally able to get a few hours of calculated REM sleep.

Seeing as how he would be conducting a performance review of the Frankish army today, Ragnar did not bother with his morning cardio and instead began to get dressed in his executive attire.

By now, his armor was comprised of the "Mark IV" munitions-grade plate, a suit of matte-grey steel that lacked the gaudy ornamentation of the Saxon lords; it came with matching articulated gauntlets designed for gripping a lever, not a chalice.

The armor set even had a reinforced gorget to protect his throat from stray bolts and a pair of matching steel greaves. Of course, the gorget was lined with shock-absorbing wool; as such, he did not feel uncomfortable having such a heavy piece of equipment restricting his movement.

Ragnar also wore a grey sash across his breastplate, bearing the white stencil of the Iron Gear.

The grey and steel armor went over his standardized wool uniform; he still wore the sallet helm with the visor raised.

He wore a heavy officer’s falchion based upon the 14th-century Messer, tied to his waist by a utility belt containing a slide rule, a compass, and a pouch of sulfur matches.

The sword itself had a simple cross-guard and a wire-wrapped grip that was designed for friction, not aesthetics.

The blade itself was made of high-carbon crucible steel produced in the new Blast Furnace B; it was initially designed to be a prototype for mass production, but seeing as the balance was perfect, Leif the Smith had gifted it to him for the successful acquisition of East Anglia.

After dressing in his attire, he checked the time on his pocket sundial and quietly slipped out of his quarters, leaving his sleeping Prime Minister to continue her rest.

Gyda needed the sleep; managing the empire’s logistics while pregnant was a Herculean task.

He quickly found himself in the mess hall where he consumed a "Nutrient Brick" (a dense bar of oats, honey, and dried meat), after which he went to the construction site’s stables and mounted his massive steed Calculus, where he placed his custom "Typewriter" repeating crossbow within the holster on its saddle.

After riding out to the "Titan Perimeter," Ragnar met with General Bjorn, who was already commanding the Imperial Corps in their final pre-battle calibration. 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

The infantry was fully equipped with the standardized plate armor and the grey uniforms issued to all corporate employees.

Nearly a third of his troops were equipped with the new Lucerne Hammer, which had been mass-produced to counter the Frankish heavy cavalry.

Because of this, part of his infantry now had the ability to punch through plate armor and hook riders from their mounts.

They were formed into their own "Anti-Armor" companies and stood alongside the standard pike squares.

The combined tactics of the "Can-Openers" and the "Range Department" would prove to be an effective means of liquidation, at least until Ragnar could manage to invent the cannon.

Over the past six months, the army had grown into quite the professional machine, with its own officer class made up of a mixture of reformed Jarls, Saxon lords, and promoted talent.

Seeing as rank was entirely based upon merit and not bloodline, anyone could become a Colonel with the right efficiency rating. Since he did not have time to set up a full-fledged military academy, Ragnar had been making do with selecting the most ruthless organizers and training them with his vision of industrial warfare.

General Bjorn noticed the Director approaching and quickly snapped a salute—a sharp fist to the chest.

The army, which had been mustered in absolute silence, quickly did the same. It was only after Ragnar returned his salute and gave the signal did the men relax their stance.

"At ease."

Seeing all his shareholders standing before him, Ragnar made sure to communicate the corporate strategy effectively.

"The Crusade has landed; the hostile takeover attempt is upon us; I trust you have all been properly calibrated in the past few weeks; as such, we will be engaging the market today. At the moment, our position is defensive. However, when the time to counter-attack comes, you will all be properly signaled by the steam whistles. Thus, I want all of you prepared for the eventual liquidation of the Frankish assets! I won’t lie, the merger will be violent, and many of us may be terminated. However, for the stability of the pension fund and your families’ continued prosperity, we must hold the line! Efficiency is Victory!"

The last part had been a corporate slogan Ragnar had adapted from his previous life.

He had made sure every employee was aware of this mission statement over the past few months, and the moment he shouted those words into the air, the army of five thousand men echoed by responding with the same chant.

"EFFICIENCY IS VICTORY!"

As such, Ragnar spent the rest of the morning overseeing the final trap placements while standing alongside Bjorn, who watched the terrifying precision of the engineering team.

Bjorn had a look of concern on his face as he knew the sheer weight of the enemy force; he and the officers were already aware of what was coming down the Roman road, and they had known for quite some time that heavy cavalry was the apex predator of this century. Eventually, the veteran warrior voiced his concerns.

"Director, we have 5,000 effectives. It is a solid number, but if we are to stop the Grandmaster’s charge, we will surely be facing maximum kinetic energy. After taking Scarborough, the Franks are confident. Their horses are fresh. Their armor is thick. If they punch through the pike line, our ’Range Department’ will be trampled. Our numbers will be stretched thin fighting against 5,000 heavy cataphracts. By the time the Lucerne Hammers can engage, we might already be broken by the impact."

Ragnar chuckled at Bjorn’s concerns before brushing them aside and comforting his most talented General by clasping his armored shoulder.

"My old friend, what you say is physics; that is certainly one possibility in which a collision can result. However, I am not concerned in the slightest; after all, I have a modification to the terrain."

Bjorn quickly realized Ragnar was referring to the "Welcome Mat," and he looked at the muddy field in front of the incomplete city walls with an anxious expression.

"You are going to use the ’Liquid Soil’ against honorable knights?"

Ragnar nodded with a satisfied expression on his face; as always with the slightest hint, Bjorn caught onto the engineering. However, the old Viking’s next words were unexpected.

"That is dishonorable, even for a trickster."

However, what Ragnar said next greatly shocked Bjorn.

"It is not dishonorable. It is Zoning Enforcement."

Letting out a great sigh, Bjorn admitted defeat before his Director.

"You really hate horses, don’t you?"

Though the old General had great respect for Ragnar, he vastly preferred when the Director used the might of his steel pikes to display his dominance on the field of battle, rather than when he turned the very earth into a weapon to humiliate his opponents.

Nevertheless, Ragnar could easily manipulate the arrogant Grandmaster into falling into his ploys with the terrain’s aid. As such, he looked forward to the upcoming audit and the day he could claim the Frankish steel reserves.

Ragnar gazed at the scene of his army’s formation and grinned at the sight; he had a good feeling about the future.

"Bjorn," Ragnar said, looking at the distant dust cloud rising on the horizon. "Do you see that?"

"The Franks," Bjorn growled, his hand tightening on his axe.

"No," Ragnar corrected, pulling down his visor. "That is a delivery. 10,000 suits of plate armor, coming right to our warehouse. Let’s go sign for the package."

Bjorn laughed, a deep, guttural sound.

"You are a wicked man, Ragnar."

"I am an industrialist," Ragnar replied, watching the enemy banners flutter in the distance. "And business is about to boom."

Ragnar signaled the engineers.

"Prime the charges. Water the field. And get the ’Whistle Stones’ ready."