Building a Viking Empire with Modern Industry-Chapter 225: Siege Mortar

"The landing at East Anglia was just a vanguard," Torstein said, "A raiding party to gather fresh food and test the local defenses. The main host sailed straight up the coast, bypassing the southern kingdoms entirely. They’ve dropped anchor in the deep lochs of Alba. The Picts tried to fight them off. They were massacred in a matter of hours."

Leofric scoffed, "Scotland? There’s nothing up there but freezing rain, rocks, and sheep. Why the hell would an empire from the other side of the world sail for months just to freeze their balls off in the Highlands?"

Ragnar stared at the black markers, the gears in his reincarnated mind spinning at a breakneck pace. He picked up his prototype musket,

"Because it’s a natural fortress, Deep water for their massive junk ships to anchor safely. High, defensible mountains that make cavalry charges impossible. It’s the perfect place to build an impregnable capital while you figure out how to conquer the rest of the continent..."

Louis the Stammerer, who had just poured himself another chalice of wine to steady his nerves, shook his head. "I still don’t understand. If this Tang Dynasty is so powerful, why are they here? Why abandon their homeland?"

"Because their homeland is currently eating itself alive," Ragnar said,

"The Tang central government has lost control. They have an emperor, sure, but he’s a puppet. The real power shifted to regional warlords... military governors called jiedushi. Imagine a Frankish duke, Louis, but instead of a few hundred knights, he commands a standing, professional army of fifty thousand men and completely ignores the crown. That’s a jiedushi."

Al-Hakam, the Granadan Vizir, stroked his neatly trimmed beard, "That explains the rogue fleet."

"Right now, the East is being torn apart by massive peasant uprisings. The Huang Chao rebellion is burning cities to the ground. The Tang tax base has completely evaporated. Add to that a massive ideological shift... Confucianism is ruthlessly rooting out Buddhism, causing even more internal purges." Ragnar continued, leaning against the edge of the table.

"Whoever this warlord knew the Tang Dynasty was doomed to a century of blood. So, he took his provincial army, his engineers, his fleet, and whatever treasury he could loot, and he sailed west. He’s here to colonize. He’s planting a new flag."

"If they intend to settle, they brought bureaucrats. Tax collectors. Farmers. Artisans." Al-Hakam breathed out, the realization dawning on him.

The Vizir looked at Ragnar, "Ragnar, you understand what this means, don’t you? If they establish a centralized, Confucian bureaucracy in Scotland, they will organize the local resources ten times faster than the Saxons or the Franks ever could."

"You’re right. If they get a foothold, they’ll start mining the Highlands for coal and iron. If we give them a year to build a fortress, we’ll be fighting an enemy with an endless supply of artillery." Ragnar growled,

Louis took a long gulp of his wine. "So what is the play? You can’t just march the Iron Guard up into the Scottish mountains..."

"Louis is right," Leofric grunted, tapping a finger on the map. "The Picts know those mountains better than anyone, and they got wiped out."

Ragnar chuckled, "Who said anything about marching?"

He turned away from the table, striding over to the heavy ironbound chest where he kept his most sensitive blueprints.

He threw it open, digging past the schematics for the printing press and the galleon, until he found a roll of thick, wax-sealed vellum. He brought it back to the table and slammed it down, unrolling it flat.

Al-Hakam leaned in, his eyes widening.

It was a ship design, but unlike the deep-water galleons Ragnar had sold him.

This was a modification of the traditional Viking longship. It retained the shallow draft, allowing it to navigate rivers and shallow coastal waters, but the bow and stern were heavily reinforced with riveted iron plating. In the center of the deck, mounted on a reinforced, rotating wooden platform, was a short thick iron cylinder pointing upward at an angle.

"The Siege Mortar," Ragnar announced, tapping the iron cylinder on the parchment.

"I told you I was stockpiling cast-iron fragmentation shells. The Tang cannons are direct-fire weapons. They have to point them at what they want to hit. If we sail our fleet into those lochs, their heavy guns on the shore will blast us to splinters."

Ragnar’s smile turned lethal. "We can anchor our shallow-draft ships behind the jagged coastal rocks and islands of the Scottish lochs and lob explosive shells over the terrain, raining shrapnel and hellfire directly onto their anchored fleet and their newly built camps."

Leofric’s eyes lit up. "We use the terrain against them. They can’t shoot what they can’t see!"

"Exactly," Ragnar said. "They want to play hide-and-seek in the Scottish lochs? Fine. We’ll burn their junk ships at anchor, shatter their supply lines, and trap their army on land before they can build their precious new capital!"

"It’s brilliant," Al-Hakam whispered, "But Ragnar... you have the blueprints. Do you actually have the ships ready?"

"I have six," Ragnar replied, "They are sitting in the dry docks right now."

"Six ships against three hundred?" Louis stammered, "Are you mad? They’ll swarm you!"

"Not if we hit them at night," Ragnar said coldly. "And not if we hit their powder ships first. Black powder on a wooden ship is a death trap if it catches a stray spark. One well-placed mortar shell into a Tang supply vessel, and the resulting explosion will take out half their anchored fleet in a chain reaction."

Ragnar looked around the table, meeting the eyes of the men who represented the fractured powers of the West.

A displaced prince, an opportunistic vizir, and a bloodthirsty Viking commander.

Ragnar walked toward the doors of the war room.

"Leofric. Send word to the shipyards. Tell them to load the mortar vessels with every explosive shell we have. We sail at dusk. Just the six ironclads."

"Just six, Iron Father?" Leofric asked, "Hardly seems fair to the Chinese."

"We’re not looking for a fair fight," Ragnar glanced back at Al-Hakam and Louis. "You two stay here. Enjoy the wine. When I get back, we’ll talk about outfitting your new Frankish rebellion, Louis."

Al-Hakam bowed his head slightly, a gesture of respect.