Building a Viking Empire with Modern Industry-Chapter 234: Frost Breeds Absolute Treason

With the massive fortified quarantine infrastructure in City Titan fully completed and actively staffed, Ragnar had deemed it mathematically acceptable to return to the northern front.

Ragnar stood at the reinforced iron helm of his royal flagship, which now sat safely at anchor within the freezing waters of the Scottish lochs.

In his right hand, he cradled a heavy silver goblet filled with warmed, spiced cider. He took a slow, methodical sip, allowing the rich cinnamon and clove to ground his highly calculating mind against the biting chill of the highland winter.

The war had already been won a week prior with a single artillery barrage. He was here strictly as an administrator, waiting to collect the broken, bleeding remnants of a shattered foreign workforce.

Beside him stood Gyda, she was wrapped in a thick cloak of white dire-wolf fur.

Ragnar pulled her flush against his side, shielding her from the biting coastal draft.

"The silence from the valley is growing heavier by the hour, the eastern dragon is finally bleeding out."

The iron deck signaled the arrival of Vanguard Commander Bjorn and the lead reconnaissance scout, Torstein. The two men approached the helm, their expressions grim but thoroughly disciplined.

"Report the demographic deterioration, Torstein," Ragnar commanded.

Torstein bowed, "The despair within the Tang encampments has reached its absolute peak, the harsh winter diseases have taken root in their densely packed, ruined infantry tents.

Because the ground is entirely frozen, they cannot dig latrines or mass graves. The diseases are claiming the lives of the wounded Chinese soldiers by the thousands every single day. If our estimates are correct, their surviving number has plummeted below thirty thousand."

"We are losing valuable human capital at an unacceptable rate," Ragnar stated, presenting his deduction.

He looked toward Bjorn. "Has the enemy command structure shown the anticipated signs of internal fracturing?"

Bjorn offered a satisfied grin. "They have. Torstein observed the shift in their internal patrols just hours before dawn."

Ragnar turned his piercing gaze back to the scout.

"While I was concealed upon the southern ridge, looking down into their central keep through my spyglass, I noticed a distinct lapse in their perimeter security," Torstein explained,

"The surviving lower-ranking officers began quietly abandoning their assigned posts. I watched them gather secretly in one of the few remaining torn command tents near the eastern wall. They moved in the shadows, explicitly avoiding the imperial guard patrols loyal to Jiedushi Shen."

A wicked smile slowly etched itself across Ragnar’s scarred visage.

"They are convening a treasonous tribunal... the logical progression is absolute. An army’s loyalty to its general is entirely predicated upon the general’s ability to provide victory, sustenance, and security. Jiedushi Shen has utterly failed to provide all three!"

"Self-preservation," Bjorn said, his hand resting casually upon the pommel of his broadsword.

"Indeed..." Ragnar agreed softly. "They have gathered in that torn tent to make the only logical decision remaining to them. They are going to end the reign of their arrogant commander to save what remains of their men... They are going to purchase their own lives with Jiedushi Shen’s head!"

"Torstein, you will return to the ridge immediately!" Ragnar ordered,

"Bjorn, have the fleet stand at the ready. The moment the deed is done, we move in."

"It will be done," Bjorn and Torstein replied.

...

Hours passed in silence, Ragnar remained at the helm.

As the dead of night settled over the highlands, a sudden, subtle shift occurred in the valley below.

Through the magnified lenses of his brass spyglass, Ragnar observed the flickering torchlight near the central stone keep. The imperial guard patrols, which had been rigidly marching in predictable squares, were suddenly interrupted.

A massive mob of desperate, starving Tang soldiers, led by the mutinous officers, surged out from the shadows of the ruined infantry camps.

The starving soldiers threw themselves at the well-fed imperial guards with the feral strength of doomed men.

The flash of steel caught the moonlight as the guards were rapidly overwhelmed, dragged down into the freezing mud, and brutally dispatched.

With the outer defenses breached, the mutinous officers kicked in the doors of the central keep.

The ensuing confrontation was hidden from Ragnar’s direct line of sight, obscured by the stone walls of the chieftain’s fortress.

However, Ragnar did not need to see the blade fall to know the outcome. He tracked the time, counting the seconds...

Exactly four minutes later, the doors of the keep swung open once more.

The lead Tang officer stepped out onto the soot-stained steps of the courtyard. Even through the spyglass, Ragnar could see the man’s chest heaving with exhaustion and adrenaline.

In his right hand, the officer held a curved steel sword.

In his left hand, raised high for the surrounding mob of starving soldiers to see, he held the severed head of Jiedushi Shen.

The rogue warlord who had crossed the world to forge a new empire had been butchered in his own bedchambers by the very men he had promised to lead to glory.

A profound silence seemed to wash over the valley as the forty thousand surviving soldiers stared up at the severed head of their commander.

Ragnar slowly lowered his spyglass, the wicked smile returning to his face.

He had successfully eradicated an invading superpower, secured a massive, highly disciplined foreign labor force, and acquired the classified secrets of eastern alchemy... all while forcing the enemy to execute their own sovereign!

***

With those tasks handled in the Scottish lochs, Ragnar stood upon the reinforced deck of his flagship as the first light of dawn pierced the highland mist. The ironclad mortar vessels had already completed their grim work.

Now came the true test of empire: logistics on a scale the world had never seen.

Tens of thousands of Chinese prisoners shuffled forward in chained columns. Viking guards in blackened plate armor flanked them on every side, spears leveled, eyes watchful.

The prisoners’ once-pristine lamellar armor hung in tatters, their faces gaunt from weeks of starvation and disease. Yet even in defeat they moved with the disciplined precision of men trained under the Tang banner.

Transporting this many foreign soldiers across the freezing British landscape was not merely a military operation. Each day of delay risked typhus, dysentery, or plague sweeping through the ranks. A single outbreak inside City Titan’s walls could erase years of progress in a single season.

"Execute any prisoner showing symptoms of illness the moment they appear," Ragnar had ordered Bjorn before the march began.

With that command issued, the long march south commenced.

While the columns wound their way through the valleys and over the snow-dusted moors, Ragnar rode at the head of the vanguard.

Freezing rain turned the roads to mud. Supply wagons bogged down. Yet Ragnar’s mind had already accounted for every delay.

Pre-positioned depots of grain and dried fish waited at calculated intervals. Steam-powered sledges hauled the heaviest equipment.

After seven grueling days of hardship, the spires of City Titan finally rose on the horizon.

The prisoners lifted their heads as one. The sight was so alien, so impossibly vast, that many of the Tang soldiers stumbled in awe.

"Form them into lines at the eastern gate," Ragnar commanded. "Separate the alchemists and gunpowder engineers immediately. They go to the castle dungeons under triple guard. The regular infantry will enter the new quarantine camp west of the city."

While the guards began the sorting, Ragnar dismounted and walked among the columns.

Three men were pulled aside within the first hour. The guards dragged them behind a supply wagon. A single sword stroke each. The bodies were burned before the rest of the prisoners could even react.

Ragnar’s gaze drifted to the line of shackled scholars and powder masters being led away.

"Treat them well," he instructed. "Give them clean water and warm blankets."

The forty thousand surviving Tang soldiers, now stripped of weapons, armor, and dignity marched under the shadow of the Lion Banner into the newly completed quarantine camp.

Ragnar raised the goblet toward the quarantine camp, where thousands of broken eastern soldiers now stared up at the black-iron spires of their new master.

"Brother!" Bjorn’s deep voice rumbled, "A raven arrived from the King of Leinster. The message is clear. He accepts the pact. He is ready to give his daughter, Princess Aisling, in marriage to me!"

The smile that formed on Ragnar’s lips was small but genuine.

"An expected and welcome development!" Ragnar said, voice calm and measured. "You have served the empire with unmatched loyalty on the battlefield, Bjorn. Now you will serve it through bloodline and diplomacy. The King of Leinster seeks legitimacy and steel to hold his new throne. We will give him both."

Bjorn shifted his massive frame, "I am no diplomat, brother. But if this marriage secures Ireland as you say..."

"It will do more than secure it," Ragnar interrupted, turning at last to face him. "It will make Ireland a vassal in all but name. Their armies will march under our steel and our protection. In return, their ports, their timber, and their grain become extensions of our supply lines."

"Go now, brother. Take your best soldiers... fifty of the most disciplined Grenadiers from the Vanguard. Present yourself at the Irish court with full honors. Tell the King of Leinster that the Iron Father offers not only steel and protection, but a place for his daughter at the heart of the greatest empire rising in the west. Ensure the marriage contract includes exclusive trade rights and a permanent garrison of our engineers in Dublin."

Bjorn’s eyes gleamed, "It will be done exactly as you command. I will not return without the princess and the signed pact!"

Ragnar nodded once, the wicked smile deepening. "The Emerald Isle will either kneel willingly at our side or watch as its neighbors are swallowed whole. You carry the full weight of the Lion Banner behind you."