Building a Viking Empire with Modern Industry-Chapter 39: Honey-Trap

Ragnar sat at the long oak table, nursing a mug of herbal tea. He watched his wife.

Princess Gyda sat across from him. She was dressed in a simple grey tunic, her hair tied back in a severe braid. In her hand, she held a heavy iron stamp. She was methodically approving the payroll requisitions for the Broken Men.

To anyone else, the sound would be annoying. To Ragnar, it was a symphony. It was the sound of a system working without him having to grease the gears.

He felt a strange sensation in his chest. In his previous life, he had been a workaholic engineer who ate takeout over a keyboard. Now, he had a partner who could balance a budget and shoot a crossbow with equal proficiency.

Gyda paused, the stamp hovering in mid-air. She didn’t look up.

"You are staring, Director."

"I am observing the workflow," Ragnar lied, taking a sip of tea. "It is efficient."

Gyda looked up then. A small, rare smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "You are bored. The blast furnace is running smooth. The school is open. You have nothing to fix, so you are fixing your eyes on me."

"Is that a complaint?"

"It is an observation," she said, stamping the next paper with extra force. Thump. "Go eat your porridge. The Weasel sent over the new trade figures from Mercia."

Ragnar pulled the bowl of porridge closer. "Did the Mercians like the maps?"

"They loved them," Gyda said, her eyes gleaming with a predator’s intelligence. "Aethelwulf sold fifty ’Secret Invasion Maps’ to the Lords of North Mercia. Each map shows a different ’hidden’ route through the swamps."

Ragnar chuckled. "Routes that lead directly into quicksand?"

"Routes that lead into mud pits, thorn bushes, and dead ends," Gyda corrected. "By the time they figure out where they are going, their horses will be lame and their boots will be ruined. We are defeating them with geography."

It was a perfect morning. Domestic bliss, Viking style. Then, the rhythm broke..

It was the rapid, panicked ringing of the alarm bell Ragnar had installed in the courtyard.

"Breach!"

The shout came from the hallway.

In one fluid motion, Gyda dropped the stamp and swept her hand under the table, pulling out the Valkyrie’s Sting the compact torsion crossbow Ragnar had designed for her.

Ragnar stood up, overturning his chair. His face shifted instantly from ’Husband’ to ’Director.’

"Stay here," Ragnar ordered, reaching for his own weapon a heavy, multi-shot repeating crossbow prototype he called The Typewriter.

"Don’t be stupid," Gyda snapped, cocking her weapon. "They are in the hallway. We hold the choke point."

Ragnar hesitated, then nodded. She was right. He kicked the heavy oak table over, creating a barricade.

"Get behind the wood," he commanded.

They crouched behind the table, weapons trained on the heavy wooden door.

The door shuddered. Someone was trying to ram it.

The wood splintered.

"They aren’t knocking," Ragnar muttered. "Three... two... one..."

The door burst open.

Four men rushed in. They weren’t Vikings. They wore dark cloaks and leather armor dyed black. They moved with the speed of trained killers.

Mercian spies. Or perhaps assassins sent by a rival Jarl.

The first man lunged into the room, a dagger raised.

Gyda fired. The bolt caught the man in the shoulder, spinning him around. He hit the floor screaming.

"Suppressive fire!" Ragnar yelled.

He pulled the lever on The Typewriter.Three bolts flew in rapid succession. They weren’t accurate, but they filled the doorway with flying iron.

The remaining three assassins dove for cover behind the stone pillars of the entryway.

"We have them pinned!" Ragnar yelled. "Bjorn! Security!"

But the assassins weren’t waiting. One of them pulled a glass sphere from his belt and threw it.

It shattered on the floor. Smoke thick, acrid, and blinding filled the room.

"Gas!" Ragnar coughed, covering his nose. "Hold your breath!"

He squinted through the smoke. He saw a shadow moving toward the balcony. They weren’t trying to kill him. They were trying to get to the Safe.

The iron safe in the corner contained the blueprints for the Blast Furnace and the formula for Gunpowder.

"The IP!" Ragnar realized. "They want the tech!"

He stood up to fire, but a shadow loomed over him. An assassin swung a heavy mace. 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

Ragnar raised his crossbow to block. The wood of the stock splintered. The force knocked him back.

The assassin raised the mace for a killing blow.

Suddenly, a massive shape emerged from the smoke like a bear waking up from hibernation.

It was a palace servant or rather, a man dressed in the tunics of a cleaner. But this cleaner had arms the size of tree trunks and a wooden leg.

It was Erik the Lame. Erik swung a heavy bucket of mop water.

The bucket connected with the assassin’s head. The man dropped like a stone.

"Cleanup on Aisle Four," Erik grunted, shaking the dented bucket.

From the hallway, more shouts erupted. The "Palace Staff"—who were actually members of the Broken Men corps Ragnar had reassigned to indoor duty—swarmed the intruders.

A one-armed cook tackled the third assassin with a frying pan. A gardener with a limp tripped the fourth man with a rake handle.

It was over in seconds. The smoke began to clear.

General Bjorn (Head of Security) burst into the room, his sword drawn, looking frantic. He saw the carnage: one assassin shot, one knocked out by a bucket, one frying-panned, and one pinned under the gardener.

"Status!" Bjorn roared.

"Secure," Ragnar coughed, waving the smoke away. He looked at Gyda. She was standing calmly, reloading her crossbow.

"Are you hurt?" Ragnar asked, rushing to her.

"I am annoyed," Gyda said, kicking the unconscious assassin near the door. "He got blood on the ledger."

Ragnar looked at the assassins. They were bound and gagged by the Broken Men.

"Mercian?" Bjorn asked, kicking one of the captives over to check his gear.

"No," Ragnar said, kneeling down. He pulled back the collar of the assassin’s black cloak.

There was a tattoo on the man’s neck. A serpent eating its own tail.

"Mercian Special Operations," Ragnar confirmed. "King Burgred sends his best thieves."

He looked at the glass sphere that had caused the smoke. He picked up a shard.

"And they are using our tech," Ragnar whispered. "This is a smoke bomb. They have been watching us."

Bjorn looked ashamed. "I failed, Director. I didn’t spot them at the perimeter."

"You didn’t fail," Ragnar said, standing up. "We invited them."

Bjorn and Gyda looked at him, confused.

"I knew they were coming," Ragnar admitted. "The Weasel told me there were rumors of a ’Extraction Team’ in the city. I just didn’t know when."

He walked over to the safe. He spun the dial and opened it.

Inside lay a stack of papers. "Did they get it?" Bjorn asked.

"They were trying to," Ragnar smiled grimly. "But if they had opened this safe, they would have been very disappointed."

He pulled out the top sheet. It was a blueprint for the Blast Furnace. But it was wrong.

"I modified the airflow specs," Ragnar explained. "If they build a furnace based on these plans, it won’t melt iron. It will build up pressure until it explodes."

"A booby trap," Gyda realized. "Intellectual sabotage."

"Exactly," Ragnar nodded. "I wanted them to steal it. I wanted them to waste their gold building a bomb that blows up in their own faces."

He looked at the captive assassins. "But since they failed to steal it... we have a problem. Now they know we are ready."

Ragnar walked to the balcony. He looked out over the city of York.

In the distance, beyond the walls, a single fire arrow shot up into the sky. It exploded with a red flare.

"A signal," Bjorn growled. "They have a backup team."

"Not a backup team," Ragnar said, his eyes narrowing. "An army."

He turned back to the room. The playful morning atmosphere was dead. The Director was back online.

"He knows we are getting stronger every day. He knows about the factory. He knows about the school. He is terrified."

Ragnar looked at Gyda. "Evacuate the civilians from the outer districts," Ragnar ordered. "Pull the Broken Men into the citadel. Activate the Aegis."

"And the factory?" Gyda asked. "Do we shut it down?"

"No," Ragnar said, his voice hard as iron. "Triple the shifts. Run the furnace hot. If the Mercians want war, we are going to sell it to them. Wholesale."

"Bjorn, raise the flags. Tell Ivar the Boneless to wake up."

Ragnar marched out of the room. He had a city to defend, and he was going to do it with math, metal, and a whole lot of dirty tricks.