Building a Viking Empire with Modern Industry-Chapter 81: Liquidation

General Bjorn stood in the mud, clad in a set of "Mark IV" munitions-grade plate armor, covered from head to toe in matte-grey steel, with a simple grey sash displaying the white stencil of the Iron Gear.

In his hands was a heavy Lucerne Hammer, which he used to great effect as he hooked the neck of a Frankish knight, dragging the man from his saddle and slamming him into the muck.

The Frankish defender, a nobleman clad in expensive Milanese plate and a velvet surcoat, flailed desperately, his sword useless in the grip of the sticky, scientifically modified terrain.

Bjorn and the Imperial Corps were currently engaged in a "hostile takeover" not far from the unfinished walls of City Titan.

Though his troops were technically matched in numbers by the enemy, Ragnar had used superior engineering to funnel the Frankish heavy cavalry into a classic kill box, much like a trash compactor.

As such, the field had turned into a slaughter as the pride of Frankish chivalry was bogged down and dismantled by the Industrial Army.

Ragnar’s "Heavy Assets" Division was renowned for their lack of mercy; this notion extended to the new conscripts from East Anglia as well.

Despite King Horik failing to recognize the nuances of "terrain modification," he was well regarded as a great warrior, though he had been looking forward to the day he could swing his axe alongside his son-in-law once more.

However, the liver failure he suffered from his excessive drinking made him no longer fit for high-intensity combat.

As such, the King was not present in this battle beside his General. General Bjorn felt a slight relief for this occurrence; if Horik were here, he would likely have charged out of the defensive formation and ruined the geometry of the trap.

Of course, Horik was technically the Chairman of the Board and was currently "inspecting the wine cellar" back at the Palace.

Nevertheless, Bjorn could not help but lament the absence of the old berserker spirit as he brought the hammer spike down onto the helm of the knight in front of him.

After finishing the man Bjorn moved onto another nearby target with his "Can-Opener" squad flanking him; the group of grey-clad soldiers descended upon the immobilized Franks like a demolition crew, deflecting lances with their angled pauldrons and utilizing the leverage of their polearms.

Luckily for Bjorn, Ragnar had equipped all of his soldiers, officers, and even the reserves with standardized plate from the Foundry District; because of that, their casualties were substantially lower than the enemy, even before the "Welcome Mat" trapped the horses.

The banner of the Iron Gear flew in the smoke-filled air as the Industrial forces soon overwhelmed what little resistance the bogged-down knights could amount.

Pressed from all sides, and stuck in mud that had been watered to the consistency of quicksand, the mobility of the Franks dropped from "terrifying" to "stationary."

The Frankish commanders soon found themselves surrounded by an army of silent, efficient killers dismantling their troops like scrap metal.

They could not fathom how the Northmen had managed to make such a large supply of plate armor; the expense was surely enough to bankrupt an empire!

Nevertheless, Bjorn and his men quickly neutralized the threats before them, pressing onward to the enemy center, where Grandmaster Pierre was screaming orders that no one could follow.

By now, the Order of the White Cross had lost most of its momentum, and what few knights remained upright kept being smashed against the wall of pikes and hammers.

Lucerne hammers, halberds, billhooks, and heavy maces all descended upon the expensively equipped but immobile Frankish forces, crushing joints and piercing visors as the deadly blows landed upon their foes.

Resulting in a sea of mud and oil staining the pristine white tabards of the Crusaders. 𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

After a surprisingly short but brutal battle, the last Frankish resistance eventually collapsed under the onslaught, ending in an overwhelming victory for Jernheim, who had suffered minimal losses due to their superior safety equipment.

As his men were cheering Bjorn raised the visor of his sallet helm and gazed at the scene of crushed metal and broken lances covering the field.

The veteran General sighed heavily as he mumbled the words.

"So this is the tyranny of physics? How can the enemy possibly compete with the sheer efficiency my army possesses?"

General Bjorn was stunned by the performance of the "Can-Openers" in this battle; if he was skeptical of Ragnar before for replacing the traditional axes with these strange hammer-spikes, he could feel the doubt no longer.

The investment Ragnar had made into the Foundry had truly paid off in this battle as they suffered far fewer casualties than they normally would have in a traditional shield-wall clash.

The amount of violence the Lucerne Hammer could generate must be a gift from the Gods of Engineering, for the old General could not explain it otherwise.

While his troops began the "Asset Recovery Phase" (looting the bodies), Bjorn returned to the forward command post, where he planned to file a successful mission report; however, before he could do so, he was approached by a small party of the Mobile Strike Wing—light cavalry equipped with repeating crossbows—who flew the personal pennant of the Director.

When Bjorn gazed upon the intricate mechanism of the crossbows hanging from their saddles, he could not help but feel that his own heavy hammer was somewhat primitive.

Nevertheless, the horses rode forward and appeared to have greeted the sentries of the perimeter. Who quickly pointed in Bjorn’s direction.

Evidently, these corporate couriers were here for him; what news could Ragnar possibly bring him that was of such importance that he would send riders into the cleanup zone?

When the lead rider pulled up next to General Bjorn, the man snapped a sharp, corporate salute before speaking.

"Are you General Bjorn?"

Bjorn noticed the grey wool uniform of the rider was spotless, contrasting perfectly with the mud-caked armor of the frontline troops.

After gazing in awe of the clean logistics, Bjorn eventually reclaimed his senses and nodded.

When he did so, the rider handed him a sealed scroll with the gear-stamp of the Directorate upon it; while doing so, the courier informed the General of a brief summary of what had transpired in the South.

"Director Ragnar sends word of the breach of contract he is having with Regent Aethelwold of Wessex and seeks to update your rules of engagement."

Upon hearing those words, Bjorn immediately broke the wax seal and read the letter; as he did so, his expression became increasingly sour before commenting aloud for his nearby Colonels to hear.

"That absolute moron..."

Though this was supposed to be a great victory and a cause for bonuses, it was immediately tarnished in the eyes of General Bjorn by the foolish actions of the Southern Regent.

For some reason, the Saxon boy thought that he could embargo the very people who had just crushed the greatest heavy cavalry force in Europe.

If this is how the South would conduct business, then Bjorn was greatly concerned about the intelligence level of their neighbors.

General Bjorn read the final line of Ragnar’s order: "Prepare the Corps. Once the Frankish assets are liquidated, we are pivoting South. We are going to conduct a hostile takeover of Winchester."

Bjorn was left with no choice but to signal the sergeants. He looked at the captured Frankish armor piling up in the wagons.

"Clean that steel!" Bjorn shouted to his men. "We’re going to need it. We have a Kingdom to audit!"

Bjorn shook his head. Aethelwold had poked the bear while the bear was holding a machine gun.

The last thing Wessex needed was for Ragnar to invade their lands under the guise of "enforcing consumer rights." But apparently, that was exactly what was about to happen.