Building a Viking Empire with Modern Industry-Chapter 110: He calls himself a ’Director’?

While Ragnar was engaging in Operation: Full Steam, and his locomotive was thundering toward Winchester, the political landscape of Southern England was in a state of chaotic restructuring.

**

Winchester, Capital of Wessex

King Aethelred sat in his private solar, staring at a bowl of cold pottage. He hadn’t eaten a warm meal since the "Thames Incident," mostly out of shame.

He was surrounded by his traditional advisors.. men who believed that war was won by prayer and heavy swords, not by soup kitchens and steam engines.

However, today the room held a guest of significant importance. Count Odo of Paris, an envoy from the Frankish Empire, lounged in a chair carved from imported oak. He was dressed in the finest silks, sipping wine with a bored expression.

The Franks were the superpowers of the continent; to them, England was a muddy backwater filled with squabbling tribes.

Odo was reading a stolen report about Ragnar’s recent activities.

In under two months, the "Iron Director" had liquidated the Midlands, audited the Thames Valley, and was currently laying track toward the capital with the intent of annexing the economy through the right of Eminent Domain.

Ragnar’s actions had greatly enraged the Church, who had demanded King Aethelred "exorcise the metal demon." But Count Odo saw something else.

The Franks were currently fighting their own Viking problems, and they respected power.

"This... Viking," Odo said, swirling his wine. "He calls himself a ’Director’? Not a Jarl? Not a King?"

Aethelred sighed, rubbing his temples. "He calls himself many things. Mostly, he calls himself ’Under Budget and Ahead of Schedule.’"

Odo chuckled. He was reading the stolen manifest of the Grand Trunk Line.

"It says here he moved three thousand men and fifty tons of iron from Leicester to the Thames in two days. That is... mathematically impossible, Aethelred. Unless his horses have wings."

"He does not use horses, Count Odo," Aethelred said wearily. "He uses a kettle on wheels. It screams. It eats coal. And it pulls wagons the size of houses."

At the moment, Count Odo was very pleased with this intelligence.

Despite being a "barbarian," this Ragnar had somehow gathered enough logistical capacity to humiliate the Saxon military establishment.

However, what shocked Odo the most was that Queen Eadburh had openly denounced the feudal system and accepted a position as a "Senior Consultant."

By accepting a salary, Eadburh had essentially given up her claim to the throne, turning the Kingdom of Mercia into a subsidiary of the Directorate.

This put the Frankish Empire in a difficult position. If Ragnar was just a raider, they would kill him. But if he was a state-builder... well, that was a market opportunity.

The Count of Paris grinned, smoothing his mustache.

"He really knows how to disrupt a market, does he not?"

Honestly, Count Odo was impressed by Ragnar’s capabilities. The Franks prided themselves on their heavy cavalry and their stone castles. But this... this "Rail Road"... if the Franks could acquire this technology, they could dominate Europe. Odo desired the man to be a Frankish ally.

However, since Ragnar was technically a pagan independent, Odo couldn’t just order him to report. As such, Count Odo was convinced that making Ragnar a legitimate "Duke of the Iron Coast" was in the Empire’s best interest.

He would allow Ragnar to keep the Midlands and incorporate them into his "Supply Chain." Surely a fancy title and a Frankish alliance would be enough to satisfy the ambitions of a Viking upstart.

Of course, if Odo knew what Ragnar intended to do over the upcoming years he would have sent an army to destroy the locomotive immediately.

However, there was no economic forecasting in this world; the Invisible Hand of the Market was a god Odo did not worship.

As such, there was no way to accurately predict the pending recession of the Frankish iron industry.

Beside Odo was the Bishop of Winchester, a man named Heahmund. He was shaking with rage, shocked by the Frank’s casual attitude.

"Count Odo!" Heahmund spat. "You cannot be admiring this heretic! He traps lightning in glass bulbs! He cooks his enemies with steam! He must be burned!"

"Apologies, Bishop," Odo waved a hand dismissively. "But how exactly has he forced Aethelred’s hand? By feeding his soldiers better stew?"

Normally, a high noble like Odo would not concern himself with the menu of a peasant army. But he had heard the rumors. The "Nutrient Bricks." The coffee. The canning process.

When Aethelred handed Odo a sample the Count could not help but look at Ragnar with even higher praise.

"He has defeated rot," Odo whispered, staring at the tin. "He has conquered time itself."

This was shocking news. If an army could march without needing to forage, without needing to stop for harvest... they could campaign in winter. They could campaign forever.

"What will you do if he reaches Winchester?" Aethelred asked, his voice hollow. "He is ten miles away. I can hear the whistle."

Count Odo continued to smile as he announced his plans to his Saxon hosts.

"I intend to meet him. I will offer him Frankish recognition. We will recognize his ’Directorate’ as a legitimate Duchy. In exchange, he will share this ’Steam Engine’ with Paris."

At first, this news greatly shocked Bishop Heahmund.

"You would treat with the Devil?"

"I would treat with a man who understands Logistics," Odo corrected. "If we can gain his favor and put him to work for the Carolingian dynasty, the Empire will soar to new heights. Imagine... a train from Paris to Rome."

Unfortunately, the scheming Frankish nobleman had made one minor miscalculation. And that was the fact that Ragnar’s ambitions did not stop at being a Duke. Nor did they stop at being a King.

Ragnar wanted a Global Monopoly.

Ragnar would never be content putting his innovations to use for another sovereign. He didn’t want to share the steam engine; he wanted to lease it at high interest rates.

However, these men had no way of knowing the depth of Ragnar’s business plan. When the time finally came, Ragnar would refuse Odo’s offer of vassalage and instead offer Odo a "Premium Subscription Package" for the railway.. at a price that would bankrupt the Frankish treasury.

But for now, inside the solar of Winchester, they continued to scheme as to how they would get into Ragnar’s good graces.

"Very well," Aethelred sighed, resigning himself to irrelevance. "We will prepare a reception. We will lay out the red carpet."

"No," Odo corrected, standing up and adjusting his silk cape. "If we want to impress this man... we must think like him."

Odo pointed to the window.

"Lay out a spreadsheet."

**

Two days later, the Screaming Kettle crested the final hill overlooking Winchester.

Ragnar stood on the cowcatcher, the wind whipping his grey cloak. Behind him, the train pulled ten flatbed cars loaded with troops, supplies, and most importantly the Mobile Office.

"Director!" General Bjorn shouted from the cab. "The tracks end here! We haven’t laid the final mile!"

"We don’t need tracks for the final approach," Ragnar grinned.

Ragnar pulled a lever on the side of the engine. A vent opened, releasing a massive cloud of white steam that formed a perfect ring in the air.

"Sound the whistle!"

WHOOOOO-WEEEEEEE!

The sound echoed through the valley. Inside the walls of Winchester, the church bells rang in panic, trying to drown out the mechanical scream. They failed.

Ragnar turned to Leif the Elder.

"Detach the locomotive from the rails. Engage the caterpillar tracks!"

It was a bluff, of course. The locomotive couldn’t move off-road. But the Saxons didn’t know that. Ragnar ordered the "Interns" to quickly lay temporary wooden prefabricated track segments in front of the engine as it rolled inch by inch.

From a distance, it looked like the machine was eating the earth and spitting out a road.

As the "Iron Horse" slowly crawled toward the city gates, a delegation rode out to meet them.

It was a group of terrified scribes, led by Count Odo and a defeated King Aethelred.

Ragnar signaled for the train to halt. The steam hissed violently, venting pressure.

Ragnar jumped down from the engine, his boots crunching in the grass. He was flanked by his "Can-Openers," who looked terrifying in their standardized plate armor.

Count Odo rode forward, putting on his best diplomatic smile.

"Greetings, Northman!" Odo called out in Frankish. "I am Count Odo of Paris. We have watched your... IPO... with great interest."

Ragnar adjusted his conductor’s cap. He understood Frankish—he had taken an immersion course during his previous life’s business trips to Brussels.

"I am Director Ragnar," he replied in perfect, accentless Frankish. "And you are blocking my right-of-way."

Odo blinked. He hadn’t expected the barbarian to speak the language of diplomacy.

"We come with a proposition," Odo said smoothly. "The Emperor is willing to recognize your claim to the Midlands. We will grant you the title of Duke of Mercia. You will have the protection of Francia. All we ask... is the blueprint for this machine."

Odo gestured to the hissing locomotive.

Ragnar looked at Odo. Then he looked at Aethelred. Then he looked at the train.

A slow, predatory smile spread across Ragnar’s face.

"You want to buy into the IPO?" Ragnar asked.

"We are offering you legitimacy!" Odo insisted. "Without us, you are just a rebel. With us, you are a Duke."

Ragnar laughed. It was a dry, terrifying sound.

"Count Odo," Ragnar said, pulling a contract from his belt. "I do not want to be a Duke. Being a Duke is a middle-management position. It comes with feudal obligations and glass ceilings."

Ragnar walked up to the Frankish horse and patted its neck.

"I am building a Corporation, Odo. And Corporations do not have liege lords. They have clients."

He handed the contract to Odo.

"If you want the blueprints, the licensing fee is 50,000 pounds of silver per year. Plus 10% royalties on every mile of track you lay."

Odo’s jaw dropped. "That... that is extortion!"

"That is Capitalism," Ragnar corrected. "Now, step aside. I have a ribbon-cutting ceremony to attend in Winchester."

Ragnar turned his back on the most powerful noble in France and climbed back onto his train.

"Full steam ahead!"

As the locomotive lurched forward, pushing the terrified dignitaries out of the way, Count Odo realized with a sinking feeling that he was witnessing the end of his world.