Building a Viking Empire with Modern Industry-Chapter 249: A new imperial province?

The Northern Borders of Al-Andalus, Umayyad Emirate

General Zhao Feng took a sip of warm rice wine. Situated upon the hills of northern Al-Andalus, the majesty of the Tang Dynasty’s hundred-thousand-strong expeditionary force was laid bare beneath the golden Iberian sun.

Miles upon miles of silk-draped pavilions, perfectly aligned infantry trenches, and bustling supply depots dominated the landscape, completely suffocating the local environment under the sheer weight of eastern imperial logistics.

Moving a hundred thousand professional soldiers across the entire known world is a feat that should mathematically bankrupt an empire. Yet, the Tang forces were absolutely thriving.

Because the terrified Abbasid Caliph, desperate to keep the eastern dragon from devouring Baghdad, had essentially handed over the keys to the Middle East’s entire agricultural infrastructure.

The Arab provincial governors had been violently forced to empty their ancient, deep-stone granaries, funneling millions of pounds of wheat, salted meats, and fresh water directly into the gaping maw of the Tang supply train.

Thus, by weaponizing the terror of the Caliphate, Zhao Feng had successfully transported a city-destroying army across the globe without expending a single ounce of his own empire’s resources.

Surrounding him inside the command pavilion were the highest-ranking officers.

"The men are well-rested, and our bellies are entirely full of stolen Arabian grain," Zhao Feng declared.

"However, we have lingered in this sun-baked peninsula for far too long. The rogue traitor, Jiedushi Shen, and the barbarian warlord known as the Iron Father currently sit upon the frozen islands of the extreme north, undoubtedly attempting to reverse-engineer our sacred Heavenly Fire.

Therefore, we must cross the final ocean and eradicate them before their primitive, soot-stained minds can comprehend the secrets of the Emperor!"

Stepping forward with visible hesitation, Admiral Zheng bit his lower lip so forcefully.

The veteran naval officer dropped to one knee,

"General Zhao, the naval logistics present a catastrophic hurdle!"

"We successfully utilized our massive deep-water Junks and aggressively commandeered hundreds of Arabian dhows to transport the army from the Persian Gulf, across the Mediterranean, and to these Iberian shores! But the ocean that lies to our north... the Western Atlantic... it is a terrifying, nightmare of unpredictable gales and ship-breaking waves!"

While the Mediterranean Sea is essentially a calm, highly predictable bathtub perfectly suited for shallow-draft galleys and coastal hopping, the Atlantic is a violent monster.

The towering swells off the coast of the Bay of Biscay can effortlessly snap the keel of a laden transport ship like a dry twig.

Admiral Zheng knew with absolute, terrifying certainty that sending primitive, commandeered Arabian river boats into those dark, churning waters would result in the immediate, watery graves of tens of thousands of elite soldiers.

The Tang deep-water Junks were architectural marvels, featuring watertight bulkheads and fully articulating sails, but there were simply not enough of them to carry the entire army safely through the storm-tossed northern route.

Zhao Feng slammed his fist directly onto the war table, completely shattering a wooden measuring compas.

"Speak plainly, Admiral!" Zhao Feng roared, "How many men can you safely transport to the barbarian island of Alba? Do not dare offer me excuses, or I shall personally separate your cowardly head from your shoulders!"

"Fifty thousand, my Lord!" Admiral Zheng shrieked, "By packing the men tightly into the reinforced hulls of our imperial Junks and leaving the fragile Arabian vessels behind, we can guarantee the safe passage of exactly fifty thousand soldiers! We possess the food, and we possess the heavy siege equipment, but the naval capacity is mathematically capped at exactly half of our total force!"

To leave fifty thousand elite soldiers behind on foreign soil was a strategic division of power that violated every ancient text of centralized warfare. However, Supreme Strategist Sun slowly unfurled a beautifully painted silk fan, waving it gently before his face.

The elderly tactician approached the war table,

"General Zhao, please allow your supreme intellect to view this not as a logistical failure, but as a divine, unprecedented opportunity," Strategist Sun purred, gesturing gracefully toward the map of the British Isles.

"Ask yourself this... do we truly require one hundred thousand Celestial Soldiers to crush a primitive island composed entirely of mud, sheep, and illiterate barbarians?"

Zhao Feng crossed his arms over his chest, "Jiedushi Shen fled with fifty thousand of his own men, but they are undoubtedly starved and broken by now. Fifty thousand of our most elite, heavily armored imperial guards would be an absolute overkill against such pathetic, unwashed opposition."

"Precisely, my General!" Strategist Sun exclaimed.

"Fifty thousand men is a tidal wave of unstoppable steel! You shall take the vanguard, sail the Atlantic, and effortlessly sweep the barbarian island clean of all resistance! You will reclaim the stolen secrets of the Emperor and burn their primitive, soot-stained cities to the ground!"

Strategist Sun suddenly slammed the tip of his closed fan directly onto the northern borders of the Iberian Peninsula, right where the fractured, desperate Christian kingdoms of Asturias and Navarre desperately clung to their mountainous territories.

"But what of the remaining fifty thousand?" Sun whispered, "We have an entire army of elite veterans sitting idle upon the wealthiest, most fertile land in the western world! While you sail north to secure the Emperor’s vengeance, I propose that we do not leave these men to simply rot in their tents! We shall unleash them upon the northern reaches of Al-Andalus and the fractured kingdoms beyond!"

At this precise moment in history, the land was divided between the wealthy, culturally sophisticated Islamic Emirate in the south and the desperate, heavily fortified Christian remnants hiding in the northern mountains.

Both sides were constantly bleeding each other dry in endless, border-skirmish wars.

They were exhausted, politically divided, and completely unprepared for the sudden arrival of a highly centralized disciplined eastern superpower.

If the Tang army aggressively invaded the north, they wouldn’t just be taking a few castles; they would be establishing a massive forward operating base on the European continent.

"You suggest we carve a new imperial province right here in the West?" Zhao Feng asked.