Since the signing of the debt agreent a few weeks had passed, and Ragnar had returned to the heart of his industrial domain, City Titan.
General Bjorn remained within the Midlands with a security force of 5,000 contractors to ensure the West Saxons honored their paynt schedule.
As for the rest of the workforce, they returned with Ragnar back to the smoke and steel of the North.
Though Nottingham had been secured, Ragnar had no plans to move his headquarters there to oversee the puppet Eadwig.
Thus, he had issued a standing order: the administration of the Midlands would flow through City Titan.
His justification was that Nottingham’s infrastructure was too dilapidated from the war and needed a "structural overhaul" before it could serve as a seat of power.
For the ti being, Eadwig stayed in the Governor’s Mansion in Titan, under the constant surveillance of Ragnar’s Iron Guard.
With each passing day, the boy Guildmaster beca less of a ruler and more of a signature on a piece of parchnt.
He had no backers, while Ragnar was considered the man who brought order to the chaos of the Heptarchy, gaining many silent investors among the lesser nobility.
Everyone knew that Ragnar was the true power in the land, yet few dared to oppose him.
They had grown to fear his chanical legions and the extent to which Gyda’s network of informants had infiltrated every tavern and guildhall.
Ragnar had begun his transition from re Director to the "Iron Father," a title that commanded fear across the Isles.
However, it would still take several years to fully pave the roads of his ambition; thus, at the mont, he was preoccupied with other concerns, such as entertaining his guests from the Caliphate.
Vizier Al-Hakam had opted to visit City Titan once more now that the trade routes were secure.
He sat at Ragnar’s mahogany dinner table, where Ragnar, Gyda, Eadwig, and Elfrida were eating alongside the dignitary from the East.
Al-Hakam had important ledgers to balance with Ragnar, especially considering the Caliph had tasked him to inquire about the procurent of the "Thunder-Staves."
As such, he attempted to broach the subject over a fine al after Ragnar had consud a few mugs of dark stout.
Ragnar was interested in small talk at the start of the conversation and thus casually asked about the Caliph and his current condition.
"So Al-Hakam, my friend, how is the Great Caliph holding up?"
Al-Hakam thoroughly enjoyed the roasted venison on his plate as he thought about the answer. Eventually, after washing down the at with a glass of imported wine, the man opened up about the dostic troubles of the East.
"The Caliph is... burdened, currently. But aside from the headaches, his health is robust."
Hearing that the Caliph was burdened piqued Ragnar’s natural curiosity, and thus he continued on this line of dialogue.
"Why is the Caliph burdened? Is it a decline in the silk trade?"
Hearing the concern in Ragnar’s voice Al-Hakam quickly dashed any thoughts of economic turmoil and promptly revealed the well-known secret.
"Oh, it is nothing financial; his daughter, Princess Zaynab, is proving to be a difficult equation to solve. Her father had arranged a match with the Crown Prince of the Franks, Louis the Stamrer, and she has absolutely no interest in the union. In her own words, she refers to him as a ’dullard who counts on his fingers and thinks the stars are holes in a rug.’ She feels that Louis is a variable that subtracts from her value rather than adds.
However, she truly has herself to bla; the Caliph has tried setting her up with over a dozen princes, and she has found them all mathematically deficient."
Hearing this, Ragnar began to chuckle to himself; he made a snarky comnt about the Frankish Prince as he did so.
"Why am I not surprised?"
Hearing this, Al-Hakam was confused and thus questioned Ragnar’s comnt.
"Not surprised by what, Director?"
Feeling that he had caused a misunderstanding, Ragnar decided to clarify himself after drinking from his skull chalice.
"I just find it fitting that a Frankish Prince cannot count past ten without removing his boots. Their minds are as dull as their swords."
Hearing Ragnar’s words, Gyda imdiately broke out into a graceful laugh. Even in this era, or perhaps especially in this era, the disdain the Norse held for the pretentious Franks was no secret.
Thus Ragnar took the opportunity to mock the Crown Prince when the opportunity was presented to him.
Eadwig, on the other hand, was scowling. Not once had the important nobleman from the East bothered to talk to him or even acknowledge him, despite Eadwig being the titular Guildmaster of Nottingham.
The young boy struggled to contain his inner fury as Ragnar and Al-Hakam chatted as if they were the only two n of consequence in the room.
Elfrida was confused, as she was too focused on the chanics of the pepper grinder to understand the geopolitical insult. She rely focused on her al, dismantling a chicken leg with surgical precision.
When Al-Hakam heard Ragnar’s remarks, he also found it quite amusing, as he was well aware of the intellectual superiority the East felt over the West. Thus he made a joke of his own.
"I doubt you would be saying such a bold thing if you were standing face to face with the youth; I hear he commands a vast heavy cavalry."
Ragnar, on the other hand, laughed at this comnt and tapped his steel leg brace as proof of his feats.
"The last heavy cavalry I t broke against my shield wall like waves against a cliff. I do not fear a Frankish boy who needs a ladder to get on his horse. I would gladly tell him to his face that his kingdom is built on sand. If he has a problem with it, he can argue with my Steam Cannon."
Hearing Ragnar ntion his weapons brought a glint of desire to Al-Hakam’s eyes; the conversation had naturally steered in this direction, thus allowing him to inquire about purchasing the technology.
As such, he took advantage of this opportunity.
"Speaking of which, the Caliph had personally requested that I inquire about the possibility of acquiring such... instrunts from you. I know it is a heavy request, but is there any way you can sell a shipnt of these ’Thunder-Staves’?"
Ragnar imdiately shook his head in denial, which instantly brought down Al-Hakam’s spirits. However, the words that ca next shocked the man, as he was not expecting them.
"I cannot sell you the Thunder-Staves; that technology is the foundation of my House. However, I do have a... foundational design that I can forge for you. I call it the ’Fire-Lance’; it may not be as rapid as my personal guard’s weaponry, but I promise you that it strikes harder than any bow in Christendom!"
For so ti now, Ragnar had considered selling the primitive Matchlock Arquebus to his friends in the East.
The reasons for this were calculated; first and foremost, such a weapon did not pose a significant threat to his own forces.
It was heavy, slow to reload, and relied on a burning match cord... useless in the damp English rain compared to his flintlocks.
The other reason was market dominance. With his rapid expansion, rumors of his black powder were spreading.
Other kingdoms would soon try to replicate the mixture. Ragnar wanted to introduce the Arquebus as the standard for his allies, making them dependent on his sulfur and saltpeter supply chains. It was a classic vendor lock-in strategy.
Hearing that Ragnar was willing to sell the Empire so form of advanced firearm, even if it was a generation behind his own, imdiately piqued Al-Hakam’s interest.
He was more than happy to negotiate its purchase. However, when he was about to inquire about the price per unit, Eadwig quickly interrupted by throwing a tantrum, slamming his fork onto the table.
"Absolutely not! I forbid this! I will not allow you to sell our defenses to foreigners! What if they turn on us?"
Hearing the young boy finally speak, Ragnar and Gyda alike glared at him with a weight that could crush stone.
This greatly enraged Eadwig. However, Ragnar’s following words further stripped the boy of his dignity.
"Mind your tongue, boy. You have no signature on this ledger. I would gladly sell the Vizier the Fire-Lances, and we can determine the cost in silver later. I would prefer to forge a batch and demonstrate their yield before we shake hands."
Al-Hakam smiled and nodded; this was a reasonable request.
Ragnar was truly a shrewd businessman to offer a product demo before the contract was signed.
As for Eadwig, he began to turn red in the face and imdiately questioned Ragnar’s claim.
"No signature? I am the Guildmaster of the Midlands! How dare you claim I have no voice!"
Ragnar, however, adjusted his monocle and looked at the boy with pity, clicking his tongue.
"Mr. Eadwig, with all due respect, the Midlands produce coal. City Titan produces the weapons. These Fire-Lances are the intellectual property of the Iron Empire, not the Guild of Nottingham.
As the architect of these machines, the patent belongs to alone. You rely manage the dirt they are made from."
Hearing this, Eadwig was stupefied; he honestly did not have a response to such brutal logic. Once more, he was outwitted by Ragnar, to a point where he could no longer refute the man’s claim to ownership.
Thus he rely began to sulk, stabbing his venison with unnecessary violence.
After Eadwig’s little outburst, Ragnar returned to the topic at hand, his voice smooth as silk.
"I apologize for the noise; as I was saying, you are more than welco to stay in the Governor’s Mansion for the ti being until I can forge a few prototypes.
We will take them to the testing range, and you can see for yourself what a regint ard with such tools can achieve. From there, we can calculate the exchange rate."
Al-Hakam quickly agreed to these terms and raised his goblet.
"It is no burden; I would be glad to inspect your facilities. I am sure when I return to Baghdad with your Fire-Lances, the Caliph will find the equation balanced."
With negotiations for the trade of the Fire-Lances established, the group returned to their al.
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