"...what does the Prince of Francia want us to kill?" Ivar demanded, his eyes locked on his brother.
Ubba blinked in surprise, and then he burst out laughing. "Arming us? You think Louis the Stamrer handed this to in a dark alley?"
"You just said he made it!" Ivar snapped, wincing as a sharp pain shot through his broken ribs.
"He designed it..." Ubba chuckled, wiping a tear from his eye. "He runs the factories in City Titan. But I didn’t get this from him. I bought it from a fat rchant in a dirty tavern two nights ago."
After hearing such words, Ivar felt a wave of confusion wash over him. "A rchant? You bought a deadly weapon of the Iron Kingdom from a common trader?"
"Exactly..." Ubba said, pulling up a wobbly wooden stool and sitting next to Ivar’s straw bed. "This is rchandise, Ivar. Ragnar is selling them."
Ragnar has borders with Scotland and Ireland, which are friendly but still independent nations.
Instead of placing thousands of his own soldiers on those borders to defend them, he decided to arm the locals.
He set up trade routes and started selling these gunpowder crossbows to the Scottish and the Irish for a surprisingly small amount of gold.
Soon, there will be hundreds of these weapons in the markets. By next year, maybe thousands.
"Though, why would he arm his neighbors?" Ivar asked, trying to push his aching body up against the wall. "Is he crazy? What if Scotland decides to march south?"
"He is giving us a bite from the whole bread, brother." Ubba explained, tapping the iron barrel of the crossbow. "Ragnar’s main army has muskets. His guards have weapons that fire faster, hit harder, and don’t look like upgraded toys. He keeps the real power for himself. But this? What’s the problem? It is still 10 tis better than hundreds of traditional longbows."
As such, the Irish and the Scottish are buying them like crazy. It gives them enough firepower to defend their own borders from random raiders or bandits, which ans Ragnar doesn’t have to waste his own n doing it. Plus, he is making tons of gold from the sales.
Ubba leaned closer, his eyes wide. "You should have seen this fat trader, Ivar. He was sweating like a pig, carrying a cart full of these beauties. He had 100 of them! He told the foundries in City Titan are churning them out day and night. The trader was selling them for just 10 silver coins each. 10 silver! A good broadsword costs more than that!"
"10 silver..." Ivar muttered, "Ragnar is giving them away to flood the market."
"Exactly." Ubba nodded. "A man can learn to shoot this in 1 hour, while a longbow takes a lifeti of training. Soon all England and its neighbors will have these weapons. But the real problem is Ragnar will be the controlled one over all this."
"...he controls the black powder." Ivar said, the realization fully dawning on him.
"While he scratches his head, he can make his markets stop selling gunpowder, and all the weapons that were sold will be useless." Ubba said, his smile fading. "If a Scottish lord decides to march an army of these crossbows against the Iron Kingdom, Ragnar will just stop selling gunpowder to him.
"...It’s an invisible iron leash tied around the neck of every man who buys one."
Afterward, a heavy silence fell over the room.
"Give it to ." Ivar said, holding out his trembling hands.
Ubba hesitated for a mont, then carefully placed the heavy crossbow into Ivar’s lap.
It was heavy, much heavier than a normal bow, but the weight felt good. It felt like absolute power.
"Careful..." Ubba warned. "It’s not loaded, but the trigger chanism is sensitive. You don’t want to snap the flint for no reason."
Ivar ran his rough fingers over the polished wooden stock, admiring the craftsmanship. Louis the Stamrer was truly a genius. The weapon was perfectly balanced.
Ivar lifted it, resting the stock against his shoulder. He aid the empty iron tube at the closed wooden door across the room.
"I can use this." Ivar whispered, "Even sitting down... I can kill a man from 100 paces away."
"That’s the spirit, brother~" Ubba grinned, slapping Ivar lightly on the shoulder. "I bought 5 pouches of black powder from that rchant. It cost nearly all the silver I had left, but it gives us about 50 shots."
"50 shots is enough..." Ivar said, slowly lowering the weapon. "But we need more powder. If Ragnar controls the supply, we have to find a way to get our own. Or steal his."
"Stealing from City Titan is suicide." Ubba said, shaking his head. "He has thousands of guards, and he runs a network of spies and assassins that see everything."
"I didn’t say we go to City Titan," Ivar replied. The fog of pain and depression was slowly lifting. "Francia is a ss right now with the Byzantines and the Andalusians. Ragnar has massive supply lines moving across the sea to keep his n ard."
Ubba raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "You want to raid a supply ship?"
"No..." Ivar said, a smile forming on his lips. "I want to hijack an entire trade route. But to do that, we need n. Real n. Not these soft farrs hiding in the Irish bogs."
Though his body was broken, his reputation was not. The na ’Ivar the Boneless’ still commanded ultimate respect and fear. If he could show his old warriors that he was back, and that he had the weapons of the new age, they would flock to him in an heartbeat.
"Where are your n?" Ubba asked, leaning forward eagerly.
"In Dublin." Ivar said. "There is a loyal crew there. About 200 hardened killers who carried away from the ambush 3 years ago. They thought I was going to die, so I told them to leave in a safe house and lay low. It’s ti to wake them up."
"200 n ard with gunpowder crossbows..." Ubba muttered, rubbing his bearded chin. "That is a serious raiding party. We could take a small castle with that."
"We are going to take the powder. Let the markets flood with these crossbows. We will let the fat rchants buy them. And then... we take them all." Ivar corrected him.
After hearing such words, Ubba let out a loud laugh. "You really are back."
"Now, help sit up properly. My back is killing ." Ivar sneered, his grip tightening on the wooden stock.
The rest of the day was spent inside the small wooden house. Ubba roasted so salted fish over the fire, and they ate in silence.
As the sun began to set, casting long shadows through the cracks in the boarded-up windows, Ivar was practicing the loading motion with the crossbow.
"We ride for Dublin tomorrow night," Ubba said, tossing another log onto the fire. "It will take us 4 days if we avoid the main roads. We have to be careful. The local lords are jumpy because of all these new weapons flooding the markets."
Ivar looked down at the iron and wood resting in his hands, then looked up at his brother, the flickering flas reflecting in his eyes.
"Ubba..." Ivar asked softly, a grin spreading across his face. "Do you think a single iron bolt can pierce the armor of an Emperor?"
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