As the sun rose over the bleak Northumbrian coast, it did not find a quiet, sleepy village. It found a construction site that was vibrating with the frantic energy of a deadline.
Today was the wedding of the Director of Industry, Ragnar Ulfsson.
Usually, a Viking wedding involved a lot of ale, a bit of brawling, and a goat sacrifice. But this was Jernheim. Here, the "decorations" were rows of freshly cast iron ingots stacked in geometric patterns. The "flowers" were banners made from the new paper, dyed with experimental inks. And the "music" was the rhythmic thump-thump-thump of Matilda the Donkey powering the Trip Hammer in the background.
In the center of the settlement, a large pavilion had been erected using ship sails. Inside, Ragnar stood in his best tunic which Gyda had forcibly cleaned of soot looking less like a groom and more like a man facing a performance review.
