A full week had passed, and the frantic preparations within the shipyards of City Titan had finally concluded. Ragnar stood upon the frost-bitten wooden piers, observing the ironclad mortar vessels bobbing in the frigid tide. He had successfully overseen the outfitting of the fleet, ensuring that every cast-iron fragmentation shell was securely stored within the reinforced holds.
With those monumental tasks handled, Ragnar took a moment to enjoy a rare pause in his schedule. In his hand, he held a heavy iron mug filled with hot, spiced ale.
Standing beside him were the two pillars of his military might: his father, Ulf, and his brother, Vanguard Commander Bjorn.
While the crews finalized the rigging for their voyage to Scotland, where they would rain explosive hell upon the Tang warlord's anchored junks, Bjorn suddenly broke the comfortable silence.
