Building a Viking Empire with Modern Industry-Chapter 122: Andalusian nobleman

Throughout the next couple of days Vizier Al-Hakam spent his time wandering through the designated "Guest Zones" of City Titan, learning about its terrifying efficiency.

To think that less than two years ago, Northumbria was a land of mud huts and sheep.

Though many regions of the City were still undergoing "Active Development" (a polite term for open construction pits), the fact that the streets were paved with flat stone slabs and illuminated by hissing gas lamps was astonishing to a scholar like Al-Hakam.

The city's overall layout was constructed in a way that not only took defense into mind but also optimized Traffic Flow.

By far, the Industrial Sector was the largest of these districts, pumping a constant, rhythmic heartbeat of steam and pistons into the grey sky.

Al-Hakam paused by a street corner, watching a team of "Sanitation Engineers" (street sweepers) moving in perfect unison.

"It is... a clock," Al-Hakam murmured, stroking his henna-dyed beard. "He has turned a city into a clock mechanism."

Though the Blast Furnaces were largely closed off to visitors.. led Al-Hakam to believe that there was most definitely a massive metal output created in this frozen wasteland.

In Cordoba, they forged steel with art and poetry. Here, it seemed they forged it with hate and mathematics.

Al-Hakam had initially come to City Titan to secure an alliance against the Franks; after all, the Caliphate and the Vikings shared a mutual enemy in the Carolingian Empire.

However, seeing how uniform Ragnar's garrison was, Al-Hakam believed he might be able to import a great deal of Standardized Parts into Al-Andalus.

He had no way of knowing that the crossbows the "Iron Gear" soldiers carried were made with interchangeable triggers.

After the allotted "waiting period", the Andalusian nobleman returned to the Governor's Palace and once more stood before the heavy iron doors.

General Bjorn opened them, grunting, "The Director is open for business."

Al-Hakam entered. Ragnar was the first to make conversation.

"I am Director Ragnar; you are here in my Headquarters and have arrived without a calendar invite. Be grateful for my schedule flexibility, for I have granted you an audience despite the backlog of paperwork you have caused me."

Just because Al-Hakam was a man with a position similar to a Prime Minister of the greatest empire on earth did not mean that Ragnar would back down; as such, he decided to emphasize that this meeting was solely due to his curiosity regarding napalm.

However, Al-Hakam did not seem phased by Ragnar's posturing. He smoothed his silk robes and reintroduced himself with a great deal of sophisticated confidence.

"I am Vizier Al-Hakam. I have traveled a great distance to establish a Joint Venture with your firm. I know that you have a great desire for Naphtha and I have the alchemical formulas that you lack. I promise you that if you make me your exclusive partner in this regard, I will provide the chemical composition and the distillation process. I have even brought a sample vial for you to... audit."

Ragnar smiled upon hearing the news that the other party had the formula; acquiring Greek Fire for his coastal defense was becoming critical.

The "Spicy Mix" (gunpowder) was good for explosions, but for burning Frankish ships on the water, he needed something stickier.

As such, he was more than happy to negotiate a contract. Thus Ragnar got up from his massive desk and walked down the steps from the raised platform, standing face to face with the Vizier.

Ragnar was quite a deal taller than Al-Hakam, and his broad shoulders contrasted sharply with the slender, ink-stained hands of the scholar. After arriving before the man, Ragnar began to negotiate as he paced around Al-Hakam, looking like a shark circling a very expensive boat.

"Assuming you can fulfill your words and satisfy the safety regulations required for chemical warfare, I will be willing to deal exclusively with you under the conditions that I receive the formula for 'Quicklime' as a signing bonus. However..."

Ragnar paused, picking up a heavy iron paperweight.

"...I would very much like to know what you want in return. Information is not free. And neither is shipping."

To Ragnar, this was a standard procurement inquiry. However, what surprised him was that Al-Hakam immediately stated his price, and it wasn't gold.

"I do not want gold, Director. The Caliphate has mountains of gold. I want Crucible Steel. But not just any steel. I want the steel you use for your rails."

Al-Hakam pointed to the window, where the distant clack-clack of a mine cart could be heard.

"I walked your city, Director. I saw your carts. The wheels... they do not break. The axles do not bend. In Cordoba, we forge swords that can cut a silk scarf in mid-air, but it takes a master smith a month to make one. You... you pave the earth with metal that is stronger than our best blades. I want to know how."

Ragnar's eyes narrowed. The Bessemer Process. The Vizier wanted the secret to mass-production.

"That is proprietary technology," Ragnar warned. "Intellectual Property is the lifeblood of the Directorate."

"And the Frankish fleet sails in two days," Al-Hakam countered smoothly. "Without the Naphtha, your metal rails will belong to Grandmaster Roland. Is a trade secret worth losing the monopoly?"

Ragnar smiled. It was a cold, sharp expression. He liked this man. He negotiated like a wolf.

"Acceptable terms," Ragnar decided. "If you give me the fire, I will give you the steel. But not the blueprint for the Converter. I will sell you the ingots. You can forge them however you like."

"If the quality matches my estimation," Al-Hakam nodded, "we have a deal. But I must see the foundry."

Thus Ragnar motioned for General Bjorn and a squad of "Iron Gear" guards to follow him and Al-Hakam into the City below. They walked out of the palace and into the smog-choked streets.

As they walked, the citizens of Titan stopped to stare. There were many rumors to be made about a man dressed in golden silk walking next to the Iron Director.

"Is that a new investor?" a soot-covered worker whispered.

"Look at his clothes," another grunted. "He looks like he's never shoveled coal in his life."

Ragnar was well accustomed to such chatter; it was a common occurrence for the locals to gossip about potential mergers. Eventually, Al-Hakam and Ragnar reached Sector 7, the heart of the industrial district.

Ragnar pulled a lever, opening the heavy blast doors.

The heat hit them like a physical blow. Inside, massive crucibles of molten iron were being poured by overhead cranes (operated by hand-cranks and pulleys, but impressive nonetheless). Sparks flew like indoor fireworks.

"Behold," Ragnar announced, his voice booming over the roar of the bellows. "The Bessemer-Lite Converter. It removes impurities through oxidation. It turns brittle iron into flexible steel. And we do it by the ton."

Al-Hakam stared. In Al-Andalus, a smith worked with a small hammer and a small fire. Here, men moved metal in buckets the size of ox-carts.

"It is... industrial," Al-Hakam whispered, awe in his voice. "It lacks soul... but it possesses infinite power."

Ragnar walked over to a cooling rack and picked up a raw ingot with a pair of long tongs. He dropped it onto an anvil.

"Test it," Ragnar offered, handing Al-Hakam a hammer.

Al-Hakam took the hammer. He struck the ingot. It rang with a clear, high-pitched bell tone. He struck it again. No dent. No crack.

"Incredible," Al-Hakam admitted. "If I had ten thousand of these ingots... I could equip every Mamluk in the Caliphate with armor that pierces arrows."

"I can supply ten thousand a month," Ragnar lied. "My shipping fleet can deliver it to Cadiz. As long as the Naphtha arrives in Dover before the Franks do."

Al-Hakam was instantly happy with this news. Finally, he could modernize the Caliphate's army without relying on the slow, artistic temperamental nature of his local guilds.

"I can supply the Naphtha," Al-Hakam promised. "I have a ship in the harbor. The barrels are marked as 'Olive Oil' to avoid customs, but they are full of the black fluid."

Ragnar was instantly relieved. With the Greek Fire, he could turn the English Channel into a deep-fryer for the Frankish knights.

"Excellent," Ragnar grinned. "Then we have a Memorandum of Understanding."

Ragnar extended his hand. Al-Hakam shook it. The grip was firm.. one hand calloused by labor, the other stained with ink.

"How about you stay in the Guest Dormitory for dinner tonight?" Ragnar offered, checking his pocket watch. "It is Tuesday. That means it is Taco Tuesday in the cafeteria. We have successfully reverse-engineered the tortilla using flatbread."

Al-Hakam blinked. "Taco?"

"A highly efficient food delivery system," Ragnar explained. "Edible packaging. You will love it."

After hearing the Director's offer, Al-Hakam nodded his head in agreement. After all, the more friendly he became with Ragnar, the more likely he could figure out how the steam engine worked.

As such, the barrels of "Olive Oil" were offloaded at the docks and rushed to the Chemical Engineering Department (Helga's brewery, repurposed). Gold and Steel exchanged hands between the Vizier and the Director.

Unknowingly, this trade agreement would have important effects on the future of this world. The Franks were sailing into a trap, and the alliance between the Iron Empire and the Caliphate was about to change the heat map of Europe.

"By the way," Ragnar asked as they walked back toward the smell of cafeteria meat. "This 'Greek Fire'... does it work if I pump it through a steam-pressured hose?"

Al-Hakam stopped walking. He looked at Ragnar with a mixture of horror and scientific curiosity.

"You mean... a flame-thrower?"

"I mean a Thermal Asset Liquidator," Ragnar corrected.

Al-Hakam smiled.

"Director... I think this is the beginning of a beautiful partnership."