Building a Viking Empire with Modern Industry

Chapter 372: The Printing Press

Magnus, full of limitless energy, was giggling loudly as he chased Queen Ermentrude’s two young sons, Charles the Younger and Carloman, around the edge of the table.

"You look like you haven’t slept in three days, Louis," Gyda smiled, bouncing baby Floki on her lap.

"Three days?" Louis groaned, "Gyda... I haven’t slept in a week. Ragnar’s projects are completely going to be the death of me."

"He just has a lot of faith in your skills," Princess Gisela smiled politely, taking a sip of sweet milk.

Before Louis could complain any further, the doors of the Great Hall were pushed open.

Stepping into the room was a new face to the Frankish royal family. He was a tall, incredibly thin Saxon man wearing thick spectacles and a long brown wool coat that was entirely covered in chalk dust.

He was holding a stack of thick parchment papers, struggling to balance them in his arms.

"Ah! Ealdred! Come in, come in!" Gyda smiled, waving the man over to the table. "Louis, this is Ealdred. He is the man Lord Leofric recently hired to manage and oversee the educational schools across City Titan, Wessex, and Northumbria."

Ealdred offered a quick bow, nearly dropping his massive stack of papers onto the food.

"An absolute honor, your Majesties," Ealdred panted, pushing his spectacles up his nose.

He looked directly at Louis, a completely pleading look in his eyes. "I apologize for interrupting your meal, but I was told you are the master of the King’s new printing machines."

Louis let out a long sigh. He slowly pinched the bridge of his nose. "Let me guess... you need more printing presses."

"Yes! Exactly!" Ealdred cheered, "We have thousands of young Saxon and Norse children completely flooding into the new schools every single week. They are eager to learn how to read and write.

But the monks cannot possibly copy the textbooks fast enough... we need more printing presses to mass-produce the educational books."

"Ealdred, making a printing press takes a massive amount of time..." Louis sighed deeply, leaning back in his chair. "The cast-iron frames take days to completely cool, and hand-carving the hundreds of individual steel letters for the movable type is exhausting. I have already built four of them!"

"And we are entirely grateful for the four!" Ealdred nodded enthusiastically. "But... four machines cannot possibly print enough books for three entire kingdoms."

Louis rubbed his tired eyes.

He had been relying on Ragnar’s blueprints to build the machines, but the Iron King had been entirely busy managing the blast furnaces and ignored Louis’s requests for help with the printing project.

"I am a Prince, not a worker," Louis muttered under his breath, though he was secretly entirely proud of the incredible machines he had built.

"Louis, I actually just remembered something," Gyda interrupted smoothly, offering the Frankish King a persuasive smile. "Before he went out to the balcony, Ragnar told me to ask you to build more of those machines."

Louis raised an eyebrow, highly skeptical. "He did? Why didn’t he ask me himself?"

"You know how Ragnar is," Gyda chuckled softly, patting baby Floki’s back. "He is focused on the steel production. But he explicitly said he is going to need plenty of those printing presses very soon."

After hearing such words, Louis let out another incredibly long sigh... He couldn’t exactly say no to the Iron King who had given his family safety.

"Fine..." Louis grumbled, finally giving in. "I will build ten more printing presses for the schools, but I need Leofric to give me twenty of his best blacksmiths to help cast the iron frames."

"Ten?!" Ealdred gasped, overwhelmed with sheer joy. "I can have a book in the hands of every single child in England by next winter! Thank you, Prince Louis! Thank you!"

Ealdred offered another clumsy bow and hurried out of the Great Hall, completely ecstatic.

"Ten printing presses is a huge undertaking, Louis," Queen Ermentrude smiled kindly at her eldest son, "but how will you pay for all this expensive steel and ink?"

"Oh, do not worry about the gold, Mother," Louis grinned.

Just as the family was deeply engaged in discussing the massive economic plans, the velvet curtains at the far end of the hall were pushed aside.

A sudden gust of autumn wind swept into the warm room.

Ragnar stepped back into the Great Hall, followed closely by Lord Commander Leofric.

Gyda stood up slowly, clutching baby Floki to her chest. She knew that specific look in Ragnar’s eyes.

"Ragnar?" Gyda asked, "What happened?"

The absolute, suffocating tension in the Great Hall was thick enough to be cut with a broadsword.

Ragnar Ulfsson stood at the head of the heavy oak dining table, his massive frame radiating pure, unadulterated menace. King Louis was sweating profusely. Queen Ermentrude pulled her children closer. Little Magnus was completely hiding behind Gyda’s chair, terrified of the dark, apocalyptic aura his father had brought in from the freezing rain.

Gyda clutched baby Floki to her chest, her beautiful face entirely pale. She looked at her husband’s cold, furious expression.

"Ragnar?" Gyda asked, her voice trembling softly in the quiet hall. "What happened?"

Ragnar slowly turned his angry face toward her.

Silence reigned for a painful second as everyone prepared to hear news that was sure to be horrific.

And then, Ragnar threw his head back and let out a loud laugh.

"I am just joking..." Ragnar chuckled. His face softened into a warm smile. "By the gods, you should have seen the looks on your faces..."

Lord Commander Leofric stood silently behind him. Just two minutes earlier, on the balcony, they had been discussing the Byzantine spy and Ivar the Great’s madness. Now, the Iron King was acting as if he were playing a joke in a tavern.

’What in the name of the gods is he doing?’ Leofric thought, completely baffled.

Ragnar walked around the table, he reached behind Gyda’s chair and gently tapped Magnus right on the top of his head.

"You looked so scary, Papa!" Magnus laughed, wrapping his arms around Ragnar’s neck.

"How is everyone doing tonight?" Ragnar asked cheerfully, pulling up a chair and sitting down right next to Louis.

He grabbed a piece of bread from the table and took a bite. "The roasted venison smells incredible. I hope the cooks are treating you all well?"