Thus, the fifteen blocks of the Iron Kingdom's army marched forward.
The earth itself seemed to tremble under the combined weight of fifteen thousand armored men and the six chugging Steam Chariots.
Richard walked alongside the lead chariot. "King Ragnar..." Richard gasped. "How the did you come up with this?"
Ragnar sat relaxed on the edge of the platform, his long legs dangling off the side.
He rested his repeating rifle across his knees.
"I didn't come up with it, Richard." Ragnar chuckled. "I stole it from a very stubborn, very short artillery officer named Napoleon Bonaparte."
After hearing such words, Richard frowned, searching his vast, memory for the name.
"Bonaparte? Is he a Frankish lord? Or perhaps a mercenary from the southern deserts?"
"Hmm," Ragnar murmured softly. "A general who conquered an entire continent using legionary systems just like this."
However, Richard had stopped freezing up every time Ragnar said something impossible.
