The Great Hall was finally quiet, the doors shut firmly behind Ragnar as he stepped into the corridor.
Though the noise of the feast and the frantic translating of the Persian math scrolls had faded, the inside of Ragnar's mind was completely roaring.
The reality of the Frankish musket had changed the entire board...
He had officially dragged the brutal 9th century into the age of gunpowder!
Ragnar didn't bother lighting another lamp. He walked straight over to the table in the center of the room.
Spread across the table was a highly detailed map of the known world...
Norway, Scotland, Denmark, Northumbria, Wales, Brittany, Francia, Bohemia, L. Burgundy, Navarre, Córdoba, Kievan Rus... even Byzantia and the Abbasid Caliphate.
Before tonight, all of them were trivial kingdoms without gunpowder...
They were just men fighting in the mud with sharp pieces of iron...
