Standing upon the deck of the Iron Kingdom's flagship, Richard observed the surrender of Fort Dunseverick with the clinical appreciation of a master tactician.
Behind Richard stood four men whom he had personally selected from the ranks of the Iron Kingdom's auxiliary forces to serve as his dedicated followers.
Over the past few weeks of the voyage, Richard had spent hours lecturing these former mercenaries on the sheer genius of the Iron King.
The results of his indoctrination were effective, albeit slightly absurd.
The four men had essentially formed a fanatic cult of personality around Ragnar.
"I heard the Sovereign doesn't even sleep," whispered Hugo, a burly, scarred infantryman, his eyes wide with genuine awe as he watched the black smoke billow from the ship's stacks. "They say he just closes his eyes and calculates the tax yields of the barley harvest."
