Tyranny Of Steel-Novel

Berengar sat on the bow of the ship; in his hands was his MP-22 submachine gun, which he carefully cleaned. The salty air of the sea required the weapons of the Austrian force to be maintained regularly. Though they were finished with excellent bluing, which slightly aided in resisting rust, it was not nearly as effective as modern means of rustproofing.

His third wife, Honoria, was also cleaning her weapon by his side. The majority of the Marines who had been dispatched on this covert operation were all hard at work maintaining their gear to ensure it was in top shape for their arrival in Vinland.

Berengar, like the Marines beneath his command, was dressed in thick winter clothing, with a splinter camouflage parka, and trench-style body armor that was painted to match. Unlike his soldiers, though, Berengar did not wear a helmet. Instead, he wore an M43 style field cap which shared the same camouflage pattern as his parka.

Currently, it was towards the end of winter, and the beginning of spring, thus the land was still covered in frost, and the weather was dreadfully cold. Despite being a less than ideal time to venture to the new world, Berengar had decided it was best to begin his efforts now, especially since his family life had become somewhat chaotic over the past month.

It had been eleven days since the crew set off from the port in Trieste, and though Berengar knew that they were close to the shores of the New World, his team was not as optimistic. Despite this, supplies were ample, as the canned food became exceptionally useful on the high seas. Thus, there was no concern about running out of things to eat and drink for the time being.

Berengar used an oil-based product that he had imported from Byzantium to clean his weapon. While Austria had a decent oil reserve within its borders, Berengar had no intent to use this stockpile just yet. After all, he could consider it his strategic reserve, and he had not even begun production of refinement facilities, as well as combustion engines.

Thus he relied on the relatively crude oil found across the world in open pits to maintain his equipment. After he had finished cleaning his weapon, the young King of Austria heard a shout from a sailor whose job was to spot land.

"Land ho!"

Immediately Berengar reacted by putting his weapon back together and inserting a loaded magazine into its chamber before charging the open bolt mechanism and putting on its safety. After doing this, he slung it over his shoulder and issued his commands to the Marines who occupied the ship.

"Men, we are about to embark onto a new world, with various unknown factors! Under no circumstances should you panic; remember to remain calm at all times! If we come under fire, do not hesitate to eliminate the enemy; however, make sure to conserve your ammunition, as we only brought so much with us on this difficult journey!"

The battle-hardened marines beneath Berengar's command had dire expressions on their faces as they saluted their King.

"Yes, sir!"

While Berengar was lecturing his soldiers, Honoria rushed to the helm, where she helped bring the ship to the coastline of the landmass in front of them. If Berengar's chartings were correct, they would be off the coast of what was considered New York in his past life.

Because this was a steam-powered vessel with a triple-expansion steam engine, Berengar had opted to take the route from the coast of Iberia to New York. At an average speed of between 20-25 knots, the journey took eleven days to arrive at their destination.

Berengar gazed upon the vacant coastline with excitement in his eyes. This was not only a monumental journey in world history, but it was also a personal goal of his. He would finally be able to return to the land of his birth within his past life. Though he was not a native to New York, he had spent four years of University in the State and had some decent memories of his life there.

As he was reminiscing, the ship was settled off the region's coast, where Honoria and the crew deployed the anchor. After the boat had halted itself in the bay, Berengar issued a command to the sailors aboard the ship.

"Marines! Assemble, Sailors begin to deploy the Row Boats. We are heading ashore!"

While the crew currently operating the Sloop of War known as Queen Honoria's Revenge were getting into position, Berengar, Honoria, and the Marines boarded the rowboats, where they were quickly lowered into the bay. Upon hitting the water, they immediately began to row towards the shore.

While this was going on, Berengar stood at the head of the rowboat, proudly gazing into the distance. He decided now was as good as time as any to crack a joke, and thus he bellowed out in a voice for all his soldiers to hear.

"If any of you bastards step foot on the shore before me, I'll shoot you myself!"

Though Berengar said this with a hint of laughter, his men were smart enough to know that he was not joking. Thus they curbed their inner desires to compete with their King to be the first man to step foot on the New World. Ultimately they would have to settle for being the crew of the man who accomplished this.

Eventually, the rowboats made their way to the land where Berengar accomplished his goal; he stepped foot on the sandy shore with a broad smile on his face. The soldiers beneath his command began to pick up their rucksacks and supplies from the rowboats as they prepared themselves for the unknown. Berengar had a plan in place to set up a small frontier fort and a port capable of hosting the Sloop of War they had arrived in. Thus he immediately gave out his orders to the necessary units.

"Sappers, I want you to build a port immediately so we can bring the rest of the supplies from the ship to the shore. Second Platoon, your orders are to secure the perimeter, as for the rest of you, you will construct a fortress for our use, get your hatchets and begin to fell some trees!"

These marines were selected specifically for this expedition, and Berengar knew they were capable of fulfilling the task; thus, he sat back and watched as the soldiers beneath his command slowly but surely constructed shelter and a port. Now and then, he would make sure to guide them in the right direction to ensure that they were adequately secure from the elements and potential hostiles.

Berengar and his soldiers huddled together under a series of primitive lean-to shelters on the first night of landing in the new world. Within days, log cabins were constructed, and a proper barrier around it to ensure defense. A small outpost was fully erected by the time a fortnight had passed, and a primitive port had been established to act as a proper stationing post for their vessel.

Throughout this process, scouts from the nearby tribes observed these unknown foreigners' actions from afar, afraid to get too close and cause an unnecessary conflict with the strangely garbed men who had come from the sea. By the time their fortress was fully established, the Natives had become quite worried with the regular Austrian patrols.

They had no idea who these pale-skinned and golden-haired people were, where they were from, or their purpose for visiting the region. However, the rapid establishment of what appeared to be a well-thought-out fortress was beyond worrisome. Eventually, the word was brought back to the local Mohawk chieftain who was sitting within his longhouse, alongside his wife and two teenage daughters.

A young man by the name of Shosheowa knelt before the chieftain of his tribe before giving his report.

"Father, the pale skins have spent the last two weeks establishing a fortress on the coastline. They appear to have arrived in a large canoe which spits smoke into the air! There are hundreds of them. However, we dare not approach them. For they appear to be armed with strange weapons, the likes we have never seen before.

So far, it only appears that there are men among their ranks, as we have not spotted the presence of a woman. Could this possibly be a Warband from some tribe far across the great sea?"

The chieftain blew out a puff of smoke from his pipe as he reflected on his son's words. Whoever these men were, the fact that they were comprised entirely of males did not bode well for his tribe. If there were genuinely hundreds of these men, then it was a Warband of significant size.

However, the Chief was wise; his immediate thought was not to instigate conflict with the trespassers but to establish communication. Thus he gazed over at his eldest daughter, who spoke a total of fifteen languages, and addressed the girl with a worrisome look on his face.

"My dear Kahwihta, you are the only one who I can trust to communicate with these strange foreigners. I am tasking you to bridge the gap between our two peoples and ensure no conflict between us. I will order your brother and the warriors beneath his command to protect you on your journey. Make haste before some other tribe foolishly provokes these strangers and forces us to bear the pay the price of their ignorance!"

Kahwihta was a young woman; in her later teenage years, she was a beautiful woman with tan skin, brown eyes, and jet black hair. Her body was slender, but with curves in the right places, she was considered by the tribe to be their most pristine beauty. Though the chieftain worried for her safety in interacting with an encampment full of foreign men, he knew of none other who could take her place as a translator.

If anyone could effectively communicate with the strangers who arrived on the shore, it was his daughter. Thus the young woman nodded her head in agreement as she stood up from her spot and followed her brother out the door of their longhouse. Whether or not they would be the first native peoples to interact with the Kingdom of Austria and the German people had yet to be revealed.

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