Ragnar's army had been steaming north since he successfully annexed the Capital of Wessex into the Directorate's portfolio. It had been weeks at this point, and he could finally see the smokestacks of City Titan and its brutalist ferro-concrete defenses on the horizon.
It had been over two months since he first began his "Hostile Audit" of the South, and he had achieved an overwhelming monopoly against the luddite forces.
A warm, calculated smile appeared on the handsome Director's face as he stood on the cowcatcher of Locomotive No. 1, the "Screaming Kettle," muttering the words on his mind beneath his breath as the iron wheels clacked rhythmically against the rails.
"The commute is finally over..."
Ragnar's losses in the war were quite low; less than 200 "Interns" had suffered workplace accidents in the conflict; as for the Saxon levies that were conscripted, their number was a bit higher due to poor shovel technique.
