Richard swallowed hard, his throat dry. "Yes, my King."
"I need you to go down to the docks. Find the main quartermaster on my flagship." Ragnar ordered, walking over to his armor resting on a wooden stand.
"The quartermaster?" Richard asked, quickly pulling a small piece of parchment and a charcoal stick from his coat pocket. "What supplies do we need? More black powder? Extra rations for the march?"
Ragnar strapped the leather over his broad chest and pulled the iron buckles tight.
"No," Ragnar grunted. "Tell him to get down the secret."
Richard paused.
"The secret?" Richard blinked, confused. "What exactly is that, my King? How heavy is it? Do I need to order the Norwegian dockworkers to clear a path, or bring heavy draft horses?"
"You don't need to know what it is." Ragnar chuckled, grabbing a fur cloak and throwing it over his armored shoulders. "Just go to the ship and say those words to the quartermaster. He will know exactly what to do. Now go!"
