Bjorn smiled warmly, folding the massive Byzantine banner over his muscular forearm.
He didn't ask for a victory feast, nor did he request a moment of profound silence for the fallen.
"Yes, Ulf, vent the valves immediately to prevent any seal damage. What's more, while you are over by the boiler, could you please pour me a hot cup of coffee? All this thick artillery smoke is making my throat incredibly dry."
Ulf grinned, completely unfazed by the bizarre normalcy of the request amidst a conquered valley.
He quickly jogged over to one of the massive, iron-plated steam-tractors that had hauled their heavy cannons across the plains.
Utilizing a small, highly customized copper spigot attached to the vehicle's secondary heating tank, Ulf poured a steaming mug of rich, dark Arabian coffee and cheerfully handed it back to his commander.
Taking a long, deeply satisfying sip of the hot beverage, Bjorn let out a happy sigh.
