《Swiss Arms》


 Chapter 1

    Chapter 1-VB-


    [/b]


    The year was 1300 AD.


    "77!"


    "Hans is an odd boy."


    "78!"


    "He has been an odd boy since he could crawl. Get over it."


    "79!"


    "Still¡­"


    "His oddity makes our lives easier. Lay it off, woman."


    "80!"


    "Berthold, he should be getting married soon!"


    "81"


    "He''s only eighteen. He can wait a few more years."


    "82!"


    "You know that the girls from the village eye him every time you bring him there. And don''t think I don''t know how you keep meeting that innkeeper who has a daughter!"


    "83!"


    "So?"


    "84!"


    "So?! She''s not good enough for Hans!"


    "85!"


    "Who''s good enough for Hans, then?"


    "86!"


    "...maybe someone from the city will be better than out here in the valleys. He deserves better. I mean, look at him."


    "87! 88! 89! 90!"


    "Yeah, I know. He''s ¡­ more than us."


    "91!"


    "Have you asked your uncle yet?"


    "92!"


    "I did. He says he''ll come over to see Hans."


    "93!"


    "But not our other children?"


    "94!"


    "You know that he''s not getting any younger. I''m just happy I managed to convince him."


    "95!"


    "Not even for Jacob?"


    "96!"


    "Jacob has his own wife and child to think of. I am not going to tell him what to do anymore, even if the idiot needs it sometimes."


    "97!"


    "What about -."


    "98!"


    "Woman, lay it off. He''ll be fine."


    "99!"


    "..."


    "100!"


    I stopped and let out a steady stream of air.


    Ping.


    Habitually, my eyes looked up while my body continued its cooldown routine.


    [The Way of Warrior] Completed!


    -Monthly Quest-


    Objective:


    Running: 300/300 miles


    Vertical Swing: 3000/3000


    Horizontal Swing: 3000/3000


    Diagonal Down Swing: 3000/3000


    Diagonal Up Swing: 3000/3000


    Reward (Choose):


    *+50 EXP


    *+1 LvL to any Arms Skill


    *+1 to any Physical Stat


    I chose physical stat today and added the reward to my Strength, my middling physical stat. Once completed, I blinked to close the dimly lit and nearly transparent screen only I could see and headed towards the river to wash up.


    Walking away from my family home and farm, I opened up my status with a mental command.


    [Character Status]


    Name: Hans, son of Louis, of Ourzcvelt*


    Age: 18


    Title: N/A


    LvL: 22


    HP: 480


    MP: 200


    ST: 240


    STR: 39


    END: 48


    AGI: 35


    DEX: 44


    INT: 20


    CHA: 8


    I was well on my way to becoming supernatural. Most adults had ten points in each of the categories with charisma being the only exception where it varied from person to person.


    And the points gave me a linear growth. So I was four times stronger than the average man.


    Neat, huh?


    I could also use magic and make my own spells and skills.


    It was with these spells and skills that I intended to carve up my own little fief here in the Alps.


    I arrived at the river and quickly washed myself before heading back home. The family was busy preparing for lunch.


    I smiled. "Need any help, mom?"


    "Yes, go and get some eggs please!"


    So I did.


    Our lunch meal wasn''t anything special despite our family''s above average affluence for the area we were in: half a loaf of bread, a cup of diluted ale, and two fried eggs each for all six of us.


    When our meal came to an end, I cleared my throat.


    "Mom, dad. I will be leaving tomorrow."


    They turned to me in shock but not surprise. Mom looked sad and dad looked upset.


    "Your grand uncle is coming within the month."


    I shook my head. "Give Elsa, Ann, or Stephen a chance to go to the cities. I will be making my own path, dad."


    He was definitely upset.


    "You sound sure of it."


    I smirked.


    He frowned.


    "But you don''t own anything¡­" mom protested. "At least your grand uncle Albert can help you."


    "I intend to make my own farm elsewhere. Jacob will be taking over this farm, isn''t he?"


    He was, and dad looked a little guilty. "Look-."


    "I know. All of my siblings need your help more than I do," I replied honestly. I loved them, but they weren''t me. They would struggle in this harsh medieval life without help, not because they were incompetent but because life just fucking sucked.


    Dad sighed.


    "... fine."


    Mom fussed but she relented.


    And just like that, I set out the next morning to the free flowing tears of my family to make my own future.


    -VB-


    While I did tell dad that I would make a farm, I would be doing much more than that.


    I arrived at my destination some five weeks after I left home. I had traveled across most of the deep Swabian Alps - from my home in Erstfeld to Andermatt to Disentis to Hanz - before I got here.


    I looked around this quaint little valley where I saw only a small village in the far distance.


    In time, this place would become one of the three hearts of the Three Leagues which would then become part of the Swiss Confederacy in the far, far future.


    From there, I walked into one of the narrower valleys east of that quaint little village called Tavaus**. There, I found a quite little valley. It was neither wide nor narrow. There was also a river teeming with fish.


    It was perfect for me, so I set up camp and pulled up my skills.


    [Construction] LvL.1


    Reduces resource usage


    *0.5% reduction in material cost per level


    [Logging] LvL.4


    Increases damage to all wooden structures


    *1% increase to damages against wooden structures and items per level


    [Mining] LvL.1


    Increases speed of mining


    *0.5% increase to speed for mining a cubic meter of material per level


    [Carpenter] LvL.1


    Alters basic resource into advanced resource (tools and lumber required)


    These four skills would be my core skills for the coming week as I put up a house for myself.


    Unfortunately, every single one of them were underutilized and underused prior to today for a simple reason: a second son of a farmer did very little construction or mining.


    It would be painful, but I would be doing a lot of inefficient work.


    I laid down my backpack next to the small campsite I made at a sandy riverbank and lumbered towards the closest pine tree.


    I held up my hatchet.


    I brought it down.


    Again and again, I struck, and eventually, the pine tree creaked as it fell.


    "TIMBER!" I cackled as the tree slammed into the ground. "Alright, next one."


    And so the grind began.


    -VB-


    "Odd sounds in the woods?" Papa gruffed. "Probably birds."


    There were other men today in their house, which made mama upset because it broke the balance of the house, but papa and Derrick cared little about that.


    What they cared about was the weird noises people going towards the Davosersee have been hearing from the Fluela Valley.


    "What if it''s bandits?"


    Murmurs of agreement and disagreement flowed between the men.


    "Why make so much sound, then?"


    Again, they grunted and muttered.


    Alvia brought out some watered ale for them, and left quickly before any of the younger men gave her looks.


    "You lot didn''t see the black smoke that came out?"


    That was bad. What if whoever was in the first started a fire?


    "... we should investigate."


    The men looked at each other warily before nodding and left the house soon after that.


    The next morning, papa and Derrick left with a spear and pitchfork respectively.


    She just hoped it wasn''t anything bad.


    -VB-


    Three days.


    Three days of nonstop grinding for [Logging] and [Carpenter], dragging and rolling the lumber to campsite and then turning them into usable planks!


    [Logging] LvL.13


    [Carpenter] LvL.12


    I stared proudly at the nine half sawed lumbers and as many stacks of planks in volume waiting for me to use in building my new home.


    I then pulled out a Blueprint. It was a tool, not of planning but of actual construction. See, this Blueprint of mine allowed me to instantly materialize parts of buildings like players did with their Blueprints in R*st.


    Unlike the said game, I had no inventory and as such the resources for construction needed to be close to the actual construction site.


    Combined with a Hammer, a tool specifically for upgrading already placed building blocks, I got to work.


    And so I built.


    Six equilateral triangular foundations arranged into a hexagon came up first as twigs. The Hammer came out and I upgraded all of them into solid wooden foundations.


    Next I built the first floor walls, five walls and one doorway, and upgraded those, too.


    Then I built the ceiling and upgraded them.


    Finally, my [Craft] skill finished making a lock and a wooden door. I placed the door down onto doorway, making it appear instantly, and placed the lock on the door.


    With a click, my first home was done.


    Now, unlike R*st, I needed a different item to claim this building as mine. Instead of a cupboard, I crafted and pulled out a [Deed]. This was an item that, once placed and signed with my name, prevented anyone else from building on and near this building if they did not have their name on the deed.


    I placed it down and smiled as I saw a small green bar showed up on the edge of my vision to show my ownership.


    Done!


    Ping!


    [Construction has lvled up.]


    Nice.


    Well, I''m hungry, so I needed to fish for my breakfast.


    I turned around and opened the door.


    And paused.


    Standing at the edge of the riverbank were six men, half of whom were armed with spears, one with a bow, and two with farming tools.


    "... hi, neighbors!"


    -VB-


    Derrick looked around the place after the stranger came out of the house and began talking with father.


    It was now obvious that there were no bandits, just someone younger than him trying to turn this place into something worthwhile.


    But why build on the riverbank?


    The house looked sturdy enough if not properly insulated for the winter to come. There were logs neatly stacked within a few steps of the house, but there wasn''t much else.


    "Derrick, get over here!" father singled him out as he always did.


    He came over to the six men, who were smiling and joking. Father pulled him to the stranger.


    The guy looked his age, but he stood tall and muscular.


    "This here is Hans. He came from Ourzcvelt! He''s two years your junior but definitely your senior in bravery. The mad lad came all of the way over here to build himself a farm!"


    Hans pulled up an open hand towards him. "Nice to meet you Derrick."


    He shook the stranger''s hand. "Likewise."


    "So why here?" Gustav asked with a quirked eyebrow. "Wouldn''t it be easier to make a farm over where your parents live?"


    Derrick knew not much of the world beyond the valley just like most people here.


    Hans shrugged. "Because I could."


    A weird man. S?a??h the N?v?lFir?.n?t website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    Invitations for Hans to visit the village came out and their business was done.


    -VB-


    After the locals left, I checked my fish traps. I smiled at the common dace I found in the traps.


    "I am eating well this morning."


    With no spices, I made do with over-the-fire roasting and some herbs I found in the forest that I knew were good like garlic and peppermint!


    After breakfast, I decided that the next thing I wanted was a proper bathroom, bathtub included.


    I knew some plumbing, but at the very least, I needed some metals for it.


    ... I guessed that I was going to be mining. Where should I start, though? Across the river? On this side?


    Straight down?


    ¡­ Well, M*necrafters would have some strong words with me about that, but they weren''t here, were they? I wasn''t interested in making a giant mine in the side of a mountain that anyone could enter; I wanted something private, and a small vertical shaft mine was that for me.


    But I had no pickaxe.


    ¡­


    Well, shit.


    -VB-


    [Character Status]


    Name: Hans, son of Louis of Ourzcvelt, of Travaos


    Age: 18


    Title: N/A


    LvL: 22


    HP: 480


    MP: 200


    ST: 240


    STR: 39


    END: 48


    AGI: 35


    DEX: 44


    INT: 20


    CHA: 8


    Current Objective: Set Up Home [1/?]


    Current Quest: N/A


    -VB-


    A/N: * early medieval name for Erstfeld in Uri Canton, Switzerland


    ** early name for Davos, Switzerland

 Chapter 2

    Swiss ArmsChapter 2


    -VB-


    I made a pickaxe!


    [Wooden Pickaxe]


    The most primitive mining tool. Go get some flint, bro.


    Grade: Bad


    *+1 Damage


    As its description will tell you, I could do better. When my own system dissed me, I don''t exactly stand by and do nothing, you know?


    Grade of an item was how good an item was, and had effects of their own. Though I have not seen it, the highest quality an item can be was Deific. Like the name suggested, "only gods can make it." From there, it went Legendary, Artifact, High, Moderate, Common, Ubiquitous, Bad, Junk, and finally Useless. Useless was a -50% in stat efficiency; i.e., using a Useless pickaxe would not allow me to use all of my strength and endurance to chunk away at rocks. Junk was -30%, Bad was -20%, Ubiquitous was -10%, and Common was +0%. From there, Moderate gave +10%, High gave +15%, Artifact gave +25%, Legendary gave +50%, and Deific gave a x2 multiplier.


    This was on top of whatever the item did.


    So I made another one.


    [Flint-tipped Pickaxe]


    Better pickaxe than a wooden pickaxe.


    Grade: Ubiquitous


    *+2 Damage


    Better.


    Now, I wanted a private mine, so I built a different kind of shack. Instead of using triangular foundations, I used eight square foundations arranged into a square with the center foundation missing. Instead of walls, I added slanted roofs to all but one foundation so that there was only one entrance and exit. Oh, and yes, I added a Deed and a door with a lock. Can''t forget those.


    "Ah," I muttered as I turned back around to my house. "I need ladders."


    Once I got my hands on ladders and came back to the hole, I started digging.


    -VB-


    Diggy diggy hole~!


    I am a dwarf and I''m digging a hole!


    Diggy diggy hole!


    Digging a hole!


    God, I missed the internet.


    -VB-


    I got bills~


    I gotta pay!


    So I gotta work work work everyday!


    I got mouths!


    I gotta feeeeed~!


    So I''m gonna make sure everybody eats!


    God, I missed the music!


    -VB-


    I coughed like a asthmatic patient as I climbed out of my newly made mining hole.


    My entire surface of my body was covered in dirt and dust, my face and body were sweaty, and my character status had a very distinct debuff for me.


    [Miner''s Dust Lung: -25% Stamina]. I needed to be breathing fresh air for a full hour before it would disappear.


    "Hans!"


    I looked up and blinked. Why was Derrick here?


    "Hey yo!" I greeted the son of the Travaos village chief. "What are you doing here?"


    The man looked nervous. "You have to come quick! The baron''s called for levies!"


    "... Uh fuck," I muttered.


    I could say no, but that would make me an enemy of the village. After all, refusing to join the levy was tantamount to treason, but more importantly, I would be foisting off my burden as someone who lived in these valleys. Whomever was the lord of the area could take my refusal to help as a reason to punish them.


    But war¡­? I came all the way over here to avoid war, because I knew that historically, my hometown was part of Uri, which would become one of the founding members of the Old Swiss Confederacy, or as the Germans and Swiss would call it, Corpus Helveticum.


    "Is it a general call to arms? Is someone invading us?" I asked hurriedly while moving towards my house. I opened the door, closed it behind me, and quickly dumped my mining bag''s inventory of everything I''d just mined over the course of a whole day.


    "I heard from dad that the baron is having some kind of dispute with the prince-bishop over land. I think he means to go to war over it. We''re gathering the men to choose who''ll be picked to go as our promised levy of fifty."


    "Fifty? Doesn''t you village only have seventy-three able men? He wants to take two-thirds of the working men population?" During this era, women were rarely counted in such a thing, which was both good - because their population didn''t count towards required levies - and bad - because discrimination.


    Derrick grimaced. "What else are we supposed to do?"


    I gulped.


    Truth be told, I also didn''t know what to do. A lowly baron up here in the alps the Baron of Vaz may be, but he still had knights in his employee, and I was honestly nervous about fighting knights despite my near superhuman stat.


    Yes, I had four times the strength and five times the endurance of a normal average man, but I didn''t have proper weapons nor armor while knights did along with years of training.


    "... Okay, let''s go then."


    There were, as I heard before, seventy-four of us, including me, at the center of the village by the well.


    Standing there was someone I hadn''t met before, and he carried the banner for some noble house. With him were two people who I had to assume were men-at-arms, if the armor and weapons said anything about them. All of them were color-coordinated, or rather they wore the colors of their lord''s house: white and red, with a black eagle on the red side. The men-at-arms had mail armor on top of their gambeson, and just like the herald, had tabards on top of the mail.


    "I am a messenger of the Honorable Free Baron Fredrick IV of the House of Tommentak of Vas!" the man shouted. "Our lord is wary of the tyranny of the Prince-Bishop of Chur, and has called out to his people in case a conflict breaks out! This village of Travaos owes its lord, the Baron of Vas, a total of fifty able-bodied men to join the fight! I am here today to ascertain whether or not this village is capable of fielding such a number!"


    He looked over us.


    "And it seems that you are. I will have the fifty levies show themselves to me now."


    The chief made his way to the front and had a bundle of straws, and the men formed a line. I got in somewhere in the middle, and the line slowly moved along.


    And then it was my turn.


    I wasn''t afraid of war.


    Was I?


    I reached out, hoping for some reason that my hand and arm were steady, and then plucked out a straw too fast for my liking, as if I was afraid.


    Blank.


    I wouldn''t be going to war today.


    Pity.


    ¡­ Did I want to get picked?


    Did I want to go to war?


    As the crowd dispersed after the last pick, I left and got back home that afternoon. Feeling safe within the perimeter of my home, I thought.


    What did I want?


    I wanted a house to call my home, a variety of smaller things like my new mine and fishing traps to call my own, and ¡­ a few women, if I was honest. I knew that I could use magic, so maybe I''ll build a tower for myself or something.


    I also wanted to fight. I didn''t train for eight years, spending all of my free time swinging practice swords I made on my own and exercising physically, to not use any of it. However, I was not keen on using my skills for the sake of some nobles fighting over land in petty squabbles.


    How could I get everything that I want?


    The answer didn''t come to me.


    Undeterred by the lack of an answer, I got up and continued my home improvement.


    Next project: a furnace.


    -VB-


    By the start of my second week, I had a house, a vertical mine, and now a smithy. To be blunt about it, it was just a small furnace, no more than twice my volume, and a rock anvil.


    With it, I began to smelt the copper and iron I got out from my mine.


    [Construction] went up by another level and a new skill, [Blacksmithing], got made.


    [Blacksmithing] LvL.1


    Reduces cost of materials and speed of crafting while increasing quality.


    *0.5% reduction in material cost per LvL


    *0.5% reduction in crafting speed per LvL


    *1.0% increase in quality per LvL


    *At LvL 50, handless crafting for Blacksmithing may be engaged.


    Inexperienced as I was, I was at the very least enthusiastic about it. It was something new that I was learning, so I put my back into it as I pounded on the crudely heated ores to remove the impurities.


    By the end of the day, [Blacksmithing] was level 4 and I managed to create a very crude cast iron slab for future crafting. I would need to refine it later.


    "You''re a blacksmith, too?"


    I jolted and whirled around.


    Standing there was Derrick.


    Why was he here again?


    He looked upset.


    "What happened?" I asked him as I set my wooden mallet down. Unfortunately, metal was hard to get, and so instead of an iron hammer to hammer down on the ore, I had to make do with a wooden mallet. For the record, this was the fourth hammer I made for the beating; the other three broke and burned.


    "My father is going to fight." S?a??h the n0v?l(?)ire.?et website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    "..." What did the man want me to say? Sorry your dad is going to war and might not return? I turned back to my forge. I still had some more ores to melt down today. "I see."


    "I need to know."


    "Know what?"


    "You''re a warrior, aren''t you?"


    I paused before hammering away. "No," I lied as I moved the ores by hand and dropped them into the bloomery furnace. Once I had coal or charcoal production, I might be able to make something like a mini-blast furnace. I also needed a lot of materials I didn''t have now to make such a thing. For now, this would have to do.


    "But your hands. My father said you had to be a warrior. No common peasant like us -" he hissed the word as if it was a curse, because it honestly was. "- have callouses like yours. I need to know -"


    "I''m not going to go and replace your father in the levy call. I need to get my own home set up," I grunted as I grabbed the bellow handle and started pumping air at an even pace.


    I waited for the ore to be heated within the furnace. The Gamer system told me that it would be fifteen minutes.


    "I just need to know if I can replace pops on the roll!" he shouted desperately.


    I paused.


    I turned around.


    I looked at him up and down. He was older than me by a few years, but he wasn''t anywhere close to being a warrior or a soldier.


    "No. If this isn''t the first time he went to war, then he''ll have a better chance of living than you," I replied honestly before turning around again.


    "... What do you know about war?"


    I glanced over my shoulder before sighing. Derrick was that kind of guy, huh? He needed to smash himself into a problem at least once before he gave up.


    "Wait here."


    I walked into my house, closed the door so that he couldn''t see, and pulled out two wooden spear shafts from my inventory. I walked back out and tossed one to him. He caught it deftly.


    "Three hits. If you can land nine hits before ten minutes, then I will say that you have a better chance. But if I make you fall, then I will tell you what I thin-."


    He had the balls to strike first. He dashed forward and thrust the tip of the pole towards me.


    I parried it and let him back off.


    "... Good. Fighting is not fair. You understand that at least."


    Then I struck.


    -VB-


    Derrick tried to dodge. He really did.


    But Hans was too fast. The man, barely a man, moved like lightning and struck faster than torrential rain.


    He tumbled backward as he took ¡­ how many times did he get hit? He couldn''t tell.


    His chest, arms, shoulders, stomach, and legs all throbbed from being struck, but that told him the minimum he must have been struck in ¡­ two seconds?


    His hands dropped the pole and then he dropped to his knees.


    He gasped as his pain-wrecked body shuddered from an agony he''s only felt the likes of which he''s only experienced once before.


    "You."


    He looked up wearily at the hidden warrior.


    "Are not prepared."


    The brutally honest words of the warrior stung.


    "They would give you a month at best to train you, but depending on the situation, you might not even get a single week of training. Even if they do, they will drill you into being a meat shield for them. I could train you, but proper training takes time. You could train for a full year under me, but I still wouldn''t let you go to war. You would act, know, and fight just well enough to become a target and not strong enough to be an asset." He picked up his pole and walked back to the small smithy. "Go home, Derrick of Travaos. You don''t belong on the battlefield. You certainly don''t want to leave your parents to dig a grave for you."


    Derrick knelt there for ¡­ he wasn''t sure. Everything - body, soul, and mind - hurt.


    When it was clear that Hans had no time for him as the man went back to pumping air into his furnace with that bellow, Derrick stood up and limped away.


    -VB-


    I felt bad.


    I took out my frustration on a poor man just trying his best to watch out for his dad.


    I frowned as I dipped the hot metal into a bucket of water, causing the water to sizzle and pop and the iron to cool down.


    Pulling out the iron bar, I inspected it.


    [Cast Iron Bar]


    A block of high grade purity iron.


    Resource


    Grade: Common


    I set it down. This made it the tenth iron bar I''ve made today.


    I looked up to the sky and saw the sun just barely hanging over the mountain peaks to the west. I still had time.


    I got back to work.


    ''I was harsh but not wrong.''


    But the echoes of the sound of my hammer striking the iron ringing in this mountain valley felt lonely.


    What would be a solution to all this?


    Stomp.


    I paused and looked over my shoulder.


    Back and shoulders nearly reaching up to my chest, a creature that I have never encountered in my life stood on four paws. With a mass that outweighed horses and claws that could rend anything but plate and mail armor to asunder, it was a creature that a single person would dare not face.


    It was a bear.


    It wasn''t looking at me.


    It was looking towards where Derrick left.


    I dropped everything and stood up immediately.


    "Oi."


    The bear jolted and turned towards me. Its fur bristled as it quickly turned itself towards me before rising up threateningly.


    "If you are even thinking about going after my neighbor, you aren''t leaving here."


    It roared at me.


    I pulled out my only iron tool from my Inventory: the axe.


    And charged.


    -VB-


    Derrick jolted when he heard the roar and whirled around.


    That¡­ That came from Hans''s house!


    Limping as he was, he was no coward. He ran straight towards the camp.


    But stopped before leaving the forest.


    He watched with wide eyes. Hans was nearly flying with how fast he moved and jumped.


    The bear backpedaled.


    Strikes.


    Blood flew everywhere.


    The bear roared as it tried to strike back but it wasn''t the fearsome roar but of desperation and pain. Its strikes missed Hans, whose leisurely dodges left the bear for more retaliation.


    And then-.


    Derrick winced when he saw the hatchet in Hans''s hand come down in a blur and cracked the bear''s skull open.


    The majestic beast slumped onto the gravel ground and stilled.


    Hans merely scoffed at the bear before grabbing the scruff of its neck with one hand and dragged it away.


    With only one hand.


    Derrick gulped while he tried to keep his hands from shaking.


    That was a bear that men in the village would be scared to fight. It would take a lot of people to take it down.


    But Hans did it by himself.


    And how strong was he that he dragged a fully grown bear by himself with only one hand?


    Hans truly was a warrior, which made his words even worse.


    ''A liability on the battlefield at worst. A meat shield at best,'' his mind repeated after Hans.


    So was Derrick left to helplessly let his father go to a battlefield and die?


    He hung his head and left, his footsteps even heavier than before.


    ''If someone like him goes to war, then he''ll definitely survive,'' he thought. And then his mind went back home to his dad and the limp he tried so hard each day to conceal.


    The world was unfair.

 Chapter 3

    Swiss ArmsChapter 3


    -VB-


    Crafting an item took time. The product didn''t just magically appear in my inventory. This was true in life and marginally true in-game.


    My Gamer system took a middle approach. While my crafting system was definitely quicker than real life, the skill required me to go through the motions of making the item. Thankfully, I didn''t require sleep, and so when morning came the next day, I looked down at the result of my work.


    [Kettle Hat with leather face cover]


    No arrow is getting through this.


    Grade: Moderate


    *Any penetrating damage aimed at the head and is below 10 Damage is negated.


    *-20% to damage received


    Durability: 20/20


    [Bloodstained Bear Fur Cloak]


    It smells. No arrow is getting through this.


    Grade: Common


    *Any penetrating damage aimed at the back and is below 5 Damage is negated.


    *-30% to damage received


    Durability: 30/36


    [Rough Iron Chestplate]


    It looks awful but it does its job.


    Grade: Common


    *Any penetrating damage aimed at the chest and stomach and is below 15 Damage is negated.


    *-20% to damage received


    Durability: 40/40


    [Layered Fur Tasset]


    No arrow is getting through this.


    Grade: Common


    *Any penetrating damage aimed at the legs and is below 10 Damage is negated.


    *-10% to damage received


    Durability: 20/20


    [Iron Longsword]


    Weighing in at 5 kg and at 1.5 m, anyone who can wield this beast for the duration of an entire battle is a monster.


    Grade: Moderate


    *+50 Damage *-20% attack speed


    Durability: 30/30


    [Heavy Iron Dagger]


    made from a single piece of iron, it is top heavy and heavy overall.


    *+10 Damage


    *+50% attack speed


    Durability: 15/15


    Today, the men of Travaos would set out to join the baron''s army.


    I looked to the side.


    [Smoked Common Bream] x20


    Tastes pretty bad. Do you have some pepper, bro? S?a?ch* Th? ?ov?l?ir?.n?t website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    Grade: Bad


    [Assortment of Herbs] x20


    USed to improve a dish''s taste


    Grade: Common


    These should be enough. I mean, the baron was going to feed the soldiers, right?


    "God, I''m an idiot," I muttered to myself as I sat up.


    As one, all of those items in front of me and on the table disappeared and equipped themselves on me as I pressed a single [Equip All] function that appeared when I had all of the armors and weapons in front of me.


    Then I left my new home.


    -VB-


    "Oh, you are volunteering to fight?"


    The herald was still here in the village to my surprise, so I had gone straight to him. We were away from the rest of the villagers right now, talking behind one of the houses where the herald had his horse kept. Unlike yesterday, he did not wear the tabard representing his lord''s house but a gambeson.


    "Yes," I grunted while holding my armor to my side. "But I want some guarantees in loot. Consider it a pay for me. Instead of paying this mercenary with gold, you give him scrap."


    The herald seemed to think about it for a moment before smiling. "I am sure that His Excellency will accept such an offer. Of course, I have to ascertain exactly how good of a fighter you are first."


    I raised an eyebrow. "What would you have me do?" I asked.


    "Alex here is a man-at-arms of the baron," he spoke as he stepped aside and a blonde-haired and squared jawed man, obviously the man-at-arms, stepped up. "Don''t lose to him for two minutes. While our good man here is better as a cavalryman than a footsoldier, he is still an adept fighter."


    "... alright."


    "Excellent!"


    "I want that promise in writing in German."


    Alex and I stepped away from the house and off the road onto a grassy patch of unused land.


    By this time, some of the villagers had gathered to see what was going on.


    Dressed in red and white gambeson, Alex brought out a one-handed warhammer and a buckler.


    I inspected the man briefly.


    [Alexander von Lantsch]


    Title: Man-at-arms of Baron of Vaz


    LvL.17


    Age: 28


    HP: 150


    MP: 0


    ST: 75


    STR: 15


    END: 15


    AGI: 12


    DEX: 11


    INT: 9


    CHA: 12


    So¡­ was he strong? I couldn''t tell just from those stats. He was definitely above average, but not that much above most people. He must have some combat skills.


    "Start fighting in 3¡­!" the herald counted us off. "2-!" Alright, let''s try not to stand out too much. "1-!" I''m here to keep the chief alive. "Fight!"


    He approached me first before going for a strike with his buckler.


    I dodged it before dodging again as he tried to guide me into the range of his warhammer. Skipping back after dodging, I stopped and charged in.


    Alex waited for me, and when I struck horizontally, he parried.


    But I brought it right back towards him.


    My ability to reassert momentum through sheer strength caught him off guard and he arrived again, but I could see him wincing.


    Of course, he would be. My sword was 5 kg in weight, which was double that of most swords.


    He timed his parry and struck forward with his warhammer.


    This time, I d-.


    "Stop!"


    Both of us stopped, and Alex saw the tip of my blade in front of him. When he had attacked forward, I had jumped back and brought my blade towards him and stopped. My longsword being longer had put him at my mercy.


    "It''s clear that you are skilled and strong. I will be glad to speak on your behalf."


    I pulled my sword back and sheathed it into its scabbard, and then nodded to the herald. "My thanks."


    "Hans!"


    I looked over my shoulder and saw Derrick along with his father, and then I saw two women with them. One woman was old as the chief, and had to be his wife. The other was younger than Derrick. She had some pock marks that I was familiar with; they were scars from small pox infection. It was something most people had, whether it was on their face or other parts of their body.


    Even so, the little scars she had didn''t take away from her overall prettiness.


    Turning back to Derrick, I frowned as I pulled my leather facemask down. "What, you annoying bug?" I grumbled.


    "I thought -. I thought-?"


    Great, he''s confused.


    "I''m just here to earn myself some money and iron. Don''t mistake this for anything. I ain''t doing you any favor," I drawled. "I didn''t get picked for the levy, which means that if they want someone like me to fight, then they should pay me. Besides, I only arrived at the edge of the valley like a week ago, so I shouldn''t even be part of the village yet, right? I still got in line, though, and drew the lot, so the baron can''t make too much fuss about it," I said before pulling out my sword and showing them all a little trick.


    I spun it.


    I spun it faster than any normal human could. Spun it so fast that I began to generate a small gust.


    The herald and the men-at-arms looked at me with wide eyes, but they schooled their features rather well.


    The villagers looked at me in awe.


    I stopped and twirled the sword.


    "This thing is twice the weight of most swords out there," I added. "Imagine what a knight would look like after I hit them with it."


    "May I¡­?" Alex asked me.


    I nodded and handed him the sword.


    He held it up, and I saw a trickle of a sweat running down the side of his face before he gave it back to me.


    "... You must be a veteran of many battlefields."


    I chuckled. "Only a few skirmishes."


    I did have to fight off a trio of bandits on my way here from Ourzcvelt, so I wasn''t lying despite the fact that they died so easily. They were the people who generously donated all of their leather goods that I used to make the furnace bellow.


    The man snorted as he returned the sword. "... Let me reintroduce myself. I am the Master-At-Arms under the employ of Baron Fredrick IV of Vaz."


    I blinked just as the rest of the villagers murmured in surprise.


    A master-at-arms was basically the trainer and leader of all of the men-at-arms. This guy was basically a local bigwig.


    I sheathed the sword and gave him a more respectful nod. "Well met, then."


    He grinned as he extended a hand. I shook it.


    "Would you like to come and work for the baron?"


    My answer was quick and absolute.


    "No."


    Alex laughed as our hands parted. "I had a feeling," he said with clear disappointment in the loss of opportunity in his voice. "Still, you have offered yourself to fight in the coming conflict, so we will work together. Who knows? I might be able to convince you otherwise."


    "Fat chance of that. I got a home of my own to build in that valley over there," I gestured.


    A lot of the people present turned to look.


    "... Are you sure about that?"


    "Yeah."


    "That''s the Fluela Valley where it goes to meet the Fluela Pass. Bandits are known to come from there¡­" the chief replied.


    I raised an eyebrow. I hadn''t known about that.


    I glanced back towards the valley I had decided to call my home.


    I turned back and smiled. It was a smile filled with teeth.


    "I''m sure I could take care of them."


    After that, those of us called to war left Travaos.


    To Vaz.


    -VB-


    When "European conflicts" come up in conversation, a normal person might think of the likes of World War I, World War II, Napoleonic Wars, or even Hundred Years War. People memorialized those wars, and the stories of huge armies fighting one another across a theater of war spanning entire nations certainly possessed a morbid romanticism to them.


    However, the reality of the average European conflict carried none of those characteristics.


    It was petty, small, and almost universally forgotten except by those who lost something in it.


    This "war" was a good example of such.


    The master-at-arms Alex was very keen on getting on my good side (to hire me), so he shared a lot more details than what the average person knew.


    The current Prince-Bishop of Chur was not a greedy man, according to many of the men I travelled with, but he was a staunch ardent believer in the power of the church and that it was his duty as one of the principal shepherds of the Alps to consolidate the power of the church and take power away from the nobles who cared less about the people.


    When one puts the situation like that, the prince-bishop certainly sounded like a good guy.


    But the Baron of Vaz wasn''t a bad guy either. In fact, he sounded like the guy in the right in this conflict. The cause of the conflict was a land owned by a free noble between the barony and the prince-bishopric. The said noble died in some conflict in the Lowlands up north and left not a single heir or relative to inherit.


    By de jure, the land belonged to the baron under the Barony of Vaz. However, the prince-bishop was proclaiming that since many of the serfs and freeman living and renting the land, respectively, are parishioners of the Prince-Bishopric of Chur - because a church under said prince-bishop was closer to said land under both the Diocese of Chur, which was under the Bishop of Chur, which was different from the civil authority of the Prince-Bishopric of Chur, which was also under the Bishop of Chur, that had no civil authority to demand that the land be added to the Prince-Bishopric of Chur.


    Essentially, the baron demanded what was rightfully his, and the prince-bishop wanted what he thought was best for the people in the disputed area.


    "So¡­"


    "Hmm?"


    "Who has the lower tax rate?"


    The herald looked offended by the question while Alex chuckled.


    "Typical mercenary. Everything in your head is about money," the herald spat.


    I shrugged. "I mean, what''s land if not an indirect revenue of money?" I replied irreverently. "Rights and deeds are all about protecting that source of revenue."


    Ding!


    Huh?


    [Your words have rung true with your audience(33) and earned yourself a +1 CHA]


    ¡­ Thirty-three people are listening in on us?


    I looked around. Heads quickly turned away.


    ¡­ Could I farm some charisma like this? I mean, this was the first quest-independent stat gain I''ve had in ¡­ three years.


    I doubted it. I have tried it before in similar circumstances, and it never repeated. Having a system that''s actually balanced itself sucked as a Player, let me tell you.


    "Ah, there''s Vaz."


    I turned to look ahead of the troops and saw the seat of the barony''s namesake.


    It was a small walled city. It was bigger than any of the farming villages that I have been in and lived in, but compared to even the smallest cities from modernity, it was a pathetic city.


    "I assume there''s about¡­ a thousand or two people living in that town?" I asked Alex.


    "Yes. You have a good head on you," he hummed approvingly. "A good head, combat experiences, and good weapons. What don''t you have?" he asked jokingly.


    I responded to that seriously. "A harem of women."


    He laughed.


    It took us two hours to reach the town on foot, but we got there just as the sun started to set. The village levies and I were all led to barracks deeper inside the town, which was right next to a small hill that a small keep had been built on.


    Just as I was about to settle in for the night (because training any skills in a populated city throughout the night was not going to happen to prevent standing out too much), Alex found me first I could tuck in for the night.


    "The baron wants to see you."


    Well, there goes not standing out.


    -VB-


    Fredrick looked across the table at the would-be mercenary.


    When Alex, Fredrick''s cousin twice removed, returned with the herald from the farthest villages for his levies, he met with Fredrick and spoke very adamantly about trying his best to employ Hans into the service of the barony.


    Normally, such a minor affair would be left to Alex, but his cousin insisted that he should be the one to make a favorable deal with this mercenary.


    And after what he had seen from this Hans just half an hour ago at the training grounds outside, he knew that Alex had been right to advise him as he had.


    How many knight''s could claim to beat back five men-at-arms by themselves while fighting with the same equipment?


    Fredrick, too, had been mesmerized by the fluidity and the grace of the faints, parry, dodges, and strikes. Some happened too quickly. Others dragged on like a dance before ending with a flash of wood and a slap of wood on leather. At times, Hans used the numbers against his men.


    Hans was a knight, a warrior, unknown and without peer. If he had him in his service¡­


    "You only desire what would have already been your right to loot as your payment?" he asked incredulously. "''As much as you can carry''?" he read the contract.


    "Yes, Your Excellency. While coins would be nice, my home in the Fluela Valley is far enough and I am self-sufficient enough that coins would rot in my home for years to come," the supposedly peasant man explained himself fluently. "While I imagine that I would eventually gain iron and steel on my own, this conflict, should it come to pass, presents a faster and easier method of obtaining iron for myself in bulk."


    "And what do you plan to use those irons for?"


    "Components for my tinkering projects, Your Excellency."


    Fredrick blinked.


    "You are a very odd man."


    Hans merely sent him a goofy smile. "I am a little odd, yes."


    "Are you sure you won''t join my retinue? I can offer everything here in this contract and more! I am sure that my daughter''s would be eager to meet you, too. And a plot of land closer to the heart of the barony and even Chur would help you as well."


    "I am fine with my home in the gorges, Your Excellency. Perhaps I might sell my service again as a mercenary, but I wish to return home after this war to further cement my place there."


    The man refused again and again.


    ¡­ he would have to bide his time. Perhaps Hans would encounter a problem in the future that would be too much for him. He would step in then and earn the man''s gratitude. Then he wouldn''t be able to refuse.


    Sighing, Fredrick picked up the dove feather pen, dipped it in the inkwell, and signed off with a flourish.


    Hans did something else. He wetted flat of his thumb and then pressed down on the contract where the signature should be.


    "Why do you not sign?"


    Hans smiled and pointed at his inked thumb. "Because no one can copy this, Your Excellency."


    And that''s how Fredrick learned more than he ever wanted to know about fingerprints.

 Chapter 4

    Swiss ArmsChapter 4


    -VB-


    After a quiet week of final preparations for the forces of the baron, we marched out of the town of Vaz and towards the city of Chur. The whole army trudged forward in a disorderly line, clogging up half of the dirt road.


    From the front, I spied roughly four hundred men, which was a lot for a mere baron to call upon.


    Unlike the Far East, European wars and conflicts struggled to match the scale of the Asian ones; from what I remembered, the 16th century Japanese invasion of Korea resulted in more than a million casualties compared to the English-Spanish War which resulted in less than fifty thousand deaths. It wouldn''t be until the Thirty Years War that Europe would reach the same level, and that was because things like disease, famine, and other series of unfortunate events struck Europe at the same time as the war. But then the high estimate of eight million deaths of Thirty Years War would be dwarfed by the concurrent Manchu Conquest of China with its twenty-five million deaths.


    War was not a good thing. Just imagine how much labor a country could have gotten out of those dead people!


    But that wasn''t right now. The Thirty Years War hadn''t started. Martin Luther wasn''t even born yet. I was just participating in a minor war in a minor province in the dysfunctional Holy Roman Empire in the thirteenth century.


    The baron''s army had a rough composition of 5% cavalry, 60% spear, 10% close melee, 20% archer, and 5% others. Others being mercenaries like myself who weren''t one or the other when it came to classification. In my personal opinion, this was not an optimal army composition. There was too few cavalryman to cover the flanks. However, the baron was restricted to what he had nor was this region particularly war-prone to need someone like the baron to extensively prepare expensive warhorses for war.


    I frowned as the army walked over a hill.


    And then I caught sight of another army coming towards us from afar.


    "... This is where we fight, isn''t it?" I mumbled as I quickly looked around.


    It was a flat area with nothing between us. The hills had been just big enough to obscure each other until we were within half a mile of each other.


    "Archers!" the baron called out. "Form a line! All others, form a spear wall in front!"


    I looked at the other army. They were ¡­ bigger. Far bigger. At least twice the size of the baron''s army.


    This was going to be a mess, wasn''t it?


    My eyes widened as I saw -.


    "Cavalry!" I shouted as I pointed towards the left flank of the bishop''s army.


    True to my words, a hundred fully armed and armored cavalry stood waiting for their orders on the other side. That was three times more than our own horsemen.


    My brain quickly went through the numbers.


    This was¡­ this wasn''t going to be a victory for us. We had too few numbers of blockade the full length of the valley to negate the cavalry advantage nor did we have enough specialized shock-and-awe troops to burst through the middle of the enemy formation.


    Then the bishop''s side pulled up a white flag. A flag for truce.


    The bishop wanted to talk.


    I looked towards the baron.


    "Raise the black flag."


    The charcoal-stained flag came up.


    It was going to be a direct fight.


    The baron''s army quickly moved to obey him.


    The bishop''s army moved as well.


    My eyes widened as I realized what was happening. S?a??h th? N?v?lFire.n?t website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    The bishop already knew that the baron''s army had been coming this way. His army had been here and ready.


    I snapped my attention back to the baron.


    The idiot hadn''t even scouted!


    "This is going to be a bloodbath," I mumbled to myself again, but the others next to me heard me. I quickly got into position at the far right flank of the army, which was probably where the cavalry was going to hit. I knew that I was putting myself at risk, but dammit if I didn''t try something!


    And then their cavalry thundered forward.


    "Alex!" the baron shouted.


    "Got it!" the master-at-arms shouted back from atop his horse. "Men, to me!" he roared, and the baron''s men-at-arms, all of them horsed, thundered forward.


    "Good luck!" I shouted after them, and Alex gave me a salute. It might be the last time I see the man. The brave fool was going out there to fight a force three times his.


    The bishop''s army began to march forward.


    "Hold the hill!" the baron roared. "It''s easier to stab down than it is to stab up!"


    I watched the cavalry clash and grimaced. The enemy formed a wedge and drove our already small cavalry into two, and then smashed into them with lances.


    "Archers, get ready!"


    There was a cacophony of wooden sticks behind the frontline while the distant whines of horses and clash of metals filled the front.


    "DRAW!"


    Our cavalry got routed near instantly. This was bad.


    "LOOSE!"


    Just as our fleeing cavalry sped towards us, the archers loosed.


    Our cavalry was safe as they ducked underneath the arrows.


    The others weren''t.


    Instead of chasing, they turned.


    Except for a small group of them who decided to charge into the hail of arrows after the fleeing cavalry.


    Shields held up above their heads, the arrows rained down on them, and only one horseman and his horse fell.


    Our cavalry blitzed by me.


    I didn''t see Alex among them.


    In an instant, I wrestled the spear from the hands of my neighboring peasant and hurled it.


    With the strength of five people in my body, the spear flew true as if it was an arrow.


    And slammed right into the vanguard horseman''s horse.


    The horse and the horseman tumbled, and the unexpected tumble got the others behind him to crash into him. Those who weren''t right behind quickly brought themselves to a stop and fled right back to the bishop.


    I blinked in surprise. Damn, if I knew it would be that effective, then I would have made a bunch of spears, even if they were only wooden without any iron speartip.


    "HOLD!" the baron ordered again.


    Okay, one flank attack stopped because the enemy was arrogant enough to travel so closely (probably to decrease the chance of arrows finding a target).


    And then the arrows shot up from their side.


    "SHIELDS!"


    I just wrapped myself and the man who I stole the spear from with my bear cape and then ducked.


    Arrows came whistling in, and then -.


    T-t-t-t-thunk.


    When no more sounds of arrows came, I pulled my cape back to peer outside.


    More arrows.


    "ARCHERS, KILL THEM!" the baron roared desperately.


    T-T-T-Twang!


    "GAH!"


    "H-H-H-"


    And then arrows stopped raining.


    I pulled the cape back with a flourish and grimaced after looking over the frontline.


    A tenth of the spearmen were dead already.


    I looked towards the bishop''s army, and noticed less than five percent casualty.


    So¡­ our three hundred fifty versus their seven hundred.


    I drew my longsword from its sheath.


    50 feet.


    40 feet.


    30 feet.


    20.


    10!


    5!


    I jumped forward, spinning my longsword into a wind blurring rotation.


    The spears that came thrusting towards me found their tips and shafts being cut away.


    And then I was upon them.


    My blade slashed into regular peasant clothes. Flowing with the momentum of my first strike, I came spinning right back and cut a man''s stomach apart. I ignored the entrails flowing out and spun again.


    I carved a bloody path into the flank before the cavalry could do so to ours.


    A sword jabbed forward blindingly fast from within the ranks of the enemy as I spun, but it bounced off of my chestplate. It wasn''t a peasant levy but a man-at-arms, armored in padded gambeson and with a sallet covering his head.


    For the attempt, I sliced his skull in half horizontally, cutting right through his helmet like a hot knife through butter.


    Men came at me with spears.


    I grabbed one and pulled it back as I backpedaled. Twisting it out of the man''s grip, I returned it to another spearman by throwing it and piercing his chest.


    Then I jumped over their concerted strike.


    They watched with wide open mouths. And then realized just how close I was.


    My longsword swept through them like a scythe harvesting wheat.


    Then I noticed a small crack.


    Grunting at my own work''s inferiority, I ducked underneath a few strikes and grabbed the sword of the man-at-arms I killed.


    It was pitifully light, but maybe that was the point of this particular¡­ shortsword.


    I took a step back and launched myself while unclipping the bear cape.


    As spears came at me, I pulled my cape forward and spun it around. The speartips caught in the fur and bundled up wildly and out of their owners'' grasps.


    Again, I took a step back, but I did this again to unfurl my cape and pull out the spears I''d just confiscated with a parlor trick.


    ¡­ Was it me or were there more of them?


    Then I jolted in surprise when I heard a roar behind me and ten horsemen bearing the banner of the baron charged forward, parting around me like a river.


    Grinning at the backup, I quickly hurled a spear at a soldier trying to unhorse my ally, and grinned in satisfaction as he went down. The cavalry broke through the men and thundered around, leaving me alone once again until they could come around swinging again.


    The soldiers of the bishop turned towards me: the immediate threat.


    With my longsword in my right hand and the shortsword in my left, I grinned maniacally and held my ground.


    "COME AT ME!" I roared.


    Because each man I killed was a spear, a sword, an armor piece, and more that would go to my home!


    The now desperate soldiers roared out and charged at me.


    -VB-


    Gasping like a man stranded in the desert for days, I pushed myself up slowly from where I had been kneeling.


    I had fought for an hour - a full fucking hour! I glanced at my stats and grimaced.


    Despite being an absolute superhuman Chad of a warrior, I was down to a third of my HP and single digit STA (energy). If I had to fight for even five more minutes, then I would have been a goner from being overwhelmed.


    ''The might of human numbers, pioneered by China and Russia!'' I thought hysterically.


    But it hadn''t.


    The battle ended when our center broke through as their flanks collapsed.


    And it was a victory for the baron.


    The baron''s banners flew in the sweeping winds of the Alps proudly atop the hill.


    The flag of truce came up once again from the routed bishop''s army.


    I watched as the baron went down to meet the bishop.


    And came away with a paper in hand.


    "Victory!" he roared.


    And we cheered.

 Chapter 5

    Swiss ArmsChapter 5


    -VB-


    The baron of Vaz''s unexpected and near total victory against the Bishop of Chur at the fields of de Curwalde* sent a ripple throughout Grisons.


    For one, for a mere baron to defeat a Prince-Bishop of the Holy Roman Empire was staggering. Two, he won whale having a numerical and quality disadvantage. Three, he suffered minimal losses compared to the bishop.


    Because as devastating as losing over a hundred man was for an army of four hundred, the baron and his army culled a horrific five hundred and thirty deaths from the bishop''s eight hundred. It didn''t matter that the commander was a bishop; a prince of the realm was foremost a military commander of the land they held, and the bishop had not only shown that he was an incompetent commander but also that he was a wasteful lord who lost so many lives and gained nothing in return.


    The critical error the bishop fell into was committing his forces and not pulling back when the tide turned against him from the get-go. He could have peppered the baron''s force as long as he needed to, and he would have gained more advantage as he whittled the baron''s army down.


    But he hadn''t.


    While the mysterious defeat of his cavalry after they routed the baron''s left them spooked, a little more time spent to calm them down and then back out again would have been enough to harass the baron''s weaker left flank.


    But he hadn''t.


    When his army suffered an obvious disadvantage of attacking uphill, he didn''t use his superior numbers to surround them, which would have made an assault easier.


    But he hadn''t.


    He did nothing but order his men forward, and they died needlessly.


    Prince-Bishop Siegfried von Gelnhausen proved himself weak, and his vassals and his neighbors all saw opportunities. With a Holy Roman Emperor not recognized by the Papacy and too focused on the Burgundian lands, there was a distinct lack of oversight.


    He could have been excused - because things happen outside everyone''s control - if he gained something but gained nothing after losing half a thousand troops?


    The neighboring lords, trapped in their poor mountainous lands, eyed the bishop of Chur''s fertile valleys and important mountain passes that dominated the south to north trade.


    War would come to my new home.


    But I hadn''t known that at the time.


    At the time, all I saw was ¡­


    -VB-


    I helped carry the fallen to where the baron set up camp, right on the spot of our victory.


    One of the very first I helped carry was none other than Alex.


    The cousin to the baron had charged in to delay the enemy cavalry and paid the ultimate price. When I found him, he had three holes puncturing his chest right through his plate armor.


    If the grief on the other men-at-arms was anything to go by, then he would be dearly missed.


    It was just too bad for me that I never got to get to know him more.


    As for the baron¡­


    He stared at the signed document in front of him on the table, surrounded by his advisors, which included me apparently.


    "It is-. Alex''s death is a loss for the barony and I," he began. "His family''s needs will be seen to as long as this barony belongs to me." He turned to his herald, who actually turned out to be his squire. The man hadn''t participated in the battle at all, staying with his lord throughout the battle and standing by as his bodyguard. "See to it."


    The herald-squire bowed in acknowledgment.


    He then turned to the representative of the levies, who was none other than the chief of the Travaos**.


    "Get me the name of all of the fallen. Though it may seem small in comparison to their passing, the fallen''s families will receive a share of the victory."


    He bowed and left.


    Finally, he turned to me.


    "... You are a monster of a warrior," he said factually. "If they said you were Charlemagne reborn, then I would not doubt them."


    I chuckled politely. "It would be a high praise."


    "Indeed. I watched you fight. I will tell you this right now and right here. If you had not held the right flank by yourself for the whole battle, then I would have lost and everyone who died would have died meaninglessly. I thank you for that. My squire will give you the promised reward."


    "Your Excellency," the squire spoke up. "We do not know how many men he''s killed¡­"


    "Then give him every single piece of iron, leather, armor, and anything else found at the right flank of the battle. Everything," he spoke with a tone that brooked no argument. "If there is too much for him to carry, then get him a cart and an ox - an enemy horse if there''s one available - so that he can carry it back home."


    "Y-Yes, milord," the man uttered subserviently.


    I bowed in thanks.


    "Before you leave, I must ask. Is there no way for you to become one of my knights?"


    I straightened myself and looked at him in surprise.


    "We have already visited this, but upon seeing you in action, I can''t help but ask. Should you accept, I will act according to your previous wish. You will be my vassal knight and have a portion of my land. In return. I only ask that you take charge of that land''s defense and collect tax on my behalf."


    ¡­. Holy shit. He was serious. The right to collect tax was no joke.


    I wanted to test him but not test him so far as to offend him, so I quickly spoke up to put a stop to this.


    "I apologize, Your Excellency, but I do not wish to fight for a living." I certainly wished to fight, but I was not about to let someone else make that a responsibility.


    The baron, who had very likely been ready to give me an offer too good to refuse, stopped and sighed. "Perhaps another time."


    Stubborn man.


    "Yes¡­ milord." I paused. "Then by your leave¡­"


    "Yes, you''re dismissed."


    The moment I left the command tent, I found a message for me from the System.


    Ping!


    [Battle of Churwalden is over! Calculating EXP gain¡­]


    ''Huh. So my system wasn''t one of the standard ones.'' Normal games would have calculated the gains as the kills happened.


    [Congratulations! You''ve LvLed up! +5 points]


    ''Hot damn. Five levels in one go?''


    I dumped all of the stat gains from level-ups into agility. I was already plenty strong and enduring enough. Getting faster would allow me to do even crazier stuff while endurance and strength boosts would only net me diminishing returns. I will still invest in them occasionally, but speed was the way to go right now. S?a?ch* Th? N???lFire.n?t website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    Standing in the middle of the hill, I flexed my body a little. I really couldn''t tell much difference.


    With my supernatural changes noted and dismissed, I made my way down towards the battle site to claim my much necessary loot.


    I ignored the blood discoloring the green summer valley and arrived where I''d slain so many.


    I picked up weapons and shields out of the ground and stripped the enemy of their armor (and clothes, if it was fine enough).


    When the wagon arrived, I had a stack of weapons, armors, and clothes as tall as my waist. I had definitely profited from this battle.


    The men-at-arms who brought the wagon to me stared at the pile with obvious envy.


    Ignoring them, I loaded up the wagon with all of my loot and took a hold of the handles.


    And pushed off as the soldiers gawked at me.


    To home!


    -VB-


    I stopped by Vaz along with the rest of the army, and sold off one of the spears in exchange for simple pots, and exchanged one sallot helmet for ten bolts of fabrics in various colors, though limited to just brown, green, and an ugly dim red.


    As I took these home along with my loot, I realized that I had a way to make money.


    Dyes!


    I had a small mining hole, so if I went mining and ever brought up any minerals I could use for dyes, then I could sell that dye for iron!


    Genius! I am smart!


    ¡­ actually, now that I called myself smart, aren''t I dumb for not thinking about this in the past decade and a half I have been able to think and act?


    ¡­ stupid! I''m so stupid!


    Still, I can''t wait to go back home. There''s so much I needed to do.


    -VB-


    When Kraft came home with the rest of the village''s survivors, he had a lot of thinking to do as the funerals began with the local priest, Father Meram, heading the funeral sessions.


    As the father said the rites for each of the deceased as their families wept, Kraft could only think about the future of Travaos.


    After all, nearly a dozen had died from his village alone when the baron and the Prince-Bishop of Chur had an argument over a parcel of land he had heard to house no more than a hundred villagers. He wondered if his sons and daughters would die in such arguments.


    He glanced at his respected rival, the village''s only blacksmith, as he wept on the ground before the grave of his eldest son.


    That could have been him.


    He was thankful to God that he had gone instead of Derrick or others because in the battlefield, only the strong survived.


    He nearly laughed at the thought in the middle of the funeral rites. That could have been bad.


    He survived, but he wasn''t strong. So perhaps he had said it wrong.


    In the battlefield, only the strong thrived.


    He had seen the newcomer from Uri, how he fought in the battle.


    A man''s body split in two as it flew away.


    A dangerous roar thundered out as two dozen spearmen attempted to end him.


    Spear shafts splintered and broke and their tips failed to penetrate.


    Blood flowed like water from the metal plates the warrior wore.


    His sword, chipped and jagged, cut into another body and tossed it aside.


    The bishop''s soldiers backed off, but their center was failing. If they didn''t push¡­


    The monstrous warrior laughed as he held his hands up in an inviting manner. "COME AT ME!"


    The desperate enemy soldiers charged, but just as many soldiers fled.


    They ran like the Devil was after them.


    Kraft flinched as he focused back on his fight and barely managed to dodge a spear thrust. He struck back, thrusting his own spear forward in the


    general direction of the spear that tried to kill him, and winced as his own spear punched through the man''s poorly made gambeson. He did not like the squishy flesh and blood he felt through the pole.


    When the enemy soldier he speared didn''t go down immediately, several other spears flashed and stabbed into him with body shuddering rips.


    Kraft shuddered.


    He just killed a man. Again.


    He glanced at Hans, the newcomer. His eyes widened as he caught sight of the man grabbing the arm of a swordsman who struck too deep. His eyes tried to follow the motion as Hans somehow twisted the man around with only two pulls, and then-.


    Kraft closed his eyes as the image of a man''s head twisting in place flashed to the front of his mind again.


    Hans ignored how he nearly ripped the man''s head off and continued to strike to kill.


    The seemingly jovial and optimistic man he met in the forest not too far from the village was a monster.


    If Hans decided to make the village his little fiefdom like the bishops and barons did, then could anything stop him?


    He knew that a hundred men wouldn''t be enough: half of them died and the other half ran in the battle.


    If he was truly honest with himself as God the Father asked of all of his children, then he must admit that Hans scared him.


    Eighteen years old and a killer of half a hundred men, if not more.


    A person like that wasn''t from around here. Though he had the tongue of the valley folk, he must have been a veteran of a hundred battles.


    How else could such an efficient killing warrior be born aside from experience?


    The service came to an end, and he walked away with the rest of his family.


    He caught sight of Alvia as she whispered something with her mother.


    And then he had a horrible idea.


    It would be ¡­ depending on how it turns out, it could be the best idea or the worst idea.


    He gulped.


    -VB-


    [Character Status]


    Name: Hans, son of Louis of Ourzcvelt, of Travaos


    Age: 18


    LvL: 27


    HP: 480


    MP: 200


    ST: 240


    STR: 39


    END: 48


    AGI: 60


    DEX: 44


    INT: 20


    CHA: 8


    Current Objective: Set Up Home [2/?]


    Current Quest: N/A


    -VB-


    *Modern day Churwalden, Grabunden, Switzerland


    **Reminder: Travaos is the old name for the modern-day town of Davos.

 Chapter 6

    Swiss ArmsChapter 6


    -VB-


    I hacked out coughs like an old man with asthma as I sat outside my tiny vertical mine. Grabbing the candle miner hat, I dropped it to the ground and kept coughing.


    Having spent the last four hours underground with only a candlelight to show me the way, I came back out with a very meager return. I had hoped to find some good things, but unlike my hopes, most of what I had found underground so far have been smattering of minerals and base metal ores.


    I checked the reinforced burlap mining bag to check what I had.


    Gold Ore x2


    Raw Malachite x1


    Raw Garnet x1


    Raw Jet x90


    Feldspar x522


    Low Grade Hematite x201


    High Grade Hematite x43


    Coal x728


    Dirt x5090


    Cobblestone x3111


    With each unit being one cubic centimeter, I supposed that cobblestone could be used for construction, and all of the Hematite could be smelted down for their iron. Coal would help with that.


    As for the gold ore and the raw gemstones, they needed to be smelted or cut, so the end result would be far less than what I had now.


    And what was feldspar for?


    [Feldspar (Ore)


    Despite being an unassuming ore, it is used in glassmaking and ceramic making both its aluminum''s hardening properties and flux capabilities, respectively.


    *Available Quest: Porcelain


    *Available Quest: Glassmaking]


    ¡­ That''s new. I''ve never had an ore give me a quest before. s?a??h th? N0v?lFire(.)n?t website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    [Quest: Porcelain


    Porcelain is a very valuable trade good that all of the world is willing to have. Learn how to make one yourself.


    Time Limit: 6 months]


    [Quest: Glassmaking


    Don''t you want glass windows? Start learning how to make one and make one!


    Timelimit: 6 months]


    They were very vague quests, too, and showed none of the rewards or requirements beyond a time limit, but then I paused my thoughts as my System pinged me, and saw that the [Miner''s Dust Lungs] debuff finally ran its course, which meant it was time for me to head back into the mine.


    I hefted up my [Iron Pickaxe], which I had forged from two iron swords.


    [Iron Pickaxe]


    A proper tool for rock mining!


    Grade: Moderate


    *+8 Damage


    I turned back towards the mine but then stopped. I just spotted something in the periphery of my vision and turned to look.


    To my surprise, it was the Travaos chief.


    ''Umm¡­ what was his name again?'' I thought to myself before setting down the bag and the pickaxe before walking up to him, meeting him near the boundary of my so far claimed land.


    "Hey, chief!" I greeted him with a wave of my hand, and I also noticed that he was with a few others. "What brings you here to my corner in the gorge?" Calling this tiny valley a gorge was doing it disservice but it also wasn''t wrong. The widest portions of the valley was only two hundred yards across and fifty yards at the narrowest. In my opinion, this "valley" was narrow enough to be considered a gorge.


    "Just checking up on you, Hans," he greeted me with a gruff and smile. The smile felt uneasy to me.


    I looked over his shoulder. He brought with him a young woman and two young men. "And who are they¡­?"


    "Ah, these are two of my children that you haven''t met yet, though they have seen you in action when you sparred with that man-at-arms at Travaos. The girl here is my daughter, Alvia, and the boy here is my oldest, Arnold."


    Arnold bowed and Alvia curtised, and I nodded back to them.


    Wait, wasn''t Arnold older than me? Why was he bowing?


    "Well, welcome to my humble abode," I greeted them with a wide gesture towards my house and more.


    ¡­


    Alvia looked around this place.


    It looked ¡­ too much like her village.


    For someone whom papa had sung praises in fear and respect about, Hans lived a very normal life. He lived just as she and her family did. He farmed (odd garden plots with odd plants), hunted (fish traps and a bear hide being tanned), and ¡­ mined?


    His house was different. It wasn''t a house; it was a tower. It was also constructed using stone for the first floor and wood upwards.


    "Didn''t your house used to be completely made out of wood, Hans?" papa asked him.


    "Hmm? Oh yeah. I changed it up a little."


    Papa looked at him oddly.


    "... Right, from wooden walls to stone walls within a week."


    Hans laughed nervously. "I''m just ¡­ strong!" he tried weakly.


    Papa looked at him suspiciously now. "If you say so."


    "What do you do out here?"


    Alvia turned to her brother, who looked around in confusion. "I don''t see farms in the making or enough fish traps to feed you."


    "Oh!" Hans smiled. "I mine."


    The three of them looked at the odd man.


    "You mine?"


    "Yup. I dug a hole in the ground, and, well, I haven''t gotten much," he replied. He reached into a pocket in his pants and then pulled out -.


    Her eyes widened as she saw the uncut green rock shining between his fingers.


    Oh my.


    "I don''t know who can facet the gems," Hans spoke as if he wasn''t holding the yearly wage of their family in his hands. "So I guess I''ll have to do it."


    "... There are gems in our mountains?" papa asked quietly.


    "I mean, all rocks and mountains have gems," Hans shrugged. "It''s just hard to find the right place for a profitable quantity. And let me tell you, these mountains are not worth the gem hunt."


    "Then why dig a hole, as you say?" her brother asked.


    "Because I wasn''t looking for a gem, not really." Then he crushed the gemstone between his fingers. Alvia froze at the casual disregard for material wealth. She watched as she rubbed his fingers together and showed them his colored fingers.


    "I am looking for pigment."


    "... Are you sure you''re not some noble?"


    "What? What made you think that?" Hans asked cluelessly.


    "Regular folks don''t go mining for colors."


    Hans paused and shrugged. "I guess we don''t. No, I just have a lot of free time, that''s all. I mean, I am not a farmer, so when I pay tax, I''ll be paying in either iron or random gems I do find."


    "How¡­"


    Hans turned to look at her.


    "Yes?"


    "How would you turn them into gems?" she asked.


    "Ah! You would need a few tools for it, but I know how to make basic tools, so, yes, tools."


    "Can you tell me more?"


    She found what she wanted to do for her life.


    She wanted to be gem cutter.


    ¡­


    I wasn''t sure what happened. One moment, I was having a conversation with the chief and his two children, and then in the next moment, the girl was right up against me, holding my hands, and asking to learn more about gem cutting.


    I looked panickedly at the chief, who blinked in surprise as well.


    "Um, Alvia-" I spoke up.


    "If you agree, then I will let her stay here."


    I turned to Kraft in shock. I thought medieval parents were supposed to be stricter than their 21st-century counterparts!


    "But why?" I asked. "I''m not even a gem cutter!"


    I did not like the way Kraft shrugged. It felt like he was foisting her onto me. Was she an unwanted child or something?


    "While you''re taking my daughter, can you also train my son?"


    Bruh.


    "Maybe if you get me five bags of wheat a month, sure-"


    "Done."


    Fucking what?


    "What?"


    "Five bags of wheat, yes? For making food? Done."


    I looked at him incredulously as he walked away, leaving the two kids - adults? - in my care.


    What in tarnation-?

 Chapter 7

    Swiss ArmsChapter 7


    -VB-


    Arnold liked working here.


    There was a sense of improvement and creation that was lacking in Travaos and its monotonous daily grind.


    Here, Hans built himself a new home, and Arnold got to help out. He wasn''t sure, however, why Hans bothered to make timber walls around a massive area. In fact, it was so massive that there was only one real way through the valet now: through the walled-off gatehouses that now led through this keep.


    Hans was an unnaturally strong man. He lifted and dragged an entire timber log by himself, dug holes by himself, and brought the timber log to its place so that it could slide in.


    He was also smart and educated. He knew things that boggled Arnold''s mind.


    Though Hans claimed that he was not a noble, he spoke well and had manners befitting a noble or knight. He spoke of alchemy and astrology. The beginning of all creations, the way God Almighty shaped this very world, and the wonderful creatures he put on it all for His children''s sake.


    It made him like Hans. He shared freely and laughed without contempt. He didn''t belittle him or his sister for not knowing what he knew.


    This, however, made him feel guilty about what he and Albia were supposed to do.


    Father had asked Alvia to ¡­ seduce Hans.


    Arnold got into a fight with his father over that, but now that he was here and saw a lone man build a wooden keep - and wall it off - by himself with no help from the only other man in the gorge, he knew why his father had asked so.


    Still, what had he seen on the battlefield to get him to make such a decision so decisively?


    "Arnold, can you check if there are fishes in the trap?" Alvia called out from the other side of Hans''s tower.


    "I will!" he called out to Hans.


    It was also shocking to Arnold that Hans insisted on cooking, and in the week he and his sister lodged here, Hans had been not just gracious but also generous.


    Every dinner, he served fish or meat and knew how to cook.


    His mouth watered at the thought of fish "pan-fried" with salted butter. Sure, he liked meat more, but Hans cooked everything well. Alvia certainly liked learning how to do the things he did.


    He left the walled compound and walked towards the river. S~?a??h the ??v?lF?re.?et website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    He frowned as he came up to the river and knelt down by the fish traps.


    No fish.


    ¡­ this could mean meat dinner.


    Grinning, he stood back up but then paused.


    "Ah, man. There''s fish in there," he muttered to himself as he walked over to other traps and found the fish.


    He reached in and grabbed the slippery beasts before walking back into the keep. He walked around the edge of the compound and then made it to the front of the tower.


    To his surprise, he found Hans training.


    He swung his massive sword (Arnold might have made a joke about overcompensation, but Hans wasn''t small down there as far as their river bath had shown him) at a steady and fast pace.


    The wind blew gently but firmly with each of his swings.


    Arnold walked around the training man and stood next to Alvia, who watched Hans with eyes no brother liked to see in their little sister.


    "How long has he been doing this?" he asked her.


    "For the past hour."


    Arnold''s eyebrows shot up. "An hour of swinging that massive sword?"


    "Yes. And that''s after he did that ''push up'' of his."


    "He did a hundred and he still has the strength to keep swinging?"


    One of the things he learned so far was how to count and do "basic" arithmetic. Hans taught both him and Alvia in this.


    Being able to count higher than fifty was great.


    "Yes," Alvia hummed with a faint blush on her cheeks. "At this rate, I''ll be the one seduced."


    Argh, he did not want to k on the details.


    "Where do you want the fish?" he asked.


    "In the kitchen."


    The kitchen was a newly constructed attachment to the first floor of the tower. It had the same size-sided shape as the tower.


    He dropped the fish into a small tub filled with water. Hans liked to keep his fishes fresh and did something with them with his very fancy and sharp knife. Something about a quick death for better taste.


    When he walked back out, Hans was still swinging.


    Could he become as strong as Hans?


    He looked up. Oh, the sun was setting.


    "Herr Hans! It''s time to make dinner!" Alvia called out as she moved towards the kitchen. Hans paused mid-swing before he let the sword drop gently.


    The lightly sweating man walked over to a "showerhead," which was a device Hans made to drop water on top of him for cleansing and pulled the lever to let himself get soaked.


    Arnold was going to wait until the fires in the kitchen started; Hans had made it so that the stored water for the "shower" would get heated when there was a fire on in the kitchen.


    "Coming."


    -VB-


    Alvia saw a world beyond the valleys, gorges, and mountaintops of her homeland.


    When Hans described a flat plain as far as the eye could see, she didn''t believe it.


    But then he drew it.


    Using charcoal and on what he called "paper," he drew for her the "Eurasian Steppes." It was a place of unending grass and a sky dotted with fluffy clouds.


    Oh, she knew why she was here. She was here because her father was afraid of Hans, but now that she spent time with him, she wasn''t sure why he was afraid of Hans.


    Sure, Hans was monstrously strong. She knew of no one else who was capable of picking up a long log thicker than he was and put it on his shoulder, carrying it over to a hole, and then planting it deep inside.


    Well, she didn''t really care about that.


    No, she was far more enthralled by his "toilet."


    It wasn''t a latrine, but some kind of complex device that vacated the large bowl with a comfortable wooden seat of the filth it received. With a clean flush of water from a jar above, it sucked up both water and the filth up, and according to Hans, and tossed them far away far down the stream and away from any wells.


    There were other devices in Hans''s house just like the toilet. Things that she never thought of or heard of. It made her wonder if these were normal outside her village''s quaint valley.


    "And done!"


    This was another thing.


    It was a new device he just made on the spot over the course of the day. It had a round wooden board on top, but if someone pressed down on the "pedal" at the bottom of the device half as tall as she was, then it would spin.


    Then he fitted some kind of stone he''d prepared yesterday.


    "This will help you facet the gems I find," he grinned. "Don''t worry about making mistakes!" he added as he pulled out another "paper" and set it down on the table next to this grinder. The paper showed her all kinds of shapes and sizes that she could learn how to "facet" the gems into.


    She watched as Hans sat down and pulled out a few gemstones, though none of them were particularly big. It took him a few gemstones, but by his third try, he had a cube of malachite by using the rotating stone to grind away at the gemstone.


    "Like this!"


    She held the roughly cut malachite cube and fell in love with it.


    "C-Can I try?"


    "Yup!" Hans grinned. "It''s not like I can sell them since no one passes by this place, and I''m too busy, so have fun with the gemstones I leave at the table. Just know that if there are none there each morning, then it''s either that I haven''t gone into the mine or there was nothing for me bring back that day."


    And then promptly unloaded from his pocket a small burlap pouch. He untied the string holding the mouth of the pouch closed and gently emptied the pouch sideways onto the table.


    Alvia''s eyes sparkled at the sight of red, blue, green, and more.


    "Oh, by the way, if your village has scrap metal, you''ll tell me, right?"


    She nodded absentmindedly.

 Chapter 8

    Swiss ArmsChapter 8 s?a??h th? N?v?l(F)ire.n?t website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    -VB-


    Zernez


    Fingers drummed on the wooden table.


    Only two valleys away from the Bishopric of Chur, the head of the Wildenburg noble family sat within a small room dedicated to his family''s gathering. All of the family''s important members were here. His retired father, his son, his daughter-in-law, his grandson, and he all sat in a circular table wide enough to comfortably keep them occupied but not too wide enough to make them feel distant from one another.


    "The Bishop of Chur lost," he opened up. "And lost a significant chunk of his levies along with his men-at-arms."


    "You wish to use this chance to break us away from the zealous bishop''s influence," his elderly father, Ulrich von Wildenburg, spoke up.


    "I do, father," he nodded. "Unfortunately, the damn baron who won against the bishop stands between us and the bishop. If his martial prowess is anything to go by from his victory over the bishop, then he would not idly let her pass through his lands."


    "But of course. Our two families have been at odds for years," his son, Terrance von Wildenburg, agreed while ruffling his short light brown hair before letting his hand drop again. Ruffling one''s hair was kind of a trait among the Wildenburgs*. "But is the baron not also weak from losing troops?"


    "Ha!" Rudolf von Wildenburg barked out a laugh. "Saying he lost troops is like saying he gained nothing. He lost a few men-at-arms and levies just like the bishop but not in the staggering numbers. Why, I heard that the baron barely lost a hundred troops!" This came from a merchant who sold goods at baron''s seat of power and had traveled south and then north to sell his goods at their castle town. "In fact, I wager that he is very tense right now and more than a few levies have been hired on as full time men-at-arms to replace his lost ones. He must know that the beating he gave the bishop won''t go unnoticed or not taken advantage of."


    "... Then should we not strike when we have the chance?" Hugo, his grandson, asked.


    "Yes, but the baron will have his troops ready. Our Greifenstein Castle does not hold enough men to surprise attack the baron and win. No, if we must attack him, then it must start from here in Wildenburg Castle and Zernez."


    "How do you suppose we do that in a timely manner?" Terrance asked him.


    "The Fluela Pass," his father hummed. "We can use it to cross directly into the baron''s lands. If we capture all of the villages in the valley while moving quickly, then we will no doubt prevent him from raising levies in that area. I suspect that depending on how quickly and successfully we conquer, the baron might not be able to raise any levy in the Landwasser Valley."


    "How many men do you think we need, great-grandfather?" Hugo asked.


    "I wager at least five hundred."


    "Which ¡­ would be everyone we have," Rudolf grunted. "It''ll leave Wildenburg with barely a hundred men as a garrison."


    "But to miss this opportunity of a lifetime?"


    "It''ll be the fall of our family if we lose," Ulrich grunted. "But it is a risk worth taking if only because there will be too many other vultures who are after Chur."


    Rudolf agreed with his father.


    "... This will be a low war, won''t it?" Hugo asked with a sigh.


    "It must be if our family is to secure our future," his daughter-in-law, Adelina von Wildenburg nee Bormio, sighed. "We will do what is possible to keep the soldiers disciplined. After all, those villages will soon be under our control."


    Rudolf agreed with her.


    "What about our neighbors to the south?"


    His family continued their discussion until the sunset, but by then, they had come to a decision.


    Landwasser would be theirs.


    -VB-


    Landwasser-Fluela, Barony of Vaz


    "Did you hear?"


    I did not hear anything but gestured for Kraft to go on.


    "The bishop got into another war. His northern neighbor, the Count of Sargans, is attacking him for Freudenburg while the Count of Toggenburg is attacking him for Maienfeld," he told me.


    This was the first time he''s visited me since he dropped two of his children off with me (it felt weird for me to call someone around my age "children" but then they were his children), and brought with him news of the outside world.


    Apparently, the Bishopric of Chur was under assault from all sides, and shit didn''t look good for us, too. Travaos was within the Barony of Vaz, which had been a part of Bishopric of Chur until a month ago. The short duration was enough casus belli for most lords to bring Vaz under their control.


    I think I needed to prepare, one of which included finishing this month''s scheduled training quest for a stat boost. I might also have to block off this valley so that no one who used the Fluela Pass could strike at Travaos without running over me.


    After all, that village was Arnold, Kraft, and Alvia''s home village; I wasn''t going to let it burn without doing at least something about it.


    "Thanks for telling me," I grunted. "I''ll have to improve the defense of my home, just in case someone from the other side of the mountain decides to come over here," I said while gesturing towards the pass.


    Kraft stared up at it, slightly pale, and then looked back at my home.


    "I think you''ve done well on defenses."


    I snorted. "It''s not wrong to be overprepared but it is certainly wrong for one to be underprepared," I remarked before standing up from the log facing the small campfire near one of my guardhouses. "It might be time for you to take your kids with you."


    He hesitated. "Have you¡­ done anything with them? My daughter?"


    I squinted, looking down at him while trying to determine exactly why he was asking about Alvia specifical¡­ly¡­


    My eyes flew open as the implication set in. "Oh no no no no!" I vehemently rejected. "I haven''t touched her that way!"


    "But you touched her¡­?" he asked with his eyes covered by his bangs covering top half of his face.


    "No! I just had to show her how to cut the gemstones!" I begged.


    I was not going to be accused of eloping with a girl when I haven''t even popped my cherry in this life yet!


    "... I trust you."


    "You do?"


    "To take care of my daughter."


    Oh God No.


    It took me the whole day that nothing had happened between us, and Arnold attested to it. I wasn''t sure why Kraft looked upset with his son about confirming that nothing happened.


    Kraft took his children with him as he left, and that left me free to operate as I needed to.


    Which meant no more dragging logs like I had to last time! No more stacking logs one at a time into a hole! Or digging holes!


    Huzzah!


    Seriously, building the high wooden walls took me so much longer than it had to because I had to hide my supernaturalness from the two Kraft-Travaos (my way of giving them unofficial surnames: a mix of their known parent''s name and their village of origin; officially, none of them had a surname that my System recognized).


    I rolled up my sleeve and walked over to the pile of logs waiting for me.


    It was time to start making more walls, and after that, training time!


    -VB-


    Vaz, Barony of Vaz


    Fredrick, the newly independent free-baron of Duchy of Swabia in abeyance, glared down at the letter in his hand.


    No, it was not a letter but a declaration of war.


    The Baron of Sax-Misox claimed the Mans*** portion of the Aluenude**** that was under the Barony of Vaz. The greedy baron cited "historical ties" and for him to hand it over.


    It was all rubbish, of course. Sax-Misox saw an opportunity and wanted to jump in to claim a piece of the wounded lion. Frederick would fight against this greedy bastard. Let him come!


    ¡­ But he knew as well that he was not strong. In fact, the only reason he won that battle in the first place despite numerical disadvantage was because of Hans. He wanted to call Hans to Vaz, but also knew that Hans was better used fighting potential enemies who might use the frequently traveled Fluela Pass to invade the Landwasser Valley.


    No, he had to fight this out himself, no matter how painful it would be.


    Perhaps it was time to hire more men-at-arms and, failing that, mercenaries.


    He began calling up his men.


    Now was not the time to celebrate.


    War was coming to Vaz once again, and he and his men will stand against the tide of would-be plunderers!


    -VB-


    Landwasser-Fluela, Barony of Vaz


    It took me only one day to complete what I had to slow down to complete.


    Not only did I surround the first set of walls with a "china wall," a Rust in-game term for a high wall made using foundations, floors, and walls from the Construction Blueprint and not High External Wooden Walls, I also built a second set of high external walls around that! The china wall also served as an internal pathway for access up to the battlements of the china wall.


    Then I also extended the second external high wall to completely wall off the more easily traversable areas of the valley.


    My home stood out like a true fort from a distance, which also unnerved me. Would I and my home be mistaken for the local noble''s fortification and come under assault?


    ¡­ Maybe.


    Probably.


    Most likely.


    Still, I preferred that I came under assault since I could take it better than a normal villager.


    Now, it was time to put up additional defenses like wooden barricades all along the outer wall. Each wooden barricade consisted of lap-jointed three-inch-thick wood poles sharpened at both ends and separated by six inches between each cross and took up a volume of two yards long and one yard high and wide. I placed down at least a hundred of these.


    As I did so, I lamented my lack of iron which I could have forged into wires and metal barricades. It would have done a much better job than wooden barricades which broke much more easily than metal barricades did. In fact, I was half-tempted to make World War I trench wire set up, but again, I lacked the iron reserve nor time to make those.


    It took me another day to finish the new line of defensive barricades.


    Perfect.


    Now, I had time to train and finish the monthly training quest.


    "718! 719! 720!"


    I was going to be here for a while. Probably do away with sleeping, if only for a day or two, because I wouldn''t be addling myself with sleep-deprived exhaustion with unrest about to hit the area. Still, I guessed that I was being ultra-conservative with those time estimates. Despite my past life''s modern sensibilities still believing that the medieval world was filled with nothing but agony, pain, and war just like how movies and games liked to portray, the truth of the matter was that the Vaz-Chur war was the first big war that''s happened around these parts.


    There''s no way that another war of that size would break out less than two months after the last one ended, right?


    Right?


    "734! 735!"


    Just keep swinging~. Just keep swinging~.


    "736!"


    Just keep swinging~.


    -VB-


    [Character Status]


    Name: Hans, son of Louis of Ourzcvelt, of Travaos


    Age: 18


    LvL: 27


    HP: 490


    MP: 200


    ST: 245


    STR: 39


    END: 49


    AGI: 60


    DEX: 44


    INT: 20


    CHA: 8


    Current Objective: Set Up Home [3/?]


    Current Quest: N/A


    -VB-


    *Not much is stated about the Wildenburgs. This is one of the things I made up.


    **Changed Vas to Vaz to clear up confusion.


    ***modern day Mons Albula


    ****Modern day Albula/Alvra


    A/N: Yes, Hans like to call on Murphy more than is healthy.

 Chapter 9

    Swiss ArmsChapter 9


    -VB-


    Alvaschein, Grison


    Fredrick, the Free Baron of Vaz, glared across the small field that was to be the battlefield.


    Across the field, the damned Sax-Misox baron waited with his own army. Unlike Fredrick, he had both his men-at-arms and levies at the ready and outnumbered Fredrick''s army by a large margin.


    Fredrick really didn''t want to take the fight here, but he must. If he fell back any further, then he would give even more of the higher ground, and considering how devastating he''s made high ground against the Prince-Bishop of Chur, he was in no mood to let that happen to him.


    He could move his army no more than three hundred yards behind him to a small forested hill, but that would leave the wide passage from Alvaschein to Albula open. If he did, then he would be cut off from his own barony. The steep forest to the north that stretched the whole width of his valley made moving his troops through it to reach his barony a possibility, but one that would definitely result in him losing manpower when he couldn''t.


    "I really should have sent for Hans," Frederick grumbled. The only blessing he had was that their number of men-at-arms matched evenly.


    No, this was the place to fight.


    "Form up!"


    He would let them come to him.


    Then he heard something from his right. From the very forest he was reluctant to travel through.


    Frederick turned his head, almost reluctantly, and then his eyes widened comically as he saw armed and armored men coming out of the forest.


    A dozen. Two dozen. Four dozen.


    It was an army matching his army in number, but all of them were armored and armed like men-at-arms. They were less than a hundred yards from his own men.


    Frederick gritted his teeth when he saw the sigil they carried.


    He snapped his face towards Sax-Misox.


    "You son of a bitch! You hired mercenaries from Uri?!" he roared. He snapped back to his men. "Turn! Turn!" he shouted as he saw from the corner of his eyes as Sax-Misox sounded the charge while shouting something in Romansh and not German. Whatever it was said to them, his words made their charge less hesitant.


    Seeing their allies charging in, Uri mercenaries slowly advanced forward with their halberd pointed forward.


    "Tighten up! Form the phalanx!" he shouted to his men, and unlike the levies, they listened. They pulled up their shields and their spears forward.


    There was no way he was going to win this battle, but he could hold out -!


    And then the frontlines clashed.


    Men thrust spears forward from both sides, arrows flew freely, and mercenaries¡­ mercenaries were trying to flank him.


    "Step five paces back! Don''t let your comrades die!" he ordered loudly.


    But then it was too late. All of it was too late.


    His left flank dissolved as ten mounted men-at-arms broke through the few men there, and moved deeper to the back of his line. What few levies he had broke at the sight of the dead and dying, and the men-at-arms tried to defend themselves by allowing a few of their numbers to turn around to stab the cavalry with speartips.


    But that was enough for the Sax-Misox charge to stab a few of his men-at-arms.


    The middle broke. And then the right broke.


    "Retre-!"


    fffwwWEEEEPPPP-!


    Urk!


    He staggered and reached for his throat. He felt a wooden shaft. An arrow.


    "''Uoo¡­-!" he coughed out as he lost strength in his body.


    With trembling hands reaching out even as his son tried to reach him, he felt the darkness close in on him.


    ''Why did this happen, God?'' he thought weakly but then he saw the final blow to his forces.


    His son, who tried to reach for him, his good boy who never did anyone wrong, screamed as half a dozen arrows bit into his back.


    Frederick wanted to cry, but the pain in his neck and from falling onto his back stopped him.


    He watched as his son''s eyes dulled before him.


    And then a stampede of boots came upon Fredrick''s own eyes.


    Crunch.


    -VB-


    Landwasser-Fluela, Barony of Vaz


    "Kraft, what brings you here today?" I asked my neighbor(?) as he walked up with a wagon pulled by him and Arnold. They were making their way up the small hill that obscured the lower valley from where I stood right next to the walls of my compound.


    I walked a bit forward and saw that it wasn''t just Kraft with his wagon but an entire caravan of people.


    What the fuck?


    "What the hell is happening, Kraft?!" I turned around with a whirl.


    The man looked exhausted from pushing the cart up the mountain valley. That was a whole fifty-yard altitude difference (I believed)!


    "Hans¡­!" Kraft tried to say something but he was too out of breath. Instead, I turned to Arnold while walking up to the handles of the cart and -. Wait, why was Alvia and who looked like her mother in the cart?


    "Arnold?" I asked the man''s son.


    "It-It''s the baron, Hans. He died in battle!"


    My eyes widened.


    How¡­ What?


    "When?!"


    "No more than a week ago," Arnold grunted as he pushed the cart forward. I stopped him, moved him out of the way, and pulled it forward myself. The cart moved far further with me at the helm. Arnold, also breathing hard, gasped with his hands on his knees before he recovered and "helped" from the side. "He and the Baron of Sax-Misox fought each other, but from what I heard, there were Uri mercenaries involved. Our baron lost, and Sax-Misox and Uri are looting the entire valley right now."


    I almost froze.


    Uri?


    That''s¡­ that''s where I''m from.


    My neighbors there were¡­ some of them were mercenaries.


    I gritted my teeth and tried not to think about it all as I pushed forward. Then I gently lowered the handle once we were at the front of the guardhouse - or custom gates or whatever else Rust players called it - before turning to Kraft. The old man recovered somewhat, but he wasn''t faring well. "And what''s the wagon caravan about?"


    "It''s the entire village, Hans," he said, and looked apologetic. "You sent Arnold and Alvia back to us thinking that there might be a danger coming from the other side of the mountain, but there''s now danger coming from the valley itself. Survivors have already reported villages being burned and pillaged by the mercenaries."


    "Swiss killing Swiss? What the fuck is happening," I grumbled before I realized that there was no "swiss" identity yet. Hell, if I remembered it correctly, then this area and the surrounding region didn''t even become part of Switzerland until after Napolean! That''s five hundred years from now! Or four hundred. Doesn''t matter!


    "What''s swiss?" Arnold asked me with a frown.


    "Doesn''t matter," I replied with more snap than I intended. "So the rest of the people down there¡­"


    "Are from our village. Others have moved on towards north."


    "I don''t have room for a hundred people, Kraft! Why did you bring them here?!"


    "Because your keep is the only thing that can keep us alive!" he snapped right back at me.


    I couldn''t even fault the man. I hated the fact that he just sprung this on me, and I was not cold enough to reject them. Not when women like Alvia and her mother who were behind me would have been raped - if not killed afterward - when pillaging and looting happened.


    I couldn''t just look away when that shit happened to people I knew!


    "Did you at least bring food to last the fall and winter?" I asked with a hiss. Because fall was fast approaching, and there was no way they could have harvested their grains already. It didn''t fall yet so it wasn''t ready.


    "Everything we had."


    I gave him the stink. "Is that enough for the fucking fall and winter?" I asked again.


    Despite my cussing, he looked down, biting his own lips.


    "No."


    "Fucking-!" S?a?ch* Th? N?v?lFire.n?t website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    The situation was devolving fast becoming Don''t StarveTogether, not Rust.


    "How many people?"


    "Forty."


    Forty?! My home/base, by my standard, was good for no more than ten people! Forget cramped, we would be packed like sardines!


    "We''re willing to fight if you would have us."


    I paused.


    ¡­ It was true that it would be a mess to keep my home safe by myself. Anything more than a hundred people, which wasn''t even an army, would leave me too tired to defend myself. If I had even ten people with me manning the watchtowers and shooting arrows, then defending my home wasn''t out of the picture.


    "I have rules about sanitation," I relented.


    "It''s your home, and I''ve heard of them from Alvia and Arnold. We''ll be sure to follow them."


    "And make sure the rest of your village does, too," I added with a defeated sigh. "I expect everyone to train with bows and spears, alright?" I demanded.


    He nodded rapidly.


    "Good," I grunted before opening the doors of the guardhouse. "No more than three carts inside the walls. The rest are to be kept out here, understood?"


    The smiles I got blinded me with their relief.


    I felt guilty about thinking to use them as manpower.


    As the refugees from Travaos made their way into my compound, which was much larger than when Alvia and Arnold had been around (the two were looking at me with wide eyes and mouthing about how much bigger the keep was), I realized that there was a chance that my dad or my brothers might be among the Uri mercenaries.


    I really hoped they weren''t part of the mercenary contingent and that the mercenaries won''t come this way.


    I really really hoped. No.


    I prayed.


    -VB-


    Zernez


    Rudolf rode before the assembled troops.


    This sort of opportunity came once in a lifetime, and he intended to take this chance by the reins.


    Standing before him, his one hundred and fifty men-at-arms looked disciplined. Good.


    Behind them, the three hundred levies from all over his county stood at the ready. Even better.


    And beyond them stood an extra one hundred mercenaries from Bavaria that his family had hired on the fly over the last two weeks.


    This gave him a total of five hundred and fifty troops, which was fifty more than he expected. This was good!


    "We will conquer Landwasser," he claimed loudly. "And we, the victors, will claim the bounties that we so deserve for being able to stake our claim in the annals of history!"


    His men-at-arms cheered.


    "Today, we march! Landwasser and its fertile valley will be ours!"


    "To the glory of Waldenburg!" they cheered.


    And so, they marched.


    To glory!

 Chapter 10

    Triple the usual volume.-VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 10


    -VB-


    Fluela, Barony of Vaz


    The sound of over half a thousand men marching forward made Rudolf feel stronger than he ought to feel. That was alright, though, because as soon as the Landwasser valley came underneath their family, they would divide it up for him and his children to rule.


    The most crucial of the territories, however, would not be within the valley itself but this Fluela Gorge, where the Fluela Pass connected Landwasser to Zernez. It would be through there that taxes would be passed through, mostly in grain, and so control of the pass itself would have to remain with him or his heir to not cause issues in the ruling of the county. Of course, depending on how long his family could keep their rule over Landwasser quiet, they might be able to get away for a long time, maybe even up to a generation, on how much tax needed to pay.


    "Milord, scouts have returned," his right-hand knight, Sir Conrad, spoke while trotting up to his side, pushing some of the mercenaries out of the way. "It is important information."


    Rudolf did not like the sound of that. Conrad was a serious and blunt man. A little incapable of thinking ahead but he more than made up for it by being able to swing that heavy longsword of his with ease. When Conrad said something was important, it was, and if it was important, then it was usually bad news.


    "What is it?" he asked the man with a put upon sigh.


    "There is a wooden fort blocking the entire width of the easily traversable portion of the valley."


    He blinked and turned to look at Conrad. "A fort? Up here in the gorge?"


    "Yes," his knight replied. "It was Johan and Memin, milord."


    They were good men and even better men-at-arms. They wouldn''t say anything unneeded or report falsehood. If they said there was a wooden fort covering much of the width of the gorge, then there was a fort-like that up ahead and around the bend.


    "How far ahead and are they aware of us?"


    "Unknown, milord. Johan didn''t want to approach a fort held by possible enemies."


    "Good approach," he hummed. "If there is a fort here, then it could only be held by the baron. It must be taken down for us to reach Landwasser valley."


    "Shall we prepare for a siege?"


    "No. That will take too long. We will break down the gate and storm the fort. For a small fort, there can''t be more than a hundred men, if that."


    Conrad nodded and quickly trotted off. "Prepare for battle!" he shouted as he ran up and down the length of the marching army. "Prepare for battle! The enemy fort is up ahead! I want the mercenaries on the center and right flank! Archers are to be behind the center!"


    The somewhat relaxed men jolted, almost stuttering in place, as they watched one of their commanders give out orders.


    While his soldiers and levies halted on this downhill route and readied themselves, Rudolf spurred his horse forward towards the aforementioned scouts. The two scouts, his men-at-arms, bowed when they saw him approach.


    "Milord," they called together.


    "Johan. Memin," he acknowledged each of them. "Tell me about what you saw."


    The two men looked between each other for a moment before Johan, a blonde bearded yet bald thirty-year-old tall man, spoke first. "The walls looked sturdy, milord, even from afar. Far sturdier than the walls of Zernez castle town," he reported. "The walls are also pretty tall; we''ll need at least a ladder or three to four men on top of each other''s shoulders to get over the wall."


    "And the gate?" Rudolf asked.


    "They had a fully functional gatehouse, milord," Memin, a wide-eyed brunette with a strawberry nose, grunted. "It''s a small double door, barely worth being called a gate, and I wouldn''t call it that, milord, if the doors weren''t metal."


    "... Metal doors?"


    "Yes, milord, surrounded by a fully stone-built gatehouse. It''s a short gatehouse, but on top of the gatehouse are some nasty-looking spiked barricades. Climbing that is not going to be easy, especially when the only gatehouse facing this side of the valley has a pair of watchtowers behind it and the walls."


    This was turning out to be a bigger issue than how Johan first presented it.


    "What flag does it fly?"


    The two looked at each other. They were like that, these two brothers. "They had no flag, milord."


    Rudolf blinked. "No flag?"


    "No flag, milord."


    "... So it could be a bandit hideout for all we know?"


    "If that''s the bandit hideout, milord, then we have a bigger problem at hand than fighting the valley folks."


    The shorter and cheekier strawberry-nosed man was right. If there was a bandit clan capable of making a fort so quietly and quickly, then it was one capable of fielding enough bandits to make that fort in the first place, which had to be a lot because a fort didn''t come to life in under six months (the last time he got a report of this area from the merchants).


    "... Be honest with me, Memin."


    Memin used to be a bandit.


    "If that''s a bandit fort, then how many bandits can we expect?"


    Memin grimaced. "At least a hundred. Minimum one hundred and whatever poor fuckers they pushed into service."


    Rudolf bit his tongue before he could cuss and alert everyone to possible trouble.


    Under one hundred was manageable but over one hundred was not, especially when that hundred plus bandits had a fortified position to strike from.


    "But would a bandit build a fort out here? A clan based out here? I don''t think so. There were no others by the time I left mine," Memin muttered, just loudly enough for the three of them to hear. "It''s more likely to be an unfinished fort made by a noble to tax incoming traffic, no matter how small. So it won''t be a hundred bandits but one hundred levies or mercenaries or whatever with a core of men-at-arms. Milord, we can''t fight that."


    A hundred men undermanned fort was nothing.


    Over a hundred men fort was doable but costly.


    A trained force of over a hundred soldiers holding down a fort where flanking or surrounding the fort was not possible.


    But this was the only way through. The only other way was to go all the way around, back to Zernez, and then strike at one of the even better-fortified towns to the southwest.


    They just had to succeed here.


    "... Can we do this?"


    Rudolf was not the best fighter nor the best tactician. He knew that he needed a lot of help, unlike his father and grandfather whom he looked up to.


    Memin held his hands up, sweating a little. "I can''t answer that, milord. I just can''t."


    "Can''t or won''t."


    "Can''t. I haven''t seen anything of this place beyond the walls."


    This time, Rudolf cursed his luck.


    "Then we strike at night."


    It was dirty, dishonorable, and demeaning, but his family - his House - depended on him to raise them to glory. Fuck dishonor!


    "Johan!" he shouted, and the man came. "Make camp here tonight. We strike at night."


    It would be messy. Rudolf knew that proper commanders avoided night battles because it was messy and no command would survive through the dark melee, but he needed to do it.


    He would just have to use the mercenaries first.


    -VB-


    [Stealth] LvL.4


    Sneaky Beaky Like.


    Reduces discovery


    *0.75% reduction in discovery chance per level.


    *Keep reduction when moving silently outside of enemy''s close vision


    [Leaf-covered Camo Cape]


    In the forest, you will not be so easily seen.


    Grade: Moderate


    *+50% base stealth in green biomes.


    *-5% max movement speed


    Durability: 5/5


    I sighed as I took off the cape and dropped it behind the locked gatehouse guard post, closed the door, and locked it again before coming back into the fort proper.


    There, four dozen people - some volunteer and some not - looked up at me as they paused their drilling.


    One of them quickly ran up to me. It was Derrick, Arnold and Alvia''s older brother and Kraft''s second eldest son. He was also the one who took up "arming ourselves" bit of being a militia readily.


    "What''s the news, S- Hans?" he asked, quickly biting off what would have come out as "sir," because I was not a knight and made everyone know that after the first few sirs.


    "Some pompous git''s over and around the bend of the valley with over five hundred men," I grumbled. "They don''t seem to be attacking right now, but all of them are sleeping, or trying to, in the middle of the day. Either they are tired as hell from marching or they are planning a night attack."


    The assembled people - because they weren''t soldiers or even proper militia - looked scared but there was a resolute desire to stand their ground. I saw it in how they stood their ground and looked to me for instruction.


    For my command.


    I wanted to grimace but didn''t because it might send the wrong message. I wanted to grimace because this was not what I planned for my life away from home to become. I wanted ¡­ I wanted freedom. Away from the boredom of farm life. Away from the wars that the Swiss would jump two feet into. Sure, this place would become part of that, too, but not to the extent that the Swiss proper would have been. This place was supposed to be a sparsely populated and relatively unknown region. I wanted a home in a place no one cared for. I wanted to explore my powers safely and quietly. For fuck''s sake, I don''t even have a single magic spell and I was a fucking Gamer! I even had plans, no matter how vague they were, about how I was going to make magic spells for myself in this magic-less world!


    It''s a fucking shame, ain''t it?!


    I gritted my teeth and let out a long sigh of frustration. "Do not spend more than two hours each on drilling. We have to be ready at all times. I want teams of people, at least two dozen in each team, rotating in shifts to man the walls," I snapped. "I also want arrows being continuously made. No amount of arrows is ever enough. Your spears and armors should be by your side at all times! Get to it!"


    The men scattered, and I walked into my towering tower(?) and quickly pulled out my best gear.


    I didn''t need to sleep, so I intended to be ready at all times.


    ---


    As the sun waned over the mountaintops, I stood on the battlement of my little fort and intently watched the east, where the enemies were supposed to come from.


    Exactly two dozen militiamen stood with me, armored mostly in leather and wielding whatever other scrap they could scrounge together. Though they did not have within them the discipline to stand still like soldiers were expected to on their posts on the eve of battle, they tried their goddamn best to hold their own anxiety under control.


    Then I saw them.


    As the shadows of the mountain swept over the fort, a small army came around the bend of the valley, carrying with them the red-on-white lopsided cross standard of some lord I knew nothing about. They marched forward, and not a single messenger came to demand my submission.


    Chilly winds breezed through the valley as I took in a deep breath.


    "ENEMY ATTACK!" I roared.


    Soon, I heard my fort come alive with action as men gathered their arms and armor and ran up the stairs to the battlement while a dozen pre-assigned men came to stand guard behind the gatehouse.


    I heard a few women weep from the far side of the camp, which actually meant that there were enough weeping that I -.


    My eyes widened as I saw women, old and young, walking up the stairs of the battlement. "What are you doing ¡­ here¡­ ?" What started off as an intimidating growl slowed to a drop as I saw even child come up and began to drop rocks they had carried up here.


    "Helping," a rotund and strong-looking mother grunted as she dropped a stone as big as her head. "I''m not gonna sit by and do nothing."


    I grimaced but ¡­ this would honestly help. Having someone hurl rocks would hurt the enemy.


    "Fine then. Then make sure to keep your heads behind the wall at all times until I tell you to start throwing the rocks."


    She nodded and went to help more.


    I let out an aggrieved sigh.


    I turned back towards the soldiers marching towards my fort, and gave them my best glare. I glanced at the militiamen and rock hauling women and saw fear in their eyes. I needed to do something.


    My legs shook. This was nothing like the battle under the command of the baron. These weren''t men called to duty to their feudal lord. Their feudal lord was dead. No one but I was here, and an army had come to burn down my home. I steeled myself and took in a deep breath.


    "People of Landwasser!" I cried out.


    Some of the women stopped and most of the men looked towards me.


    "Look to the east. What do you see?"


    I let a moment of silence hang as the people looked, some confused and others grimly.


    "I see an army of looters, rapists, and pillagers!" I shouted angrily. "Look to the west!"


    They did.


    "What do you see? Do you know what I see? I see your homes. I see a good place. I see a good valley. I see a peaceful world. The men coming from the east want to burn it in the name of some lord who cares shit about them! They are not here to better themselves but some dick without nothing better to do but kill you and your families for meaningless gains!" I yelled. "Are you going to let them kill your brothers and sons?!"


    What could have been silence was broken by a few cries of denials.


    "Are you going to let them rape your daughters and wives?!"


    "No!" it was stronger this time.


    "Are you going to see your home burn?!"


    "NO!"


    "Then hold that spear high! Then hold that bow tight! Let your arrows fly true and let your speartips find their victims! Make them bleed for a lord that will do nothing for them! Make them regret thinking that you will lie down and die for their purse!"


    Ping!


    New Skill gained!


    [Oration] LvL.1


    Sway allies and enemies to your view


    *Subskill [Battlecry] (1 hour cooldown) increases damage dealt and decreases damages taken by all nearby (10 meters) allies for 1 minute by 0.5% per LvL of Oration. All nearby (5 meters) enemies gain fear debuff for the same duration.


    *Subskill [Rally Call] (1 hour cooldown) increases ally morale by 1% per LvL of Oration.


    I grinned at the screen only I could see. Even 1% was good. I''ll take it all.


    "Yours is the speartip that will keep your children safe! Yours is the rock that will keep your lands safe! Yours is the hand that will forge your own fate, not dictated by others!" I roared as the [Rally Call] activated. S?a??h the ???el F?re.n?t website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    I saw everyone puff up as their hairs bristled and their eyes glared out.


    I struck out my splayed hand. "FOR LANDWASSER!"


    ""FOR LANDWASSER!"" the people roared back and thrust their own fists into the setting sun and the army before them.


    And the enemy was upon us.


    -VB-


    "What the hell is going on¡­?" Rudolf muttered as he watched with wide eyes as the small fort in front of him roared with defiance. It carried with it emotion he didn''t expect, and it niggled at his heart.


    "Milord, your orders?" Conrad asked from his side.


    What else was there for them to do?


    "... Advance."


    "Shields up!" Conrad roared. "And advance!"


    The well-armed mercenaries pulled up their disparate shields up and began to advance.


    Arrows from the fort battlement flew up and struck down, and to Rudolf''s surprise, mercenaries who should know better and were armored better were going down. It was a good decision to not have his levies upfront like most of his peers.


    "Loose!" Conrad shouted at his archers, and they shot back at the fort. Arrows ¡­ didn''t find their mark. Most of them struck low to middle of the wooden wall. "They have better range than us somehow!" The fact that it was now night made it worse for them to see what was going on.


    "To the wall! Form a shield!"


    The army quickly broke up into small groups and rushed the wooden wall. Those with shields quickly got up and put their shields above them as they slammed into the wall, and those without shields hurried underneath them.


    That''s when rocks began to get hurled down.


    Arrows were one thing but rocks? They pushed shields aside if it wasn''t being held by multiple hands and arms. Whenever the shields went down, men would get peppered by arrows.


    Even though it was dark, Rudolf could already see bodies of his mercenaries and men on the grass between him and the fort.


    Ladders made by his levies quickly made their way to the wall and men began to climb.


    That''s when something fell from the walls. It must have been one of the fort garrison archers, but Rudolf didn''t see any arrows going over there¡­


    His eyes widened when he saw a knight, that was a knight that fell, slammed onto his two feet on the ground, and pulled out two axes.


    Then he rushed his shielded and climbing soldiers.


    "Stop him!" he roared.


    Conrad, just seeing the attacker, shouted the same.


    But it was too late.


    The first ladder, one of only five they had, snapped in half as the knight, who must be only wearing half of his regular armor, jumped off of a shield held by his soldiers and cut apart the man in the middling of climbing and the ladder itself at once. He landed before the rest of the ladder fell and continued to rush forward. Some of the shielded men in the closest pile of men saw the knight coming and thrust their spears at him.


    The knight dodged around the thrust, cut the spear shaft, and crashed into the men underneath the shield. A cry rang out as the shield holder went down and arrows rained down on his men and the night.


    Rudolf felt his jaws drop when he saw the knight swerve out of the way of the arrows and let them strike his soldiers.


    "This is a disaster," he muttered. Already, more than fifty of his soldiers were dead, mercenaries, levies, and men-at-arms alike.


    The knight then abruptly turned towards him.


    Rudolf froze when a metal helmet with narrow slits focused on him.


    The knight charged ¡­ towards him.


    "GUARDS!" Conrad roared as the knight closed in on them at ridiculous speed. "Protect the count!" A dozen of his best knights and men-at-arms stepped forward with their spears, swords, and axes drawn.


    There was a blur as the enemy knight reached the first of his knights.


    And then his soldier''s head flew off.


    There was a pause as everyone tried to register what just happened, but in that single instance, a second knight''s arm - armor and all - flew off with a blood spray and a horrendous scream of pain.


    The third soldier, a man-at-arms, quickly held up his shield.


    It didn''t do anything as the axe cleaved through the shield and the man-at-arms''s helmet and head.


    The knight roared.


    Fear swept through them all like a freezing winter chill, and the fourth and fifth knights died like dogs.


    The remaining seven stepped back in fear.


    Rudolf, shivering and trembling, drew his own sword.


    The knight''s head, lolling to the side, snapped forward and locked in on him.


    "You," a grizzly voice dripping with bloodlust growled out. "Will die tonight."


    "CUR!" Conrad roared as he held his longsword up. "CHARGE, MEN!"


    All seven knights and men-at-arms roared as they followed Conrad. They held their weapons high and then struck -.


    They all watched in disbelief as a man jumped over them all, spinning and cleaving another helmet and head, and then landed behind them.


    An axe flew through the air with a heavy whistle and thunked into a soldier''s back. The soldier choked out a scream as he fell forward.


    Rudolf barely registered his soldiers by the fort fleeing for their lives. All he saw in front of him was a monster.


    "I-I will not die here! My house deserves mo-!"


    Why was the man''s arm outstretched?


    Why was he falling and spinning?


    ¡­ Oh, that''s his body.


    He looked thin. And weak. Was that how everyone saw him?


    It''s ¡­ cold ¡­


    ---


    Conrad stuttered as he backed away.


    His lord was dead.


    All of his knights were dead.


    The army had fled for the hills.


    The monster turned towards him as he picked up a spear dropped by one of the dead men-at-arms.


    "Monster¡­! Devil!" he hissed.


    "No," the monster replied coldly. "Just a man like you."


    Conrad screamed as the speartip blurred towards him.

 Chapter 11

    Swiss ArmsChapter 11


    -VB-


    The Rise of Four Leagues


    Doctor Brigette Hassentokten, University of Freiburg


    The Battle of Fluela Pass marks a historical shift away from the power of the nobility to the power of the common people in the Central European Highlands, especially more so in the lands that would in the future become Switzerland and the Four Leagues. The battle, which took place in Fluela Pass in the heart of the Four Leagues, broke out when Count Rudolf of Zernez attempted to take advantage of the Unruly Year that had swept over the Grisons canton region. While there are no records of his or his house''s goal in marching an army through the Fluela Pass, all other would-be conquerors wanted to claim a piece of the region that had previously been under the nominal protection of the Prince-Bishop of Chur.


    The battle, if it could really be called it that, supposedly had two sides: five hundred sixty men, well-armed and armored, under the command of the count and maybe three hundred minimally trained and armed village militias who had fled to Fort Fluela, then a relatively unknown and illegally constructed wooden fort blocking the whole width of the valley, to escape another plundering lord''s army encroaching upon the Landwasser valley from the southwest. Though protected behind a wall, this battle should have ended with the disciplined and trained army of the count overwhelming the defenders into either surrendering or fleeing. This did not happen.


    What happened instead is now a part of the Swiss identity: to fight back even when their backs were up against the walls. The founder and owner of the fort, a man known to us now as Hans of Fluela (the same man who is the father of modern gemstone faceting, genetics, and two dozen other fields), rallied the evacuees and managed to defend and even kill the attacking count. Worse, Fluela Fort inflicted a forty percent casualty rate against the count''s small army, the majority of which weren''t the mercenaries he had hired but his own men-at-arms and levy. This resulted in Zernez becoming unstable as they too suffered from foreign invasions, including the invaders previously focused on plundering a less rich Landwasser valley.


    This would become a crucial period for Fluela, because Hans and his people now had time to rebuild, fortify the entire valley, and more importantly, train.


    The professor would like to point out that there are very few documents from this period, mostly because of the aforementioned Unruly Year. Most of the known data were those written down decades if not centuries after the event and inconsistencies may be present.


    -VB-


    Fluela, 1300 AD


    As the battle died down, I sat down and allowed myself to calm down.


    This battle hadn''t taken long as my first battle had been, and I managed to score a very good kill. No one but a noble could wear decorated armor like this commander did if they weren''t noble. I also killed all of his personal guards.


    So.


    That''s what a more "adventurous" combat felt like. Up close. Seeing people''s faces dying without a mob to drown them out. The fears and desperation etched into their faces.


    ¡­ It''s not going to be easy sleeping. This had been far more personal than the battlefield. It wasn''t the meat-grinding maelstrom of the battlefield. These had been executions, one after another. Especially the last one. I could have let that man go, but he also saw me do things that weren''t totally human. The villagers who were with me weren''t going to report it to someone; how could they, in the first place, when they were only peasants? Unlike them, the last man-at-arms I''d killed had been a skilled and connected man. It was in the way he led his men and tried in vain to keep his liege alive.


    He was just unlucky enough to be important enough for people to listen to him, however, limited, and had run into me.


    This was different from the battlefield under the baron. On a battlefield, senses become impaired. Everything becomes muddy, blurry, and sometimes even indistinguishable. I had some of those moments when I was fighting; those moments came when I was exhausted, broke my flow of fighting, and led me to make mistakes that could''ve cost me my life. Here? Those men saw me do shit without any other way to dismiss it.


    God, I hated having to think about this at all.


    I stood up and stretched as roughly three dozen people left the safety of the fort and began ¡­ to loot the bodies.


    Right, that''s a thing in medieval Europe. Because of how expensive armor and weapons were compared to a peasant''s annual income (if they had monetary income), looting a battlefield might even let a peasant become a knight simply by the virtue of possessing arms.


    I wondered if any of the Travaos villagers had knightly aspirations. There certainly were enough young men, some of whom helped to defend my fort.


    To my surprise, half a dozen people ignored the battle loot and walked straight towards me. I noticed immediately that it was Kraft, his three children, and two others I was unfamiliar with.


    I waved, and Kraft waved back hesitantly. Was it the blood and the corpse around me? I looked around. This was actually better than the mess I made over at Vaz.


    "So it''s another battle won, Kraft," I started off casually. "At this rate, I might have mercenary companies looking to come to pick me up!" I laughed boisterously. Instead of easing them with a joke, I got four very skittish and hesitant people. I sighed and gestured for them to approach and speak. "Alright, what''s the deal? Shouldn''t you all be happy that we drove them off?" I paused. "How many people died?" I asked.


    "Twenty."


    I nearly stumbled. Only twenty?! This wasn''t a bloody battle or even a slaughter! This was a miracle! We faced an army of over five hundred with our maybe one hundred, and what, we lost less than a third of our total strength?


    "T-This is ¡­ I guess moderately good news!" I cheered as I stood up.


    Again, the hesitant looks returned.


    "... what''s wrong?" I asked.


    "A-A few of the enemy archers managed to shoot fire arrows over the walls and ¡­ one of them struck the small barn."


    I had no need for a barn. What these people called the barn was our food storage.


    "... Shit."


    Winter was coming to these Alps.


    And we may have just lost half of our food.


    "A-And you killed a count."


    I turned towards the two others with who I was not familiar.


    "And you two are¡­?" I asked.


    Both of them took their helmets off, and I recognized one of them. "Wait, aren''t, or weren''t you, one of the baron''s men-at-arms?" I asked with surprise.


    "I was, but the baron died and in the rout that happened, I and others fled to survive. The enemy we faced, Sax-Misox, had his men kill everyone."


    I grunted in distaste. Medieval battles weren''t supposed to be fought to the death like that. What was happening up there?


    "So you''re one of the refugees, huh?"


    "I am, yes, sir."


    "Don''t say sir, I''m not a knight or a noble," I replied casually. "Okay, so, you told me that I killed a count. I''m surprised you can tell, but so what if I killed him?"


    "H-His house will surely seek revenge for his death. He''s the Count of Waldenburg!" S?a?ch* Th? N0v?lFir?.?et website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    I glared at the corpse. "Just because he''s a noble, we''re supposed to let him go? Ransom him? When he and his ilk tried to murder and pillage your people and lands?" I pointed my axe at the headless count.


    "B-But they could bring about a bigger army!"


    Ah, this guy was a coward. Note to self: never give him any important duty if he sticks around.


    "I know. That''s why I am going to ask three dozen of us to come with me." I took a deep breath in. "And take the fight to Zernez directly."


    "I will go with you," Kraft spoke up as he thumped the butt of his spear on the ground. "You won us the battle at de Curwalde. You ended the enemy knights and noble here. I have faith that you will lead us to victory wherever you go."


    I looked at him and grinned. It was ¡­ it was awesome having someone who believed in me.


    "Kraft."


    He looked up and saw Hans staring at him intensely.


    "Yes?"


    "I want you to gather me thirty men. Twenty if you can''t."


    "... Sure."


    Thirty men plus I would be nowhere near good enough to take an actual fort or castle, which I suspected this count''s seat had. However, I was taking a gamble. A count, no matter how rich, could not have more than a thousand men in these valleys. There simply weren''t enough people like the rich farmlands of Wien or Paris. It was very possible - it was even likely! - that this count - of Waldenburg? Zernez? - might not even have a hundred men garrisoning their seat of power. If I was right about that, then twenty men were more than enough for me to go and kick these nobles in the balls.


    Also to steal their food, because the villagers didn''t have enough food and we weren''t sure if the looters and pillagers burning Albula and upper Landwasser valley would loot more.


    I might just get through this winter with minimal problems!


    Also¡­


    "You know, those are fine steel you have there, Mr. noble," I said to myself as I began stripping him and all of the men-at-arms/knights who died defending their commander. I''ll leave their clothes on.

 Chapter 12

    Swiss ArmsChapter 12


    -VB-


    Zernez s?a??h th? N?v?lF?re.?et website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    Terrace stared at the familiar yet unfamiliar man-at-arms, who called himself a survivor.


    His father had gone out to subjugate Landwasser for their family, but instead of an army coming back with either the banner of their enemy or ¡­ or something to prove that he''s done their house well.


    Instead, his family''s remaining and loyal men-at-arms returned with a tattered banner, bruised, broken, and beggared. Some had fled the Alps entirely, screaming and moaning about the Demon Guard of Fluela. The surviving mercenaries also fled, taking their first installment of pay with them.


    As of now, House Waldenburg faced a crisis like none other. Only a hundred men-at-arms had returned, never mind the levies who''d probably all gone home or fled the region entirely or died en masse.


    The stories the men - his men now, if their words were true - told him about the battle at Fluela Pass horrified him. A fully fortified valley pass, even if it was merely made out of wood and not stone. More than a hundred garrison standing guard, raining down arrows and rocks to kill and crush.


    Though all of their accounts differed a little, they all spoke of a demon, a man who jumped down from over fourteen feet of wall, landed on the ground, and slaughtered their men. Then that man struck deep into the command, beheaded each of the men-at-arms in a single swing, and then beheaded his father. The demon then went on to pursue and strike down over a hundred men himself before he broke off to return to his den.


    Beside him, his grandfather stood shaking with his cane in his hands.


    "H-How could this happen¡­? Our scouts¡­! Our scouts must have betrayed us!" he coughed and moaned before-.


    "Father!" Terrace''s mother shot forward and caught his ailing grandfather. Some of the men-at-arms, the older ones, also rushed forward to help the man.


    Terrace watched helplessly as his grandfather, Ulrich von Waldenburg, let out ragged breaths. His entire body trembled from the shock of the news.


    "Get my grandfather to his quarters, now!" he shouted, and those same men-at-arms quickly helped his mother move their former lord.


    Terrace watched this all with a grimace and knew that his grandfather Ulrich the Mighty, a man who once slew a dozen knights in a single battle, was not as strong and tough as he had once been. It was up to him, Terrace von Waldenburg, to lead the Waldenburg House and castle to survival.


    But how? What survival could they manage when they nearly emptied their treasury, lost two-thirds of their men-at-arms, and lost a greater ratio of levies? He could not see a way out of this, not without spending days if not weeks on finding a solution. Did he have that much time?


    "C-Collect the taxes in grain," he hurriedly spoke out. "Except the families of men-at-arms still working for us. We do not hurt the families of those who work for us." The men-at-arms in front of him bowed and hurried away. He let out a sigh of relief as he and his family were left alone.


    Well, his son, his wife, and he was left alone in the courtyard.


    "How many men do we have, milord?" Adelina asked.


    He grimaced. "One hundred fifty-seven."


    "... Barely enough to protect our castle. The castle town below¡­"


    "If someone comes to fight us, then we will have to drawback to the castle. That''s why I had the men gather grain. In the worst case, the town will be overrun multiple times and we''ll be put to siege."


    "I see. Should I ask for help from my parents?"


    "... I don''t think they''ll make it in time."


    She nodded. "I will send a letter regardless. Better to have help and not need it than not have it and need it, isn''t that right?"


    "Yes."


    "Good." Then she left.


    "... this is a disaster for our house, but we will manage, father," Hugo told him.


    Terrace looked at his son, and then nodded. "Yes. We will survive. Perhaps not as wealthy as before, but we can at least say that we tried when we had the opportunity."


    Hugo nodded. "I shall ready the remaining knights, father. Let no one say that our house did not fulfill its duties, come what may. May God bless you in your endeavors."


    "And you too, son."


    -VB-


    Albula


    "Is this true?" Count of Sax-Misox, Joseph von Sax-Misox, grinned.


    "Yes, milord!" the mercenary scout in front of him affirmed from where he knelt in front of him. "The Count of Waldenburg has le his men out to strike at Lower Landwasser through the Fluela Pass, but his men have returned without him and in tatters!"


    Joseph leaned back into his chair within his command tent.


    ''This is too good of an opportunity.''


    For generations, his branch of the House of Sax had been losing land and power, not only to the church but the uppity peasants who thought they had rights to the land they lived. They forgot that all of the land belonged to the kaiser, and these lands have been granted to Houses like his for their service. More than that, these lands were what he and his family had developed and raised¡­


    But such histories did not prevent the financial collapse of the House of Sax, and his father, Albrecht von Sax-Misox has had to sell many castles and valleys.


    But he, Joseph, clawed his way back. Controlling trade where he could, skimming the tax collection, and falsifying the records allowed him to gather wealth his father with his naivety and honesty had lost over the years.


    And then the Prince-Bishop of Chur lost and left his lands open to conquest.


    It was too good to be true, for such an opportunity to land in his laps.


    Already, he had defeated and slain the Baron of Vaz and his heir, effectively taking the Barony of Vaz completely for himself. To hear that his new neighbor, the Count of Waldenburg, has suffered such a loss?


    Oh ho ho ho!


    He smelled money and glory. To rise above and control all of the land once known as Raetia as his! To have his house, once humiliated by his peers, stomp them out!


    "Good¡­" he smiled. "You deserve a fine reward for this information. Go to the quartermaster and tell him that you are promised fifty silvers."


    The mercenary''s greedy glints in his eyes spoke well to Joseph.


    "Karl."


    His right-hand knight stepped up.


    "Tell the army that we will march east. Waldenburg will be ours!"


    -VB-


    Lower Engadine Valley (Susch)


    I let out a steady breath.


    Twenty-three volunteers and I managed to get through the Fluela Pass without any encounter or trouble and found ourselves in Lower Engadin Valley.


    Further down the valley, we saw a sleepy village.


    "We should attack them."


    I looked to my left and saw Derrick.


    "We are not going to attack random villages and villagers, especially not when they are our direct neighbors," I grunted.


    "They live under the Count of Waldenburg who just attacked us, Hans! We should be making sure that the count does not have the strength to strike at us again!"


    I turned to him, facing him fully, and narrowed my eyes. "If this is the reason why you volunteered, then turn around and go back to my fort. Did I not tell you that as a volunteer, you are going to do exactly as I say and not more? Did you not promise me this?"


    He looked away with a grimace. "I did."


    "Then do as I act and say. That village probably doesn''t even know what is going on. No, we move towards Zernez, and we will not attack anyone first. Is that clear?" I said as I looked around.


    All of the volunteers nodded.


    "Good. Then let''s move. I want to be out of this valley by nightfall and ready to strike Zernez next morning."


    We turned right and headed up the valley, leaving the village behind us.


    "Hey, Hans."


    I glanced and saw that it was Arnold who was talking to me. This family really liked to get my attention.


    "What is it?"


    "What ¡­ exactly are we going to do when we get to Zernez?" he asked cautiously. "We will be taking food that we need for the winter, right?"


    "We will," I replied with a nod. "Though you might not know, we actually managed to secure what few supplies the count had with him when he died. It still isn''t enough. I suspect that he expected to loot his way across Landwasser to feed his army."


    Arnold grimaced. "That''s ¡­ evil."


    "From what I got out of the few prisoners we had, the count probably spent all of his money on the mercenaries. Godo thing he did, because those mercenaries were useless."


    As we marched onward, I answered him and the rest of the volunteer company. "When we reach Zernez, we will strike without warning. If the castle is open to us, then we will strike. Any grain or money inside will be fair loot for us to take. If the townsfolk hide and don''t bother us in the fighting, then we will leave them alone. Otherwise, we will fight and loot them, too."


    I saw them nod.


    "Good. I want all of you to prepare as we march and when we make camp. You are now the attackers. We will be taking food that belongs to someone else. Someone else will die because of you." I sucked at this speech thing, okay? "But when you take the food from them, I want you to tell them this: your count tried to kill us, so this is fair. We are merely succeeding where they are failing."


    It was a horrible and unfair world, and food was always the most basic commodity unfairness came down to.


    "If they hand over supplies and wagons without fighting us, then hopefully, we can leave without anyone dying."


    But that was a pipedream.

 Chapter 13

    Swiss ArmsChapter 13


    -VB-


    Swiss Alps, as it would later come to be known as, looked picturesque when I, in a distant past that may be the future, looked it up on Google.


    During my less than twenty years of life here, I have seen examples of the picturesque valleys and mountains.


    Not a lot of people talked about how cold it could get, though.


    Despite being wrapped up in at least two layers, I felt the cold valley winds crawl their way through whatever crooks and crannies they can push themselves through. Worse, I stood at the head of our little raid party, so I faced the wind head-on while the rest of my volunteer raiders lined up behind me like ducklings.


    We made good time crossing the valley towards reaching our destination.


    I ¡­ worried about what was going to happen.


    I already made clear orders and instructions on what we were going to do, but I knew better to think that the men would do all that I said. These people were, after all, the denizens of a realm that tried to kill us. If I wasn''t there with my fort and my Gamer-given strength, speed, and endurance, they would have been at the receiving end of what we intended to do, only worse.


    I continued to move forward as the forest in the valleys began to thin.


    "We''re getting close," I said out loud.


    The volunteers heard me and paused as I did.


    "We''ll set up camp here tonight," I ordered. There was no paved road here, just a cleared and somewhat used dirt path. If we built our camp away from it, then no one would discover us as long as we didn''t have a fire on throughout the night. Besides, no one should be heading through this path.


    We headed off the path and quickly set up tents and a single campfire with a pot over it. Our dinner tonight: hardtacks soaked in water. That''s it.


    (This was one of the many unspoken reasons why I preferred to have not needed to raid, but Kraft and his villagers forced my hand. Who the fuck wants to leave behind warm food and bed for this?)


    I paused in eating my tasteless hardtack watery soup when one of the older volunteers sat down next to me and ate his own gruel.


    We ate in silence before he finally spoke.


    "... So, chief."


    I had half a mind to tell him to not call me that because the thought of even more responsibility irked me when I simply wanted to enjoy the world. However, not accepting this title would mean that I would also not have control over what the volunteers did. That was the advantage of being a leader: people did shit that you told them to do, and if they didn''t, then you had a reason to correct them.


    This was especially true in this day and age. Sure, there were rules and laws that prevented a leader, mayor, chief, lord, count, dukes, and kings from indiscriminately punishing or extorting his people (hello, Magna Carta and Haandfaesting, shouldn''t the two of you be in existence by now?), but stealing was punishable by death (not everywhere for every minor infarction of stealing but it was still possible).


    Disobeying the lord in a battle had even worse consequences.


    "Yes?" I responded mildly instead of the glare I wanted to throw.


    "Are you sure about not taking more than what we need? I mean, some of us here aren''t married, you know."


    ¡­ Was this guy?


    I saw the gleam in his eyes.


    Oh, he was fucking serious.


    "Are you a Muslim?"


    The sudden question threw him off. "A what?"


    "A Muslim. People who call our Lord Jesus Christ a mere prophet and places someone else as above him? The people who enslave Christians like ourselves? Who enslave Christian women to be their sex slaves and concubines against their wishes?"


    My voice had risen a little during my demanding rant, and he quickly shook his head.


    "Then why do you intend to enslave someone against their will?" I demanded again as I set the bowl down.


    "W- I- S-"


    I glared at him a little more -.


    Ping!


    [You have gained a new skill!]


    [Intimidation] LvL 1


    Instill fear in others.


    *Once toggled (passively or manually), stun all within 10-yard radius for (LvL*0.05) seconds every second with [ (TARGET.CHA - YOUR.CHA)*10% ] chance of succeeding.


    *At LvL 10, gain access to mana-infused target-assisting spell variant.


    Everything just stopped as, one, I stared dumbly at the new skill, and two, at what the skill''s secondary function implied.


    My first magic spell.


    My first magic, period.


    I didn''t know whether to thank the wannabe-rapist-wife-stealer raider or kiss him.


    Actually, he was a wannabe-rapist-wife-stealer raider. I''ll merely let his help slide, negated by the fact that he had the gall to ask me the previous question.


    "There are such a people who most live far south of us, across the entirety of the Italian peninsula and beyond the Mediterranean," I sighed as I drew myself back. "Their laws prevent themselves from enslaving each other, so they enslave others, even if their victims are those who worship the same God."


    My words hooked at their minds and reeled them in. I spoke of a world none of them knew about. How would they? They were literal peasants who worked the mountainous fields of the Alpine valleys. They didn''t get vacations or time off nor did they have education beyond what was strictly necessary for their survival (to be fair, they learned a lot, just not a lot of things beyond the pragmatically practical).


    I could go on a tangent about how God''s action in the Old Testament, the very first action after creating us humans, was to grant us freedom (Almighty and All-knowing God didn''t stop Adam and Eve from eating the Forbidden Fruit) and how slavery itself was a heretical act that went against God himself, but that would be lost on most people. Hell, from what I remember, that simple lack of action was lost on most of the priests and pastors I''ve met in my past life (especially the younger ones).


    No, I was going to make it simple for them.


    Were you something not us or us?


    "So are you going to go and join the people who enslaves your Christian brothers and sisters?" I asked, and the mood was ¡­ hostile. It wasn''t just from me, but the others who heard me understood what was going on, and what kind of question had to be asked for me to act up like this.


    Arnold seemed like he understood the most.


    The balding man gulped.


    I should kill him.


    ¡­ Should I?


    ¡­


    No.


    Death was too final of a sentence. It left no room for improvement. People could get better; the question was whether or not they wanted to.


    "I know that ¡­ these kinds of events give all of us opportunities to able to do something that we normally can''t," I slowly spoke. "But there is a limit to what you should do, and as long as I am the leader, I will enforce that. Is that understood?"


    "...Yes, sir," the now meek man replied.


    "Good. That means no kidnapping woman to be your wife. Barter her like most of the widowed or single men do if you must-" Because that was the system of the time and era. "-but you don''t kidnap and steal people. That is enslavement and I will not allow slavery on my watch." I gripped my broadsword meaningfully.


    The rest of the meal was silent, and I stewed in the bad mood with the bad food.


    It wasn''t until later that I got giddy in my private tent while thinking about the new skill.


    -VB-


    Joseph von Sax-Misox


    He swayed slightly from side to side as his horse ambled forward with his most prized knights around him while his levies and the mercenaries followed behind him.


    On his way, he ransacked the villages and towns that belonged to the Counts of Zernez. Bergun fell without fighting back. Ponte didn''t expect him and his army, and barely managed a defense at the crack of dawn before they too burned. The Noble House of Planta tried to negotiate, but they were nothing but lesser nobles so he plowed through them and their mob of hastily assembled peasant levies. They didn''t even have a knight! That''s how poor they were.


    And here he was now, at the southern corner of Zernez¡­


    He spotted something.


    It drew his eyes and forced him to look.


    There, at the northern side of this castle town, was a group of men. They looked like mercenaries. Were they hired by the Waldenbergs?


    ¡­ He could not let them enter the castle, then.


    "Men! Enemies up ahead!"


    ---


    Arnold


    He froze when he saw an army show up from the south.


    "Oh, that can''t be good."


    He looked at Hans and saw the man grinning.


    Why was he grinning?


    They''d just arrived at the town and were deciding whether or not to enter negotiation with the next count or whoever else was reigning until the succession was settled.


    Hans looked all for negotiations because he said it would be "less work for more reward," and Arnold agreed. Hans, using his booming voice, had called for a representative and got one in the form of the late count''s wife. S?a??h th? Nov?lF?re .??t website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    But they hadn''t even started the negotiations when that army showed up, and Hans, who''d just advocated for less work, looked like he was ready to do more work.


    "Hey," Hans spoke up, and Arnold knew from Hans''s tone - the same tone Hans used to put him to do grueling work back at the Fluela Fort - that this was not going to be fun for him or the other volunteers. "How about this? You give us two hundred thirty-pound bags of grain and then a hundred gold coins on top of that. If you do, then I''ll help you fight them-" he gestured towards the army. "-off. And just so you know exactly who I am: I''m the guy who killed eight knights and then your late husband by myself without even getting a scratch on myself. Oh, of course, this also means that I don''t do this to you and your castle," he said while pulling out his greatsword - the one that was longer and nearly wider than Hans, who was a tall man himself - and slammed it into the ground, making the ground tremble under their feet from the weigh of the sword.


    And Hans did that with a single hand.


    As the countess''s shoulders tensed, Arnold felt his shoulders sag.


    He knew it! Hans always said he didn''t want trouble, but he built a fort, fought battles, and did it all with a smile on his face! Hans was a liar! A goddamn liar! Fuck! He even made threats to Berthold and then does this? Hire them out as mercenaries?


    ¡­ He''d better share that gold.


    "... Very well," the countess said. "I will tell my son."


    "Good then." Hans turned to them. "It''s Battle of Fluela Pass, take two!" he cackled with words that made no sense but obviously meant something funny. "You lot, escort the lady back to the castle and defend it. I''m going to go and harass these guys from the rear."


    Hans took a bow and two quivers of arrows from him, and then, while wearing armor and weapon that had to weigh at least five men, ran - faster than Arnold could ever run - into the sparse forests near the castle town.


    "Alright, Countess Waldenberg. Let''s go to your castle. I don''t want to fight an army out here," he urged her and they all quickly retreated.


    ---


    I grinned as I ran between the trees and shrubs. The army obviously saw me and the others, and probably assumed that I was a messenger or a scout, because they sent five of their cavalrymen after me.


    All I could think about was how quickly I was going to level up [Intimidation] so that I can use fucking magic!


    The sparse forest, obviously sparse because the locals were cutting down trees for fuel, sped around me as I ran at half my top speed. This was still twice faster than the average top speed of humans, so I wasn''t losing much ground to the cavalrymen sent after me.


    Instead, I ran uphill and then abruptly turned around with my bow out and an arrow already nocked and drawn.


    I saw before me a downhill slope of a forest with fall leaves already thinly layering the ground and shrubs. The horsemen urged their mounts forward, and they had their swords and spears drawn, ready to run me down.


    Too bad for them¡­


    I loosed.


    The arrow struck the frontmost horse''s forehead, and it crumpled forward.


    I loosed again and again and again.


    Of the four arrows, three found their mark, and three horses died. Two of the three riders managed to get off in time while the third screamed as his horse fell sideways and crushed his leg underneath him.


    The fourth and fifth horsemen continued to run at me, but the moment they entered the range of my Intimidation, I grinned behind my helmet and unleashed [Intimidation] as I swung.


    Dazed by the sudden foreign feeling, the fourth horse died as I cleaved its neck and its rider. Human and horse blood spewed out momentarily like a fountain, and I used the forward momentum to spin and strike at the fifth rider and horse.


    This one got lucky. They had been just outside my striking range, and got away as I missed them by a good foot.


    I didn''t stop, though. I slammed the sword onto the ground, pulled my bow back out, and loosed an arrow at his back.


    I missed the upper back and instead struck where his kidney would be.


    Ouch.


    Whirling around, I saw the two de-horsed cavalrymen staring at me with horrified realization.


    [Intimidation] LvL up!


    Huh? But I didn''t use it-.


    Ohhh¡­ it gained experience if my targets got feared on their own.


    ''¡­ Normally, I didn''t like being cruel, but what would this do?''


    I drew another arrow and fired.


    Stunned, the nearer of the two riders didn''t have the time nor the chance to dodge as the arrow flew true ¡­ and pierced through his groin.


    He screamed.


    The other rider screamed.


    Now that I was paying attention to my Gamer, I could feel the EXP gains flowing in. It was here that I had a horrifying realization. Like a WoW player who grinded raid dungeons, I could grind Intimidation by holding people in a dungeon and torturing them.


    The thought of it sickened me even as my own mind brought it up.


    I drew another arrow as the now only surviving rider fled.


    I loosed and struck mostly true. The last rider went down with an arrow through his throat.


    I slung the bow around my torso, picked my greatsword back up, and rushed out of the forest.


    The commander would be too busy sieging the castle. There was no way he was at the frontline¡­


    So just like I did with the Count of Waldenberg, I would strike at the army''s commander.

 Chapter 14

    Swiss ArmsChapter 14


    -VB-


    I watched as the majority of the enemy army swarmed towards the minuscule but still stone and brick fort of the Waldenburg. It was built on top of a hill, though, and they climbed up slowly. On top of that, the fort''s defenders had already begun to rain down arrows on them. Coupled with the incline and currently burning wooden blockade on the only stairway up the fort, their army''s progress slowed to a crawl.


    Which gave me plenty of time to maneuver and harass.


    ¡­ This was going to be the battle at my fort again except this time I would have a surprise as an advantage.


    Also, free spears from dead bodies.


    ---


    Arnold had practiced shooting arrows before he and his family and village fled to Hans''s fort for safety. Once he was there, his practice time only got longer, not less. He wouldn''t say that his aim was the best; that honor belonged to Hans like oh so many things.


    Enemies climbed the steep hill, and most of them didn''t have shields.


    Was it any surprise that he made each of his shots count?


    He loosed another arrow and watched as it sailed down and struck another poor fucker''s neck. The man barely got to do anything before his backward motion from the impact and reeling from pain added up and pulled him down. He struck a few others on his way down and made a cascade of falling bodies.


    Arnold just nocked another arrow, pulled, and loosed.


    This arrow missed the first target, but got the man just behind him and slightly to the right. With a target set up like this, there was no way he could miss unless he shot to miss. They moved in such a tight formation against a heavily defended fort that rained down arrows at them.


    "I need another quiver!" he shouted. Just like how his villagers had helped at Fluela, the villagers of Waldenburg who''d fled to this fort helped him, the other volunteers from Fluela, and the desperate defenders from Waldenburg. A young woman quickly ran up the stairs and dropped a quiver at his feet before she scurried out of the way.


    It was a testament to how easy this fight was that he was able to focus on that brunette girl''s shapely rear¡­


    "Oi, stop looking at my daughter!" one of Waldenburg''s men-at-arms snapped at him as he loosed an arrow down at the enemy.


    "Is she married?" Arnold asked instead as he nocked and loosed another arrow.


    "You think I''m going to let you marry my girl?!" Loose.


    "Well, yeah! I''m my boss''s right-hand man!" Loose.


    "You have no proof, and you don''t look like a man-at-arms!"


    "Focus on the enemy!" someone else shouted.


    Arnold loosed another arrow without a word.


    Then he whispered to the old man. "I''m definitely coming back to ask for her hand."


    The walrus mustached man, possibly soon to be his father-in-law, sneered. "In your dreams!"


    "In my dream, I would have never expected to kill over forty men in a single battle, and not this one," he chuckled. Loose. Arnold winced when he missed his initial target and struck another guy who just happened to be behind his target¡­ and struck him in his family jewels.


    "... Nice one," the man-at-arms grunted.


    "It wasn''t on purpose, but I won''t ask for forgiveness."


    Snort.


    Loose.


    ---


    Louis staggered up from where he''d fallen after an idiot without a shield took an arrow to his face and fell on top of him. He''d rolled with the dead body until he hit the bottom of the hill.


    He looked back and grimaced. The assault was lost. Not only was the hill too hard to complete with the only path up blocked and on fire, but the owner of the fort seemed to have stocked up on ridiculous quantities of arrows. The rain of arrows simply did not stop.


    ''Wasn''t this count supposed to have less than a hundred men defending the fort?'' he thought to himself as he brought up his shield and made himself scarce behind it as even more arrows came down. A few thunked on his shield and he grimaced.


    This was supposed to be an easy expedition. The people of Uri received an offer to hire mercenaries from their neighbor to the east, the Count of Sax-Misox, and the situation had been explained thoroughly. The Prince-Bishopric of Chur, an ally of the Austrian Habsburgs, had fallen from prominence and his lands, as well as the lands of the Habsburgs, had been open. Considering that many people of Uri were still upset by the Habsburg''s theft of the entire Urseren valley from them and that his own relatives had lost land to Habsburg nobles, it had been an easy choice to come and fight for the Count of Sax-Misox. Better for him, his wayward son, who didn''t want to settle down and make a farm next to the family like most of his brothers did or even take a recommendation to go live in the city, was supposed to be in a valley further north and out of the count''s way.


    Still¡­


    No one had expected to participate in a siege.


    "Damn i-, Louis!"


    He looked around and saw his childhood friend Henry walk over to him with his own shield over his head.


    "Henry, did you try going up the hill?"


    "I didn''t even fucking bother," Henry spat as he briefly glanced up. "It''s a death trap and all of my boys know it."


    Louis grimaced.


    "WAAHH!"


    The sudden cry shocked him as he whirled around towards its source. It hadn''t come from the fort or the men dying trying to climb the steep hill but from their rear.


    "What the -?"


    His eyes widened as he saw a man fly into the sky briefly before crashing back down.


    His eyes widened as something launched a spear.


    He watched it sail over his head as it flew and then slammed into the steep hill among the climbers.


    Said climbers took one look at the spear, another look at the screaming and fighting rear echelon, and the rain of arrows above and promptly started to climb back down.


    Louis picked up his halberd. "I think there''s money to be made over there," he said out loud and Henry laughed.


    "Let''s go, then! North Ourzcvelt boys to me!"


    "South Ourzcvelt boys to me!" Louis shouted after Henry.


    Their men, some climbing but most not, quickly gathered around them and they advanced towards the rear.


    The army that had been waiting to climb parted as they approached, and soon began to see that there was something wrong with their lord''s position. The men-at-arms among them quickly realized this, too, and they began to push and make their way. The peasant levies ambled about, staying away from the fort now.


    When Louis finally made his way out of the levy army, he found himself staring at the impossible.


    A single man wearing a metal mask, cloaked in heavy bear fur, and wielding a sword broad as long and wide as a man stood at the center of dead men-at-arms and knights.


    "GET OVER HERE!" the man roared and Louis felt his bones rattle as something pressed down on him.


    He was no weakling. In fact, he was a veteran of multiple skirmishes.


    So why did he feel scared?


    The impossible man moved. He grabbed one of the spears jutting out of a dead knight''s body, pulled it out, and threw it in one fluid motion.


    Louis didn''t even have the time to turn his head or dodge as the spear slammed into a poor man-at-arms on the other side of the impromptu circle.


    "G-Get him!" Louis heard the count stutter out. "Ten gold guilders for the person who deals the death blow!"


    Louis gripped his shield and halberd a little tighter but waited. Obviously, this was a warrior worth a dozen men. He was strong enough to throw spears and wield blades that had to be high dozens of pounds in weight. If he jumped in right now, he would just become the first target of those capabilities. He watched as knights, men-at-arms, other mercenaries and even a few poorly armored and armed peasants jumped at the chance like a pack of wild dogs.


    The warrior spun.


    Louis watched as the blade sliced through armors and flesh like scythe through wheat. Bisected bodies and limbs flew everywhere, and a hand even landed right in front of his feet.


    "Holy shit¡­" Henry mumbled.


    The warrior spun to a stop and gasped for air.


    "Now!" Louis shouted, and his men as well as Henry and his men, jumped to finish the warrior off.


    Instead, the warrior jumped back before slamming into them.


    Louis cried as his arm snapped from the brunt of the tackle, and he skipped like a skipping stone on a calm pond as he bounced away.


    Others were not so lucky.


    By the time he got his bearing back, more than half of the total of thirty men had died within four seconds. No, not dead. Very painfully removed from battle.


    The warrior then jumped towards the horse riding count.


    "No-!"


    He spun again, and the count fell off the horse in two pieces.


    The warrior roared as he grabbed the groin and legless body of the dead count. "I claim victory for Waldenburg!"


    His shout reverberated throughout the valley and soon, Sax-Misox men began to flee.


    Louis laid there in pain as his friends and mercenary band quickly gathered around him to move him when-.


    "You lot!"


    They froze when they saw the warrior pointing at them.


    "Stay right there. I need to talk with you."


    Fear gripped Louis''s heart, but after surviving that one clash with that monster, none of the men were ready to run. Worse, Henry was unconscious and Louis would rather die than let the enemies kill his friend!


    By noon, the battle was over and the fighting stopped.


    The warrior came back to talk with them as he said he would. He was bloodied and his sword dripped with blood.


    And then, no more than a dozen steps from their band of fifteen survivors, the man pulled his metal mask off.


    "So," a very familiar face scowled at him. "Do you want to explain why you are fighting for someone burning and pillaging these valleys, dad?"


    Hans was the Warrior.


    His Hans, the boy who spent his free time swinging practice wooden sword, was the Warrior who killed at least four dozen people.


    S?a?ch* Th? N0v?lFir?.?et website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    The pain and the revelation combined were too much for him.


    Louis of Ourzcvelt, the father of Hans, the warrior in front of him, and a part-time mercenary like so many of his neighbors, fainted.


    -VB-


    A/N: clarification. Waldenburg, Zernez lay within Habsburg territory at this time (1300 AD), but not directly ruled and governed by them but by a lesser nobility that you have seen the names of. Specific members are not historical.

 Chapter 15

    Swiss ArmsChapter 15


    -VB-


    I stared down at the shorter woman who I''ve already met to negotiate our help and the younger man who stood next to her.


    "Our pay?"


    "It is already prepared," Lady Planta, the Lady Dowager of Waldenberg, replied before gesturing towards the village. Indeed, carts had been made ready to transport all of the grain that we have been promised.


    I grunted before turning to the young man.


    Actually, he was around my age, so I couldn''t even call him a young man despite my cumulative mental age. "Oi."


    He scowled. "I am a lord, Herr Hans."


    "And look where that got your father," I snipped back at him. "Lords, ladies, kings, queens, peasants, and serfs. These are all manmade titles, but understand that against might, none of these matter," I said as I casually pointed to and fro with my sword, making breezes around us with its broad blade. "When you piss off enough of us peasants, even your guards won''t be able to stop a literal stampede of flesh. Don''t forget that lest you end up just like your dear deadest dad."


    He clenched his jaw at the insult delivered. "You think you''re so powerful."


    "I am powerful," I scoffed. "Otherwise, you and your mother here would not have hired me to help you lot out."


    The grey sky above us crackled and rumbled.


    I clicked my tongue irritably. Turning briefly to my men - because they were my men until we got back - I shouted at them. "Make sure the grains are properly covered! I don''t want to deal with rotten shit!"


    "AYE!"


    I turned back to the young lord. "Be humble. Be kind. Be patient. Be ready. Be polite," I said. "You never know when doing any of those will give you an advantage. After all," I nodded to the lady dowager. "If she was rude to me, then I would have left after pillaging while you and your little fort would still be under siege, or worse, at the mercy of the late Count of Sax-Misox."


    The boy grimaced before nodding.


    I gave him a cheeky salute before turning around and walking down the steps of the staircase towards the castle town.


    I kicked aside last of the burnt debris the defenders had used to block the stairway, ignoring how the burnt lumber that weighed over half a ton tumbled away from the force of my casual kick, and continued my way down.


    "We''re ready, boss!" Arnold yelled.


    "Alright, then we''re moving, people!" I shouted back, and my group of volunteers - no casualties from the battle - slowly pushed forward the six carts and the five cows; I agreed to trade the four cart''s worth of grain in exchange for those cows and got agreement from my men that those cows would be my share of this successful(?) pillage. Each of those cows now pulled a cart with a yoke around their neck.


    Some of the men pushing the cart, however, were not my volunteers but people I had seen while growing up.


    I got behind the yoke of the wagon and began to pull.


    My dad quickly got to my side.


    "When did you end up as a mercenary captain?" I asked him.


    "I''m not," dad replied. "That would be Hans, father of Fredrick and Jordan."


    Right, I remembered him. While sharing the same given name as me, no one confused the two of us because everyone would call me Little Hans and him Bearded Hans.


    "I didn''t see him," I commented.


    "He''s in our own cart. You did him in real well."


    "Dead?"


    "No, broken leg."


    "Oh. Good. I''d hate to write to Jordan about how I killed his pops."


    Dad rolled his eyes. "You know Jordan can''t read or write."


    "But that''s not the point. If I kill a guy''s dad, both of whom I knew, then I better be upfront about what and how it happened."


    "... You''ve grown."


    "Well, yes? I did get a little taller," I hummed happily.


    "No, that''s not what I mean," he sighed. "Since when were you the responsible one?" he asked before glancing at my men again. "And they follow you."


    "Of course. Only volunteers for this mission. Anyone who did anything I told them not to gets the blade."


    Dad''s face darkened. "I didn''t know you were so free with your blade."


    I scoffed. "You mean how can I be not freer? I told them time and time again what my expectations were. No raping, no senseless killing, and stuff like that. I''m just glad I didn''t have to put us all through actual pillage."


    "... Sorry, I didn''t expect that''s what you meant. I thought you were ¡­ being a baron rapinatore."


    I actually looked at him in shock. "Wait, you thought¡­?"


    He looked sheepish. "I did talk to a few of your men, but they weren''t forthcoming with details."


    It ¡­ actually hurt me a little, emotionally, that my dad thought I was some kind of stealing and raping murderer, because what was a robber baron if that wasn''t the case?


    I wanted to snap at him but reined it in. I knew that our reunion wasn''t exactly a rose and cherry-scented joyous occasion. Battlefield seldom was not a good place for a reunion. I definitely did not make him feel good about what might have happened since he last saw me when I stood over him and our friends and neighbors with a bloodied sword and a bear fur cape that made me loom over everyone with how much volume it added.


    I must have looked like a warlord.


    What parents want to see their kid grow up to become a warlord? That was a failure for any parents.


    Any real and genuine parents, that was.


    "... Tell me about what you''ve been doing?"


    -VB-


    Arnold blinked. "You want to know about the boss?"


    The mercenary supposedly from the boss''s home valley in the lands of Uri nodded. "Yes," he said curtly.


    He wasn''t sure what he should say or shouldn''t say. After all, boss said a lot of things in the past, but often without context. For example, when he was still just working for the boss and not being his pseudo-man-at-arms, the boss liked to talk about how information could make or break communities and kingdoms. The "gem-faceting" that he taught Alvia was wondrous, and understood that such a thing was indeed "community-breaking."


    Well, he knew "intellectually" - a word Hans used to describe things one knows in the head but not in practice - that it was "community-breaking" but not really emotionally or spiritually. He still didn''t quite understand why people would pay so much for shiny rocks.


    Maybe it was just him. After all, he preferred to imitate Hans''s intense and outright suicidal trainng regime instead. There was something awesome about a muscular body.


    "Okay, I guess it''s not gonna hurt anyone to know what he does in his free time."


    The man looked eager.


    "He trains."


    The man''s shoulders dropped. "Still?"


    "Still? Oh, right. You''re supposed to be from his home. So he trained like he does at his home, huh? Swinging that giant iron slab he calls a sword as if it was a wooden training sword?"


    The man looked disturbed. "No¡­ he only swung a wooden training sword he made on his own."


    "Ha! That''s just like the boss. He makes everything on his own, even though he really shouldn''t. Does he have a forge back in his childhood home, too?"


    "...No?"


    "... Really? Boss really likes working with metal." Arnold narrowed his eyes. "Are you sure this is the same Hans we''re talking about here? I mean, you knew about his training, but nothing else seems to fit¡­"


    "No, he is my son!"


    Arnold blinked. "Wait, the boss is your son? And you''re a mercenary? That''s not what he said about his family."


    "We''re only here because Uri has an understanding - had an understanding - with the Count of Sax-Misox. Something about not liking the Prince-Bishop of Chur."


    "Ah, so complicated lord stuff."


    "Complicated lord stuff," the man nodded in agreement. "But we are herders and farmers." S~?a??h the N?v?lFire.n?t website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    "Ah, okay." Arnold paused. "What else did you want to know?"


    Boss''s father hesitated. "Is he married?"


    "Oh. No, he isn''t. My father wants to get my sister to marry him, though, but she''s not interested?" When he saw the man frown, he quickly spoke up. "It''s not that Hans is not worthy but more that my sister is more interested in what he teaches her."


    "He ¡­ teaches?"


    "Yes. He taught me and my sister how to read, write, and do numbers."


    All of the little things that didn''t matter, he told this supposed father of the boss. If he wasn''t boss''s father, then he would come back to take his pound of flesh from the deceiver. If he was, then he was and that would be all.


    -VB-


    Louis stared down at the wooden fort that stretched the entire width of the narrow valley.


    It had taken them all a week to reach his son''s new home, and what he heard and doubted but now saw and believed ¡­ awed him.


    Four months.


    His son had used those four months to erect a wooden fort and used it to fight off against an army.


    As they drew closer towards the fort, he saw people - villagers, if his son was to be believed - quickly take up their stations on the walls. This soon changed when one of them began to excitedly point and shout. No more than five minutes later, the gatehouse opened and a small group of villagers came rushing out to greet them.


    Though he had seen the faces and reactions of the men who followed his son to battle, it was the faces of the villagers that truly told him the full story.


    They respected him. A few feared him, yes, but most of them respected and depended on him. He recognized those because those were the expressions many of his own neighbors wore when they looked at him for help.


    Louis felt conflicted. He would admit not readily but firmly that he didn''t quite need to raise Hans, not like his other children. Hans always did things on his own. Always thought and said things that made little sense then but made more sense later. It was hard to reconcile that introspective and lonely child with someone who now stood next to him.


    "You changed, and I think you''ve changed for the better."


    Hans scoffed. "I just wanted to live in the mountains and do my own thing."


    Louis laughed.


    That sounded just like his son.


    "Care to show your father around your home?"


    "Sure. Why not?"


    -VB-


    A/N: And that is the end of the first "book" of Swiss Arms! 31k ish words, so it''s a short light novel.

 Chapter 16

    A brief peace before the next crisis¡­Swiss Arms


    Chapter 16


    -VB-


    My little corner of the Swiss-to-be valley finally gained peace, if only briefly.


    I told myself that this reprieve would be brief because the chaos outside my valley continued on.


    "It''s going to get worse," dad told me directly in the first-ever "fort-wide" meeting. I would have called it a town hall meeting, but town halls were generally the local village''s church or monastery, so calling it a town hall meeting wasn''t right. Church meeting? Village meeting (except their village wasn''t my village)?


    Whatever it would come to be called by the villagers, they put me in charge of it because my wooden fort was where the meeting was taking place, and apparently giving me some kind of leadership role was their way of thanking me.


    You know, after they forced themselves on me and my consciousness. They weren''t being ungrateful, just a little dense and ignorant of what I personally wanted. My desire for peaceful and explorative days of just me and my power seemed to grow further and further away with each passing day. Worse, what little bits I have accomplished seemed to be hazardous to the people. The biggest of these hazards was the mine shaft.


    People couldn''t breathe or survive a mine shaft as I could, and the few idiots who thought working the mines for the protections I''ve given them was a good way to pay me back. Sufficed to say, I closed the mine shaft until I could kick them out once things were safe.


    But safe was not what was happening outside my walls.


    I glared at dad. "Tell me something else, dad," I grunted before looking back at the people. "First off, I think we need to go and harvest as much of the fields that your village has," I told them. "We got some more food by ''raiding,'' for a given definition of it, but it''s not something I want to have to continue."


    Dad - given a seat in the meeting simply because he was my dad and also because he was the leader of a mercenary group numbering in dozens - nodded. "That is a good idea, especially since the late Count of Sax-Misox didn''t move too deep into Landwasser valley."


    "He didn''t?" Kraft asked.


    "No. He wanted to crush the Count of Waldenberg as quickly as possible. Speaking of whom," dad said as he turned to me. "Thanks for killing my paymaster."


    I shrugged. "Maybe he shouldn''t have overextended," I replied unapologetically. "Or send his men up against a fort instead of sieging it down. What was that about anyways?"


    Dad spoke up. "Maybe he was in a hurry. Everyone knows that outside of the lands of the Prince-Bishop of Chur, everything else is either allied to or owned by the Habsburgs. Burning towns so close to their lands was not going to make them happy."


    I looked at him. "You know a lot."


    "Of course," he puffed up. "The people of Uri is known for knowing great many things."


    I rolled my eyes at his regional pride. "If you say so, dad. Can you tell me more about the Habsburgs then?" I knew about them at the height of their power in the 1600''s and 1700''s, but not about who they were right now.


    Dad looked contemplative as the rest of the meeting look at him, waiting for his response. "Well, they are the current King of the Germans and Romans." The current era was a shitty era. No emperor was currently acknowledged by the pope, and as a result, there have been unrest throughout the empire. The closest position to the emperor was the old King of the Germans, which the Habsburg controlled the title of, but they were also in the process of fighting among each other. "Unfortunately for us, they are currently fighting the King of Bohemia."


    I raised an eyebrow. "Something tells me that they are unlikely to help us then."


    "No, he wouldn''t, considering that Travaos and the Landwasser valley are not close to any important trade routes. It is also outside his control of the County of Tyrol."


    I frowned. "So the neighboring lords will continue to wage war."


    "Yes," he sighed. "We actually had two offers for Uri. One came from the Count of Toggenburg and the other had been from the Count of Sax-Misox. Toggenburg should still be fighting the Prince-Bishop of Chur."


    Toggenburg was the title and lord of the lands northwest of Chur and east of Zurich. They were right next to the Habsburg, who controlled the County of Kyburg (which was the Habsburg''s main seat of power as of the moment). I knew this much.


    I blinked. "Wait, are the Habsburg currently at war with the Bohemians over the Duchy of Austria?"


    Dad looked at me in surprise. "Uh, yes. How did you know the name of the duchy?"


    I waved him off. "Nothing important." I had just realized that the current era I lived in was during the rise of the Habsburgs as the most powerful house in the Holy Roman Empire and then in Europe. Once they won this war, they would have the Duchy of Austria, Duchy of Styria, Duchy of Carniola, and the County of Tyrol, giving them their historical borders.


    What was troublesome about this was that the Habsburgs should be attacking the Swiss Confederation in two decades, which would mark the start of the growth of the Old Swiss Confederacy.


    So where was I going with this? What was the situation surrounding my little valley? Quite simply, I was surrounded on all sides by either belligerent lords seeking short term gains even if it meant earning the ire of the current King of the Germans by messing around in his neighborhood and powerful lords who would eventually dominate the entire region. They were very likely to try to conquer me if I make something great out of my valley.


    I hated the thought.


    I shook my head. I had to get my head out of thinking in the long term. The villagers of Travaos needed help here and now.


    I turned to dad. "Dad, I want to hire you and your neighbors."


    He raised an eyebrow. "You don''t have the m-"


    I stood up, cutting him off, and then walked up the tower (we were holding the meeting at the ground floor of my tower). Once I was out of their sight, I grabbed some gold nuggets and rough gemstone from one of the locked boxes, gathered them into a small pouch, and walked back down.


    He stared at me in surprise when I placed the pouch down on the table and gestured for him to look. Curiosity got the better of him and he did. He fingered the opening and loosened it. He peered in and -.


    He snapped it shut by pulling at the twain in a hurry, and looked at me in shock. "Are you mad?! Where did you even get these?!"


    I scoffed. "Some of the things I was doing before these guys decided to saddle themselves on me," I thumbed at the village representatives.


    Dad glared at me for a bit before he nodded. "At least we''re getting paid, so I guess I''ll do what you ask, but if you''re asking for something stupid like your brother does¡­"


    "I just want you to protect the villagers why they go out and harvest their crops. It should still be fine, right?"


    The villagers looked in surprise and then looked at each other.


    "Aye," Kraft replied firmly.


    "Then take some carts with you, harvest as much as you can, and bring them back here. We''ll probably need most of the people not assigned to guard duty to do it."


    Ping!


    [You have gained a new skill!]


    [Delegate] LvL 1


    Divide and conquer¡­ that work.


    *Improves work efficiency of workers, employees, soldiers, and subordinates by 0.05% per lvl.


    *Output = (Work.Efficiency)*(Work.Proficiency)


    -Work Proficiency is determined by a skill user''s level and supplemental skills.


    It was a great skill for a leader, but it wouldn''t directly impact the leader himself.


    "Let''s get this done within a month."


    ---


    The meeting came to an end shortly afterward as I didn''t care about how the villagers assigned roles among themselves.


    Dad talked to me again once the villagers left my tower, but he mostly grilled me about what exactly I was doing in the middle of a valley out of the way from everywhere. I just grinned and shrugged, leaving him to huff and puff as he left.


    After dad left, Arnold and Alvia approached me.


    "Yes¡­?" I asked them.


    Alvia was the first to speak up with excitement. "Can you teach me more about gem faceting?!"


    Arnold wasn''t the one to lose. "Please teach me to become a warrior!"


    I blinked in surprise.


    ¡­ This was going to cut into my personal time, wasn''t it?


    I sighed.


    "Okay, but I''m giving you only advice and help for one hour a day each, alright?"


    I sucked at saying no.


    Actually, could [Delegate] be used to improve someone''s skills?


    ¡­Sorry, Alvia and Arnold. You two are about to become my guinea pigs.


    "Actually¡­" I drawled with a grin.


    -VB-


    Arnold regretted asking Hans for help.


    The man had gone from dismissively telling them that he would help only one hour a day to deciding that he would help them for six hours a day.


    Alvia went to sleep complaining about how her fingers ached.


    As for him?


    Everything ached.


    He spent three hours each day running. Hans ran with him, but the monster never fucking sweated! Once he finished running, Hans forced him to shoot arrows for an hour and a half before making him swing swords for another hour and a half!


    The only "good" thing that he was getting out of this training was that Hans was force feeding him all sorts of meat, fish, and vegetables at every meal.


    And it had been a month since they started.


    ¡­ Arnold couldn''t help but notice that he was now very big. He wasn''t rotund at the midsection like some of the other villager; his muscles stood out, he lacked fat, and he felt stronger!


    But he hadn''t actually learned to be a warrior yet. He swung swords, yes, but it was always the same three swings: vertical strike, horizontal strike, and jabbing. Hans called those three the basic strikes, and wouldn''t teach him anymore until he got them down right.


    At dawn, Arnold walked out of his barrack, which was where unmarried single youth and men slept in, and stretched. When he finished stretching, Hans was there, and Arnold wordlessly joined him in the run.


    By the time they came back, the rest of the villagers still holed up in Hans'' fort woke up and were working. With grain coming in from the fields, most of them were working to grind the grain or chop up the vegetables for soup.


    Their morning meal was simple: cooked bear meat (from Hans'' personal preserved meat), a quarter of a loaf of bread, and a vegetable soup. After the meal, Hans let him spend fifteen minutes of free time, which Arnold spent just lounging about.


    And then he headed over to Hans'' training yard and found himself surprised.


    Hans stood waiting for him not with a quiver of arrows and a bow but with a wooden sword and a bag.


    "It''s time to start your real training."


    Hans tossed the sword at him, and Arnold caught it in surprise.


    "We will work on¡­"


    Arnold grasped the sword with both of his hands and gulped in anticipation.


    "Your footing!"


    "...Huh?"


    Hans reached down to the bag, opened it, and ¡­ pulled out stones.


    "You have two choices: dodge or parry," he said as he tossed a river stone up to the air and then caught it as it came down. "During this exercise, your sword must remain firmly vertical. You must not take hits. Any questions?"


    "U-Uh, how fast are you going to be throwing them?"


    Hans smiled.


    Arnold didn''t like that smile. S?a??h the Nov?lF?re .??t website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    "I''ll be sure to not hit you in the head with any particularly fast throw. Besides, if you can dodge my rocks, then you aren''t going to get hit by arrows, which is good!"


    And then he threw a rock as an example to the wooden wall of the training yard.


    Something whistled like an arrow and then there was a crack.


    Arnold looked to the left and saw a rock embedded in the wooden wall, the same wall that was made using entire trunks of trees.


    Arnold cursed the man as he began to try to dodge the rocks.


    He did not succeed.

 Chapter 17

    Swiss ArmsChapter 17


    -VB-


    Winter finally came.


    Wherever I looked, the entire world seemed to be covered in snow and ice. The snowmelt river froze over, the evergreen tree showed off white on green dresses, all non-evergreen trees showed their bare branches, and most of the animals remained quiet in their hibernation or have already left the Alps for greener pastures to the south.


    Humans in this day and age in Europe didn''t do a nomadic lifestyle, unfortunately. This meant that we were stuck in our homes, come rain, snow, or sunshine.


    Honestly, winter in the Alps sucked and I hated it. This wasn''t the modernity where I can just turn on a heater that drew energy from a hydrodam or a coal plant. No, heat came from fires within flammable houses that needed inefficient solid fuels and constant attention, and the best insulating attire was heavy fur. Snow got everywhere like sand but it turned to water and wet everything when the heat was turned up, and travel was difficult at best, fatal at worst.


    I''ve lived this medieval life for eighteen years, soon nineteen, and winter, for all of its innate romantic beauty ¡­


    SUCKED.


    "ORARARARARARARA!"


    [Iron Head Flat Head Shovel]


    Perfect for shoveling loose material, not so much for digging.


    Grade: Moderate (+10%)


    *+2 Damage


    "ORARARARARARARA!"


    Snow flew to my left and made a long mound behind me.


    "ORARARARARARARA!"


    My arms blurred as I put my speed, strength, and endurance¡­ to clear a path.


    "-RARARARARA-!"


    It''s kind of like clearing the parkway at a house for the car, so that the car could back out. Except, in my case today, I cleared a path because it made travel hard.


    "-RARARARA-!"


    I cared about people''s travel quality because I wanted trade to pass through Fluela Pass, and if the pass was closed every winter, then that was a season of no trade. Trade worked best when it was a constant affair, don''tcha know?!


    "-RARARA!"


    I roared as I finished the shoveling and slammed the shovel down to the ground. I whirled around and looked at the work I''ve done and smiled.


    At about three yards wide, it was a narrow-ish path in the snow, but it stretched the top of the Fluela Pass to the east gate of my little fort and then from the west gate of my fort to the Landwasser valley.


    Of course, I didn''t do all of this myself. I only did the east gate to the top of Fluela Pass, and I started from the top. Still, that was a passage a peddler could use to go back and forth the valley over to Landwasser without having to go all the way around.


    Of course, I didn''t clear a path from the top of the pass to the east, but that''s because ¡­ because I didn''t want to do everything. I wasn''t here to make life better for everyone. I knew that I couldn''t. No matter how strong, powerful, patient, or genius I became, I was a single man at the end of the day.


    At the end of the day, I could not create and support a whole community just by myself. Hell, making Fluela Pass and the valley into some kind of trade route wasn''t even in top five in my priorities.


    But it made people feel better knowing that they had a connection to the outside world, no matter how awful the world outside had been for the last two seasons.


    It was winter in the Alps, but that did not stop the numerous counts, dukes, and minor nobility from killing each other to claim even a parcel of land more for themselves.


    Dad already left with his people, but he did so with a sack of coins I paid him for his work in escorting the villagers back and forth as they harvested their grains and vegetables. I prayed for his safe passage to home, but I knew that if he and the others ran into a belligerent army, then ¡­ they might die. Winter made this less likely, yeah, but chances existed.


    There were good news, though!


    First off, Kraft had been allegedly pushing Alvia to seduce me and has stopped since my return from Waldenberg. Alvia still learned from me and nothing has changed, mostly because she kind of ignored her dad and ended up becoming too enamored by gem faceting to care about sex and marriage.


    Second, I got my first spell! My first magic spell! Sure, it wasn''t a practical spell for most situations, but I had a spell! It confirmed for me that I was going to be able to use other kinds of magic, and that I didn''t need to do anything special or dumb.


    Like I had been planning.


    I didn''t ask for cows just because they were useful for farming and because my people needed them to help hurl our loot from Waldenberg to our home. Cows made for, uh, great sacrifices. But it had been only a passing thought before and after the Waldenberg battle, and I didn''t care enough for it with now the revelation that I didn''t need to do stupid shit.


    Third, I got a few more skills related to healing. [Herbalism], [First Aid], and [Bandaging]. I am dearly hoping that once I leveled those skills enough, a spell for cleansing of some kind will pop up. Because the Black Death was due in forty years, and while forty years seemed like a lot of time, I wasn''t focusing all of that time on just healing.


    There, of course, were also bad news.


    First, the Count of Toggenburg was winning his war against the Prince-Bishop of Chur.


    Second, the death of Count of Sax-Misox had not stabilized the region by removing a hostile player; the count''s death sparked a civil war between his three sons and their two relatives for succession while his war with the currently heirless and lordless Barony of Vaz. Yes, a lordless barony was not exactly fit to fight a war, but rumors told to me by two peddlers who came and went spoke of a peasant''s rebellion in the middle of winter. See, the Count had done a very stupid thing and raped, looted, and pillaged his way through the Barony of Vaz and then into the Habsburg-aligned Planta Noble House of Waldenberg and Zernez.


    Speaking of the Habsburgs, I highly suspected that once their war with the Bohemian King ended (if it hadn''t already ended), they were going to come charging down to make the Sax-Misox rue the day they were born for attacking their regional ally, and these Habsburgs were not the feeble and insane incestuous byproducts whose mainline died off due to inbreeding but warriors and nobles of the Swabia fighting over kings and other dukes to be the ruler of the Holy Roman Empire.


    AKA they are vicious as fuck right now, though they did prefer that sweet, sweet "fuck your way to the throne" diplomacy. It''s why the Kyburgs, the northern neighbor of the Toggenburgs, were married to the Habsburg right now and the Toggenburg lands would go to the Habsburgs, because the current belligerent count was a heirless lord and allied to the Habsburgs.


    It''s why, despite my own preference, I sent out messengers, using the people of Travaos, to reach out to the neighbors to the north. I wanted to meet them, and if necessary, to form some kind of an alliance to resist the power hungry hands of the lords around us.


    This was exactly how the League of Ten Jurisdictions, one of the three members of the Three Leagues, which would then become part of modern Swiss Confederacy after the Napoleonic Wars. I was repeating history, just a hundred years earlier.


    In trying to leave the lands of the (Old) Swiss Confederacy, I had gone and done the exact thing I wanted to avoid: get involved.


    I sighed as I entered through the east gate, nodding to the gate guard, and then walked towards my tower. I also did my best to ignore the looks of the single women currently directing their eyes towards me.


    That was also a new thing. Before the Waldenberg/Zernez expedition, everyone was too scared and desperate for "finer" things in life, but now that peace had settled over my people and the granary looked full enough for us to last the winter as well as Kraft stopping his attempts, there have been ¡­ unwanted to advances.


    It wasn''t that I was asexual or gay. I liked women.


    What I did not like, however, was the general state of the women around these parts.


    The Old Swiss Confederacy didn''t become famous for its mercenaries for no reason; they had no other means of survival because their lands were piss poor. Mercenaries lived on their reliability, so their mercenaries, their men and militia, literally died in foreign lands because their deaths fed their families. Nobody wants to hire mercenaries who fled for their lives at the first sign of trouble. This was why Switzerland in the future became the land of mercenaries: loyal unto death because that was the only way they were able to feed their families. That and their halberds were great at killing knights.


    Worse, the area of future-to-be Switzerland where I settled was even poorer than the rest of Switzerland. Taking all of that together, you got a people who weren''t well-fed, a little rough on the edges, and tough at best.


    It didn''t mean that there weren''t sexy young woman ready to join me in bed. It''s just that¡­ I guessed I didn''t want the responsibility right now. I still longed to be alone so that I could find excitement in just developing my skills. Yeah, I''m sure sex was great and all, but I could have sex later!


    I think that''s one of the reasons why I liked Alvia so much; she was as enthusiastic about learning and improving herself as I was. We were kindred spirit, even if her spirit was gem-studded and glittering gold with her desire for those carats. I liked Arnold as a friend, too. He was relaxed, kept quiet about my more supernatural deeds, and shared that desire for improvement.


    I picked up a stone from the ground. "Dodge," I said absentmindedly as I hurled it at Arnold, who was with some other men, training in the ways of the sword.


    Arnold, whose senses had been trained to knife-edge sharpness, snapped towards me and saw the rock in the same instance, and stepped out of the way of the rock just in time to have to nearly graze his chest. The stone flew onward and cracked against the wooden and straw covered dummy.


    The other training men gulped.


    Arnold just glared at me adorably.


    It''s been months since I trained him by throwing stuff at him (he was lucky that wrenches weren''t a thing yet). The first month had been very hard for him, and it was also how I trained my [First Aid] skill, which improved the immediate quality of health care I gave him and healed him just slightly so that, overall, he healed faster. However, healing faster from his ordeals just meant that he also got to experience the full experience far more often, and his screams of bloody murder was not only a feature of my fort but a near weekly occurrence.


    "Shitty master!"


    He also gained a potty mouth.


    I picked up a few more stones and flicked the next one faster.


    He nearly dodged it, but it clipped him on the shoulder, and he yelped from the pain.


    It didn''t matter that he was wearing padded shirt for training and warmth; my throws always hurt.


    "Ah, Sir Hans¡­?"


    I paused from tossing my third stone and glanced around until I saw one of my "pages."


    I didn''t know why these people really wanted to follow all of the bells and whistles of the knightly progress. It made them feel better, so I let it go and followed through with it.


    "Yes, Harold?" I asked the boy of ten.


    "T-The representatives Schlier and Klosters have arrived."


    Ah.


    It was time.


    "Did they ask for a meeting as soon as possible or after another day?"


    "They did not say, milord."


    I glared at him. He knew that I didn''t like being called milord, mostly because I hadn''t earned such a title and because I had specifically stated before that "sir" was as far as I was willing to accept. s?a??h th? ??v?l_Fir?.?et website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    "Then go and ask. Come find me if they want a meeting today."


    The other representatives had arrived days ago, and they were eager to talk about a mutual defense pact. Maienfeld and Castels'' representatives wanted an alliance right here and now because their towns and lands were the closest to the Chur-Toggenburg war and felt extremely threatened. St. Peter and Langweis were wary as they were technically under the rule of the Prince-Bishop of Chur, but since the prince was losing one battle after another with no other lord capable or willing to take them in, they felt like they had to join.


    I didn''t bother calling for Belford and Churwalden; both had been sacked and burned by the Count of Sax-Misox and his army.


    This left Kloster, the one furthest from all of this mess, to decide our fate, because they stood between Travaos and the others. If they refused to join the alliance, then there would be no legal passage between Travaos and the next closest town, Castels. It would break the alliance even before it began and gathering all of the representatives would have been for nought.


    ¡­.


    I could conquer them.


    I really could.


    But that was not my Plan B or even C or D. It was the very last option for the sake of my and others'' safety.


    But I could.


    Harold came back no more than five minutes later.


    He bowed hastily. "They want to meet with you as quickly as possible."


    I threw the last stone at Arnold, who deftly dodged it, and walked away as I gave a wave at my apprentice/student.


    My first political talk stood ahead of me.


    ¡­ I''m nervous.

 Chapter 18

    Swiss ArmsChapter 18


    -VB-


    The Compact of the Seven Towns


    Easily both the most influential event and the piece of document surrounding the Alps at the start of the High Medieval Age, the Compact of the Seven Towns - Davos, Klosters, St. Peter, Langweis, Castels, Schiers, and Maienfeld - came to be at the request of Hans of Fluela after his victory over the Count of Waldenberg and Count of Sax-Misox at Zernez. According to what anecdotes still left from the event, the meeting between these seven towns, with Hans of Fluela and his Fluela Pass Fort speaking on behalf of Davos, was meant to gather the nearly insignificant entities to form a significant enough player in the Alps for self-defense.


    "Stand together or die alone," Hans of Fluela spoke in this meeting.


    While this may have been Hans''s intention and hope, the Compact of the Seven Towns grew to become more than a defensive pact. As Hans played a pivotal role in the defense of the towns against outsiders, the towns gave more and more political and military power over to the man who made their defense possible, and within thirty years of its formation, Hans would become the undisputed leader of the Compact.


    This was in part because of how strongly their neighboring prince-bishops and counts pushed to dissolve and partition the Compact, seeing it as an affront to the status quo and their authorities. They weren''t wrong about the possible future and decline of their power as they had learned from the rise of the Hanseatic League in Lower Saxony and the Free Imperial Cities like Augsburg, Nordlingen, and Ulm in the Swabian duchies. Some of these nobles, like the belligerent Count of Toggenburg, spoke correctly when he declared in the Meeting of the Nine Lords - which was a meeting of Habsburgs, Kyburg, Toggenburg, Meinherdin of Tyrol, both Sax-Misox counts, Prince-Bishop of Chur, Abbot of St. Gallens, and Count of Montfort - that allowing the likes of the Compact to remain in their neighborhood would destabilize their own holdings, especially since they were also keenly aware of the fact that Bern and Zurich, two cities to their southwest, grew at an alarming rate.


    The Meeting of the Nine Lords and their own agreement to quash the rising power of the city-state republics contributed to the Habsburg expedition against the Forest Cantons (Old Swiss Confederacy), which was allied with the Compact, at the Battle of Morgarten. This battle not only cemented the Compact as a regional power but also began the decline of nobility in Switzerland and Upper Swabia and marked the beginning of the Compact''s expansion in eastern Switzerland and Tyrol just as it marked the rise of the Forest Cantons in central and western Switzerland.


    ---


    I walked into the meeting room I had prepared for this and saw six representatives sitting and waiting for me. Kraft, as the representative of Travaos, came with me.


    The narrow room barely had enough room for all eight of us, but we made do. Kraft and I scooted around the small room around the edge of the room and got to the head of the table. We sat down in the two free seats.


    The representatives looked awkward as I did, which meant that I needed to break that awkwardness as soon as I could. Unfortunately, I was an awkward guy myself, so I knew nothing about how to break this ice.


    "It''s good to see that our neighbors have avoided the tragedies that have befallen our quiet valleys," Kraft began somberly, and the others agreed with equally somber nods and ayes.


    ''Yes, that''s a good way to start us off, Kraft,'' I thought to myself with relief.


    "Our friend, Hans, gathered us here today so that we may discuss what steps we can take as neighbors to prevent what happened to Zernez, Churwalden, and Belfort," he continued. "When the Count of Sax-Misox invaded the Barony of Vaz, he spared nothing, which went completely against the normal and honorable code of war."


    Someone raised their hand.


    "Please, speak," I gestured for the middle-aged man with a grey goatee to speak.


    "I am Gerald of Schiers," he spoke. "What exactly does this meeting hope to accomplish?"


    He and two others looked ¡­ skittish. Were they afraid of something?


    I glanced at Kraft, who just nodded at me. I don''t know what you''re trying to tell me when you just nod at me without prior arrangement, old man! I took a deep breath in and leveled a stare at Gerald.


    "Thank you for coming to this meeting, Herr Gerald. I am Hans of Fluela."


    "I-It is an honor, sir Hans. I have heard of your deeds," he replied a little flustered with a bow, awkwardly trying to stand up but also unsure of what he should do.


    "You have heard of me?"


    "Oh yes," he replied with a nod. "Travelers and refugees told us of your tale. How you fought for the Baron of Vaz and defeated many knights of the Prince-Bishop. How you took in all of Travaos despite your own hardships and defended them against the depravations of Count of Waldenberg of Zernez. How you led men to secure food for the villagers by striking at Zernez and striking down the Count of Sax-Misox, whose unjust invasion caused this grief in the first place."


    My head snapped to Kraft, who looked away from me.


    ''Dude, what the fuck?''


    Kraft had been the one to host him and three other representatives who had arrived early. Did he feel their heads with wrong ideas? Actually, what did he say to them?


    I looked back at Gerald and smiled. "I did what I could."


    He nodded, suddenly a little more animated and relieved(?).


    "I see."


    What did you see?


    "What I hope to see from the end of this meeting," I spoke up quickly to reassure him and others. "Is a mutual defense pact. When one of us is being attacked, then all of us will rise to fight off the invader. We won''t allow foreign nobles to declare that this land is theirs because someone far away on the other side of the Empire said so. If anything, someone who becomes our lord must be chosen among us, not someone from a complicated land swapping deal from the loins of uncaring lords and abbots!"


    Everyone liked democracy when it gave power to them, right?


    "If a mutual defense pact cannot come forth from this meeting, then at the very least, we must agree to share information on what is going on around the world that we individually cannot see. By broadening our eyes, we can make better decisions, which will keep our families and towns fed and secured. For example, if an invading force is burning fields of Travaos and is moving north, wouldn''t it be great to have an early warning so that you can save at least some of your crops?"


    Everyone looked agreeable to that idea. They murmured with each other, glancing at me.


    "How do you propose we do that?" someone else spoke up.


    "You are?" I asked the most fancifully dressed man. Rather, he had the rich medieval merchant garb down to a tee.


    "I am Daniel of Klosters, a merchant."


    "Thank you for asking, Herr Daniel. I believe we will use light."


    "... Light?"


    I pulled out a polished glass with an iron back.


    Daniel''s eyes widened, and I knew why. Glass objects were hard to come by, and me showing off glass despite the wooden nature of my compound and fort was a sign of wealth. S?a??h th? N?v?l(F)ire.n?t website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    "I make glass."


    Oh shit. Daniel, you''re popping blood vessels there, mate. Hold your excitement.


    "And I can make mirrors."


    ¡­ You alright there, Daniel? You''re getting pale and red at the same time. Chill.


    I angled the primitive mirror against the light flooding in from the top so that it would point at the table, and then covered the mirror. The light stopped reflecting, and I rapidly but with rhythm and precision took my hand on and off the mirror. The light on the table flickered on and off with my hand.


    I smiled. "We''ll have to come up with codes and have some people stationed in watchtowers between villages and in villages, but we can communicate across long distances now."


    The representatives looked at each other.


    When they looked back at me, I knew that I had their attention.


    "Tell us more about what you had in mind¡­"


    I grinned.

 Chapter 19

    Swiss ArmsChapter 19


    -VB-


    A mutual defense pact was good and all, but it couldn''t keep a people together.


    No, for a people to remain together, there needed to be more than just an outside enemy. After all, the likes of the British and the French found native helpers wherever they went.


    While an outside enemy would provide a great initial cause for cooperation, this cooperation would disappear the moment the enemy disappears as neighbors are, after all, one''s greatest competition and rival. For our mutual defense pact to survive, I have already provided one reason to stay: information exchange. Again, this wasn''t enough.


    I thought long and hard about it. I mean, I had quite a bit of time on my hand to do exactly that. Early winter went and the deep winter came with plummeting temperatures. Snow was already getting too much to handle, even for me, and gave up on cleaning it outside of my fort.


    It wasn''t like there were travelers at this time of the year, anyway.


    As for the people in my fort, we have done well in our preparations. We had enough food for the winter and spring. The problem would start around summer, but that was enough time for me to come up with something, right?


    So I did.


    Fluela Valley possessed no great resource. Sure, I mined up some gold, but that had more to do with the fact that I mined a lot of rock. Since winter began, I have been mining on average once a day at the very least, which got the villagers curious. A few of them tried mining after I gave them permission to try and quickly gave up after suffering through claustrophobic panics.


    I didn''t suffer the same phobia because I could literally dig out the dirt and rocks around me if there was ever a cave-in or the fact that a cave-in was unlikely to hurt me too much.


    On average, whenever I mine one million units of dirt, rocks, and ores (which was around one cubic meter), I get a tenth of a unit of gold, which was two grams of gold per ten thousand cubic centimeters (roughly the size of a human head), and I can''t mine anything smaller than a cubic centimeter. This was also after I used [Prospecting] skill to find the right spot to mine.


    [Prospecting] LvL.54


    Finds pockets of ore. Can specify which ore to look for.


    *Increases chance of pinpointing potential ore by LvL*INT/100


    *Decreases chance of ruining non-target minerals within deposit by 1 - SQRT[(INT/100 + Dex/100)*Skill.LvL/10]


    [Deposit] World Resource


    One thousand cubic centimeters of


    *May contain mineral


    *Mineral make-up is heavily influenced by the history of the area


    *Mineral make-up is lightly influenced by Gamer''s skills


    So yes, it wasn''t just about finding the right ore deposit for the ore I wanted, but it was also finding a significant enough deposit for me to extract the ore. This also came at the expense of ruining whatever other significant ore deposit that wasn''t the ore I wasn''t looking for but not ubiquitous or common enough for me to not completely ruin.


    An example of this was borax, the stuff used as a flux (lowering melting temperature) for glassmaking. It helped make clear glass, the kind that I was used to in my past life. While there was borax in these mountains and valleys, it wasn''t available in large quantities. Each deposit had only a finite source of any mineral, but it may contain multiple minerals. Borax came up often enough in quantities like gold ore, but if I mined specifically for gold, then I would lose borax, and vice versa if mined for borax.


    I also couldn''t bring up more than ten thousand units at a time because the burlap sack I carried for mining purposes could only fit that much, and anything bigger wouldn''t fit down the mining shaft.


    This was why despite how I mined for weeks upon weeks, I only had fifty-seven units of borax and fifty-nine units of gold ore. That much borax was barely enough to make four hundred fifty hundred units of glass.


    [Glassmaking] LvL.13


    Make fancy and glittering luxuries with sand and fire.


    *Decreases chance of project failure by 0.9% per level.


    *Decreases accessory material need by 0.25% per level.


    [Glass] Raw Resource


    Transparent solid for many projects


    *Known Recipe: sand, soda ash, borax = borosilicate glass


    *Known Recipe: sand, soda ash = murky glass


    Four hundred fifty units of glass may sound like a lot, but that was enough for exactly half-inch thick by one eight-inch wide by one and a half feet long windowpane.


    And it took me literal weeks to gather just the borax.


    On top of that, my crafting skill made it so that I could only craft in batches of ninety units of glass, and my skill level told me more or less that I would lose 80% of what I make, which meant that theoretically, I could make 450 units of borosilicate glass, but in actuality, I would only make 90 units of boroscilicate glass.


    You know just enough for a bloody cup.


    Of course, the reason why I went out of my way to make glass was to discover if there was a chance that I could turn glassmaking into an industry.


    Why did I want to make an industry?


    "Because you hoped that you could make it into an industry to tie the entirety of the seven towns," Arnold said with a slow nod.


    I blinked.


    I looked up and saw Arnold, two others, and Kraft. They all looked at me with wide eyes. All of us were sitting in the dining hall, and I realized that I had begun to talk aloud while I had been calculating with a piece of paper in front of me and a charcoal piece for writing (ink was hard to come by).


    "Uh¡­ yes," I muttered.


    "That''s not going to work," Kraft shook his head. "There is a city in Swabia that makes glass, probably more than what you can make by yourself, especially if you intend to use only that borax stuff of yours."


    "I don''t have to strict use it," I grumbled. "I could use just sand and soda ash, but it''s gonna be harder on the furnace. Without borax, the melting temperature of the glass would be too high for my furnace for long."


    "Then don''t make glass," Kraft said. "You can still mine gold."


    "These mountains are not made up of gold, Kraft. There''s only so much gold before it runs out. It can''t be the source of our revenue, never mind the fact that it''s going to attract wrong sort of attention."


    Arnold raised his hand, a habit he learned while I tutored him.


    "Yes, Arnold?" I asked him as I set the charcoal down.


    "Why is it bad?"


    "You mean aside from getting greedy nobles to look into how to take over our valley?"


    "... Yes, aside from that," he replied sheepishly.


    "Gold mines can run on dying slaves," I narrowed my eyes.


    The "commoners" in front of me all froze.


    "That''s why I was looking into glassmaking and not gold mining. If a noble does take over with the force of arms, then they can then bring in cheap laborers from elsewhere. Gold mining also pollutes the hell out of any place unless you want to go at it really slowly and inefficiently."


    "I see," Kraft muttered. "Then perhaps we should stop talking about gold and not let mention of gold get out."


    I nodded and the others nodded as well.


    Of course, this left me back in square one on how to bring the seven towns together.


    "Well, these mountains do have a lot of iron¡­" I muttered. Hematite was the main iron ore I have been using because it was abundant in mountains. "Well, I guess we can, but isn''t there also a lot of other cities and nobles who mine and refine iron?" I asked. "I mean, I assume the Habsburg do at the very least; they wouldn''t be able to field their armies otherwise."


    "... What do you want to do?"


    I blinked. "Sorry?"


    Kraft spoke up again. "I ¡­ understand," he began, trying to use words he normally didn''t use to sound more formal. "That you are trying your best to think of something to tie the towns together. I don''t get why you seem to think that going on our ways is bad after surviving invaders. I mean, isn''t that the point of this mutual defense pact you had us sign? Some of the villagers may think that you are trying to form a county of your own."


    I hadn''t expected that.


    "Umm. It''s just the nature of smaller powers getting eaten up by bigger powers," I responded. "It doesn''t matter if what we want is to simply enjoy our simple and peaceful lives; others have their ambitions and goals, and we stand in the way of that regardless. I mean, we keep bringing up Habsburgs, but they do want to take over the entire empire. It''s why the Forest Cantons banded together."


    The Forest Cantons were the three original cantons, one of which was Uri my homeland, that formed the Old Swiss Confederacy.


    "We could be mercenaries."


    Kraft and I turned to Arnold, who''d just made that suggestion. He now looked uncomfortable. "I-I know that it''s not a good thing to fight and kill for a living, but I-I think we can agree that our valleys aren''t ¡­ rich?"


    I nodded, and Kraft grunted in irritation like most people did after their home was called piss poor, directly or indirectly.


    "But if you can make us armor and weapons and teach us how to fight, then we can fight."


    "Boy," Kraft hissed out, upset. "Fighting is not a good way to make money. Did you not just see Hans''s father? They lost half of their men, which is that many men unavailable to defend their home."


    Arnold raised his hands in surrender. "I''m not saying that all of us should be mercenaries! Just ¡­ a few who would like to see the wider world."


    I thought about it.


    Mercenary work was ¡­ look, it wasn''t a great profession. Chance of dying was high, and if I got hired by the loser, then I might not even get paid. If I was on the winning side of a war, then pillaging and looting would be part of my mercenary contract, which meant my morality and ethics took a dump for a monetary payout.


    "Let''s¡­ put that as a backup," I replied reluctantly.


    As much as I didn''t like the idea of working as a mercenary, I would be dumb to dismiss it out of hand. Survive first, think about morality and repent later. It''s what I had planned when I attacked Zernez, after all.


    "What other ideas did you have?" Kraft asked me, suddenly a lot more interested in this because there was not an insignificant chance of his son wanting to go out and dying on a battlefield far from home.


    "A few, but none I could implement or test during winter. For now, I could ¡­ probably teach you all how to be a blacksmith-."


    I paused.


    Trade was a thing in medieval Europe. Sure, it wasn''t operated at the same scale as 21st century Earth, but it existed. The Forest Cantons formed, after all, to take advantage of the fact that they controlled the territory right between Swabia and Italy''s rich Po Valley.


    While Fluela was not a location involved in many trades, it did have a pass that connected iron-rich Tyrol to the main trade route between the Po Valley and Swabia. I mean, technically speaking, we might be able to leverage that to do something. Buying iron ore, raw, would not be a problem since while Tyrol might be under Habsburg control, they didn''t directly rule over it. Hell, my information could even be wrong!


    God, this was giving me a headache¡­


    Okay, whatever! Iron!


    I could get iron, whether I mine it myself, with the villagers, or by buying it from places with richer iron mines.


    Then ¡­ Then I could make a rudimentary manufacturing, preferably an automation. Something that makes hammering easier. I could probably do it with wind and water, both of which I had in abundance. Would it be enough for any kind of serious automation? If I could get automation going, then I could make even small things like nails at a very cheap price since I wouldn''t need a blacksmith working on a single piece of nail at a time.


    Hmm.


    A plan was getting together in my head now.


    Hell, why should I stop at making only nails? Swords, armors, and more¡­ Just making the wind and river run the furnaces would ensure that the base cost of any steel I make would be lower than anywhere else.


    Ping!


    [New Quest]!


    I blinked.


    It''s been a long time since I got a quest like this¡­


    [Quest: Industrialization!


    You might not have the coal-based steam industry ready to make and start, but you can start something smaller. Your job, if you choose to accept, is to set up a fully fledged industry within five years of accepting this quest!


    Requirement:


    *Establish a profitable industry for the Compact of the Seven Towns


    Bonus:


    A-Establish 2 profitable industries


    B-Establish 3 profitable industries


    C-Hire a total of five hundred people


    Reward:


    *10 stat points


    A-+5 stat points


    B-+10 stat points


    C-+10 stat points


    Failure:


    *Potential collapse of the Compact] S?a??h th? N?v?lFir?(.)n?t website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    ¡­ Bruh. Where''s the Yes or No option?


    -VB-


    [Character Status]


    Name: Hans of Fort Fluela


    Age: 18


    LvL: 28


    HP: 540


    MP: 200


    ST: 270


    STR: 39


    END: 54


    AGI: 60


    DEX: 44


    INT: 20


    CHA: 9


    Current Objective: Set Up Home [10/?]


    Current Quest: N/A


    -VB-

 Chapter 20

    YAY. The 20th chapter of Swiss Arms is here~!-VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 20


    -VB-


    Spring couldn''t come quickly enough but it came, and we put ourselves to work.


    The first thing I did was take off on a "patrol" around the entirety of the seven towns that was in our compact.


    I traveled with a dozen volunteers from my fort in Fluela, and made my way to Travaos, where some of the villagers had returned to. We spent a day and night helping the returnees rebuild, and I personally spent a few hours of the evening roaming the valley and its forests, looking for any hidden hostiles.


    From there, we moved north to Klosters. Klosters had been spared the entire war so far, and the people were wary of seeing us. I greeted them with a smile and told them that we were here to help, which we did by spending a day helping the locals sow their seeds.


    From Klosters, we moved onto Castels, Schiers, and Maienfled before heading directly south. Now, it was spring, but to the Alps mountains, this didn''t mean shit because they were still snow-capped. My men grumbled but I took them through the mountains, passing by the Cungels peak, before arriving at St. Peters and then Langweis.


    They were too close to Chur, and had already suffered from the roaming bandits, armies, and local tax extortions by those uncaring of their plight.


    They were the ones I fully intended to defend, so I stayed for a full week.


    And I had my first rough encounter with the northern conflict makers.


    -VB-


    I spotted them before they spotted the St. Peters village.


    St. Peters, as in the center of the town, sat on the northern half of the valley and away from the bottom of the valley. There was a smaller offshoot of the village that sat at the bottom of the valley, but they too were part of St. Peters. This meant that I stationed myself further down the valley to look for peddlers and officials.


    And the officials came.


    Just like how it was when the Baron of Vaz''s herald came to take levies from Travaos, I saw a herald and half a dozen armed men walking up the valley towards St. Peters.


    I stood up from where I had been sitting next to a large tree and moved to stand before them. S?a?ch* Th? ???el F?re.n?t website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    As the noon sunlight bore down and the mountain breeze swayed the fresh spring grass, I stood there awaiting. No more than a minute later, they spotted me.


    They froze at the sight of me and hesitated. The herald said something to the men-at-arms, and they rested their hands on their weapons.


    I scoffed.


    "Who goes there?!" I roared as neutrally as possible. I didn''t scowl, growl, sneer, or anything else that had a hint of tone. I just ¡­ shouted very loudly.


    "We are here by the order of the Prince-Bishop of Chur!" the herald yelled back at me. It was only now that I noticed that he was a monk?


    Huh, why was a monk here?


    I decided to walk towards them, and they froze as I grew closer and closer.


    Because I had my longsword (sorry, slab of metal) with me. Carrying it over my shoulder as if it weighed nothing, I stopped myself some fifty yards in front of them, brought my sword around, spun it casually, and then planted it into the soft soil next to me.


    All seven of them looked horrified by how easily I''d handled my weapon.


    "I am Hans of Fluela. I am the defender of the seven towns that have joined the Compact!"


    The herald gulped. "I have never heard of this ''compact'' before."


    "It has been established last fall," I replied. "It consists of St. Peters, Langweis, Maienfeld, Castels, Schiers, Klosters, and Travaos. In the wake of the turmoil that has taken over the Alps, we have banded together to defend ourselves from violent nobles and clergy!"


    The herald sighed.


    I didn''t expect that kind of a reaction.


    "I am Deacon Benjamin of Chur. The Prince-Bishop sent me to check up on the towns of the valley southeast of Chur. I am here to do my duty both as an official of the Prince-Bishopric of Chur and a deacon of the people."


    I stared at him. They were tax collectors? Why else would someone come as "official" of any lord?


    "I will permit you and your entourage''s entry if you agree to enter only as a deacon of the people. Step further as the hand and voice of the Bishop of Chur in his capacity as the secular rule of the land, and I will stop you."


    He stared at me. "You are not a normal knight. Your speech is too well-practiced."


    "I am not a knight."


    "And you proclaim to be the defender?" one of the men-at-arms demanded with a scoff. "What are you gonna do?"


    Raising an eyebrow, I wiggled my sword, and the man looked a little abashed.


    I spoke up anyway. "If you must have a title to defend the people, then what are all of the fathers and mothers who sacrifice their lives for their children? Why do not get a title? Is it because that''s how things are?" I asked with a sneer of my own. "Does that mean you leave your children to fend for yourself? Am I so glad that I''m not one of you!"


    My words made them angry, but the herald-deacon stopped them with an outstretched hand.


    "We have done nothing to you and you try to goad us. Do you not have manners?"


    I paused.


    You know what? He was right. I was being a dick.


    "... I apologize, but you will have to excuse me, because the last time I met anyone affiliated with Chur, it was upon the battlefield. My role as the defender of the people remains. Chur is one of the belligerents of the conflicts all around us, so I cannot let you through if you are truly here as an agent of Chur. Step forward in such capacity, and I will be duty-bound to fight you."


    "And if we observe the towns as a deacon of the people and my friends here as my guards?"


    "I can allow that. I will even guide you."


    "Then I am here as a deacon of the people. Please let me see how they are doing."


    Compared to how I first interacted with Chur in that battle a year ago, this had gone far better.


    "Would you mind telling me how this ''compact'' came to be?" Deacon Benjamin asked me, and he was polite enough about it.


    "Sure, if you don''t mind telling me about what''s happening out there with Toggenburg, the bishop, and the other nobles squabbling over land," I replied casually as I took up strides next to him.

 Chapter 21

    Swiss ArmsChapter 21


    -VB-


    Deacon Benjamin glanced at the heavy bear fur cloaked man wielding a sword that would have most men-at-arms balking to carry into a skirmish, never mind a battlefield.


    But that was what this man did if the shuddering murmurs from one of the man-at-arms was to go by.


    "You are sure?" Benjamin asked as he looked ahead at the man leading them forward towards the village of St. Peters.


    "Yes, father," the old man with graying beard grimaced. "He''s the reason why the bishop lost."


    "... But he is just one man."


    "A man does not throw a spear like an archer launches an arrow, father. You can ask any other who survived the ordeals of recent times and they will know him."


    Benjamin still felt skeptical. After all, he had heard of rumors about the man. The bear fur cloaked mercenary with a metal mask, not unlike a knight, who killed dozens of men by himself.


    "Dozens?" the old man-at-arms - Markus - grunted. "Yeah. He killed dozens. Five dozens at the least. That man over there was walking atop corpses because he couldn''t find the ground beneath them. Not that it mattered because the ground itself was muddy with blood when he was done."


    The others in the group glanced at the mercenary as they followed him.


    "... Wait, isn''t it a mistake to follow him right now? He could be leading us into an ambush."


    "He could," Benjamin nodded. "But I have a feeling that it isn''t."


    Half of his guards grimaced.


    "Father, it isn''t safe," the leader of the men-at-arms with him spoke up. "We won''t be able to defend you. We can''t trust him."


    "Then trust me. I will tell you as soon as I believe we must leave."


    -VB-


    I picked at my ear.


    They kept whispering to themselves behind me.


    Probably talking about how they were going to jump me.


    Whatever. It wasn''t like they could actually do anything against me. What I was worried about was how it would affect the village.


    My plans and musings were interrupted when the deacon walked up to me so that he walked beside me.


    "Yes?" I asked him.


    "... I am curious as to why a mercenary such as yourself pledged to defend the people of this valley. I certainly don''t believe you are threatening them to pay you for it¡­"


    "I''m not," I replied with a shrug. "I live over at Fluela."


    "You mean the pass?"


    "Kind of. I built myself a fort there right where Fluela connects to Landwasser valley. Actually, I didn''t mean to build a fort. I just had a small workshop, some traps for fishes, and a three-floor tower where I did everything a man does," I explained. "But then the Baron of Vaz came around, I hired myself out as a mercenary, and ¡­ yeah, things kind of escalated from there. The next thing I know, the entire region''s gone down the shitter, and neighboring lords are attacking everyone. Toggenburg is still attacking the bishop, right?"


    The deacon looked surprised.


    "You ¡­ are well aware of the situation."


    "Of course. I had to fucking kill the Count of Zernez and Sax-Misox. Kill them both with my own hands, I did."


    "Y-You did?"


    "The first tried to take over my home and neighbors. As if I was going to stand by and do nothing!"


    "... That''s a virtuous sentiment."


    "Thanks. And then ¡­ well, winter was coming. I actually went over to Zernez to raid their supply of food, because they attack me, but the Count of Sax-Misox was attacking them at the time, so I went and made a deal with their young lord: I fuck up the Sax-Misox and they give me all of the food I demand."


    "I find it hard to believe that you did that all by yourself."


    I paused and looked at him. He was kind of short so I had to look down.


    "Umm, no? When Zernez came to attack, the villagers came to my wooden fort to help me. I''d built that wall for a different reason, but it served its purpose just fine."


    "And your attack on Zernez?"


    "Ah. Well, I asked for some volunteers, and I might have had a dozen or two volunteers."


    "Less than fifty men against a count and his army?"


    I snorted.


    "He sent all of his men after Zernez''s fort on the hilltop. I don''t know why he did that, but he did. Maybe he was impatient? Whatever the reason, he had very few defenders. So I came up from behind and killed him and whoever else I needed to chop up."


    Very little bloodshed. I was still very proud of that as well as proud of keeping my men from becoming ¡­ not good people.


    "I see. From what I heard about you, I expected a brute."


    I snorted. "I am a brute, only that I am a brute by my might and not my mannerism."


    To make a point, I grabbed at the branch of a tree I was passing under. The branch in question was too thick for my fingers to completely encircle it.


    The tree cracked as I snapped the branch off from its trunk and then tossed it aside.


    "See?"


    Deacon looked at me and then the branch now slowly leaving his peripheral vision as we continued our walk towards St. Peters without stopping.


    "... I see."


    I chuckled. "So. I told you about myself, somewhat. Why don''t you tell me about yourself?"


    He took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. "I ¡­ was born in Zurich."


    "Oh, the city¡­ um¡­ it''s northwest of us, right? Very close to the Swabian lands."


    "It is," he nodded with surprise. "You are well learned for someone native to this region."


    "Ah, well. I guess."


    "And modest."


    "I don''t like bragging about knowing a few things. I will brag about my wooden fort spanning the width of the entire valley bottom - which should be about as wide as this valley - but I won''t brag about simple geographical knowledge."


    "Humble."


    "No, the more you learn about everything, the more you realize how much you don''t know."


    He smiled for the first time. "I agree." He paused before continuing. "As I said, I was born in Zurich and grew up as the third son and fifth child of a stonemason. I was told by my parents that I was always a curious child, so they offered to have me learn at the monasteries. I feel that it''s the best decision they could have made for me."


    Jesus. The fifth child of a stonemason? Those guys don''t make a lot of money. His parents might have given him up because they couldn''t feed him.


    "I learned under priests and deacons, and I myself chose to become a priest because I felt that, as a priest, I could help others as I have been helped," he continued. "I would also certainly teach those I reach out to about God and His message. Not the one bigger monasteries and cathedrals like to teach, about tithe''s importance and the like, not because they like to but because of mortal necessities, but about how God loves all of his children, regardless of the people they are from. How we are all saved not by what we do but because He offered His salvation for his love for us."


    "Hmm? Tell me more."


    He looked happy about that.


    "Well, first off, I have to tell you that I am not a great theologian. Perhaps you can meet my mentor for that, but I do have the basics down. I would like to ask you a question: can you save yourself?"


    On the surface, the question was simple but it could be answered in many ways. What is asked was not the strength or endurance of a person that will save a person in a physical crisis but the will to save oneself from oneself. From lust, from greed, from the excesses of the world.


    "... No," I replied. "If I truly was without peer in my power, then I know that I would ¡­ do many things I will come to regret."


    "Then you are more honest than the majority of people I have met."


    I grunted. "A liar eventually lies to themselves, and from there, there is only regression, degradation, and death."


    "I believe similarly as well, yes. Now, if you and I cannot save ourselves on our own, then could we even declare that we can save our souls? That doing good can save us? No, we are saved because God himself saved us through the death of his son, Lord Christ. We have already been saved. It is just up to us to not damn ourselves."


    I glanced at the men-at-arms far behind us. So far, the deacon had kept his voice down. S?a??h the ?ov?l?ir?.n?t website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    "... You know what you''re saying is not what the church preaches, right?"


    Indulgences could be bought, and it was what some ordained priests and bishops would say.


    But then again, there was someone like that everywhere in every era and in every nook and cranny of the world.


    He hardened himself as he responded to me. "But it is what I believe must be told. The ¡­ excesses of the church have become too much. Many churches have strayed from what we should do. What the original church did."


    "Nah."


    "...I''m sorry?"


    "Maybe the original disciples were like that, but the moment the church brought in the power of Constantine to pass judgment among themselves, the church became intricately intertwined with politics. The church and the state are inseparable because the church itself bound itself to the state, which means that just as the virtues that God desires for us can flow from the church to the state, the state''s need for control and excess can also flow to the church."


    "... You are indeed well learned."


    "I''m just repeating what a few malcontents have told me before." In my past life, I did not say.


    He smiled. "I think you are a good man."


    "Thanks."


    "Which is good, because I told my men to stay back in case you decided to kill me."


    I stopped and slowly turned to look at him.


    "... Deacon Benjamin, you have big balls."


    He laughed.


    Damn. He has bigger balls than I do.

 Chapter 22

    Swiss ArmsChapter 22


    -VB-


    Deacon Benjamin did as he promised. He asked the people after their welfare, their questions about the faith, and whether they needed help or not. He didn''t ask anything remotely political or speak threateningly.


    In fact, he got more questions from the locals about why the bishop started the war.


    I helped explain to them that it wasn''t the bishop who declared war but the greedy nobles who attacked the good bishop.


    It wasn''t until later that night that I talked with the deacon again, but this time, he was curious about the "alliance of villages" that I helped establish.


    "So what is the Compact about?" he asked me. I could see that he was honestly curious. I supposed that he already knew the general gist about what the alliance was about.


    I wasn''t sure if I should talk about our goals, however.


    The bishop of Chur, technically, remained an enemy of the Compact of the Seven Towns not because we fought against each other. This was because the Bishop of Chur was our geopolitical rival; they laid claim over the valley where two of our seven-member towns resided (St. Peters and Langweis), held ecclesiarchal domain over the region, and played political games with the surrounding nobles, who were our direct enemies. S~?a??h the ??v?l_Fir?.?et website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    Count of Sax-Misox died, yes, but the title of Count of Sax-Misox was still in conflict with us. Just because the man died and his army broke up and retreated didn''t mean that the war he pursued against the Baron of Vaz stopped and ended. The new Count of Zernez had signed a peace treaty with me, so he was honor-bound to keep it; beyond the peace treaty, he had no manpower, gold, or will to fight me.


    Telling Ben about what the Compact wanted would be counterproductive to the Compact''s goals.


    If we had a goal, that was.


    The thing about the current "model" of the Compact was that it was an emergency defensive pact between seven towns plus myself. I intended to keep them all interested in remaining within the Compact by providing them with industry.


    "No, I don''t think I will tell you," I replied. "You are still beholden to the Prince-Bishop of Chur, who is the secular ruler of Chur and the lands he claims. He did go to war with the Baron of Vaz over a small portion of farmland that belonged to the baron."


    The deacon nodded uncomfortably yet understandingly. "I see your point. Very well, I won''t pry."


    The next day, we traveled to Langweis, the town deeper in the valley, then he returned back to Chur while I crossed over the mountains with my men back to Davos, and finally, from there, I traveled on my own back home.


    With my first patrol of the Seven Towns complete, it was finally time to work on my own goals.


    -VB-


    The first thing I worked on once I got home was put two ideas to test.


    The first idea was primitive blacksmithing automation using water power. Unlike the volatile and unpredictable wind, water flowed down constantly without stopping.


    So with Arnold''s help (he was more or less my apprentice now), I made a water wheel, a mill, and large cogs. I reached LvL.50 in Logging, Construction, and Carpenter while working on the mill, and the 25% reduction in material need was a huge boost to how quickly we could construct the watermill.


    In only two weeks, I had a working mill (without using Construction''s instant building mechanism), and also got a new skill.


    [Engineering] LvL.1 (Pre.Req: Construction LvL.50)


    Making a better solution to your problem.


    *0.05% reduction in material cost for tools


    *0.01% increase in tool output


    ¡­ I wasn''t sure what "tool output" was or what objects qualified as tools. Considering that I couldn''t - as of yet - detect how much damage I delivered, the best I could do was ¡­


    It didn''t take long after having that thought for me to go looking for tools.


    However, this only happened to objects that were made after my skill acquisition.


    Anyways, the first thing I did with the water mill? Because the end of its mechanical cogs ended with a hammer within my fort (the entire mill was just outside the walls to the east) right next to my smithing area, I melted down a bunch of iron to test out the gear mechanics and the hammering speed and strength of the watermill.


    And then when I was ready to have someone hammer the molten iron into shape, I walked over to the wall and pulled down the lever with a grunt.


    The lever controlled a mechanism that lowered a cog down onto the slowly spinning gear within the watermill itself.


    And when the cog slammed into place, the hammer began to move.


    And move hard it did.


    Arnold, Alvia, some of the residents of the fort, and I stared with pride as the watermill-powered hammer hammered the heated iron piece held by the tongs by Arnold. It was nothing like the hydraulic presses and hammers I remembered from my previous life, but this was still good!


    "Well, I guess that''s a start!" I chuckled. I could improve the water mill''s design in the future as well, so I wasn''t going to complain at all.


    I then proceeded to make molds. Most of these molds would have heated iron laid on top of them while someone (our water mill) would hammer it into place. The shaped iron would then be processed (sharpening, cleaning, sanding, etc) by someone else with the right skills.


    Now, I had a lot of options when it came to what I should make.


    I needed to make something that was not noticeable, something made from iron and steel but something that wouldn''t stand out like sword or speartips (because those were still made by castle blacksmiths rather than village blacksmiths).


    I already thought to make nails. It was probably the cheapest product for us to make. Sure, it wouldn''t get us a lot of profit per object sold, but the point was to make a profitable industry, not make a massively profitable industry.


    Actually, I knew that nails were important. I kept underplaying the nail''s importance and how cheap they would be, but I keep forgetting that nails were hard to come by for normal people because iron was hard to come by. I had a bunch of iron because I could mine for it without getting black lungs, but I could only do that because my power more or less broke physics to make it happen.


    Nails wouldn''t just be used to fasten building materials together but also on wine barrels.


    ¡­ I would have to talk with passing peddlers and merchants to get a better accounting of the needs of the market, but I will make nails. With the water hammer, the speed of the smithing should be faster.


    Yeah, nails will be the start of my fort''s export economy.


    -VB-


    Arnold blew out a breath as he pulled the finished nail out from under the scary hammer and tossed it into the pile next to him. Then he reached into the heated furnace next to him with the same tongs and pulled out another heated rod. He waited for the hammer to pull up and placed the rod down at an angle. The hammer came down, and he winced as the impact strike of the hammer crawled up his arms. He quickly flipped the rod around and winced again as the opposite got hammered. He then placed the iron into a slot where it slid down until its now two-sided tip wedged into the carved groove.


    The hammer came down, and a new flathead was made for the nail.


    He removed this one as well, and then walked over to the wall next to the hammer and pulled the lever up with his fatigued arms.


    The hammer clunked as it shuddered once and stopped moving.


    Arnold had to give it to Hans. This was a genius way to make nails.


    And what did Hans say when he told him this?


    "No, I''m sure someone else came up with it first. I''m just reinventing something the world already knew¡­ and maybe lost somewhere along the way."


    Hans said things like that a lot, but this one stuck with him.


    Arnold knew that what he did here in his homeland with his family was nothing new, but for how long had this been "not new"?


    It got him thinking.


    But right now, he had a job to do: sharpening those nails.

 Chapter 23, 24, 25

    Swiss ArmsChapter 23


    -VB-


    We made enough mirrors using silver and glass for the first semaphore and also a shit ton of nails for the watchtowers the mirrors would be housed in. As spring washed away to summer, I sent those two out, each with thin paperback instructions on how to use light as a communication system.


    I personally went out to deliver one such set of mirror and nails to town farthest from the center of our compact and was closest to the frontlines of the regional madness.


    When I arrived at Maienfeld, the chief of the town greeted me warmly, especially when he saw the crate of nails and the small box that held the mirror.


    "Welcome back to our humble town, Mr. Hans!" the thin man with a bushy beard greeted me heartily. "Come, come! Let us break salt and bread. A friend of the town should get the best of the best, especially when he comes bearing gifts, no?"


    "Thank you for your hospitality," I smiled as the shorter man wrapped an arm around my back and shoulder with some difficulty, and gave me a solid pat on the back. I let him lead me into the town, and I got my second good look at the town.


    Maienfeld was small; it was closer to a village than a town. Some four hundred people lived together here, which was significant for a Swabian Alp town. It was as big as Travaos, which I always kept referring to as a village.


    I stopped myself before I got lost in my thoughts over semantics.


    "I hope nothing''s gone wrong while we have been gone?" I asked him while wordlessly greeting the townsfolk who recognized me.


    "No, nothing, but I am glad you are here because the Baron of Brandis has been calling."


    "Is he not your liege lord?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.


    "He is, he is," the thin chief replied. "But he has been calling for more men and tax than he promised to take."


    It''s always that, wasn''t it?


    "If it pleases you, then I will stay here to talk with the heralds."


    He grabbed my hands. "Thank you, Sir Hans!" he cheered and I couldn''t help but wonder if I just signed myself up to stay for several months.


    At the very least, the valley here was wider, warmer, and livelier than Travaos.


    I sent back three of the ten men who came to help me with the delivery. The rest remained with me.


    -VB-


    It happened on a clear day and on the flat valley ground.


    We were only at Maienfeld for a week when a knight of the baron came riding in on a warehouse and a dozen men-at-arms. I spotted them first; I liked to keep an eye out as always, because I had the highest chance of survival should an altercation happen. The knight rode while the rest walked on the road towards Maienfeld.


    The knight had a plate helmet, but his chest plate was just that; there was no full plate abdomen guard except for his brigandine. No shoulder, arm, or thigh guards, either. He had forearm and sheen guards, but they looked brittle and ill-maintained.


    Was this guy even a proper knight? He could be a hedge knight who just swore allegiance or something.


    He spotted me and my big ass sword rather quickly because I was waiting by the entrance of the village.


    "Who are you?!" he demanded.


    "I am Hans of Fluela! Who are you?!" I demanded in return.


    "Hans of Fluela? You are the rumored noble killer!" he snarled as he drew his sword.


    I blinked. Wait, was this guy serious? Drawing the sword right off of the bat? Also, I was known and rumored? Should I be flattered or alarmed?


    "I don''t think you want to do that," I warned him while reaching for my sword hanging from my back.


    "Shut up, peasant! It is a crime for you to continue to exist when you have broken so many laws and slain so many knights and nobles! Surrender yourself and I will be merciful and deliver a quick death!"


    Okay, this man woke up today and chose violence.


    He kicked his horse into action, and it screamed as it charged forward.


    I took out my sword and waited for him to get in close.


    And then when he yelled as he brought his sword down in a decapitating strike as he was passing by, I stabbed my much longer sword forward and let him slam into it.


    Moving too quickly as he was, he got less than a second before he slammed into the tip of my sword, chest plate first.


    I let gravity do the work and watched as the impaled knight and my sword fell, and the impact of the fall was enough for my sword to cut down his mostly unprotected abdomen. I winced as the guts sloshed around the wound and the blade, but the now bigger wound made it easier for me to pull my blade out. The knight, barely alive at this point and profusing bleeding, keeled over and remained still.


    I pulled up my longsword and firmly planted its tip into ground. I then looked at the dozen men now looking at me. Except for a few, their faces set on firmly. They had made their decision.


    "Was he a recently sworn in knight on something?" I asked them as they started to spread out.


    My own soldiers, who had just watched it from afar, quickly came up to my side and spread out, shields up and weapons pointed towards the enemies just like how I taught them.


    "Something like that," one of them replied. "He was still a knight of the Baron of Brandis, though," the same man-at-arms said as he raised his spear.


    "Is it really necessary for us to fight? If he heard of me, then surely, you''ve heard of me and what I''ve done," I replied as I pulled my sword back out of the ground.


    "Maienfeld''s villagers are traitors anyways," the same men-at-arms spat. "Instead of fighting for their rightful liege lord, they went behind his back and sought the help of their peasant friends! Kill them!"


    "You should have brought more soldiers if you wanted to do something like this!" I roared back as I jumped forward and activated [Intimidation]. Like a wave, the confident men-at-arms suddenly paled and staggered backward while my men, unaffected by [Intimidation] as they weren''t the targets, surged forward.


    It took them two seconds to get themselves back together, but by then, I''d crossed the distance between them and had swung my first strike.


    My thick and heavy blade tore through one man''s neck, another man''s brigandine-armored torso, and the third man''s hip from high to low in that one strike. Just like that, their force was down from twelve to nine.


    Pulling out throwing knives out from under my bear fur cloak, I threw them one at a time but as quickly as I could while I used my other hand to lift my sword back up. I threw three (which was all I had) by the time I had my sword back up, and saw two of the knives find their targets, but only one managed to score a kill.


    Four down, eight to go.


    That''s when my soldiers crashed into the shocked and unnerved Brandis men-at-arms.


    Men screamed as speartips and blades slashed and stabbed.


    By the end of the brief skirmish that took only a minute from the first blood to the surrender of the last two men-at-arms, eleven people laid dead, ten of theirs and one of mine.


    I grimaced, looking at the man who''d died fighting with us. He didn''t need to, but war caused tragedies like this.


    "Strip the bodies of everything valuable except for Dean''s. We''ll¡­ we''ll wrap him up and send him back home. Traoan, go and tell the chief that the baron''s men attacked us first. This is a clear sign of aggression, one we need to answer together. Call up the other villages."


    War had come again to our doorstep.


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 24


    -VB-


    Attacking the men of the Baron of Bardis was an attack upon the Count of Toggenburg, the baron''s direct liege.


    I didn''t realize it at the time, but that''s what my actions meant, even if it was in the defense of my personhood, safety, and neighbor. This was especially so because I was technically one of the signers of the "Compact of the Seven." By attacking me with a knight, whether or not the attack had been ordered, when I was one of the leaders of the Compact, the Count of Toggenburg more or less declared war on us.


    This declaration was not lost on five of the eight leaders, including myself, of the Compact. When the incident happened, I sent out a call for those who were able to come to travel to Maienfeld so that we could discuss this without any one of us taking unwanted unilateral action.


    Did it make any kind of offensive or even defensive action against the count hard? Fuck yes! However, I now had responsibilities, and unless these people gave me that privilege in the first place, I couldn''t do that.


    It was only thanks to the fledgling and barely comprehensible semaphore system that we were able to gather faster than the count could muster his levies, and despite this, three of us couldn''t make it due to circumstances they themselves were facing and of the five who came, three were not the chiefs, or mayors, or whatever, but representative of the village or town.


    Including Travaos. Instead of Kraft, they sent Arnold who should have been still learning how to properly lead the men and women at the Fluela Fort, not making life-changing decisions right at the edge of the border!


    "They want to crush us," I grumbled at a table where those six leaders sat.


    "They were going to burn my village to do it," the village chief of Maienfeld, the reedy man who greeted me warmly when I arrived not too long ago, spoke with gritted teeth. I saw the rage in his eyes. Fear, yes, but the rage was bigger. He was using it to not fall into a pit of fear.


    If I was being honest, then he had a good reason to be a shivering fetus-ball of fear.


    A count was declaring war.


    For reference, the total population of the Compact of the Seven was roughly nine thousand people, and this wasn''t the size of the militia, which was at most five hundred.


    Yeah, me and Travaos fighting back against the Count of Zernez was a desperation thing. The Count of Zernez had a similarly sized population as all of the Compact of the Seven, but he was in charge of administering a small town and its immediate surrounding area with a total population of four thousand, which was less than the Compact''s.


    The Count of Toggenburg, on the other hand, was one of the powerhouses of the region. According to the merchants, peddlers, and Deacon Benjamin, there were four powers in our region: Toggenburgs, Werdenberg, Chur, and Sargans.


    Oh, and we sat in the middle of them.


    Had I actually made our situation worse by forming this small alliance? It wasn''t even a political alliance, just a defensive pact.


    The lords didn''t care, apparently.


    "We''ll have to fight like we did against Zernez, wouldn''t we?" Arnold asked me. His tone sunk too low to be optimistic. "But we have none of the advantages we''ve had at Fluela. No thick walls, no preparation beyond what we have now, no meager amount of iron to turn to weapons, no -"


    "But we attack," I cut him off with the best solution I had. "If we cannot defend our homes because our homes are too weak," I gulped. "Then we take the fight to them. We make them bleed for their lord until our very visage becomes too gruesome and fearful for them to stand their ground. Then we force the count to ¡­ white peace. Or something."


    Because the Count of Toggenburg was not like the Count of Zernez. The County of Zernez was nothing but a barony with an inherited count title. The County of Toggenburg was a proper county with the military means to back it up. Let''s say, like a thousand levies and five hundred men-at-arms at minimum.


    On the other hand, our defensive pact had a maximum of one thousand and five-hundred volunteers. This was the total amount of volunteers we agreed upon when we first signed that contract and was, of course, under the assumption that they would be willing to provide.


    It was all too common for people to sign up on a deal and then back out when disaster struck.


    I ¡­ I didn''t know what to expect from them.


    "We fight."


    I looked up in surprise. The oldest among us had spoken. Even more surprising, it was the village chief of St. Peters.


    "We fight," he spoke again despite the tremble common in the elderly coloring his voice. He stood up with purpose at the table that five of us had gathered. "Those greedy lords are here to kill us now that we are ready to stand up on our own two feet! They''re already fighting over the bishop''s scraps! What will they do when they get to us? We all heard about what happened to Albula, Lantsch, and Vaz! I''m not going to sit by and watch it happen to us!"


    I continued to stare in surprise.


    I¡­ thought they were going to back off from how fearful they looked.


    "We''ll tell them to fuck off!" Maienfeld chief agreed wholeheartedly as he shot up from his seat.


    I let myself relax.


    The worst hadn''t come to pass.


    Thank God.


    "Then let''s get our men out here," I declared with a grin. "We got lordling ass to kick."


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 25


    -VB-


    Mobilization ¡­ was slow.


    With mountains between two of our seven members and a long, winded valley barely connecting the rest, we were not exactly a centralized nor prepared group.


    However, enthusiasm made up for a lot of it.


    Within a week, we had eight hundred fighters ready to go and kick noble ass!


    Unfortunately, most of them possessed little to no experience when it came to fighting. It was basically up to me to train them.


    "And thrust!"


    "HA!"


    "And pull!"


    "HA!"


    "Swipe!"


    "HA!"


    "Stab!"


    "HA!"


    And so I trained them.


    I walked up to one of the volunteers, a graying bearded man with pock marks from small pox and pimples from his childhood and adolescent respectively, and gently pushed and pulled his arms until he had the proper stance.


    "Like that."


    "Yes, sir," he replied with a gruff grunt. It was just how David talked.


    I nodded and moved back to the front of the training fighters. "And pull!"


    "HA!"


    I hadn''t prepared for something like a war of this scale breaking out directed against us. If I had, then I might have spent a lot of time making halberd heads for spear shafts instead of spending a month patrolling the entire Compact. However, it was also that patrolling that led me to encounter the hostile knight and his men-at-arms instead of hearing about it after they burned down Maienfeld.


    It worked out in the end, but it didn''t change the fact that we were missing a lot of equipment.


    "Thrust!"


    "HA!"


    "Swipe!"


    "Stab the foot!"


    "HA!"


    "Pull and stab the neck!"


    "HA!"


    This was why despite the fact that there were eight hundred fighters in Maienfeld right now, only three hundred of them had spears. This wasn''t bad. In fact, this was pretty alright.


    No, the problem came with the two hundred out of the other five hunred who didn''t have any weapon nor weapon training.


    They were the people I trained right now, who I spent the most time training.


    "And stop! Attention!"


    They pulled back, thumped the butt of the thick and heavy sticks they were using as training weapons down onto the ground, and stood with their chest out, spine straight, chin pulled down, and their free arm and hand straight and stuck to their side.


    "Your last training of the day is to run around the village five times in your assigned squads! Get to it!"


    "Yes, sir!"


    And off they went.


    Squads were also something I put to use instead of grouping the entire army into large units. A squad was made up of ten people and one among the ten was the squad leader. Five squads made up a platoon, and one of the squad leaders was also the platoon leader. Two platoons, composed of one hundred fighters, made up one company.


    As such, the current roster of fighters gave me eight companies, or a single battalion, to take to the field.


    I had already assigned platoon leaders and company leaders, and taught them every night what my signals would mean, what they must do for each signal, and what their jobs entailed.


    This also meant that, for myself, I had little to no rest. I went to sleep at around midnight, woke up at five, spent an hour training for myself, spent thirty minutes eating, and spent another hour using Maienfeld''s own smithy to make weapons.


    Arnold, my boy Arnold from Davos, had done well when he arrived just yesterday, because he brought two-thirds of the iron bars I had in reserve, which total to about three metric tons of iron. That was enough to arm everyone with at least a pike or a spear. It was a blessing to have iron to work with.


    But where there was a upside, there was a downside; aside from me, there was only one other blacksmith capable of forging spearheads, nevermind blades, in Maienfeld.


    "Herr Hans."


    I turned around and saw the mayor of Schiers.


    "Burgermeister (mayor) Gerald," I greeted the man, and spotted someone else with him.


    He gestured to the man. "This is the blacksmith of my town, Ronald Smith."


    I blinked at the smith before looking back to Gerald. "I¡­"


    "War is upon us, Hans. I understand that ¡­ you might not have the highest opinion of people," the older man frowned. "But understand that just as the Chief of St. Peters understood what awaits us, all of us do as well. If you need help, then do not be afraid to ask. No, you must ask, because had it not been for you, Maienfeld would have burned and then it would have been us in Schiers who would have burned next."


    "... I understand."


    He nodded. "Can you show where Ronald can work then? I understand you have been helping Wendel where you can," he asked. Wendel was the blacksmith of Maienfeld.


    "Got it."


    Ronald turned out to be a surprise, because he was a fast and precise smith. Thanks to him, we managed to put out more spearheads and arrowheads than what Wendel and I could have made on our own.


    Another week and additional two hundred volunteers later, war came to Maienfeld. Fortunately for us, we had people, fast people, out in the field looking out of the enemies.


    -VB-


    In his opinion, the Count of Toggenburg was wise to not partake in a battle against the vicious Count Killer.


    Additionally, this left him, Baron Hans von Wildenburg, in charge of the thousand men the count intended to use to crush the nascent and rebellious peasantry. Of the thousand, only six hundred were levies. One of them were horsed men-at-arms, and the rest of the three hundred were horseless men-at-arms.


    In Wildenburg''s personal opinion, this was overkill. Each of the three offending villages he''d been sent to crush, Maienfeld, Schiers, and Klosters, possessed less than three hundred able men, each. It was unlikely that they could call up their volunteers quickly enough.


    Of course, this didn''t mean that he could be wasteful with his men''s lives. Aside from the fact that one hundred regularly men-at-arms and thirty of the horsemen were men from his Wildenburg barony, two hundred came from the Count of Werdenberg, one hundred-fifty from Count of Montfort-Breganz, one hundred from Gorizia-Tyrol, and the levies from his own liege lord, Count of Toggenburg.


    Had they not needed to wait for the Gorizia-Tyrolian soldiers, then they might have been able to attack and put an end to the uppity peasants earlier.


    Oh well. As the Franks say, c''est la vie.


    Wheeee¡­.


    He paused.


    That ¡­ sounded like-?


    His head snapped up.


    Arrows.


    "AMBUSH!" he roared as he got off of his horse in a hurry.


    The men who rode along side him also got off, knowing that they could not protect themselves without most of their armor equipped.


    Screams rung out as arrows landed and pierced into horses and men alike.


    "ATTACK!" someone roared, and the baron looked around frantically to see who could have-? His eyes widened as he realized that the tall spring grass on either side of the road parted by the hundreds and men armored with spears rushed out with fury on their faces.


    But they only came out from one side-?


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    His face paled.


    Archers on one side and melee ambushers on the other side. If they fought the spearmen, then they would have to turn their backs to the arrows.


    Gritting his teeth, he drew his sword. "Kill the ambushers first!" We can''t protect ourselves unless we get the-!"


    And then he froze.


    Walking out of the tall grass was a tall man in metal mask and dark brown bear cloak.


    "No, no, no-!" he hissed as he realized who he was facing. "Men-!"


    With roars, hie men-at-arms charged the monster.


    And the monster swung his sword - a slab of metal almost as wide as his chest was - and crushed the barely armored men-at-arms who dared to charge at him.


    The baron gritted his teeth. "Stop, stop, we surr-!" he tried, only to be cut off by another one of his men-at-arms getting stabbed and killed.


    "There is no surrender," the masked man hissed, glaring down at him with cold, cold eyes. "A thousand dead here means a thousand we won''t have to fight later. Kill all of the men-at-arms!" he ordered, and the panicking and unprepared soldiers died as the stabbed into them with spears from the front and arrows from behind. The baron saw the levies in the back of the marching line breaking and running, tossing down anything that would drag them down!


    The ambushing peasants didn''t charge into the fray. No, they kept their formation, thrusting with their spears at maximum range, and moved in groups. They broke apart any defenders who looked like they were about to group and split them apart!


    "Cowards!" he roared as he drew his sword. "Unchivarlous -!"


    "We''re not knights, you dumb fuck," the masked man, the Count Killer, laughed. "Chivalry is for people not fighting for their lives."


    "Retreat!" he shouted as the man came for him. "Men, fighting retreat!"


    Some of the still-living men-at-arms did just that, and they fought back, shuffling and jumping back whenever needed.


    But they still died to that horrible man''s blade. He moved like a rabbit, bouncing and jumping with ease despite the cloak, metal armors, and the giant blade he wielded, and struck like a falcon. Every single strike left someone dead. Someone screamed and died with each flash of his blade.


    Compared to the monster, the baron knew he was nothing.


    But he could at the very least alert his liege lord to the amassed army that looked poised to strike back.


    He ran. He grabbed one of the still-living horses and booked it. He shrieked when several spears sailed across the air for him but missed him when his horse suddenly turned.


    That''s how he approached his liege lord. Three-fourths of the army provided to him gone, sweaty, dirty, ragged, and frantic.


    But at least he got the information.

 Chapter 26

    Swiss ArmsChapter 26


    -VB-


    Frederick III, Count of Toggenburg


    He stared down at Baron Hans von Wildenberg, and couldn''t help but sigh.


    "You ¡­ lost."


    The baron looked sheepish and incensed. Not only did he lose a battle against peasant rabble, but he also lost more than three-fourths of his troops. Most of the lost troops, however, had not been the levies like most battles tended to be but a near-total loss of the men-at-arms loaned to the baron, most of whom had been loaned from his allies in the current crisis. S?a??h th? N0v?lFire(.)n?t website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    "Tell exactly what happened."


    "I-I led them through the valley towards the village of Maienfeld," the sniveling baron quickly answered. "Since I wasn''t expecting any significant resistance, I simply had the soldiers line up in standard march with levies in the back and the men-at-arms in the front. Just in case we came across unexpected trouble."


    Reasonable and what Frederick himself would have done.


    "But as we neared the village, we were ambushed. By the Count Killer."


    Frederick tensed at the mention of the lowborn sword for hire who killed his counterparts on the other side of Prince-Bishop of Chur''s secular lands. He had met them before and neither had looked like fools, but then again, he didn''t think the bishop was a fool, but the man still lost to a mere baron who he had outnumbered three to one if the report was to be believed.


    "How did he ambush you? Those valleys are not densely forested enough."


    "T-They aren''t. Instead, all of the men who ambushed us had covered themselves with grass so that when they laid or crouched down, we could not tell them from the grass surrounding them."


    Frederick narrowed his eyes. Those peasants used honorless methods of war.


    He motioned for the baron to continue.


    "They had archers on the right side of the road and were far enough away that we could charge them in a short period of time. On the other side was Count Killer with his peasants, all of whom were armed and moved in groups of five. If we turned to defend against the ambushers on the left, then arrows would have - and did - pelt us in the back. If we turned to charge the archers, who were on the other side of the river that runs through the valley, then we would have been stabbed in the back. Seeing as the situation was not tenuous, I ordered my soldiers to retreat, but the archers intentionally attacked the levies first! The undisciplined rabble quickly dispersed and ran, leaving me with only the men-at-arms I had with me."


    Then he tittered as he paled.


    "B-But the Count Killer. He came for my head. He wore bear fur as his cloak and put upon himself a metal mask and chest plate. He mocked knights with his outfit, but his strength cannot be denied. With but a swing of his sword, he cleaved chainmail-wearing man-at-arms. He grabbed another by his leg and swung him around like a flail, striking my men with their comrades! He is a brute! A monster!" the baron screeched towards the end.


    Frederick wasn''t concerned about a single man. No man was an island, and just as the likes of Julius Caeser and Alexander the Great died, this "man" would die as well.


    No, what he was more concerned about other than a man who had some importance lately on the battlefield was what to do with the peasants and the baron who couldn''t put them down.


    The rat-like baron - in behavior, if not in appearance - seemed to realize what he was thinking because he fell to his knees quickly and held his hands up above his head.


    "P-Please forgive my failure, my liege! Give me another chance!" he begged, almost mewling like Frederick''s dog did whenever it realized it made a mistake.


    "Leave me. I will call for you tomorrow," he sighed instead as he pinched his nose.


    The baron hesitated before he gracelessly stood up, bowed lightly, and then shuffled out of his solar.


    "What a mess," Frederick growled quietly to himself. "Seven hundred men lost? Werdenberg, Sargan, and Sax-Misox will not let this go easily." It had taken a lot of prodding and promises to get those loaned soldiers. How was he keep his face when he eventually had to tell them that they all died because the baron he thought competent wasn''t?


    His recent spat with the bishop didn''t help his finances, even if they did agree to a truce until the uppity peasants were dealt with.


    Just a few more years and he would have taken the Varian lands, which included the lands and villages of this outright insulting "Compact of the Seven," from the Prince-Bishop of Chur once this bishop died or retired. After all, he had a claim to those lands and the bishop''s latest inability to deal with the secular lands'' problems would have reflected poorly on him.


    Unfortunately, the lack of an emperor in the empire had made a mess of things, and what should have been an easy solution (giving him the Varian lands which included the valleys of this insulting "Compact of the Seven") ended up being a multi-generational feud with the bishop.


    Oh, striking the bishop when he was weak was a good thing. A bishop shouldn''t have even been a secular ruler in the first place, so he was merely proving that he deserved those lands!


    ¡­


    Ah, he went off on a tangent again.


    Regardless of the history of these lands, the only thing that mattered was that the peasants were put down lest they motivate other peasants in neighboring lands to do the same.


    Letting uneducated peasants arm themselves and fight without a noble or even a bishop to lead them?


    Preposterous. Their mob mentality and inability to read and write would only cause chaos. These peasants weren''t even like the commoners in the Free Cities to his north and far north near the Baltic Sea.


    No, no, no.


    If one thousand men could not do it, then he would have to bring all of his temporary allies together to crush them.


    Ten thousand men should be more than enough to run through the entirety of the valleys.


    He quickly wrote five letters.


    "Michael."


    "Yes, milord?" his most trusted man-at-arms asked from the other side of the door.


    "Bring me five riders. They have letters to deliver."


    -VB-


    Albert I, Count of Werdenburg


    "Is your lord serious?" Albert asked incredulously at the messenger from the Count of Toggenburg.


    He had received the messenger in the middle of his own meeting with his subjects, and when they heard what the Count of Toggenburg was asking for¡­


    Let''s just say that they were not happy.


    "The count seems to think that he is the leader of our little alliance!" Albert barked out a laugh. "I don''t think I need to remind the count that he is the least of our five peers, do I? The first to attack a bishop! The first to beg for soldiers! The first to lose to a peasant! I joined in this war because my subjects and I were promised the lands of the bishop that we had claim, but now, he can''t even win against peasants?"


    "T-These peasants are led by the Count Killer, milord!" the messenger hastily spoke up while keeping his head bowed.


    "Like that makes the situation any better!" Baron John III of Walenstatt spat. "I sent my men to help the count! They are all dead!"


    Oh, right. Albert remembered that he had asked for volunteers to help the good count, and the baron had been the only volunteer and had sent almost all of his men-at-arms for what was supposed to be an easy mission.


    Albert nodded to John. "And I will help you once this crisis is over, because it is a crisis of Toggenburg''s making," he spoke up, and the messenger bristled. A man loyal to Toggenburg, huh? "After all, a peasant rebellion is nothing new, and yet the count couldn''t even put them down. I don''t think I will help anymore."


    -VB-


    Rudolf II, Count of Sargans


    Rudolf stared at the messenger before pinching his nose. "This was a mistake."


    "Y-Your Grace-" the messenger tried but he cut him off with a wave of his hand.


    "If the count can''t handle his own problems, then I won''t help. I will instead re-initiate our war against the bishop."


    "The bishop is part of the alliance!" the messenger gawked.


    "The bishop also didn''t help with the peasants, which was one of the conditions of the truce. He broke the truce, so I don''t see why I must continue with this. Once my business with Chur is complete, I can then focus on the peasants on my own."


    -VB-


    Siegfried von Gelnhausen, Prince-Bishop of Chur


    "He lost?" Siegfried gawked at the messenger. "How did he lose to peasant rabble when he had over a thousand men?!"


    "They were ambushed cleverly by the Count Killer," the messenger mewled in fear as he trembled on his knees on the cobblestone floor.


    "The Count Killer is -!"


    He paused.


    The Count Killer¡­ was actually someone one of his deacons met. Deacon Benjamin was very adamant that the Count Killer was a good man. Obviously, the good man in question was also a very able commander if he was able to wipe out seven hundred men, most of whom were men-at-arms. It was unfortunate that the man started his mercenary career as his enemy from the start.


    He would have gladly hired such a man, especially in these troubled times.


    However, the Count Killer went against God by not only usurping the rightful authority of the lords, which were given by God''s chosen emperors, but also the legal and secular authority of the land.


    "Then -"


    "Your Holiness!" a panting guard barged into the receiving hall, where Siegfried, the messenger, and a few other courtiers and priests sat around in. "W-Werdenburg! An army of Werdenburg have sacked a village!"


    "WHAT?!" he roared as he shot up from his seat. "We are under truce! That treacherous backstabbing cur! I will have him excommunicated for breaking the truce!"


    Then he turned to the messenger. "You. Go back and tell the Count of Toggenburg that his friend is breaking the truce. If he wants my continued abstain in his attack against the peasants, then he will bring Werdenburg to heel and pay reparation for the damages he''s caused!"


    Once the messenger was dragged out, he turned to Priest Malcolm. "Go to Count Sax-Misox and alert him to this treachery!"


    -VB-


    Albert I, Count of Gorizia, vassal of Henry II of Bohemia, Governor of Tyrol


    "So ¡­ you''re telling me that the count lost two hundred of my troops."


    "Yes, Your Grace."


    "Lost everyone''s troops."


    "Yes."


    "And now he wants us to give more troops?"


    "Yes."


    "Is your count daft?"


    "I do not believe so, no, Your Grace."


    Albert leaned back into his small throne he used in place of his nephew, who was the real ruler of Tyrol and he the mere governor.


    "Do I look like a fool, messenger?"


    The messenger shook his head, and Albert could see the truth in his answer.


    "Your lord lost more troops in this single peasant rebellion that I have no personal stake in," he replied. "How does someone lose a thousand troops to peasants? Even if the Count Killer is a member of this so-called ''Compact,'' he should not have any trained troops of his own, never mind the necessary arms and armor to fight a battle, never mind a war! So how did the count lose?"


    "I have been told that he trusted the subjugation of the peasants to his trusted baron, Baron Hans of Wildenburg, who failed due to an ambush in the middle of daylight."


    "Was it in a forested land?" Albert could understand that. He might not have a lot of experience in the battlefield, but he heard over and over again how forests were the worst enemy of a marching army.


    "No. It was on a flat valley."


    Albert tried to imagine how the ambush might have happened. "Is there a deep river in the valley¡­?"


    "No, Your Grace. Only tall grass."


    "You mean to tell me that a ''trusted baron'' of the count ¡­ didn''t even bother to send scouts ahead?"


    The messenger was silent before he responded. "I am unaware of the exact details of the circumstance, Your Grace. I apologize."


    Albert sighed. He had wanted to punish the peasants in that region for killing one of his vassals, but apparently, this was more trouble than it was worth!


    "I''m done with this," he told the messenger. "Go back to your lord and tell him that I am done. If he couldn''t put down some peasants, nad his judgement of one''s character is so far off that the commander he trusted lost a thousand men to peasants¡­ I can''t trust him to not cost me more than he already has. As of today, the temporary alliance between Toggenburg and Gorizia-Tyrol is over."


    -VB-


    A/N: yes, unfortunately, there were many rulers with names and numbers that were unfortunately similar at this time.


    So what is happening above is this. When the Compact formed, news of its formation reached the local warring lords. Unanimously, they agreed that this was not a good thing because the Compact, if allowed to exist, controlled a significant portion of the currently disputed territory.


    List of claims:


    Toggenburg - all of it because Prince-Bishop of Chur is an incompetent fool who can''t even properly take care of his territories.


    Chur - it''s literally, legally, factually, and nominally mine! I just can''t defend it properly¡­


    Sax-Misox - we''re fighting each other at the moment, but we are still technically at war with Chur because we declared war on Baron of Vaz and defeated him, so all of his territory is ours by right of conquest! *got taken out by peasants*


    Sargans - look, that territory was taken from us before Chur came along. Who cares if it was two hundred years ago? It''s still ours! Good thing there''s no emperor to stop us. Oh, and we''re allies with Toggenburg.


    Montfort - I don''t have a claim, but I''m in it for some money.


    Gorizia-Tyrol - I''m just helping Sargans and Toggenburg for money and because these peasants killed my vassal in Zernez.


    All of them - we''re not gonna let some peasant rabble rebellion take our shit.


    So they agreed to put down the peasants before they went back to squabbling over who owned what.


    And then¡­


    Compact - herr derr, idgaf what the powerful nobles around me say. Baron of Vaz had our loyalty but now he and his son are dead, so we gonna make a pact between ourselves, completely ignoring the socio-political ramifications of what that means (insulting the nobles by declaring, indirectly, that they are too weak). Also we''re just a defensive pact. No politics here. Oh, and we killed count of Zernez and count of Sax-Misox. And beat the shit out of Chur. And just slaughtered nearly a thousand men from all of the claimants, because they were threatening.


    And this chapter is basically the following:


    Toggenburg - wtf. Fuck it, let''s just bumrush them.


    Sargans - fuck that. You''re incompetent, too, just like Chur. I''m gonna gank Chur.


    Chur - WTF?! Oi, Toggenburg, do something about your ally! Sax-Misox, back me up here!


    Sax-Misox - *brothers fighting each other and not really giving a shit about external issues*


    Neighboring Montfort - wtf is going on¡­


    Gorizia-Tyrol - fuck this shit. I''m out.

 Chapter 27

    Swiss ArmsChapter 27


    -VB-


    Arnold of Davos


    They won. Again.


    Arnold ¡­ couldn''t come to grasp the fact that wherever Hans went, victory seemed to follow him.


    The Battle of Vaz.


    The Battle of Fluela.


    The Battle of Zernez.


    And now, the Battle of Maienfeld, where the Compact''s militia, numbering some eight hundred men, ambushed and defeated a force of one thousand. Though they lost fifty fighters, they killed eight hundred of theirs in turn.


    Although he knew very little about the Battle of Vaz, he''s been there at Fluela and here in Maienfeld and heard enough from the volunteers who went to Zernez. Despite knowing what he did, Arnold couldn''t figure out what he was supposed to see. How did Hans know to ambush? How did Hans know to use the forest in Zernez as cover? How did Hans achieve his monstrous strength?


    All of it are questions that Arnold had no answer for, even after spending half a year apprenticing as a blacksmith and "man-at-arms" under Hans.


    What spending time with Hans did, however, was save his life in the latest battle.


    Arnold''s grip on his spear shook as he stood side by side with his fellow militia. He didn''t know some of them, but he did know Daniel who was from Davos as well.


    "CHARGE!" Hans roared, and Arnold screamed as he burst out of the tall grass with his spear thrusting forward. He caught an old man with the tip of his spear and saw him collapse. That old man''s comrades saw him, but they went down to spears held by his "squadmates."


    And then arrows came down when the enemies turned to face them, and struck them on their backs.


    Split between two deadly sides, Arnold -.


    "Wow!" he hissed as he ducked under an honest-to-God


    knight''s horizontal strike. The knight, in full chainmail, came right back around and tried to strike him.


    Arnold let go of his spear, pulled out his dagger, and jumped into the knight''s defense. The knight, shocked by his action, tried to backpedal, but Arnold struck out first by hooking the knight''s ankle with his feet and pushing his chest. The longsword flew away as the knight slipped and fell, and Arnold was on top of him. He didn''t bring his dagger up high. Instead, he struck fast and furiously into one of the slits on the helmet and held the knight''s arms down with his feet as he screamed.


    When it was done, he quickly got back up, panting from exertion and excitement. He grabbed his spear again and went back to killing.


    If he hadn''t been trained by Hans to dodge and move quickly, then he would have been killed by that knight''s first strike. Living through Hans''s torture training had shown its benefits¡­


    And Arnold found himself a little horrified as he realized that he would gladly go through it again¡­ and subject others to it as well. After all, if they all sweated a little in peace, then they would bleed less in wars like now. Because Daniel, one of his squadmates who came from the same village as him? He was dead.


    Arnold shuddered a little as he remembered finding Daniel''s bisected head.


    "Arnold, what are you doing?"


    He paused and looked over his shoulder.


    A young woman around his age stood some ten feet behind him. Her light brown hair fell down and around her shoulders, and her heart-shaped face held a curious stare that seemed to want to find out every little detail of his action in the field right there.


    As the eldest daughter of the Maienfeld chief, Beatrice busied herself with many activities of the village, and one of the latest activities she involved herself in was inspecting the mood of the village in between her own work on weaving and fixing leather and stuffed cloth armors.


    "Ah. I''m just¡­ practicing."


    Indeed, he''s been practicing the entire afternoon already. Oddly enough, he didn''t quite feel as tired as he should, but that was fine with him.


    "Hmm," she hummed while giving him a once over.


    "What? Is there something on me?" he asked as he looked over himself.


    "No. I was just curious. Have a good afternoon," she smiled and waved at him before walking away.


    Shrugging, Arnold went back to practicing.


    Later that night, Arnold found himself in a meeting with Maienfeld chief along with his father and Beatrice.


    "So what is this about, father?" he asked.


    The Maienfeld chief cleared his throat. "I believe I can answer that," he spoke up. "Arnold, how would you rate yourself?"


    A little confused, he answered honestly. "A normal m- boy." He couldn''t call himself a man yet; he was only seventeen as of last month.


    "I do not agree with you."


    He blinked. "Pardon?"


    "Arnold," father spoke up. "You have been working all day."


    "Yes? So? Hans works twice as much as I do in half of the time."


    Everyone else in the room snorted, though Beatrice giggled. That sounded ¡­ nice. "Hans is a great man," father replied to his answer. "I do not compare you to him nor does anyone else. In fact, I would consider any comparison between Hans and anyone to be outrageous because he is not a normal man."


    "I see¡­" Arnold replied. He wanted to refute his father''s words because he wanted to affirm that anyone could become like Hans, but he understood. One of the wise words he learned from Hans was that a wise man listens not just hears the words of their family and neighbor. Father must have his reason for saying that the comparison was outrageous, even if Arnold didn''t agree. "Still, I view myself as a normal boy."


    "On that, I will have to agree¡­" father began. "With the chief here."


    Arnold blinked. "Father?"


    "You must not be aware, Arnold, but you moved like lightning out there in the battlefield. You took down a knight by yourself before your own squadmates had time to react to his appearance."


    He chuckled weakly. "I just did what Hans taught me," he replied while looking away and down in embarrassment.


    "And that''s one of the reasons why you will most likely become the next chief of Davos."


    Arnold froze and then looked up. "F-Father?!"


    "Of all of my children, you are the one most suited for it. You listen to others -" Because Hans taught him to do so! "- work hard -" Otherwise, he would''ve died! "- and train yourself. In fact, I would not be surprised if you were to show up to a town with the armor of the knight you killed and declare that you were a hedge knight. I would have believed you."


    He stared at his father with a gaping mouth.


    "You are not as fast, strong, tough, or nimble as Hans," he continued. "But you are the most remarkable young man our valley has produced in generations. And the chief here agrees. He has seen your actions, character, and attitude. And he has something to offer."


    Woodenly, he turned to the chief, who looked at him firmly and seriously.


    "I am glad."


    Glad about what?


    "That you aren''t married yet."


    Oh.


    Wait.


    He glanced at Beatrice, who was smiling softly. Slowly, he felt the pieces of the puzzle click into place in his mind.


    "You want to offer me your daughter''s hand in marriage."


    The chief nodded. "Because I have seen for myself that you are a honest and good young man. My daughter will be happy to be your wife, if you accept."


    Arnold felt like this was moving too fast. Maybe he would get Beatrice to say something?


    "What about you, Beatrice?" he asked her, causing his father and the chief to look at him in surprise. "What do you think about this? How do you feel?"


    Beatrice looked at him directly in the eyes.


    He waited for her to reject. He was just a young boy, after all, and she was older than him.


    "I would be happy to be your wife."


    Oh.


    His own face grew hot and red.


    Oh.


    "Normally, I would be the one to accept on your behalf," father began. "But you are wise enough that you can choose for yourself."


    -VB-


    Hans of Fluela


    I blinked as Arnold relayed to me what happened last night.


    "So you''re getting married!" I laughed. "Congratulations, mate!"


    Arnold laughed with pink-dusted cheeks. "It all happened so quickly¡­ I even tried to give Beatrice a way out."


    "That might actually be what got her to accept it, you know?"


    He looked at me in confusion. "I don''t understand¡­?"


    "You know that not a lot of men consider women to be their equal?" I asked him. The two of us sat next to each other by the river.


    "Yes¡­?"


    "But you treated her right by asking what she wanted and felt about it. You indirectly told her that you care about her feelings and wants. Told her through your action that she was your equal, for now. And that, Arnold, will make a lot of women happy in this world where they are considered lesser."


    He continued to stare at me for a bit before chuckling. "I guess so."


    "Besides, is there anything to dislike about this Beatrice?"


    He shook his head. "No. She''s smart. Maybe smarter than me. We talked a little bit on the side while our fathers talked. And ¡­ I guess I do like her."


    I nodded. "That''s good. Try to also find a common ground. Like hobbies, ideas, or whatever. It''ll make your relationship even better."


    Arnold raised an eyebrow. "You talk as if you had one."


    I paused before chuckling. "I guess I do sound a little pretentious about something I don''t have." In this life.


    "It''s okay. I''m sure there''s a woman out there for you. I mean my sister-"


    "Is extremely happy with her gem cutting and nothing else. She does a good job of it."


    "She does."


    I stood up. "Well, if our talk is done, then I have to go meet with the rest of the mayors and chiefs on what we are going to do. It''s only been three days since the battle, and our enemies are sure to move, soon. You remember what I told you about our enemies, yes?"


    "Yes."


    "Got any ideas?"


    "... What if we just took out one of them? Told the rest of stay away?"


    I sighed. "I think that''s unlikely to work," I replied. "We saw at least five banners. Even if we took out one of the nobles, there''s still four, including the bishop, to take care of."


    "Alright. I guess I''ll see you later?"


    I waved at him as I walked away from the river and back to Maienfeld. On my walk there, I saw bodies still getting buried, though we had less than a hundred left to bury today and that would be the end of it.


    We had, of course, looted the bodies. As a result, we now had quality armors, mostly brigandines with a few chainmails, and weapons. Partly due to how medieval loot division happened, I received one hundred sets of armor and weapons as my share of the loot, which was more than a seventh of the total loot. Instead of hoarding all of it for myself, I gifted each of the participating villages with ten sets of armor and weapons, but I chose the people who received them based on how well they had done from my observation of the battle.


    This still left me with thirty sets of armor and weapons, so I just asked Maienfeld to store them until the war came to an end and I could pick them up later.


    I still couldn''t believe how well we did, though. We ambushed and killed more than two-thirds of the enemy while taking less than a tenth of their casualties ourselves. This didn''t mean that we didn''t have casualties. Fifty-three of our people died, and over a third of the deaths had come from Maienfeld.


    There were still grieving parents and widows crying out there. They had been some of the people that received my gifts, especially the widows.


    I finally reached the village center, crossed it, and entered the village hall.


    Basically, the Maienfeld chief''s slightly bigger than average house.


    Six representatives looked up to see me enter, and waited silently for me to take my seat. s?a??h th? N?v?lFire.n?t website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    "So," I began. "Our course of action? I''m sure the six of you have talked among yourselves."


    There were a few nods.


    "A peddler passed by yesterday while you were helping with the burials."


    "Oh?"


    "He spoke of the Bishop of Chur being attacked by the Count of Sargans, and heard a rumor about the Count of Werdenberg pulling his troops out of Toggenburg''s lands."


    My eyes widened. A fracture in the alliance!


    "And Sax-Misox? Tyrol?"


    "We don''t know, but if the bishop getting attacked by his own allies says anything¡­"


    "The alliance is more or less gone," I grinned. "This is our chance. We have to strike at Toggenburg."


    And from the equally grinning faces minus one concerned face, they agreed with me.


    "But before we strike at him, we must secure our flank," I spoke up suddenly, getting surprised faces from my fellows.


    "From whom?"


    "The Count of Werdenberg, because he holds the valleys that we must travel through to reach Toggenburg."

 Chapter 28

    A/N: Werdenberg Castle is in the same valley as all of Liechtenstein. Swiss Arms


    Chapter 28


    -VB-


    Albert I, Count of Werdenberg


    "Everything was a mistake," Albert hissed out between his gritted teeth as he looked out from his keep''s battlements to look at the army that had arrived at the foot of the hill that his castle and castle town sat upon.


    Next to him, his lady wife stood, looking down upon the peasant army with disdain.


    "Why have you not routed them already, husband?" Alicia von Habsburg asked her husband as she swept her long, wavy blonde hair from her shoulders to her back.


    "Because that army right there has defeated half a dozen armies on its own already," he replied back without snapping at his hot bitch of a wife, who was passionate with all things she loved (like him) and cold and disinterested in all things she didn''t have an iota of interest in (the peasant army). "That army is the one that the Count Killer leads."


    Her eyes widened with glee. "Truly? Will I get to see the man who led his men to victory against impossible odds?" she asked with glittering eyes.


    He made a face at her.


    He didn''t understand why Alicia got interested in the Count Killer. He knew how she got interested. He and his court had been hearing about the Count Killer for the past year now. The Bishop warned them about a "monstrous demon" under the Baron of Vaz''s employ, but then the baron got himself killed by the previous Count of Sax-Misox, whose needless killing and looting led him towards Zernez in search of ever greater plunder. Meanwhile, news of the Count of Zernez''s fall at the hands of the same "monstrous demon" reached their ears when said count''s son and now the current count of Zernez sent out letters seeking help.


    Help that arrived in the form of the same man who killed his father. The Count Killer killed the Count of Sax-Misox by ignoring all rules of warfare and striking him from behind.


    By the time this third letter arrived, Alicia became obsessed with the idea of a peasant making pacts with the devil to become some kind of usurper of the God''s order upon earth.


    Albert thought that was stupid. The man was obviously a well-trained fallen noble leading the peasants who were kind to him to victory against what the fallen noble saw as orgy of violence that kept on breaking out around his new home.


    None of that mattered right now because that Count Killer was now at his doorstep, ready to kill him, too.


    Too bad for the demon, he had plenty of food stocked up in his keep. As long as no siege lasted over six months, then he would be fine.


    Albert blinked as he observed the peasant army because one of them broke formation(?) and walked towards his keep with a white flag.


    A tregua*?


    "Well, go on then!"


    He looked at Alicia.


    "What?"


    "The Count Killer wants to talk!"


    He snapped his head back towards the one holding the flag and felt his blood drain as he saw who exactly was holding it. With a beaten metal facemask and a long fur cape that draped over his broad shoulders, the flag bearer was the Count Killer.


    "You realize that I am a count?" he asked his wife.


    "Well, he obviously isn''t here to fight if he doesn''t have to. Otherwise, he would have broken our castle gates down with those thick, strong arms of his!"


    He stared at her flatly.


    "Is this about how fat I''ve become since our marriage?"


    "... Maybe."


    -VB-


    "Well, damn. You''re in a bad mood," I remarked in a simple manner that was not diplomatic at all.


    The Count of Werdenberg, flanked by a dozen guards, grunted.


    The count was a big man. He wasn''t obese, just big. It was easy for someone to confuse "swole" with fat if they didn''t know just how much muscle big bellies tended to hide. It wouldn''t do for me to dismiss the man in front of me just because he was big, because he walked around in his chainmail underarmor (heavy), chestplate (heavy), a full cloak to prevent backstabbing (heavy), great helmet (heavy), and gauntlets and shinguards (heavy) as if they were regular clothes.


    [Albert von Werdenberg]


    Title: Count of Werdenberg


    LvL.40


    Age: 41


    HP: 173


    MP: 0


    ST: 125


    STR: 20


    END: 24


    AGI: 11 (15 - 4 (armor))


    DEX: 9 (13 - 4 (armor))


    INT: 14


    CHA: 13


    His stats also showed me that he wasn''t someone to be taken lightly. Sure, I would chew through dozens of people just like him, but by the standards of the regular people, he was a veritable mobile fortress of steel and skill.


    He was stronger, faster, more durable, and more enduring than most well-trained men-at-arms. He was also pretty charismatic and smart if his INT and CHA said anything.


    So why did a smart guy like Albert here choose to join in on Toggenburg''s assault against me and the Compact?


    "Count of Werdenberg," I greeted.


    He looked at me for a moment, looking at me up and down from behind his slit-faced great helm. "Normally, a peasant would bow to a lord," he said. "But you are not a normal peasant. You are the Count Killer."


    "I am," I replied.


    "Are the peasants you lead trying to tell me to go and die by sending you to message? That they can kill me whenever?"


    I blinked before quickly shaking my head. "We are not. I apologize on behalf of the Compact if that is how you understood this gesture. We meant to talk with you with our most accomplished and strongest individual capable of holding discourse with you."


    The count and his bodyguards, all of whom were knights, stared at me. "You speak the truth," he replied after a few moments of observing me. He tilted his head slightly to the side.


    "However," I spoke up. "You understand why I will not bow to you, yes?"


    "Yes," he replied with a nod. "We are currently enemies."


    "We are, and that is what this parley is for."


    "By parley, do you mean tregua?"


    "Ah. Yes. I spoke another language by accident."


    Sometimes, I did that, mostly because there were words that could not be translated, didn''t exist, or that I didn''t know of. Apparently, "tregua" was the local term - or Latin? - for truce or parley.


    The count seemed to nod to himself as if confirming something.


    "Very well. Then why have you called for a tregua?" he asked me. "If we are enemies, then you should be besieging me in my castle right now."


    "Because I don''t care about Werdenerberg."


    "... Excuse me?" he asked me sharply.


    "Werdenberg sits at a very fertile valley, however, this valley is not the Compact''s valley. Yes, Maienfeld sits at the very top of it, but so what? This isn''t our home, and while we are unhappy that you have joined hands with Toggenburg to attack us, we are not barbarian enough to kill anyone and everyone who attacks us," I spoke. "No, what the Compact seeks is different. Werdenberg is ultimately not the cause of the conflict and has no stake in the Compact, its people, and its lands. For that reason, the Compact of the Seven wishes to extend peace to Werdenberg. Acknowledge that the Compact was an independent political entity separate from the Prince-Bishopric of Chur, County of Zernez, County of Sargans, and the County of Werdenberg, and grant us free passage through your lands. For that, we shall have peace.


    "What will it be, Count of Werdenberg?"


    -VB-


    The Count Killer demanded something very simple yet complicated.


    Simple, because there would be no exchange of gold or land and thus made agreeing to this proposal very easy on him.


    Complicated, because acknowledging this ''Compact of the Seven'' would inevitably cause tension with Sargans and Toggenburg, his immediate neighbors to his south and west respectively. He was also in an alliance with them right now, and if he pulled out right now by accepting this deal, then he would break out of the alliance as well.


    If Toggenburg and Sargans got done with Chur, then they might turn on him next. Pinned by two counts and possessing under half of their combined might, he might not survive.


    Albert didn''t think he would rue the day that the empire currently lacked a strong emperor.


    ¡­ He did have another way out of this, though, and that way stood right in front of him.


    "I have a counter proposal."


    "Yes?" the Count Killer asked.


    "I agree to all of what you have stated, but once you finish your war with the Count of Sargans and the Count of Toggenburg, I, Albert of Werdenberg, and you, the Compact of the Seven, will become allies."


    The Count Killer''s eyes widened behind his crude yet thick and well-forged steel facemask.


    "... I see. You are afraid of retaliation if you were to not resist our advances."


    Shit, he found out. This man had to be a fallen noble.


    "No, I am merely thinking ahead," Albert replied. "Failures in this war will lead all of the belligerents to look for scapegoats if they have the means to enforce their will. Sax-Misox will surely not be able to after the two sons finish their fighting, but Sargans and Toggenburg will."


    "Not if I have a say in the latter," the Count Killer replied.


    Albert froze as something overcame him. As the Count Killer continued to speak of what he intended to bring upon Toggenburg, the feeling ballooned inside of him.


    "I intend to burn his castle town and bring down the wall of his castle."


    ''Ah,'' Albert realized as he saw from the corner of his eyes as his own men faltered and froze. ''I see.''


    "We have done nothing to Toggenburg, and yet he chose to send his men to burn, loot, and rape. You are culpable as well, Count Albert of Werdenberg, but you are merely in the way and not my target."


    ''This is the true Count Killer,'' he thought as the Count Killer seemed to grow within his sights. He could feel the rage pouring out of him, and his legs trembled.


    "And instead of apologizing for helping in fueling the atrocities, you are considering only your hide? When you should be bowing to me and begging for forgiveness instead?!"


    Albert gulped. Was this how he was going to die? Death by stepping upon a lion''s tail?


    And then it all stopped. As if Saint Michael had drawn his hand out and pulled all of the evil and hate of the world away.


    One of his men collapsed to his knees, gasping loudly and coughing.


    "You don''t have to worry about Toggenburg," the Count Killer muttered but it was loud and clear to Albert. "When I am done with them, everyone will know not to mess with my home lest they become the Second Toggenburg."


    Albert believed him.


    The Count Killer reached under his cape and brought out a parchment.


    "This parchment details all of the Compact''s demands. Have one of your men copy it down, and I want you to sign off on both of them."


    He did just that because the alternative was to make an enemy of the Count Killer and become the latest landed noble to die to this demon.


    When the copying was done and Albert signed both copies of the treaty, the Count Killer also signed both copies.


    "Before you go," Albert spoke up just as the Count Killer turned to leave. "Why are you in these valleys?" S~?a??h the N?v?lF?re.?et website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    The Count Killer looked up to the sky for a moment before he looked back down. "I came looking for a quiet home, and I found it here before this crisis happened. That''s all."


    Albert watched the man leave, and the peasant army swerved around his castle to take the gorge that led towards Toggenburg lands.


    He realized that he''d been mistaken. The Count Killer was not a bloodthirsty demon or a usurper of law and order as set by God and past emperors of the land. No, he was just a man looking for peace, and war had come to him.


    ''If only such a man had settled in my lands,'' Albert thought as he too turned around and went back home with his men.


    -VB-


    *Medieval latin for truce, though I wanted the word parley, which is Late Middle English word that comes from Old French word parlee.

 Chapter 29

    Swiss ArmsChapter 29


    -VB-


    Werdenberg Castle looked like a regular castle I expected out of the Late Medieval Age castle: sturdy, spartan, and stony. The castle''s position on a small, grassy hill right next to a lake showed that very easily.


    In contrast, the Toggenburg Castle was a castle built on top of a forested hill and far enough away from the village of Lichtensteig to the west, which was supposedly - according to the town''s own mayor - the largest village in Toggenburg lands with a population of four hundred people.


    If push came to shove, then climbing the forest hill to attack that castle would be disastrous for us. The southern and eastern side of the castle was not quite a cliff but may as well be. The only way into the castle, really, was from the northern forest and the narrow western ridge. The latter, however, was archery practice waiting to happen, while the former was heavily forested to dissuade any army from approaching from that direction.


    The Count of Toggenburg knew the advantages of his castle and lorded it over me from the way he was smirking down at me from atop his horse.


    I glared up at the well-shaven, short-haired, and brown-eyed and haired man.


    The two of us, along with a handful of guards, met just northeast of Lichtensteig, because that''s where the road led from this village towards the Toggenburg Castle.


    "So you will apologize, pay the reparations, and sign the treaty?" I asked.


    I had done the same song and dance with Frederick III, the Count of Toggenburg, as I had done with Albert, the Count of Werdenberg. Unlike his more reasonable and savvy neighbor, Frederick was less reasonable and more belligerent.


    "No, I think it will be in your best interest for you to bow and beg for forgiveness," he retorted. "You are not the lord seeking his rightful land but I am!"


    This guy¡­


    "Besides, I have called upon my allies. They will crush your people now that they are defenseless."


    I raised an eyebrow. "Is that what you really think?" I asked him. "You realize we had to walk through Werdenberg''s land to get over here, right?"


    He paused before frowning. "You did not use Walensee?"


    Walensee? That lake west of Sargans?


    I blinked before smirking. "Oh, did you allies lie to you? I guess that makes sense," I chortled as the count glared at me. "I mean Sargans is busy attacking the bishop and Werdenberg signed a peace treaty with me."


    "What?!" he hissed.


    I dangled the treaty to my left and let him see the wax sigil of the Count of Werdenberg.


    Oh, he looked furious.


    "So you have three options," I spoke before he could. "First, you can try to weather out my kind of siege. I assure you that you will not enjoy this. Second, you can surrender, give me what I want, and I''ll leave. Third, you can try to fight me in the field with your army, but you and I both know I will win."


    "Arrogance of a filthy peasant against -!" he hissed before he cut himself off. He pulled at the reins of his horse. "Try all you want. You and your peasant army won''t ever conquer my castle."


    And then he rode away with his men.


    Grumbling, I turned to my own soldiers. "Guess we''re gonna have to fight them."


    "How are we going to fight a lord in his castle, though?" Arnold asked him.


    I paused. It was true. I didn''t know the exact details of a siege weapon. We might outnumber them, but not enough to try to storm the castle when the entry point was so narrow. We would lose far too many men.


    "Give me a day," I told him as I gave him a reassuring shoulder pat as I walked back towards the village, which our army had commandeered to serve as our camp. I did, however, put down strict rules about looting and harming the villagers. "I''ll have it figured out."


    "If you say so, Hans," he replied and the other soldiers who''d come to guard me all nodded along with him.


    I paused and looked at him. "You''re awfully okay with me doing all of this."


    Arnold blinked at me before looking at the others in confusion, who just kind of shrugged. When he looked back at me, he had this "Are you serious?" look.


    "Hans¡­ You got a lord, a count, to be cordial with you. You brought us to victory against armies that we would never have been able to win against," he replied to me as if all of this was obvious.


    "I ¡­ guess?" I replied in turn. "But doesn''t it make you feel insecure not knowing what I do when I do?"


    He frowned a little. "It is not for everyone to know everything. You just ¡­ know a lot. More than us. It''s hard to believe that you came from a family that lives exactly as my family does. Enough to get a noble to accept your terms of peace."


    "It was a generous term for people at war with each other," I replied. "He knew it, I knew it, and both of us knew that regardless of who won the siege, his "allies" would turn on him the moment the war was over. If they had men leftover after fighting each other, that is."


    "But why? Why go after their allies?"


    "Because they''re not friends," I replied. "Look around you. What do you see?"


    He looked around. "Mountains. Lots of mountains."


    I nodded. "And how does one survive here? Not up in the mountains, right? They farm in the valleys between the mountains." They nodded. "In these valleys, they can''t grow power by cultivating the land, because the land itself is a limited commodity. To grow in strength, prestige, and influence, they must grow outward."


    Arnold paused. "Wait, so all of this-?"


    "It''s the noble''s great game, and peasants like us die for their prestige."


    Some of the men possessed resigned disgruntlement among them. Others, usually young like Arnold, looked outraged.


    "It is especially so for this particular war," I added with a sigh as we reached the edge of the village. "But I''m talking to the choir here about it."


    "What is a choir?" someone asked.


    I waved dismissively. "Just a word I know," I replied. "Well, I better get planning to bring down a castle, right?"


    The men clapped me on the shoulders as I walked towards my personal lodging.


    -VB-


    The next morning saw my army and I standing just outside of bow range. Thanks to the slope, we stood further away than I would have liked.


    The messenger that I had sent with a white flag returned.


    "So?" I asked.


    The plan I had come up with would result in a lot of casualties, and I knew that there were more than just fighting men in that castle. I hoped to reduce unnecessary casualties.


    The messenger shook his head.


    "The count doesn''t wanna talk. He told me to fuck off and get bent."


    I snorted. "What did the count really say?" I asked, and he looked a bit embarrassed.


    "Ah, he, uh, told you to get shafted on a spear."


    I sighed.


    "Well, I guess that''s that, then."


    "We fight?" Arnold asked from my side. As my unofficial right-hand man, he acted as the bridge between the rest of the Compact''s men and myself, relaying orders where he could and instructing the rowdier men to not go looting, raping, and pillaging.


    "We fight," I sighed before turning to Kraft, Arnold''s father and my official right hand man in this campaign. "Fire the signal arrow."


    Kraft nodded and whistled thrice.


    One of the bowmen pulled his bow and notched arrow up and pulled.


    Then he loosed with a twang of the bowstring.


    The arrow screamed as it flew high into the air.


    I waited for the disaster to strike.


    See, the plan I had come up with was one I took from Oda Nobunaga''s pages. When faced with an unassailable castle, I had to change the environment.


    So I waited as my men, who surrounded the castle on all sides in groups and surely heard the signal arrow, began to light the forest around the castle on fire.


    As smoke began to rise, I saw panicked movement in the castle.


    "Spare the women and children if they flee," I commanded loudly. "But kill them if they fight back with any weapons."


    "Yes, commander!"


    The fire began to grow. And grow. And grow.


    And soon, the easily defended castle choked in the fire and smoke from the forest that once protected the castle from heavy advances. Fire from the south side was especially quick to climb the steep slope that the forest there grew on while the fire from the north side and west grew at a slower face. This only left the cleared northwestern slope as the only exit, and from how the garrison looked towards us from the battlement, they knew it as well.


    My army and I waited for the sally.


    It never came.


    The fire choked up the castle, and soon, few of the wooden structures within the castle also caught fire. I heard shrieks of people burning to death. It gnawed at me, but I held firm without so much as a twitch of my face.


    The fire continued to spread, and soon, the entire castle was on fire.


    I watched with faux-impassiveness but with hair-gripping confusion and frustration as no one walked out to surrender.


    Why?


    Why?!


    The roaring flames offered me no words of explanation.


    My eyes widened as the gates finally opened.


    ¡­ Only to collapse forward and reveal that there was no one on the other side.


    I finally allowed myself to grimace.


    Why?


    The fire continued to burn until dusk fell, at which point, it finally subsided from a lack of fuel.


    I ¡­ knew that I had to check, so I ordered my men to go in and do so.


    When my men returned deep into the night, I met them as they dragged five people to me.


    "We found them in the cellar, Commander Hans."


    I looked down at the four filthy and soot-covered children and one young woman who kept on trying to get in between the children and me. I saw their fear-stricken faces in the harsh light of the torches surrounding us.


    "What are your names?" I asked.


    "T-They-!" the young woman tried to speak, but I leveled her with a glare and a dose of [Intimidate], a magic spell variant. She collapsed into a quivering wreck, looking up at me with deer in the headlights look of defecating terror.


    I kept my glare on her for a moment more before turning the spell off (my only spell still) and turned back to the children.


    "Names."


    The oldest boy quivered.


    "J-John v-v-von T-T-T-Toggenburg," he whispered quietly.


    I crouched down to get to his eye level, but I was still heads taller than the sitting boy.


    "And the others?"


    "M-My b-brothers and s-s-sisters."


    "I see," I muttered before looking up. "Where is the count?"


    One of the men who reluctantly went to search the castle under my order came forth and brought out a silver circlet. It was the same circlet that the count had worn yesterday when we met.


    "I found it on a pile of ashes." S?a?ch* Th? ??v?l_Fir?.?et website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    I took the slightly twisted silver circlet, and let out a sigh. "So the count is dead."


    John looked like he was about to cry.


    I finally turned to the woman. "And who are you?"


    She quivered still, unable to shake off the fear that I''d instilled in her.


    "M-Maria¡­ v-von¡­"


    Oh, another noble? Shit, was this the countess?


    "H-H-Ha-"


    Oh God, no. Was she going to say what I think she''s going to say?


    "H-Habsb-b-burg¡­"


    Well.


    Hmm.


    Shit.


    "Relation to the probably now the Count John here?"


    "M-Mother¡­"


    Shit.


    "Then you are now the regent."


    She seemed to steel herself at my words. "I¡­ I am."


    "Good. Signing peace treaty with children leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Do you know what I talked about to your husband yesterday?"


    "Y-You asked him to sign a ¡­" she caught herself before she said something stupid in front of people who just burned down her husband and his castle along with probably everyone else in it but them. "A peace treaty¡­"


    "Yes," I replied. "Because he attacked us first. Now, I have you and your children at my mercy because your late husband was too stupid to think that another human being was not as smart or even smarter than him. So you have two choices here. You can sign an amended peace treaty or you can pick up a weapon and fight on¡­ but the consequences of the latter is that I cannot afford to keep the Toggenburgs alive if they choose to pick up a weapon right now. They will all die."


    I didn''t want to kill children and I wasn''t going to. But I wanted to scare this woman into accepting the peace treaty.


    "I-I-I''ll sign, I''ll sign," she started sobbing.


    I brought out a parchment and wrote a peace treaty similar to what I gave Werdenberg but with a few key differences that came with the kind of total victory I just achieved.


    First, Toggenburg would pay war reparations totalling one thousand florins. It wasn''t the most common or ubiquitously used coin in these Swabian Alps, but it was used regularly enough because of the trade between here and the Italians down south. One florin was equal to three sheeps (according to the last merchant I managed to price check some of the goods I had), and one florin was equal to ten silver hellers, the local coin people preferred to use around here while florin came from Florence, Italy.


    Second, John von Toggenburg, the Count of Toggenburg, would be my ward until he became an adult at the age of sixteen. He was to be a hostage as well as a possible means for me to ensure that far future relationship between Toggenburg - and thus Habsburgs indirectly - and the Compact.


    Third, Toggenburg signed a treaty acknowledging the political independence of the Compact of the Seven, its people''s right to trade freely within Toggenburg lands, a lack of trade barriers between the two lands and polities, and renouncing all claims to the lands that the Compact of the Seven occupies currently; they could no longer claim that the valleys, starting from Schiers and Maienfeld to Davos, of the Compact were theirs by any ancestral or current means.


    Fourth and the most important part, there would be peace between the Count of Toggenburg, the war leader on their side, and the Compact of the Seven for the next decade, putting a stop to all wars directed at the Compact of the Seven.


    This was the end of the Nine Lord-Compact War, as they would call it in the future, and the end of the Unruly Year as the Sargans, upon hearing of their ally''s demise, quickly pulled out of Chur''s lands and an uneasy peace settled in these valleys.


    -VB-


    End of the Toggenburg Arc

 Chapter 30

    Swiss ArmsChapter 30


    -VB-


    It came to be known as the Burning of Toggenburg and the First Toggenburg War because this was not the last time that that Toggenburg became the center of a regional war.


    The Fall of Toggenburg, the Surrender of Werdenberg, and the Prominance of the Compact upset the balance of the entire region. In fact, these three events had a bigger impact on the region than the Bishop of Chur''s Decline. The Decline might have been the catalyst for the instability and the Unruly Year, but it was a struggle for dominance among the known players.


    The Surrender of Werdenberg came after the Battle of Maienfeld, and made the Compact of the Seven the military leader by showing the neighboring lords and cities that someone was strong enough to force a lord to give up on the defense provided by his castle.


    Then the Fall of Toggenburg happened.


    Witnesses to the event described it as merciless pyre. Commander Marris set fire to the Toggenburg Castle, the hill it sat upon, and the forest surrounding the castle. Surrounded on all sides by irate soldiers on all sides, the Count of Toggenburg hoped to ride out he flames from within his castle walls. Unfortunately, fire jumped into the castle and there was no stopping it from within a castle without a well of its own. Only his wife and their four children survived the fire. The rest of the Toggenburg Castle and the four hundred people living and working there died to the fire.


    In the peace treaty signed by the soot-covered regent and Commander Marris of the Compact, the new count became a hostage to the Compact, the Count of Toggenburg was forced to sever all alliances, acknowledge the Compact''s political independence, and pay war reparations.


    This beggared the already weakened lordship to poverty. With their only castle gone, no allies to call upon, and their count soon growing up to identify himself more with his wardens than his own family and land, the County of Toggenburg became wholly dependent upon the Compact of the Seven to survive within two decades.


    This, of course, also opened up opportunities for an already powerful city named Zurich on the other side Toggenburg from the Compact and gave them even more room to grow than they already had, and this city would soon grow strong enough to challenge the might of Habsburgs in the near future with their allies.


    In essence, the Decline, the Surrender, the Fall, and the Prominence all came together to describe a political event that would dominate the Alps for decades to come.


    The Birth of the Four Leagues.


    -VB-


    The people of Maienfeld greeted us all with flowers and cheers and treated us like heroes.


    Oh, my militia-soldiers tried to be stoic and all, but when one man ran up to his wife and started kissing in public, it wasn''t long before I was seeing young men without wives getting looks and advances from single young women in the crowd.


    Did I feel jealous?


    ¡­ Maybe.


    Was it what was at the center of my mind?


    No.


    No, no, no. To the people here, the Surrender of Werdenberg and the Fall of Toggenburg as well as the signed peace treaties acknowleging the Compact''s political independence proved that they were free and that this war was over.


    Yeah, this war was over, but they didn''t know that they took part in killing the Habsburg''s son-in-law, and the Habsburgs were, at this point in time, a military powerhouse in control over two duchies, numerous allies around the region, and contesting for the kingship of Bohemia (a big deal like California was a big deal in the USA, politically, economically, and socially) while we, the Compact, was like a rural town in West Virginia.


    Did I mention that we killed the Habsburg''s son-in-law?


    I wanted to scream, because the Werdernberg and Toggenburg combined did not have a tenth of the men the Habsburg could bring to the field, and fielding that big of an army to "avenge the death of their son-in-law" was an "honorable" casus belli.


    So when everyone else in the village was celebrating, I kept up an equally cheerful mask but screamed in panic inside.


    Little John, the Count of Toggenburg and my hostage, thankfully didn''t realize it, because he was busy glaring at people celebrating his father''s death.


    ¡­ Maybe I should focus on what I could help right now and deal with the possibly impending doom later.


    "John." s?a??h th? N?velF?re.?et website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    The boy looked up.


    He was a brown-haired, pale (but that may be because he was afraid of me after he watched me brutally cut down a bear that thought to make him its food with a single strike), and short boy. The rich clothes he wore when we first met (even if they were soot-covered) got changed out with decent woolen clothes.


    He was a pretty boy, and was going to be a lady killer in the future.


    "Don''t fault them for it," I spoke to him from the side of the celebration feast while unlucky messengers left the village to go and spread the victorious news to the rest of the Compact.


    His tiny hands curled up, and he bit the insides of his mouth to keep himself from speaking out.


    "They did not ask to be attacked nor did we stop your father from surrendering," I added. "I was waiting, you know? For your father to come. We just wanted to be left alone¡­ to not have to fear someone stabbing us."


    "He was your lord¡­" he finally broke and hissed.


    "The only Lord in these lands is God, John. Never forget that," I replied. "Men and women, their institutions, and their faults all come and go, but God remains as he always has."


    Tears began pricking the boy''s eyes, and he swiped them quickly with the wool sleeve of his shirt.


    "I didn''t want to fight you father or his friends. I was just farming and mining, you know? But then my little village started to get attacked, so we fought back."


    I didn''t know if I was helping or making it worse, but I couldn''t help myself, too.


    "I didn''t want to be a commander. I just wanted to do my cool little things. Would you believe me if I told you that I was almost a hermit?"


    He snorted.


    "Really, I''m not joking! I was living in this weird wooden tower barely three floors high that I made on my own. I was busy trying to think up ways to farm fish!"


    "You can''t farm fish," John mocked me.


    "Watch me, boy. I''ll show you how to farm fish."


    "Fish are disgusting," he replied incredulously.


    I gasped.


    It was the start of a trivial argument that would last for a decade.


    -VB-


    It took me a week to travel between each of the member villages of the Compact to drop off the remaining militiamen and then return home to Davos-Fluela, and by that point, messages have been sent back and froth among us and the lords.


    The Nine Lord-Compact War was over.


    Sure, the Bishopric of Chur was still at war with the Sargans, and the Sargans only begrudgingly - maybe a little fearfully - agreed to peace with us since they still had the rest of the Prince-Bishopric to fry and because their immediate neighbor to the north, the County of Werdenberg, put pressure to accept peace, but the Compact''s part in the Unruly Year was over.


    The Compact and all of its people treated me as their savior, even though everything from the Fall of Chur was partially my fault. If I didn''t curbstomp the Bishop too hard, none of this would have happened, after all.


    I, of course, did not directly tell them that, because it made little logical sense even to me but also because there was no point taking the blame where there were no blames to be had.


    In the months to come, Sax-Misox (the two brothers fighting over the title) eventually settled their differences with the younger brother taking their father''s old lands and the older brother taking their father''s conquered lands, which included everything from the Barony of Vaz to Town of Zuoz, which was in the same valley as Zernez.


    Sargans and Chur eventually settled their differences since Sargans only had the City of Chur to take from the Bishop of Chur, but doing so might get him excommunicated. The war ended, essentially, because the territorial gains possible in the war became zero and the defender had no manpower or will to go on the offensive.


    As for what that meant for us, it meant that peddlers, merchants, and pilgrims finally started passing by our valleys and mountain passes again.


    Trade was booming again, and I wanted to complete my industrialization quest as quickly as possible.

 Chapter 31

    Dark brown eyes slowly read through the letter sent to him by his distant cousin married to some fop in the Swabian Alps.From what he was reading, it seemed that his House''s attempt to gain connection to the region had worked, somewhat, because the fop they married his cousin to was dead and died losing a war so dramatically and drastically that left little room for intervention.


    There could be no intervention in the war if the war was already over, after all.


    Albert knew that while he was the King of the Germans, there was only so much he could demand from his vassals before they decide to usurp him.


    Kingship was one of balance, and in the lands of the Holy Roman Empire where powerful vassals held sway in all political arenas, he could not make demands or orders because allowing him to set a "royal" precedent was something his vassals would sit by and watch.


    Still, the idea of peasants winning against nobles in such a devastating and decisive manner¡­


    Perhaps it''s better that he recognized them and made sure they knew what boundaries they had to toe. He was too busy with the Lowlands right now.


    "Seneschal, bring me my quill, ink, and a parchment. I have a letter to write."


    His elderly Seneschal, a low noble who''s served the Habsburgs since his grandfather, moved with surprising speed to accomplish his given task, and no more than a minute later, he had all three items he requested.


    He thought about how to start and end this letter. The middle portion, where he would use his authority to cement the current outcomes of the regional dispute, was certain.


    However, how did he address each of the participants? The entire war was an affront to his authority as the emperor, but at the same time, decrying the already autonomous lords in a duchy that was in disarray would only encourage them to fight more among themselves until one rises among them. This would put his House''s holdings in the duchy in jeopardy.


    At the same time, praising the peasants¡­


    That was just not done, especially not after they killed a count by burning him to death, but what else could he expect out of the uneducated, dirty, and violent Alps peasants?


    "If I may, Your Majesty."


    He looked up to his seneschal, who had been waiting patiently for him.


    "Please, if you have an idea, John, I''d appreciate it."


    "From what you have told me, the Count of Sargans began the conflict and so deserve much of the blame for the regional instability. The peasants rose up only in response to the attacks they suffered at the hands of the participating nobles. Though I understand that the Swabian Alps are not rich nor important in the wider scheme of things, I believe that absolving the peasants, of this Compact, of any crime they committed during the war against the nobility.


    "At the same time, I believe that you, the King of the Germans, should make it clear that any further death of nobles and knights at the hands of the peasants would be dealt with harshly, regardless of who causes a fight."


    "... Leniency yet strictness, John?"


    "Yes, Your Majesty."


    Albert thought about it before he nodded. "Thank you. I believe I know what I shall write to each of them. On your way out, would you grab another half a dozen parchments for me?"


    He really needed to sort out the Duchy of Swabia, soon. Swabia was becoming too chaotic at this point, but with no central authority that the majority of the duchy would accept, the problem was tricky at best and poison at worst.


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 31


    -VB-


    I woke up a week after I arrived back home and found myself staring at a screen I did not expect.


    [Event: Nine Lord-Compact War


    Cause


    - Sargans'' Claims over the whole of Prince-Bishopric of Chur


    Result - Compact''s Overwhelming Victory


    Effect - 1) Compact of the Seven becomes a recognized state within the Holy Roman Empire, 2) Compact of the Seven gains [Republic] government form, 3) Compact of the Seven gains 15-year truce with all of its neighbors except for the County of Tyrol.


    Reward:


    *+5 LvLs


    *+5 CHA


    *New Skill [Rulership]!


    *+5 to Rulership


    *New Skill [Commander]!


    *+5 to Commander]


    "Oh," I muttered as I sat up from my bear fur bedding and thick wool blanket.


    It took me a while to really understand what I was looking at.


    5 LvLs and 5 points for a total of thirty points? That was the biggest jump in stat gains in a single event¡­ since ever.


    I didn''t need to spend it right now, but I knew that I had "holes" in my stats to fill up, and as such, fifteen of the thirty points (since five points were already dumped to CHA) were added to INT. The rest¡­ My strength was at 44 right now because I still managed to complete my monthly quests during the war.


    (Why did this pop up now and not before? You know, right after I got the correspondence from Sargans?)


    I put six into strength to round it off, one more to CHA to make it 15, six to END to make it even 60, and 2 to ¡­ DEX, why not?


    Now, lemme see those new juicy skills~!


    [Rulership] LvL.6


    Change the rules as how you see fit with your power.


    *+0.5% additional law/rule change acceptance with vassals per LvL


    *+0.1 opinion per LvL


    [Commander] LvL.6


    Center, hold steady. Both flanks, curve in. Trap and slaughter them. Victory is soon ours.


    *+1% Man-At-Arms/Soldier Effectiveness per LvL


    *-0.25% Friendly Casualties in battle per LvL


    *+0.1% likelihood of being able to trap, counter, or outmaneuver enemy commander


    Rulership sounded a lot like mind control if high levels in it just flat out made everyone like me if they worked under me.


    On the other hand, Commander was a skill that was very much welcome, especially considering that in future conflicts the Compact involves itself will put me up as its commander, and reducing our casualties was always a great skill.


    ¡­I wondered how this skill will let me "outmaneuver" someone, though. Time always revealed everything.


    I wondered what I was going to eat today.


    -VB-


    [Quest: Industrialization!


    You might not have the coal-based steam industry ready to make and start, but you can start something smaller. Your job, if you choose to accept, is to set up a fully-fledged within five years of accepting this quest!


    Requirement:


    *Establish a profitable industry for the Compact of the Seven Towns S?a??h th? N?v?lFire.n?t website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    Bonus:


    A-Establish 2 profitable industries


    B-Establish 3 profitable industries


    C-Hire a total of five hundred people


    Reward:


    *10 stat points


    A-+5 stat points


    B-+10 stat points


    C-+10 stat points


    Failure:


    *Potential collapse of the Compact]


    Okay.


    How should I go about this?


    "You want to ¡­ make the village richer?" Alvia, Arnold''s sister and currently the only jeweler in the entire valleys around us, asked me incredulously. "Don''t you realize just how rich you are, and you want to get even richer?"


    Arnold looked surprised as well.


    The three of us sat around my "living" room on the bottom floor of my wooden tower. The hexagonal tower, now two floors taller and with four more "extensions" to each side at the ground floor, was still at the heart of my wooden fort in Fluela.


    I shook my head. "I mean, I know I am rich-"


    "Obscenely rich," Arnold noted.


    "-No, I''m not that rich. I''m probably¡­ poorer than most barons out there."


    "You''re as rich as a baron!?"


    I facepalmed. "The point!" I raised my voice a little to get this conversation back on track. "Is that I want to make everyone rich, but I don''t know how I should go about it or if my suggestions are even welcome."


    Arnold wiped his newly grown stubble while his wife - yes, his wife - ate silently from his side. Beatrice was a sweet little thing, but she was also very scared of me ever since she saw my fort. And the half a dozen bear furs hanging on the walls.


    It''s not my fault that I keep running into them.


    "Hans," Alvia sighed as she set her fork down. "If you say that you want the village to do something that makes us money, then I don''t think anyone will refuse."


    "... Really?" I asked incredulously.


    "Yes. What did you have in mind?" Arnold asked. "I know what father will agree to, in general, so let''s hear it."


    "Well, I have this list here," I said as I pulled out the said list. "Want me to read it off for you?"


    "Yes, Hans. It''s still a little hard for me to read, especially when you write weird things."


    I chuckled. Yes, I did confuse a lot of the people trying to learn because I kept on adding future English words when I couldn''t find their equivalent in High German and Alemannic, the two dominant languages outside of Latin and French which were used as lingua franca.


    "The first one is something we are already working on. We could focus on simply being the ''nail makers'' and attract merchants to come by our valley."


    "I like that," Arnold replied. "But ¡­ that''s not exactly an industry, is it?"


    "No, not unless I spread the process to other towns in the valley. It would require that some of the people learn how to become a blacksmith or at least learn how to operate something as we have here, which is hard because it takes time and resources to make them as well as a water source to turn the wheels and a source of iron that most villages can''t get easy access to."


    To be truthful, I can help build the water wheel and the rest of the smithing infrastructure, but the ultimate problem was that we lacked people and a good source of iron. Importing iron could do it, but allowing outsiders to completely control our industry? It wouldn''t work nor would it be accepted as an option by the self-sufficient folks living here in the mountains.


    Unless I could convince around a hundred people to switch from whatever job they held right now to become miners for an industry that may or may not work out, then the idea would have to be shelved.


    I could still import some iron ore to work with and I would certainly mine quite a bit of iron ore on my own, but could I become an industry by myself?


    ¡­ I have no idea.


    "The second one would be paper making."


    "... what is paper?"


    "Ah, right. Paper is like parchment, except thinner and cheaper to make because I intend to use wood pulp as the main ingredient in making it."


    "Wood pulp?" Alvia asked skeptically, frowning at me as if she could discern whether I was pulling her leg or not. "That sounds ¡­ ridiculous."


    "I''ll show you all later, but for now, let''s keep going down the list. Now, the third potential industry I want to experiment with is pottery."


    "We ¡­ do that everywhere?" Beatrice spoke up for the first on the meal table.


    I grinned. "Yes, but I want to see what kind of results pottery made with Swabian clay will be like. It''ll take a lot of experiments, so I hope I''ll have that reusable furnace ready. Now, after that, we have the final thing to try out¡­"


    It was an idea I got from, well, my last life''s mangas.


    "Gold plating."


    "... Like a chestplate made out of gold?" Arnold asked incredulously. "That sounds stupidly expensive and dumb."


    "Oh no no, it''s nothing like that," I replied. "I''ll need ¡­ just today, really, to make one, but I think you''ll really like what you''ll all see."


    -VB-


    [Character Status]


    Name: Hans of Fort Fluela


    Age: 18


    LvL: 33


    HP: 600


    MP: 350


    ST: 300


    STR: 50


    END: 60


    AGI: 60


    DEX: 46


    INT: 35


    CHA: 15


    Current Objective: Set Up Home [10/?]


    Current Quest: N/A

 Chapter 32

    Swiss ArmsChapter 32


    -VB-


    [Available Quest: Porcelain


    Porcelain is a very valuable trade good that all of the world is willing to have. Learn how to make one yourself.


    (Expand)]


    Yes¡­ I had forgotten about this particular quest.


    It was one of the weirder quests that had no reward or consequences.


    Still, it reminded me of what I should try with my pottery experiments. I, however, knew nothing about pottery beyond what little I have seen so far in my life (considering that my parents nor any of my siblings were potters, this meant very little).


    This was what I knew from living my current medieval life:


    1) Clay used to make pottery is important.


    2) How the clay is shaped is important.


    3) How the baking process goes is important.


    4) Air inside the clay ruins the ware.


    I also knew a few more tidbits from my past life:


    1) Glaze is as important as clay (for sale).


    2) Making any ware with a handle adds a lot more time to the production process.


    Now, with these knowledge but little practical experience, I pressed on the available quest''s expand button.


    [Available Quest: Porcelain


    Porcelain is a very valuable trade good that all of the world is willing to have. Learn how to make one yourself.


    Requirement:


    *


    Successfully make a porcelain ware


    Reward:


    *


    International Recognition


    *+5 LvL to Pottery


    Failure:


    *


    Cannot retake Quest: Porcelain for the next 6 years


    *Creative Slump (1 year): cannot take Crafting Quests for the duration of the Creative Slump]


    Huh.


    So this was a serious quest. The rewards might not be much compared to the consequences, but I believed that was because being able to recreate porcelain in Medieval Europe was powerful in and of itself.


    The problem with this was that I didn''t know how to start?


    Sure, I could go about gathering clay¡­


    But I didn''t even know how to do that.


    Hmm.


    This was going to be harder than I thought.


    Ping!


    [Quest: Improve Davos Pottery


    Davos has a potter, did you know that? However, he uses some ¡­ archaic methods. Normal methods as far as he is concerned for the Swabian lands but archaic nonetheless. Improve his methods to get a reward!


    Requirement:


    Either


    *Reduce pottery production time


    Or


    *Improve pottery quality


    Reward:


    *Porcelain Clay Recipe


    Or


    *Cold Porcelain Clay Recipe


    Failure:


    *-1 CHA]


    I blinked at the quest and its reward. ''That certainly makes it easier.''


    -VB-


    "You¡­ want to learn how to be a potter?" Gunther the Potter of Davos asked the unofficial lord of these valleys.


    Hans von Fluelaburg (that''s what everyone called him when he wasn''t around) nodded from where he stood respectfully outside Gunther''s house-workshop. A small crowd had come to watch the man, though they should all be working just like he was because it was high noon right now.


    "... May I ask why?" he asked incredulously.


    Lord Hands hummed while looking up. Probably thinking something ridiculous again. When he looked back down and answered, Gunther was proven right.


    "I want to find out how to make pots by the hundreds."


    "... Buh?"


    "Let''s start with how you source your clay."


    ---


    "So you spin your wheel ¡­ using a stick?" Hans asked as he sat in front of the pottery wheel with his lump of moist clay on top.


    "Yes, Hans," Gunther answered. He called the man by his name and not the unofficial titles because he was asked to. Hans didn''t like formality, apparently, which was understandable considering that they were all fighting together without distinction mere months ago against the Count of Zernez. "You stick one end of the stick into that hole," he said as he gestured to the aforementioned hole in the thick wheel. "And you spin it around as fast as you can make it go, then quickly start molding the clay."


    "... Seems unnecessarily manual labor intensive," Hans murmured.


    Gunther raised an eyebrow at that. What did the man expect?


    "I''ll be back tomorrow with something, Gunther. Thank you for your help today."


    "Of course, mi- Hans."


    ---


    Gunther saw salvation and he was Hans.


    He stared at the divine device in front of him and felt tears prickling his eyes.


    "I''ll call it a pedaled pottery wheel," Hans declared plainly.


    The rest of the village surrounded the two of them, and they all stared at the device Hans had made specifically for him. Hans got on the device to show how it works.


    "See these two-foot pedals here?" he asked Gunther, who nodded. Gunther didn''t need to be told the little details. He was a man who saw things spin all of the time, and the way those water wheel-like wheels locked with one another showed how pushing down on the pedal¡­


    Hans pushed down on the pedal, and the wooden wheels began to click and clack quietly as they spun to the pace Hans set. The wheel on top of the device, set at the waist level of the person sitting and spinning the wheel, slowly spun up.


    Gunther ignored the aw''s and oh''s of the villagers and bowed to Hans.


    "Thank you!"


    "Don''t mention it," Hans replied, and when Gunther looked back up, he saw Hans smiling as if this was what a normal man should do. "Now, about how to pot stuff¡­"


    -VB-


    Ping!


    [Quest: Improve Davos Pottery


    Requirement:


    *Reduce pottery production time


    Reward:


    *Porcelain Clay Recipe


    Or


    *Cold Porcelain Clay Recipe]


    I chose Porcelain Clay Recipe. I didn''t know what Cold Porcelain Clay was supposed to be (related to pottery, I''m sure), but I wanted the OG recipe.


    Ping!


    [Porcelain Clay recipe learned. Please check your recipe book.]


    I mentally brought up the Gamer''s recipe book, which was basically mental sheet of all recipes I knew, and looked for my latest one. Porcelain Clay¡­ here we go!


    10 part clay and 5 part kaolin/lithomarge.


    "... What the fuck is a lithomarge?"


    I sighed.


    I guessed that I had to start sampling and mining a lot of different places now to find a deposit of whatever this lithomarge was, huh?


    -VB-


    "A letter?" I asked Arnold, who had become my right hand man in all things here in Fluela Fort.


    "Yes," he said as he shakily pointed towards the western gate. We were standing by the eastern gate right now. "The King of the Germans sent a messenger."


    I felt my stomach drop.


    "Oh shit."


    "Yeahhh¡­"


    I quickly made my way toward the western gate, dropping the pickaxe and shovels I used to sample the soil in the far eastern portions of Fluela Valley.


    I was met with seven people, six men-at-arms serving as guards and a nobleman serving as the messenger. I could tell that he was a nobleman because he had a signet ring with what looked like a coat of arms on it. Not all nobleman got to wear such rings; only those with power in a noble family could wear that ring (i.e. head of the family, trusted and powerful patriarchs, heir of the family, etc).


    I bowed.


    "Greetings, milord," I spoke, even if calling someone milord mildly irritated me after the recent conflicts.


    "Raise your heads," the messenger, sitting atop his horse, spoke up, and I did raise my hand. "Who among you is Hans von Fluela?"


    "I am he," I said as I spoke up.


    He looked up and down at my attire before snorting. "A mere peasant like you dared to raise your hand against your betters. I do not understand why my king has deigned to write a letter to you¡­ but here it is," he said and gestured for one of the walking men-at-arms to come forth.


    One of the armored and armed men-at-arms walked up with a letter sealed with what I assumed was the seal of the king.


    The man-at-arms gave the letter to the messenger, who broke the seal and pulled out the parchment within the envelope. He unfurled it and began to read. S?a?ch* Th? ???el F?re.n?t website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    "To my subjects,


    This is I, Albert the First of his name, the King of the Germans ever majestic by the grace of God, Grand Duke of Austria and Styria, Count of Habsburg and Kyburg, and Landgrave of Alsace.


    I write to you from my home and birthplace of the city of Rheinfelden, and have heard of the conflicts that have plagued my eastern Swabian Alps in the brief time I have spent setting just and fair rule of law upon the Lowlands and the Saxons. I find myself grieving the loss of lives and families as a result of this war of greed against God''s own ecclesiarch in these lands. I order the cessation of all hostilities that may still be ongoing at this point in time.


    To the people of the newly formed Compact of the Eight, I hereby absolve you of any crimes that you might have unknowingly committed during the current conflict and give you the rightful designation as an independent polity and the title of barony. However, this is not a reward. Should you once again seek and strike down nobles outside of sanctioned wars, then you will answer for your crimes.


    Signed,


    Albert I, the King of the Germans."


    The messenger folded the letter and looked at me.


    "This letter is for you to keep," he said and gave the letter to the man-at-arms, who walked up and handed the letter to me. I took it gingerly. "It will serve as the king''s peace and evidence of your ¡­ people''s newfound title. What say you to your king?"


    I bowed again.


    "I thank you for your grace and mercy."


    The messenger nodded imperiously. "You seem educated despite your attire. Good. May you never find His Majesty''s ire."


    And then they left.


    I looked around at the people who''d been in my fort at the time, who included village chief Kraft.


    "Well," I smiled nervously. "That just happened."

 Chapter 33

    Swiss ArmsChapter 33


    -VB-


    While I went around collecting soil samples, I also visited the rest of the villages of the compact to gauge their reception to nail making. I got mixed responses.


    For sure, Davos was up for it like Arnold and Alvia assured me. The same could not be said for the rest, especially villages furthest from us (i.e. Maienfeld). Davos only agreed because the villagers there knew that whatever I put my hands to, something glorious happened. The rest of the villages trusted me to lead them on the battlefield but not on the table to navigate the economics of the future.


    As the chief of Maienfeld (father of Arnold''s wife, Beatrice) told me bluntly to my face, "We are busy as it is feeding ourselves with what we have. We don''t have the means nor the desire to explore something that may see children dead in the coming winter."


    He was being blunt as fuck about it, but he said nothing incorrect. Survival came before experimentation.


    Davos, still, was willing.


    They were willing because they didn''t have a blacksmith. This was part of the reason why Kraft had been supportive of Arnold learning smithing under me.


    While the rest of the villages weren''t as blunt or rude about it as Maienfeld, their objections and reasons remained the same.


    Admittedly, my failure to win over anyone outside Davos hurt my ego a little more than I thought it would - hurt me more than I thought it would - because hadn''t I been their leader? The commander who led them to victory? Davos would have been the last village in line to suffer from the pillaging and murder the counts -.


    No.


    I couldn''t let myself dig that kind of rabbit hole and throw myself down it. Yes, I commanded them, but it didn''t mean that they owed me. We fought together against a threat. Sure, I would have done fine on my own, but fighting together made things easier for everyone.


    We signed a Compact, and I might have been the one overreaching by asking them to divert their finite resources. I can''t forget that I am the only one with "extra" resources. I''m the only one among the Compact''s people who go out to hunt animals in the middle of the Alps'' winter to hunt bears. They can''t do half of what I do; I can''t expect them to do as much as I do.


    So I gave up on it for now. I would come back to it later.


    This meant that I had to now focus on pottery. Already, I saw that simple innovations that a potter could use on the spot worked in my favor. I just had to help spread that - and my influence - through the rest of the Compact.


    And once I found whatever that lithomarge stuff, then I could see about exporting porcelain, too.


    Speaking of which, I had zero luck in finding that shit. I have looked everywhere from Maienfeld to Zernez, and I couldn''t find it there. This meant that if I wanted to continue looking, I would have to explore other territories.


    Funny thing about exploring other territories: they don''t want the military commander of their former enemy and potential future enemy to scout out their lands.


    Ah, this was what suffering in success felt like.


    I would have to rely on peddlers and merchants and ask them to find lithomarge for me.


    In the meantime, I needed to experiment!


    "So that''s what happens if I use glaze with a lot of iron," I grimaced as I looked at the admittedly shiny but utterly black bowl. When I stood up, I noticed Arnold staring at me. "What?"


    "What do you mean ''what,'' Hans? Do you not see how smooth and shiny your earthenwares are?" he asked me incredulously.


    One such earthenware was in Alvia''s hands, and her eyes shined like they did when she first saw me cutting gemstones. She was pretty good at that, actually. At her request, I fashioned a few rose gold rings for her to set her cut gems into. She''s sold quite a few to passing merchants and paid me my due (workshop and material fee minus discount).


    "That''s from the glaze," I replied. "You know, the thing I did before I fired it up?"


    "And that furnace! You didn''t use fire!"


    "Yeah? That was the point," I replied. "Air does shit when it gets really hot, and smoke does it, too. Isn''t this ho-"


    "No."


    "Oh," I muttered as I stared at the mostly misshapen bowls that now littered the floor in tall stacks.


    [Pottery] LvL. 13


    One of the most prehistoric inventions, you too can shape the earth to match your imagination. Provided you have a fire.


    *-0.1% material cost per LvL


    *+0.5% drying speed per LvL


    *+1% increase in quality guarantee (+100% increase to Common upgrades quality to Moderate)


    I may have gone a little crazy trying to increase the level as much as I could in an as short amount of time. The result was twelve levels increase to [Pottery] after I made some two hundred plus dishes.


    Most of them were [Bad] in quality. Some were [Ubiquitous]. A rare few were [Common], all of which came after I got past [Pottery] LvL. 10.


    I actually got the last level by applying glazes after the first firing.


    And¡­ well¡­


    The currently finished dishes were less than half of what I initially started with. Yes, more than half of the dishes I made with clay broke during the firing.


    I really hoped that wouldn''t always be the case.


    "Hans, Gunther the Potter makes fifteen finished pots a day. You just made two hundred in a week."


    I blinked.


    Oh.


    Um.


    I looked down at the dishes. The black dishes, shining like they were smooth river stones, glistened in the noon sun.


    "I guess I should get Gunther involved in this and not leave him jobless?" I asked the two siblings.


    "He would be happy to keep food on his table, yes¡­" Alvia muttered as she turned her dish around. The dish she held was the only [Moderate] quality dish I made out of this week''s batch. "I''m keeping this."


    I snorted in amusement. "Go ahead."


    She ran off.


    I had to remind myself that even though all of us were adults, both Alvia and Arnold were in their teens. They remained youthfully excitable.


    "You look disappointed with this."


    I blinked and turned around. "Oh, Beatrice. I didn''t know you were interested in this."


    "I was curious," the normally shy woman bowed slightly, showing deference to me. "But I had assumed that you would keep women out of your way¡­"


    "Nah, I don''t do things traditionally," I replied.


    "That and you did keep my husband occupied for half a day each day for the past week."


    Arnold looked sheepish. "Well, I was just doing my job."


    "Yes, and you left me alone. Not too keen on doing the husband part of your job, huh?"


    As the two descended into what looked like was their first couple spat, I felt a little guilty.


    Which was why I left as quickly as I could.


    -VB-


    In the coming summer months and into fall, I worked and made more pottery. I reached LvL. 45 in [Pottery] as fall came in and even gained [Bartering] as a skill (it increased the opposite party''s willingness to settle for higher in my favor).


    In total, I sold roughly ten thousand dishes at a few coppers per dish.


    I actually now had a merchants specifically visiting me from St. Gallens (north of Werdenberg) to keep buying my earthenware and I bought salted fish from them.


    I supposed that this was a start of an industry and a trade route (even if I wasn''t the one in charge of that trade route).


    Oh, as for Gunther, he brought his entire family to my fort and settled in as one of the permanent residents, bringing the total number of residents from thirty to thirty-five.


    As I waved goodbye to the now familiar Merchant of St. Gallens, Alexander the Gallens Merchant, I got an alert.


    Ping!


    [Requirement met for Quest: Industrialization! Turn the quest in? Y/N]


    I thought about it. Porcelain was its own separate quest, so I didn''t need to think about that. The base reward for the quest was 10 points, which meant a lot to me. However, establishing one more industry would make the Compact that much stronger and myself 5 points richer. The quest didn''t end until I chose to end it, so ¡­


    I pressed no.


    I could wait until I fulfilled all of the bonus requirements.


    "Hans!"


    I looked back to the rudimentary road connecting Davos to my Fluela Fort and saw a man running up.


    It was Bruno, a man from Klosters (village just north of Davos and a member of the Compact) who had fast become a messenger in these months (because I paid him to deliver letters). He was sweaty; he normally wasn''t because he walked to his destination, but this time, it looked like he ran. S?a?ch* Th? ??v?lF?re.?et website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    "What is it, Bruno?" I asked him.


    "Messenger from Schiers¡­ It''s urgent. I''m sorry I read it, but I think you''ll appreciate that I ran.


    Frowning at the lack of confidentiality (though the letter''s envelope didn''t ask for it), I pulled the letter out of the envelope and read it.


    Dear Hans of Fluela,


    This is Gerald of Schiers.


    We have met four times so far: once during the foundation of the Compact, once during your patrol-visits, once during the fight against the counts to the west and north, and once when you came to see if our blacksmith was willing to change how he smithed.


    I met a man eager to see change for the good, but when told to stop, who agreed with the people who had to live with the consequences.


    I thought wrong.


    In the past four months, you have bypassed Maienfeld, Schiers, and Castels. You hired none of us in your new pottery workshop that has ruined the potters in our villages. You buy clay from St. Peters and Langweis and hired men from Klosters and Davos. Yet you did not even send us three notices of your new business.


    I believe that you are showing favoritism.


    While the Compact formed to protect ourselves from outsiders, I believe that it should involve helping each other in other areas as well.


    As such, I ask that you provide your expertise in growing our three villages.


    Signed,


    Gerald


    Representative of Schiers to the Compact of the Seven


    "Well," I smiled. "I guess I have some traveling to do."


    It was all coming together.

 Chapter 34

    Swiss ArmsChapter 34


    -VB-


    It took me the rest of the year, but I managed to get the rest of the Compact to work towards my vision for our people''s future.


    Of course, this wasn''t without its troubles.


    A lack of a paved road to help facilitate trade between each of the villages made life extra hard. Fixing that within a year was not possible, even for me. I did manage to put a dirt paved road between Davos and Klosters, and I already had people using it frequently. Mostly, it was people from Klosters also getting in on selling me clay.


    Speaking of clay, I did manage to find a lithomarge deposit within our territory. It was, however, at the very edge of it. It was within Davos''s claimed lands, which made up for the fact that it was at the southern edge of it.


    When I inquired Kraft about hiring workers permanently to regularly supply me with lithomarge (I marked it down for him on a crude map), he told me that he had enough young men to do the work and if he didn''t, then he would inquire from Klosters.


    As for Maienfeld, Schiers, and Castels, those three have banded together to form their own co-op. I taught them how to make paper from fibrous tree bark. While I had initially thought about teaching them how to make paper from wood logs and chips, the entire process was too mechanically involved for villagers to do the work. Grinding up flexible bark was more manageable, and so I experimented and taught them how to make paper with that.


    Sure, the paper wasn''t the bleached industrial white A4 paper I was so familiar with in my past life, but I didn''t need to care about quality when the paper I taught them to make was cheaper and easier than making parchment from animal skins.


    After all, the binding agent and the raw material all came from the bark itself, so there wasn''t even a need to source other materials.


    Last I heard, they managed to get the ever-parchment-hungry abbots, priests, nuns, and the bishop of Chur to start buying their paper.


    I am a little concerned about profit from that particular trade getting to the heads of those villagers¡­ but then I remembered that we, the Compact, didn''t quite have taxes.


    That''s right, the Compact didn''t have taxes.


    Due to how the Compact was formed through a defensive pact, there was no official position on leadership, taxation, and even military affairs outside of "come protect each other against outside threats." For that reason alone, the three villages had a reason to stay within our Compact, because as soon as they are conquered by other lords or even the now severely weakened Prince-Bishop, they would start having to pay a lot of taxes on what was a very special trade.


    So I wasn''t too concerned about them becoming rich. I wanted them to taste an iota of wealth because I knew that they would have no way to keep up with the demands on their own, even if they hired workers from outside of the Compact.


    My mass pottery manufacturing also progressed really well. I also made a "print dipper," a device for precise pattern painting. It was a bouncy stretch of leather (a result of my many experimentations) that could fit into a bowl that''s gone through its first baking, and leave behind a "print" of the painted pattern on the ceramic bowls that would go under a second baking.


    ¡­ Admittedly, it didn''t work as well as I wanted it to. It seemed to break down at least twice a week, but the fact that I could now mass manufacture semi-ornately decorated dishes and bowls remained revolutionary for our little corner of the world.


    It took half a year before the regional peddlers and merchants realized that I sold something unique, and began to regularly buy from me.


    To accommodate the merchants, I expanded my little fort towards Davos. The extension of the fort basically had me double the size of my fort, but most of that space was for four new buildings: stables, inn, warehouse, and apartment. The stable and inn was for the travelers and merchants. Not all peddlers had horses, but quite a few had ox pulling their carts and carriages, and they still needed to stay inside the stable and not roam outside the fort where they could be stolen by opportunistic humans. Or animals.


    The warehouse and the apartment was for my business and people. See, the opening and expansion of my pottery factory saw a lot of young men - and two women - from Davos come to work at my place. I couldn''t house them all in the fort like I did before; last time I did that, it had been under a serious threat to all of our lives. As the demand was there, I spent the time to make a two story apartment with enough units to house five small families and seventeen more individuals in separate units. It was also built into one of the valley cliffs, so there was room in the new half of the fort for people to gather.


    What concerned me was that it''s been less than two months since the completion of the apartments and the rest of the fort when I started getting migrants from Tyrol. S?a??h th? ?ov?l?ir?.n?t website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    I was the concerned because in this medieval serfs could not simply get up and leave the lands they worked at because that was illegal.


    How illegal?


    Capital punishment illegal.


    However, I was not going to let people die due to my reluctance to help them, and this was where my second concern came in: illegal serf migrantion and acceptance of these people was one of the main issues that caused lords to butt heads.


    It was troubling that I had already accepted serfs, two families of four and five and nine stragglers of seven men and two women.


    I sighed as I looked at the equally frustrated and exasperated Count of Zernez.


    "I ¡­ really hoped that we wouldn''t meet again after the last incident," Terrace von Waldenberg, the Count of Zernez, grumbled.


    "Yeah," I grumbled back. "Didn''t bring a lot of people?" I asked as I looked over six men-at-arms.


    All of those men-at-arms recognized me, though that might been an intentional thing on his part.


    Terrace had also grown in height and size. He wasn''t the lanky teenage boy only a little younger than me. He now had the height and size of a leader, though I would need to see how much he''s matured.


    "My men found track marks of my serfs coming into the valley," he began.


    "They passed by," I replied. "I told them it would be foolish of them to stick to a region that was right next to their former lord''s lands."


    He gave a deadpan. "What if they remained?"


    "I''m sure they didn''t."


    "Do I have your assurances that they didn''t remain? Swear your name to Saint Nicholas?"


    I didn''t say. I did accept those people, after all.


    "I do not tell people to stay or go," I replied. "But if they did stay, I don''t want to see them get taken away to suffer the consequences of a situation that they did not have a choice in."


    "And I am supposed to accept serfs just running away?"


    I thought about how I could solve this issue. Terrace was rightfully angry. Serfs may be born serfs, but it didn''t change the fact that a single person was important in these sparsely populated Alppian valleys.


    "What if I were to pay for their loss of service?"


    Terrace stared at me.


    "What?"


    "What if I were to pay you to not pursue them and acknowledge that they are lost to you. That I am paying you to help you, my neighbor, offset his losses."


    He stared at me some more before reaching up and gripping the bridge of his nose.


    "They''re here, aren''t they?"


    I didn''t say anything that would incriminate myself.


    "I am merely concerned about the fact that -"


    "The fact that you are trying to pay me is an insult," he snapped at me, dropping his hand and glaring at me.


    I didn''t return the glare. "Why is it an insult?" My words brought him to a pause. I used this pause to bulldoze forward. "I am your neighbor. You must understand what a neighbor means, Lord Terrace. A neighbor is affected by his neighbor whether he or she likes it or not. If you lose people in your lands, then I am losing people I can buy and sell to."


    He sneered at me. "Mercantile as always, I see."


    "Being pragmatic, Terrace," I snapped for the first time in our conversation, and saw him flinch. "Is not mercantile. It is when I try to profit from your suffering that I become mercantile."


    "... Fine."


    "So a loss of my neighbor is a loss for me, so a neighbor should be helped. Or would you rather if I ignored your plight?"


    He glared at me. "Fine. Fine! What would you even give me th-?!"


    I gestured for my ever present helper, Arnold, to come forward with a small sack the size of a fist I''d prepared. I took the sack and tossed it over to Terrace. He caught it, and his eyes widened as he felt its weight. He quickly opened it and looked up at me in shock.


    "Half in silver. Half in gold. It should be enough, yes?"


    He begrudgingly kept the pouch. "... The serfs must have made a good impression on you."


    "No," I replied without any explanation as I turned away with Arnold. I heard Terrace turn away and leave, and sighed in relief.


    I really hoped this wouldn''t become a regular occurrence.

 Chapter 35

    Swiss ArmsChapter 35


    -VB-


    "The bishop is here?"


    It was one hell of a surprise.


    "Soon, yes," Deacon Benjamin replied. The man had shown up mere half an hour ago. I tried to be a good host to him, but apparently, he was merely here to inform me of the bishop''s surprise impending visit.


    "For what reason?" I asked, slightly nervous.


    The bishop may have lost much of his secular lands and power, but he was still the eccelsiastical bishop in charge of the Diocese of Chur, which included many Habsburg owned lands to my northwest. If he wrote one badly worded letter to the pope, then I would have an excommunication stamped on my head. It would be both an excuse of the neighboring lords to fuck me over and a good reason for the Compact to oust me.


    "He is merely curious about his new neighbor who carved out a territory from his and those of his peers," he replied. Then he shrugged. "I think he is concerned about what you want. You are, after all, a powerful warrior with a people who support you rather fervently. You have also spoken of matters of faith that resonate with members of the church he does not like."


    "... You mean you."


    "Yes."


    I snorted.


    "And what happens if any of his fears are realized?"


    "Nothing."


    I blinked. "Nothing?"


    "Yes. Nothing. Strictly speaking, nothing happens. However, all of us know that if the bishop wants to be a thorn in your side, he is more than capable of doing so with only a few sermons here and there, a few letters here and there."


    "So something does happen, just not immediately, and it will be in a way that makes him look decent?"


    "Yes. However, he is unlikely to do most of those for the simple fact that he is here also as the Prince-Bishop of Chur. He''s seen what you are making and want some for himself."


    I nodded slowly. "So if I am an absolute asshole to him, those things may happen. If I act like a civilized person¡­"


    "Then nothing happens."


    "Couldn''t you have just said that from the beginning?" I frowned.


    He didn''t respond to me for a moment, and then he smirked.


    "But where would be the fun in that?"


    I snorted. I thought about the circumstance before asking Ben. "Say, do you know what kind of food he likes?"


    -VB-


    Prince-Bishop of Chur: Siegfried von Gelnhausen


    "There is a road."


    It was a simple statement, but the existence of a road, no matter how primitive it was compared to what he''s seen in Rome and even in large cities, spoke of development here in these impoverished Swabian valleys.


    He had intentionally taken the northern path to the Fluela Pass, because it would allow him to see all of the villages part of the new Compact and meet all of their leaders.


    So far, he had been pleasantly surprised.


    The peasants weren''t as foolish or arrogant as he had expected them to be after they achieved a great victory over both him and their neighboring lords. Instead, they showed him the proper deference and respect.


    What he did notice was that there was what he saw as the beginning of diversification among the villages. They were making flags for themselves, trying to set themselves apart, and the like. They saw being part of this Compact as a way to express themselves without a lord over them to demand them to change, which was something that did happen.


    He hadn''t seen a road between the villages of Maienfeld, Schiers, and Castels. But the moment he reached Klosters, he saw the road heading south, swerving around large hills as to provide the most flat method of travel.


    It was properly paved, too, not formed from heavy usage but from actual intent to make the road last long even against encroaching plants.


    "Tell me, Sister Joanna. What do you think when you see this?"


    The sister who traveled with me looked up from her book and inspected the road. She closed her book with a snap and thunk and carefully looked around.


    "... It is in good condition."


    He rolled his eyes. She was always one for simple statements.


    "Yes, but don''t you find it odd that a peasant lord went out of his way to put a road down when he should be busy making a living?"


    "He is a warrior. He must have the money to do this."


    Siegfried thought about it and nodded. Hans the Warrior, as he was known in Chur, was indeed a powerful warrior. Even if the exaggerated rumors were only one-tenth true, he still took down multiple men-at-arms rushing him down atop their horses. Men whose minds still remained in the battlefield screamed of the "demon standing atop a mountain of corpses."


    Someone like him would have been a long and storied mercenary. A master swordsman and tactician. He would have money to improve the livelihood between two villages. After all, it wasn''t as if the man had built a fort-.


    ---


    The man built a fort.


    He looked up at the wooden fortress crossing the entire width of the narrow valley. Sure, it wasn''t impossible for God''s children to make great works. The Theodosian Walls, the Great Pyramid of Aegypt, and more were all works of men, however ancient compared to now.


    But still.


    A fort here in these valleys so close to him yet constructed so quickly?


    It wasn''t a shoddy bandit hut, either. There were ramparts under the walls and battlements atop those walls.Yes, those walls were wooden, but so what? The fact that a man was able to get enough people in these sparsely populated valleys to make him a fort spoke of his charisma.


    Or the fear he put in people.


    The latter, however, was unlikely, because none of the peasants he saw and met on the way here, even in Davos, feared Hans of Fluela.


    At the same time, it was also clear to all other villages but Davos that they didn''t place the warrior on a pedestal either. To them, Hans was merely their leader when war came to them and nothing more. Yes, he was a man who tried to do right by them, but it was also not his business what they did.


    It was a paradox to Siegfried.


    The large gates facing him opened inwardly, and he and his entourage of two dozen guards, three sisters, two brothers, and nine servants looked to the other side of the opening gate and found themselves looking ¡­ at a young man.


    Was he the -?


    Clattering metal to his left pulled im out of his thoughts, and he looked.


    One of the guards, who had been a soldier during that disasterous battle, shook like a fall leaf. His entire body trembled almost uncontrollably, and his white knuckled grip on his spear almost seemed to be breaking the spear shaft.


    Siegfried''s eyes widened as he realized why the soldier was reacting this way. He looked back to the young man standing there at the head of five others.


    The young man was Hans of Fluela.


    He strode forward confidently, and when he came within greeting distance, he bowed to Siegfried.


    "I am honored that the Your Grace has chosen to visit us," Hans of Fluela spoke respectfully.


    "Yes¡­ I thought that it was high time I visit a prominent figure such as yourself," he replied as he extended his hand.


    Hans kissed the ring on his finger and Siegfried withdrew the hand slowly as to not make it seem like he was unnerved as well.


    This supposed peasant lord, this peasant warrior, was ¡­ too noble-like. He spoke clearly, calmly, and concisely. He knew the manners of the lords and knights, and moved naturally.


    Hans glanced to his left and back before nodding. S?a??h th? N0v?lFire(.)n?t website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    One of his servants strode forward with a -.


    Siegfried''s jaws nearly dropped.


    That was a china.


    It was a bluish white plate that was wide as three hands.


    And this peasant was using it to present bread and salt, the traditional welcoming offer of the Slavic people.


    There were so many details that didn''t match each other that Siegfried started to feel overwhelmed. Nevertheless, he knew the custom that Hans was presenting, and tore a chunk of the bread and salt before eating it.


    Oh. The bread also tasted wonderful. What was this?


    "You must be tired from the long travel, Your Grace. We have prepared a warm bath for you to enjoy.


    ¡­ That also sounded like a good idea.


    He chuckled. "You are well prepared to receive me."


    "Nonsense, Your Grace!" Hans chuckled in turn. "Though I have fought against you before, you are still the bishop in charge of my soul! Anything less than a welcome for someone of your forthright character is an insult to you!"


    Later, Siegfried learned that he very much like hot "mineral" baths. They soothed his wrinkly skin and creaking bones. Perhaps Hans was not a bad man if he knew how to take care of the elders like this.

 Chapter 36

    Swiss ArmsChapter 36


    -VB-


    Sieg as he was known between what few friends he had thoroughly liked what he saw here in Fort Fluela.


    Unlike what he had imagined a bloodthirsty warrior to be - who turned out to not be a bloodthirsty warrior - and those the man kept around himself, Hans of Fluela was a deeply thoughtful man. It was what he surrounded himself with. Though he was no noble or clergy appointed or crowned by God through his clergy as the Lord had appointed Saul through Prophet Samuel, the man led people through his actions rather than words. S?a?ch* Th? ???el F?re.n?t website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    He did not tell people to go out and kill. He encouraged them to trade and develop their homes.


    He did not prepare for war. He sat down and talked to people about how better to help each other.


    He did not seek war. He lamented that he had to go out and fight when all he wanted to do was ¡­ be a hermit?


    The last bit was apparently a bit of a running joke among the people who now considered the warrior-leader their leader (according to Deacon Benjamin). He came out here to a random valley far from his home (anything over half a month of travel was far away in Sieg''s humble opinion) and made do with what God had created for them.


    However, it irked him that the young man got his fame and wealth by fighting against him. It would have been much better if their first impressions had been different, but perhaps this was something God has plans for. The Lord did work in mysterious ways, and a mercenary becoming the defender of his flock was a better outcome than whatever extended warfare that would have continued had Hans not risen up to the call.


    "There are gold in these mountains?" he asked quietly as he stared at the spherical golden nugget as big as his thumb resting on top of his palm.


    Hans had given it to him, stating that it was an offering of thanks to God for keeping the Compact peaceful and productive.


    Sieg handed the gold nugget over to Sister Joanna, who took it with both of her hands and then walked away to deposit the nugget into the traveling offering box.


    "I would not say that, Your Holiness," Hans looked torn. "I have had to dig out more than a fort''s worth of stone to find a very tiny vein. It is more likely that I was lucky."


    "Yes¡­ Perhaps luck had more to do with it," he nodded along.


    The warrior might not know but any news of gold being found in these valleys would reignite a war, but it would inflame and draw in even stronger players in the Holy Roman Empire who even the combined might of all of the Swabian Alps would not be sufficient enough to repel.


    The existence of gold needed to be kept quiet until it could be proven for certain that Hans had found a fluke.


    "What else have you found?"


    While gold might be rare, silver was not as rare.


    "Well¡­"


    Sieg leaned in over the dinner table from which he had broken his fast with delicious fare. Apparently, it had been bear meat bacon.


    "Some bit of iron."


    "Nothing else?"


    "No, Your Holiness. Nothing worth mentioning at any rate."


    Iron was more believable because there was an iron mine under the Count of Sargans'' control. With that mine being close to this valley, it wasn''t unfeasible that this areaa had some iron as well.


    Iron wasn''t something to talk much about. Only blastmisths did, not something for a bishop like himself to think about.


    What he could talk about was why a man like Hans chose to become a hermit (however unsuccessful) just as he became an adult.


    Sieg saw what the man had done. He found a way to make patterned bowls cheaper. It showed either experience with similar contraptions or a mind able to think outside of the norm and traditions. In either case, Hans was too extraordinary for these valleys. Someone like him could have become a count or even a duke''s steward. Sieg would have happily accepted him as his vassal.


    "Tell me, why settle here?" he asked curiously.


    Hans pondered on that question before smiling wistfully. "Just a feeling."


    Sieg nodded slowly. It explained nothing while giving him an answer. It couldn''t be that Hans was running away, right?


    "Are you running from something?"


    "No."


    "Yet why leave your home and settle somewhere that is allegedly no different from your home?"


    "I wanted to do as I wished."


    Ah. Could it be that there was youthful rebellion involved there somewhere?


    "Your parents were fine with it?"


    This time, the boy finally showed his pride. "Well, I can swing my swords with some skill."


    Sieg found himself snorting. "''Some skills,'' yes," he chortled dryly.


    So he was confident before he set out, trusting in his sword ¡­ but choosing to settle as a hermit?


    The hermit part was still not making sense to him.


    Perhaps it was a mystery he would solve later. It was rude to pry too much into the young warrior''s motivations without building proper rapport.


    He picked up a "cookie" and took a bite. It ¡­ wasn''t a great snack but it was the thought that counted. It was too sweet for his ¡­ taste.


    Too sweet?


    He looked down at the light brown flat-baked snack.


    "Sweet?" he hummed before chewing again. "You must have apiaries. Quite rare for Alpine Swabians."


    Hans blinked. "Apiaries? Your Grace, I do not have apiaries."


    Sieg blinked. "How did you make this sweet snack then?"


    "I make sugar."


    It took a minute for Sieg to register what Hans told him¡­ and then his eyes widened and his heart stuttered as the full weight of the young warrior''s unguarded, honest words struck him like his monstrous broadsword.


    "Oh," he muttered before looking back down at the seemingly innocent baked good in his hand. Mass manufacturing pottery, possible sugar production outside of seasonal honey harvested from apiaries, the start of a road network connecting all of its member towns¡­


    Sieg realized that there was a baby monster growing right next door, and it was very unlikely that he could control Hans, not when the young warrior was the main motivator behind the Compact''s new improvements and budding ambition to be more.


    He took a deep breath in before chuckling as all of these facts came together because he took a bite of a cookie.


    He finished it before looking up and meeting Hans''s slightly confused stare.


    "Hans, what would it take for the Prince-Bishopric of Chur to become allies with the Compact of the Seven?"

 Chapter 37

    Swiss ArmsChapter 37


    -VB-


    The bishop turned out to be ¡­ far more mellowed out than I or anyone else in Davos expected someone of his position to be.


    It was very hard to maintain a stern and firm awe of an elderly man when he had cookie crumbs on his lips, chin, and front of the cassock. His jaw kept on dropping as well, but that wasn''t his fault.


    I mean I would be gawking like an idiot as well if someone told me that they did something outrageously profitable.


    See, what happened was that between all of the bigger works I have been doing across the Compact, I also tended to a garden at home (asking either Arnold or Alvia to water them when I wasn''t home if the rain and snow melt didn''t do it for me). I made the garden very experimental, buying up whatever seed I could get my hands on from peddlers and merchants.


    Once I harvested them, I discovered that a lot of them were turnips and beets. Remembering that sugar could be harvested from them, I had immediately experimented and got sugar!


    And the bishop mistook the first batch of sugar-added cookies I made as something of normalcy in Davos - or at least in Fort Fluela - and asked me to provide sugar for him. Initially, I just wanted him to pay for the sugar, but he kept on insisting that the Prince-Bishopric of Chur - not the Eccelsiarchal Diocese - be added to the Compact. The rest of the Compact would have to agree to the PB of Chur''s entry into the Compact, but if the majority (5 of 7 members) agreed, then the following agreement would be implemented: As a member of the Compact, there would be no tariff on goods and services bought and sold between the members of the Compact. Serfdom is banned; freedom of movement within Compact territory is guaranteed. Prince-Bishopric of Chur would agree to not unilaterally on the political stage of the Holy Roman Empire. PBoC will come to the defense of other members of the Compact just as the Compact will come to its defense.


    Personally, I was shocked by how quickly the bishop pushed to have the Prince-Bishopric added to the Compact''s mutual defense and trade pact, because when we began our talk, he spoke of an alliance.


    However, his mind quickly changed upon realizing that mutual defense pact and trade pact was different and mutually exclusive if he signed an alliance with the Compact, so he opted to join the Compact instead.


    ¡­ I began to suspect that the bishop may have a big sweet tooth. If that wasn''t the case, then he saw something in me (not the Compact because he changed his mind upon talking with me) to warrant a closer political, social, and economical relationship with the Compact.


    Personally, I welcomed this because having the PBoC as a member of the Compact would give us a degree of legitimacy greater than the king''s approval of our existence in this empire where the emperor''s authority waxed and waned with time.


    Of course, accepting the PBoC also involved getting dragged into any of the PBoC''s revanchism, and recently, the PBoC lost the Barony of Vaz, a chunk of land to the previous Sax-Misox count, and a slice of land to the Count of Sargans.


    "Will you push to regian those lands?" I asked the bishop, who was still my guest while we waited for the decisions of the other members of the Compact.


    "Not without a good reason," he shook his head while eating another cookie. The man looked like he was getting a blowjob or something with how blissful he looked. Considering that he was supposed to have made the pledge of celibacy, the doses of sugar-pumped dopamine might just be the closest he got to intercourse, actually. "And pushing my flock to war land that weren''t being used anyway is not a good reason."


    "And if the others develop those lands?"


    "Then they deserve it, even if admitting that would be detrimental to the prince-bishopric''s future." He paused. "On the condition that I am part of the Compact. If I am still politically independent within the Empire, then I will have to gather allies to regain those lands, one way or another."


    I nodded slowly.


    I remembered that he went to war with the Baron of Vaz over pushing to keep the people who lived on a deceased noble''s land to continue to use that land without change. I still considered it a foolish thing to have gone to war over when he could have approached it differently.


    This told me that the bishop was a good individual but that he may react to a situation aggressively if only to not give the opposite side the idea that he was weak. It was how politics was normally conducted in this era; appearing weak due to any reason was reason enough for the Unruly Year to happen.


    But if he joined the Compact, then he could not unilaterally. This was the reason why I made him sign off on that part of the condition for the PBoC to join the Compact.


    "While I cannot promise anything," I began slowly and quietly. "Should war come to us again, I will be looking to regain those lands because I cannot ally belligerents to continue to exist along our border."


    The bishop gave me a side glance before looking forward again and then nodded. He finished the fifth cookie of the day (for a total of forty-three he''s eaten so far in the five days and counting stay). He hummed before closing his eyes.


    "This will bring a significant change to Swabian Alps."


    "It will," I agreed.


    The Compact was not big in size or population. Chur was less than a fifth of the Compact in size but had half of its population. Combined, we would be ¡­ I guessed that a 21st century comparison would be the position the State of New Hampshire had within the United States of America.


    Small, yes. Politically peripheral, maybe. Small population, yes.


    Weak? No.


    And it will do well for people to remember that I burned a castle (even if I just wanted the enemy to sally out).


    The bishop smiled. "But I am sure that this change will be good for God''s children," he said softly. "Humanity will always work towards a better future, and I think that despite our initial differences, we will see this slice of earth become ¡­ fruitful. A garden of goodness, if you will."


    I thought about what he said.


    "I hope so, too."


    Later that week, I received replies from across the Compact. s?a??h th? N???lFire.n?t website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    All but Langweis agreed to allow the Prince-Bishopric of Chur to enter the Compact, and thus with a six out of seven majority vote, the Compact grew to eight members.

 Chapter 38

    Swiss ArmsChapter 38


    -VB-


    Life ¡­ continued on.


    Despite the fact that something historical - something monumental - happened that I knew would change the course of history at the very least for Switzerland and the surrounding nations, life continued on as if the induction of the Prince-Bishopric of Chur into the Compact of the Eight had been nothing but a blip.


    Some of it had to do with the fact that news traveled slowly, some of it was because no one really cared about the sparsely populated Swabian Alps, and most of it had to do with the fact that it really wasn''t a big deal.


    A political association like a legally binding contractual alliance between the Compact of the Seven and the Prince-Bishopric of Chur happened quite frequently across the Holy Roman Empire. It didn''t happen every year, of course. It did, however, happen at least a few times in a person''s short life. Combined with the remoteness of the region and lack of significance in the eyes of the big players of Europe, Africa, and Middle East, it just wasn''t noticed.


    Even to the people living in the new Compact of the Eight, the only part of life that had changed was the fact that they could now trade with the people of Chur without worry. However, in a society and economical structure focused on sustenance farming, trade didn''t matter too much, even after I had gone and made sure each member village had something to sell to each other or to the outside.


    The first thing the bishop did with that alliance was ordering a ton of sugar from me.


    Like¡­ seriously? Did he seriously accept a political and military obligation because he wanted sugar?


    -VB-


    "AND HUT!"


    "ONE!"


    "AND TWO!"


    "TWO!"


    "AND THREE!"


    "THREE!"


    Despite everything that was going on in my life, I never neglected my daily training. Recently though, I had an idea.


    Why not turn my personal training session into training session for everyone willing to join? I might even get a skill out of it, too.


    This was how I woke up every morning to three dozen people at minimum gathered in my fort''s courtyard every morning.


    And all of us swung/stabbed with our weapons of choice.


    Ping!


    [The Way of Warrior] Completed!


    -Monthly Quest-


    Objective:


    Running: 300/300 miles


    Vertical Swing: 3000/3000


    Horizontal Swing: 3000/3000


    Diagonal Down Swing: 3000/3000


    Diagonal Up Swing: 3000/3000


    Reward (Choose):


    *+50 EXP


    *+1 LvL to any Arms Skill


    *+1 to any Physical Stat]


    I continued to swing my sword - "what practice sword?" - while mentally looking over the options and chose another point for physical stats before adding that point to CHA, bringing me up to a nice and even 20.


    Ping!


    [You have reached CHA 20! Please choose a perk! NEXT>]


    I stilled, my eyes reading the screen quickly. Deciding that I needed time to figure this out, I planted the tip of my sword into the ground.


    "Alright! That''s good enough of a workout for morning!"


    All around me, people cheered weakly.


    "Alvia should have prepared food for all of you in the mess hall!"


    And they were gone, running like the wind.


    I huffed before turning my focus back to the screen and unhesitantly pressed the button next to the message.


    [Please choose a perk from the following:


    Teacher (+10% skill EXP gain for students with less level in skills than you)


    SHUT UP! (permanent +5% stun chance boost to Intimidation)


    Charm (Magic Skill)]


    I stared at the last of the perks and -.


    Oh, I chose it.


    Ping!


    [Charm] LvL 1


    Sway someone, either to vote for you or into your bed.


    *Increases chance of persuading an individual by [(Your CHA + Your INT - their CHA - their INT)*argument rating]%. Add +0.25% per LvL


    *Increases chance of persuading a group by [(Your CHA - their CHA - their Opinion of You)*argument rating-.]


    I stopped reading there and frowned. What was "argument rating" supposed to be?


    Ping!


    [Component: Argument Rating


    Argument rating is based on emotional and logical component of the argument in question where the argument fits into their worldview and situation. Using emotional and logical component adverse to or opposite of the targeted audience has negative impact on argument rating.


    *Rating Range: Horrible(0), Idiot(0.1), Bad(0.5), Average(1), Good(1.5), Fantastic(2)]


    "Wait, so it''s harder to convince people even with a Gamer mechanic?" I sighed. "Figures. Not even the Gamer can change that."


    I then went on to read the rest of the skill.


    [-%. Add +0.1% per LvL.


    *Increases chance of seducing your target by [(Your CHA - their INT)*argument rank/10]%. Add 0.5% per LvL-.]


    It wasn''t a bad skill, but I didn''t understand why this was labeled a magic skill and not just a normal skill-.


    I squinted as I looked at the bottom of the skill description.


    [*Once a day, increase your chance up to 90% for seduction at the cost of 100 MP. Increases number of charges by 1 every 20 LvL to a maximum of 6. Effect of the Charm decays over the next month.]


    Okay, understandable now. It was a literal Charm spell.


    Jesus.


    ¡­ Useful but probably not something I want to use willy-nilly.


    "Hans?"


    I looked up from where I''d sat down on the ground. Alvia was there, standing not too far from me and leaning slightly towards me. My eyes quickly noticed her ¡­ I quickly quashed that thought. It wasn''t as if she was interested in me.


    "Yes, Alvia?" I asked her as I mentally closed all of the screens.


    "Aren''t you hungry?"


    "... I am," I hummed before moving towards the mess hall. "What did you and the girls make today?"


    "Goat milk stew," she said as she followed me. "I made white bread for you."


    "Thank you," I smiled and she beamed back at me.


    I tried not to look but it was kind of hard to not notice her chest swaying slightly as she walked right next to me, and she had the top button opened, showing me just enough cleavage to get my head rolling in the gutter.


    Ugh. I needed a dip in the river.


    -VB-


    "Yes¡­~!" I hissed like Gollum.


    Because what I held in my hands deserved that level of precious.


    I looked at the gold ring in my hand.


    This ring used to be made completely out of bronze.


    "MY PRECIO-!"


    Then my throat decided to give away and left me choking, hacking, and coughing.


    I had finally gotten gold plating down.


    "Milord¡­?"


    I looked over my shoulder and saw Emilia.


    She was one of the children that came with her parents who ran away from their lords. A refugees, essentially. Once they learned that I''d secured their freedom, they offered her to me as servant.


    I tried to refuse, but the matter of the fact was that as a servant, she would get paid, however meager, and the currently jobless parents needed that income for Emilia''s siblings. As of right now, Emilia''s mother was now working in my pottery factory and her father was doing all of the manual hauling I had to leave to the people lest everyone became suspicious about how I, a single man, was moving tons upon tons of rocks, clay, and water every day without any help.


    "Oh, Emilia. Have you finished cleaning the mess hall?"


    She nodded shyly with most of herself behind a door. Did I scare her with my unapologetically unhinged Gollum-mimicry?


    God, I pray that this doesn''t add to the rumor mill already in circulation.


    "Oh good. Do you want to come see what I''m doing?" I asked her friendly with the softest smile I could manage.


    Emilia hesitated, looking up at me in my butcher apron and then at the many small vats of water all over the room. She quickly shook her head, bowed, and ran away.


    I rolled my eyes.


    "I swear, if the people think I''m a witch, I''m gonna be very unhappy," I grumbled to myself before looking back at the gold plated ring and grinned to myself. "Still, this was worth the waste I''ve made so far. Very worth it."


    I looked around the room at the wooden bowls with copper wires, bits of gold nuggets, and a lot of other different metals.


    Ping!


    [Chemistry LvL.1


    You are nature''s lawyer.


    *Increase chemical reaction output by 0.025% per LvL.


    *Limited to chemical reactions personally performed.]


    "... Huh."


    I looked down at the vat of water right in front of me.


    "Let''s try that again."


    -VB-


    Albert I of Tyrol


    Count of Gorizia, vassal of Henry II of Bohemia, Governor of Tyrol


    "Why is some nobody valley hick getting rich so fast?"


    If it wasnt enough that the peasants of this so-called Compact defeated the combined army, then they were starting to make money by having his merchants buy their goods and sell it within his lands.


    Admittedly speaking, he managed to get a collection of those artistically decorated dishes. Food tasted better when he ate off of those dishes.


    Tyrol wasn''t the one that was being heavily impacted by this; it was his lands in and around the Aquileia.


    Some of this had to do with the fact that the blasted Bishop of Chur was friend with the Patriachate of Aquileia. Albert''s spies within the the patriachate''s court reported how the partiarchate had received letters from the bishops as well as ¡­ a chinaware.


    A bloody china.


    A nearly impoverished bishop gifted his richer and more prosperous friend a china.


    Of course, Albert''s spy wasn''t the only spy. People quickly sent men to see what the hell was going on in the Swabian Alps, himself included.


    And that''s when the trap was sprung. Everyone found out together that these bumfuck peasants who had just barely beaten back the combined army of five counts had gone and started decorating their bowls!


    And those bowls were shiny.


    If that wasn''t all, then those peasants were selling thinner and more flexible parchments they called "paper."


    It was wonderful to write on.


    That was trap #2.


    He had to report this to his lord, and King Henry II ordered that he buy all of the papers and decorated bowls he could get his hands on after receiving a sample of the paper and the decorated bowls.


    But no one found a hint of china. S?a??h th? N0v?lFir?.?et website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    It didn''t stop Albert from continuing his investigation.


    "Father?"


    Albert stopped and turned around inside his solar.


    Standing at the doorway of his room was his eldest daughter, his 17 year old Isabella. She was beautiful like her mother with her dark black hair, heart-shaped face, sparkling wide eyes, and a figure he fucking knew dipshit boys were staring at and once he got his hands on them, he was going to -!


    He took a deep breath in without breaking his smile to not alarm his daughter.


    "Isabella!" he greeted her. "My darling, what are you doing here?"


    She rolled her eyes. "Father, you have been stressed out about something for the past month. It''s not hard to notice that."


    "Oh."


    "Is it something I can help?" she asked as she walked over, doing that hip-swinging that her mother was surely teaching her; he''d seen them talk about that and more, even if he did not like what he heard.


    "It''s just some peasants up in the mountains."


    "Really?" she asked as she stood over his shoulders and began massaging him.


    As much as he wanted to say she was good at shoulder massages, her hands were too slender and weak for that.


    "Oh! That''s the man who defeated you and your allies," she remarked while pointing to the name of the man at the center of it all.


    Hans von Fluelaberg.


    The bastard peasant had gone and received a letter of recognition from the King of the Germans himself that gave him the recognition as the "leader" of the peasants. He didn''t know how, but the bastard did.


    "Yes. And he''s racking money from all of his neighbors and beyond."


    "With the paper, right? It is so smooth."


    "Yes, it''s a good parchment," he grumbled. "And the bowls."


    "They are so pretty, too! Thank you for the gifts, father!"


    He smiled. "Of course. Anything for my daughter."


    "Really?"


    "Of course."


    "I want to meet this Hans."


    His heart froze.


    "Isabella, sweetie-."


    "You''ve been sending spies, haven''t you?"


    "Yes but what doe-"


    "Father, you love trustworthy men, your spies included. It doesn''t mean that they are the best at their jobs."


    It felt like his own daughter just stabbed him in the heart. "Sweetie, I''m-"


    "Need I remind you about your attempt to woo Catherine years after mother died? Your spy got discovered on the dot."


    Urk.


    "Hon-"


    "Let me go and see. If I can''t find anything, then I will come back home. Maybe with souvenirs? It''s been some time since they started making that. Surely, they will have new patterns or dishes?"


    He sighed.


    "Fine. Fine, just take the House Guard with you."


    "Thank you, father!"


    If von Fluelaberg did anything to his daughter, then he''ll fuck the peace and burn down those valleys with everything he had.


    -VB-


    [Character Status]


    Name: Hans von Fluelaberg


    Age: 19


    LvL: 33


    HP: 680


    MP: 350


    ST: 340


    STR: 50


    END: 68


    AGI: 60


    DEX: 52


    INT: 35


    CHA: 20

 Chapter 39

    Swiss ArmsChapter 39


    -VB-


    "That makes no sense."


    "Eh?"


    John was a citizen of the Free Imperial city of Lindau. He was a man who has been working in this city even before King Rudolf Habsburg the first of his name declared Lindau an imperial city.


    This place sat right at the edge of the Bavarian lands and the Swabian lands. Trade to Nuremberg, one of the largest cities in the empire, all passed through Lindau.


    He may not be the Patrician of the city, but he was the city''s main accountant. His eyes saw everything that came and went.


    "Where the hell are all of these papers coming from?"


    His trusted subordinate seemed to know what he was talking about and quickly pulled out a sheet of paper with the list of goods that had come through and the supposed origin of those goods according to the merchants and peddlers who brought them.


    He grunted, accepting the paper in thanks, and read the contents of it. As he read down the list written in Latin, he found what he was looking for.


    "Peddler Jon Arbuckle of ¡­ Where is this London?"


    "Some weird place far to the west according to the peddler himself," Issac, his subordinate, responded.


    John liked Issac; the man was a meticulous recorder of all things and made his job so much easier. If it wasn''t for Issac, then he might have missed so many guilders¡­


    "Why is he here?"


    "Something about his home island being a shit hole with shit king and not making enough money off of sheep shaggers."


    John grunted. Everyone knew that there were no sheep shaggers. Not only was it directly against God''s order of the world and what he intended for men and women, people who claimed to be sheep shaggers when caught were all people trying to get away with livestock theft.


    Bestiality got a hand chopped off, so the punishment was still bad, but it wasn''t as bad as the execution involving livestock theft.


    He kept reading and frowned.


    The paper''s origin was Chur?


    Yeah, that made no sense. Paper - good paper like the one he was reading this from and what the paper this Arbuckle brought to Lindau - always came from further away like Venice and other richer parts of Italy like Treviso, Amalfi, and then some.


    Chur?


    The backwater, mountain valley, lose wars to peasants Chur?


    No, he refused to believe it.


    ¡­ But it wasn''t something he could just not let go and also move on like he could with spices and dyes. Chur was practically next door, and paper was important enough that if he didn''t go to ascertain the truth of the matter, then the Patrician was sure to send someone over, if only to secure this new source of paper for himself.


    Because it was smooth as h-.


    ¡­ Well, he could probably earn himself some respect in the eyes of the Patrician by investigating this. He would, of course, request permission first. After all, Chur was right next door.


    ---


    Permission came easily because the Patrician trusted him to not slack off during the investigation.


    First, he traveled to Sargans of the County of Sargans. He did so to hear any rumors or obtain any confirmation about paper''s origins. Instead, the local count became incensed when Chur was mentioned and he was promptly kicked out.


    Then he traveled to Chur¡­ and the merchants there gave him an equally aggrieved reply about the Bishop of Chur hoarding all of the paper and selling only to passing peddlers and merchants instead of local merchants.


    However, one merchant did note that the paper seemed to come from the new "Compact of the Seven," whose regional capital was in some even more remote village of "Davos."


    He got the directions and took the southern route to find this Davos.


    It was ¡­ not a good sight.


    He knew that the local lords had fought a war against each other over land that the Bishop of Chur held. He hadn''t seen much of the damages of the war until he arrived at Vaz.


    It was hard to miss the fact that there were far more homes than people.


    Or the fact the villages of Lantsch and Albula had no one living in them.


    He warily noted in his personal journal that he felt like he had seen just a bit more of human nature and why Jesus''s guidance was so important. Without God as the defining morality of man, then all men and women will act like beasts and ravage the lands like what he saw.


    He made it to the village of Filisur. This village was also a sight. Half of the men missing and or buried and half of the women pregnant? It was ¡­ not a pretty picture of what happened during the Unruly Year.


    Blasted nobles¡­


    They told him that he had to go through the eastern valley to reach Davos, which they claimed to be a treacherous journey of cliffs.


    He took the journey and agreed once he made out of the valley with his life intact but not his left shoe.


    This ¡­ was where things started to not make sense.


    First off, he encountered road in the middle of nowhere. There were no villages nearby but there was a road. In the middle of nowhere. And it wasn''t a packed dirt road but a paved stone road. John could not comprehend the existence of the road. If the road was old, then he might be able to excuse it. However, the road was not old.


    It was too new.


    It wasn''t until he traveled down the road that he found a potential reason why the road had been made there in the middle of nowhere mountain valley; there was a quarry for some kind of white rock on the eastern side of the valley. A dozen men worked there, digging and cutting stone before hauling it upon a cart and walking away.


    When he approached them¡­


    They hogtied him up and brought him to Davos.


    At first, John thought he was done for. That he must have run into some bandit tribe. He was going to die horribly or live as a slave horribly.


    But that wasn''t the case!


    He found himself in Davos, and once his identity was confirmed by his personal belongings as an accountant and inspector of the Free Imperial City of Lindau, the villagers gave him a warm welcome. They even replaced his missing shoe for cheap!


    However, that welcome became a little frosty when he asked about the origin of the paper.


    The village chief, a man named Kraft, merely pointed him toward Fluela Pass.


    ---


    "From Lindau?"


    John nodded as he warily eyed the wooden fortress that took up the entire width of the gorge. Sure, the Fluela Gorge was not as wide as the one that the village of Davos was in, but it was still a wide gorge. A fort that could cover its entire width was also one that couldn''t possibly be made in under a year by a single village, and yet here it was.


    He decided to focus on talking. It''s been a long journey taking him more than a month already. He was tired and just wanted his answer.


    "Yes. I am an accountant and investigator from the Free Imperial City of Lindau. I am here to ascertain the truth of paper manufacturing in Chur and the surrounding region."


    The man, some kind of miner from the shiny steel pickaxe and odd clothes, hummed.


    "Yeah, the local paper-making came from here."


    John blinked.


    "You ¡­ admit it so easily?" he asked, flabbergasted.


    The man shrugged. "I told the people of Mainefeld how to make it. It''s not like I''m telling you the exact recipe and process."


    John froze.


    Maienfeld?


    Maienfeld?


    He passed by Maienfeld village on the fifth day of his travel! That was A MONTH AND A HALF AGO-!


    John drew in a deep breath and slowly released it.


    Fluela¡­ Fluela¡­


    He frowned.


    Wasn''t this place also the origin of those potteries? The ones that were all the trend back in Lindau. He remembered how his wife had asked for some. If it wasn''t for the fact that they were cheap, he wouldn''t have given her that allowance for her to buy it. S?a??h the ?ov?l?ir?.n?t website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    Not that he will admit that it was pretty, easy to clean, and an art in and of itself.


    Who didn''t like eating food off from art? Everything tasted slightly better.


    Someone passed by them and bowed before hurrying to do whatever job he had. John eyed the miner. No one bows to a miner. "Who are you?"


    "Oh. Sorry, forgot my manners," he said sheepishly. "I am Hans of Fluela. Nice to meet you."


    John shook the man''s hand before realization lit up in his head and his body froze.


    Hans? Of Fluela?


    The man who lit a castle on fire? The man who slaughtered soldiers on the battlefield?


    John couldn''t help but feel the callouses on the man''s hands, well defined muscles, and the way the passerby had been respectful.


    He felt pale.


    He had been talking to the most murderous man in all of Swabia.


    Hans the Brandschafzer (Burning Man).


    He took a deep breath in as he pulled his hand back and smiled as best as he could. He opened his mouth to say how he was done confirming and would be on his way when the Verbrennugmann decided to do something else.


    "Well, come in. I''m not going to show you the most up to date accounting, but I may as well show you that we do make stuff."


    ---


    "What is all of this?" John asked. He''d lost some of his fears after watching the wooden fort''s furnaces, pottery workshops, and more.


    Rather than a warlord''s den, Fluelaburg felt more like an artisan''s wet dream.


    Now, he stood inside the central tower''s third floor room. The room had a desk and a lot of paper.


    Like stacks upon stacks of paper.


    "This is my records room."


    John grimaced. Oh no.


    Hans shuffled through the papers, some stacked on top of the desk and others in wooden boxes, and brought out a bundle of stacked paper with a hole and string at top left. "This should be Maienfeld''s July report on paper production and sales."


    He took the paper and was immediately confused by ¡­


    "What are these debits and credits? Accounts? Accounts receivable? Accounts payable? Why do these numbers repeat?


    "That''s how we keep track of everythi-. Ooh¡­ you guys don''t use double bookkeeping yet?"


    Yet? "What is this double bookkeeping?"


    -VB-


    In 1303, financial documents were used in Lindau by the imperial city''s head accountant to prove that the nearby town of Tettnang had been cheating them of their taxes. And this is the first recorded instance of double bookkeeping in use. Created by John of Lindau, the very same man who used double bookkeeping to find fraud, double bookkeeping forms the basis of how all financial information is kept around the world, whether it be that of warlords in Africa or a humble shopkeeper in Siberia.


    -Quote from "Paper, Finances, and Economics: a History of Financial Evolution through the Ages" by Renard Truman


    -VB-


    A/N: yes, it is what you think it is. John decided to copy double bookkeeping method Alan was using without even thinking about it and published a book later about how he created the method.


    We are also seeing Hans'' impact starting to spread out from the Eastern Swabian Alps. Seeing as cities back then went to war for all sorts of reasons, be ready for more conflict~.


    -VB-


    Um, so yeah, sorry about updating here for the past 4 months. So I uploaded 5 chapters in one-go. Hope you enjoyed.

 Chapter 40

    Swiss ArmsChapter 40


    -VB-


    For all of the differences I have seen in this medieval world compared to my modern world, I found that too many things remained the same. People in positions of high power still used their power, if more openly and honestly here than in the future. The working class still worked, if much more disillusioned and aware of their position in the social hierarchy. If nothing changed no matter what the time and place, then what was the point of it all?


    I found that idea occasionally coming back to me.


    And I found myself rejecting the question and the anarchistic answer the modern me would have presented.


    There was a point. When I opened my eyes every morning, saw the people who lived and improved their lives, and realized all over again that these people lived because I had been here, because I had taken part in the war, and that I found myself caring for them more every day.


    To question the unchanging yet ever-changing reality and answer it with nihilism and hopelessness was wrong from where I stood.


    Why did this question keep popping up?


    Because I kept seeing hopelessness and fear for the future in the faces of the constantly arriving if in trickling flow of runaway serfs and free people. It was a duality that I kept on seeing in my people and those who weren''t.


    My people - and I think I had enough claim to say that within my head at the very least - moved with a sense of purpose, and they made improving their lives in my fashion their purpose because it made their lives easier in the immediate future and made their children''s lives better in the long term.


    The slaves, serfs, and impoverished who found themselves entering my lands looked at me with fear. They knew just as I did that I could kick them back out. There was hopelessness, resignation for some, and clever wit in the minds of others as they tried to work out how they could keep running away.


    And every single one of them, upon hearing me out, gave me looks of disbelief.


    I offered them food, water, shelter, and even work. If they weren''t sure about my offer, then they got to stay around for a day and talk with the villagers from Davos working in my fort or the residents of the fort itself.


    And most would accept my offer after a day.


    This was how I gained almost a hundred additional residents after only three months since I first paid off my neighbor for his "lost" serfs.


    It was also the third month that I got a very, very rude awakening.


    Because Venetian merchants somehow heard about my arrangement with the Count of Zernez and came over with non-Christian slaves, asking if I was interested.


    Slavery was wrong, and I wanted no part in it. I also could not strike down the Venetian merchant because he was, legally speaking, within his right to sell his human property as long as they were not Christian.


    I glared at the merchant, and the merchant, a thin man with a full beard and bald head, seemed to realize that he may have trusted the rumors a bit too much because he could see and feel the utter hostility and disdain I gave off.


    I may or may not have activated [Intimidation].


    "Mr¡­?" I asked in Latin.


    "Horatio de Unhort Venezia!" he squeaked out while squeezing his tudor hat very tightly.


    "Mr. Horatio," I began as calmly as I could. "I do not buy or sell slaves. It is an affront of God''s will upon this earth."


    He nodded fervently. "Aye, yes, yes, I-. I was mistaken! I was just -."


    "I will also make it very clear that I despise slavery. It irks me."


    The man looked like he was going to piss himself.


    The slaves behind him, all sorts of people from across the Mediterranean, shuffled as they sat at the edge of my [Intimidate] range.


    I took a few steps forward, slowly and calmly but no less heavy and firmly, until I loomed over them with the sun directly above me.


    ---


    When he heard about a kind lord who paid for the serfs so that they would not be hunted down by their lords, Horatio thought it would have been a good money maker.


    It wouldn''t be hard to play into the lord''s kindness and pity to make himself some fat bag of coins.


    He realized now that he shouldn''t have trusted rumors too much nor come up here without having someone else investigate first.


    He quailed underneath the burning gaze of the Mountain Lord. Horatio could take the disdain, but the fury behind those eyes scared him.


    He''s been at the receiving end of hate before.


    He didn''t think he had ever been hated this much by someone who could take his head off on a whim.


    "How much did you buy them for?"


    "Three hundred fifty guelders e-each."


    "Then you will release them and receive exactly three hundred and fifty guelders in compensation. Understood? Lest I need to make an example out of a slaver in my lands."


    "Y-Yes!"


    At least, he wasn''t losing money or his head.


    "Now, what else did you bring to trade?" S?a??h th? ??v?lF?re.?et website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    Horatio actually found himself a better trade buying shiny glazed wares, quality steel, jewelry, and sugar.


    So maybe it was a good idea to return.


    Just ¡­ not with slaves.


    ---


    After the Horatio the Venetian merchant left, I turned to the freed slaves.


    And, of course, most of them didn''t understand a lick of what I said in any language.


    Except for one.


    She was a ¡­


    I tried not to look down.


    She was a mature lady, dark-skinned and with silky black hair. Even with my hazy memory of my first life, I could tell that she was a Middle Eastern (don''t know why the merchant said she was a Andalusian, which was the opposite side of the Mediterranean from where she should come from).


    Unlike others, she had the bearings of a noble lady.


    I wondered how she ended up as a slave.


    "Are you my master?"


    I nearly did a spittake when she asked me that with a stoic face in Latin. Never mind the fact that it was the phrase from one certain unfateful yet interesting anime, I had already made it clear to her that she was not my slave.


    "I already told you," I grunted. "You''re not a slave anymore and I''m no one''s master. Did you tell this to the rest?"


    "I have," she nodded without meeting my eyes. She looked down in deference. "However, I am a woman without craft skills, only administrative ones. If you do not take me as your servant, then I have no choice to offer my body to-."


    I raised a hand, cutting her off.


    "You are still not a slave nor am I your master¡­ but I can find work for you."


    She smiled and curtised. "Thank you, master."


    "You''re not going to stop, are you?"


    Her smile became just a little bit mischievous. "I don''t know what you''re implying, master."


    I gave her a deadpan stare.


    -VB-


    "This ¡­ the bishop will appreciate a fine gift like this," the man-at-arms in charge of the caravan said as he stared at the gold-plated ring between his fingers and thumbs. The ring had a detailed four-pointed star.


    This was Sergeant Hughes, a man Bishop Siegfried trusted to secure the trade caravan directly between the Prince-Bishop and myself.


    Well, I say trade but the truth of the matter was that it was really the bishop buying my goods on the cheap and selling them elsewhere for a profit. Because I couldn''t personally go around selling stuff nor did I care enough to. Profit was great and all, but I could literally mine my own gold, smelt them, and be rich.


    Letting the bishop make profit buying and selling like a merchant was a good thing, actually, because there was no way that he could keep the information about me to himself. It would get out eventually, and merchants will surely come.


    "Yes," I hummed as I counted the boxes, their serial number, and compared them to the sheet in my primitive clipboard. I checked them off on my sheet and smiled. "That should be all, sergeant!"


    He nodded and put the gold-plated ring back into the leather pouch it came from before dropping it back into the crate he pulled it out of. He gave me a slight bow, and he and the Chur caravan took off.


    As they left, I found myself blinking as another caravan came towards my fort and, to my surprise, a young woman in a blue dress was at the head of the caravan, riding sideways on top of a horse.


    She looked¡­ pretty. I''ll just go with pretty.


    Also unusual. Ladies, rich and noble alike, traveled within carriages, not atop horses.


    When she saw me, she lit up with an enthusiastic smile and jumped off of her horse. A pair of guards quickly flanked her, and the trio made their way up to me.


    When she was at a respectful distance, she curtsied.


    "Good morning! Who would you be, big man?" she asked.


    She knew that I was somewhat important. If she didn''t think so, then she would not have curtsied.


    I bowed. I don''t see how playing along would hurt me right now. "I am Hans of Fluela. You are¡­?"


    She smiled.


    Damn, she looked pretty.


    She curtsied again. "I am Isabella, daughter of the Count of Gorizia, the governor of Tyrol and the vassal of the king of Bohemia. It''s a pleasure to meet you."


    "And why might a fine lady such as yourself be up here in the desolate Swabian Alps¡­?"


    Her smile became nearly incandescent.


    "Please marry me!"

 Chapter 41

    Swiss ArmsChapter 41


    -VB-


    Three weeks ago¡­


    Isabella of Gorizia didn''t just walk up to this "Compact" and its leader without thought or preparation. In fact, she had done a lot of preparation.


    Against the advice of her retinue, she disguised herself as a commoner and entered the Compact weeks in advance of her caravan''s supposed arrival. All she had to do was tell them to do some traveling around the Tyrolian lands. While her father''s men traveled and did their jobs around the County of Tyrol, she walked into the Compact lands from the east.


    When she beheld the wooden wall that spanned the entire width of the valley, she realized that she wasn''t dealing with any old lord. Either he was a wastrel wasting money and resources on a vanity project or he was a monster who saw the flow and wave of the region and prepared himself for the Unruly Year.


    In either case, this Compact would prove to be interesting.


    "My lady."


    She looked to her left and met the gaze of her friend, Alleria. A commoner who Isabella rescued from her abusive parents, Alleria devoted herself to an uncomfortable level for her sake, and Isabella trusted her.


    "What is it, Alleria?"


    "Are you sure about this?" she asked as she glanced at the sharp wooden barricades lining the foot of the wooden wall. Isabella thought that they made for a very intimidating display, but it was kind of like a cute kitten kind of way.


    After all, she had seen magnificent castles in Prague and Munchen, and stood before the halls of the Aachen Cathedral and the ruins of the Roman Colosseum. Compared to those, what was this wooden wall with some sticks? S?a??h th? ??v?lF?re.?et website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    Dangerous, yes.


    Impressive, not so much.


    "Yes, I am very sure," she replied. "If there is one thing that is consistently heard about this place from the peddlers and merchants, then it''s the fact that the Compact is a very safe place."


    Alleria snorted, making her light brown hair jump. "It''s a barony of shepherds and farmers. I don''t think it can get any safer than that."


    Isabella sighed. "I think you look down on your own class a bit too much, Leria."


    "And I think you overestimate us too much, my lady."


    The two of them and their six guards, disguised as peddling merchants and family, walked up right behind another group of travelers getting checked out by the spear-wielding guards in some kind of layered leather armor. The armor, more like a leather tunic and shoulder guards over their regular clothes, looked clean and well made, though, which spoke volumes about the Compact than the walls did.


    The guards let the travelers through and then gestured for them with wide motions to come closer. Isabella did only when her primary bodyguard, Johan, did so.


    "Name?"


    "Daniel," Johan said.


    "What was the last place you visited?"


    It took Johan a moment to remember the name.


    "Scuol."


    "I see. Purpose of visit?"


    While the guard and Johan talked, Isabella looked at something surprising. The guard wrote down each answer Johan - Daniel while they were undercover - told him onto a brownish-white parchment resting on a wooden board.


    The guard asked Johan a lot more questions, ranging from the place of birth to the identification tag. The latter was one no one had, but the guard dismissed their concern, stating that it wasn''t a big deal.


    And that''s roughly about where the questions came to an end.


    The guard stepped aside. "You lot can go through," he said dismissively while setting the parchment aside into a wooden box.


    Isabella couldn''t help but wonder what they were all for. Why write down such inane information? Why spend parchment so frivolously?


    She followed her people into the fort and blinked at what she saw.


    ''Is the wooden walls outside a facade?'' she asked herself as she beheld the cobblestone ground, walls, and the arched and spaced bridges above her. It was short, only 3 yards in height, 5 yards in width, and 20 yards in length, but even that was impressive considering that, according to her father, there wasn''t supposed to be anything like this in the entirety of the Compact.


    She also saw banners of unfamiliar houses.


    She paused and looked back to the guard. "Excuse me, what are those banners?" she asked.


    The guard looked up and gave her a tired stare with raised eyebrows. "Those are the flags of the Compact''s members."


    "Compact''s members¡­?"


    "Yes, the villages. From the one closest to me to the one furthest away, they are Fluela, Davos, Klosters, St. Peters Village, Castels, Schiers, Maienfeld, Langweis, and, the latest addition closest to you, Chur."


    "Chur?"


    "Yes, or as the big guy keeps calling them, the Prince-Bishopric of Chur. I don''t get why he keeps using the big fancy name when everyone just calls it Chur."


    Isabella looked back to see, and yes, she did recognize the banner of the Prince-Bishopric of Chur. It was one of the minor banners she had to learn as a child as, despite the peripheral nature of his lands, the Bishop of Chur was still someone to be respected as a man of God and a ruler in his own right.


    "Wait, does that mean that Chur is a member of the Compact?"


    "Yes. We officially changed our name from Compact of the Seven to Compact of the Eight."


    Isabella let that information settle in. It meant that the Prince-Bishop of Chur had lost a lot of what he once owned, but the successor state to this region, the Compact, had taken over all of Chur''s previous holdings and then some. This made Compact the biggest player in the eastern Swabian Alps.


    Father was right in regarding them with wariness. A commoner had gone and created a regional powerhouse in the span of two years.


    Fascinating.


    She quickly caught back up with her people and then ¡­ they were standing inside the fort itself.


    Huh?


    They just ¡­ let strangers into their fort?


    She looked around and realized that while she was indeed inside the fort, this wasn''t everything; with the mountains on either side serving as the third and fourth walls and another man-made wooden wall far to the west as the second, there was a castle town here!


    It was a bustling one, too. While it wasn''t as packed as Venice (no city ever was), she could easily count at least a five dozen people milling about the main street where there were stalls of people selling their wares.


    She noticed one particular stall before her group passed by, and quickly got them to stop by pulling on Jo- Daniel''s back.


    Daniel stopped and looked at her.


    She pointed.


    He looked.


    And his jaws dropped like hers did when she saw what was on display for sale in the stall.


    Both J- Daniel and she had seen those before. Not inside her father''s manor! No, she''s seen them in places of power, in the halls of the rich Venetians and the dining rooms of dukes and kings.


    It was porcelain.


    -VB-


    Porcelain was the first but not the last surprise she found in Fort Fluela.


    She found a variety of luxuries, if limited in quantity, that could not be found anywhere else but perhaps in Venice and the far-flung and mystical lands of Baghdad, India, and China.


    Paper, sugar, gold, silver, jewelry, gems, porcelain, and a dizzying array of colorful ceramics dominated the market.


    And all of them cost a fifth less than they would anywhere else!


    Aside from gold. The price of gold-related items was all in line with what she expected of them.


    If that wasn''t enough, then it was the quantity of castle-grade steel available as tools for just about anyone to buy, if they had the money.


    Or if they were a "citizen" of the Compact.


    "So ¡­ what you are saying is¡­ if my father lives here, signs up for the militia, and joins the monthly training, then he can get a loan on any tool? Without paying for it?"


    The official, an elderly man probably not fit for field work, nodded. "Yes, young miss. It''s a wonderful thing the lad is doing for the people," he replied. "Of course, your father won''t be allowed to sell the tool. If you know the lad, then you know that it''s a bad idea."


    "How so?"


    The elderly man looked at her for a moment before smiling. "Your skin is very clean, miss. Very well," he said, and she felt her stomach drop. Did he know? "Our lad¡­ no, our unofficial lord is a very strong man. I kept hearing it, lass. Didn''t understand it until I saw him jump in front of a mad cow and hurl it away."


    "Hurl¡­ a cow?"


    "Yes. A struggling and rampaging mad bull, ready to gore people with his horns. Hans caught it by its horns and threw it aside like a man would a sack of barley onto a cart." He chuckled and shook his head. "Everyone was gawking at him. And then screaming when he walked over to the bull, checked a few things, and just ¡­ twisted the neck around. He dragged the carcass away, claiming that it was poisoned and paid the bull''s owner double what the bull was worth for the ''impromptu'' seizure of poisoned goods."


    "Was it really poisoned?"


    "Considering that the bull never showed up at his table nor at any place other than a burning pit made hastily with his own hands, everyone is just thankful he knew something was wrong before ¡­ someone ate the bull''s meat."


    She shivered. "Right. So what you''re saying is that he''s strong and that''s reason enough to not make him angry?"


    "Well, yes," the old man hummed as he scratched his neck. "It''s also that no one in the village will ever trust you again."


    "I see. It''s really different here, huh?"


    He chuckled. "It didn''t used to be. Only those living in Fluela and Davos are getting this chance, so you could say that it is Hans''s uniqueness affecting the village."


    "... He''s a good man."


    He nodded and then paused. "You know, you seem like a good lass."


    "Ah¡­?"


    He grinned. "I''m sure when you look at Hans, you might consider -"


    -VB-


    And she did.


    When she first saw him on his return trip from a hunt, he carried a fully grown bear over his shoulders but his clothes had been torn during the hunt.


    And oh my those muscles.


    Hans did not have the belly gut of the powerful warriors she saw often, like Johan, but slim and very ¡­ artistically carved muscles.


    More than that, he was easy on the eyes.


    When he set the bear down, he changed. He went from this proud hunter and warrior coming home with a trophy and became a craftsman. She recognized the gleam in his eyes as he butchered the bear all on his own. She saw feats of strength and endurance that matched the stories she''s heard around.


    Her heart just kept pounding as she watched blood drip down his arms and he wiped sweat off of his brows.


    She hadn''t known it at the time, but she had been looking at the owner of Fort Fluela.


    The second time she saw him it had been on her third day in Fluela-Davos. She was still learning about its people, culture, and practices when an accident broke out.


    She almost died.


    But like the stories she heard, he was there to save her.


    He stood between her and a runaway carriage and rammed into it as it rammed into him.


    Wood splintered.


    Blood splattered.


    But she wasn''t dead and her knight in shining (blood) armor was there, smiling and asking if she was alright.


    Isabella managed to stutter out some replies and bravely ran away.


    And so when she met him weeks later, she couldn''t help herself.


    It wasn''t as if she was going to find a better man to be her husband.


    "Please marry me!"


    Her father should be fine with it. After all, he did the same thing she did.

 Chapter 42-45

    Swiss ArmsChapter 42


    -VB-


    I stared at the woman across the table from me.


    The self-introduced Isabella of Gorizia, daughter of Albert I of Gorizia and governor of Tyrol, sat with a self-satisfied smile.


    "You have a lot of guts just saying something like that," I told her matter-of-factly. "Marriage isn''t something you just throw at a person."


    "But I''m not!" she exclaimed proudly with a shit-eating grin. "I have seen enough to know you''re the one for me."


    I sighed for what felt like the fifth time in the past hour. While she looked familiar, I had never met her before so her claims of having met and seen me before felt too much for me. Worse, her bodyguards told me that I had indeed met her before.


    Which, you know, felt like gaslighting because I would have recognized someone with fair skin and a pretty face like hers in the backwater mountain valleys! Well, aside from Alvia but Alvia''s intensity when her passion and crafts were concerned left her bodily traits more out of focus and out of mind.


    As for the girl sitting across from me, she also had a similar intensity about her.


    It was just my (mis)fortune that she directed hers at me. Or was me?


    Hmm. Grammar.


    I stared in deadpan before looking up at her "minder." "Mind explaining?" I asked him.


    The man, a grey-haired man-at-arms, shrugged with the "what can you do?" look. He did, however, explain. "Lady Isabella is the daughter of Count Albert I of Gorizia." He reached into his rear pack and pulled out a rolled up scroll (letter?). "For you, Lord Fluela."


    "I''m not a lord, so you can be at ease," I snorted as I took the letter(scroll?). Before I unfurled it, the man-at-arms shook his head, causing me to stop and look at him.


    "You may not call yourself a lord, but you have the attention of the Prince-Bishop of Chur, named yourself as the enemy of Counts, killed a count, have that dead count''s heir as your hostage, and hold the attention of the emperor. Disregard your true status all you want, Lord Fluela, but you are a lord in all but title. From what I have heard from my liege, that particular tidbit was also due to your own actions."


    I looked at him and nodded slowly. "I see. And you are being frank with me."


    "Yes, because if you keep portraying yourself as a commoner, then the lords around you will treat you as one, even if they should know better," Isabella entered the conversation smoothly. She raised both of her hands, palms up. "This also means that they will expect things from you. However, recent actions both here in the valleys and in the surrounding territories have made it clear to me and my father that you will not stand for the normal ... behaviors of the nobleborn."


    One hand lowered itself below the other. "This disparity will cause irritation, frustration, and then anger. And I believe you know what an angry noble does," she said as the other higher hand balled up into a fist. "But you aren''t just a regular commoner." The lower hand balled up into a fist. "You are someone who can and will strike back. You don''t fear the nobility. You don''t fear titles. You raised your sword against a bishop, against a count, and against your rightful liege. Why? Because you claimed that they were wrong." The lower fist smashed up into the upper one, knocking it out.


    "If you continue to lower yourself, then you also mock the nobles and lords around you. You might not know but the Counts to your north and south are now all laughingstocks. Counts who lost to peasants. Lords who died to their rebels. Nobles who couldn''t control their peasants."


    I listened to her as she wove a story. It was ¡­ I didn''t know all of the details but it fit somewhat with what I have been hearing.


    "Angry nobles do what angry powerful men do, Baron Hans. Even if you do not accept a noble title because you profess that you do not control this Compact, you do control a fort, the people who work and live there and make deals with nobles. You are a noble in all things but title. Why, my father''s peer in the Carinthian lands have been calling you the Peasant Baron," she smiled. "An acknowledgment of your accomplishments, even if they call you that to belittle you among themselves."


    "Then why come to this peasant baron and propose marriage?" I asked in exasperated befuddlement. She had her reasons, pinpointed local political dynamic, and ¡­ not sure what else. She was a very capable woman. "You also realize that your father and I had been butting heads just a year ago, right?" I asked her.


    And her eyes hardened.


    "That does not matter to me. The Lord states that when a daughter leaves her father''s house, she becomes part of her husband''s house. Even if my father may have a say on who I marry, I still choose you. I chose you because you are a warrior, a leader, a craftsman, an orator, and so much more. However, you keep lowering yourself. It''s something I kept hearing about you and have seen in person twice. Even if unknowingly, you belittle yourself because you think that is what you should do. Yet you are the most capable man in perhaps all of the Alps and in around a hundred leagues. You stopped a horse and -"


    That was when my lightbulb went off.


    "Oh, that was you?" I asked with a bright smile at seeing her alright. "I was honestly a little worried!"


    She looked at me with wide eyes, and I realized I just cut her off.


    "Sorry, go on."


    She blinked before smiling softly and shaking her head. "Still apologizing for the smallest of things. I will have to reeducate you on that once I''m your wife."


    "... You mean if."


    "No," she smiled. This one was definitely predatory. "Once I have my eyes set on something, I will have it. I just haven''t had much I wanted before you came around." She pointed at me. A rude gesture in and of itself in a normal setting, but our current meeting and circumstance were anything but normal. "I want you, Hans Fluela, and if that means I have to walk naked into your room at night, then so be it."


    Her bodyguard sighed in tired exasperation.


    I could understand his burden. He had my sympathies.


    I looked back at Isabella, and saw how tense she was. She had been honest with me (honest to a fault). She showed how useful she could be, which was an A+ tactic for someone of this era but not to me.


    I mean, sure, I did want to get a wife and settle down. It wouldn''t be bad to be in love again.


    Would it be selfish to try?


    ¡­ It helped that she was pretty.


    I took a deep breath in¡­


    And answered.


    -VB-


    Isabella returned to their residence, one they have been using for the past week in undercover.


    And she let out a squeal.


    "Did you see?! Did you see?! He actually listened to me instead of dismissing me!"


    Jacob snorted in amusement. Her ladyship had indeed feared that when it came to matters of family and politics, Lord Fluela would have dismissed Isabella on account of her being the daughter of his former enemy.


    But he hadn''t.


    Instead, he had listened to her, talked with her, and made his decision.


    "My lady, you understand that he didn''t say yes, right?" he asked her.


    But she just shook her head with a big, fat grin of a cat that caught the birdie. "But he didn''t say no! He said he wasn''t averse to getting to know me better!"


    Then she squealed again.


    He sighed.


    She was going to be squealing for the next week, wasn''t she?


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 43


    -VB-


    "You need to be more careful."


    I looked up from where I was doing my own little project with jewel crafting. I spent less time on it than Alvia, but even so, my Gamer made it so that I kept up with her in skill despite spending less than a tenth of the time she did.


    She was very jealous of my "ingenuity."


    "Hmm?" I uttered as I looked at Alvia, who continued to work on her own jewelry (a gold chain necklace).


    "That woman. Isabella. You have to be more careful with what you tell and show her," she explained herself. "People say words all of the time, and I don''t know what she told you, but you have to remember that she''s a noble. We, commoners, don''t know what they, nobles, are planning. For all you know, she''s planning to rob all of the good things you have here. I think you need to remember that you are special, Hans." She set her tools down and looked up to meet my eyes. She''d grown her hair out lately, though she always put it up in a bun whenever she worked.


    "... You know, it''s normally your dad who says that," I replied.


    She snorted. "Just because I don''t say it doesn''t mean I don''t think it, Hans," she snorted. "I just want you to be careful, okay?"


    "Sure," I shrugged.


    "I mean it," she glared at me. She hesitated for a moment before she steeled herself and continued. "You are an idiot genius."


    I sputtered. "No, I''m not! I''m not a genius at all," I replied. "I just ¡­ copied a lot of things."


    "Yes, copied," she repeated derisively. "Did you know that one of the merchants from the Imperial city of Ulm came to talk to me? Because they thought I had influence over what you did?"


    "No¡­?"


    "Well, they did, and for a good reason. I am a woman, young and supple, who lived in the same building as the owner of the Fluelaberg and who handled large quantities of most of the raw gemstones you get your hands on. In the eyes of men unaware of how much training I had to do, of course they will think that I am nothing more than your mistress."


    I blanked out.


    Uh.


    ¡­ Huh.


    Wait.


    But.


    I guess¡­?


    "But your brother is also here?" I asked.


    "Oh, you mean my good-for-nothing brother who follows your order like a loyal puppy?" she asked with a disappointed sigh. "A decent man-at-arms, sure. Even a better blacksmith thanks to you, Hans. You really made him your man."


    "My man¡­?"


    "Yes. You have quite the following among the residents of the fort, you know that?"


    "I mean, yes, I know that people like me, but that''s because I keep food prices low, water clean, and sell ceramic cheap to the residents?"


    She looked at me as if I was an idiot.


    "Hans, my dad buys the portion Arnold and I buy from you at double the price, and then he makes a killing profit selling them to merchants in Chur, who then makes a killing when they take it to Zurich, who then makes a decent profit by exporting it to the French."


    "There is such a long chain of trade? I thought most of the trade goes to Bavarians or Italians."


    "Hans, you make more ceramic than they can handle. Do you not realize how much five hundred pieces of ceramic per week is? After you break the ones that don''t meet your ''quality control''?"


    I mean¡­ I just ramped up production because I could. There were only five ceramic dedicated furnaces, too.


    "And your sugar. You realize just how much trouble that''s going to cause? I''m not a noble but even I know that nobles from outside these mountains will surely come for you."


    "Wait, you thought that and didn''t bother to tell me?!"


    "Stupid Hans. What happened to the last count who thought he could take stuff from us? Need I remind you, Lord Brandschafzer?"


    Shoulders hunching forward, I withered in my seat. "It wasn''t supposed to burn like that."


    "Castles generally don''t burn. That''s why they are castles and not peasant huts," she leveled a deadpan. "... You know, I really am thankful. Even if I am not a mistress."


    "You are?"


    "Yes. See, I''m not interested in men."


    "... Oh."


    "Or women."


    "Oh?"


    "The very idea of sex is ¡­ ambivalent," she sighed. "Honestly, it makes me a weird freak." Then she looked up. "And I honestly thought that I would need to visit your room once in a while to keep you happy to let me stay and do what I love."


    "... Oh." Lots of revelations today, and the latest one was a heavy and personal one. She trusted me, I guess. The least I could do was listen to her and keep her secrets. "Well, you know that I''m not like that."


    "Of course, I do now," she agreed. "And I have to admit that it wasn''t on my mind much because you let me be a jeweler. You let me create beauty. If you had asked me to join you in bed starting ''bout six months ago, I probably would have happily joined you." She smiled and then shrugged. "Close that mouth before a fly goes in it."


    I did.


    She gave me a pitying look. "Look, Hans. You''re a great man, and you do so much for other people without even thinking. Is it weird that other people want to return that favor?"


    ---


    "... So did you tell him?"


    Alvia stopped and looked up to see her younger brother. "Tell him what?" she asked him.


    Arnold clicked his tongue as he sat down next to her with his own bucket of laundry. "So you didn''t tell him."


    "I gave him hints," she replied as she looked back down at her laundry. She picked up her beater again and beat her wet clothes. "And you know that he''s not interested in me that way."


    "But you are. You could push for it."


    "I could," she sighed. "But I won''t be of help to him. I''m just a peasant girl from the mountains. That girl, Isabella, is the daughter of a noble. The best I could do is ¡­ hope that she''s here with ill intent, because if she is, then I might have a chance."


    He tsked. "You''ve become too passive playing with your gems."


    She smiled. "It''s not just that. You realize that love is not limited like a lot of people think it is," she replied. "Perhaps we can describe the different types of love with colors? Like red love for passionate love, blue love for protective love, green love for nurturing love, and so on. My love for Hans would be ¡­ a yellow love."


    "Yellow?"


    She chuckled. "I know, I know. It''s not a good color, but I''d like to think of it as a mix of red and green. I love watching him get better at everything. I love having him teach me how to grow myself in skill. I do want to join him in bed, though it''s not quite a big part of the love," she explained. "I''m just ¡­ lost, that''s all. I know what I want, but what I want is not always what I can have. The more I live here, the more I realize that. I think, even if I don''t like how it makes me feel small, I love how I just get to know more about the world the longer I stay with Hans."


    He sighed. "If that''s what you like, then that''s what you like. I personally can''t fit in everything he says together. It''s just too much. Like ¡­ what do the actions of those ''muslims'' near the holy land have to do with the price of goods?"


    "A lot," she hummed. "Just like everything else in life." She too didn''t understand too much of it, but she trusted that Hans knew what he was talking about.


    -VB-


    ???


    "They are disrupting our trade."


    "What can we do? They have the emperor''s favor."


    "Their lord refuses to meet with us."


    "Are you sure he refused to meet or that he was too busy?"


    "I am the Pottery Guildmaster of Munich. What could a country bumpkin lord up in the Alps have to do that precedes meeting me?"


    "A lot, from what I understand."


    "Are you suggesting that we just sit on our laurels and let him ruin the delicate balance of trade?"


    "No. There are other ways. If he does not want to talk with us, then we can force him to the table. After all, he will have to listen to his betters, wouldn''t he?"


    "You have the connections to make that happen?"


    "I do. After all, the Duke of Bavaria will not appreciate the fact that he will be receiving less tax if we earn less than what we used to."


    -VB-


    A/N: for reference, the current year of the story is 1302. God, we spent nearly 50 chapters, but we''re only two years into the story.


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 44


    -VB-


    I hummed as I climbed out of my private mine again, and unloaded the content of my bag and inventory at the same time. The large dusty box clunked and rattled as I dropped all of the ores I managed to find.


    And I was quickly realizing over the last September that my mine shaft may be soon running out of precious metals and gems in the near future. At least those within a reasonable distance. As this extraction was the source of precious metal crafting and export, if I stopped right now, then it would cause some issues. Namely, the budding jewel crafting will stop. While this was not a big part of Fluelaberg''s economy, it was still part of it.


    In fact, the cheap jewelry, raw gemstones, and raw precious metals made up a third of the reasons why merchants initially visited my town. Yes, my town. Of course, once they saw what other wonderful goods we offered on the cheap, they came back for those.


    I have to find a new vein. Would the side of the mountain work? It wasn''t as if it was being used.


    ¡­ Yeah, why not?


    Actually, did I need to work the mine myself? There were plenty of people here. While there was a chance that this might cause my town to convert from a bustling trade town to a mining town, I would own the mine and thus limit how many times people could access it each day. I could artificially stem the tide, so to speak.


    If that was case, then they would get precious metals and gemstones with very little place to sell it. They could sell it to passing merchants, sure, but why not sell it to people like Alvia? At the very least, she could pay them on the spot with money they could use right away whereas merchants from far away places might not even have currency we accepted. On top of that, I had a foundry here and merchants didn''t. The miners would soon learn that raw ore wouldn''t give them a decent payout ¡­ not like how I or Alvia can.


    Yes, this was an idea.


    Now, how could I implement that idea?


    -VB-


    It''s one thing to keep hearing that their new lord (a lord, no matter what he insisted) was a powerful man whose swings cut armored soldiers in half.


    An exaggeration, Leon grew up at the foot of the Tirol Castle by Merano City. Part of his daily life was seeing the men-at-arms and militia practicing in the yards at the base of the hill where the castle sat.


    Leon saw some of the best of the best in those valleys. Men with arms thicker than his torso. Men with more time spent fighting battles across the entirety of the empire and beyond. He even saw a siege engine!


    Sure, he was certain that Lord Fluelaberg was a mighty man.


    But cut a man in half?


    Get real.


    He looked up from his counter at the butcher''s shop (the butcher didn''t want to learn numbers but he did, so he got hired to record every "transaction"). A bunch of men and women hurried towards the lord''s castle. Or rather, they took a route that would take around the castle and towards the mountain slopes.


    "Arnold, what''s going on!?" he asked one of the men among the group.


    Arnold, a thin man working as messenger between the towns, stopped and looked at him. "Oh, Leon! You''re in luck! Hans is supposed to be digging a mine for himself and others! He said so in the town meeting!"


    Leon blinked.


    A town meeting was not an old concept. It happened in most villages, towns, and even cities.


    It was odd when the lord showed up and didn''t impose his will, insisting actually that everyone make the vote anonymously.


    Leon wouldn''t know; he wasn''t a "proper" resident of the castle town or Davos, so he couldn''t participate in the town meeting nor vote. He did, however, hear about this, even if he had initially dismissed it.


    "Wait, how would that work?" he asked Arnold.


    Arnold looked like he wanted to ignore him and quickly walk away. It was then that Leon finally noticed that he had a pickaxe slung over his back.


    Wait¡­


    "Well, Hans said that if you paid for a daily entrance fee of five pennies or the equivalent, then you can have a go at it all day long from sun up to sun down."


    Leon''s eyes widened as he shot up from where he had been sitting.


    "Wait, are you telling me that the lord who has the right to mine ¡­ is just giving it away?!"


    Five pennies wasn''t a lot but it wasn''t small, but for a chance to work the same mines or the area that the lord brought out handfuls of gold ores out every day, it was nothing compared to what they could potentially gain!


    "Not really. There''s weird rules like being allowed to mine only once every week or something like that. Oh, and you gotta have a working job here or in Davos or anywhere else in the Compact. And be a resident or "citizen" of the Compact," Arnold waved his hand. "Okay, gotta go!"


    Leon stood there and then gulped.


    Could he ¡­ strike it rich?


    He gulped and turned to his boss.


    The burly man grunted. "You can go tomorrow. It''s not like the mountain is gonna run out in a single day, and you know that Hans has been pulling up all of that gold for ¡­ years now."


    Years.


    Leon settled his pounding heart.


    Yes, he had time. Five pennies. That was a little under half of his daily wage. That wasn''t bad for a chance to get a silver nugget or even a gold nugget.


    "Umm¡­ can I go watch for a bit?" he asked.


    But if he wanted to succeed, then he needed the know-how. Watching others do it or even the lord himself might get him some of that.


    Boss looked irritated but waved him away. "Yeah, yeah. It''s not like today''s a busy day. But if you''re gone for too long, then you can expect to not get paid today."


    "Thanks, boss!"


    Leon quickly ran after the miners, and after what felt like a long trek across the entire town (it wasn''t), he arrived at where they had gathered.


    He frowned.


    There wasn''t anything here. Just a bunch of tools, some sturdy wooden carts, and a lot of men and women.


    And then there was the lord.


    He looked ¡­ strong. The muscles alone was on par if not bigger than that of biggest fat-less men-at-arms he ever saw over in Tyrol.


    "He''s starting," someone muttered and everyone quieted as the lord picked up a ¡­


    Was that a steel shovel? It was a giant shovel but it was still a shovel.


    And then -.


    CLANG!


    Leon''s eyes nearly popped out of his eyes as the lord dug into the rocks and scooped them out. He tossed them to the side, and a few of the watchers quickly ran over to see if the first rock was worth a damn.


    "Quartz!" someone yelled.


    The lord just kept digging as if he hadn''t dug out a rock as big as a man''s torso and did it continuously. He watched as a pile of rock formed within five minutes. Within an hour, there were five such piles and a mine was starting to shape up.


    "Alright, I want the support pillars in there now!" the lord shouted as he walked out of the tunnel that was ten ox deep, two ox wide, and angled slightly down. A bunch of men rushed in with planks and timber. Leon watched as they worked furiously. The lord checked their work as they came out and -.


    His jaw dropped when the lord reached into his pocket and gave each of the workers responsible for the support pillar two silver pennies each.


    Each silver penny was worth ten copper pennies!


    They didn''t even work for a full hour!


    "Alright! We got room for five prospectors! If you want to have a go at it, line up in front of me with your fee ready!"


    A dozen men and women did so, but those in the back grumbled and left once they realized that they had been too late in lining up.


    The lord accepted the fees, had them write their names on paper, and let them in.


    Leon reluctantly went back to work, but later that day at the bar, he heard that of the five, three had found something worth a damn.


    Three-fifths chance that he found something decent? Something worth more than five pennies?


    It was an extremely good chance.


    Who knew that he, a former dung "farmer," would be a miner this far from home?


    -VB-


    "He lets the peasants work the mines? And sell the gold and silver?"


    "Most of them found quartz and only one found a very small nugget, but yes."


    "... Is he mad?"


    "I think that he wants to ruin the order and peace we have. A peasant lord who knows nothing."


    "He is a threat."


    "Yes. Very much so."


    "And what about our representative? The one who went to meet him?"


    "He has rejected the chance to meet him."


    "Then it is time we go and talk with the duke."


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 45


    -VB-


    Rudolf I of Bavaria


    Munich, Bavaria


    What did it say about a man that he was always playing second fiddle to the rest of his family?


    His uncle and the current king of the Romans, Albert, was constantly hounding him for his possessions in the Palatinate and Upper Bavaria. When that wasn''t the case, he was fending off his younger brother''s attempt to usurp the lands he got from their father; his spies in his uncle''s court spoke of Louis''s letters and couriers traveling there regularly.


    And on top of that, he had guild masters begging him for his attention on the first day of his visit!


    Even so, he trusted his uncle not to stab him in the back. He had, after all, helped him in the three years since he surrendered to his uncle. Not only did he cooperate fully, much more than Louis, but he also made sure to keep himself in full view of his uncle, unlike Louis.


    ¡­ Still, it unnerved him that his uncle was so readily in communication with his less reliable and ambitious younger brother.


    Today was the second day of his visit to Munich, and he allowed the guild masters an audience.


    Sitting upon the seat of power of the Duchy of Upper Bavaria, he watched as the throne room''s doors opened. On the other side of the door were four men of varying ages but all equally rich for commoners. One of them even wore silk! It was only a silk sash around his waist, but it was a luxurious item that even he, a duke, dared not wear too often.


    "Enter."


    The four did as he commanded and bowed before him.


    "Thank you for your time, Duke Wittelbach," the eldest of the four greeted.


    "Welcome to my court, Guild Master Rueben, and tell me what you seek of this duke."


    "Very well, milord. We wish your help in subduing an upstart who is ruining the trade Munich depends on."


    "... What?"


    ---


    To say that the guild masters were exaggerating was an overstatement. They were fucking blowing the "damages" out of proportion.


    "What has my brother been doing that he has guild masters like these asking us for military aid to curb a small village in the Swabian Alps?"


    Louis and he ruled Upper Bavaria together as co-rulers, which was part of the reason why Louis was upset with the situation and sent letters to their maternal uncle.


    He let out a sigh of frustration before turning to the one man he trusted.


    "Erin."


    A young man stepped out of the shadows. "Yes, milord?" the cocky-grin adorning blonde-haired boy asked.


    "What can you tell me of this ''Compact''?"


    It had been two years since he visited Munich. He had been over in the Palatinate lands and taking care of the family business over there, so he didn''t know much about what was happening here or in the neighboring regions. Hell, the Swabian Alps, specifically this "Compact" wasn''t even a neighboring region or polity.


    "Ah well, they''re the ones making the moves, you know, milord?" the once-commoner boy drawled with a shake of his hand. "Like your maternal uncle, the king. The Compact of the Seven¡­ or is it Eight now? They''re the ones who came out strong after what the Swabian Alps call ''the Unruly Year.'' A year with absolutely no one in control of the wars of naked aggression that nearly all lords participated in. Well, this Compact, formed by a bunch of peasants, went and demolished everyone else. Everyone from the Gorizia in charge of Tyrol to all of the local nobles. In fact, the commander of the Compact burned down a noble''s castle to the ground!"


    "And what did my uncle do in response?"


    "Told them to stop. And made the Compact legitimate."


    Rudolf frowned.


    "Legitimate how?"


    "Absolved them of all crimes committed against the nobility up to that point in time, milord, and formally acknowledged the then Compact of Seven''s rule over eastern Swabian Alps west of Tyrol, north of the Kingdom of Italy, south of Swabian Werdenberg, and east of the Lords of Sargans."


    Rudolf looked over at the map of the Holy Roman Empire and calculated a rough size estimate of the land that the Compact ruled.


    "Of the Seven?"


    "Yes. They used to be seven members. And then the Prince-Bishop of Chur joined them."


    "I see." There wasn''t anything to say to that. If the Prince-Bishop wanted to frolic with the peasants, then Rudolf wasn''t going to say no. It wasn''t as if those were his lands at any rate.


    "Milord."


    "Yes?"


    "I would advise against fighting them."


    "... Why do you say so?"


    "My people have reported signs of increased trade."


    "Is that not the problem that my guild masters here in Munich have come to me to solve? When trade outside of the city is not even their jurisdiction? Or mine?" he scoffed. Asking the duke to solve their trade issues. Absurd!


    "Because there is a chance that one of the artisans in the new small castle of Fluela has discovered a way to mimic fine china."


    Rudolf had to think for a second before his eyes widened.


    "... China?" he asked as he turned back to look at Erin, his spymaster. "Are you implying that¡­?"


    "There is a chance. China that has not been bought and sold in either Genoese or Venetian market have shown up in the east Swabian Alps."


    "And I am just hearing about it?!"


    "Not many such pieces have been made, milord," Erin replied with a slight bow, obviously understanding just how shocked he was at the news. "The more relevant information related to the guild masters is the fact the same fort also mass produces ceramic dishes of high quality at large scale, and have been selling to any merchant or peddler passing by their lands." He paused. "What may be of greater concern, and one that the guild masters do not yet know about, is the fact that there may be substantial quantities of gold and silver in those mountains. The new lord of Fluelaberg has made a small name for himself mining for those very precious metals as well as other gemstones like ruby, sapphire, and diamond."


    "You are telling me," Rudolf began slowly. "That we, and the Romans before us, have been ¡­ sitting on a literal gold mine? And we left it alone?"


    "There is a chance, yes."


    Rudolf thought about it. He really thought about it. It was impossible that the greedy Romans would have missed any gold in the mountains. There was also no record of substantial silver veins originating from those peaks. Copper, certainly. Gold and silver? No.


    "From where?"


    "A single hole in the ground within Fluelaberg itself."


    "He does not run a mine?"


    "No. At least not until very recently, according to my people. He opened up a mine and charges any would-be gold miners a fee to enter and try their luck."


    Rudolf looked at his spymaster with his jaws dropped open.


    "He¡­ opened his mine to others? He does not find miners to use as his laborers?"


    "No. He is an odd character."


    "You can say that again." He hummed before drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. "Tell me, what would you do in my place?"


    "Milord, I am a spymaster, not a noble or a bureaucrat working for a noble."


    "There must be an idea you have. You are a boy, nearly a man, and all men have ambitions, no matter how small."


    Erin looked out of the window for a moment, staring at the setting sun, before looking back.


    "The Compact of the Eight is no threat to Munich. In fact, the guild masters have been the ones hurting the city and the duchy with their recklessness. Several trade caravans have ''mysteriously'' vanished within our lands and their goods missing. My people would say that certain goods listed in the recovered caravan roster have circulated among one of the guild master''s own peoples but I have no definite evidence."


    Rudolf gritted his teeth.


    "What else?"


    "They have imposed a tariff on all goods originating from the Compact. This has led to a distinct lack of Compact goods within Munich and its surrounding townships while they have shown up in Landshut. Coincidentally, Montfort and Werdenberg are outside their influence and no bandits have shown up there. I believe it was an effort made to curb the influence of the Compact within Munich. Stupid, if you see their actions from the outside, but understandable when I think about it in their position. They are, after all, under the assumption that most of the trade coming through that area eventually goes through this city."


    "Does it?"


    "Lately? No," Erin replied as he pulled out something from his back, walked up to his desk, and slid it across to him.


    ¡­ Parchment?


    He picked it up and his eyes widened at the flexible paper. High quality, no tore edges, smooth surfaced, and evenly colored paper. No blemish, off colors, or any hint of even middling quality. The kind of stuff that even he, a duke, would hesitate to spend money on because of how expensive they could be. A single bible made from this kind of paper would be ruinously expensive in the current economy if only because he would be competing with every other count, duke, bishop, and merchant for an obviously limited product.


    "The Compact is also making those, and many guild masters are upset that the Compact is not exclusively selling it to them."


    Guild masters potentially financing bandits? Underhandedly changing the policies that only dukes can change? Undermining his and his brother''s authorities? To satisfy their greed? That wouldn''t do. No. No, it would not¡­


    "Look into their actions and contacts. If any damning evidence is found, bring it to me."


    His grip tightened around the arm of the chair.


    And then the wood shattered underneath his hand.


    "I will execute any filthy traitors with my own bare hands."


    On the other hand, he might need to look into this Compact if it reduced his own guild masters to such lengths to control them. Ineffectually, yes, but they had attempted, nonetheless. If the Compact was worth that much, so much so that the guild masters were overstepping their boundaries while he was not here and under his ambitious but less able brother''s eyes¡­


    ''It must be worth something big.''


    Perhaps big enough that if he were to acquire it for himself, then he might be able to use it to ward off Louis. No, he might even be able to use it to keep his uncle from ever interfering in his affairs again.


    S?a?ch* Th? ??v?lF?re.?et website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    A plan began to form.


    -VB-


    A/N: Louis here is Louis the Bavarian (Louis IV of Bavaria) and Rudolf here is Rudolf I of Upper Bavaria.

 Chapter 46-51

    Swiss ArmsChapter 46


    -VB-


    This was a rare event.


    Leon looked on as the lord of the castle faced off against would-be winners of the prize. Five of them stood within a sand ring in the circle in front of the castle''s wooden walls. Around the ring were a lot of the other contestants and onlookers like Leon himself.


    Leon knew that he had no chance here. He''s seen what the lord could do with a single hand, never mind both of his hands with a sword, no matter what kind of material that sword was made out of.


    He watched as one of the contestants to the lord''s back went for a dishonorable attack.


    The lord reacted almost too quickly, parrying the downward strike and then kicking the guy in the chest. They stopped the attack immediately and sent the challenger tumbling back.


    The other challengers quickly attacked the lord.


    And received the same treatment.


    He awed audibly at how his lord jumped over a spear strike at his feet, kicked away another spear thrust while mid-air, struck another with the flat of his wooden practice sword, and then twisted his body to dodge another sword strike.


    When he landed, the lord burst forth and slammed into the two last standing challengers and dispatched them with one, two, and three strikes.


    He clapped his hands, mouth hanging open like an idiot. He couldn''t help it. The lord''s movement were ¡­ "kunstlerich." Yes, a new word he learned in the "schula." Remembering it all was a hassle, so he needed to keep using them lest he forgets and score low.


    If he scored low, then he was going to get less tax cut than even a half-decent score.


    "Next!" the lord shouted, and the grumbling challengers left. They''ll get their chance next month for that piece of gold.


    Leon smirked as he accepted his cut of the bet from the dealer. Sure, he only got a little, but it was a sure bet, so he''ll be happy with a few spare coins or sliver of silver more.


    The next five challengers stepped up, and this time, Leon didn''t bet his "hard"-earned money. No, he was satisfied seeing veteran warriors get their shit kicked in for his weekend entertainment.


    -VB-


    I let out a slow release of air as the exercise came to an end. As the crowd dispersed, I turned back around to enter my fort.


    What waited me there was none other than Alvia and Isabella, the former holding a water pitcher and a cup while the latter held a towel for me to wipe myself with.


    I accepted their help with a strained smile.


    It felt awkward for me to remain near Isabella but also Alvia. After all, hadn''t she come here initially? One could say that she was the first woman of the fort, and once I realized just how people saw me - or at least some of them through inference I made using what Isabella said - and how oblivious I had been because of how obstinately I had been focused on my Gamer quests, abilities, Sim City-ing, and Minecraft-ing.


    Speaking of which¡­


    [Ping!]


    I went through my usual process, and this time, I chose to get upgrade my Strength even more. The only other options were Agility and improvement to my already impressive Endurance.


    I noticed Alvia and Isabella glancing at each other briefly before focusing back on me. It didn''t seem like they had any hostility towards each other¡­ but then again, I hadn''t noticed a lot of details in the people around me, so I was skeptical of my own observation.


    After drinking a cup of water and patting down what little sweat that accumulated on my skin with the towel, I thanked them. "Thanks, Alvia, Isabella."


    "No problem," Alvia said.


    "Of course, my lord," Isabella replied.


    It was also moments like this that I realized the kind of impact I''ve had on people. ''No problem'' was not the usual kind of answer the locals gave when I was young or recent to this area. No problem was something I said often around here and which only a few people heard. The way she said it so casually and easily told me the level of change.


    ¡­ Something to observe from the rest of the castle town and even Davos.


    "What will you two be doing today?" I asked. It was still morning, though soon to be noon.


    "I was hoping to dine with you for lunch, my lord," Isabella spoke up, her red hair bouncing with the slight jump she made, which also made her considerable tracts of land also bounce up and down a little.


    I was a complete gentleman and didn''t look.


    Alvia, ever the silent and blunt one, rolled her eyes. "I''m going to be eating and working in the shop," she said. "Have you satisfied your thirst?" she asked me.


    "Yes," I nodded.


    "Good," she said and then handed me the water pitcher. "I''ll see you at dinner." And then she walked away.


    Isabella was quick to take the towel, water pitcher, and the cup from me. "Now, I believe you have a meeting with your indoor ''shower,'' my lord. Your servants have heated up the water for you."


    "Servants? I don''t have servants," I replied with a raised eyebrow.


    Her smile only grew. "Then I have asked your employees to do so, and they did."


    "Alright, alright," I grumbled. "I haven''t even decided on the marriage but you''re already being pushy."


    Her smile turned into a smirk. "Because my lord," she whispered as she stepped up to me while pushing up her breasts from under them. "You are a man, and I am a woman who told you she wants you. I have prodded and learned the limits of what I can ask of you as a woman should in any situation."


    If she kept showing off, then I might really do something stupid.


    I was a man, Isabella was a hot woman almost spreading her legs, and she was neither stupid nor malevolent. In fact, she genuinely liked me. She got to know me and got me to know her over the past two months she''s been staying here (somehow getting permission from her father to stay).


    She was intelligent, educated, understanding, sexy, and cheerful. The only "bad" part of her was her slight obsessiveness and impulsivity, though neither characteristics were out of her control; in fact, she liked to use them to her advantage to put others off guard, especially when combined with her cheerfulness and attractiveness.


    So I did the only brave thing I could do in this situation to not let the situation escalate: bravely running away.


    I sighed. "I don''t even know what to say to that," I grumbled as I walked away.


    "You could be a brute, scoop me up, and have your way with me~!" she teased with a little titter in her voice. "You''ll definitely have to take responsibility and marry me!"


    "And get into a fight with your dad? I''m not a guy who goes around risking my people so easily." I didn''t hear what she said afterwards, but I did give her one more. "And thanks for the hot water!"


    ---


    When her lord - she would make it happen - rounded the corner, Isabella dropped her smile and sighed.


    She''s tried every trick her mothers - birth and step mothers - have taught her. She''s tried to be cool and logical as she first thought Lord Hans would be more amenable to. It worked a little but not enough. She tried to get him to see her as a woman.


    She knew she was desperate when she was making herself look useful.


    She also knew that she was managing to slowly wear Hans''s resolve. Just a little more and ¡­ she might even be able to visit him at night.


    Isabella shivered.


    While her adventure was not as romantic as her father''s had been, she found it interesting and great nonetheless. Sure, her adventure felt more methodical than how her father seduced her birth mother¡­ and stepmother. She had to be. Hans was a far catchier and tougher target than her mothers were.


    She wasn''t debasing her birth and stepmothers, just that Hans was a romantically and marriage-reluctant man focused on other aspects of life, which was something men can do because they didn''t have a time limit on when they could get married.


    Unfortunately for her, she was a woman and there was a time limit for when she could get married. Give her two more years and she would be considered odd. A year more after that and people would start asking if she was barren or horrible. Another year after that and men won''t even look at her for marriage prospects.


    ¡­ Perhaps she was exaggerating to herself a little, but the matter of the fact was still clear: women had limited time to find their husbands.


    And Hans, probably one of the best men out there including the likes of dukes and emperors, was incredibly hard to seduce.


    Isabella knew that she was on the right track. She just ¡­ needed to push herself a little more.


    -VB-


    Alvia knew that her decision was right.


    Perhaps it was just that her love was not like what Isabella felt. Her love felt more ¡­ blue? Green? It wasn''t the blushing red and passionate love that her friends and peers talked about.


    Now that she had more time and outside perspective to see what a "passionate love" looked like (or obsession), she realized that, yes, she does love Hans, but not like Isabella. It felt more ¡­ friendly. More cordial. More sibling-like than a desire for a man.


    ¡­ Maybe she did feel a bit of that desire, but it was largely overshadowed by the other kinds of love.


    In fact, this revelation made her feel better about Isabella.


    Hans needed a woman to keep him grounded, because he will otherwise go deep into a hole and never return, and while she couldn''t be tht woman for Hans because she also had that issue, Isabella might be able to ¡­ once she actually became Hans''s wife.


    Otherwise, Alvia might need to find someone else for Hans.


    -VB-


    [Character Status] S~?a??h the n0v?l(?)ire.?et website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    Name: Hans von Fluelaberg


    Age: 20


    LvL: 34


    HP: 700


    MP: 350


    ST: 350


    STR: 57


    END: 70


    AGI: 63


    DEX: 52


    INT: 35


    CHA: 22


    -VB-


    A/N: a fresh perspective on all of this.


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 47


    -VB-


    Life could be shitty.


    It was a phrase John learned from his warden and guardian, Hans of Fluela. It was just one of many things he learned from the man who killed his father.


    Even though common sense dictated that he should hate the man for his father''s death and the golden cage he put John in, John didn''t feel hatred for Hans. Extreme unhappiness, maybe, but not hate. He didn''t feel the blinding rage that broiled at the back of his mind, that churned his actions forward, that clouded his thoughts, and more.


    No, both he and Hans only felt regret for the ways things turned out, which couldn''t be said about anyone else in Fluelaberg and the rest of the Compact of the Se- Eight. John hated some of them, the ones who arrogantly made sure he heard how they were the ones who took down a noble, how they were the ones who unshackled the yokes forced upon them by the nobles, and how it was they who made the Compact what it was.


    Absolute. Morons.


    There were idiots who thought just because they defeated a few nobles in a sparsely populated region that they were not only strong enough but good enough to start "shit-talk" nobles. All of those idiots forgot that they were only as strong as their weakest chain.


    That was something his late father taught him, and when he looked upon the people of the Compact, he saw what was their weakness. Or rather who.


    "Whatcha doing?"


    John frowned at the atrocious drawl Hans thought friendly. He turned around and looked at the Lord of the Valleys, a nickname whispered among the servants, which he frankly agreed with.


    "Nothing much. Just staring at the town," he replied while seated on a chair made out of wood and wool that sat on a third-story veranda.


    Hans hummed. "Well, lunch is coming up, so I want you there for it, alright?"


    "Yes, milord."


    "Ugh. Why does it always sound so weird when I hear that from you?" Hans remarked before walking away.


    John rolled his eyes and continued to stare out at the town, which was related to Hans''s latest nickname, the Lord of the Valley. The trade boom, the explosive growth of the town, and the near absolute control Lord Hans exerted in the Fluela Valley would have been an impossible combination to handle for any normal noble and lord.


    He still wasn''t sure how Hans was doing it, but perhaps it was something he would discover in due time. For now, he would continue to learn under Hans. It was the correct choice. Aside from the fact that Hans defeated John''s father, John learned a lot as Hans''s ward. Though some of what he learned were things he personally didn''t need to know (like supply and demand) while others were all too useful (like why and how politics worked the way it did and how he should get ahead in politics if he could).


    But sometimes, he still found himself just staring out into the Fluelaberg''s castle town and wondering about his life.


    Did father have to wage war for land? Did father have to die? Was it wise to be learning from his father''s killer?


    Thoughts, thoughts, and more thoughts, yet none of them led to action that would solve those thoughts.


    Fighting and killing Hans was ¡­ he would reject it. Hans had made him feel at home here, had allowed him to exchange letters with his mother, and even handmade a sweet cake for him on his birthday and allowed his mother to visit at the same time. Hans taught him as much as he could with the limited time he had. John laughed at Hans''s stupid jokes, sneered at his lowborn habits, and was awed by Hans''s strength.


    Even if it had been only a year since he found himself with these people, John knew that he would never be able to raise his sword against them unless his direct family was in danger.


    Because Fluelaberg was beautiful. It was beautiful because of its people and lord. An optimistic town that looked to the future and strode towards it.


    In comparison, his life before the war was ¡­ incomparable. The monotony of daily life where he trained with the master-at-arms, read books in Latin and German, received lessons, and ate food with his family. Sure, he loved his family. He loved his father. But life in Toggenburg was a restricted thing, and what peasants he saw were poor and weak people.


    People here in Fluelaberg were not. Though they might not be well off, they were heading towards it. They ate and slept well. They had a strong defender who wasn''t interested in starting wars. Such circumstances gave the people "room to breath," and that room made them happier. Sure, they grumbled occasionally like the ones who grumbled about him, but at the end of the day, everyone here was happier than in any other place he''d been to. Their happiness infected him like a disease and wouldn''t leave him.


    ¡­ Learning was fun. Being in Fluelaberg was fun, despite all of the horrible things that led up to his stay here. Laughing and playing with Hans was fun.


    What wasn''t fun was that new lady, Lady Isabella of Gorizia. Her father, the Count of Gorizia, was a vassal of the Habsburgs, his maternal family, and also the governor of their Tyrolian lands. She looked to be extremely infatuated with Hans, and it actually kind of pissed him off.


    Hans spoke at length about what he wanted and wanted to accomplish. How, while he still wishes for an idyllic life, he wishes to provide for his people. How, even as he stares longingly at his pickaxe after all too short of a mining trip, he goes out to talk with big-name merchants to manage the trade coming in and out of the town.


    And to John, Isabella looked like a gold digger who wanted to swoop in and take the fruits of Hans''s work.


    The thought of such a thing potentially happening, the idea that someone might bring his friend down, infuriated him. He didn''t trust that skank. She had to be here on a power play her father was making! If that was the case, then John would make sure no harm would come to Hans.


    As Hans taught him, the success of those connected to him reflected back on him. To be a Ward and then the future Count of Toggenburg meant that he was now tied to Hans. If he put what Hans taught him to practice, then it was that he would help Hans when his friend asked just as his friend would surely do the same for him.


    Hmm, perhaps he should probe Hans about a formal alliance once he came of age. Surely, a more concrete agreement would make it easier for everyone. Oh, he might even be able to get those sugars and white ceramics on the cheap. Those merchants were shouting some wild prices for them down at the marketplace.


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 48


    -VB-


    Fall was here again, and everyone out in the valley was busy with harvest.


    However, this actually led to a new problem.


    (It''s just problem after problem these days.)


    See, people often worked as farmhands during fall because farmers tended to pay well for farmhands during the harvest time whenever there was a shortage of workers.


    This fall, they had very few farmhands, because would-be farmhands were all in my mine. Even taking in the daily fees, cost of living in Fluelaberg, and potential gain of nothing, what few ores they managed to pull out and sell were enough to make the miners not want to do the back-breaking farm labor.


    This led the farmers to bring their complaints to me.


    This was, as I had thought, a part of the reason why I hadn''t shown off (much) when I was living with my parents and why I had tried to live by myself in this once quaint and quiet valley.


    Except I had shot (or stabbed) myself in the foot by taking that mercenary job, punting a bishop''s army, killing a count, killing another count, defeating a knight-led army, killing my third count, and causing a political upheaval by "violently" establishing republic within the Holy Roman Empire.


    Now that I actually thought about it, I exaggerated my current problems. Farmers having some issues with a lack of manpower pool to draw their farmhands from (outside of their friends and family) was a good thing. I''m not sure whether this could prove to be an impetus for innovation to start in these valleys as I am unsure about the conditions necessary beyond supply, demand, wealth, education, and excess artisan population, two of which were still missing in my Fluelaberg.


    (Even if I had them, I highly doubted that there would be a sudden industrial revolution on my hand.)


    "And why are you coming to me¡­?" I asked Kraft. As the chief of Davos, he came personally to talk to me about the current dilemma.


    "I''m hoping that you would close down the mine for a month at least," he bluntly replied.


    "A month?" I asked with a frown. I did a quick mental math and then shook my head. "It''s not impossible, but I am not sure it is a good thing."


    "Why would it not be a good thing?" he asked me with a frown. "More farmhands are always a good thing during harvest season and you already put a limit on how often someone could mine."


    "I know," I grumbled. "And it isn''t about how much ore they bring me."


    "Then?"


    "It''s about whether or not I should."


    He blinked. "''Should''? Why is that even a question? It is your mine on your land. You are the lord."


    "Am I?"


    Now, Kraft looked exasperated. "You are making a deal out of something that is not even a problem."


    He was probably right. "Is taking someone''s chance at making food not a big deal?" I asked him. "As much as I dislike child labor, orphans work in my mines, Kraft. If I close up the mines for all so that the adults who work it can work the fields, then it wouldn''t be fair for the kids to work there as well, right? It''s not fair to make the men walk two wegstunde* to earn wages lesser than what they would make at the mine. Besides, it is as you said, Kraft. I do not allow people to work everyday in the mines."


    "But our crops in the field will rot otherwise!" Kraft grunted.


    "I know," I said. "So I have an alternative solution. Instead of shutting down the mine, we''ll cooperate on paying people more. You and Davos will provide transportation with wagons and oxen to and from for dawn and dusk while I will supply the coins they will want for compensation."


    Kraft grumbled but nodded, which made me smile.


    One problem solved!


    -VB-


    The second problem of fall were the natural disasters. Rain fell a lot starting in the fall, and this made travel hard and dangerous.


    It was just my luck that Fluela Valley was struck by landslides and floods.


    "Get those rocks up here!" I shouted even as I grabbed and hurled rocks at the swollen river bank. The stream that ran through Fluelaberg had swollen to nearly quadruple its original size. The fast currents now threatened to break several of the houses that had been built closer to stream bank.


    And forget my fish traps and farms! Those were long gone!


    Men and women all lifted rocks from the mines that had been stacking on the town-side of the stream and threw them down at the upstream end of the stream that intersected the town. The idea was to build a wall that would prevent fast currents to hit the river bank. By doing this, it would be easier for us all to work to fix the river bank, or shore it up with more rocks.


    It was also the first time that I showed my obvious unnatural strength by dragging over a whole log by myself and driving them into the rocky soil of the river banks to act as pillars for the artificial half-dam.


    But the people disregarded quickly in favor of working to put the dam up.


    It took us the whole day to finish it while working under rain and threatened by the fast river current, but we managed it.


    Also as a bonus, no one gave a shit about my unnatural strength.


    -VB-


    Problems don''t end, and I was staring at the latest poster child (soon to be replaced for newer, younger models) of it all.


    I set the letter down and pinched the bridge of my nose.


    How the fuck was I getting constant attention?


    "What is it?" Isabella asked from where she was reading my treatise of half-remembered chemical knowledge on a sofa at the extended second floor of my tower-fort, where I built a new office for easier access.


    "I just got a letter from the chancellor of Upper Bavaria."


    She put the book down and looked at me in surprise. "What is it about?"


    I let out an aggrieved sigh. "The chancellor is claiming that since the Prince-Bishop of Chur is no longer ruling over Chur and its region as the sole ruler and because the neighboring lords have failed to rein in the region, it is his duty as a duke of the empire to pacify the region."


    "But you were given a letter from the emperor himself that you are politically independent."


    "... Yeah, the letter doesn''t say that at all."


    I pulled out the letter from where I kept it and handed it over to her to read. As she read it, a frown grew on her face until she was frowning at the letter. She then read my other letter, the new one, and outright glared at it.


    "You must send a messenger to the duke of Upper Bavaria right now. If he or any of his nobles moves against us, then he will be breaking the emperor''s truce. Should he do that, then you will be subject to even more attention from the rest of the empire, and you are not yet ready for it. You are the weak and rich."


    Against a fucking duke? Of course, I was weak and ric-. "Wait, rich?"


    "Hans, you have gold, silver, gems, artisans, and sugar, somehow. You also lack a core of trained knights and commanders to lead an army when you are not there. The only other person remotely capable of commanding in the entirety of the Compact of Eight is the Bishop of Chur, who doesn''t have a good track record."


    "Then what should I do? Just write to him to stop? You know that''s not going to work even with emperor''s truce held to his face."


    She frowned and paced in circles in front of my work desk.


    Then she paused. "The Duke of Upper Bavaria doesn''t rule by himself. He has a co-ruler, Ludwig the Fourth. They are in constant opposition against each other, which is why the Duchy of Upper Bavaria, despite being a rich land with many people, have done very little since they took over seven years ago."


    "So if I write to Duke Ludwig with a copy of the emperor''s letter¡­"


    "Then he might step in if only to reduce his brother''s political power!"


    She grinned. "I think we found our solution to your latest problem."


    Problems everywhere but it was nice to have someone with me to solve them instead of by myself.


    -VB-


    A/N: Wegstunde - German ? meile or 2.31 miles.


    Source: some german guy named G. Buchner from 1853 who self-published this shit in those days.


    So this chapter was a bit of internal, diplomacy, management, crisis(?), interpersonal development/cooperation, and problem solving. Did you like this kind of chapter or prefer one chapter-one thing kind of chapter?


    -VB-


    Insomnia strikes again. I want to sleep more than 8 hours over the course of 3 days, damn it!


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 49


    -VB-


    Leon held his breath and then swung his pickaxe down just like how Lord Fluelaberg showed him and chipped into the rock. He let his breath out and felt for a hold with the tip of his pick. Finding none, he pulled the pickaxe back out and struck again.


    He let out a breath of hot air that misted momentarily before whiffing away to the steadily flowing cold air coming from outside of the cave.


    With the onset of winter, work slowed down everywhere else. The heavy snowfall also made sure that even trade slowed down. Hell, there should be at least half a dozen merchants in town even during winter, but there was no one this time around. From what Leon heard, Fluela Pass itself was currently impassable, which meant that any other high-elevation passes like it would be as well elsewhere.


    As for the town itself, people just enjoyed the warmth of their hearths and the oddities the lord seemed to get involved in all of the time.


    Like insisting that an ice bath was good for the body.


    Or exercising outdoors with only a shirt and pants, even if he was next to the blacksmithing furnace.


    The lord was crazy and unusual, but then a normal lord would never have made life up here in the mountains better for the people.


    Especially for a former dung farmer like him.


    He winced before his eyes widened when he caught a glimpse of something.


    With a grin, he pushed down on the pickaxe where it was stuck in the wall. He huffed and puffed as he weighed himself down again and again until that part of the wall broke.


    When a slab of rock as big as his head tumbled down, he looked at what he saw ¡­ and then groaned.


    It was a phantom quartz. "Why is this shit here?" he grumbled even as he carefully picked it out and then dropped the thumb-sized gemstone into his leather pouch attached to his waist. It was worth only a bit more than regular quartz, but regular quartz didn''t sell for much to Alvia and even less to any passing merchants.


    Tightening the pouch strings, he pulled his pickaxe back up and went at it again.


    Of course, the fall in trade and overall activities also meant that people spent less. Some of the folks went to the lord''s castle to take his "classes," which he taught without receiving payment. There were a lot of things that didn''t quite make sense to Leon, so he only attended one class: accounting. There were other classes, though many of them he felt were too "liberal." That was a new word he learned, by the way.


    Studying the mind was ¡­ the idea felt too iffy. Studying politics? He was a dung farmer turned miner.


    Alchemy sounded like a lot of fun and the demonstration with "sodium" that the lord did excite him¡­ until he had to look at the list of knowledge he needed to know like the back of his hand before he would be allowed to even get close to "chemical" ingredients that the lord so painstakingly collected.


    He huffed and grunted as he chipped away at the rock wall and then smiled. This time, he found something yellow. At the very least, that was worth mining!


    See, miners had their own little color code for the stuff they could find.


    White was either really useless or really good.


    Blue was usually good.


    Gray was probably not good.


    Colorless was good.


    Red was always good.


    Green was decent.


    Purple was good.


    Orange was a coin toss.


    Brown was mostly useless unless it had a really good shine.


    Yellow was half decent or really fucking good.


    And as Leon pulled away another thin slab of rock, he found himself ¡­ disappointed.


    "Ah, more pyrite," he mumbled. Leon kept some way back at the start, but the thing rusted away fairly quickly. He didn''t keep any after that. It was still good to sell, but he wanted a payday like what Jeremiah got last week; gold was always good, even if he didn''t sell it to passing merchants or Alvia. Pyrite, on the other hand, was useless to anyone but the lord. He probably used it for his alchemy or something, because he never saw or heard the lord talking about what had to be more than a ton of pyrite.


    Pyrite was pretty common, so it was cheap. He needed half a handful of it to get a meal, but then again, he already got two handfuls. Phantom quartz was only going to get him two coppers, barely enough for a cup of cheap ale. He didn''t have anything else.


    Well, what did he expect? He''s only been in here for a short time. Time to get back to work.


    -VB-


    Romano sighed for the umpteenth time as he nursed his warm water.


    He was stupid. He knew that winter up in these mountains was extreme compared to where he was from in Napoli, but he had thought that he would be in and out quickly.


    Unfortunately for him, the winter blizzard settled at the moment he stepped into the town, and he''s been stuck here for the past week. While he stayed here, his money started draining away because he had run out of goods to sell and had to pay for all of the housing and food.


    Being stuck at Fluelaberg wasn''t so bad. Sure, there weren''t any brothels (the closest brothel was on the other side of the mountain in Chur) and there was only one bar, but there were just ¡­ a lot of things to look at.


    Hell, he even went and bought a few stuff that rich people elsewhere were sure to be happy to read.


    Treatise on Economics and Trade and On the Natural Laws by Lord Hans von Fluelaberg was sure to be popular with the Venetian merchants.


    -VB-


    "Hmm? Arnold, why are some books missing?"


    "I thought you wanted me to sell the books you weren''t going to use in class."


    "I mean, I did say that, but I didn''t think they''d actually sell up here."


    I scratched my head and shrugged before heading back into one of my many workshops within my fort. This room, which was well-ventilated and lit, held one device that I loathed to show anyone for a long time to come.


    I looked at the metal blocks, wooden frames, and ink splatters, and then took a deep breath of the winter morning and the smell of ink and paper.


    "Alright. Let''s get to work."


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 50


    -VB-


    Daniel Martinez


    European History 313


    Professor de Martrado


    February 21, 2012


    The Compact: The People?


    A genius hides among us but we would not know until they show themselves in one way or another. This obvious but sometimes forgotten fact exemplifies how the then Compact of the Nine of the Central Alps came to be. Though we may look and say that the Compact''s rise was foretold by the geographical placement and innovative people who founded it, we would do so with rose-tinted glasses. Yes, I am stating right off the bat that the Compact of the Nine did not so easily ascendance the political mayhem that was the court of the Holy Roman Empire because of its resource-rich mountains or the valuable trans-Alps trade route but because of the people who raised and protected.


    The most unacknowledged leader of the Compact of the Nine is the Prince-Bishop Siegfried von Gelnhausen of Chur. Despite the fact that he was not the ruler of a prominent princely state or diocese, the bishop was a well-connected man whose reach extended as far west as London, England, and far south as Palmero, Sicily. He used this connection to send gifts to major and minor powerbrokers, who would become enthralled by the ever-evolving luxuries that trickled out of the desolate Alps. He then used this influence to back Louis XI, the future Holy Roman Emperor, against his brother when the two latter men were co-rulers of the Duchy of Upper Bavaria. This was very important, though underreported because the form of the bishop''s help was calling upon his favors from the neighboring city-state of Zurich. Getting Zurich in contact with the Compact of the Nine proved to be a decision that would outlive the bishop because the growing Compact and Zurich would Treaty of Friendship that would last right up to the Thirty Years War.


    The Compact of the Nine consisted of eight small villages and the reduced Prince-Bishopric of Chur, a once regionally powerful but nearly ruined in the Unruly Year, but before it was the Nine, it was the Eight and the man who brought it to life was Hans von Fluelaberg. Though we know him more for his contribution to science than any other field, he was an able commander, warrior, and leader. The people of the Alps were not a united people like we see them today. Each village could be more influenced by their German neighbors or their Italian counterpart or even be a wholly different ethnicity whose language was neither German nor Italian. This is even more so in the area that Marris set up the Compact. It is perfectly situated between the German-influenced areas and Italian-influenced region with a population who were neither German nor Italian. If we accept the geographic determinists, then this was the worst combination of territory, people, and era to give life to a new nation but Marris did because the alternative was each village dying alone during the Unruly Year. He, a mere peasant at the time, forged his own armor and weapon before taking the fight to the nobles and lords who tore at each other. He bested the Count of Zernez, the Count of Sax-Misox, the Count of Werdenberg, and then torched Toggenburg Castle. This is the equivalent of an African rural boy rising up to become a warlord of Namibia, beating back all of his neighbors one by one with an army weaker and smaller than any one of them. Oh and doing so while sneaking around the back and beheading each president of the invading countries except one.


    If being a capable leader, unmatched warrior, and scientist wasn''t enough for Marris, he went and forged alliances that would last for generations ¡­ with the children of the lords he killed. One of the most prominent example of this was Lord John of Toggenburg, son of the Toggenburg lord Marris burned. As part of the peace treaty that ended the Unruly Year, Marris took in John von Toggenburg as his ward. Instead of treating the boy-count as a prisoner to be kept at arm''s length, he educated the boy as best as he could while emotionally connecting them. At the end of five years of fostering, John had become an ally of the Compact instead of an enemy, and would later petition and successfully join the Compact as its ***** member.


    Another underrated leader of the Compact is Lady Isabella of ¡­


    -VB-


    Duke Louis of Upper Bavaria stared at the letter in his hands before he set it down on his wooden table.


    It was merely a month before the Christmas festival in Munich, so the letter could not have arrived at a better time; everyone thought him too busy with setting up the celebration to consider that someone would have sent such a vital letter to him.


    And the contents¡­


    When the new year came, his brother would have a lot to be shocked about.


    However, how was he going to shock Rudolf? His overly serious and territorial brother would certainly hate how he learned about his work when he was obviously trying to keep it under wraps. After all, it would be a hit to both the image of the Duke of Upper Bavaria and his ego. On the other hand, overtly embarrassing his brother would mean that it wouldn''t be just Rudolf who would feel the damage but also himself. Louis knew that wouldn''t do, not when he was the co-ruler of the duchy.


    No, no, no. He needed to make sure that Rudolf would lose his cool and do something ¡­ absurd. What kind of response would result in that?


    ¡­ Something sly but not too subtle. Something Rudolf''s more discrete allies would hear about and thus Rudolf himself would. Something enraging but not bluntly actionable against him.


    What could that be?


    Oh.


    Louis knew. He knew all about his brother.


    Rudolf must be salivating about the potential profit from incorporating this Compact into his influence.


    Why not preempt his brother and make a deal with the Compact first? If he did that while the two of them were vying for influence and favor of their uncle, then Rudolf will have to either sabotage his efforts or take out the Compact entirely? Of course, the latter will be ridiculous even for his short-tempered brother, so it would have to be a sabotage attempt.


    Since Louis will be provoking this reaction, he already could guess how Rudolf might go about it with his current assets and friends. He already knew about his brother''s reach, so he would have prepared for the sabotage, capture the agents, and then report to his uncle, the emperor, about the "heinous acts unfitting a duke."


    Louis will just sit back and let his less smart brother fumble along again while he reaped his brother''s attentiveness of the mountain folks.


    It wasn''t like his brother would attack a new city-state. Not over something simple as not choosing his side, which happened all of the time.


    -VB-


    A/N: my name is not Daniel Martinez, so please don''t be that guy who looks up that name on facebook. Or twitter. Or instagram. You''ll find a dozen plus, hundred plus, people who might have that name.


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 51


    -VB-


    In a manner that was becoming very frequent, Isabella and I sat in our own chairs on the balcony of the highest tower of my fort and looked out into the town that had truly come far in its mere two years of existence. Last I checked, we had roughly three hundred people living in a permanent manner here in Fluelaberg.


    It scared me sometimes that I was responsible for that many people, but it also made me feel great in other ways. I was not a hereditary lord who received this town from my father; my dad was still over in the Forest Canton lands, waiting for either his next mercenary contract or for whatever. I felt great because these people took their chances with me here to show that they trusted me with not just their livelihood but their very lives in this tumultuous world.


    And I felt this appreciative right now because Isabella, ever the shrewd woman, had gotten me to go around town and get a read of what the townspeople thought about me.


    Before I''d done that, I was under the dubious assumption that aside from a core of maybe a dozen villagers, the rest were here simply because of circumstance.


    Isabella pointed out, perhaps rightfully so, that many people remained here even after they got back on their feet. I had created something people didn''t want to lose, and it wasn''t just the economic opportunity, though it was one of the bigger reasons why many stayed.


    "I did tell you that the commoners loved you," Isabella hummed from my side and i begrudgingly gave the point she deserved.


    It''s also been a few months since she stopped by, and I''ve gotten¡­


    Let''s just say that the Count of Gorizia - aka the governor of Tyrol and Isabella''s father - was none too happy with me. He even accused me of kidnapping and marrying her, which was a thing that happened in this day and age. I had to send a letter back.


    Which was how I was now anticipating the count arriving at the front doors of my town as soon as spring came to these mountains. In the mean time, I was getting a visit within the month from Isabella''s cousin, Henry II the Count of Tyrol.


    Yeah, just like how Bavaria wasn''t a wholly unified duchy, the County of Tyrol was also not unified. Unlike Bavaria, which was divided into at least a dozen major players within that region, the County of Tyrol only had three major players: the Habsburg ruled County of Tyrol (governed by Albert of Gorizia), the County of Tyrol ruled by Henry II, and the Prince-Bishopric of Trent.


    Back to Henry.


    Now, if he was just a count, I might be fine with him visiting because there weren''t a lot of trouble I could see from a count, even one whose land was twice the size of all of the Compact and its previous enemies combined.


    Unfortunately for me, Henry wasn''t just a count but also the Duke of Carinthia and Margrave of Carniola and Savinja.


    He was, in fact, someone who could tell the Habsburgs to fuck off if he really wanted to, and was someone who doted on his cousin, Isabella. Sure, his lands would eventually become part of Habsburg lands as their lines intermarried, but what can you do about that? It''s the Habsburg. They married their enemies, married their cousins, married everyone, and then married some more.


    Of course, the Habsburgs right now was "confined" to their Swabian holdings, the Duchy of Austria proper, and the Duchy of Styria, but if little John von Toggensburg was any indication, they had their boys and girls in every major and minor court''s bedchambers.


    ¡­ Okay, Hans, focus on the now. Think about not-yet-incestuous Habsburgs later.


    "Yes, you were right," I replied with a hum. "I knew that they appreciated me, just for the ¡­ I thought they did it for wrong reasons." I paused. "Sorry, that sounds like I thought they were backstabbers or gold diggers. No, I meant for different reasons."


    "Gold diggers?" she repeated.


    "People who marry you for your wealth and similar reasons."


    "Ah¡­" she hummed in understanding. "... did you ever think that I was one of those?"


    "Initially. Actually, I thought that you were being dumb more than that you had a plan," I snorted.


    She sighed. "Well, I was a little bit too ¡­ jittery at the time, so forgive me for that," she smiled softly.


    "... So?"


    "Yes?"


    "You''ve been here for almost four months now. How do you feel about this place?"


    She stared at me for a moment before looking back out into the town.


    "... When I first came here, it was out of curiosity," she began. "And you know how I came to make that confession." I waited for her to continue. As the shadow of the valley overtook my little town, she continued. "I felt all sorts of things while here in this town. I felt amazed, stupid, confused, and a little upset."


    "Upset?"


    "What and how you led the people here made me question why the people of my father''s and cousin''s lands were doing so poorly. You run your small town more like free cities run themselves. Peasants are not just peasants, lords aren''t just lords, and priests and nuns are not just their holy duties. You do not hoard wealth, crave knowledge, and value the people over what they can do for you. It is ¡­ foreign, more foreign than the Muslim traders I''ve seen when I visited the Venetian Republic, because even Muslim traders showed deference and obedience to those who they knew were of a higher class than themselves. And don''t think I missed how you allowed people of different religions to practice in their homes."


    Even though it was information that could damn me in certain parts of Europe, I merely hummed in acknowledgment.


    "You''re kind, but I think you are too kind in a way someone who is a veteran of multiple battles simply cannot be," she said and then looked back at me. "I think you need someone to keep you from being stupidly kind."


    I snorted. "I don''t think I am kind."


    "Kind people generally don''t think they are. They always think that they aren''t doing enough."


    "I think I did plenty enough."


    "Do you? Because when I look at you, I always see a man going out to help someone. You complain about what you want, but when you hear that someone is in trouble, your body moves before your lips do."


    "... Maybe it''s a habit," I grunted.


    "Maybe you need someone bit more selfish than you to keep you grounded."


    "... You mean you."


    "Yes. I am selfish. I know what I want, and I still want you, milord."


    I sighed ¡­ and then smiled.


    "Well, even if I want to, there are hurdles we still have to jump over first."


    "Hmm," she hummed. "I can get my cousin onboard. Don''t worry about him."


    "And your dad?"


    She grinned. "You worry about presenting your best, hon. Let me deal with my family."

 Chapter 52-58

    Swiss ArmsChapter 52


    -VB-


    I did a lot of things while I waited for the response from the younger duke of Upper Bavaria and the arrival of Isabella''s cousin. One of the minor changes included upgrading my one and only armor set. There was only a beaten iron chestplate, full-face covering iron mask, and a bear fur cloak. They were¡­ serviceable. Isabella, however, suggested that I tried to improve upon it because it could be an insult to her cousin if I showed up and just acted like, as she put it, a knight-errant. She also pointed out how I didn''t have a decent attire to meet someone of her cousin''s standing.


    The difference was ¡­ if I had to use my old life''s example, then I would be the mayor of small rural town in Iowa with maybe two thousand people who would soon meet the mayor of New York City.


    Of course, I knew that I was a wild card myself. My gemstone and precious metal exports, sugar trade, paper production in allied holdings, and the direct blessing of the Prince-Bishop of Chur made me a growing power.


    And if that growing power didn''t greet someone of higher status and lineage properly¡­ then that was an insult, no matter what he may have intended.


    So what did I do?


    I got myself a new wardrobe.


    Partially.


    See, as aggressively growing and slowly city-like Fluelaberg was becoming, it was still a hick town up in the mountains whose only purpose was hindering everyone''s expansion in whatever direction they wanted to. Sure, it was better than most towns out there because one of the few things that I had been insistent upon as the town formed was the laying of sturdy cobblestone roads, but it was still a rural castle town.


    This also meant that the closest tailor for the nobility was far away from where we were. With only a limited time for myself to get decked out, I could not go back and forth for the clothes.


    Well, technically speaking, I could. I could run faster, farther, and longer than anyone, but someone still had to make the clothes, and the ones for the nobility took months, if not years, to be done up to standard.


    So I made do what I could and asked the locals to put together something for me while Isabella supervised.


    The end result was ¡­ it came very close to being that weird renaissance Italy clothing. I wasn''t sure what it was called, but it came close. It was only at my insistence that I may need to work in the field if I ever encountered any trouble that the attire lost some of the fragile and downright unnecessary surface area. The modified attire was slimmer, which fit my taste just fine.


    But still¡­


    It looked very ¡­ uh ¡­ well, I''m not sure. It''s very flowy. And it came down to my knees, I had to wear separate pants, and the only thing keeping the top part from flying away in the high winds of the Alps was a belt.


    At least I didn''t have to do anything for my short hair.


    "Finally, you look more like a noble that you are."


    I turned around and found myself looking at Isabella, who had forgone her usual flowing dress of red and white for ¡­ was that Periment blue?


    "Where did you get that color?" I asked her in surprise.


    She grinned. "You told me I could use any dye you were experimenting with."


    "... so you used the periment blue?" I thought she would try to use the striking red I had. That shade of red was the most expensive dye I had. Chemistry lab was something I was working on, though it resembled less a chemistry lab and more of a staining lab with how much everything was stained by pigments. Periment blue was a random combination of mineral and organic pigment combination I found after brute forcing through two dozen combinations. I called it periment blue because it came from a combination of a local flower called periwinkle and river rocks called talment. I was unfamiliar with either of them, so I didn''t know their future science names. I said fuck it and just called the dye by combining their two names.


    "Yes!" she giggled. "I mean, look at this! This blue is so deep! It''s deeper than the color of the Mediterranean!"


    She spun around and her periment blue dress''s skirt did a small twirl. She came to a stop after only one spin and grinned at me. "Thank you, by the way, for letting me use them."


    "No problem," I smiled before spying a small caravan heading our way from the Fluela Pass. Well, saying that it was a caravan would be misnomer, because half of that caravan was comprised of well-armed and armored knights, men-at-arms, and soldiers. It was my first view of a well-organized medieval military band. Compared to what the late baron, the bishop, or any of the counts had, that was an actual band of knights.


    And at the head of them all was the margrave himself.


    I couldn''t see what he looked like, only the banner and the fact that they were well-armored and armed.


    "Is that your cousin?" I asked her.


    Isabella turned to look and squinted. "Huh. You can see that far, Hans?"


    "Yes."


    "Yes¡­ That is the banner of my cousin, the Duke of Carinthia and Margrave of Carniola."


    I nodded. "Well, let''s go greet him."


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 53


    -VB-


    The guard detail that Henry brought with him was meant to be an intimidating show of force to a newly raised noble ruling over a small but strategically important valley that connected the Eastern Alps to the Swabian Alps.


    So why was it that when he finally found himself staring down from atop his horse at that peasant lord, he was the one who felt threatened? As if the knights and men-at-arms he brought with him - men whose quality could not be matched anywhere else in the Christian world - and the additional soldiers were all nothing but irritating obstacles at best to this man in front of him.


    If that wasn''t all, he found himself glancing at the deep blue dress his dear beautiful cousin Isabella wore. It was a blue unlike any other blue he''d seen before. It was unique. It was rare. Yet this peasant lord had one while he, a duke and margrave of the empire, did not. It grated on his nerve a little but not enough to skip the pleasantries to demand where the peasant lord - who his cousin was pursuing and demanded that he be "polite" to, at the very least - got the dye so that he may use it himself.


    Well¡­ there was one more thing that irritated him.


    A peasant lord had a formidable fortress-town sitting across the width of a valley with walls sturdier than many of the stone walls of lesser barons, if they had a wall for their villages and towns.


    How?


    Things did not make sense. There was no logical explanation for the explosive growth he saw, and he knew the progress he''d seen.


    After all, he''d crossed this very valley multiple times when he accompanied his father to battle.


    ¡­ Standing before this man that had Isabella so infatuated felt very much like that day.


    "Duke Henry," the peasant lord said and bowed halfway to his waist. "Welcome to Fluelaberg."


    He looked at the thick lumber walls. "Yes. Fluelaberg. Thank you for your welcome, Baron Hans."


    He got off his horse and stood on the cobblestone road. It was finer and smoother than his own castle town''s central road.


    How embarrassing. This small town''s road was better than the one he had back home in his main residence.


    "Henry," his cousin greeted him with a curtsy.


    He made a face at her. "Ugh, stow that polite formality. That is unlike you."


    She laughed and gave him a hug. "Welcome to Fluelaberg. What do you think?" she asked him as she stepped back to stand next to Hans. To Henry''s surprise, Hans looked uncomfortable still with having Isabella next to him. If Henry hadn''t been her cousin, then he would have seduced her to his marriage bed, damn the consequences of marrying a count''s daughter. The fact that Hans still remained chaste with her was a great show of discipline, piety, or ¡­ simply different interest.


    Isabella''s letters had stated that Hans was simply not the kind of man to be focused on sex, but that alone was suspect in Henry''s mind. What man does not want to wet his dick and hear the cries of a beautiful woman?


    But now that he was here to look at this man''s work in this "Fluelaberg," he understood that, just maybe, he just wasn''t interested in the fairer sex as much as he might in other pursuits. Henry understood such passion; such men were often times more reliable than those whose entire focus was on their family, and thus liable to act only for the sake of their kin.


    ¡­ But that also embarrassed him. Here was a man barely out of his boyhood having accomplished so much with his hands while Henry¡­ He couldn''t even get a proper wife despite the fact that he was duke.


    (But then again, most of his peers did not wish to wed their daughters to him, a known producer of bastards.)


    Hell, he had not even gained his duchy through his own accomplishment but because his elder sister was married to the previous emperor.


    So maybe he felt a little threatened and brought so many men with him because of that. After all, this was a town that was right at the border of his lands at a prime crossing point for armies. On top of that, it was a fortified position that could and had withstood assaults from organized armies. His spies have reported that this town withstood at least one assault by an army of a thousand! For a wooden fortress, it was possible, but not with the number of people in it, because the same spy noted that the town recently grew to house maybe seven hundred people; this was after the town had grown to house some five hundred additional people in the past year.


    An explosive growth, to be sure, but it also meant that the town had maybe two hundred people to fight off and win against an army of a thousand.


    And kill the enemy commander.


    The rumor was that it was Hans himself who''d plowed through the soldiers on his own to attack the count who had been commanding from the back. Henry didn''t believe that, but believed that the man was strong as were his personal guards, whoever they were.


    Now.


    Put all of those facts together. A peasant seemingly from nowhere important, noble armies decimated, a fort raised in weeks that should have taken months if not years, reorganization of the local fiefdoms into one consolidated power, the introduction of new trade goods¡­


    None of this was possible.


    ''Not unless there is a hidden backer who can benefit from the development of the Alps.''


    And Henry knew there were exactly four powers who would benefit by having a puppet king in the mountains: his rival Habsburgs, the Bavarian Wittelbachs, his uncle the Count of Gorizia, and, the most underappreciated of them all, the Lordship of Milan. Although one of their own allies were hurt in the chaos, the Habsburg would have a power bigger than their previous ally. The Wittelbachs would have a secure southeastern flank, giving them more strength to consolidate internally and expand in all other directions. His uncle''s lands in his County of Tyrol would be safe if they had a secure western ally. Milanese would be happy to have a secure route through the mountains where they would act as the middleman between the Venetians and the southern imperial states.


    All of them would have a stake here, but none of them rose up to take ownership. The Habsburgs were oddly silent. The Wittelbachs were seemingly split on hostility and manipulation. His uncle sent his cousin and no one else. Milan was completely absent.


    So who was it? It couldn''t be his uncle because he hadn''t been in control from the start.


    "This is a magnificent new town," Henry congratulated the baron.


    "Thank you, Your Grace," the man smiled. "And I have a gift for you."


    "Oh?"


    Hans turned and gestured for one of his servants to walk up.


    Henry nearly grimaced at the richly dyed robes that the servants all wore. A baron was richer than a duke! The envy that he was feeling weighed heavily.


    And then he forgot all about it when his eyes landed on the covered object that the baron''s servant brought out. The baron lifted the veil and -.


    Henry''s jaws dropped.


    Was ¡­ was that porcelain?


    "Our finest product, Your Grace," Baron Hans smiled.


    Henry beheld a "cracked" and mended porcelain vase as big as his head decorated with striking green and blue waves that blended seamlessly into each other and didn''t clash with the shining whites of the vase. And fixed with gold that made it look like there were veins of gold running through the vase. The gold veins did not clash with the patterns. It didn''t depict any glorious battles or pious scenes yet the simple nature of the broken and mended waves mesmerized him nonetheless.


    "This is¡­"


    "A porcelain just like the ones from the Far East, Your Grace," the baron smiled. "But with a modification of my own using gold and a mineral called cobalt."


    Henry glanced at his cousin, who merely smiled.


    Henry gestured for his own servants to take the vase. If any of them damaged the vase, then he''ll execute their three generations; it was worth more than a hundred of them.


    "Thank you for your gift," he said with some genuine appreciation. This was the kind of gift that dukes and kings would exchange¡­ not a baron.


    It was also a trap, whether the baron meant it or not. If after he took this gift and acted even a little discourteously, then everyone would know that he was a graceless and ungrateful guest. He had to be perfect for the duration of his stay and not a single perceived disrespect could be even hinted at unless offered one first. If such a reputation got out, then he could forget about marrying a peer; he''d probably have to ask his brother-in-law to legitimize one of his bastards (and none of them were good enough to be a baron, nevermind a duke)!


    "Let us retire to my home, Your Grace. We have a small feast ready for you and your knights."


    -VB-


    When Henry retired that evening to his guest room, he laid down with a full belly and pondered about what had just happened.


    The feast was¡­


    It was a small feast as the baron had stated, but the dishes the baron had put out. He was normally not one for pastries at night, but the sweetness that flowed everywhere was ¡­


    It was exquisite and absurd.


    It was also what he realized while eating.


    The land was poor but the people and its baron were smart. They created things that no one else would consider, but that''s perhaps because there was nothing else they could do but innovate to survive. They were simply being creative with what little things they had.


    For example, the blue dye that had him burning with envy apparently came from periwinkle flower weed. A lot of what they did had to be related to similar desperate needs and wants.


    But this also made him want to object to Isabella''s desire to wed the baron. The baron was poor, and Isabella was from a dynasty with more land than most. Why should he allow his beautiful cousin to wallow in poverty?


    He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.


    ''I''ll think more about this tomorrow.''


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 54


    -VB-


    Henry wasn''t a bad guy at all.


    He was also the typical man who did manly things like wrestling, contact sports, riding, and the like because that''s just what he did to pass the time and had been taught to do. It was certainly better than whoring, drinking, and torturing.


    ¡­ Unfortunately, those "manly" activities were the exact kind of things I wasn''t into because I could do more stuff doing other things. I liked smithing, mining, faceting, strategizing, tactical analysis, brainstorming, and burrowing into my pillow fort on the occasional days I felt lazy.


    We did, however, have one thing we liked in common.


    Training.


    "Are you sure about this?" Duke Henry asked me with some trepidation and worry in his eyes. He, a dozen of his knights, half a dozen of my own "professional" soldiers, and I stood around in training gear in my wooden castle''s private training ground.


    Our training gear was a simple tunic, pants, and a pair of well-padded shoes. Over the tunic was also a well-padded wool jacket that served to protect people from strikes.


    We were having a training session in here instead of outside the castle just in case someone might see something that might hurt the duke''s reputation.


    Of course, the duke probably thought that I was protecting myself.


    "I am," I grinned. "I never train unless it''s against at least four different people."


    "Ho? Some kind of training regimen?" Henry looked intrigued as he picked out a wooden sword from one of the weapon racks lining the walls.


    "... Yes," I replied as casually as I could while my soldiers shuddered. I walked over and grabbed a wooden training sword as well.


    For just a second, I opened up my character status and glanced at my sword-related skills.


    [Swordmanship] LvL. 69


    Nice.


    Anyways, this was an opportunity for me to compare exactly what my skills meant in comparison to well-trained knights and counts in a non-lethal setting.


    I turned back around. I noticed how Henry''s knights looked dismissive of me, probably thinking that I was going to get my ass handed to either them or their liege lord.


    "Now, before we begin, I want everyone to understand that we are here to improve ourselves, not show off who''s who," I spoke up. "We do that at tourneys."


    Some of the knights looked like they agreed with me while others didn''t. Henry did, and that''s what really mattered here.


    "That said, may I have the floor with my men, Your Grace?" I asked.


    "Of course. This is your training ground."


    "Thank you," I said with a smile before dropping it as I turned to my shivering soldiers. "You know the drill. All of you against me."


    My words drew up short Henry and his knights, but before they could say something, my soldiers burst into action.


    Initially bunched up among themselves at one corner of the training yard, they now quickly spread out and surrounded me. They kept an even distance among themselves and with me, and had intentionally chosen to alternate between spears and swords.


    "Good, good! You learned from last time!" I barked out with a grin on my face. "Spearmen does well against someone who can''t take a hit or aren''t armored as a knight!"


    My soldiers lunged forward without nary a yell. I parried the spear aimed at my back while dodging a thrust coming from my left and grabbing the shaft of the one from the right. I pushed the right spear away, and the soldier, a man weighing eight stones, stumbled backward despite trying to fight against my strength.


    The other soldiers tried to attack me with their swords while I was distracted. I decided to dodge and weave between their attacks.


    It made them look uncoordinated if it wasn''t for the fact that my spearmen were attacking between strikes from the swordsmen.


    The spears lunged in, drew back, swords swiped and sliced, drew back, and the cycle would repeat. They even set a decent rhythm. Lunge, back, swipe, back, lunge, back, stab, back. Instead of two people against one, it was six people against me. That one lunge was three lunges. That one swipe was three swords trying to find purchase on my skin.


    Finally, my soldiers backed off, signaling that they were giving up ¡­ for now.


    Then I heard clapping. Turning to Henry''s side of the training yard, I saw how he looked amazed by the display of it all while the knights didn''t look convinced.


    "Brilliant. I didn''t know a man your size could dance like that!" he laughed before turning to look at his knights and then back at me. "Say, do you want to try it against my knights?"


    I was waiting for this.


    "I''d be honored to try," I replied with a grin. "But I may need to actually strike back at them. I don''t think even I can keep up with twelve knights."


    "Wonderful! Get on it, then! Show the baron that you twelve are exemplary knights of my realm."


    -VB-


    Henry winced when the fifth knight, Sir James, tumbled away after taking a good kick to the chest.


    "He is strong, right?"


    He glanced to his side and saw Isabella looking absolutely smitten with the baron. He would know what that looked like; he wasn''t bragging but made quite a number of ladies smitten with himself.


    His gaze was drawn back to the training yard when the sixth knight got pushed out of the ring after being used as a shield against his fellows. The remaining six knights, humiliated by being knocked around by a mere baron, redoubled their efforts to bring down the man.


    "Maybe he is as special as you think he is if he can win against six knights by himself," Henry admitted with a grunted. "Seven," he corrected himself when the seventh knight got knocked out with a headbutt. "Hans is definitely ¡­ unique. Not enough unique to get me to completely agree with you on letting him have your hand in marriage."


    She hummed. "He''s not so foolish as to be fooled with my tits and face, though," she hummed. "Did you know that he let me command his servants?"


    "Did he now? Even though you are not the lady of the house yet?"


    "I think he''s testing me. I actually asked him why he did, though, and he said for him to see what kind of a person I truly was, he needed to give me power and see what I did with it."


    "A wise man for someone so young," he agreed. "And then what happened?"


    "He let me keep ordering his servants and people around after I showed how absolutely trustworthy I am!"


    Henry personally didn''t agree that she was absolutely trustworthy. She was loyal and smart but was also batshit insane at times. He still remembered when he first met her. He thought she was cool and pretty, even if she was a girl. Then she completely flipped that opinion around by shoving bugs down his shirt. His father had laughed at him when he ran around like a headless chicken while the servants tried to get him to stand still so they can pull the giant bug out.


    Isabella was unique, politicking at his level, long since used to advising her father on domestic matters, and driving Venetian merchant lords against each other when their employees upset her with their snide comments. Henry was sure that she would get herself hitched to the emperor or a king. Hell, even a duke would be within his expectations!


    But a baron?


    He didn''t believe it. She had to be coerced. Now that he was here, he was starting to understand. A man capable of whisking the secrets of the far east, creating delicious pastries, and defeating seven- eight knights by himself was more than a match for Isabella.


    He just ¡­ wasn''t great at talking with people?


    At least, Isabella thought so. He had a presence, she''d written to him, and he could feel that now that he was here, but that presence was wasted on a man so focused on doing anything but using his charisma. Even he could tell that Hans just simply wasn''t in ruling like he was. Actually, rather than a disinterest in ruling, Henry felt that Hans was simply interested in other things more. After all, a man who could bring this remote region of the empire to this standard surely had to possess at least decent leadership, no? And Henry could understand that after he saw the porcelain vase, the sweets, and a hundred other little things that were scattered throughout Fluelaberg.


    ¡­ It was, in effect, perfect for Isabella. She would be able to act as she pleased (within reason), and Hans won''t care as long as her actions had even a minor benefit to Fluelaberg, its people, and this Compact of his.


    He was sure that Isabella knew exactly that.


    Henry winced as the last of his knights collapsed to his knees after taking a hit to his padded head.


    He gave Hans the clap he deserved.


    "You are magnificent, aren''t you?"


    Hans looked at him, look around, and grinned. "I do a little bit of fighting." He didn''t even look winded.


    ''What a monster.''


    But he was a useful monster. Once he was married to his cousin, they would be bound by blood. An alliance would be easy to create, and he would serve as a bulwark against the Habsburgs and the worryingly enlarging Lordship of Milan.


    He could use this to his advantage.


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 55


    -VB-


    "Bandits?" Hans growled.


    "Yes, milord!" the thin, graying messenger from Chur bowed while on one knee. "They have attacked and burned down parts of Churwalden! The Prince-Bishop requests your help in culling the lowlives!"


    Henry glanced at his cousin and saw her frown. This must not be a usual occurrence.


    "Do you need help, baron?" he asked Hans quietly.


    Hans, who looked utterly incensed by the news, turned to him with a slightly calmed frown. "I do not," he replied before turning to one of the servants. "I will take care of this. Get to the armory and make sure that my kit is stocked. If not, inform me. I also need ten volunteers among my soldiers."


    The man quickly ran off, and Hans turned to the messenger. "Rest, messenger. I will ensure one of my messengers gets to Chur with the message. I will help because this is why the Compact was made, was it not?"


    The castle hall came alive with noise as the peasants and a few merchants who were allowed in for Henry''s farewell feast murmured among themselves. The content of their talks, however, was not what Henry expected.


    "How quickly do you think he will get rid of them?"


    "It may take a few weeks."


    "A few weeks? He stopped the Count of Zernez in under two!"


    "Yeah, well, we knew where he''s from, right? We don''t know where these bandits have their hideout at."


    "True, true."


    "Do you think he''ll go for a one-weapon campaign or a multi-weapon campaign?"


    "I''m curious as to whether he''ll bring anyone else along."


    "When he succeeds at this, the news of a bandit-less trade route might get us more trade."


    "But it''s close to winter. Will we get an uptick?"


    "Not sure."


    "Some of the soldiers need training. Maybe the baron will take some with him?"


    "Possibly. We could ask."


    It was almost ¡­ casual. The peasants and merchants didn''t treat this as something serious, which they always did in his territory. To these people, the upcoming bandit extermination was a matter of time, not if. They were so sure about Hans''s skills.


    (Henry could understand that, considering he''d seen Hans beat up a handful of knights by himself without taking a hit himself.)


    But fighting in the yard was different from fighting in the real world.


    "I still wish to help," he insisted.


    He''d already accepted the fact that his cousin was going to marry this man. While Hans''s lands were poor and he didn''t even own all of it, he would grow to be a formidable player in regional politics at the very least. He wasn''t sure if his uncle would agree, though. He was very protective of Isabella but he also never went against what Isabella wanted.


    Henry wanted to know what Hans was like in the field. If he truly was the master tactician and warrior, then he would tell his uncle that he approved. If not, then he wouldn''t.


    He won''t let Isabella marry a man who can''t protect her.


    Hans looked at him after his insistence and then nodded. "Alright, Your Grace. However, I am the commander as this is my responsibility."


    Brave and bold of him to stand up to him, a duke, and say straight to his face that he won''t give up command regardless of rank.


    "I will not usurp command," he agreed. "But if you perform reckless acts and hurt my men-at-arms, then I will have you answer to me."


    "Understood." Then he turned to the rest of the feast participants. "It seems that I must take care of a business for the Compact. Please, enjoy the rest of the feast my staff has prepared for you, and thank you for coming."


    Then he walked away, obviously heading toward his armory.


    Now, Henry was curious. He''d seen Hans fight. He''d seen Hans''s physique. He had yet to see what manner of arms and armor Hans favored. So he too left the feast, though he didn''t urge his guards to follow him; Hans''s castle was very safe.


    Henry followed Hans out of the castle hall. Walking a bit behind the baron, Henry eventually stopped when Hans did in front of a double door not too far from the hall. Was this on purpose, putting the armory close to the hall? Did Hans expect there to be fighting that weapons sat close to where people ate food?


    ¡­ Considering what he heard and read, that may just be the case. This Compact had been attacked multiple times during the Unruly Year.


    Hans threw the doors open and stepped into the naturally lit - and well-lit at that - armory.


    And Henry found himself blinking as he stared at rows upon rows of high-quality castle-forged steel weapons lining the walls and racks. His focus, however, came to a stop at the one weapon Hans bee-lined to.


    It was a slab of steel with a blade as broad as a man''s chest and tw-thirds as tall with a handle rounding out the last third of a man''s height. It couldn''t be called a sword. It was a ¡­ a lump of metal with two edges.


    Hans gripped the sword by the handle with both hands and lifted it up like a child would pick up a stick.


    He stood there, blinking in shock at Hans''s strength.


    How? Huh?


    "Alright, let''s go kill some bandits," Hans declared with the same casualness and lack of pomp one would talk about training in the yards.


    What?


    -VB-


    The mysteries did not stop there.


    Once he picked out a dozen men-at-arms, he and his men followed Hans where three wagons. These weren''t traditional carts but tented wagons. With two horses pulling each tented wagon, not only did they travel quickly, but thanks to the road, they traveled without issue.


    The armor that Hans''s men brought out was also weird. Instead of brigandine and the like, Fluelaberg soldiers had some kind of leaf-covered multi-shaded green attire. They also wielded crossbows and shortswords only.


    The road that Henry expected to end around Fluelaberg extended far beyond what he knew. It made travel easier, too. The travel itself was smooth. It took them less than an hour to reach the next town, Davos. At Hans''s direction, they did not stop for long, picking up a few volunteers, and traveled northward. Here, the road continued and reached the next town! Again, they didn''t stay except to pick up three volunteers and moved westward.


    And the road still continued. This wasn''t the Roman roads either. These roads were new.


    They passed through three more town, each with their volunteers, and each with a road connecting them all.


    And finally, they arrived at Chur itself on the road that seemed to connect all members of the Compact.


    -VB-


    "Your Grace," I bowed before the Bishop of Chur within his church.


    Despite the fact that he was nominally lower on the hierarchy within the Compact as not only our former enemy but also as a new member of it, he was still the ecclesiarchal bishop in charge of the diocese of Chur, which included the Forest Cantons (my home), Habsburg homeland, and the City-state of Zurich.


    So, by tradition, I bowed and he gave me his blessing. It was also my submission before the Lord and the church, which was symbolic.


    Once the symbolism of it all was handled, we got to the meat of the matter.


    The old bishop looked tired.


    I wondered what it must be like to have his lands and people attacked year after year. I wondered if he prayed to God and how he saw all of these problems. Were they tests for him and his people? Were they simply sins of mankind showing up again and again?


    He dismissed the priests and servants, leaving him alone with me.


    "I did not expect to call upon your help so soon, but you know my situation."


    I did. Chur had been one of two centers of the Unruly Year; the Compact had been the other center of the conflict. Having been attacked from the north and southwest against a tide of bodies outnumbering him three-to-one, he had lost much of the manpower he had when I had been a mercenary under the Baron of Vaz.


    Though he had not revealed it explicitly last time he visited me, I would be surprised if he had more than one hundred men, levies and men-at-arms combined, to attack the bandits. S?a??h the ?ov?l?ir?.n?t website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    "I took upon this responsibility when I advocated for your acceptance into the Compact. As the nominal lord of the alliance as dictated by the emperor, it is my job to ensure your safety and justice."


    He looked relieved that I wasn''t going to extort him for finding him at his low point.


    "God bless you, child."


    I waited for him to tell me what I needed to know.


    "The bandits¡­ they came from the south."


    "From Vaz?" I asked with a frown. Vaz should be within Chur''s territory¡­ No, I remembered that incorrectly. Vaz had been burned down. Churwalden had to be the furthest reach of the bishop''s territory.


    "No, further south. Churwalden had been attacked. The town lost two dozen men¡­ and at least four young women had been kidnapped."


    I didn''t need to be told what the bandits wanted with women. I would be lucky if I found them still alive.


    "Anyone spot which direction the bandits went off to?"


    "South towards Albula."


    "Understood."


    -VB-


    ¡­ And here too, Hans did not stay for long. He met with the Prince-Bishop and his knight commander, got the information on the bandits, received volunteers, and left within the day.


    Henry found himself marveling at the thought of having traveled the entirety of the Compact, a region of mountains, in two days. He expected the travel alone to take half a week!


    Again, Hans ordered the wagons to move out and within the same day as when they had left Chur, the now fifty-strong company found themselves entering the Albula region.


    This ¡­ was not part of the Compact. Moreover, this was, as far as Henry learned from his sister, a lawless area.


    The Unruly Year, as the locals called their little conflict, had left this region devastated, sacked and looted by a petty count to the west. It made sense that some of the people from this region might turn to banditry if they could not restart their livelihood.


    "How will you find them?" Henry inquired as their company settled to camp for the night


    "My men will scout tomorrow in their camouflage. I will, of course, search with them. However, you and all of the others that do not have clothes that help you blend in with the trees must stay and guard the camp."


    "... Very well. I trust that you will find the bandits quickly."


    -VB-


    The next morning, Henry watched the oddly dressed men, including Hans himself, walk into the forest.


    It took Henry only five seconds after the "camouflaged" men stepped into the forest to realize why Hans was using such attire.


    Even though the men had walked into the surrounding forests at a sedate pace, he couldn''t see them anymore. They couldn''t be more than ten feet into the forest, but they''d disappeared!


    ''Dangerous. Very dangerous,'' he thought. If he couldn''t see them within ten feet of the forest edge, then would he even know if a company of such men surrounded him?


    No, and he would be a dead man.


    Already, he dreaded ever coming into conflict with Hans. Give the man another year and he might even have this region pacified and added to his little alliance. Give him five and the regions further west might fall under his sway.


    Having Hans allied to his family by blood would be beneficial. He could see it now. The innovation, the goods, the trade route, the regional position of power, the chilling advances in war, the raw strength of the man himself, and the blessing of a bishop¡­


    Yes, all of it would be very beneficial for his expansion north. Perhaps he might even be able to beat back the Habsburgs in the Alps and kick them out of their own homeland. Henry felt a thrill at the thought of seeing the Duke of Austria fuming at losing his ancestral homeland and losing his valuable trade route and towns. He would grow stronger by minimally supporting Hans and Isabella.


    -VB-


    A/N: we hit 100k!


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 56


    -VB-


    Development.


    It meant a lot of things to a lot of people.


    Personally, I saw three levels of development: personal, communal, and societal. Personal development was what the Gamer was about, and I relished in the numbers going up on the screen and my own body doing things that it had no business doing.


    (Jumping off a mountain top and surviving a thousand feet roll filled with rocks and ledges was impossible but I survived anyway).


    Just look at my numbers. They gave me pumps of dopamine whenever I looked at them.


    [Character Status]


    Name: Hans von Fluelaberg


    Age: 20


    LvL: 40


    HP: 900


    MP: 400


    ST: 450


    STR: 90


    END: 90


    AGI: 69


    DEX: 57


    INT: 40


    CHA: 24


    I was nine times stronger, nine times healthier, nine times tougher, nearly seven times faster, nearly six times more nimble, four times smarter, and two and a half times more charismatic.


    Just look at those beauties!


    Now, I wasn''t sure how hard the human skull was on the Mohs hardness scale and whatever else exists in the future to come. What I did know, however, was the fact that I was capable of headbutting steel and winning. I wasn''t exactly sure how the END translated to toughness, but it did quite a bit if sharpened steel couldn''t cut my skin.


    So I wasn''t too worried about the bandits.


    Well, I was worried for my men.


    The near-silent footsteps of my trained guerrilla soldiers began approaching me from my rear. I remained still in my own camo and waited. This ability to hear something so far away with such accuracy was one of my new skills that I have been developing: Owl Sense.


    [Owl Sense] LvL. 3


    Increases accuracy and precision of hearing


    *ACTIVE: increases sensitivity of hearing by 1.5*LvL (-1 ST per minute)


    *PASSIVE: pick up any mention about yourself spoken in open air within (LvL)*20 yards


    Once the soldier was within six feet, I spoke up.


    "Report." The soldier faltered, and I knew that he had been surprised by my ability to detect him. I was surprised that he was still surprised. Hell, should I even take a gander at exactly who he was despite the camo gear (for a lack of a better word) covering him head to toe? Hmm¡­ The weight of the footfall was a little lighter than the others. "Daniel, report."


    That really shook him out of his funk. "Y-Yes, sir. We have spotted the bandit camp."


    I grinned savagely. "Good. Lead me to them."


    Daniel was one of the local boys who''d grown up and begged to be a soldier underneath me. At only seventeen years old, he would have been a high school student back ¡­ yeha, back in my old life. In this new life, he was a well-trained soldier. I wouldn''t let him fight a knight, of course. No, that''s stupid.


    I would, however, give him a hundred bolts, a repeating crossbow, and tell him to shoot down my enemies or hunt down some animals for families in need.


    It helped that he was small, which made the sneaky-beaky business easier for him overall.


    (But then again, everyone was small in this age.)


    I followed Daniel through the heavily wooded forests of the Alps, and after an hour of walking, we arrived near the edge of a clearing near the edge of the valley.


    The bandits hung out on the far end of the clearing, cooking a meal with food no doubt stolen from the people of Chur. What concerned me, though, was the knight that was with them. The bishop hadn''t mentioned any knight before. Could he be a hedge knight turned bandit?


    "Any lookouts?" I asked.


    "Yes, sir. They are all looking at a dirt road that leads into this place. There used to be a old house here, but the bandits used the last of the wooden structure for their fires."


    I hummed. "And where are the rest of your comrades located?"


    "All through the forest around the clearing. If you give us the signal, then we''ll go start shooting."


    The optimal distance for the repeating crossbows I have made and distributed to my men was 40 yards. At a glance, the clearing was just about that. On top of that, the bandits had carts on either side of their camp, which negated half of the attack venu es. On top of that, this was no small band of malnourished men but a full warband of nearly a hundred armored and armed solders.


    I looked around and grimaced. The women that were taken were over there by the far corner, and from the blood around and on them, they were very, very dead.


    "Have them retreat for now. We know where they are now. There''s no need to unnecessarily risk ourselves when the duke wants to fight, too."


    "As you command, sir."


    Then he whistled like a bird. The bandits didn''t notice at all, because the sound was exactly like that of the local rock thrushes but with a rhythm to it and repeated.


    -VB-


    "A knight?" Henry frowned and I nodded.


    "Saw it myself," I replied. "They have nearly a hundred members."


    "What about the women?"


    "Dead and left to the side."


    "Bastards."


    I hummed. "What I am worried about is the fact that these men are armed and armored in ways I don''t expect bandits to be."


    Henry stared at me for a moment before narrowing his eyes.


    "You think someone is setting them up. That these men are not bandits but mercenaries."


    I nodded.


    "I have been hearing from Bavarian merchants that they need to hire a lot of guards because there are way too many bandits between the Compact and Bavaria."


    "So someone who is a rival of the duchies there? Upper Bavaria shouldn''t have too many enemies who might risk the ire of the emperor¡­"


    "I don''t know too much about the politics of the empire, so I can''t say."


    "Don''t worry about it. I will, however, look into this when I return home," he "reassured" me. I supposed that I did feel something small at the thought of having foreign-entity backed entities in what was essentially my backyard, but I also didn''t like the way Henry was taking it up as his cause to act upon.


    Whatever. Something to think about.


    I stood up.


    At the same time, I was happy about this "bandit" warband. It gave me something new to do, and after months of repetitive grinding, I was getting sick and tired of it.


    "Okay then. We will attack soon. Have the soldiers ready; they''ll be the distraction that allows my men to strike from behind."


    -VB-


    Henry watched Hans as he disappeared into the forest again. His bluttumhang (leaf-cloaks[?]) didn''t come out of the forest with him, but they surely had to be out there.


    It still freaked him out hours after he learned about them and their capabilities.


    (Could he ask Hans to train some of his own men like that or send one of his bluttumhang to train his men?)


    After a moment of contemplation, he stood up. Hans had given him instructions on how to approach the bandit camp, so he would do so.


    "Men!" he turned around and called to his soldiers. "It seems like the good baron found the bandits!" There were murmurs as they started picking up their weapons. "We will go face them head on! The good baron has given us the privilege to show him and his people how real warriors and knights fight!"


    That got a few cheers out of the knights among them.


    "Besides, these are just bandits-"


    ---


    "Why do these bandits have four knights?!" Henry hissed as the four bandit knights faced off against his. Though numerically outnumbered, he and his men were holding.


    As Hans had told him to do so, he had taken his men and just walked up the path leading up to the bandit''s clearing. This would attract the attention of the bandits and, seeing that he had less people, would surely come to attack him with their own heavily armored and armed "knights."


    And as Hans said, they really were knights.


    These knights had hung back and only charged into the fight after the bandits had surrounded them and attacked.


    But the bandits hadn''t accounted for Hans, who''d struck them in the back with his rapidly firing crossbows.


    The skirmish turned into a chaos, and Henry found himself fending off two particularly well-armed "bandits."


    Bandits did not have a worn but well-cared for gambesons, maces, and shields. They did not have boots better than some of his own men.


    No, these were mercenaries hired to act like bandits in the rural backwater that would have little to no way of reporting what they did or looked like.


    "Cut them down!" he roared as he charged forth with his shield and bashed the face of the surprised mercenary to his left. He lashed out with his sword at the right, and got parried for his trouble. Instead of giving up, he whirled around, attempting another shield bash on the surviving mercenary but missed, but his sword came around and then caught the man''s shoulder.


    "AAHHH!!" the mercenary screamed as he lost his grip on the buckler.


    Seeing his opportunity, Henry tackled him. The mercenary fell back with a scream, and Henry used this chance to bring his sword down and silence him forever.


    Gasping with exertion after having killed his fifth men, Henry looked up and around. His knights were still fighting around him, but every men was essentially fighting their own battles with little to no organization¡­


    Except for the baron''s men.


    Having struck the bandits in the back, Hans had stepped up to fight in the front while his bluttumhangs cotninued to fire their crossbows in a precise manner.


    And, very briefly, Henry saw why Hans had managed to become the baron and leader of the Compact.


    It wasn''t every day that he got to see a fully armed mercenary with neckguard gambeson get beheaded and another more lightly armored mercenary-bandit get launched into the air, only to break his neck when he landed on his head.


    Henry grimaced as another mercenary came at him.


    Worse for him and his men was the nature of the battleground; the thick forest gave little to no room for wide maneuvers favored by commanders like himself. He couldn''t see what was going on beyond a good dozen yards, if that.


    The mercenary, a greybeard, tried to get a hit in with his weighty axe, but Henry just stepped back and then thrust his sword forward.


    The mercenary too stepped back, tried to push his sword away with his kite shield.


    Henry, knowing that he wouldn''t be able to move around to find an opening, struck at the shield, trying to make the man let go. Instead, all he did was make the old mercenary grin as his shield took hit and after hit.


    He stepped back and the mercenary waited for him.


    Henry looked around. Fighting was dying down. He could wait for his men to surround the old mercenary¡­


    But he wasn''t into that.


    He lightly tossed his sword up and then caught the blade with his armored and mailed hand.*


    The mercenary immediately recognized what he was going for.


    And then he struck.


    This time, the shield began chunking away as the weighty end of the improvised mace broke pieces off with each strike.


    The old man knew he was in trouble in both time and prospect.


    ¡­ So he dropped his axe and shield and ran for it.


    Too tired to give chase, Henry stopped and huffed, glaring at the back of-.


    Thunk.


    Of the old and dead mercenary whose head was decorated very recently by a crossbow bolt.


    He turned back to his knights and saw that one of them was dead while they had killed all of the bandit knights.


    And that was it.


    A hundred bandit-mercenaries wiped out in the course of less than an hour.


    He trudged his way over to where Hans was, checking up on a few of the more injured soldiers on his way, and came to stop close to the baron.


    "Find anything?" he asked.


    Hans nodded and reached down to one of the mercenaries he''d killed.


    Henry briefly glanced around.


    One of at least a dozen.


    When Hans came back up, he held a ripped insignia.


    Henry looked at it for a moment before shaking his head. "I don''t know which house that belongs to. Either it''s the shit''s personal thing or something he stole from the Franks."


    Hans grunted. "Well, I can ask the bishop if he knows," he said and then smiled. "Well, it seems like we''ve done a good job, eh?"


    Henry grinned with him.


    "Oh, yes. We definitely did the empire a great service today."


    And then it was time to split the loot.


    -VB-


    A/N: This technique is called mordhau for those unfamiliar with it.


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 57


    -VB-


    Rudolf I


    Duke of Upper Bavaria


    "What do you mean there was no one to meet you?" the Duke of Upper Bavaria, Rudolf the First of His Name, demanded.


    His men had been hard at work trying to determine both the capabilities of the Compact of the Eight - because it used to be seven before the Prince-Bishop of Chur joined them - and the corruption of the merchant guilds. One of the evidence he needed to punish the guilds was finding their collaborator among the bandits.


    "The bandits attacked the Prince-Bishop''s lands," his spymaster replied. "Who then requested help from the military arm of the Compact."


    "Fluelaberg."


    "Yes, Your Grace. Fluelaberg quickly mobilized, receiving some help from the visiting Duke of Carinthia, and used the roads they built over the last two years to reach Chur and then the target bandit gang''s area of operation within half a week."


    Rudolf thought about that. That was impressive.


    Crossing the Alps even during summer was no small endeavor. To cross it, however, small of a land through areas where he, a veteran commander, would hesitate to lead an army through?


    This Baron Hans of Fluelaberg deserved respect.


    "Did you get any information?" he asked instead.


    "Yes. Duke of Carinthia and the Baron of Fluelaberg were in the process of splitting the loot of arms, armor, and other accessories."


    "... And why is the Duke of Carinthia with the baron before I learned about it?"


    "It seemed to have been a surprise visit, and with the low volume of trade and travel as people prepare for fall harvest¡­"


    Rudolf sighed.


    If it wasn''t enough for him to contend with his younger brother, then he now had to contend with the Duke of Carinthia as well?


    While the whole of Bavaria might be too much for the fringe territories of Carinthia and Carniola, Rudolf knew that he wasn''t the duke of all Bavaria, "merely" Upper Bavaria. Upper Bavaria, as it was, was weaker in every measure compared to the combined might of Duke Henry, who ruled not only Carniola and Carinthia, thus giving him major military concessions that enabled him to fight the Slavs, but the man also ruled a huge chunk of the County of Tyrol, which was one of the major trade chokepoints that Bavaria relied on for trade to the Italian city-states and counties.


    Damn. Other lords were starting to notice the Compact. That wasn''t good for his own plans.


    Worse, his brother was going to notice the Compact soon, if he hadn''t already.


    Growling, Rudolf stood up to leave the room. "I will be in my garden."


    "Yes, Your Grace. I shall return later."


    -VB-


    Louis I


    (the other) Duke of Upper Bavaria


    Louis chuckled as he read through the reports coming in from his people in Chur, Rudolf''s court, and other places.


    Not only did Rudolf failed to get evidence to punish the guilds that were hounding him, he was now flailing to try to control the situation!


    It was moments like this that he enjoyed mercilessly teasing and ribbing his brother. Oh, the next time they met, he was going to tell him about what he heard over from Chur. It''ll piss him off to no end. After all, Rudolf did order his spymaster to insert his own into the Compact, but Louis countered that by having his own saboteurs create "accidents" in the roads near where the guilds'' "bandits" operated.


    Of course, Rudolf didn''t know! He was blind outside of Munich.


    "What will you do?" he asked himself but it was more of a question directed at this new rising star and his brother. "You got rid of a bandit group, sure, but you now know that there is something odd going on. Intrigue and politics in your lands that isn''t part of your people''s. It will no doubt lead back to us if any of the bandits were dumb enough to keep anything even half important in their pockets."


    If something so convenient did drop into Hans''s lap, then the guilds of Munich would be implicated. Thus Rudolf, being the current ruler over Munich, would be implicated. Hans would no doubt try to get the emperor involved as he has no other way to counter the wealth, military, and influence that Rudolf has, even as a stuck-up duke with nary a social skill.


    That said¡­


    He also was not a fan of the Gorizian duke. That man was too strong. He had no enemies to his flank or rear. If he gained Fluelaberg as an ally, then he would have only one path of expansion: north.


    And who was there?


    He and his brother''s Duchy of Upper Bavaria along with three other major duchies of similar strength and power.


    Louis did not fancy becoming a vassal of a Gorizia of all people. If he lost to a man who fathered the most number of bastards known to the empire, then he wouldn''t just be a loser; he would be a weak loser. He and his brother might be co-rulers, but the Duchy of Upper Bavaria was still a land based on fertile farmlands which was once the core of the long forgotten Stem Duchy of Bavaria. Losing to a "duchy" based out in the mountains with far less knights and levies?


    No.


    That would not do.


    So what should he do?


    He could try to assassinate any of the hill hicks.


    Unlikely to work but he could try. And then pin the blame on his brother.


    Oh my God, his genius brain.


    That was perfect! A successful assassination meant his flank was safe, but an unsuccessful assassination meant his brother would take the blame and either get jailed or forced to leave his position, leaving him, Louis I, as the sole ruler of the Duchy of Upper Bavaria.


    ¡­


    This was a genius plan.


    Alright then, who was he going to kill?


    ¡­ Actually, did he even need to kill the lords themselves? He heard from his men that Baron of Fluelaberg might have a love interest¡­ who was also the cousin of Duke of Carinthia¡­ and the daughter of Count of Gorizia.


    Why not kill her?


    Separate the three lords. Make them mistrust each other. Turn their blades not outwards but inwards.


    Genius.


    He liked this plan very much. Minimal cost to him as well.


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 58


    -VB-


    When we got back to Fluelaberg, I rummaged through the loot we gained to get some hint about who might have done sent mercenaries to raid my little mountain confederation.


    Well, we found one.


    "This is the sigil of the House of Wolfratshausen," Henry said as he showed me a coat of arms that had a black wolf with long limbs and a long red tongue sticking out from a wolf''s head on top of a white background.


    "I haven''t heard of that place at all," I hummed while staring at the sigil.


    "Well, there was a scandal a few years back where an innocent pilgrim was burnt at the stake," he replied. "The pope heard about it and made the man a saint."


    I blinked as did a few others.


    Isabella, who''d been by my right, clapped her hands once with a look of realization. "Oh, I heard about that! Wolfratshausen is that town?"


    "Yes," Henry muttered. "The town is under the rule of the House of Sallern, who as barons are pledged to the Duke of Upper Bavaria."


    "... This seems more and more like that the pesky dukes up there are trying to force the Compact under their thumb," I hummed. "But they are going about it in a horrible way."


    Henry and Isabella looked at me with obvious confusion and with cues asking me to elaborate.


    I shrugged. "Let''s say that you, Henry, wanted my lands."


    "Okay¡­?"


    "How would you go about it?"


    He frowned and closed his eyes. Obviously, he had seen much more of my land than some random duke over a hundred miles away. He''s personally been here before, he mentioned that, and was applying what he learned during his stay in my court and our brief bandit extermination excursion.


    And then I just asked him how he would go about usurping me. It was a bold move, one that can be taken as an offense. He might not want to respond as well, because if he was truly thinking about attacking me, then answering my question would reveal things that I might improve to defend myself.


    He took a deep breath in and turned to me but didn''t say anything for a moment.


    I wondered what he was thinking about. Would he think that I would look down on him for thinking of contingencies?


    ¡­ Maybe. Probably not, depending on what he was thinking about.


    "You care for your people."


    "Yes."


    "Then since you are the biggest threat when it comes to the Compact, I will go out of my way to hurt you when you can''t hurt me back. It''ll be in peace times. I''ll cut off trade in and out of the valleys. That only will do significant damage to the point where you might not be able to keep enough of your people fed."


    I nodded. "That was one of the first things I thought up."


    Trade was important to the people here because as much as I helped the people, I couldn''t overcome the simple fact that we lived in a resource-poor and arable land-poor Alps. A lot of what people traded here was wool for food with coins involved in the middle. If trade were to be cut off¡­


    At the lowest estimate, I might see a tenth of the people starve and half of them die. Another tenth might immigrate to find their livelihood elsewhere. Our major food import was from none other than Werdenberg, one of our enemies from the Unruly Year. It wouldn''t take too much poking for them to stop trading. Henry was also my neighbor to the west, who could direct any trade coming through Fluela Pass to Innsbruck instead, and merchants would go directly to Munich.


    Trade from the south would pass by Chur, but why pass by there when they could go a little further west and reach Zurich instead?


    In essence, the trade route I held was, at best, an accessory. It was important, yes, but it was neither the primary nor even the second choice.


    But.


    There was a but.


    "No one would go for it," I smiled.


    He smiled back. "No. Unless I directly controlled all of the lands surrounding your Compact, everyone would come to trade for the porcelain, fine jewelry, and sugar."


    I had managed to make the Compact just that much important to trade, and a lot of the merchants that used to ignore our little corner of the Alps redirected their focus in hopes of getting themselves a tidy profit. Oh, I also made it well known that our supplies were limited, and thus the merchants were always on each other''s necks, instead of hounding me and my people to sell more.


    More than that, I had gifted quite a number of lords to the west, northwest, and south. Henry was simply the latest lord to have received a gift from me.


    That''s what I have been doing silently over the last half year. I have been training volunteer militia into elite rangers, making connections with lords beyond the Alps, especially in the Po Valley, and luring the other local powers to join the Compact. Three such powers were the Lordship of Belmont, the Lord of Misox, and the Abbey of Disentis. If those three joined me, then I would have secured a passage to one of the more well-traveled trade routes between Swabia and Northern Italy. Critically speaking, Disentis and Belmont were very keen on joining after being told that they would be given special trade rights to purchase my goods at low cost. If they joined the Compact, then the Compact would be right up against Uri and my birth town of Erstfeld.


    (I wondered how mother would look like once she learns that the new up and coming regional power was headed by me of all people.)


    All of it had been done on the down low after I got that letter from the chancellor of Upper Bavaria. I''ve been distracted a little bit lately, especially since nothing came out of that letter exchange (I assumed that the chancellor got the hint that perhaps he shouldn''t poke the bear that was the current emperor).


    I, of course, wasn''t about to reveal that to Henry, though.


    "The point," I began. "Is that this kind of attack seems to be too ¡­ rough. Too straightforward. All it would take is half a dozen coat of arms stripped from the dead, and I would have the evidence necessary to ask the emperor to act against him. I don''t even need to be successful to have the duke isolated. He isn''t, after all, the only ruler of Upper Bavaria."


    Isabella hummed as she looked out of the glass window. The glass window in question wasn''t perfectly clear or consistent like the ones I had in my previous life, but it served to keep the heat in and give a clear view of the outside.


    "Regardless, you now have the means to pursue something if you want to," she added.


    "And what could I pursue?" I asked. "Because honestly, I don''t think I can do anything that won''t backfire horribly not against me but the people of the Compact."


    "In my opinion," Henry snorted. "You need to start caring less about the peasants. You think too much like a peasant. Worry about your position, family, and land before anything else, because without those, you are nothing."


    It was the same thing Isabella kept saying, and if I was just a regular joe with no power, I would have agreed and acted as such.


    But¡­ I wasn''t a regular joe, was I?


    Or was it a regular Schmidt?


    I looked at the two of them and smiled. It was obvious to them what caring meant but they didn''t know how to use it against someone. Perhaps they simply hadn''t thought of it. Or was it because it was a sin, one of the Ten Commandments?


    "No, for someone like me, you turn my friends and family against me."


    The two of them looked at me in surprise that I was even sharing this. I was sharing this, though, because I was confident in my place in the hearts and minds of the Compact''s people. After all, what were the words of weary and dirty travelers compared to that of the local bishops, priests, town mayors, village chiefs, and the very man who fought by your side?


    I didn''t elaborate further.


    "Well, for now, it seems that I have a letter to write."


    "To whom?" Isabella asked as she and her cousin watched me rise up.


    "Who but the emperor? Would he want to know who broke his peace? After all, he should have received my gift by now, so he would have me firmly in his memory."


    What was a jar of porcelain to me, aside from the cost of production and transportation, when I could have the ears of the emperor whose eyes would be blinded by the rare "Far East" porcelain?


    ''I haven''t been silent these past months, merely quiet, for inevitabilities like these,'' I thought to myself while wondering just how badly I could paint the Dukes of Upper Bavaria without outright condemning their actions.


    Because I''m mad.


    I''m fucking pissed.


    It''s one to hear about bandits hitting merchants passing through, it''s another when my people gets hit.


    And if worst comes to worst, it wouldn''t be too hard for me to ¡­ silence some nobles.

 Chapter 59-65

    Swiss ArmsChapter 59


    -VB-


    Isabella


    She let out a sigh of relief, the last of many today. Hans had taken her and Henry''s advice after returning from the bandit hunt, and she felt great about that. Yes, they were not married yet and nothing was set in stone (which meant everything might change), but Hans took her words seriously even though she was a woman.


    Yes, she already made it clear that she was no ordinary lady, which was already a hard enough job, but she was still surprised by Hans. It was one thing to listen to a woman during times of peace. It was another entirely to listen to a woman when military actions have been taken.


    Well, she supposed that some of it had to do with Henry''s insistence that he was family now through Isabella on more than one occasion, though he made sure to imply such rather than name it directly because he was trying to be careful as he too understood that since nothing was set in stone, he needed to walk a fine line lest he ruined it for her.


    And if he ruined this for her, then there would be nowhere that he could hide.


    As far as she was concerned, Hans''s willingness to integrate her into his council was a good thing as it gave her more assurance that he would be taking her on as his wife.


    "Bella."


    Isabella paused in her thoughts and looked over her shoulder.


    Henry had just walked onto the balcony, where she was thinking, and gave her a conspiratory look.


    She shook her head. There was no one watching them here; she knew that from experience and having a few of her servants, not peasants, ensuring that she had privacy when she needed to think.


    "Henry. What brings you here?"


    "... It''s about Hans."


    She gestured for him to take a seat on the sturdy wooden chair by the table. Like all things in the fort, even the furniture was sturdy. They weren''t elegant like the "porcelain" vase and dishes, but they were also not as prone to breakage.


    "What about Hans?"


    "He is as physically powerful as you told me that he was."


    She grinned. "I told you."


    "But there is a difference between being very strong and monstrously strong. Bella, I watched him cleave armored men with that sword of his."


    She frowned. She knew that Hans was ¡­ supernaturally strong. He was stronger than any man had the right to be, especially considering that he did not have the physique of a man who spent all of his time eating and training to get big.


    It was something she ignored so far because it never came up in an important question. But she was talking to Henry, who was an important man. Any conversation with him was important, no matter how casual it may sound on the surface.


    "It is ¡­ unnatural, yes," she agreed. She couldn''t avoid it anymore, it seemed. "There is simply no explanation."


    "And you are fine with continuing with your plans? Marrying a seemingly unnatural man?"


    "He is kind to me. He may even come to love me. On top of that, he gives me his time and attention on top of listening to my advice. He does not stop me from doing things I want as long as I do not harm him, his ventures, and his people. What else could a woman want?"


    Henry grumbled. "So you''re not scared of him?"


    "Are you?"


    "... I am."


    She looked at him in surprise.


    "Really?"


    "Yes. Why wouldn''t I be? I saw Hans split an armored man-at-arms with a shield from across the top of the shoulder to the other side of the body at the hip in one strike that didn''t even look like he put too much effort into. He sliced through armor, shield, flesh, bones, and organs in one clean hit." He took a deep breath. "And then there were the cloaked soldiers."


    "Cloaked soldiers¡­ Oh, you mean his rangers."


    "You know about them?"


    "Of course. He asked me to get some dyes that were used to make their cloaks."


    He shuddered.


    "If I ever have the urge to conquer these lands, make sure you remind me about these rangers. They would come and go, disappearing into the forests within a few steps. They could shoot me with their crossbows and I would have no idea where they would be. Nowhere in these valleys would I be safe."


    She smiled. "It''s good to know that you won''t be attacking Hans without serious consideration."


    "I would be foolish to attack him after everything I''ve learned here. I don''t want to wake up one night and find him looking at me with that monstrous sword in hand."


    -VB-


    Hans


    Henry eventually left, but he gave me his full support¡­ while eyeing Isabella and then at me with enough meaning about how I gained and would retain that support. After he left, I wrote that letter I said I would write.


    Sufficed to say, I knew the gist of the political situation as Henry explained - and Isabella confirmed - that taught me a few things.


    The original Duchy of Bavaria was currently splintered into at least a dozen duchies, none of which held dominance over the others save for the Duchy of Austria for the sole fact that Albert I, the emperor who named me baron and then went back to trying to consolidate his power and control in the rich Rhineland and Low Countries.


    At the same time, I was giving the emperor a reason to get deeply involved in Swabia and Bavaria. The former region was where the Habsburgs were originally from and lost a lot of their lands to small and large competition. Was it a good idea to give the Habsburg emperor that reason, that excuse, to start strutting around?


    I might kick off the Swiss-Habsburg wars earlier than the original timeline.


    "Why are you worried?"


    I looked up and saw Isabella.


    Just like myself, she''s done a lot of work behind the scenes. She''s especially taken my education focus as her own endeavor and pushed it as far as she could. She did not, however, agree with my measure of releasing what she considered to be critically important knowledge like the basics of science, politics, and economics.


    We actually had our first argument because of that and came to a compromise. My knowledge of the likes of politics and science was left out of my public library, for now, while the more widely distributed economy-related books were left there.


    "I am wary about bringing the Habsburgs into Swabian matters," I replied with a sigh.


    She looked at me in surprise. She knew that I knew much more than I appeared to, but I guessed that I surprised her again by knowing about the matters of high politics.


    "The current emperor is fixated on the Lowlands¡­ but you are worried about the emperor after him."


    "Yes," I replied. "Emperor Albert knows that his house does not hold the monopoly on power and wants to use the expansion of borders to the northeast and consolidation of power in the west to cement Habsburg rule in the empire, whether they are the emperor or not. If I give him a reason to send troops to Bavaria and these valleys, then they can use that as a precedent and excuse years down the line."


    "... I think you are thinking too hard about it," she replied to me as she sat down next to me. "Besides, he is not interested in your lands, is he?"


    "I don''t want to give him a reason to look in the first place. I may not be rich as the Lowlands nor as heavily populated, that might not be the case a decade from now. There may be more members that join the Compact, and if we grow big enough, then we become a piece of the game that no one can ignore to our benefit and detriment."


    Isabella sat down and seemed to ponder on my response. Or thinking of ways to make counterarguments.


    "Then how do you intend to stop the Bavarians? Just killing them over and over again is not going to work."


    "No, it won''t," I sighed. "... So what I wanted to do, by contacting the emperor, is to gain permission to go after whatever their ''base of operation'' may be."


    She paused.


    And then her eyes widened.


    "You want the emperor to sanction your military action, and because you will most likely be speaking about bandits¡­"


    "He has no reason to refuse unless I specifically tell him every single detail, starting with the house crests. What I am worried about is not being enough and having to call in the emperor after the situation escalates, because if it can escalate once, then it can escalate again."


    "You are making assumptions but I don''t fault you for that," she mumbled in reply. "I thought you were going to simply explain to the emperor the entire situation."


    I snorted. "I know that''s not going to work. Bavaria is far closer to the Duchy of Austria. If I explain in full, then he will definitely try to beat down the dukes. Hell, I know that the Duchy of Upper Bavaria is not ruled by one but two dukes. This will be a great reason for the emperor to force mandated division between the two dukes and then punish the one responsible, which will do doubt cut down on the threat they may pose if the two become one and then unite the rest of the region."


    Bavaria, as a region, was more prosperous and populous than the current Habsburg holdings in -.


    "He may even go so far as to repeat what his father did."


    "... Emperor Rudolf the First?" she asked and then widened her eyes. "Oh. The Swabian Free Imperial Cities."


    Albert''s father, Rudolf I of the Germans, was the man who fought a war with the Bohemians for the acquisition of the duchies of Austria and Styria and was also someone who readily broke the rule of Habsburg''s rivals, the Hohenzollern, by taking their estates in Swabia away and then declaring each and every city they ruled to be a Free Imperial City. These cities included Haguenau, Colmar, and Mulhouse.


    He was also the son-in-law of the late Meinherd II ¡­ of Gorizia-Tyrol, the late Duke of Carinthia and Henry''s father.


    Which made him my potential (probable) wife''s in-law''s in-law.


    And if one''s "family" was under attack, then someone like an emperor would definitely react.


    The situation had the pot-.


    "Dear, you are still thinking too deeply without any evidence."


    I glared at her before grumbling.


    "I think¡­ what you intend to do will achieve the results you want. It will keep the emperor busy and uninterested in this area, give you the chance to directly strike at your enemies without much reprisal, and prevent the Habsburgs from finding a reason to move in."


    "... You are awfully clinical about keeping your in-laws out."


    She smiled.


    "I said I will marry you, Hans. That means I am of your house now. All I can claim for this is that I am reducing the burden that the emperor might have had to take care of instead of strengthening the empire."


    Speaking of which, wasn''t John, my ward, also a Habsburg by blood, though not in name? He''s ¡­ probably not a problem. I''ve noticed that he''s been very cooperative. Even wanted to go out and help me hunt down the bandits. He''ll also turn into an adult soon enough. His mother told me that he had a marriage lined up for him, which would require that he return to his forefather''s ancestral lands.


    Gah. So much to do.


    ¡­ Well, the letter wasn''t going to write itself.


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 60


    -VB-


    Every choice mattered, and I found myself faced with making one of two choices.


    It wasn''t about conflict, domestic affairs, personal domestic affairs, or even trade.


    No, this was far more important, at least in this very moment that I had to make the decision.


    [You have reached your first 100 stat in Endurance. Please select your first perk.]


    Apparently, my somewhat neglected Gamer system had a perk system built into it, and the perks listed¡­ God, I wanted both of them.


    [Hierro: weapons that register as "minor" or lesser threats to the system will not pierce or scratch the skin of the player.]


    [Stim Boost: activate during combat to give the player a 10% increase across all physical stats for 1 hour (6 hr cooldown)]


    10% boost to all stats would be invaluable, but "during combat" limited its use to exactly that. Considering that most of my time was not in combat, Stim Boost was a perk with limited use. Hierro (I think that''s spanish for iron?) was more useful because it could protect me even when I am not paying attention, which would be useful both on and off the battlefield. Assassinations and workplace accidents came to mind.


    Hell, experimenting with gunpowder was a surefire way to get shrapnel inside me, but if I had Hierro, then I wouldn''t get shrapnel''ed, at least from primitive gunpowder accidents.


    ¡­ That kind of summed up which one I was going to take.


    I chose the Hierro and watched as the screens blinked off.


    ¡­ Was my skin actually that strong now?


    I grabbed one of the many rough jewels in my office. This one was ruby, a material that was second to diamond in hardness. However, ruby wasn''t uniform in a way that was suited to become a weapon or a tool. It could be cut and shaped just like a diamond but a raw ruby was not.


    And so when I stabbed down at myself with a sharp edge of the unfinished cut ruby, it did nothing. I tried slashing, slicing, digging, and even more stabbing but the ruby, a material harder than iron, could not cut into my skin.


    Because it was not a weapon nor a tool meant to cut into flesh.


    I frowned as I held up the gemstone and inspected it. It didn''t even look like it''s been damaged, either.


    "Does it depend on physics or my perception and biases?" I wondered out loud before setting the gemstone back down.


    Then I pulled out my letter opener from one of the drawers in my "office" desk and stabbed myself with it. The simple bronze knife bent instead of cutting into me despite having struck my skin at the perfect angle for a puncture.


    Snorting, I grabbed the blade, bent it back into shape (mostly), and stowed it back into its place.


    That would have cut into my skin at the very least if I didn''t have the Hierro.


    "Nice," I grinned.


    Feeling great about my choice, I got up, stretched, and headed out for non-office work.


    And that meant that my soldiers and the recruits would suffer my presence today. How fun.


    -VB-


    Leon


    Of Fluelaberg


    Former night soil farmer, former shop keep, now a mine manager


    (Last appearance: chapter 44)


    If the lord told him that managing a mine would have less to do with actually inspecting the miners and more about paperwork and mine inspections, then he might have laughed and rejected the offer.


    As it was, he was now a mine manager because he learned very quickly to read and write. He thought it would help him be a better miner, because the lord had a book about mining, but this instead caught the lord''s attention and he ended up in this position.


    It wasn''t all too bad. He got a consistent weekly pay, unlike the miners trying their luck.


    "Leon!"


    He looked up from his latest paperwork - which detailed how many people sold their raw ores and gemstones for money, how much money was spent and to whom, and more - and saw his new wife, Elenna.


    "Elenna, what are you doing here in the mines?" he asked her in surprise. His "office" was situated right next to the mines, which was the perfect place for him to just peer out of the window and exchange money for ores.


    Elenna, a short dark-haired young woman from Tyrol, huffed as she looked around his office.


    "I came to check on you when you didn''t come home for dinner!"


    He blinked and unlatched the hooks on the window. When he pulled the wooden panels open, he saw how dark it was outside.


    "Oh, I didn''t realize¡­" he muttered before closing the panels again and looking back at her. "Ah¡­ Sorry?"


    She huffed again and raised something she had been holding up. It was a box wrapped up in cloth and looked big enough to hold a meal for two people.


    "Dinner for you, my time-insensitive husband," she said before pulling a chair over to his table. He hurriedly moved the documents away as she untied the cloth and then opened the smooth wooden box.


    Inside the compartmentalized box was -.


    "... Goat?" he asked her.


    "Yes," she replied. "Beef was too expensive."


    That was an understatement. Before, eating meat was once a month thing. Now, he had it every week at least.


    He let out a sigh of relief while she snorted at his reaction while pulling out utensils from underneath the box.


    He met Elenna and her family when they arrived at Fluelaberg from the east. It was obvious then that Elenna''s father had done something to warrant uprooting their family from wherever they were from, and while her entire family claimed that they were from Tyrol, Leon suspected they might be from Bavaria and even further east.


    Regardless, he became smitten with her round, heart-shaped face, the resting bitch face, and *cough* curves. He was smitten with her enough that he forwent the dowry from the impoverished family.


    The wedding had been ¡­ just two months ago. The lord had been gracious enough to give him a full month of "vacation" from work while still being paid. It was a ridiculous thing for the lord to do, but it also sparked a rush among the people to get a position under the lord as it became clear that there were other benefits like that.


    Alas, he had to return to work, and Leon found out quickly that he had a tendency to lose track of time¡­ both in bed and at work.


    "I know this won''t be an issue when we have a child, yes?" she asked him abruptly, and he nearly choked.


    "O-Of course!"


    She nodded imperiously before digging into the goat meat stew.


    They ate together in comfortable silence.


    -VB-


    Albert I of Germany


    Haguenau


    There were very few things that irked Albert of the House of Habsburgs.


    One of those irksome factors was merchant guilds. They schemed and fought to profit themselves at the cost of the people who paid taxes. In cities and fiefs where the lords let the merchants go wild, the lesser commoners always found themselves downtrodden, weaker, and less able to pay their dues.


    Another irksome fact was those who ignored him.


    And from what the contents of this letter said, it was very clear that the Dukes of Bavaria were ignoring his words. He had proclaimed not just to the Swabian Alps but neighboring lands that there was to be peace. In response, the Bavarians had sent in their knights, dressed up poorly as bandits, to raid, plunder, and rape. It spat upon his face!


    Though he did not recognize the crests he received along with the letters, he very much appreciated having evidence to use to punish those who spat on his orders.


    In fact, he failed to get Holland and Zeeland, but this was an opportunity to get a replacement for the lost prizes in the Lowlands. Bavaria offered fertile land, and may serve as a path of westward expansion from his own holdings in the Duchy of Austria.


    But first, he had letters to write and dukes to visit after.


    -VB- S?a??h the N?v?lFire.n?t website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    Rudolf


    Duke of Upper Bavaria


    Munich


    Parchment crinkled underneath his fingers as his rage threatened to consume his entire consciousness.


    "Fucking¡­ merchants¡­!" he hissed and choked as his entire body trembled. His arms bulged as he stretched his discipline and control to keep himself from grabbing the table and throwing it at the wall.


    Spies in Fluelaberg finally managed to grab a hold of some of the evidence the Baron of Fluelaberg gathered from the bandit hunt and sketched the coat of arms on the letter.


    And they were the coat of arms of his own bannermen. Of knights, barons, and even vogts. Oh, he knew these coats of arms because they were the ones who the merchants complained the most about being in debt.


    And it was so fucking obvious how the merchants demanded his bannermen repay their debts: by attacking the merchants'' perceived enemy in another lord''s lands.


    Finally, the parchment couldn''t take his trembling hands anymore and tore in half. With it went his control.


    "GAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!"


    He grabbed the table and flung it, and his spymaster casually ducked underneath the flying furniture.


    Rudolf stood where he threw the table, heaving with his flaring nostrils and wide open mouth. He was so close to drawing his sword and stabbing those bastards, merchants and bannermen alike! They were going to ruin-.


    He froze when he saw the uncomfortable face on his spymaster.


    "There''s more."


    It wasn''t a question.


    The spymaster wordlessly produced another letter.


    He tore the envelope open and looked at the letter.


    And the rage drained away as he realized just how big this shitfest was about to become. He dropped back into his seat.


    "Fluelaberg sent a letter to the emperor," he uttered. "Instead of directly confronting me about it where I could control the situation, the bastard sent a letter to that land-hungry emperor."


    Trouble was coming, and Rudolf had a limited window of time to show that he wasn''t the one causing issues.


    That meant¡­


    "I need to contact the Fluelaberg directly."


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 61


    -VB-


    I am not a rational actor.


    I knew this for a fact. What kind of a person decides to become a hermit when they had access to potentially world-changing power?


    An irrational actor did. In this era where it was even more imperative for someone to take the chance to achieve the most they could simply because life was harder, I chose to try and take it easy.


    But I had my reasons. The biggest of them was how badly I changed the political landscape of the Swabian Alps with a single battle participation. The Unruly Year never happened in my past life''s timeline, but it did in this one. As for the number of people dead, my best estimate to this date was over ten thousand. In some of the least populated areas of Europe, ten thousand people died. Our population density had to be similar to mountainous Scandinavia, for fuck''s sake, and so many people died!


    Because I got greedy once.


    And then I had to act afterward to save my neighbors and then my people.


    I still got to enjoy some of the hermit lifestyle, but there was a sense of hesitation that came with even enjoying bits of it.


    Should I be spending time with it?


    Shouldn''t I be expanding something - anything - that would ensure the prosperity of my people?


    Shouldn''t I be building more roads and schools?


    Shouldn''t I be opening workshops in other villages?


    Shouldn''t I -?


    Shouldn''t I -?


    I was ¡­ never the most secure person. I never charged into a situation in my first life without having a backup plan and a contingency for the backup.


    It was at this point that Isabella entered the picture and began to help me untangle some of my thoughts. Sure, she had been ¡­ anachronistically forward with her intentions, but it was also one that was refreshing. I think that''s what led me to accept her "proposal," because, for all of the time I spent growing up in this era, I couldn''t think like the rest of the people here; I''d been infected long ago by the curse of knowledge, and the lack of memory wipe prior to reincarnation made sure that curse followed me.


    I think that inflexibility initially pushed me toward the hermit lifestyle.


    I could be as post-modern cosmopolitan man as much as I wanted if I didn''t have the social pressure to deal with, right?


    It certainly influenced my decision to allow everyone from Muslim Moroccans to Bulgarian Jews to come and settle in my town. This ¡­ was something I did despite having encountered some resistance from other members of the Compact.


    It was something that never came up as a big deal because the rule of the Compact both prevented and discouraged other members from interfering in the internal affairs of other members as long as they could not conclusively prove the act to be harmful to the "greater good" of the Compact.


    What was I getting to with all of this rambling?


    ¡­ Right.


    I was not a rational actor.


    I am so irrational, in fact, that an unproven shred of evidence was enough for me to hyperfocus on the Duchy of Upper Bavaria. They already had a track record of wanting my shit, so why wouldn''t I? Even if the coat of arms was fake, they were the only ones interested and capable of sending their men-at-arms as bandits. This was something I checked with Isabella.


    The Lordship of Milan was focused completely on their Italian neighbors and only minutely on the Forest Cantons, the states that would become the Old Swiss Confederacy in my old life. I didn''t share a border with them to be worth investing time and effort into. The Duchy of Austria, the emperor, did share a border with me, but he had been focused solely on the Lowlands until I raised the alarm about recent shenanigans in the Alps; he most likely wasn''t the culprit. Tyrol was in my soon-to-be cousin-in-law''s hands. Count of Gorizia was my soon-to-be father-in-law. My former enemies during the Unruly Year? I knew for a fact that John, the Count of Toggenburg, was not involved because he was still staying with me, though that would change within the week as he became an adult in the eyes of this era. Werdenberg? They were busy making money hand over fist from trade that went through their lands. Sargans? The number of their men-at-arms that regularly interacted with other members of the Compact hadn''t decreased. In fact, the Count of Sargans had made inquiries about becoming an "associate" of the Compact, so he couldn''t be one.


    This left the Duchy of Upper Bavaria and the County of Montfort. Only the former had shown belligerence prior to the bandit attack. The Count of Montfort was busy making trade deals with some of the Compact members, however minor those deals were. He also lost a shit ton of soldiers to us; he didn''t have the capacity to send knights and men-at-arms for that kind of shit.


    So what did this have to do with my hyperfocus on the most likely suspect?


    Because I was planning on thoroughly subduing the Duchy of Upper Bavaria if it was ever proven that they were even partially responsible for the bandit attack. Oh, it would be hard, especially because most members of the Compact were unlikely to join in on the offensive. Why would they? They were ordinary villagers in the Alps. Surviving was already hard before I came along. The Unruly Year killed more than a few of them. Any and all offensive would have to be done with my rangers, a few of the volunteers, mercenaries, and maybe some help from my future in-laws.


    How would I go about ruining a duchy that was almost fifty times the size of my personal lands?


    I couldn''t go and ruin trade; trade was not a significant part of a lord''s income or the livelihood of the vast majority of commoners in these areas. It might affect them somewhat and hurt the seat of their power, Munich, but that wouldn''t stop Upper Bavaria from furthering messing with me and my people.


    ¡­ I was going to have to face them in open battle, wasn''t I? While I would happily kill their dukes in their sleeps, if anyone ever found out, then it would be an existential crisis not for me but for my people. The emperor would use it as an excuse to expand into the Compact, which would no doubt help him in connecting his Swiss Austrian lands and the Duchy of Austria proper.


    Knock knock.


    I looked up from what I had written down, which was nothing incriminating. "Come in." The door to my solar opened, and I saw John (the Count of Toggenburg and my ward) walk in. "John. What''s up?"


    He looked at me for a second before taking a deep breath in.


    "Today''s my birthday."


    ¡­ Yes, I know that. I already have a birthday present ready for you. "Yes, it is. You''re an adult now," I said with a smile. I wouldn''t call a 15-year-old an adult, but them''s the rules.


    He took a deep breath in.


    "I, Count John of Toggenburg, formally ask for a membership with the Compact."


    My quill dropped from my hand.


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 62


    -VB-


    Early Expansions: Toggenburg


    The joining of the County of Toggenburg to the Compact soon became a turning point in the entirety of Swabian Alps region. While it might not have changed the Compact''s status as a local power, it certainly started a cascade of events that saw other unsure fiefs, cities, and nobles seeking to join in on the alliance.


    Count John I of Toggenburg quickly adopted much of the pragmatic ideas and tools used by Fluelaberg. In particular, he chose to adopt the usage of guerilla tactics and rangers Fluelaberg developed before the ****** War. Count John I would use these advantages that no one else in the region had adopted for the mountains and forested valleys, and waged war upon the County of Sargans. Toggenburg would double in size as a result of this war, and lead to their and Compact''s norhtern neighbor, County of Werdenberg, to seek member for protection as well.


    This would lead to the ***** War where the new Holy Roman Emperor ******* of Habsburg would seek to prevent the rise of a regional power right next to Habsburg''s homeland in the Swabian Alps, which was also a fief held by the emperor.


    This, of course, completely ignored the conflict the Compact fought against the Dukes of Upper Bavaria years prior, which Toggenburg also took part in.


    In this chapter, we will discuss the specifics of how Toggenburg''s induction into the Compact shifted the balance of power within and outside of the Compact.


    Except from The Swiss High Medieval Wars by Professor Jennifer Awenschieder (2011).


    -VB-


    Deacon Benjamin


    He took a long sip of his warmed honey water.


    Honey was not rare but it was also expensive, especially in the quantities that he acquired lately. Or it would have been expensive had he not been in contact with the Baron of Fluelaberg.


    Ah, the baron.


    He was a noble who worked like a commoner yet created things so ¡­ beautiful.


    Benjamin glanced down at his cup. It shined in the fall noon sunlight: a glass cup. Not a wooden cup. Not an iron cup. Not a silver or gold cup. A glass cup. To think that a mere deacon like him would be able to hold a glass cup like this and have it for personal use.


    Of course, he didn''t gloat about it. It was a precious gift from the baron. He wouldn''t dare to use it to make his fellow brothers and sisters in Christ jealous over it! No, it was best used for quiet, personal time.


    Knock knock.


    He sighed. Downing the entire cup, he set it aside in his desk, stood up, and walked over to the door. He opened it and saw a man on the other side.


    "Oh, Brother James. How can I help you?" he asked.


    The older brother gulped. "The bishop wishes to see you, deacon."


    "The bishop?"


    ---


    "Your Holiness, how may I be of service?" he asked after kissing the bishop''s ring.


    "Please, take a seat, child," the bishop asked and he did. "Just yesterday evening, a fast-track courier came by from Fluelaberg. He delivered a letter from the baron himself. From what I am told, seven other such letters have been sent out."


    "A request to all of the representatives of the Compact?"


    "Indeed, and this is because there is a very good reason for such a request," he said before taking a deep breath in and letting it out. "The new heir of Toggenburg has come of age as a ward of the baron, and on the day of his majority, he requested the baron for his County of Toggenburg to become a part of the Compact."


    "... I see," Benjamin muttered. "I don''t see, however, how I can be of service to you regarding this, Your Holiness."


    "You met the count."


    ''Ah, I see. I am an eye witness to the count''s character.'' "I have."


    "Tell me, what kind of a young man is he?"


    "... Do you wish to know his flaws first or his strengths?"


    "Let us start with flaws and then finish with strengths."


    "Very well, Your Holiness. John, the first of his name, is a loud bo- young man. He is greedy but not overly so. He hates theology and abhors having to learn things that do not interest him. John is not a warrior, however, and wars do not interest him as much as women do."


    "Ah, I see. So a regular young man?"


    "More or less. He is, however, a learned student of Hans of Fluelaberg," Benjamin continued. "If there is one thing that the baron-in-denial drilled into his ward, then it is discipline. From what I have heard, Count John trains regularly with the baron''s rangers, a group of soldiers dedicated to mastering how Hans likes to fight his wars. I believe you are familiar with it?"


    "Overwhelmingly powerful on the battlefield and scary outside of it?"


    "Well, yes, but more on how he achieves it. He surprises everyone, Your Holiness. These rangers, as far as I saw and what Hans told me, would be the ghosts that stalk any enemies in the day and night. They use the forests and the trees as cover, rough cloak that can be used as cover to blend in with the rocks, and fast-firing crossbows that might need some preparation beforehand but can shoot many bolts before they disappear into the woods again."


    "I see. And John is familiar with these?"


    "Yes. The boy often talked about how he will make his own rangers once he returns to his ancestral lands."


    "And the baron ¡­ let John learn of these tactics?"


    He nodded. "That''s where the second part comes in, Your Holiness. Count John is very enamored by what the baron does."


    "How so? Is it his strength?"


    "His strength is secondary, if not tertiary, to what the count sees. I would wager that it is how effectively and overwhelmingly powerful the baron shows he is outside of the battlefield."


    "The craftsmen and trade."


    Benjamin nodded. "Yes, Your Holiness. Count John is greedy. He wants more yet he seeks to have closer ties with the baron. If it wasn''t for Isabella of Gorizia, then he might even try to betroth his sister to the baron."


    "Betrothing to a baron instead of his peers?" the bishop hummed. "I could see it. If it was anyone else, I would not, but with Hans, I can see a count wishing to do so."


    "And perhaps most important to your role as the secular ruler of Chur¡­ I may have overheard talks between the count and the baron about the count wishing to physically connect his lands with that of the Compact to facilitate trade. Or rather to remove a barrier to trade."


    And there was only one fief between Toggenburg lands and the Compact.


    "Sargans," the bishop hissed.


    "Yes, Your Holiness. They struck you down when you were weak. I am personally inclined to allow the count into the Compact if it meant that Sargans, the treachery bastards who would bow their heads to you in prayer, would lose their holdings and titles."


    "That would be for the best, yes, even if they do not lose all of their titles."


    Benjamin could see that the bishop was already going to vote in favor of the young count.


    -VB-


    Rudolf II, Count of Sargans ***


    Today, he had been looking over the reports of his castle''s budget and the tax the peasants working his lands had paid him.


    So far, he was in the black. However, it was so slim of a margin that left him in the black that he may as well be in the red.


    This had been part of the reason why he had taken part in the Unruly Year as even he himself came to call it. That year was a chaotic mess for those within these valleys as everyone scrambled for dominance and protection.


    ''To think that the ones who came out on top was not any of my peers but peasants,'' he thought with a grumble. It still irked him that peasants who had no right to rise up above him and his peers stood above them, and he knew for a fact that this was because of that one man: Hans von Fluelaberg. The uppity peasant had been favored by the emperor for some reason, and only continued to gain favors as time went on.


    Of course, Rudolf knew why; the baron found out how to replicate the ways of the Far East in the creation of those "porcelain" of his. It was beautiful. And then glass began to be sold.


    He glanced at his glass cup. He too might have bought a few crates, kept a select few, and then sold the rest to nobles and merchants alike who did not have the means or the time to pass by Fluelaberg.


    He might not have gotten those glasswares if it had not been for his spy embedded within the "mining cooperative" of Fluelaberg.


    Hah! The baron was stupid. He allowed the miners to have ownership of what came out of the mines. Daily entry fees? Gemstone and ore buyback? Refining services?!


    The peasant-baron was mad, and he would doom his tiny fief. Rudolf was sure of it.


    "MILORD!"


    The sudden shout surprised Rudolf and his quill gritted across the paper (a product that also came out of the Compact). The inked quill ruined the document he had been working on. Irritated, he looked up and glared at -.


    "Karl? What are you doing here right now?" he asked his spy.


    Karl of Walenstatt gasped as he stumbled into his solar without invitation and placed an envelope.


    "P-Please. Read it. Important."


    "Did you run up five flights of stairs?" he asked the foolish minor noble before he did as he was asked. He opened the envelope, pulled out a letter (the letter said it was a copy of a letter sent to the village chief of Maienfeld), and read it.


    And read it again.


    And read it again.


    Gritting his teeth, he glared at the spy.


    "Are you sure?"


    He nodded frantically through his fatigue.


    "I cannot let Toggenburg join the peasants. They would have me cornered to a wall¡­!"


    And they had more than enough reason, once they joined forces, to cut off trade coming to his lands, including food trade. He did, after all, attack the bishop multiple times. It would starve him and his peasants. "No, this cannot stand. Mansk!"


    The tall man-at-arms walked into his solar.


    "Yes, milord."


    "Prepare the men! And Karl, I want to know when that boy count is passing through Maienfeld''s lands. I want this to look like an accident that happened inside their own lands and not mine."


    -VB-


    A/N:


    *** This is not the Duke of Upper Bavaria. This is a wholly different person/character. He had a single screentime, less than 200 words, back in Chapter 26.


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 63


    -VB-


    John''s sudden request to join the Compact stirred up the rest of the Compact, especially in Maienfeld which was the closest to Toggenburg lands.


    This wasn''t about them feeling upset. It was the opposite. They saw the admittance of Toggenburg as a good thing because it would mean they would have to worry less about any attacks which may come from that side. Trade would also increase as tariffs would be removed between Toggenburg lands and that of the Compact.


    However, the smaller members like Langweis and St. Peter did not like the idea. They were already insulated from external threats by being away from the border of the Compact, and more, their smaller villages were already feeling symptoms of losing out on trade as their people had ¡­ stubbornly refused to change. While places like Klosters and Maienfeld had benefited by fully adopting the new technologies I''ve offered them as peace offerings, Langweis and St. Peter had depended too much on Chur for ¡­ basically everything. It was understandable in their position as they were not only the smallest two villages out of our nine members but also the ones stuck behind Chur and surrounded by mountains. Yes, we were in the Alps and most of us lived in valleys, but St. Peter and Langweis was surrounded by mountain peaks, literally. On top of that, they were shadowed by their even bigger neighbor, Arosa.


    Ah, I digressed.


    Fortunately, even if they didn''t want Toggenburg in the Compact and voted against John, there were enough approving votes that it wouldn''t matter.


    "You think the vote will pass?" John asked from my side while the rest of the representatives of the Compact walked into the meeting hall, provided by the Bishop of Chur.


    "I believe it will pass in our favor," I replied more formally than I normally spoke with John. It was because I didn''t want to appear too friendly lest some of the approving votes turn sour at the thought of a "subversive" element among them. As if it was they who made the Compact and not me. As if they did anything but reap the rewards of my work and knowledge.


    I paused when I felt my right hand squeeze and looked at Isabella.


    I smiled at her, thanking her silently for the reminder.


    My growing ¡­ distaste for the smaller and non-contributing members of the Compact weighed on my mind and had done so since I began to really think about how I wanted the Compact to last. Isabella had been with me every step of the way, and just before we came to Chur, I proposed to her.


    She now proudly wore a gold ring with a 3-carat round brilliant cut spinel ruby set on top of it. By twenty-first-century standards, the ring itself would be worth around twenty-thousand dollars at a minimum. In my opinion, however, the ring was worth far less than the person who wore it.


    John looked uncomfortable at our eye-fucking. Deal with it, boy.


    I cleared my throat and waited for the rest of the representatives to seat themselves. John was here as the candidate himself, I represented Fluelaberg, Kraft, who I haven''t seen in some time, was here as Davos''s representative, and Isabella was an outside observer. Some villages and towns sent their mayor or chief while others sent relatives of the said leaders.


    Or in the rare case of Klosters, a merchant.


    I knew that Klosters had been getting in cahoots with a Bavarian merchant looking to set up a regular trade route between us and the Duchy of Lower Bavaria, specifically the city of Ingolstadt, the seat of the Duchy.


    ¡­ Well, even if the merchant "abused" his seat and voted against John and I, I still had my vote, Kraft''s, the bishop''s, Maienfeld''s, and Schiers''. Those were enough for the majority.


    Once everyone was seated and talking with each other, the bishop stood up; he had been given the honor of being the head of today''s meeting.


    "Welcome to Prince-Bishopric of Chur," he began with an emphasis on his secular title. The clean-shaven and somewhat elderly bishop looked around as the talks quieted and everyone focused on him. If he had a bushy beard, then it would have gone great with the winter fox coat he was wearing but alas, it was a missed opportunity. "Today, we gather here, the third meeting of its kind, to decide the fate of the Compact. A request had been made by Count John the First of Toggenburg to join in on the Compact''s military and economic alliance." Murmurs broke out briefly. "Count John, please stand up and make your case."


    I gave John a nod, and the fifteen-year-old stood up to face a dozen people who were all at least two decades older than him.


    "Greetings, representatives of the Compact. I am Count John the First of Toggenburg. Until very recently, I spent my time as a ward of Hans of Fluelaberg."


    I nodded. It was a known fact but I was conveying that he was and remained my ward as John conveyed. The representatives all saw me nod, and this gave John a degree of trustworthiness. If I, the founder of the Compact, trusted John to speak the truth and remain silent as he spoke, then he must be speaking the truth.


    "I am envious."


    Oh?


    "I have seen almost all of the Compact from my foster father''s side, and I found myself envious of the works you have created." Then he pointed north. "The road that connects Chur, Maienfeld, Schiers, Klosters, Davos and finally, Fluelaberg. You have created a road that may not be a one-to-one match for the Ancient Roman Road, but it is still nonetheless an achievement you carried out in under five years! That ¡­ is a show of your character!"


    Ah, he was looking to butter them up before moving in for the kill.


    "But it is a road that I often saw was unguarded."


    There we go.


    I looked around and noted more than half of the representatives nodding along.


    "And while I am aware that the Compact relies heavily on Fluelaberg for its military matters, is that not too much for a single barony not even five years old? I have seen the people of Fluelaberg dedicate themselves not just to the craft but also to war. They go where their baron commands them. They train rigorously! They stand ready to defend themselves and their allies!" Then he thumped his chest. "I


    "Remember, John," I told him when we first discussed how we would convince others to let John join us. "Commoners do not have the same goal as the nobility. Sure, prosperity is the common goal of all but the path are different."


    "How different could they be?"


    "Honor is not a big issue among peasants as it is between the nobility. When you need to persuade the commoners like myself, you either do it through money or military might."


    "You want me to threaten them?!"


    SMACK.


    "Ow."


    "No, you idiot. You tell them that you will guard their west. Your lands extend into the Walenstadt, right? Well, tell them that you will make sure Walenstadt will be the gate you will guard over."


    "... You''re right. Walenstadt is part of my land. Father supposedly neglected it, according to mother¡­"


    "There you go. Not only do you get to improve your land but you also do as a lord should: protecting the commoners around you."


    "Walenstadt has been left in disrepair for some time. I intend to give it the attention it needs and develop it into a proper point of protection for the Compact''s western border."


    This time, the murmuring that broke out sounded much more in favor of John.


    ---


    There was a small recess during which representatives split off to talk with John and each other.


    What I did not expect was to be approached by the merchant representing Klosters.


    "Baron Fluelaberg," he greeted me with a bow. "It''s an honor to meet you."


    "Thank you. And you are¡­?"


    The merchant raised his head back up. Covered with a brown cloak on top and a deep blue shirt underneath, this man subtly displayed wealth while covering it up in normal attire. That blue shirt, for example, was made with a few cans of the dye I made after I dyed Isabella''s dress.


    The man smiled, making the corners of his lips rise and the skin around them fold lightly. "I am Ernst of Memmingen."


    Memmingen? The Free Imperial City?


    "What can I do for a merchant from the Free Imperial City?" I asked and the merchant smirked.


    "I see that you are educated as they say."


    I waved him off. "My father happened to have been hired by the city when it was vying for independence from the House of Welf." He really was, though he didn''t tell me, a child of three, about the details; I just happened to remember him telling Mom about how shit the garrison job was.


    "I see," he hummed before he reached into his cloak and pulled out an envelope. "A message from the Lord Mayor of Memmingen to Baron Hans von Fluelaberg."


    Raising an eyebrow, I took the envelope, tore it open, and unfolded the letter.


    My face contorted little by little as I read down the lines.


    And then, for certainty''s sake, I read it again.


    Then I read it again with bubbling wrath.


    After the third read, I gently and neatly folded it up and stowed it away in my pants pocket. I looked up and cleared my throat, ready to thank Mr. Ernst. What I saw instead was a man holding his ground despite sweating. His pale face contrasted with his previously dark peach tone. Why was he¡­?


    [Ping! Would you like to keep [Intimidation] up? There are no targets.]


    Oh. That''s why.


    I hastily shut it down and smiled at the still-shivering man.


    "Herr Ernst," I called him and he somewhat shook out of his stupor. "The Free Imperial City of Memmingen has proved itself to be ¡­ a friend. I am very willing to shower my friend with gifts, so please come visit Fluelaberg before you return to Memmingen."


    "O-Of course," he muttered.


    "Until next time then, Herr Ernst."


    -VB-


    To Baron Hans von Fluelaberg,


    I am Albert von Lorsmich, and I write to you as the Lord Mayor of Memmingnen. Though you may not know this, you have become a known figure in the Eastern Swabian lands as a man of means, innovation, and military might. How else could a mere commoner rise to the ranks of a baron without such traits?


    However, troubles have been brewing outside of your lands. I have been contacted a number of times by merchants elsewhere about the flow of trade goods coming from your lands, and have noted that many times have caravans ladden with your wares been struck by bandits while peddlers were killed for the same reason.


    What I noticed, however, was that peddlers and caravans bearing the sigil of the Merchant Guilds of Munich have not been touched not once while my own city''s caravans have been struck numerous times in the past year.


    It has become clear to me that something sinister is afoot, and I have taken it upon myself to investigate these matters because while they may be outside of your concern, these ruffians are still targeting good men with your goods. What I have discovered is a conspiracy to bring ruin to your lands.


    The guilds of Munich have been wary of you, Lord Hans. They saw your rise as an oddity but the sudden flow of exotic goods to be a threat to their way of life. They have poured money and men to strangle the trade in the Duchy of Upper Bavaria, and the duke himself has done little to change this.


    I fear, milord, that the Duke of Upper Bavaria may be in on this conspiracy to see your downfall. I send this letter to you as the man in charge of Memmingen, someone in a position like yours: threatened by the greedy dukes.


    Please, be careful. The dukes of Upper Bavaria have extensive connections and wealth, and should they decide to bring you down in full, there may be little you can do to stop them.


    Signed,


    Albert von Lorsmich


    Lord Mayor of Memmingnen


    Baron of Steinheim


    House of Lorsmich


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 64


    -VB-


    The vote came to pass, and John of Toggenburg was admitted into the Compact as a new member, and declared the "Guardian of the West," a reminder of what he spoke about in his persuasive speech and what his defined role within the Compact was.


    John didn''t particularly mind. In fact, he considered it an honor to be considered a secular equal to the Prince-Bishop of Chur Siegfried because that mattered.


    We also kind of did away with the numbering thing. At this point, we were Compact of the Ten, but constantly having to change it was irritating a few people. It wasn''t a big deal for most of us so we just did away with the convention in favor of simply calling ourselves "The Compact."


    Beyond that, we also held several more votes as people brought forth proposals. The more confined members wanted some more benefits, the trade-centric ones wanted more access and tariffs, so on and so on.


    So what should have been a weekend meeting ended up being a week-long meeting.


    During which John was allowed to sit as a member, we voted on and passed some of the measures. The most critical of these were the [Defense Act of 1302], [Militia Act of 1302], and [Trade Act of 1302].


    The Defense Act of 1302 laid out the responsibilities and duties of citizens and the individual member states of the Compact. Primarily, this was the act in defense of thy neighbor clause in the Defense Act. Essentially, if one acted in the defense of his neighbor against a violent perpetrator in the act of violence, then many crimes could be forgiven depending on the circumstances. This was an accepted fact across the world, of course, but by writing it down as a law, it gave legal protection where there were none before.


    The Militia Act of 1302 essentially demanded that each member state of the Compact maintain an active militia. It also gave militia members the right to own steel armor, if they could get their hands on it.


    The Trade Act of 1302 made it so that there was no tariff between the member states for more common goods like fabric, food, and wool; this was to satisfy the smaller members that have taken up the position of being the main fabric producers in our region as other members, like Davos, shifted away from their own fabric production (something which all villages did as a rule of thumb). It placed tariffs on "luxury goods" like alcohol coming into the Compact. This was in part to encourage our own members to make our own booze because imported alcohol was always much more expensive.


    I hoped that all of these new laws would prove beneficial for the Compact, because I wasn''t sure how well I would do if I had to start caring about the economic aspect of the whole Compact.


    With these laws laid out, the "conference" of 1302 came to an end. While everyone went on their own ways, I went with John back to his homeland to see how I could help him develop his county into something more.


    -VB-


    Interludes


    ---


    Isabella, Fiance of Hans


    Perhaps it was because he was once a commoner himself that he went so far out of his way to give concessions to the commoner members of the Compact that contributed very little to its overall state.


    Personally, Isabella thought that Hans was being too generous to the point of being weak. She needed to break this habit of his. He could not be seen being too generous or everyone will try to take advantage of it like they already have.


    How could she go about doing that? She definitely needed to nag him about it but not so much that he starts ignoring her whenever she brings it up. It had to be impactful, too.


    "... Alleria."


    Her handmaiden-friend stepped up. Like the perfect servant, she had been working in the shadows ever since Isabella arrived here at the Compact.


    "Yes, milady?"


    "I need you to find any discrepancies in Castel, St. Peter, and Schiers."


    "Ah, the three that tried their best to get more than what they were worth?"


    "Yes. Hans is unlikely to act on anything without evidence, so I need evidence."


    "... Shall I make them?"


    "No. As much as they irritate me for bothering Hans for their insufficiencies, I am not interested in making false evidence to punish them. When Hans comes down on them, I want them to suffer for what they did."


    "Of course, milady. You are generous."


    "... No, I am just and fair."


    Alleria snorted with a smile. "Like your father?"


    It was her turn to snort. "Father is not fair at all! He cheats at games!"


    The two chatted like that even as Alleria signaled one of the House Guards to complete something.


    -VB-


    Leon


    (The former nightsoil farmer turned mine manager)


    (At this rate, he will forever be introduced as such)


    It was weird.


    ¡­ Many things were weird up here in Fluelaberg, but it was even weirder than usual.


    Leon watched as miners, some of whom looked more like sticks when they first started mining, now looked like warriors with how tough they looked. Their thick, muscular arms swung iron pickaxes with expertise and practice, chipping away at the rocks not in small pebbles but fistfuls of rocks that other miners picked up and hauled out. What rocks they could not crack open with their pickaxes, they used the "wedging" technique that the baron taught them to crack them open.


    And ¡­ he also looked like them.


    He looked down at his arms, body, and legs.


    He wasn''t the thin Leon from before, and his married life had only changed him even more.


    "... You look like you like more of what you see underneath you than in front of you."


    He looked up and saw his wife, Elenna, standing by the doorway.


    "No, I''m just ¡­ marveling at how much I have changed since I came here."


    Elenna continued to look at him before snorting. "You look better than before."


    "Before?"


    "When we got married. You looked thinner then."


    "I did," he hummed. "But then again, all we do is eat, work until we feel tired, rest, eat, work, rest, eat, and sleep."


    "Yes, just like pigs."


    "What?! What did I do to get compared to pigs?"


    "Because you are delicious as you look."


    He blinked. Wait, did he hear that correctly?


    "Wait, what?"


    Elenna snorted, walked up to him, gave him a peck on the cheeks, slapped his shoulder, and walked out with the laundry.


    "... huh?"


    -VB-


    Alvia


    They called her a mistress, these days. Like a master of a guild.


    It wasn''t because the men around her liked calling her their mistress or guildmistress and guildmaster but rather because none could deny that she made some of the best gem cuts on this side of the Alps.


    So much so, in fact, that she now had a young man around her age kneeling in front of the fort''s inner gate.


    However, she wasn''t interested in taking apprentices. She was busy enough as it was. She did not have time for other people. Her brother and Hans could use all of her time, sure, but some random person from Venice? No.


    But there was another reason why.


    "Paolo, she doesn''t care," a man next to the kneeling man said. "Let''s go. You''ve wasted enough time as it is. We''ve been here for a full month already!"


    "I am determined to see this through."


    They spoke in North Italian, and Alvia understood what they were saying because she had been living and working under Hans. She knew, more than most in fact, that this was something that occurred because of Hans. Something about him, something unnatural - supernatural - and widespread, affected many people who learned even one thing from him and continued to work for him. Once they worked with him, they became better at learning.


    It was why she was determined to not accept apprentices, even if it would make her life so much easier. What would happen to those apprentices once they began to get much better? By the very nature of guilds and master-apprentice relationships, they would eventually leave Fluelaberg. They would take Fluelaberg''s knowledge and advancements with them to beyond its borders.


    And that knowledge, knowledge had been slowly but surely been terrifying her with their practical implications, was what kept Fluelaberg strong right now. What was knowledge but how to make pigments from seemingly random weed flowers? What was knowledge if not how to make porcelain from materials no one ever thought of to use? What was knowledge if not an untouchable substance that could not be kept hidden once shared?


    Alvia of Davos, she had come to fear, had become a liability for her beloved and not the pillar she hoped to be. It was a blessing as much as it was a curse.


    People from Hamburg and Lubeck had come by after looking at her gems ¡­ and Venice saw her first forays into painting, which she stupidly sold at cost to a wandering peddler who took a liking to her two-palm-sized illustration of the Christ (with Hans'' input).


    ¡­ But wasn''t there an easy solution to that? Just make any apprentice stay in Fluelaberg.


    She thought about it.


    She supposed that ¡­ it would be easier to have someone else mix the new oil paint colors Hans thought up.


    She glanced at Paolo through her window on the second story within the fort.


    And someone with dedication like that was sure to be useful not just to her but also to Hans.


    -VB-


    Rudolf I, Duke of Upper Bavaria


    "What?"


    "The Mayor of Memmingen implicated you and the guildmasters in a plot against the baron," his spymaster sighed as he handed him a copy of the letter. "The merchant who went to Compact was more than happy to sell a copy of the letter to us for a hundred guelders."


    "A HUNDRED GUELDERS?!"


    That was enough money to buy a dozen subpar horses but still a dozen horses!


    "Why-?!"


    "I felt that it was important enough," he replied. "And it was. There is enough information in that letter that should the baron present it to the emperor, we might suffer an imperial intervention."


    That was the last straw that broke the horse''s back.


    "FUCK FUCK FUCKING MERCHANT FUCKING GUILDS -!" he roared as he tossed his table to the side. The solid wooden table tumbled and cracked against the stone floor and walls, sending all of the papers and paperweights on top of it flying everywhere. "Get me those goddamn guildmasters! I want their goddamn heads!"


    After stewing in his anger for half a day, he finally got enough sense to right his table, gather his paper, quills, and paperweights, and start writing a letter. This one would go to the baron with the heads of the guildmasters involved in this mess. A roundabout apology for this shitfest his merchants caused and a warning to not escalate the issue.


    -VB-


    Louis, Duke of Upper Bavaria


    "The Count of Toggenburg joined the Compact?" he asked with a frown.


    "Yes, milord," his spymaster bowed. "It seems that we have been mistaken in assuming that the baron kept the boy count as a ward to prevent another war, perhaps one with the Habsburgs. Instead, he has used the chance to sway the boy count to his cause, and now with his signature, the County of Toggenburg is legally bound to the Compact."


    Louis hummed.


    Whether or not the count''s signature would hold in the imperial court was not something he was interested in. What he was seeing with this was that the Compact, a collection of nothing but small villages, one baron, and one bishop, was now something he had to watch on more carefully.


    What he thought was a useful patsy in his upcoming spat with his older brother was starting to look more like a dog that might bite his hand if he reached in.


    "Pause all operations we have ongoing against the baron," he immediately decided. While it would have been great to see his older brother get the blame and suffer the baron''s presence, he wasn''t so sure about it anymore. See, the plan had been to hurt the future baroness, get the baron angry, direct his anger to his older brother, let them fight it out, and then he would swoop in to settle the issue. He would then use the issue as Rudolf''s incompetence to kick him out of his title.


    And if they discovered he had ordered it done¡­


    Well, he wasn''t sure if he liked the rumors he heard about the "Count Killer."


    Now¡­ he wasn''t sure.


    If the baron was a peasant with brute force, then the scheme would have worked well enough even with his allies.


    If the baron thought years ahead and planned accordingly, then he needed to be treated as a threat.


    A threat with enough reach to affect his lands.


    "I should have moved faster," he grunted. "What are our options?"


    "... we can try to bribe the malcontent within their ranks," the spymaster suggested. "I''m sure we can find at least a few of village chiefs willing to provide some more critical information we have been unable to get so far."


    "And we didn''t do this before¡­ why?"


    The spymaster raised an eyebrow.


    "My lord, you did not see the reason to and told me to not waste manpower and money."


    Louis facepalmed. Right, right. He''d done that, and it was a mistake on his part. He would have to rectify it, but how could he do so?


    Someone knocked on the door.


    "Come in."


    One of the "servants" walked in and bowed to them both before whispering into his spymaster''s ears. His councilor dismissed the man and turned to him with a smile.


    "Well, it seems that we have a luck break, my lord. Duke Rudolf is executing the guildmasters and sending their heads to the baron with a letter."


    Louis blinked before grinning.


    "Intercept it and just ¡­ burn it," he replied with a fat grin on his face. "Make it so that the good baron just happens to ''ignore'' a duke''s words."


    "Your will be done," the spymaster bowed and left.


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 65


    -VB-


    Count John von Toggenburg


    As the caravan made its way toward his home, John felt ¡­ odd.


    This would be the first time he would be going back home in years, and he couldn''t help but feel complicated.


    He would be returning home, after all, with the man who burned his father to death. He still fondly remembered his father, and if it hadn''t been for the Unruly Year, then he might even be practicing his swordsmanship with his father today.


    But things changed, and this was going to be the big one.


    ¡­ personally, he feared what kind of reaction he would get from his mother and his siblings, but he knew more than they did that this was the way forward for the county and his family.


    The trade potential alone would propel them to new heights. He knew his county and house were already benefitting from their close proximity to the Compact. The town of Walenstadt grew recently in size and wealth as a result of merchants seeking easy and faster travel via boats rather than zigzagging around the lake and the mountains to its north and south. He also knew that most of those merchants would eventually head to Zurich, and his county sat right in between Zurich and the Compact.


    He didn''t just decide to join the Compact due to his admittedly cozy relationship with his "older brother." He saw wealth and potential that he could gain¡­ if he simply laid down his pride as an independent lord.


    And that ¡­ that would be the thing that might get the rest of his family to rebel against him years down the line. For a lord to lay down their independence was one of the worst things they can do, especially if they did so without an overwhelming disadvantage. However, John did not want to stand in the way of the Compact.


    The things he''d heard and seen were not limited to Hans alone. He saw the political shift coming to the Alps. Isabella was at the center of that. She saw how the power mongers were growing underneath Hans''s notice. Saw that while Hans may be a good man, there were those underneath him that were no different from his father and the other nobles of the realm.


    Peasants, they may be, but Hans gave them a taste of wealth and prosperity. They became wealthy. They became skilled. They became powerful.


    They would kill to keep it that way.


    And if he didn''t join the Compact?


    Well, his land was right between the richer heartlands of Swabia! Hans might not want to fight him, but others might decide that they could take him on without Hans. With the wealth they might accumulate, this just might work.


    "Milord!"


    John looked over to Hans, and saw a ranger hurrying up to him. There was a quick exchange of words, and Hans looked troubled.


    He got his horse to trot over to Hans. "What is it?"


    Hans looked at him and hummed. "There may be an ambush ahead."


    John froze.


    An ambush? Here within the Compact''s own lands?


    "How many?" he asked quietly.


    "Unknown but within our capability to defeat easily."


    ''You mean your capabilities,'' John thought. "... We should turn the ambush on them. We can''t let someone who set up an ambush here get away."


    "I agree," Hans replied with a nod. "Here''s what we''ll do..."


    -VB-


    Isabella von Gorizia


    She stared coolly at the soldiers wearing odd cloaks covered in twigs and leaves as they, she, Hans, and Count John traveled with their entourage toward his homeland.


    They were not men-at-arms or knights. They are what Hans called "rangers." She saw them early in their training and thought them to be nothing more than her beloved''s fancy with military innovation before he moved back to more of his beneficial economic reforms.


    After hearing about what they did to men-at-arms and knights, she wasn''t so sure anymore.


    It was just another innovation that would upset the societal balance, but unlike other changes, these rangers actually upset her. It was one thing for a commoner to become an administrator. It was another for a commoner to become a specialized men-at-arms-killing soldier.


    They ¡­ were perfect for Hans. Hans would have been awkward with regular knights and men-at-arms, so he went and created his own order of trained soldiers that would make knights have nightmares about forests and mountains.


    Because right now, she saw a dozen rangers but heard from Hans that there were three dozen rangers traveling with them.


    There were two dozen rangers she couldn''t see.


    ''And you can''t fight what you can''t see,'' she thought.


    It was also a draw that made the local peasantry seek Hans out more because of the benefits of being a ranger. Hans granted all rangers and their direct families a flat tax reduction.


    She thought it was ridiculous, but Hans wouldn''t budge.


    ''I take care of those who fight for me.''


    He may not have meant for those words to reach his men but they did, and they were fiercely loyal to him for those words and actions.


    It was ridiculous how easily Hans swayed people to him, her included. Wasn''t that exactly how she fell in love with him? He put himself before a cart to save her life, and showed off a body of delicious muscles.


    She cleared her throat, which drew Hans''s attention.


    "Dry throat?" he asked her, and she nodded. He reached to his back inside his cloak and pulled out a metal "bottle." She took it and drank from it. It didn''t taste like much, but that was a benefit to whatever magic he''d done to the metals before they were fashioned into these metal vessels. These metal vessels were another item that he was letting the merchants buy and sell at his markets.


    Of course, he even had "luxury" versions of the bottles that were expensive but something a dullard without a sense of fashion might still buy.


    Regardless of how expensive or not expensive something was, their advantage was how durable they were compared to, say, a gourd, glass bottles, or a leather pouch. It just hadn''t been done before because of how expensive metals were in general.


    She thought it was a stupid idea at first until he showed her his ledger about just how much metals were coming in and out of his furnaces. While those bottles would still be sold for the equivalent of a commoner''s monthly wage, commoners still bought them because the water inside these metal bottles would never rot as it might in a leather pouch or a gourd.


    Something about copper alloy?


    Because she was so focused on thinking, she didn''t hear the hiss coming for her nor how quickly Hans deflected it.


    "Eh?"


    She looked to her left, where that sudden burst of motion had caught her attention now.


    Her eyes widened as she saw men charging out of the forests surrounding the dirt road.


    ''Ambush!''


    And then she heard another hiss, and this time, knowing what it was, she couldn''t help but flinch.


    -VB-


    A/N: is this Stupid #5 or #8?

 Chapter 66-72

    A/N: the battle scene felt a little too short (<800 words), so I just went ahead and added the immediate aftermath/what-could-have-been-another-chapter to it. Enjoy.Swiss Arms


    Chapter 66


    -VB-


    Hans von Fluelaberg


    I sensed the danger before it came, but I was too slow to call out the ambush before the first arrow landed.


    And it landed on one of the camouflaged rangers that had gotten too close to the ambushers. They had seen each other and the crossbow-wielding enemy had fired. My ranger''s bear fur cloak, however, kept the arrow from digging in too deeply.


    "AMBUSH!" I roared, and cranked up my [Intimidation] to the max. Immediately, the road became a skirmish field as ambushers popped out from far sides of the roads, even further than how my camouflaged rangers had been arrayed around us.


    And it was a mistake, too, as my rangers, too far apart from each other, couldn''t fight off against half a dozen and more ambushers when they rushed them.


    "CLOSE RANKS!"


    "HAH!" my rangers shouted back and immediately retreated to me.


    "H-Hans?!"


    I looked forward and saw John finally getting it together. I forgot that this was his second engagement, the first being him in his father''s castle as it burned around him.


    "Get off the horse!" I shouted as I pulled out my repeatable crossbow from my inventory as discreetly as I could. I did not notice, however, that Isabella had been too deep in whatever thought she''d been in to even notice what the hell was going on. "ISABELLA!"


    She finally snapped out of it just as an arrow came flying at her.


    I didn''t even bother trying to hide my strength and speed and slapped the offending projectile away.


    Then I grabbed the second when she finally flinched.


    "Get down and behind the horses! Toggenburg men, shields up and around your count!"


    The volleys of arrows finally reasserted themselves and came down hard.


    And I just cut them all down with two smaller but longer longswords instead of my big slab of metal.


    I grunted as I brought the latest of my swings down, chopping four arrows at once. The road ahead was now blocked by the ambushers. Some wielding pitchforks but most had actual swords and spears.


    Already, this group was not classified as bandits but another noble patsy. Peasants and bandits didn''t have a lot of quality swords and I saw at least a dozen quality swords. If this was another attack planned by the Duke of Upper Bavaria, then I will tell the emperor to fuck off and go to war. And If the emperor tries to stop me, then I was going to go after his head as I went after the first three counts I''ve met.


    The convoy''s left and right were also covered by the ambushers. The rear was also covered.


    We were, as they say, surrounded.


    Or¡­


    "Men, it seems we are surrounded!" I shouted. They laughed as they pulled out their repeating crossbows, including the wounded rangers. The ambushers looked ready to rush in, and there was someone on top of a horse shouting for the ambushers to do just that.


    I needed that one alive.


    With a heave, I threw one of the two longswords not at the person but at the horse''s head. The sword hissed through the air like a sawblade and sliced right through the horse''s spine. There was a splatter of blood as the sword sailed over, but it had done its job. The horse just fell over as its brain disconnected from the rest of the body, and the horseman fell.


    "FIRE!" I shouted, and my rangers began firing. Their repeatables fired with only minimal reloading. Each ranger fired a bolt every two seconds, which was about as fast as the average bowman and much faster than a crossbowman. The ambushers didn''t expect it at all and began to get peppered by our bolts.


    But that didn''t dissuade some, and they charged at us.


    I finally brought out my metal slab-sword and swung.


    A bisected man''s upper body flew while his wide eyes looked helplessly in shock at his falling legs.


    The remaining longsword in my left hand struck like a lashing snake, blurring through air and taking the head off of a spearman who thought he was going to get lucky.


    As the ambushers closed in, my rangers also ran out bolts in their magazines¡­ which was why while half of them pulled out their swords to defend their comrades, the other half pulled out a spare magazine and loaded them in.


    But even with their superior tactics and weapons, my men died at the end of the enemy speartips and flashing swords.


    But it bought us enough time to fire more crossbows.


    "Fire!" I roared as a cacophony of hissing bolts and screaming men.


    When another two dozen men died at my men''s bolts, they began to run.


    I didn''t care too much.


    "Men, I only see bandits! Keep shooting!"


    And keep shooting they did.


    -VB-


    Isabella


    Her heart refused to return to normalcy. Though the danger had passed, her heart still thumped inside her chest loudly and harshly.


    She had nearly died, this time from men looking to kill ¡­ someone.


    She looked over at John. He was back on his horse, unlike she who had moved to sit in one of the covered carts. He looked shocked as well but carried that shock with the firmness of someone her soon-to-be husband had trained.


    It was a grimace that every single one of the rangers had, and it shocked her still to see their effectiveness. With time came realization, and she realized quickly that this ambush had not been an attack made by bandits looking for rich nobles to rob but a noble''s army.


    Too many well-trained men. Too many castle forged steel swords. Too many chainmail armor among them.


    And with that realization came a delightful enlightenment.


    Her husband''s rangers fought off an army thrice their size and suffered a dozen deaths among them, all of whom died defending their comrades when they needed to reload their crossbows. There were twice that many wounded, yes, but to suffer no more than a third wounded and a third dead after killing twice their own numbers?


    Each and every single one of these rangers would have been guarded jealously by her father and her cousin.


    And the repeating crossbows.


    Once, it was a cool toy her husband made and forced his men to use.


    Now¡­ now she stared at it for what it was: a brutal and efficient weapon of war. It turned a briefly trained commoner into men-at-arms slaying battering ram.


    As for the man who claimed that he just "remade" it, he was over at the edge of the camp with only four rangers with the horseman whose horse he''d nearly beheaded from almost half a hundred yards away. With a sword.


    She shivered as she remembered the high-pitched hissing of the sword as it spun in the air so fast that its entire spin seemed to be made out of it with light flashing off of the bloodied sword a dozen times a second.


    "John, come over here!"


    John jolted in his seat and quickly made his horse trot forward and over to Hans. The two talked, and John became furious.The boy suddenly jumped off of his horse, drew his sword, and stabbed the horseman.


    "What happened?" she asked. "Why did you get angry?" she asked Johmn


    "That was the Count of Werdenberg. And he was here to try to kill John to prevent him from joining us," Hans answered.


    She grimaced. This ambush had been an attempted political assassination. Even at the best of times with the most politically connected and wealthy individuals, this was not something that went ignored or dismissed.


    And the Count of Sargans, as she knew, was not someone who was well liked anymore since the fiasco he was part of caused not only troubles here but also troubles outside. The effect wasn''t seen until lately, but it was well known now throughout the neighboring lands that the sudden influx of refugees, loss of food, and trade happened because of Count of Toggenburg, Count of Werdenberg, Count of Zernez, Count of Sax-Misox, and even the Prince-Bishop of Chur.


    And of course, the now dead Count of Sargans.


    She only came to learn about this because the "Barony" of Fluelaberg had become a trade center that saw people from all around - as far as Constantinople! - come to buy, sell, exchange, and gossip. Peddlers and merchants from neighboring lands were the most vocal about how they felt about the Unruly Year.


    The conflict led to this area becoming too dangerous to pass through, this led to increased time spent in just moving goods if the goods didn''t perish from longer travel, some goods couldn''t even be sold, fertilizers from Zernez over could no longer reach the fields around St. Gallens, Abbey of Disentis got raided by Count of Sax-Misox before his demise, so on and so on.


    "... This is the only chance."


    The two men turned to her.


    She looked at them with her utmost seriousness. "Count of Sargans alienated everyone around him. This ambush was his way of ensuring that he wasn''t completely surrounded by potential enemies and those who had a casus belli against him. It is very possible that he may thought your admission into the Compact would have given the Compact enough internal voices to move it against him. He betrayed his own alliance to attack the prince-bishop and your father was the leader of the alliance."


    "If he thought that far," Hans noted. "This is the guy who attacked his own alliance member when he was already surrounded by those alliance members."


    Speaking of which, the Count of Sax-Misox had died to Hans himself, the prince-bishop was a nominal equal but an actual vassal of Hans, and Toggenburg was now an equal to Hans¡­ but emotionally and relationship-wise very much submissive to him.


    Isabella glanced at him for a moment.


    If she hadn''t known the entire story about the Unruly Year, then this would have looked like Hans planned the subjugation of the entire valley as a peasant.


    But that''s impossible, right?


    "What will you do, Hans?"


    "The bastard attacked a member of the Compact," he grunted. "Of course, we''re going to war."


    She nodded. "Then-."


    "Wait."


    They turned to John, who looked shaken but still resolute despite his age and first combat.


    "What is it, John?"


    The boy looked at Hans and squared his shoulders amidst the bloodied field and road.


    "I pledged to become the western gate for the Compact. An enemy at west has attacked the Compact. It is my duty to lead and fight this. Besides, I know that you will be busy with the Dukes of Bavaria."


    Hans stared at John without so much as a hint of emotion.


    And then¡­


    "... If you can stand after I glare at you, then I will let you."


    Glare? What was a glare going to do -?


    And then she nearly screamed.


    In an instant, Hans became something so dangerous that she immediately recoiled away and wanted to flee. Her throat tightened up with a scream barely suppressed, legs coiled barely kept from jumping away, and her back already strained from having pulled herself away from Hans.


    She knew that he was supernatural. She saw how easily he swung that slab of metal he called his sword. She saw him neatly slicing through a dozen arrows straight out of the air.


    This? This was new.


    Even the rangers near them buckled and a few just collapsed to their knees, gasping and clutching at their throats. One just straight up ran away.


    John?


    The boy¡­ stood.Sweating profusely, fists clenched so tightly he bled, lips bleeding from biting, and eyes so wide and iris so pinpricked that it looked like everything that he was hurt¡­ but he stood in place. It didn''t matter whether he stood there out of fear or will, only that he did.


    Then it stopped.


    She gasped and fell to her knees.


    She barely saw Hans put his hands on John''s shoulders.


    "You have my rangers here as my contribution to your war effort. Good luck."


    John relaxed too and nodded. "I''ll make you proud."


    ¡­ She supposed that this was a wonderful bonding moment but her mind was more fixated on what the hell that was that Hans did.


    One day, she was going to get a good answer - if not the entire answer - out of him.


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 67


    -VB-


    Hans von Fluelaberg


    The Count of Sargans'' sudden ambush aimed at John''s life and John''s decision to take the matter into his own hand was an issue I needed to take of when I had the time.


    Because right now¡­


    The emperor was here.


    His arrival wasn''t even noticed by anyone else. The man had traveled quickly across the empire. While his travel hadn''t been covert, it had been quiet enough that I hadn''t heard anything about it until he was right at my proverbial doorstep at Chur.


    As the emperor''s elaborately decorated and gilded carriage came to a stop, I nudged Bishop Siegfried.


    "How do you think he''ll respond to our latest issue?"


    The old man sighed. He just seemed tired of it all. "Well, he was a belligerent of the last war, and he was caught and killed trying to kill his peer. So at the very least, he can''t condemn us."


    "That''s good," I mumbled.


    And then a herald stepped forth. Dressed in fineries that only the bishop and the richest merchant of the Compact might wear, he looked both imposing and lacking.


    "Presenting His Majesty Albert, by the grace of God, the King of the Romans, the King of the Germans, the King of Italians, the Duke of Austria, the Duke of Styria, Count of Habsburg and Kyburg, and Langrave of Alsace!"


    One of the servants opened the door to the carriage and a man walked out.


    ¡­ and he was dressed in the silk dyed with my blue dyes.


    The emperor showed off wealth beyond comparison simply by taking a step outside his carriage, and everyone saw it.


    His short blonde hair tussled in the winds and around his chiseled jaws briefly before he focused his gaze on the bishop and myself.


    I immediately knelt on one knee as was the custom.


    The emperor walked over to us.


    "Rise, Baron Fluelaberg."


    I guessed that made my position unambiguous. He called me a baron and not a landholder or something like that. I rose in time to watch the emperor bow to the bishop and kiss the old man''s ring. The emperor then straightened his back and looked at me.


    "So you are the one who''s been causing a ruckus in these mountains."


    "... Perhaps, Your Majesty," I replied with a small bow. "Though I can assure you that I am not the one causing them."


    He sniffed before nodding in acknowledgment. "Yes, I have heard plenty about the aggressors of the last war."


    "And one of them, Your Majesty, has defied you no less than a week ago."


    He narrowed his eyes. "Explain yourself."


    "I will, Your Majesty. However, discussing the matters of state publicly is ¡­"


    He sniffed again. "You are no fool. Very well, show me the accommodations you have prepared for me."


    -VB-


    Emperor Albert I of Habsburg


    This was his first time visiting the Prince-Bishopric of Chur. It was pitiful to see a prince-bishop of the realm consorting with peasants to stay relevant in the great game of the states, but knowing what he did about this place and the bishop himself, he was not too surprised. The bishop was known for being too kind. Too weak. And the Alps had no place for the weak.


    That was why his house has been losing land, generation after generation, to the locals. Even an iota of attention pulled away from this place was a hundred pairs of gazes and mouths looking to take a bite out of his ancestral lands.


    Another group of commoners to the west fought against the natural order of kings and men. It was one of the reasons why he was here. To see if this group of commoners would be another annoyance that would wear away at his control over the Swabian Alps.


    "Ambushed, huh?" Albert muttered.


    "Yes, Your Majesty," the baron of the rumors replied while bowing. "It happened in the lands surrounding the village of Maienfelds, a signatory of the Compact."


    "Not only did he attack you, he attacked you in your own lands."


    "Yes, imperator."


    He paused and glanced at the baron.


    Imperator was not a term used by most. It was an old term. A Latin word. It was also a title that was not used in these lands, despite their close proximity to Italy. Last he heard, only the King of Castile still used that term, though he didn''t know everything. For all he knew, some petty tyrant in the eastern plains beyond Carpathia might use that title!


    "Well? Continue."


    "Count John of Toggenburg has seen to this backstabbing attack as casus belli to deprive the House of Werdenberg of the County of Sargans, the lords and men who attack bishops backed by a flimsy excuse and their neighbors for no reason."


    "... No reason, you say?" Albert looked at the baron skeptically.


    "Plenty of trade that benefited me passed through his land as well, Your Majesty," the baron replied. "In fact, he was poised to benefit more because he stood between us and Zurich, which is a much more prosperous city to sell to than the Imperial City of Lindau or the Abbey of Saint Gallen."


    True enough. However¡­


    "It is neither the privilege nor the right course of action for a count to simply decide on the fate of territories not his own."


    "It is not, Your Majesty. I agree with you."


    "Hoh?"


    "It is might that determines it. The ambush at Maienfeld is a declaration of war, Your Majesty, and the Count of Toggenburg is a the aggrieved party. While it is true that it is not the count''s right to dictate the future of the County of Sargans, it is his right to use his might to stake his claim."


    Look at this peasant saying something like that. He was basically telling him, the emperor, to leave it be.


    "And what if I decide to enforce the imperial peace?"


    The baron dared to smile.


    "You have already, Your Majesty."


    "... What?"


    "When you sent me that letter, you have enforced the imperial peace upon these valleys, and it was the Count of Sargans that broke your command." The baron then paused. "Unless you mean to force the victim, the target of assassination, a young count, to simply let this matter go?"


    Albert decided he didn''t like this baron.


    "Watch your tone," he snapped. And then he remembered that the prince-bishop was in the room as well, and glanced to see the old bishop''s reaction. When he didn''t see anything overt, he quickly straightened his back and turned away. "It is the emperor''s duty to see his vassals make peace."


    "Yes, Your Majesty. You are absolutely correct," the baron smiled like he knew something Albert didn''t. Albert did not like that smile. "However, will your other vassals accept this?"


    He paused.


    "This is a clear-cut case of assassination by a count upon another count. If there is to be peace without recompense, then would other vassals across the empire not feel safe? After all¡­ It would imply that you were fine with Sargans killing his neighbors. And this would not be the first time he initiated such actions."


    This baron could not be a commoner before. This was too eloquent. Too aware. Too clever.


    "Then what would you do?"


    "Let Sargans and Toggenburg fight. If Toggenburg wins, then the county that has caused conflict and strife year after year will cease to exist. If Sargans wins, then they have proven their right to exist by might. Though they would still be under your purview as to what punishment they should suffer for annoying Your Majesty."


    The baron spoke too many truths.


    "And in that vein, there is another that has caused problems," he added before producing a letter. "One that even the new troublemaker''s neighbors have begun to notice."


    Albert warily took the letter, opened it, and read it.


    And read it again.


    The seal was correct. This letter was real and not a flimsy attempt to gain casus belli.


    "A duke sending his men-at-arms out, to dress and act as bandits, in harassing his neighbors," he grunted. "What a shameful lord."


    "I agree, Your Majesty! And I have a solution."


    "... Speak."


    "Give me the chance to humiliate the dukes, whose house has been at competition with yours. You know of the Hungarians and their attempts to put one of the Wittelbachs upon their throne."


    Who the hel-?


    How does this peasant even know that?! That was not something whispered even among the ducal courts! In fact, Albert himself only learned of the Hungarian court''s offer to Otto III of Lower Bavaria!


    "How do you know this?"


    The baron smiled.


    It was that damnable smile.


    "Trade is a wonderful thing, Your Majesty. It brings news from afar for even the highest of nobles are prone to gossiping carelessly in the presence of those who are their lessers."


    Albert was going to watch what he said around his servants after he left this place.


    "... You want to offer yourself up as a friend of my House."


    "Yes. If I defeat your electoral rivals for your house''s continued ascension upon the Roman Throne, then why, is that not a wonderful ally to have? And I am a man with ¡­ significant military experience."


    He side-glared at the slimy baron before nodding.


    "You have my permission. Should you fail, however, I will see you suffer for your arrogance for daring to think you were worthy of my house''s attention."


    "Of course¡­"


    -VB-


    Hans (after the meeting)


    "God, I feel so slimy," I shuddered as the imperial procession left the Compact''s lands. The carriage swayed a little, laden with gifts we offered to the emperor, who''d "graciously" accepted the fine porcelain, deep blue-dyed bolts of cloth, and sweet snacks.


    "You owe me for those snacks, by the way," the bishop grunted as he turned away.


    "I''ll make sure to send you over a lot."


    "I want more of those orange and lemon-flavored ones," he pointed out over his shoulders.


    I chuckled before glancing back at the emperor''s carriage.


    It was a surprise visit but one that had been long time coming and one that gave me what I needed.


    A casus belli and permission to finally put down the Bavarian dukes in their places for daring to touch me and mine.


    But before I went to actual war, I needed to fix something first.


    -VB-


    Hans (not von Fluelaberg)


    Hans stood at attention along with the rest of the rangers because they all knew that they were all about to get a reaming for their failure at Maienfeld.


    Because he and his four groups of five were supposed to be the guards that kept enemies from sneaking up on their lord, even if they knew about the ambush and wanted to take them down. There were only a few of them here today, though, because most had been loaned to Count John.


    Most importantly, however, they failed that task so badly that a pair of arrows had nearly struck the lady-to-be.


    He did not turn to look at their lord as he walked into the open field that they took up for the upcoming ass beating while they stayed the night at the town of Schiers.


    "So," Lord Hans - officially recognized by the emperor himself - grunted once he stood at the head of their formation. "Does anyone have any explanation as to how close those arrows almost struck Lady Isabella or why they managed to ambush us before we were in position to counter-ambush them?"


    Hans knew why but he was reluctant to speak up.


    He tried not to glance around but did because he couldn''t help it, and looked like the other rangers sort of knew the answer, too. He also realized that if there was no good explanation for their failure, then they might get punished anyway.


    Or dismissed from service.


    "Milord," he spoke up weakly. "I think there is an issue with our formation."


    Instead of growing angry, his lord turned to him.


    "Explain."


    "... Since we wanted the ambush to enter close to the center of our formation, we had to intentionally open up a wide gap in our formation. Due to the unexpected size of the ambushers, however, we keep widening gap on the off chance that they might have flankers who might notice us if we stayed too close. By doing that, however, we ended up too far away to react or spring the ambush in time, and springing the trap before we were ready would have been detrimental as the last minute changes to our formation left us out of position to defense the caravan in sufficient numbers."


    His lord stared at him and then turned to look around. "Is what he says the truth?"


    There were murmurs of agreement. No one wanted to draw attention of the man who ripped someone in half with his bare hands.


    "... It''s my fault," the lord suddenly moaned.


    "Milord?!" some of the men exclaimed in surprise. S?a?ch* Th? N0v?lFir?.?et website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    "I miscalculated," he growled. "And that let the ambushers get too close."


    Their lord had arranged the formation so that there were more rangers to deal with the ambushers and left less for the defense of the caravan.


    ''No one can make the best adjustments without knowing the exact number of the enemy,'' Hans grimaced as he remembered the grueling forest training. He and his cohort of trainees had to survive and flee from their lord as he hunted them down one by one. A lack of knowledge was a killer, and it was very similar how not knowing the exact number of the hidden ambushers - found because some weren''t hidden as well - was similar to how their lord hunted them down.


    It struck true fear into them all about how really capable their lord was. In the forest, nothing could save you from Hans von Fluelaberg. He sees you and you will never see him unless he lets you.


    But the core issue right here was that ¡­ their lord had miscalculated. For all of the help their forest capes and repeating crossbows gave them, they could not get into position in time.


    Their lord drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly.


    "Okay," he spoke up. "This ¡­ was my fault. The deaths of the rangers are on me. I will rectify this. For now, you can all return back to your duties."


    -VB-


    A/N:


    Random historical tidbit of the chapter: Eltz Castle near the city of Trier in Rhineland-Palatinate has been owned and lived in by the same family, the House of Eltz (nobles, yes, until the dissolution of the Second Reich), for over 800 years and over 33 generations and some (Kempenich Branch) still lives there to this day.


    Lemons and oranges were grown in Italy as far back as the 9th century, and being very bitter fruits at the time, their dried forms weren''t exactly expensive to import in Swabian Alps that was right next to Italy.


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 68


    -VB-


    Isabella von Gorizia


    She knocked on the door and heard Hans telling her to come in. Opening the thick door with well-oiled hinges, she pushed it open with only a minor effort.


    Inside his improved solar, Hans sat behind a large desk with a lot of papers. As she walked over to him, walking around the two "sofa" and a table between them, she noted that a lot of the papers were not administrative but rather maps.


    "What are these for?" she asked him.


    "That one is for property lines," he replied. "This one is for public grazing lots. This one here is for properties not for sale."


    She stared at them before raising an eyebrow. "You are allowing the commoners to purchase a lot of land instead of lending them out."


    "It gives them the incentive to manage it better," I replied. "If it isn''t your land, then are you really going to care about how well it does as long as you get your fill?" I asked her. "Because I certainly wouldn''t. Why put in the effort into a land that someone else is going to take from me sooner or later?"


    "... I suppose not." She then cleared her throat. "I want to talk to you about something."


    He paused and looked up at her. "Sure."


    "I want to hold our wedding - and wedding night - before you leave to fight Bavaria."


    He paused before pushing himself away from his desk. He stood up and stood in front of her.


    "I''m sorry."


    She blinked. She didn''t expect that kind of a reaction. She thought he was ¡­ Well, truth be told, she wasn''t sure how he would respond. She knew that he would at the very least hear her out because he listened to everyone. What she did not expect was a sudden apology.


    Her lips opened and closed in her befuddlement before she got herself back together.


    "Why are you apologizing?"


    "... We agreed to get married, but after one close call, I''m already leaving again to fight another war," he replied sheepishly. "It''s like I''m intentionally avoiding our wedding. I''m sorry if that made you upset."


    "I''m not upset," she quickly replied. "To be honest, now that I did get your attention and your agreement, I''m not sure what I am supposed to be doing with myself. I have been doing the things ladies of the house are supposed to do, but all of your ''bureaucrats'' are too competent. I barely have to do anything."


    He smiled. "That''s great to hear."


    She poked him in the chest indignantly. "No, it''s not! The things I can do to feel good about doing something shrink every day! Are you doing that on purpose?!"


    As he blustered and tried to give excuses, Isabella couldn''t help but feel both relieved and happy.


    What else was there to say? She found a wonderful man.


    -VB-


    Hans von Fluelaberg


    ''I guess I should be glad she''s not unhappy with me.''


    A lot of things were happening all at once. Though I wouldn''t call my current feelings for Isabella "love," I did like her enough that I agreed to marry her. I definitely treasured her for the help, attention, and love she was trying to show to me. However, this wasn''t the only thing nipping at me for my attention. The Duke of Upper Bavaria was silent right now, but for all I know, this was just him getting ready to try and attack me again. I had a few rangers still helping out Toggenburg as he tried to subjugate Sargans. Internally, some of the less prosperous villages were now more openly grumbling about their membership and the new laws forcing them to provide manpower and tax to the Compact (never mind the fact that the manpower was less than two dozen for each village and the tax was less than what they used to pay per person). Within Fluelaberg itself, I found spies who tried to get into my fort proper but got caught. I also needed to redesign the training regime and tactical layout for all of the rangers, some of whom died because of my mistake in confusing my base abilities for basic human abilities.


    There was a lot, but I also needed to take advantage of the permission I got from the emperor.


    ¡­ Well, if I held a wedding while having high security and intensified training for my rangers and militiamen alike, then it wasn''t like the duke was going to suspect anything if he had spies in my town, was he? That''s two problems solved together.


    Yes, I should solve problems one at a time.


    Speaking of which, the wedding.


    "So," I began. "How do nobles do their weddings?" I asked.


    Isabella looked at me, not quite understanding what I just said before her eyes widened in realization. Yes, Isabella. I used to be a commoner and that class change only happened like two years ago.


    "It is a public event like most weddings are," she began. "My father would hand me to you, and you would make declarations about inviting me into your household. Your wedding would reflect the best that you can provide at the time."


    ''So it''s not that different from a well-to-do merchant''s wedding,'' I thought to myself while nodding along with her explanation. ''Or even a commoner''s wedding.''


    "I see. I suspect that there is more, however?"


    "Yes," she replied. "Politics."


    I chuckled. "It''s everywhere."


    "It really is. For someone of our standing, it wouldn''t do for a simple village friar or priest to hold the ceremony, especially for someone like you. You might want to write a letter to the bishop if he is willing to hold the ceremony for us."


    ¡­ Drats, I could have asked him when I was there.


    "I will," I replied. "But it would mean that our wedding would take some time before it happens."


    "As all good things should!" she harrumphed. "I will be cross with you if you rush this."


    I raised my hands up. "I won''t. I promise."


    "Good." Then she looked crestfallen. "It''ll have to be after you win against the Duke of Bavaria, right?"


    "... Probably, yes."


    She understood my position. I was happy about that.


    After a few moments of silence, she nodded to herself, looked up, gave me a kiss on the cheek, and smiled. "Then I''ll be waiting for you, so you better end it quickly, alright? I know you can with that ridiculousness you exude like it''s perfectly normal."


    I laughed. "Sure. I''ll try my best."


    -VB-


    Rudolf von Wittelsbach


    Duke of Upper Bavaria


    Munich


    ¡­ It had been a month since he sent those heads and a letter he personally penned to the baron.


    Yet he had not received a response, not even from his trusted knight who personally took charge of the delivery.


    With the perpetrators of those bandits gone, Rudolf didn''t know why he hadn''t received a response yet. The baron couldn''t be ¡­ ignoring him, right?


    There must be some issue with travel. A month should have been more than enough for travel from Munich to this new fort called Fluelaberg if the information he took from the executed guild masters were true. Perhaps there was an avalanche? In the middle of summer? A rockslide? Actual bandits? More wars?


    He sighed impotently before turning to look at the paperwork on his desk.


    The execution of seven guild masters led to some ¡­ rather tense situation within the city. The artisan and guild members didn''t fucking care that their former masters have been found guilty of treason. Sure, some of them were happy to replace the old masters as the new masters, but most of them were "upset" at the "violation" of their "rights."


    He just wanted to punch them all so bad¡­


    Part of the paperwork in front of him was a result of this. Some of the guilds started becoming rebellious and began supporting his brother over him.


    The bastards.


    Oh, they couldn''t openly revolt without risking their positions within the city but they could make life harder for him.


    Which they did.


    "Nothing is going right for me," he sighed as he started working.


    -VB-


    Duke Louis of Upper Bavaria


    "It''s done?"


    "Yes, Your Grace. The messenger has been killed and all remains have been burned to ashes."


    "Good. Now, have an actor deliver this letter to him. He will be ¡­ very upset that a baron has the gall to make demands of him, a duke."


    -VB-


    Summary:


    Isabella and Hans talk, Rudolf suffers, and Louis plots.


    -VB-


    Nice


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 69


    -VB-


    Duke Rudolf of Upper Bavaria


    Munich


    When he received a letter from the Baron of Fluelaberg, he expected it to be a letter of acquiescence. After all, he went so far as to send the baron the heads of all of the guild masters responsible for the heinous and greedy crimes they''ve committed here in his duchy and in the baron''s lands.


    What he got, however, was not a letter of acquiescence but of demands.


    "''... and so, I regret to inform you that this is simply not enough to satisfy the damages done onto my lands. It is your failure to perform the duties of a duke which led to this situation, and so the punishment and proof of the criminals cannot be the end of this affair. For the damages wrought onto my lands, I will not be satisfied with anything under -'' IS THIS MAN MAD?!"


    A guild master was not just a man in charge of a guild of artisans. A guildmaster was a politician with connections to merchant families in and out of the city, someone who knew the inner workings of the city''s commerce, and had direct control over a portion of the economy in and around the city! He executed seven such guild masters in the name of justice, and the petty baron was demanding more?!


    Rudolf took a deep breath in and let it out slowly.


    "Is this the only letter that arrived?" he asked his steward.


    "Yes, Your Grace," the elderly man, who has been in service of the House of Wittelsbach for as long as he had been alive, replied. "The baron sent nothing else and continued on with his affairs with nary a change."


    He leaned back into his chair and tapped on his table.


    Had this been a baron directly under him, then he would have gone over right now and executed the bastard, damn the consequences with the emperor and the imperial laws. However, this was not his vassal but a "fellow" vassal directly under the emperor. This was mostly because there was no ruling duke over all of the Swabian Alps righ-.


    He leaned forward.


    Was that the case? Was this commoner baron truly reaching that far?


    "... No," he muttered. "There is no way a peasant commoner - a farmer''s son - knows enough to even think that far ahead. This is just a commoner baron''s arrogance finally showing up."


    And then he grinned. "And it is enough for me to punish him."


    Oh, he couldn''t execute the baron. However, he could go to war over this insult and thoroughly ruin everything he''s been building up for the last two years. That Compact of his?


    "Call the banners," he grinned to the shock of his advisors in the room. "It will be quick and easy. A single baron with nary an ally or proper men-at-arms to speak of. Right, Spymaster Erin?"


    "Yes," he replied. "Our last report tells us that the baron has trained up only a hundred or so crossbowmen."


    "He should have been training archers," he snorted.


    There was a reason why crossbowmen''s place on the battlefield was always in defense, high up a wall, and behind barricades. They were cheaper and easier to train but more expensive to field. Archers might take longer to train, yes, but each archer could, for the same force of pull, hit further and more accurately.


    This, in Rudolf''s mind, was a show of the baron''s inadequate understanding of how the battlefield worked. Sure, he might be a good fighter. A good warrior. But a single person? Well-trained men-at-arms could take care of him, no matter what his inflated nickname might suggest.


    -VB-


    Kraft of Davos


    Fluelaberg


    "War?" he asked with an ashen face. "With a duke?"


    "He''s the one responsible for the bandit attacks you have been hearing about," Baron Hans replied. "I also have the emperor''s permission to pursue this justice."


    "B-But that would have us at war on two sides!" Bruno, an elder of Kloster who came instead of the usual representative, hissed with narrowed eyes.


    He, Elder Bruno, and Martin of Schiers had been invited to this meeting because it was their villages that might suffer the first attack should something happen on the battlefield. And if the baron went out to challenge the duke, something was going to definitely happen.


    "I know, but this isn''t something I can just ignore and play defensively. Merchants from Bavaria are already telling us about the duke calling his banners."


    Kraft felt his stomach drop.


    "But he doesn''t have any feuds¡­"


    "Outside of his brother and, for some random reason, us. He never sent us demands or anything. Can''t you see that this is the actions of a stubborn and unreasonable noble? He won''t be swayed if we stay and do nothing. He''s already called the banners."


    "And you think you can defeat them," Elder Bruno scoffed. "The duke must have over a thousand men-at-arms, never mind the levies he will bring."


    Hans shrugged. "That''s why I don''t intend to take the fight to him in the fields."


    Kraft looked at Hans and remembered that this was the man who led them to victory time and time again when they weren''t trained and were weak. He must have a plan if he was being this calm. He hadn''t even called the rest of the Compact.


    "You have a plan."


    "I do," he replied. "But ¡­ it isn''t one I can share with you right now. Not when I don''t know who or where the spy for the duke is residing in the Compact."


    "Then why even bother to call us here?" the elder asked, slowly stroking his bushy moustache and beard.


    "Moving an army through Schiers and Klosters to reach Davos and then Fluelaberg will be hard," Hans replied as he reached underneath his table and pulled out a map. "Not only does he have to cross over multiple territories that are not cordial with him but this is the long way around.


    Martin, a burly man almost as tall as Hans, finally spoke up. "The pass. You think that if they want to come at us from the north, they will use the Schlappiner Pass."


    "Yes."


    Kraft blinked. "But that pass is treachery even for peddlers. An army-."


    "That''s why I also think they won''t use it. If they even know about it, that is," Hans quickly added. "No. More likely, they will use the more popular Flelaberg pass, cutting through the Duchy of Tyrol. They won''t be able to use any other route without alerting us to their motives otherwise. If they try to use the northern route, passing by the Free Imperial City of Lindau, through the County of Werdenberg, and into Maienfeld lands, then we will hear about it weeks before they march through. The northern entrance is the duke''s scenic route that tells everyone of his intention. No, if he is greedy as he seems as the bandits from his duchy were, then he will use the short pass and aim directly for my throat."


    "Then you can play this defensively. You don''t need to go out there."


    Hans raised an eyebrow. "I can, yes."


    Kraft knew that he was going to add something else.


    "But why even let them get close to our home?"


    "... Then what would you have us do?" Martin asked.


    Hans smiled.


    "I need every kind of dung."


    Kraft looked at Hans and then blinked. He picked at his ears. "Excuse me?"


    -VB-


    Recommendation: Youtuber Kraut the Parrot. If you like history with more context and not just a bland retelling, then go give him a visit.


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 70


    -VB-


    Duke Louis of Lower Bavaria


    Munich


    "You are leaving for war?" he asked with his best shocked expression he could manage. It wasn''t just the facial expression but also the language of the body.


    "Yes," Rudolf replied gruffly. "And as intense as our fights can get, you are still my brother and a member of the Wittelsbach House. If you are willing to take the additional responsibilities, then I would have you temporarily watch over my domain while I lead my vassals to educate the upstart baron what it means to disrespect a duke."


    This was the hard part. Louis did his best to keep his true feelings hidden. Instead, he had to show his usual approach to anything involving his brother.


    "You are leading your army out ¡­ to bully a mere baron." It wasn''t a question. It was a statement pointing out how low that was, not only for his brother''s honor but also in calling up the banners for a single baron who couldn''t have more than two hundred levies at his beck and call.


    Of course, Louis knew that Baron von Fluelaberg was an exceptional administrator and developer; he had over four hundred levies and nearly a hundred men-at-arms equivalent soldiers ready to answer his call just from his personal domain. The man''s expertise in enticing artisans and tradesmen to come and live in his town naturally also brought other less specialized commoners that farmed the poor Alpine soil.


    Actually, the people living in the Alps did not farm as much as they made pastures for their livestock. Their poor soil and weather was not great for farming.


    In fact, Louis wagered that if Rudolf rampaged enough in the Swabian Alps, he just might ruin the Swabian lords enough that they might never rise up to prominence. This would make his future endeavors to subjugate those lands easily, including the lands of the Habsburgs.


    "I see that you have not heard about this baron. He is known as the Count Killer," his brother grunted. "A man with such a nickname is bound to have some military mind, and in those narrow valleys, tactical mindsets will have proven more valuable than pure numbers. I intend to take him on with the quality of our noblemen''s men-at-arms instead of levy rabble. A smaller army will also mean that I will be able to strike many places quickly instead of lagging behind due to marching peasants."


    Louis thought that this was a foolish strategy. It would be better to let the levies plunder across the Compact with little to no repercussion for any reprehensive acts. It would be more efficient and deliver the most damage, after all.


    He paused.


    Of course, this might mean that the peasants might even kill the Prince-Bishop of Chur, which would earn enough ire from the Papacy. It might even end up with his brother¡­


    ¡­excommunicated.


    He shivered.


    That just might be what he needed in order to obtain the entire Duchy of Upper Bavaria.


    "I think you should take your time and take the entire army, including the levies."


    Rudolf looked at him across the table where the map of the Swabian Alps was shown. "You think so?"


    "Yes," he replied. "If the baron disrespected you, then you must make this clear not just to the baron but to the entire empire. No one gets away with disrespecting us."


    Rudolf continued to stare before smirking. "I guess even you don''t like it when some lowly upstart insults you, huh?"


    ''No,'' Louis thought with a hum as if to show that he agreed. Because while he agreed with his older brother, this aggressive war would be too blunt of a method to show his displeasure. Though it might take longer, he''ll make sure to ruin the man in other ways. Who knows? He might even find more information to burn the baron with as he took a longer time grinding the fool into nothing.


    But.


    The baron was just a tool for Louis to beat down his older brother. Once his brother was out of the picture, he''d just ignore the baron. A baron, at the end of the day, was a baron and nothing more. Money, influence, and political power meant nothing if he could find a decent casus belli and run down the countryside lord with soldiers.


    "What else do you need from me aside from managing your realm in your absence?"


    Rudolf raised an eyebrow. "Brother, I''m asking you to kick out any would-be opportunists, not letting you manage my lands. I''m not dumb enough to let you plant spies and cronies in my ranks."


    "Tch," he muttered, and his brother just laughed at him.


    "I''m not that dumb!"


    ''But dumb enough to go to war over a slip of paper that isn''t even from the baron,'' he thought before shrugging. "If that is all, then you didn''t even have to call for me here."


    "True. Maybe I just wanted to see my brother before I went off to war."


    Louis rolled his eyes. For all of his brother''s faults, no one could ever claim that he wasn''t one for family.


    -VB-


    Henry I


    Duke of Carinthia, Duke of Carniola


    Count of Tyrol


    Isabella''s cousin


    "War?" Henry looked in surprise at the messenger.


    "Yes, milord," he replied as he pulled out a letter and handed it over to his lord with both of his hands. Henry took the letter and opened it up.


    This letter was from one of his contacts within the Duchy of Upper Bavaria, a certain merchant who managed to gain more market thanks to Henry''s lenient policies. Of course, this wasn''t a contact of loyalty but one of tit for tat. For each credible and actionable information the merchant got him, he would pay the merchant one hundred guelders. A chump change for both of them, true, but it was a bigger change for the merchant than it was for him.


    "So the older Duke of Upper Bavaria wants a go at my future brother-in-law, huh?" he hummed before walking over to his table, writing his own letter, and put both his and the merchant''s letter into a new envelope. "Take this to my brother. I doubt he needs my help, but ask him just in case."


    "Yes, Your Grace."


    And the messenger ran off.


    Henry stood there in his office as he tried to picture what was going to happen. The Duchy of Upper Bavaria was not poor by any means, so they would bring enough men-at-arms and levies to crush a normal baron, no doubt. Unfortunately, Hans was no normal baron and his soldiers were no normal soldiers.


    Henry imagined a scene where the Bavarian troops walked into the thick forested valleys of the Alps. He imagined a scene of horror as arrows rained down on the unsuspecting levies in the middle of the night with pinpoint accuracy. Hans and a select few of his soldiers would be among them, slicing away at flesh and setting fire to the tents.


    ¡­ Yeah, no. That Bavarian was walking into a slaughter.


    -VB-


    Isabella


    Future Baroness of Fluelaberg


    Isabella glared at Hans, and Hans adamantly refused to let her know what the godforsaken horrid smells wafting about in the castle was!


    For the first time, they were fighting.


    "It can''t possibly be important enough for everyone in the castle to deal with this smell for a full week!"


    "It can''t be helped! The equipment we need for this can''t be carried far, and you know about the spies that have to be crawling all around," he grimaced.


    As she understood it, Hans had collected a literal cellar-full of animal dung and let them ferment underneath the fort. Unfortunately, he didn''t do something right and the atrocious smell was wafting about the entire fort. The once beautiful and smell-less Fluelaberg¡­ began to smell like shit for the first time.


    "Get rid of those or put them somewhere else!"


    "I can''t! I don''t have anywhere else to put them! I can''t leave potential explosives anywhere else! I know for a fact that if they exploded in the cellar, then the cobblestone-lined cellar could take the hit."


    She didn''t know what explosives were until he showed her.


    And she just ¡­ couldn''t understand how he so easily lived with the fact that there were those things underneath their feet. Yes, she saw him do supernatural things to make a tunnel and then a cellar to store them some one hundred feet underneath the ground floor of the fort, but it didn''t change the fact that a single barrel of those dungs could destroy a barn!


    And he had hundreds of them!


    The smell was really the excuse.


    The potential explosion was what really scared her.


    And so she fought with him for the first time to the point of ignoring the servants skittering away whenever they got too close.


    To think that their first fight would be over ¡­ shit-filled barrels, no matter how useful they may be in the future.


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 71


    -VB-


    Hans von Fluelaberg


    [Commander] LvL.29


    Center, hold steady. Both flanks, curve in. Trap and slaughter them. Victory is soon ours.


    *+1% Man-At-Arms/Soldier Effectiveness per LvL


    *-0.25% Friendly Casualties in battle per LvL


    *+0.1% likelihood of being able to trap, counter, or outmaneuver enemy commander


    [Rulership] LvL.31


    Change the rules as how you see fit with your power.


    *+0.5% additional law/rule change acceptance with vassals per LvL


    *+0.1 opinion per LvL


    [Chemistry LvL.22


    You are nature''s lawyer.


    *Increase chemical reaction output by 0.025% per LvL.


    *Limited to chemical reactions personally performed.]


    [Delegate] LvL 59


    Divide and conquer¡­ that work.


    *Improves work efficiency of workers, employees, soldiers, and subordinates by 0.05% per lvl.


    *Output = (Work.Efficiency)*(Work.Proficiency)


    -Work Proficiency is determined by a skill user''s level and supplemental skills.


    On average, I saw an increase of twenty levels across most skills I had, and in the upcoming war, I had a feeling that more than any other skills, these four skills would have the greatest impact.


    Hell, Chemistry was already having an impact with how many barrels of shit I had to oversee personally. That was part of the reason why I had been adamant about personally doing the work, not only because I possessed the strength and endurance to do thirty men''s work by myself but also because it helped improve my skills.


    In war, there were six aspects that one needed to manage: finance, supply, supply line, war diplomacy, military movement, and battle tactics. The first four could fall under the blanket term of strategy, but I didn''t because of how each of the four aforementioned skills applied to each part of the overall strategy. It''s an easy trap to condense and categorize these aspects of war into a generalized category and call it a day. However, 21st-century militaries employed officers specific to each and trained even more specialized officers for subcategories for a reason.


    It was one of the reasons why, once I ascertained Isabella''s trustworthiness, I delegated some of the work to her. When I first did that, my Delegate had been level 43, which gave her a 2% increase in productivity. Or at least I assumed that was the case because I didn''t know how well she did before she met me. I also didn''t have time to compare her output with anything because she didn''t take up any hobbies or personal projects that I could measure objectively.


    It was this delegation skill that also impacted my soldiers and rangers as they followed my directions.


    "Get those barrels tucked in tightly! I don''t want them juggling around in the cart when we''re rolling down the valley!" I shouted.


    "Yes, milord!"


    I watched a hundred-plus men and some women working to move the supplies that I had prepared over the last six months. I was noticing how much faster it was when people were directly receiving orders from me. There was, however, no secondary chain of effect; only those taking orders from me seemed to benefit from my Delegate''s effect. Isabella, for example, was doing great over where she was overseeing another supply convoy being loaded up but the speed of my workers made it seem like those under her were lagging behind.


    She noticed that, too, and saw me. She flushed, looked away, and began to yell out more orders.


    I hoped that she didn''t think I might think less of her for not being able to catch up with me.


    After staring at her for a minute more (during which my eyes mysteriously drifted down to her shapely rear), I quickly turned back to focus on my share of the convoy but from the knowing glances my people sent my way, everyone saw it anyways.


    Ugh.


    -VB-


    Leon of Fluelaberg


    He took a deep breath, held it, and pulled up.


    He kept his back straight, feeling almost curved inward but actually not, and used his legs to lift. His thighs burned at the load he was pulling up, but it was also a load that he couldn''t possibly do it by himself! After all, he never lifted three hundred pound barrel before.


    But he was now. Maybe it was because he was feeling great? Wait, why was he feeling better here instead of the mines?


    ¡­ Maybe because he was doing something to protect himself, his wife, his newborn daughter, and his town. He was there in the castle hall when the baron gave a speech about the bavarians and their wicked ways. How they have been responsible for bandits! Knights dressing up bandits!


    It was unthinkable but it had happened. He had proof, even if Leon himself didn''t know the sigils, insignias, and house colors. He thought it was weird. If he were to do something illegal, then he wouldn''t leave something like that around him. That might make trouble for his wife.


    But then he wasn''t a lord, a baron, a knight, or even a man-at-arms.


    He was a miner, a mine manager, and now a soldier for the upcoming war.


    It was¡­ He didn''t want to go to war but he sure as hell wasn''t going to let some plainsfolk, who knew nothing about how hard mountain life was, come up these hills and tell them what to do!


    "Oi, Leon!"


    He looked around and saw James, one of the more opportunistic Davos folks who shacked up early with this whole town. He was one of the richer commoners around.


    "What is it?" he asked.


    "The lord is calling for you."


    "Me?"


    "Yes," he replied as he adjusted his pristine brigandine. "I think he wants to make you a squad captain or something like that."


    Leon gulped. Most of the able bodied men in Fluelaberg trained in one way or another. "Squad" was a formation that their lord drilled into them. It was a formation of five men. Being a squad leader wasn''t all that bad, but he wasn''t sure if he was the one for the job. He didn''t know much about fighting.


    He nodded and walked up to the cart that their lord was standing on top of, using it as a makeshift platform from which he gave out his orders.


    "Milord, you called for me?" he asked nervously.


    The younger man turned to look at him. He had a bit of a stubble growing out now, compared to the clean face that he usually kept.


    "Yes. Leon, I want you to be the platoon leader for Platoon Seven."


    ¡­ Platoon leader? Not a squad leader?


    "I-"


    "You''ve been showing good leadership as the mine manager," he said with a smile. "I think I can trust you with a platoon."


    A platoon was composed for three to five squads, which meant that he would be responsible for up to twenty-five men. Twenty-five lives.


    But did he dare object to his lord? Baron von Fluelaberg was a great lord but he was also a merciless killer when it came to the battlefield. He heard about how he killed dozens of men-at-arms on his first battlefield, hunted down landed nobles, and butchered hundreds!


    "I- I am not sure if I am fit for such a role, milord," he stuttered out. He wasn''t objecting! He was ¡­ Oh God, was he questioning his lord?


    The baron shook his head. "Don''t think I''m ignorant of what''s happening in my own town, Leon. I''ve been hearing too many good things about you to just let you languish as a common soldier. Who knows, maybe you''ll even get an accomplishment in this war to become something more, eh?" he said as he handed him a blue brigandine, much like the one that James had worn.


    On its back, he saw a heraldry stitched onto the upper right chest of the brigandine: a black tri-tipped mountain.


    -VB-


    A/N: Commander and Rulership were introduced in Chapter 31, and Chemistry was introduced in Chapter 38


    -VB-


    CHAPTER 72 OMITTED DUE TO NSFW CONTENT

 Chapter 73-77: Battle of Lower Engandin

    Swiss ArmsChapter 73


    -VB-


    Previously¡­


    "I am calling the banners," Rudolf told his brother. "And crush that uppity mountain hick!"


    ---


    "I think you should call up the entire army, including the levies," Louis advised.


    "You think so?"


    ---


    Louis watched his brother leave Munich at the head of an army, and smiled as events happened according to his plan.


    ---


    Hans von Fluelaberg


    "What?" I hissed in surprise.


    The ranger in front of me jolted in place but remained firm. "Our rangers have reported that the Duke of Upper Bavaria has been sighted entering the Alps from Innsbruck," he reported while continuing to hold out the report to me.


    I quickly took the report and opened it up.


    Technically speaking, my rangers weren''t supposed to be prowling the woods of other territories as that was a violation of whichever lord or city''s rights to the territory. It wasn''t strictly illegal, but depending on the actions of my men, including spying, it may cause conflicts. I had been wary about sending them out beforehand, but reading the report in front of me, I felt vindicated from my previous hesitation in my preemptive action.


    And the report¡­


    "Nearly six thousand soldiers¡­" I muttered.


    Someone knocked hastily on the door to my solar. "A letter from the Duke of Carinthia!"


    Henry?


    "Enter!"


    A servant rushed in after opening the door, panting as she quickly handed me a letter. I ripped its envelope open and pulled out the letter.


    Dear Soon to be Brother-In-Law,


    I am aware of your troubles with the Duke of Upper Bavaria. It was not pleasant news to hear about it from the duke himself and not you and Isabella, but you must have been trying to keep it from escalating. I would like to help, but you are not yet family and no true alliance has been made that can justify me attacking the duke who is asking for passage across my lands to reach yours. Never mind the fact that I do not have my own troops ready to repel an army that matches mine.


    I can, however, give you this. On the second page of this letter, you can find the route the Duke of Upper Bavaria told me he would take. As taking any other route with his army might be seen as an act of war, he will have to stick to this route.


    May God favor you in the battles to come, Hans.


    And, of course, since I gave the duke military access, you too are given military access. If you do hold a battle in my lands, please limit the property damage and keep it away from my commoners.


    Also, please burn this portion of the letter.


    Sincerely,


    Henry I of Gorizia, the Duke of Carinthia, Margrave of Carniola, Margarve on the Sann, and Count of Tyrol


    I hurriedly tossed that letter into the open fire and looked at the second page of the letter.


    It was a list of town and village names. While I didn''t know many of these names, I knew the last name that was on the list.


    Zernez.


    It was the town that was right next to Fluelaberg. The one that I had led the first fights of the Compact against.


    Well¡­


    It was time to start planning.


    -VB-


    Leon of Fluelaberg


    Leon marched alongside the carts and the rest of the men from Fluelaberg and Davos. It was to his surprise that there was a lack of horsemen among them, even though Fluelaberg was rich enough to train and maintain many men-at-arms.


    More than that, Baron Fluelaberg himself did not ride a horse but marched on foot with the rest of them with heavy armor and weapons that would have dragged any other man down by the end of the first hour of marching. But not their lord. Oh no no no. He carried a broadsword wider than Leon''s arms put together and longer than anyone was tall in the Compact with ease, even though it had to weigh as much as a steer.


    What concerned him, though, was the lack of the rangers.


    The baron never called them his men-at-arms. He always called them "rangers." They did not train with swords, spears, and shields. What few training sessions he saw was rangers using crossbow of all things. Well, Leon heard about what happened over in the west, so he wasn''t going to doubt the baron about that anymore.


    But the lack of their presence made him uneasy. What could they be doing?


    "Hey, Leon."


    He glanced over his shoulder and saw the men that he was responsible for. Of them, the five men near him were the squad leaders: Jeremiah the woodworker, Benjamin the farmer, Hector the miner, Arnold "the short" and not of Davos, and Zachariah the former man-at-arms of the Baron of Vaz and now gate guard of Fluelaberg.


    "What is it, Zach?" he asked the older man. Personally, he thought that Zachariah should have been the platoon leader. He was a trained soldier and Leon was not.


    "What did the lord baron tell you about this war? I know we''re going to be fighting a duke, but I hope it won''t be out in the middle of the field? There''s no way we can."


    Leon blinked. "I don''t think we will," he replied while scratching his stubbles. "Lord Hans knows what he is doing, especially when it comes to war. A lot of the people who were here first will tell you that."


    Zachariah hummed. The man had come to live in Fluelaberg because his brother-in-law and sister had been one of the first people to live in Fluelaberg due to the Unruly Year. He wasn''t part of any big event just like Leon hadn''t.


    Leon, however, did have an idea of what Lord Hans wanted to do.


    He glanced over at the barrels of shit that their lord had meticulously collected.


    Yes, if Lord Hans'' plan didn''t have those shit barrels in his plans, then Leon would hang up his managerial position.


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 74


    -VB-


    Leon of Fluelaberg


    After the baron''s army crossed over the Fluelaberg Pass and into Tyrol, they took a turn north and then turned to the east after that. This march took over two days to complete, and by the end of it, Leon was starting to feel alright about it all.


    He wasn''t sure why he felt alright but he did.


    At least until one of the rangers accidentally leaked the news that an army of six thousand was on their way to attack them.


    Six thousand? That was ¡­ that was almost five times greater than their own number!


    ¡­ But the veterans of the Unruly Year did not look horrified by the prospect of fighting an army that overwhelmingly outnumbered them.


    "How can you not be scared?" he asked Zachariah. The man wasn''t part of the baron''s army but he showed none of the anxiety that the rest of the common soldiers showed. He was kind of like the rangers in that regard.


    The rangers didn''t protest the baron''s decision. They obeyed. They disappeared. They came back. Zachariah obeyed the baron''s commands and didn''t doubt the lord.


    But Zach was still someone who was a veteran. If someone knew what fighting was like, then it was him. Fighting an enemy that outnumbered them five to one¡­?


    Zach looked up, his bushy beard and moustache stained with the dinner soup.


    "Hmm?" Zach asked.


    "How are you not scared about the upcoming battle?"


    His platoon sat around them, and looked to Zach for a response.


    "Well¡­ what do you think a battle is?" Zach asked in return.


    Leon frowned. "Wouldn''t it be men and knights fighting side by side?"


    "Yes," he agreed and then gestured around. "And where are we?"


    "In a valley?"


    "That," he said. "I don''t know if any of you left the valleys you lot were born in, but I have. I''ve traveled as far as Venetia, though most of you don''t know where that is." He took a deep breath in. "Venetia is ¡­ it''s a very flat place. There are a few hills, but it is flat as you can see, and the only thing that isn''t flat is the Alps. When you fight in a place like that, yes, your numbers matter. It is easy to get flanked and overwhelmed, especially when cavalry gets involved." Then he leaned in. "But can you flank someone in a valley?"


    Leon blinked. "... No?"


    "Unless you are a suicidal motherfucker who decides that you''re going to scale those snow-tipped mountains, no," Zach shook his head. "On top of that, most of our valleys have at least one river that runs through it, doesn''t it?"


    "It does¡­" Then Leon stopped. "The river acts as a barrier."


    "Yes, it makes fighting harder with a river in the middle so most battles, ones I''ve been involved in any way, avoid them. When it does involve it because we gotta cross it, then that''s when shit gets fucked. Misox up south and west found out the hard way." He took another sip of the soup from the ladle before licking his lips and beard. "Kinda bland," he hummed before pulling out a small white packet and shaking some salt in.


    Salt ¡­ was expensive. Leon remembered the old days when he lived in Tyrol how salt was a luxury. In Fluelaberg, salt was abundant, partially because of the mining. One of the underground branches hit a small rock salt vein a few months ago. Even so, salt was still expensive.


    "Where was I¡­? Right. Rivers. I''m not sure if you saw, but the valley here is a bit steep. And where we just set up camp? I saw what it was like in the day; it has steep hills and cliffs on either side, a river running through the middle, and the relatively flat passage through this valley is barely two hundred feet wide. Two hundred feet is enough for one hundred and fifty men to hold indefinitely while our rangers flank their rear."


    The valley was that narrow up ahead? Leon did not know. All he saw had been trees.


    "And ¡­ whatever those nasty, stinking shit barrels are for," Zach scrunched his nose.


    Leon grimaced, too.


    Though the smell had lessened over the days, it still smelled.


    Really, what were those literal barrels of shit for?


    -VB-


    Hans von Fluelaberg


    "Yes, right there."


    The few select soldiers and rangers I brought with me dug into the relatively flat earth in the fire-less night.


    Carefully uprooted grass was gently laid over the buried barrel while others had to scoop up shovel-full of dried shit and spread them over the area I had directed. Half of the barrels spread in that manner while the other half were buried; the buried shit were more "moist" than the ones being spread about.


    My plan was ¡­ well, there were three plans.


    The first plan was what required all of this shit.


    The second plan was to fight in a more conventional method should the first plan fail.


    The third plan was, well, obvious. I''m called a Count Killer for a reason. It shouldn''t be too hard to upgrade that title to Duke Destroyer or something like that.


    One of the soldiers trudged up to me and bowed. "We spread all of the poop, baron," one of the soldiers reported. "What should we do?"


    "If you want to, then you can go wash yourselves. Some of the other soldiers back in the camp have been ordered to prepare warm waters for you to wash yourself with."


    They sounded happy about that and trudged away while the rangers remained behind.


    "Would this really work?" one of the rangers'' "captains" replied.


    I hummed. "It should under the right conditions. But if the conditions aren''t right, then we are in for a spectacle," I grinned. Then I sniffed. "Ugh, I smell like shit."


    "No duh," someone muttered but I let it slide. I didn''t train these rangers for their etiquette, after all.


    "Oh yeah, maybe I should find who just said that and throw them in the river! You must smell just like me!" No one dared to step up. I snorted. "That''s what I thought."


    I dismissed them all. A few remained with me as I turned to look at the flat portion of the valley that would be the future battleground between the duke and myself.


    And honestly?


    I couldn''t help but feel excited.


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 75


    -VB-


    Duke Rudolf of Upper Bavaria


    "That fucking rat!" Rudolf hissed while holding onto the reins of his warhorse. His leather gloves squeaked under his tightening fist as he looked down at the only way through these mountains to reach the Compact and that baron ¡­ was blocked by that very same baron.


    He knew that this might have happened because he wanted to take the closest path to the Compact, but that goddamn Henry must have told the baron about it! Now, they were in a narrow valley with densely forested, steep hills on both sides where battle couldn''t possibly happen, leaving only a flat, narrow gap for them to fight.


    A significant part of his tactics involved flanking the baron without a cavalry of his own and killing him. Instead, the baron positioned himself in a way that made flanking not only hard but also usage of cavalry unwanted because of the dense forest!


    But retreating from here was also unadvised. The valleys behind him were even worse off than the valley in front of him with even steeper hills, cliffs that would see someone fall right into the river, and an equally dense forest that blocked sight.


    "Raise the white flag. I wish to talk with this baron," he growled. His page did just that, and he strode forward from the center of his army to the front and then across the clearing between his and the baron''s "army."


    They didn''t shoot him, which meant that the baron was at least aware of the rules of war.


    Once he got closer to their frontline, he found the baron walking up to meet him.


    Rudolf blinked as he realized that the baron was a rather tall man. With his rough metal faceplate and bear fur, he looked bigger and better armored than all of his men. Then there was that big slab of iron the hillbilly brute called his weapon.


    "... So you are Baron of Fluelaberg."


    "I am. And you are Rudolf, the Duke of Upper Bavaria," the peasant-born noble spat with disgust. Rudolf felt his cheeks twitch at the blatant disrespect but he already knew that the brute in front of him was a disrespectful cunt from the response he received.


    Rudolf, instead, gestured at his army. "You can clearly see that I have a bigger army, baron. Surrender yourself, and I will not burn your little fort."


    The baron looked up at him before snorting. He too gestured at his army. "Go back to your army, little lord. If you think your silver spoon fed lordship can take on our hardy mountain soldiers, then come at us. None of us are scared of you. Do we fear him, men?!"


    "NO!" they roared back, and the sudden shout made his horse stumble back with a whine.


    He pulled at the reins of his horse, trying to get him under control.


    "Who are we?!" the baron demanded as he stepped forward. He grabbed his "sword" with one hand ¡­ and then pulled it off of his back and up into the air.


    Rudolf stared with wide eyes at what had to be at least a hundred pounds of steel was held aloft by a single arm and hand. That ¡­ was impressive.


    "We are men of the mountain!" the peasant army roared back.


    Rudolf narrowed his eyes. No, it wasn''t that all of the peasant levies were saying that in sync, but it was the more elite looking fighters spread out among them that were shouting and in turn getting the rest to roar along.


    This little baron was riling up his men for battle. He truly did intend to fight him.


    "So be it, ''men of the mountain,''" he snapped back with a shout of his own. "When I reach your town, I will burn it to the ground! All of you will be a lesson in why nobles are not to be messed with by you lowly peasants!"


    He rode back, and when he was back among his knights, men-at-arms, and levies, he snapped his horse around to face the baron''s army once more. "Prepare for battle!"


    -VB-


    Leon of Fluelaberg


    He quivered in his boots and behind his spear as he and his platoon stood shoulder to shoulder with their spears in hand.


    They saw the much larger army marching toward them, and he couldn''t help but question¡­


    Could they really do it? Yeah, he shouted along with the rangers at the duke but that was one thing.


    Could he ¡­ kill?


    "Do you lot want to go back to the days when lords can just kill you for no reason?" the baron asked loudly that he could be heard by all. "Do you want to live in a world where the likes of the Unruly Year can happen at any moment? Where egos of men like that duke decides the life of your families?"


    Leon gulped and remembered his own wife, who was waiting for him.


    He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.


    "No," he gritted out, and he wasn''t the only one.


    "I am your [Commander]! As long as I stand, I will not let you down!" the baron exclaimed. "This is my promise to you! I will not fall until the last of their men falls! I will not run before any of you!" He swung his sword down, and there was a boom of air. There was a moment of silence among their army. "I am your lord," he spoke softly but it sounded so loud in that silence. "I will show you exactly what you should aspire to be on the battlefield."


    There was a mismatch of a roar from across the battlefield, and Leon saw the duke''s army charge toward them. Even the duke himself was riding in the front, and one of his knights carried his banner, letting it flutter in the winds.


    It was terrifying!


    Leon began quivering again.


    But their lord¡­


    He pointed at the duke.


    "FIRE!"


    For a second, nothing happened.


    And then Leon saw multiple arrows flying out from the forests to their left and right. Each of those arrows fluttered wth flames as they sailed through the air.


    Then¡­


    Those arrows landed among the charging bavarians.


    ¡­


    Nothing.


    "All it takes," the lord hummed as he raised his sword up. "Is one."


    That''s when it happened.


    BBOOOMMM!!!


    A plume of black smoke and fire erupted from the center of the charging enemy army, and a dozen more quickly erupted in succession. It was deafening. Leon screamed as he felt the waves of pressure washing over him like gentle breezes.


    But gentle breezes did not send men flying into the sky. Or set the valley aflame.


    Leon''s eyes widened.


    The barrels! The shit barrels! Nearly all of them had been missing for a while now! The baron must have discovered some ¡­ some kind of sorcery!


    They could win this!


    "MEN!" the baron roared. "SPEARS. DOWN!"


    The few days of training he got took over, and he lowered his spear.


    "ADVANCE!"


    -VB-


    A/N: y''all finally got the boom you wanted. Details on how exactly this was achieved will be explained in a later chapter. You know, aside from the knowledge that poops can explode, and fermented poops are the most likely candidates for that.


    A/N: white flags were used to signal surrender in the Second Battle of Cremona, also known as the First Battle of Bedriacum, which was in AD 69.


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 76


    -VB-


    Rudolf I


    Duke of Upper Bavaria


    What was that?


    Something happened behind the frontlines and then ¡­ the sound of a violent gale slammed into his back through his armor. It stalled the charge, and everyone looked around in confusion, including him. And when he turned around, he saw fire.


    Fire had spread out from the center of his army and ¡­ and ¡­


    Where di it come from?


    He looked up when he saw something from the corner of his eyes and his eyes widened when he noticed fire arrows streaking out from the forests!


    ''The baron wasn''t just waiting for me. He was prepared to fight me!''


    No wonder he was confident! The entire valley had been made into the baron''s playground, and he walked into it without a single thought about how a noble killing, honorless cur might fight!


    And that''s when he felt a chill run up his spine.


    Count Killer.


    That was the baron''s nickname. A disdainful name that ignored all of the customs and rules of war.


    ''He''s going to kill me.''


    A cold sweat broke out all over his body.


    Was this all a trap in the first place? This kind of fire trap was not something you could use-.


    "He burned down the Toggensburg castle."


    But the baron was used to handling the fire.


    This had to be a trap for him!


    All of this had been a trap! The letters, the bandits, the merchants! All of it was a trap from the start!


    He gritted his teeth.


    And if this was a trap meant to kill him, then his priority was to escape. The baron wasn''t even the priority. His "Compact" wasn''t the priority. His priority was to find the bastards that set this trap from the start ¡­ since the merchant guilds of Munich went rogue.


    But the problem right now was the baron and his soldiers barreling down toward him.


    "To me, men!" he roared as he pulled at the reins of his horse. His voice cut through the sound of fighting and fire, but his words didn''t reach everyone.


    And t-.


    Something moving fast caught his eyes and he turned to look just in time to see the baron reach the peak of his jump. He soared high above the heads and even some of the speartips.


    When did the baron jump that high? How did he jump that high?


    And then the baron was falling. Falling towards him with his "sword."


    "Spears up!" someone shouted from his left, and three dozen spears hastily rose up asynchronously. "Jumping into us by yourself?! You will die like a fool, baron!"


    And then his eyes widened in shock and disbelief as the baron spun in the air with his sword, cut through the spear shafts before he was hit by the tips, and came down upon one of his men-at-arms. The monstrous blade tore through the soldier, bisecting him from shoulder to hit, and sent the two parts tumbling away.


    There was not a moment to react because the baron was soon upon the rest, hacking and slicing with that slab of metal.


    "Kill him!" Rudolf ordered.


    But then the baron grabbed one of the spears lunged toward him, pulled the spear free from the attacker, whirled it around, grabbed it by the shaft, took aim, and threw.


    It happened so quickly that he couldn''t react before that spear was sailing past him and struck one of his soldiers. He whirled around, jerking away in shock, and gawked in horror when he saw his page pinned to the ground with a spear through his helmet and head.


    And then ¡­


    That''s when the rest of the baron''s army crashed into his disorganized frontline.


    Spears so evenly lined up that Rudolf felt envious for a split second skewered into his men, and crossbowmen hiding behind and between the spearmen fired their loads without even reloading! Some of his men-at-arms went down with a spear in the gut and crossbow bolts in the neck and chest. Some went down even before meeting the enemy with a bolt to the face. Others screamed as they fell to the side when bolts struck them in the legs and arms.


    KA-THOONG!


    There was another explosion of wind and sound as fire erupted once more, and Rudolf even saw half a man flying away from the force of the explosion.


    And from atop his horse, he could see the flanks of his army start to disintegrate as normal crossbow bolts rained down from the steep-sloped and dense forests. His soldiers tried to rush up the forests, but it was too dark in there and they couldn''t see any hint of where the attacks were coming from.


    ''It''s alright. I still outnumber him by far-!''


    "MILORD!"


    He whirled around toward the sound and saw the baron.


    He was swinging.


    At him.


    Rudolf roared as he dodged, and barely got himself out of the way of the vertical down strike.


    His horse was not as lucky.


    The steel bit into Charles''s neck and then sliced cleanly through.


    Rudolf hastily tried to get off but Charles''s dying body, spasming and writhing in its death throes, threw him off instead, and he flailed and screamed as he found himself briefly in the air before landing on the muddied grass below with an oomph.


    He groaned as he tried to get up. He put his right hand on the muddied ground and tried to push up,


    There was a sudden splatter, and he blinked as he realized that there was suddenly a lot of blood droplets on his gauntlets and the grass around him where there wasn''t just a moment ago.


    Rudolf pushed himself around.


    His heart froze when he saw a giant standing among pillars of legs and stom-.


    Oh, those were just his soldiers.


    "A- AAAHHHHH!!!!" he screamed as he scrambled up and ran for his life.


    Then he tripped after only taking five steps.


    He heard something hissing as it sailed past where his back had just been. He faceplanted into the mud and got back up, gasping for air, an-.


    He stopped and trembled as he saw a line of death before him. Soldiers got out of the way of a dozen bodies slowly falling or already fallen with the very last soldier at the very end of it gurgling as he fell backward with the giant sword imbedded up to the hilt through his chest, taking up more width of the man''s chest than it didn''t occupy.


    "For a lord that was so sure of his victory, that was a rather girlish scream."


    It was the baron.


    The thing that killed a dozen soldiers by throwing a sword that must weigh as much as a man was the baron himself!


    He turned around on his trembling arms because his legs had given out and refused to move.


    The baron stood over him, no more than two or three steps away from him.


    Behind him, Rudolf saw his vaunted men-at-arms falling to the spears of the commoners. Why weren''t they winning?!


    Then ¡­ a ray of hope.


    One of his generals, Count Jacob of Rosenheim, charged into the fray and stabbed his sword toward the baron.


    The baron casually parried the longsword with his left gauntlet in a upward motion and then, in a smooth motion transitioning from the parry, brought his arm around and punched the count with a snap of his arm.


    The count, who had gotten too close, couldn''t block in time and took the punch to his helmet. There was a loud clang and the squeal of twisting metals. The helmet caved under the armored fist and sprayed out blood from all openings for just a moment.


    The count stumbled back one step, two steps, and then fell over backward. He did not move.


    Rudolf nearly pissed himself.


    "Monster!" he shouted at the baron.


    The baron silently picked up the sword the count had dropped, and no one stopped him. Between the peasant spearmen creeping ever closer and the fear the man had instilled in his soldiers, no one moved to take advantage of the baron stooping down to pick up the sword.


    Once he had the sword, he was even more dangerous.


    And when the baron raised his sword up while glaring down at him¡­


    "I SURRENDER!"


    -VB-


    Analysis of the Battle of Lower Engandin.


    Taking place on September 13, 1303, this battle was the first and only battle fought between Rudolf I of Upper Bavaria and Hans von Fluelaberg of the Compact.


    At first glance, this battle should have been won by Rudolf I, the co-ruler of the Duchy of Upper Bavaria. The duke brought 5,700 soldiers, a fifth of which were his personal men-at-arms along with half of his knights. Against the then-baron''s eight hundred and fifty-three soldiers, of which less than two hundred were his well-trained rangers, the duke should have overwhelmed a cavalry-less, "ill-equipped" army (Halrsen, 20**). Of the rest of his army, another three-fifths were made up of men-at-arms of nobles the duke had called to the fight. Again, this meant that over three thousand and five hundred troops were men-at-arms with documents stating that there may have also been at least a hundred knights.


    This turned out not to be the case for seven reasons:


    One, the baron had an army equipped with superior equipment, namely their longer spears. Compared to the six to eight-foot-long (1.8 meters to 2.4 meters) spears used commonly by levy soldiers, men-at-arms, and knights of most armies, the baron gave his soldiers ten-foot-long (~3 meters) spears (Harlsen, 20**).


    Second, while individual men-at-arms were better trained and equipped than any of the baron''s soldiers except the baron himself, the average training time for the regular soldiers of the baron''s army was only marginally less than that of the men-at-arms and significantly longer than that of the levy soldiers. This meant that the baron''s soldiers were capable of acting in formation and in concert with their comrades. This comparison did not apply to the men-at-arms of the lesser nobles and knights who had joined the duke; their soldiers were all inferior to the baron''s.


    Third, the duke''s army force marched across unfamiliar territory. In a normal military march, soldiers would march for some time, rest, and then march again. This pattern would repeat until they either arrived at their destination, a skirmish or a battle broke out, or night fell and marching became impossible. It is currently estimated that the duke had force marched his army with an average pace of six kilometers per hour over four hundred kilometers. He did not allow them breaks during the day. This meant that the army''s strength had been significantly reduced by the time they met von Fluelaberg''s army on an uphill slope.


    Fourth, the geography favored the Compact. The Lower Engadin valley, for those who have been there, is typical of many valleys in the Eastern Alps: narrow, steep cliffs, heavily forested, fast-flowing river, and lower atmospheric oxygen than Bavaria. Specifically, there is a 3% difference in oxygen from 20% at Munich down to 17% and lower at the site of the battlefield. While this is not much of a difference, this is still half the oxygen difference a "lowlander" might experience in Cusco. For the uninitiated, this means that the air is thinner up in the Alps and makes breathing harder to the point that modern Swiss people''s hemoglobin count in those peaks are ~3% harder than those living below 500 meters above sea level, which Munich and its surrounding flat lands are barely above.


    Combined with the previously mentioned force march exhaustion, the duke''s army was not just exhausted but also incapable of restoring their stamina at the same rate as their commander expected and needed. This, combined with the fact that they had been on a force march on an ever-rising uphill, across raging rivers, and cold wind, meant they weren''t prepared to fight in their muscle fatigued state.


    Fifth, part of the reason why the duke was insistent on force marching was because the land belonged to a potentially hostile duke with more power and influence than the Duchy of Upper Bavaria, which Duke Rudolf did not even control completely: Henry, the Count of Tyrol, Landgrave of Carniola, Duke of Carinthia, and the future King of Bohemia. While then-Duke Henry did not have a personal problem with Duke Rudolf, Henry''s cousin, Isabella of Gorizia, was married to Baron Hans, and Rudolf lied about who he was going to fight. Duke Henry already knew, however, because of frequent contact between him and his cousin, who alerted him to the problems between the baron and the bavarian duke. Duke Henry decided to send information ahead, which resulted in the baron having time to prepare.


    Sixth, the baron had time to prepare. He picked the perfect area for a smaller army to fight a larger one. He prepared traps, positioned his troops, and waited. This waiting gave his troops the rest and time they needed to calm themselves for a confrontation against the duke''s larger army.


    The seventh and final reason, the baron, then already known for his martial prowess, aimed straight for the duke and managed to capture him, putting an end to the battle less than fifteen minutes into the fight.


    However, in these fifteen minutes, the baron''s army slew one hundred fifty men-at-arms at the frontline, the traps killed another one hundred, and his rangers, who had waited in the dense forests to either side of the valley, killed another fifty. In return, the duke''s army had killed less than ten. The trap, documented as fire in some records and feces in others, eventually led to the deaths of nearly five hundred before they returned to Munich. S~?a??h the ??v?l_Fir?.?et website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    The capture and humiliating defeat¡­


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 77


    -VB-


    Hans von Fluelaberg


    An overwhelming victory.


    More than that, it was the kind of victory so one-sided that it would affect the political and military balance in the region.


    ''And I think it''ll just affect everyone instead of change anything significantly because there''s too little to change,'' I thought to myself as the bavarian men-at-arms and knights were forced to give up their weapons and armors to my men. My men, most of whom were hale and whole still, gleefully picked out a weapon for themselves, because I said they could take any one weapon and any one piece of armor as their loot. Everything else would belong to me.


    Considering that a good castle steel sword sold to the right buyer could feed a family for half a year, I was extremely generous with allowing them to take two. This was the equivalent of paying everyone roughly sixty thousand USD in the early 21st century. Hell, this might even be the start of my men handing those swords down as family heirlooms.


    As for myself, I ¡­ probably didn''t get that much richer. Yeah, all of these weapons and armors were surely to make me richer, but I already had a monopoly on the only porcelain production in all of Europe, controlled the flow of trade in the Central Alps, and had a town growing ever more quickly. I was already rich, even if I didn''t flaunt it like most new moneys would.


    No, I was more concerned about my captive, the Duke of Upper Bavaria, Rudolf.


    He and I sat across each other in my now better tent, formerly his tent.


    "... You are a real piece of work, you know that?" I asked him, and he glared at me.


    "I have only acted as much as my honor demanded."


    "Your ''honor'' just got you nothing, ended with the deaths of a good tenth of your men who trusted you as their liege, and got you captured," I replied with a sneer. "All this over your own people and your own impatience."


    "Impatience?!" he snapped back at me. "I went above and beyond to satisfy my honor! I execute the guild masters affiliated with the bandits that roamed your lands! I sent their heads to you with a letter! And you responded with dismissal and disrespect!"


    I stared at him.


    "... What heads?"


    He sneered back at me. "And now you act like this-."


    "No, I''m serious," I cut him off with a frown. "What heads? What letter? The last letter I got from you was the one about you saying that the bandits weren''t yours. I thought that was the last of it until I got intelligence from others that you were preparing to attack me."


    He stared at me incomprehensively.


    "But I got a letter from you," he spat back.


    "Do you have the letter with you?"


    He did and was in one of his trunks. He had intended to use it to justify his sacking of Fluelaberg.


    When I read it ¡­


    "This is not my seal or my letter. I don''t even have a proper seal yet," I told him while bringing out one of the ledgers I''d written. It was one about my current army''s running cost, which anyone could guess with how much people I had with me, so showing him this was not a problem. He looked at it and then looked at "my" letter.


    He compared them. I only needed a single look to see a difference, but maybe that''s because I wasn''t exactly normal. I gave the duke the time to process the sheer colossal damage ¡­ he did to himself.


    "Did you even bother to compare the handwriting of the two letters? Don''t you have a spymaster for something like this?" Rudolf sat there as he grew increasingly pale. "Oh my God, you didn''t." He didn''t say anything. "You got used. To attack me. Or make yourself weaker."


    If his vassals learned about this¡­


    No, more than that, someone used me. There was no one that would be after me right now. The only enemies I would be fighting right now were fighting John in the west or too weak to even consider interfering. So who¡­?


    "Well, all of my enemies are dead, too weak, or busy," I told him. "So the only option that''s left is your enemy that set this up." Rudolf looked like he had a dozen emotions running rampant inside of him. Humiliation, frustration, anger, dishonor, expectations, and more just ¡­ wrecking him from the inside out. "And you still have to pay for your release."


    "How much," he gritted out as he tried to calm himself.


    "Ten thousand gulden."


    Finally, Richard''s grumbling and glaring facade broke as he sputtered. "Ten thousand?! My duchy barely makes that in a year!"


    "Well, you can also rot inside a mountain prison built into a mountain instead. And let me tell you, there''s a lot of mines that can be converted into prison cells."


    Rudolf shuddered in his seat.


    "You would do that to a royalty?"


    "In this empire, royalties are a dime a dozen," I smiled. "But I''m sure your brother would pay your ransom if only to not have you be used as an abject lesson of his house''s humiliation." But more importantly, I did not want to be that guy in the HRE who kept his enemies like trophies. That would get old very fast and even a single sign of torture or whatnot can be used as "honorable" casus belli.


    Rudolf froze.


    I stared at him.


    He did not look so sure about being rescued.


    "Your brother will ransom you, right?" I asked slowly while leaning backward.


    He looked even less sure.


    "Right?"


    Rudolf looked desperate and without much to say right now.


    I should write a letter to Henry. Maybe he could help me.


    -VB-


    Leon of Fluelaberg


    Our return to Fluelaberg was one of triumph and glory! The baron even forced the duke to march on his feet like those Romans did to their enemies in the old days (according to the books in the library). Some people jeered at the duke and other prisoners of war, but most of us just cheered. We defeated an enemy that no one would hope to defeat! We brought home loot and glory! We came back home safe!


    He waved his hand at the crowd cheering them on, and then -.


    Leon grunted in surprise when someone ran into him.


    When he looked down, his eyes widened after realizing that it was his wife, Elanna.


    Her teary eyes looked up at him, and he couldn''t help it.


    With a grin, he placed his hands on her waist, lifted her up, and gave her a deep kiss.


    Needless to say, the entire crowd broke out into a cheer, but he didn''t care.


    He came back home, his wife was here to greet him, she was happy to see him safe, and he was happy to see her again.


    And later that night, his usual conservative and stern wife was more than happy to show her appreciation of him. Even more so the next morning when he told her how much he earned from the loot the baron gave everyone on top of the prisoners he caught for himself.


    -VB-


    A/N: i have no idea what the conversion for shilling to gulden to mark is, and I am basing some of the ransom on everything from 150 shillings for an archer''s ransom to Richard the Lionheart''s proposed ransom of 150,000 marks.

 Chapter 78-85.5

    For those of you who like it, Happy Halloween.Swiss Arms


    Chapter 78


    -VB-


    Count John of Toggenburg


    Three days after the end of the battle¡­


    John finally cornered the Count of Sargans after the count had attempted to raid Schiers after bypassing Maiefeld, where the villagers had quickly fortified to their best extent with help from Chur. When the count returned after being spotted right between Schiers and Maiefeld, John had ambushed him just like how Hans and his rangers preferred.


    And today, he had forced the Count of Sargans to give up his claim over all of the Compact, the Toggernburg lands, and his own ownership of the County of Sargans. It was either that or death at John''s hands; the now-former count had relatives he could run to, otherwise, he might have fought til the bitter end.


    It was days after finalizing the war when he received news from the east.


    "Victory!" the messenger shouted manically as he ran in on a horse at full speed. The messenger brought the horse to a stop, which nearly collapsed where it stopped, and the messenger himself looked as exhausted as his mount. "Overwhelming victory in the east! Baron von Fluelaberg defeated the Duke of Upper Bavaria in a pitched battle between six thousand soldiers and five hundred!"


    John blinked even as he found his feet carrying him to the messenger. His adoptive father had ¡­ defeated that big of an army by himself?


    Six thousand against five hundred?


    That was a feat worthy of an epic, but it was something the baron regularly performed. A dozen against a thousand. A hundred against a thousand. One mercenary against a dozen cavalry knights¡­


    It was ¡­ not surprising.


    As the messenger collapsed to his knees, he helped the man back up.


    "And he is safe?" he asked.


    "W-Who?"


    "The baron. Is the baron safe?"


    "Y-yes, milord¡­! The baron is safe."


    "Good," he smiled. "Then I should go to meet him. Tell him of my success here in the west."


    -VB-


    The Two Victories Statute, commissioned by ***** in 14**, stands in Chur today as a monument depicting the victories in Sargans and Zernez in 1303 against two forces that sought to upend the burgeoning republic of the Compact. A pair of men stand back to back with their signature weapons in hand. Hans von Fluelaberg look to the east with his langhackmesser and John Toggenburg look to the west with his shortsword.


    -VB-


    Duke Henry of Gorizia


    A week after the battle¡­


    He stared at the letter in front of him.


    The messenger, one of the Fluelaberg soldiers of the Battle of Zernez (even though the battle took place far away from that town), stood ramrod straight while waiting for his reply.


    "To defeat an army over seven times his size with a few preparations and choosing the battle''s location," Henry hummed as he tapped on his table while still staring at the letter.


    It was both a declaration of victory ¡­ and one of warning. It wasn''t directed at him per say but at everyone around the Compact.


    The Compact is strong and guarded on all fronts. Beware anyone who think they can win against us.


    Small and mighty. It was oxymoronic yet that was exactly what the Compact was: the producer of fine goods, finer dyes, and finest warriors.


    "Your Grace," his aide spoke up. "We have another messenger from the Compact. This one comes from the baron as well, but the origin is from the Count of Toggenburg."


    Toggenburg? Wasn''t that boy-count at war with one of his neighbors?


    His aide walked over to him and gave him the letter with both hands, and he took it. Ripping it open, he read its contents and ¡­


    "Well, Jesus Christ," he muttered to himself. "Another victory, this time in the west."


    The baron''s messenger twitched, showing a brief moment of surprise.


    "You did not know?" he asked the messenger who pondered on how to express himself.


    "I did not, Your ¡­ Grace," the obviously commoner soldier replied. "I knew that there was another war but not that it ended so quickly."


    This letter had been a declaration of victory against the Count of Sargans, who''s been the emperor''s peace over and over again. The Count of Toggenburg had taken it upon himself with the blessing of the Bishop of Chur to end this threat to the peace of all, and had achieved a near total victory, depriving the count of his lands and claims. Combined with Hans''s victory against Duke Rudolf of Upper Bavaria, this meant that the Compact now possessed a military capacity equivalent to a greater count. In fact, Henry wagered that there was a very good chance that if he only used his knights and levies belonging to the County of Tyrol, then he would lose against Hans.


    ''And that man is now my ally through marriage with my cousin,'' he thought with a hum.


    Things seemed to be working out for him without him even having to lift a metaphorical finger.


    What a wonderful feeling.


    "Stay the night, messenger," he spoke to the commoner. "I will have my congratulations gift and letter ready by tomorrow morning."


    "Yes, Your Grace."


    -VB-


    Emperor "King of Germans" Albert I of Germany


    Two weeks after the battle¡­


    He was having a normal day. Though he remained unsuccessful so far in bringing the wealthy Lowlands under his control, it was obvious that they would sooner or later fall under his sway. On top of that, Flanders, a rebellious region of the Kingdom of France, looked to be losing their war against the French, especially with their count, Guy, and the heir, Robert III, in the prison of the French king. If he timed it right, then there was a chance that they might bend the knee to him if he offered them both protection and high autonomy.


    The current problem was the warmongering John II of Brabant. He rallied many of the Lowlands into a coalition against the French who were sieging and looting Flanders. Because of this, the rest of the Lowlands remained stubborn about taking any further military or political actions until the French threat was pacified.


    And his imperial counterpart was simply not going to stop.


    In a way, he was here to reassure the Lowlands that the empire will stand with them.


    Kind of.


    "Your Highness!!!"


    He blinked at the frantic call and turned to look from where he was atop his horse and down at the ground where a messenger had ran up to him with a letter.


    "What is it?" he asked.


    "News from the east. The older duke of Upper Bavaria lost a war with the Baron of Fluelaberg!"


    He had to think for a second before he remembered who they were.


    The House of Wittelsbach ¡­ lost against a mere baron? A peasant baron at that?


    He took the letter from the messenger, tore it open, and pulled the parchment out. He began reading it, a message from his spymaster in Aachen. The further he read, the more the letter sounded like some myth. A thousand men defeated six thousand? The duke and most of his nobles captured?


    And then the second parchment ¡­


    "Why is the church getting involved¡­?" he muttered incredulously before he began to read the "concerns" that led to the church''s involvement.


    Or rather, the involvement of the Prince-Bishop of Freising.


    -VB-


    Duke Louis of Upper Bavaria


    A week after the battle¡­


    His brother, who''d taken nearly six thousand men-at-arms and knights from his domain and that of his vassals that he called to banner, lost.


    He lost to an army of barely under a thousand. He lost a battle so decisively that he and almost two-thirds of the nobles that had followed him to battle had been taken prisoner, lost all of the arms and armors of their knights as ransom for their release, and significantly diminished the power of Duchy of Upper Bavaria.


    It was ¡­ perfect.


    He stood before the council of vassals under the joint duchies and waited for the clamor to die down.


    "I am sure that most of you have heard what happened in the Alps," he began.


    A hush fell over the council of four counts and sixteen barons. Many of them here had been made prisoners by peasants, and the sheer indignation of it all had ¡­ colored many of their decisions and language. Especially language. Despite this, none of them spoke up to interrupt him.


    "And I am sure that you are all keenly aware of who is to blame for this humiliating loss against a peasant army."


    "Your brother," someone sneered, and Louis glanced to his left.


    Standing from his seat was Lord Christoff of Schwengau, a noble lord who did not own his ancestral lands but lived beside it, unable to buy it back from the empire.


    "Yes, my brother."


    This was a finicky issue for Louis. For one, if he accepted too much responsibility on behalf of his brother, then the responsibility would also fall on him for allowing his joint duke to engage in a disastrous campaign. On the other hand, if he didn''t accept enough responsibility, then the vassals of Bavaria would see this as a weakness.


    "I supported my brother thinking that he was tactically and strategically competent enough to fight against a mere baron!" Louis growled. "He fooled me with his competence. But then what about the competence of those under his authority? Where are they now?"


    That made the Schwengau lord twitch.


    "Why does no one speak up? Weren''t half of you here not with my brother when he led you all into disaster?"


    The best way to handle this situation was to turn the table on them. He would make them feel that they were responsible for being unable to hold their li-.


    "Sorcery."


    Louis paused his line of thought and turned to look at a shivering man. It was a landless noble, one who worked within Munich itself.


    "Sorcery?"


    "The ground lit up in flames with the force of the most powerful winds!" the noble sputtered. "You were all there! You all saw the fire that burned our men in the rear!" he stuttered out as he looked around wildly.


    What nonsense was -?


    "Aye," someone else gritted out. This man, a knight, had half of his head wrapped up. "The fire burned me. Something struck me in the face and refused to be scrubbed off. That fire ¡­ it sought the eat the living!"


    ¡­ Louis looked around as a momentum grew. He quickly waved his hand in the air, and they all quieted down.


    "Are you claiming that the Baron of Fluelaberg ¡­ is some sort of heathen?"


    "If he''s not a heathen, then he has heathens with magic working for him. You all know that he allows Muslims and Jews to live in his demesne," the same knight gritted out. "They must have taught him the secrets of fire!"


    Louis ¡­ wasn''t sure if this was what he wanted. From the fervor some of these men had when they spoke, it was obvious that they were looking for an excuse to justify their loss. Whether it was by sorcery or tactics, a loss was a loss. Their denial just made them look pathetic in his eyes.


    But pathetic men were easily swayed.


    "Then it is obvious we must do," he declared loudly as he stood up from his seat. His vassals looked up to him. This was how he would get their approval¡­ to dethrone his brother and take control of all of the Duchy of Upper Bavaria. "We must petition the Prince-Bishop of Freising! We must demand that the church send the inquisition!"


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 79


    -VB-


    Hans von Fluelaberg


    When I received the news that John had defeated the Count of Sargans and taken over everything that the troublemaker had, harvest season came rolling around. Now, despite being a lord with more investment in trade and non-agricultural production, I still lend my aid to the farmers because a faster harvest would mean that there would be more people to help me out in my own ventures in the narrow time between the harvest and the first snowfall.


    And that was the expansion of the road network!


    Our current road network extended from my township of Fluelaberg all the way to Chur, snaking down from the Upper Pratigau Valley to the Lower Prattigau Valley and into the Alpine Rhine Valley, which was where Chur was and where to the road network extended to.


    Now that we had all of the Sargans land as well as Toggenburgs, I wanted to expand the road down south to Churwalden and Vaz while expanding the road network up north and west toward John''s new seat of power in Walenstadt; instead of rebuilding the Toggenburg Castle I accidentally burned down, John apparently wanted a new castle by the Walensee.


    The problem was the distance between Walenstadt and Vaz; it was over thirty-five miles of Alpine mountain valley, and the fifteen or so miles between Chur and Vaz were especially rough with a lot of ups and downs in altitude. Even with all of the wealth I had accumulated, this was going to be a very expensive undertaking, especially if I couldn''t get it started in the fall; the spring climate in the Alps was one of snow and rain, neither of which I wanted to deal with while constructing a road.


    At the very least, I had a lot of limestone from all of the mining my people have been doing, though we also had a lot more granite than limestone. I was very tempted to start making and selling granite tabletops. Nobles liked shiny and smooth trinkets and it was even better if that trinket was practical.


    So!


    I gauged the wider nobility''s reception of the smoothed granite tabletop by inviting all of my noble allies for the end-of-harvest feast.


    And it was why after the first snowfall, I received more than three dozen nobles and merchants ranging from rich merchants and knights to dukes and bishops from not just within the Compact and my allies but beyond that with word of mouth invitation.


    ---


    Though snow fell sparingly, it was still a sign of winter coming a bit earlier and one that worried many of my people. This didn''t change the fact that it made for a more dramatic background for Henry''s arrival at the head of a noble entourage some fifteen carriages long and surrounded by at least a hundred men-at-arms.


    "Welcome," I said with a grin as Henry got off of his horse. "To Fluelaberg!"


    "Yes, yes," Henry huffed at my dramatics. "Thank you for welcoming me. I''d like to do all of the meet and greet right now but everyone''s cold and miserable. Can we go inside first?" he asked, and he definitely did not look prepared for the weather. He had expected the winter to come later and not sooner.


    I chuckled at his reply but nonetheless stepped aside to allow the carriages through. "Yes. We can talk later. Let''s all get your people inside first."


    As the carriages rolled through the eastern gate, I saw many of the nobles and their children inside the carriages blooking out of their carriages at my fort speculatively. I wondered what they were told about me and thinking about in this instance.


    Henry, despite his words, stayed outside by my side as the carriages went through, and perhaps that was what he was waiting for.


    "Once again, I''d like to congratulate you on your victory over Duke of Upper Bavaria."


    I was about to turn to face him but my [Rulership] activated, which was a first. I got the sensation that he wanted to look like we weren''t having a serious conversation.


    "Thank you. It would have played out differently had it not been for your warning," I replied with a smile as I waved at some of the children inside the carriages. A particular pair of brown-haired girls waved back with big smiles on their faces. "Setting up the battlefield was what brought me the easy victory."


    "... Speaking of easy victory. There have been words in the grapevines about how you achieved it."


    "Yes?"


    He glanced at me. "Did you use magic?"


    I glanced back and our gazes met. He looked ¡­ tense.


    "No," I replied honestly. "I just used something that all commoners know, even if they might not acknowledge it right off the bat."


    "Something everyone just knows?"


    "Yes," I replied with a slight smile. "Maybe nobles and knights might not know because they aren''t the ones usually cleaning out the latrines."


    There was a pause before he realized what I was getting to.


    "Wait, you''re not serious? How can it make the fire that the survivors are talking about?"


    "What kind of fires would they be talking about?"


    He had to pause to remember what he heard. Or read. "A force of wind and fire like a tornado, striking at all who was near. A fire that would not go out easily."


    "Yes, normal ¡­ excrement wouldn''t do that," I hummed. I didn''t elaborate because if I told him how exactly I made it, then it might leak out faster than I would like it to spread. It was, after all, easier to make an IED shit bomb than dedicated gunpowder; there was only a longer time investment and the risk that came with storing explosive material.


    Because that''s what my shit barrels had been: IED fertilizer bombs. By allowing certain strains of ammonia bacteria I cultivated (which was hard fucking work in a lab without sterile conditions or good microscopes!) to have an advantage in growing when I stored those barrels, I essentially built up barrels of ammonia of questionable ratio. As for the fire, I wasn''t sure exactly how that came out to be but the fire used to start the explosion might have been enough to ignite what didn''t immediately explode into flames.


    The truth was that less than half of the buried barrels exploded.


    ¡­ Yup, my barrels had a near 50% failure rate. Sure, some of that definitely had to do with how they were set up but those barrels also, when I opened them up, didn''t make ammonia but something else that I could identify right off the bat and definitely couldn''t use.


    Whatever that was, I was storing it in a different location this time. Otherwise, I might not get to sleep with Isabella.


    Speaking of Isabella, my dear wife was currently in charge of the castle right now, setting up everything and directing the servants and employees for the feast.


    "Fine, keep your secret," Henry grumbled.


    I grinned. "I will be sure to pay you back for the favor you gave me with that letter," I told him. "It just won''t be what I used to defeat the duke."


    "... Fine," he huffed, sounding appeased by my words. "And what exactly did you have in mind?"


    "It would depend on how you want the favor repaid," I replied as the last of the carriages entered the gates. I gestured for him to follow and we walked in. "But I would have to ask whether you are speaking as a family or a duke."


    He gave me a stink eye. "Sly bastard."


    "Ah, I apologize, but my parents are happily married!"


    Speaking of whom, they had been invited as well, and the Forest Cantons had sent them and some others as representatives to probe their new neighbor.


    This feast was going to a dance of politics, business, and scheming, and as much as I disliked having to deal with politics, I wasn''t bad at it and needed to get involved now because of how big the Compact had become.


    Those who didn''t play will lose.


    Those who took advantage will win.


    That was the nature of the world, and politics, as I realized, was no different.


    ---


    Two days after Henry arrived, Count John arrived from the west with his entourage and others who had joined him on the journey to my town.


    "John, welcome back!" I grinned as I met the boy who had become a man in the few months of separation we hadn''t seen each other. I hugged him.


    He grinned right back. "It''s good to be back," he replied as he hugged me back.


    The still-teenager quickly broke the hug and cleared his throat as a pair of men walked up from behind him. "Ah, before we talk, I want to introduce you to some important peers of the realm." He gestured to the two men, who stepped up. "This is Prince-Bishop of Freising, Emicho Wildgraf von Kyburg," he said while gesturing to the fifty-ish man with wild hair and cassock of a bishop. "And the man next to him is Lord Mayor of Memmingen, Albert von Lorsmich."


    I immediately recognized his name. He was the one who sent me that letter that showed me Upper Bavaria''s involvement in the bandit issues.


    I bowed and knelt before the bishop, kissed his ring, and he gave me a smile and shook hands with the Lord Mayor.


    "Welcome to Fluelaberg," I greeted them both. "I did not expect your august self to journey so far south in winter for a feast hosted by a mere baron, Your Grace."


    "I have heard about how big of a rising star you are, and I just had to see for myself!" the bishop chuckled, who looked vaguely like Philosopher John Locke except with a better nose job. He looked around the town wall. "It is a marvel how you managed to safeguard the people here during the crisis two years ago."


    "Oh, you are aware of it?" I asked.


    "Of course! It isn''t every day that the emperor raises a commoner to the seat of a baron."


    Ah. I supposed that it was a big event if you thought of it like that.


    ¡­ Wiat, Kyrburg? Wasn''t that a castle in Swiss Habsburg land? He ¡­ couldn''t be a an agent of the Habsburgs looking into a new polity right next to their ancestral lands, right? He was a prince-bishop from ¡­ Bavaria. Which was the seat of power of the Habsburg''s main rival, the Wittelbachs.


    ¡­ Ugh.


    I couldn''t refuse a prince-bishop. Not when I already invited the Prince-Bishop of Chur and granted admission to the Patriarch of Aquiela who came with Duke Henry!


    I made sure to not show my wariness and stepped aside. "I''m happy to have new friends join me during the feast."


    "Wonderful!" Lord Mayor Albert laughed. He was a slightly portly man with a thick mustache. "I''m thrilled to see what you have to offer, Your Lordship!"


    His joyous outburst set everyone back a bit in surprise but then we all shared a glance with each other and a shrug.


    There were just people who were loud and boisterous like the lord mayor.


    ---


    "... You''re going to let me participate in your feast?" Rudolf asked me.


    Deep inside one of the mines that had been converted into a prison, I sat across from bars made out of logs, which was impossible for a man to break, and looked at Rudolf.


    "Yeah, I am," I replied.


    "... Why?"


    "To show you off as a trophy, why else?"


    He glared at me. "And why would I indulge you?"


    This wasn''t the kind of thing I liked doing. Not really. I liked my enemies dead and quickly. However, holding onto Rudolf when there was a big chance that his brother might not pay for him was ¡­ suboptimal. I wasn''t interested in keeping a foreign ruler as my prisoner. We also hashed things out, and while he was still grumpy as fuck about his situation - and we were both wary at potentially who might have caused this misunderstanding - he was also quite sullen.


    Even if the prison cell he got was one of the better ones and furnished with a chair, desk, and indoor plumbing. Kind of. His shit just fell into a pit that had running water through it and discharged into another location and not directly into the river.


    "Well?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.


    "It''s about how others will perceive your house. If your brother is careful about his image like you say that he is, then he either has to pay up the ransom and bring you back, and I already lowered the ransom in a letter I sent him, or say something about not bringing back his own brother, which will impact his image."


    "And showing me around will do that?"


    "Well, I have three bishops, a duke, three counts, and two dozen minor nobilities. They''ll talk. Rumors will spread." Then I leaned in. "And maybe the person who arranged this fiasco will show up unwittingly to try to kill you."


    He glared at me. "You want me to be bait."


    "Yes. Because there is no other way to catch them otherwise."


    He gritted his teeth.


    "My outfit better be worth my standing¡­!"


    "Oh, it will be. It definitely will be." It will be so expensive that you will never wear anything as rich as the outfit I had in mind. And if I made an announcement about potentially helping Rudolf take back his seat?


    Someone will have to respond.


    -VB-


    (Using the highest title set per person)


    Prominent participants:


    Baron of Fluelaberg (of the Compact) Hans von Fluelaberg


    Baroness of Fluelaberg (of the Compact) Isabella von Fluelaberg


    Duke of Upper Bavaria Rudolf von Wittelsbach (Prisoner of Hans von Fluelaberg)


    Lord Mayor/Baron of Memmingen Albert von Lorsmich


    Prince-Bishop of Chur (of the Compact) Siegfried von Geilnhausen


    Patriarch of Aqueila Ottobuono di Razzi


    Duke of Carinthia and Landgrave of Carniola Henry of Gorizia


    Count of Gorizia Albert of Gorizia


    Count of Toggenburg and Sargans John von Toggenburg


    Prince-Bishop of Freising Emicho Wildgraf von Kyrburg


    Count of Werdenberg Albert von Werdenberg


    + Less prominent participants.


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 80


    -VB-


    Rudolf von Wittelsbach


    Duke of Upper Bavaria


    A lot of events transpired to bring him here, and he couldn''t help but wonder if God intended for any of this to happen.


    Was he not a good and just ruler, unlike his politicking brother? Was this a trial to make him a better man? Was it a warning from the Lord on High that he was too hotheaded and inept in certain areas of rulership?


    There were many questions, and there were many conversations he had with the local priest who always came by to help him give thanks to the Lord that he lived, even if it was because of his cowardice and not because of good fortune.


    It''s been¡­ two long months. While he had been a prisoner, he was allowed to go out to take in fresh air. However, he walked only with half a dozen of the "rangers" that the baron trusted. He learned weeks after first meeting them that they were the ones who set off that explosion of fire. They were instrumental to his defeat¡­ and as he got to know them and their routine, he felt an inkling of respect for what they prepared for each and every day.


    He couldn''t not feel respect after seeing some of the rangers fight to the bitter end against the baron every day as part of their training.


    Torture, more like.


    He also got to explore Fluelaberg, and felt envious once more as he saw wealth in the hands of mountain folks who should have been the poorest within the empire. Why couldn''t his people have this? Why did those guildmaster have to cause a scene like that?


    Questions, questions, questions.


    Some of those questions had been answered, and the greatest of those had been how he had ended up fighting the baron. While it didn''t normalize anything between them, they had an understanding that should they find who pitted them against each other, then, well, revenge would be had. That was for later. Right now, the more honest conversations they had eased his loss a little, especially once he realized that he hadn''t lost to a peasant rabble but a hardened army that had fought overwhelming odds one after another for the last two years nonstop. He was merely the latest in a long line of nobles who wanted the Compact gone and dead for one reason or another, and just like all those before him, he lost. In fact, he lost to less than a fifth of the Compact''s actual military force as the other four-fifths hadn''t even been called up or was off fighting someone else in the west.


    And that¡­ that was what stung his pride the most. It wasn''t losing but losing to someone who could have overwhelmed him in quality of troops and had strength to spare. He still remembered how his troops broke apart at the peasant spear formation. The length of the spear combined with their sturdiness and density prevented his men from approaching them while the narrow mountain passage riddled with dense alpine forest prevented flanking.


    Even if the baron had not taken to the field and decimated dozens of men with his brutish cleaver, Rudolf would have lost so many to the spear and fire that he would have no option but to turn back, especially once he met the thick walls that cut off Fluela Pass and thus the only passage from the east into the Compact.


    "Your Grace."


    Rudolf paused in his ruminations and turned around. Standing in front of the tall but narrow clear glass window of the room given to him for the duration of the feast and festivities, one would think that it was a humble room but he knew better.


    He knew so much more now.


    He saw a servant by the doorway of the room.


    "What is it?" he asked not unkindly. He also knew not to throw his weight around here.


    "The baron asks if you are ready to meet the guests."


    And here was the herald of his humiliation.


    He let out a sigh. "... Lead me to the hall."


    He followed the servant across the cobblestone walled but wooden floored fort''s inner hallways, out of the fort itself, and to a new building next to it just outside what was once the eastern wall of the town but now a wall that separated the Center Town from the East Town.


    Rudolf had also seen this town, this tiny barony, grow at a spectacular rate. Harvests had failed in many villages on either side of the Alps, and people entered the cities in hopes of finding jobs. The same was true for those within the Alps as well. While there were those who went to the imperial cities like Lindau, many alpine residents as far as Bolzano to the east came here to the barony of Fluelaberg because there were jobs here to do that they couldn''t find in other cities like Milan, Munich, and Zurich.


    If they survived long enough to reach this town, that was.


    He glanced around the street as the servant continued to lead him around the town.


    What was once a town of maybe a thousand had swelled to over four thousand. It made this place a city by the standards of the empire, and yet, it didn''t feel like a city. It felt alien, especially when he looked at the multi-story wooden buildings jutting up from the foot of the mountains. Supposedly, they were for newcomers to the city and offered very generous staying prices. As for the men who could work, they were either asked to work in the mines or help other means to earn their keep. The women went to work in the giant workshops from where the luxurious Fluelan dyes flowed out of. However, only those trusted by the baron worked in the porcelain workshops and the furnaces.


    Speaking of which, his attire was dyed with those dyes but with the best of the Lowlands fabric. It may appear at first glance like normal robes, cotes, and wooltunic, but everything from Lowlands fabric and Fluelan dye to the gold thread inlays and speckles of tastefully clipped ruby, sapphire, emerald, and diamonds, he knew he wore the richest thing he ever owned.


    And this was made possible by the industry that Baroness Fluelaberg managed with her husband.


    It was in those areas that he came to respect the baron''s wife and the daughter of the Gorizia, Isabella von Fluelaberg. She organized the people and raised their loyalty to the baron. Had she been born a man, then she would have been someone Rudolf would have invested his weight in gold to get an alliance out of or pull into his camp.


    But she was a beautiful woman married to the man who defeated him.


    Some guys get all the luck.


    ---


    When he finally arrived at the Feast Hall, he found himself face to face with a number of people he knew.


    The first was Baron Hans von Fluelaberg himself who stood next to him not in a domineering fashion but like an equal.


    Ha! A baron and a duke? Equal?!


    ¡­ But that was the reality of it. Flualaberg will soon match Munich in wealth and population while the rest of the Compact could match the Duchy of Upper Bavaria. He didn''t know all of the information, though, so he couldn''t dispute what was being portrayed.


    "You are not enjoying this," Rudolf whispered to the baron as the feast began.


    "No," he replied with a smile so genuine that it had to be fake. "I would rather be in my workshop finding new ways to make growing crops easier in these mountains."


    "... You are an odd man."


    "I know."


    The second person he met was none other than the Prince-Bishop of Friesig Emicho Wildgraf von Kyburg.


    "Your Holiness," Rudolf kissed the prince-bishop''s ring once they were far away enough from the baron in the feast.


    "Your Grace," the bishop replied. "I have come here on behalf of your brother¡­"


    Rudolf felt hope rise up.


    "... in seeing whether or not the baron is a heretic."


    And his hope died. Then suspicion set in.


    His brother couldn''t have been behind all of this. Right?


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 81


    -VB-


    Hans von Fluelaberg


    The feast and the festivities took up a swing as I spent the occasion to impress all of the guests. Some of it was simply through the impressive decorations, fine china, and expensive fabric on display. Oh, and in one corner of the displays, Isabella put all of the cleaved plate armors neatly in a row for everyone to see my prowess.


    This display was where I found the Prince-Bishop of Freising after he separated from the duke.


    I didn''t know what kind of relationship he had with the Wittelbachs, which was a house with many branches, and Freising was in Bavaria, according to Isabella. There was a very good chance that they were chummy with each other, right?


    Looking around, I noticed that everyone else was minding their own business, so I slid next to the bishop.


    "What do you see when you look at them, Your Grace?" I opened up.


    The bishop glanced at me from the corner of his eyes before returning to examine the ruined plate armors. "I wonder what kind of strength is needed to cause ¡­ such devastation. They look less like they have been cut and more like they had been torn."


    I hummed. "It comes with using a sword as heavy as I do."


    "A sword?" he asked me curiously.


    "Well, it''s less of a sword and more of a butcher''s knife as tall as I am and half as wide."


    "... And you can wield that?"


    "Yes, Your Grace. It took some time but I can."


    He hummed. "I will be honest, Your Lordship. I was asked to participate in the festivities by none other than the currently self-proclaimed sole Duke of Upper Bavaria, Louis the Fourth of the Bavarian Wittelbachs." He paused, trying to put words as politely and gently as he can. "And he specifically asked me to inquire whether there is heresy and witchcraft afloat in these valleys."


    Ah. So that was their angle.


    "Is that what you are here to do then?"


    "It is what I must do, yes."


    "And words of the local Prince-Bishop of Chur is not credible?"


    "He seems ¡­ too connected with you." Another pause. "Ah, but please, be at ease. I am not here in any official capacity nor have I called upon the Inquisition."


    The Inquisition.


    Personally, I felt ambiguous about the Inquisition. Having grown up in these mountains and met people all around, I learned more about them than I thought I would or remembered from my past life. The Inquisition was not what was popularly portrayed in Hollywood (never mind the fact that the power brokers, movers, and shakers in Hollywood and the United States, in general, were usually not Catholic nor pushed for Catholic agenda). Hell, I''ve seen the people do the things that the Inquisition had been accused of. In fact, I''ve learned that the Inquisition wasn''t ¡­ really all that frightening. Hell, they didn''t even give off a bad vibe, and I would know because I met one.


    See, back in Uri, there was this priest who had ideas about God, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Spirit, claiming that they were not here and were never here in the flesh.


    While I initially didn''t understand, I found out why that was bad. See, if Jesus Christ was not in the flesh and did not sacrifice himself upon the cross, then did his sacrifice have meaning? It was apparently a question that had been around for a very long time, sprouting heresies left and right since before the formation of the orthodox church. It was a set of beliefs, essentially, that invalidated the idea of Christianity, that Jesus Christ came down to Earth to sacrifice himself for us, and our sins were washed away with his noble sacrifice. If Christ never had to sacrifice himself and only "acted" like he did because he who was not in the flesh could not suffer for sins of the flesh, then Christians were still not saved from the Original Sin and thus God and salvation were forever out of reach.


    In fact, the Inquisition was more of a threat to the clerics than the regular folk like the Wittelbach Dukes, myself, or even the emperor. No, what we needed to watch out for was -.


    "Leaving aside the armors, I am more curious about how you accomplished some of the deeds that were told by the soldiers at what the Munchners experienced. Fire and brimstone, they said."


    ¡­ wait, my half-assed dung bombs with near 50% failure rate? That''s what he was here for?


    "Your Grace¡­ shit burns if you set it on fire."


    He blinked and turned to face me a little. "Excuse me?"


    "Have you ever seen the latrine get emptied?"


    He scrunched his nose handsomely. Hmm, I wondered why this man, who - even in his 50''s - made women blush and fluster, became a priest.


    "I have not."


    "Well, Your Grace. When enough excrements pool together, they produce miasma¡­ that can be lit on fire with extreme results."


    He stared at me.


    I stared back at him.


    He grimaced.


    I grinned.


    "You¡­ you set them on fire ¡­ with excrements?"


    "Fermented excrements, but yes."


    He gagged. "You realize I will be telling them this if only to dissuade them of the idea that you are not a warlock or consorting with the devilkin?" he asked as he stepped away from me.


    I only felt amusement. "Is that what they were accusing me of? Sorcery?"


    He glanced at the torn plate armor pieces. "Something like that."


    "Well, you will be glad to hear that a lot of what I do are all within the natural causes and effects of what Our Lord Above has set into motion. You need not worry about that."


    "Oh, I wasn''t worried about it at all," he replied with a casual "what are you talking about?" look. "I''m actually here to see if you were amiable to a military alliance."


    I froze. I tilted my head.


    "... I must have misheard you," I said as I looked around. No one was paying attention to us for now.


    "Is it so hard to imagine that a prince-bishop seeks to better his lot within the empire? Or that he wants to protect his subjects?"


    "... Were you not their friend?"


    "Friend? My boy, I''m not sure what gave you that idea, but I am a prince whose realm is constantly under threat of the Wittelbachs. Now, if the closest prince-bishop, Bishop Degenhard of Augsburg, wasn''t so focused on internal development, I might not be here at the behest of the Wittelbachs of all people, but here I am. So, are you interested, son?"


    Oh.


    This ¡­ just got interesting.


    "What did you have in mind, milord?"


    It was a good thing that none of the other guests were connected to the Wittelbachs because the one guest who I thought I needed to watch out for?


    He didn''t like them either.


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 82


    -VB-


    Isabella von Fluelaberg


    It''s been a week since the start of the festival, and she had to say that it had proceeded and ended without a hitch.


    Her husband''s diplomatic endeavors during the festivities had also paid off and they were now in contact with like-minded peers of the empire.


    Her cousin, Duke Henry IV of Tyrol, Carniola, and Carinthia; her husband, Hans von Fluelaberg the de facto ruler of the Compact; Prince-Bishop Siegfried of Chur, the de facto spiritual leader of the Compact; Prince-Bishop Emicho of Freising, an ally of the Habsburg; Lord Mayor of Memmingen Albert von Lorsmich; and Duke Rudolf of Wittelsbach, the fooled and foolish dethroned ruler of Upper Bavaria.


    They now sat around a table in a room with thick walls and doors with trusted guards outside keeping anyone from listening in.


    Their purpose today?


    Bringing down Louis IV of the Wittelbachs, the self-declared sole ruler of the Duchy of Upper Bavaria.


    ¡­ Well, they would have gone with it right away had it not been for an unexpected visit from an uninvited guest: Otto.


    The lands of Tyrol, Carinthia, and Carniola were, similarly like that of the Upper Bavaria, ruled together by her cousins: Otto III, Albert II, Louis of Gorizia, and, last but not least, Henry IV, the youngest of the four. Despite being the youngest, Henry was the one who had been most active internationally while Otto was focused more on low-key diplomatic development. Unlike Louis of Wittelbachs and Rudolf, these four brothers did not fight over the inherited lands because they trusted each other, and she knew they trusted each other because they often trusted one of their own to speak on behalf of them all.


    It was the truest example of sibling love that she knew of¡­ but some things could not be left to a single representative, which was why, two days into the festivities, Otto had "crashed the party" as her husband put it.


    Isabella snuck a glance at her cousins and couldn''t help but make the same comparison she always made when they met them together.


    Where Henry was tall and thin, Otto was stocky and muscular. Henry''s sandy blonde hair contrasted sharply with Otto''s jet black hair (and she understood that color name now since she came across multiple jet rocks). Henry looked sharp like a hawk but Otto looked more like a bull. Henry was cautious with his finances. Otto¡­ was not. That last particular comparison could be seen in how they dressed. She knew because she''s been to her late uncle''s castle often as a child. Henry was wearing his father''s most prized silk-woven cape that hung loosely while Otto''s more form-fitting and latest fashion from Italian city-states¡­ whatever it was called. It also had gold buttons studded along the side.


    There was a reason why Otto''s court was struggling financially but had the highest approval of his vassals while Henry''s court grumbled about the lack of tourneys, festivities, and grand gatherings but had a strong financial foundation that has weathered multiple crises.


    There was also another person waiting to be allowed into this meeting, and he was someone that the Habsburgs had sent as their representative.


    Everyone at the table looked around and her husband finally raised her voice.


    "Let her in."


    The thick wooden doors pulled outwards, and there she stood, briefly pausing to let them all see her, and then she stepped in.


    Elizabeth of Carinthia. Her cousin and the empress consort of the Holy Roman Empire.


    -VB-


    Elizabeth of Carinthia


    Elizabeth looked around the room after stepping into it, and she had to say that there was a bit of mystique here that was hard to find in any of the courts that she had been to. Despite having a sizable town in the valley, the baron that her own husband had given the noble title to had instead chosen one of the unused mining tunnels and refurbished it for this meeting.


    She thought it was a show of resourcefulness and wealth. The entire tunnel had been smoothed out with bricks laid out across the floor to serve as the floor. The amount of bricks in her one-minute walk was already a sizable investment, but what truly caught her was the impossibly smooth walls.


    It must have taken thousands of days - no, tens of thousands of days of worth of work. That meant that the baron had either employed many people for a short amount of time or a small number of people for a long period. Either way, he had to pay a lot of money for what could be the start of a mountain fortress.


    "Duke Wittelbachs," she smiled as she greeted the current enemy of her house. "I must say that fortunes have not shined on you lately."


    Wisely, the older of the Upper Bavarian ducal brothers held his tongue. Instead, he stood up, walked up to her, kissed her ring, and then walked back to his seat. All without saying anything.


    Rude.


    Then she turned to her younger brothers, Otto and Henry.


    "How have you two been doing? It''s been such a long time since we saw each other!" she smiled. Her two brothers stood up and walked up to her, and she each gave them a hug which they returned.


    This time, she turned to look at the two bishops.


    "Your Graces," she nodded, and when the two elderly statesmen of the Lord stood up, it was she who kissed their rings and they who bowed afterward.


    Finally. Finally, it was time to greet the enigma and the main player in all of this.


    Baron Hans von Fluelaberg.


    Oh, and her cousin Little Red Isabella.


    (Not so little anymore).


    "Fashionably late, I presume?" the baron asked her.


    The others gawked at his audacity but Elizabeth just chuckled, even though she wanted to laugh out loud.


    "A lady is never late, dear baron. However, I suppose that there is a certain flair to showing up late and drawing all of the eyes."


    Which was exactly what she had done by arriving on the third day of the festivities.


    Yes, it had been a surprise visit, mostly one that she had initiated herself, leaving her husband behind to deal with the feud between the Margrave of Brandenberg and the Duke of Saxony as well as the issue of the Bohemians trying to place one of their own on the Hungarian throne.


    "Indeed," he smiled.


    "Empress Elizabeth," Isabella spoke up from the baron''s side.


    Elizabeth smiled. "Oh, come now, Issie! You don''t have to call me empress when we''re in private!"


    Isabella glanced at the three non-family members in attendance at the meeting. "Perhaps when we are more in private then," she smiled sweetly and a little nervously.


    After that, she greeted the Lord Mayor of Memmingen, and the meeting commenced.


    "So, little baron," she turned back to the man who took her cousin as his wife. "How do you intend to bring down the Duke of Upper Bavaria?"


    -VB-


    A/N 1: I did not think I would be reading scholarly articles on historical events to write my story, but here I am, doing exactly that.


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 83


    -VB-


    Hans von Fluelaberg


    Most of the conspirators - yes, that''s what we were - headed back home within the week, and left me and Isabella alone at our castle.


    Now, one would normally think that when a young, married couple are alone, they would go at it in bed like rabbits. Unfortunately for us, we were mentally drained from having hosted over a hundred nobles, ranging from great statesmen who wanted to pick at our brains to generally inferior assholes who entered the festival as the plus ones of their betters.


    So instead of sex, we just laid side by side in bed this morning.


    "It could be worse," Isabella spoke up from my left, and I glanced over at her. "We don''t have overreaching vassals and overlord."


    "I guess there is that," I hummed to myself. The Compact''s only overlord was the emperor himself, and we didn''t have vassals so much as other members of the Compact. But there were members who regretted being in the Compact because of how small they felt.


    Fucking assholes. All they did was complain instead of contributing to the Compact.


    ¡­ Okay, good thoughts, please. It''s only morning. If I fell down the negativity hole, then I won''t climb out of it for a long time.


    "So what''s the on the schedule today?" I asked as I pulled myself up.


    "You''re going to work again?" she frowned.


    I paused. "Don''t we have to?"


    She looked at me incredulously. "Hans, you''re the noble, not the peasant."


    "Yeah, and?"


    She sighed. "Ugh. My husband is a workaholic."


    "Oi, I don''t deserved to be called that. I''m just ¡­ not sure what else I would be doing."


    She raised an eyebrow and sat up.


    My eyes, unfortunately, drifted down to her barely covered breasts. Her big breasts. Firm, big breasts that my hands couldn''t cover completely.


    She hummed knowingly. "How about we take some time for ourselves today?" she cooed as she draped her arms around my shoulders and climbed up to my lap. "And get to know each other better?"


    "Umm. Sure."


    She giggled. "Why is it that you always sound awkward whenever I''m trying to get you to relax?" she asked with a smile. "You really are a workaholic."


    Personally, I didn''t think that, but if my wife thought so¡­


    "Yes, I do think so."


    I blinked. "Did I say that out loud?"


    "No, but you looked like you were doubting me," she pouted before grinding herself against me a little. Despite the fact that it was near winter outside, select rooms inside the castle, including our room, was well-insulated to the point that we only had to wear thin nightwears. And Isabella thought I did great on our first night and only got better afterward.


    She had been more than happy to give me the "hero''s welcome."


    Speaking of which¡­


    [Sex] LvL 12


    Wow. That felt good¡­! Now, let''s feel even better, because there is nothing better than nature''s own heroin.


    *+1% pleasure felt for you and your partner per level.


    *+0.025% chance of causing random orgasm in partner per thrust per level


    We''ve done it a lot.


    It was only recently that all of the mental stress was catching up and, neither - or at least, I - was not in the mood for sex.


    Even if she kept on grinding on me.


    "Alright," I sighed as I grabbed her and rolled down to the bed, making her squeal a little. "We''ll sleep in."


    She pouted a little before snuggling into my chest.


    ---


    By the time we got out of bed, it was two hours before noon, and our main servant, a matronly woman who followed Isabella to my lands, was leveling a look of disappointment at both of us but more at her.


    "Isabella~!" Joanne chidded. "Are you seducing your husband to indulge in slothfulness? Have we not talked about this?"


    Isabella whined - whined - as Joanne pulled at her hair as she brushed it down from the mess it had become during the night. And the impromptu sexy time.


    Thankfully, we didn''t smell because we had a pseudo-plumbing that brought up water to our room. The water, however cold, let us at least clean ourselves up a little before we came down to meet our servants and whatever guests we might have.


    And we still had guests.


    "Ah, cousin~!"


    Isabella winced a little at the loud call and both she and I turned around to greet the one lord who stayed behind for an extended stay.


    Otto III, Henry''s older brother, grinned as he came sauntering over to us.


    "Cousin," Isabella sighed. "Weren''t you going to go home?"


    Otto just grinned even more at that. "I was! But I couldn''t help myself and indulge in all of the luxuries your little mountain city had to offer!"


    I took a note on how he said that. He referred to Fluelaberg as a city instead of a hole, village, or town. A city was a very distinct thing within the Holy Roman Empire; only those that had the city charters could refer to themselves as cities. Of course, since the Compact was a separate entity, we could give our own people city charters if they met a reasonable requirement like Chur and my own city of Fluelaberg did.


    "You are welcome to enjoy as much as you like, but please follow the rules of etiquette," she said with a nasty glare.


    Oh yeah. Otto was a bit of a troublemaker. Yesterday, he harassed one of our maid servants, and Isabella had to personally get involved in chastising and stopping him. His guards hadn''t been happy about that, but my near constant presence around Isabella when she was around Otto stayed their hand.


    Otto was a bit of a bully but not in a mean sort of way. It''s just his entire way of life was about being assertive, dominant, and expensive.


    Which was one of the other reasons why we hadn''t kicked him out yet. Instead of demanding he be fed, he always made sure to actually spend his money on the luxuries beyond the first few gifts we gave him. His obsession right now was sweets, because we had a lot more flavors on offer than "any other place I have ever been to, including Rome and Aachen," according to Otto himself.


    The muscular and stocky co-duke of Carinthia, Carniola, and Tyrol hummed as he stared out of the castle window.


    "This place is what I see as an ideal."


    Ho?


    "Why do you say that suddenly, cousin?" Isabella asked him as we began to walk toward the dining hall for our lunch.


    "Is it not obvious?" he asked in return as he turned to us with a wide grin. "Money! This is where money flows like water! A city-state on par with the likes of Rome, Milan, Florence, and Venice up here in the mountains!" He clenched his fists. "You showed me that man can make his home anywhere and make it prosperous! Is that not the ideal of a man?"


    Ah, he was a romantic.


    "So to me, finding out that someone was out there trying to destroy this place ¡­ it is sacrilege!"


    Or you just really like the luxuries we provide.


    I smiled.


    "It''s good to know that we have someone who''ll stand with us," I replied and extended hand toward him.


    He looked at me for a second before grasping my hand in a handshake. A duke he may be, but Otto regarded his ideas more than he did his position. I could respect that kind of a person.


    "As long as you don''t fall down from this height and only go higher," he grinned at me. "Oh, and if you make my cousin unhappy, then you bet your ass I''ll be here with an army."


    I chuckled.


    See? I could respect a man like this.


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 84


    -VB-


    Isabella von Fluelaberg nee Gorizia


    Not all actions can be taken right off the bet. In fact, while the Prince-Bishop of Freising went back to tell off the Duke of Upper Bavaria, the rest of the conspirators needed to continue their normal activities to not arouse suspicion.


    For her and Hans, there wasn''t going to be any major change.


    In fact, Hans made a declaration both in public and with his pamphlets that he posted. It was certainly


    A Public Announcement


    I greet all those who read these words in the name of God, Jesus Christ, the Holy Spirit, and the Grace of our King of Germans, Albert the First the Holy Roman Emperor.


    The past year has been one of troubling times as our dear Compact has come under assault from external forces. In the south and the east, we knew not then but now know that these forces, disguising themselves as bandits, have been the greedy guilds and the Duke of Munich. At the height of the troubles we have come to face, we faced the Duke in battle in the neighboring Tyrollian lands and defeated him and his forces decisively; each of the man, who partook in this defensive battle for our lands and people, took home a men-at-arms or a knight''s equipment.


    In the west, the Count of Sargans once again rose up to burn our people despite the decree of our emperor. The newly admitted Count of Toggenburg who chose to become our brother-in-arms rose to the occasion and ended the Sargans threat, and thus proved himself to be our ally.


    Our homes have come under assault time and time again, and were it not for our stalwart defenders, we would have long gone under the dirt with our homes aflame. I congratulate all of the soldiers - commoners and nobles alike - in succeeding in the defense of our home against these threats!


    However, our duty to our lands, liege, friends, and family are not over.


    So I hereby petition the members of the Compact to create a standing, professional army that serve not one noble or town but the entirety of the Compact! Let us train and rise up together as one to turn our swords and speartips not against each other or our neighbors but those who seek to end our way of life and freedom!


    -Hans von Fluelaberg, Baron of Fluelaberg


    It was ¡­ a revolutionary idea. No, it was a revival of an old idea. Her husband sought to recreate a professional army like the ones that the Romans had. The Eastern Roman Empire also used to have them, but they have since fallen back on hard times to the point that it was less of an army and more of a mob of large mercenary companies.


    Having a standing army would allow them to react to sudden invasions like the one the imprisoned duke had attempted, which would have devastated Fluelaberg whether or not they succeeded in taking the city. The army would be able to reinforce any member that are attacked or even be split to place permanent garrisons.


    However, she wasn''t sure if her husband made the right decision to call for a professional army. Not only were the people of the Compact fiercely independent, more than any other lands she had visited in her life, but the mountains made the movement of a large army slow and cumbersome. In fact, she had advised her husband that it might be better if he could expand the Forest Rangers instead of creating an army, but he insisted that this level of commitment was necessary not just for the sake of the Compact but also to deter future threats.


    She wasn''t sure what this enemy would be, however. Henry and her father weren''t going to be this enemy. The Habsburgs, through her cousin, was going to be their friend, too. The new Forest Cantons that formed in his homeland to the west was a smaller version of the Compact with neither the power or influence that the Compact had. The Serene Republic''s focus was on naval trade and wars, so they weren''t likely to ¡­ s?a??h th? ??v?lF?re.?et website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    Well, perhaps, that wasn''t completely accurate. She knew that the outflow of expensive foreign goods from the east, like porcelain and new dyes, had to impact Venice. Would it be enough to cause them to declare war on them?


    Isabella didn''t think so, but it was better to be safe than sorry.


    That "public announcement" was being distributed through the rest of the Compact and even a little beyond. The latter part of the plan was actually her contribution. She reasoned that if there weren''t enough volunteers seeking to become a professional soldier inside the Compact, then Hans can supplement them with fortune seekers from outside. Of course, this increased the risk of spies infiltrating the army, but her Hans still agreed with her because he thought that there actually wouldn''t be enough volunteers. His reasoning was that the mountainous valleys of the Compact couldn''t have enough men "left over" to form an army that can take on the armies of the "flat lands" one-on-one.


    She made sure to express her doubts while pointing to his own successes.


    ''Yeah, but those are exceptions, not the rule.''


    "Lady Isabella?"


    She looked up from where she had been embroidering one of her dresses and saw one of the maid servants of the castle.


    "What is it, Joanne?" she asked.


    She looked troubled. "There has been a brawl in the streets. It was quite serious."


    "Ah. I''ll be right there."


    Right now, her husband was out in the fields looking for better iron veins to supply the castle''s furnaces. No one knew where he was right now; for all she knew, he could be digging underground right underneath this very castle.


    In his absence, she was the one in charge of affairs he would have taken care of. And the rare cases of justice was one she had to act as the magistrate in.


    She walked toward the castle hall, and after four minutes of winding towers and halls, she found herself in the corridor just outside of it. The slightly wider hallway was guarded by four men-at-arms, and they bowed to her before two of them opened the double doors of the castle hall.


    Standing inside the hall were about fifty people, which was more than most of her court appearances when she was here without Hans. She was, however, surprised by the who were currently being held to their knees. One of them was one of the original residents of Davos who had taken advantage of her husband''s business expansion to become one of the rich among the Davos-Fluelaberg citizens. The other was one of the Jews living in Fluelaberg. She also recognized him as the one of the more quiet ones who did his best to not stand out and do his job as efficiently and thoroughly as possible. She didn''t even remember seeing his name on the town guards'' list of troublemakers.


    She silently walked across the hall and sat in her seat next to Hans''s seat.


    "Start the proceedings," she told the court recorder.


    "Yes, My Lady," he said before standing up from his seat in the corner of the hall, strode over to the bottom of the raised dais where her seat was, and stood at attentive. "Today is Janauary 8th of the year of our Lord 1303. Two men stand before the representative, Baroness Isabella von Fluelaberg nee Gorizia, of our rightful ruler, Baron Hans von Fleluaberg, to settle the dispute and the breaking of our laws. Marin of Davos stands accused of assault and battery, price gouging, intimidation, and premeditated attacks. Yoshua of Fluelaberg stands accused of battery."


    "And the related evidences and eyewitnesses?"


    "They stand among the room''s occupants, My Lady."


    She sighed. Fifty people? This was going to be a long case.


    "Alright. Please split yourself into following groups: witnesses to the fight, witnesses to price gouging, and witnesses to premeditated attacks¡­"


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 85


    -VB-


    Hans von Fluelaberg


    There was a problem I needed to solve. However, any proper solution to this problem of mine would either take too long or require me to depend on someone else to help mitigate the issue.


    This problem ¡­ was the lack of a dedicated iron mine.


    Davos and Fluelaberg were not situated on top of any ores, neither copper nor iron. The iron that have been coming into the Compact were from "artisan" iron gatherers near streams refining bacteria-rich red soi, some iron ore here and there from the gemstone mine,l and the few random peddlers and merchants coming mostly from the east.


    The rest of the iron that my city found itself with were all from my personal mine that I spent a lot of time digging when I wasn''t doing anything else.


    And honestly, I was starting to get busy enough with the administration, training of rangers, experimentation, and now the conspiracy to devote any time to mining personally and clandestinely. It''s worked so far because I''ve been fudging the numbers on the gemstone mine to make it seem like they were pulling out more than they were actually doing. But anymore than what I was doing and the miners and the mine managers would get suspicious, even if it was to their benefit.


    As much as I loathed to shift iron acquisition from external sources since there wasn''t a place around here that could produce iron ores in the quantities we needed, I was going to have to go with it.


    The solution, however, had a problem.


    Iron was a tightly controlled war material and most of its sources around the Compact fell under either one lord or another.


    There was ¡­ one source of iron. It was close to us. However, it was also held by one of the Compact''s former enemies: the County of Montfort. They weren''t exactly hostile with us, but we have been keeping to ourselves. Beyond that, there were also the mines in Styria, which was that of the Habsburgs. But it was really far away to just import willy-nilly, if they would agree to exporting their iron in the first place.


    ¡­ Could I find an iron ore vein somewhere in the Compact? I mean, I could, but that would be time away from the city.


    I looked out of my solar window and looked down at Fluelaberg under a light blanket of snow. It wasn''t a large city but I could proudly call it a city. Maybe I can let it run by itself for a few weeks? It shouldn''t hurt, right? It''s also winter now, so there shouldn''t be any big issues - like invasions - that''ll crop up.


    Yeah.


    Maybe.


    Just a bit of vacation away from people.


    It sounded really nice. Maybe I''ll set up a shack somewhere that I can use for personal retreats.


    But I''ll have to, ahem, scout the Compact first, won''t I?


    -VB-


    Isabella


    "You want to take a tour of the Compact?" she asked him with a raised eyebrow.


    She knew her husband a little bit more now. A lot of things she didn''t know back then - like his love of solitary life - were things she took in strides. Oh, she still loved him to bits, but there were little things that were starting to crop up that was making her become more cautious around her husband.


    Like storing shit barrels underneath the castle. He didn''t store them underneath the castle anymore after their first fight.


    And right now, she was feeling suspicious about this "tour" that he wanted to do. Not only did he want to do this in the most miserable season of the year, he sounded like something else was the point of the tour.


    "And what''s the purpose for it?" she asked him as she took a bite of the meatloaf.


    "Well, you know how we''ve been having iron problems?"


    "Yes."


    "I want to see if I can go out and find one in the Compact''s lands."


    She hummed. That was actually a good initiative. On top of that, it was the perfect time to do it. She was pretty sure he wanted to see how Count John was doing.


    "And I guess if we can''t find iron ore vein in the Compact, then I can talk to the Count of Montfort. He has an iron mine, right?"


    "He does," she nodded before humming. "But if he knows that we don''t have a source of iron ores, wouldn''t he charge us a lot?"


    "He might, yes," Hans agreed. "So it''s best if we could find an iron ore vein. And for that, I am thinking about going far west as Belmont."


    "The Barony of Belmont?" she asked in surprise. "But they are the subject of the Werdenbergs."


    "I didn''t say I would go into Belmont''s lands. Just up to the border between us. But if I could talk to the baron about surveying his lands, I don''t think he''ll be against it. If not them, then we might even go ask the Abbot of Disentis."


    She looked at him before she realized something. "You''re trying to invite them into the Compact."


    He blinked.


    Did he not think of that?


    "Well, I guess if they want to join, I don''t see why they can''t. It''s not like they were the offenders of the Unruly Year."


    She finished the last of the meatloaf and cleaned her lips. Then she put her elbows on the table and her chin on her clasped fingers and smiled. "And what''s the other reason you''re so willing to go out and do a tour? It''s awfully proactive of you, Hans."


    He looked like he bit into a medicinal herb.


    "Ah, well. You know, just ¡­"


    "If you say you feel cooped up, then I will cal you a liar, husband. Both of us know that you will feel as happy as a babe if you got to spend your entire day in those mines."


    "I guess I''m just built different," he said and then chuckled to himself at his weird phrasing. "But you are right. I could spend weeks in those mines as long as I had food and water, but I do need somewhere that I won''t be bothered. Once the Compact is peaceful, strong, and stable, then it won''t be bad for us to go on a retreat. It''s not like the barony won''t be ours if we just go off to some other part of the Compact."


    She hummed. "I guess you really weren''t built for this life, huh," she sighed in the end. "As your wife, I say no."


    "What? Why?"


    "Hans, people become kooky when they spend too much time alone, and as your wife, it is my duty to ensure that you don''t become a crazy hermit in the mountains. You lost your chance at it when you agreed to marry me."


    "Ugh," he uttered in faux despair. "Whatever will I do¡­"


    "You can finish your meal and join me in bed. I feel like I need a bit of loving tonight, husband."


    He paused before his hands moved a lot quicker than before in trying to finish his dinner.


    She rolled her eyes as she got up to leave and prepare for their night.


    ''Men,'' she thought exasperatedly but also fondly.


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 85.5


    -VB-


    Hans von Fluelaberg


    Before I left Fluelaberg on my tour around the entirety of the Compact and not just Chur, I wanted to do a little bit of skill grinding for all of the skills that I probably won''t be using. The skill at the top of this list was actually a new skill that I''ve developed lately.


    [Disguise] LvL.3


    I''m a woman. Honest!


    Hides identity and reduces discovery


    *1% reduction in disguise failure per level.


    This was different from Stealth, which was a skill I''ve obtained that I''ve obtained around the same time that I obtained Orator skill.


    [Stealth] LvL.17


    Sneaky Beaky Like.


    Reduces discovery


    *0.75% reduction in discovery chance per level.


    *Keep reduction when moving silently outside of enemy''s close vision


    I haven''t had to use Stealth, so it''s level was very low, at least in comparison to my other skills. What was I going to do around Flelualberg that needed Stealth? Have quieter sex in my own personal castle? Well, I could, but I didn''t want to.


    Speaking of sex, my skill for that ¡­ went up quite a lot.


    [Sex] LvL 45


    Wow. That felt good¡­! Now, let''s feel even better, because there is nothing better than nature''s own heroin.


    *+1% pleasure felt for you and your partner per level.


    *+0.025% chance of causing random orgasm in partner per thrust per level


    At level 45, I was about to make Isabella cum her brains out thrice in ten minutes on average, twice from natural orgasm and once from random orgasm triggered by my Sex skill. This passive skill got a lot of use, but Stealth wasn''t something I used often. The last time I used it was when I had a midnight snack and didn''t want to get caught by Isabella.


    But both Disguise and Stealth could be very useful skills in the future, so I wanted to train them up. Being so low level, I was certain that I could pump some levels into them before Isabella and I left for the tour.


    How was I going to do it, though? Everyone recognized me, so my disguise wouldn''t work and I needed the disguise to work for me to gain experience! It also didn''t help that I was big even when I compared myself to well-fed and trained knights.


    ¡­ Well, there was something that would work. Unlike many towns and cities of similar size, the influx of migrants was not canceled out by deaths due to poor hygiene, crime, and living standard. In fact, the natural baby boom from abundant wealth available even to newcomers saw that children under fourteen made up a good fifth of my city''s population.


    That''s a lot of babies.


    And babies and children don''t know my face as well as their parents do. On top of this, I had set up a service that finds and pays people to do communal babysitting. Sure, they wouldn''t be paid as much as most other jobs in the city but it was an "easier" job that many elderly can partake in. Of course, I also knew that some of those elderly were doing those jobs anyway before I set up the jobs, so they got paid.


    It was not a medieval model of how communities and cities worked. I knew that. However, it was a popular job that ensured that the elderly did not overly burden their children and grandchildren. Even they have their own pride and being able to work even minutely made them feel better about themselves, especially if it was a job they would have done for their community anyway.


    And who paid for this?


    I did.


    Or rather, since while I did collect tax from the less well-off folks, I just redistributed back into the community so that the community won''t frail and fall apart should something unexpected happen. Sure, humans and their societies were strong, but societies and communities still fell apart because of unexpected problems. Mitigating weak points so that such unexpected problems don''t cause a cascading collapse was what I did as a ruler.


    So where was I going with this?


    ¡­ Right.


    If I disguised myself to the best of my ability and then introduced myself to one of the ¡­ non-Christian sub-communities as a helper sent by the baron, then I can work on both my disguise and gain more understanding about some of the least understood people within my town.


    It''ll have to be quick, though, because I was leaving for the tour within the month.


    ---


    "Wait, wait, wait, wait, don''t pull on the moustache-!" I hissed but the baby I was taking care of didn''t understand and pulled. The glue-attached moustache pulled at my skin and gave me an eye-watering pain.


    And then the baby pulled harder.


    "Ow ow ow ow -!"


    ---


    I ducked underneath the rocks the horde of kids threw at me.


    "Brats-!" I hissed as I got back up before ducking back down when someone threw a poop pot at me.


    ---


    "I see, so there''s just not a lot of space for kids to play around in safely," I hummed as I listened to a trio of mothers talking about what they felt about the state of their section of the city. This area, the non-Christian sector of the city, grew organically after the initial set-up. Because of this and a lack of zoning and infrastructure laws, people did what they do best and improvised.


    A lot of the houses here were more ramshackle than the rest of the city and there were even tunnels being dug out by more enterprising miners looking to sell hollowed-out tunnels as homes for new families. Others chose to cut down trees and build by the steep valley walls without the actual engineering or construction know-how to ensure long-term stability of their buildings.


    In essence, this place was slowly becoming a ticking time bomb. One bad fire will see not just here but the rest of the city burn.


    And considering that this place was filled to the brim with my non-Christians, they were most likely going to be persecuted for something like a fire even if none of them were the ones to start it, intentionally or accidentally.


    "Okay. I know the baron, and I''ll make sure to tell him what you women think. That''s a promise."


    The three mothers giggled.


    ¡­ What did I say?


    ---


    On the seventh day, I rested and looked at my skills.


    [Disguise] LvL.11


    [Stealth] LvL.20


    ¡­ it wasn''t a great leap in skill level, but I''ll take it regardless.


    -VB-


    A/N: a more lighthearted chapter with a bit of citybuilding.

 Chapter 86-89

    Swiss ArmsChapter 86


    -VB-


    Isabella von Fluelaberg nee Gorizia


    Isabella looked up from the last of her embroidery of the three-peaked mountain that symbolized the barony and sighed as she looked out of her room''s window and at the rest of the city below.


    While she didn''t mind spending her time designing new embroidery as a hobby, she also felt a little empty doing something so ¡­ pointless. Even though she didn''t like listening to yammering whines of the peasants, merchants, and nobles, there was a point to it that actually did something to solve problems.


    However, her duties were such that she couldn''t act as the judge and ruler while her husband was actively taking those roles.


    The duties of a noblewoman, especially the wife of a lord, were such that they had to be ready to assume any duties that fell onto them immediately. If the noblemen were such that they were steadfast pillars that held their positions for those above and below their station, then a noblewoman was someone ready to take the duty should something happen to see the nobleman leave the position. While instances of the reverse did happen, it was not the norm anywhere on God''s Earth.


    Men were physically stronger and hardier and more aggressive and confrontational if those traits were what men needed. Women ¡­ simply weren''t. They were softer and kinder, which were traits more suited to supporting roles. Put a man in a supporting role and everyone will see how much harder such roles were for them. They struggled with understanding the delicate nature of the mind. Not always and not all men but most. What women took to like fish to the ocean, men needed to learn and train.


    This was why noble boys were made to train with books and swords and noble girls learned with sewing needles and coins for it was more often that noblewomen who managed the finances of their husband''s lands rather than vice versa.


    And once adulthood set in, their lot in life was set.


    So what was she to do, as Isabella the wife of Hans, when he went out to do ¡­ odd things.


    Normally, both men and women did odd things when they went past their prime. She remembered how her father suddenly developed an interest in sculpting some six years ago and spent exorbitant sums to learn how to sculpt and to import quality materials.


    Her husband probably thought he was being subtle about it, but there was nothing about a six foot man bound in muscles in these lands, no matter what he did. Oh, his attempt at "dyeing" was rather ingenious but making his hair a few shades lighter did nothing for how easily he was recognized by his people.


    He was, after all, their hero and leader.


    To the merchants, he was the man of the accounting books. To the few scholars in the barony (an amazing feat in and of itself), he was the father of natural sciences. To the artisans, he was their goal. To the commoners, he was the guarantor of safety and prosperity. To the soldiers, he was their general. To the outcasts, he was a warm embrace who accepted and provided shelter.


    So did he really think that no one recognized him when he went out to babysit children of all things?


    Isabella initially thought that her husband was sneaking out to meet ¡­ other women. As much as she loved him, she also knew that she didn''t know everything about her husband. There simply was too much to learn and a lot of his life that stood out like silk dress among wool shirts.


    What mercenary-peasant turned lord studied natural sciences and made pottery and porcelain who also turned over a profitable jewelry mine to the commoners?!


    So ¡­ he ¡­ might have had lovers before she came along. Though she was sure that he felt affection for her, it didn''t mean that he couldn''t for other women, too.


    So imagine her surprise when he was babysitting of all things¡­ for the outcasts.


    Getting rocks and sticks thrown at him while playing with children who didn''t know him was very far from visiting lovers.


    ¡­ So why? Why was Hans suddenly interested in disguising himself, taking care of children, digging up and moving shit from the latrines, building and repairing hom-.


    Actually, when she thought about his recent excursion along with what he normally did, they weren''t too far off from what he did.


    It was Hans being Hans.


    But why sneak out?


    Worse, his sneaking and disguises grew alarmingly better with each day he spent outside. No one in the castle managed to see him leave on his last day working among the commoners, and she almost didn''t recognize him when she saw him after he returned.


    It ¡­ also highlighted how he seemed to be doing something, improving new abilities, and finding new things to do while she remained in place after telling him that she would be by his side.


    Hans was a master artisan, veteran warrior, benevolent if firm baron, accomplished battlefield tactician, ruthless strategist, devilish persuader, able orator, terrifying alchemist, multi-field scholar, the strongest swordsman in all of the empire, one of the richest men, the Compact''s protector of the east, and now ¡­ some kind of ¡­ stealthy babysitter.


    Thieves and assassins would weep. Or ask to study under him.


    She, on the other hand, was a noblewoman. That was all she was.


    ¡­ Isabella couldn''t allow herself to fall behind, could she? If she wanted to stay by his side and keep up with her promise, she needed to get better. Be better. But how was she going to be better than who and how she was?


    -VB-


    Hans von Fluelaberg


    "You want to do something more?" I asked her in surprise, to which she nodded.


    Isabella, who sat across from me on the dinner table, nodded before closing her lips around another piece of the steak we were eating tonight.


    When I made dinner tonight, I didn''t expect to get this kind of conversation.


    "Well, I''m not going to say no to that," I replied. "But why are you asking me? You know that I''m not going to tell you what you can do and what you can''t."


    "I know," she replied. "But I do want your help. I want to know what I can do where I will be able to excel."


    ''Stats,'' I thought to myself and focused my Gamer''s observation onto Isabella.


    [Character Status]


    Name: Isabella von Fluelaberg nee Gorizia


    Age: 19


    Title: Baroness


    LvL: 10


    HP: 480


    MP: --


    ST: 8


    STR: 9


    END: 11


    AGI: 10


    DEX: 9


    INT: 13


    CHA: 13


    Her stats weren''t anything interesting. Her average of 12 per stat was higher than the average person''s, but it wasn''t unique at all, so any advice and suggestion I give her based on her stat would be ¡­ not meaningless but negligible. This left her personality, desires, and needs. Essentially, the who, what, where, why, and how''s of her request except applied to each of her personality, desires, and needs.


    ¡­ But would she appreciate that? Appreciate me telling her what was best for her?


    "Okay," I said with a nod. "Do you have something in mind?" If she didn''t have anything in mind, then I can help her look for something she wanted to do. It''s ¡­ I guessed that that''s how married couples carried on with life, right? Or were supposed to. Be there and support them. Ask her what''s wrong.


    Isabella looked at me with a firm gaze but with searching eyes that looked more into herself than at me. After a while, she straightened her back and her eyes grew determined.


    "I want to do two things."


    "Alright."


    "First thing I want to do¡­ is to set up a business outside of my role as the baroness."


    "I can certainly help with that."


    She shook her head. "I want it to be my endeavor. That''s not what I need your help with. What I need your help with is the next one."


    "... And that would be?"


    She took a deep breath in and let it out.


    And then she hesitated.


    "... Teach me how to fight."


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 87


    -VB-


    Hans von Fluelaberg


    If my wife wanted to learn how to fight to protect herself, then was I going to refuse? No, I wouldn''t. Certain other men might take offense and tell their wives no because they would incorrectly infer that their wives considered their protection to be lacking, but Isabella and I didn''t have any misunderstanding about that.


    If words failed, then the displays at the front of the castle of the ruined plate armors I cleaved with my ridiculous sword made my own strength abundantly clear.


    But I wasn''t sure if I was the right person for the job, mostly because I didn''t know how to fight gracefully or with a dagger. I was the definition of brute force made manifest, and the kind of skills someone wielding a dagger would need was not a skill I had nor was I good at teaching.


    Ping!


    I jolted in place, which made me bump around the cramped corridors of the mines underneath my castle.


    I had been in the process of digging out another chunk of rock into my inventory (something I was still wary about revealing) when the ping alert stopped me on top of creating a translucent screen that only I could see.


    I blinked and read it.


    [Quest: The Way of the Blade


    Your wife wants to learn how to fight herself! This is a good thing, and you will support her all the way.


    Pre-requisite:


    *Isabella von Fluelaberg (IVF) must take up a blade as her weapon.


    *IVF must learn how to use her weapon with at least intermediate (LvL.10) skill.


    *IVF must reach this level before the birth of your child.


    *IVF must live to the end of the quest.


    *IVF must not leave you before the end of the quest.


    Reward:


    *Skill: Teaching + 10 Teaching Skill LvL


    *Increased relationship with Isabella (obviously)


    Failure:


    *Potential "Accident"


    Y/N?]


    I stared at the bottom of the quest screen and at the ominous word marked with quotation marks.


    "I don''t like that," I grumbled as I closed the quest screen because what else was I going to do? Not help my wife? And the "accident" might be anything and everything, so there was no reason to even worry about it. It might just mean an injury with whatever other weapon she chooses.


    It''s also been a while since I got a quest, and it was related to Isabella. I wondered if that meant that the Gamer that I had considered her to be significant enough to him (or both it and him) to warrant quests and if there would be more in the future.


    Probably.


    ---


    "A dagger?" Isabella asked me as we stood in our training courtyard. Normally, my Rangers would be here on days they weren''t patrolling or training out in the valley, but today, I cleared it out for Isabella. I didn''t want her to feel pressured or judged because she couldn''t do something she never trained for.


    Sure, there were people who did great under pressure and actually needed it to keep going, but I also knew - not for certain but almost - that Isabella wasn''t that kind of a person. She needed to set her own pace, even if that pace might be brisk by most people''s standard.


    "Yup," I told her as I pulled out a dagger. The entire dagger, from the tip of the blade to the butt of the handle, was about the length of my forearm. For her, it looked like a shortsword. However, it was certainly a dagger for self-protection because it wasn''t made for utility in mind but the ability to kill.


    See, I thought long and hard about what Isabella needed to learn for her sword skill. A spear wasn''t going to work because she wasn''t supposed to be in the frontline or out in the open when she needed to defend herself. It couldn''t be a sword because she lacked the upper body strength not because she was a woman but because she simply didn''t train herself.


    So if she was going to start with a blade, it would have to be something made to kill as quickly as possible on the assumption that the enemies were already close to her.


    And as such, I smithed out her very own dagger.


    Or rather, a stiletto. With a fine tip and a narrow blade, she wouldn''t be using this to parry but to strike quickly and efficiently as possible to ensure a kill.


    I handed her the stiletto and she frowned.


    I blinked. Did I not give her the right gift for what she wanted?


    "This is not like any knightly dagger that I have seen," she hummed appreciatively.


    "Ah, knightly daggers," I let out a sigh of relief. Knightly daggers were just that: daggers used by knights. Unlike the stiletto, knights used their knightly daggers in close quarter combat not only to kill but also to parry. Of course, people other than knights also used it for both combat and civilian uses like butchering or cutting meat. The stiletto, however, didn''t have the blade required to cut meat. It could do one and one thing only: stab.


    "How will I be using this dagger?" she asked me as she got into what she assumed was a fighting stance, and I''m gonna be honest. She wasn''t half bad. She did grow up as a count''s daughter, so she must have come into contact with many knights and seen them train, never mind how many times she''s seen my rangers, militiamen, and myself train.


    "You will move your body a lot," I replied. "Where the knights are immovable and unstoppable fortresses on the battlefield, men-at-arms the flexible blade needed to cut down enemies, and my rangers the unseen blade even upon a battlefield, you will be like water, flowing around the enemy attacks until you find the right time. And then -." I slammed my hands together in a thunderous clap. "You will strike to kill."


    "So a killing art, not a knightly art."


    I snorted. "Do I need to remind you just how many knights I''ve killed? You might have to forgive me for not having the highest regard for them."


    "They still train for more than a decade in the service of their liege lord. You should respect that."


    I nodded. "I do respect that, and I do it by putting them six feet under."


    "You can be oft cruel and crass, husband," she hummed. "Now, show me how to use this."


    "Now, you won''t be training with a real blade," I told her as I gingerly took the blade away. "Like everyone on the training grounds, you train with wooden versions until you need to actually test out the blade."


    And handed her a wooden version of it with an iron core to simulate the weight of the steel stiletto.


    She hefted it up and down and even swung her arms around to get used to it.


    "Ready?" I asked her.


    She nodded. "Ready."


    It was our first couple''s special training session.


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 88


    -VB-


    Hans von Fluelaberg


    Christmas came and went. It was honestly the biggest celebration, even bigger than the feast I hosted. With my people''s still growing wealth, they wanted to celebrate Christmas in a more boisterous manner, and we just ¡­ did. We filled the entire valley with laughter, food, and warmth and even dragged Davos to our celebration.


    New Year came and went. Unlike Christmas, it was a much more sedate and homey celebration.


    During all of this, Isabella and I planned on how our tour would go. I also sent mails to all of the relevant towns and villages that we would be passing by. It would be extremely rude to visit those towns as the baron of Fluelaberg when those towns were their own independent states - as far as the Compact was concerned - without any notice.


    It would be like the emperor visiting the Duchy of Saxony without making any announcement, sniffing around, and then leaving. It would be highly suspect from the viewpoint of the local powers that be. Sure, such a thing might not be a concern for small time villages but it would still be rude, so the least I could do was send a letter and asking if I could stay.


    And from the letters I got back (thanks to the roads that connected most of the member villages, towns, and cities), they were happy to host me.


    All except one.


    Deep inside the mountain valley to the west of Davos and east of Chur, there were two small members of the Compact: St. Peter and Langweis. St. Peter was the village closer to Chur, and Langweis was a lot deeper and higher in the valley. So high, in fact, they only needed to walk for three hours eastward to reach the white-capped mountains, cross over, and walk down to Davos, which might take them half the day. And unlike St. Peter, they were happy to host me.


    St. Peter, on the other hand¡­


    They have been belligerent since Day 1 of the Compact''s founding. Never agreed with anything anyone else said, often ignored my calls for arms, and just generally acted like someone who didn''t want to be there.


    I suspected that the only reason why they even joined up with the Compact was because they feared getting swallowed up by the Chur or something stupid like that.


    Excuse me, brothers and sisters. Your village has nothing worth spending the time to attack or take over! Y''all probably don''t even pay that much tax!


    St. Peter had a total of 200 people, according to their own village mayor. This included people in the surrounding villages who weren''t part of St. Peter but nonetheless counted due to them "sharing" the membership. Langweis had less than that at only 57 but all of their people were in a single village. But that one village offered up 20 able men (all but four of their able men) during the forewarned invasion by the Duke of Upper Bavaria while St. Peter offered a measly 30 (which was less than a fifth of their able men).


    It was getting to a point where I was starting to regret allowing St. Peter into the Compact, and wanted to discuss their continued membership with the rest of the Compact.


    And considering that there was a clause that allowed members to be kicked during certain conditions¡­


    Well, it would depend on what their reaction was when I passed by. God forbid, if some of them started throwing rocks at me or Isabella¡­


    But they wouldn''t be that stupid, right?


    Right.


    As for the tour¡­


    "So are we all ready now?" I asked my steward, one of the rangers who needed to retire once we learned that he had received too big of an ankle wound; the most he could do was walk. Rocco, no surname, was someone in his late thirties and one of the immigrants who made their way to my city. He was one of the better shots, but, well, being a good shot couldn''t do much for a major ankle injury and more minor stab and slash wounds along his arms.


    "Yes, milord," he replied with ease, making his full, short, and well-trimmed beard and mustache tremble a little from speaking.


    "Thank you," I told the shorter and older man. "You will be fine with the management of the estate?"


    "You left me with plenty of help, sir. I will manage perfectly, and if not, then at the very least, I will leave the day-to-day administration to the helpers while I focus on the defense and patrols."


    "Good," I replied with a smile before turning to my convoy of ten carriages. Three held people; the first one was a luxurious carriage (for this era) was for me and my wife, and the other two were omre economical passenger carriages meant to carry merchants and peddlers who would pay to join the convoy. We already had five such merchants who wanted the warmth of other bodies to the chill of late January winter travel. The other seven carriages were for supplies, my soldiers and rangers, and gifts that I intended to give to the other mayors and rulers of the Compact.


    As the richest ruler among the Compact, I couldn''t just go around without gifts as, according to Isabella, that would indicate that I was not rich enough to give even a miserly gift was either miserly or not rich. While not being known as a rich man wouldn''t hurt me personally, it would affect my city as rumors would go around saying that if the lord wasn''t rich, then the city couldn''t be rich and thus there weren''t a lot of trade to be had there.


    Yes, everything I did had some kind of economic or political implication and consequence. Or in this case, going around giftless because of how "rich" I was would have both political and economic results.


    Troublesome? Yes, but it also meant that the things I have been doing have resulted in a lot of good that there were bad things open to happening. After all, rumors about less than rich nature of my city meant that my city was richer than a village or even a town!


    "Are we good here?" I asked Isabella, and she gave me an awkward thumbs-up. She was adopting some of my handsigns that I just did out of habit, but there were some that still made her feel awkward about doing. Like the thumbs-up. Something about thumbs-up usually referring to how construction workers and architects measured things and thus not the gesture of a lady.


    "Yes, we are, husband," she replied as she quickly pulled her hand down after that.


    "Good. Let''s set off!"


    ---


    Less than two hours after we left Fluelaberg, we were at Davos.


    "Chief Kraft!" I greeted the man who''d come out to greet me.


    "Baron Flualaberg," he replied.


    "It''s Hans as always. At least until we are among other nobles who are counts or higher," I replied as I took his hands into a clasp, preventing him from bowing.


    Yes, it was not what a baron was supposed to do, but Kraft and his family had been some of my first supporters and friends. Alvia and Albert still lived in Fluelaberg, and Alvia was still my best ¡­ student? Disciple? She was also Isabella''s supporter in the castle and the town. I could even go so far as to say that Kraft and his family might have had a bigger impact on the founding of the Compact than others might give them credit for.


    Kraft grinned, making his grey beard smirk up.


    "Well, it''s good that you''re here," he told me. "We have a problem."


    ¡­ Troublesome.


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 89


    -VB-


    Hans von Fluelaberg


    Klosters was arguably the town that benefitted the third most within the Compact from the increase in traffic and trade. The first would obviously be the Davos-Fluelaberg (the shortest distance between Kraft''s village and my town was no more than a kilometer) and the second was the most populous and the other end of the Compact, Chur under Prince-Bishop Siegfried.


    The reason for this was rather simple.


    The valley south of Davos was treacherously dangerous with cliffs that were, on average, around 50 degrees to 80 degrees. On top of that, there was no easily passable riverside land. In comparison, the valley that Davos was in had a river that was 10 meters to 20 meters wide with the entire valley itself was around 500 meters even at the narrowest. In comparison, the southern valley''s river was less than 10 meters wide and there were barely a meter of space for people to walk next to the rushing river.


    This wasn''t just dangerous for most people; it was outright fatal.


    What travel that did happen in the southern valley was through winding mountainside that didn''t even have enough room for a small cart. In comparison, the Fluela Pass was wide, just a straight walk up and down, and not even snowy during spring and fall.


    So trade never went through the southern valley from the east, leaving the only way to the west through the north and Klosters. And as a member of the Compact, I sold them some of my personally made goods without tax, which gave them even higher profit margins when they sold to peddlers passing through.


    Klosters also saw an increase in population, though unlike Davos and Fluelaberg, their people were all locals, some of whom had come from further north through the Schlappiner Joch (or the Shaky Yoke) Pass. It was not much of a pass compared to Fluela Pass, but it was still passable enough for individuals like peddlers.


    If those peddlers could climb with packs weighing several stones, that was.


    The point was that Klosters was my most happy ally within the Compact and even more so than Chur. While Chur saw me as a shield against any hostile outsiders, I was Klosters''s lifeline to a new generation of prosperity.


    "It''s wonderful to meet you again, baron!" Mayor Daniel of Kloster greeted me with a wide, beaming smile as he shook my head heartily. After Kraft and John (the Count of Toggenburg), he was perhaps the leader of the Compact member that I met the most, and it showed in how familiar he was with me.


    After all, I was still a baron, so a commoner would never dare to shake hands with me unless prior permission had been given and the man was familiar with the baron. S?a??h th? N?v?l(F)ire.n?t website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    "I''m happy to see that you are doing well, Daniel," I smiled and the people of the village and my guards watched with warmth as their leaders reaffirmed their friendship. "While I would have liked to stay for some time to see what I could help you with ¡­"


    "You don''t need to, baron," he replied with a grin. The middle-aged man then slapped his belly. "I mean, look at this! I''ve never been this jolly in my life!"


    People laughed and I chuckled, too.


    "Ah well, I hope you remember my wife, Isabella? You were there at our wedding," I said as I pulled my hand back and openly gestured to my wife, who stepped up with a smile of her own.


    Now faced with a noblewoman, Daniel fumbled before one of my ranger guards stepped forward and whispered a few instructions into his ear. He hurried down to a knee and kissed the ring on Isabella''s ring finger.


    "I-I, Daniel of Kloster, greet Baroness von Fluelaberg," he stuttered out, and Isabella giggled.


    "Thank you, mayor. I''ve heard good things about you from my husband. Please, rise."


    He did and then cleared his throat before breaking out into a smile.


    "Well¡­ there was something that we can use your expertise, Hans," Daniel spoke up after tittering for a moment. "There has been a problem¡­"


    "What kind of problem?" I asked him as I narrowed my eyes. I swear, if there were more knights masquerading as bandits, then I was going to go apeshi-.


    "It''s the ice."


    "... Ice?"


    -VB-


    I stared at the ice.


    Yeah, that was a problem.


    Klosters had three valleys that it had access to because it sat in the center of those four''s convergence. Prattigau was where it sat in the upper middle of, and it was connected to the Landwasser valley that Davos was in. The third valley was a smaller canyon that split off the Prattigau toward the north right where Klosters was. That northern canyon was what allowed few people to come and go from the not-yet-Austria''s-Voralberg Montafon Valley.


    The problem, or two problems, was that there were now ice in those higher-elevation valleys.


    Not snow. Ice.


    I stared at the huge ice boulder just sitting and blocking the entire valley.


    Something like this should not exist, yet there were two of them.


    Fluelaberg didn''t have ice¡­ but that could be because of the constant warmth that my city''s been pumping out with our industry.


    ¡­ Something about this situation tickled the back of my mind.


    This was also something I couldn''t solve. Not really. I did think that this spring was a little colder than any previous years but was it this cold?


    I stiffened while people behind me yelped and screamed when a dull rumble echoed through the valley. The ice trembled and then ground its way forward.


    Right toward Klosters.


    I stood in place, waiting to see just how much the ice moved.


    "H-Hans?" Isabella called to me from far behind me, but I stood in place and waited as the literal giant ice wall moved forward.


    As the ice moved closer to me, people began to back away, and then the ice came to a crawling stop with a final rumble.


    I hummed before reaching out and wrapping my knuckles against the ice wall.


    It was a disaster, yeah. If the ice kept on moving without melting, then it might start grinding up against the farms around the village and then on the village itself.


    But it was late spring and it would soon become winter.


    I turned to look at the unnerved mayor.


    "This is not something I can solve as easily as roads."


    Isabella, despite her own nerves, raised an eyebrow at my statement. Yeah, I knew that roads weren''t something that people just solved, but I did it once so I got to say it.


    "I-I see. I guess it was stupid of me to ask you to solve a mystery of the world," Daniel laughed weakly.


    This wasn''t something a small village like Klosters, which only had several hundred people, could solve even if they deployed all of their able-bodied men and women. We''re talking about hundreds of tons of glaciers, maybe even over a thousand tons because there were two such glaciers. Breaking it alone required iron or steel tools. And even if we succeeded in breaking it up, where would we dump the broken ice? This wasn''t the modern age where we could pack it with wood shavings and sell it to someone across the ocean.


    Yeah.


    This was a problem.


    ¡­ Why were these glaciers still niggling at the back of my head?!


    -VB-


    Eventually, after two days of rest and talk, we moved on from Klosters and traveled to Schiers, which was to the west of Klosters and down the Prattigau Valley.


    The next village-member we stayed at was Schiers.


    And they had exactly the same problem if on a smaller scale and more village-centric. A lot of the snow and ice that were supposed to have melted by now hadn''t melted and the seeds planted last year and were supposed to sprout now hadn''t.


    When we left Schiers another two days later, I decided to slow down the caravan and check all of the valleys. It was a tedious process that nearly doubled the travel time, but after discovering half a dozen more slow-moving glaciers and not yet melted snow in late spring just between Schiers and Maienfeld, I realized that my town had just been abnormally warm for one reason or another. I passed by Davos''s fields. Their crops were all germinating.


    Then I reached Chur.


    And problems only compounded from there.


    Prince-Bishop Siegfried had fallen ill and hadn''t woken up in the past three days.


    My plans got thrown out of the window when, a mere week after I arrived at Chur, the prince-bishop passed away in his sleep, and the Diocese of Chur called upon its cathedral cardinals* to select a new prince-bishop.


    -VB-


    A/N: cathedral cardinals refer to members of the cathedral chapter, which is a group of advisors (usually clergy) to the prince-bishop in charge of a Roman Catholic Diocese.


    A/N 2:At this point in time, the local cathedral chapter chose the bishop according to the imperial church system (Reichskirchensystem) but it was also around this time that the the pope started to wrangle some of that power away from the HRE. You know what this means, boys and girls~! Shenanigans time!


    A/N 3: our prince-bishop was a real person who should have ruled up to 1321. I killed him off 18 years earlier. Oh, and look who was supposed to take over the position after him. A noble priest from the Counts of Montfort. Our former enemy.


    A/N 4: the glaciers are important. (2024 Feb 20)


    A/N 4.5: glaciers are important but not in the immediate future. (16 May)

 Chapter 90-95

    Swiss ArmsChapter 90


    -VB-


    Isabella von Fluelaberg


    Trouble after trouble. It seemed to be the story of Chur.


    A baron defying the prince-bishop. It led to a battle where the prince-bishop lost too much of his levies and man-at-arms, including several ordained knights. Neighboring lords saw this as chance and pounced, leading to the Unruly Year. It was during this time that Chur''s former territories lost a tenth of its people through famine, war, and migration. It was also during this time that her husband secured his valley for mutual protection.


    It was almost as if his rise had been at the cost of Chur. The once capital of the Prince-Bishopric was now a mere member of a defense pact filled with peasants and merchants.


    How the mighty have fallen.


    And now, just as they secured safety and security, the prince-bishop was dead.


    ''And that''s the problem for the people and powermongers of Chur Diocese, isn''t it?'' she thought to herself as she greeted another priest from far away lands.


    The Prince-Bishop was, of course, a bishop first and foremost. This meant that he was supposed to put the wellbeing of the Diocese before his secular holdings. This was what Prince-Bishop Siegfried did for the most part, but his alignment with the Compact also made his other priorities clear not just to his people but also other bishops and priests outside of Chur.


    After all, the Compact had gone to war with its neighbors before, and denizens of those neighboring states also included the catholics under the Diocese of Chur.


    It was a criss-cross of responsibilities and duties that would make the election of the next Prince-Bishop fiercely competitive.


    Why?


    Because in the founding document of the Compact, the membership of Chur was not "city of Chur and its surrounding dependencies" but "Prince-Bishop of Chur." For the city of Chur, this was now a matter of survival and prosperity while for other priests and bishops, it was a chance to become something more not just in the eyes of secular lords that bullied churches whenever it suited them but also in the eyes of God.


    Was it not the Prince-Bishop who was blessed by God to have come in contact with a talented commoner like Baron Hans? Was it not God''s blessing that allowed the city of Chur to prosper?


    Isabella also wondered if all of this had been part of God''s plan, but she was neither a priest nor a pious woman. She could only guess and seek council.


    And speaking of which¡­


    "It certainly is a mess, isn''t it?"


    She glanced to her left and looked at Deacon Benjamin, the one and only ordained minister in all of Davos and Fluelaberg. The recently portly man looked happy at the sight of all of the higher-ups of the dioceses coming to compete for the seat of the Prince-Bishop.


    "It is," she replied.


    "I am most worried about Lozarn*."


    "Why?"


    He glanced at her. "The priest of Lozarn is an ambitious man. Unlike the city''s people who dislike the Habsburgs and their overarching influence, he seeks to aid them. If he were to get elected, then it is clear that he will use his influence within the Compact to isolate the Forest Cantons from the east, which would make it easier for the Habsburgs to continue their plan of taking over that region of the Alps."


    Isabella hummed but she was thinking what that would mean for her and Hans. With her cousin being married to the Habsburg emperor, it could be said that she should be convincing Hans to join hands with the Lozarn priest.


    But she also knew that Hans''s family lived in the Canton of Uri.


    She glanced at the deacon. "You are very well informed, Deacon Benjamin."


    He merely smiled. "I am just a fat man who likes his rumors and gossips a little bit too much," he chuckled as he slapped his belly.


    She rolled her eyes. "My thanks."


    "Of course. My responsibility is to the people of Davos and Fluelaberg, and that includes the interest of you and the baron, milady."


    ---


    "Really?"


    "Yes," she replied as she covered her nude body with the bedsheet. Now that she told him about it, she found herself regretting her words.


    Hans had started another passionate night, but only after three rounds, she blurted out words she heard to him when he asked why she looked distracted.


    Ad now, it was going to be over when she knew that he could have gone another five rounds easily.


    Yes, she kind of regretted telling him what she thought about this entire situation. She could have been enjoying another hour of sex but nooo she had to bring up politics.


    Ugh.


    She was her worst enemy sometimes.


    "What do you think?" she asked him as she rolled over and cuddled up to Hans''s chest. Sturdy and muscular chest she could run her hand over all day.


    He hummed, making his chest vibrate pleasantly. "I think it''ll be best if we sit this one out."


    "You think?" she asked in surprise.


    "I do. As great as our tie with the emperor is, I am also wary about letting him have more power in the Alps."


    "Why not?"


    "... Alright, you may not know, but I have been gathering reports from afar. Merchants and spies alike. And what I found in Habsburg lands is ¡­ not great."


    "How so?"


    "For one, Habsburgs allow their middlemen too much power. Corruption and abuse of power is all too common where they rule, especially here in the main domains of their house in the Swabian lands. Their hold over Austria and Styria is too new for them to have done much over there, but it looks like they want to make those lands their main holdings if the rapid constructions of forts say anything."


    She didn''t know about this.


    She pouted.


    He noticed her pouting after moment. "What? Did I say something?"


    "Why are you so good at everything?"


    "... But I''m not?"


    She mock-glared up at him.


    He stared back for a bit before rolling his eyes. "Fine. Be playful all you want¡­ but right now, I want to touch you more," he grinned as he rolled her over and pulled her legs apart.


    "Eep!"


    And that squeak turned into moans of pleasure as he made love to her again.


    -VB-


    Hans von Fluelaberg


    For me, this whole election of the Prince-Bishop was turning into one fortune after another.


    The Habsburgs growing strong¡­ it didn''t benefit me, but it also didn''t bother me. As I was right now, they weren''t strong enough nor focused on their currently main domain here in Southern Swabia (Northern and Central Swiss) and Transjurania (Upper Burgundy/Western Swiss). I knew that whatever strength they gained would be usurped by the Forest Cantons in the years to come, so I wasn''t going to side with the power that wouldn''t stay in these lands for long.


    I was, however, more interested in the two abbots that have come to meet me.


    To my left was the representatives of the Abbot of Disentis and to my right across the table was the Abbot of St. Gallens.


    The Abbot of St. Gallens, Heinrich von Ramstein, was an elderly man in his mid seventies. He didn''t look as frail as his age and there was a sharp glint in his eyes that told me that he was here to gain something.


    On the other hand, the representative of the Abbot of Disentis, Gion the Priest**, a homely-looking priest who looked very uncomfortable being with me and the Abbot.


    "Speak first, abbot," I urged the elderly man.


    He nodded after a moment.


    "I wish for the Abbey of Saint Gall to join your Compact."


    My back straightened in surprise. "I ¡­ am surprised that you want that, abbot. Are you aware of what it means to be a member of the Compact?"


    "I do," he replied. "It is a mutual defense and trade pact with limited political integration, is it not?"


    I nodded slowly. "It is."


    "But I have a condition for Saint Gallens, both the city and the abbey, joining your Compact."


    I leaned back slighty. "And what would that be?"


    Finally, the abbot looked a little uncomfortable. "I only became the abbot of Saint Gallens through some financial compensation to my rivals, and even before that, the abbey itself took on a lot of debt for a number of projects, including the reconstruction of devastated areas of Saint Gallens the city."


    I nodded slowly.


    "I wish for the Compact to pay off half of that debt. In exchange, I will waive the right to leave the Compact."


    Okay. Well.


    Saint Gallens was a big city with around two thousand people. Sure, it was only about the same size as Chur and Fleulaberg, but Saint Gallens was also an established city like Chur. Having another established city would be ¡­ beneficial, especially since the city, the abbey, and its surrounding territories would give us direct access to the Bodensee. Sure, it would be a round about way to access it instead of going straight through the Werdenberg and Heiligenberg lands.


    "And how much would that be¡­?"


    "..."


    "Abbot?"


    He whispered something.


    "Pardon?"


    "Three hundred guelders."


    Suddenly, I felt the back of my neck pull at the sudden shock.


    Three hundred guelders? Brother in Christ, that''s a literal king''s ransom! How the hell did you and your predecessor get into that much debt?!


    "We¡­ We''ll talk later."


    "I understand."


    I turned to the pale as a sheet Gion the Priest.


    "And you, oh priest of Disentis?"


    "W-We also seek to enter the Compact."


    "Oh. Are you are war with anyone right now?"


    "N-No?"


    "Do you have anything against commoners gaining wealth and status?"


    "No?"


    "Priests and deacons doing trade jobs on the side?"


    "No?"


    "Will you fight to defend your brothers and sisters of the Compact?"


    "N- I mean yes."


    "Wonderful," I said as I pulled out a piece of paper, wrote out a few sentences. "This is your application to join the Compact. I will gather representatives of the Compact and set up a vote to see if we want you in the Compact. Please sign here as the representative of Disentis and the Abbey of Disentis¡­"


    He did.


    With that done, I thanked him for coming and asked him to leave so that I may discuss sensitive topic with the Abbot of St. Gallen who didn''t ask others to leave before blurting something so big.


    I turned back to face the abbot.


    "Alright. Let''s discuss how we might be able to handle that tidbit¡­"


    -VB-


    A/N: *Lozarn is High Alemannic for Lucerne


    **Gion II, future Abbot of Disentis Abbey. It is under him that Disentis Abbey became an influential member of the Grey League.


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 91


    -VB-


    Count John of Toggenburg-Sargans


    The life of a count differed greatly than his life as Hans''s ward nor was it as busy as he expected it to be after looking at Hans lived everyday.


    Hans was busy. If he wasn''t working with people, then he was working on his own projects. When he wasn''t doing either of those, then he was down in the mines or spending time with his wife. Whenever a dispute broke out, he was at the forefront of it to solve and write out more rules and laws so that the people wouldn''t need him to intervene for every little land dispute or whatever else. If that wasn''t enough, then he was training with the rangers and militiamen. He inspected mines. Inspected the workshops. Talked with the foreigners that settled in his lands.


    Always doing something, Hans was.


    John felt like a clown next to what he saw and now expect from his own station. He was a count, someone who stood two ranks above his foster father.


    He trained with his men-at-arms (they were weaker than the Fluelaberg militiamen), solved disputes in his lands (they were far simpler), negotiated with the neighboring lords (it wasn''t even challenging compared to what IsaBitch made him do), and spent time with his family (mother disapproved of him for not wanting revenge against Hans; that would be "stupid as fuck" and why would he want to fight the man who was more of a father to him than his own blood father ever was?).


    But what he did was not even a quarter of what Hans did every day. It made him ask why he didn''t. It made him question why everyone did anything they did the way they did ever.


    It was a rabbit hole that ended with him sending a letter to Hans.


    And Hans''s response?


    ''You''re thinking too much.''


    The letter explained far more in-depth what Hans meant by the one-liner he started the letter off with, not even a "hi."


    From Hans''s perspective, John was trying to hard when there was nothing to hold all of that effort in. He felt a need to do something but there was nothing that could satisfy that need. It was alright to want to be his equal, but everything needed to start from the ground up.


    John had none of the skills, adoring populace, and need. So build the need, practice the skills, and gain the respect of the people.


    "Milord, a cup of water."


    "Ah, thanks," he replied as he took the cup of water from one of his man-at-arms/"secretary" and drank. The cup of cool water managed to satisfy him a little, and he hummed as he handed the cup back while lightly swaying atop his horse.


    He didn''t know what he needed to do, so he decided that, since Hans sent a letter about staying in Churs for the election of the Prince-Bishop, he would go and seek advice personally.


    Then he saw one of his horsemen riding quickly toward him. When the man rode next to him and bowed, he gestured the man to speak.


    "Milord, the Baron of Maienfeld wishes to speak with you."


    The Baron of Maienfeld¡­? Maienfeld was a member of the Compact, but by no means did they seek independence from their liege lord. But if he remembered correctly, that baron had locked himself into his castle during the Unruly Year and did absolutely nothing while it was his peasants and merchants who rose up to fight at the time. He was an absolute disgrace of a noble of the empire.


    "Did he ask why?"


    "From what I understand, he wished to sell you the rights to the barony."


    That ¡­ That was interesting.


    He thought about it.


    Perhaps he could use this chance to gain some of what he had been seeking.


    He raised a fist into the air and his secretary quickly blew his horn to call the caravan to a stop. Turning to the messenger, he nodded. "Tell him to come and meet me."


    -VB-


    Yusef ibn Zallau, a Moroccan Merchant


    A year ago, he''d heard rumors of a mountain city deep within Christian lands that managed to copy the Far Eastern porcelain. A rumor it may have been but Yusef came from a long lineage of merchants who made journeys to India often, and he grew up living with examples of chinas in his family''s manor.


    So when he saw a china that wasn''t a china, he knew that he needed to investigate.


    With blessings and support from his father, he left on a journey from his hometown in Fas. His journey first took him to the Christian trade city of Amalfi. The once great and independent city was where he met his partner of the journey, a man named Giovanni Gioia, who was extremely interested in the rumors of knowledge that the very same city that Yusef wanted to visit.


    And so, they sailed from Amalfi, landed on Ancona to confirm the rumor, and finally, landed on Venezia.


    There, he found hundreds of chinas that came from the mountain city. The Venezians called the origin of these not china chinas "Fluelaberg."


    Yusef pushed onward with his partner. He braved the cold winter that reminded him of winters of al-Adras. His travels took him over the foothills and through valleys made by mountains that grew taller and taller every time he looked up. The mountains of Fas could not compare to these behemoths. He braved through peaks and troughs of the mountains and finally, he arrived.


    He looked down at the city further down the valley that stretched across the entire width of the valley. From afar, the city did not look like the origin of the rumors. In fact, it looked less prosperous and rich as Venezia. Looking at that city, he felt betrayed. Had he traveled so far for so little?


    But he traveled with his pack mules at Giovanni''s urges, and they made their way to the gate house.


    The gatehouse looked normal¡­ until he found himself looking at an Arab man among the four guards there.


    "... As-salamu ''alaykum," he chanced. The Arab guard noticed, and immediately, the other guards let him talk.


    "Wa alaykum s-salam, brother," the man replied with a smile of a man who found family in an unexpected place. "You are far from home!"


    "So are you, and as a gate guard in Christian land!"


    "Ah," the man looked sheepish. "A lot of things happened in my life, but I am happy where I am now." He said as he extended a hand. Yusef shook that hand in a daze. "You must be a merchant. Are you here for the chinas?"


    "I am," he replied. Was he dreaming? Why was there an Arab - a true believer - this deep within Christian lands?


    "Then you will find safe refuge among our fellow believers in the Northern District. Go. Anyone in the street will happily help you, though please do not be rude." There was a pause. "Also, I need to check your luggage." S~?a??h the n0v?l(?)ire.?et website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    "Please, by all means."


    He and Giovanni went through the checkpoint easily and he found himself inside a city that was far more bustling than he originally thought. Sure, it wasn''t as packed or busy as Venezia, Ancona, Amalfi, or Fas, but for a city this high up in the mountains? It was bustling.


    He kept a tight grip on his mules'' reins as he made his way through the crowd, and managed to get direction from someone along the way.


    And just like the guard had assured him, he found refuge in the "Northern District," where he found practicing brothers and sisters in Allah.


    ¡­ Just what was this city?


    ---


    "The Christian noble lord of the city does not care?" Yusef asked in disbelief.


    "He does not," the inn owner replied with a shake of his head before he gave the man the drink he recommended.


    "This is very different from Aybiria¡­" he muttered as he raised the cup and took a sip.


    And he almost slammed it down.


    "Brother, why have you given me alcohol?!" he asked in shock.


    The inn owner looked in surprise before bursting out in laughter.


    "That is not alcohol! Smell it, friend."


    He did and blushed when the drink did not smell anything like the haram drink that the Christians always drank.


    "I ¡­ I apologize. I thought it was alcohol from how it fizzled in my mouth."


    The inn owner nodded. "That is nothing to forgive, friend. That is a drink that the lord of the city made. He calls it cabona."


    "Cabona¡­" Yusef muttered as he took a sip. It sparkled all the way down his throat and he let out a shudder at the sensation. "It is new."


    "It is!"


    Others in the tavern chuckled and laughed. Yusef gave them all and the inn owner a half-hearted glare as it became clear to him that they had a bit of fun at his expense.


    Well, the first drink was free on the house for all newcomers, so he couldn''t be too upset about it.


    And this ¡­ cabona.


    It was unique.


    It was a drink of sensation that did not affect the mind.


    It and the chinas he saw on the market could be profitable.


    -VB-


    A/N: a bit of worldbuilding.


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 92


    -VB-


    Hans von Fluelaberg


    As much as I wanted to keep an eye out on the election conference of the new prince-bishop, something else quickly caught my attention, and I could not let it go.


    Earlier this year, I sent out of a call for a professional army to all members of the Compact. Due to travel distances, time it takes for people to come to a decision, and more, I hadn''t received any word back from the majority of the Compact members.


    The only ones to have given me a quick reply had been Davos and Kloister, but that was because both of them were close to me and relied heavily on my city for too many things. There was actually a very good chance that I can get Davos to become part of my city, partially because my city and their village was creeping toward each other along the road that I''ve built, but that''s besides the point.


    And I finally got the replies while waiting in Chur.


    "So everyone accepted it except for St. Peters and Langweis," I muttered to myself as I stared at the letters of acceptance of a "professional" army. Of course, they all had their reasons for why they accepted. In the case of Maienfeld, they have been at the center of conflict the Compact has been involved in every single time due to their position as a crossroad from Bodensee to Chur and Walensee to Davos. They had every reason to be the foremost supporter of a professional army.


    In contrast, Langweis and St. Peters were safe in valleys and mountains behind Chur. Throughout the years, Chur has had fights break out at their doorstep and even within their city limits, but the two aforementioned members of the Compact never saw the fight nor did they have to fight. Also, as the two smallest members of the Compact in size, population, and wealth, they had the most to lose.


    Why would they lose something? Unlike larger members that could field both a small militia and support the professional army, the geopolitical status of the two members meant that their expansion was capped, their income limited, and their population stagnant.


    And honestly, I was kind of done with dealing with them, too.


    This call for a professional army was essentially another call to arms, just in a roundabout way. They have been recalcitrant and objected to everything anyone did in the Compact. They complained when someone got richer. They complained when someone got close. They complained when things didn''t go their way, which was no way because they never said about what or why they wanted something. Even when I got rid of bandits, they complained about not doing it fast enough!


    Yeah, I think it was time that I did something about them.


    Knock knock.


    I paused in my rumination and looked up toward the door of the small manor I rented in Chur. "Come in," I said loudly and the door opened to reveal. My eyebrows rose up and I stood up from my chair. "John! Why didn''t you send me a message or something?" I said with a smile as I approached my former ward and gave him a bear hug. John hugged me back, and we parted after only a moment. It was only then that I noticed the other man who had followed in with John. He looked familiar.


    "I just wanted to surprise you," he replied with a boyish grin and I rolled my eyes. He noticed that I saw the other man and stepped aside. "Right. Hans, this is Mayor Antoni of Chur. He''s here to ask you a few things."


    "Welcome mayor," I said as the man bowed briefly. He was, after all, a commoner and I a baron. "What is it that you want to discuss with me?"


    "I¡­ I understand that Chur has been a member of the Compact so far because it was the Prince-Bishop of Chur who was in the Compact."


    "It is," I said before I made the cross. "May Bishop Siegfried rest in peace by God''s side."


    Both John and the mayor followed suit. After a moment of pause, the mayor spoke up.


    "I would like for Chur to join not as a fief under the Prince-Bishop of Chur but as its own town."


    ¡­ I kind of saw this coming when I realized that Chur''s position was tied to the Prince-Bishop of Chur, but for them to outright come out and say it¡­


    What''s worse was that I did have a precedent for this.


    Legally speaking for the empire, Maienfeld was supposed to be Toggenburg''s vassal, but they were accepted before Toggenburg''s inclusion into the Compact. On top of that, even after Toggenburg''s inclusion, I didn''t let John take Maienfeld back into his fold. The issue slid past us because it never became a problem in the first place.


    But if I choose to let Chur in while there was an election for the prince-bishop, then it would be seen both as a direct insult to the church and an illegal act of stealing a lord''s vassal from underneath him without just cause.


    Which would be enough for the next prince-bishop to petition the emperor, and the emperor will most likely have to fine heavily at best while resetting everything or strip me of my title for breaking the Emperor''s Truce.


    At the same time, I couldn''t just ignore Chur because it was troublesome. Chur was the main political center of the Compact. Hell, it could be said that a good third to half of our authority and legitimacy in these valleys derived from the Prince-Bishop of Chur''s inclusion. Giving the next prince-bishop reason to leave the Compact would weaken us that much.


    ¡­ but not if I get permission from the congregation of the diocese''s clerics.


    "Don''t tell anyone else that you asked that here," I told him and then meaningfully looked at John. "I''ll need to do some work¡­ but before we go there, I want to talk about what the town of Chur can do for the Compact." ''And me.''


    "I don''t understand¡­" the mayor muttered.


    "What happens if I just accept your offer to join us? On the surface, Chur is being divided religiously and secularly when we didn''t get an agreement from them or the emperor. You know as well as I do that -."


    "I- I would have thought that you wanted Chur in the Compact."


    I stopped when I saw the outraged look on the mayor.


    "We fought with you, baron, and now you''re just going to abandon us because it''s inconvenient?!"


    I glared at him. "I never said I''ll abandon you or the like. Don''t put words in my mouth, mayor."


    John looked like he was regretting bringing in the mayor to meet me.


    Obviously, the mayor had wanted this and he was reacting aggressively since he didn''t feel like he was getting what he needed. Or wanted.


    "Why come to me?" I asked him. "The Prince-Bishop would have been a member of the Compact anyway, so it wouldn''t have changed anything."


    "Because the town doesn''t want to gamble our lives and livelihood every ten or twenty years," he replied with a grimace. "Bishop Siegfried was a good man of God, even if he wasn''t the best commander of men. What guarantee do we have that the next prince-bishop will be the same? Or that we will even have someone who won''t abuse us? I''ve read the charter of the Compact, Your Lordship. I saw how brilliantly it was designed to protect its members from each other as well as from outside threats. But what about internal ones? You can''t interfere if the bishop abuses his power within Chur, you know this to be true."


    I rolled my jaws before nodding. Abuse of power within a small place like Chur or any of the village and town members of the Compact had never been the focus or even something I thought about.


    "Just ¡­ give me a week. It will be before the election comes to an end, and I''ll have something, probably."


    The mayor hesitated before ultimately bowing and leaving us two alone.


    "... Hans, I''m sorry about that," John spoke up. "I didn''t think that the mayor would be so bold as to accuse you of negligence."


    "You aren''t the one who said it and you don''t share his feelings. It''s not your responsibility to apologize on the mayor''s behalf," I replied with a huff as I stepped back around the table and sat down on the ornate wooden chair. I gestured for him to sit and he did so on the sofa nearby. "By the way, if you wanted to surprise me, then you did it on at least two account, so kudos to you."


    He chuckled nervously.


    "... Actually, I want to get your opinion on something. Maienfeld."


    "Ah, that? Yes, it ¡­ used to belong to the Barony of Brandis, but, well, the Unruly Year happened."


    I nodded. "Would you say that it still belongs to you?" I asked. "Since it is a village that is within the lands of your vassal. Speaking of which, who is the Baron of Brandis now?"


    "No one. You may have, ahem, killed off their line."


    "... Wait, I did?"


    "Yes. My mother told me that since there was no more eligible member of their household fit to take the title of Baron of Brandis, we regained the land in that area aside from Maienfeld for obvious reasons."


    "So you more or less gave up your authority over the village."


    "Yes, unintentionally."


    I hummed. "Do you think something like that could happen here?"


    "What do you mean?"


    "Hear me out¡­"


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 93


    -VB-


    Hans von Fluelaberg


    I thought everyone had gathered when all of the important abbots, abbesses, priests, archdeacons, and bishops had shown up, but no, I was wrong.


    In the week I had given myself with the mayor, more people showed up to partake in the election and throw their names in the lot, and the situation grew proportionally out of control for me when I realized that there were other lords here hedging their bets.


    Baron of Hewen, Prince-Bishop of Konstanz, distant Habsburg cousins and relations, and even some Wittelsbachs from the Palatinate showed up. It was almost like if they had the means and political motivation, then they were here. On top of that, there were cathedrals, abbeys, and churches that were part of the Diocese of Chur but were in the middle of Diocese of Konstanz¡­


    Yeah, Roman Catholic dioceses at the time was as patchy as the Holy Roman Empire it was part of.


    And I didn''t know what to do.


    It was one thing to sway the local priests to my side with gifts, pledges of protection, outright bribes, and promises of future entry into the Compact.


    It was another to ask someone with more power than the entirety of the Compact to let go of their ambitions for a title that would give them even more political power.


    What''s worse, I couldn''t come up with a satisfactory answer for the mayor of Chur, who was rather upset at my inability to come up with a solution.


    Bitch, I''m not a handyman who could solve ALL problems!


    The point remained. The election of the Prince-Bishop of Chur now involved people who I had little to no political, social, or financial leverage over.


    But I stil wanted to give it a try.


    It was why I was back in talks with the Abbot of Saint Galls.


    "You wish for me to throw my support behind your candidate."


    "I do, Your Excellency," I replied while sitting across from Abbot Heinreich von Ramstein. The elderly priest had come in with the Abbot of Disantis, and while the latter had joined the Compact, he had yet to because I couldn''t just pay his huge debt without a better excuse than just "because he wants to join the Compact." Aside from setting a potentially disasterous precedent of paying people off when they might not even provide military support (cough*Langweis*cough), I personally didn''t just want to without getting something more out of it. Abbot von Ramstein had political power I could use, either in ensuring who got to be the Prince-Bishop or in ensuring that Chur became an entity separate from the Prince-Bishop.


    Unfortunately for Chur, there wasn''t enough political or financial power with them or the Compact to ensure it. I could steer who could become the next bishop, though, even if it was just a little. And maybe, just maybe, if I got a person who felt like they owed it to me, I can potentially get them to agree to separate Chur off from the prince-bishopric.


    The elderly priest hummed. "That can easily be done. I probably would have done it for a third of my debt."


    I smiled as I shook hands with him.


    One vote down. Many more to go.


    ---


    "Y-You want me to become the Prince-Bishop¡­?" Abbot Gion of Disentis, and also a member of the Compact now, stuttered as he looked at me in shock.


    I nodded. "I will give you every help you need, abbot, but if we allow someone else who has even an iota of hostility toward us, then they can break us from the inside," I replied. "I can''t allow that to happen. Surely, you wouldn''t want your new friends to lose out because you did not want to rise to the occasion?"


    My words momentarily incensed the man but he calmed down.


    He also calmed down a bit. Was he that kind of person? Someone who grew colder the more they got angry?


    "I¡­" he paused, and then swallowed before he stuttered. "I am but a man of God," he replied. "I do not know much about politics, but if you want my participation, then I want you to promise me that you will not interfere with church matters."


    "On religious and theological matters, I will not. I can promise you that."


    He nodded.


    "Very well, then, baron. You¡­ you have my help in this."


    Alright. Things were looking up.


    -VB-


    Isabella von Fluelaberg nee Gorizia


    She tittered with excitement.


    For the past two months, she hasn''t had blood in her tampion, and considering how frequently she and Hans have been making love in bed, it could mean only one thing.


    She giggled at the thought of telling him the news. At the same time, she was ready to fight him if he decided that her being pregnant would be justification to stop her from continuing her blade practices. If anything, she needed to be as healthy as possible for their baby!


    So when Hans finally came back to the mansion, she greeted him with a smile.


    Hans looked at her for a second before his eyes widened.


    "Isabella¡­?"


    "I''m pregnant!"


    Hans stared at her for a second before he abruptly wrapped her up in a tight embrace. She squealed when he spun her around in the air for a bit before letting her down, and then kissed her.


    She returned the kiss, ignoring the way there were gasps around the manor lobby from the servants.


    Hans noticed it, and with a grunt, he broke the kiss and then scooped her up. And then stomped his way to their bedroom.


    The door slammed close behind them¡­


    "... Ahn~!"


    -VB-


    A/N: what actually happened after Siegfried died IRL was that Bishop of Constance (Konstanz) took over administration until Rudolf II von Montfort (yes, the same Montforts who control the County of Montfort but not from the direct ruling family of Montfort and a separate family in Constance), who sided with the pope during Emperor Louis the Bavarian (yes, the guy we want to deck) vs. Pope situation.


    This probably got him the nomination from the pope when the election STILL couldn''t decide who to make the prince-bishop of Chur. But Rudolf II von Montfort wasn''t a clergy working within the Diocese of Chur at the time ¡­ but in Wurzburg on the


    other side of Bavaria. Before this appointment, the pope also appointed a French priest to become the Prince-Bishop of Konstanz (Germany) so ¡­


    Yeah, clergy and noble randos appearing out of nowhere to contest the election or throw their own name? Perfectly valid. Frustrating to write about because I can''t find a record of WHO was at the election but still.


    A/N 2: also, yay, Hans and Isabella are finally going to get a kid!


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 94


    -VB-


    Hans von Fluelaberg


    As days passed and more and more clerics visited my manor, I found myself hosting luncheons and dinners where talks of alliances, favors, and money flowed like how the Italian wines flowed from bottle to cup to lip.


    It took me just a month to determine a few things about most of the clerics.


    They hated the fact that I was trying to influence the election.


    Some like the Abbot of Saint Gall needed that kind of scenario for him to get his payday while others like the Abbot of Disentis saw my offer as a way to keep me out of church affairs in the future.


    But most?


    Even if it was the norm for interferences to be made, they saw my action as heavy handed. It also did align with how the Abbot of Disentis reacted. The main reason, as best as I could surmise, was that it was traditional for outside actors like nobles, merchants, and the like to submit their candidate. Then the priests would discuss and vote.


    What I was doing, directly contacting individual priests to sway them, was being seen as "intrusive" and "threatening."


    I could understand intrusive.


    Threatening, though, confused me.


    "It''s because you are the closest military power."


    I looked up from where I have been writing while eating and paused when I saw John. He was eating with Isabella and I like we did before.


    "Ah, was I talking out loud?" I asked and both of them nodded. "Well, alright. Why does that matter?"


    Denying that I was a military powerhouse would be stupid. I had too many personal achievements on top of actions as commander in both offensive and defensive to be called anything but that. It didn''t help that my military prowess and power outsized my noble rank.


    "Do you want to tell him?" John asked Isabella while glancing at her.


    "You spoke up. You say it."


    John sighed before turning to me. He tried to get serious, but all I saw was the boy I trained and taught for two years. "How many rangers do you have?" he asked directly.


    Normally, this wasn''t the kind of information that a ruler should share with -.


    "Around four hundred now," I replied. "Their ranks have been adding up quickly once I got my senior rangers to take on student squads to teach."


    John ¡­ let out a terrified, shuddering sigh.


    "You have no idea how terrifying that is right?"


    "... No?"


    "Hans. One of your rangers can take on a dozen men in the forest. If they have time to set up, then a single ranger can mean the death of hundreds."


    I raised my eyebrows. "I think you are exaggerating. You know personally that they aren''t like that."


    Isabella raised an eyebrow. "Husband, while it might be an exaggeration, that is how the rest of the empire perceives your troupe of mountain warriors. Need I remind you what happened at the Battle of Lower Engandin?" she asked. "The overwhelming victory is how they see the rangers. Silent killers who cannot be seen. Warriors who weave through the mountain valleys and forests faster than horses ever could. And that is what the priests and nobles see, honey."


    John cleared his throat and glared at her, and she just stuck her tongue out at him.


    I rolled my eyes.


    "Alright, I can see that, but how does that relate to the priests."


    Isabella gave me a slightly sad look. "It is normal for a man with a powerful army to wield it as he pleases, and if the clerics do not answer to the man''s whims, then it is possible that the man in question may simply loot the monasteries and abbeys to fill his coffer."


    I stared at her and then at John, who nodded in begrudging agreement.


    "But I wouldn''t."


    "You are known for killing a lot of people, not for the genorsity that you show the commoners. And generosity to commoners does not equate to fairness or righteousness toward the clerics," she replied with a shake of her head.


    That ¡­ made sense.


    "Wait, so they think I''m threatening them?" I asked, more than a little aghast. Never mind the fact that it wasn''t my intention but if the Papacy decided to get involved because they were told I was threatening the priests¡­!


    "Well, no, not quite," John replied. "But there is the implication that they should not displease you. You are closer to them than anyone else of noteworthy power are. Even my mother''s side, the Habsburgs, are far away. And unlikely to help since he is now busy trying to interfere with the Hungarian succession. That and the Compact''s growth will be seen as an extension of my growth and thus the Habsburg influence through my mother, meaning that he will be more than happy to let some abbeys suffer if they don''t fall in line with his indirect influence."


    "So to summarize, you are the strongest military power who is not known for genorsity to the priests. You can blame the priest in Langweis for that," Isabella sighed.


    "... Excuse me?" I asked with a frown.


    "The ordained monk who serves the flock in Langweis has been the one to speak out against you among the clerics. You didn''t know?"


    "No¡­ Since when did their priest get involved in politics?"


    She looked off to the side before sighing. "I wanted to be sure before I told you this, husband, but it seems that Langweis''s problem with you is actually the priest working from behind the scenes on its village mayor and people. He and the mayor of Son Peder* have been working together on that."


    "... Alright. I''m kicking them out of the Compact," I grunted as I set my fork down. "I am done with their shit. They can either beg Chur to let them join or something because I am not dealing with them any longer."


    ---


    The following morning, I left the manor, accompanied only by a pair of rangers. Isabella had opted to not come with me but John did. As the other military power of the Compact, his presence would act as a support for what I was about to do.


    We made our way toward where most of the priests were staying ¡­ and then veered off.


    While most of the priests who came to the election of the prince-bishop were fine with staying in the best houses and rooms that Chur could provide, there were a few who were not happy with such an arrangement. Unlike most of the priests who were okay with some luxuries, the group of priests that I was looking for - including the Langweis monk - chose humbler places to inhabit.


    And I knew where they were because there was at least one of them always shouting at the top of his lungs during the day against the "sinful trade and luxuries" that seemed to overflow Chur in his eyes.


    I arrived at a small collection of houses closer toward the side of the valley, and saw that there were priests already waiting for me.


    I came to a stop some ten yards from the closest member of their ranks and looked around.


    "Where is the monk of Langweis?" I demanded.


    "I am here," a man said from the back and made his way around the group presenting a united front to me. It was a young man, probably around the same age as I was, and he glared at me.


    Like straight up glared at me.


    Now. I might not think like a baron like i should most of the time, but even I knew that the monk in front of me was acting way out of line with none of the respect someone of his station should show to a man of my position.


    "Good," I grunted. "I wish to speak to you on matters of the Compact. I have been led to believe that you are Langweis''s best representative."


    "And if I am?"


    "I would like to talk with you in private."


    He scoffed. "Anything you can say in privacy can be said in front of my brothers here," he said while gesturing to the ¡­ I would say Franciscan priests, but vow of poverty wasn''t their thing anymore. So what were these monks and priests?


    I gestured for one of the rangers to bring out the letter I had handed to him before this visit, and he walked over and handed the letter over with both of his hands. The monk snatched it out of the ranger''s hands and then tore it open, littering the ground with the envelope.


    He read the first few lines before his head snapped up toward me.


    "This is an outrage!" he roared.


    "What is an outrage is a member of the Compact openly denying help, openly working against its siblings, and then advocating for the reduction of trade that has enriched all of our lives. With the support of the Count of Toggenburg, Mayor of Maienfeld, and Mayor of Davos, I proclaim that Langweis and Son Peder* are expelled from the Compact. Unless this decision is reversed in the future by two-thirds majority of the Compact''s members, this will remain so."


    "... Heretic loving bastard!" he hissed.


    I snorted. In any other place in the empire, he would have been killed for his remark. But this was the Compact; we don''t go around killing people unless they start it first.


    No, even if I did want to kill him (I didn''t. I just wanted to punch him a little "gently"), I did not want to give the other priests even more reason to distrust me.


    Instead, I turned to my rangers. "Spread the news. Langweis and Son Peder are no longer protected by the Compact. This means they now fall back under the Prince-Bishopric of Chur."


    The rangers saluted and ran off - with paper pamphlets - to spread the news.


    I turned back to the seething man playing at poverty. "At the very least, I am a man of God who loves his neighbors like Jesus Christ asks of me while you play at poverty with none of the love Christ has for God''s children. You should be ashamed of yourself."


    With that last remark, I left.


    ---


    Of course, there were consequences to my action. Or rather refusal to take the Compact''s matter into a more private setting.


    First off, I did not know but the Langweis monk had been some sort of an influential member of the local poverty-priests, but my public expulsion of his village from the Compact cut down on that influence.


    Second, there were priests who were happy with what I did. Even the clerics had power struggles and rivals¡­


    The third, and the most important to me, was that a good portion of the priests and clerics who had been hesitant to vote for the Abbot of Disentis (my candidate) ¡­ chose to vote for him.


    It turned out that there was an issue that I didn''t even know about, and that the Compact had been unknowingly harboring fraticelli priests, namely the Langweis monk and his cohort. They had been quiet while Prince-Bishop Siegfried was reigning over Chur, but now, they were out in force to try to get one of their own on the position. This had made quite a few of the priests wary that the Abbot of Disentis, my candidate, was also a fraticelli because I was somehow a supporter of fraticelli due to Langweis monk''s presence and thus my candidate also had to be fraticelli regardless of what the man himself said?


    Yeah, something like that.


    By expelling Langweis - and thus the monk - from the Compact in such a public manner with vitriol response from the monk, many priests were assuaged of their fears. Between the newly approving priests and the ones who I had "bought off," when the next voting session came within a week, Abbot Gion of Disentis became the Prince-Bishop Gion of Chur.


    Gion did as he promised and granted the city of Chur independence from the Prince-Bishopric of Chur, and the mayor apologized for his rudeness as the City of Chur became a new member of the Compact (with all of the members agreeing to let them in).


    And with that, I could finally move on from the Compact''s matters and continue my tour of the Compact.


    -VB-


    A/N:


    And that is the end of the Prince-Bishop Election Mini-Arc.


    Next: The Tour pt. 2


    Son Peder*: St Peter, Switzerland.


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 95


    -VB-


    Isabella von Fluelaberg


    As their convoy made its way out of Chur, Isballea considered the events that unfolded here over the course of two months. She had thought that she could use this opportunity to show Hans just how useful she was. That she could be more than an administrator or just a steward for him.


    Unfortunately, the matters of the priesthood was something the priests loved to keep women out unless the women in question were nuns. It took time for her to get a feel for each priest and spark up conversation with them over who they might be voting for and for what reason. She carefully constructed a network of priests who seemed to like her enough to tell her what was going on internally within the election¡­


    And then her husband came around and convinced so many priests to do his bidding in the same period of time she took to set up a rudimentary network. And then wined, dined, and gifted the priests until they were singing his praises and voting for whoever he wanted.


    She was able to give him some advice and information that he didn''t manage to catch, but in the end, her participation in selecting a bishop favorable to the Compact had been minimal.


    And it made her feel useless.


    The help she provided were efforts that Hans could have bulldozed over or swayed people with his speeches and gifts so that things would go his way. Even though she had a head start in negotiations and networking, she found herself left wanting.


    It didn''t matter that the priests liked her more than Hans now. At the end of the day, what mattered was results like her dad always taught her brothers, and she didn''t even get close to the results she wanted.


    Administration and stewardship were things that could be fixed. The election of the Prince-Bishop of Chur, on the other hand, was potentially once in a lifetime event. Yes, there will be other elections, selections, and whatever else but this was the one event that was close to the Compact''s "infancy," as it were, and would have the biggest impact out of them all! What use was influencing the Prince-Bishop of Augsburg going to do twenty years from now?


    "What''s wrong?"


    She looked up and looked at her husband''s worried look. He sat with his back to the front of the carriage while she faced the front.


    "... I feel I haven''t done enough to help you during our stay at Chur, husband," she replied as she looked away.


    "Huh?"


    Blinking in surprise at his surprise, she looked back up and saw Hans giving her a quizzical look. Well, quizzical would be an understatement because he looked shocked at what she said.


    "I wasn''t of any significant help," she told him. "I told you a little bit about the priests and where they were, but by the time I was able to hold friendly conversation with the priests in general, you were already persuading them to vote for the Prince-Bishop." Then she sighed. "On top of that, you knew who to talk to. You kept finding people who you could use to further your - our - interest, and all I did was set up the table."


    "Honey, you know that isn''t true," he began but she glared at him, telling him to stop talking but he didn''t. "Some of the priests and monks I''ve talked to were fine with approaching me because they met with you first. So your efforts were not wasted or insignificant. Do you remember the Abbot of Wessobrunn Abbey? According to the Abbot, you said how the Compact - and specifically I - will most likely help him with some of the reconstruction of the abbey''s still untouched ruins if he were to just talk to me. I''d been trying to talk to him for almost a week at the point but he never responded. He only came to talk to me after he talked with you."


    "He¡­ he said that?" she asked, feeling a little better.


    "Yes. Sure, it still cost me a pretty penny to pay him off, as it were, to ensure his support, because monasteries are no small expenditure, but I wouldn''t have been able to convince him to see me for at least another week. You helped reduce my workload. So thank you and don''t talk yourself down."


    She stared at him a little bit more as she felt her eyes watering a little before turning away with a half-hearted huff.


    "Thank you, too," she muttered.


    "You''re welcome," he chuckled.


    ---


    The thanks did not extend to their training.


    Because it would be seen as unsightly in front of so many priests, many of whom would disapprove, Isabella hadn''t been able to continue her sword training for some time.


    So when she got back into it, Hans had been understanding ¡­ and thus proclaimed that they would need to put twice as much effort into their training as before.


    But also because she was pregnant, he wasn''t alright with her getting hit with a sword, wooden or not, and thus her main training was ¡­


    "God help me¡­!" she hissed as she dragged herself forward with a small backpack and a longsword.


    Yes, Hans was making her walk alongside the caravan.


    "God can''t save you here, honey," her husband taunted from next to her, carrying thrice her load along with all of his armor, the giant slab of steel he called a sword, and the thick bear cape. "Not when you asked this yourself."


    "I ¡­ did not ¡­ ask to carry ¡­ all of our food¡­!"


    "Honey, you''re only carrying the blankets. I''m carrying all of our food," he chuckled as did some of the rangers and soldiers behind them. She didn''t have the energy to throw a glare at the commoners. Instead, she trudged forward, begging for the next open field to be their resting spot.


    She''d rather be swinging her sword!

 Chapter 96-100

    Swiss ArmsChapter 96


    -VB-


    Isabella von Fluelaberg


    "And you just reached too far," Hans said to her without any emotion.


    It didn''t feel like she was being ridiculed for wanting to learn how to fight with a blade. Or that she was a woman trying to fight with a blade. The way Hans taught was¡­


    "Faster," he told her blankly, and with inhuman speed, tapped her wrist with a thin stick that was as long as his arm was. He tapped her just lightly enough that she felt a sting but it didn''t leave a mark, not even a red spot.


    He was very hands on.


    Her wrists, helbows, shoulders, waists, and knees were all lightly throbbing with the hits she took over the last week, and since he always made sure to rotate where he struck each day by changing the type of exercise, she always had a "fresh" spot ready to go for him to tap away at if she didn''t react quickly.


    When he said that he wasn''t going to go easy on her, she expected a lot of stances, sword swinging, and forms. Instead, it was sparring everyday with active "encouragements" so she fixed her errors quickly.


    Apparently, this was better than what the rangers were used to, and a few even gave her looks of jealousy. Unlike with them, he was being extra gentle with her. Her pregnancy was probably one of the main reasons for that gentleness, but her arms had nothing to do with her pregnancy, so it might be less related than anyone thinking about her pregnancy might think.


    She yelped when she got a hit to her ankle, a new place for her.


    "Thrust out after you have a stable footing, not after," he hummed.


    She glared at him. "You''re enjoying this, aren''t you?" she snapped.


    He raised an eyebrow. "Not at all. I would rather be building a new log cabin so that I can make love to you inside of it."


    She blushed. "Not in front of our retinue!"


    "They hear us have sex anyway when we''re back home. Neither of us are exactly quiet, you know?"


    The blush creeping up her face turned into a landslide. Everything became too hot, and she felt anxious and almost panicky. "Stop! Stop talking about it!"


    "You''re the one who asked what I would rather do," he shrugged. "Alright, let''s keep going. Give me a side step. In three, two, one -."


    And when he swung, he swung fast. She could barely track the stick in his hands with her eyes. But she dodged out of the way by sliding to the side. Then she struck. Her feet ground against the ground as she spun and lashed out with a stab toward his neck.


    Hans easel parried her attack. And then he smiled. "Good. You didn''t overextend yourself this time and put your back into the attack."


    She huffed. "But I couldn''t get you to dodge."


    "Hon, a squad of rangers can barely make me sweat. Don''t worry about it."


    She glanced over her shoulder and saw the rangers accompanying them nodding in agreement, though some of them looked uneasy about sparring with Hans.


    "Alright, let''s go for a few more dodge and strike practices before we move to parry practices. After that, it should be time for dinner."


    She nodded and took a deep breath in as she held up her sword again.


    "Good. Dodge and counterattack."


    He stepped forward once and struck out with his stick toward her core, and she stepped to her left. Instead of striking, though, she took another step back.


    Why?


    Just because this was a "Dodge and Counter" practice did not mean that her husband did not prepare traps. He could, and did, counter the counter, often times hitting her harder than normal to "dissaude her from forming a habit of always countering after one dodge or parry."


    Having dodged to her left while she held her sword in her right, she was not ready to attack unless she was also prepared to take a hit, and Hans always said: "if you are prepared to gamble with a fatal hit, then you weren''t prepared enough to fight."


    Which neatly didn''t apply to him because he was some sort of supernatural human who could shrug off steel with his skin!


    "And again."


    This time, she didn''t wait for him to attack. She dove into his attack (slowed for her sake), and "punished" him for the attack. He looked at her with momentarily surprise before he schooled his face and -.


    She looked at him with wide eyes as her sword arm got flung up without the sword. There was a whirling hiss above her head before she heard it sink into the ground with a sharp thuck. She looked over her shoulder and found her sword sticking out of the ground.


    "Very nice," he complimented her as if he hadn''t just moved so fast that she couldn''t even figure out what happened. Or that the rest of the spectating rangers had gone still after looking and trying to process what they saw just as she was trying to process it. And they were all failing.


    She ¡­ She saw his arms drawing back. She got that much.


    The stick did something funny, though. As he drew it back, he was making it spin? Yes, he made it spin in his fingers.


    Then there was something that happened between the stick caught her sword and when her sword was sent flying.


    He spun a thin stick in his fingers and then ¡­ did something to send her entire arm flying along with her sword.


    "I think that deserves a reward. How about I cook tonight''s dinner?"


    Everyone in the clearing cheered.


    -VB-


    Voted by my Patreons


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 97


    -VB-


    Hans von Fluelaberg


    I stared at the packed snow that hadn''t melted.


    To be fair, it wasn''t at the bottom of the valley and sat at the foot of the mountain slope (probably fell or slid down from mid to high elevation), but the problem of the matter was that it was summer right now, and even snow this high up would have melted by now. It was melting but it wasn''t melting quickly enough.


    I wasn''t sure what this meant, and coupled with the glacier I saw before arriving at Chur, this whole ice and snow business set off alarms in my head.


    But it was something I couldn''t do anything about right now.


    The village of Tosana*, which belonged to the Prince-Bishopric of Chur, was suffering from a minor drought, according to the local elders. The Hinterhein river that ran through the town was shallower and weaker than they ever remembered it being. It was also far colder, too. There wasn''t as much rain as before for the season, and the grass''s slow return was impacting the livestock.


    None of these were things I could change.


    None of these "problems" were yet problems, but people got worried and they asked me to take a look because I was the "wise lord."


    I was a wise-ass hermit-wannabe who couldn''t even become a hermit.


    Ugh.


    It was at times like these that I felt not so kind things about my position but one that remained just that: feelings and thoughts.


    My current personal problem, though, did not arise from Tosana''s people asking me to do things. No, my personal problem stemmed from the fact that despite the fact that I have more or less toured the entire southern half of the Compact, I hadn''t found a single location suitable for a getaway vacation home where I could tinker in peace.


    Tosana - and the village of Splugen, which was the village where one of the Swiss-Italy passes went through - was a bit busy for it to be a quiet getaway location. The valley between Chur and Desantis Abbey was also not quiet enough with a number of travelers passing through. Neither location possessed good variety of materials, which meant that even if I did manage to squirrel away, I would be forced to come back out to gather more materials that I couldn''t get.


    So I was just a little miffed. One of the main reasons for why I took this tour of the Compact was slowly starting to look unachievable. That I had fooled myself into thinking I could go back to my (brief) hermit days.


    All of the facts and conditions above didn''t even take into account what Isabella wants and what would be best for my future baby.


    Because, by God, I was going to be a good father!


    I sighed.


    ¡­ What made it worse was that the second reason for this tour was also a bust.


    The Swiss Alps was just not a good place for mining. There was a small (miniscule) gold mine next to Chur but all of the areas southwest of Chur was, as far as I was concerned, a mining dead zone. So there was no resource to be found in this area, and what resource there could be couldn''t be assessed because they were in the Lordship of Sax and County of Belmont.


    This only made me appreciate the fact that I pushed the people of the Compact towards becoming manufacturers instead of resource diggers.


    "Honey?"


    I looked over my shoulder and saw Isabella waiting for me with some of my retinue.


    "Coming, coming," I yawned as I turned around and made my way toward them. "Just a little bit disappointed by the ¡­ disappointing quality of the soil here."


    Which was also another downside. Like most of the local valleys, soil quality was awful for farming. Perfect for grazing, though. They''ll just have to focus more on that, especially goats for their milk. Not that they needed my advice for that. That''s what they were already doing.


    It''s just that farming was worse than before.


    "... Maybe I could yelp them develop their fertilizer processes," I hummed as I reached Isabella.


    "What was that?" she asked.


    "Ah. Just thinking about what I can do to help the people here," I replied. "Since they are already utilizing their lands optimally with their focus on grazing, the only thing I can help is by teaching them how to make good fertilizer. Nightsoil is good, but there wouldn''t be enough of it for their farms if they don''t organize how they gather it. So I''m thinking about a communal toilet and ¡­"


    -VB-


    A/N: not all problems require a fantastical or high tech solution. Communal toilet with a dedicated worker can make some good fertilizer. Or a communal toilet attached to a pigsty also works.


    A/N 2: Tosana: old name of Thusis, a town in Switzerland and close to two passes - Splugen Pass and San Bernadino Pass - that led into Northern Italy/Southern Switzerland respectively.


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 98


    -VB-


    Henry of Gorizia


    Duke of Carinthia, Margrave of Carniola, and Count of Tyrol


    Stams, Tyrol


    He walked down the corridor of a Cistercian abbey toward a room that he had very few connections with. But saying that about his mother would be harsh. It''s just that he had very few memories about her. He was only three years old when she died at the tender age of forty-six years old. His father, Meinhard of Gorizia, lived to be fifty-seven, though he had also been ten years younger than his mother when they married, and passed away only eight years ago.


    His mother''s passing hadn''t been impactful as his father''s death, but that was simply because he had been too young.


    Apparently, his older sister had been much more dramatic, according to his father.


    But he was a dutiful son and so he would pay his respects to his mother who brought him to this world.


    As he stepped into the chapel that housed both his mother and father, he allowed himself to relax a little. The Stams Abbey was not a particularly populated abbey and he''d asked that no one follow him into the chapel.


    He walked up to the two long tombs that were side by side to each other and ¡­ just sat down at the foot of them both.


    "Hello, mother and father. It''s been a while since I visited you both," he began quietly. "I don''t know if Otto and Louis* visited you lately, but I know I haven''t visited you in half a decade. I''m sorry about that."


    He couldn''t even say that he had been busy because, well, even if he had been, was it still not a son''s duty to come and see his parents once in a while? Stams was less than an hour away by a galloping horse. He could have certainly visited them when he passed Stams to visit Isabella, but he hadn''t.


    He didn''t have an excuse.


    "... If you are wondering how I am, then I can tell you that I am doing well," he continued. "I even made a friend with a commoner, if you can believe that. He''s a baron now for his role in pacifiying the Upper Rhine Valley. He''s a tall and strong fellow who goes by Hans." He paused. "He''s also the one now helping me beat our rivals to the north. The Wittelsbachs have been taking liberty with their neighbors, and marched an army through my lands with barely a prior consultation to attack my friend and cousin-in-law. I also discovered that they also used my friend for their gain, which makes me more than a little upset. To that end, we are working together to depose him and put his older brother as the sole duke of the Upper Bavarian Duchy."


    He smirked. "It''s actually funny, you know? The plan Hans came up with. Using his resource as a rich man - richer than I am, actually - he wants to mint fake coins with the markings of Upper Bavaria, use those to purchase goods through middlemen, and slowly chip away at the financial foundation of the Bavarian Wittelsbachs. He even has the support of Imperial Cities to help facilitate that transfer of subpar coinage." He shook his head. "As if that isn''t enough, he also proposed that we ally the Wittelbachs enemies, the Habsburgs. While my sister agreed as she is the wife of the current emperor, her all of her sons - Frederick, Henry, Rudolf, and Leopold - are friends with Duke Louis, which makes future alliance with Habsburg tenuous at best. Or so I think. Hans doesn''t think so. According to him and the imprisoned Duke Rudolf, Louis is greedy and will want to take bites out of Habsburg holdings if he can get away with it. All they had to do was ensure that he couldn''t.


    "Hans is a smart man, and I think I should be happy I am nominally his ally through his marriage with Isabella. Speaking of which, yes, it was Isabella who got married to him. Apparently, the girl traveled all the wa from Gorizia to some alpine village to find the source of luxury goods and found him instead. I feel bad for her father. He always doted on her but now, she''s far away from his grasp."


    He paused. "Oh! I also received a letter from Isabella. She''s pregnant! I''m a little sad that she didn''t marry him matrilineally, but at least the child''s birth will cement our two house''s alliance, so I will be happy for her and Hans."


    "Oh, Isabella is pregnant?"


    Henry stopped talking and looked over his shoulder and saw Otto. "I didn''t expect to see you here," he said.


    "Why wouldn''t I?" his "big boned" and much more debaucherous brother asked. "It''s not like I have things to do, unlike you. You''re always busy." He came over and sat down on the hard grey stone floor. "... Hey, mum and da."


    Henry rolled his eyes. "You always were the most informal of us all."


    "And despite being the youngst, you''re the most stuck-up out of us all."


    It descended into a friendly brotherly argument from there.


    It was nice.


    -VB-


    A/N: I know, there are a lot of Louis''s, but this one dies quickly (d. 1305) so leave him be. He aint showing up in this story.


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 99


    -VB-


    Hans von Fluelaberg


    Compared to the election of the prince-bishop, the tour of the Compact took far less time and elicited less stimulation. Eventually, our caravan came back around through the same path we took on the tour but in reverse.


    We went from Splugen to Thusis. Next, from Thusis to Vaz. Vaz to Chur. Then, from Chur to Klosters. And finally, from Klosters to Davos-Fluelaberg.


    And by the time we reached home the first snow of the season had fallen, though it was just one day of snow and it was still sunny.


    "It''s really one town now, huh?" I asked Isabella as we looked trotted forward on the road that once had nothing on either side. Now, there were farms and houses on either side of the road, and there was a building every hundred feet or so from Davos to Fluelaberg. There were even some getting built right now as our caravan was passing by.


    "It is," Isabella hummed. "Does this mean that you''ll start taking over Davos''s administration as well?"


    "Nah," I replied quickly. "Davos is a member of the Compact. They will rule themselves as they see fit. It''s not my place to tell them what to do. But Kraft and I will have to get together to demarcate exactly where Davos ends and Fluela begins."


    For a while, there was only the clip-clops of trotting horse hooves on the paved road and lighter thumps of marching soldiers and the creaks and grinds of the cart and carriage wheels. To our sides were the narrowing and ascending Fluela Valley, still full of trees but also growing farmlands whose operations have halted for the year as winter was beginning. Livestock continued to graze, however, and I found myself rather satisfied by the number of sheeps, goat, and cows leisurely roaming the fields.


    It was awesome to see how big of a positive impact I have had on the people here.


    "Hans?"


    "Yes, ''bella?"


    "What are you thinking about?"


    "Nothing much. Just happy to see that everyone is doing well."


    "They should be with how good you are as a ruler."


    "... Thank you."


    "Your welcome," she replied with a smile. "... But i do have something I want to talk to you about."


    "Hmm? About what?"


    "I know that you are ¡­ sympathetic towards some heathens, particularly the Jews and the Saracens."


    I raised an eyebrow as I looked at her. "Sympathetic would be an overstatement," I replied. "As long as they follow the law and don''t proselytize in public, then I don''t care if they worship the Lord differently."


    "Are you not worried about what the clergy would say about that?" she asked more pointedly.


    I blinked. "Why would I be?"


    "Because the pope might not take kindly to having pagans and heathens in the empire?"


    "... Hungary has pagans and heathens in the tens of thousands, Isabella," I pointed out. "They have their own villages, too."


    She looked at me in complete surprise. "They do?!"


    "Yes. Compared to them, I don''t even have a hundred people to worry about. Hell, I don''t even have Muslims or Jews in any official position while Hungary does."


    She looked shocked by what I just revealed. "I ¡­ I never knew. I mean I knew that the Cuman did get briefly excommunicated for something like it but¡­"


    "The Cuman?"


    "Ah. My father told me about him. He was the king of Hungary ¡­ thirteen years ago. He had a few pagan mistresses."


    I shrugged. "Well, that''s the first time I''ve heard about that. I guess it''s not exactly something the kingdom cares to talk about. Especially with the current interregnum."


    Indeed. Right now, there was a three way power struggle in the Kingdom of Hungary. Charles Roberts of Anjou (maybe fitten years old now), Wenceslaus of Bohemia (a sixteen year old), and the oligarch nobles of Hungary. This, of course, completely ignored everyone who wasn''t actively involved in the succession crisis like Duke Otto III of Lower Bavaria of House Wittelbachs.


    This was relevant to both Isabella and I because her family in the House of Gorizia and our ally Henry of Tyrol both bordered Hungarian lands in Slovenia and Croatia. On top of that, Upper Bavaria and Lower Bavaria was ruled by the Wittelbachs, whose house was the rival of the Habsburgs, the house of the emperor and Henry''s older sister married into said house.


    Personally, I didn''t care too much about the situation over there. It would be best for me if Charles Robert of Anjou got the Hungarian crown because it wouldn''t change anything. If Wenceslaus got Hungary, then he would have both Bohemia and Hungary under his rule, which would alter the balance of power. If the Hungarian oligarchs managed to win¡­ Well, that would be chaos that would certainly spill over into Gorizian and Henry''s lands. If it got too rowdy, then there were sure to call me for help.


    However, there was a scenario that was unlikely to happen but also possible. One of the claimants of the Hungarian crown was Otto III of House Wittelbachs, one of the co-Dukes of Lower Bavaria. He was also the one that I mentioned to the emperor to persuade him as Otto III was offered the Hungarian crown by some of the Hungarian nobles because he was the grandson of Bela IV of Hungary, who was in power only thirty-three years ago.


    If the Wittelbachs got the Hungarian crown, then there was a high possibility that the Habsburgs and the Wittelbachs will go to war, especially because the Habsburg''s Duchy of Austria would sit right in between the larger Hungarian lands and the Wittelbachs'' Bavarian lands.


    And obviously, I would get called up for war because I was a direct vassal of the empire and famous for my martial exploits.


    Never mind the fact that an empowered Wittelbachs was a potential ally of Duke Louis of Upper Bavaria, also of the Wittelbachs.


    "Anyways, yes. If Muslims and Jews can have whole villages in Hungary and the pope doesn''t do anything about it as long as they don''t attain extremely high positions in the kingdom, then why can''t a few live in my barony? Besides, most of the Jew and Muslim men have joined the militia as well."


    "I didn''t know," she muttered. She looked contemplative as she looked forward. "But is it really alright?"


    "Hmm?"


    "Won''t your people be upset that you are allowing the Jews and Saracens?"


    "If they feel that upset, then they can take their property except land and leave. Because if they try anything violent or even attempt to pressure me to change, then I will punch each and every one of them very, very hard. No one tells me what to do without a good fucking reason¡­ Actually, yeah. I''m going to make that a punishment. Stupid people get stupid punishment. Like my fist to their face."


    "Hans! How is that stupid?" Isabella whispered.


    "Because that''s not what Christ asks of us."


    That brought the rest of the caravan to look at me.


    "Christ''s greatest commandment is to love the Lord with all your body, mind, and soul. The second commandment is to love your neighbor. Nowhere in the Bible does the Christ say to only love fellow Christians. No, Christ says to love your neighbors as you love yourself. Anyone who says otherwise is using God''s name in vain."


    "... which verse are those, milord?"


    I looked over my shoulder and saw one of my rangers.


    "Mark chapter 12 verse 30 and 31."


    The rest of the travel up to the town wall was in silence.


    -VB-


    A/N:


    *Ladislaus IV of Hungary, the king who got excommunicated for putting a former muslim as the palatine of Hungary but which still pissed off the pope, had pagan Cuman mistresses, the pope planned a crusade against him, but died to three Cuman assassins at the age of 27.


    -VB-


    We''re here! Chapter 100! And also 2.5 years old. Thank you for everyone who''s been supporting me on Patreon and Ko-Fi and the readers who''s been following me on QQ and SB.


    So. Let''s get it on.


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 100


    -VB-


    Ping!


    It''s been over a few months since I last heard that.


    [Quest: The Way of the Blade (COMPLETED)


    Your wife wants to learn how to fight herself! This is a good thing, and you will support her all the way.


    Pre-requisite:


    *Isabella von Fluelaberg (IVF) must take up a blade as her weapon. (COMPLETED)


    *IVF must learn how to use her weapon with at least intermediate (LvL.10) skill. (COMPLETED)


    *IVF must reach this level before the birth of your child. (COMPLETED)


    *IVF must live to the end of the quest. (COMPLETED)


    *IVF must not leave you before the end of the quest. (COMPLETED)


    Reward:


    *Skill: Teaching + 10 Teaching Skill LvL


    *Increased relationship with Isabella (obviously)]


    Ping!


    [Teaching] LvL.11 s?a??h th? N?v?lFir?(.)n?t website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    Hmm. Maybe. That is a novel way to think about things. Have you also tried to think of it like this?


    Helps facilitate better learning in students.


    *1% reduction in student stress gain from studying per level


    *0.2% increased EXP gain for students in an area of study the TEACHER excels at per level]


    ¡­ It was useful skill, but like anything else that my Gamer provided, I needed to level it up a lot before it could be truly gamebreaking.


    Ah, I made a pun.


    ''Aw man, that''s a pun people aren''t going to get for several hundred years¡­'' I thought to myself.


    [Character Status]


    Name: Isabella von Fluelaberg nee Gorizia


    Age: 19


    Title: Baroness


    LvL: 10


    HP: 480


    MP: --


    ST: 8


    (-1 pregnancy)


    STR: 9


    END: 11


    AGI: 10


    (-1 pregnancy)


    DEX: 9 (-1 pregnancy)


    INT: 13


    CHA: 13


    I couldn''t see anyone''s skills with my Observe, which was unfortunate, but at least I checked today and knew that Isabella was having a bit of a trouble from just being pregnant. And I supposed that it made sense because, well, big tits already hurt women''s backs, so why wouldn''t something that weighed more than their tits not make their lives harder?


    "Are you alright?" I asked her as she walked out of the bathroom, which had an indoor plumbing. Sewage was not yet becoming a problem for Davos-Fluelaberg, but that was because I got ahead of it and started a very rudimentary sewage system. Even if for most of the village, it was literally just outhouses at intervals and people paid to collect the mixture of urine and feces for the farms. My castle, however, had sewage system that pumped the wastes out of the castle and into a collection duct using a bit of the stream water that runs through the center of Fluelaberg. All of this happened before we left for the tour, but it was nice to see that my people finished it by the time we came back.


    "Just ¡­ tired," she grumbled as she came back to sit on the bed. Unfortunately for us, the morning sunlight cleared over the mountaintops, which meant that it was way over 8 a.m. in the morning and thus late when it came to morning activities. "I didn''t think that pregnancy would be this much trouble. I hate being constantly needing to piss."


    I yawned as I got up. Yeah, we needed to get up.


    "It could be worse?"


    "How could it be worse¡­?" she asked.


    "A lot of women have morning sickness, remember? Having to use the bowl more isn''t that bad compared to that. That''s something almost all pregnanty woman experience but not every woman experience morning sickness.


    "Ugh. I know that!" she hissed at me.


    I could have mentioned that hormonal imbalance also made many a pregnant women sensitive but pointing out how sensitive a person was to a sensitive person generally didn''t go well for anyone. Also, happy wife, happy life, you know? Making her unhappy by being a smartass when she''s carrying our baby was a mean move.


    Worse, I might make her cry out of nowhere. It''s already happened before, and I wasn''t keen on making it happen.


    "Wnat breakfast in bed?"


    "... I want to," she whined even as she stood back up. "Can you call Alleria in? We should get dressed."


    "Alleria," I called out, and she walked in. "Can you help my wife with her dress?"


    The lady-in-waiting who came with Isabella from Gorizia gave me a shallow bow before moving to help my wife. As for me, I chose to wear something more in line with the local attire instead of the clothes I made myself. I reached into the drawer and pulled out a bright yellow pleated cotehardie, a plain cotton shirt to be worn underneath that, and a periwinkle blue hose pants.


    If anyone from 21st century saw me, then they would have been shocked by combination of bright yellow cote, deep blue hose pants, and a bright red cap I would have worn if it was any colder. But it wasn''t cold enough to warrant wearing a cap yet, though I wasn''t sure if it would be the case in a few weeks.


    Yes, I realized that despite the fact that modernity had more colors, just like the British with their lack of spices, most people stuck to calmer and dimmer colors.


    The people of this era? They would make any piece of their attire bright if they could help it. Not always and not for every occasion but definitely so for every day clothes.


    It was a very interesting part of the culture that I grew up in, and it wasn''t something I thought about a lot. It was also because of such desire for bright colors that dyes from across the world were so sought after.


    And which was why Fluelaberg became rich by producing the periwinkle blue dyes.


    However.


    Because of how small periwinkles were and how much of the flowers we needed to make the dyes, the weed was quickly becoming extinct in the area. It didn''t matter if it grew quickly; it didn''t grow quickly enough for the dye industry.


    As such, I needed to find a new dye to make from the natural ingredients native to the Swiss Alps.


    "What brand new money maker are you thinking about?"


    I looked over my shoulder from where I''d drifted off to look out of the bedroom window and saw Isabella completely dressed in the periwinkle''s deep blue one piece dress. It was a more conservative dress that covered up to the lower neck and the cloth itself hung enough that it didn''t hug her figure well. In fact, I would cal her dress breezy. "Are you sure you won''t be cold in that?"


    "I can take it. I want to look good, husband," she replied with a shrug. "Now. Let''s break fast, yes?"


    -VB-


    Later that day, I found myself in my personal chemistry lab. It''s been a while since I''ve been in here, so I went through the entire inventory of chemicals to ensure that they were all stable and nothing had broken.


    And, well, some had.


    The only pint of diluted hydrochloric acid that I had ate through the container''s lid, and half of it evaporated. The evaporated hydrochloric acid hadn''t done much, but it did contaminate and weaken the wooden shelves they sat at. The thin wooden shelves had to be replaced, which ate up most of my hours up to lunch, and now, I was back in here after a lunch with Isabella.


    And right in front of me was a table that had nine rough watch glasses, each with its own unique material. They were all ground up and dried clay, minerals, or a combination of the two, and all of it had come from the the local mines and valleys. Why clay? Well, the essence of a clay was fine grain minerals. Clay, as such, could be used to make dye because mineral-based dyes were a thing.


    Cinnabar, a mineral mined out of the earth, was often used to make dyes, though due to its mercury-content, people used it more for decoration than clothing.


    So I was trying that here, except since most of the experimental dyes in front of me didn''t have mercury, I was sure that there wouldn''t be any issue. In fact, a good third of the dyes were iron-based.


    I paused just before I started my experiment. This felt familiar.


    Good.


    ¡­ Relaxing.


    I snorted.


    Yes, I supposed that this was something I enjoyed.


    And so I went and -.


    -4 hours later-


    I stared at the results in front of me.


    My attempt at cobalt dye was ¡­ it turned out well, but my mines rarely pulled up cobalts. On top of that, even if the cobalt blue dye worked, I realized after dyeing and drying the sample cloth that it was almost the same shade of blue as periwinkle blue, just a bit darker. If I was going to do that, then I would just get more periwinkle or buy woad indigo from Piedmont, which was the closest center of blue dye production. But woad blue was lighter than my periwinkle without being bright. So my experiment to get a new source of blue dye close to periwinkle failed.


    The second set of dyes was made from the red clay found in the valleys. Sienna, I think this type of dye was called, according to the merchants and peddlers. However, the sample of sienna-dyed cloth I had was far deeper than my attempts from multiple levels of roasted, unroasted, and mixed red clay dyes. It could still used to mix with other colors, though.


    What was very successful was yellow ochre, or sometimes called "gold" ochre because of how close it was, even if it lacked the shine. It was a lighter yellow on the shallow end and deeper orange-yellow on the deeper end after a roast.


    ¡­ Personally, I wasn''t sure if I knew the value of these dyes. So I should go and ask Isabella. Coming from Italy, she should know more about their values, right?


    ¡­ Maybe. The County of Gorizia was next to the Patriarchate of Aquileia and Margraviate of Carniola. Its position made it barely a part of Lombardy, the wider region that stretched from the edges of the County of Provence (southeast France) to Venice. Because it sat right at the edge of that territory alongside Aquileia, it was hard to say, especially since, according to Isabella herself, the people in Gorizia were more like the people in Carniola than they were to Aquileia.


    Maybe we can even discuss how beneficial it would be to export it to Gorizia or even Venice.


    -VB-


    A/N:


    4 more chapters on my Patreon along with many other stories ranging from other originals and fanfictions.

 Chapter 101-103

    Swiss ArmsChapter 101


    -VB-


    Simon Zahringen, Count of Heiligenberg


    He took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he stared out of the window of his solar. The heavy rain outside was like a mirror to his inner turmoil and the state of his fief''s finances.


    Eight years ago, his father left home to throw his lot into becoming the King of the Germans.


    He came back in a casket.


    His mother, who was not the best when it came to finances, spent away all of the fortune his father and grandfather had gathered over the course of half a century. Though he wanted to be upset with her, none of it had been squandered, merely used for all things that were, at the time, necessary.


    When he took over as the Count of Heiligenberg five years ago, he found himself with a crisis on his hand.


    His line of Zahringens possessed two fiefdoms: the County of Heiligenberg and the County of Rheintal on the other side of the Constance Lake. While Rheintal was definitely the richer domain, Heiligenberg and its surrounding lands were his ancestral lands and also where he got the majority of his levies from in the event of conflict. Rheintal, though, was a land of petty knights; majority of the smaller villages there were all given to knights, and only Rinegg and Altstatten paid their taxes directly to him.


    But right now, he wasn''t sure if he could keep them both. His house was severely in debt.


    "Milord?"


    He looked around to see Clerk John waiting by the open door, and not stepping into his solar without permission.


    John of Lindau was a clerk he borrowed from the Mayor of Imperial City of Lindau. The mayor, Frederick, was a good friend of his from his childhood, and probably why he let him borrow a clerk indefinitely without any fee except to the clerk. He was famous for some silver counting, but he couldn''t be that famous if Frederick lent him out.


    "Come in," he sighed.


    John did¡­ with a stack of parchment, which were all sure to hold some sort of report.


    "How was the tax collection?"


    John looked a little troubled. "There has been ¡­ issues with the harvest, milord."


    "I know. You were there when some of the commoners came to ask me for leniency on future tax."


    On top of his house''s debt, this year''s harvest had been bad for some inexplicable reason.


    In his county, there were eleven villages: Altheim, Hattenweiler, Unterrehna, Wintersulgen, Betenbrunn, Beuren, Leustetten, Markdorf, Immenstaad, Strass, and Weildorf. This was excluding the castle town and the seat of his county Heiligenberg itself. There were other villages, but most of those were either the fief of his knights or barons. Elven villages were those who paid him their tax directly. And of those eleven villages, ten village chiefs came to ask for tax leniency.


    Ten! The villages that hadn''t come to ask for leniency was Immenstaad, and that''s because they fished a lot of their food. They paid their tax with salted fish, but the volume of it was low because they counted the salt used in salting the fish as part of the tax. Bastards.


    "Just ¡­ tell me how bad the damage is," he sighed.


    "Very well, milord. As you know, milord, the County of Heiligenberg has a total of 11,000 acres and Rheinstal has 14,000 acres for a total of 25,000 acres to your name. In a normal year, you would have received approximately 14,000 bushels of wheat, 20,000 bushels of barley, 100 ells of linen cloth, 800 tubs of butter, and 1,900 silver pfennigs.


    "This year, we were only able to collect 9,550 bushels of wheat, 12,092 bushels of barley, 47 ells of linen cloth, 688 tubs of butter, 1,100 pfennigs, and ¡­ 300 and a half salted fish."


    ¡­ A fifth? He lost a fifth of the tax?! Even if he was generous and considered the 300 (and a half) salted fish to be worth 500 pfennigs, that didn''t change the calculations at all!


    The upkeep of his one hundred thirty men-at-arms for the year alone would be 5,000 pfennigs! If he sold all of the fish at exactly 1,200 pfennigs, then he would still be behind 300 pfennigs in coins! Selling all of the linen ells wouldn''t net him 200 pfennigs, so he would have to sell at least a tenth of the butter.


    Just to pay off the men-at-arms.


    And then there was the servant upkeep, clerk pay, "late fees" for his loans, loan payment¡­


    He didn''t have enough. Or if he did, then he couldn''t tell.


    Simon felt his shoulders droop.


    He wanted to cry. He really ¡­ really wanted to cry.


    "Ludwig," he called for the guard who should be outside his door.


    Ludwig stepped into the doorway and bowed. "Present, milord."


    "Please call the retinue captain. I must speak with him in private."


    "Yes, milord."


    And then he was off.


    "Give me the reports," he said as he extended his hand and gestured to John to hand over the parchments. John did, and Simon placed them in front of him.


    And he began to look through the clerk''s barely acceptable handwriting. He had an extra rag on the side that he was counting with, and he smear charcoal for each thousand bushels of wheat and barley and for each one hundred pfennigs.


    When he stopped and checked¡­


    He wanted to cry.


    The clerk had done his job a little badly, so he had an extra 200 pfennigs to spare¡­ but that was less than a tenth of the principle needed to be paid off this year alone, never mind whatever else he needed to pay.


    He ¡­ he couldn''t. He was barely hanging on last year. This? This will ruin his house if he didn''t solve it somehow.


    But he already used every single trick he knew and then some more he learned from John here.


    "Milord¡­"


    He looked up and saw the guard captain standing next to John. From the unease that he saw on the man''s face, the captain knew that something was about to drop.


    With a trembling sigh, he dropped his head. "Captain Ruprecht, please relieve thirty of the worst performing men-at-arms from my service."


    "... Yes, milord."


    And then he was gone, leaving him alone with John again.


    "Milord, do you have a plan for the ¡­ deficiencies?" he asked with a dark undertone asking if he was planning on extra means of taxation.


    "This isn''t something extra taxing would solve," he grumbled. With how small his fief was, he might be able to collect maybe 1,000 pfennigs, but that would also mean that tax gathered next year and beyond would be smaller. If the harvest for barley was a nearly a third less than what it should have been, then his peasants surely didn''t have enough to eat, especially since they would have to set aside 1 to 2 bushels back into each acre plot next year to grow more barley.


    If he collected 12,100 bushels, then that meant that the peasants had 105,000 or so bushels. Assuming roughly a third of his land was used to plant the much more productive barley, then another 15,000 bushels needed to be kept as seed for next planting season, leaving 90,000 bushels for the peasants to use. Assuming that most of it was used as animal feed, he would see a decrease in butter and barley tax next year. If his peasants got scalped by the tax collectors and both barley and wheat were overreported, then there will be less people able to pay their taxes next year, either through fleeing the land or death by starvation.


    So extra taxation might solve this year''s deficiencies but it would compound and make the next year worse.


    "..." He wasn''t even going to bother checking Altstatten and Rinegg***. Any and all tax that came from those cities always seemed to get swallowed up in some need one way or another. If it''s not the roads that needed to be fixed because of a flood, then it was something else. Never mind the fact that it took half a day of walking just to get there from Heiligenberg.


    He stared at the numbers before frowning. "John."


    "Yes, milord?"


    "Do you ¡­ know any lord who are rich?"


    "... I know only one with that description, milord."


    "You do?"


    "Yes. A lord who is rich and someone that I know."


    "Who?"


    "Baron Hans von Fluelaberg, milord."


    Simon looked at his clerk with eyes.


    "The rumored battlefield monster?" he asked, aghast.


    "Yes, milord. I do not know much about the baron''s battlefield prowess, but he is someone to learn from. From what I remember, he will not be hostile or wary of you just because you are a noble."


    "Truly? Then all of those rumors¡­?"


    A man who rose from among the commoners to become a baron by violent means. A butcher on the battlefield. An ignormaous of the noble customs and deeds -.


    "I know not, milord. But why do you ask?"


    "... Help me prepare a letter for him."


    -VB-


    Hans von Fluelaberg


    It took me a month to get a dye factory started by buying land on the southern end of Davos and a little bit removed from the village anyway. The reason why we did this was because that was the direction in which the water flowed. The Albula River, which Davos sat on top of, was one of the tributaries that flowed into the Rhine. The Albula flowed into the Hinterrhein which then flowed into the Rhine which then flowed into Lake Constance and back out against as the Rhine River.


    A dye factory would obviously use a lot of water and have waste water as well, even if the volume of waste water would be nothing compared to post-20th century''s waste volume. Even if the waste water would contain nothing that wasn''t natural, it still would be unhealthy to introduce that into drinking water supply, which was why I bought land that was down river of the village.


    The factory wasn''t built yet; it was still in the planning phase. I needed to find a steady supply of the dye materials, equipment to help turn the materials into rock, and etc etc.


    If the dye factory succeeded at making the dyes and dyeing the fabrics we could provide here, then I planned to sell it not to Venice but Free Imperial Cities to the north. Specifically, I was very interested in Kempten and Memmingen.


    Kempten was the center of the Allgau region, which meant that sale of dyed fabric there could easily spread throughout a region and generate demand faster than starting at a border town or city with a market and trying to expand from one end to the other.


    Memmingen, on the other hand, was at the center of a burgeoning salt road between Lindau and Bohemia, the very same salt road that had its origins in the salt mines developed by Duke Henry''s sister and my wife Isabella''s cousin, Empress Elizabeth of Carinthia.


    While selling at Kempten would allow me to dominate the luxury fabric market there, Bohemia was the richer and far better investment. Unfortunately, any investment in Bohemia would take years to mature compared to a faster return from Kempten. Kempten, on the other hand, was a very limited market compared to the growing salt road that cut through not just eastern Swabia but also through northern Bavaria. More specifically, the very same salt road cut through all three Wittelsbach duchies of Bavaria: Munich, Landshut, and Straubing.


    This could be the unexpected but another viable source of influence and power within the Duchy of Upper Bavaria (Munich) which I could use to weaken Duke Louis''s hold of the duchy.


    I still freshly remembered the discussion all of us conspirators last year.


    "So you agree?" Henry asked Rudolf, and the slightly slimmer man grimaced as he nodded.


    "Fine. You can have the rest of the Valley of En you don''t own as long as you get me my duchy back and my brother out of it," Rudolf grumbled.


    The empress cleared her throat lightly.


    "And I''ll reduce the tax on salt trade to a minimum," he said as his shoulders drooped.


    We bullied him rather harshly, but then again, I didn''t feel much sympathy for a man who tried to destroy the town I built with my own two hands. Literally. The original wooden walls to the east and west (now center) of Fluelaberg were still the original wooden walls I built. Actually, the walls and houses were secondary to the people who I came to appreciate and respect. I would be livid if Albert or Alvia died. I would be apopletic if Kraft got killed.


    I would probably burn Munich to the ground if Isabella had died.


    I hummed as I got back to writing down the formulas for all of the dye recipes when someone knocked my door.


    I paused and looked up. "Come in."


    My eyes widened when one of my rare, non-ranger men-at-arms opened the door and showed in a noble messenger.


    The messenger stepped right in front of the opened door in the corridor and bowed.


    "Greetings, baron. I am a messenger from the Count of Heiligenberg. I havea message from the count addressed to you."


    "Come in, come in," I gestured for him to enter. ''Where even was Heiligenberg?'' I asked myself.


    The messenger cleared his throat and pulled out a parchment scroll. He handed it to me with two hands in a respectful gesture, and I took it. I broke the seal and unfurled the scroll, which crinkled loudly as I did so.


    And I began reading.


    And reading.


    My eyebrows gathered together above my nose bridge as I continued reading.


    And then I looked at the seal.


    "And where is ¡­ Heiligenberg? Please forgive me if I am ignorant of my peers and betters outside of my immediate region."


    "My lord''s domain lies in two parts: his main domain laies between the lands of the Bishopric of Konstanz and the Habsburg lands on the north side of Obersee* and his lesser domain of Rheintal lies right at your border, County of Montfort, Abbey of St. Gallen, and County of Werdenburg."


    I blinked.


    Huh. That must be frustrating for him, but wasn''t that kind of normal in the empire? A lot of inheritances through marriage meant that sometimes you found yourself with land that wasn''t connected to your land and/or in an ideal position for your strategy.


    "And this Rheintal¡­"


    "Runs along the Upper Rhine River from Chobiwalt** to Rinegg for a total of 3 and a quarter meiles**** of the Rhine to the Obersee."


    That was a substantial amount of land, even if it was just the slip of land between the river and the valley foothills.


    "I see."


    I don''t know what kind of problem this count was having, but in this letter, he offered to sell the Barony of Rheintal and wanted to meet to negotiate the price.


    ¡­ Yeah, this was going to be interesting.


    -VB-


    *Obersee: Lake Constance


    **Chobiwalt: old name for Oberriet


    ***Rinegg is older name for Rheineck.


    ****Meile was different depending on where you were. The most relevant one, in my opinion, was the wegstunde, or one hour''s worth of travel. 0.5 meile = 2.31 US mile.


    A/N:


    Do you guys remember John of Lindau? The guy who took Double Bookkeeping and claimed it as his? Yeah, he''s now working here because even if his book was published, the mayor found out that it really wasn''t his. So he pseudo-exiled him so that he wouldn''t be implicated if Hans found out and reacts ¡­ violently. Not that he would or even care, but the mayor doesn''t know that.


    I did a very rough estimate of County of Heiligenberg and Rheinstal on Google Maps using


    Karte_Werdenberger.png from wikipedia. While the total combined area was around 180 square kilometers, a good fifth of that land was either mountain/forests or village areas and one-fifth of the four-fourths would have been left fallow, leaving only three-fifths of the land for arable cultivation. The result was only around 28,000 acres. And then I started taking roads into account and calculations started going weird so I just cut down another 3k and called it 25,000 acres.


    The definition of bushel changed all throughout the years¡­ I hate it.


    And then I tried to find a reputable source for how much bushels of wheat, barley, and other crops/livestock could be grown on each acre. And dear God, life was shit back then. A good harvest was 6 bushels of wheat per acre? That''s less than a sixth of what we harvest in commercial farms around the world per acre!


    Ell: medieval northwestern european word for arm from tip of finger to elbow. And also how wide a cloth roll usually was, apparently.


    I also learned that in Tirol (you know the same Tirol that our Henry comes from) interest rate could be as high as 87% for loans. (Tiroler Landesarchiv, Innsbruck). Speaking of Tyrol, the County of Tyrol


    didn''t include all of modern Tyrol but stopped around Jenbach, which left the lower valley (from Jenbach to Oberaudorf) to the Duchy of Upper Bavaria (Duchy of Munich in the not too distant future).


    This will be discussed in future chapters, but the reason why Hans didn''t even mention selling to Konstanz or any of the cities to the west was because Konstanz itself was a city famous for its linen production. As such, competition would be fierce there as well as underhanded moves to keep our linen out of their market.


    Never let it be said that my stories (or at least the AN''s) aren''t educational!


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 102


    -VB-


    Isabella von Fluelaberg


    Barony of Fluelaberg


    She read through the letter meant for her husband, and realized just how big of a deal this was.


    One did not just buy a barony. This kind of opportunity came only once every generation, especially in a manner that allowed for direct land-to-land connections.


    This was probably the secondmost important political decision Hans could make as both the leader of the Compact and as the founder of his own house.


    "You want ¡­ me to head the negotiation?" she asked in surprise.


    "Yes," he replied. "I can negotiate with the count, but it is my opinion that you will be able to better negotiate than I can."


    She stared at Hans. "I ¡­ I don''t think you understand what you are doing, husband," she began.


    "Hmm?"


    "Husband, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. I understand that you are showing how much you trust me by offering me to do this¡­" And she wanted to. A successful negotiation with the Count of Heiligenberg might be what she needed to show that she deserved to stand by his side. But she also loved him too much to use her desire for better standing to potentially rob him of a better deal. "This is too big. I can''t ¡­ I won''t take this role." Even if it hurt her a little to deny it.


    Hans looked at her in surprise.


    "... I thought that a noblewoman in your position would have a better negotiating right and stand than a peasant baron would," I replied. "Is that not the case?"


    She shook her head. "If you were just any other baron across the empire, then you would be right. And wise for admitting that to yourself and delegating the role to me. However, you are not a regular baron nobility. You are one of the most competent generals of our time, if not the most competent. You''ve repelled a duchy''s full roster of knights and men-at-arms." She stopped and then glared. "Unless you are trying to use me to insult someone else."


    He looked surprised by her accusation. "What? No. That''s not what I am doing."


    "Then?"


    He hesitated briefly before he sighed. "I just thought that you would appreciate how much I am trying to involve you in ¡­ all of this ruling stuff. You know, that you are my equal."


    Her heart squeezed a little before she sighed. "Husband¡­ Hans. I am happy to hear that from you," she replied. "But this is not the way. In fact, I could go so far as to say that you are neglecting your duties as the lord."


    He stared at her for a moment before nodding. "Okay, can you explain? I wasn''t raised a noble, so I probably don''t know all of the intricacies¡­"


    She nodded in return. This was expected as well as her duty to educate her husband on topics like these that he knew very little about, especially since he hadn''t hired anyone to educate himself.


    "Had I been the ruling baroness and you the consort baron, then it would be fine for me to show up as the negotiator. However, I am not. Sending me in your stead when you have little to no emergency sends a signal that you, a baron, does not consider him, a count, to be of significance. This would be an insult."


    "Okay, that''s actually pretty simple."


    "Two. I love you, Hans, but I am not your equal. I am your lady and you are my lord, and there are clearly defined duties. I can only act in your stead if you are not present or otherwise unable to carry out your duties. Telling me to perform your duties while you are able, in this case the negotiation for a successful acquisition of the Rheintal territory and potentially the title of a count, is you neglecting your duty. In fact, such acquisition would be considered the highest priority for a lord with the exception of duties such as siring an heir or defending your lands."


    Hans tapped his index finger on the solid table. Isabella allowed him some time to absorb everything she said so far.


    "I know that this might not be too different from what you grew up with. A peasant husband and wife perform many of the same duties, but even then, the man of the household defends the family and the woman performs household works. Is this not the case in your father''s house?"


    "... Kind of?"


    She blinked. "It isn''t?"


    "Well, since both mother and father both works out in the field during planting and harvest seasons, they tend to take turns in things like cooking, trading, and the like. If there''s a baby in the house, then mother gets less work. If father has to go be a mercenary to bring in some additional coins, then mother gets more work."


    "I see. It is a much more equal relationship compared to that of a lord and lady''s. But even nobles do that, Hans. When the lord goes off to war, then the lady takes control of the house and maintains the household. This is what I did when you went off to fight on multiple occasions. This is not the clearly defined roles I mentioned earlier. These are exceptions to a normal relationship and defined roles of a man and a woman."


    "Then what would be the roles?"


    She took a deep breath and thought about it. How did she simply this ¡­?


    ¡­ Ah. That was one way to put it.


    "A man''s role is to be the public face of the house. A woman''s role is to be the head of the household in private." She fidgeted a little. "Which ¡­ I may have violated by asking you to train me."


    "And I don''t intend to stopping that."


    She smiled. "Thank you. But that is what I mean. You''ve already given me a lot of leeways that a more traditional lord would have allowed. This is why it is more important that I do not go lest you are seen by other lords as nothing but a puppet for me and the House of Gorizia." She raised her hand when he opened his lips to speak. "And before you say that you don''t care, please remember that this will affect not just you and the Compact but my father''s house as well. I am now a woman of the House of Fluelaberg but I would like it if you did not cause undue troubles for my father and brothers."


    He snorted. "Alright, alright. I''ll ¡­ step it up a bit." Then he paused contemplatively before speaking up again curiously. "So what are the things that I''ll have to know and act like when I''m talking with a totally strange count?" he asked. "Your cousin and enemies don''t count."


    She chuckled. "Well, I suppose we can start there."


    -VB-


    Andrea Terrena


    Barony of Fluelaberg


    Andrea looked over the rest of his men as they loaded the carts with goods more valuable than their lives.


    And they better respect it if they didn''t want to end up dead and in a ditch between here and Pisa.


    He watched as one of the workers grabbed a hold of another stack of porcelain dishes, which were all carefully wrapped up in the softest fabrics these mountain hicks had on hand, and carefully laid them down inside of a wooden crate. He spread them out evenly and made sure to cushion them with wool.


    And then he placed a false bottom top on top of those, and made sure the porcelains themselves weren''t touching the wooden false bottom. Once the false bottom firmly remained in place, he placed the cheaper goods - like low quality wool - on top. Once he had the crate packed to the brim with the wool, he closed it.


    Andrea knew that he was now smuggling porcelain out of a town owned by a man so bloodthirsty that no lord would protect him.


    But it would be worth it. If he could make it out of here and get to Milan, Genoa or Pisa, then he could sell it for at least three times how much he spent.


    He looked up and grunted in satisfaction as he saw his laborers awaiting his orders.


    "Not a word out of you of this," he warned them all. "And whatever else you aren''t supposed to have needs to be in false bottom as well."


    The workers and guards alike all nodded.


    Andrea couldn''t believe his fortune. One of the porcelain makers wanted to make more money by not paying taxes, so he and the man made sure backroom deals.


    Of course, he couldn''t proudly carry those around in the city. No, this blasted place scrutinized what kinds of goods came and left, going so far as to require a list of goods on paper or parchment for merchants leaving the town. To make sure that their illegal dealings weren''t discovered, he had needed to hide it, and that''s where these false bottom crates came into play.


    Considering that there were only four such crates in his caravan that had easily over four dozen, he knew it would go undiscovered.


    "Alright, then we set out!" he shouted, and the caravan quickly began to gather their things.


    Within an hour of his declaration, he and his caravan of four ox, four carts, and sixteen men were by the western gate.


    There, he found himself subject to a quick search by the squad of guards.


    They looked into his crates, shuffled the goods around a bit, and then came to see some of his men. Andrea held his breath, praying to God that none of his men had things they shouldn''t have. He intentionally gave them some room in the false bottoms for that exact reason!


    The guards went around and then nodded. "You''re good to go," the deep baritone voice of the gate guard captain (which he could tell from a fancier equipment) reached his ear.


    He was free to go.


    After briefly glancing at the light snowfall, Andrea ushered his people forward. He wanted to be in Chur and out of this cold by the end of the week!


    -VB-


    Anton Luhr


    Munich, Duchy of Upper Bavaria


    He frowned.


    He did not like frowning.


    Ladies didn''t like it when he frowned. Always went on about how a handsome man like him needed to smile more.


    But as he stared at the coins in front of him, he couldn''t help but frown.


    Because he had too much Wittelsbach silver pfennigs.


    It ¡­ started, like what, a few months ago? More Wittelsbach pfennigs started piling up faster than any other coins. He expected to have more of it than any other coins. In fact, he expected to have ten times more of it than a Tyrolian pfennig or two times more of it than Swabian pfennigs.


    But the most troubling part of it was that he had two hundred times more Wittelsbach pfennigs than he had Florentine florin and Genoese genovino combined, which was abnormal. He needed to get rid of it, but other merchants and peddlers were also trying to get rid of it.


    In the markets, grocers started demanding more Wittelsbach pfennigs for the same good while the price remained the same with other coins.


    It was an irksome situation, but it was still a white pfennig, not the black pfennigs that had too much copper mixed in. So it still held value.


    But he still needed to use it up. Having too much of one coin as a merchant guild was not good for the prospects of that guild. It might signal that the guild didn''t have the necessary connections to trade in the surrounding regions or other cities, or that the city they were based in didn''t have a lot of trade itself.


    All of which was bad.


    He didn''t think that trade was bad in Munich, and he doubted that his guild didn''t have the connections. If anything, he now had more coin flowing in than before. There were even some of those elusive Fluelan porcelain and ceramics that were showing up in the market.


    But why did they have to be so expensive? Ugh. His wife was hounding him to get some.


    Whatever. He''ll deal with the Wittelsbach pfennig tomorrow.


    -VB-


    A/N:


    something I found out during my superficial research into Italian nobility is that the former German and Italian nobilities run around in the same circles and marry among each other to this day. Could be because they retained a lot of land and property from their old days, so rich people are just meeting rich people, but I thought that it was still interesting for yall to know. Case in point, because wikipedia exists, Matilda Borromeo and Prince Antonio zu Furstenberg. And by sheer coincidence, I picked the couple whose ancestor later owns, wait for it, Heiligenberg. This was how my wiki walk went. Milan > Matricula nobilium familiarum Mediolani > House of Arese > Beatrice Borromeo Arese Taverna > House of Furstenberg (link in the name of Prince Antonius zu Furstenberg). The Furstenberg acquisition of Heiligenberg happens in 1535, though.


    Yes, crime is starting up in our town. It''s just smuggling a few tax-free white porcelain here and there (not the more valuable blue and green porcelains, which Hans personally makes). But the growing wealth in the town will soon bring in bigger trouble¡­


    Oh, and yeah. Hans''s scheme against the Wittelsbach is starting to come to fruition.


    -VB-


    A/N: Gamer-heavy chapter.


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 103


    -VB-


    Hans von Fluelaberg


    Two months before Christmas. That''s when the negotiation date was set. It allowed the count and I to organize ourselves before meeting up. As for the location of our meeting, it was going to take place in the Free Imperial City of Lindau. Of course, we didn''t know if the city was okay with us hosting our negotiation there, so I reached out to the Lord Mayor of Lindau.


    And the Lord Mayor Rupert von Notzing happily agreed in his latest letter.


    Maybe he wanted to his city to be seen as a good place for meditation. Smaller deals like these would allow his city to rise in prominence as a center of diplomacy.


    I read the final letter from the lord mayor¡­ and then a ping rang.


    I froze in place in my solar''s chair and glanced up.


    [One''s Desperate Measure is Your Opportunity]


    -Territorial Quest-


    Objective:


    Successfully gain the Bailiwick of Rheintal (Vogtei Rheintal)


    Bonus:


    *Purchase Rheintal for under 500 gold guelders or equivalent


    Reward (Choose One):


    *Title of Count


    *1 Critical Intel (Foreign)


    *1 Critical Intel (Domestic)


    Bonsu Reward:


    *Temporary boost to the Compact''s cohesion


    *Temporary boost to the Barony of Fluelaberg''s cohesion


    Accept?


    Y/N


    I accepted immediately. I wanted to get Rheintal anyway the moment I received that letter, so this was a bonus for me and the Compact.


    ¡­ But what was this about cohesion?


    I pulled out of the Quest screen and looked through my Gamer System. After a quick look, I found it under my Character Status.


    [Character Status]


    Name: Hans von Fluelaberg


    Age: 20


    LvL: 40


    HP: 700


    MP: 410


    ST: 350


    STR: 100


    END: 70


    AGI: 82


    DEX: 52


    INT: 41


    CHA: 15


    Current Objective: Set up Home [11/?]


    Current Quest: [One''s Desperate Measure is Your Opportunity]


    Territory: Compact (Barony of Fluelaberg)


    I didn''t notice that before. Was there an update or something that I missed? Regardless of the why and how I missed it up until now, it was there. And the Compact and the (Barony of Fluelaberg) were highlighted separately.


    I pressed on the Compact.


    [The Compact]


    Official Name: The Compact


    Government Type: Confederation


    Member States: Barony of Fluelaberg, Prince-Bishopric of Chur, County of Toggenberg, Abbey of St. Gall¡­ (6+)


    Military Power: Minor Regional


    Economic Power: Major Regional


    Political Power: Minor Regional


    Influence: Major Regional


    Technological Power: Major Regional


    Stability: B+


    Cohesion: C+


    It was nice to see a list of the Compact''s impact upon the world, even if they could be misleading. It showed the Compact''s Influence as "Major Regional," whatever that meant, but I could see immediately that a lot of that had to do with just four heads of state: the Prince-Bishop of Chur, Abbot of St. Gall, Count of Toggenberg, and me. Even among the four of us, the influence was not equal and not in the same field. So the Influence being "Major Regional" was not wrong but kind of misleading.


    As for Stability and Cohesion¡­


    I clicked on those.


    [Stability]


    Represents a state''s ability to whether hardship. Ranked from top to bottom, S+ to F-. Failure to maintain Stability at or below D risks collapse of the state.


    So it was important.


    [Cohesion]


    Represents a state''s ability to mobilize its powerbase effectively within a reasonable timeframe. Ranked from top to bottom, S+ to F-. Cohesion at or below D risks ineffective taxation, corruption, and military mobilization.


    Oh. Cohesion was apparently also very important, and the Compact''s Cohesion was only C+.


    That ¡­ that didn''t bode well.


    I pressed on Cohesion again, hoping it would provide me with some more information.


    And it did!


    [Cohesion] TheCompact CohesionDataFactors


    Bureaucracy: D-


    Centralization: D-


    Corruption: B-


    Employment: A+


    Interdependence Trade: C-


    Interdependence Politics: B+


    Internal Networking: B


    International Recognition: C


    Language Cohesion: B-


    Law Enforcement: C-


    Legitimacy: C


    Power Balance: B


    Prosperity: B-


    Religious Unity: A+


    State vs. Community Balance: D+


    (20+)


    ¡­ Yeah, that''s a lot of factors counting into Cohesion. Some of it was confusing, too. Employment factor was there in place of Unemployment, and A+ Employment¡­ I guessed that it meant most people who wanted to work got work or something like that?


    The most glaring deficiencies were the lack of bureaucracy and centralization. And it kind of made sense. It''s hard to mobilize the entirety of the Compact when we were depending on pony express mail orders to members that may or may not have the resources and manpower to participate. Bureaucracy could just mean knowing what was where. Centralization, though, was the opposite of what the Compact was. I didn''t create the Compact to make a fiefdom for myself up in the Swiss Alps; I made it so that we can all protect ourselves from invaders.


    The next worst factor was State vs Community Balance, and yeah, I don''t think I can change that. I wasn''t in an era where nationalism and loyalty to the state was a thing. At most, loyalty would be to their immediate higher-ups, God, and maybe their hometown. It made sense why that one was bringing the overall grade down.


    But having the factors affecting Cohesion laid out for me to see helped me determine what I needed to improve or delegate someone else to improve.


    Then I moved on to my personal fiefdom.


    [Barony of Fluelaberg]


    Official Name: Barony of Fluelaberg


    Government Type: Hereditary Monarchy


    Liege Lord: King of the Germans


    Member Nation: Holy Roman Empire


    Military Power: Minor Regional


    Economic Power: Major Regional


    Political Power: Minor Regional


    Influence: Major Regional


    Technological Power: Major Regional


    Stability: A+


    Cohesion: A-


    Nice~. Okay, why did my barony have a higher Cohesion than the Compact?


    [Cohesion] Barony.FluelabergCohesionDataFactors


    Bureaucracy: A-


    Centralization: S-


    Corruption: B+


    Employment: A+


    Internal Trade: A-


    Internal Politics: A+


    External Networking: B- S?a??h the N???lFire.n?t website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    International Recognition: B


    Language Cohesion: A-


    Law Enforcement: B+


    Legitimacy: A


    Power Balance: S


    Prosperity: S


    Religious Unity: C


    Baron vs. Community Balance: A-


    (20+)


    ¡­ Okay, all of those made sense. Corruption was low, and thus the grade for it was high. Religious Unity was low because I had Jews and Muslims living in my town¡­


    Actually, no, that didn''t explain why it was that low. From the latest census, the number of Jews and Muslims combined didn''t account for more than 4% of the total population. I can accept a B, even a B-, but C? Why was it that lo-... Were there heretics living in my town?


    Ugh. That''s going to be a headache.


    Still, I now had a much better look of my own barony. I saw a few things I could improve but mostly saw that my decisions had not been wrong.


    ¡­ Wait, did this mean that I would have to worry about all of those for every single fief I got? Wouldn''t that essentially be a summary report that only I can see, thus paperwork only I could do?


    Ugh.


    With a shrug, I decided that it was probably better like this than being left to figure out every little detail, and gave me something to work toward for all of the Compact.


    But first, it was time to get off of this chair and arrange my visit to Lindau.


    -VB-


    A/N: Free Imperial City of Lindau is situated right across Lake Constance from the coasts of Rheintal. It is also within a day''s walk of County of Heiligenberg, which is further north along Lake Constance. Historically, the entire area was not united into one entity but separated into four: Altstatten (biggest city/town in Rheintal area west of the Alpine Rhine river and north of Liechtenstein) which did not incorporate the lands west bank of the river, Lustenau (downstream of Altstatten and straddled both sides of the river), coast along Lake Constance along Rheineck and Mehrerau, and St. Margrethen (later sold to Abbey of St. Gall). The last of these used to be hounded by the robber barons of Grimmenstein Castle, which eventually pissed people enough that they tore down the castle in 1416 after two battles.


    So for clarification''s sake, Hans is not buying the entire area from the coast to where today''s Liechtenstein is. He is purchasing land centered around Altstatten but not the lands along the river banks which includes the town of Kriessern, Lustenau and its surrounding lands on both sides of the river, and Rheineck but not St. Margrethen and the land directly adjacent to it.


    The total area is roughly 31 sq. miles.

 Chapter 104

    Swiss ArmsChapter 104


    -VB-


    Lord Mayor Frederick of Lindau


    As Frederick watched the street and its people as he rode down the street from the mayor''s manor to the city hall. The city had prepared itself well for this year''s winter, and it showed in the residents'' mood as they went about their days today. There was no hunger seen in most of their eyes. No unease and trembling. No ¡­ desperation to speak of.


    Oh, there will always be some whose life was not great, someone who just didn''t prepare enough, someone who gambled or drank away their money away, but that was the nature of life. He could not save everyone and it would be foolish - even blasphemous - to think that he could save everyone.


    Hell, he wasn''t even a saint, and the saints can''t save everyone!


    No, he remained happy with what he managed to achieve.


    In fact, he felt happier than he did last year because he was now going to host two lords in the coming weeks. It would establish his and his city''s reputation as somewhere mediation can take place. If he was lucky, then he might have a buyer in the Baron of Fluelaberg for his city''s new salted goods.


    As the westernmost city in the Bavarian salt trade route, Lindau got quite a bit of salt that the House of Habsburgs have been pushing from their latest salt mines. As a result of this, the price of salt has fallen in the city and in the neighboring regions. But it wasn''t so cheap as to be available for mass transportation.


    But salted fish and meat? That was easy to pack, easy to cover from the rain, and easier to sell than salt by itself. Or at least that''s what he''s been seeing from how much salted goods have been flowing out of the city and how much meat has been flowing into the city.


    While the cold weather of the Alps made it so that food could be easily stored during the winter and spring, the same couldn''t be said for food during the summer and fall. Which was why he intended to use this chance to push his city''s salted goods to the baron, who indirectly controlled this new "Compact."


    When he first learned about the Compact, he had ignored it. Peasants tried to group up all of the time, but usually failed. What difference would the latest one make?


    But it did.


    They got the Prince-Bishop of Chur involved. They almost conquered the County of Toggenburg. They devastated the lords of Sax-Misox, Werdenberg, Zernez, and so many more. The emperor gave an imperial order elevating their leader to a baron, and then the Comapct went on to get the Abbey of Disantis, town of Illanz, and the Abbey of Saint Gall to join their ranks.


    He would go so far as to say that the Compact was perhaps the greatest threat and opportunity at his border than the divided dukes of Bavaria and fractured Swabia.


    But most importantly, his city profited handsomely in the surging trade coming and going from the Town of Fluelaberg, whose residents have somehow discovered how to make china.


    And new dyes.


    And books!


    And paper!


    And knowledge.


    Militarily powerful, economically diverse and far-reaching, and politically stable. The Compact was an entity he needed to keep as his friend, but not so close that his city''s independence becomes endangered.


    How could he get the Compact and the Baron to consider Lindau as a valuable trading partner? Well, Lindau already sat at the end of a good trade route that all major players had a hand in. Peddlers and merchants passing through Fluelaberg already passed through his city to some degree.


    He ¡­ could suggest elimination of any and all tariff between them. That would hurt his coffers a bit but could it benefit the city at least as much as it lost out on the tariff revenue?


    Lindau mostly imported wool and meat from the Compact''s many villages. The new goods were becoming slowly more important in the city''s trade, but wool and meat were still the dominant goods that the city traded with the Compact. His city then took those wool and made fabric at a lower cost and higher volume than what all of the Compact''s villages combined could make; it helped having a lot of weavers in one place.


    If he removed tariff on woolen fabrics¡­ He wasn''t sure if he was ready to do that.


    In fact, removing tariff on salted goods too would be unwise.


    But the things he could gain¡­!


    He knew that Fluelaberg was becoming a major town that produced gemstones. His wife actually had an emerald gold ring from Fluelaberg, which he bought for her because it matched her eyes.


    Ugh, there were so many things to consider¡­


    Perhaps he should get the baron to consider removing tariffs incrementally so that they both could see how they can benefit.


    Yes, that was a good idea¡­


    ---


    As the day of the mediation approached, Frederick found himself nervous.


    What if things went wrong? What if the count found his city to not be to his taste? What if the baron became angry at all manner of his people''s goods being sold at a much higher mark-up here?


    Suddenly, the Lord Mayor of Lindau wasn''t feeling so great about this.


    "Lord mayor."


    He snapped out of his worries and looked up from his desk to see one of his servants.


    "What is it, Bernard?"


    "You asked us to report to you if we saw the banner of either Fluelaberg or Heiligenberg. The baron is here, no more than a league from the city."


    Frederick felt his back straighten and he stood up. "Very well. We should go and meet him at the gate." S?a??h th? N0??F?re.n?t website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.


    "Of course, lord mayor. Shall we gather your most important retinue¡­?"


    "Yes. I can''t be seen greeting someone above my rank just by myself. Good idea. Bring Karl, Joseph, and yourself with me. And the gift I''ve prepared."


    "Of course."


    As he raced out of his office and city hall in the most dignified manner he could, his mind raced as cold sweat broke out, cooling his already winter-chilled face further. The thumping of his feet against the wooden floorboards didn''t make it better because they sounded like his heartbeats thumping in his ears.


    He couldn''t mess this up.


    He quickly got on his horse and rode it out of the city hall and toward the bridge that connected Lindau to east coast of Lake Constance.


    When he reached the bridget gate, he got off of his horse and waited.


    After what felt like forever, he could see the black mountain banner of the Barony of Fluelaberg fluttering in the winter breeze as a small convoy of people, horses, and carriages made their way toward Lindau.


    ¡­ But there were also people following them in ¡­ ropes?


    Huh?


    As the convoy got closer and closer, his heart only pounded harder and stronger in his chest and ears.


    Because the baron got closer and closer, he saw blood.


    Blood on the drawn sword.


    Blood on the bear fur cape.


    Blood on the baron''s faceplate.


    And then the baron was in front of him atop his horse.


    Frederick suddenly had to look up. He felt ¡­ he felt so small in front of the baron.


    Baron didn''t just tower over him. Frederick felt a deep urge to either bow or run. The baron''s presence only grew the longer he stared.


    But he stood his ground and gave a half bow. "Baron Fluelaberg¡­ welcome to Lindau."


    The baron stared for a moment before he got off of his horse and put his giant sword onto his back with a grunt.


    "Thank you for the welcome, Lord Mayor Galvan."


    Frederick straightened his back and gulped again. "Um¡­ may I ask if something happened ¡­?"


    The baron shrugged. "Some poor starving bandits thought they could attack me with their rusty pitchforks, axes, and hunting bows. They learned better."


    "Oh." Please ¡­ please don''t say it happened close to his city. That was in his city''s jurisdiction. If he failed to keep law and order and allowed a powerful noble to get attacked in his jurisdiction¡­!


    "It only happened like half a league from the bridge, so you shouldn''t have to worry about the bandits. I took care of them all."


    Frederick wanted to scream.


    The baron had only just arrived but things were already going wrong.

 Chapter 105

    Swiss ArmsChapter 105


    -VB-


    Hans von Fluelaberg


    The lord mayor of Lindau was freaking out.


    I don''t know why, but he was freaking out pretty hard, even though he was hiding it pretty well.


    It''s been an entire day since I''ve arrived at his city, and in our first private meeting, he was still freaked out.


    "So what is this about, mayor?" I asked him as I took a sip of the sweetened ale offered to me. He''s been accommodating for me, even more so than I expected because he was a mayor - a commoner - and I a baron.


    The bushy bearded mayor almost fidgeted, but he kept his composure - calm body language, hands clasped together and resting on the table between us, and wearing clothes that showed wealth but not necessarily arrogance about his wealth - and looked at me.


    "Milord, I want to know if you were ¡­ slighted by the fact that bandits in my territory assaulted you en route to my city," he began.


    I stared at him.


    He stared at me.


    I stared at him a bit longer.


    He looked like he was going to break out int- oh, no, he did just break out into a cold sweat.


    ¡­ Hmm, could I do something with this?


    "I was not slighted at all," I replied with my best casual smile. "In fact, I found it to be ¡­ refreshing. You can only travel for so long before you start to get bored."


    The mayor stilled. "I see. I am still glad that you weren''t hurt by them. If ¡­ it does not bother you, then may I punish them through the city''s judicial system?"


    Not a big ask. "Sure."


    He suddenly looked too happy.


    Why was that? Was someone among the bandits his kin? A prized agent?


    "But," I added after a moment. "I''m surprised that bandits are the first thing you have in mind," I drawled.


    He froze up.


    Man, this guy was way too easy to fuck with. Did Isabella and half of my people have really good poker faces?


    ¡­ But I should get serious. It was obvious that he was wary of me to an extent. I could use that to my advantage.


    Lindau was a critical juncture for a lot of the trade that went through my town. Sure, Chur was also a juncture, but traders didn''t need to go to Chur, which was, for a Prince-Bishop''s capital city, pretty poor by the empire''s standard. For example, the Prince-Bishopric of Lubeck, and not to be confused with the Free and Hanseatic City of Lubeck, which broke off from the former, was a very rich place because the capital city of the Prince-Bishopric of Lubeck, Eutin, was right next to the city of Lubeck. Chur was still not rich in comparison, despite the fact that me handing them over a recipe to make paper and the city''s gusto adoption of a new industry led to increasing prosperity for the city.


    Lindau, however, was rich. In fact, Constance and Lindau, the two nearest free imperial cities, were the richest cities nearby that traded with me and the Compact.


    However, there was a difference in the kind of trades that occurred. Constance, for example, did their utmost best to purchase any and all dyes that I made. Lindau couldn''t compete with the richer free imperial city in the dye market, so they instead bought more wool from us. What Lindau did do, however, was purchase more porcelain while the porcelain trade seemed to lack behind for Constance.


    From what I heard, I knew that most of the porcelain didn''t stay here. Instead, those went beyond the Alps and into Swabia and Bavaria. In exchange, they brought salt from through the Bavarian salt road.


    Lindau, as such, was a chokepoint for my porcelain and salt trade.


    I wanted to pressure the good mayor to reduce tariffs on those goods.


    But of course, whatever he felt worried about regarding the bandit couldn''t be the only variable I would use to negotiate the tariffs. Instead, I needed to bring a few more things to the table.


    "The road is sure unsafe around these parts, yes?"


    The mayor froze up.


    "I¡­ yes, it can be like that when winter approaches, your grace. You know, the peasants can get a little desperate if the harvest is bad, ha ha ha!" he nervously stuttered out with a laugh at the end.


    It sounded forced¡­ which it probably was.


    Why not make him sweat a little bit more?


    "You know, I remember reading a certain book that came out of this city," I said casually without breaking my stare. "A book that seemed to claim ownership of many things that weren''t the author''s to claim."


    The mayo was visibly sweating now.


    "He wouldn''t ¡­ happen to still be around, would he?"


    "No! No, I sent him away. I - I couldn''t have someone so dishonest in my city. You understand, right?"


    I leaned back. "Yes. But why does it seem like Lindau seems to be complicit in many inconveniences that I keep encountering, I wonder¡­" I drawled before giving him a hard glare. "It wouldn''t happen to be because its mayor wants to pick a fight with me, right?" S§×ar?h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "I wouldn''t dare!"


    "So you say." I paused. "Lindau is already very close to the Compact, and if my negotiation with the Count of Heiligenberg goes through successfully, then Lindau will be right across the water from the Compact."


    The mayor nodded slowly and fearfully.


    "I ¡­ see. Yes, I have considered that. We would be neighbors, then."


    I nodded with a smile.


    The smile seemed to put him off more than my agreement.


    "... Where are you getting at, your grace?"


    "Well," I began. "If we are to be neighbors, then it would be good if we help each other, right? Neighbors wouldn''t ¡­ harm each other."


    "Yes¡­?"


    "And if bandits like those are a yearly problem for you like you were alluding, then I will be more than happy to lend you a hand."


    He seemed surprised by my offer, and gained a rather calculating look.


    "You will?"


    "Of course, but it takes time and money to train my rangers, and I pay them rather well. I can''t reduce their pay just because they are helping my neighbors."


    "Of course¡­?"


    "So I was wondering if you will be amenable to ¡­ negotiations on tariffs for goods coming from the Compact. Of course, this means that I will also reduce tariffs in exchange."


    Mayor Frederick stared at me before nodding. "I am open to negotiation, Baron Fluelaberg."


    "Wonderful! How about reducing all tariffs down to 1%?"


    Despite his obvious wary respect and fear, he balked at that. "My baron, you may as well pull out your sword and rob me at swordpoint!" he protested. "Those tariffs make up a large part of the city''s income. I can''t possibly lower them down by more than a few pfennigs!"


    I grinned. Now, we were getting into a proper negotiation.


    -VB-


    Count Simon Zahringen of Heiligenberg


    As his men and he rode toward Lindau along the coast of the Bodensee, Simon wondered about the man he would meet.


    The letters he had received didn''t read like it was from someone who was just learning to read and write, which meant that the rumors about the baron being some common born was false or at least so incomplete that Simon couldn''t trust any of the other rumors and information he gathered about the man.


    The only one he could trust then was from his "accountant" who came from Lindau.


    And that man reminded him time and time again that the Baron of Fluelaberg was probably one of the smartest men in Swabia if not the empire. Not directly, no, but by acknowledging that the man was the source of unheard of knowledge of the natural world.


    And even alchemy.


    In the weeks between then and now, the problem in his fief had only grown worse. He needed to get as much money out of this deal as possible, because it was clear to him that if he didn''t have a large supply of coins, his people might suffer.


    He glanced at Lindau, which sat on an island off the northern coast of Bodensee, and hummed. There were some people on the bridge, including someone who looked ¡­


    He wasn''t quite sure. Rough? Tough? Whoever that was, he was definitely a warrior if the giant sword on his back was any indication.


    The man also noticed him, and waited for him.


    ¡­ Could it be?


    As his entourage reached the bridge, the fur coated and giant sword wielding man looked up from where he and a few equally fur coated but swordless men stood on the ground while he was on top of a horse.


    "Count Zahringen?"


    "That is I."


    The man bowed lightly. "I am Baron Hans von Fluelaberg. It is a pleasure to meet you, milord."


    -VB-


    A/N: A common occurrence in HRE''s history is that a noble''s or a priest''s territory becomes rich as a result of one of the cities. Then those cities would go and break away from their overlord by becoming a free imperial city, which the HRE emperors were more than happy to grant imperial immediacy to as a way of reducing the power of up and rising nobility and because these cities would be directly under the emperor and thus pay their taxes to him, not their former lords. This is why you have, for example, the Prince-Bishopric of Augsburg and the Free Imperial City of Augsburg. And the Prince-Bishopric of Bremen and the Free Imperial City of Bremen, and as discussed in this chapter, the Prince-Bishopric of Lubeck and the Free and Hanseatic City of Lubeck. This is also what happened during the Chur Election Mini-Arc when the city of Chur broke away as a political entity from the Prince-Bishopric of Chur.

 Chapter 106

    Swiss ArmsChapter 106


    -VB-


    Simon Zahringen


    As a count, there was a level of grace and nobility he had to show. As a member of the House of Zahringen, he was a representative of the entire house in all dealings. He was already here on a backfoot because no noble worth his blood and house would be selling off a piece of his fief due to financial reasons.


    But here he was.


    Even if this baron was supposed to be a peasant raised to nobility, such a concept should be easily understood. More than that, he married a daughter of an Italian nobility; even if the Italians were rumored and known for their avarice, even they didn''t sell off their land if they could help it.


    So even if the letters had been neutral and respectful, he expected some level of hidden derision.


    Instead, he found none.


    Sitting across the table from the baron in their first ever negotiation, he found the baron to ¡­ he wasn''t sure. He was polite. He was calm.


    He also possessed shard presence like that of old, veteran knights who saw many battlefields. Wasn''t that exactly the case? The baron may be years younger than he was, but he also stepped onto battlefields that Simon himself would be hesitant to fight in. Rumors of the man working as a mercenary just a year before his ascension during Chur''s time of turmoil meant that he had to have seen at least half a dozen battles.


    Then there was that title.


    The Count Killer.


    The rurmored title may have been one of the reasons why he thought the baron might look down on him. After all, if he was a peasant with the tactical, strategical, and personal martial prowess who took down half a dozen counts, then wouldn''t he also look down on the higher nobility?


    Yet he saw none of that in the baron''s posture and speech. In fact, he was doing his best to make himself affable.


    He wondered if the baron was just that desperate to expand his territory.


    Oh, he knew exactly how important Balliwick of Rheintal would be to the baron and his associates in the "Compact." It would physically connect the Compact to the Bodensee, which would increase the mercantile association''s access to the rich city-states along its coast like Imperial City of Konstanz.


    It would also increase the baron''s personal standing. Hell, if he gained even one more such territory, then he might even have cause to elevate himself to the title of a graf with the same rank as the one Simon held as the Count of Heiligenberg.


    But that probably wouldn''t happen, so even greed probably wasn''t driving the baron.


    It irked him that he didn''t understand his fellow man, because without even an inkling of that understanding, he knew that he couldn''t find the best standing to get as much money out of the rich baron as he could to keep his fief running.


    "I must ask," he began. "How did you react when my letter arrived at your castle?" he asked, taking care to say castle instead of town or fort. The latter two would be a statement of fact, yes, but saying castle would be placing the baron a bit higher on the nobility as not any baron would have a castle. After all, most barons only had a village manor, not even a town and never mind a fort, and Baron Fluelaberg raised up a castle and a rich town in under five years. To say anything but a castle when referring to him would be him looking down on the baron and thus starting the negotiation on a bad footing.


    "A surprise for sure," the younger noble replied with a hum. "I ¡­ was under the impression that most of the nobles around were dismissive of me for having been born a commoner, if not outright hostile for my position and past acts."


    Simon shrugged. "Personally, I think you might be overestimating the hostility," he replied before quickly speaking again to correct himself. "The lords of the mountains that you are in right now are not closely tied to Swabian or Bavarian nobles. The sole exception is the Count of Toggenburg, who everyone knows is tied to the Habsburgs, but exceptions do not make the rule. And even if you are not overestimating, the rumors say that all of the nobles - relevant nobles - in your fief and surrounding fiefs are either your ally or in truce. Is that not the case?"


    "It is the case," he replied. "Duke of Tyrol is a cousin of my wife, Count of Toggenburg has taken over the lands of the Sargans, and the Count of Montfort is the only one who is not my ally but is in a truce with me and the Compact." Then he paused. "I have no idea what is going on with the Lords of Sax, Misox, and Belmont. The former two are brothers who are fighting to gain ownership of their father''s full titles, and Barony of Belmont is a subject of Werdenberg, who is the Count of Montfort and thus at peace with me."


    "And the prestigous House of Habsburgs are your ally''s family."


    "Yes, though I am not sure how much weight that holds."


    Simon looked at the baron.


    Not know how much weight that holds?


    The current emperor was a Habsburg.


    The biggest contiguous territory next to Bodensee was that of the Habsburgs.


    The Habsburgs held a large share of the Salt Road in their grasp.


    Merely being an ally of Habsburg''s in-laws would be enough to gain favorable treatment.


    He paused.


    Would it be wise of him to remind the young baron of that? That might upset the negotiation by giving him far more power than he might think he had.


    ¡­ No. Perhaps after the negotiation was over, but he wouldn''t push the topic right now. That would be foolish of him.


    "Very well. Let us get to the heart of this negotiation. Rheintal is a territory with just under two thousand people, and has no special product aside from animal products like leather, wool, and meat. The three towns in the territory - Rheineck, Altstatten, and Lustenau - each hold no more than four hundred people."


    "Two thousand people, huh? That''s a little under half of Fluelaberg''s population."


    Simon''s mind froze and then shattered.


    Four thousand people?


    The young baron created a town - no, a city rivaling Lindau - in under five years?! Four thousand people? Where did they all come from?!


    But ¡­ but that also meant that he must be collecting a lot of tax from them, especially since Fluelaberg was a city of industry. He might be able to get more than he thought.


    "And how much do you think Rheintal is worth, milord?" Hans asked him.


    Simon looked at the baron before leaning back. "Personally, I think thirty years of its tax income would suffice. That would be ¡­ a forty thousand silver pfennigs."


    He felt a cold sweat run down his back. He knew that forty thousand was a significant sum, even for dukes and kings, especially for a piece of land that hadn''t gotten him decent tax in the past five years.


    "That is absurd," Hans frowned. "If I had a forty thousand pfennigs, then I would just hire every mercenary in the Forest Cantons and just conquer richer Bavarian lands or even my neighbors like the Werdenbergs and the Montforts," he scoffed. "Milord, you can''t joke like that when we''re doing a serious negotiation. Please be reasonable. How about ten thousand silver pfennigs?"


    "That is an insult to my management if you think you can only get ten thousand silver pfennigs from Rheintal over the course of thirty years."


    "Considering the state of that land that I saw as I passed through it, I am not sure if I can recoup five thousand over the course of thirty years."


    "It isn''t just about the silvers you gain from tax. It''s roughly around five hundred able-bodied men you can call up as levies. How does thirty thousand pfennigs sound?" Sear?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "That is still men I would have to feed, house, and pay, milord. If anything, untrained levies are a burden to how I operate my army and the ¡­ lacking state of Rheintal might see bandits rising up from hungry villages. I''ve had to deal with a couple on the way here. I am willing to offer fourteen thousand pfennigs."


    Simon glared at the young man. He drove a hard bargain.


    "Fifteen thousand and no lower," he laid down his final card. Fifteen thousand was what he thought he might get at maximum before this meeting, but now, it was too low for his taste. Yet he couldn''t deny that the baron raised concerns and valid points about Rheintal. He didn''t think that the baron had already inspected the land on his way, which made sense. But to accuse him of mismanagement that already caused banditry? "Bad harvest is not something a mortal man can change."


    The baron tapped his finger on the table, obviously contemplating his final offer. "... Very well. I will accept fifteen thousand," he sighed.


    ¡­ Really?


    Simon felt a smile break out. Fifteen thousand pfennigs from a territory that hasn''t paid any substantial sum of tax in the past five years was great.


    "You''ve made a great choice in accepting the offer, baron," he said as he stood up and extended a hand. The baron stood up and shook his hand, and he almost winced at how strong the younger man was. "Let us invite the lord mayor into the room so that he may witness the transfer of territory."


    The baron nodded and stood up to get the mayor.


    Within moments, the mayor was in the room with them and both the baron and Simon drafted up the agreement for the transfer.


    -VB-


    On November 15th, 1304, Count Simon Zahringen of Heiligenberg sold the Balliwick of Rheintal to Baron Hans von Fluelaberg of the Compact for fifteen thousand pfennigs. At the time of the signing, a gold guelder used within the Compact was worth seventeen pfennigs from Straousborg or Konstanz. Another common conversion was one Compact guelder - sometimes called Fluelaguelder - to thirteen groschen from Merano. This made the value of Rheintal, as determined by Count of Heiligenberg and Baron of Fluelaberg to be 883 gold fluelaguelders.


    It is the opinion of this author that the baron paid nearly twice the value of the territory. However, as an increasingly powerful polity, the speedy acquisition of land and territory is probably the better ¡­


    -Excerpt from Treatise on the Rise of the Compact by Arnold ***** from the University of *****, 1744.


    -VB-


    Hans von Fluelaberg


    I sat up awake at midnight with Isabella sleeping quietly next to me. But despite the lack of light, I could clearly see the Quest screen in front of me.


    [One''s Desperate Measure is Your Opportunity]


    -Territorial Quest-


    Objective:


    Successfully gain the Bailiwick of Rheintal (Vogtei Rheintal)


    Bonus (Failed)


    *Purchase Rheintal for under 500 gold guelders or equivalent


    Reward (Choose One):


    *Title of Count


    *1 Critical Intel (Foreign)


    *1 Critical Intel (Domestic)


    Nice. The mission was a success, and even though I didn''t manage to achieve the Bonus objective because the count started with an absurd price and I couldn''t exactly give a better excuse to drop the price down to below 500 guelders, I was fine with the outcome.


    As for the reward¡­


    The title of a count wouldn''t help me. Sure, being a baron was essentially being a bottom bitch on the nobility hierarchy. There were only three titles below the baron: landed knight, free knight, and untitled nobles. Legally, I was at the bottom. But then again, I knew better than to think that titles meant a lot, didn''t I? I''ve killed counts and defeated dukes. My title of a baron was the least of my problems should someone really want to fight me.


    Which meant my choice came down to a "critical" intel between foreign and domestic issues.


    ¡­ Personally, I wanted to go for a domestic intel because I wanted to know what serious problem the Compact may have. At the same time, I was more or less blind to the foreign affairs of the states surrounding me. A good example of that was the Bishop of Como and the Lordship of Milan. The two powers to the south of Abbey of Disentis. Como controlled - or at least influenced - all of the valleys between itself and Disentis Abbey. Milan, on the other hand, was a very powerful city that would, in the future, become a powerhouse of the Po Valley.


    They were important to me because Como controlled the trade route in and out of the mountains to the rich Italian city-states and Milan, well, Milan was the trade hub. They weren''t as important as Venice right now, but that was like saying Sacramento was not important because it wasn''t San Francisco or Los Angelos, or that Konstanz wasn''t important because it wasn''t Aachen or Zurich.


    But Como and Milan weren''t my immediate foreign concerns. That was Upper Bavaria and the House of Wittelbachs.


    My current cloak and dagger operation in their lands trudged on, and I expected a measurable inflation in their economy within the next five years. Hell, it wasn''t even hard. Sure, while a normal person might take longer and fail more often to copy a coin''s design, I, with my superior strength, control, and knowledge, just made a multiple stamps with the engravings of the Munich pfennig designs. Combined with a water wheel, viola~!, I had a foundry pumping out Munich pfennig by the ton every day which was not made out of silver but mixed heavily with crap metals.


    So unless someone squealed, there shouldn''t be an issue there, either.


    But that''s the problem with problems, wasn''t it? They often popped up where you don''t expect them.


    Domestic issues could be easily solved.


    Foreign ones couldn''t.


    With that rational in mind, I chose Critical Intel (Foreign) as my reward.


    The Quest screen disappeared. In its place, a small screen floated in front of me.


    I looked at the words on the screen.


    My eyes widened.


    I read it again.


    I dismissed the screen and closed my eyes. I sat there on the bed for a while before laying down.


    ''I''ll deal with that tomorrow.''


    Because I didn''t want to think about my middle-aged ally and in-law getting married to a fourteen year old.

 Chapter 107

    Swiss ArmsChapter 107


    -VB-


    Isabella von Fluelaberg nee Gorizia


    Consort-Baroness of Fluelaberg


    When her husband came back home, he did so as a triumphant man who''d done much for himself and his people.


    Isabella looked at the paper with the wax insignias of two lords and a mayor, the two nobles approving the transaction and the lord mayor of a free imperial city as a witness.


    It was a territory that was about half the size of her father''s County of Gorizia, but more importantly, it opened up a direct pathway from the heart of the Compact to Bodensee and its trade cities like Konstanz, Lindau, and Uberlingen without needing to pass by territories of lords and bishops who may not be friends of the Compact.


    This also made Chur important as the geographical center of the Compact.


    "... You don''t look like a noble who just tripled his personal territory, husband," she remarked as she looked up from the paper to look at Hans, who was picking away at his peas, pork chop, and salad.


    Hans looked up, blinked, and then laughed nervously. "Sorry, sorry. Just a bit distracted."


    "And what could possibly distract you from this?" she asked as she waved his copy of the treaty.


    He paused. "Well, I just remembered something one of my spies told me."


    She stared at him. "You have spies?"


    Hans nodded. "It concerns the Kingdom of Bohemia."


    Isabella stared at him. "When did you even get a spy up there?" she asked incredulously.


    The Kingdom of Bohemia - sometimes called the Electorate of Bohemia - was arguably the most powerful state in all of the empire. The current emperor had to tiptoe around them when eastern affairs were concerned because they were a kingdom who had claims not just to the Kingdom of Hungary but also the Kingdom of Poland. And as one of the electors of the empire, they wielded significant power as to who would become the next emperor.


    "One of the courtiers that my spy talks to has mentioned how the current king of Bohemia is looking for alliances."


    "... But why?" she asked.


    "The Hungarian Succession."


    She didn''t know much about it at all.


    "Can you explain to me? I don''t know anything about that."


    He nodded. "The former king of Hungary died last year. Or was it two years ago? His death has created a succession crisis due to a lack of a male heir. Currently, there are three potential claimants. One of them is the current king and his princely son of Bohemia, Wenceslaus II and III."


    "And who are the others?"


    "One of them is a Wittelbachs. Not a relative of our dear Duke Louis of Upper Bavaria but a member of Lower Bavarian Wittelbachs. He has the weakest claim."


    "And the last?"


    "Charles of Anjou, grandson of the current King of Naples."


    Her eyes widened.


    "It''s clear what they want to do," Hans hummed. "The Bohemian king wants to marry one of his daughters to your cousin Henry, but the oldest of them is still a decade and a half younger than Henry."


    "... does she look pretty?"


    He stared at her before rolling her eyes. "I never saw her or her portrait so I wouldn''t know. Why?"


    "Well, if Henry is finally going to get married, then I''d want a girl for him who''s good for him!" she told him evne though it was the most obvious thing. "Is she a good person?"


    "Again, not the kind of stuff my spy tells me."


    She pouted. "Ugh. That''s a useless spy."


    He chuckled before he turned stoic. "You know what that means, though, right?"


    She nodded with a frown. "Yes. Henry might become involved in a war."


    He nodded. "I''m ¡­ a little concerned, but not overly so," he pointed out. "If Henry wants to get involved in a war on behalf of the Bohemian king, then that''s his business. What I am worried about is how his decision will impact our coalition''s effort against the Wittelbachs."


    "...?" He smirked when he saw how confused she looked, which only made her feel combative. "What?!" she pouted.


    "Nothing," he hummed before he raised an hand and put it on her round stomach. "How long has it been?"


    She smiled as she put her hands on top of his. "Five months now."


    He hummed.


    "... Well?"


    "Hmm?" he looked up at her.


    "Keep talking," she huffed.


    "Sure," he said after looking at her quizzically. "So. Henry. Obviously, any war he gets involved in will lead to an increase of commerce, and opportunistic merchants from neighboring states will come flooding in to make a profit for themselves. I am worried that this will result in a dilution of the debased coins."


    "And why is that bad?"


    "You mean aside from the fact that those coins would find their way to us because we have luxuries everyone wants?"


    "Yes, aside from that."


    Hans looked contemplative for a while. "It''ll mean our efforts to weaken Upper Bavaria will take longer, but I want to drag Duke Louis off of his seat of power before the end of the decade."


    She giggled. "You think you''re not ambitious, Hans, but you are a pretty ambitious man."


    "You think so?" he laughed.


    If he, a man who gathered dukes, an empress, and powerful nobles to bring down another powerful duke, was not ambitious, then truly ambitious men must be monsters of greed.


    -VB- S§×arch* The novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Gion


    Prince-Bishop of Chur


    "So he succeeded."


    "Your Grace?"


    Gion looked up from the letter he received from Baron Fluelaberg, and looked at the monk serving him as his steward. The old man was someone who''s been serving the prince-bishop of Chur for a long time.


    "It seems that Baron Fluelaberg managed to purchase the Rheital Balliwick from the Count of Heiligenberg," he told him.


    "Ah! It is a good news for the Compact, then? Should I prepare some gifts to congratulate the baron?"


    Gion waved his hand. "No, don''t bother. He''s a capable man. I expected something like this from him."


    The steward raised an eyebrow. "Truly?"


    "Well, he got me in this position, didn''t he?"


    -VB-


    Hartmann


    New Count of Werdenberg


    "... Well, shit."


    After his father died of heart attack this summer, Hartmann - or Hartmann III - had been running around like a headless chicken to get his land under his control. He was almost tempted to send letters to his uncles and ask them to come help him, but Uncle Hugo was a Knight Hospitallier and Uncle Harty was a canon in Bamberg.


    And now, the people who surrounded his capital in Vaduz and laid siege to it against his father mere years ago had just purchased his cousin''s lands in Rheintal. This was bad.


    To his north was his family''s traditional rival, the Montforts, and to ¡­ everywhere else was now part of the Compact, because he learned just now that Rheintal had been sold to the Count Killer.


    He had no allies, his father was dead, and his uncles were unlikely to come help him in any sort of reasonable amount of time.


    But even if his father fought the Compact, would they hold any enmity toward him?


    ¡­ Would it be bad for him to join hands with the peasants?


    He didn''t know.


    His father had spared him the battlefield, because he never believed in the Count of Sargans and the Count of Misox-Sax and their claims. And where were they now? The count was dead, and his two sons were fighting over a meager piece of land that was barely twice the size of Vaduz itself. The Count of Sargans was dead at the hands of his only peer, the Count of Toggenburg.


    ¡­ It can''t hurt to send a letter to see how the prince-bishop, toggenburg, and the baron feel about his inclusion, right? If it doesn''t come to a membership, then he would accept even a non-aggression pact.


    -VB-


    Anton Luhr


    Munich, Duchy of Upper Bavaria


    This was going to be a problem.


    Even though he was willing to part with more of the Wittelsbach white pfennigs, he was having to pay more each month.


    When the bloody grocers were asking nearly half as much more as common goods like lettuce used to be, he knew that this was going to be a problem.


    His problem was not spending enough of it to not become his problem.


    His problem was getting people to accept it from his guild while also keeping it out of his guild, because eventually, those coins made it back to him.


    There was only so much of it he could spent outside without putting much of his assets and people out of commission for internal affairs.


    In fact, if the situation continued to escalate, then he might just stop accepting the Wittelsbach white pfennigs¡­ if they were white pfennigs.


    Sitting at his office desk, he looked down at the pile of supposedly white pfennigs that his people accepted last week. He was sorely tempted to have them melted down to see if they were at least worth the silver they were minted out of.


    ¡­ But then again, there was so many of them in circulation that it didn''t really matter, did it?


    "Samuel, get in here!"

 Chapter 108

    Swiss ArmsChapter 108


    -VB-


    Hans von Fluelaberg


    Winter passed and I greeted the Year of Our Lord 1305.


    My people managed to go through the harsh Alps winter with very little damage to show for it. Compared to the other cities nearby (Lindau and Chur), there were very any people dying from hunger or exposure. This had a lot to do with the fact that I provided small amount of coal to anyone who asked and provided jobs even to the infirm.


    There was this girl - Annabell - who lost her left leg due to some accident before her family migrated to my city earlier this year. Being a cripple, she didn''t have much job prospects, so I asked Isabella to take her in and make her into a bureaucrat. Of course, we had to start with reading and writing, but considering that the girl had very little to do even at her home with her family, she was quick to take to reading and writing. She only managed to start working as an actual bureaucrat only at the start of winter, but she''s been worth the investment my wife and I put into her.


    If there was a problem with my barony, then it was the fact that the city was expanding way too quickly toward Davos, creating an urban sprawl despite the fact that I was forcefully getting my people to build three to four story apartment as the default housing. This problem existed because people kept moving into my city even during winter.


    The most problematic cause of this was that many of these migrants came from within the Compact.


    Yes, my city-barony was starting to experience a rise in urbanization.


    It helped the people that the basic hygienic practices I''ve put into practice have been helping the town see less deaths.


    But less deaths meant more people in the city that needed to be fed, clothed, and housed.


    The city''s population hit five thousand by New Year''s Eve, which made it the most populated city in all of the Swabian Alps, and it was a size achieved in under four years of its existence.


    ¡­ There were so many things I needed to implement now before the town became too big and populated. I needed a better and more extensive sewage system, water distribution pipes, more branched out roads, and more. That meant I needed money.


    But I spent a whole lot of my liquid cash on acquiring Rheintel, leaving with not enough cash to start any one of those projects at least until summer this year.


    I could start it bit by bit, especially if I put myself to work, but that would take me away from my other duties.


    "None of you are putting your all into this!" I shouted abruptly at the trainees who had the misfortune of having me for their trainer today. "You better start pushing those boulders before I start adding laps you all have to do before lunch!"


    My "encouragement" got the five squads of ranger hopefuls to start pushing harder, but pushing harder didn''t necessarily mean they were doing it right.


    Right now in front of me were six groups of ranger hopefuls. Men and women who have been soldiers, militia, or mercenaries before they chose to join me for higher, consistent pay and respect.


    Rangers were something of a celebrity in the Compact, you know?


    And so these hopefuls, some thirty guys and girls (there were two girls because I didn''t particularly care that they were choosing to be a soldier, even if the rest of society did) were here in front of me pushing giant cubes chiseled out of the mountains and pushing them along the wooden "rails" the town''s miners used to push big rocks out from the entrance of the mines to the edge of the city where they now had a new workshop.


    "Put your back into it!" I snapped at them.


    They should be grateful that they weren''t pushing those boulders on raw ground. Those wooden rails made it easier for them to push the boulder along.


    Oh, and this also took care of some work for the miners so they could focus on the actual mining. It was training and working in one job.


    Unfortunately for the hopefuls, the first thing I wanted out of them was stamina and strength training. They have to carry a lot and hike all over the forest, valleys, and mountains. Without those two traits, they weren''t going to make it as a ranger.


    Along the sidelines, two of the ranger instructors giggled at the new training method I''d thought up. Unlike the new hopefuls, they and their peers just got beat up and told to "git gud" if they didn''t want to get beat up. They still get beat up but they get beat up less because I started to have them focus on other aspects like awareness and observation.


    Anyone would start becoming aware of their surroundings if they got pelted in the face with a packed snowball in the middle of the night by yours truly.


    It also helped me train my stealth skill.


    [Stealth] LvL.73


    Sneaky Beaky Like.


    Reduces discovery


    *0.75% reduction in discovery chance per level.


    *Keep reduction when moving silently outside of enemy''s close vision


    This skill''s been around since the Count of Zernez had come attacking my town.*


    My rangers were, ah, becoming paranoid these days. They were always on the lookout for me in my camo gear, but since my winter camo gear gave +60% stealth as base stat if I had snow in the background, they were never catching me.


    Not that they knew that.


    To them, I was the white devil ready to drop snowballs in their underwears in their sleep, during mealtime, and training.


    They hated me.


    And soon, these guys will hate me, too.


    "Get those thighs pumping! Little kids can push rocks better than you can!" I cackl- shouted at them. I was not enjoying this. This was just training and weeding, nothing more.


    ---


    Despite my desire and push to have more bureaucracy in my barony, the actual day to day paperwork outside of certain seasons and projects remained low.


    Low did not mean nonexistent, however, and if I didn''t look over them every day to ensure that the work was done, then I would eventually come to my office to stacks of paper that had everything from land dispute claims and tax report to guard report and mine output report. Not to mention report from my porcelain workshop about how much they made, sold, broke, and retained.


    I actually thought about delegating the workshop management, but didn''t do that because, well, porcelain workshop was kind of like my town''s specialty. I wanted to keep a tight control over it.


    The mine I already privatized-ish.


    And the report I held in front of me told me about its output from the independent miners working their ass off during winter.


    Independent miners were also a very interesting group of people. While the initial miners were all from the local area, the demographics changed as time went on. For one, around half of the veteran miners actually stopped mining and took on other jobs related to mining. A good example of this was a man named Joachim from Davos. The man was a farmer''s third son, and chose to work in my mines. After two years of working in the mines, he chose to become a sculptor. I wished him the best.


    Sure, while I wasn''t getting the most amount of money by continuing to allow miners to make a lot of money, but it wasn''t just about money. It was about stability among my people, who might have otherwise turned to crime as there was far less jobs during winter for people. By keeping the mine open for independent miners to profit off from, I could redirect otherwise bored, cashless, and starving lower class. After all, it wasn''t like I was paying out the miners for useless rocks. Most of the minerals, ores, and even fossils ended up in my treasury, and I paid the miners from money I earned selling porcelain.


    The report I held pointed something out that irked me. S§×ar?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Gold?" I frowned as I stared down at the report.


    The mine had somehow found a gold vein, and the news spread like wildfire.


    Sure, my town (or rather, I) produced gold from my private shaft underneath the castle. However, having an open source of gold that the public could take advantage of would bring a lot more people than I wanted right now. Gold had the tendency of attracting the unscrupulous thieves and scammers.


    I''ll have to increase town guard numbers and keep an eye out for corruption, too.


    I sighed as I pulled out a new piece of paper to do exactly that.


    -VB-


    Anton Luhr


    Munich, Duchy of Upper Bavaria


    He stared at the three piles of metals that Samuel brought to him.


    Only the two of them knew what Samuel was doing under his orders, and Anton felt both horrified and vindicated by what he saw.


    "A-Are you sure?" he asked his friend.


    "Yeah," Samuel grunted as he looked down at the metals in front of him with equal disdain and worry. "The new guelders don''t have as much gold as the older guelders. The new pfennigs alos have less silver than the old pfennigs. Like ¡­ something like a fifth of the coin is made with some other metal."


    In one pile of metal, there were coins.


    In the second pile of metal, there were older coins.


    And in the third pile of metal, there were silver and gold chunks along with mysterious metals that weren''t silver, gold, or copper.


    "That''s¡­" Anton muttered in horror. A fifth of the coin was not the precious metal they were supposed to be? "Oh God."


    -VB-


    A/N:


    *Chapter 10


    What do you think Merchant Anton will do? He just learned that the duchy just saw an inflation over 15%, even if that''s not how he would put it or recognize it as. The pfennigs and guelders may as well be fakes, and he''s seeing them everywhere.

 Chapter 109

    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 109


    -VB-


    Anton Luhr


    Anton didn''t know what to do.


    The duke was obviously a greedy son of a bitch if he was willing to go so far as to mix a quarter of the coin''s weight with junk metal. That was ¡­ that was unthinkable. Anton wasn''t a merchant great enough to understand just how bad it was, but he understood that once the news about this got out, things were going to be extremely bad within the Duchy of Upper Bavaria.


    First, he understood at the very least that once the news got out, outraged commoners and merchant might go on a riot. People have rioted for less.


    Second, merchants and peddlers outside of the duchy will start trading less for Upper Bavarian pfennigs, groschen, and guelders. With people no longer taking those coins, they will either have to pay more for the same goods or get less goods for the same amount of coins.


    Third, guards, men-at-arms, knights, and other more sword and spear oriented professions will seek other alternative sources of income.


    What would he lose if he stayed? If the duke decided to punish the merchants, then he would get caught up because he was a merchant, whether or not he partook in whatever riot or pressure merchants as a group might try to put on the duke to compensate for the devalued coins and loss of profit. Riots might also burn his people and assets. Roving bandits on the rise will surely make trade more expensive and harder.


    What would he gain if he stayed? Other merchants might leave, leaving him with more share of the city''s trade. He might be able to get artisans and merchants to join his guild, either as full members or associates. He might be able to have a better standing within the city, giving him the necessary foothold needed to advance him and his family''s status. He might even get a noble title if he helped the duke.


    What was more likely to happen?


    ¡­ A duke who devalued his own coins for greed wasn''t likely to give anyone anything even if they helped. Actually, he might turn around and stab them in the back. The devaluation was already exactly that. Anton and others in the city and the wider duchy served the new duke as their new lord faithfully, but the duke went and backstabbed them.


    Could he expect any reward from a lord like that? sea??h th§× nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Anton might just get himself killed towards the end of the oncoming crisis because that would be very convenient for the duke. After all, if he survived after contributing a lot, then he would be expected to be rewarded, right? But if he died "mysteriously" like how the previous duke had "mysterious" misunderstandings with the China Baron, then the duke wouldn''t have to reward anyone¡­


    He gulped.


    He ¡­ there was a lot to be gained, but it hinged heavily on the fact that the duke who already backstabbed his brother (allegedly) and backstabbed his people would be honorable.


    ¡­ Yeah, no.


    "Samuel," he spoke up. "What would you do in this situation?" he asked his friend. His childhood friend, really.


    Samuel looked up with his own dark bags underneath his eyes. The man might be a blacksmith, but he was also someone who''s been around merchants, peddlers, and other copper counting professions. He knew a thing or two more than most people did, and Anton''s own reaction to the latest reveal had pegged in just how bad things could be. Samuel was also not someone who would brush off problems just because it wasn''t directly related to him.


    "I would run," he replied. "I''m a blacksmith. I would be welcomed anywhere I go. I would pack my family''s most valuables and just leave. This looks and sounds like a problem that I can''t even get close to doing something about. This duke¡­ he''s not a good man. Not a good lord."


    Anton pinched the bridge of his nose.


    "Just ¡­ leave?"


    Samuel nodded. "What else can I do? I''m a blacksmith. Not even a knight. Maybe if I had something more to give, something more to lose, then I might have stayed. But the only thing I would lose by moving is my position in your guild, but that ain''t much when, obviously, things here in Munchen might go so far down to hell. Might move down the river to Landshut."


    "Yeah. That''s fair."


    "... what about you?"


    Anton groaned. "I want to pack up and leave before this blows up. I don''t see any way I can come out of this alright, never mind on top!" he moaned out. "Fucking hate this!"


    "Yeah, me too. I thought I was gonna have a heart attack when I saw not all of the coin melting into silver and gold. Might have been the heat, though."


    Anton snorted. "If you ever get a heatstroke in the smithy, then that''s the day the sun rises from the west." The brief levity disappeared as soon as it came. "God, this is too much. Why go so far?!"


    Now, he was getting angry.


    He knew that people were going to die. There was going to be a lot of people who were going to die from the duke doing this.


    "Yeah¡­ Yeah, leaving the city might not be a bad idea."


    "Where would you go?" Samuel asked him.


    "I don''t know. I need to go somewhere I can make money. Got too many people who depend on me."


    "... Then what about the place where all of the new stuff are coming from?"


    "New stuff?"


    "You know. The china stuff."


    "Oooh. Right. Fluelaberg." Then he paused. "You want me to go to the place that defeated the previous duke so thoroughly that it''s become a scandal for the House of Wittelsbach?"


    "Yeah. At least they can keep my family safe from the duke."


    "... Fair. I might go there, too. The baron has to keep a large army to be able to destroy the duke like that, right? That sounds like work for a blacksmith."

 Chapter 110

    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 110


    -VB-


    Hans von Fluelaberg


    "Your Grace," I greeted Prince-Bishop Gion of Chur as I took a knee and kissed his ring.


    The middle aged man allowed it to happen and cleared his throat. "I thank you for your welcome," he told me with a blank face. "I''m here to follow up on some of the concerns that have reached me. Let us discuss in private, but before that, let''s go through the town. It looks magnificent."


    "Of course. Your carriage -," I nodded and stood up.


    "I wish to walk," he interrupted me with a smile with bright curiosity in his eyes as he glanced around the western gate''s entrance. Like the eastern gate, the western gate and wall denoting where the town began and ended was made out of wood because I didn''t get to upgrade them to stone yet. But that was something I intended to fix within the next five years. If nothing else, then I had enough stone from the constant flow of stones from the local mines.


    I turned to my house retinues and servants who''d all come out to greet the prince-bishop. "All of you are dismissed. Back to your original duties."


    They all bowed and went off in an orderly fashion. I then led him through the town. He walked just fine, being only in his early fifties.


    "... It''s impossible," he said after only a minute.


    "Your Grace?" I asked as I glanced at him as we walked through the town.


    "A town of this size doesn''t exist anywhere but here," he said. "The very nature of the mountains and valleys prevent such a city from existing. After all, it''s hard to feed thousands of people from farming these valleys that reach less than a two-thirds of sunlight that the wider plains of Po Valley and Bavarian plains do," he added. "But you managed it. I''ve heard stories of your venturing in agriculture. How you went around the entire Compact to help people with their problems and troubles, even parts of members who have no direct use to you." He smiled at me. "So it is impossible, yes, but I think that impossibility is a thing of the past."


    I smiled in return with genuine pride. "Thank you. I''ve worked hard on it."


    "Oh, I bet you have! Your town certainly has, too. Look at those buildings. Most of them are at least three stories high, and there are some that are even built into the mountainside! This is the kind of thing I''ve never seen anywhere else, and I have been to Pavia, the city of towers!"


    "A city of towers?" I asked him in surprise.


    "Yes. That city has been building towers since before the 1000''s, I believe. They do it for the patricians to show off how rich they are! Foolish," he huffed. "Those towers are all narrow and long, barely holding enough space for a staircase up the entire tower''s height. But your buildings here. They are all for people to live and work in."


    I cleared my throat. "It can get a little dangerous," I replied. "Since most of these buildings use wood as the frame and flooring, fire is a problem I have to address one way or another."


    "Oh, I bet you do," he chuckled. "Fire in a regular house is a beast we can barely contain. Fire the size of those buildings? I''m glad I won''t be living here."


    I sighed. "I am getting the people to build with bricks, but even then, I need a way to put out fires quickly and have that method in the hands of everyone and their mothers."


    "What other way is there but sand and water?" he asked me.


    "Well¡­ I''ve actually been experimenting a little, Your Grace." Then I began to explain to him how I have "rediscovered" from an "ancient text" how to make sodium bicarbonate from limestone, water, and air, and how it drove away flames¡­


    "Ah, so you are not only a competent leader of men, builder of cities, merchant of luck and profit, but also an alchemist?" he asked me with a deadpan stare. "Why not be a miner, too?"


    I paused. "Ah, well -."


    "You''re a prolific miner, too? Are you a farmer as well?"


    I laughed nervously.


    He snorted amusedly.


    "Dear me, the strongest lord of the Alps isn''t content with just being a lord. Whatever shall we do¡­" he hummed as we continued to walk. Halfway through the town, he suddenly stopped and frowned. "What are those houses over there?" he asked as he pointed northward.


    I glanced over. "Ah. That''s the non-Christians quarter," I replied.


    For a moment, Gion looked like he was about to frown before he nodded. "It is good that you keep them separated," he noted. "It keeps the regular people from straying from the path of God."


    "..." It was risky but I felt a genuine need to speak up here. "I do not believe that."


    He glanced at me but didn''t say anything more. Was that an invitation for me to speak more or did I not want to talk about it right now?


    He nodded. "Then that is what you believe."


    The tour of the town continued in that fashion on a bright note, and we finally reached my castle.


    Unlike most of the structures of the town, my fort was actually stone because I did manage to renovate a little bit at a time thanks to my insane strength, coordination, and incessant digging underground for materials.


    "You built this yourself?" he asked me.


    "I did," I replied. "It used to be made out of wood, but I''ve been working on changing it out with stone a little bit at a time everyday. It helps that the stonemasons of the city got the stone ready for me to use instead of me having to spend precious time chiseling the stones on top of the renovation."


    He gave me a deadpan stare. "And you''re also a stone mason? Is there something you don''t know how to do?" he asked me half-seriously.


    I shrugged. "I think I haven''t tried priest before?"


    He snorted. "Something tells me that you wouldn''t fit into a monastery life." He paused. "Or do very well. Who knows?"


    ---


    A lunch meal later inside the castle, we finally got the privacy the bishop wanted.  S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    It was just the two of us in a small room away from most of the fort. Hell, there weren''t even any guards stationed outside the room, not that either of us needed one with me here.


    "So we are finally here," I said to him as I leaned back into my chair. Both of the chairs weren''t the more barebones design that I preferred but the thickly wool padded and silver inlaid designs fit for higher nobles. It was also easier on fragile and older bodies. "What is it that brought you all the way out here to discuss with me?"


    Bishop Gion looked at me with a frown.


    "It seems that there is trouble brewing in Bavaria," he sighed with a grimace. "Rumors of the Duke of Upper Bavaria minting only half silver pfennigs have reached me along with people fleeing what they see as the start of something horrific."


    I blinked.


    Half silver?


    I didn''t do that. I only mixed in like ¡­ a tenth. Or a quarter. At least those were my instructions. Were Henry''s smiths over in Tyrol going gungho with the project?


    "That ¡­ does sound like an issue," I nodded. And then decided to play dumb. "But it''s just coin in the end, right? If I can use it, then it shouldn''t be a problem."


    "Boy, that is not how coins work," he deadpanned at me. Success! "Even though I was a mere abbot before becoming a bishop, even I knew what debasing your coins meant. What is a coin, Hans?"


    "... What we use to exchange goods and services."


    He paused. "Well, yes," he muttered. "But that''s not all. Each coin has a value in and of itself. They are silver. They are copper. They are gold. Each of these metals are, by themselves, valuable. So what happens if you mix in some other metals that people don''t value? Like lead?"


    "... The value of the coin goes down."


    "Yes! But only if people notice it," he nodded. "And when that happens, people start panicking. Their trust in the coins and the people who minted them. But the people are not important. What''s more important is that the laws were broken by a lord in a public and unrecoverable manner. This will get the emperor involved, and if not, then at the very least, the neighboring lords will. You came to ask if you needed help preparing to prevent the coming Bavarian crisis from spilling into the Compact."


    My eyes widened.


    Well¡­ would you look at that? A non-noble member of the Compact actually came to me first to ask if I needed help.


    I smiled sincerely. "I suppose there will be more people coming over to the Compact, then. Would it hurt if Chur, not the city but the Barony of Chur that you have under your control, to accept some of those refugees?"


    "I can with ease. The Unruly Year left a lot of land available to settle, so this will not be a problem for me."


    "Good."


    After that, we got a little bit more in-depth about coordination of the Compact. I felt a little guilty about not being able to tell him about our scheme that caused Bavaria''s future problems.


    -VB-


    Anton Luhr


    Everything took time, and leaving everything behind also took time because, well, he wasn''t leaving everything behind, now was he?


    Anton had done his best to convince as many members of his guild, friends, and associates to leave Munchen, and in the process, managed to gather himself a caravan of considerable size, especially after he proved that the newly minted coins being distributed mostly outside of the city were ¡­ subpar.


    This was now a group of nearly a hundred people with a dozen mercenary guards.


    Anton glanced over toward the low fort. Its tall walls now felt oppressive to look at where as before he used to feel that it was a safety net from foreign attackers.


    Because that was where the new duke administered the duchy from, and he had intentionally allowed his realm to go to waste. And from the way there was not a single response from the duke and his council despite the fact that there were already rumors of the debased coins¡­


    He saw a crisis in his hometown''s future, and that hurt him a lot more than he thought it would.


    It was where his parents and ancestors were buried, after all.


    He sighed as he turned to look at all of the people waiting for his call. And then he turned to his guide, the man who claimed that he successfully smuggled goods out of the Compact.


    "You know the way?" he asked the smuggler.


    The unevenly shaved man nodded. "Yeah. I''ll get ya there as long as the reward at the end is what you promised."


    Anton nodded. He promised this smuggler three gulden to guide him and his caravan through the safest and quickest way to the city in the Alps.


    "Then you have me, mate," the smuggler grinned.


    Anton then turned to the rest of the caravan. "Alright, let''s get moving! We''re heading toward Memmingen!" he shouted and the people started moving, whipping the horses and cattle pulling their wagons and carts. Most of them just walked next to the baggage laden wagons.


    He turned to look one last time at the cobblestone streets and the busy marketplace.


    There was a very good chance he''ll never come back.


    But staying wasn''t an option right now. He could be taking drastic actions beyond what the immediate problem warranted but he didn''t think so. Not when this debasement of coins was the first official-unofficial act of Duke Louis IV.


    Anton turned back toward the front of the caravan and took his last steps out of Munchen.

 Chapter 111

    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 111


    -VB-


    Hans von Fluelaberg sea??h th§× ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    It started.


    The first sign of it was Prince-Bishop Gion talking to me about Bavaria.


    The second sign was the Compact''s own merchants refusing to accept Upper Bavarian coins regardless of when it was minted. The merchants were so upset with the coins that several of them sent me letters asking for a ban on Munchen coins in the wider Compact. Yes, merchants were sending me letters, and a few came from as far as Disentis and Toggenburg, the literal other side of the Compact.


    The third sign was a huge convoy of formerly Munchen merchant''s guild begging to join my city.


    I found myself in another meeting after the court session I held earlier today, and looked across the table at the merchant who''d come with all of his belongings and associates from Munchen. Personally, I didn''t think that he was a spy.


    But at the same time, I couldn''t just let him in.


    "Mister Luhr," I spoke to him after he made his case. Manipulative and silently greedy noble, unstable markets, fearing future crisis¡­ None of that quite mattered to me. Even if the crisis he foresaw was what I made clandestinely, I sympathized with him. But my sympathies can''t be allowed to disrupt the currently fragile stability that the previous migrants achieved. "While I understand your circumstances, allowing your guild and its associates to settle here in Fluelaberg would be against the city''s welfare. I am not against your people settling but the guild as an organization like you operated before¡­ no."


    "But why, milord?" Anton Luhr, the Bavarian merchant, asked me in confusion.


    "Because there is no such thing as guild privilege in my city," I told him bluntly.


    He stared at me with surprise.


    Guilds had privileges in cities. This was a fact of medieval city life. It ensured that only those with standards the guild approved of could sell their goods but this measure also limited innovation and trade as guilds, like all organizations with power, held onto their power jealously and ruthlessly stomped out any change that would shake their hold on power.


    "B-but that would mean that your city''s artisans operate without a standard found in any other city!"


    "Yup," I told him. "I even wrote it into my city''s laws to ban such monopolistic organizations not directly under the control of the city''s ruler. By the very law I''ve written, you cannot operate as you did, expecting privileges that do not exist in this city."


    He stared at me and then gulped. "And outside the city¡­?"


    "If you want to settle outside the city? Sure, go for it. I''m not stopping you from operating." Then I leaned in. "But understand that if you try to pressure or force anyone from the Compact to join you, then that would be breaking the law." I wanted that kind of thing nipped at the bud from the start. Allowing any organization to have a monopoly would be the death of the Compact in the long run, especially if it was related to commerce.


    "T-Then how would we compete and survive? We are newcomers without any connection," he begged me. Fuck, he was almost tearing up.


    I leaned back into my chair, putting up my best nonchalant and indifferent mien. "And why would that be my problem?" I asked him. "Did you send a letter asking if you could come to settle here? Did you buy property before you came? Do you even have anyone buying property right now?"


    He stuttered. "I¡­ I just wanted to avoid the bloodbath¡­"


    "Commendable," I told him. "Acting on what you saw was clearly coming. The Compact as a whole is unhappy with the duke''s behavior. We''re actually planning on sending him a letter demanding reparation for the loss of profit he''s caused with his coins. I do not doubt that all of the Free Cities close to Bavaria will do the same."


    Anton grimaced. Yes, my words only confirmed what he had speculated. The damages I''d wrought upon the Duchy of Upper Bavaria would make it and Duke Louis the enemy of all surrounding states, including those held by his own house.


    "But your commendability in dodging the crisis has nothing to do with me in the end," I said but then leaned in. "So be the merchant you are. Negotiate with me. What can you offer me for me to offer you work?" ?


    Was this the equivalent of kicking an injured dog after beating that dog? Maybe.


    But my people came first and my enemies and their assets were potential future acquisitions, not a guaranteed one. Anton and his people were rogues who would disrupt the stability that I needed before launching an attack (financial or otherwise) into Bavaria, so I couldn''t have him stay unless he could offer something tangible to offset his presence.


    "W-We have many blacksmiths. People who know the salt trade route. Contacts that you might not have, milord. I can offer those!"


    I tapped the table. It wasn''t what I wanted, but that didn''t mean his offer couldn''t be useful.


    "Anything else?"


    He grimaced and began to talk. "I ¡­ I might know of many smugglers. Including a few inside your city."


    Now, we''re talking.


    -VB-


    Isabella von Fluelaberg


    "So you settled them outside the city?" she asked her husband while seated in a rocking chair he personally made for her. Her hands were around her comically blown pregnant belly, and she sighed.


    She felt so bloated and fat, and despite Hans''s constant reassurance, she felt ugly for it. The weird things about "jormons" didn''t help either. Just because she knew why she felt this way didn''t mean that she stopped feeling it!


    Ugh, men.


    "Yup, and I gave them a job that''s been sorely lacking for the sake of the Compact."


    "Oh?" she spoke up curiously. "And what job would that be?"


    He grinned as he looked up from the latest book he was writing.


    "Mailman! Or should I say the department of information?"


    "... What weird thing are you making now, husband?" she asked him.


    His grin didn''t fade away. "See, you know how people send letters back and forth using merchants, couriers, or designated city messengers, right?"


    She blinked. "Yes." Then she extrapolated what he just said and connected it to this "department of information." Her eyes widened. "Wait, did you just make a bunch of outsiders handle the Compact''s information?!"


    He snorted. "Of course not, love. I''m not stupid. What made you think I was stupid?" he asked with a pout.


    She stared at him for a moment before giggling. "Well, if you must know, I remember someone wearing odd disguises that no one bought¡­"


    He blinked. "Wait, what?"


    She stared at him again. "Wait, you thought people actually believed you were someone else? Everyone with an eye that was you, honey!" she laughed.


    A blush slowly crept up from the bottom of his neck up to his face and covered it all. He slowly buried his face in his hands and silently screamed.


    She laughed harder.


    "Ugh," he muttered as he let his hands drop.


    "So," she said with a smile and maybe a tear in her eye. "Go on. What is this about a department of information?"


    "Well¡­ it''s something I''ve been planning a little, but I didn''t have the unoccupied educated people to get on with it at all. Essentially, their job is to handle the menial flow of information. I''m going to get several buildings built right in between Fluelaberg and Davos, and it''ll serve as the place people will go to for non-essential information. Like what the laws of my city are, what the laws of other Compact members are, what roads are safe, what the expected level of taxes are, and all of that kind of stuff. They will also handle the job of representing other people in court who have no idea what they should be doing in court. Like a blacksmith who might not know where his liabilities start and end or a farmer who might have been dragged to court because an accuser said the meat he sold was spoiled."


    "Oh, so advocates! My father''s city and many other Italian cities had those as well."


    "Yup, so they''ll be paid to work as guides, librarians, lawyers, and advocates. They''ll also train other people who want to hold such positions." He sniffed. "It''ll actually take a few years before they get settled in and be able to do their jobs properly, but all things take time, so I''m happy to wait it out. It gets them paid, they get to hold some sort of a higher position instead of being dropped down to nothing, and they don''t have to fear losing their position as long as they do their jobs well"


    "... Wait, I -."


    Then there was a splash.


    They both paused and looked down.


    "Oh. My water just broke."


    There was a second before Hans shot up. "MIDWIFE!" he yelled as he ran out of the room. "You, go grab the midwife! The baroness''s water just broke!" he shouted to whichever guard who had been outside. Soon, she heard rapid footsteps as they ran off to get the midwife. Hans came back to the room and quickly helped her to their bed.


    "It''ll be okay," he whispered.


    She giggled, but even to her ears, she sounded strained.


    "Says the man who nearly ran off shouting-."


    Then there was a squeeze and a push.


    Finally, it really started to hurt.


    "Oh¡­ oh dear," she muttered.


    This was going to suck, wasn''t it?

 Chapter 112

    Swiss ArmsChapter 112


    -VB-


    Hans von Fluelaberg


    I sat outside the room, and my legs would not stop bouncing in anxiety.  sea??h th§× n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    It was ¡­ It was probably the worst I''ve felt in my entire life. It was the weakest I''ve felt in my life.


    I''ve done everything I can. Doing more would only get in the way of the midwife and the maidservants.


    The midwife and some other maidservants were in the room with Isabella, and they came in and out at all hours to deliver fresh water and towels.


    And all throughout it, I heard her screaming inside.


    "Milord."


    I looked up and saw one of the guards. "Ah, Gerald. What is it?" I asked him.


    "There¡­ an issue has come up," he grimaced.


    I nearly slapped this bastard. My wife was giving birth. Couldn''t he hear that?!


    Instead, I took a deep breath in, stood up, and glared down at him.


    "It better be a good issue," I told him slowly and lowly. "For you to try to drag me away from the baroness at this critical hour."


    The man looked like he was going to collapse instantly, but he held himself up somehow.


    "M-Milord, it is Count J-John."


    John? John was here?


    I backed off and took another deep breath in and let it out slowly.


    "Tell him to wait for me and of Isabella''s condition. He will understand. Make sure the servants know that John is to be made comfortable."


    "Yes, milord," Gerald saluted and then scurried away as quickly as he could.


    After a moment of standing there almost like a statue, I allowed myself to sink back down onto my chair.


    The brief distraction ended and I found the panic and anxiety coming right back, punctuated by Isabella''s screams.


    -VB-


    Count John of Toggenburg


    "Oh, Gerald," John called the man as he saw him approaching hastily. "It''s been some time we''ve met," he told the guard.


    The guard nodded and then saluted.


    Before, he had been a ward of the baron but now, he was a count in his own right with accomplishments and position that demanded respect. Gerald used to mush up his hair after training that Hans subjected everyone to. Was it weird that John kind of missed it? ?


    "Count Toggenburg," Gerald greeted him. "I apologize, but Baron Fluelaberg is occupied at the moment."


    John frowned. "Is it something serious?" he asked.


    "Yes. The baroness is giving birth."


    John froze.


    And then his jaws dropped.


    "W-wait, Isabella is giving birth?!" he nearly shrieked. "Is she -?"


    "It is progressing ¡­ smoothly, according to the assistants to the midwife."


    His suddenly tense shoulders loosened up.


    He remembered what it was like for his mother to give birth. That had been a harrowing night for him, hearing her scream like that for the entire night. Now, it was Hans going through that.


    It being winter still¡­ there was a higher chance that she might die than had she been giving birth during summer or fall.


    "Where are they right now?" he asked. Gerald looked at him in surprise. "Is Hans alone by himself?"


    "He is," he replied. "But only after he made sure to deliver ¡­ ''sterile'' equipment to the midwife."


    "Sterile? What is that supposed to mean?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.


    "The baron said that his equipment may help the baroness survive the ordeal. Or at the very least not become sick."


    John''s eyes widened.


    "What were they?" he asked quickly. "No, wait, where is Hans? I''m going to go and wait with him."


    Gerald looked conflicted for a second before nodding. "He is just outside his bedchamber. I will make sure that all of your retinue and belongings are taken care of."


    "Good man," he muttered before hurrying past him. Then he paused, took off his cape, and handed it to Gerald.


    Once free of his cumbersome and warm cape, which Hans had gifted him some time ago, he ran into the fort and up the stairs. After what felt like forever, he found himself in the wood-floored second-story corridor. When he was around, it used to have wooden walls, too, but Hans had been busy apparently because the walls were uniform bricks now.


    And he found Hans sitting on a chair by his lonesome some six feet from his bedchamber''s door.


    "Hans," he spoke up as he approached the man.


    Hans froze and looked up.


    John found himself struck by how different Hans looked.


    The somewhat playful, easygoing, and ridiculous man he''d come to know was missing. No, he found himself staring at something just a few steps above a feral animal.


    John faltered as he found himself feeling like he was drowning. Everything felt heavier. He was so weak.


    What?


    Huh?


    He - ?


    And then it was all gone, and he found himself leaning into Hans''s arms.


    "W-What¡­?"


    "Sorry, sorry," Hans muttered as he helped him up. "I was surprised. You didn''t deserve that."


    Surprised? Deserve what?


    Was ¡­ Was that feeling something Hans ¡­ magicked?


    He gulped but stood up on his own two feet. Two trembling legs and feet but on his own nonetheless.


    And then another scream rang out.


    "Hans, is she ¡­?"


    "Midwife said it''s going well," he replied as -.


    Huh. Where did that second chair come from?


    "How long has it been?" he asked as he tried to not wince at another scream. God, had Hans been sitting out here just listening to her screaming all night long?


    "Only six hours."


    John shivered.


    "... Okay," he said and then sat down on the second chair. "I''ll wait with you."


    "... Thanks."


    ---


    They didn''t hear the sound of a baby¡­


    Until sunrise the next morning.

 Chapter 114

    Swiss ArmsChapter 114


    -VB-


    Hans von Fluelaberg


    Isabella and I, once she woke up at a good time during the day the day after her labor, chose to name our son after both of our fathers.


    Louis Albert von Fluelaberg, the heir to the Barony of Fluelaberg.


    I wondered if this was how long ass noble names started. That''s already eight syllables!


    It''s been a week since then, and the jubilant mood still infected everyone in the town and beyond. I''ve received congratulations and gifts from John in Toggenburg and Prince-Bishop Gion as well as from non-Compact neighbors like the Lord Mayor of Lindau and, to my surprise, the Count of Werdenberg.


    Count Hartmann of Werdenberg sent his congratulations, a big gift, and also a letter. In it, he requested his admission into the Compact. That wasn''t something I could just decide on my own, so I sent off letters to all members of the Compact with a request to have a reply sent within thirty days of receiving the letter. The reason why I was so readily accepted his offer was simple.


    From what I knew about the man (rumors, spies, and the like), he was stuck between the County of Montfort (which would become County of Breganz in the future and a vassal of the Austrian Habsburgs) and us, the Compact. Werdenberg was sandwiched in between two stronger nations that had fought its previous lord without a satisfying conclusion for anyone.


    In a normal situation, this meant future wars.


    But Hartmann didn''t want wars. He knew he was weaker. Knew he would get overwhelmed. So he was suing for peace early, essentially.


    But more than that (from his letter), he was trying to join the Compact not only for protection but also because he saw how he and his fief could prosper by joining the Compact.


    I also didn''t have any issue with Werdenberg and Hartmann, despite what my peers might think. Yeah, sure, I fought his dad, but his dad also sued for peace pretty quickly instead of needlessly dragging out the war. Unlike John''s father.


    With the Compact becoming more and more like a proper confederation with each passing year, securing our immediate neighbors was a necessary action. It would be horrible if someone like the Habsburgs getting a foothold right next to us should a war break out between us. Unlikely for now, yes, but there was no such thing as "never" in international politics. I mean, they already had their "in" with John, not that John was particularly loyal to them anyway, despite the Habsburg emperor being his distant uncle.


    Or rather because the Habsburgs were too distant that he didn''t feel loyalty. Not like they helped his father when I came rolling around, right?


    Now, while all of this internationally-minded political considerations were good and all for my new family''s future and the future of the Compact, I had something far more pressing and immediate issue at hand.


    My plan worked way too well. While the Bavarian countryside was mostly unaffected and thus the majority of the people that Duke Louis could call up as levies, his towns and cities were another story altogether. Towns and cities depended much more on trade and commerce to make their ends meet, and the disruption caused by the suddenly untrustworthy coins led to wildly fluctuating prices, speculation, and enforcement.


    I learned just a few days ago that Duke Louis finally got off of his laurels to address the issue.


    And to my surprise, he chose to use violence.


    His edict was, in a word, suppression. Anyone suspected to be using the new coin will be punished. Anyone suspected to have made the coin will be punished. Anyone speak out against him regarding his handling will be punished.


    ¡­ Was the future emperor that oppressive? I didn''t think that before but I also wasn''t so sure of it anymore.


    And did I even want someone like that as an emperor? I might not be a prince-elector, but surely, I could lobby to some of them with enough money to sway a few votes?


    Or keep the current emperor alive as long as possible so Louis continued to gain infamy and have a hard time becoming the emperor?  sea??h th§× N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    ¡­ I think the last option was the easier (and cheaper) out of the two.


    So why was this an immediate issue?


    Because people were leaving Munich and all of the major cities and town of the Duchy of Upper Bavaria. While this wasn''t affecting me directly, I now had Henry - the Duke Henry and not Farmer Henry over in Davos - asking me for aid because he just got a huge influx of refugees. ??


    "Tell him I''ll send over food, money, and soldiers," I told Henry''s messenger. "I''ll also ask the Council of the Compact to send our neighboring friend additional aid on top of mine."


    The messenger gave me a deep bow before moving to retreat out of the hall.


    I raised my hand up and he stopped.


    I brought out a letter that I had prepared for this eventuality. "Give the good duke my letter. He will welcome it."


    The messenger took it and bowed again.


    After he left, I let out a sigh.


    It was time to move on the Duchy of Upper Bavaria soon.


    Had this been in modernity, then our coalition would not have the excuse to do this because of overwhelming idea of sovereignty''s independence. However, in this day and age, we could move to "secure our borders and stability" since it was now affecting us.


    Hell, I half expected the emperor to move in as soon as we did.


    That was the plan, after all.


    With Louis acting erratically, we now had an excuse to bring him down and put up a more dignified noble who didn''t filch off of his people and break the noblesse oblige: his "exiled" brother, Rudolf, who has been a guest in my barony for almost two years now.


    Habsburgs would get to see one of their rivals broken. Henry would have a safer northern border and also see one of his rivals broken. Memmingen would get revenge for ¡­ something.


    And me?


    I would get my own revenge for all of the shit Louis caused.


    -VB-


    A/N: for reference, the Compact is now about the same size as the County of Tyrol (one of three titles Henry holds), and much more productive than both his county and duchy put together.

 Chapter 113

    Swiss ArmsChapter 113


    -VB-


    Hans von Fluelaberg


    ¡­ I didn''t know what to do.


    When the midwife came out to say that Isabella''s delivery came to an end and I now had a son.


    I didn''t know what to do.


    Isabella stared up at me, sweaty and exhausted, as she held our boy, who was already suckling from her breast.


    He was a bloodied and hairless red monkey.


    "Hey," I whispered almost as if I was afraid of waking him up, even though he was already awake and suckling.


    "Hello," Isabella smiled tiredly. She had bags underneath her eyes and ¡­ yeah, she didn''t look good right now, but why did that only make her more beautiful right now? Maybe it was the baby? "Do you want to hold your son?"


    She raised him up, and I took him with steady hands. If I didn''t have so much stats in basically everything, then I might have fainted or trembled or done any number of other things, but between my burning desire to be gentle with my baby and the ridiculous numbers in my dexterity, my hands and fingers didn''t even shake despite the nervousness I felt.


    And I held my son.


    A tiny thing.


    One wrong drop will kill him.


    One wrong sip of honey might kill him.


    One wrong touch from me might kill him.


    And suddenly, the entire world felt like thin glass.


    I gulped as I held him ¡­ and patted his stomach slowly.


    He burped.


    His first burp!


    God, my eyes were wet already.


    Our son wasn''t fussy, thankfully. Maybe he recognized that I was his dad? I mean¡­ probably not but I really liked the thought.


    Isabella giggled weakly. I looked up at her.


    She looked near dead.


    I turned to look at the midwife. "You made sure she drank the painkiller, right?" I asked her.


    I had known for months that this day was coming, so of course I did the best I could to find something to help Isabella with the labor. Most of the painkillers that I found or rediscovered also came with downsides like sleepiness and lower heart rate, neither of which were good after the early stages of labor. But preparing copper bowls with purified hot waters for handwashing along with alcohol wipes(cloth, really)? I had those prepared and then some.


    "Yes," the midwife replied with a bow. "The ¡­ morphine," she hesitated to say the name properly. "Was good for her. But I haven''t given her another sip of it since. She is too weak to take any medicine that might slow her blood."


    I nodded. "And the bleeding? You made sure to wash your hands, right?"


    "Stemmed and we did," the midwife sniffed as if she found my question below her. Kind of like "what does this man think he knows about my profession, hmm?!" "But she''s lost a lot of blood. She''ll be bed-bound for at least a week, and nothing strenuous for full two months at the very least," she glared at me, giving me a look.


    "I know. Don''t worry," I told her.


    She sniffed and nodded imperiously. "Then my job here is done. Good day to you, milord. I need sleep."


    I chuckled as she left, leaving me alone with Isabella and our new son.


    I looked at Isabella. "Thank you," I said with a smile. "You go to sleep once the servants change out the sheets. I''ll make sure to keep an eye out for our son."


    She smiled back and her eyes drifted close as she finally gave into the exhaustion.


    -VB-


    Leon of Fluelaberg


    They learned about it very quickly.


    The town did.  S~ea??h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    About the birth of the baron''s heir.


    People started talking about celebrations, because why wouldn''t they? The baron now had an heir! The succession of the barony and the city was now set and no one had to worry about some foreign noble coming to take over the city they built with their own hands.


    It was a joyous occasion!


    Leon certainly thought so too¡­


    But what caught his attention more than the birth of the heir was what the baron did to help.


    "You said that the baron used ¡­ alcohol-soaked clothes, purified hot water in a metal bowl, and some kind of medicine?"


    "Yes, I''m telling you that''s what he made sure we used!" one of the servants who worked at the castle said as she wiped her hands. "He even had expensive soap prepared for us, not the ones that hurt when you use too much."


    He wrote what she said down on a flimsy and overused piece of paper. Paper might be plenty around here in Fluelaberg compared to anywhere else (according to the peddlers and merchants who passed by the town), but even then, paper was a big expense. He made sure to use every spare inch of it.


    And right now, he was writing down what the baron did to help the baroness¡­ because Elena was also expecting. His wife was pretty and slender just like the baroness. She wasn''t the sturdy sort who could give birth and go back to work the very next week (like his mom, apparently), if needing to take it slowly and gently for a month or so.


    So he wanted to make sure that Elena also had a good and as safe labor as the baroness got. It might be the best thing he could do for her outside of their wedding rings.


    ¡­ But where was he going to get soap that didn''t hurt? Most soaps hurt if he used too much of it.


    Maybe he could go and ask the baron? The man was approachable and kind, so the worst answer Leon might get would be a no.


    Yeah, that''s what he''ll do. Maybe a week from now so that the baron doesn''t get angry some commoner took his time away from his firstborn son. He''d seen men get angry for less.

 Chapter 117

    Swiss ArmsChapter 117


    -VB-


    Hans von Fluelaberg


    It''s been ¡­ a few months since I have had any increase in stats. I wondered if that was a good thing or a bad thing considering that I had a war coming and no new quests regarding it.


    Did the system think that my schemes with Duke Louis was beneath its notice or was there something else here?


    [Character Status]


    Name: Hans von Fluelaberg


    Age: 22


    LvL: 50


    HP: 1090


    MP: 690


    ST: 545


    STR: 140


    END: 109


    AGI: 120


    DEX: 89


    INT: 69


    CHA: 29


    Current Objective: Set up Home [16/?]


    Current Quest: N/A


    Territory: Compact (Barony of Fluelaberg, Rheintal)]


    I sniffed as my eyes settled on the INT value.


    Nice.


    That made me fourteen times stronger than the average person, eleven times tougher, twelve times faster, nine times nimbler, seven times "smarter," and thrice as charismatic. ?


    It was actually getting harder to keep all of that in check. I can fall from six stories and survive without a single broken bone or damaged internal organ. I can crush rock with my hand alone. Bend castle-forged blades with my fingers.


    Training with my rangers became dangerous not for me but for them. If I become careless, then I will accidentally kill someone with the same gesture I might use to brush off dust because what might be enough to keep clothes intact from my rough dusting can still kill a person.


    So how was I going to go about solving that?


    Simple. S~ea??h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    I needed to ingrain self-control into every second of my life. It was probably going to be harder than it sounds, but that''s just the price I had to pay in order to possess what I had and not be adversely affected.


    That meant I wasn''t going to be walking around mindlessly. I needed to watch every step I took, measure each sway of my arms, and readying myself for any sudden changes that might need me to react.


    So what did I do?


    Martial arts.


    Specifically, slow and steady movements of Tai chi.


    Now, did I remember much about Tai chi?


    No.


    But the idea of it was simple. Tense all of the muscles as I moved slowly, keep it as smooth as possible, and exert all of my body as much as I could. If I made any sudden movements, then it would be a failure.


    And I would do it while wielding my sword.


    Ping!


    [New Skill Gained.]


    [Tai Chi] LvL. 1


    It''s a real martial art.


    -VB-


    Isabella von Fluelaberg


    Her husband was doing something new again.


    Most of the time anything new he did was something productive and useful.


    But sometimes, he would act like a total idiot. Like the time he went "disguised" around town to help the people. Oh, it made the people happy and everyone thought he was just helping out, but Isabella knew that he was "training" his "stealth."


    ''But my love is not someone who excels at everything.''


    Sometimes, he forgot tiny details.


    ¡­ No, he did that a lot, actually. It was the downside of having too many great ideas and projects. Details tended to slip through his minds until he came face to face with them. Like the fact that while "training" for his stealth, he forgot that he was a rather big man with an unmistakable outline in all of the Compact or that most of the residents of Fluelaberg knew his face.


    Or that time when he forgot that dung bombs smelled. A lot. And stored it underneath the castle where the smell could waft up.


    But now, she was looking at her husband training, and he forgot once again that he was not normal.


    Because no normal person could lift up a sword long and wide enough to serve as a table, if need be, and effortlessly move his arms minutely while performing some kind of a slow dane.


    An extremely slow dance.


    It took him a full minute to move his sword holding arm - not arms, but an arm - no more than ten degrees of a circular motion.


    She would think he was doing some kind of magic trick - a sorcery! - if it wasn''t for the fact that everyone knew her husband was unnaturally strong.


    Like throwing a spear across the battlefield strong. That was apparently a feat that quite a few denizens of the Compact witnessed because that''s how he got his fame first as a mercenary.


    She suspected that he''s grown stronger with time, not less.


    "Hans?"


    He stopped and looked at her over his shoulder without moving the rest of his body in that unnatural stillness.


    "Yeah?"


    "Are you sure you want to show off your strength like that?" she asked him. They were at the ranger''s training ground, which wasn''t exactly "private."


    He paused to think about before relaxing and lowering his sword.


    "Probably shouldn''t," he grunted. "Thanks for reminding me."


    She nodded with a smile. "Now, hurry up and come inside. Lunch is ready."


    And like most men, he immediately zero''ed in on the food. "What are we having today?"


    "Glazed pork tenderloin with butter stir fried vegetables and rye bread on the side for you and white bread for me."


    "Sweet," he grinned as he swiftly walked over to the weapon rack as if he wasn''t carrying a sword that weighed in at around 250 pounds, set it down gently but the same speed most rangers would use to drop off their wooden swords, and then joined her inside.


    She sighed.


    "Oh, speaking of privacy, how well do you feel about taking that plan to the next step?"


    She hummed as she walked alongside him. "You mean lecturing the unruly neighbor?"


    "Yup."


    "We definitely do have to discuss that in private, but I would not be adverse to continue his education. He will most likely be replaced with the idiot, won''t he?"


    "Most likely," he hummed casually as if they weren''t discussing the greater conspiracy to upend the duchy of one of the most important and powerful noble houses of the empire. "And knowing what he knows about the system, he will want to keep quiet about it all and be cordial with us."


    "Have you received word from other educators?"


    "I have. The minter and merchant are the only ones we really need to make the education work, and I received the minter''s letter in the morning."


    "You should have told me right then and there."


    He chuckled. "Sorry sorry."


    "Obviously not."


    But she worried. Even if Hans was the strongest and toughest man she knew, death came out of nowhere just like it had for her otherwise healthy father. A battlefield was where someone couldn''t control every factor. Hans could mitigate much of it but ¡­


    She just worried.


    She didn''t want to see him hurt. It was just simple as that.


    -VB-


    Leon of Fluelaberg


    The baron published a booklet about what he did for his lady''s labor and why he did them. He didn''t understand most of it, though his wife seemed to get more than he did, and they started preparing accordingly.


    But the mood in the town was uneasy.


    Something was going to happen soon. He could just feel it. It felt like this before the siege. Before the battle. Before the festivities that saw the empress herself show up.


    Or maybe he was imagining it?


    ¡­ Probably not, because his friends in the ranger corp (didn''t know why it was called that but it was) told him that the baron ordered them to start moving a lot of supplies. Even the new department of information was told to help with supply acquisition by talking to merchants coming by the town.


    Supplies being everything from nails and metal ingots to arrows, crossbow bolts, and hardtack.


    That sounded like there was another war coming up, but unlike before, the baron was the one striking out first.


    ¡­ Could he perhaps get his own shot at glory this time? He didn''t get quite the achievement he wanted in the battle on the other side of the mountain.


    He needed to prepare, which meant that he needed to go and spend more time aiming with his own manual crossbow.


    -VB-


    Alvia of Fluelaberg


    "War?" she asked in surprise.


    As one of the longest and trusted "companion" of the baron from before his rise, Alvia knew that she had quite the reputation and soft power within the barony and the Compact. This also meant that she needed to do things that she otherwise would find boring or utterly wasteful.


    Like hanging out with the other "ladies" of the barony.


    From what she read and heard, a barony was generally not the kind of noble rank that would bring many noble ladies around. While not the lowest of the landed nobility, it was neither high nor rich.


    A good example of this was the Bailiwick of Rheintal that Hans got.


    Yes, she still called him Hans, a privilege he publicly "gave" to her and Albert.


    Anyway, Bailiwick of Rheintal was a huge chunk of land for a peasant girl like her, but when it came to nobles, it was small. There were many landed knights who had that much across the empire, and a landed knight was the lowest landed nobility.


    And because of how the Compact was arranged, the more important people of the Compact came to the Barony of Fluelaberg. Its richness also brought other rich people from nearby who hoped to open up a branch of their family business or for the sake of other cities and nobles.


    Because that there were noble ladies in the town.


    And there were enough of them that Isabella, Hans''s wife and someone who Alvia could say was an unconventional friend of hers, had to hold an informal lady''s court.


    There was the widow from County of Toggenburg, the woman who lost her husband to Hans when he burned their castle down by accident, allegedly. She was here because, as she told Isabella, the Barony of Fluelaberg was the best place for her other children''s education that she had access to, and her other kids did go to the "academy" for nobles and merchants, not the "school" for peasants and refugees.


    Alvia didn''t know much about schools and academies. She was either self-taught or personally tutored by Hans, after all.


    There were other ladies also, but they were all not as important as the Widow of Toggenburg, but all of them were more or less trusted to not be spies for neighboring lords and cities.


    Alvia sighed. "Lord Hans is making me work on something other than jewelry," she explained but not what she was working on. She also referred to Hans as lord among the nobles; he taught her to not needlessly antagonize people, and ignoring noble titles among nobles was the fastest way to piss them off.


    "Oh dear," the Widow hummed. "I knew that it was coming from what my son wrote to me these past few months, but I didn''t realize it was coming so soon."


    Isabella nodded. "So we must prepare in our own ways to hold the fort down while our men go off to war. Narissa?"


    "Y-Yes, milady?"


    That was the daughter of some landed knight who got a job as a "secretary of court," which made her the only woman among the three secretaries of court. She suspected that she got that job because Hans wanted the largest land owning knight in Rheintal to be loyal to him.


    "Please prepare yourself to take charge of proceedings related to intertown matters."


    "Y-Yes, milady!"


    Intertown - or unterstadt - was the growing town between Davos and Fluelaberg. At barely a hundred foot wide, most people who lived here lived in slanted multi-story wooden and stone buildings right up against the slope of the mountain because Hans made it so that the small stream that did flow down the valley remained unobstructed with additional ten feet on either side of it to be untouched.


    Most of the refugees who couldn''t find a place with Fluelaberg itself went there.


    But being given the matters of unterstadt was a sign of trust as well. It was the connection between Davos and Fluelaberg, and any disruption to unterstadt was a disruption to Fluelaberg''s own livelihood.


    But Alvia didn''t envy the girl for the task.


    Because she didn''t want to have to constantly talk to people about not being allowed to do this or that. No, she''s perfectly fine in her gemstone lab, even if she did take up a few more tasks and jobs to help Hans around the castle.


    Which was also why she was here.


    Isabella turned to her.


    "Can you set aside time to help me in court?"


    "Of course," she replied.


    Because in the court, she was Isabella''s helper.

 Chapter 118

    Swiss ArmsChapter 118


    -VB-


    Hans von Fluelaberg


    In all things political, there needed a veneer of legitimacy. Without legitimacy, it became easy for any and all progress made to be overturned. Because if I did not have the legitimacy to continue, then others also didn''t have the legitimacy to stop themselves from stopping me.


    So I couldn''t just invade the Duchy of Upper Bavaria without a casus belli.


    And to make that casus belli, I needed a good enough of a reason.


    How did I intend to go about this entire rabbit hole of political mechinations?


    Simple.


    I started by sending a letter. A politely worded letter. A very polite but still direct letter.


    I addressed it to the Duke of Upper Bavaria.


    I made my stance on his economic mismanagement and the harm he caused and will further cause his neighbors as "dangerous," "unwise," and "sure to cause grief to his house as a whole," so he should stop whatever it was he was doing.


    It was polite.


    However, it was not kind and definitely crossed a line because a "mere" baron was making demands of a prestigious duke of a powerful noble house.


    It was the kind of thing that would require a response, especially in a turbulent time like this when his reliability, ability, and even legitimacy as a ruler was being openly called into question by his noble subordinates, his neighbors, and his people.


    Our response didn''t depend on his response, however.


    Even if he worked to improve the situation, Henry and I would use his failing legitimacy, "mismanagement," and "corruption" causing harm to our realms as casus belli to kick him out by marching on Munich within the year.


    If he didn''t try to improve the situation and attacked me, then I would crush him in the battlefield.


    If he didn''t try to change and just ignored me, then we would still march on his capital to kick him out and install his deposed brother back as the Duke of Upper Bavaria.


    And considering that the Duchy of Upper Bavaria currently didn''t have the means to hold me back nevermind a coalition of three of its most powerful neighbors, Duke Louis the Bavarian¡­ was fucked.


    How did I know he was fucked?


    Well, on the surface, he was fucked. The last report I had of the duchy spoke of many city dwellers fleeing the cities and towns. Farmers refused to give up more than a hundred percent of their harvest when told that that''s how much they would need to give due to the falling valuation of the local coins.


    On top of that, they haven''t recovered from their losses incurred during the Battle of Lower Engadine. The ones that hurt the duchy the most was the deaths of man-at-arms and knights. Without those, even open field battles were going to be rough on his duchy.


    In contrast, I have been training up my professional soldiers (man-at-arms and rangers both) and able-bodied men in Davos, Understadt, and Fluelaberg. Hell, I even went so far as to contact my dad over in the Forest Cantons to introduce me to whoever was in charge of Uri''s mercenaries. Duke Henry of Tyrol was also readying his troops.


    I wondered who the empress was getting involved. She did say that she''ll have someone of "adequate standing" to come and help us. I just hoped that it would be someone who wouldn''t get in the way with either their incompetence or their own schemes that they prioritized over ours.


    "Milord."


    "Come in," I spoke up reflexively.


    The door to my solar opened and -.


    "Father!" I said a tad bit more loudly than I thought I would as I got out of my chair and quickly walked around my desk.


    And standing in the doorway to my solar with a servant in front of him was none other than my dad.


    He looked older now. Just a bit. A wrinkle here, more gray there, and ¡­


    Why did he look so worn?


    "Come in, father. Take a seat. Abraham, thank you for helping my father."


    "Of course, sir," the strict servant bowed lightly before excusing himself.


    Father hesitated before he walked in.


    "Hello, Hans. It''s good to see you again, son."


    I grinned. "I guess I have been doing good for myself." Then I saw how his shoulders hunched slightly. Almost as if he was shameful. "What''s wrong, father?"


    "... It''s¡­ it''s about the family."


    I guided him to an open seat in the solar and sat across from him. "What is this about?" I asked him directly.


    He looked at me and then down at the table between us.


    "You know how it''s been raining a lot lately?"


    "Yes. It''s been a problem. Some of the steeper valleys have been flooded relentlessly because of it." But most of those valleys already had people living on higher levels instead of closer to the rivers, so it wasn''t a problem.


    What had been a problem was in towns that ¡­ neglected to ¡­ follow my directions about ¡­ storing food properly.


    "Dad¡­ how bad is it?" I asked him with a grimace.


    Uri was not part of the Compact. Hell, the Forest Canton wasn''t even an ally of the Compact.


    But that didn''t change the fact that he was obviously hurting.


    His lips opened and closed. He grimaced.


    "Most of the family''s going days without eating." S~ea??h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    I nearly shot out of my seat.


    Angry.


    That''s what I felt.


    "And you came to me just now?" I asked incredulously. "Dad, you know how rich I am!"


    "We thought it would have been fine¡­!" he nearly hissed, still unable to meet my eyes. "But then the rains swept away one of the village''s granaries and ¡­"


    Oh shit.


    "Dad, there''s only granary in the village."


    "I know."


    "Dad¡­ how many people died before you came to me?"


    His hands clasped together, and the knuckles grew wide from how tightly he was holding them together.


    "At least five."


    Five?


    There was barely a hundred people in the village when I left!


    Five?


    Five percent of the population just died?!


    "You should have come earlier," I sighed.


    "I should have," he agreed.


    I stood up, walked over to my desk, and wrote a quick note. I tore it and walked back to him. "Father, go to my quartermaster. He goes by Albert. If you show him this, then he''ll have two wagons filled to the brim with hardy food. Make sure he gets you a five-man squad of rangers as convoy guards, too."


    He looked up at me as he slowly accepted the small note.


    "What are you waiting for dad-?"


    "... I''m proud of you, Hans," he said quietly.


    I froze for a moment.


    He gave me a hug, a rarity, before he left my solar.


    It took me a while to come back to my senses. I sighed as I walked back to my chair and sat down.


    So that happened.

 Chapter 119

    Swiss Arms S§×ar?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.Chapter 119


    -VB-


    Louis von Wittelsbach


    Duke of Upper Bavaria


    Munich


    Louis could not believe his eyes or the gall of a mere baron to send a letter like this to him.


    Even though he knew intellectually that the baron thought that he had a significant enough power to have the guts to send a letter commanding him (which was the title of the letter), Louis didn''t care about that.


    He wanted to march his army up to the mountain bure''s village and strangle him in front of his new wife. A mere jumped-up baron making demands of a duke?! He would be wholly within his right to punish him, regardless of the fact that the baron was not under his rule.


    So it frustrated him even more that he couldn''t do that.


    No, right now, he had a bigger problem at home. If the traitorous fucks wanted to run away from their ancestral home and cause trouble elsewhere, then good. He had less troublemakers at home to deal with.


    And troublemakers had to be the cause of this.


    He now knew for certain that the rich baron wasn''t the cause of his troubles. His spies reported no large mint in production for certain, and it wasn''t any of his peasant friends in their "Compact," either.


    There was no one else rich enough to pull this stunt¡­ leaving only one party left.


    The Habsburgs.


    It made for a certain amount of sense. His house and theirs were rivals. Both of them wanted to move into the Alps to control the trade. And only they had enough money and precious metals to cause damage to his duchy on this scale. Their mint had to be somewhere in the Duchy of Austria or their main holding in the city of Habsburg. And they were moving the coins through the Alps to throw him off.


    And with their pet baron now making demands, they might use that as justification to intervene within his duchy.


    So the best action to take ¡­ was to stop circulation of the counterfeit coins.


    How was he going to do that?


    ¡­ Mint new coins.


    Change the design. Change the gold and silver ratio. Change the weight of the coins.


    It could work, but it would involve a lot of his own coins from the treasury. It would deplete them quickly, too. But right now, he didn''t have a choice if he wanted to get the trust of the people and his own vassals.


    ''If I ever get my hands on whoever caused this¡­!'' he vowed revenge mentally before calling up his loyal servants to aid him in his plans.


    It took him over a week to just start the minting process and a full month before he was ready to distribute the new coins.


    -VB-


    The Counterfeit Crisis of 1305 that swept across Southern Bavaria is one of the first recorded financial crisis where modern historians have a near complete picture of from the start to end.


    The sudden influx of counterfeit coins in the early spring of 1305 began a cascade of events that ultimately resulted in economic refugees, breakdown of trust between the then Duke Louis of Bavaria and his vassals, depletion of the ducal treasury, and the Bavarian-Tyrolian War of 1305. These coins, which we now know had large parts of their silvers with impurities like galena and tin, caused devaluation of the Munchen silver pfennigs. So much so that many documents written down at the time showing a near 150% increase in grocery prices in the span of a few months.


    Neither the local industries and the duchy itself adapted to the rapidly changing inflation, and this resulted in many businesses and guilds possessing enough liquid assets on hand to purchase materials.


    The local "Brundenstein-Nahr" pottery guild had many complaints sent to Duke Louis about the rapidly climbing price of clay during this period; 1 Munchen-pound of general-use clay was purchased on January 19th, 1305 for 3 copper pfennigs, but by April 5th, 1305, the price for 1 Munchen-pound of general-use clay had jumped to 1 silver pfennig and 9 copper pfennigs, a 630% increase in cost.


    This caused many businesses and individuals to leave Munich, the center of the Duchy of Upper Bavaria and also the epicenter of the Counterfeit Crisis. It was in Munich that inflation struck the hardest and where it was the most uncontrollable.


    The crisis had a ripple effect across the entire duchy. Many goods that were only made in Munich began to steeply soar in price across many towns and villages that traded with Munich. Towns as far as Free Imperial City of Kempten in modern day Allegau region (southwestmost region of modern state of Bavaria) saw prices on these goods rise ¡­


    -Excerpt from "Financial Crisis of Middle Ages" by Doctor Argus Feldkirch, University of Oxford


    -VB-


    Louis of Erstfeld


    Part-Time Mercenary, Full-Time Farmer, Father of Baron Hans von Fluelaberg


    Fluelaberg


    He stared at his grandson.


    He ¡­ stared at his grandson.


    Oh, this wasn''t his first grandson by a long stretch, but it was also another child in the family.


    He hesitated before looking up at Isabella, his daughter-in-law. She may be the daughter-in-law, but he knew where the real authority lay here. From the way she looked at him, though, she made it look easy to forget that.


    Louis looked back down at his grandson.


    "Thank you for being with my son," he said with a smile. "He ¡­ his mother and I must have failed him a lot if he achieved all of this on his own but did nothing under our roof."


    It was a growing insecurity that gnawed at him.


    "Hans was happy to lazy around with his family," Isabella giggled. "He says that often. He definitely didn''t have to worry about paperwork."


    He chuckled along as he lightly bounced Louis Albert von Fluelaberg, the heir of the Barony of Fluelaberg. To think that one of his own blood would become a noble!


    "... Little Louis is healthy," he hummed, not knowing what else to say.


    "He is. Hans did everything to make sure Little Louis is healthy, though it can be overbearing at times," she sighed.


    "Tell me about it?"


    It was a nice small talk, and he was happy to hold his grandson for as long as he could.

 Chapter 120

    Swiss ArmsChapter 120


    -VB-


    Emperor Albert von Habsburg


    When his wife told him of the plan crafted by her and her allies in a lowly baron''s court, he had been skeptical at first.


    After all, what could a minor baron with a near infertile valley to call his fief do?


    A lot, it turned out to be.


    It started with gemstones and jewelry. Next, paper and fine china. Then a center of trade and manufacturing hub for all manners of goods. And finally, a network of information and "news" that traveled the fastest through it than any other route.


    It was impractical anywhere else, of course, because no lord would allow something important as information to pass by their lands so quickly without them taking advantage of it first. However, the Compact was not a land of lords and peasants but of "equals."


    Ha!


    As if.


    This "constitution" of the Compact that he had perused once may be set up in such a way that all participants were "equal," but realities of their world quickly changed that, didn''t it? His informants, spies, and even passing merchants told stories of the riches of Fluelaberg, Chur, and maybe even Toggenburg. But everywhere else? Neglected, weak, and unchanged. Those weaker places depended on their betters for everything from the roads von Fluelaberg laid down to the trade network overtaking everything in importance.


    Why, his wife told him about how her own cousin now depended on the wealth of a mere baron, if only to carry out their scheme.


    Because a duke wasn''t rich enough for the absurd plot they devised.


    And what an absurd plot it had been¡­


    But an absurd plot that worked was no longer absurd. He would admit that.


    (And maybe, he wanted to use it himself against the LowLands and the French who stood in his way.)


    It also made him think about laws that he would need to pass in order to prevent such a thing from affecting his realms. Not the empire, of course, but just his and his house''s realms, but that''s for the future him to work on.


    Right now, Elizabeth had received a letter from the baron.


    "So?" he asked her in the privacy of this room that he used as his solar during his current stay in Aachen.


    "It seems that they are already on the move," she hummed as she handed the letter over to him.


    He took the letter and frowned.


    "I don''t think a receipt for money owed and goods transferred says anything. Is it in code?"


    "It is. It''s rather simple. The first number of each line corresponds to certain moves we all agreed upon, and each line of words denoted who. For example, we the Habsburgs are line two."


    "... The first number there is 1."


    "It means we don''t need to move."


    "And 2?"


    "On standby."


    "And 3."


    "The one who takes action."


    "So who are lines five, eight, and nine?"


    "Fluealberg, Tyrol, and -." She blinked. "Wait, did you say nine?"


    He raised an eyebrow. "Yes, nine," he replied.


    She frowned. "That would be the Bishop of Freising."


    Albert blinked. "That handsome man?"


    She raised an eyebrow at him.


    "What? Everyone calls him the handsome man," he defend himself petulantly.


    She rolled her eyes at one of his rare slip of the tongue, and leaned back into her chair. "Do you remember how I made a lot of promises on your behalf?"


    "Yes. Tyrol wanted some more land into the Bavarian lands following the Inn River."


    "Indeed, and Bishop Emicho wanted a written guarantee of his bishopric''s independence against his own house. Which we gave."


    He narrowed his eyes.


    "I see." He remembered that. It had not been a significant request, but one that he would have to respond to, especially if the current scheme failed and Duke of Upper Bavaria went after the weakest collaborator first.


    Because the weakest collaborator wasn''t the baron of the Compact.


    "Ugh," he grunted as he also leaned back. "I can''t remember half of the things you told me."


    "You''re scheming too much to put our son Rudolf on the Bohemian throne," she chortled.


    He snorted. "That I am. At least my useless nephew isn''t begging for scraps anymore," he drawled. He took a deep breath in and let it out. "Alright. What did we promise the baron?"


    "A small territory next to the Bodensee that is part of your Swabian lands. You agreed, though with a lot of grumbling."


    He frowned, and then his eyes widened. "I remember now. That was the land that nephew John refused."


    She hummed. "The foolish man who''s achieved nothing in his life thought that we would give him a duchy or something," she sighed. "There are way too many spoiled men and women in our house, dear."


    "Ugh, tell me about it." Then he paused. "You know¡­ we made promises to each of the conspiracy members. I wonder what they have promised each other."


    Elizabeth hummed. "Hmm¡­ I can guess what Duke of Tyrol and Prince-Bishop of Freising wants."


    -VB-


    Henry of Tyrol


    He looked at the letter in his hands before pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand.


    "What is it, Henry?"


    He briefly considered not answering but he let go of his nose, opened his eyes, and looked to his new wife.


    Yes, wife.


    Duchess Anne Gorizia nee Premyslid was a beautiful girl. Despite being only fifteen years old, she had a figure approaching his cousin Isabella, but that didn''t change the fact that she was young, which was also the reason why he hadn''t bedded her yet.


    Hell, if he thought she had been a grown woman and no one said otherwise, then he might have done just that.


    She wasn''t the most beautiful woman he ever saw, but that didn''t change the fact that she still was pretty in her own way. Like a dark-haired beauty counterpart to his cousin''s flaming red beauty.


    "It''s your brother," he told her. "He has ¡­ news from home."


    "What could it be that you''re like this?" she asked him as she sashayed up to him and sat down next to him on the sofa.


    He tried not to look at her ¡­ figure. Didn''t want her to think that the man she was sitting next to, who was older than her own father, was leering at her.


    "It''s your father, Anne," he began softly. There was no other way to go about it. "He''s caught the white death."


    She froze and paled.


    "O-Oh," she muttered. She gulped and then closed her eyes. "D-Did he say when the funeral will be?" she asked quietly.


    "He is holding it two months from now," he said as he handed her the letter. Even though it was addressed to him and not to his sister, she still deserved to know.


    She held the letter with her trembling hands.


    He waited for her, but even as he waited, his mind chugged on with adjustments he needed to make now.


    In the letter, Vaclav III, the new King of Bohemia, asked him to come and help him with the governance of his kingdom. This meant, however, that he would have to put his participation in the anti-Upper Bavarian plot on hold just when the final phase and the war was coming to his doorstep.


    He was ¡­ somewhat obligated to go and help the young king out. The boy-king, barely sixteen years old, had very little experience in being an actual king; his father, Vaclav II, had been more focused on gaining crowns and land for his dynasty than actually teaching his son how to rule.  sea??h th§× N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Admittedly, that was because the late king was barely thirty-three years old himself when he died. Supposedly, the symptoms of white death had been seen only two months prior to his death. Where it took some people years and decades to succumb to it, Vaclav II''s symptoms advanced rapidly and killed him in months.


    So the young king Vaclav III was king without a guide and allies in court in the middle of a succession crisis against Hungarian nobles and claimants, while his ally by marriage ties, Henry himself, was also in the middle of his own work.


    The situation was not ideal by any means.


    So it was a good thing that he was currently staying in Innsbruck. He would need to send a letter to Hans immediately. It was a good thing that Hans set up a branch office of his letter couriers here in Innsbruck, wasn''t it?


    -VB-


    Hans von Fluelaberg


    As spring started to give away to summer, I began to receive a lot of letters from my secret allies and others who I didn''t expect.


    The latter was normal because I grew in power and wealth every day, and the former was a more recent thing.


    The first letter I received came from Duke Henry. He was in a bit of a pickle. He''d gone to Bohemia for his wedding, come back, and then received a letter from his new brother-in-law that his father-in-law had just died. The young king was weak and isolated, and Henry had an obligation to help, never mind the fact that the king decided to make Henry a governor of some importance silver mine. However, Henry professed that he had a bigger interest in carving up the Upper Duchy of Bavaria instead, mostly to ensure that he could claim the entire Inn valley up to the city of Rosenheim that sat outside the valley in Bavarian lands. This would give him a city that he could use as his trade hub and its river shipping business.


    This war would benefit him greatly but he couldn''t ignore a king either, even if Henry wasn''t underneath the Bohemian kings.


    And it was because of all of that¡­ that he was asking me to take control of his military on his behalf.


    Yes, he was leaving me in charge of the levies, men-at-arms, and knights under him as the Duke of Carinthia, Carniola, and Count of Tyrol.


    And asked Isabella to make sure I didn''t take over his westernmost fief.


    It made sense, though. He and Henry were ¡­ I was sure that I could call him a friend, even if there was a definite hierarchy and rank difference. But the difference felt a lot smaller when both of us knew that I already killed a bunch of counts and beat the shit out of another duke from a much more important noble house. Oh, and I was richer than him by far.


    Yeah, hierarchy mattered, but between the two of us, it was a small deal.


    He knew that I didn''t have a desire to conquer the empire, so he was comfortable with temporarily handing over the reins while he went off to handle a much greater problem up north.


    (And considering that Habsburgs were bound to be my enemies in their pursuit of subjugating the Swiss Alps, I rather liked the idea of having someone in my corner who had the Habsburgs territory in the east checked with his own alliance.)


    The second letter I received came from the empress.


    Yes, the empress. Elizabeth of Tyrol. That shrewd woman who took over the meeting of lords against Duke Louis of Upper Bavaria.


    Her letter was a response to my letter, one informing her of our readiness, and she, in her letter, more or less gave us the royal family''s secret blessing to curbstomp on their rival house.


    I knew that this approval would come. Why wouldn''t it? The Habsburgs could only grow more powerful if the Bavarian Wittelsbach grew weaker.


    So this letter, while important, wasn''t the most interesting of the letters I''ve received so far.


    No, that achievement was found in the third letter.


    It was from my dad, but on behalf of someone else. Or rather, he wrote the letter on behalf of the people of Uri.


    They wanted to talk.

 Chapter 121

    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 121


    -VB-


    Hans von Fluelaberg


    Why was it that just when I found myself busy that events spiraled in such a way that I got even busier than before?


    I should be busy preparing to tear up the Duchy of Upper Bavaria. Instead, I kept getting requests, news, and events that took my attention away, one after another. Was that how God reminded people like me that nothing went as planned? He didn''t need to remind me of that. I went from playing Hermitcraft IRL to playing Crusader Kings.


    In the letter that dad sent me, he first assured me that he arrived home with most of the supplies intact. My rangers also made sure no one bothered me, and even used my name a few times to keep grubby hands off of the foodstuff meant for my hometown.


    Good.


    He went on to talk about the situation on the ground, and how ¡­ well ¡­ my hometown might have suffered a lot more deaths if my foodstuff didn''t arrive in time. As it was, Erstfeld was hanging on by a thread whereas other villages had ¡­ disappeared.


    Yeah.


    So it was a close call, and my dad made a voyage most people of the era wouldn''t ever make. That alone put him in the top 1% of well-traveled people even though he had only traveled five hundred kilometers at the furthest from home in his entire life.


    Yeah, apparently, he went to the Low Countries before? He talked about how the villages and towns of the Compact looked more Dutch in our wealth than they did with the local Romansch, Italian, or German.


    I guessed that meant my efforts to bring up our local prosperity was that much of a success.


    And the reason why he brought it up was because the the Uri Canton really wanted some allies because the imperial vogt of Uri was an asshole. Worse, he was a Habsburg, so he brought in more trouble than a regular asshole. It didn''t help that imperial vogts in other areas that were allied to Uri Canton kept close ties with each other to profit off of the people.


    And the letter ended with Uri Canton''s representatives asking to treat with me. Or at the very least "could you meet with the imperial vogts here and do something about them for your dear old dad? You''re indirectly related to the emperor, which is what more than most could say about themselves."


    Yeah.


    Trouble was heading my way.


    I paused my ruminations and decided to look into the situation in what would become Central Switzerland. Specifically, I would spend some extra free time to look at the related trade reports for anything involving the undeclared Forest Cantons and their current nominal ally, Zurich. Maybe even gather rumors about how peddlers and merchants were treated in those locations. ????????¦¥£Ó


    But as for the request, I didn''t see a reason why not.


    I began to pen a letter to my dad.


    I told him that I would like to meet with the representatives of Uri, if only to see what they want. I also asked him if he and the rest of the family wanted to move to my barony, if only so that I can help shore up any issues they might have and, when push came to shove, I was a very powerful fighter and lord. Oh, and I will meet with the Uri representatives this late fall, if they could. Any earlier and I might be away from my barony.


    Once I sealed up the letter in an envelope with wax with my three mountain engraved ring, I called up a servant to have my letter sent through the "special couriers," who would cost me more (around 2 silver groschens or 20 silver pfennigs) but use a horse to travel to and fro to make sure they deliver the letter to the right person as quickly as they can.


    I sniffed once I sent the letter.


    ¡­ Yeah, it was about time I finished the job.


    I stood up and headed over to where I assumed Isabella would be this early morning.


    I had some loving to show before I left for the Upper Bavaria.


    -VB-


    Leon of Fluelaberg


    The Mine Manager


    It was another day and another morning. Like always, he got up, kissed his wife in a show of affection not usual around here or back home, ate with her, and left home to get to work.


    But on the way, he found himself stuck in a traffic of people in the main street of Fluelaberg.


    "What''s going on?" he asked someone next to him.


    The man, a dye factory worker of foreign descent, shrugged. "I think the big lord is making an announcement. Or someone working for him is."


    "Really?" he hummed.


    After that, he followed the flow of the crowd toward the front of the baron''s stone manor-fort and waited outside.


    Soon¡­ the baron walked out of the front doors and right up to the open gate.


    He cleared his throat.


    "My people!"


    Everyone stilled and quieted down, focusing intently on the legendary man who''s done so much in so short of a time.


    "I am sure that you have heard about the troubles to the northeast. Of a land ruled by a petty tyrant."


    Leon had. He didn''t know the exact details, but there were a lot of people grumbling and gnashing their teeth whenever the Duke of Upper Bavaria (or something) was brought up. How their lives have been ruined by the greed of a single ruler. In that regard, Leon was very happy with the baron.


    "I will tell you right now that he was also the one who sent bandits to our lands in the years past! The current duke schemed and backstabbed his own brother to grab a hold of his throne! And today, he now seeks to ruin us in another scheme just like he ruined his people for his petty greed!" the baron shouted with fervor. And soon, a man walked up to stand beside the baron.


    Leon stilled.


    Wait¡­


    His eyes widened.


    The old duke of Bavaria. The one who the baron kept as his "guest." The guy who walked around and needed a minder so that he didn''t start fights with the people.


    "You all know who this is. He is the former Duke of Upper Bavaria, Rudolf von Wittelsbach," the baron reintroduced the man with a full beard and long lush and voluminous hair (Leon wished he had hair like that). "And we have discovered that his action, while deplorable on its own, was a result of him being tricked by his own younger brother, the current duke!"


    People whispered.


    Wait.


    So the bastard who actually attacked them ¡­ was tricked into attacking them?!


    The former duke grumbled from where he stood.  S§×arch* The NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Yes, that is what happened," he said just loud enough for the people to hear him. "And with the recent crisis of currencies my brother has caused¡­ I have asked the baron for his help in restoring me to my rightful place as the duke of Upper Bavaria."


    "And I accepted. To enact justice against the man who sent bandits our way! To enact justice against the petty noble who stripped his own people of their wealth!"


    Everyone focused on their baron again.


    "So ready your arms, men! We move to strike down the lawbreaking and trickster lord of Upper Bavaria!"


    And to Leon''s surprise, more than a few people in the crowd roared in response to the baron''s call to arms.


    "You''ll find glory and pay!"


    And then Leon was shouting along with them.

 Chapter 122

    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 122


    -VB-


    Hans von Fluelaberg


    It took me a month to organize nine hundred and ninety troops from within my county (Rheintal and Fluelaberg) and Davos. It took another three weeks for further three hundred would-be soldiers to arrive and get tested from across the rest of the Compact. After weeding out a few spies and incompetents, I ended up with one thousand one hundred thirty-four soldiers, including my rangers prepared for the expedition, just under my command.


    The breakdown of my army was like this.


    Five people made up a squad. (5)


    Three squads made a company. (15)


    Six companies made a battalion. (90)


    Four battalions made a regiment (360), and a regiment with more than four battalions was a "reinforced" regiment.


    With barely any cavalry under my command, I only had infantry to work with. The only cavalry I did have were with my rangers, and they formed the 1st Ranger Cavalry Scout. I didn''t intend to put those expensive horses into battle where I can easily lose them. They would be separate from any specific regiment for now.


    As for the infantry, I divided them into three regiments.


    The most veteran soldiers, volunteers, and fighters of the Fluelaberg-Davos area became the 1st Fluelaberg Militia, numbering in at four hundred fourteen soldiers. This made it a reinforced regiment and I was its commander.


    Experienced mercenaries, soldiers, and fighters from the rest of the Compact formed the 1st Fluelaberg Irregulars. With exactly three hundred sixty soldiers, it was a regiment and headed by one of my rangers, Captain Jacob Bergmann.


    Least experienced mercenaries, volunteers, and soldiers - the greenhorns - were grouped into the 2nd Fluelaberg Irregulars with three hundred sixty soldiers. They currently had a dozen of my more tactically aware rangers temporarily attached to them to train them. Its commander was also one of my rangers, Captain Gilbert Edelba.


    These commander captains were given ranks that was the same as knights.


    As for my knights, I had a few from purchasing Rheintal, and they all also answered my call to arms.


    ---


    I watched as a man in full plate armor got off of his horse and marched up to the fort gate where I stood.


    When he was but two arms'' length away from me, he got down on one knee before taking off his helmet. Underneath the helmet was an old man of short gray hair and black moustache.


    "Your knight, Daniel von Widnau of Widnau, came to answer your call to arms, My Liege," the square-faced gruff knight said. "With me are fifty young and able-bodied levies from my fief."


    I smiled. "And I welcome you into my army, Herr von Widnau," I said as I reached down and helped him up.


    This wasn''t the first time I''ve met the old knight; we''ve already met when he first came by to swear his allegiance once proof of title transference was confirmed.


    He looked around. "Fluelaberg is magnificent as I remember it," he said.


    I chuckled. "It''s only been a year since you came by," I commented.


    "Indeed. And I am even more impressed by the number and quality of levies camping between here and the nearest village. The ¡­ rangers drill the soldiers extremely well.


    I grunted. "I expect a certain level of discipline from them all," I told him. "I will personally flog anyone who indulges in pillaging and looting without my express permission."


    The old knight looked approving of my words, but I could also see that he was going to reserve full judgement until he saw me actually following through with those words. §²?????????


    "Would you like to join me and my wife for dinner?" I asked him, and he grinned.


    "I''d love to, my lord."


    I paused before moving. "Do you know when Herr Emmanuel will be here?"


    He shook his head. "No, milord. Last thing I heard from his village, Kriessern, was when I was passing by. He looked sick, milord."


    I frowned. "I''ll have to send someone to see what''s going on over there. Thank you for informing me."


    ---


    It turned out that Herr(Sir) Emmanuel von Churinstein of Kriessern was down with smallpox. The ranger messenger I sent was sure of it, so I sent a message to the young knight to stay put because I did not want an outbreak of smallpox in my army.


    Smallpox was not something I could tackle right now, though, so I asked people to avoid Kriessern for now if they could until no one else suffered from smallpox in that village.


    Anyways, Herr von Widnau was not the only figure of note to join my march.


    ---


    Rudolf von Wittelsbach


    Rudolf took a deep breath in and let it out.


    Soon.


    It felt like a lifetime ago that he had been the Duke of Upper Bavaria and the lord of his own home.


    He looked at himself in the mirror, which showed a clear return image of himself. It was marvelous trinket. He''d have this mirror moved to Munich once this ousting was over.


    But he looked ¡­ better now. Much better.


    He used to be bigger before. Now, he was both fitter and healthier. It helped that Hans knew how to make some of the best dishes he ever tasted.


    And the fact that despite his status being higher, Hans dragged him out to train with the rest of his soldiers. As painful as those training had been, it made him stronger, faster, and harder.


    He shuddered.


    Didn''t mean he''d ever willingly train like that if he had a chance, though. Those rangers of his were crazy bastards of the highest order. Who thought that training with Hans was a good idea?


    Apparently, all of his rangers.


    ¡­ Not that they were wrong in theory, merely wrong mentally. There was a certain level of masochism one needed to possess in order to even consider training with the strongest man Rudolf knew of. Some of the training regimes the man put himself through was utterly insane¡­ but it worked for him.


    He flexed his arms and grinned at the bulging biceps. He made a turn and flexed his triceps.


    Oh yes¡­ he liked what he saw, and he was certain that ladies back home would also like what they saw if they ever saw him training without his top.


    Perhaps this was the start of his summer?


    Maybe the ladies will be more interested in him now.


    "Your Grace."


    He paused and looked over his shoulder where one of the few true servants of the fort stood waiting for him.


    "Is it time?"


    "Yes, Your Grace."


    He hummed. "Find me a page to help me put on my armor."


    She bowed and slid out of the room.


    Yes. It was time.


    Time to take back his duchy from his ambitious and scheming little brother.


    ¡­ He flexed just one more time in front of the mirror. Maybe two more times.


    Damn, he looked good.


    ---


    It took some time to gather all of my forces for this fight, but I was ready within the expected timeframe.


    By the end of March, I marched out of Fluelaberg towards Innsburg to take control of Duke Henry''s army. And from there, I would march on Munich to oust Duke Louis.


    -VB-


    Albert II of Carinthia


    Brother of Henry of Gorizia


    This was the first time he met the "Count Killer" of Fluelaberg¡­ and the rumors didn''t do the man justice.


    He watched as the man, not riding on a horse but walking alongside the few cavalry he had, did so with a giant slab of steel for a sword, and kept pace with the walking horses. And he knew that the count (because it was now known to most of his neighbors that he bought the County of Rheintal and this made him a count) had been walking at least a league with it on his shoulders because Albert had been watching from the top of his castle! He saw the man carry it around, and that glinting piece of metal was kind of easy to spot even from a distance.


    So, no, the rumors didn''t do him justice, because a man who can carry that long and thick of a castle-forged steel slab "weapon" was beyond human.


    Perhaps even inhuman.


    "Welcome to Innsburg, Count von Fluelaberg!" he greeted the new count with a grin and an extended hand.


    The count set his sword down and clasped the extended hand and gave a shallow bow.


    "I''m honored by your personal welcome, marquis. May this be the start of a long and fortuitous relationship."


    "I hope so, too," he hummed as he patted the younger man''s powerful arm while still shaking the hand a second longer before letting go. "Let''s go inside for now. You must be tired after the travel."


    "Ah, yes. It did take us half a week to travel this far¡­"


    "How big of a force did you bring?" he asked the count as they walked inside.


    "One thousand two hundred soldiers, milord."


    Hoh¡­ that was a lot for a small county and barony.  S§×arch* The n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Perhaps this matter would be resolved as easily as his brother had implied.


    If that was the case¡­


    Well, Albert would enjoy adding more lands to their family''s estate.


    -VB-


    Louis von Wittelsbach


    Munich


    "What?"


    His grip of the arms of his ducal throne, a highly decorated but ultimately a wooden throne, tightened and soon he heard the wood underneath his hands cracking.


    "T-The Compact has raised an army, Your Grace! Our spies report that they should be arriving in Innsbruck by today!" his spymaster reported with urgency, eyes wide with disbelief and fear. "And your exiled brother is with them!"


    This was it, wasn''t it? His enemies who had been ruining him from behind the scenes were revealing themselves. The Gorizia of Tyrol were out to get him. They were the ones who planned all of this!


    It made sense. It finally made sense! The Gorizias used their influence over the small baron through proximity and marriage ties to ¡­ to mint the diluted coins. Then shipped them around so that they would find their way into Munich. The merchants - oh, the greedy merchants - would take the coins because they were good enough. And why wouldn''t they be? Some of the best artisans of the region were in the rich Fluelaberg and Compact!


    It all made sense now!


    The upstart Gorizia thought that just because they held half a dozen count and marquis titles, they could fight against the Wittelsbach.


    That they could bring war to the Wittelsbach.


    This wasn''t just an attack upon him. It was an attack on his house. He needed to gather the house - his relatives and peers in Lower Bavaria - and defend their holdings against the Italian dogs*!


    It was clear that the Italians wanted to dethrone him because he was the closest fief to theirs as well as the one with the most problems.


    With how Rudolf had gotten so many man-at-arms and knights killed last time, his duchy was currently had a deficit of manpower. Even if he were to call in the levies, he would be found wanting.


    But just how many troops could the mountain hicks and their allies possibly bring forth?


    "If they''re collecting an army to fight me, then a fight we''ll have," he hissed. "Call the banners! And find me someone who''ll scout out ahead and get us some solid numbers on the Tyrolians!"


    He needed just a month to get everything together, but if the enemy was already at Innsbruck, then that meant that he had maybe two weeks before they were upon him in Munich. But with how Munich was in a state of chaos ever since the crisis spun out of his control, defending from within his castle was not an option, not when he didn''t know who was loyal and who wasn''t.


    He needed to go meet them out in the field where the crafty enemy couldn''t possibly prepare ahead of time, which was what led to Rudolf''s loss in the first place.


    But where could that be between here and Innsbruck¡­?


    -VB-


    A/N:


    *House of Gorizia started in Italy and that is also where the main "seat" of the house is at this point in the story.

 Chapter 123

    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 123


    -VB-


    Louis von Wittelsbach, Duke of Upper Bavaria


    It took him a week to gather just over two thousand levies, eight hundred thirty men-at-arms, and one hundred knights. Had this war broken out before Rudolf''s stupid war, then he might have thrice more knights. Maybe even four times more.


    But that was in the past. It was his fault that he didn''t stop his older brother from charging forward with just men-at-arms, knights, and their vassals.


    Because those vassals were now very slowly calling their own banners.


    It was obvious what they saw. It was another war sparked by a Wittelsbach against some mountain lords. It was going to be another failure of a war, so why would they risk themselves, their soldiers, and their wealth in something so obviously bad while they were too busy trying to fix whatever crisis that he supposedly caused with the fake coins and new coins?


    Because as great of an idea of his new coin was, the trust needed to make it work had hit rock bottom. People were skeptical and didn''t want to trade in old coins for new coins. Only ones who did it were those desperate to dump "useless" coins for "half-useless" coins.


    His policies worked, just not as well as he hoped.


    It hadn''t been enough to get enough trust back with his people and vassals before this broke out.


    So he now had just around three thousand troops to work with.


    Which was nowhere enough to take down whatever was coming at him. Even if it was just the Compact which already had a record of taking down twice as much as their own subpar manpower on the battlefield, he needed all of his troops.


    But Louis knew that Tyrol was joining in on this war, and the last estimates he had of the duke was that he had over one thousand and five hundred men-at-arms, though those were spread throughout his three fiefs and not centralized in one location. This was good!


    What wasn''t good was that the duke could pull up at least a thousand levies from the County of Tyrol alone, never mind what the rest of his territories could bring up.


    What Louis needed right now was harrying action. To prevent the Compact-Tyrolians from marching upon Munich and putting it to siege, because if they reached his home, then that''s what was going to happen.


    Munich needed to be free of pressure so that he could gather the rest of his vassals, levies, and allies. The city would serve as the headquarters from which the war would be conducted.


    This was something Rudolf did not do, thinking that he would go in, smash, and come back.


    So he called upon his most tactically able knight among his knights.


    As he saw the knight entering the throne room, Louis looked upon the old knight.


    Herr Danton von Seitegren walked up to the throne and knelt before the dais.


    "I''ve come as you''ve ordered, Your Grace," the white haired knight said with his head bowed.


    "Thank you for coming, Herr von Seitegren, and I''m sorry I called you out of your retirement."


    "When duty calls, a knight answers," the stoic knight replied.


    Louis nodded. If only half of his vassals were like Herr von Seitegren.


    "This is my order to you. Take half of the knights and all of the men-at-arms cavalrymen that have gathered so far and be my vanguard. Harry the invaders from the south carrying the banners of Duke of Carinthia and Barony of Fluelaberg. Do not engage in a protracted battle where you will be disadvantaged." ?????¦­??§§?


    The knight stood up and thumped his chest with his fist. "As you will it. I must first know who my enemies are, milord. May I be excused with your spymaster?"


    "You are."


    The knight bowed and then left.


    Louis watched the knight leave and sighed.


    Why couldn''t he have more reliable and trustworthy men like Herr von Seitegren?


    ---


    Sir Danton von Seitegren


    Ffuuucccckkkkkkk¡­


    Why now?


    He''s over sixty years old. He has grandkids to take care of because his shit son just up and disappeared one day, talking about how he was going to make it big in some Italian city-state. His daughter-in-law was a dumb bint, and his wife was long dead. His little fief right next to Munich had been hit way too hard by the stupid coin crisis he knew the duke didn''t cause.


    He knew the duke long enough to know that the duke was the cautious sort who wouldn''t cause that kind of idiotic crisis over a few bars of silver he got every other month from taxing the salt trade!


    It was obvious that there was an insider within Munich. Maybe an infiltrator within the duke''s own people.


    That meant that anyone was suspect.


    That meant anyone he took to the field might be a spy reporting all of his movements to the enemy.


    Worse, he didn''t know who the enemy was.


    From within a guest room within Munich Castle, he looked around the table at all of the relevant reports regarding the Compact and the County of Tyrol, because, unfortunately, his lord''s spymaster did not have the reach to find out relevant information beyond the most basics from the Duchy of Carinthia, Sanmark*, and Landgrave of Carniola.


    But he had what he needed for now.


    In the best case, Duke Gorizia would bring forth a thousand soldiers of varying experience and equipment from the Compact and then another thousand from his own domain in Tyrol. However, if the war lasted longer than two months within Bavaria itself, then Duke Gorizia would be able to bring forward another three thousand from the rest of his lands and maybe another thousand from the Compact, though the Compact''s further involvement at that point would be suspect.


    From what he saw, the Compact preferred a fast and brutal war by aiming for the enemy leadership, the nobles and commanders.


    But the peasants mostly fought on the defensive, only striking at the enemy nobility after they had come all the way to their doorstep.


    They wouldn''t be as effective here in foreign land that they didn''t have control over.


    Good. So he could estimate their effectiveness to be no different than a regular army.


    As for Tyrolian army¡­


    Danton narrowed his eyes. He would have to make many hit and run attacks targeting specifically them. Even if the Compact was richer, Tyrol had been around for longer with more established men-at-arms and knights. Those knights would be devastating in a full frontal conflict, so the best he could do for his liege lord was to cut down as many knights as he could as his lord gathered all of the troops he could.


    It was a rough plan but it was better than nothing.


    Knock knock.


    He looked up.


    They were here.


    "Come in."


    The door opened and a dozen knights and men-at-arms entered the small room.


    "It''s been a while, Danton," another old knight, Jeremiah von Locham said as he took the lead.


    Danton glared at his old rival before clasping arms with his friend. "It has. Unfortunately, we are in deep shit."


    Jeremiah hardened his face into a blank stare. "Tell us."


    He did.


    Half a thousand of them to keep the enemy at bay until their liege lord could muster the rest of the realm. But the enemy numbered in the low thousands with a track record for excellence, knight killing, and unorthodox warfare.


    "This is my plan," Danton continued after explaining to the experienced knights and men-at-arms about their situation and mission given to them by the duke himself. He pulled out a map of southern Upper Bavaria and Tyrol. It wasn''t a good map but it would do. "We will set up a base here in a market town," he said and pointed to a town south of Munich. It was far enough away that even if it came under siege and lost in the war, it would not affect Munich itself.


    But he hoped he wouldn''t see it burn down.


    "From there, we will not fight them head on but chip away at their forces."


    Jeremiah hummed. "We will need to wear only the minimum armor and ride on fast horses," he noted. "You would have us fight as Ungarn pagans** fight."


    "For the first part, yes. Once the duke gathers the realm for the war, we will be by his side."


    His rival nodded. "Then that is what we will do."


    Danton nodded in return as they left. He looked down at the unfortunate town who would have to host a war band.


    A market town called Holzkirchen. S§×ar?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    -VB-


    A/N: *another name for the Landgrave of Savinja. Sandwiched between Carniola, Carinthia, and Slovene.


    **At this point in time, Cumans, a nomadic Turkic people, were still alive and well in Hungary. It was a few of those who will kill a king/prince recently. While a minority, they maintained their lifestyle and culture. It won''t last much longer but they''re still there.

 Chapter 124

    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 124


    -VB-


    Leon of Fluelaberg


    "So what is it like living in Fluelaberg?"


    He blinked and looked to his left.


    Next to him was one of the sergeants of the Tyrolian army. "Living in Fluelaberg?" he asked. "Why are you asking?"


    "A lot of us are curious, you know," the sergeant shrugged. "That place used to have nothing. Just a place some peddlers and merchants might cross over to get from Italy to Swabia. Certainly not the most profitable place until your baron* came along and changed it all." S§×ar?h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Leon hummed. "That sounds about right. The baron did change it all."


    "So tell us about it, man!" the sergeant chuckled. "What''s it like living in Fluelaberg?" he asked and a few other soldiers around them, all of them from Tyrol, nodded. The ones that came along with Leon just lightly laughed at the curiosity they were seeing directed at them.


    Because, to be honest, Leon didn''t know if he warranted that curiosity.


    The baron certainly did, though.


    "It''s ¡­ different," Leon began as they all continued to march down the valley. "The first thing you notice is how smoky it can get."


    "Smoky?"


    "Yeah. There''s a lot of artisans in the small valley, so there''s a lot of chimneys. On top of that, there''s also a lot of people during winter, so everyone''s burning fire. The entire valley used to be forested but now there''s no more wood. The baron''s done something about that ages ago, though. Something about a hot spring he dug deep below the valley? That and mirrors are good at heating things up."


    "... Mirrors?"


    "Oh yeah. Mirrors are a thing. When the price of firewood started going up really quickly, the baron just made a bunch of mirrors. They reflect sunlight and make things heat up. The mirrors are quite small though, and doesn''t work when it''s cloudy. Also doesn''t work at night when we need the heat the most, but at least we don''t have to burn precious firewood during the day." What else was there¡­? "Oh, you can''t shit anywhere. If you do, then you get fined. You have to go to a specific place to shit."


    "Like for the night soil, right?"


    "Yeah. The baron set up relief stalls everywhere, and there are new people who go around collecting it all. So it doesn''t smell."


    That caught a few people''s attention. "No way," the sergeant spat. "Even towns smell. How does a city like yours don''t?"


    "Because the shit''s removed every night and anyone who gets caught pissing and shitting in the street gets stripped naked, stockaded, and then get their ass slapped red in public?"


    The sergeant reeled back. "Oh. Well, damn. Didn''t realize your baron took it that far," he chuckled. "Is he that into being clean?"


    "I mean¡­" Leon hummed. The baron has been becoming more and more about cleanliness in the streets since the birth of the little baron. "There''s less newborn deaths. Far less than what I''m used to."


    That brought up quite a few people short.


    Including one guy who looked very interested.


    "Truly?"


    "Yeah. I think in the past year, something like a hundred babies got born. Only two deaths."


    That sent an almost physical shockwave throughout the area centered around him.


    The soldier who looked most interested pushed through the marching crowd until he was standing next to Leon. "If I get my wife to Fluelaberg, then could I also get the same help? Whatever is making newborn deaths so low?"


    Leon, taken aback by the aggressive questioning, leaned back. "Uh, yeah. Should be able to. Assuming you can make the journey. That ain''t gonna be easy for any shortly expecting mother."


    The big soldier - because he was big - bit his lips. "She''s been pregnant for quarter of a year now."


    "Then let''s hope that this war comes to a quick end. From my experience, that''s usually how a war involving the baron goes. He gets involved and the war comes to a very bloody and a very abrupt end."


    -VB-


    Albert II of Carinthia


    Now that he had a chance to look at the count''s army, he couldn''t help but feel a pang of jealousy.


    "It seems that the count supplies his troops with some amount of equipment," Albert noted as he looked around.


    His right hand man, Baron Joseph von Helfert, hummed for a moment. "Most of those are castle-forged steel, milord. For all thousand of the soldiers. And even more complicated crossbows, quality and uniform cloak, and weapons for his ''rangers.''"


    "I know," he sighed.


    This meant that, at a minimum, the Count of Fluelaberg-Rheintal was ten times richer than he was despite having titles that were, by size, almost fifty times smaller. He would have suspected that the count had a backer if both Henry and Isabella hadn''t come out and told him bluntly that all of it had been built-up by the count himself in a mass development frenzy. He knew more than most and knew that he had information that could hurt - inconvenience - the count. Like the existence of a mine that, on the surface, produced small amount of gemstones when it produced much more in actuality.


    But those were small compared to the industries the count built up. The porcelain and dye industries remained his biggest money makers, and what a wonderful source of money those were if a mere count of no more than half a decade could equip and entire army with quality steel.


    He wanted that.


    But he also knew better than to act inappropriately like how Wittelsbach dukes have done. Perhaps in the future he would simply talk to the count about discounts to his products as his allies. It would be profitable to sell Fluelaberg''s porcelain and dye to the Hungarians.


    ¡­ Well, he could have had that conversation right now if the count hadn''t insisted on being the vanguard.


    "Where did the count say he''ll strike first?"


    "Anyone and anything that gets in his way, I believe those were his exact words, milord," the baron replied. "As for a target, he believed that we needed to secure the market town of Holzkirchen in order to properly put Munich to siege. Barring that, to keep our supply line secure."


    "Holzkirchen, eh?" he muttered. He''s never visited the town or even heard of it until he saw it on the map. He supposed that was what happened when he didn''t put much thought into the strategem of how the war was going to be conducted until it was staring at him in the face.


    But then again, he had a very dependable ally who could do all of that and more. All he had to do was be here as his and his brother''s sake, let the count kick everyone in the rear, and then take home a new piece of land.


    Work smart, not hard, yes?


    -VB-


    A/N: Leon is a mere miner/manager. He doesn''t know the intricacies of how noble titles are transferred and superceded, only that he knows what titles are above which title. As far as he and many other residents/citizens of the Fluelaberg Barony are concerned, he is still their baron, not the Count that he is now. Doesn''t help that Hans is not the type to go around telling people that they needed to refer to him as a count. It''ll take them some time to get used to it.

 Chapter 125

    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 125


    -


    V


    B


    -


    Sir Danton von Seitegren


    Life didn''t always go as everyone planned. In fact, Danton would say that a lot of things didn''t go right. Otherwise, hardships wouldn''t exist.


    He sighed as he looked upon Holzkirchen from the tallest building in the town.


    It wasn''t the southernmost market town in the duchy, but it came close.


    It, however, served as a hub for all towns and villages between Munich and the Alps. This meant that the people here were familiar with many of the roads and villages that he did not know about, including which one the Tyrolian army might take.


    "So?" he asked as he turned around. He wasn''t in his full plate armor right now, preferring to go in a simple brigandine.


    "None of the men-at-arms and knights we brought with us have been seen leaving the premise of the camp," his right hand man and men-at-arms Michael replied.


    "So. We don''t have a spy among us at least," he grunted. "That is a relief."


    And a problem.


    If there was a spy among his troops, then he could feel relieved that at the very least he''ll be able to take care of one of them instead of having one in his liege lord''s army. Since he didn''t and everyone was sure there was a spy reporting back to the Duke of Tyrol, this spy was right now close to his liege lord and thus able to report back movements without being so easily spotted.


    He took a deep breath in and sighed.


    At the same time, it meant that all of the people he''d drafted from his lord''s readied men-at-arms and knights were loyal men ready to die for their lord''s cause.


    It was a relief to know he was surrounded by loyal men and, if things took a very bad turn, die among comrade-in-arms instead of being backstabbed by infiltrators and spies.


    "What about you, herr?" Michael asked with a frown. "You said you would meet with the mayor."


    "I did," Danton grunted. "And the man was of no help whatsoever."


    Michael narrowed his eyes. "Is he uncooperative?"


    "No. That''s not it," he sighed. "He told me that Holzkirchen would not be the most direct path to Munich, though it was the most used route from Tyrol to Munich."


    His lieutenant frowned. "Then¡­?"


    "If we really do make Holzkirchen our base of operation until the duke arrives with his army, then we may need to travel further than expected before we can scout out our enemies."


    "That would put a lot of strain on the horses," he noted.


    "Aye," Danton said. "That is a part of the problem."


    "Just a part?"


    "Yes. Just a part. The bigger problem right now is that the people from around Holzkirchen have already seen what could be enemy scouts."


    Michael froze. "... But we just got here!"


    What the man was trying to say was that they, who were from Munich and thus closer to Holzkirchen than the enemy, just got here. Either Tyrol had been moving far earlier than they and the duke thought or the Tyrolians were moving with some ungodly speed to strike first and strike hard.


    "Start sending out the scouts. I want everything between south and east covered. I have a map here with all of the bridges along the Mangfall river, which is east of this town. The mayor told me that the river is heavily forested, so make sure the scouts you send out are keen eyed folks. Got it?" sea??h th§× nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Yes, herr!"


    -


    V


    B


    -


    It didn''t even take a week before one of his scouts found their enemy.


    Or rather, his scouts didn''t come back.


    "So what do we know?" he asked as he looked around the tent where other knights under his command stood waiting.


    "All scouts from the south came back, herr," Michael, his ever competent right hand man, replied. "On the other hand, scouts from the southeast and east have not returned. A single scout from the northeast came back, checking out the road between Rosenheim to Munich, but it doesn''t seem like the enemy is using that route."


    That made Danton frown. The enemy was obviously in the forest to the east¡­ but why not northeast? That way laid the fastest route to Munich from Rosenheim, which itself was just north of the Tyrolian valley.


    ¡­ Were they following the river?


    No, that didn''t make any sense. Moving an army of any decent size by hugging the river wouldn''t work. Not only were there no roads that followed the river, the river itself was surrounded by thick and dense forests.


    So what was going on?


    "It''s obvious that their vanguard have ambushes ready in the forest," he hummed. "Which puts us at a disadvantage. Going all the way around the forest will add half a day to travel, and any advance we meet in the northeast will¡­"


    "Leave Munich vulnerable," his rival knight, Jeremiah, caught on. "By taking over the forest, they essentially bought themselves a wall that our horses cannot cross easily and a trap for anyone who enters. It''s unlikely Tyrolians can cover the entire length of the forest, but since we don''t know where they are, it''s the same thing as the whole forest being an enemy territory."


    "Yes," Danton muttered. "But we can''t afford to go completely around the forest each time we leave as a group."


    "Then we should focus on one or two bridges and make sure to completely take them over," Jeremiah suggested.


    ¡­ It was a simple plan but it was a plan that he appreciated. If the enemy was trying to be tricky, sometimes, the only move they could make to achieve their goal was to power through it.


    After all, if he stayed put in Holzkirchen without going out to harry the enemy vanguard and army, then he wouldn''t be buying any time for his liege. That was the entire point of their presence here!


    "Very well, let''s do as you say," he nodded to Jeremiah. "There are three main bridges, but the closest one in southeast of us no more than an hour''s ride. We''ll take it over and station troops there."


    -


    V


    B


    -


    At least that had been the plan.


    Danton had gathered the troops and sallied out from Holzkirchen to secure the bridge. The entire journey across the isolated forests and farmlands had been peaceful without any sight of their enemies.


    And then they got to the bridge and the forest surrounding the river.


    It was high noon when it happened.


    With no enemy in sight, he ordered his men to start chopping down some of the trees nearby to create barricades. While the river itself made for a difficult but ultimately non-fatal crossing, the bridge would make any crossing easy, so it was only natural for them to barricade it as much as possible.


    And just as the first tree fell, his soldiers started to fall with crossbow bolts sticking out of their bodies.


    "There!" he shouted as he whirled his horse around after spotting one of the ambushers. They wore leaf-covered cloaks! That''s why they couldn''t see them before!


    And as soon as his eyes adjusted¡­ he realized that he had fucked up.


    The twangs of releasing crossbows filled the air. His solders brought up their shields, and those who did survived. Those who didn''t bring up their shields in time either fell lifelessly from a fatal strike or screamed as they fell.


    And even some of the men-at-arms who had brought their shields up fell anyway, bolts sticking out of their sides.


    "We''re surrounded!" he shouted from the head of a hundred strong group. "To the left!"


    The men-at-arms and knights on their left quickly turned to face the enemy while the other half and those in the front turned to protect their comrades'' backs with their bodies and shields.


    "Advance!"


    Those still on their horses thundered around while the footmen almost jogged as they moved cautiously with the shields held high.


    Thickly forested this place may be, it wasn''t thick enough to stop horses from flanking them.


    They still had time to reach the ambushing crossbowmen before they re-.


    T-T-T-TWANG!


    -load?


    The advancing men-at-arms and knights hesitated as even more crossbow bolts came flying out of the forest and struck their shields.


    It''s been less than ten seconds since they shot! How did they?! Did they have add-?!


    TTT-T-TWANG!


    His eyes widened as he saw one bolt coming for his chest. He whirled but -.


    Danton fell out of his horse and tumbled onto the ground. George, his warhorse, stumbled and then fell over to the side with a gurgling neigh. He got up as quickly as he could in his armor and saw it. The two bolts that had been meant for him. Or had George been their target?


    All he knew was that George was dead, he was on the ground without his warhorse, and t-.


    TWAN-N-N-NG!


    He stumbled.


    Pain blossomed across his back.


    He looked around saw his men''s formation breaking apart.


    No. He was ¡­ he needed to -.


    He stumbled again, backwards this time, as he felt something striking him in the chest.


    Danton looked down.


    Ah.


    That was a bolt.


    He let out a wheezing gasp before he fell sideways.


    As he felt his breath leave him and the light began to fade, he saw crossbowmen in green leaf cloaks standing up from all around him and coming out of the forest. Their crossbows were still aimed at them.


    ''Don''t. Stop. We surrender¡­'' he wanted to say.


    They kept firing.


    The last moments of Danton''s life was watching men who had trained for years to fight for their liege lord dying in vain against peasants wielding crossbows that shot way far too quickly to be normal.

 Chapter 126

    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 126


    -VB- S~ea??h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Louis von Wittelsbach


    "What?"


    The wounded and barely conscious man-at-arms in front of him struggled to get the word out.


    "T-The enemy annihilated the vanguard, Y-Your Grace," he gasped out with a rasp. If it wasn''t for his fellow man holding him up, then he would have fallen to the floor already. "Sir von Seitegren was ambushed by crossbowmen, at least a hundred of them.


    "How did he get ambushed that your and a dozen are all that''s left?!" Louis hissed angrily. "Sir von Seitegren couldn''t have fallen so easily to a hundred crossbowmen!"


    It was absurd!


    It wasn''t even a month ago that he sent the knight out to keep the enemy distracted, but instead of coming back with news of his enemy being held back, he was dead?!


    "M-Milord, they were already roaming the countryside next to Holzkirchen!"


    Louis froze.


    Holzkirchen was a market town less than a day''s travel away from Munich. The enemy''s vanguard had already reached there?


    Tyrol was already on his doorstep?!


    Louis felt his legs trembling. He felt dizzy and a sudden urge to vomit gripped his stomach like an iron vice.


    His enemies were already at his gates, and he hadn''t even been able to gather half of the troops he wanted.


    "How many of them are there? Just a hundred?" he asked, even though he didn''t want to believe that a mere one hundred crossbowmen were able to take out half a thousand men-at-arms and knights.


    "It had to be more than a hundred, milord," the man-at-arms grimaced. "The enemy¡­ they were everywhere in the forest. Whenever we thought we were safe, they would strike at us. If we turned our back, they would strike at us. And the only moments we would be safe from them would be if we stayed in position with our backs to each other. But even then, we weren''t safe because bolts would fly out of the forest." Then he shuddered. "And then their commander¡­"


    The man started weeping.


    "Get a hold of yourself, man," one of the knights in the room snapped at the man-at-arms.


    "T-Their commander," the man sobbed. "He tears people by their limbs."


    "What?"


    The man began to talk, and throughout it all, he looked like he had seen a demon in person.


    It was their third engagement.


    After losing Sir von Seitegren in the first ambush and then another half of the knights in the second, the wounded and ragged vanguard fell back on Sir Jeremiah. With the help of deceased knight''s right hand man, Michael, the two re-organized the men to pull back to Holzkirchen.


    They barely managed to run out of the forest when they found them.


    Just a bare dozen men led by a would-be barbarian in bear fur cape and roughly hammered faceplate and chestplate.


    But that would-be barbarian held a sword that was as wide as he was, taller than he was, and half as thick as the forearm of any respectable man-at-arms.


    That wasn''t a sword. That was a slab of steel that should have snapped in half from its own weight.


    The sight of the sword just


    casually hefted over the shoulder of the barbarian made them all pause, even though there were over two hundred of them against their dozen¡­ And at least a hundred more quickly gaining up on them.


    "Who are you?!" Sir Jeremiah demanded from atop his horse, which was one of the dozen or so that were left after the ambushers targeted them specifically in the two previous ambushes.


    "Count Hans von Fluelaberg, ally of the Duke of Tyrol."


    He never heard about any Fluelaberg nearby, so -.


    "... an ally of Tyrol," Jeremiah hissed. "It must be your peasants that ambushed us in the forest!"


    "Yes. And I''m here to offer you a chance to surrender."


    Everyone blinked.


    Sir Jeremiah scoffed. "You think we will give ourselves up so easily?"


    The count stared at them before shrugging. "I tried," he said almost conversationally before he dropped his sword.


    The sword


    sunk almost a foot into the ground just from its weight.


    And then the count began to grab the spears that had been planted around him.


    "What do you-?"


    He pulled out of the spears¡­ and threw it.


    The head of Sir Jeremiah''s horse disappeared - torn off from its neck - and then there were screams and gurgles behind him.


    The spear the count had thrown had pierced two men behind the knight, and Sir Jeremiah almost fell over. But he was quick thanks to not having full plate armor on, and managed to pry himself before his headless horse fell over, spasming its limbs in its death throes.


    "Are you sure you don''t want to surrender?" the count asked again. There was no pride, no pity. It was just neutral.


    "CHARGE!" Sir Jeremiah roared and the few cavalrymen still left thundered forward.


    The count shrugged ¡­ and threw another spear.


    A cavarlymen was torn out of his saddle after the spear punched into his chest.


    A horse shrieked as another spear stabbed into its chest.


    One of the men-at-arms died after a spear pierced through his guts.


    Again and again, spears came flying and


    someone died.


    By the time they reached the count, there were fifty corpses on the field¡­ and the crossbowmen from previous ambushes caught up with them.


    Bolts flew and struck their exposed backs.


    Then Sir Jeremiah was upon the count.


    The count parried a stab from the knight, grabbed his wrist and neck, and pulled.


    Everyone froze as the knight screamed.


    And then ¡­ And then everyone heard flesh tearing with rips, crackles, and pops.


    The knight''s arm came off with a final tear, and the count wielded it like a club against Sir Jeremiah.


    He did not stop beating the knight until he was dead.


    "E-Everyone ran away after that," the man-at-arms finished.


    Louis stared at the man. He was ready to dismiss the story but he could see wounds that correlated with the story. A missing arm. Arrow wounds along his legs. Exhaustion.


    "... Dismissed."


    Afters the guard took the man-at-arms out of the room, Louis turned to look at the rest of the nobles and knights in the room.


    "... It''s obvious that the accusations of witchcraft from last year wasn''t one made without cause," he spat. "So not only is Tyrol making overreach where he should keep his damn hands to himself, he is allying with real witches!"


    Some of the people in the room looked unnerved.


    Why wouldn''t they be?


    After all, the church in Rome outlawed belief in witches because it was "superstition." Except there was nothing superstitious about a man ripping other men with his bare hands, was it?


    Could he perhaps use the local archbishops to force a white peace? To bring the church into this war and put a hold to it while he gathered his forces?


    "Bring me parchment and a quill," he snapped at one of the servants. "I have a letter to write."


    -VB-


    Prince-Bishop Emicho von Kyrburg of Freising


    Though he had not overtly joined Tyrol''s attack against Duke Louis von Wittelsbach, Emicho had also made sure to support the duke and the newly minted Count of Fluelaberg. Of course, it wasn''t anything direct. A few letters of support to neighboring nobles, abbots, and bishops. A cart filled with weapons that should have made it to Tyrol.


    Things like that.


    "Your Grace."


    He looked up from his desk where he was reviewing the latest proposal from the City of Freising regarding lowering the tariffs for goods from the Duchy of Lower Bavaria. Unfortunately, he was going to have to say no, because lowering tariffs against them would mean that the larger duchy with more cities, crafters, smiths, weavers, and other artisans would gain an advantage without his people gaining anything.


    "Yes?"


    The servant looked around for a bit before stepping and handing him a letter without a word.


    When Emicho saw the wax seal, he nodded and accepted it. The servant bowed and left in a hurry, closing the door behind him.


    Emicho quickly broke the seal, pulled out the letter, and read it.


    And smiled.


    "Yes¡­ Everything is looking up."


    Soon, the Wittelsbach influence would fall, and with it, he will be able to make his own moves without having to look over his shoulder every time.


    And the young baron¡­ no, the young count was leading the charge against the Duke of Upper Bavaria with the stated goal of restoring the current duke''s older deposed brother as the duke. That had been the plan, yes.


    For Emicho, though, this was merely his chance to see if the young count had the potential to be more and to make a connection with him.


    Who knows, right? If he got in trouble and the count wasn''t doing anything else, then he could certainly ask the bloodthirsty count to come help him out.


    He stood up from his chair, making it lightly scrape. Then he walked over to the lightly smouldering hearth and tossed the letter into it.


    He made sure to watch the letter burn up completely with not a single "square inch" of it remain.


    Yes, the young count possessed quite the potential, and his bloodthirsty work was the least of them. The books he had his men buy from the count''s own library opened doors to worlds he didn''t know existed.


    In fact, he had already put many of the suggestions and recommendations for "medical" work found in "biology" books.


    And just like the count''s home, he saw less disease here in Freising, which was a city of almost five thousand souls. To receive a report that less than one hundred had died from disease last year?


    Gold.


    Those books were worth their weigh in gold, and the young count was bound to make more.


    This war? This war served him well: get rid of one thorn and gain a potential ally who would only grow bigger.


    ''Yes¡­ Things are looking up,'' he smiled as he walked away from the ashes.

 Chapter 127

    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 127


    -VB-


    Hans von Fluelaberg


    I strode into Holzkirchen''s town square with my rangers at my back and stopped right in front of the mayor and the few soldiers he had with him.


    The man sweated like it was summer.


    "W-We surrender to you," he said as he wrung his hands. "We''ll comply with your demands, so please¡­ We''ve only been a market town for a few years. We''re not rich."


    ¡­ Ah. He was worried about us doing the looting, raping, and killing bit, wasn''t he?


    "Don''t worry," I yawned as I looked around. There were around a thousand people looking at us from afar. Some of them looked ready to flee. "I''m not here to sack the town. You would know if I was."


    "W-We would?" the thin and short man asked in surprise.


    "Of course! I like to start things off with fire," I joked.


    He paled.


    ¡­ Oaky, maybe that joke didn''t fall right.


    "Relax," I sighed. "I''ve never sacked any village, town, or city in my life nor do I plan to if things go my way," I tried to reassure the mayor whose people had nothing to do with their duke except living under his rule by fate of birth and being made the forward base for the duke''s vanguard by happenstance. "I hope no I won''t need to elaborate what may happen if the people of Holzkirchen rise up against our stay¡­?"


    "N-No, milord. You won''t see us acting out! I promise!"


    "Good," I said with an odd. "Well, let''s start with a bit of introduction. I am Count Hans von Fluelaberg, the leader of the Compact."


    "... The Compact?"


    I grinned.


    I''ve been thinking. Sure, I took part in this campaign because I wanted to get rid of the man who caused all sorts of troubles for me and my people, but as time trudged forward on the campaign, I realized that I could go beyond getting rid of a problem.


    Why, after all, there had to be cities and towns who didn''t like their rulers. Maybe the taxes were too high. Maybe the rulers were assholes (like Louis). Maybe¡­ sea??h th§× Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Just maybe¡­


    I could convince them to become something like an "associate" of the Compact. Of course, as an associate, they would not have the right to vote on Compact matters, would be limited on trade, but limited trade with the Compact was much better than being limited overall by their liege lord who didn''t want a strong town springing up in their territory.


    Control over power was why town and city charters were limited. Why market towns needed a market charter.


    If places like Holzkirchen could be convinced that, just perhaps, an association with the Compact could benefit them, then I wouldn''t have to deal with my neighbor''s troubles within my Compact.


    Trouble would be kept in their lands where they belong.


    The idea had come out of the left field, so I didn''t have much prepared. Hell, by the very constitution I wrote for the Compact, I couldn''t make a decision this big - offering association status - without everyone else voting on it.


    So I would be sending back messengers so that everyone could vote on it by the end of the year.


    Yeah, things like this took time, and in an era without internet or phone, it took even longer. But at the same time, putting the matter up to vote which would end by the end of the year was a very quick decision; something like this could take anywhere from half a decade to a full generation. My reason for it was simple. By making the decision process faster, I prevented quid pro quo corruption from setting in or at least mitigated its settlement and spread.


    So I grabbed the mayor by the shoulder and led him away, extolling the virtues of the democratic system of votes, low to minimal taxes, and not needing to worry too much about the nobles.


    He seemed reluctantly receptive by the end of it.


    And even if things didn''t work out and the mayor and the people of Kolzkirchen didn''t want anything to do with it, I would start setting up a process which would expedite the admission process for those wanting associate status.


    ---


    With Holzkirchen''s surrender, three things happened.


    One, slower members of the vanguard surrendered after getting caught off-guard by my lightning speed campaign and brutal aggression on the battlefield, so I sent them back to Tyrol so that they would be imprisoned for the duration of the conflict. This removed knights and soldiers who had experience fighting us and thus prevented the enemy from learning about


    Two, faster members of the vanguard ran away, but not without leaving a lot of weapons, armors, and supplies. This would, of course, be used to bolster my army.


    Three, the coalition now had a base of operation right outside of Munich.


    That last point was important because if we hadn''t captured Holzkirchen, then we would have had to operated from further back or with an enemy base of operation to our rear or flank. With its capture, we now had direct access to Munich''s doorstep.


    "You work fast and clean, count," Duke Albert, Duke Henry''s brother and co-ruler of the Tyrol-Carinthia-Carniola Duchy, whistled as he looked around the still standing town. "And you didn''t burn it down."


    "Nah. It would have been a waste," I sniffed as I looked to former Duke Rudolf von Wittelsbach, who stood next to Albert. "It''s going to be our ally''s domain after this, isn''t it? Needlessly burning the place down would have been tantamount to insulting his inclusion into our alliance."


    Rudolf huffed. "... Thank you for not sacking the town, even though it was within your rights to do so," he said with a nod.


    "Like I said. It would have been rude. We''re here to get rid of a problem, not make one."


    "Well said!" Albert grinned. "So what''s the plan? Are we going to lay siege to Munich?"


    "No," I shook my head. "We''ll assault the Isar Gate. That''s the easterly gate, right?"


    "An assault?" Rudolf frowned. "We have a lot of soldiers, count, but nowhere near enough to launch an assault on a walled town." He paused. "Yes, that is the easterly gate."


    "Don''t worry," I grinned. "I''ll make sure that the gate won''t be a problem at all for us."


    -VB-


    Isar Gate: one of four traditional medieval gates for Munich. Only three remain standing, and Isartor is one of those three. If you also look at Munich today and the locations of the three gates (Isartor, Karlstor, Sendlinger Tor), you can see that the entire medieval city of Munich was barely a mile in diameter at its widest.

 Chapter 128-129

    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 128


    -VB-


    Hans von Fluelaberg


    "And now."


    "WAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!"


    Warcries rung out throatily and fires were lit all around the western areas of the town outside of the walls. War drums rang out and we kept on shouting.


    The garrison on top of the battlement hastily got ready to fight back, and some even began to loose their arrows at the fires and shouting men.


    I watched far from the Munich city walls as the defenders kept trying to shoot at us but we were too far, and the arrows loosed by the defenders landed in the bundles of straws we used as our shield while we continued to beat the drums and shout.


    "LOUIS IS A DUMBASS, HIS FACE IS AN ASS!"


    "LOUIS IS A DUMBASS!" my rangers cackled as they jeered along with me.


    "HIS FACE IS AN ASS, HE''S GOT NO ASS!"


    "HIS FACE IS AN ASS!"


    "LOUIS IS MAIDENLESS, HE IS SO CHARMLESS!"


    "MAIDENLESS! CHARMLESS!"


    And my arms swung. The drums beat.


    And they continued to beat into the night as our throats grew hoarse.


    --- sea??h th§× N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "You are a devil."


    I grinned before I took a long sip of water. I may have the endurance of a superhuman, but that didn''t mean that after all of that shouting, my throat didn''t go dry.


    Unlike me, my rangers rotated out every hour or so using the cover of the night.


    "Oh? How so?" I asked Duke Albert, who was looking at me with the gimlet eye that carried with it both respect and disgust.


    "It''s been over a week, Hans. A week of you harassing the western gate and everyone there with your ¡­ chants."


    Rudolf snickered. When Albert turned to look at him, he quickly recovered and cleared his throat loudly. "What?"


    Albert turned back to look at me. "It ¡­ this isn''t how I was taught wars are fought," he began. "But you''ve had more experience with war than I''ve ever had, so who am I to gainsay the effort you''re putting in?"


    I hummed. "Anything in particular you find distasteful?"


    "We may be trying to reinstate our duke here as the rightful duke, but emasculating Duke Louis in front of his subject feels ¡­ wrong. He is our peer; I believe he just deserves more respect than that."


    Rudolf looked begrudgingly on Albert''s side on this.


    "I disagree," I replied respectfully. "May I explain myself?"


    "Go ahead, count."


    "Are we here to win or are we here to have a practice match?"


    My words brought silence to the tent.


    "Our people die every time we make the wrong choice," I continued once I saw that they were willing to let me talk. "I am a count, yes, but my territory has the least number of people to draw upon. I only control Rheintal and Fluelaberg directly. All other territories within the Compact are member states and town that are not involved in this war. Each person who die under my command is not a knight but also a near irreplaceable citizen of my county. I cannot make choices that see any of them die unless I gain something far more out of it.


    "As an oriental philosopher of war from beyond the lands of the Muslim once said, ''appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak.'' The truth that I tell you two is that should a true gritty war break out, my people will lose even if I can go on fighting by myself until my enemies die. But what is the point of a war if all that is left is me and a pile of ashes?


    "My tactics so far have resulted in two advantages for us and three disadvantages for the enemy. One, we are well rested while our enemies are not. Two, we are losing nothing but time doing this, which works in our favor as they are cut off. As for disadvantages for the enemy, they are losing arrows trying to kill us. You''ve seen the piles of arrows I''ve brought in each night. The defenders of Munich have so far, over the course of a week, wasted more than a five hundred quivers. But because most of those arrows hit the ground or our hay bales, we can use them against them. As stated before, time is running out for them. And lastly, while knightly conduct may get me points¡­ please remember who I am.


    "I am the Count Killer. I have bled nobles who thought themselves prim and proper, who thought to gambled away their men''s lives. And look at me and mine now. Who decries me for winning? Who is left to tell me that I was wrong to have killed your peers?


    "Understand, my lords, that the only reason I don''t sneak over those walls at night and kill Louis in his own bedchambers - after all of the grief he''s caused for me and mine - is because you, Duke Rudolf, asked me to spare your brother that fate. The quickest path to victory is thus waived and I must risk my men. The lives of nobles are as expensive and cheap as that of a peasant when they are my enemies."


    I stopped for a breather and then looked at them both in the eyes.


    "Do you have objections to my thoughts?"


    Albert and Rudolf looked at me and then glanced at each other.


    Rudolf spoke up.


    "None."


    Albert hesitated before he spoke. "I have none, but you must also see that as long as you continue down this path, you will find no more allies."


    "As long as you and your house remains my friend and ally and continue to treat me and mine fairly, I see no reason to look elsewhere," I replied and switched back to more informal speech. "Now, I and my men have to sleep to make hell for them tonight."


    -VB-


    Louis von Wittelsbach.


    Two weeks.


    Two weeks of hell.


    "LOUIS IS A DUMBASS, HIS FACE IS AN ASS!"


    "LOUIS IS A DUMBASS!"


    "HIS FACE IS AN ASS, HE''S GOT NO ASS!"


    "HIS FACE IS AN ASS!"


    "LOUIS IS MAIDENLESS, HE IS SO CHARMLESS!"


    "MAIDENLESS! CHARMLESS!"


    He even heard some children repeat that in the streets during the day!


    If it was just the insults¡­ then fine. He could handle it. He''s handled worse. He''s dealt worse.


    But then it was the nightly attacks.


    The shouts and hollers. The threats of it made his men shoot their arrows.


    And now, they had less than a hundred quivers of arrow left.


    Food was also running low. Not enough to make anyone go hungry but enough that rumors were starting up.


    He held his head between his hands as the morning sunlight rose up.


    The city ¡­ was restless.


    Louis started to doubt his own men.


    The townspeople avoided him.


    The few who didn''t were sycophants with no thoughts of their own.


    More than one fight had broken out in the town square over the price of food.


    Everything¡­ Everything had gone wrong¡­ because of that damned mountain peasant playing at nobility.


    Count Hans von Fluelaberg was the source of all of his woes. No bishop wanted to listen to his calls about the count''s witchcraft, the obvious superhuman feats he performed. No lord wanted to listen to him. Even his own subordinates feigned ignorance as they counted the toll tax from trade going to and from the "Compact." His allies ¡­ had remained silent.


    Over two weeks of siege.


    No one had come to help.


    He was alone.


    And from the supplies he saw and the enemy army outside that only grew in size with each passing day, he knew he was finished.


    But he would be a fool to go out quietly.


    If they wanted to torture him at night, then so be it. He''ll go out and deal with them.


    -VB-


    Swiss Arms


    Chapter 129


    -VB-


    Louis von Wittelsbach


    "Are you sure about this, milord¡­?"


    He glanced up from where he had the servants and squires fit him in his armor. But now, he was alone in the room with someone whom he might address as his mistress. She wasn''t his lover by any means; she was closer to a bedwarmer than a mistress, really, but he could acknowledge that he felt more at ease with her than most.


    The only ones who stood higher than her in his places of esteem were his spymaster and his longtime friend who didn''t even know he was the duke.


    And if tonight went horribly against him, then that''s how it would stay in the mind of that peasant tavern owner who just thought of him as a "good chap with a stick up his ass."


    He almost chuckled at the memory. Ah, he almost exploded then and threatened to bring down the the might as one of then two dukes of Upper Bavaria¡­ but his better senses had won out. And he was thankful for that, too.


    Goodness, what was he doing when someone was waiting for a reply?


    "I do have surety in my action," he replied. "But the world is oft an indifferent mother. Who knows? Maybe I will face no one or face the entire enemy army. But you know what the situation is like."


    She fidgeted, her beautiful hair cascading down her shoulders and framed her face in such a way that it hid her slightly large jaws to give her the appearance of a truly beautiful lady. Marie was a lost noble woman from up north in the lands of the Poles. Lost in the sense that her family had lost their fight against their rivals and had their entire male lineage castrated.


    "Are you not scared?"


    He paused.


    Was he scared?


    Tonight, when the sun set and the damnable rural peasants from the Alps no doubt began to taunt him, he would strike at them not by sallying out but with the same tactic they deployed: ambush. Indeed, he intended to sneak out of the town walls with his trusted knights and men-at-arms and hide in the now abandoned houses that clung close to the walls. From there, when the rowdy Swabians came by and distracted themselves with distracting his garrison, he would strike at them.


    If he succeeded, then it would restore a measure of his authority within the town and they will hold out for days more. If he didn''t even do this much, then there was a very good chance that the garrison soldiers, who weren''t men-at-arms, might turn on him and his trusted knights as food ran dry.


    He knew his history.


    Sieges were messy, especially when food got low and the populace had no respect for their ruler. Whether that distrust and disrespect was earned was secondary to the reality that was starvation.


    "... I am a little nervous," he admitted. Who else would he admit this to? He approached her and gave her a kiss on her forehead. ""But I am more afraid to be stabbed in the back or poisoned at meal than to die on the battlefield. I would rather try this than be tied up in my own home by the weakly willed and disciplined, who would throw open the gates."


    He may have done some evil deeds but nothing so shameful as to deserve that sort of fate.


    It wasn''t like he ducked married men and broke marriages like Rudolf had done.


    It wasn''t fair.


    But he knew all about what fair was, didn''t he?


    "If you hear of my fall, then you know what to do, yes?"


    She nodded tearfully.


    "Good," he said as he stepped to the side and walked out of the room. He pretended to not hear her sobbing quietly.


    He walked down the castle''s corridor until he was at the yard where his men stood waiting for him.


    He stared at the one hundred souls who volunteered for this mission.


    "Are you all ready?" he asked them.


    They all snapped to attention. "We will follow you, Your Grace!" his master-at-arms thumped his chest in salute.


    He grinned. "Then let''s go out there and show those peasants why they belong on the farm and not the battlefield."


    -VB-


    Louis the Mine Manager


    One of the rangers hurt his throat too much to shout in the night, so Louis ended up getting voluntold to take his shift.


    "Ugh, this is going to be horrible!" he bemoaned his fate.


    He didn''t think he''d end up on the frontline so quickly again in such a small group of soldiers! He was the weakest and slowest among them, too! If something horrible went down, then he was going to die because being a mine manager made him slightly fatter than before!


    "Relax, Mister Manager," one of the rangers, Frederick, son of Frederick of Davos, from Davos, chuckled as he gave him a playful slap on the shoulder as the last light of the day disappeared over the horizon and bathed the world in darkness. It was a night of the half moon, too, so he really couldn''t see anything.


    He sighed. "... I guess. We''ll be under bales of hay, right?"


    "Yup. Bales of hay under rolling wheels. We''ll be perfectly safe, even if the archers shoot arrows slick with oil and fire. These bales have been soaking up water all day long in the nearby stream."


    That made him feel better.


    He walked in light armor, carrying a shield and shortsword that had been loaned to him while he left his new halberd behind.


    All around him were dozens of rangers, some pushing weird looking bed-less carts with hay bales on top like a roof. Actually, was that just a market stand put on wheels and tied together?


    He glanced at the three pairs of donkeys pulling the market stand on wheels and the wet hay bales on top of them. Poor bastards.


    He also looked at his lord, Count Hans von Fluelaberg. Apparently, the good lord hadn''t done much to announce his rise in status to the people of Davos and Fluelaberg. Probably thought it was more of a hassle than the prestige it would get him. Louis had been at Fluelaberg for a long time now, and knew just about how its lord thought. He wasn''t unambitious or lazy. It''s just that if he didn''t see how it would benefit him greatly, then he wouldn''t do it. Little things like announcing his status apparently fell in the "small benefit" category.


    Unlike most of the rangers and himself included, the count carried his full ensemble of equipment, including his thick bear fur cape, metal face and chestplate, and that giant slab of metal he called his sword.


    As the entire group made their way towards the western gate for their nightly ritual, they passed by the houses abandoned by the folks who must be either deeper in the countryside or inside Munich.


    House after house, they passed by-.


    Whee-!


    One of the rangers jerked before falling side ways.


    "John?!" someone shouted from behind.


    "AMBUSH!" someone else shouted.


    "WAHHHH!!!" cries ran out from all around them.


    Louis snapped his head from left to right as armored men rushed out from abandoned houses. It was so dark that he couldn''t see anything!


    He hastily drew his shortsword and shield while the rangers drew their own swords.


    In that darkness, Louis felt dread.


    Until he saw the count move.


    He burst forward like he had expected the ambush and swung his sword. The wind roared as the sword made a half-circle arc with the count at the center and sliced into an unlucky knight. Metal squealed and screamed as the sword tore through it and sent out sparks of light everywhere.


    For a very brief moment, the battlefield paused as its center lit up from those sparks.


    "That''s the count! Kill him and you''ll get a hundred guldens!" someone among the enemy shouted.


    A hundred?! That was enough to get someone''s kid into a knight''s service as a squire! Or so the market rumor was around Davos.


    And it spurned the momentarily stunned knights and men-at-arms into a frenzy. They roared as they charged into them.


    In the darkness, they did not see or hear how the rangers had drawn their crossbows in the lull of the battle.


    The count jumped forward, shoulder-checking a man-at-arms. The man got overwhelmed immediately by the count''s charge and doubled over before something crunched when the count deliberately stomped his feet down on the downed man.


    The man-at-arms did not get back up.


    And the rangers loosed their crossbow bolts.


    Their enemies screamed around them as bolts landed.


    Louis hyperventilated, looking around frantically as the smell of blood seeped into his nose, but he held his position next to a pair of rangers. One of them held his shoulder steady as he used his other hand to fire his crossbow.


    "Squad one reloading!"


    "Squad two taking over!"


    It was ¡­ how the rangers fought in the open reminded him of workshops where everyone knew what they were doing.


    The ambushing knights and men-at-arms, on the other hand, stumbled and backed away as the sudden burst of bolts left quite a few of them dead or dying in the dark streets.


    And then there was the count.


    "FOUND YOU!" the count cackled.


    Cackled.


    There was a slam. A scream. Winds whooshing. Something metal squealing and bending.


    A grunt and a thrust.


    Sparks of metal.


    A crunch.


    A screa-. Cut off.


    Something like leather being squeezed and metal weakly clanging against metal.


    And -.


    Snap.


    The rangers fired their bolts again. Even if some of the bolts struck some of the shields held by the ambushers, no shield could cover everything and the rangers seemed to be targeting those specifically.


    "EVERYONE STOP!" the count roared and the battlefield once again stuttered to a halt.


    And something got tossed into the dimly lit center of the street.


    Metal clanged against flesh and dirt.


    "I have slain Duke Louis von Wittelsbach!" the count declared. "Lay down your arms or prepare to die! This is your only chance!"


    ¡­ Huh?


    T-The duke was here? Wait, the count killed the duke in battle?!


    The count rumbled out from among the ambushers, who quickly backed away from him.


    Louis froze when he saw the bloodstained visage of the count. Even in the half moon moonlight, he could see it.


    In that short span of time, the count had gone out, found the commander of the ambushers who turned out to be the duke and killed him?


    How long has it been since they were ambushed? Four minutes? Three minutes?!


    Someone screamed and charged at the count from behind.


    The rangers didn''t even bother to warn their lord.


    He whirled around, backhanded a fully armored man, grabbed him before he fell, lifted the fully armored knight up because, yes, now that the backhanded man was above them all and moonlight glanced off of his armors, he could see that it was a knight and not a man-at-arms, and then brought him down brusquely over his knee. They all heard bones snapping.


    The knight screamed and gurgled before the count dropped him on the ground.


    "Anyone else with a bright idea?"


    As if to emphasize the question, he lifted one foot and slammed it down on the screaming knight.


    There was a final snap and the screaming stopped.


    Louis heard weapons dropping all around him and the rangers.


    He took a deep breath in and looked at the count again.


    Yeah¡­ he wouldn''t want to fight that.


    "Men, I want their weapons in the cart and their wrists all tied up! We''re walking up to those gates and getting their surrender tonight!"


    That made everyone on their side let out a jubilant roar, and Louis surprised himself by cheering along with them even though he''d done nothing.


    Whatever. The war was over!