Chapter 111: Praise the Swabian guns
The barrier was removed. Konrad spurred his destrier forward.
Right behind him, Marshal Eckhard and Captain Ragnar rode in, leading the column of three thousand veteran Swabian halberdiers and the heavily loaded treasury wagons.
The moment the soldiers fully crossed the threshold, the silence of the tense courtyard shattered.
The people of the keep simply could not hold themselves back anymore.
Hundreds of blacksmiths, kitchen servants, stable boys, and local peasants rushed forward, abandoning their daily chores.
They swarmed the returning army, desperate for any news.
"Praise the saints, you are alive!" a weeping baker’s wife cried out, grabbing the arm of a Swabian gunner.
"Are you hurt? Where were you all this time?!"
"We thought you were on a winter patrol!" an elderly blacksmith shouted over the noise, looking in pure awe at the wagons.
"...what in the world are you hauling in those heavy carts?"
The courtyard became an loud mess of questions and tearful reunions. The people were focused on the health of their fathers, sons, and brothers.
They were asking what they were doing out in the mud for the past week, ignorant of the slaughter that had just taken place.
However, Konrad’s highly eyes ignored the cheering peasants. He looked straight up at the high stone balcony of the guest wing.
Bishop Tomas was leaning far over the railing. His fat face was pale, sweating despite the freezing morning wind.
Clutched tightly in the papal envoy’s trembling hand was a freshly printed piece of vellum.
It was the pamphlet... Master Johannes and Isolde’s shadow-walkers had done their jobs perfectly.
The Bishop was currently whispering frantically into Duke Wilhelm’s ear.
The Duke of Bavaria’s eyes were completely wide with terror and fury as he stared down at the Swabian army.
The Duke pointed a shaking finger at the blood-stained armor of the Reiters and the heavy wagons of silver.
They knew... the Bishop had clearly just received the news from the early morning trade guilds and immediately told the Duke.
But to the rest of the keep — the cheering peasants, the confused merchants, and the local guards — the truth was still a mystery.
Before he managed the situation with the silent masked lady standing just a few yards away, he pulled his horse to a halt in the dead center of the courtyard.
Konrad raised his hand high into the air.
"Silence!" Marshal Eckhard roared. "Listen to your Lord!"
The cheering and the frantic questions slowly died down.
Thousands of eyes locked onto the towering, exhausted figure of the Swabian Viscount.
The courtyard became incredibly quiet, the only sound being the aggressive snapping of the black banners in the wind.
"People of Swabia," Konrad began. "You ask where your sons have been. You ask what we carry in these heavy wagons. I will tell you the truth."
He paused.
"We have returned from a victorious campaign!" Konrad announced. "As of this very morning, the eastern fortress of the Duchy of Savoy is completely destroyed... the Bohemian mercenaries who sought to bleed us are feeding the crows! Savoy is broken, and their eastern trade routes are now under our borders!"
A collective gasp echoed through the courtyard. The local peasants and the minor merchants immediately shrank back, their faces turning completely pale.
An unprovoked war with a massive sovereign Duchy like Savoy meant only one thing for the common folk: burning fields, horrific taxes, and enemy knights slaughtering their families in the night.
"War...?" a terrified stable master whispered, crossing himself. "We are at war with the Duke of Savoy? They will send ten thousand knights to burn our valley!"
"We will all be slaughtered!" a woman cried out, clutching her child tightly. "Why would you march on their borders?!"
Konrad looked at the scared faces of his people.
He saw Duke Wilhelm on the balcony taking a deep breath, preparing to shout a condemnation and sever their alliance right then and there.
"They brought this war upon themselves!" Konrad shouted.
"Do you think I marched your sons into the mud for simple greed? No!"
"Seven days ago, a completely peaceful Swabian merchant caravan was ambushed by Savoyard border guards!"
"They slaughtered our drivers in the mud! They stole our wealth!"
The crowd blinked.
"But it wasn’t just silver they were stealing..."
"I heard the news from the captured guards..."
"That miserable, cowardly Count Philibert of Savoy was running a slave caravan!"
"A slave caravan?" Ragnar repeated from his horse, playing his part as the loyal captain.
"Yes!" Konrad declared, pointing his steel gauntlet toward the west.
"The Savoyard lords were capturing innocent travelers, poor farmers, and lost merchants from our very own trade routes!"
"They were packing our people into iron chains and selling them to the eastern mercenary camps for cheap silver!"
"They thought Swabia was weak... they thought we would just sit behind our walls and let them steal our brothers and sisters!"
The people were used to being treated like disposable garbage by the high nobles.
Hearing that their Viscount had just marched an entire army into the freezing mud specifically to brutally punish the lords who were selling commoners into slavery? It broke their minds.
"We broke their chains! We slaughtered the mercenaries who profited from our blood!
"And we took their silver to pay for the lives they ruined! Swabia does not bow to thieves and slavers!"
The silence in the courtyard held for one single heartbeat.
And then, the entire keep erupted.
"Long live Lord Konrad!" a blacksmith screamed at the top of his lungs, throwing his hammer into the air.
"Death to the Savoyard rats!" the local militiamen chanted. "Praise the Swabian guns!"
The crowd went wild... the men cheered, the women wept tears of absolute pride, and the veteran soldiers puffed out their chests, suddenly feeling like holy crusaders instead of simple mercenaries.
Up on the balcony, Duke Wilhelm’s jaw dropped.
The Bavarian lord looked at the cheering peasants, then looked at the printed pamphlet in the Bishop’s hand.
The legal justification, combined with the fanatical loyalty of the Swabian populace, meant that any attempt to declare Konrad a rogue warlord right now would completely backfire.
Even so, Konrad didn’t let the smile touch his face.
He simply lowered his hand, completely satisfied that the domestic narrative was secured.
The treasury wagons were finally safe inside his own walls, protected by three thousand loyal killers and a population that currently worshipped the ground he rode on.
He slowly swung his right leg over the saddle, dropping down from his warhorse.
The crowd respectfully parted, creating a clear path in the center of the courtyard.
Konrad finally turned his full attention back to the elephant in the room.
The masked woman was still standing there.
Konrad began to march slowly toward her, his hand resting naturally on the grip of his wheellock pistol.
He was ready to demand exactly how she had bypassed his security grid and what the she was doing standing in his home.
But before he could close the distance, a flash of deep crimson silk caught the corner of his eye.
Lady Katarina had left the high balcony. She glided through the cheering crowd, her dark hair perfectly styled, her royal Bavarian presence causing the local peasants to bow their heads and step aside.
She walked up to Konrad, stopping just a few feet away from him.
Katarina looked at Konrad’s face. She then slowly turned her head, her eyes locking onto the figure of the masked woman.
The future Duchess of Swabia tilted her head slightly.
"Konrad," Katarina said. "...you forgot one very important detail for your future wife."
She slowly raised her delicate hand. "Who is this woman?"
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