Chapter 116: Kneel in the Mud
Eckhard had led the vanguard... he had executed the slaughter on the ridge. He had held the line against the Pope’s blockade.
The old soldier believed that Konrad was grabbing that sword to knight him on the spot.
Eckhard thought he was going to be the new Lord managing Savoy, rewarded for his absolute loyalty with a stone fortress and his own lands.
Though Eckhard was a ruthless commander, Konrad knew that putting a pure military tactician in charge of a civilian border town would only lead to a bloodbath.
Eckhard would solve every single peasant revolt by simply firing the cannons.
Konrad kept walking... he bypassed the hopeful Marshal.
He glanced upward, toward the balconies overlooking the courtyard.
Standing there, separated from the panicked Duke and the sweaty Bishop, were his mother, Dowager Baroness Mathilda, and his younger sister, Elise.
They were silent.
Usually, Mathilda would be screaming at the top of her lungs, clutching her rosary and crying about heresy, bloodshed, and the damnation of their family soul.
Elise would normally be hiding behind her mother’s skirts, terrified of the black-armored soldiers and the treasury wagons.
But they were just watching him with wide eyes.
Right behind them, melting into the shadows of the balcony, stood Isolde.
It was obvious... Isolde had done exactly what she was supposed to do. She had gotten to his family before the rumors did. She had explicitly used her intelligence network to give them the precise, completely dense lore of the Savoyard Treachery.
She had explained the slave caravans, the Fugger silver, and the complete legality of his actions.
She had fed them the narrative, keeping them docile and silent during this critical moment.
Konrad felt a brief pang of relief.
He turned his attention back to the center of the courtyard. He held the borrowed Swabian sword tightly in his right hand.
He walked past the silent, highly amused figure of Margarita de Austria. He walked past Lady Katarina, who was watching him with a fierce, incredibly intelligent intensity.
He stopped in front of the treasury wagons that held the fourteen thousand silver florins.
The entire Holy Roman Empire waited with bated breath to see exactly who the Heretic of Swabia was going to elevate to power...
"A conquered border requires a completely unbreakable hand," Konrad announced. "It requires someone who understands that we do not negotiate with thieves, and we do not bow to foreign Dukes."
He slowly raised the long sword.
"Kneel in the mud..." Konrad commanded. "...so I can name the new Lord of the western border."
In the year 1526 AD, appointing a young woman as the absolute military governor of a highly dangerous conquered border region was madness.
It went against every single established rule of the Holy Roman Empire.
The noble ledgers didn’t allow it. The local Savoyard militias would completely riot out of sheer, unadulterated wounded pride.
If he put a Swabian girl in charge of a devastated stone fortress, Bishop Tomas would likely suffer a holy stroke right there on the cobblestones, and the surrounding lords would instantly declare Konrad a complete lunatic.
However, Konrad wanted only one thing to secure his revolution: people he could actually trust.
He clearly thought of Elise. She was his blood. She was smart, capable with the administrative ledgers, and most importantly, she would never try to build her own rogue mercenary army to challenge his authority.
If he gave her the western trade routes, she would ensure that every single silver florin flowed directly back into the Swabian forges.
If he sent Elise out into the western mud right now, Duke Charles of Savoy would send heavily armored assassins before the week was even over.
The border was too raw, too soaked in fresh blood. She would be a target.
Even so, Konrad’s mind calculated a secondary, much safer route.
He didn’t have to put her in the line of fire today. He could use a heavy iron hammer now, and bring in the administrative ledger later.
He shifted his stance. The steel blade swung away from the balcony.
He pointed the Swabian sword at the broad chest of Marshal Eckhard.
"Kneel in the mud, Eckhard," Konrad commanded.
The old veteran didn’t hesitate for a fraction of a second.
Eckhard dropped heavily to one knee. He bowed his head, his face flushed with undeniable pride.
The entire crowd of Swabian soldiers and peasants held their collective breath.
"I name you the Military Governor of the Western Pass," Konrad declared boldly, tapping the flat of the steel blade against Eckhard’s armored shoulder.
"You will hold the stone walls.
You will crush any Savoyard rebellion before it even sparks.
And you will ensure that the trade routes remain entirely open for my merchants. Do you swear it?"
"On my life and my sword, Lord Konrad!" Eckhard shouted. "I will turn that border into an absolute graveyard for any Savoyard rat who tries to cross it!"
"Rise, Lord Eckhard."
The courtyard erupted. The three thousand Swabian halberdiers cheered wildly, slamming the butts of their pikes against the stone.
The local peasants screamed their approval. Their own military commander had just been elevated to a noble position.
It was a visible victory for the common soldiers who bled in the mud.
Konrad smiled to himself.
It was the perfect move. Eckhard would spend the next few months brutally pacifying the dangerous region and rebuilding the shattered fortifications.
The Marshal would be the terrifying shield the border needed.
And then, once the territory was safe and the blood was washed away? Konrad would simply recall the Marshal and quietly install Elise as the permanent administrative ruler, letting Eckhard remain strictly to defend her.
He would get the exact trust he wanted without risking his sister’s life.
Though the board was temporarily settled, the immediate reality of the morning was quickly catching up to the noble guests.
Duke Wilhelm and Bishop Tomas hurried forward from the edge of the crowd, forced by strict noble etiquette to congratulate the newly minted border lord.
"A highly wise choice, Viscount!" Duke Wilhelm laughed loudly, slapping Eckhard on the shoulder, though the Bavarian Duke still looked nervous about the heavy guns surrounding them.
"A strong, veteran hand is exactly what a violent land requires!"
"The Mother Church blesses your new station, Lord Eckhard," Bishop Tomas chimed in.
Konrad turned his head and spotted Hans, the chief quartermaster of the keep, standing nervously near the treasury wagons with his ledgers.
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