Chapter 117: Washing Away Bohemia
"Hans!" Konrad barked, cutting through the polite noble chatter.
"Yes, My Lord!" the quartermaster squeaked, rushing forward and bowing deeply.
"Take this silver to the deep vaults, and post a double guard on the doors," Konrad ordered. "And then I want you to open the lower cellars. I want a feast prepared in the courtyard. Roast the pigs. Tap the oldest barrels of Bavarian ale. Let the people eat and drink until they cannot stand."
"At once, Lord Konrad!" Hans bowed, turning around and shouting orders to the kitchen servants.
The soldiers cheered even louder... a feast was exactly what they needed to wash the horrific taste of the Bohemian slaughter out of their mouths.
Konrad handed the borrowed arming sword back to the elite Reiter.
He was running on empty...
His exhausted muscles were screaming in pure agony, and he needed to wash the dried blood and soot off his skin before he sat down to negotiate a hundred-thousand-florin contract with Margarita de Austria.
"Ragnar," Konrad grunted, looking over at his mercenary captain. "Watch Margarita and her guards. Do not let them wander the keep. I am going to change my clothes."
"I will keep my eyes on them, My Lord," Ragnar promised.
Konrad turned his back on the courtyard. He walked toward the lord’s wing, ignoring the staring nobles and the whispering servants who rushed to get out of his way.
He climbed the stairs to his chambers. He pushed the thick oak door open and stepped into the quiet, warm room.
Konrad let out a long sigh. He reached up and began unbuckling the straps of his blackened steel breastplate.
He walked over to a silver basin filled with warm water and splashed it onto his face.
The door suddenly clicked shut behind him.
Isolde stepped fully into the room. She reached out and firmly locked the bolt on the door, ensuring their complete privacy.
"You handled the courtyard perfectly," Isolde whispered, stepping closer to the warmth of the hearth.
"...the Duke is terrified into submission, the Bishop is pacified by the ledgers, and the peasants adore you for freeing those imaginary slaves."
Konrad grabbed a clean linen towel and wiped his face. "But?"
Isolde stopped just a few feet away from him... she crossed her arms, her expression turning cold.
"But we have an unexpected problem," Isolde stated. "While you were out playing the triumphant warlord in the mud, my shadow-walkers intercepted a classified raven meant for Bishop Tomas."
Konrad threw the towel onto a chair. "What did the raven say?"
"It wasn’t about the Savoyard border," Isolde replied. "It was a direct communique from Rome regarding Lady Katarina, and what Duke Wilhelm secretly promised the Pope behind your back."
She stepped right up to him. "Do you want to know what the Bavarian Duke actually promised the Vatican in exchange for your destruction?"
"...."
Konrad stood still, his bare chest still damp from the washbasin.
He stared at the rolled piece of vellum in Isolde’s hand.
He didn’t reach for it... his mind was churning, trying to process the sheer weight of what she had just said.
"Katarina?" Konrad asked, his voice dropping into a whisper. "Are you telling me Katarina is in on this?"
Konrad had always planned heavy contingencies for the Duke’s inevitable treachery.
He knew the Bavarian ruler was greedy and weak-willed when pressed by the Church.
But Katarina?
Isolde frowned slightly, her eyes reflecting the dancing flames of the hearth. She lowered the vellum just a fraction.
"I am not sure about her direct involvement, Konrad," Isolde admitted. "We know she is smart. We know she fully understands the power of your forges and your guns. But blood is a very thick ledger to rewrite. Her father is still her Duke."
"....."
He walked over to the table near the window and poured himself a cup of un-watered Swabian wine. He took a long, burning swallow.
"She kept the secret of the Savoyard invasion, Isolde," Konrad argued. "She explicitly covered for me in the Great Hall when I needed to slip the Reiters out. She stood between me and that arrogant royal bastard, Margarita, just ten minutes ago in the courtyard! Why the would she betray me to the Vatican now?"
However, Isolde didn’t answer with a comforting, easy lie.
"I don’t think she betrayed the Savoy secret," Isolde explained softly, stepping closer to the warmth of the fire.
"I think the Duke and the Bishop figured it out on their own.
The local merchants were panicking, and the rumors were already spilling into the trade routes.
But with Savoy crushed, something fundamental shifted between Duke Wilhelm and the Vatican."
Even so, Konrad struggled to accept the suddenness of the political pivot.
"Shifted how? Wilhelm was happy drinking my ale and planning a wedding yesterday."
"Because yesterday, they were not terrified of you," Isolde stated, crossing her arms. "Before this morning, you were just an eccentric, highly controversial Viscount making strange wheellocks in a remote valley. You were a useful tool for Bavaria to absorb through marriage. But now? You just slaughtered a massive army, humiliated a papal envoy, and annexed a sovereign border in a single week."
Konrad set his silver goblet down on the table... he leaned against the furniture.
Though he knew he had painted a target on his back by marching on Savoy, he hadn’t expected the knife to come from the guest wing quite so quickly.
He had assumed the fear of the Swabian Gatling carts would keep the Duke perfectly docile until the wedding was finalized.
"They realize you cannot be controlled," Isolde continued. "Duke Wilhelm is not a minor border. He is one of the strongest, most influential rulers in the Holy Roman Empire. He commands massive, incredibly rich lands in Munich. He has thousands of highly trained royal halberdiers at his absolute disposal."
"And the Pope knows it," Konrad murmured, the dangerous pieces finally clicking together in his head.
"Exactly," Isolde nodded sharply. "The Vatican knows they cannot march a holy army all the way from Rome without dealing with a dozen logistical nightmares and alerting every spy in the Empire. But if they can convince the Duke of Bavaria to strike you from the inside..."
"...Then the Pope doesn’t have to march his own men at all," Konrad finished the thought. "He just lets Wilhelm do the butchering. He uses the Bavarian halberdiers sleeping in my lower barracks to open the gates."
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