Chapter 121: A Dowry Paid in Mercenaries
Konrad leaned forward. "I don’t want a castle in Burgundy," Konrad stated. "I want you to use your royal blood to leash a rabid dog for me before it burns my valley."
Margarita’s smile faded slightly. "Which dog?"
"Duke Wilhelm of Bavaria," Konrad answered flatly. "He is going to call his banners and march fifteen thousand men against my walls by the end of the month."
Margarita’s eyes darkened.
A Duke marching on a royal asset was a different ledger altogether.
Konrad leaned closer. "So, are you going to protect your new investment?"
Margarita de Austria simply stared at the Swabian warlord. The arrogant smirk that had been plastered across her face slowly vanished.
For the very first time since she had smuggled her caravan into the valley, she looked genuinely taken aback.
"Duke Wilhelm?" Margarita murmured. "Are you certain, Viscount?"
"My spymaster intercepted the Vatican’s raven less than an hour ago," Konrad stated flatly. "The ink was still wet. Cardinal Morone approved the terms. They offered him a high seat."
Margarita let out a sharp breath... she was clearly impressed.
"I saw the man cheering in your courtyard, Konrad," she said, shaking her head slowly. "He looked like a lord completely in love with his brilliant future son-in-law. I have dealt with the most treacherous nobles in Flanders and Spain, but I must admit... I didn’t know the fat Bavarian had the actual stomach for such a highly coordinated betrayal."
Konrad kept his eyes locked on the royal operative.
He desperately needed to know if her Habsburg authority could actually shield him from a fifteen-thousand-man invasion.
Over in the corner of the study, the strange marksman shifted his weight against the wall.
The man possessed incredibly long, wavy white hair that fell in layered strands around his face.
It was a remarkably styled, deliberate cut that contrasted with his lethal demeanor.
"The Duke doesn’t just have the stomach for it; he has the military numbers to execute it," Konrad reminded her. "He will shatter my walls before the month is over. So, I am asking you. Can you leash him?"
However, Margarita didn’t answer his question. Instead, her eyes slowly drifted to the right.
"And what about your future wife?" Margarita asked. "She is a Wittelsbach. Her own father is planning to butcher your valley. Yet she sits here, calm, listening to our ledgers. Tell me... is she with you, or is she just a beautiful spy waiting for the Bavarian halberds to breach the gates?"
It was a blunt, disrespectful question to ask right in front of the Princess of Bavaria.
Even so, Lady Katarina did not explode into a fit of noble rage. She sat still, waiting to hear how the man she had just betrayed her father for was going to answer.
Konrad let out a sigh. "I don’t know."
Katarina’s breath hitched, but she didn’t look away.
"I don’t know if she is with me," Konrad continued, turning his gaze back to Margarita.
"She silenced her father in the courtyard to protect my secrets. She walked into the freezing mud for me. But she is still his daughter."
"...."
"...Tell me, Margarita. You navigate the highest courts of the Emperor. I am asking for your advice... should I trust her?"
Margarita stared at him. He was saying this right in front of his bride?
"No," Margarita answered simply, offering a smile. "Trust is a luxury that men in your position simply cannot afford. If you turn your back on her, and she decides her father’s shiny new imperial seat is worth more than your forges, she will slit your throat while you sleep. Keep her close, use her mind, but never trust her until the Duke’s head is sitting on a spike."
Katarina’s jaw tightened.
"Fine," Konrad grunted. "Now answer my first question. Can you use your royal authority to shield my valley from the Vatican and the Bavarian army?"
"I cannot, Viscount." Margarita stated, her tone turning serious.
"...."
"You are the Governor of the Netherlands. You can’t just send a royal decree to Munich and order Wilhelm to stand down?"
"I am an operative, Konrad, not the Emperor himself." Margarita countered.
"I can manipulate the trade guilds. But I cannot directly countermand a holy decree from the Pope The Vatican has officially stamped your execution.
If I publicly order a loyal Catholic Duke to ignore Rome and protect a Heretic... I will spark a civil war within the Empire... my nephew Charles is entirely bogged down in Spain dealing with the French King.
He cannot afford to fight the Pope right now, and I cannot drag the Habsburg name into a religious bloodbath over a single Swabian valley."
She leaned forward. "Only the Emperor can challenge the Pope, and he is a thousand miles away. If Duke Wilhelm marches on you, you will be on your own."
Konrad slumped back in his chair. The exhaustion was finally catching up to him, crushing his bones.
"Then our negotiation is over," Konrad said. "Take your silver and leave my keep. I don’t have the time or the manpower to build you an iron horse. I have to prepare my men to die."
"Do not be a dramatic fool, Viscount!" Margarita snapped, her composure breaking into genuine frustration.
She slammed her hand against the desk, making the charcoal pieces jump.
Konrad’s eyes snapped back up to her face.
"I said I couldn’t give you a shield," Margarita clarified. "I never said I couldn’t give you a bigger hammer."
"I cannot send a royal decree, but I have a hundred thousand silver florins sitting in your courtyard right now." Margarita declared fiercely.
"I can increase the florins. I can open my personal smuggling routes and send you untraceable shipments of raw Swedish iron and sulfur.
If you lack the numbers to fight the Bavarian Duke, then buy them.
I can hire elite Swiss Pikemen through the Fugger banks and march them to your borders within two weeks."
She pointed a finger at his chest. "I can give you the gold, the iron, and the mercenaries to shatter Wilhelm’s army on the battlefield. You just need enough raw firepower to make the Duke bleed until he begs for mercy."
Konrad stared at her.
If he had unlimited resources, he could buy an army large enough to actually meet the Bavarians in the open field and grind them into dust.
Konrad slowly leaned forward, resting his hands flat on the desk. A smile spread across his exhausted face.
"...a hundred thousand is not going to be enough."
Margarita tilted her head. "Oh? And what exactly is your price?"
"Hmm," Konrad stood up. "I want double the florins," he said quietly. "And I want that white-haired bastard sitting in the corner to tell me how to adjust that rifle... before I have to blow his head off."
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