Re: Steel and Gunpowder

Chapter 88: The Exiled Banners

Konrad slowly turned around, "My sister?" Konrad repeated.

The Bishop smiled, though it looked more like a nervous twitch.

He clearly thought the golden crossed keys stitched into his crimson robes made him untouchable.

"Come now, Lord Konrad. Lady Elise is the sole unmarried daughter of the von Frundsberg house. She is a woman of high noble birth, yet she remains hidden away in these smoky forges like a common clerk.

The Holy Father simply wishes to see her properly guided. Perhaps even introduced to a pious, Catholic lord to further mend the... unfortunate rift your actions have caused."

After hearing such words, Konrad felt a sudden urge to draw his wheellock pistol and shoot the man right in his round belly.

This fat little clerk, a man of incredibly low actual authority in the grand, sprawling political machine of Rome, was standing in Konrad’s own Great Hall, discussing his sister as if she were a piece of meat to be traded for papal favors.

Elise was the chief financial officer... to hand her over to some illiterate baron just to please a minor bishop was completely laughable.

"My sister’s guidance is none of your concern," Konrad stated, "She manages the household ledgers. She is not taking visitors."

Before the Bishop could push the foolish issue any further, a sharp rustle of silk broke the tension.

Isolde stepped between them, offering a polite bow.

In her hands, she held a freshly unsealed parchment. "Forgive the interruption, My Lords. But an urgent dispatch has just arrived for the Viscount. The quartermaster insists it requires immediate attention."

Konrad seamlessly took the letter from her hands.

It wasn’t actually from the quartermaster... it was a ciphered report from Marshal Eckhard, carried by one of Isolde’s fastest shadow-walkers from the hidden ravine.

He unfolded the vellum, his eyes quickly scanning the messy ink.

The letter contained all the necessary information about an ongoing dispute within the newly formed mercenary ranks.

Apparently, the veteran Landsknechts were arguing with the new Swabian militia boys over the distribution of the smuggled coffee rations, and Eckhard was asking if he had permission to publicly flog the instigators to maintain order.

It was a minor headache, exactly the kind of thing that could spiral into a mutiny if left unchecked.

Even so, Konrad dismissed it... regardless of how the Marshal responded to the brawling soldiers, or what petty disputes arose in the dirt, Konrad would not take a single piece of disciplinary action until after he had claimed Savoy for himself.

Konrad folded the letter and tucked it into his leather doublet, his gaze shifting back to the papal envoy.

However, he wasn’t going to let the man’s arrogance slide...

"Listen to me carefully, Bishop Tomas," Konrad said, taking a step toward the cleric.

The six Swiss guards nervously tightened their grips on their halberds, but Konrad didn’t glance at them.

"You are a guest in my keep because Duke Wilhelm invited you. You are here to witness a wedding. You are not a high inquisitor, and you are certainly not a Cardinal."

The Bishop’s red face paled slightly, "Lord Konrad... I speak with the voice of the Church—"

"You speak with the voice of a minor clerk," Konrad cut him off, "You count tithes in a dusty room somewhere in Bavaria. Do not ever speak of my sister’s future again, or I will have my guards throw you and your holy banner into the river. Do we understand each other?"

Duke Wilhelm, who had been watching the exchange with growing panic, finally realized that the Swabian Viscount was mere seconds away from sparking a diplomatic bloodbath.

The Duke rushed forward, "Now, now! Let us have peace!" Duke Wilhelm laughed loudly.

He grabbed the Bishop by the shoulder, "The Viscount is simply stressed, Bishop Tomas... as he said, the logistical burdens of a royal wedding are incredibly heavy. We must forgive his harsh Swabian temper."

Konrad frowned deeply at the Duke.

The Duke caught the lethal glare and quickly cleared his throat, "Come, Bishop! The kitchens have prepared a magnificent spiced wine, and I wish to show you the tapestries in the guest room. Leave the Viscount to his ledgers. We have matters to discuss, away from the smoke of the forges."

The Bishop swallowed hard, clearly realizing he had vastly overstepped his bounds.

He offered a nervous nod. "Yes, Your Grace. The wine sounds lovely. May the Lord grant you patience, Viscount."

"Just keep him out of my armory," Konrad muttered, forcibly relaxing his tense shoulders.

Konrad forced his face into a slightly more neutral expression.

"It is good to finally meet you, Bishop Tomas,"

"I apologize for my temper. The ledgers have not been kind to me this morning. Enjoy the Duke’s company."

As the Duke began to urgently hustle the fat Bishop away toward the safety of the guest wing, Isolde leaned close to Konrad once again.

"The camp is set, My Lord," Isolde whispered, "Eckhard and the four thousand are hidden in the ravine. They are just waiting for your orders to march on Savoy."

Thus, the hammer of Swabia was fully primed... he just needed to survive this ridiculous wedding charade long enough for the army to cross the borders undetected.

"I will write the marching orders now," Konrad whispered back, "But before I lock myself in the study... I need to know how many more of these uninvited variables I have to deal with."

Konrad raised his voice, "Wilhelm," Konrad called out.

The Duke of Bavaria paused near the heavy archway, turning around with a sigh. "Yes, Lord Konrad? What is it now?"

"You rushed this wedding," Konrad stated, walking a few paces toward him. "You fled Munich in panic, and you sent out invitations before you even crossed my borders. You clearly invited this minor Bishop to serve as your holy shield."

Duke Wilhelm shifted uncomfortably, his royal pride bristling at the blunt accusation, but he didn’t deny it.

"I need to know, Wilhelm," Konrad demanded, "My kitchens need to prepare the grain. My stewards need to heat the rooms. So tell me the truth... who else are you getting in here?"

The Duke hesitated... he glanced at Bishop Tomas, then back at Konrad.

"I only invited those whose presence would guarantee my political safety, Konrad," the Duke said defensively. "I needed lords who have no love for the Pope’s new crusade, but enough military weight to make the Emperor hesitate before interfering."

"Names," Konrad snapped, "Who is coming to my keep?"

Duke Wilhelm swallowed hard, "Count Lothar of the northern valleys will arrive tomorrow, the Hanseatic merchant guild is sending three senior representatives to oversee the Fugger dowry transfers. And..."

The Duke paused, "...And I sent a highly secretive invitation to the exiled banners in the west, they accepted. Their vanguard is only two days behind us. We are expecting the exiled Duke of Württemberg."

The exiled Duke of Württemberg...

Konrad remembered the secret trade pact, the endless wagons of Fugger silver, and the extremely profitable sale of lye soap and portable soup.

Most importantly, he remembered the slender woman with fiery red hair and the featureless metal half-mask.

The woman who claimed to have the financial backing of the Holy Roman Emperor’s own son.