Re: Steel and Gunpowder

Chapter 89: An Uncontrolled Variable

"You invited an exiled Duke to my keep?" Konrad asked, "A man who was stripped of his lands by the Swabian Diet?"

Duke Wilhelm of Bavaria stood his ground, though he looked nervous. "I needed a counterweight, the Pope is raising an army against you. The Swabian Diet despises you. If I am to publicly bind my daughter to your house, I need allies who are already enemies of our enemies. The exiled Duke hates the Swabian League more than anyone. His presence here sends a massive message to Vienna and Rome."

Wilhelm’s logic was sound, entirely rooted in the shifting alliances of 1526.

But it was an uncontrolled variable walking right into Konrad’s carefully managed industrial fortress.

"Is he bringing his army?" Konrad demanded, his hand gripping the edge of a nearby table.

"No, no," Duke Wilhelm quickly assured him, "Just his personal retinue. A vanguard of knights and his closest advisors. They travel under a strict banner of truce to attend the wedding."

After hearing such words, Konrad didn’t feel any better.

He stared at the Duke for a long moment, "Fine. If they are two days out, my stewards will prepare the western guest wing. But Wilhelm... keep your holy Bishop away from my sister, and keep your new exiled friends out of my armories."

"Of course, Lord Konrad," the Duke smiled tightly, clearly relieved that the Viscount hadn’t simply drawn a pistol and shot him for the surprise.

"I shall go tend to the Bishop now... we have much to discuss."

Duke Wilhelm practically fled the Great Hall, Konrad remained entirely still, staring at the empty archway.

Isolde stepped up beside him, "That is a massive complication, If the Württemberg vanguard arrives in two days, this keep will be overflowing with foreign eyes."

"I don’t care about the foreign eyes right now," Konrad muttered, his brow furrowing. "I care about the math... It isn’t adding up."

Isolde tilted her head. "What math?"

"The trade deal," Konrad said, "When I rode out to the northern ridge to meet that vanguard, the man who spoke to me was an Imperial Knight named Heinrich. But the one truly holding the leash was the masked woman. Lady Amalia. She had the Fugger silver. She negotiated the black powder and the muskets."

Isolde frowned, "So? A smart lord often uses a proxy to handle the dirty ledgers."

"But why a masked woman?" Konrad pressed, "She claimed they were marching to reclaim the Württemberg lands. I simply assumed she was acting on behalf of the exiled Duke. But if Duke Ulrich himself is coming here for a royal wedding... why the wasn’t he leading his own vanguard in the snow?"

However, the more Konrad thought about it, the more the pieces refused to fit.

"Maybe those two who made the trade weren’t representing the Duke at all," Konrad whispered, "Maybe the Duke of Württemberg is just a miserable, exiled figurehead. A distraction."

Isolde’s eyes widened slightly. "You think the masked lady is the one actually running the exiled army?"

"I think it is highly probable," Konrad nodded slowly. "She explicitly told me she had the financial backing of the Emperor’s son. A landless Duke doesn’t secure that kind of royal silver. But a woman who hides her face from the Pope’s spies? She might."

"Then who is she to the Duke?" Isolde asked. "A bastard sister? A secret wife?"

"Maybe he is her brother," Konrad mused, rubbing his tired jaw. "Or maybe they are just politically aligned. Either way, someone is lying about who holds the power in that exiled camp. But I will find out when they get here."

Even so, he couldn’t afford to get bogged down in noble gossip.

"Keep Elise entirely out of sight," Konrad ordered sharply, "Lock her in the upper treasury with her abacus and her ledgers. I don’t want that fat Bishop even looking at her shadow."

"Consider her a ghost, Lord Konrad," Isolde promised, a dark, protective edge in her voice.

"Good. Now leave me," Konrad said, turning away from the hearth. "I have to write the orders. The war begins tonight."

Isolde bowed deeply and slipped away into the shadows of the keep, leaving Konrad alone in the hall.

He hurried back to his study, and the hours dragged on wearily.

The candle burned down to a mere puddle of wax. Outside, the Swabian night swallowed the fortress.

He knew that just a few miles away, in the freezing ravine, Marshal Eckhard and four thousand highly drilled men were sitting in the mud, waiting for his word.

Though his body screamed for sleep, he was in his element.

The petty squabbles of Dukes and Bishops faded away, replaced by the arithmetic of lead, speed, and trajectory.

Finally, the blackness outside his narrow glass window began to soften.

It was dawn... the light of the early morning slowly crept into the study, Konrad let out a long sigh, setting his charcoal down.

He pulled a new sheet of parchment towards him, then picked up his quill, dipped its iron tip into the black inkwell, and wrote the orders in fine lines.

Marshal Eckhard,

The diplomatic cover holds. The Bavarian guests are blind to our absence. The fake Fugger silver convoy is currently moving through the western passes. The Savoyard border barons will take the bait before nightfall.

You are hereby ordered to break camp immediately. Cross the border. Do not parley. Do not demand surrender. When you encounter the Savoyard heavy horse, deploy the pike and shot squares exactly as we drilled. Unleash the volley guns on their flanks. Erase them from the map.

Claim Savoy for the Swabian forges.

Konrad von Frundsberg.

Konrad set the quill down... he grabbed the stick of black wax, melting it over the dying candle flame, and pressed his iron signet ring firmly into the puddle, then walked to the door and unlocked it.

One of Isolde’s elite, deeply loyal messengers was already waiting in the hallway.

Konrad handed the sealed vellum to the spy. "Give this to Marshal Eckhard. Tell him the leash is off."

The spy gave a silent nod, slipping the letter into his tunic before turning and sprinting down the corridor.

Konrad leaned against the doorframe, watching the spy disappear into the shadows.

The die was cast... by this time tomorrow, the Swabian guns would be tearing the Duchy of Savoy apart.

But as the first golden rays of the dawn sun crested over the walls of the keep, Konrad’s eyes narrowed toward the western horizon.

"Wait..." Konrad whispered to himself, a disturbing variable clicking into place.

If the exiled Duke of Württemberg’s vanguard was arriving tomorrow and Lady Amalia had already secured a secret trade route through the western passes... Then what would happen if her knights collided with Marshal Eckhard’s men marching into Savoy?