Re: Steel and Gunpowder

The Swabian fog had barely lifted when the crack of wheel-lock fire began to echo across the river.

Konrad stood near the field, his arms crossed, watching the drills. His watch, now numbering near one hundred and fifty men, was firing with a steady rhythm.

Beside him stood Captain Eckhard, a scarred veteran who had spent years fighting in the Italian Wars before returning to Swabia to drink his days away.

Konrad had seen the man’s cunning beneath the wine and had hired him by offering true silver and a fed host to command.

"The loading takes but twenty breaths, Lord Konrad. Against blocks of pikes, we can loose three volleys before they close the gap. It will break their spirits, even if the lead does not pierce their heavy plate." Eckhard reported, pulling a silver flask from his coat but not drinking.

Konrad nodded, "They have great siege culverins. They will seek to batter our lines from afar."

Eckhard frowned, rubbing his greying beard. "The culverins are a peril... Your falconets shoot faster, but they lack the reach. If they set their great guns on the ridge overlooking the pass, they will pound us to dust."

"The northern pass is narrow. The heavy culverins need flat, hard earth to hold steady when they fire. The only true ground is the valley floor, straight within the killing ground of our foul air." Konrad stated.

Eckhard gave Konrad a long look.

The captain still did not fully grasp the nature of the "foul air" Konrad spoke of.

He only knew the young lord had ordered the men to forge sealed iron vats near the mouth of the pass, packed with a foul-smelling yellow powder.

"I pray your powders are as true as your iron, my Lord," Eckhard grunted. "Because if those Swabian bastards break through, this watch cannot hold them hand-to-hand..."

Konrad turned back toward the keep. "Hold them to the drills, Captain."

As he turned into the corridor, a figure stepped out to block his path.

It was Lady Isolde of Württemberg.

She was dressed in a dark riding gown. Her sickness had miraculously cured itself.

"Konrad," she hissed.

"Lady Isolde," Konrad acknowledged. "I took you to be resting from your... foul potion."

Isolde’s face flushed red. "Do not mock me, you arrogant rat. You think you have won because you switched a cup of wine and dug a pit in your floor?"

"I guarded my life," Konrad corrected.

Isolde took a step closer, "My uncle, the Duke of Württemberg, has received my letters. He knows you broke the sworn pact... He knows you forge a great host of arms."

She leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper. "He marches with Baron von Waldburg. Three thousand men, Konrad. You cannot fight them all."

Isolde stared at him. She expected him to beg, to try to mend the pact to save his life.

"You are going to burn, and I am going to watch." she whispered, taking a step back.

"You are free to watch the slaughter from your guest rooms," Konrad replied smoothly. "However, I warn you to keep your window barred. The air in the valley will soon turn to poison."

Without waiting for her word, Konrad bypassed her and entered his study, barring the door.

...

Later that evening... Elise was eating nervously, Uncle Lothar was sitting completely silent after having been released from his cell for a while, and Lady Katarina was eating with a determined eye.

Lady Isolde, surprisingly, joined them.

She sat opposite Konrad, a cruel smile on her lips.

"So, Lord Konrad," Isolde began, "It is a pity you spurned my shield. We could have found such joy."

Konrad did not look up from his meal. "I see that your path is the path of fools."

"A fool’s path will not stop a culverin ball," Isolde sneered. She turned to Katarina. "And what of you, Lady Katarina? Will Bavaria stand by and watch their new merchant get slaughtered? Or will you flee to Munich before the dying begins?"

Katarina set her fork down, "Bavaria’s pacts are secure, Lady Isolde. And unlike Württemberg, we do not lean on forced vows and poison to claim our wealth."

The slight hung heavy. Isolde’s face tightened with rage, but before she could speak, Konrad’s voice cut through the hall.

"The lordly boasting means nothing," Konrad said, finally looking up. "The die is cast. The Swabian League will reach the northern pass by tomorrow’s eve. We will spring the trap at dawn."

He looked at Isolde. "I command you to remain in the keep."

Isolde stared at him, the smug smile fading, replaced by a flicker of true doubt.

After supper, Konrad made his way to the guarded cellars beneath the keep.

He found Master Dieter standing near a sealed iron vat, holding a long firing lock.

"The seals hold tight, Lord Konrad. When we strike the locks, the foul air will rush through the buried pipes to the hidden vents in the northern pass."

"...It is a terrible weapon, my Lord." Dieter murmured.

"Unfortunately, it is a necessary weapon... Master Dieter." Konrad corrected.