Swiss Arms 35 (Patreon)

Swiss Arms

Chapter 35

-VB-

“The bishop is here?”

It was one hell of a surprise.

“Soon, yes,” Deacon Benjamin replied. The man had shown up mere half an hour ago. I tried to be a good host to him, but apparently, he was merely here to inform me of the bishop’s surprise impending visit.

“For what reason?” I asked, slightly nervous.

The bishop may have lost much of his secular lands and power, but he was still the eccelsiastical bishop in charge of the Diocese of Chur, which included many Habsburg owned lands to my northwest. If he wrote one badly worded letter to the pope, then I would have an excommunication stamped on my head. It would be both an excuse of the neighboring lords to fuck me over and a good reason for the Compact to oust me.

“He is merely curious about his new neighbor who carved out a territory from his and those of his peers,” he replied. Then he shrugged. “I think he is concerned about what you want. You are, after all, a powerful warrior with a people who support you rather fervently. You have also spoken of matters of faith that resonate with members of the church he does not like.”

“... You mean you.”

“Yes.”

I snorted.

“And what happens if any of his fears are realized?”

“Nothing.”

I blinked. “Nothing?”

“Yes. Nothing. Strictly speaking, nothing happens. However, all of us know that if the bishop wants to be a thorn in your side, he is more than capable of doing so with only a few sermons here and there, a few letters here and there.”

“So something does happen, just not immediately, and it will be in a way that makes him look decent?”

“Yes. However, he is unlikely to do most of those for the simple fact that he is here also as the Prince-Bishop of Chur. He’s seen what you are making and want some for himself.”

I nodded slowly. “So if I am an absolute asshole to him, those things may happen. If I act like a civilized person…”

“Then nothing happens.”

“Couldn’t you have just said that from the beginning?” I frowned.

He didn’t respond to me for a moment, and then he smirked.

“But where would be the fun in that?”

I snorted. I thought about the circumstance before asking Ben. “Say, do you know what kind of food he likes?”

-VB-

Prince-Bishop of Chur: Siegfried von Gelnhausen

“There is a road.”

It was a simple statement, but the existence of a road, no matter how primitive it was compared to what he’s seen in Rome and even in large cities, spoke of development here in these impoverished Swabian valleys.

He had intentionally taken the northern path to the Fluela Pass, because it would allow him to see all of the villages part of the new Compact and meet all of their leaders.

So far, he had been pleasantly surprised.

The peasants weren’t as foolish or arrogant as he had expected them to be after they achieved a great victory over both him and their neighboring lords. Instead, they showed him the proper deference and respect.

What he did notice was that there was what he saw as the beginning of diversification among the villages. They were making flags for themselves, trying to set themselves apart, and the like. They saw being part of this Compact as a way to express themselves without a lord over them to demand them to change, which was something that did happen.

He hadn’t seen a road between the villages of Maienfeld, Schiers, and Castels. But the moment he reached Klosters, he saw the road heading south, swerving around large hills  as to provide the most flat method of travel.

It was properly paved, too, not formed from heavy usage but from actual intent to make the road last long even against encroaching plants.

“Tell me, Sister Joanna. What do you think when you see this?”

The sister who traveled with me looked up from her book and inspected the road. She closed her book with a snap and thunk and carefully looked around.

“... It is in good condition.”

He rolled his eyes. She was always one for simple statements.

“Yes, but don’t you find it odd that a peasant lord went out of his way to put a road down when he should be busy making a living?”

“He is a warrior. He must have the money to do this.”

Siegfried thought about it and nodded. Hans the Warrior, as he was known in Chur, was indeed a powerful warrior. Even if the exaggerated rumors were only one-tenth true, he still took down multiple men-at-arms rushing him down atop their horses. Men whose minds still remained in the battlefield screamed of the “demon standing atop a mountain of corpses.”

Someone like him would have been a long and storied mercenary. A master swordsman and tactician. He would have money to improve the livelihood between two villages. After all, it wasn’t as if the man had built a fort-.

---

The man built a fort.

He looked up at the wooden fortress crossing the entire width of the narrow valley. Sure, it wasn’t impossible for God’s children to make great works. The Theodosian Walls, the Great Pyramid of Aegypt, and more were all works of men, however ancient compared to now.

But still.

A fort here in these valleys so close to him yet constructed so quickly?

It wasn’t a shoddy bandit hut, either. There were ramparts under the walls and battlements atop those walls.Yes, those walls were wooden, but so what? The fact that a man was able to get enough people in these sparsely populated valleys to make him a fort spoke of his charisma.

Or the fear he put in people.

The latter, however, was unlikely, because none of the peasants he saw and met on the way here, even in Davos, feared Hans of Fluela.

At the same time, it was also clear to all other villages but Davos that they didn’t place the warrior on a pedestal either. To them, Hans was merely their leader when war came to them and nothing more. Yes, he was a man who tried to do right by them, but it was also not his business what they did.

It was a paradox to Siegfried.

The large gates facing him opened inwardly, and he and his entourage of two dozen guards, three sisters, two brothers, and nine servants looked to the other side of the opening gate and found themselves looking … at a young man.

Was he the -?

Clattering metal to his left pulled im out of his thoughts, and he looked.

One of the guards, who had been a soldier during that disasterous battle, shook like a fall leaf. His entire body trembled almost uncontrollably, and his white knuckled grip on his spear almost seemed to be breaking the spear shaft.

Siegfried’s eyes widened as he realized why the soldier was reacting this way. He looked back to the young man standing there at the head of five others.

The young man was Hans of Fluela.

He strode forward confidently, and when he came within greeting distance, he bowed to Siegfried.

“I am honored that the Your Grace has chosen to visit us,” Hans of Fluela spoke respectfully.

“Yes… I thought that it was high time I visit a prominent figure such as yourself,” he replied as he extended his hand.

Hans kissed the ring on his finger and Siegfried withdrew the hand slowly as to not make it seem like he was unnerved as well.

This supposed peasant lord, this peasant warrior, was … too noble-like. He spoke clearly, calmly, and concisely. He knew the manners of the lords and knights, and moved naturally.

Hans glanced to his left and back before nodding.

One of his servants strode forward with a -.

Siegfried’s jaws nearly dropped.

That was a china.

It was a bluish white plate that was wide as three hands.

And this peasant was using it to present bread and salt, the traditional welcoming offer of the Slavic people.

There were so many details that didn’t match each other that Siegfried started to feel overwhelmed. Nevertheless, he knew the custom that Hans was presenting, and tore a chunk of the bread and salt before eating it.

Oh. The bread also tasted wonderful. What was this?

“You must be tired from the long travel, Your Grace. We have prepared a warm bath for you to enjoy.

… That also sounded like a good idea.

He chuckled. “You are well prepared to receive me.”

“Nonsense, Your Grace!” Hans chuckled in turn. “Though I have fought against you before, you are still the bishop in charge of my soul! Anything less than a welcome for someone of your forthright character is an insult to you!”

Later, Siegfried learned that he very much like hot “mineral” baths. They soothed his wrinkly skin and creaking bones. Perhaps Hans was not a bad man if he knew how to take care of the elders like this.