Swiss Arms 36 (Patreon)

Swiss Arms
Chapter 36

-VB-

Sieg as he was known between what few friends he had thoroughly liked what he saw here in Fort Fluela.

Unlike what he had imagined a bloodthirsty warrior - who turned out to not be a bloodthirsty warrior - to be and keep around himself, Hans of Fluela was a deeply thoughtful man. It was what he surrounded himself with. Though he was no noble or clergy appointed or crowned by God through his clergy as the Lord had appointed Saul through Prophet Samuel, the man led people through his actions rather than words.

He did not tell people to go out and kill. He encouraged them to trade and develop their homes.

He did not prepare for war. He sat down and talked to people about how better to help each other.

He did not seek war. He lamented that he had to go out and fight when all he wanted to do was … be a hermit?

The last bit was apparently a bit of a running joke among the people who now considered the warrior-leader their leader (according to Deacon Benjamin). He came out here to a random valley far from his home (anything over half a month of travel was far away in Sieg’s humble opinion) and made do with what God had created for them.

However, it irked him that the young man got his fame and wealth by fighting against him. It would have been much better if their first impressions had been different, but perhaps this was something God has plans for. The Lord did work in mysterious ways, and a mercenary becoming the defender of his flock was a better outcome than whatever extended warfare that would have continued had Hans not risen up to the call.

“There are gold in these mountains?” he asked quietly as he stared at the spherical golden nugget as big as his thumb resting on top of his palm.

Hans had given it to him, stating that it was an offering of thanks to God for keeping the Compact peaceful and productive.

Sieg handed the gold nugget over to Sister Joanna, who took it with both of her hands and then walked away to deposit the nugget into the traveling offering box.

“I would not say that, Your Holiness,” Hans looked torn. “I have had to dig out more than a fort’s worth of stone to find a very tiny vein. It is more likely that I was lucky.”

“Yes… Perhaps luck had more to do with it,” he nodded along.

The warrior might not know but any news of gold being found in these valleys would reignite a war, but it would inflame and draw in even stronger players in the Holy Roman Empire who even the combined might of all of the Swabian Alps would not be sufficient enough to repel.

The existence of gold needed to be kept quiet until it could be proven for certain that Hans had found a fluke.

“What else have you found?”

While gold might be rare, silver was not as rare.

“Well…”

Sieg leaned in over the dinner table from which he had broken his fast with delicious fare. Apparently, it had been bear meat bacon.

“Some bit of iron.”

“Nothing else?”

“No, Your Holiness. Nothing worth mentioning at any rate.”

Iron was more believable because there was an iron mine under the Count of Sargans’ control. With that mine being close to this valley, it wasn’t unfeasible that this areaa had some iron as well.

Iron wasn’t something to talk much about. Only blastmisths did, not something for a bishop like himself to think about.

What he could talk about was why a man like Hans chose to become a hermit (however unsuccessful) just as he became an adult.

Sieg saw what the man had done. He found a way to make patterned bowls cheaper. It showed either experience with similar contraptions or a mind able to think outside of the norm and traditions. In either case, Hans was too extraordinary for these valleys. Someone like him could have become a count or even a duke’s steward. Sieg would have happily accepted him as his vassal.

“Tell me, why settle here?” he asked curiously.

Hans pondered on that question before smiling wistfully. “Just a feeling.”

Sieg nodded slowly. It explained nothing while giving him an answer. It couldn’t be that Hans was running away, right?

“Are you running from something?”

“No.”

“Yet why leave your home and settle somewhere that is allegedly no different from your home?”

“I wanted to do as I wished.”

Ah. Could it be that there was youthful rebellion involved there somewhere?

“Your parents were fine with it?”

This time, the boy finally showed his pride. “Well, I can swing my swords with some skill.”

Sieg found himself snorting. “‘Some skills,’ yes,” he chortled dryly.

So he was confident before he set out, trusting in his sword … but choosing to settle as a hermit?

The hermit part was still not making sense to him.

Perhaps it was a mystery he would solve later. It was rude to pry too much into the young warrior’s motivations without building proper rapport.

He picked up a “cookie” and took a bite. It … wasn’t a great snack but it was the thought that counted. It was too sweet for his … taste.

Too sweet?

He looked down at the light brown flat-baked snack.

“Sweet?” he hummed before chewing again. “You must have apiaries. Quite rare for Alpine Swabians.”

Hans blinked. “Apiaries? Your Grace, I do not have apiaries.”

Sieg blinked. “How did you make this sweet snack then?”

“I make sugar.”

It took a minute for Sieg to register what Hans told him… and then his eyes widened and his heart stuttered as the full weight of the young warrior’s unguarded, honest words struck him like his monstrous broadsword.

“Oh,” he muttered before looking back down at the seemingly innocent baked good in his hand. Mass manufacturing pottery, possible sugar production outside of seasonal honey harvested from apiaries, the start of a road network connecting all of its member towns…

Sieg realized that there was a baby monster growing right next door, and it was very unlikely that he could control Hans, not when the young warrior was the main motivator behind the Compact’s new improvements and budding ambition to be more.

He took a deep breath in before chuckling as all of these facts came together because he took a bite of a cookie.

He finished it before looking up and meeting Hans’s slightly confused stare.

“Hans, what would it take for the Prince-Bishopric of Chur to become allies with the Compact of the Seven?”