Swiss Arms 41 (Patreon)

Swiss Arms

Chapter 41

-VB-

Three weeks ago…

Isabella of Gorizia didn’t just walk up to this “Compact” and its leader without thought or preparation. In fact, she had done a lot of preparation.

Against the advice of her retinue, she disguised herself as a commoner and entered the Compact weeks in advance of her caravan’s supposed arrival. All she had to do was tell them to do some traveling around the Tyrolian lands. While her father’s men traveled and did their jobs around the County of Tyrol, she walked into the Compact lands from the east.

When she beheld the wooden wall that spanned the entire width of the valley, she realized that she wasn’t dealing with any old lord. Either he was a wastrel wasting money and resources on a vanity project or he was a monster who saw the flow and wave of the region and prepared himself for the Unruly Year.

In either case, this Compact would prove to be interesting.

“My lady.”

She looked to her left and met the gaze of her friend, Alleria. A commoner who Isabella rescued from her abusive parents, Alleria devoted herself to an uncomfortable level for her sake, and Isabella trusted her.

“What is it, Alleria?”

“Are you sure about this?” she asked as she glanced at the sharp wooden barricades lining the foot of the wooden wall. Isabella thought that they made for a very intimidating display, but it was kind of like a cute kitten kind of way.

After all, she had seen magnificent castles in Prague and Munchen, and stood before the halls of the Aachen Cathedral and the ruins of the Roman Colosseum. Compared to those, what was this wooden wall with some sticks?

Dangerous, yes.

Impressive, not so much.

“Yes, I am very sure,” she replied. “If there is one thing that is consistently heard about this place from the peddlers and merchants, then it’s the fact that the Compact is a very safe place.”

Alleria snorted, making her light brown hair jump. “It’s a barony of shepherds and farmers. I don’t think it can get any safer than that.”

Isabella sighed. “I think you look down on your own class a bit too much, Leria.”

“And I think you overestimate us too much, my lady.”

The two of them and their six guards, disguised as peddling merchants and family, walked up right behind another group of travelers getting checked out by the spear-wielding guards in some kind of layered leather armor. The armor, more like a leather tunic and shoulder guards over their regular clothes, looked clean and well made, though, which spoke volumes about the Compact than the walls did.

The guards let the travelers through and then gestured for them with wide motions to come closer. Isabella did only when her primary bodyguard, Johan, did so.

“Name?”

“Daniel,” Johan said.

“What was the last place you visited?”

It took Johan a moment to remember the name.

“Scuol.”

“I see. Purpose of visit?”

While the guard and Johan talked, Isabella looked at something surprising. The guard wrote down each answer Johan - Daniel while they were undercover - told him onto a brownish-white parchment resting on a wooden board.

The guard asked Johan a lot more questions, ranging from the place of birth to the identification tag. The latter was one no one had, but the guard dismissed their concern, stating that it wasn’t a big deal.

And that’s roughly about where the questions came to an end.

The guard stepped aside. “You lot can go through,” he said dismissively while setting the parchment aside into a wooden box.

Isabella couldn’t help but wonder what they were all for. Why write down such inane information? Why spend parchment so frivolously?

She followed her people into the fort and blinked at what she saw.

‘Is the wooden walls outside a facade?’ she asked herself as she beheld the cobblestone ground, walls, and the arched and spaced bridges above her. It was short, only 3 yards in height, 5 yards in width, and 20 yards in length, but even that was impressive considering that, according to her father, there wasn’t supposed to be anything like this in the entirety of the Compact.

She also saw banners of unfamiliar houses.

She paused and looked back to the guard. “Excuse me, what are those banners?” she asked.

The guard looked up and gave her a tired stare with raised eyebrows. “Those are the flags of the Compact’s members.”

“Compact’s members…?”

“Yes, the villages. From the one closest to me to the one furthest away, they are Fluela, Davos, Klosters, St. Peters Village, Castels, Schiers, Maienfeld, Langweis, and, the latest addition closest to you, Chur.”

“Chur?”

“Yes, or as the big guy keeps calling them, the Prince-Bishopric of Chur. I don’t get why he keeps using the big fancy name when everyone just calls it Chur.”

Isabella looked back to see, and yes, she did recognize the banner of the Prince-Bishopric of Chur. It was one of the minor banners she had to learn as a child as, despite the peripheral nature of his lands, the Bishop of Chur was still someone to be respected as a man of God and a ruler in his own right.

“Wait, does that mean that Chur is a member of the Compact?”

“Yes. We officially changed our name from Compact of the Seven to Compact of the Eight.”

Isabella let that information settle in. It meant that the Prince-Bishop of Chur had lost a lot of what he once owned, but the successor state to this region, the Compact, had taken over all of Chur’s previous holdings and then some. This made Compact the biggest player in the eastern Swabian Alps.

Father was right in regarding them with wariness. A commoner had gone and created a regional powerhouse in the span of two years.

Fascinating.

She quickly caught back up with her people and then … they were standing inside the fort itself.

Huh?

They just … let strangers into their fort?

She looked around and realized that while she was indeed inside the fort, this wasn’t everything; with the mountains on either side serving as the third and fourth walls and another man-made wooden wall far to the west as the second, there was a castle town here!

It was a bustling one, too. While it wasn’t as packed as Venice (no city ever was), she could easily count at least a five dozen people milling about the main street where there were stalls of people selling their wares.

She noticed one particular stall before her group passed by, and quickly got them to stop by pulling on Jo- Daniel’s back.

Daniel stopped and looked at her.

She pointed.

He looked.

And his jaws dropped like hers did when she saw what was on display for sale in the stall.

Both J- Daniel and she had seen those before. Not inside her father’s manor! No, she’s seen them in places of power, in the halls of the rich Venetians and the dining rooms of dukes and kings.

It was porcelain.

-VB-

Porcelain was the first but not the last surprise she found in Fort Fluela.

She found a variety of luxuries, if limited in quantity, that could not be found anywhere else but perhaps in Venice and the far-flung and mystical lands of Baghdad, India, and China.

Paper, sugar, gold, silver, jewelry, gems, porcelain, and a dizzying array of colorful ceramics dominated the market.

And all of them cost a fifth less than they would anywhere else!

Aside from gold. The price of gold-related items was all in line with what she expected of them.

If that wasn’t enough, then it was the quantity of castle-grade steel available as tools for just about anyone to buy, if they had the money.

Or if they were a “citizen” of the Compact.

“So … what you are saying is… if my father lives here, signs up for the militia, and joins the monthly training, then he can get a loan on any tool? Without paying for it?”

The official, an elderly man probably not fit for field work, nodded. “Yes, young miss. It’s a wonderful thing the lad is doing for the people,” he replied. “Of course, your father won’t be allowed to sell the tool. If you know the lad, then you know that it’s a bad idea.”

“How so?”

The elderly man looked at her for a moment before smiling. “Your skin is very clean, miss. Very well,” he said, and she felt her stomach drop. Did he know? “Our lad… no, our unofficial lord is a very strong man. I kept hearing it, lass. Didn’t understand it until I saw him jump in front of a mad cow and hurl it away.”

“Hurl… a cow?”

“Yes. A struggling and rampaging mad bull, ready to gore people with his horns. Hans caught it by its horns and threw it aside like a man would a sack of barley onto a cart.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Everyone was gawking at him. And then screaming when he walked over to the bull, checked a few things, and just … twisted the neck around. He dragged the carcass away, claiming that it was poisoned and paid the bull’s owner double what the bull was worth for the ‘impromptu’ seizure of poisoned goods.”

“Was it really poisoned?”

“Considering that the bull never showed up at his table nor at any place other than a burning pit made hastily with his own hands, everyone is just thankful he knew something was wrong before … someone ate the bull’s meat.”

She shivered. “Right. So what you’re saying is that he’s strong and that’s reason enough to not make him angry?”

“Well, yes,” the old man hummed as he scratched his neck. “It’s also that no one in the village will ever trust you again.”

“I see. It’s really different here, huh?”

He chuckled. “It didn’t used to be. Only those living in Fluela and Davos are getting this chance, so you could say that it is Hans’s uniqueness affecting the village.”

“... He’s a good man.”

He nodded and then paused. “You know, you seem like a good lass.”

“Ah…?”

He grinned. “I’m sure when you look at Hans, you might consider -”

-VB-

And she did.

When she first saw him on his return trip from a hunt, he carried a fully grown bear over his shoulders but his clothes had been torn during the hunt.

And oh my those muscles.

Hans did not have the belly gut of the powerful warriors she saw often, like Johan, but slim and very … artistically carved muscles.

More than that, he was easy on the eyes.

When he set the bear down, he changed. He went from this proud hunter and warrior coming home with a trophy and became a craftsman. She recognized the gleam in his eyes as he butchered the bear all on his own. She saw feats of strength and endurance that matched the stories she’s heard around.

Her heart just kept pounding as she watched blood drip down his arms and he wiped sweat off of his brows.

She hadn’t known it at the time, but she had been looking at the owner of Fort Fluela.

The second time she saw him it had been on her third day in Fluela-Davos. She was still learning about its people, culture, and practices when an accident broke out.

She almost died.

But like the stories she heard, he was there to save her.

He stood between her and a runaway carriage and rammed into it as it rammed into him.

Wood splintered.

Blood splattered.

But she wasn’t dead and her knight in shining (blood) armor was there, smiling and asking if she was alright.

Isabella managed to stutter out some replies and bravely ran away.

And so when she met him weeks later, she couldn’t help herself.

It wasn’t as if she was going to find a better man to be her husband.

“Please marry me!”

Her father should be fine with it. After all, he did the same thing she did.