Swiss Arms 51 (Patreon)

Swiss Arms

Chapter 51

-VB-

In a manner that was becoming very frequent, Isabella and I sat in our own chairs on the balcony of the highest tower of my fort and looked out into the town that had truly come far in its mere two years of existence. Last I checked, we had roughly three hundred people living in a permanent manner here in Fluelaberg.

It scared me sometimes that I was responsible for that many people, but it also made me feel great in other ways. I was not a hereditary lord who received this town from my father; my dad was still over in the Forest Canton lands, waiting for either his next mercenary contract or for whatever. I felt great because these people took their chances with me here to show that they trusted me with not just their livelihood but their very lives in this tumultuous world.

And I felt this appreciative right now because Isabella, ever the shrewd woman, had gotten me to go around town and get a read of what the townspeople thought about me.

Before I’d done that, I was under the dubious assumption that aside from a core of maybe a dozen villagers, the rest were here simply because of circumstance.

Isabella pointed out, perhaps rightfully so, that many people remained here even after they got back on their feet. I had created something people didn’t want to lose, and it wasn’t just the economic opportunity, though it was one of the bigger reasons why many stayed.

“I did tell you that the commoners loved you,” Isabella hummed from my side and i begrudgingly gave the point she deserved.

It’s also been a few months since she stopped by, and I’ve gotten…

Let’s just say that the Count of Gorizia - aka the governor of Tyrol and Isabella’s father - was none too happy with me. He even accused me of kidnapping and marrying her, which was a thing that happened in this day and age. I had to send a letter back.

Which was how I was now anticipating the count arriving at the front doors of my town as soon as spring came to these mountains. In the mean time, I was getting a visit within the month from Isabella’s cousin, Henry II the Count of Tyrol.

Yeah, just like how Bavaria wasn’t a wholly unified duchy, the County of Tyrol was also not unified. Unlike Bavaria, which was divided into at least a dozen major players within that region, the County of Tyrol only had three major players: the Habsburg ruled County of Tyrol (governed by Albert of Gorizia), the County of Tyrol ruled by Henry II, and the Prince-Bishopric of Trent.

Back to Henry.

Now, if he was just a count, I might be fine with him visiting because there weren’t a lot of trouble I could see from a count, even one whose land was twice the size of all of the Compact and its previous enemies combined.

Unfortunately for me, Henry wasn’t just a count but also the Duke of Carinthia and Margrave of Carniola and Savinja.

He was, in fact, someone who could tell the Habsburgs to fuck off if he really wanted to, and was someone who doted on his cousin, Isabella. Sure, his lands would eventually become part of Habsburg lands as their lines intermarried, but what can you do about that? It’s the Habsburg. They married their enemies, married their cousins, married everyone, and then married some more.

Of course, the Habsburgs right now was “confined” to their Swabian holdings, the Duchy of Austria proper, and the Duchy of Styria, but if little John von Toggensburg was any indication, they had their boys and girls in every major and minor court’s bedchambers.

… Okay, Hans, focus on the now. Think about not-yet-incestuous Habsburgs later.

“Yes, you were right,” I replied with a hum. “I knew that they appreciated me, just for the … I thought they did it for wrong reasons.” I paused. “Sorry, that sounds like I thought they were backstabbers or gold diggers. No, I meant for different reasons.”

“Gold diggers?” she repeated.

“People who marry you for your wealth and similar reasons.”

“Ah…” she hummed in understanding. “... did you ever think that I was one of those?”

“Initially. Actually, I thought that you were being dumb more than that you had a plan,” I snorted.

She sighed. “Well, I was a little bit too … jittery at the time, so forgive me for that,” she smiled softly.

“... So?”

“Yes?”

“You’ve been here for almost four months now. How do you feel about this place?”

She stared at me for a moment before looking back out into the town.

“... When I first came here, it was out of curiosity,” she began. “And you know how I came to make that confession.” I waited for her to continue. As the shadow of the valley overtook my little town, she continued. “I felt all sorts of things while here in this town. I felt amazed, stupid, confused, and a little upset.”

“Upset?”

“What and how you led the people here made me question why the people of my father's and cousin’s lands were doing so poorly. You run your small town more like free cities run themselves. Peasants are not just peasants, lords aren’t just lords, and priests and nuns are not just their holy duties. You do not hoard wealth, crave knowledge, and value the people over what they can do for you. It is … foreign, more foreign than the Muslim traders I’ve seen when I visited the Venetian Republic, because even Muslim traders showed deference and obedience to those who they knew were of a higher class than themselves. And don’t think I missed how you allowed people of different religions to practice in their homes.”

Even though it was information that could damn me in certain parts of Europe, I merely hummed in acknowledgment.

“You’re kind, but I think you are too kind in a way someone who is a veteran of multiple battles simply cannot be,” she said and then looked back at me. “I think you need someone to keep you from being stupidly kind.”

I snorted. “I don’t think I am kind.”

“Kind people generally don’t think they are. They always think that they aren’t doing enough.”

“I think I did plenty enough.”

“Do you? Because when I look at you, I always see a man going out to help someone. You complain about what you want, but when you hear that someone is in trouble, your body moves before your lips do.”

“... Maybe it’s a habit,” I grunted.

“Maybe you need someone bit more selfish than you to keep you grounded.”

“... You mean you.”

“Yes. I am selfish. I know what I want, and I still want you, milord.”

I sighed … and then smiled.

“Well, even if I want to, there are hurdles we still have to jump over first.”

“Hmm,” she hummed. “I can get my cousin onboard. Don’t worry about him.”

“And your dad?”

She grinned. “You worry about presenting your best, hon. Let me deal with my family.”