Swiss Arms 55 (Patreon)

Swiss Arms

Chapter 55

-VB-

“Bandits?” Hans growled.

“Yes, milord!” the thin, graying messenger from Chur bowed while on one knee. “They have attacked and burned down parts of Churwalden! The Prince-Bishop requests your help in culling the lowlives!”

Henry glanced at his cousin and saw her frown. This must not be a usual occurrence.

“Do you need help, baron?” he asked Hans quietly.

Hans, who looked utterly incensed by the news, turned to him with a slightly calmed frown. “I do not,” he replied before turning to one of the servants. “I will take care of this. Get to the armory and make sure that my kit is stocked. If not, inform me. I also need ten volunteers among my soldiers.”

The man quickly ran off, and Hans turned to the messenger. “Rest, messenger. I will ensure one of my messengers gets to Chur with the message. I will help because this is why the Compact was made, was it not?”

The castle hall came alive with noise as the peasants and a few merchants who were allowed in for Henry’s farewell feast murmured among themselves. The content of their talks, however, was not what Henry expected.

“How quickly do you think he will get rid of them?”

“It may take a few weeks.”

“A few weeks? He stopped the Count of Zernez in under two!”

“Yeah, well, we knew where he’s from, right? We don’t know where these bandits have their hideout at.”

“True, true.”

“Do you think he’ll go for a one-weapon campaign or a multi-weapon campaign?”

“I’m curious as to whether he’ll bring anyone else along.”

“When he succeeds at this, the news of a bandit-less trade route might get us more trade.”

“But it’s close to winter. Will we get an uptick?”

“Not sure.”

“Some of the soldiers need training. Maybe the baron will take some with him?”

“Possibly. We could ask.”

It was almost … casual. The peasants and merchants didn’t treat this as something serious, which they always did in his territory. To these people, the upcoming bandit extermination was a matter of time, not if. They were so sure about Hans’s skills.

(Henry could understand that, considering he’d seen Hans beat up a handful of knights by himself without taking a hit himself.)

But fighting in the yard was different from fighting in the real world.

“I still wish to help,” he insisted.

He’d already accepted the fact that his cousin was going to marry this man. While Hans’s lands were poor and he didn’t even own all of it, he would grow to be a formidable player in regional politics at the very least. He wasn’t sure if his uncle would agree, though. He was very protective of Isabella but he also never went against what Isabella wanted.

Henry wanted to know what Hans was like in the field. If he truly was the master tactician and warrior, then he would tell his uncle that he approved. If not, then he wouldn’t.

He won’t let Isabella marry a man who can’t protect her.

Hans looked at him after his insistence and then nodded. “Alright, Your Grace. However, I am the commander as this is my responsibility.”

Brave and bold of him to stand up to him, a duke, and say straight to his face that he won’t give up command regardless of rank.

“I will not usurp command,” he agreed. “But if you perform reckless acts and hurt my men-at-arms, then I will have you answer to me.”

“Understood.” Then he turned to the rest of the feast participants. “It seems that I must take care of a business for the Compact. Please, enjoy the rest of the feast my staff has prepared for you, and thank you for coming.”

Then he walked away, obviously heading toward his armory.

Now, Henry was curious. He’d seen Hans fight. He’d seen Hans’s physique. He had yet to see what manner of arms and armor Hans favored. So he too left the feast, though he didn’t urge his guards to follow him; Hans’s castle was very safe.

Henry followed Hans out of the castle hall. Walking a bit behind the baron, Henry eventually stopped when Hans did in front of a double door not too far from the hall. Was this on purpose, putting the armory close to the hall? Did Hans expect there to be fighting that weapons sat close to where people ate food?

… Considering what he heard and read, that may just be the case. This Compact had been attacked multiple times during the Unruly Year.

Hans threw the doors open and stepped into the naturally lit - and well-lit at that - armory.

And Henry found himself blinking as he stared at rows upon rows of high-quality castle-forged steel weapons lining the walls and racks. His focus, however, came to a stop at the one weapon Hans bee-lined to.

It was a slab of steel with a blade as broad as a man’s chest and tw-thirds as tall with a handle rounding out the last third of a man’s height. It couldn’t be called a sword. It was a … a lump of metal with two edges.

Hans gripped the sword by the handle with both hands and lifted it up like a child would pick up a stick.

He stood there, blinking in shock at Hans’s strength.

How? Huh?

“Alright, let’s go kill some bandits,” Hans declared with the same casualness and lack of pomp one would talk about training in the yards.

What?

-VB-

The mysteries did not stop there.

Once he picked out a dozen men-at-arms, he and his men followed Hans where three wagons. These weren’t traditional carts but tented wagons. With two horses pulling each tented wagon, not only did they travel quickly, but thanks to the road, they traveled without issue.

The armor that Hans’s men brought out was also weird. Instead of brigandine and the like, Fluelaberg soldiers had some kind of leaf-covered multi-shaded green attire. They also wielded crossbows and shortswords only.

The road that Henry expected to end around Fluelaberg extended far beyond what he knew. It made travel easier, too. The travel itself was smooth. It took them less than an hour to reach the next town, Davos. At Hans’s direction, they did not stop for long, picking up a few volunteers, and traveled northward. Here, the road continued and reached the next town! Again, they didn’t stay except to pick up three volunteers and moved westward.

And the road still continued. This wasn’t the Roman roads either. These roads were new.

They passed through three more town, each with their volunteers, and each with a road connecting them all.

And finally, they arrived at Chur itself on the road that seemed to connect all members of the Compact.

-VB-

“Your Grace,” I bowed before the Bishop of Chur within his church.

Despite the fact that he was nominally lower on the hierarchy within the Compact as not only our former enemy but also as a new member of it, he was still the ecclesiarchal bishop in charge of the diocese of Chur, which included the Forest Cantons (my old home), Habsburg homeland, and the City-state of Zurich.

So, by tradition, I bowed and he gave me his blessing. It was also my submission before the Lord and the church, which was symbolic.

Once the symbolism of it all was handled, we got to the meat of the matter.

The old bishop looked tired.

I wondered what it must be like to have his lands and people attacked year after year. I wondered if he prayed to God and how he saw all of these problems. Were they tests for him and his people? Were they simply sins of mankind showing up again and again?

He dismissed the priests and servants, leaving him alone with me.

“I did not expect to call upon your help so soon, but you know my situation.”

I did. Chur had been one of two centers of the Unruly Year; the Compact had been the other center of the conflict. Having been attacked from the north and southwest against a tide of bodies outnumbering him three-to-one, he had lost much of the manpower he had when I had been a mercenary under the Baron of Vaz.

Though he had not revealed it explicitly last time he visited me, I would be surprised if he had more than one hundred men, levies and men-at-arms combined, to attack the bandits.

“I took upon this responsibility when I advocated for your acceptance into the Compact. As the nominal lord of the alliance as dictated by the emperor, it is my job to ensure your safety and justice.”

He looked relieved that I wasn’t going to extort him for finding him at his low point.

“God bless you, child.”

I waited for him to tell me what I needed to know.

“The bandits… they came from the south.”

“From Vaz?” I asked with a frown. Vaz should be within Chur’s territory… No, I remembered that incorrectly. Vaz had been burned down. Churwalden had to be the furthest reach of the bishop’s territory.

“No, further south. Churwalden had been attacked. The town lost two dozen men… and at least four young women had been kidnapped.”

I didn’t need to be told what the bandits wanted with women. I would be lucky if I found them still alive.

“Anyone spot which direction the bandits went off to?”

“South towards Albula.”

“Understood.”

-VB-

… And here too, Hans did not stay for long. He met with the Prince-Bishop and his knight commander, got the information on the bandits, received volunteers, and left within the day.

Henry found himself marveling at the thought of having traveled the entirety of the Compact, a region of mountains, in two days. He expected the travel alone to take half a week!

Again, Hans ordered the wagons to move out and within the same day as when they had left Chur, the now fifty-strong company found themselves entering the Albula region.

This … was not part of the Compact. Moreover, this was, as far as Henry learned from his sister, a lawless area.

The Unruly Year, as the locals called their little conflict, had left this region devastated, sacked and looted by a petty count to the west. It made sense that some of the people from this region might turn to banditry if they could not restart their livelihood.

“How will you find them?” Henry inquired as their company settled to camp for the night

“My men will scout tomorrow in their camouflage. I will, of course, search with them. However, you and all of the others that do not have clothes that help you blend in with the trees must stay and guard the camp.”

“... Very well. I trust that you will find the bandits quickly.”

-VB-

The next morning, Henry watched the oddly dressed men, including Hans himself, walk into the forest.

It took Henry only five seconds after the “camouflaged” men stepped into the forest to realize why Hans was using such attire.

Even though the men had walked into the surrounding forests at a sedate pace, he couldn’t see them anymore. They couldn’t be more than ten feet into the forest, but they’d disappeared!

‘Dangerous. Very dangerous,’ he thought. If he couldn’t see them within ten feet of the forest edge, then would he even know if a company of such men surrounded him?

No, and he would be a dead man.

Already, he dreaded ever coming into conflict with Hans. Give the man another year and he might even have this region pacified and added to his little alliance. Give him five and the regions further west might fall under his sway.

Having Hans allied to his family by blood would be beneficial. He could see it now. The innovation, the goods, the trade route, the regional position of power, the chilling advances in war, the raw strength of the man himself, and the blessing of a bishop…

Yes, all of it would be very beneficial for his expansion north. Perhaps he might even be able to beat back the Habsburgs in the Alps and kick them out of their own homeland. Henry felt a thrill at the thought of seeing the Duke of Austria fuming at losing his ancestral homeland and losing his valuable trade route and towns. He would grow stronger by minimally supporting Hans and Isabella.