Swiss Arms 60 (Patreon)

Swiss Arms

Chapter 60

-VB-

Hans of Fluelaberg

Every choice mattered, and I found myself faced with making one of two choices.

It wasn’t about conflict, domestic affairs, personal domestic affairs, or even trade.

No, this was far more important, at least in this very moment that I had to make the decision.

[You have reached your first 100 stat in Endurance. Please select your first perk.]

Apparently, my somewhat neglected Gamer system had a perk system built into it, and the perks listed… God, I wanted both of them.

[Hierro: weapons that register as “minor” or lesser threats to the system will not pierce or scratch the skin of the player.]

[Stim Boost: activate during combat to give the player a 10% increase across all physical stats for 1 hour (6 hr cooldown)]

10% boost to all stats would be invaluable, but “during combat” limited its use to exactly that. Considering that most of my time was not in combat, Stim Boost was a perk with limited use. Hierro (I think that’s spanish for iron?) was more useful because it could protect me even when I am not paying attention, which would be useful both on and off the battlefield. Assassinations and workplace accidents came to mind.

Hell, experimenting with gunpowder was a surefire way to get shrapnel inside me, but if I had Hierro, then I wouldn’t get shrapnel’ed, at least from primitive gunpowder accidents.

… That kind of summed up which one I was going to take.

I chose the Hierro and watched as the screens blinked off.

… Was my skin actually that strong now?

I grabbed one of the many rough jewels in my office. This one was ruby, a material that was second to diamond in hardness. However, ruby wasn’t uniform in a way that was suited to become a weapon or a tool. It could be cut and shaped just like a diamond but a raw ruby was not.

And so when I stabbed down at myself with a sharp edge of the unfinished cut ruby, it did nothing. I tried slashing, slicing, digging, and even more stabbing but the ruby, a material harder than iron, could not cut into my skin.

Because it was not a weapon nor a tool meant to cut into flesh.

I frowned as I held up the gemstone and inspected it. It didn’t even look like it’s been damaged, either.

“Does it depend on physics or my perception and biases?” I wondered out loud before setting the gemstone back down.

Then I pulled out my letter opener from one of the drawers in my “office” desk and stabbed myself with it. The simple bronze knife bent instead of cutting into me despite having struck my skin at the perfect angle for a puncture.

Snorting, I grabbed the blade, bent it back into shape (mostly), and stowed it back into its place.

That would have cut into my skin at the very least if I didn’t have the Hierro.

“Nice,” I grinned.

Feeling great about my choice, I got up, stretched, and headed out for non-office work.

And that meant that my soldiers and the recruits would suffer my presence today. How fun.

-VB-

Leon

Of Fluelaberg

Former night soil farmer, former shop keep, now a mine manager

(Last appearance: chapter 44)

If the lord told him that managing a mine would have less to do with actually inspecting the miners and more about paperwork and mine inspections, then he might have laughed and rejected the offer.

As it was, he was now a mine manager because he learned very quickly to read and write. He thought it would help him be a better miner, because the lord had a book about mining, but this instead caught the lord’s attention and he ended up in this position.

It wasn’t all too bad. He got a consistent weekly pay, unlike the miners trying their luck.

“Leon!”

He looked up from his latest paperwork - which detailed how many people sold their raw ores and gemstones for money, how much money was spent and to whom, and more - and saw his new wife, Elenna.

“Elenna, what are you doing here in the mines?” he asked her in surprise. His “office” was situated right next to the mines, which was the perfect place for him to just peer out of the window and exchange money for ores.

Elenna, a short dark-haired young woman from Tyrol, huffed as she looked around his office.

“I came to check on you when you didn’t come home for dinner!”

He blinked and unlatched the hooks on the window. When he pulled the wooden panels open, he saw how dark it was outside.

“Oh, I didn’t realize…” he muttered before closing the panels again and looking back at her. “Ah… Sorry?”

She huffed again and raised something she had been holding up. It was a box wrapped up in cloth and looked big enough to hold a meal for two people.

“Dinner for you, my time-insensitive husband,” she said before pulling a chair over to his table. He hurriedly moved the documents away as she untied the cloth and then opened the smooth wooden box.

Inside the compartmentalized box was -.

“... Goat?” he asked her.

“Yes,” she replied. “Beef was too expensive.”

That was an understatement. Before, eating meat was once a month thing. Now, he had it every week at least.

He let out a sigh of relief while she snorted at his reaction while pulling out utensils from underneath the box.

He met Elenna and her family when they arrived at Fluelaberg from the east. It was obvious then that Elenna’s father had done something to warrant uprooting their family from wherever they were from, and while her entire family claimed that they were from Tyrol, Leon suspected they might be from Bavaria and even further east.

Regardless, he became smitten with her round, heart-shaped face, the resting bitch face, and *cough* curves. He was smitten with her enough that he forwent the dowry from the impoverished family.

The wedding had been … just two months ago. The lord had been gracious enough to give him a full month of “vacation” from work while still being paid. It was a ridiculous thing for the lord to do, but it also sparked a rush among the people to get a position under the lord as it became clear that there were other benefits like that.

Alas, he had to return to work, and Leon found out quickly that he had a tendency to lose track of time… both in bed and at work.

“I know this won’t be an issue when we have a child, yes?” she asked him abruptly, and he nearly choked.

“O-Of course!”

She nodded imperiously before digging into the goat meat stew.

They ate together in comfortable silence.

-VB-

Albert I of Germany

Haguenau

There were very few things that irked Albert of the House of Habsburgs.

One of those irksome factors was merchant guilds. They schemed and fought to profit themselves at the cost of the people who paid taxes. In cities and fiefs where the lords let the merchants go wild, the lesser commoners always found themselves downtrodden, weaker, and less able to pay their dues.

Another irksome fact was those who ignored him.

And from what the contents of this letter said, it was very clear that the Dukes of Bavaria were ignoring his words. He had proclaimed not just to the Swabian Alps but neighboring lands that there was to be peace. In response, the Bavarians had sent in their knights, dressed up poorly as bandits, to raid, plunder, and rape. It spat upon his face!

Though he did not recognize the crests he received along with the letters, he very much appreciated having evidence to use to punish those who spat on his orders.

In fact, he failed to get Holland and Zeeland, but this was an opportunity to get a replacement for the lost prizes in the Lowlands. Bavaria offered fertile land, and may serve as a path of westward expansion from his own holdings in the Duchy of Austria.

But first, he had letters to write and dukes to visit after.

-VB-

Rudolf, Duke of Upper Bavaria

Munich

Parchment crinkled underneath his fingers as his rage threatened to consume his entire consciousness.

“Fucking… merchants…!” he hissed and choked as his entire body trembled. His arms bulged as he stretched his discipline and control to keep himself from grabbing the table and throwing it at the wall.

Spies in Fluelaberg finally managed to grab a hold of some of the evidence the Baron of Fluelaberg gathered from the bandit hunt and sketched the coat of arms on the letter.

And they were the coat of arms of his own bannermen. Of knights, barons, and even vogts. Oh, he knew these coats of arms because they were the ones who the merchants complained the most about being in debt.

And it was so fucking obvious how the merchants demanded his bannermen repay their debts: by attacking the merchants’ perceived enemy in another lord’s lands.

Finally, the parchment couldn’t take his trembling hands anymore and tore in half. With it went his control.

“GAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!”

He grabbed the table and flung it, and his spymaster casually ducked underneath the flying furniture.

Rudolf stood where he threw the table, heaving with his flaring nostrils and wide open mouth. He was so close to drawing his sword and stabbing those bastards, merchants and bannermen alike! They were going to ruin-.

He froze when he saw the uncomfortable face on his spymaster.

“There’s more.”

It wasn’t a question.

The spymaster wordlessly produced another letter.

He tore the envelope open and looked at the letter.

And the rage drained away as he realized just how big this shitfest was about to become. He dropped back into his seat.

“Fluelaberg sent a letter to the emperor,” he uttered. “Instead of directly confronting me about it where I could control the situation, the bastard sent a letter to that land-hungry emperor.”

Trouble was coming, and Rudolf had a limited window of time to show that he wasn’t the one causing issues.

That meant…

“I need to contact the Fluelaberg directly.”