Swiss Arms 61 (Patreon)

Swiss Arms

Chapter 61

-VB-

I am not a rational actor.

I knew this for a fact. What kind of a person decides to become a hermit when they had access to potentially world-changing power?

An irrational actor did. In this era where it was even more imperative for someone to take the chance to achieve the most they could simply because life was harder, I chose to try and take it easy.

But I had my reasons. The biggest of them was how badly I changed the political landscape of the Swabian Alps with a single battle participation. The Unruly Year never happened in my past life’s timeline, but it did in this one. As for the number of people dead, my best estimate to this date was over ten thousand. In some of the least populated areas of Europe, ten thousand people died. Our population density had to be similar to mountainous Scandinavia, for fuck’s sake, and so many people died!

Because I got greedy once.

And then I had to act afterward to save my neighbors and then my people.

I still got to enjoy some of the hermit lifestyle, but there was a sense of hesitation that came with even enjoying bits of it.

Should I be spending time with it?

Shouldn’t I be expanding something - anything - that would ensure the prosperity of my people?

Shouldn’t I be building more roads and schools?

Shouldn’t I be opening workshops in other villages?

Shouldn’t I -?

Shouldn’t I -?

I was … never the most secure person. I never charged into a situation in my first life without having a backup plan and a contingency for the backup.

It was at this point that Isabella entered the picture and began to help me untangle some of my thoughts. Sure, she had been … anachronistically forward with her intentions, but it was also one that was refreshing. I think that’s what led me to accept her “proposal,” because, for all of the time I spent growing up in this era, I couldn’t think like the rest of the people here; I’d been infected long ago by the curse of knowledge, and the lack of memory wipe prior to reincarnation made sure that curse followed me.

I think that inflexibility initially pushed me toward the hermit lifestyle.

I could be as post-modern cosmopolitan man as much as I wanted if I didn’t have the social pressure to deal with, right?

It certainly influenced my decision to allow everyone from Muslim Moroccans to Bulgarian Jews to come and settle in my town. This … was something I did despite having encountered some resistance from other members of the Compact.

It was something that never came up as a big deal because the rule of the Compact both prevented and discouraged other members from interfering in the internal affairs of other members as long as they could not conclusively prove the act to be harmful to the “greater good” of the Compact.

What was I getting to with all of this rambling?

… Right.

I was not a rational actor.

I am so irrational, in fact, that an unproven shred of evidence was enough for me to hyperfocus on the Upper Duchy of Bavaria. They already had a track record of wanting my shit, so why wouldn’t I? Even if the coat of arms was fake, they were the only ones interested and capable of sending their men-at-arms as bandits. This was something I checked with Isabella.

The Lordship of Milan was focused completely on their Italian neighbors and only minutely on the Forest Cantons, the states that would become the Old Swiss Confederacy in my old life. I didn’t share a border with them to be worth investing time and effort into. The Duchy of Austria, the emperor, did share a border with me, but he had been focused solely on the Lowlands until I raised the alarm about recent shenanigans in the Alps; he most likely wasn’t the culprit. Tyrol was in my soon-to-be cousin-in-law’s hands. Count of Gorizia was my soon-to-be father-in-law. My former enemies during the Unruly Year? I knew for a fact that John, the Count of Toggenburg, was not involved because he was still staying with me, though that would change within the week as he became an adult in the eyes of this era. Werdenberg? They were busy making money hand over fist from trade that went through their lands. Sargans? The number of their men-at-arms that regularly interacted with other members of the Compact hadn’t decreased. In fact, the Count of Sargans had made inquiries about becoming an “associate” of the Compact, so he couldn’t be one.

This left the Duchy of Upper Bavaria and the County of Montfort. Only the former had shown belligerence prior to the bandit attack. The Count of Montfort was busy making trade deals with some of the Compact members, however minor those deals were. He also lost a shit ton of soldiers to us; he didn’t have the capacity to send knights and men-at-arms for that kind of shit.

So what did this have to do with my hyperfocus on the most likely suspect?

Because I was planning on thoroughly subduing the Duchy of Upper Bavaria if it was ever proven that they were even partially responsible for the bandit attack. Oh, it would be hard, especially because most members of the Compact were unlikely to join in on the offensive. Why would they? They were ordinary villagers in the Alps. Surviving was already hard before I came along. The Unruly Year killed more than a few of them. Any and all offensive would have to be done with my rangers, a few of the volunteers, mercenaries, and maybe some help from my future in-laws.

How would I go about ruining a duchy that was almost fifty times the size of my personal lands?

I couldn’t go and ruin trade; trade was not a significant part of a lord’s income or the livelihood of the vast majority of commoners in these areas. It might affect them somewhat and hurt the seat of their power, Munich, but that wouldn’t stop Upper Bavaria from furthering messing with me and my people.

… I was going to have to face them in open battle, wasn’t I? While I would happily kill their dukes in their sleeps, if anyone ever found out, then it would be an existential crisis not for me but for my people. The emperor would use it as an excuse to expand into the Compact, which would no doubt help him in connecting his Swiss Austrian lands and the Duchy of Austria proper.

Knock knock.

I looked up from what I had written down, which was nothing incriminating. “Come in.” The door to my solar opened, and I saw John (the Count of Toggenburg and my ward) walk in. “John. What’s up?”

He looked at me for a second before taking a deep breath in.

“Today’s my birthday.”

… Yes, I know that. I already have a birthday present ready for you. “Yes, it is. You’re an adult now,” I said with a smile. I wouldn’t call a 15-year-old an adult, but them’s the rules.

He took a deep breath in.

“I, Count John of Toggenburg, formally ask for a membership with the Compact.”

My feather pen dropped from my hand.