Swiss Arms 63 (Patreon)

Swiss Arms

Chapter 63

-VB-

John’s sudden request to join the Compact stirred up the rest of the Compact, especially in Maienfeld which was the closest to Toggenburg lands.

This wasn’t about them feeling upset. It was the opposite. They saw the admittance of Toggenburg as a good thing because it would mean they would have to worry less about any attacks which may come from that side. Trade would also increase as tariffs would be removed between Toggenburg lands and that of the Compact.

However, the smaller members like Langweis and St. Peter did not like the idea. They were already insulated from external threats by being away from the border of the Compact, and more, their smaller villages were already feeling symptoms of losing out on trade as their people had … stubbornly refused to change. While places like Klosters and Maienfeld had benefited by fully adopting the new technologies I’ve offered them as peace offerings, Langweis and St. Peter had depended too much on Chur for … basically everything. It was understandable in their position as they were not only the smallest two villages out of our nine members but also the ones stuck behind Chur and surrounded by mountains. Yes, we were in the Alps and most of us lived in valleys, but St. Peter and Langweis was surrounded by mountain peaks, literally. On top of that, they were shadowed by their even bigger neighbor, Arosa.

Ah, I digressed.

Fortunately, even if they didn’t want Toggenburg in the Compact and voted against John, there were enough approving votes that it wouldn’t matter.

“You think the vote will pass?” John asked from my side while the rest of the representatives of the Compact walked into the meeting hall, provided by the Bishop of Chur.

“I believe it will pass in our favor,” I replied more formally than I normally spoke with John. It was because I didn’t want to appear too friendly lest some of the approving votes turn sour at the thought of a “subversive” element among them. As if it was they who made the Compact and not me. As if they did anything but reap the rewards of my work and knowledge.

I paused when I felt my right hand squeeze and looked at Isabella.

I smiled at her, thanking her silently for the reminder.

My growing … distaste for the smaller and non-contributing members of the Compact weighed on my mind and had done so since I began to really think about how I wanted the Compact to last. Isabella had been with me every step of the way, and just before we came to Chur, I proposed to her.

She now proudly wore a gold ring with a 3-carat round brilliant cut spinel ruby set on top of it. By twenty-first-century standards, the ring itself would be worth around twenty-thousand dollars at a minimum. In my opinion, however, the ring was worth far less than the person who wore it.

John looked uncomfortable at our eye-fucking. Deal with it, boy.

I cleared my throat and waited for the rest of the representatives to seat themselves. John was here as the candidate himself, I represented Fluelaberg, Kraft, who I haven’t seen in some time, was here as Davos’s representative, and Isabella was an outside observer. Some villages and towns sent their mayor or chief while others sent relatives of the said leaders.

Or in the rare case of Klosters, a merchant.

I knew that Klosters had been getting in cahoots with a Bavarian merchant looking to set up a regular trade route between us and the Duchy of Lower Bavaria, specifically the city of Ingolstadt, the seat of the Duchy.

… Well, even if the merchant “abused” his seat and voted against John and I, I still had my vote, Kraft’s, the bishop’s, Maienfeld’s, and Schiers’. Those were enough for the majority.

Once everyone was seated and talking with each other, the bishop stood up; he had been given the honor of being the head of today’s meeting.

“Welcome to Prince-Bishopric of Chur,” he began with an emphasis on his secular title. The clean-shaven and somewhat elderly bishop looked around as the talks quieted and everyone focused on him. If he had a bushy beard, then it would have gone great with the winter fox coat he was wearing but alas, it was a missed opportunity. “Today, we gather here, the third meeting of its kind, to decide the fate of the Compact. A request had been made by Count John the First of Toggenburg to join in on the Compact’s military and economic alliance.” Murmurs broke out briefly. “Count John, please stand up and make your case.”

I gave John a nod, and the fifteen-year-old stood up to face a dozen people who were all at least two decades older than him.

“Greetings, representatives of the Compact. I am Count John the First of Toggenburg. Until very recently, I spent my time as a ward of Hans of Fluelaberg.”

I nodded. It was a known fact but I was conveying that he was and remained my ward as John conveyed. The representatives all saw me nod, and this gave John a degree of trustworthiness. If I, the founder of the Compact, trusted John to speak the truth and remain silent as he spoke, then he must be speaking the truth.

“I am envious.”

Oh?

“I have seen almost all of the Compact from my foster father’s side, and I found myself envious of the works you have created.” Then he pointed north. “The road that connects Chur, Maienfeld, Schiers, Klosters, Davos and finally, Fluelaberg. You have created a road that may not be a one-to-one match for the Ancient Roman Road, but it is still nonetheless an achievement you carried out in under five years! That … is a show of your character!”

Ah, he was looking to butter them up before moving in for the kill.

“But it is a road that I often saw was unguarded.”

There we go.

I looked around and noted more than half of the representatives nodding along.

“And while I am aware that the Compact relies heavily on Fluelaberg for its military matters, is that not too much for a single barony not even five years old? I have seen the people of Fluelaberg dedicate themselves not just to the craft but also to war. They go where their baron commands them. They train rigorously! They stand ready to defend themselves and their allies!” Then he thumped his chest. 

“Remember, John,” I told him when we first discussed how we would convince others to let John join us. “Commoners do not have the same goal as the nobility. Sure, prosperity is the common goal of all but the path are different.”

“How different could they be?”

“Honor is not a big issue among peasants as it is between the nobility. When you need to persuade the commoners like myself, you either do it through money or military might.”

“You want me to threaten them?!”

SMACK.

“Ow.”

“No, you idiot. You tell them that you will guard their west. Your lands extend into the Walenstadt, right? Well, tell them that you will make sure Walenstadt will be the gate you will guard over.”

“... You’re right. Walenstadt is part of my land. Father supposedly neglected it, according to mother…”

“There you go. Not only do you get to improve your land but you also do as a lord should: protecting the commoners around you.”

“Walenstadt has been left in disrepair for some time. I intend to give it the attention it needs and develop it into a proper point of protection for the Compact’s western border.”

This time, the murmuring that broke out sounded much more in favor of John.

---

There was a small recess during which representatives split off to talk with John and each other.

What I did not expect was to be approached by the merchant representing Klosters.

“Baron Fluelaberg,” he greeted me with a bow. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

“Thank you. And you are…?”

The merchant raised his head back up. Covered with a brown cloak on top and a deep blue shirt underneath, this man subtly displayed wealth while covering it up in normal attire. That blue shirt, for example, was made with a few cans of the dye I made after I dyed Isabella’s dress.

The man smiled, making the corners of his lips rise and the skin around them fold lightly. “I am Ernst of Memmingen.”

Memmingen? The Free Imperial City?

“What can I do for a merchant from the Free Imperial City?” I asked and the merchant smirked.

“I see that you are educated as they say.”

I waved him off. “My father happened to have been hired by the city when it was vying for independence from the House of Welf.” He really was, though he didn’t tell me, a child of three, about the details; I just happened to remember him telling Mom about how shit the garrison job was.

“I see,” he hummed before he reached into his cloak and pulled out an envelope. “A message from the Lord Mayor of Memmingen to Baron Hans von Fluelaberg.”

Raising an eyebrow, I took the envelope, tore it open, and unfolded the letter.

My face contorted little by little as I read down the lines.

And then, for certainty’s sake, I read it again.

Then I read it again with bubbling wrath.

After the third read, I gently and neatly folded it up and stowed it away in my pants pocket. I looked up and cleared my throat, ready to thank Mr. Ernst. What I saw instead was a man holding his ground despite sweating. His pale face contrasted with his previously dark peach tone. Why was he…?

[Ping! Would you like to keep [Intimidation] up? There are no targets.]

Oh. That’s why.

I hastily shut it down and smiled at the still-shivering man.

“Herr Ernst,” I called him and he somewhat shook out of his stupor. “The Free Imperial City of Memmingen has proved itself to be … a friend. I am very willing to shower my friend with gifts, so please come visit Fluelaberg before you return to Memmingen.”

“O-Of course,” he muttered.

“Until next time then, Herr Ernst.”

-VB-

To Baron Hans von Fluelaberg,

I am Albert von Lorsmich, and I write to you as the Lord Mayor of Memmingnen. Though you may not know this, you have become a known figure in the Eastern Swabian lands as a man of means, innovation, and military might. How else could a mere commoner rise to the ranks of a baron without such traits?

However, troubles have been brewing outside of your lands. I have been contacted a number of times by merchants elsewhere about the flow of trade goods coming from your lands, and have noted that many times have caravans ladden with your wares been struck by bandits while peddlers were killed for the same reason.

What I noticed, however, was that peddlers and caravans bearing the sigil of the Merchant Guilds of Munich have not been touched not once while my own city’s caravans have been struck numerous times in the past year.

It has become clear to me that something sinister is afoot, and I have taken it upon myself to investigate these matters because while they may be outside of your concern, these ruffians are still targeting good men with your goods. What I have discovered is a conspiracy to bring ruin to your lands.

The guilds of Munich have been wary of you, Lord Hans. They saw your rise as an oddity but the sudden flow of exotic goods to be a threat to their way of life. They have poured money and men to strangle the trade in the Duchy of Upper Bavaria, and the duke himself has done little to change this.

I fear, milord, that the Duke of Upper Bavaria may be in on this conspiracy to see your downfall. I send this letter to you as the man in charge of Memmingen, someone in a position like yours: threatened by the greedy dukes.

Please, be careful. The dukes of Upper Bavaria have extensive connections and wealth, and should they decide to bring you down in full, there may be little you can do to stop them.

Signed,

Albert von Lorsmich

Lord Mayor of Memmingnen

Baron of Steinheim

House of Lorsmich