Swiss Arms 64 (Patreon)

Swiss Arms

Chapter 64

-VB-

The vote came to pass, and John of Toggenburg was admitted into the Compact as a new member, and declared the “Guardian of the West,” a reminder of what he spoke about in his persuasive speech and what his defined role within the Compact was.

John didn’t particularly mind. In fact, he considered it an honor to be considered a secular equal to the Prince-Bishop of Chur Siegfried because that mattered.

We also kind of did away with the numbering thing. At this point, we were Compact of the Ten, but constantly having to change it was irritating a few people. It wasn’t a big deal for most of us so we just did away with the convention in favor of simply calling ourselves “The Compact.”

Beyond that, we also held several more votes as people brought forth proposals. The more confined members wanted some more benefits, the trade-centric ones wanted more access and tariffs, so on and so on.

So what should have been a weekend meeting ended up being a week-long meeting.

During which John was allowed to sit as a member, we voted on and passed some of the measures. The most critical of these were the [Defense Act of 1302], [Militia Act of 1302], and [Trade Act of 1302].

The Defense Act of 1302 laid out the responsibilities and duties of citizens and the individual member states of the Compact. Primarily, this was the act in defense of thy neighbor clause in the Defense Act. Essentially, if one acted in the defense of his neighbor against a violent perpetrator in the act of violence, then many crimes could be forgiven depending on the circumstances. This was an accepted fact across the world, of course, but by writing it down as a law, it gave legal protection where there were none before.

The Militia Act of 1302 essentially demanded that each member state of the Compact maintain an active militia. It also gave militia members the right to own steel armor, if they could get their hands on it.

The Trade Act of 1302 made it so that there was no tariff between the member states for more common goods like fabric, food, and wool; this was to satisfy the smaller members that have taken up the position of being the main fabric producers in our region as other members, like Davos, shifted away from their own fabric production (something which all villages did as a rule of thumb). It placed tariffs on “luxury goods” like alcohol coming into the Compact. This was in part to encourage our own members to make our own booze because imported alcohol was always much more expensive.

I hoped that all of these new laws would prove beneficial for the Compact, because I wasn’t sure how well I would do if I had to start caring about the economic aspect of the whole Compact.

With these laws laid out, the “conference” of 1302 came to an end. While everyone went on their own ways, I went with John back to his homeland to see how I could help him develop his county into something more.

-VB-

Interludes

---

Isabella, Fiance of Hans

Perhaps it was because he was once a commoner himself that he went so far out of his way to give concessions to the commoner members of the Compact that contributed very little to its overall state.

Personally, Isabella thought that Hans was being too generous to the point of being weak. She needed to break this habit of his. He could not be seen being too generous or everyone will try to take advantage of it like they already have.

How could she go about doing that? She definitely needed to nag him about it but not so much that he starts ignoring her whenever she brings it up. It had to be impactful, too.

“... Alleria.”

Her handmaiden-friend stepped up. Like the perfect servant, she had been working in the shadows ever since Isabella arrived here at the Compact.

“Yes, milady?”

“I need you to find any discrepancies in Castel, St. Peter, and Schiers.”

“Ah, the three that tried their best to get more than what they were worth?”

“Yes. Hans is unlikely to act on anything without evidence, so I need evidence.”

“... Shall I make them?”

“No. As much as they irritate me for bothering Hans for their insufficiencies, I am not interested in making false evidence to punish them. When Hans comes down on them, I want them to suffer for what they did.”

“Of course, milady. You are generous.”

“... No, I am just and fair.”

Alleria snorted with a smile. “Like your father?”

It was her turn to snort. “Father is not fair at all! He cheats at games!”

The two chatted like that even as Alleria signaled one of the House Guards to complete something.

-VB-

Leon

(The former nightsoil farmer turned mine manager)
(At this rate, he will forever be introduced as such)

It was weird.

… Many things were weird up here in Fluelaberg, but it was even weirder than usual.

Leon watched as miners, some of whom looked more like sticks when they first started mining, now looked like warriors with how tough they looked. Their thick, muscular arms swung iron pickaxes with expertise and practice, chipping away at the rocks not in small pebbles but fistfuls of rocks that other miners picked up and hauled out. What rocks they could not crack open with their pickaxes, they used the “wedging” technique that the baron taught them to crack them open.

And … he also looked like them.

He looked down at his arms, body, and legs.

He wasn’t the thin Leon from before, and his married life had only changed him even more.

“... You look like you like more of what you see underneath you than in front of you.”

He looked up and saw his wife, Elenna, standing by the doorway.

“No, I’m just … marveling at how much I have changed since I came here.”

Elenna continued to look at him before snorting. “You look better than before.”

“Before?”

“When we got married. You looked thinner then.”

“I did,” he hummed. “But then again, all we do is eat, work until we feel tired, rest, eat, work, rest, eat, and sleep.”

“Yes, just like pigs.”

“What?! What did I do to get compared to pigs?”

“Because you are delicious as you look.”

He blinked. Wait, did he hear that correctly?

“Wait, what?”

Elenna snorted, walked up to him, gave him a peck on the cheeks, slapped his shoulder, and walked out with the laundry.

“... huh?”

-VB-

Alvia

They called her a mistress, these days. Like a master of a guild.

It wasn’t because the men around her liked calling her their mistress or guildmistress and guildmaster but rather because none could deny that she made some of the best gem cuts on this side of the Alps.

So much so, in fact, that she now had a young man around her age kneeling in front of the fort’s inner gate.

However, she wasn’t interested in taking apprentices. She was busy enough as it was. She did not have time for other people. Her brother and Hans could use all of her time, sure, but some random person from Venice? No.

But there was another reason why.

“Paolo, she doesn’t care,” a man next to the kneeling man said. “Let’s go. You’ve wasted enough time as it is. We’ve been here for a full month already!”

“I am determined to see this through.”

They spoke in North Italian, and Alvia understood what they were saying because she had been living and working under Hans. She knew, more than most in fact, that this was something that occurred because of Hans. Something about him, something unnatural - supernatural - and widespread, affected many people who learned even one thing from him and continued to work for him. Once they worked with him, they became better at learning.

It was why she was determined to not accept apprentices, even if it would make her life so much easier. What would happen to those apprentices once they began to get much better? By the very nature of guilds and master-apprentice relationships, they would eventually leave Fluelaberg. They would take Fluelaberg’s knowledge and advancements with them to beyond its borders.

And that knowledge, knowledge had been slowly but surely been terrifying her with their practical implications, was what kept Fluelaberg strong right now. What was knowledge but how to make pigments from seemingly random weed flowers? What was knowledge if not how to make porcelain from materials no one ever thought of to use? What was knowledge if not an untouchable substance that could not be kept hidden once shared?

Alvia of Davos, she had come to fear, had become a liability for her beloved and not the pillar she hoped to be. It was a blessing as much as it was a curse.

People from Hamburg and Lubeck had come by after looking at her gems … and Venice saw her first forays into painting, which she stupidly sold at cost to a wandering peddler who took a liking to her two-palm-sized illustration of the Christ (with Hans’ input).

… But wasn’t there an easy solution to that? Just make any apprentice stay in Fluelaberg.

She thought about it.

She supposed that … it would be easier to have someone else mix the new oil paint colors Hans thought up.

She glanced at Paolo through her window on the second story within the fort.

And someone with dedication like that was sure to be useful not just to her but also to Hans.

-VB-

Rudolf I, Duke of Upper Bavaria

“What?”

“The Mayor of Memmingen implicated you and the guildmasters in a plot against the baron,” his spymaster sighed as he handed him a copy of the letter. “The merchant who went to Compact was more than happy to sell a copy of the letter to us for a hundred guelders.”

“A HUNDRED GUELDERS?!”

That was enough money to buy a dozen subpar horses but still a dozen horses!

“Why-?!”

“I felt that it was important enough,” he replied. “And it was. There is enough information in that letter that should the baron present it to the emperor, we might suffer an imperial intervention.”

That was the last straw that broke the horse’s back.

“FUCK FUCK FUCKING MERCHANT FUCKING GUILDS -!” he roared as he tossed his table to the side. The solid wooden table tumbled and cracked against the stone floor and walls, sending all of the papers and paperweights on top of it flying everywhere. “Get me those goddamn guildmasters! I want their goddamn heads!”

After stewing in his anger for half a day, he finally got enough sense to right his table, gather his paper, quills, and paperweights, and start writing a letter. This one would go to the baron with the heads of the guildmasters involved in this mess. A roundabout apology for this shitfest his merchants caused and a warning to not escalate the issue.

-VB-

Louis, Duke of Upper Bavaria

“The Count of Toggenburg joined the Compact?” he asked with a frown.

“Yes, milord,” his spymaster bowed. “It seems that we have been mistaken in assuming that the baron kept the boy count as a ward to prevent another war, perhaps one with the Habsburgs. Instead, he has used the chance to sway the boy count to his cause, and now with his signature, the County of Toggenburg is legally bound to the Compact.”

Louis hummed.

Whether or not the count’s signature would hold in the imperial court was not something he was interested in. What he was seeing with this was that the Compact, a collection of nothing but small villages, one baron, and one bishop, was now something he had to watch on more carefully.

What he thought was a useful patsy in his upcoming spat with his older brother was starting to look more like a dog that might bite his hand if he reached in.

“Pause all operations we have ongoing against the baron,” he immediately decided. While it would have been great to see his older brother get the blame and suffer the baron’s presence, he wasn’t so sure about it anymore. See, the plan had been to hurt the future baroness, get the baron angry, direct his anger to his older brother, let them fight it out, and then he would swoop in to settle the issue. He would then use the issue as Rudolf’s incompetence to kick him out of his title.

And if they discovered he had ordered it done…

Well, he wasn’t sure if he liked the rumors he heard about the “Count Killer.”

Now… he wasn’t sure.

If the baron was a peasant with brute force, then the scheme would have worked well enough even with his allies.

If the baron thought years ahead and planned accordingly, then he needed to be treated as a threat.

A threat with enough reach to affect his lands.

“I should have moved faster,” he grunted. “What are our options?”

“... we can try to bribe the malcontent within their ranks,” the spymaster suggested. “I’m sure we can find at least a few of village chiefs willing to provide some more critical information we have been unable to get so far.”

“And we didn’t do this before… why?”

The spymaster raised an eyebrow.

“My lord, you did not see the reason to and told me to not waste manpower and money.”

Louis facepalmed. Right, right. He’d done that, and it was a mistake on his part. He would have to rectify it, but how could he do so?

Someone knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

One of the “servants” walked in and bowed to them both before whispering into his spymaster’s ears. His councilor dismissed the man and turned to him with a smile.

“Well, it seems that we have a luck break, my lord. Duke Rudolf is executing the guildmasters and sending their heads to the baron with a letter.”

Louis blinked before grinning.

“Intercept it and just … burn it,” he replied with a fat grin on his face. “Make it so that the good baron just happens to ‘ignore’ a duke’s words.”

“Your will be done,” the spymaster bowed and left.