Swiss Arms 78 (Patreon)

For those of you who like it, Happy Halloween.

Swiss Arms

Chapter 78

-VB-

Count John of Toggenburg

Three days after the end of the battle…

John finally cornered the Count of Sargans after the count had attempted to raid Schiers after bypassing Maiefeld, where the villagers had quickly fortified to their best extent with help from Chur. When the count returned after being spotted right between Schiers and Maiefeld, John had ambushed him just like how Hans and his rangers preferred.

And today, he had forced the Count of Sargans to give up his claim over all of the Compact, the Toggernburg lands, and his own ownership of the County of Sargans. It was either that or death at John’s hands; the now-former count had relatives he could run to, otherwise, he might have fought til the bitter end.

It was days after finalizing the war when he received news from the east.

“Victory!” the messenger shouted manically as he ran in on a horse at full speed. The messenger brought the horse to a stop, which nearly collapsed where it stopped, and the messenger himself looked as exhausted as his mount. “Overwhelming victory in the east! Baron von Fluelaberg defeated the Duke of Upper Bavaria in a pitched battle between six thousand soldiers and five hundred!”

John blinked even as he found his feet carrying him to the messenger. His adoptive father had … defeated that big of an army by himself?

Six thousand against five hundred?

That was a feat worthy of an epic, but it was something the baron regularly performed. A dozen against a thousand. A hundred against a thousand. One mercenary against a dozen horse riding knights…

It was … not surprising.

As the messenger collapsed to his knees, he helped the man back up.

“And he is safe?” he asked.

“W-Who?”

“The baron. Is the baron safe?”

“Y-yes, milord…! The baron is safe.”

“Good,” he smiled. “Then I should go to meet him. Tell him of my success here in the west.”

-VB-

The Two Victories Statute, commissioned by ***** in 14**, stands in Chur today as a monument depicting the victories in Sargans and Zernez in 1303 against two forces that sought to upend the burgeoning republic of the Compact. A pair of men stand back to back with their signature weapons in hand. Hans von Fluelaberg look to the east with his langhackmesser and John Toggenburg look to the west with his shortsword.

-VB-

Duke Henry of Gorizia

A week after the battle…

He stared at the letter in front of him.

The messenger, one of the Fluelaberg soldiers of the Battle of Zernez (even though the battle took place far away from that town), stood ramrod straight while waiting for his reply.

“To defeat an army over seven times his size with a few preparations and choosing the battle's location,” Henry hummed as he tapped on his table while still staring at the letter.

It was both a declaration of victory … and one of warning. It wasn’t directed at him per say but at everyone around the Compact.

The Compact is strong and guarded on all fronts. Beware anyone who think they can win against us.

Small and mighty. It was oxymoronic yet that was exactly what the Compact was: the producer of fine goods, finer dyes, and finest warriors.

“Your Grace,” his aide spoke up. “We have another messenger from the Compact. This one comes from the baron as well, but the origin is from the Count of Toggenburg.”

Toggenburg? Wasn’t that boy-count at war with one of his neighbors?

His aide walked over to him and gave him the letter with both hands, and he took it. Ripping it open, he read its contents and …

“Well, Jesus Christ,” he muttered to himself. “Another victory, this time in the west.”

The baron’s messenger twitched, showing a brief moment of surprise.

“You did not know?” he asked the messenger who clearly pondered on how to express himself.

“I did not, Your … Grace,” the obviously commoner soldier replied. “I knew that there was another war but not that it ended so quickly.”

This letter had been a declaration of victory against the Count of Sargans, who’s been the emperor’s peace over and over again. The Count of Toggenburg had taken it upon himself with the blessing of the Bishop of Chur to end this threat to the peace of all, and had achieved a near total victory, depriving the count of his lands and claims. Combined with Hans’s victory against Duke Rudolf of Upper Bavaria, this meant that the Compact now possessed a military capacity equivalent to a greater count. In fact, Henry wagered that there was a very good chance that if he only used his knights and levies belonging to the County of Tyrol, then he would lose against Hans.

‘And that man is now my ally through marriage with my cousin,’ he thought with a hum.

Things seemed to be working out for him without him even having to lift a metaphorical finger.

What a wonderful feeling.

“Stay the night, messenger,” he spoke to the commoner. “I will have my congratulations gift and letter ready by tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

-VB-

Emperor “King of Germans” Albert I of Germany

Two weeks after the battle…

He was having a normal day. Though he remained unsuccessful so far in bringing the wealthy Lowlands under his control, it was obvious that they would sooner or later fall under his sway. On top of that, Flanders, a rebellious region of the Kingdom of France, looked to be losing their war against the French, especially with their count, Guy, and the heir, Robert III, in the prison of the French king. If he timed it right, then there was a chance that they might bend the knee to him if he offered them both protection and high autonomy.

The current problem was the warmongering John II of Brabant. He rallied many of the Lowlands into a coalition against the French who were sieging and looting Flanders. Because of this, the rest of the Lowlands remained stubborn about taking any further military or political actions until the French threat was pacified.

And his imperial counterpart was simply not going to stop.

In a way, he was here to reassure the Lowlands that the empire will stand with them.

Kind of.

“Your Highness!!!”

He blinked at the frantic call and turned to look from where he was atop his horse and down at the ground where a messenger had ran up to him with a letter.

“What is it?” he asked.

“News from the east. The older duke of Upper Bavaria lost a war with the Baron of Fluelaberg!”

He had to think for a second before he remembered who they were.

The House of Wittelsbach … lost against a mere baron? A peasant baron at that?

He took the letter from the messenger, tore it open, and pulled the parchment out. He began reading it, a message from his spymaster in Aachen. The further he read, the more the letter sounded like some myth. A thousand men defeated six thousand? The duke and most of his nobles captured?

And then the second parchment …

“Why is the church getting involved…?” he muttered incredulously before he began to read the “concerns” that led to the church’s involvement.

Or rather, the involvement of the Prince-Bishop of Freising.

-VB-

Duke Louis of Upper Bavaria

A week after the battle…

His brother, who’d taken nearly six thousand men-at-arms and knights from his domain and that of his vassals that he called to banner, lost.

He lost to an army of barely under a thousand. He lost a battle so decisively that he and almost two-thirds of the nobles that had followed him to battle had been taken prisoner, lost all of the arms and armors of their knights as ransom for their release, and significantly diminished the power of Duchy of Upper Bavaria.

It was … perfect.

He stood before the council of vassals under the joint duchies and waited for the clamor to die down.

“I am sure that most of you have heard what happened in the Alps,” he began.

A hush fell over the council of four counts and sixteen barons. Many of them here had been made prisoners by peasants, and the sheer indignation of it all had … colored many of their decisions and language. Especially language. Despite this, none of them spoke up to interrupt him.

“And I am sure that you are all keenly aware of who is to blame for this humiliating loss against a peasant army.”

“Your brother,” someone sneered, and Louis glanced to his left.

Standing from his seat was Lord Christoff of Schwengau, a noble lord who did not own his ancestral lands but lived beside it, unable to buy it back from the empire.

“Yes, my brother.”

This was a finicky issue for Louis. For one, if he accepted too much responsibility on behalf of his brother, then the responsibility would also fall on him for allowing his joint duke to engage in a disastrous campaign. On the other hand, if he didn’t accept enough responsibility, then the vassals of Bavaria would see this as a weakness.

“I supported my brother thinking that he was tactically and strategically competent enough to fight against a mere baron!” Louis growled. “He fooled me with his competence. But then what about the competence of those under his authority? Where are they now?”

That made the Schwengau lord twitch.

“Why does no one speak up? Weren’t half of you here not with my brother when he led you all into disaster?”

The best way to handle this situation was to turn the table on them. He would make them feel that they were responsible for being unable to hold their li-.

“Sorcery.”

Louis paused his line of thought and turned to look at a shivering man. It was a landless noble, one who worked within Munich itself.

“Sorcery?”

“The ground lit up in flames with the force of the most powerful winds!” the noble sputtered. “You were all there! You all saw the fire that burned our men in the rear!” he stuttered out as he looked around wildly.

What nonsense was -?

“Aye,” someone else gritted out. This man, a knight, had half of his head wrapped up. “The fire burned me. Something struck me in the face and refused to be scrubbed off. That fire … it sought the eat the living!”

… Louis looked around as a momentum grew. He quickly waved his hand in the air, and they all quieted down.

“Are you claiming that the Baron of Fluelaberg … is some sort of heathen?”

“If he’s not a heathen, then he has heathens with magic working for him. You all know that he allows Muslims and Jews to live in his demesne,” the same knight gritted out. “They must have taught him the secrets of fire!”

Louis … wasn’t sure if this was what he wanted. From the fervor some of these men had when they spoke, it was obvious that they were looking for an excuse to justify their loss. Whether it was by sorcery or tactics, a loss was a loss. Their denial just made them look pathetic in his eyes.

But pathetic men were easily swayed.

“Then it is obvious we must do,” he declared loudly as he stood up from his seat. His vassals looked up to him. This was how he would get their approval… to dethrone his brother and take control of all of the Duchy of Upper Bavaria. “We must petition the Prince-Bishop of Freising! We must demand that the church send the inquisition!”

A/N:
If I have one complaint about HRE, then it is that everyone seems to use only like half a dozen names.