Swiss Arms

Chapter 46-51

Swiss Arms

Chapter 46

-VB-

This was a rare event.

Leon looked on as the lord of the castle faced off against would-be winners of the prize. Five of them stood within a sand ring in the circle in front of the castle's wooden walls. Around the ring were a lot of the other contestants and onlookers like Leon himself.

Leon knew that he had no chance here. He's seen what the lord could do with a single hand, never mind both of his hands with a sword, no matter what kind of material that sword was made out of.

He watched as one of the contestants to the lord's back went for a dishonorable attack.

The lord reacted almost too quickly, parrying the downward strike and then kicking the guy in the chest. They stopped the attack immediately and sent the challenger tumbling back.

And received the same treatment.

He awed audibly at how his lord jumped over a spear strike at his feet, kicked away another spear thrust while mid-air, struck another with the flat of his wooden practice sword, and then twisted his body to dodge another sword strike.

When he landed, the lord burst forth and slammed into the two last standing challengers and dispatched them with one, two, and three strikes.

He clapped his hands, mouth hanging open like an idiot. He couldn't help it. The lord's movement were … "kunstlerich." Yes, a new word he learned in the "schula." Remembering it all was a hassle, so he needed to keep using them lest he forgets and score low.

If he scored low, then he was going to get less tax cut than even a half-decent score.

"Next!" the lord shouted, and the grumbling challengers left. They'll get their chance next month for that piece of gold.

Leon smirked as he accepted his cut of the bet from the dealer. Sure, he only got a little, but it was a sure bet, so he'll be happy with a few spare coins or sliver of silver more.

The next five challengers stepped up, and this time, Leon didn't bet his "hard"-earned money. No, he was satisfied seeing veteran warriors get their shit kicked in for his weekend entertainment.

-VB-

I let out a slow release of air as the exercise came to an end. As the crowd dispersed, I turned back around to enter my fort.

What waited me there was none other than Alvia and Isabella, the former holding a water pitcher and a cup while the latter held a towel for me to wipe myself with.

I accepted their help with a strained smile.

It felt awkward for me to remain near Isabella but also Alvia. After all, hadn't she come here initially? One could say that she was the first woman of the fort, and once I realized just how people saw me - or at least some of them through inference I made using what Isabella said - and how oblivious I had been because of how obstinately I had been focused on my Gamer quests, abilities, Sim City-ing, and Minecraft-ing.

Speaking of which…

[Ping!]

I went through my usual process, and this time, I chose to get upgrade my Strength even more. The only other options were Agility and improvement to my already impressive Endurance.

I noticed Alvia and Isabella glancing at each other briefly before focusing back on me. It didn't seem like they had any hostility towards each other… but then again, I hadn't noticed a lot of details in the people around me, so I was skeptical of my own observation.

After drinking a cup of water and patting down what little sweat that accumulated on my skin with the towel, I thanked them. "Thanks, Alvia, Isabella."

"No problem," Alvia said.

"Of course, my lord," Isabella replied.

It was also moments like this that I realized the kind of impact I've had on people. 'No problem' was not the usual kind of answer the locals gave when I was young or recent to this area. No problem was something I said often around here and which only a few people heard. The way she said it so casually and easily told me the level of change.

… Something to observe from the rest of the castle town and even Davos.

"What will you two be doing today?" I asked. It was still morning, though soon to be noon.

"I was hoping to dine with you for lunch, my lord," Isabella spoke up, her red hair bouncing with the slight jump she made, which also made her considerable tracts of land also bounce up and down a little.

I was a complete gentleman and didn't look.

Alvia, ever the silent and blunt one, rolled her eyes. "I'm going to be eating and working in the shop," she said. "Have you satisfied your thirst?" she asked me.

"Yes," I nodded.

"Good," she said and then handed me the water pitcher. "I'll see you at dinner." And then she walked away.

Isabella was quick to take the towel, water pitcher, and the cup from me. "Now, I believe you have a meeting with your indoor 'shower,' my lord. Your servants have heated up the water for you."

"Servants? I don't have servants," I replied with a raised eyebrow.

Her smile only grew. "Then I have asked your employees to do so, and they did."

"Alright, alright," I grumbled. "I haven't even decided on the marriage but you're already being pushy."

Her smile turned into a smirk. "Because my lord," she whispered as she stepped up to me while pushing up her breasts from under them. "You are a man, and I am a woman who told you she wants you. I have prodded and learned the limits of what I can ask of you as a woman should in any situation."

If she kept showing off, then I might really do something stupid.

I was a man, Isabella was a hot woman almost spreading her legs, and she was neither stupid nor malevolent. In fact, she genuinely liked me. She got to know me and got me to know her over the past two months she's been staying here (somehow getting permission from her father to stay).

She was intelligent, educated, understanding, sexy, and cheerful. The only "bad" part of her was her slight obsessiveness and impulsivity, though neither characteristics were out of her control; in fact, she liked to use them to her advantage to put others off guard, especially when combined with her cheerfulness and attractiveness.

So I did the only brave thing I could do in this situation to not let the situation escalate: bravely running away.

I sighed. "I don't even know what to say to that," I grumbled as I walked away.

"You could be a brute, scoop me up, and have your way with me~!" she teased with a little titter in her voice. "You'll definitely have to take responsibility and marry me!"

"And get into a fight with your dad? I'm not a guy who goes around risking my people so easily." I didn't hear what she said afterwards, but I did give her one more. "And thanks for the hot water!"

---

When her lord - she would make it happen - rounded the corner, Isabella dropped her smile and sighed.

She's tried every trick her mothers - birth and step mothers - have taught her. She's tried to be cool and logical as she first thought Lord Hans would be more amenable to. It worked a little but not enough. She tried to get him to see her as a woman.

She knew she was desperate when she was making herself look useful.

She also knew that she was managing to slowly wear Hans's resolve. Just a little more and … she might even be able to visit him at night.

Isabella shivered.

While her adventure was not as romantic as her father's had been, she found it interesting and great nonetheless. Sure, her adventure felt more methodical than how her father seduced her birth mother… and stepmother. She had to be. Hans was a far catchier and tougher target than her mothers were.

She wasn't debasing her birth and stepmothers, just that Hans was a romantically and marriage-reluctant man focused on other aspects of life, which was something men can do because they didn't have a time limit on when they could get married.

Unfortunately for her, she was a woman and there was a time limit for when she could get married. Give her two more years and she would be considered odd. A year more after that and people would start asking if she was barren or horrible. Another year after that and men won't even look at her for marriage prospects.

… Perhaps she was exaggerating to herself a little, but the matter of the fact was still clear: women had limited time to find their husbands.

And Hans, probably one of the best men out there including the likes of dukes and emperors, was incredibly hard to seduce.

Isabella knew that she was on the right track. She just … needed to push herself a little more.

-VB-

Alvia knew that her decision was right.

Perhaps it was just that her love was not like what Isabella felt. Her love felt more … blue? Green? It wasn't the blushing red and passionate love that her friends and peers talked about.

Now that she had more time and outside perspective to see what a "passionate love" looked like (or obsession), she realized that, yes, she does love Hans, but not like Isabella. It felt more … friendly. More cordial. More sibling-like than a desire for a man.

… Maybe she did feel a bit of that desire, but it was largely overshadowed by the other kinds of love.

In fact, this revelation made her feel better about Isabella.

Hans needed a woman to keep him grounded, because he will otherwise go deep into a hole and never return, and while she couldn't be tht woman for Hans because she also had that issue, Isabella might be able to … once she actually became Hans's wife.

Otherwise, Alvia might need to find someone else for Hans.

-VB-

[Character Status]

Name: Hans von Fluelaberg

Age: 20

LvL: 34

HP: 700

MP: 350

ST: 350

STR: 57

END: 70

AGI: 63

DEX: 52

INT: 35

CHA: 22

-VB-

A/N: a fresh perspective on all of this.

-VB-

Swiss Arms

Chapter 47

-VB-

Life could be shitty.

It was a phrase John learned from his warden and guardian, Hans of Fluela. It was just one of many things he learned from the man who killed his father.

Even though common sense dictated that he should hate the man for his father's death and the golden cage he put John in, John didn't feel hatred for Hans. Extreme unhappiness, maybe, but not hate. He didn't feel the blinding rage that broiled at the back of his mind, that churned his actions forward, that clouded his thoughts, and more.

No, both he and Hans only felt regret for the ways things turned out, which couldn't be said about anyone else in Fluelaberg and the rest of the Compact of the Se- Eight. John hated some of them, the ones who arrogantly made sure he heard how they were the ones who took down a noble, how they were the ones who unshackled the yokes forced upon them by the nobles, and how it was they who made the Compact what it was.

Absolute. Morons.

There were idiots who thought just because they defeated a few nobles in a sparsely populated region that they were not only strong enough but good enough to start "shit-talk" nobles. All of those idiots forgot that they were only as strong as their weakest chain.

That was something his late father taught him, and when he looked upon the people of the Compact, he saw what was their weakness. Or rather who.

"Whatcha doing?"

John frowned at the atrocious drawl Hans thought friendly. He turned around and looked at the Lord of the Valleys, a nickname whispered among the servants, which he frankly agreed with.

"Nothing much. Just staring at the town," he replied while seated on a chair made out of wood and wool that sat on a third-story veranda.

Hans hummed. "Well, lunch is coming up, so I want you there for it, alright?"

"Yes, milord."

"Ugh. Why does it always sound so weird when I hear that from you?" Hans remarked before walking away.

John rolled his eyes and continued to stare out at the town, which was related to Hans's latest nickname, the Lord of the Valley. The trade boom, the explosive growth of the town, and the near absolute control Lord Hans exerted in the Fluela Valley would have been an impossible combination to handle for any normal noble and lord.

He still wasn't sure how Hans was doing it, but perhaps it was something he would discover in due time. For now, he would continue to learn under Hans. It was the correct choice. Aside from the fact that Hans defeated John's father, John learned a lot as Hans's ward. Though some of what he learned were things he personally didn't need to know (like supply and demand) while others were all too useful (like why and how politics worked the way it did and how he should get ahead in politics if he could).

But sometimes, he still found himself just staring out into the Fluelaberg's castle town and wondering about his life.

Did father have to wage war for land? Did father have to die? Was it wise to be learning from his father's killer?

Thoughts, thoughts, and more thoughts, yet none of them led to action that would solve those thoughts.

Fighting and killing Hans was … he would reject it. Hans had made him feel at home here, had allowed him to exchange letters with his mother, and even handmade a sweet cake for him on his birthday and allowed his mother to visit at the same time. Hans taught him as much as he could with the limited time he had. John laughed at Hans's stupid jokes, sneered at his lowborn habits, and was awed by Hans's strength.

Even if it had been only a year since he found himself with these people, John knew that he would never be able to raise his sword against them unless his direct family was in danger.

Because Fluelaberg was beautiful. It was beautiful because of its people and lord. An optimistic town that looked to the future and strode towards it.

In comparison, his life before the war was … incomparable. The monotony of daily life where he trained with the master-at-arms, read books in Latin and German, received lessons, and ate food with his family. Sure, he loved his family. He loved his father. But life in Toggenburg was a restricted thing, and what peasants he saw were poor and weak people.

People here in Fluelaberg were not. Though they might not be well off, they were heading towards it. They ate and slept well. They had a strong defender who wasn't interested in starting wars. Such circumstances gave the people "room to breath," and that room made them happier. Sure, they grumbled occasionally like the ones who grumbled about him, but at the end of the day, everyone here was happier than in any other place he'd been to. Their happiness infected him like a disease and wouldn't leave him.

… Learning was fun. Being in Fluelaberg was fun, despite all of the horrible things that led up to his stay here. Laughing and playing with Hans was fun.

What wasn't fun was that new lady, Lady Isabella of Gorizia. Her father, the Count of Gorizia, was a vassal of the Habsburgs, his maternal family, and also the governor of their Tyrolian lands. She looked to be extremely infatuated with Hans, and it actually kind of pissed him off.

Hans spoke at length about what he wanted and wanted to accomplish. How, while he still wishes for an idyllic life, he wishes to provide for his people. How, even as he stares longingly at his pickaxe after all too short of a mining trip, he goes out to talk with big-name merchants to manage the trade coming in and out of the town.

And to John, Isabella looked like a gold digger who wanted to swoop in and take the fruits of Hans's work.

The thought of such a thing potentially happening, the idea that someone might bring his friend down, infuriated him. He didn't trust that skank. She had to be here on a power play her father was making! If that was the case, then John would make sure no harm would come to Hans.

As Hans taught him, the success of those connected to him reflected back on him. To be a Ward and then the future Count of Toggenburg meant that he was now tied to Hans. If he put what Hans taught him to practice, then it was that he would help Hans when his friend asked just as his friend would surely do the same for him.

Hmm, perhaps he should probe Hans about a formal alliance once he came of age. Surely, a more concrete agreement would make it easier for everyone. Oh, he might even be able to get those sugars and white ceramics on the cheap. Those merchants were shouting some wild prices for them down at the marketplace.

-VB-

Swiss Arms

Chapter 48

-VB-

Fall was here again, and everyone out in the valley was busy with harvest.

However, this actually led to a new problem.

(It's just problem after problem these days.)

See, people often worked as farmhands during fall because farmers tended to pay well for farmhands during the harvest time whenever there was a shortage of workers.

This fall, they had very few farmhands, because would-be farmhands were all in my mine. Even taking in the daily fees, cost of living in Fluelaberg, and potential gain of nothing, what few ores they managed to pull out and sell were enough to make the miners not want to do the back-breaking farm labor.

This led the farmers to bring their complaints to me.

This was, as I had thought, a part of the reason why I hadn't shown off (much) when I was living with my parents and why I had tried to live by myself in this once quaint and quiet valley.

Except I had shot (or stabbed) myself in the foot by taking that mercenary job, punting a bishop's army, killing a count, killing another count, defeating a knight-led army, killing my third count, and causing a political upheaval by "violently" establishing republic within the Holy Roman Empire.

Now that I actually thought about it, I exaggerated my current problems. Farmers having some issues with a lack of manpower pool to draw their farmhands from (outside of their friends and family) was a good thing. I'm not sure whether this could prove to be an impetus for innovation to start in these valleys as I am unsure about the conditions necessary beyond supply, demand, wealth, education, and excess artisan population, two of which were still missing in my Fluelaberg.

(Even if I had them, I highly doubted that there would be a sudden industrial revolution on my hand.)

"And why are you coming to me…?" I asked Kraft. As the chief of Davos, he came personally to talk to me about the current dilemma.

"I'm hoping that you would close down the mine for a month at least," he bluntly replied.

"A month?" I asked with a frown. I did a quick mental math and then shook my head. "It's not impossible, but I am not sure it is a good thing."

"Why would it not be a good thing?" he asked me with a frown. "More farmhands are always a good thing during harvest season and you already put a limit on how often someone could mine."

"I know," I grumbled. "And it isn't about how much ore they bring me."

"Then?"

"It's about whether or not I should."

He blinked. "'Should'? Why is that even a question? It is your mine on your land. You are the lord."

"Am I?"

Now, Kraft looked exasperated. "You are making a deal out of something that is not even a problem."

He was probably right. "Is taking someone's chance at making food not a big deal?" I asked him. "As much as I dislike child labor, orphans work in my mines, Kraft. If I close up the mines for all so that the adults who work it can work the fields, then it wouldn't be fair for the kids to work there as well, right? It's not fair to make the men walk two wegstunde* to earn wages lesser than what they would make at the mine. Besides, it is as you said, Kraft. I do not allow people to work everyday in the mines."

"But our crops in the field will rot otherwise!" Kraft grunted.

"I know," I said. "So I have an alternative solution. Instead of shutting down the mine, we'll cooperate on paying people more. You and Davos will provide transportation with wagons and oxen to and from for dawn and dusk while I will supply the coins they will want for compensation."

Kraft grumbled but nodded, which made me smile.

One problem solved!

-VB-

The second problem of fall were the natural disasters. Rain fell a lot starting in the fall, and this made travel hard and dangerous.

It was just my luck that Fluela Valley was struck by landslides and floods.

"Get those rocks up here!" I shouted even as I grabbed and hurled rocks at the swollen river bank. The stream that ran through Fluelaberg had swollen to nearly quadruple its original size. The fast currents now threatened to break several of the houses that had been built closer to stream bank.

And forget my fish traps and farms! Those were long gone!

Men and women all lifted rocks from the mines that had been stacking on the town-side of the stream and threw them down at the upstream end of the stream that intersected the town. The idea was to build a wall that would prevent fast currents to hit the river bank. By doing this, it would be easier for us all to work to fix the river bank, or shore it up with more rocks.

It was also the first time that I showed my obvious unnatural strength by dragging over a whole log by myself and driving them into the rocky soil of the river banks to act as pillars for the artificial half-dam.

But the people disregarded quickly in favor of working to put the dam up.

It took us the whole day to finish it while working under rain and threatened by the fast river current, but we managed it.

Also as a bonus, no one gave a shit about my unnatural strength.

-VB-

Problems don't end, and I was staring at the latest poster child (soon to be replaced for newer, younger models) of it all.

I set the letter down and pinched the bridge of my nose.

How the fuck was I getting constant attention?

"What is it?" Isabella asked from where she was reading my treatise of half-remembered chemical knowledge on a sofa at the extended second floor of my tower-fort, where I built a new office for easier access.

"I just got a letter from the chancellor of Upper Bavaria."

She put the book down and looked at me in surprise. "What is it about?"

I let out an aggrieved sigh. "The chancellor is claiming that since the Prince-Bishop of Chur is no longer ruling over Chur and its region as the sole ruler and because the neighboring lords have failed to rein in the region, it is his duty as a duke of the empire to pacify the region."

"But you were given a letter from the emperor himself that you are politically independent."

"... Yeah, the letter doesn't say that at all."

I pulled out the letter from where I kept it and handed it over to her to read. As she read it, a frown grew on her face until she was frowning at the letter. She then read my other letter, the new one, and outright glared at it.

"You must send a messenger to the duke of Upper Bavaria right now. If he or any of his nobles moves against us, then he will be breaking the emperor's truce. Should he do that, then you will be subject to even more attention from the rest of the empire, and you are not yet ready for it. You are the weak and rich."

Against a fucking duke? Of course, I was weak and ric-. "Wait, rich?"

"Hans, you have gold, silver, gems, artisans, and sugar, somehow. You also lack a core of trained knights and commanders to lead an army when you are not there. The only other person remotely capable of commanding in the entirety of the Compact of Eight is the Bishop of Chur, who doesn't have a good track record."

"Then what should I do? Just write to him to stop? You know that's not going to work even with emperor's truce held to his face."

She frowned and paced in circles in front of my work desk.

Then she paused. "The Duke of Upper Bavaria doesn't rule by himself. He has a co-ruler, Ludwig the Fourth. They are in constant opposition against each other, which is why the Duchy of Upper Bavaria, despite being a rich land with many people, have done very little since they took over seven years ago."

"So if I write to Duke Ludwig with a copy of the emperor's letter…"

"Then he might step in if only to reduce his brother's political power!"

She grinned. "I think we found our solution to your latest problem."

Problems everywhere but it was nice to have someone with me to solve them instead of by myself.

-VB-

A/N: Wegstunde - German ½ meile or 2.31 miles.

Source: some german guy named G. Buchner from 1853 who self-published this shit in those days.

So this chapter was a bit of internal, diplomacy, management, crisis(?), interpersonal development/cooperation, and problem solving. Did you like this kind of chapter or prefer one chapter-one thing kind of chapter?

-VB-

Insomnia strikes again. I want to sleep more than 8 hours over the course of 3 days, damn it!

-VB-

Swiss Arms

Chapter 49

-VB-

Leon held his breath and then swung his pickaxe down just like how Lord Fluelaberg showed him and chipped into the rock. He let his breath out and felt for a hold with the tip of his pick. Finding none, he pulled the pickaxe back out and struck again.

He let out a breath of hot air that misted momentarily before whiffing away to the steadily flowing cold air coming from outside of the cave.

With the onset of winter, work slowed down everywhere else. The heavy snowfall also made sure that even trade slowed down. Hell, there should be at least half a dozen merchants in town even during winter, but there was no one this time around. From what Leon heard, Fluela Pass itself was currently impassable, which meant that any other high-elevation passes like it would be as well elsewhere.

As for the town itself, people just enjoyed the warmth of their hearths and the oddities the lord seemed to get involved in all of the time.

Like insisting that an ice bath was good for the body.

Or exercising outdoors with only a shirt and pants, even if he was next to the blacksmithing furnace.

The lord was crazy and unusual, but then a normal lord would never have made life up here in the mountains better for the people.

Especially for a former dung farmer like him.

He winced before his eyes widened when he caught a glimpse of something.

With a grin, he pushed down on the pickaxe where it was stuck in the wall. He huffed and puffed as he weighed himself down again and again until that part of the wall broke.

When a slab of rock as big as his head tumbled down, he looked at what he saw … and then groaned.

It was a phantom quartz. "Why is this shit here?" he grumbled even as he carefully picked it out and then dropped the thumb-sized gemstone into his leather pouch attached to his waist. It was worth only a bit more than regular quartz, but regular quartz didn't sell for much to Alvia and even less to any passing merchants.

Tightening the pouch strings, he pulled his pickaxe back up and went at it again.

Of course, the fall in trade and overall activities also meant that people spent less. Some of the folks went to the lord's castle to take his "classes," which he taught without receiving payment. There were a lot of things that didn't quite make sense to Leon, so he only attended one class: accounting. There were other classes, though many of them he felt were too "liberal." That was a new word he learned, by the way.

Studying the mind was … the idea felt too iffy. Studying politics? He was a dung farmer turned miner.

Alchemy sounded like a lot of fun and the demonstration with "sodium" that the lord did excite him… until he had to look at the list of knowledge he needed to know like the back of his hand before he would be allowed to even get close to "chemical" ingredients that the lord so painstakingly collected.

He huffed and grunted as he chipped away at the rock wall and then smiled. This time, he found something yellow. At the very least, that was worth mining!

See, miners had their own little color code for the stuff they could find.

White was either really useless or really good.

Blue was usually good.

Gray was probably not good.

Colorless was good.

Red was always good.

Green was decent.

Purple was good.

Orange was a coin toss.

Brown was mostly useless unless it had a really good shine.

Yellow was half decent or really fucking good.

And as Leon pulled away another thin slab of rock, he found himself … disappointed.

"Ah, more pyrite," he mumbled. Leon kept some way back at the start, but the thing rusted away fairly quickly. He didn't keep any after that. It was still good to sell, but he wanted a payday like what Jeremiah got last week; gold was always good, even if he didn't sell it to passing merchants or Alvia. Pyrite, on the other hand, was useless to anyone but the lord. He probably used it for his alchemy or something, because he never saw or heard the lord talking about what had to be more than a ton of pyrite.

Pyrite was pretty common, so it was cheap. He needed half a handful of it to get a meal, but then again, he already got two handfuls. Phantom quartz was only going to get him two coppers, barely enough for a cup of cheap ale. He didn't have anything else.

Well, what did he expect? He's only been in here for a short time. Time to get back to work.

-VB-

Romano sighed for the umpteenth time as he nursed his warm water.

He was stupid. He knew that winter up in these mountains was extreme compared to where he was from in Napoli, but he had thought that he would be in and out quickly.

Unfortunately for him, the winter blizzard settled at the moment he stepped into the town, and he's been stuck here for the past week. While he stayed here, his money started draining away because he had run out of goods to sell and had to pay for all of the housing and food.

Being stuck at Fluelaberg wasn't so bad. Sure, there weren't any brothels (the closest brothel was on the other side of the mountain in Chur) and there was only one bar, but there were just … a lot of things to look at.

Hell, he even went and bought a few stuff that rich people elsewhere were sure to be happy to read.

Treatise on Economics and Trade and On the Natural Laws by Lord Hans von Fluelaberg was sure to be popular with the Venetian merchants.

-VB-

"Hmm? Arnold, why are some books missing?"

"I thought you wanted me to sell the books you weren't going to use in class."

"I mean, I did say that, but I didn't think they'd actually sell up here."

I scratched my head and shrugged before heading back into one of my many workshops within my fort. This room, which was well-ventilated and lit, held one device that I loathed to show anyone for a long time to come.

I looked at the metal blocks, wooden frames, and ink splatters, and then took a deep breath of the winter morning and the smell of ink and paper.

"Alright. Let's get to work."

-VB-

Swiss Arms

Chapter 50

-VB-

Daniel Martinez

European History 313

Professor de Martrado

February 21, 2012

The Compact: The People?

A genius hides among us but we would not know until they show themselves in one way or another. This obvious but sometimes forgotten fact exemplifies how the then Compact of the Nine of the Central Alps came to be. Though we may look and say that the Compact's rise was foretold by the geographical placement and innovative people who founded it, we would do so with rose-tinted glasses. Yes, I am stating right off the bat that the Compact of the Nine did not so easily ascendance the political mayhem that was the court of the Holy Roman Empire because of its resource-rich mountains or the valuable trans-Alps trade route but because of the people who raised and protected.

The most unacknowledged leader of the Compact of the Nine is the Prince-Bishop Siegfried von Gelnhausen of Chur. Despite the fact that he was not the ruler of a prominent princely state or diocese, the bishop was a well-connected man whose reach extended as far west as London, England, and far south as Palmero, Sicily. He used this connection to send gifts to major and minor powerbrokers, who would become enthralled by the ever-evolving luxuries that trickled out of the desolate Alps. He then used this influence to back Louis XI, the future Holy Roman Emperor, against his brother when the two latter men were co-rulers of the Duchy of Upper Bavaria. This was very important, though underreported because the form of the bishop's help was calling upon his favors from the neighboring city-state of Zurich. Getting Zurich in contact with the Compact of the Nine proved to be a decision that would outlive the bishop because the growing Compact and Zurich would Treaty of Friendship that would last right up to the Thirty Years War.

The Compact of the Nine consisted of eight small villages and the reduced Prince-Bishopric of Chur, a once regionally powerful but nearly ruined in the Unruly Year, but before it was the Nine, it was the Eight and the man who brought it to life was Hans von Fluelaberg. Though we know him more for his contribution to science than any other field, he was an able commander, warrior, and leader. The people of the Alps were not a united people like we see them today. Each village could be more influenced by their German neighbors or their Italian counterpart or even be a wholly different ethnicity whose language was neither German nor Italian. This is even more so in the area that Marris set up the Compact. It is perfectly situated between the German-influenced areas and Italian-influenced region with a population who were neither German nor Italian. If we accept the geographic determinists, then this was the worst combination of territory, people, and era to give life to a new nation but Marris did because the alternative was each village dying alone during the Unruly Year. He, a mere peasant at the time, forged his own armor and weapon before taking the fight to the nobles and lords who tore at each other. He bested the Count of Zernez, the Count of Sax-Misox, the Count of Werdenberg, and then torched Toggenburg Castle. This is the equivalent of an African rural boy rising up to become a warlord of Namibia, beating back all of his neighbors one by one with an army weaker and smaller than any one of them. Oh and doing so while sneaking around the back and beheading each president of the invading countries except one.

If being a capable leader, unmatched warrior, and scientist wasn't enough for Marris, he went and forged alliances that would last for generations … with the children of the lords he killed. One of the most prominent example of this was Lord John of Toggenburg, son of the Toggenburg lord Marris burned. As part of the peace treaty that ended the Unruly Year, Marris took in John von Toggenburg as his ward. Instead of treating the boy-count as a prisoner to be kept at arm's length, he educated the boy as best as he could while emotionally connecting them. At the end of five years of fostering, John had become an ally of the Compact instead of an enemy, and would later petition and successfully join the Compact as its ***** member.

Another underrated leader of the Compact is Lady Isabella of …

-VB-

Duke Louis of Upper Bavaria stared at the letter in his hands before he set it down on his wooden table.

It was merely a month before the Christmas festival in Munich, so the letter could not have arrived at a better time; everyone thought him too busy with setting up the celebration to consider that someone would have sent such a vital letter to him.

And the contents…

When the new year came, his brother would have a lot to be shocked about.

However, how was he going to shock Rudolf? His overly serious and territorial brother would certainly hate how he learned about his work when he was obviously trying to keep it under wraps. After all, it would be a hit to both the image of the Duke of Upper Bavaria and his ego. On the other hand, overtly embarrassing his brother would mean that it wouldn't be just Rudolf who would feel the damage but also himself. Louis knew that wouldn't do, not when he was the co-ruler of the duchy.

No, no, no. He needed to make sure that Rudolf would lose his cool and do something … absurd. What kind of response would result in that?

… Something sly but not too subtle. Something Rudolf's more discrete allies would hear about and thus Rudolf himself would. Something enraging but not bluntly actionable against him.

What could that be?

Oh.

Louis knew. He knew all about his brother.

Rudolf must be salivating about the potential profit from incorporating this Compact into his influence.

Why not preempt his brother and make a deal with the Compact first? If he did that while the two of them were vying for influence and favor of their uncle, then Rudolf will have to either sabotage his efforts or take out the Compact entirely? Of course, the latter will be ridiculous even for his short-tempered brother, so it would have to be a sabotage attempt.

Since Louis will be provoking this reaction, he already could guess how Rudolf might go about it with his current assets and friends. He already knew about his brother's reach, so he would have prepared for the sabotage, capture the agents, and then report to his uncle, the emperor, about the "heinous acts unfitting a duke."

Louis will just sit back and let his less smart brother fumble along again while he reaped his brother's attentiveness of the mountain folks.

It wasn't like his brother would attack a new city-state. Not over something simple as not choosing his side, which happened all of the time.

-VB-

A/N: my name is not Daniel Martinez, so please don't be that guy who looks up that name on facebook. Or twitter. Or instagram. You'll find a dozen plus, hundred plus, people who might have that name.

-VB-

Swiss Arms

Chapter 51

-VB-

In a manner that was becoming very frequent, Isabella and I sat in our own chairs on the balcony of the highest tower of my fort and looked out into the town that had truly come far in its mere two years of existence. Last I checked, we had roughly three hundred people living in a permanent manner here in Fluelaberg.

It scared me sometimes that I was responsible for that many people, but it also made me feel great in other ways. I was not a hereditary lord who received this town from my father; my dad was still over in the Forest Canton lands, waiting for either his next mercenary contract or for whatever. I felt great because these people took their chances with me here to show that they trusted me with not just their livelihood but their very lives in this tumultuous world.

And I felt this appreciative right now because Isabella, ever the shrewd woman, had gotten me to go around town and get a read of what the townspeople thought about me.

Before I'd done that, I was under the dubious assumption that aside from a core of maybe a dozen villagers, the rest were here simply because of circumstance.

Isabella pointed out, perhaps rightfully so, that many people remained here even after they got back on their feet. I had created something people didn't want to lose, and it wasn't just the economic opportunity, though it was one of the bigger reasons why many stayed.

"I did tell you that the commoners loved you," Isabella hummed from my side and i begrudgingly gave the point she deserved.

It's also been a few months since she stopped by, and I've gotten…

Let's just say that the Count of Gorizia - aka the governor of Tyrol and Isabella's father - was none too happy with me. He even accused me of kidnapping and marrying her, which was a thing that happened in this day and age. I had to send a letter back.

Which was how I was now anticipating the count arriving at the front doors of my town as soon as spring came to these mountains. In the mean time, I was getting a visit within the month from Isabella's cousin, Henry II the Count of Tyrol.

Yeah, just like how Bavaria wasn't a wholly unified duchy, the County of Tyrol was also not unified. Unlike Bavaria, which was divided into at least a dozen major players within that region, the County of Tyrol only had three major players: the Habsburg ruled County of Tyrol (governed by Albert of Gorizia), the County of Tyrol ruled by Henry II, and the Prince-Bishopric of Trent.

Back to Henry.

Now, if he was just a count, I might be fine with him visiting because there weren't a lot of trouble I could see from a count, even one whose land was twice the size of all of the Compact and its previous enemies combined.

Unfortunately for me, Henry wasn't just a count but also the Duke of Carinthia and Margrave of Carniola and Savinja.

He was, in fact, someone who could tell the Habsburgs to fuck off if he really wanted to, and was someone who doted on his cousin, Isabella. Sure, his lands would eventually become part of Habsburg lands as their lines intermarried, but what can you do about that? It's the Habsburg. They married their enemies, married their cousins, married everyone, and then married some more.

Of course, the Habsburgs right now was "confined" to their Swabian holdings, the Duchy of Austria proper, and the Duchy of Styria, but if little John von Toggensburg was any indication, they had their boys and girls in every major and minor court's bedchambers.

… Okay, Hans, focus on the now. Think about not-yet-incestuous Habsburgs later.

"Yes, you were right," I replied with a hum. "I knew that they appreciated me, just for the … I thought they did it for wrong reasons." I paused. "Sorry, that sounds like I thought they were backstabbers or gold diggers. No, I meant for different reasons."

"Gold diggers?" she repeated.

"People who marry you for your wealth and similar reasons."

"Ah…" she hummed in understanding. "... did you ever think that I was one of those?"

"Initially. Actually, I thought that you were being dumb more than that you had a plan," I snorted.

She sighed. "Well, I was a little bit too … jittery at the time, so forgive me for that," she smiled softly.

"... So?"

"Yes?"

"You've been here for almost four months now. How do you feel about this place?"

She stared at me for a moment before looking back out into the town.

"... When I first came here, it was out of curiosity," she began. "And you know how I came to make that confession." I waited for her to continue. As the shadow of the valley overtook my little town, she continued. "I felt all sorts of things while here in this town. I felt amazed, stupid, confused, and a little upset."

"Upset?"

"What and how you led the people here made me question why the people of my father's and cousin's lands were doing so poorly. You run your small town more like free cities run themselves. Peasants are not just peasants, lords aren't just lords, and priests and nuns are not just their holy duties. You do not hoard wealth, crave knowledge, and value the people over what they can do for you. It is … foreign, more foreign than the Muslim traders I've seen when I visited the Venetian Republic, because even Muslim traders showed deference and obedience to those who they knew were of a higher class than themselves. And don't think I missed how you allowed people of different religions to practice in their homes."

Even though it was information that could damn me in certain parts of Europe, I merely hummed in acknowledgment.

"You're kind, but I think you are too kind in a way someone who is a veteran of multiple battles simply cannot be," she said and then looked back at me. "I think you need someone to keep you from being stupidly kind."

I snorted. "I don't think I am kind."

"Kind people generally don't think they are. They always think that they aren't doing enough."

"I think I did plenty enough."

"Do you? Because when I look at you, I always see a man going out to help someone. You complain about what you want, but when you hear that someone is in trouble, your body moves before your lips do."

"... Maybe it's a habit," I grunted.

"Maybe you need someone bit more selfish than you to keep you grounded."

"... You mean you."

"Yes. I am selfish. I know what I want, and I still want you, milord."

I sighed … and then smiled.

"Well, even if I want to, there are hurdles we still have to jump over first."

"Hmm," she hummed. "I can get my cousin onboard. Don't worry about him."

"And your dad?"

She grinned. "You worry about presenting your best, hon. Let me deal with my family."