Heinrich and his apprentices were marched through the winding dirt roads of the camps.

They were brought to the room of the main keep.

Konrad was checking his ledgers of Fugger bank loans, counting the silver needed to arm his new black-armored horsemen.

Lady Isolde, stood nearby, reading Hanseatic merchant letters.

Konrad did not look up when the prisoners were brought to the table.

"What is your worth?" Konrad demanded.

Heinrich stepped forward, "My Lord, I am Heinrich of Tübingen. Until three days ago, I oversaw the purifying of ores for the Bishop of Augsburg. The Inquisition condemned my work... i have come to offer my skills to your realm."

"The Church acts on religious madness," Konrad said, "Why did they order your death?"

"I sought to quicken the making of saltpeter." Heinrich explained, "The Church demands the slow rotting of dung. I used a strong wash of lye that speeds the work by 40%. The Bishop named this fast work heresy."

A 40% increase in saltpeter would lessen his need for smugglers and cut his debts to the Fuggers. It was a great advantage!

"Your ideas hold promise..." Konrad said, "But I do not pay for untested thoughts. I offer you terms."

Konrad pulled a blank ledger toward him. "You and your apprentices will be taken to the main brimstone pits," Konrad commanded. "You will be given the lye you need. I expect a 40% percent increase in the making of black powder within a fortnight. You will receive steady bread and pay equal to a master smith."

Heinrich swallowed hard, nodding quickly. "It will be done, my Lord. The sums are true."

"See that they are," Konrad replied, "If your wash fails to yield the promised powder, or if Lady Isolde discovers you speaking with the Church, your pact is broken. You will be marched to the trenches and shot."

"I obey, my Lord," Heinrich whispered.

"The guards will take you to the pits," Konrad stated, putting the men from his mind.

As the prisoners were led away, Konrad picked up his charcoal and returned to his ledgers.

...

The nameday of Katarina of Bavaria was approaching, a date the House of Wittelsbach used to demand political favors and lavish gifts from their allies.

The Bavarian alliance was broken, but Duke Wilhelm’s starving halberdiers were still massed on the eastern borders.

To force them to retreat rather than attempt a desperate, hungry charge, Konrad had to project terror.

Konrad ordered his finest gunsmiths to forge a masterful, small wheellock pistol.

The weapon was a masterpiece... the barrel was forged from fine steel to withstand pure Baltic powder. The firing lock was crafted perfectly, entirely encased in silver.

It was a deadly weapon disguised as a noblewoman’s jewelry!

Lady Isolde stood by the table. Her pregnancy was advancing, slowing her body but leaving her sharp mind untouched.

"The silver spent to pull two master smiths away from casting cannons for a fortnight is a waste," Isolde stated. "A truce with the starving Bavarians could have been secured with a train of wheat. This silver weapon is a waste of coin."

"The Duke of Bavaria holds the Pope’s bribe of Salzburg, but his men starve because we burned his grain... i must break his will to fight." Konrad lectured.

"I must ride to the smoldering borders of Landsberg to parley with the Duke," Konrad commanded. "You must remain here. Risking my unborn heir in a war camp is madness.

Furthermore, your management of the deciphered merchant letters is needed to keep the forges burning..."

"The spy network will not falter in your absence," Isolde confirmed. "I will ensure the stewards meet the wheat quotas and that our printed tracts continue to flood the northern roads."

Konrad gave a nod.

The journey to the eastern border was an exercise. Konrad rode a strong horse, surrounded by fifty Swabian black riders.

They wore matching black armor, designed to turn wheellock lead balls.

Every man was armed with a long thrusting sword and two saddle-pistols.

Upon reaching the ruins of the Landsberg border post, the difference between the two realms was stark.

The Bavarian military camp was a sprawling scene of starving men struggling to survive in the mud.

Their grain silos had been blown to ash by Konrad’s preemptive strike days ago.

Konrad bypassed all parley ceremonies and went directly to the Duke’s command tent.

Duke Wilhelm IV of Bavaria was a practical man, but currently burdened by the cost of his betrayal and the starving bellies of his heavy infantry.

"Your forces have changed, von Frundsberg," Duke Wilhelm stated, "You have abandoned the heavy lancer."

"The lords are fools, and lances are useless against wheellock fire." Konrad replied, "I have come to review the cost of your betrayal."

Duke Wilhelm’s jaw tightened. "You burned my winter wheat to ash. The Pope offers the salt of Salzburg for your head, but salt cannot fill my men’s bellies."

"Then take your hungry halberdiers back to Munich before my great guns turn them to ash," Konrad replied.

Konrad then turned to Katarina of Bavaria, who stood beside her father.

"You are bold to ride into our camp, my Lord," Katarina stated, "Your great guns have made a mockery of my father’s host."

Konrad opened his satchel and placed the silver pistol on the map table.

"Your nameday demands a gift," Konrad stated, "This needs only a pinch of fine powder and lead. It proves Swabia can forge death in any size..."

Katarina checked the firing lock and the alignment of the wheel.

"The craftsmanship is truly ingenious..." Katarina said.

"Keep it loaded," Konrad commanded.

...

Morning came, and Konrad awoke.

He looked at the Munich palace with disgust... Its high ceilings trapped the heat, and drafts of cold air seeped into the rooms.

Konrad noted the enormous amount of firewood needed to heat the stone walls and considered it a failure compared to the brick barracks he had built in Swabia.

Furthermore, his spy network was at a disadvantage here...

Lady Isolde remained in Swabia, managing the smuggler routes and carrying his heir.

A servant brought a tub of water. Konrad washed quickly and dressed in his black doublet.

The doors opened. Katarina of Bavaria entered, dismissing her two guards.

They descended into the Great Hall. It wasfilled with three hundred knights, priests, and lords indulging in a feast.

Seated at the high table across from Duke Wilhelm, Konrad signaled his steward.

The steward brought a crystal flask filled with a clear spirit.

It was a thrice-distilled grain liquor, used in Konrad’s forges only to wash sulfur and mix powder.

Konrad poured a careful measure into the Duke’s silver cup. "A rare draft from the Swabian stills," Konrad stated, passing off the forge-wash as a noble luxury.

The Duke drank.He gasped, his eyes watering, before a great fire warmed his chest. "The purity of this spirit is unmatched..." Duke Wilhelm rasped, "The monks of Bohemia cannot brew anything so clear... how much of this can you make?"

The surrounding lords, seeing their Duke’s reaction, begged for a taste.

As the steward poured small measures, the high table was seized by sudden greed.

A bloated Margrave, his face red from the strong spirit, leaned across the table. "My Lord," the Margrave slurred. "Our banks will pay heavily for the secrets of this brew. Name your price in silver!"

Konrad glanced at them, almost laughing but barely suppressing it. "The secrets of the Swabian distilleries are matters of state, and they are not for sale."

The lords sighed in disappointment. They had truly admired the wine, and Konrad had allowed their desire to intensify before making his offer.

"However," Konrad continued, his voice flat, "I am willing to sell the spirit itself. The price shall be twelve silver florins a cask."

The price was ruinous... four times what it cost to make!

The Margrave eagerly opened his mouth to buy, but Konrad raised a hand to stall him.

"My carts are currently filled with muskets," Konrad stated. "We will speak of trade another time... tonight is for the feast."

Denied their prize, the Bavarian nobles were left anxious and eager.

As the feast devolved into the usual court games, several young women of high rank approached the Viscount.

Dressed in the finest silks and behaving with impeccable manners, they considered Konrad’s new title, Viscount, a great honor!

A young countess, batting her eyelashes, tried to speak with him of poetry and the jousts of her father’s youth.

Konrad spoke with the girl for a few minutes, observing her ignorance of trade, blacksmithing, statistics, or any educational skill whatsoever, and her incompetence even in basic hygiene.

"Will you be quiet?" Konrad sighed.

The countess recoiled as if struck by a hammer, her pride shattered by his unyielding scorn. She fled the table, quickly followed by the other maids who realized the Swabian Viscount was entirely devoid of human warmth.

Katharina of Bavaria watched him. She knew he was there because he needed Bavarian halberdiers; he wouldn’t risk anything for a meaningless, fleeting affair.

"Your method of dismissing unwanted suitors is very effective," Katharina remarked, her voice barely audible above the roar of the hall.

"I know," Konrad replied, his eyes scanning the hall, wondering how much silver he could extract from these lords before the religious wars burned their palace to the ground.