The Archduke of Austria, Ferdinand I - brother to the Emperor himself - had sent a young lord to the feast.

The boy was his nephew, a haughty youth named Maximilian.

The boy served only as a marker set in the Bavarian court to watch Duke Wilhelm’s shifting oaths.

Maximilian had never tallied the dead from the bloody flux or counted Fugger silver. His mind was built wholly of priests’ blessings and empty knightly boasts.

He knew naught of the dying folk in Swabia, and he was utterly blind to the truth that the man sitting at the high table had just set a bloody war of faith upon the land.

Maximilian walked to the high table. He sought out Katarina of Bavaria.

"Lady Katarina," Maximilian drawled, "The Bavarian court remains a bright light in the growing darkness of the south. It is a deep sorrow that your noble blood is wasted upon a base Swabian heretic. I hear the von Frundsberg master is a blighted thing, an outcast smith who hides behind his fires. Surely, your father must break this foul match."

Konrad stopped his tallying.

If Duke Wilhelm saw the Viscount of the Swabian forges as weak enough to bear the insults of a young Imperial lord without answer, the Bavarian swords would turn against him.

The halberdiers would leave the eastern roads, and his lands would be ringed with foes.

The hour called for a crushing blow, struck within the bounds of the feast.

Konrad stood up. He stepped past Katarina and blocked the Habsburg lord.

"I am Konrad von Frundsberg, Viscount of the Swabian forges," Konrad stated. He held out his right hand, "Speak your purpose."

Maximilian flinched at the sudden closeness of the outcast master.

The boy glanced toward Duke Wilhelm, seeking a true lord’s aid.

The Duke of Bavaria sat still, watching the clash with a measuring eye.

Maximilian, finding no help, fell back upon his noble breeding. He reached out to take the offered hand. "I am Maximilian of Habsburg. I speak for the Archduke’s high rule."

As their hands clasped, Konrad struck.

Maximilian gasped, Konrad held the grip fast, his eyes locking onto the boy.

Konrad squeezed a hair tighter, "The Archduke of Austria holds no sway over my roads," Konrad commanded, "If you try to sow your foolish pride in this pact again, I will not argue with you in the Emperor’s Diet. I will mark you as a broken tool and strike you down where you stand."

Katarina of Bavaria watched. The Viscount was showing the exact terror needed to hold the realm safe. Yet, she knew that crippling the Archduke’s nephew at a great feast would bring unwanted swords to their door.

"Lord Konrad," Katarina cut in, "The Habsburg lord’s wits are clearly clouded by too much wine. He needs a moment to clear his head."

Konrad slipped smoothly back into the flat tone of a clerk. "See that your next words are chosen with greater care, Maximilian."

The Habsburg lord stumbled backward, cradling his hand against his chest.

Maximilian fled to the edges of the Great Hall, seeking the company of the lesser Austrian priests.

He went to his keeper, a minor Austrian count, looking for immediate fury for the insult.

"The Swabian heretic struck me!" Maximilian hissed, "He crushed my hand! We must call for the Archduke’s swords at once!"

The Austrian count looked upon the boy. "That smith holds the greatest store of cannons south of the Baltic. He mocked the Pope’s men and set a bloody war of faith upon the land merely to balance his tally books of grain.

You are lucky he did not order his Reiters to shoot you dead in the yard. Of course, he couldn’t do that, but you’re the one at fault here."

At the high table, several lesser Bavarian lords tried to turn the talk back to trade.

A local magistrate, charged with arming the Bavarian halberdiers, leaned forward nervously. "Lord Konrad, the strength of your new steel breasts is known to all. The Munich masters need a great store of them. Name your price in Fugger silver for two thousand suits."

Before Konrad could name his price, a throng of Bavarian counts spoke up, all striving to secure their own steady flow of Swabian arms.

Konrad raised his hand, "I sold you my old iron, and my carts outside hold only muskets for those who can afford them. I shall sell no new steel breasts to foreign lords until the priests’ war is utterly broken."

Time dragged for Konrad, caught between the demands of trade and the naiveté of the nobles, but the celebration of Kathrina of Bavaria’s birthday finally concluded in Munich’s Great Hall.

The lesser Bavarian counts and priests gave Katarina useless things.

There were woven cloths showing old charges of horsemen, thin gold cups, and supposed bones of long-dead saints.

The local lords watched the Swabian Viscount with scorn.

They held fast to the belief that an outcast master, a man whose lands were choked by the smoke of blast furnaces, could not hold the fine wealth needed for a true lord’s gift.

When the line of lesser lords finally ended their giving, Konrad stood.

Katarina sat quietly, feeling the weight of the hidden silver pistol resting safely inside her bodice.

"The day of your birth calls for a public showing of the Swabian forges’ might," Konrad commanded.

He set a new steel box upon the high table before Duke Wilhelm and opened it.

The Bavarian lords stretched their necks, looking for a handful of rough Bohemian rubies or perhaps a block of silver.

Instead, they saw a round piece of shining brass and silver.

It was a small, spring-driven clock. While great, clanking clocks stood in the high cathedrals of the Empire, a small, ticking piece a man could carry was an unheard-of marvel in the year 1525.

Konrad did not wait for their minds to grasp it. He told them plainly what it was.

"This is a moving teller of time," Konrad lectured,"It runs by a tight-wound steel spring and a cunning toothed wheel. The turning of its gears is measured to follow the sun’s path, caring nothing for the tolling of the Church’s bells."

A steady ticking began to sound from the piece.

It was a strange, unearthly noise in the great hall.

Katarina picked up the brass piece, marking the tiny, perfect teeth of the gears through a clear glass face.

"The moving of footmen needs perfect timing." Katarina reasoned aloud, "If a captain holds such a piece, great guns can fire as one with the marching of the footmen, without needing a flag or a shout."

"She’s right." Konrad agreed, "The Swabian forges now cut our gunlocks with such precision that even making a clockwork is a breeze... I present this piece to demonstrate that the hard-won truce between the lands of Von Frundsberg and the realm of Bavaria is underpinned by unparalleled blacksmithing skill."

Duke Wilhelm of Bavaria, seated near his daughter, stared at the ticking piece.

The Swabian heretic was not just pouring rough bronze cannons; he had mastered the finest, sharpest work of the smith!

"Lord Konrad," Duke Wilhelm stated, "The Augsburg masters take three seasons to build a true church clock. You say your forges made this small wonder as a mere side-task of your armories?"

"The Augsburg craftsmen work slowly, according to their guild methods. But we can indeed produce hundreds of these clocks in a month or less." Konrad corrected. 𝗳𝐫𝚎𝗲𝚠𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝘃𝚎𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝗺

The rarity of the ticking piece wiped away their holy fears of the Swabian heretic... arich count, deep in debt to the Fugger merchants but desperate for high standing, left his seat and walked to the high table.

"Lord Konrad!" the count demanded, "I must buy one. Name your price in silver for a matching clock. I shall pay you before the sun sets."

The sudden cry sparked a storm of the same pleas... at once, a dozen lesser lords were shouting over each other, trying to outbid their peers to hold the Swabian marvel.

Konrad looked upon the shouting lords, "The drawings of these gears belong solely to my forge, however, the most skilled blacksmiths may dedicate a small portion of their fire to crafting these pieces for others. The set price is three hundred silver florins of the Fugger type each. The silver must be paid now, and its production will depend on my own gunners’ needs.

The price was highway robbery, matching the pay of a wheellock gunner for ten years!

Nevertheless, driven by their pride, the Bavarian lords swore to pay with furious fervor!

Konrad drew a blank tally book from his pouch and a piece of charcoal. He wrote down the names and the silver owed. Every silver florin wrung from these lords would go straight to the smugglers to buy fine Baltic powder and saltpeter.

Katarina of Bavaria carefully pinned the ticking piece to the silver chain of her dress.

She leaned slightly toward Konrad, "The Bavarian silver has been collected in full," she said, "But my spies say that Lady Isolde is close to giving birth to your child. According to the traditions of the nobility, raising an illegitimate child outside of the legitimate lineage is a breach of our oath. I know, and you know, and we’ve discussed it more than once, but it seems nothing has changed."

Konrad looked at her for a few seconds. "The child Isolde carries is the keystone that prevents the Swabian Council from laying claim to our lands, while the heir you will give me shall be the crown that secures the loyalty of Bavarian swords to our house. She protects the workshops, and you command the eastern roads; just as your duties are complementary, so too is the value of my progeny."

Katarina studied him in silence for a few moments. No anger flared within her; rather, an understanding had begun to take root.