Swiss Arms

Swiss Arms

Chapter 73

-VB-

Previously…

"I am calling the banners," Rudolf told his brother. "And crush that uppity mountain hick!"

---

"I think you should call up the entire army, including the levies," Louis advised.

"You think so?"

---

Hans von Fluelaberg

"What?" I hissed in surprise.

The ranger in front of me jolted in place but remained firm. "Our rangers have reported that the Duke of Upper Bavaria has been sighted entering the Alps from Innsbruck," he reported while continuing to hold out the report to me.

I quickly took the report and opened it up.

Technically speaking, my rangers weren't supposed to be prowling the woods of other territories as that was a violation of whichever lord or city's rights to the territory. It wasn't strictly illegal, but depending on the actions of my men, including spying, it may cause conflicts. I had been wary about sending them out beforehand, but reading the report in front of me, I felt vindicated from my previous hesitation in my preemptive action.

And the report…

"Nearly six thousand soldiers…" I muttered.

Someone knocked hastily on the door to my solar. "A letter from the Duke of Carinthia!"

Henry?

"Enter!"

A servant rushed in after opening the door, panting as she quickly handed me a letter. I ripped its envelope open and pulled out the letter.

Dear Soon to be Brother-In-Law,

I am aware of your troubles with the Duke of Upper Bavaria. It was not pleasant news to hear about it from the duke himself and not you and Isabella, but you must have been trying to keep it from escalating. I would like to help, but you are not yet family and no true alliance has been made that can justify me attacking the duke who is asking for passage across my lands to reach yours. Never mind the fact that I do not have my own troops ready to repel an army that matches mine.

I can, however, give you this. On the second page of this letter, you can find the route the Duke of Upper Bavaria told me he would take. As taking any other route with his army might be seen as an act of war, he will have to stick to this route.

May God favor you in the battles to come, Hans.

And, of course, since I gave the duke military access, you too are given military access. If you do hold a battle in my lands, please limit the property damage and keep it away from my commoners.

Also, please burn this portion of the letter.

Sincerely,

Henry I of Gorizia, the Duke of Carinthia, Margrave of Carniola, Margarve on the Sann, and Count of Tyrol

I hurriedly tossed that letter into the open fire and looked at the second page of the letter.

It was a list of town and village names. While I didn't know many of these names, I knew the last name that was on the list.

Zernez.

It was the town that was right next to Fluelaberg. The one that I had led the first fights of the Compact against.

Well…

It was time to start planning.

-VB-

Leon of Fluelaberg

Leon marched alongside the carts and the rest of the men from Fluelaberg and Davos. It was to his surprise that there was a lack of horsemen among them, even though Fluelaberg was rich enough to train and maintain many men-at-arms.

More than that, Baron Fluelaberg himself did not ride a horse but marched on foot with the rest of them with heavy armor and weapons that would have dragged any other man down by the end of the first hour of marching. But not their lord. Oh no no no. He carried a broadsword wider than Leon's arms put together and longer than anyone was tall in the Compact with ease, even though it had to weigh as much as a steer.

What concerned him, though, was the lack of the rangers.

The baron never called them his men-at-arms. He always called them "rangers." They did not train with swords, spears, and shields. What few training sessions he saw was rangers using crossbow of all things. Well, Leon heard about what happened over in the west, so he wasn't going to doubt the baron about that anymore.

But the lack of their presence made him uneasy. What could they be doing?

"Hey, Leon."

He glanced over his shoulder and saw the men that he was responsible for. Of them, the five men near him were the squad leaders: Jeremiah the woodworker, Benjamin the farmer, Hector the miner, Arnold "the short" and not of Davos, and Zachariah the former man-at-arms of the Baron of Vaz and now gate guard of Fluelaberg.

"What is it, Zach?" he asked the older man. Personally, he thought that Zachariah should have been the platoon leader. He was a trained soldier and Leon was not.

"What did the lord baron tell you about this war? I know we're going to be fighting a duke, but I hope it won't be out in the middle of the field? There's no way we can."

Leon blinked. "I don't think we will," he replied while scratching his stubbles. "Lord Hans knows what he is doing, especially when it comes to war. A lot of the people who were here first will tell you that."

Zachariah hummed. The man had come to live in Fluelaberg because his brother-in-law and sister had been one of the first people to live in Fluelaberg due to the Unruly Year. He wasn't part of any big event just like Leon hadn't.

Leon, however, did have an idea of what Lord Hans wanted to do.

He glanced over at the barrels of shit that their lord had meticulously collected.

Yes, if Lord Hans' plan didn't have those shit barrels in his plans, then Leon would hang up his managerial position.

-VB-

Swiss Arms

Chapter 74

-VB-

Leon of Fluelaberg

After the baron's army crossed over the Fluelaberg Pass and into Tyrol, they took a turn north and then turned to the east after that. This march took over two days to complete, and by the end of it, Leon was starting to feel alright about it all.

He wasn't sure why he felt alright but he did.

At least until one of the rangers accidentally leaked the news that an army of six thousand was on their way to attack them.

Six thousand? That was … that was almost five times greater than their own number!

… But the veterans of the Unruly Year did not look horrified by the prospect of fighting an army that overwhelmingly outnumbered them.

"How can you not be scared?" he asked Zachariah. The man wasn't part of the baron's army but he showed none of the anxiety that the rest of the common soldiers showed. He was kind of like the rangers in that regard.

The rangers didn't protest the baron's decision. They obeyed. They disappeared. They came back. Zachariah obeyed the baron's commands and didn't doubt the lord.

But Zach was still someone who was a veteran. If someone knew what fighting was like, then it was him. Fighting an enemy that outnumbered them five to one…?

Zach looked up, his bushy beard and moustache stained with the dinner soup.

"Hmm?" Zach asked.

"How are you not scared about the upcoming battle?"

His platoon sat around them, and looked to Zach for a response.

"Well… what do you think a battle is?" Zach asked in return.

Leon frowned. "Wouldn't it be men and knights fighting side by side?"

"Yes," he agreed and then gestured around. "And where are we?"

"In a valley?"

"That," he said. "I don't know if any of you left the valleys you lot were born in, but I have. I've traveled as far as Venetia, though most of you don't know where that is." He took a deep breath in. "Venetia is … it's a very flat place. There are a few hills, but it is flat as you can see, and the only thing that isn't flat is the Alps. When you fight in a place like that, yes, your numbers matter. It is easy to get flanked and overwhelmed, especially when cavalry gets involved." Then he leaned in. "But can you flank someone in a valley?"

Leon blinked. "... No?"

"Unless you are a suicidal motherfucker who decides that you're going to scale those snow-tipped mountains, no," Zach shook his head. "On top of that, most of our valleys have at least one river that runs through it, doesn't it?"

"It does…" Then Leon stopped. "The river acts as a barrier."

"Yes, it makes fighting harder with a river in the middle so most battles, ones I've been involved in any way, avoid them. When it does involve it because we gotta cross it, then that's when shit gets fucked. Misox up south and west found out the hard way." He took another sip of the soup from the ladle before licking his lips and beard. "Kinda bland," he hummed before pulling out a small white packet and shaking some salt in.

Salt … was expensive. Leon remembered the old days when he lived in Tyrol how salt was a luxury. In Fluelaberg, salt was abundant, partially because of the mining. One of the underground branches hit a small rock salt vein a few months ago. Even so, salt was still expensive.

"Where was I…? Right. Rivers. I'm not sure if you saw, but the valley here is a bit steep. And where we just set up camp? I saw what it was like in the day; it has steep hills and cliffs on either side, a river running through the middle, and the relatively flat passage through this valley is barely two hundred feet wide. Two hundred feet is enough for one hundred and fifty men to hold indefinitely while our rangers flank their rear."

The valley was that narrow up ahead? Leon did not know. All he saw had been trees.

"And … whatever those nasty, stinking shit barrels are for," Zach scrunched his nose.

Leon grimaced, too.

Though the smell had lessened over the days, it still smelled.

Really, what were those literal barrels of shit for?

-VB-

Hans von Fluelaberg

"Yes, right there."

The few select soldiers and rangers I brought with me dug into the relatively flat earth in the fire-less night.

Carefully uprooted grass was gently laid over the buried barrel while others had to scoop up shovel-full of dried shit and spread them over the area I had directed. Half of the barrels spread in that manner while the other half were buried; the buried shit were more "moist" than the ones being spread about.

My plan was … well, there were three plans.

The first plan was what required all of this shit.

The second plan was to fight in a more conventional method should the first plan fail.

The third plan was, well, obvious. I'm called a Count Killer for a reason. It shouldn't be too hard to upgrade that title to Duke Destroyer or something like that.

One of the soldiers trudged up to me and bowed. "We spread all of the poop, baron," one of the soldiers reported. "What should we do?"

"If you want to, then you can go wash yourselves. Some of the other soldiers back in the camp have been ordered to prepare warm waters for you to wash yourself with."

They sounded happy about that and trudged away while the rangers remained behind.

"Would this really work?" one of the rangers' "captains" replied.

I hummed. "It should under the right conditions. But if the conditions aren't right, then we are in for a spectacle," I grinned. Then I sniffed. "Ugh, I smell like shit."

"No duh," someone muttered but I let it slide. I didn't train these rangers for their etiquette, after all.

"Oh yeah, maybe I should find who just said that and throw them in the river! You must smell just like me!" No one dared to step up. I snorted. "That's what I thought."

I dismissed them all. A few remained with me as I turned to look at the flat portion of the valley that would be the future battleground between the duke and myself.

And honestly?

I couldn't help but feel excited.

-VB-

Swiss Arms

Chapter 75

-VB-

Duke Rudolf of Upper Bavaria

"That fucking rat!" Rudolf hissed while holding onto the reins of his warhorse. His leather gloves squeaked under his tightening fist as he looked down at the only way through these mountains to reach the Compact and that baron … was blocked by that very same baron.

He knew that this might have happened because he wanted to take the closest path to the Compact, but that goddamn Henry must have told the baron about it! Now, they were in a narrow valley with densely forested, steep hills on both sides where battle couldn't possibly happen, leaving only a flat, narrow gap for them to fight.

A significant part of his tactics involved flanking the baron without a cavalry of his own and killing him. Instead, the baron positioned himself in a way that made flanking not only hard but also usage of cavalry unwanted because of the dense forest!

But retreating from here was also unadvised. The valleys behind him were even worse off than the valley in front of him with even steeper hills, cliffs that would see someone fall right into the river, and an equally dense forest that blocked sight.

"Raise the white flag. I wish to talk with this baron," he growled. His page did just that, and he strode forward from the center of his army to the front and then across the clearing between his and the baron's "army."

They didn't shoot him, which meant that the baron was at least aware of the rules of war.

Once he got closer to their frontline, he found the baron walking up to meet him.

Rudolf blinked as he realized that the baron was a rather tall man. With his rough metal faceplate and bear fur, he looked bigger and better armored than all of his men. Then there was that big slab of iron the hillbilly brute called his weapon.

"... So you are Baron of Fluelaberg."

"I am. And you are Rudolf, the Duke of Upper Bavaria," the peasant-born noble spat with disgust. Rudolf felt his cheeks twitch at the blatant disrespect but he already knew that the brute in front of him was a disrespectful cunt from the response he received.

Rudolf, instead, gestured at his army. "You can clearly see that I have a bigger army, baron. Surrender yourself, and I will not burn your little fort."

The baron looked up at him before snorting. He too gestured at his army. "Go back to your army, little lord. If you think your silver spoon fed lordship can take on our hardy mountain soldiers, then come at us. None of us are scared of you. Do we fear him, men?!"

"NO!" they roared back, and the sudden shout made his horse stumble back with a whine.

He pulled at the reins of his horse, trying to get him under control.

"Who are we?!" the baron demanded as he stepped forward. He grabbed his "sword" with one hand … and then pulled it off of his back and up into the air.

Rudolf stared with wide eyes at what had to be at least a hundred pounds of steel was held aloft by a single arm and hand. That … was impressive.

"We are men of the mountain!" the peasant army roared back.

Rudolf narrowed his eyes. No, it wasn't that all of the peasant levies were saying that in sync, but it was the more elite looking fighters spread out among them that were shouting and in turn getting the rest to roar along.

This little baron was riling up his men for battle. He truly did intend to fight him.

"So be it, 'men of the mountain,'" he snapped back with a shout of his own. "When I reach your town, I will burn it to the ground! All of you will be a lesson in why nobles are not to be messed with by you lowly peasants!"

He rode back, and when he was back among his knights, men-at-arms, and levies, he snapped his horse around to face the baron's army once more. "Prepare for battle!"

-VB-

Leon of Fluelaberg

He quivered in his boots and behind his spear as he and his platoon stood shoulder to shoulder with their spears in hand.

They saw the much larger army marching toward them, and he couldn't help but question…

Could they really do it? Yeah, he shouted along with the rangers at the duke but that was one thing.

Could he … kill?

"Do you lot want to go back to the days when lords can just kill you for no reason?" the baron asked loudly that he could be heard by all. "Do you want to live in a world where the likes of the Unruly Year can happen at any moment? Where egos of men like that duke decides the life of your families?"

Leon gulped and remembered his own wife, who was waiting for him.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"No," he gritted out, and he wasn't the only one.

"I am your [Commander]! As long as I stand, I will not let you down!" the baron exclaimed. "This is my promise to you! I will not fall until the last of their men falls! I will not run before any of you!" He swung his sword down, and there was a boom of air. There was a moment of silence among their army. "I am your lord," he spoke softly but it sounded so loud in that silence. "I will show you exactly what you should aspire to be on the battlefield."

There was a mismatch of a roar from across the battlefield, and Leon saw the duke's army charge toward them. Even the duke himself was riding in the front, and one of his knights carried his banner, letting it flutter in the winds.

It was terrifying!

Leon began quivering again.

But their lord…

He pointed at the duke.

"FIRE!"

For a second, nothing happened.

And then Leon saw multiple arrows flying out from the forests to their left and right. Each of those arrows fluttered wth flames as they sailed through the air.

Then…

Those arrows landed among the charging bavarians.

…

Nothing.

"All it takes," the lord hummed as he raised his sword up. "Is one."

That's when it happened.

BBOOOMMM!!!

A plume of black smoke and fire erupted from the center of the charging enemy army, and a dozen more quickly erupted in succession. It was deafening. Leon screamed as he felt the waves of pressure washing over him like gentle breezes.

But gentle breezes did not send men flying into the sky. Or set the valley aflame.

Leon's eyes widened.

The barrels! The shit barrels! Nearly all of them had been missing for a while now! The baron must have discovered some … some kind of sorcery!

They could win this!

"MEN!" the baron roared. "SPEARS. DOWN!"

The few days of training he got took over, and he lowered his spear.

"ADVANCE!"

-VB-

A/N: y'all finally got the boom you wanted. Details on how exactly this was achieved will be explained in a later chapter. You know, aside from the knowledge that poops can explode, and fermented poops are the most likely candidates for that.

A/N: white flags were used to signal surrender in the Second Battle of Cremona, also known as the First Battle of Bedriacum, which was in AD 69.

-VB-

Swiss Arms

Chapter 76

-VB-

Rudolf I

Duke of Upper Bavaria

What was that?

Something happened behind the frontlines and then … the sound of a violent gale slammed into his back through his armor. It stalled the charge, and everyone looked around in confusion, including him. And when he turned around, he saw fire.

Fire had spread out from the center of his army and … and …

Where di it come from?

He looked up when he saw something from the corner of his eyes and his eyes widened when he noticed fire arrows streaking out from the forests!

'The baron wasn't just waiting for me. He was prepared to fight me!'

No wonder he was confident! The entire valley had been made into the baron's playground, and he walked into it without a single thought about how a noble killing, honorless cur might fight!

And that's when he felt a chill run up his spine.

Count Killer.

That was the baron's nickname. A disdainful name that ignored all of the customs and rules of war.

'He's going to kill me.'

A cold sweat broke out all over his body.

Was this all a trap in the first place? This kind of fire trap was not something you could use-.

"He burned down the Toggensburg castle."

But the baron was used to handling the fire.

This had to be a trap for him!

All of this had been a trap! The letters, the bandits, the merchants! All of it was a trap from the start!

He gritted his teeth.

And if this was a trap meant to kill him, then his priority was to escape. The baron wasn't even the priority. His "Compact" wasn't the priority. His priority was to find the bastards that set this trap from the start … since the merchant guilds of Munich went rogue.

But the problem right now was the baron and his soldiers barreling down toward him.

"To me, men!" he roared as he pulled at the reins of his horse. His voice cut through the sound of fighting and fire, but his words didn't reach everyone.

And t-.

Something moving fast caught his eyes and he turned to look just in time to see the baron reach the peak of his jump. He soared high above the heads and even some of the speartips.

When did the baron jump that high? How did he jump that high?

And then the baron was falling. Falling towards him with his "sword."

"Spears up!" someone shouted from his left, and three dozen spears hastily rose up asynchronously. "Jumping into us by yourself?! You will die like a fool, baron!"

And then his eyes widened in shock and disbelief as the baron spun in the air with his sword, cut through the spear shafts before he was hit by the tips, and came down upon one of his men-at-arms. The monstrous blade tore through the soldier, bisecting him from shoulder to hit, and sent the two parts tumbling away.

There was not a moment to react because the baron was soon upon the rest, hacking and slicing with that slab of metal.

"Kill him!" Rudolf ordered.

But then the baron grabbed one of the spears lunged toward him, pulled the spear free from the attacker, whirled it around, grabbed it by the shaft, took aim, and threw.

It happened so quickly that he couldn't react before that spear was sailing past him and struck one of his soldiers. He whirled around, jerking away in shock, and gawked in horror when he saw his page pinned to the ground with a spear through his helmet and head.

And then …

That's when the rest of the baron's army crashed into his disorganized frontline.

Spears so evenly lined up that Rudolf felt envious for a split second skewered into his men, and crossbowmen hiding behind and between the spearmen fired their loads without even reloading! Some of his men-at-arms went down with a spear in the gut and crossbow bolts in the neck and chest. Some went down even before meeting the enemy with a bolt to the face. Others screamed as they fell to the side when bolts struck them in the legs and arms.

KA-THOONG!

There was another explosion of wind and sound as fire erupted once more, and Rudolf even saw half a man flying away from the force of the explosion.

And from atop his horse, he could see the flanks of his army start to disintegrate as normal crossbow bolts rained down from the steep-sloped and dense forests. His soldiers tried to rush up the forests, but it was too dark in there and they couldn't see any hint of where the attacks were coming from.

'It's alright. I still outnumber him by far-!'

"MILORD!"

He whirled around toward the sound and saw the baron.

He was swinging.

At him.

Rudolf roared as he dodged, and barely got himself out of the way of the vertical down strike.

His horse was not as lucky.

The steel bit into Charles's neck and then sliced cleanly through.

Rudolf hastily tried to get off but Charles's dying body, spasming and writhing in its death throes, threw him off instead, and he flailed and screamed as he found himself briefly in the air before landing on the muddied grass below with an oomph.

He groaned as he tried to get up. He put his right hand on the muddied ground and tried to push up,

There was a sudden splatter, and he blinked as he realized that there was suddenly a lot of blood droplets on his gauntlets and the grass around him where there wasn't just a moment ago.

Rudolf pushed himself around.

His heart froze when he saw a giant standing among pillars of legs and stom-.

Oh, those were just his soldiers.

"A- AAAHHHHH!!!!" he screamed as he scrambled up and ran for his life.

Then he tripped after only taking five steps.

He heard something hissing as it sailed past where his back had just been. He faceplanted into the mud and got back up, gasping for air, an-.

He stopped and trembled as he saw a line of death before him. Soldiers got out of the way of a dozen bodies slowly falling or already fallen with the very last soldier at the very end of it gurgling as he fell backward with the giant sword imbedded up to the hilt through his chest, taking up more width of the man's chest than it didn't occupy.

"For a lord that was so sure of his victory, that was a rather girlish scream."

It was the baron.

The thing that killed a dozen soldiers by throwing a sword that must weigh as much as a man was the baron himself!

He turned around on his trembling arms because his legs had given out and refused to move.

The baron stood over him, no more than two or three steps away from him.

Behind him, Rudolf saw his vaunted men-at-arms falling to the spears of the commoners. Why weren't they winning?!

Then … a ray of hope.

One of his generals, Count Jacob of Rosenheim, charged into the fray and stabbed his sword toward the baron.

The baron casually parried the longsword with his left gauntlet in a upward motion and then, in a smooth motion transitioning from the parry, brought his arm around and punched the count with a snap of his arm.

The count, who had gotten too close, couldn't block in time and took the punch to his helmet. There was a loud clang and the squeal of twisting metals. The helmet caved under the armored fist and sprayed out blood from all openings for just a moment.

The count stumbled back one step, two steps, and then fell over backward. He did not move.

Rudolf nearly pissed himself.

"Monster!" he shouted at the baron.

The baron silently picked up the sword the count had dropped, and no one stopped him. Between the peasant spearmen creeping ever closer and the fear the man had instilled in his soldiers, no one moved to take advantage of the baron stooping down to pick up the sword.

Once he had the sword, he was even more dangerous.

And when the baron raised his sword up while glaring down at him…

"I SURRENDER!"

-VB-

Analysis of the Battle of Lower Engandin.

Taking place on September 13, 1303, this battle was the first and only battle fought between Rudolf I of Upper Bavaria and Hans von Fluelaberg of the Compact.

At first glance, this battle should have been won by Rudolf I, the co-ruler of the Duchy of Upper Bavaria. The duke brought 5,700 soldiers, a fifth of which were his personal men-at-arms along with half of his knights. Against the then-baron's eight hundred and fifty-three soldiers, of which less than two hundred were his well-trained rangers, the duke should have overwhelmed a cavalry-less, "ill-equipped" army (Halrsen, 20**). Of the rest of his army, another three-fifths were made up of men-at-arms of nobles the duke had called to the fight. Again, this meant that over three thousand and five hundred troops were men-at-arms with documents stating that there may have also been at least a hundred knights.

This turned out not to be the case for seven reasons:

One, the baron had an army equipped with superior equipment, namely their longer spears. Compared to the six to eight-foot-long (1.8 meters to 2.4 meters) spears used commonly by levy soldiers, men-at-arms, and knights of most armies, the baron gave his soldiers ten-foot-long (~3 meters) spears (Harlsen, 20**).

Second, while individual men-at-arms were better trained and equipped than any of the baron's soldiers except the baron himself, the average training time for the regular soldiers of the baron's army was only marginally less than that of the men-at-arms and significantly longer than that of the levy soldiers. This meant that the baron's soldiers were capable of acting in formation and in concert with their comrades. This comparison did not apply to the men-at-arms of the lesser nobles and knights who had joined the duke; their soldiers were all inferior to the baron's.

Third, the duke's army force marched across unfamiliar territory. In a normal military march, soldiers would march for some time, rest, and then march again. This pattern would repeat until they either arrived at their destination, a skirmish or a battle broke out, or night fell and marching became impossible. It is currently estimated that the duke had force marched his army with an average pace of six kilometers per hour over four hundred kilometers. He did not allow them breaks during the day. This meant that the army's strength had been significantly reduced by the time they met von Fluelaberg's army on an uphill slope.

Fourth, the geography favored the Compact. The Lower Engadin valley, for those who have been there, is typical of many valleys in the Eastern Alps: narrow, steep cliffs, heavily forested, fast-flowing river, and lower atmospheric oxygen than Bavaria. Specifically, there is a 3% difference in oxygen from 20% at Munich down to 17% and lower at the site of the battlefield. While this is not much of a difference, this is still half the oxygen difference a "lowlander" might experience in Cusco. For the uninitiated, this means that the air is thinner up in the Alps and makes breathing harder to the point that modern Swiss people's hemoglobin count in those peaks are ~3% harder than those living below 500 meters above sea level, which Munich and its surrounding flat lands are barely above.

Combined with the previously mentioned force march exhaustion, the duke's army was not just exhausted but also incapable of restoring their stamina at the same rate as their commander expected and needed. This, combined with the fact that they had been on a force march on an ever-rising uphill, across raging rivers, and cold wind, meant they weren't prepared to fight in their muscle fatigued state.

Fifth, part of the reason why the duke was insistent on force marching was because the land belonged to a potentially hostile duke with more power and influence than the Duchy of Upper Bavaria, which Duke Rudolf did not even control completely: Henry, the Count of Tyrol, Landgrave of Carniola, Duke of Carinthia, and the future King of Bohemia. While then-Duke Henry did not have a personal problem with Duke Rudolf, Henry's cousin, Isabella of Gorizia, was married to Baron Hans, and Rudolf lied about who he was going to fight. Duke Henry already knew, however, because of frequent contact between him and his cousin, who alerted him to the problems between the baron and the bavarian duke. Duke Henry decided to send information ahead, which resulted in the baron having time to prepare.

Sixth, the baron had time to prepare. He picked the perfect area for a smaller army to fight a larger one. He prepared traps, positioned his troops, and waited. This waiting gave his troops the rest and time they needed to calm themselves for a confrontation against the duke's larger army.

The seventh and final reason, the baron, then already known for his martial prowess, aimed straight for the duke and managed to capture him, putting an end to the battle less than fifteen minutes into the fight.

However, in these fifteen minutes, the baron's army slew one hundred fifty men-at-arms at the frontline, the traps killed another one hundred, and his rangers, who had waited in the dense forests to either side of the valley, killed another fifty. In return, the duke's army had killed less than ten. The trap, documented as fire in some records and feces in others, eventually led to the deaths of nearly five hundred before they returned to Munich.

The capture and humiliating defeat…

-VB-

Swiss Arms

Chapter 77

-VB-

Hans von Fluelaberg

An overwhelming victory.

More than that, it was the kind of victory so one-sided that it would affect the political and military balance in the region.

'And I think it'll just affect everyone instead of change anything significantly because there's too little to change,' I thought to myself as the bavarian men-at-arms and knights were forced to give up their weapons and armors to my men. My men, most of whom were hale and whole still, gleefully picked out a weapon for themselves, because I said they could take any one weapon and any one piece of armor as their loot. Everything else would belong to me.

Considering that a good castle steel sword sold to the right buyer could feed a family for half a year, I was extremely generous with allowing them to take two. This was the equivalent of paying everyone roughly sixty thousand USD in the early 21st century. Hell, this might even be the start of my men handing those swords down as family heirlooms.

As for myself, I … probably didn't get that much richer. Yeah, all of these weapons and armors were surely to make me richer, but I already had a monopoly on the only porcelain production in all of Europe, controlled the flow of trade in the Central Alps, and had a town growing ever more quickly. I was already rich, even if I didn't flaunt it like most new moneys would.

No, I was more concerned about my captive, the Duke of Upper Bavaria, Rudolf.

He and I sat across each other in my now better tent, formerly his tent.

"... You are a real piece of work, you know that?" I asked him, and he glared at me.

"I have only acted as much as my honor demanded."

"Your 'honor' just got you nothing, ended with the deaths of a good tenth of your men who trusted you as their liege, and got you captured," I replied with a sneer. "All this over your own people and your own impatience."

"Impatience?!" he snapped back at me. "I went above and beyond to satisfy my honor! I execute the guild masters affiliated with the bandits that roamed your lands! I sent their heads to you with a letter! And you responded with dismissal and disrespect!"

I stared at him.

"... What heads?"

He sneered back at me. "And now you act like this-."

"No, I'm serious," I cut him off with a frown. "What heads? What letter? The last letter I got from you was the one about you saying that the bandits weren't yours. I thought that was the last of it until I got intelligence from others that you were preparing to attack me."

He stared at me incomprehensively.

"But I got a letter from you," he spat back.

"Do you have the letter with you?"

He did and was in one of his trunks. He had intended to use it to justify his sacking of Fluelaberg.

When I read it …

"This is not my seal or my letter. I don't even have a proper seal yet," I told him while bringing out one of the ledgers I'd written. It was one about my current army's running cost, which anyone could guess with how much people I had with me, so showing him this was not a problem. He looked at it and then looked at "my" letter.

He compared them. I only needed a single look to see a difference, but maybe that's because I wasn't exactly normal. I gave the duke the time to process the sheer colossal damage … he did to himself.

"Did you even bother to compare the handwriting of the two letters? Don't you have a spymaster for something like this?" Rudolf sat there as he grew increasingly pale. "Oh my God, you didn't." He didn't say anything. "You got used. To attack me. Or make yourself weaker."

If his vassals learned about this…

No, more than that, someone used me. There was no one that would be after me right now. The only enemies I would be fighting right now were fighting John in the west or too weak to even consider interfering. So who…?

"Well, all of my enemies are dead, too weak, or busy," I told him. "So the only option that's left is your enemy that set this up." Rudolf looked like he had a dozen emotions running rampant inside of him. Humiliation, frustration, anger, dishonor, expectations, and more just … wrecking him from the inside out. "And you still have to pay for your release."

"How much," he gritted out as he tried to calm himself.

"Ten thousand gulden."

Finally, Richard's grumbling and glaring facade broke as he sputtered. "Ten thousand?! My duchy barely makes that in a year!"

"Well, you can also rot inside a mountain prison built into a mountain instead. And let me tell you, there's a lot of mines that can be converted into prison cells."

Rudolf shuddered in his seat.

"You would do that to a royalty?"

"In this empire, royalties are a dime a dozen," I smiled. "But I'm sure your brother would pay your ransom if only to not have you be used as an abject lesson of his house's humiliation." But more importantly, I did not want to be that guy in the HRE who kept his enemies like trophies. That would get old very fast and even a single sign of torture or whatnot can be used as "honorable" casus belli.

Rudolf froze.

I stared at him.

He did not look so sure about being rescued.

"Your brother will ransom you, right?" I asked slowly while leaning backward.

He looked even less sure.

"Right?"

Rudolf looked desperate and without much to say right now.

I should write a letter to Henry. Maybe he could help me.

-VB-

Leon of Fluelaberg

Our return to Fluelaberg was one of triumph and glory! The baron even forced the duke to march on his feet like those Romans did to their enemies in the old days (according to the books in the library). Some people jeered at the duke and other prisoners of war, but most of us just cheered. We defeated an enemy that no one would hope to defeat! We brought home loot and glory! We came back home safe!

He waved his hand at the crowd cheering them on, and then -.

Leon grunted in surprise when someone ran into him.

When he looked down, his eyes widened after realizing that it was his wife, Elanna.

Her teary eyes looked up at him, and he couldn't help it.

With a grin, he placed his hands on her waist, lifted her up, and gave her a deep kiss.

Needless to say, the entire crowd broke out into a cheer, but he didn't care.

He came back home, his wife was here to greet him, she was happy to see him safe, and he was happy to see her again.

And later that night, his usual conservative and stern wife was more than happy to show her appreciation of him. Even more so the next morning when he told her how much he earned from the loot the baron gave everyone on top of the prisoners he caught for himself.

-VB-

A/N: i have no idea what the conversion for shilling to gulden to mark is, and I am basing some of the ransom on everything from 150 shillings for an archer's ransom to Richard the Lionheart's proposed ransom of 150,000 marks.