The Dowager Baroness Mathilda stood still in the room.

She weighed his plan... to put his half-brother, Friedrich, to death in the courtyard at the very hour the Emperor’s inquisitors were met with a storm of shot.

In Konrad’s mind, it was a perfect show of law and martial might.

"You cannot..." Mathilda whispered, "If you strike off a kinsman’s head in the courtyard, you do not prove your law, Konrad. You forge a holy martyr."

"..." Konrad did not quickly dismiss her words.

"The Bishop of Augsburg relies on blind zeal to gather his host," Mathilda pressed, seeing a brief pause in his thoughts. "If you spill Friedrich’s blood, the Church will name him a saint!"

"...they will use his death to drive the Catholic lords to fund a long siege."

She stepped forward, "There is a sounder path than the headsman... The Teutonic Order in Prussia seeks men of noble blood to quell the Baltic uprisings. If Friedrich is forced to take the monastic vows, he lawfully yields all claim to this house, his titles, and his right to sire true heirs.

He is cast far away, stripped of all rights, and the Bishop is denied his martyr."

Mathilda’s measure of the Church’s preachers was sound. The making of a martyr was an unseen danger that brought long, ruinous strife.

Forcing Friedrich into the Teutonic Order was a lawful end to his life in the Empire. It cut out the rot without spending the powder and coin needed to weather a great crusade.

"The monastic banishment meets our present needs while avoiding the ruin of our trade..." Konrad declared, "The headsman is stayed. We shall use the Church’s exile."

Haaa...

Mathilda exhaled a trembling breath, her tension breaking.

She had thought to weep, to beg for her stepson’s life on her knees. Instead, she had won his life through logic.

Konrad turned at once to the next task. He moved to the door, bidding the guards to fetch the chief spies and sworn witnesses.

Within the hour, the chosen council was gathered.

Lady Isolde arrived first, clutching the unsealed Hanseatic tally books.

Lord Ulrich of the Waldemar horse and Sir Hildebrand followed.

Konrad led them, marching through the damp corridors to the great hall where the remaining magistrates of the noble council had been hastily gathered.

The aging lords sat uneasily at the long table... They were men broken by the swift turning of the lands, relics of a dying age who had yielded their real power but kept the name of a council.

Creak... The eldest magistrate, Lord Ewald, looked up as Konrad entered, flanked by the estate’s deadliest tools.

"Lord Konrad," Ewald rasped, "What dark tidings require such a sudden gathering?"

Konrad stepped to the table and bade Isolde lay down the proof.

She placed the ledger and the sealed oaths upon the wood.

"A deep rot has been found within our own blood, my Lords," Konrad reported, "My half-brother, Friedrich, has dealt in base treason of coin and secret parleys with our foes."

Ewald’s face paled, his hands gripping the table.

"Treason? Friedrich is a true man of the old ways. He despises your forges, Lord Konrad, but he would not plot against this house."

Konrad laid out the plain truth without a trace of spite.

He told the exact weight of saltpeter Friedrich had sent to the smugglers, the starving of the local grain markets, and the letters sent to the Bishop of Augsburg.

Konrad explained that Friedrich meant to use the coming holy war to cast down the rule, break the water-mills, and yield the valley to the Church in exchange for a lord’s seat!

"The tidings are sworn by trusted tongues," Konrad finished, gesturing to the men behind him. "Lord Ulrich holds the tally books found at Rothenburg. Sir Hildebrand has given his sworn, written oath that Friedrich sat with the rebellious lords."

"..." Ewald stared at the papers.

The favored son of the old guard was a turncloak who meant to sell their lands to the priests.

The aging lord slowly turned his eyes to Lady Isolde. He knew the former Duchess of Württemberg, the woman whose uncle commanded the very sell-swords that Friedrich had sought to hire.

"You..." Ewald croaked, "If your uncle’s men plotted with Friedrich to take this valley, why would you, a daughter of Württemberg, betray them? What gain do you find in ruining your own blood’s strike?"

Isolde stepped forward, "My old ties of blood are dead, my Lords," Isolde stated, "My place within the von Frundsberg house is absolute."

She placed a gentle hand upon her womb, locking eyes with the magistrate.

"Moreover," Isolde continued, "I now bear the true heir to these lands. Friedrich’s plot meant to yield this valley and tear down the very walls and guns that guard it. His treason was a clear, unbending peril to the future reign of my child. Uncovering his plot was a necessary stroke to slay that peril."

Gasp...

Ewald sank back into his chair, the breath leaving him in a ragged gasp.

He finally saw the inescapable world Lord Konrad had built... He had turned an enemy duchess into a shield, broken the local knights, and forced his own mother to bargain like a merchant.

Ewald looked at Konrad. The Lord stood still, waiting for the lawful word.

"What is the lawful doom for this... treason?" Ewald asked.

"The headsman’s block would only stir up useless wrath among the remaining peasants," Konrad declared. "The Dowager Baroness has offered a sounder path. Friedrich shall be stripped of his birthright and titles at once."

"He shall be forced to join the Teutonic Order in Prussia. The monastic vows of poverty and chastity shall lawfully sever him from the Empire, forever ending his worth to the Bishop of Augsburg."

Ewald closed his eyes. A single tear traced the deep lines of his face.

He was sparing the young lord’s life, but sending him to a frozen exile in the Baltic wars... It was a bitter grace.

"Draw up the writ..." Ewald whispered, his hand waving weakly toward the door. "Summon the guards. Bring the boy to us. Let us be done with this sorrow."