The von Frundsberg lands moved to a strict measure, every deed tallied in Konrad’s great books.

In the dimness of his chamber, Friedrich von Frundsberg remained entirely blind to this clockwork order.

Friedrich sat at his desk. He read a sealed letter from the Bishop of Augsburg.

The churchmen had given word of a marching host of inquisitors... Within a fortnight, the holy army would breach the valley, giving Friedrich the swords needed to tear down his half-brother’s forges and restore the old ways.

A tight smile touched Friedrich’s lips.

The old wheels of the Empire turned slowly, but they crushed all in their path. He reached for a candle to burn the treasonous letter.

CRASH! The door of his chamber was burst open!

Four men of the new guard flooded the room. They bore no halberds. They leveled wheellock dags at Friedrich’s chest, the pans primed, the scent of brimstone fouling the air.

Friedrich lunged toward the candle, desperate to burn the Bishop’s letter.

The guards did not pause. The captain struck Friedrich across the jaw with the stock of his piece.

The second son fell to the floor, his sight swimming. The letter was swiftly seized by another guard.

"Treason against Lord Konrad," the captain barked, "By his writ, you are an enemy to this house. Bind him."

Shackles, cast in the very furnaces Friedrich meant to break, were clamped around his wrists and ankles. He was hauled roughly to his feet.

"You are commoners!!" Friedrich cried, spitting blood onto the floor. "I am a von Frundsberg! I will see you flayed when the Bishop comes!"

The guards gave no heed to his cries... They followed Konrad’s strict laws. They dragged the cursing lord from his chamber and down the corridors to the great hall.

The hall was stripped of its old banners. It served now as a court of judgment.

Konrad sat at the head, flanked by the pillars of his rule: Lady Isolde, the master of spies; Lord Ulrich, master of the horse; and Sir Hildebrand, the broken knight.

Dowager Baroness Mathilda stood to the side, her face pale.

Friedrich was forced to his knees before the court.

He saw his fellow plotters, Ulrich and Hildebrand, standing as sworn servants of the rule he sought to break.

He saw the former Duchess of Württemberg, Lady Isolde.

And he saw Konrad...

"The Bishop’s letter was taken, my lord," the captain reported, holding forth the parchment. "The prisoner sought to burn it."

Konrad took the letter.

"Friedrich von Frundsberg," Konrad stated, "You stand accused of treason of coin, secret parleys with the churchmen, and a plot to tear down the forges and mills of this realm."

Friedrich resisted the chains fiercely, his face distorted with rage.

"This is a mummer’s farce! You have ruined the lords! You have armed the peasants! I acted to save this house from your devilish engines!"

He turned his gaze toward the Dowager Baroness. "Mother! Tell them! The Bishop brings grace, not ruin!"

"..." Mathilda did not move.

She did not meet his eyes. Her silence was a heavier blow than the captain’s striking.

Konrad leaned forward, resting his hands on the table. "Grace is a priest’s tale. I deal in proven truths. Lord Ulrich has given up the tally books showing your theft of saltpeter for the smugglers. Sir Hildebrand has sworn upon his soul that you sat in council with the rebellious lords."

Friedrich’s eyes darted frantically between the two knights. "You false-swearing cowards! You sold your honor for his steel!"

"They saw the wisdom of bending the knee." Konrad corrected.

Friedrich saw his ruin was total... He had no weight to bargain with, no friends, and the holy army was still weeks away.

He turned to the last shield of a desperate lord: mud-slinging and wounded pride.

"You speak with a forked tongue!" Friedrich spat, straining toward Konrad. "You preach of treason while you mock the holy vows of marriage! You bed the Württemberg hostage and parade her as your equal! You are the true plague in this valley!"

The bitter words hung in the air.

Gasp...

Elise, standing near the edge, gasped softly. The keeping of the house’s honor before the men was vital.

Lady Isolde stepped forward.

"Your words are poisoned, Friedrich," Isolde stated, "My place within this house is bound by lawful writ. I am the chosen mother to carry the von Frundsberg heir. Your attempt to use my womb to hide your treason of coin is a fool’s gamble."

"..." Friedrich stared at her. She spoke of the child within her as a tally in a book, not a blessing of God.

"You are all made of iron!!" Friedrich cried, his mind breaking entirely. "You build a realm of fire and brimstone, and it shall burn! The holy army shall see you all to the pyre!"

"The rot is proven," Konrad declared, looking past Friedrich to the doors. "The first decree of the headsman’s axe is set aside, lest it stir the peasants to foolish wrath."

He turned his gaze on his half-brother.

"Friedrich von Frundsberg. By my rule, you are stripped of all titles, lands, and birthright within this realm. You are cast out to the Teutonic Order in Prussia. The holy vows of poverty and chastity shall forever cut you from the worldly courts of the Empire."

Friedrich stopped struggling.

The dreadful weight of the doom finally pierced his panic. He was being sent to the frozen wastes to fight an endless crusade against heathens, forever cut off from the gold and lands he had plotted to steal.

"No..." Friedrich whispered, "Konrad... I beg you. Cast me out to Bavaria. Let me seek a cloister there. Not the Baltic lands. Not the Teutons..."

"Take the prisoner," Konrad ordered. "Put him to the wagons at once."

The guards seized Friedrich’s chains. As they dragged him backward toward the doors, Friedrich’s gaze locked onto the Dowager Baroness.

"Mother!!" he shrieked, "Do not let him do this! I am your son!"

Mathilda finally closed her eyes. A single tear fell from her pale face, but she did not speak.

As the doors slammed shut, cutting off Friedrich’s frantic screams from the hall, Konrad turned his eyes back to the maps spread across his table.