Swabia, Winter 1525.

Konrad von Frundsberg stood in the center of the works.

The Holy Roman Empire in 1525 starved for lack of good saltpeter... The old lords leaned entirely upon the greedy merchants of the Fugger house, bleeding their silver chests dry just to buy the powder needed for their guns.

Konrad’s lands, living like a desperate realm seeking to feed itself, could no longer bear the cost.

He had ordered the gathering of all dung, wood ash, and rotting weeds, setting strict tallies for the peasants to fill the great trenches.

Today marked the end of the first harvest.

Master Heinrich, a former serf raised to his seat solely for his skill with numbers, stepped toward Lord Konrad. Heinrich held a wooden tray bearing a mound of pale, yellowish crystals.

"The work is done, Lord Konrad," Heinrich reported, standing stiffly. "The boiling and straining were done exactly as you ordered. We have drawn four hundred weight of pure saltpeter from these first trenches."

"The yield meets our need," Konrad stated, "Our reliance upon the Hanseatic smugglers is at an end."

"..." Heinrich paused. "The men have toiled from dawn deep into the night for twelve weeks to keep the trenches wet... Their spirits are breaking under the foulness of the work."

"From this day, the men working the vats shall receive a greater share of silver, and a larger cut of salted pork and strong ale." Konrad stated

Heinrich nodded, visibly relieved by the bounty.

"However," Konrad went on, shattering the brief comfort, "this is no gift... It is the meat needed to keep their strength, that the next harvest may yield a fifth part more."

"Tell the men that any who fail to meet the new tally shall be stripped of their silver and sent to the deep brimstone mines, where the poisoned air promises a swift death. Do you grasp the bargain?"

"I grasp it perfectly, Lord Konrad..." Heinrich swallowed hard.

Konrad turned from the pits. He walked to the wide fields beyond the forges to see the powder put to use.

He watched his paid footmen - a standing company of drilled men - moving as one in their firing drills.

Marshal Eckhard stood beside him, watching the gunners swiftly load the four-and-twenty new great guns.

"The gunners now fire three bursting shells a minute, my lord," Eckhard reported, pointing to the earthen butts four hundred paces away. "The equal measure of powder in every charge has made the shot fly true."

"And the footmen?" Konrad asked.

"The six companies of wheellock dags fire in perfect time with the great guns," Eckhard confirmed. "We count a thousand footmen ready... But we lack the horsemen you asked for."

Great warhorses ate too much grain... The wheat needed to feed a single destrier could feed ten footmen!

Moreover, the cattle roads were still healing from the old lords’ blockade.

"We shall not field heavy horse. The buying of costly destriers with Fugger silver is ended. You shall buy common riding horses."

"This?" Eckhard frowned, "Common horses cannot bear the weight of full plate, nor can they break a wall of pikes."

"They shall not try," Konrad corrected, "You shall strip the riders of their heavy barding. Give them blackened half-plate, that the horses may run swift and long. Every rider shall carry two wheellock dags and a stout blade."

Konrad pointed toward the firing line. "They shall ride hard toward the foe, loose their dags at close measure to break the enemy’s ranks, and wheel away at once to reload. They shall be swift, moving guns, not men to die on the points of pikes."

"It means teaching the riders anew, but the saving of coin is great. How do we buy these lighter horses?"

"We will take advantage of our enemies’ folly. The furnaces are now producing more steel than we need. We will make large piles of old heavy armor.

You will use Hanseatic League merchants to sell this useless iron at an exorbitant price to the old Swabian nobles, who still believe that thick steel can stop a bullet." Konrad said.

He looked out over the drilling men. "...we shall empty their chests to buy our powder, and when they march against us, their costly armor will only serve to drag them down."

Eckhard nodded and went to set the work in motion.

The review of the arms done, Konrad returned to his study in the keep.

With Lady Katarina gone to Munich to secure the northern borders, and the Teutonic Order distracted by Lambert’s exile, the board was clear for the final strike.

Creak... Lady Isolde entered the room, standing stiffly.

"The Bavarian riders hold the northern road, my Lord," Isolde reported, "Katarina’s father has sent 2,000 pikemen to guard the Fugger silver routes, just as she promised. The Bishop of Augsburg’s flank is now completely exposed."

"The Duke of Bavaria does not need my love, nor does he act out of honor. He acts because his silver is tied to our great guns, you shall write to your whisperers in the south. The Bishop’s host of four thousand marches toward our borders, believing our men are terrified by the Papal Interdict." Konrad stated.

Isolde nodded, "The sell-swords have abandoned the Bishop due to our printed writs. His remaining men are zealots, marching in tight squares, just as you planned."

"We shall use their blind faith against them..." Konrad said.

Rustle... He drew a fresh parchment toward him.

He began to draw the gears and springs for a small, wrought clockwork mechanism - a timed fuse for his bursting shells, housed in fine, hardened steel.

It would be a thing of impossible cunning for the year of our Lord 1525... It was a ticking threat, a promise that the von Frundsberg forges were counting down the minutes until they would crush their enemies.

A few hours later, following the swift arrival of a courier.... Konrad held a newly arrived parchment sealed with the crest of the Duke of Bavaria.

Lady Katarina had reached Munich safely. The letter confirmed her promise: 2,000 Bavarian footmen were already holding the northern pass.

The Fugger loans were secured, and the northern flank was shielded from the Pope’s men. Yet, the letter contained a bitter note at its end.

Katarina wrote plainly that she knew the truth of the child growing within Lady Isolde.

She made it clear that another noble house would have taken such a slight - bedding a Swabian turncloak instead of a Bavarian duchess - as an act of war.

Only Bavaria’s desperate need for Konrad’s great guns kept the pact alive.

He turned at once and walked back into the keep, heading straight to the master’s room.

Lady Isolde stood by the desk.

"The Bavarian lady is gone, but her last words showed a foolish stirring of pride," Konrad stated, "Speak the truth of your hidden parleys with Lady Katarina."

"I struck down her pride to keep the peace," Isolde reported, keeping her voice flat. "Lady Katarina’s time here was done. Yet she sought to boast and claim rule over this house.

To seal our mastery before she rode, I told her plainly of the child I bear and my lasting place at your side. I broke her high-born arrogance."

"..." Konrad did not smile. "You put your own petty pride before the safety of this realm."

Isolde’s eyes widened slightly, "My lord, I meant to show her that our rule is unshakeable. She was but a passing guest. I am the lasting root of this house."

"Lady Katarina holds the ear of the Duke of Bavaria. His footmen even now hold the northern roads against the Bishop’s host... By attempting to wound her pride, you ignited a wild spark in Bavaria." Konrad corrected her.

He tapped a finger against the Fugger tally books. "We rule a dying land, Isolde... we live only because our foes reckon that trading with us brings more silver than burning us out."

"...If Lady Katarina held to the foolish pride of her noble blood, your slight would have broken the pact. The Bavarians would have marched away, the northern roads would have fallen, and our men would be starving within three weeks."

Gulp... Isolde swallowed hard. "The Bavarian pact holds," Isolde offered, "She chose the great guns over her pride."

"Her sound judgment do not excuse your foolishness... You risked the ruin of this house just to satisfy your pride." Konrad said, ignoring her defense.

"...your mind must be set back to its true work." Konrad commanded.

He drew a massive stack of ciphered scrolls from a drawer and pushed them across the desk toward her.

"These are the taken books of the Hanseatic smugglers, telling of the hidden brimstone trade out of Danzig," Konrad explained. "The cipher is a deep, thrice-twisted code... the common clerks cannot read it."

Isolde looked at the towering stack of scrolls... breaking such a deep cipher would demand days of agonizing toil of the mind.

"You shall break every cipher in this stack by your own hand, you shall finish the reading within three days... you shall write a full tally of every pound of raw brimstone entering the Swabian lands, and you shall name every hidden smuggler aiding the Church." Konrad ordered.

"My lord..." Isolde whispered, "The bearing of the heir—"

"Matters naught if we lack the powder to cast our shot," Konrad cut her off smoothly. "If the inquisitors break our walls because we lack the brimstone to fire the great guns, the child you bear will die in the flames.

You shall do this work to pay for your folly. If you fail to meet the tally in three days, you shall be cast from this room forever."

"I hear your command, my lord," Isolde stated, she gathered the stack of scrolls.

"See to the work," Konrad dismissed her.