"I will live... the boy is surprisingly strong. He took to the wet nurse without a fuss." Isolde scoffed.

"Good." Konrad nodded. He reached out, his finger brushing against the baby’s cheek.

The infant shifted slightly but didn’t wake from his deep sleep.

"Does he have a name?" Isolde asked, watching his face closely.

Konrad let out a quiet breath. "His name is Albrecht. Albrecht von Frundsberg."

Isolde blinked slowly, "Albrecht... a bit too traditional for your radical tastes, isn’t it? I expected you to name him after a Greek philosopher, or maybe a profitable Fugger banker."

"Katarina suggested it," Konrad admitted bluntly.

After hearing such words, Isolde let out a raspy laugh, "You asked your future bride to name your son? Her father would have a stroke if he knew what went on in this keep."

"Her father only cares about the muskets I sell him," Konrad replied. "Albrecht secures the loyalty of our local captains, and it satisfies the nobility’s annoying need for tradition. It works."

"It works," Isolde repeated, a tired smile finally touching her lips. "Welcome to the real world, little Albrecht."

Konrad stood silently by the crib for a long moment.

For a brief second, a strange unfamiliar feeling settled in his chest.

A profound sense of legacy...

The steam engine would change the world, yes, but this breathing, living child would be the one to inherit the ashes of the Holy Roman Empire once the smoke cleared.

Thus, the night was calm, and for a fleeting moment, Konrad felt a rare sense of peace.

Suddenly footsteps echoed loudly down the hallway.

Marshal Eckhard burst into the royal chamber, forgoing the courtesy of knocking.

"My Lord!" Eckhard gasped.

Konrad turned away from the crib, "Speak, Eckhard."

Marshal Eckhard swallowed hard, his eyes wide. "Lord Konrad... why are the warning bells of the northern watchtowers ringing in the dead of night?"

Konrad’s eyes narrowed, "Are you asking me to do your job, Marshal?" Konrad snapped, his voice sharp. "If the warning bells are ringing, it means the perimeter is breached. It means someone is moving in the dark."

After hearing such words, Eckhard swallowed hard, "I meant... my Lord, the Teutonic forces were reported over fifty miles away just yesterday. They couldn’t have crossed the frozen bogs of the northern pass this quickly. It makes no sense."

"Clearly, they did, or someone else has decided to test our walls in the dead of winter," Konrad said, turning away from the crib and grabbing his wool riding cloak from the back of a nearby chair.

"What are your orders?" Eckhard asked, straightening his posture.

"Wake the Reiters," Konrad commanded, tossing the cloak over his shoulders. "Every single one of them. I want the twin-barreled dags loaded, primed, and checked. Tell Lord Ulrich to form up his riders in the main courtyard. And have the stable boys prepare my horse at once."

"You are riding out yourself, My Lord?" Eckhard asked, bewildered.

"I am not going to sit here in a warm nursery while an unknown host burns my northern border forts to the ground," Konrad barked, "Go! Now!"

"At once!" Eckhard spun on his heel.

Konrad glanced back toward the large bed.

Isolde was pulling the wool blankets tighter around little Albrecht, her eyes watching him with a mixture of annoyance and genuine concern.

"The timing is suspicious." Isolde rasped, her voice still weak. "For an army to march the very same night your heir is born? Someone inside this keep might have sent a bird."

"If we have a traitor, your spies will find them tomorrow," Konrad replied bluntly, checking the wheellock mechanism of the pistol strapped to his belt.

Isolde let out a tired sigh.

An hour later, the main courtyard of the von Frundsberg keep was a swirling mess of snorting horses, clanking steel, and harsh curses.

The winter air was bitter, biting at the exposed skin of the men. However, the eight hundred Reiters of the Swabian host were drilled to perfection.

Every single rider checked their twin-barreled wheellock dags.

Lord Ulrich, the commander of the Reiters, trotted his horse up beside Konrad.

"The men are ready, Lord Konrad," Ulrich reported, his voice muffled slightly by his thick woolen scarf. "But riding full gallop through these snowdrifts is going to break the horses’ legs. We must pace ourselves."

"Then we trot," Konrad decided quickly. "I want to see who is arrogant enough to march on my lands at two in the morning. Move them out."

Thus, the host of black-armored cavalry rode out through the gates.

The ride north was grueling... the January wind sliced through their cloaks, carrying biting flakes of ice.

For a long while, no one spoke. The men were focused on keeping their mounts steady on the icy paths.

"Damnit, it’s too dark," Ulrich muttered under his breath, squinting into the black tree line as they neared the northern ridge. "If they have hidden field guns in those woods, they’ll tear our vanguard to pieces."

"Heavy horse can’t pull bronze siege guns through two feet of snow," Konrad replied, "And if it’s infantry, they will freeze to death before they can even light their matchcords."

They finally reached the crest of the northern ridge, a high vantage point that overlooked the valley that marked the border of the von Frundsberg lands.

Konrad pulled tightly on his reins, bringing his gelding to a complete halt.

Lord Ulrich and Marshal Eckhard stopped right beside him, the rest of the Reiters fanning out silently along the tree line, their wheellock pistols drawn and ready.

Down in the valley were hundreds upon hundreds of torches.

"By the saints..." Eckhard whispered.

Konrad stared down at the formation.

"Hand me a spyglass," Konrad ordered, though he quickly realized the primitive lenses wouldn’t help much in the dark.

Instead, he relied on the bright moonlight reflecting off the white snow to catch the details.

He looked closely at the large banners flapping in the winter wind at the front of the vanguard.

It was a bright yellow field, emblazoned with three black stag antlers.

"..that’s the flag of Württemberg," Lord Ulrich said, "What the hell? The Duke of Württemberg was exiled years ago... he has no standing army. The Swabian League stripped him of everything."

"It seems someone with very deep pockets decided to give him his army back," Konrad deduced, "Count them, what are we looking at?"

Lord Ulrich squinted, his eyes scanning the long column of torches. "Roughly six hundred knights, My Lord. Heavy lancers. Fully armored. They are moving slowly, conserving their horses’ strength."

Six hundred heavy knights... it wasn’t the overwhelming crusade the Pope had promised, but it was a highly elite striking force.

If they managed to break through the earthwork star-forts, six hundred heavy horsemen could easily burn the outlying paper mills to ash in a single night.

"Look at the vanguard," Konrad said, leaning forward in his saddle, his eyes narrowing.

Riding at the very front of the column, separated from the rest of the Württemberg knights, were two distinct figures.

The first was a knight riding a white warhorse. Even from a distance, the craftsmanship of his armor was unmistakable.

His armor was not of the traditional Swabian type, but rather a highly ornate steel shield, grooved and heavily engraved with gold inlays. At the center of his shield was the symbol of the double-headed eagle.

"Holy Roman armor?" Eckhard breathed.

However, it was the second figure riding right beside the Imperial knight that made Konrad’s blood run cold.

The rider was much smaller, possessing a distinctly slender, elegant build that didn’t belong to a hardened knight.

They wore a fitted, dark steel breastplate over a thick riding dress.

But the most striking feature was the hair - a fiery cascade of red hair that flowed wildly in the winter wind, uncovered by a helmet.

Instead of a helm, the rider’s face was hidden behind a featureless metal half-mask that caught the flickering torchlight.

It was undeniably a woman...

Konrad gripped his horse’s reins, staring at the masked lady. Had the Emperor’s dogs truly reached such a state of desperation that they were sending a masked lady to lead their vanguard?