Six hundred heavy lancers.

The flag of the exiled Duke of Württemberg.

An Imperial Knight in magnificent fluted armor, and a mysterious woman with wild red hair wearing a featureless metal half-mask.

"This is absurd." Konrad muttered.

Marshal Eckhard shifted nervously in his saddle, "My Lord, whatever their numbers, they are a fully armed host. If those knights charge our earthworks, they will shatter our forward camps before the gunners can even light their matchcords."

"They are moving at a slow walk. Their lances are resting upright... It is clear that this is not a midnight raid." Konrad replied flatly.

After hearing such words, Lord Ulrich urged his gelding a step closer. "Then what are they doing on your borders at this hour?"

"We are going to find out," Konrad stated. He turned his head to look at Eckhard. "Marshal, take twenty of our Reiters. Find out what they want."

Eckhard’s eyes widened slightly. "...if they decide to lower their lances, my men and I will be skewered like roasted pigs."

"Take your men down there with your wheellock dags drawn and resting on your saddles," Konrad ordered, "If they make a hostile move, shoot the Imperial Knight in the chest and gallop back up the ridge. But they won’t. Just ask them what they are doing here."

Thus, Marshal Eckhard swallowed his protests, gave a stiff nod, and signaled for a squad of twenty Reiters to follow him.

Konrad remained at the crest of the ridge with the rest of his host, his hand resting on the steel grip of his pistol.

He watched like a hawk as Eckhard’s small detachment approached the column of torches. 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

The Württemberg vanguard spotted the approaching riders.

The Imperial Knight on the white destrier raised a hand, signaling his column to halt.

Even from a distance, Konrad could see the tense standoff. Eckhard halted his Reiters about thirty paces from the vanguard.

The Swabian riders kept their twin-barreled wheellocks fully visible, their fingers resting close to the triggers.

A brief exchange of words carried up the snowy slope.

Suddenly, the Imperial Knight reached behind his saddle, slowly drawing a long wooden pole.

Instead of a deadly steel lance tip, a plain white banner of peace fluttered at the end of it.

Eckhard visibly relaxed his shoulders, turning his horse slightly to wave a clear signal up the ridge toward Konrad.

"A parley," Lord Ulrich muttered, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

"As I thought," Konrad said calmly. He spurred his black gelding forward, guiding the horse down the trail.

He trotted his horse right past Eckhard’s defensive line, pulling up in front of the Imperial Knight and the masked woman.

Up close, the Imperial Knight was genuinely imposing.

Beside him, the red-haired woman sat still on her sleek black mare.

She didn’t say a single word, merely observing Konrad with an eerie intensity.

"You are trespassing on the sovereign lands of the von Frundsberg forges," Konrad stated, skipping any form of noble greeting. "I suggest you state your business quickly. My men are cold, and I have a newborn son waiting in a warm keep."

The Imperial Knight let out a laugh. "We mean no offense, Viscount von Frundsberg," the knight said, "We have marched through this wretched snow solely to negotiate with you directly, away from the prying eyes of the Swabian Diet and the Pope’s spies."

However, Konrad’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Negotiate what? My brother is marching a Teutonic crusade toward my walls, and the Duke of Bavaria is ready to stab my eastern flank. What could the exiled banner of Württemberg possibly offer me?"

"A secret pact," the Imperial Knight answered, leaning slightly over his saddlehorn. "A strictly non-aggression pact between our forces and your forges.

More importantly, we wish to establish a secure, untaxed trade route running through the western mountain passes."

"A trade route?" Konrad raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised by the angle. "The Fugger bankers control the western tolls. If you try to bypass their ledgers, they will cut off your silver before the season turns."

"Have no worry at all with the Fuggers, Lord Konrad," the knight chuckled, "Our backers have already secured the necessary quiet agreements with the bank’s highest clerks. The Fuggers will turn a blind eye to our wagons."

After hearing such words, Konrad fell silent.

If this mysterious faction truly had the political capital to bypass the Swabian League’s embargo and the Fugger toll roads... it changed everything.

His forges were already running at maximum capacity. But with a secret trade route opening to the west, he could start mass-producing exports at a frankly terrifying scale.

He wouldn’t just sell muskets and heavy cannons to these people... he could flood their markets with new, insanely cheap commodities.

He thought of the vats of lye wash Master Heinrich was currently using to purify saltpeter.

Lye, mixed with the cheap animal fat left over from feeding his army, created high-quality soap.

It cost him almost nothing to make, yet every noble court and common peasant in the Empire desperately wanted clean soap.

Furthermore, the butchered cattle bones and meat scraps could be boiled down for days into nutrient-dense broth, then dried into hard blocks of portable soup.

It was an incredibly cheap, roughly free military ration that lasted for months without rotting.

Every mercenary band and marching army in Europe would pay a premium in raw silver for pocket soup that only required hot water to eat!

He could practically see the endless columns of Fugger ledgers filling with black ink.

The profit margins on soap, portable soup, and standardized wheellocks would be astronomically high.

It would completely fund the rapid expansion of his steam-engine infrastructure without draining a single copper from his existing war chests.

"A secret trade route..." Konrad finally murmured, "You wish to buy my steel. And in return, your knights will not strike my western flank while I deal with my brother’s crusade."

"Exactly so," the Imperial Knight nodded, clearly pleased that the Swabian Viscount was a practical man. "We need your unparalleled firearms to reclaim certain... lost territories. You need silver and secure borders."

Even so, Konrad was not a fool...

A deal this lucrative, brought in the dead of night by an exiled banner and a masked woman, carried a massive risk.

The political web of the Holy Roman Empire was notoriously treacherous.

"I will agree to the route," Konrad declared, "My clerks will prepare the supply wagons of wheellocks, black powder, and new rations within the fortnight. Your merchants will pay in pure silver, weighed upon delivery."

"Excellent!" the knight laughed, slapping his armored thigh. "I knew the rumors of your sharp mind were true, Viscount."

Konrad shifted his gaze from the knight, locking his eyes onto the slender figure of the red-haired woman on the black mare.

She hadn’t moved an inch during the entire exchange.

The mask gleamed under the torchlight, giving away absolutely nothing of her thoughts.

Yet, the way the Imperial Knight unconsciously deferred his posture toward her made it blatantly obvious who was truly in charge of this massive vanguard.

Konrad rested his hand on his saddle horn, "We have a trade pact," Konrad said, "But I do not sell my cannons and my supplies to ghosts holding exiled flags."

"Tell me," Konrad continued, staring at the woman’s mask. "Who are you?"