Burg Rechberg, Swabia
Within the walls of his old keep, Baron von Rechberg ate a poor al of salted mutton.
The burning of his grain had broken his lands... his peasants were starving, and the sell-swords he hired to keep the priests’ law threatened to flee, for his chests held no silver to pay them.
Clatter...
A rider, bearing the plain black mark of the von Frundsberg house, was led into the hall.
Baron von Rechberg broke the seal. He read the words.
The words were plain... Konrad von Frundsberg did not demand the stolen steel... his Schwarze Reiter had already reclaid it in the dark.
Instead, he tallied the blood price for the six hanged guards and the halted trade at a ruinous four thousand Fugger florins... the writ stated that the Baron lacked the coin to pay the debt.
The Baron dropped the parchnt onto the table.
"This heretic thinks to conquer a lord of the Empire with the words of a Fugger moneylender," the Baron declared to his knights.
The Baron’s captain stepped forward. "My Lord. If we stay behind these walls, his great guns will batter them to dust."
"We shall not stay," Baron von Rechberg commanded, "The von Frundsberg n must eat from wagons. We shall gather every man and horse. We shall et him at the border. We shall strike his wagons, take his grain, and feed our n with his bread."
The captain nodded, seeing the charge as the only path left.
...
The von Frundsberg War Camp.
The standing company, numbering exactly 1,000 paid footn, stood in perfect ranks.
They all wore the blackened half-plate and bore the new wheellock dags.
Beside the drilled gunners stood a remnant of the old levies - piken who had once followed Konrad’s father.
They were poor in battle, ate too much grain, and their loyalty rested on old oaths rather than the true bond of silver.
Konrad stood beside a bronze twelve-pounder great gun, using his brass tools to check the aiming screw.
Marshal Eckhard walked to Konrad. "The n are ready, my lord," Eckhard reported, "The gunners have powder to fire for half the day, the footn are checking their pieces... we wait only for your word to cross the border."
"..." Konrad marked a tally on his slate before looking at his Marshal. "Faced with starvation, the Baron brings his n and horse to the field... he ans to strike our wagons to feed his starving n."
"A battle in the open hastens the end. Without their stone walls, his n will stand naked before our crossing fire."
"The breaking of his n is a certain thing..." Konrad corrected, "The peril cos after the field is won, when we must bind his lands to our own."
Konrad turned his eyes upon Marshal Eckhard. "They pay their n little, and suffer them to sack and burn the lands they conquer... they let their soldiers steal cattle, burn fields, and wring coin from the peasants by the sword."
Konrad tapped a finger against the bronze barrel of the great gun. "Such pillage is a theft from my own purse, the peasants of Rechberg are no longer foes. From the hour the writ was sent, they are the workn and farrs of the von Frundsberg lands. If our n burn a single barn or slaughter a single beast, they steal my gold."
"..." Eckhard stiffened.
"The law is absolute," Konrad continued, "You will send word to all captains at once. The taking of goods, the burning of fields, and the striking of the peasants are nad as treason of coin.
Any man who steals from my lands shall be shot dead on the spot, without trial."
"The word shall be given to the captains at once, Lord Konrad. The lands shall remain whole."
By the gray hours of the following dawn, the camp had vanished into a marching column.
Konrad sat upon a plain roan horse, using a single lantern to read a tally book.
The n of the von Frundsberg lands were already ford.
1,000 footn, clad in matched, blackened half-plate, prid their wheellocks. The iron pyrites were set against the grooved wheels, ready to strike fire at a mont’s notice.
Beside the paid footn stood the old, unarmored piken.
"The n are ready, my lord," Marshal Eckhard reported, riding his own unarmored horse beside Konrad’s. Eckhard wore the plain black doublet of the masters. "We have crossed the Rechberg border. The Baron’s n have left their keep and are forming their lines in the valley below."
The von Frundsberg host rolled forward into the mist. As they crested the last ridge, the field of battle lay plain before them.
Baron von Rechberg had set his starving peasants in thick, unmoving blocks. They bore rusty bills, old crossbows, and farming tools.
At their front stood the true might of the Baron’s house: a band of heavily armored Swabian knights upon great warhorses!
"Set the great guns along the ridge," Konrad ordered, "Target the thick blocks of their crossbown. We must break their bown before they co within range of our own n.
Keeping our paid gunners alive is the highest need; replacing a trained wheellock man costs too much Fugger silver."
Eckhard passed the word at once.
Twelve bronze great guns were swiftly set behind banks of earth. The gunners moved with the perfect ti of a water-wheel, setting their aim and loading the bursting shot.
While the gunners readied the cannons, Konrad turned to the horsen. He held a swift band of fourscore Reiters - lightly armored n bearing twin wheellock dags and stout blades.
"Marshal Eckhard, you shall lead the Reiters," Konrad commanded, keeping his horse still behind the cannons. "I shall watch the field and guide the battle from this hill."
"The Reiters shall not charge with the lance," Konrad lectured, "You shall ride the caracole. You shall ride toward the Baron’s knights, use the swiftness of your lighter horses to outflank them, and loose your dags at close asure."
He pointed toward the heavy knights below.
"Aim for the horses and the weak joints of the armor. Break their ranks, then wheel away at once to reload."
Eckhard gave a salute. "The n know the drill, Lord Konrad. We shall break their heavy horse."
"See that it is done." Konrad stated. He turned his eyes to the gunners. "Give fire."
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