Master Dieter was testing the new pistol barrels, leaving the forge quiet.

Konrad had spent hours studying the ledgers and the tidings from Vesper the merchant.

The Bavarian pact secured their coal and brought a hoard of true silver, but it shifted the balance of power. The Swabian League, namely Baron von Waldburg, was silent.

To survive the storm, Konrad needed to swell his stores and labor.

He found his sister, Elise, in the garden. She was wrapped in a cloak, staring at the treeline.

"The walls are watched, Elise," Konrad stated. "The guards are doubled, and the wheel-locks are ready. Your fear is without cause."

Elise pulled her cloak tighter. "It isn’t just the guards~ Uncle Lothar is gone, and the keep is empty. The servants whisper. They say you build terrible things that defy God."

Konrad weighed her words. The church’s view mattered little to him, but it swayed the common folk.

"They are the reason we do not rot in Waldburg’s dungeon. Have you read the planting orders I gave you?" Konrad corrected.

Elise nodded, holding a parchment. "The four-field planting? Yes. But the farmers say it is madness to plant a whole field with clover. You cannot eat clover."

"You cannot, but the sheep can," Konrad explained. "The clover heals the earth, which swells the harvest of wheat and rye in the years to come. We lose much land each year to the old ways of resting fields. This new way will swell our grain stores vastly within two harvests."

Elise stared. "But the farmers will not listen to a child, Konrad. They only heed the steward."

"Uncle Lothar is banished." Konrad stated. "You are a von Frundsberg. You hold the right. You will walk the fields tomorrow, using the silver to urge them to the new ways."

He didn’t wait for her to agree. He turned and walked to the hall. T

As Konrad entered the dim hall, he stopped.

Sitting at the table, arguing with Father Thomas, was a massive figure. He wore dented black armor, and a grey beard hid his scarred face. A great two-handed sword leaned against his chair.

It was Götz von Berlichingen. The Iron Hand.

Konrad knew the tales. Götz was a fierce mercenary knight. He was known for bloody raids across the Empire, and for his iron hand, having lost his own to a cannonball.

He was also a known friend to the peasant uprisings.

Father Thomas saw Konrad and turned pale, crossing himself.

"Lord Konrad! This man pushed past the watch!"

Götz turned his head, his eyes locking onto Konrad. He slammed his iron hand onto the table.

"So, you are the boy who made Baron von Waldburg turn tail like a whipped dog~" Götz rumbled.

"I must admit, you look entirely unimpressive..."

"I am Lord Konrad," he replied, walking to the head of the table. "And you are trespassing. Yet, given your renown for taking what you wish, I assume you are here to bargain."

Götz barked a laugh. "To bargain~ I like that. The boy speaks like a Fugger merchant."

He leaned forward, "I am here because tavern whispers say you armed peasants with the finest wheel-locks in the Empire."

"The Swabian League is gathering a host to crush the peasant uprisings. They will slaughter thousands who only fight because men like Waldburg starve them. I am gathering my own host. I need those pistols."

To arm Götz was to back open rebellion against the Empire. The Emperor would brand him a traitor. Yet, if he refused, Götz would likely slaughter the keep and take the weapons.

"I cannot sell you the weapons, Sir Götz," Konrad stated.

Götz’s eyes narrowed. His left hand reached for the hilt of his great sword.

"I did not come here to be told no, boy."

"I cannot sell them," Konrad repeated, raising a hand. "The Bavarian pact claims most of my forge’s yield, and the rest I need to guard my own walls."

Götz paused, his hand hovering over his sword. "Bavaria? You are selling weapons to the Wittelsbachs?"

"I am." Konrad confirmed. "Which means if you try to take this keep, you will fight not only my guards, but the Duchy of Bavaria, who will march to protect their iron."

It was a bold bluff. Katarina had promised a shield, but Konrad knew not if the Duke would truly march to save a Swabian forge. But Götz did not know that.

Götz stared, working through the tangled web the young lord had woven. The mercenary slowly moved his hand from his sword.

"You are a cunning little bastard." Götz muttered, clearly impressed. "You hide behind the skirts of a Duke."

"I take the safest ground." Konrad corrected. "But while I cannot sell you the wheel-locks... I can offer you another weapon."

Konrad turned to Father Thomas. "Father, fetch the crate from my study. The one marked ’Seeds’."

The priest fled the room, eager to escape the Iron Hand. He returned carrying a sealed crate, then quickly backed away.

Konrad pulled a small iron bar from his belt and cracked the crate open. He reached inside and pulled out a cast-iron sphere, the size of an apple. A waxed fuse stuck out from a hole in the top.

"What in God’s name is that?" Götz asked, leaning closer.

"It is a vessel of fire and shrapnel." Konrad explained. "The shell is scored iron. The belly is packed with strong black powder and sharp iron slag. The fuse is treated to burn true, even in the damp."

Konrad placed the weapon on the table next to Götz’s iron hand.

"The wheel-locks require deep training and constant care." Konrad continued. "These require only a flame and a strong arm. A single man casting this into a tight block of Swabian pikemen will reap a bloody, fearful harvest."

Götz stared at the iron sphere, his mind grasping the bloody ruin it could bring.

"How many can your cunning forge?" Götz asked.

"I can yield fifty a week~" Konrad answered. "At two silver Batzens each. Left in secret caches in the deep woods to keep our hands hidden."

Götz picked up the iron sphere, tossing it in his left hand.

"Fifty a week." Götz agreed, "We have a pact, Lord Konrad. The Swabian League will burn."

As Götz stood, slinging his great sword over his shoulder, he looked back. "They call me the Iron Hand, boy. What do they call you?"

"They call me Lord Konrad~" he replied flatly.