Lady Isolde remained barred in her chambers, feigning sickness, while Uncle Lothar had been moved to a bare cell in the dungeons.

Konrad sat in his study, reading the ledger that showed his stores of brimstone and saltpeter were nearly gone.

The fifty iron shells for Götz von Berlichingen were forged, but the poison cloud he meant to unleash in the northern pass needed a vast sum of powder.

He needed the Bavarian carts to arrive before Baron von Waldburg’s host marched into the valley.

A soft knock broke his thoughts. Before he could speak, the door opened, and Lady Katarina entered. She wore a dark traveling gown.

"The scouts speak true, Lord Konrad," Katarina stated, stepping into the room. "The Swabian League vanguard has crossed the Danube. They will reach the northern pass in two days."

Konrad nodded, "And the Bavarian brimstone?"

"It crossed the border at midnight," Katarina replied. "It moves through the hidden forest paths. It should arrive by nightfall."

"We will begin brewing the foul air as soon as it arrives. Master Dieter has already forged the iron pots to hold it."

Katarina stared at him, "Konrad... two thousand men..."

Konrad looked up from the ledger. "The burning of brimstone acts in true, fixed ways. When unleashed in a tight space like the mountain pass, it chokes the lungs and sears the throat. The Swabian League will not be able to breathe, let alone fight."

Katarina shuddered at the telling of mass choking.

She knew the bloody truth of war - the clash of steel, the screams of the dying - but the brewing of a foul, killing cloud was unnatural and deeply unsettling.

"You view war not as a test of honor, but as the clearing of rats," Katarina observed quietly.

Konrad stood. "I must see to the watch. Ensure your guard captain is ready to take the brimstone upon arrival."

Leaving the study, Konrad walked down to the forges.

Konrad watched as the men formed two tight lines. They moved with a steady rhythm that belied their lowly birth.

At Dieter’s sharp command, the front rank raised their wheel-locks, aiming at the targets.

"Fire!" Dieter roared.

The CRACK of fifty pistols firing as one echoed off the hills.

A cloud of white smoke hid the line. Before the smoke could clear, the front rank dropped to one knee, reaching for their powder flasks, while the second rank stepped forward, leveling their arms.

It was a working rhythm. Against an unarmored, tight block of pikemen, it would reap a bloody harvest.

Yet, Konrad knew the Swabian League would bear steel. They would have heavy footmen and armored knights... The wheel-locks could not pierce strong breastplates from afar.

That was why the four falconets were set at the edge of the field, their men practicing the swift loading and aiming. The solid iron balls they threw would shatter a knight’s breastplate like glass.

Konrad approached Dieter, who wiped sweat from his brow. "The loading is swifter," Konrad noted. "Yet, we must close the gap between shots to break their charge."

Dieter nodded, "We push them hard, Lord Konrad. But they are not hardened veterans. If they face a charge of knights, their nerve may break."

"They will face no such charge, our stand at the northern pass relies on the narrow ground. The knights will not have the space to ride." Konrad assured him.

As Konrad turned to leave, a shout echoed from the walls. A watcher pointed wildly toward the southern road.

As he looked, he saw a single, laden cart rolling up the path, guided by a half-dozen hard-looking swordsmen.

It was Merchant Vesper.

Konrad walked back to the courtyard, arriving as the cart passed the gates.

Vesper, a quiet, knowing man, hopped down and offered a short bow.

"Lord Konrad," Vesper said softly. "I have the silver. Twenty Batzens a piece, as sworn."

"The hour is good," Konrad replied, signing for his guards to unload the chests. "Yet, the peace has broken. I require true word of the Swabian League’s march."

Vesper nodded grimly, stepping closer. "The whispers hold true, my Lord. Baron von Waldburg marches north. But he has drawn the common levies from the Free Cities... He has near three thousand men."

"And the great guns?" Konrad asked.

"Two massive siege culverins," Vesper confirmed. "They drag them with teams of oxen. They move slowly, tearing up the roads, but they come."

Konrad nodded, "...their slow pace gives us the time we need."

He turned to the guards, who had finished unloading the silver. "Bear the coin to the vault at once."

He then looked back at Vesper. "The wheel-locks for Bavaria are ready. Hide them in the false bottom of your cart. You must leave the valley before nightfall. The northern pass will soon run with blood."

Vesper did not argue. He knew well enough to flee a battlefield. He quickly loaded the sealed crates, burying them deep beneath bales of raw wool.

As Vesper prepared to leave, Konrad returned to his study.

He sat down and pulled out a fresh parchment. He was drafting the foul, burning humors of his poison cloud.