...

Konrad stood on the proving ground, a barren stretch of packed earth outside the castle walls.

Before him, Marshal Eckhard sat atop a destrier, clad in plate armor, a long wooden practice lance couched under his arm.

"You will charge from a distance of threescore paces. I will judge the exact moment to strike." Konrad instructed.

"..." Eckhard frowned beneath his open visor. "My lord, standing still before a charging destrier is certain death..."

"Begin the charge."

Thud... thud... thud...

Eckhard spurred the horse forward.

Konrad stood perfectly still, his eyes locked on the rapidly closing mass of man and horse.

He lifted the grooved long-arm to his shoulder.

At exactly eighty paces, Konrad leveled the barrel and loosed the mechanism.

Click... BANG! The loud crack of the discharge echoed off the walls. The pointed lead ball struck the exact center of the armored dummy Konrad had raised ten feet to his left, shattering the steel breastplate with terrible force.

Neigh!! Eckhard hauled back on the reins...

Eckhard dismounted, breathing heavily. "It is a terrifying thing, Lord Konrad..."

"This is expected," Konrad turned to a second proving ground, where gunners stood by a newly cast breech-loading field gun. "We will now proceed with the bursting shot."

Konrad had directed Master Dieter to forge a hollow, iron sphere filled with fine powder, fitted with a slow-match.

It was a bursting shell, meant to replace the solid round shot that merely battered stone.

"Load the piece." Konrad commanded.

The gunners slid the shell down the barrel. The mark was a thick cluster of timber and armored mannequins standing for a tightly packed company of foot.

"Give fire." Konrad ordered.

The cannon roared, belching a thick cloud of sulfurous smoke. The shell arced through the air and struck the center of the mock company.

A heartbeat later, the slow-match reached the powder within.

The blast was ruinous. The iron shell shattered, turning into a swiftly expanding cloud of jagged shards.

The timber was instantly shredded, and the mannequins were broken, their breastplates pierced in dozens of places by the sheer force of the iron.

"..." Eckhard stared at the ruin, entirely speechless.

"The reach of death is seven times greater than round shot..." Konrad observed, noting the tally on a small slate. "Use this shot at once for all battles against footmen."

Leaving the stunned Marshal to oversee the field, Konrad walked to the farmlands.

He found his sister, Elise, in the great storehouse, reviewing a stack of ledgers. She looked exhausted.

"The ledgers show a third more wheat gathered due to the new water-trenches," Konrad stated,

"...but the raising of beasts falls short of the expected tally."

Elise looked up, rubbing her temples. "The peasants struggle to learn the new ways of moving the herds, Konrad. And the great measure of meat required to feed the growing number of smiths at the forge... it is draining our stores. We are pushing them too hard..."

"The laborers at the forge spend great strength to craft the breech-loading guns," Konrad dictated, "Their rations must be kept high to prevent a drop in their labors... You will turn the lesser stores of grain to feed the beasts at once. The workmen shall eat the rest."

"But if the winter is harsh—" Elise started.

"The chance of a winter harsh enough to empty our stores is less than four in a hundred," Konrad interrupted. "Do as I command."

He left the storehouse and walked into the oppressive heat of the great forges.

The massive, water-driven trip-hammers pounded red-hot iron into even sheets for the half-plate, while tools cut grooves into the rifle barrels.

Master Dieter was shouting orders over the din, his torso slick with soot. When he saw Konrad, he hurried over, wiping his hands on a leather apron.

"My lord!" Dieter yelled over the noise. "The second blast furnace burns at its greatest heat. But the men... they reach the limits of their flesh. We have been working day and night since the Inquisition halted at the border."

"The Emperor’s truce is a fleeting peace," Konrad informed him, "The Emperor now manages the quarrels in the Diet, but he will soon seek to destroy our mastery of arms... Rest is a luxury we cannot afford until our armament is complete."

"..." Dieter swallowed hard, "We need more silver to pay the new workmen, my Lord. The Fugger coin is stretched thin paying for the saltpeter."

"The coin of this estate shall be managed... Keep to the current tally of arms." Konrad stated.

Konrad turned and walked back toward the keep.

He entered his private study, the door sealing away the noise of the forge. The room was dark, lit only by a single oil lamp.

Lady Isolde was waiting for him.

She stood near his desk.

"Speak of the Imperial Diet and the Swabian lords," Konrad commanded, taking his seat behind the desk.

"The ring of spies reports chaos..." Isolde relayed, "The tale of our secret marriage and the coming heir has shattered the Swabian League’s hope of placing a spy in your bed.

Further, the lesser lords are terrified of your new bursting shot. They petition the Emperor to abandon any future march, fearing a siege will bring utter ruin to their lands."

Konrad looked at the former Duchess of Württemberg.

"Your guiding of the secrets works well..." Konrad stated.

Isolde’s posture hardened, and satisfaction shone in her eyes.

"The web of spies shall grow, my lord," Isolde promised softly.

...

A few hours later, at the edge of the von Frundsberg farmlands.

Grind... grind... grind... The pounding of the millstones drowned out their words from any listening ears, keeping their talk entirely secret.

Lady Isolde sat in the new water-mill, her eyes scanning a ledger of their shrinking herds.

The plain truth of keeping an army of gunners and cannons was that men-at-arms needed great measures of meat to stay strong and ready. The Swabian farmlands were breaking under the strain!

Across the table sat Ludolf, the weary deacon. He wore the robes of the local clergy.

Ludolf wasted no words, "A band of Swabian lords, angered by Lord Konrad’s new works, have sent a plea to the Bishop of Augsburg," Ludolf whispered.

"...they bypassed the earthly courts and went straight to the Church! They cry out that the von Frundsberg house deals in witchcraft and devilry."