Viktor von Thiersee was no man of war; he was a fearful clerk clinging to his weekly silver.

He drew forth the wax-sealed writs proving the lawful trade.

"This sudden law breaks the treaties sworn by the Swabian League, these arms are lawful goods, bound for Bavarian markets... taking these wagons is a theft of trade."

The knight scoffed, driving the iron butt of his pike into the mud.

"The Swabian League does not overrule the Holy Father," the knight threw back, waving for his men to ring the wagons. "Your Lord Konrad is an outcast heretic... we take this steel to pay for the Bishop of Augsburg’s holy war. More than this, you are taken prisoner to face the Church’s courts. Step down, or we shall use the sword."

"..." Viktor had six von Frundsberg men armed with wheellock dags, facing fifty of Rechberg’s men with pikes.

Bowing his head was the only way to keep his life...

Viktor raised his empty hands, bidding his men lower their pieces and hold their fire.

As he was pulled roughly from the wagon and bound with iron chains, he used the scuffle to pass a hidden word.

He caught the eye of a beggar loitering near the gate... a known ear in Lady Isolde’s web of spies!

Viktor tapped his finger against his thigh in a set rhythm, passing the sign for a broken road and stolen goods.

Within the hour, the word was flying along the hidden paths back to the heart of the von Frundsberg lands.

Inside the master’s room. Konrad sat behind the desk, checking the true cut of the new grooved barrels.

Lady Isolde pushed open the doors. She did not knock.

"The eastern road is broken, Lord Konrad," Isolde reported, "Baron von Rechberg has stolen our goods. The wagons of steel bound for Bavaria have been taken under the cloak of the Papal Interdict. Viktor von Thiersee and the guards are held for the priests."

"The stolen steel is worth four thousand Fugger florins..." Konrad stated, "This loss greatly hinders the buying of Baltic saltpeter. Baron von Rechberg has used the priests’ curse to play the common thief."

Isolde stepped a hair closer to the desk. "Baron von Rechberg’s keep sits but a few leagues from our outer trenches. If we let this theft go unpunished, the nearby lords will think our forges are ripe for the taking."

She leaned forward slightly, "I say we strike them down at once... we can turn Rechberg’s keep to rubble before the sun sets. A terrible show of our cannons will forever stay the hands of thieves."

Konrad looked up, locking his eyes onto the master of spies. "You preferred to display fleeting anger over the lasting safety of these lands..."

"Firing the great guns brings a swift doom from all sides," Konrad lectured, "Baron von Rechberg is sworn to the Swabian League. If we march upon his lands without cause, the League’s oaths of brotherhood are awakened.

The Duke of Bavaria, who now holds the northern roads for us, would be bound by law to break our pact lest he anger the Emperor..."

"Furthermore, hauling the great guns spends the strength of our beasts and eats our stores of grain. We would empty our granaries merely to batter down a rotting, worthless stone keep.

By the time the main holy army marches from Augsburg, our men would be starving, our powder spent, and our Bavarian flank laid bare..."

"I see the error, Lord Konrad." Isolde yielded, "How then shall we win back our silver without waking the Swabian League?"

"Baron von Rechberg’s lands live by the old, weak ways of the plow, he relies entirely upon hoarding the winter wheat to feed his peasants and men-at-arms through the cold months... his strength is bound to three great grain storehouses beside his mill." Konrad explained.

He sealed the ciphered writ and slid the parchment across the desk toward Isolde. "You shall send word to your whisperers within Rechberg’s lands at once, your men shall set the torch to all three grain storehouses, you shall burn his entire winter harvest to ash."

"..." Isolde took the parchment.

"When the winter wheat is gone, the hunger will be absolute," Konrad calculated, "His peasants will rise up against his keep to tear the last scraps of bread from his hands."

"The burning shall be done within two days, Lord Konrad!" Isolde confirmed, hiding the writ within her gown.

Isolde gave a curtsy and left the room.

***

Two days later, within the borders of Baron von Rechberg’s lands.

In the moonless hours of the Swabian night, the old lord’s stores were laid waste.

Lady Isolde’s whisperers used heavy purses to buy the eyes of a starving sentry, slipping past the walls of Baron von Rechberg’s great grain houses unseen. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

The spies brought with them new fire-pots, mixed from the brimstone and strange powders drawn from Konrad von Frundsberg’s forges.

Within a short span, the whole of the Baron’s winter wheat was turned to ash.

The spies melted away into the night, leaving no mark or blade to tie the ruin to the von Frundsberg house.

By the morrow, the Rechberg lands were falling into ruin.

Baron von Rechberg sat at the head of his table.

"...not only is our winter wheat turned to ash, but the Swabian ’Schwarze Reiter’ struck our wagons in the dead of night... they butchered our guards with their wheellocks and took back every ounce of their stolen steel and silver. We have no food, no coin, and the peasants will be starving within a fortnight." the master of stores reported.

The Baron’s captain, an old veteran clad in chainmail, slammed his fist against the wood. "We must strike back!"

The council broke into loud bickering. Reason cried for them to yield, but their noble blood demanded vengeance.

In the end, Baron von Rechberg, lacking the silver to buy grain, turned to the only weapon he had left: bloody force.

"The word is given," the Baron decreed, "Send the chosen men tonight... they shall slip past the von Frundsberg guards and set the torch to the great furnaces."