The door of Konrad’s study swung open. He knew those dragging footsteps belonged to Uncle Lothar, who strode into the room.

"Konrad," Lothar announced, planting his hands on the edge of the desk. "Put away your endless scribbling. "

Konrad wiped his quill and leaned back. "If we do not secure a steady supply of high-grade coal before the month ends, the estate will lack the fuel to survive the winter, let alone produce trade goods."

Lothar waved a hand, "Coal is a matter for the servants. I am speaking of politics. Of alliances. You are eighteen, Konrad. Your health has miraculously returned, and you are the reigning Lord. It is well past time you took a wife to secure our borders."

Konrad tapped his fingers against the desk. Within the borders of the Holy Roman Empire, a noble marriage was never about romance. It was a binding treaty... a trading of swords, lands, and influence.

"Who is the proposed match?" Konrad asked flatly.

Lothar’s eye twitched, but he pushed forward with a smug smile. "Lady Mathilda. The youngest daughter of Baron von Waldburg. He is a prominent commander within the Swabian League. If you marry her, her father’s veteran Landsknecht mercenaries will act as our shield against the peasant mobs."

Konrad stared at his uncle.

The Swabian League was an aggressive alliance of wealthy princes and free cities. They did not form equal pacts with bankrupt, minor estates.

"That is not a marriage~" Konrad said. "Baron von Waldburg does not want a sickly son-in-law. He wants our stronghold along the river valley. The moment I marry his daughter, his commanders will garrison our keep. Our guards will be replaced. And more importantly, any... unique tools and forges we build will instantly become the property of the Swabian League."

Lothar’s face flushed red. "We have no such tools! We have mud and starving sheep! This is the only way to save our lives!"

"My judgment stands." Konrad replied, picking up his quill to resume his work. "I will not surrender my lands to a foreign lord."

Lothar stood there for a long moment. Instead of arguing further, a glint flashed in the older man’s eyes. Without another word, he spun on his heel and marched out of the study, slamming the door behind him.

Konrad had immediate work to do. He gathered his charcoal drawings and walked down the path toward the village smithy.

He needed to check on Master Dieter’s progress with the water-powered trip hammer. His plan to forge the intricate wheel-lock mechanisms relied entirely on that machine.

However, when Konrad arrived at the village forge, he was met with a surprising sight.

Dieter and Klaus, the cynical miller, were standing outside the forge, coordinating a line of two dozen local serfs.

The peasants were pushing wooden handcarts filled with high-quality charcoal, river stones, and scrap iron salvaged from ruined farming implements.

"Lord Konrad!" Dieter called out, wiping the soot from his forehead as he noticed the young noble.

"The foundation for the new blast furnace is dug. And as you can see, the materials are arriving faster than I can process them."

"I see a vast increase in the stones and iron brought to us," Konrad noted, examining a cart full of dense charcoal. "Explain the sudden change."

Klaus the miller chuckled, "It is your silver Batzen, my Lord. The moment Franz the shepherd showed the village he was paid in pure silver for sheep fat, the entire valley went mad. We haven’t seen honest currency in a decade. The serfs are scouring the hills for the limestone and iron ore you requested."

Konrad nodded, satisfied.

"Keep paying them," Konrad ordered Dieter. "I will require the first working frame for grinding the wheel-lock springs by next Tuesday. Do not fail me."

Leaving the commoners to their work, Konrad returned to the castle.

As he stepped through the iron portcullis, his younger sister Elise collided with him.

"Konrad!" Elise gasped, "Uncle Lothar has been celebrating in the main hall for an hour. He ordered the servants to tap the last barrel of Munich beer. He says our salvation is secured!"

Konrad glanced over Elise’s shoulder and spotted Hansel, his uncle’s page, lurking in the shadows near the armory doors, watching them intently.

Instead of showing panic, Konrad patted his sister’s shoulder. "Return to your sewing, Elise. There is nothing to fear."

He spoke loudly enough for the spy to hear, offering a false comfort. In truth, his mind raced. Lothar had done something incredibly foolish!

The reality of his uncle’s actions was revealed two hours later at the evening meal.

Sir Ulrich, the arrogant local knight, was picking at his coarse pea-bread with clear disgust. Father Thomas sat silently, nursing his watered wine.

Konrad sat at the head of the table

Uncle Lothar stood up, raising his tankard of beer with a malicious grin.

"To the future of our noble house!" Lothar announced, "I am proud to announce that the treaty is signed! Our beloved Lord Konrad is officially betrothed to Lady Mathilda of the Swabian League!"

Elise dropped her wooden spoon. Sir Ulrich’s jaw dropped in shock.

Konrad simply stared at his uncle, instantly recognizing the treacherous tool Lothar had used.

"You used my late father’s signet ring," Konrad stated. "The ring you claimed was lost in Italy."

"I am the family patriarch, boy!" Lothar laughed, "Your signature is not required when the elder of the house uses the official seal to secure a military alliance. The courier has already departed. Baron von Waldburg is sending an honor guard of fifty veteran halberdiers to our gates next week to enforce the betrothal and garrison our walls!"

Sir Ulrich leaped to his feet, "Fifty of Waldburg’s men? You idiot! Waldburg is a tyrant! He strips minor knights of their land titles to pay his mercenaries! You haven’t bought us an alliance, Lothar; you have invited a conqueror into our home!"

Lothar sneered at the knight. "I have secured my own position as the estate’s steward! Waldburg promised me the southern grazing lands as a reward for arranging the match!"

The entire table erupted into chaos. Ulrich was screaming about treason, Elise was crying, and Father Thomas was praying for peace.

Amidst the screaming and the panic, Konrad calmly picked up his knife and cut another piece of bitter bread.

He chewed it and washed it down with a sip of water.

"Uncle," Konrad said quietly, "You have committed treason to steal a sheep pasture. You have invited fifty heavily armed enemy soldiers to my gates. You expect me to rage. You expect me to yield."

Konrad placed his knife down on the table.

"I will do neither." Konrad stated, standing up.

"They are veteran Landsknechts, Konrad. You have a dozen guards with rusted pikes!"

"I have no intention of fighting them with pikes," Konrad replied, "Enjoy your beer, Uncle~"

Without another word, Konrad walked out of the hall.