The Bishopric of Augsburg was a bloated realm... It lived solely by wringing the last drops of grain from the Swabian peasants and peddling the Pope’s pardons to keep its fat lords in velvet.

Ruling this rotting house was Bishop Heinrich, a lord of the Church whose power was bleeding away by the hour.

Bishop Heinrich sat at the head of a great table within his palace, flanked by a ring of old Swabian lords and high priests.

Scattered across the wood were dozens of printed pages.

The words were plain German, laying bare the Bishop’s greed, his pacts with the smugglers, and his plot to steal the von Frundsberg forges by fire and sword.

"This is not the work of a single scribe, the Fugger wagons have flooded the whole of the Swabian Circle with these lies. The peasants already hold back their tithes, crying these words as their shield." Bishop Heinrich stated.

The doors of the council chamber opened, and Inquisitor-General von Heusen was led into the room.

Von Heusen fell to his knees before the Bishop’s table.

"The laws of the Church hold no sway in that valley, Your Grace, Lord Konrad did not argue holy writ. He brought forth a company of men-at-arms, bearing new, true-firing dags. He ordered the three envoys slain in his own hall." von Heusen reported.

Gasp...

A collective gasp echoed through the chamber.

Lord Eberhard, a proud baron whose heavy horse had newly been made useless by Konrad’s bursting shot, slammed his armored fist against the table.

"This is open rebellion against God and Emperor!" Eberhard roared, "The von Frundsberg boy makes war on the very pillars of the earth. We must raise the Swabian League at once.

I demand the word to march three thousand lances into that valley and burn his water-wheels to ash!"

"Your plan is madness... Lord Eberhard," interrupted Captain Klement.

He was a scarred captain of the sell-swords hired by the Bishop.

Tap... tap... Captain Klement leaned forward, tapping a finger against one of Konrad’s printed pages.

"Our spies tell that the von Frundsberg lands move as one. They set four-and-twenty great guns upon their walls.

A blind charge into a fortified valley against such fire will see nineteen of every twenty men dead before your lances even reach their trenches."

"They are but peasants!" Eberhard argued, "They will break the moment they see the banners of the Holy Church!"

"They are not peasants, they are paid men," von Heusen corrected from the floor.

He looked straight at the Bishop. "Lord Konrad bade me bear a clear word regarding his rule. He spoke plainly that his right to rule comes not from God, nor from the Pope. He holds our holy wrath as nothing."

Bishop Heinrich stood up, "We shall not waste Fugger silver on a doomed siege, I shall send word to the Emperor’s Diet in Nuremberg and the Pope’s Envoy. Konrad von Frundsberg is hereby cast out of the Church.

Furthermore, I shall lay a Papal Interdict upon the whole of the von Frundsberg lands."

Captain Klement frowned, "An Interdict merely locks the church doors, Your Grace."

"Under an Interdict, no man may wed, no dying soul may receive the last rites, and every man, woman, and child in that valley is doomed to the fires of Hell. Konrad needs those men to work. When they see their silver wages buy them eternal damnation, their loyalty will break." Bishop Heinrich corrected.

The old lords nodded. They drew up the writs, fully trusting they had laid the snare that would pull down the von Frundsberg house from within.

Two days later, the writ of Excommunication and the decree of the Papal Interdict were nailed to the great gates of the von Frundsberg keep by a priest, who fled at once to escape the gunners.

Inside the lord’s room.

Lady Isolde stood by the desk. As the master of his spies, she had already read the Bishop’s decree.

"The Bishop of Augsburg has decreed an end to all holy rites within our lands, Lord Konrad, the writ names you a heretic and commands all men to cease their work at the forges upon pain of eternal damnation." Isolde reported.

Konrad set his charcoal down and looked at Isolde. "Tell me the measure of the men’s obedience."

"The men hold fast, my Lord," Isolde confirmed, "The spreading of your German holy books has forged a new chain for their minds. Moreover, the master of stores paid out the weekly silver exactly three hours after the Interdict was nailed to the gates."

Konrad nodded, "When a man must choose between a priest promising damnation, and a lord giving him meat and bread, the belly rules the soul."

"...the old lords lack the coin to raise a siege," Isolde added, "Our whisperers tell that the Swabian sell-sword captains, having read your printed warnings, have refused the Bishop’s coin..."

"Hmm, it seems the Church’s war is collapsing because of its empty pockets." Konrad said.

"We shall use this lull to sharpen our blades," Konrad ordered, pulling a fresh parchment from a drawer. "The wheellock dags serve well for the footmen, but the swift riders need more fire."

"...I am drawing plans for a dag with twin barrels, to double the hail of lead from the Reiters."

Isolde gave a sharp curtsy, bowing to his command. "I shall bid the master smiths set aside the finest steel to forge the first pieces."

"See that the tally of arms is raised by five in every hundred," Konrad stated.

...

After a few hours in the central hall at Von Frundsberg.

Lady Katarina of Bavaria stood stiffly. Her work as a go-between for Bavarian silver was near its end.

Her men were set at the northern borders, but the silver was safe. She was soon to return to Munich.

Blocking her path to the master’s hall was Lady Isolde.

"The Bavarian men are in place, Lady Isolde," Katarina said, "The work is done. Why do you still stand in the master’s hall? Your kin, the Duke, has withdrawn his hand from the old lords’ plot.."

"My place here is not ordered by the Duke’s empty plots," Isolde answered, "My work within this house is lasting. I am the master of the web of spies."

Katarina’s hands balled into fists. "You are a discarded thing!" Katarina hissed.

"I carry the heir to the mightiest host in the Holy Roman Empire," Isolde said, her voice dropping to a low tone. "I secure the future of this realm. You are but a fleeting visitor who needs soft words. When you return to Munich, tell your father that the von Frundsberg house needs Bavarian silver, but it has no need of a Bavarian bride."

"You are a plague!!" Katarina breathed.

"Your grief is a waste of spirit," Isolde said. "Go and settle your travel. The guard needs the hall for the moving of the powder."