Johann rode at the front of the column, the chill of the mountain air biting at his exposed skin. He adjusted his thick cloak, glancing back at the men following him, fifteen mounted men-at-arms and twenty foot soldiers. A modest force, but enough to deal with bandits.
"This should've been handled long ago," Johann muttered.
Otto, riding beside him, glanced over. "Your father didn't see them as a threat."
Johann scoffed. "No, he saw them as an inconvenience. So long as they didn't disrupt noble lands, he let them pick at the traders."
His father's way had been one of patience, letting minor problems fester until they became someone else's responsibility. Johann had no patience.
These roads are my lifeline," Johann continued. "If merchants think it's unsafe, they'll avoid them. If they avoid them, my coin dries up. And if that happens…"
He didn't need to finish. Otto already knew the answer. A count without wealth was a count without power.
"Reports say twenty of them," Otto said. "Mostly brigands, a few deserters. No horses."
Johann nodded. That meant they couldn't run far, and their supplies were likely thin. Desperation made men reckless.
"They're holed up in an old watchtower north of the river," Otto continued. "A ruin. Only two ways in and out."
"A poor choice," Johann said. "It traps them."
"They may not know we're coming," Otto replied.
"They should," Johann said. "I want them to."
His goal wasn't just to kill bandits, it was to control them. Banditry didn't simply disappear. If he slaughtered one group, another would form months later. But if he made it clear that his land was dangerous for bandits while nudging them into a rival's territory, he solved two problems at once.
By sundown, they reached the valley. The ruined watchtower stood ahead, half its stone walls collapsed under ivy and time. A fire burned in the clearing, figures moving around it.
Johann raised a hand, and his men halted. He dismounted, passing his reins to a footman. His chainmail clinked softly as he adjusted his sword belt.
"Crossbows in position," he ordered. "If I give the word, kill them."
Then, alone, he stepped forward.
Boots crunched against frozen earth. The bandits stirred, hands moving toward weapons. A broad-shouldered man with a thick beard stepped forward, the firelight casting shadows across his scarred face.
"You're either bold or stupid," the man said.
Johann stopped a few paces away. "You know who I am."
The bandit's lip curled. "Kyburg brat."
Johann smiled thinly. "And you're the one robbing my roads."
The bandit leader spat into the dirt. "Go home, boy. You're not scaring anyone."
Johann ignored him, looking at the others. "Twenty men, no horses, few supplies. You're running low, aren't you? Maybe that's why you started attacking richer merchants instead of peasants. You're desperate."
The camp fell silent. Some of them shifted on their feet.
Johann met the leader's gaze. "You have two choices. You can fight and die. Or you can leave."
The man scoffed. "And go where?"
Johann tilted his head. "The Habsburg lands are a day's walk east. Plenty of roads there, plenty of merchants."
The bandit frowned. "You want us to leave just to become their problem?"
Johann smiled. "Yes."
The leader clenched his jaw. If he fought, he'd die. If he left, he'd live, but lose face. He glanced at his men. Some were already shifting away, looking uncertain.
Johann tossed a small pouch forward. It hit the dirt between them. "A few coins for the road. Don't let me find you here again."
The leader stared at it, then back at Johann. Silence stretched.
Then, with a low curse, the man turned. "We're leaving."
Some of the bandits followed immediately. Others hesitated, but one by one, they went.
A few stragglers stayed behind, gripping weapons. Johann exhaled, disappointed. "Kill them."
The crossbows twanged, and the last men fell. Otto stepped forward, looking at the bodies. "You could have killed them all."
Johann sheathed his sword. "Now they're Habsburg's problem."
Otto smirked. "You're playing a dangerous game."
Johann smiled. "So is ruling."
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Continuing their mission, they dismantled two more bandit camps with minimal resistance. The strategy of offering leniency in exchange for exile proved effective. By week's end, the roads were secure, and Johann's forces remained intact.
On their journey back to the castle, Otto rode closer, a thoughtful expression on his face.
"My lord," Otto said, lowering his voice. "Now that this business with the bandits is dealt with, we must return to other matters."
Johann glanced at him. "You mean the marriage prospects."
Otto nodded. "I've already made discreet inquiries, as you ordered. A few families have responded with interest. The Raron family, for one. Their influence in the Valais region could prove useful."
Johann exhaled through his nose. "And the others?"
"The Weissenburgs remain a possibility. They've lost some of their former power, but their lands in the Bernese Oberland could still be valuable."
Johann considered this. "Have you learned anything about the daughters themselves?"
"Not much yet, but I will gather more information," Otto assured him. "As soon as we return, I'll send further messengers. I suspect we'll have more detailed responses within a few weeks."
Johann gave a curt nod. "Good. I want to know their strengths, their temperaments. I won't be shackled to a fool, no matter how powerful her family is."
Otto smirked slightly. "Of course, my lord."
Their castle soon came into sight, its familiar stone walls rising against the landscape. Johann straightened in his saddle, already thinking ahead. The bandits had been dealt with, but his work was far from over. Securing trade, managing his lands, and now, arranging a marriage, all of it was part of the great game of power.