Johann sat at the long oak table in the castle's solar, fingers idly tapping against the wood. A single candle flickered before him, barely pushing back the dim light of dawn creeping through the narrow window. Otto stood nearby, unrolling a fresh parchment detailing local trade reports. Outside, the courtyard stirred with life, the clatter of hooves, the distant bark of orders from the training yard.
It had been two since the bandit purges, and already, things were shifting.
The roads were safer. Merchants had begun moving more freely, and the first signs of improved trade were trickling in. He had ordered patrols, small groups of mounted men keeping watch at key routes.
More than one merchant had sent word of gratitude, though gratitude alone did not fill coffers.
Still, the land was waking up.
Johann leaned back in his chair. "What do the numbers say?"
Otto adjusted his spectacles. "More traders are passing through than before, but not enough to call it a true boom. A few foreign merchants have taken note, Italians, mostly. They favor stability, and you've provided that. If you keep this up, they might begin to invest in your lands rather than just pass through."
Johann nodded. Stability was the foundation. Thencamegrowth.
His eyes drifted to the window, past the courtyard, to the hills beyond. Two weeks. Two weeks since he had left a handful of desperate men to trouble Habsburg lands instead of his own.
Would they retaliate? Maybe. Maybe not. The Habsburgs were ambitious but stretched thin, their focus elsewhere. It was a calculated risk, and one he had time to prepare for.
His thoughts wandered further, past the present, into memories from before.
His mother.
He had thought of her more often lately.
Lady Adelheid von Kyburg had been the only warmth in his childhood, a woman of sharp wit and sharper instincts, always one step ahead of court politics. While his father saw Johann as another tool in the family's future, his mother had seen something else.
"I know your mind never rests," she had once said, cupping his cheek when he was no older than ten. "But power is a sword, Johann. Do not grip it too tightly, or it will cut you."
She had died too soon. A sickness in the night. He had held her hand as it grew cold.
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Habsburg Castle, Aargau
The great hall of Habsburg Castle was dimly lit, the thick stone walls keeping out the late winter chill. The banners of the House of Habsburg hung from the rafters, their red and white colors barely stirring in the still air. Count Rudolf von Habsburg sat at the long oak table, his fingers drumming against the wood, a slow and deliberate rhythm that echoed in the otherwise silent room.
Before him stood Hartmann von Lenzburg, one of his most trusted vassals, a grizzled man with sharp, calculating eyes.
"You're telling me that kyburg has sent his filth into my lands?" Rudolf's voice was calm, but beneath it was the quiet edge of irritation.
Hartmann gave a slow nod. "Bandits, my lord. We captured one alive near the border. He confessed under questioning."
Rudolf exhaled through his nose, his fingers tightening against the armrest. Johann. The young count of Kyburg.
And yet, this was not the action of a fool. It was calculated, an insult.
"He thinks himself clever," Rudolf murmured, more to himself than to Hartmann.
Hartmann's expression remained unreadable. "Perhaps he is testing your patience, my lord. To see if you will tolerate it."
Tolerate?
The very idea that a Kyburg, a lesser house, one that owed its rise in part to Habsburg support, would dare to dump their problems onto Habsburg land was infuriating. The Kyburgs were useful enough in past decades, but they were not equals. They were not rivals.
Rudolf leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "How many men?"
Hartmann shifted slightly. "Two groups, my lord. No more than thirty men total, scattered across the trade roads near ZurichandtheRhine. They've already struck two villages, though the damage was minor."
Thirty men. Not an army, not a real threat. But that was the point, wasn't it?
Johann hadn't declaredwar.
He had simply shifted his filth onto another man's plate.
A lesser ruler might have ignored it. A weaker one might have sent a formal complaint.
But Rudolf was not weak.
And Johann needed to be reminded of that.
Hartmann hesitated. "What are your orders, my lord?"
Rudolf's lips curled into a cold smile.
Gather a force. Fifty riders. No banners." He tapped his fingers against the table. "Find those bandits. Kill them. Burn whatever hovels they've crawled into."
Gather a force. Fifty riders. No banners." He tapped his fingers against the table.
"Find those bandits. Kill them. Burn whatever hovels they've crawled into."
Hartmann bowed. "And if we capture any?"
Rudolf considered for a moment. "Hang them at the border. Leave their corpses facingKyburglands."
Hartmann nodded, then turned to leave.
As the doors closed behind him, Rudolf leaned back in his chair, his gaze flickering to the large map stretched across the wall.
Kyburg was growing ambitious.
That would not be tolerated.