Swiss Arms

Swiss Arms

Chapter 11

-VB-

The Rise of Four Leagues

Doctor Brigette Hassentokten, University of Freiburg

The Battle of Fluela Pass marks a historical shift away from the power of the nobility to the power of the common people in the Central European Highlands, especially more so in the lands that would in the future become Switzerland and the Four Leagues. The battle, which took place in Fluela Pass in the heart of the Four Leagues, broke out when Count Rudolf of Zernez attempted to take advantage of the Unruly Year that had swept over the Grisons canton region. While there are no records of his or his house's goal in marching an army through the Fluela Pass, all other would-be conquerors wanted to claim a piece of the region that had previously been under the nominal protection of the Prince-Bishop of Chur.

The battle, if it could really be called it that, supposedly had two sides: five hundred sixty men, well-armed and armored, under the command of the count and maybe three hundred minimally trained and armed village militias who had fled to Fort Fluela, then a relatively unknown and illegally constructed wooden fort blocking the whole width of the valley, to escape another plundering lord's army encroaching upon the Landwasser valley from the southwest. Though protected behind a wall, this battle should have ended with the disciplined and trained army of the count overwhelming the defenders into either surrendering or fleeing. This did not happen.

What happened instead is now a part of the Swiss identity: to fight back even when their backs were up against the walls. The founder and owner of the fort, a man known to us now as Hans of Fluela (the same man who is the father of modern gemstone faceting, genetics, and two dozen other fields), rallied the evacuees and managed to defend and even kill the attacking count. Worse, Fluela Fort inflicted a forty percent casualty rate against the count's small army, the majority of which weren't the mercenaries he had hired but his own men-at-arms and levy. This resulted in Zernez becoming unstable as they too suffered from foreign invasions, including the invaders previously focused on plundering a less rich Landwasser valley.

This would become a crucial period for Fluela, because Hans and his people now had time to rebuild, fortify the entire valley, and more importantly, train.

The professor would like to point out that there are very few documents from this period, mostly because of the aforementioned Unruly Year. Most of the known data were those written down decades if not centuries after the event and inconsistencies may be present.

-VB-

Fluela, 1300 AD

As the battle died down, I sat down and allowed myself to calm down.

This battle hadn't taken long as my first battle had been, and I managed to score a very good kill. No one but a noble could wear decorated armor like this commander did if they weren't noble. I also killed all of his personal guards.

So.

That's what a more "adventurous" combat felt like. Up close. Seeing people's faces dying without a mob to drown them out. The fears and desperation etched into their faces.

… It's not going to be easy sleeping. This had been far more personal than the battlefield. It wasn't the meat-grinding maelstrom of the battlefield. These had been executions, one after another. Especially the last one. I could have let that man go, but he also saw me do things that weren't totally human. The villagers who were with me weren't going to report it to someone; how could they, in the first place, when they were only peasants? Unlike them, the last man-at-arms I'd killed had been a skilled and connected man. It was in the way he led his men and tried in vain to keep his liege alive.

He was just unlucky enough to be important enough for people to listen to him, however, limited, and had run into me.

This was different from the battlefield under the baron. On a battlefield, senses become impaired. Everything becomes muddy, blurry, and sometimes even indistinguishable. I had some of those moments when I was fighting; those moments came when I was exhausted, broke my flow of fighting, and led me to make mistakes that could've cost me my life. Here? Those men saw me do shit without any other way to dismiss it.

God, I hated having to think about this at all.

I stood up and stretched as roughly three dozen people left the safety of the fort and began … to loot the bodies.

Right, that's a thing in medieval Europe. Because of how expensive armor and weapons were compared to a peasant's annual income (if they had monetary income), looting a battlefield might even let a peasant become a knight simply by the virtue of possessing arms.

I wondered if any of the Travaos villagers had knightly aspirations. There certainly were enough young men, some of whom helped to defend my fort.

To my surprise, half a dozen people ignored the battle loot and walked straight towards me. I noticed immediately that it was Kraft, his three children, and two others I was unfamiliar with.

I waved, and Kraft waved back hesitantly. Was it the blood and the corpse around me? I looked around. This was actually better than the mess I made over at Vaz.

"So it's another battle won, Kraft," I started off casually. "At this rate, I might have mercenary companies looking to come to pick me up!" I laughed boisterously. Instead of easing them with a joke, I got four very skittish and hesitant people. I sighed and gestured for them to approach and speak. "Alright, what's the deal? Shouldn't you all be happy that we drove them off?" I paused. "How many people died?" I asked.

"Twenty."

I nearly stumbled. Only twenty?! This wasn't a bloody battle or even a slaughter! This was a miracle! We faced an army of over five hundred with our maybe one hundred, and what, we lost less than a third of our total strength?

"T-This is … I guess moderately good news!" I cheered as I stood up.

Again, the hesitant looks returned.

"... what's wrong?" I asked.

"A-A few of the enemy archers managed to shoot fire arrows over the walls and … one of them struck the small barn."

I had no need for a barn. What these people called the barn was our food storage.

"... Shit."

Winter was coming to these Alps.

And we may have just lost half of our food.

"A-And you killed a count."

I turned towards the two others with who I was not familiar.

"And you two are…?" I asked.

Both of them took their helmets off, and I recognized one of them. "Wait, aren't, or weren't you, one of the baron's men-at-arms?" I asked with surprise.

"I was, but the baron died and in the rout that happened, I and others fled to survive. The enemy we faced, Sax-Misox, had his men kill everyone."

I grunted in distaste. Medieval battles weren't supposed to be fought to the death like that. What was happening up there?

"So you're one of the refugees, huh?"

"I am, yes, sir."

"Don't say sir, I'm not a knight or a noble," I replied casually. "Okay, so, you told me that I killed a count. I'm surprised you can tell, but so what if I killed him?"

"H-His house will surely seek revenge for his death. He's the Count of Waldenburg!"

I glared at the corpse. "Just because he's a noble, we're supposed to let him go? Ransom him? When he and his ilk tried to murder and pillage your people and lands?" I pointed my axe at the headless count.

"B-But they could bring about a bigger army!"

Ah, this guy was a coward. Note to self: never give him any important duty if he sticks around.

"I know. That's why I am going to ask three dozen of us to come with me." I took a deep breath in. "And take the fight to Zernez directly."

"I will go with you," Kraft spoke up as he thumped the butt of his spear on the ground. "You won us the battle at de Curwalde. You ended the enemy knights and noble here. I have faith that you will lead us to victory wherever you go."

I looked at him and grinned. It was … it was awesome having someone who believed in me.

"Kraft."

He looked up and saw Hans staring at him intensely.

"Yes?"

"I want you to gather me thirty men. Twenty if you can't."

"... Sure."

Thirty men plus I would be nowhere near good enough to take an actual fort or castle, which I suspected this count's seat had. However, I was taking a gamble. A count, no matter how rich, could not have more than a thousand men in these valleys. There simply weren't enough people like the rich farmlands of Wien or Paris. It was very possible - it was even likely! - that this count - of Waldenburg? Zernez? - might not even have a hundred men garrisoning their seat of power. If I was right about that, then twenty men were more than enough for me to go and kick these nobles in the balls.

Also to steal their food, because the villagers didn't have enough food and we weren't sure if the looters and pillagers burning Albula and upper Landwasser valley would loot more.

I might just get through this winter with minimal problems!

Also…

"You know, those are fine steel you have there, Mr. noble," I said to myself as I began stripping him and all of the men-at-arms/knights who died defending their commander. I'll leave their clothes on.

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