Swiss Arms

Swiss Arms

Chapter 27

-VB-

Arnold of Davos

They won. Again.

Arnold … couldn't come to grasp the fact that wherever Hans went, victory seemed to follow him.

The Battle of Vaz.

The Battle of Fluela.

And now, the Battle of Maienfeld, where the Compact's militia, numbering some eight hundred men, ambushed and defeated a force of one thousand. Though they lost fifty fighters, they killed eight hundred of theirs in turn.

Although he knew very little about the Battle of Vaz, he's been there at Fluela and here in Maienfeld and heard enough from the volunteers who went to Zernez. Despite knowing what he did, Arnold couldn't figure out what he was supposed to see. How did Hans know to ambush? How did Hans know to use the forest in Zernez as cover? How did Hans achieve his monstrous strength?

All of it are questions that Arnold had no answer for, even after spending half a year apprenticing as a blacksmith and "man-at-arms" under Hans.

What spending time with Hans did, however, was save his life in the latest battle.

Arnold's grip on his spear shook as he stood side by side with his fellow militia. He didn't know some of them, but he did know Daniel who was from Davos as well.

"CHARGE!" Hans roared, and Arnold screamed as he burst out of the tall grass with his spear thrusting forward. He caught an old man with the tip of his spear and saw him collapse. That old man's comrades saw him, but they went down to spears held by his "squadmates."

And then arrows came down when the enemies turned to face them, and struck them on their backs.

Split between two deadly sides, Arnold -.

"Wow!" he hissed as he ducked under an honest-to-God

knight's horizontal strike. The knight, in full chainmail, came right back around and tried to strike him.

Arnold let go of his spear, pulled out his dagger, and jumped into the knight's defense. The knight, shocked by his action, tried to backpedal, but Arnold struck out first by hooking the knight's ankle with his feet and pushing his chest. The longsword flew away as the knight slipped and fell, and Arnold was on top of him. He didn't bring his dagger up high. Instead, he struck fast and furiously into one of the slits on the helmet and held the knight's arms down with his feet as he screamed.

When it was done, he quickly got back up, panting from exertion and excitement. He grabbed his spear again and went back to killing.

If he hadn't been trained by Hans to dodge and move quickly, then he would have been killed by that knight's first strike. Living through Hans's torture training had shown its benefits…

And Arnold found himself a little horrified as he realized that he would gladly go through it again… and subject others to it as well. After all, if they all sweated a little in peace, then they would bleed less in wars like now. Because Daniel, one of his squadmates who came from the same village as him? He was dead.

Arnold shuddered a little as he remembered finding Daniel's bisected head.

"Arnold, what are you doing?"

He paused and looked over his shoulder.

A young woman around his age stood some ten feet behind him. Her light brown hair fell down and around her shoulders, and her heart-shaped face held a curious stare that seemed to want to find out every little detail of his action in the field right there.

As the eldest daughter of the Maienfeld chief, Beatrice busied herself with many activities of the village, and one of the latest activities she involved herself in was inspecting the mood of the village in between her own work on weaving and fixing leather and stuffed cloth armors.

"Ah. I'm just… practicing."

Indeed, he's been practicing the entire afternoon already. Oddly enough, he didn't quite feel as tired as he should, but that was fine with him.

"Hmm," she hummed while giving him a once over.

"What? Is there something on me?" he asked as he looked over himself.

"No. I was just curious. Have a good afternoon," she smiled and waved at him before walking away.

Shrugging, Arnold went back to practicing.

Later that night, Arnold found himself in a meeting with Maienfeld chief along with his father and Beatrice.

"So what is this about, father?" he asked.

The Maienfeld chief cleared his throat. "I believe I can answer that," he spoke up. "Arnold, how would you rate yourself?"

A little confused, he answered honestly. "A normal m- boy." He couldn't call himself a man yet; he was only seventeen as of last month.

"I do not agree with you."

He blinked. "Pardon?"

"Arnold," father spoke up. "You have been working all day."

"Yes? So? Hans works twice as much as I do in half of the time."

Everyone else in the room snorted, though Beatrice giggled. That sounded … nice. "Hans is a great man," father replied to his answer. "I do not compare you to him nor does anyone else. In fact, I would consider any comparison between Hans and anyone to be outrageous because he is not a normal man."

"I see…" Arnold replied. He wanted to refute his father's words because he wanted to affirm that anyone could become like Hans, but he understood. One of the wise words he learned from Hans was that a wise man listens not just hears the words of their family and neighbor. Father must have his reason for saying that the comparison was outrageous, even if Arnold didn't agree. "Still, I view myself as a normal boy."

"On that, I will have to agree…" father began. "With the chief here."

Arnold blinked. "Father?"

"You must not be aware, Arnold, but you moved like lightning out there in the battlefield. You took down a knight by yourself before your own squadmates had time to react to his appearance."

He chuckled weakly. "I just did what Hans taught me," he replied while looking away and down in embarrassment.

"And that's one of the reasons why you will most likely become the next chief of Davos."

Arnold froze and then looked up. "F-Father?!"

"Of all of my children, you are the one most suited for it. You listen to others -" Because Hans taught him to do so! "- work hard -" Otherwise, he would've died! "- and train yourself. In fact, I would not be surprised if you were to show up to a town with the armor of the knight you killed and declare that you were a hedge knight. I would have believed you."

He stared at his father with a gaping mouth.

"You are not as fast, strong, tough, or nimble as Hans," he continued. "But you are the most remarkable young man our valley has produced in generations. And the chief here agrees. He has seen your actions, character, and attitude. And he has something to offer."

Woodenly, he turned to the chief, who looked at him firmly and seriously.

"I am glad."

Glad about what?

"That you aren't married yet."

Oh.

Wait.

He glanced at Beatrice, who was smiling softly. Slowly, he felt the pieces of the puzzle click into place in his mind.

"You want to offer me your daughter's hand in marriage."

The chief nodded. "Because I have seen for myself that you are a honest and good young man. My daughter will be happy to be your wife, if you accept."

Arnold felt like this was moving too fast. Maybe he would get Beatrice to say something?

"What about you, Beatrice?" he asked her, causing his father and the chief to look at him in surprise. "What do you think about this? How do you feel?"

Beatrice looked at him directly in the eyes.

He waited for her to reject. He was just a young boy, after all, and she was older than him.

"I would be happy to be your wife."

Oh.

His own face grew hot and red.

Oh.

"Normally, I would be the one to accept on your behalf," father began. "But you are wise enough that you can choose for yourself."

-VB-

Hans of Fluela

I blinked as Arnold relayed to me what happened last night.

"So you're getting married!" I laughed. "Congratulations, mate!"

Arnold laughed with pink-dusted cheeks. "It all happened so quickly… I even tried to give Beatrice a way out."

"That might actually be what got her to accept it, you know?"

He looked at me in confusion. "I don't understand…?"

"You know that not a lot of men consider women to be their equal?" I asked him. The two of us sat next to each other by the river.

"Yes…?"

"But you treated her right by asking what she wanted and felt about it. You indirectly told her that you care about her feelings and wants. Told her through your action that she was your equal, for now. And that, Arnold, will make a lot of women happy in this world where they are considered lesser."

He continued to stare at me for a bit before chuckling. "I guess so."

"Besides, is there anything to dislike about this Beatrice?"

He shook his head. "No. She's smart. Maybe smarter than me. We talked a little bit on the side while our fathers talked. And … I guess I do like her."

I nodded. "That's good. Try to also find a common ground. Like hobbies, ideas, or whatever. It'll make your relationship even better."

Arnold raised an eyebrow. "You talk as if you had one."

I paused before chuckling. "I guess I do sound a little pretentious about something I don't have." In this life.

"It's okay. I'm sure there's a woman out there for you. I mean my sister-"

"Is extremely happy with her gem cutting and nothing else. She does a good job of it."

"She does."

I stood up. "Well, if our talk is done, then I have to go meet with the rest of the mayors and chiefs on what we are going to do. It's only been three days since the battle, and our enemies are sure to move, soon. You remember what I told you about our enemies, yes?"

"Yes."

"Got any ideas?"

"... What if we just took out one of them? Told the rest of stay away?"

I sighed. "I think that's unlikely to work," I replied. "We saw at least five banners. Even if we took out one of the nobles, there's still four, including the bishop, to take care of."

"Alright. I guess I'll see you later?"

I waved at him as I walked away from the river and back to Maienfeld. On my walk there, I saw bodies still getting buried, though we had less than a hundred left to bury today and that would be the end of it.

We had, of course, looted the bodies. As a result, we now had quality armors, mostly brigandines with a few chainmails, and weapons. Partly due to how medieval loot division happened, I received one hundred sets of armor and weapons as my share of the loot, which was more than a seventh of the total loot. Instead of hoarding all of it for myself, I gifted each of the participating villages with ten sets of armor and weapons, but I chose the people who received them based on how well they had done from my observation of the battle.

This still left me with thirty sets of armor and weapons, so I just asked Maienfeld to store them until the war came to an end and I could pick them up later.

I still couldn't believe how well we did, though. We ambushed and killed more than two-thirds of the enemy while taking less than a tenth of their casualties ourselves. This didn't mean that we didn't have casualties. Fifty-three of our people died, and over a third of the deaths had come from Maienfeld.

There were still grieving parents and widows crying out there. They had been some of the people that received my gifts, especially the widows.

I finally reached the village center, crossed it, and entered the village hall.

Basically, the Maienfeld chief's slightly bigger than average house.

Six representatives looked up to see me enter, and waited silently for me to take my seat.

"So," I began. "Our course of action? I'm sure the six of you have talked among yourselves."

There were a few nods.

"A peddler passed by yesterday while you were helping with the burials."

"Oh?"

"He spoke of the Bishop of Chur being attacked by the Count of Sargans, and heard a rumor about the Count of Werdenberg pulling his troops out of Toggenburg's lands."

My eyes widened. A fracture in the alliance!

"And Sax-Misox? Tyrol?"

"We don't know, but if the bishop getting attacked by his own allies says anything…"

"The alliance is more or less gone," I grinned. "This is our chance. We have to strike at Toggenburg."

And from the equally grinning faces minus one concerned face, they agreed with me.

"But before we strike at him, we must secure our flank," I spoke up suddenly, getting surprised faces from my fellows.

"From whom?"

"The Count of Werdenberg, because he holds the valleys that we must travel through to reach Toggenburg."

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