Swiss Arms

Swiss Arms

Chapter 158

-VB-

Hans von Fluelaberg

December 1309

Despite the fact that winter had fully set into the Alps, my town and its people carried on as if it was no different than summer or fall. Artisans still worked at their workshops, porters carried foodstuff, goods, and waste in and out of the city, town guards patrolled the walls and the streets, and rangers… ranged got to train with me.

"Oh shit!!!" a ranger yelled as I grabbed him by the shoulder and waist before yeeting him over the heads of his comrades. The one behind him immediately charged at me with a wooden sword and heater shield, and I countered with my own sword strike. I held myself back, of course. I didn't want to ruin any of my rangers, and we were simply training for a close quarter indoor combat.

And it was clear to me that I needed to do this more often, especially if my rangers might get called in for future urban operations, asset protection, and other stuff like that.

Because when I struck down at the second ranger, his first instinct was to dodge. But he was in a corridor and couldn't dodge. He nearly ran into the wall before belatedly bringing his shield up. Again, because the corridor was so narrow, he couldn't even properly tilt the shield so let my strike glide past him. Instead, he took my low powered strike head on.

He buckled under the attack and grimaced.

And I kicked him, lightly, in the chest.

He gasped as he tumbled backward, and to my approval, his comrades caught him and brought him back up while another one of their members stepped forward. Unlike the first and second rangers, this one had a shortsword and a buckler.

"Better choice of weapons!" I growled with a smiling grin as I stepped back. I brought my sword up in a high vom tag stance and then struck down when the buckler ranger didn't come in.

Instead of jumping out of the way right off the bat, this guy waited until the very last second to tilt his body out of the way as fast as he could and tried to jab me in the neck with his wooden shortsword.

I returned his effort … by copying his moves.

His eyes widened when I tilted my head and neck just at the last half-second, and then followed that with a mid-swing trajectory change.

His eyes widened as they snapped towards my sword. Too late. The flat of my wooden practice sword slammed into his side and sent him crashing into the wall.

"Come on, is this the best my rangers can do?!" I asked with a roar.

Then I stopped.

Because behind the fourth ranger who'd walked up with a tower shield were three rangers with crossbows.

I clicked my tongue.

"Good! Bring crossbows into situations like this! They can't stop you from shooting or reloading when they're busy fighting off someone else!"

I spun as I swung my sword when they fired. I parried one bolt but the other two struck me. I, of course, held back on my speed and flexibility. I was, after all, simulating what they would encounter in normal tight corridor assaults.

Then I saw three more crossbows.

"... Fair enough."

And then I got pelted by round tipped bolts.

---

Later that day after lunch, I was working again.

"Any leaks?" I asked as I sat around in a circle with the people I was calling "proto-engineers." They were the people who best took to numbers, designs, and engineering and incorporated what they learned from my books into whatever it was that they were doing previously.

Instead of being in Fluelaberg, we were in Davos right now for one reason.

Hot spring.

Davos was the only place in my immediate territory that had hot springs. The other places within the Compact with hot springs were Chur, Disentis, and St. Gallen. However, they were too far away for what I had in mind.

And what did I have in mind?

Hot water during winter. Instead of burning wood to heat up water, I wanted to see if it was possible for me to pump hot water from a hot spring directly. Of course, to do this, I needed a lot of piping as well as a method to pump water.

As for the piping, I had a bunch of copper lying around. Like close to a hundred metric tons worth of the stuff, and if I needed more, then I would spend a few days underground to mine more of it as well as purchase them from nearby mines like the ones owned by my ally, Duke Henry of Tyrol.

And today, we were installing the first of the pipes to see if our way of setting, fitting, binding, and laying these pipes would work.

"No leaks so far on section 1, milord," the youngest of the "engineers," a boy no more than sixteen years old, spoke up with a slight stutter that he was able to hide.

"None in second 2, lord," the oldest of the engineers, a monk actually, replied to my question with calm dignity befitting his age.

"We found no leaks in section 3, count," Chief Kraft responded. The old man had a surprising affinity for numbers, and I hadn't known about it, because, well, I haven't been paying attention to Davos much.

I nodded. "Thank you," I said. "We'll let the pipes continue to run for the next month or so to see if a leak does pop up under stress and see how long the pump can work in dry, wet, and snowy conditions. Dismissed."

The engineers all stood up, bowed, and left.

It was only then that Isabella walked into the room.

Dressed in a thick coat lined with fluffy brown fur, she was the definition of overdressed. Or maybe she wasn't underdressed. After all, she came from Italy where it was all Mediterranean weather all around. But up here in the Alps, it was snowing and snowing hard. Merely traveling to Davos during this snowy day had been hard on her, but she had insisted that she followed me.

"So?"

"Hot water without burning wood," she hummed. "I certainly do like the idea. At the very least, we'll be able to keep more firewood for other things, then."

I hummed in agreement.

Of course, I wouldn't be able to give everyone in Davos and Fluelaberg warm rooms in each house and building. I lacked both the expertise and the raw materials to do that. On top of that, a lot of the districts in Fluelaberg were made haphazardly; I really should have put more attention to how the refugees built their new homes.

So the minimum I wanted to achieve with this project was to either heat up critical infrastructure like the new hospital I was building or heat up the new glass houses. Once I have that built, then I might look into expanding the heating system to other places.

"Isn't this a lot of money to be investing?" Isabella asked as she came around and sat down next to me.

"I think it'll be worth it," I answered honestly. "Even if it fails, the engineers and I will learn from this experience for future projects."

She hummed.

"... So it's possible then that we might have heated floors for winter?"

"In the future, yes."

For our castle, I had a different heating system in mind.

I managed to remember from the dregs of my old memories an idea that originated from the Far East.

The gudole heating system. Or, as it was known more commonly in modernity, the ondol.

The common method of keeping homes heated around these parts was with a regular fireplace and masonry built around it. The masonry acted as both a funnel for heat to escape as well as a thermal mass. They would absorb the heat and release it slowly into the room once the fire went out. While the fire was burning, the bricks would absorb the heat.

The idea was, in essence, no different than what I had done with my cauldron terraces.

And people have been doing it for centuries.

What I intended to do was redo the entire castle flooring with an ondol system. Instead of a fireplace in each room or one fireplace heating up multiple rooms, there would be one central vent system specifically for heating. It would underneath the floor (and all of the floor will have to be made out of stone). This vent system will be connected to a central furnace which will burn whatever fuel was on hand. It would heat up the air above it, which would then travel into the vent system. And because the vent system will be made to contain as much surface area as possible, it will take a long time for the heated air to leave the vent system. As they traveled, the heated air would heat up the stones all around the vent system, and those stones would be the floor of any room. Of course, with only one furnace, floors above a certain point would experience less and less heat, so I would have to install subsystems with their own smaller furnaces at higher floors to reheat the air.

"You're thinking about something again, honey."

I blinked. "Ah, right. I was thinking about how I'll keep the castle warm."

"Aren't the current fireplaces sufficient?"

"Sufficient, yes. Good? Debateable."

She smiled softly. "Well, whatever new and amazing thing you make, I'm sure our children and I will enjoy it immensely. The servants, too."

I hummed.

-VB-

Priest Meram

December 1309

He was … blessed.

It was a wonderful thing to see the community that one served rise up to become so much more than they were before. It was a blessing from God himself for him to be allowed to see prosperity, a true noble who stood in the defense of his people, and peace all at the same time.

But he also knew that it couldn't last.

Rumors from merchants, soldiers, and rangers alike told him of preparation. Of subterfuge and sabotage. Of power struggles and politics beyond the valleys and hills he could see.

Fluelaberg and Davos would once again be at the center of a conflict, and he wondered if he could help in anyway.

… No, it was best for him to distance himself from war. Mourn the losses. Cherish the small victories. Comfort the lost. This was his job and calling as a priest of God Almighty just as Count Hans had been called to serve as a lord.

Today was the last day of 1309, and he intended to give the final message of the year before his flock.

He stood waiting before the podium as the second reading came to an end.

He raised his head up and looked around. The count, countess, and most of the town was here in the largest church in all of the Compact. Rather than being built in the valley, the count had this church carved out of the mountain earlier this year. Though there were some reliquaries, the Fluelaberg Cave Church was a humble - if very smooth, naturally shiny, and abnormally large - temple of God.

This church was a reflection of what Fuelaberg and its people were like. Sure, everyone appreciated wealth, but the flock of Fluelaberg were more grounded than others. Perhaps it was because there was a significant refugee population. Perhaps it was because the richest man in all of the Compact and probably the entire Swabian Duchy didn't show off his wealth. Whatever the case was, the people didn't indulge themselves in excess even though the "average" resident of the town received better pay than those doing the same job in Rome itself.

So the sermon wouldn't be about what the people of this town already did.

No.

He needed to wake them up to what they were vulnerable to.

Their wrath.

When outsiders come to try to steal the rightfully earned riches of the town, the people of Fluelaberg - the count included - will react violently. There will be wars, he knew that and will not deny it.

What he will speak against, however, was the wrath of having one's security threatened. Of shattered livelihoods. Of threats to one's children. Of vengeance and revenge that certainly existed but should not have a place in the hearts of those who consider themselves sons and daughters of God Almighty.

He will preach to the flock not about giving up the spear and sword but to not turn the tips of those spears and swords against those who have not wronged them. To not become the very thing that may seek to destroy them.

He hoped that his message would be a good one. A memorable one.

Because he sincerely prayed that when passion and rage spilled over in times of conflict and war, that at least a single man will be able to remember his words and spare the innocents.

"Let us pray."