Many things in the world amused her in such a way she did not laugh. These varied from those who would be hypocritical in their sin, to watching young boys play soldier with sticks as her carriage trundled along rural roads.

Construction was another such thing. For every question she could conceivably ask about it, an expert’s answer always began, “Well, it depends.” However, no one saw fit to narrow down these possibilities.

Of course, that had a lot to do with how few people, if any, matched her ambitions when it came to building. Her father had left many notes on construction, but they were more architectural than practical. Not that his designs were not practical, just that they focused on solving different kinds of practical matters, such as resisting or facilitating bombardment.

A wisdom she had distilled from the legacy both her parents had left her was the importance of measurements. However abstract such a measure was, it was necessary to have it such that it may be used in designs. A well-crafted design, then, allowed a greater application of an idea.

Her father had performed the initial measures on bombards which laid the groundwork for her current position. He had measured the metals with which to make them, the shape to make them to, how large the wheels should be. Not only that, but he had measured the shot they used and the gunpowder too. It was those measurements which allowed him to seek out an alternative gunpowder and compare the two.

At present, her grandest design was a brick. It was a rather well-measured brick. She knew where the clay and sand came from and in what proportions they were mixed, including the lesser additions; she knew what size the mixture was then shaped to; she knew how it was fired in the kiln. From there, she knew how much weight it could support before fracturing.

This was all the result of her gaining control over the brickmakers guild. Already, she had seen to it that an expansive set of kilns was to be built in a location near to the relevant quarries and mines, with the first kiln then producing the bricks for the subsequent kilns.

From there, she intended to train the brickmakers and refine the process by having them make bricks to replace the southern road out of Augstadt. It seemed a most suitable material. If not, the bricks could always be broken down and used as gravel, another layer put on top. Of course, she hoped the brick road to be as resilient to the weather as when used for walls. At present, harsh rain posed quite the problem, slowing down trade with the south. Winter already caused enough trouble on that front.

Once these new brickmakers were trained and firmly in her employ, the true projects could begin. Augstadt had little room to grow at present. Although she could interfere, it was not yet time.

Farther south, though, Grosburg had long shrunk under its last lord. She had made certain offers and old agreements were ended for the offer of coin and alternative employment. While producing food locally was cheap, she preferred to use the land to make such money that foreign food could be imported.

First came bricks, then buildings, then money for more bricks. More importantly, these would be under her governance—one way or another.

She thought of this matter while reading over her correspondence with Viscount Erbeg. It was nothing grand, merely asking him some questions about his reforms to the minting laws. His reply was nothing grand either, mostly that the quirks and oddities were political compromises, nothing deeper. She hoped to nurture this simple start, that he may well have wisdom to share on matters of banking.

The relationship between construction and finance need not be stated.

A knock on the door rang out. “Lord Bavaria is here.”

She folded the letter and slid it into a drawer for now. “Please, enter.”

The door opened with a creak and her butler bowed, inviting the guest in first. “Lady Augstadt,” the marquess said.

“Do take a seat,” she said, gesturing at the chair on the other side of the desk.

He walked over and eased himself down. He looked much better these days, albeit the weight of war had left its mark. A few grey streaks coloured his hair and his posture lacked the attentiveness it had upon their first meeting.

How long ago that now felt, she thought.

Of course, part of his tiredness surely came from the ordeal through which he had just been subjected to. “What news is there from the Diet?” she asked.

Although an assembly of rulers in the Empire, she could not attend. On the first count, as a woman, the assembly ostensibly followed religious doctrine and so did not permit women to speak while in session. On the second, she was a subject to the King’s heir, not the King.

If it was only one, her attendance likely would not have drawn objection. However, as it was, she knew better than to force the issue. Besides, she felt like her lack of attendance worked in her favour this time.

“The King did announce the Crown Prince’s betrothal to the Swiss Princess,” he said.

Her lips curled. “Having my prediction confirmed does not feel as good as one would think,” she whispered.

He gave a gentle smile, then cleared his throat and continued. “The matter also became as complicated as My Lady predicted. Indeed, the King did try to brush away my objection by calling it a private matter. After being pressed, he implied your betrothal to the Crown Prince was a personal favour to your father, so it does seem that he is not aware your father informed you of the… dowry.”

“I see. That is useful to know,” she said quietly, speaking more to herself.

“Of your proposals, of course he was dismissive of elevating your title to duchess or honorary princess.”

She gave a single laugh, hand over her mouth. “Of course.”

“While he entertained the suggestion of granting minting rights, the members objected.”

“Of course,” she said, smiling.

He chuckled and then let out a sigh. “At this point, he made another attempt to discuss this matter privately. Truly, though, I am most curious why it is that the King would betroth his heir to a count’s daughter,” he said, his gaze falling, only to rise back up to meet hers. “Not that I would ask My Lady to indulge me—this is certainly an affair that the King should have handled privately.”

“Indeed, it is,” she said.

“Well, upon being reminded of that, he was willing to entertain the discussion further. He himself offered either a cessation of taxes or exemption from levies. In truth, I considered that My Lady would be eager to end any obligations to the Crown Prince….”

At his pause, she gave another small laugh. “I would not have been upset with My Lord if he did accept such an offer. However, I am to understand My Lord did not?”

He shook his head. “I believe My Lady would not request something unless it is something which she desires, so I felt obliged to at least see if it would be granted.”

She did not lean forward in her seat, nor did she eagerly ask him, instead waiting patiently for a few seconds before then speaking in her usual, unhurried voice. “Did he accept?”

After keeping a straight face for a second, he broke into a small smile. “He did. My Lady is to be given trading rights with foreign countries.”

Her face gave away nothing and all she said was, “My thanks.”

“No thanks are necessary. Indeed, My Lady was correct to say that even these little matters of tyranny are in all subjects’ interest,” he said with a smile that then faded. “However, with this matter concluded, debts have been paid.”

A smile touched her lips. “I see, so all I have done for My Lord is worth a few words,” she whispered.

“Are we not friends? I think it is fair to say that if I needed help, My Lady would assist, as I would assist My Lady if assistance was needed. There is no need to keep track of who owes what,” he said.

She felt the distance in those words. Indeed, he was more like his old self now the crisis had cleared. “My thanks for making the matter clear.”

After a second of silence, he sighed. “The Diet also featured a report from Duke Bohemia.”

She showed nothing on her face, which was enough to make him chuckle.

“My Lady once again found herself involved in such matters,” he said, watching her.

She reached to the side for a cup and took a sip of warm tea. “My Lord is well aware I offered assistance against the foreign threat,” she said.

“Of course. However, I was not aware how… potent My Lady’s assistance was,” he said.

She gave a small wave. “I did not even personally participate, so to call it my assistance is misleading. Does My Lord remember my knight Sir Ludwig? He is the one who commanded the bombard crews, having taken a keen interest after the siege.”

“Is that so?” he asked, tapping his fingers together.

She swept her gaze across him, then reached down to a drawer. From inside, she took out a single page, her gaze now skimming through it.

“King Sigismund took a more brazen approach than even I entertained. While he was certainly aware of the thin garrisons in Bohemia, to outright march past the border fortresses? He certainly thought little of the Duke—no doubt due to his dispute with My Lord,” she said, then returned the page to the drawer.

He chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “So the Duke said in his report.”

“I cannot fault King Sigismund, though. As I see it, he planned to shock Prague into a quick surrender, which would have otherwise proven the most difficult obstacle in his occupation of the duchy. For this, he brought his best troops, leaving the others to rally on the border and begin the sieges.”

“My Lady certainly seems to have an insight into King Sigismund,” he said.

She met his gaze and gave a slight smile. “Perhaps because I have been reading histories of antiquity, I see similarities therein to how he wages war. He values the psychological aspect of warfare and an important part of that is to be both disciplined and quick. Rather than attack where he is expected, he would attack where he sees weakness, like a wolf who grabs his opponent by the throat.”

As he listened, his hands clenched tightly. “Indeed, he is the complete opposite of me,” he said, his voice thin. “It is no wonder My Lady would admire him.”

At that, she laughed. It was not a small laugh either, lasting a good while and leaving behind a smile to linger on her lips once she lowered her hand. “My Lord, tell me: between you and him, who is the one that achieved their goals?”

A second passed, then his hands relaxed. “My Lady has a way with words.”

“As a lady, words are my weapons,” she replied.

He gave a single laugh.

“Now, where was I? Ah yes. King Sigismund certainly made an incredible move. Even if Prague did not fall so easily, he would have diverted reinforcements from assisting the border forts, so it would only be a matter of time before they fell and allowed his full force to gather inside the duchy as he so wished.”

She paused there; seeing that he had no intention to comment, she then continued.

“One piece of advice I did give the Duke was that King Sigismund would not expect my bombards. Indeed, he did not. With them, the Duke was able to harass the Poles, constantly forcing them to take up defensive positions. Combined with a spell of rainy weather, King Sigismund had to give up on his march and go back to the border to join the rest of his army. As if that delay wasn’t costly enough for his plans, my bombards were able to suppress his bombards and so bolster the defences until the King’s army could arrive.

“With the situation in a prolonged stalemate, I should expect a peace shall be drawn up by the year’s end.”

Silence followed, a blustery wind whistling through the windows, distant footsteps and chatter. He showed her nothing on his face, which told her everything.

“It seems that bombards are indeed rather useful on the battlefield.” A simple statement, yet she knew how accusatory it was.

“Indeed they are. However, what they do is mercilessly kill. I have enough of our brethren’s blood on my hands,” she said, her voice growing quiet, then she took a deep breath in and continued in her normal voice. “Besides, if not for my assistance, does My Lord think the Duke would have been so amenable to peace?”

He chuckled, but it sounded oh so empty. “My Lady would take credit for even that?”

A moment passed and, by the end of it, her eyes had narrowed and mouth thinned. “How grand it must be to be My Lord, who may swoop in here and take credit for speaking a few words to the King, while I must be mocked for murdering your enemies and safely housing your family. That when war befell my fellow German, I walked into his home knowing he may well cut me down, and still I further risked his ire to urge for peace with his brother.”

Her tone grew colder with every word and yet she never raised her voice.

“I think My Lady misunderstood—” he said, looking away.

“No, I think My Lord should stand by his convictions. If you wish to be my enemy, then so be it; however, know that, if you ever wish to kill me, you must not hesitate or I shall tear down you and everything you hold dear.”

His face flashed with anger before he composed himself. Standing up, he said, “My Lady is being too emotional.”

“Then it is a good thing I am a woman, for when men are emotional they tend to kill each other and those around them in acts of senseless violence. Instead, I would only speak frankly,” she said.

He paused at her words, then continued to the door.

“Once you leave, I will consider this conversation forgotten; however, the same will not be true next time,” she said. “I know my own worth, and I know yours. Do not visit again if you will not show me respect.”

Again, he stopped to listen and then continued on.

After he left the room, her butler closed the door and led the guest out, leaving her in silence. Her expression returned to neutral with a touch of a smile—as was natural for a woman.

From a drawer, she took out the letter from the viscount. Although confident he had never interacted with her father in any matter of significance, she found them cut from the same cloth, a kind of comfort in the viscount’s steady, methodical writing. Indeed, she saw in him that, like her father, he was not content to accept the world as it was, and he was practical in how he wished to change it—for there was no greater folly than ambition.

Her lips curled. “So he went for the Swiss princess,” she muttered.

Of course, she knew he would: she had been present the last few times the two had met.

“But it is us women who are too emotional.”

If not for how the weight of the world pressed down upon her, she would have laughed.

Lost in her thoughts, the door soon again opened and her butler entered, dragging her focus back to the world. With a lopsided smile, she asked, “Tell me, Mr Cromer, would our guest have treated me in such a way if I had been born male?”

Her butler sighed, deflating as he did. “He would not, My Lady,” he said.

“It is how it is. After all, it is because I am not male that I may sit here now,” she said, ending in a chuckle.

In reply, her butler only lowered his head.

It had been a quiet year for her. Little by little, plans were coming together. Seeds now planted, soon to sprout, yet it would take years before they truly fruited. However, it could not be rushed.

“Without a solid foundation, any building shall succumb to the elements,” she whispered, tapping the table beside the letter.

She had measured the brick such that it might be used in her designs. Soon, she would measure literacy such that she may make use of literate commoners in her designs. Power was not simply something to be seized. It, too, could be built, nurtured, and honed.

Of course, that didn’t mean she was above seizing power when the time was right.

With another chuckle, she folded the letter, then took out a fresh page. At the least, her guest had indeed been correct that she did not ask lightly for trading rights.

It would be a busy winter for her couriers.