Chapter 215: Agricultural Blueprints?

After hearing such words, Konrad stared at Lothar for a long moment.

He looked at the black smoke slowly seeping out from under the door of the archives.

Then, wholly out of nowhere, Konrad threw his head back and laughed.

"The agricultural blueprints?" Konrad repeated, shaking his head. "He stabbed me in the shoulder and set my palace on fire... for some cursed farming advice?"

Though the idea of an enemy spy successfully infiltrating his royal keep made his pride burn with anger, the reality of what had just been stolen was hilarious to him.

"B-but Konrad..." Lothar cried out, confused by his friend’s reaction.

"The winter fertilizers are basically magic to them. But compared to the weapons? Compared to the Pattern-3 rifles, the mortars, and the steam engines? It is worth nothing," Konrad chuckled, wincing slightly as the laughter pulled at the fresh wound on his shoulder.

However, Lothar did not seem to share his King’s relief. "But if they can mine subterranean coal, they will eventually try to build a blast furnace... They will try to copy our steel."

Konrad sighed. "You and I both know that it is not just a single blueprint, it is a sweeping, complicated ladder."

Even so, the fact remained that an assassin had walked right into the heart of Augsburg. Konrad’s smile slowly faded into a hard scowl.

The blueprints themselves were useless to the enemy without the proper industry, but the insult to Swabia was unacceptable.

Just then, a young servant girl wearing a simple wool dress came walking quickly down the stairs, carrying a fresh tray of silver cups for the feast.

When she turned the corner and saw the black smoke billowing from the archive door, and her King leaning against the wall covered in blood, she let out a piercing, frightened scream.

The silver tray hit the floor, sending cups rolling across the stones.

Konrad sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose to fight off a sudden headache.

He pointed a finger at the trembling girl. "You... Stop screaming and run to the Great Hall. Tell General Richter to get his rear up here right now! Go!"

The girl did not even say a word. She spun around so fast she nearly tripped over her own dress, sprinting back down the stairs toward the sounds of the celebration.

Before Lothar could apologize, the thudding of heavy leather boots echoed loudly up the stone staircase.

General Richter burst into the hallway, right behind him was Felix, the red-haired marksman, his rifle resting against his shoulder.

When Richter saw the blood on his King’s chest, all the color entirely drained from his stern face.

"King Konrad..!" Richter gasped, falling to one knee right there in the hallway. "By the Maker... I have wholly failed you. To let an assassin get this close to the royal family... I will resign my post immediately and offer you my head."

"Oh, get up, Richter, before I kick you," Konrad groaned, rolling his eyes as he held his bloody coat to his own shoulder. "I do not want your head. I want you to figure out how a rat slipped through your outer walls."

Felix stepped forward, his bright green eyes sweeping the shadowy hallway and the melted lock on the archive door.

"He did not go to the docks, King Konrad," Felix reported. "My men locked down the entire southern port. We searched every river boat and cargo barge... There was no one suspicious."

"Of course he did not go to the docks," Konrad gritted his teeth. "The thieves in the square were a distraction to pull you away from the palace. He probably had a fast horse waiting just outside the northern postern gate."

Richter stood up, his face tight with shame. "Did he take the weapons, my King? Did the enemy steal our rifles?"

"No," Lothar spoke up quietly. "I managed to hide the weapon designs. The spy only escaped with the agricultural plans and the subterranean coal mining maps. It is a grand loss of knowledge, but... they do not have the guns."

Richter let out a sigh of relief. "Thank the Maker. Farming secrets we can survive. If they had taken the formula for Swabian powder, I would have marched my entire Home Guard into the river out of disgrace."

"Do not relax just yet, General," Konrad warned, leaning his back against the stone wall. "Sultan Suleiman signed a peace pact with me five months ago, begging for my mortars to fight his eastern rivals. And now, while I am throwing a grand feast for my vassals, he hires a Spanish mercenary to steal my secrets so I would not suspect him. He wants to smile in my face while holding a dagger behind his back."

"That is the Ottoman way, my King," Felix said. "They trade in shadows and quiet whispers. Should I take a squad of Jaegers and hunt him down? If he took the long northern road, we might still catch him before he crosses the border."

Konrad shook his head slowly, wincing again. "No. Let him run back to Istanbul with his stolen farming tricks."

"But we cannot let this insult go unanswered," Richter argued. "If they want a war of shadows, we should send our own assassins to the Sultan’s palace."

"We will do no such thing," Konrad commanded. "When we respond to this betrayal, we will do it with iron and fire."

Lothar adjusted his glasses, looking at the pooling blood on the stones. "...You need a physician, Konrad. That wound is profound, and the blade might have been poisoned."

"It is just a scratch," Konrad muttered, though his pale face betrayed him. He pushed himself off the wall, standing tall despite the pain.

He leaned on Richter’s arm. "Where are my wife and children?"

Richter’s eyes widened as he drew his steel revolver.

"They were in the eastern wing," Richter said. "Hold the King... I will go find the Queen and the princes."

"Do not fear, Konrad," Lothar urged, trying to sound certain. "She must surely be down in the Great Hall with the other visiting royals. The guards are protecting them."