Re: Blood and Iron

Chapter 658: The Order of Saint Notburgam

Snow still clung to the peaks above Innsbruck, but within the vaulted hall of the Frauenstift, warmth radiated from more than just the braziers.

Golden light spilled across marble floors, reflecting off icons of Saint Notburgam patroness of Tyrol’s poor and peasantry, whose carved likeness looked down upon the gathering of noblewomen.

This was no frivolous salon.

This was the convocation of the Order of Saint Notburga, the sister to Bruno’s martial brotherhood, and its Grand Mistress, Heidi von Zehntner, presided with quiet authority.

Her gown was simple for a princess, pale gules silk without excessive jewels, but a silver lily brooch gleamed at her breast, the badge of her Order.

At her side sat her daughters, Eva and Elsa, poised like swans; and Sophie von Hohenburg, married into the Zehntner line, with the grace of a woman born to crown and tragedy.

Representatives from every great house allied to Tyrol were present: Archduchesses of Habsburg, Romanov grand duchesses draped in sable, princesses of Savoy glittering in Italian lace, even a Hohenzollern princess who had quietly taken vows of service.

The air hummed with purpose.

Heidi lifted her hand, and the chatter fell away.

“Ladies,” she said softly, but the hall carried her voice. “Our brothers fight with steel. But if we forget the weak, the sick, the hungry, then what is there to fight for?”

The response was not applause, but nods of assent.

These were not the perfumed dames of Paris or London, content to gossip over salons.

These women commanded wealth, land, networks of schools and hospitals.

Under Heidi’s hand, their Order had become the quiet twin to Bruno’s iron machine: a net of charity woven across borders, binding peoples to Tyrol through gratitude rather than fear.

On the table lay ledgers and dossiers:

A children’s hospital in Bolzano, funded jointly by the Houses of Zehntner and Habsburg.

A bread program for Vienna’s tenements, quietly organized by Savoyan capital.

Scholarships for Tyrolean girls in nursing and teaching, signed personally by Heidi.

Relief shipments prepared for famine-stricken pockets of Russia, facilitated through the Romanovs.

It was empire by another name. Not carved by sword, but built by food, education, and mercy.

“Saint Notburga fed the poor with her bread,” Heidi reminded them.

“So must we. Every loaf delivered in Tyrol’s name, every bed laid with clean sheets, every orphan taught to read, this is our battlefield. This is our victory.”

Eva leaned forward, whispering to her mother with a spark of boldness: “And what of those who say we meddle in politics?”

Heidi smiled faintly. “Then let them. They do not see the difference between charity and power. But we do. Let them underestimate us.”

Sophie von Hohenburg, her voice gentle but firm, added:

“A mother’s hand can shape what a father’s sword cannot. Between us, we build not only Tyrol’s strength, but its soul.”

There was no cheering. No pomp.

Only the quiet sound of pens scratching across parchment as noblewomen committed their names and fortunes to another year’s worth of projects.

From the balcony above, the bells of Innsbruck Cathedral rang out.

The Order of Saint Notburga adjourned not with a toast, but with prayer and purpose.

And outside, in villages across Tyrol, women and children would never know that their bread, their doctors, their schoolbooks had come from the hands of princesses.

Eva broke the silence first, leaning against the carved arm of her mother’s chair.

“Father would never endure such patience,” she said with a sly grin.

“If this had been his gathering, there would be rifles on the tables and drills in the courtyard by now.”

Anna laughed, but Elsa only tilted her head.

“Yet all the knights defer to him as though he were one of them,”

Elsa said softly. “Even here, in the Order of Saint Michael, he is their star.”

Heidi’s hand stilled upon her lap. Her gaze lingered on the fire, thoughtful, before she turned to her daughters.

“You misunderstand,” she said gently. “Your father is not a knight of the Order. Nor is he its Grand Master. He is its sovereign, nothing more. He would never take for himself what he has not earned.”

Erika leaned forward, her brow furrowed in earnestness.

“But surely, Mama, if anyone deserves such an honor, it would be him. He’s sacrificed more than all the others combined.”

Heidi smiled faintly, but her voice was steady.

“He was insistent. Honors are to be bestowed, not claimed. Every medal your father wears was given by the Kaiser himself, or earned in battle. Never by his own decree. He told me once: ’The sovereign must never be tempted to crown himself.’”

Eva frowned, drumming her fingers against the table.

“And yet he crowns everyone else. Soldiers, engineers, men of industry. Why should he deny himself what he freely gives?”

“Because,” Heidi replied, “if he placed himself among them, he would cease to be their sovereign. He would only be another knight in their hall. Your father knows too well the burden of example. He will never allow himself to blur that line.”

Elsa, quiet until now, spoke with calm conviction.

“That is why they follow him. Because he does not ask of others what he would not demand of himself.”

The fire crackled, and Erika spoke again, softer this time, but with conviction.

“Then maybe that’s our duty, Mother. To remind the world that behind the medals, behind the lion, there is still a man. And that even the strongest sovereign needs his house to stand firm.”

Heidi looked upon her youngest with quiet pride. She was no longer a girl, but a woman of her own mind, sharp, compassionate, and unafraid to claim her part in the family’s legacy.

“You are right,” she murmured.

“You all are. Each of you will carry a piece of him into what you do. Your father may be the lion of Tyrol. But the lion does not stand without the pride behind him.”

Heidi then looked off into the distance where the old hunting lodge that was used as the annual meeting spot for the Order of Saint Michael.

She couldn’t help but smirk thinking how miserable her husband was at this moment.

Because she knew when he came home from his duties, she would be waiting there with exactly what he needed to become comfortable once more.