The Bell Tolls for Me

"…given all of the information brought to light, and the testimony that indicates that Archbishop Pius may have substantial funds secreted away for an escape, I believe that the request to allow some holy paladins to accompany him to ensure that he does not attempt to flee or otherwise hinder judgment is more than warranted," Duke Brett declared.

Gaspar felt like his feet, which had been flying above the ground for so long, had finally managed to land on something solid. He already had two very trusted men present today, and he signaled to them as he walked up to where Archbishop Pius sat.

Pius stared into Gaspar's eyes. Gaspar didn't look triumphant, just… relieved.

"No more, Pius," Gaspar said.

Pius said nothing. Soon enough, the two holy paladins chosen stood just beside him. Gaspar trusted these men would watch Pius' every move, and they knew to look keenly for any secret messages that he might attempt to get past them. He trusted them enough to tell them of his son, and he knew they wouldn't fail him.

***

"That man is really the knight-commander?" Veronica asked. "If you want to get the most advantage, we should be out there right now, speaking to the clergyman and trying to find his son before he does."

Isabella looked at Valerio's mother. "Is that what you would be doing?"

"It's the most pragmatic thing," Veronica said.

"I disagree." she shook her head. "And even if it was, I don't want to set that sort of precedent. Why would I punish loyalty and trust?"

Veronica said nothing more. She raised the teacup to her lips, expression indiscernible. Isabella thought she noticed the faintest of smiles, but it might've been merely a trick of the mind.

"And what if Gaspar can't sway them alone?" Veronica asked.

"He can," Isabella said certainly.

"How do you know?"

"Because I do," she maintained, refusing to elaborate.

Isabella knew that Gaspar was every bit the eloquent statesman that Pius was, yet without even a tenth of the corruption. If anyone could rally together the fractured church, it was him.

***

"We need to act. The winds of change are here—they cannot be resisted, nor fought against, nor turned back. The winds of change are inevitable, gentlemen, but change is an entirely neutral thing. Do we want that change to be positive, or negative?" Gaspar looked between those assembled. "We still have the luxury of choice. The longer that Pius insists on standing up in the middle of this storm, the more that luxury withers away."

A heavy silence settled over the chamber, thick as incense and twice as stifling. No one moved. A few cardinals sat rigid, their hands folded over decadent rings that suddenly felt too heavy.

"The crowd does not call for justice. They call for blood," the cardinal declared, looking between several of his fellows. "If we shield him now, we don't protect the church—we bury it beneath the weight of his sins. For too long, the people have seen the smoke of his feasts while their children starve. To preserve what holiness remains, we must cast out the disease. Better to sacrifice one man than let the people lose their faith."

"I agree," one cardinal spoke boldly. "If we don't give the people this reckoning, they'll take it for themselves—and they won't stop at him."

"I propose that we form a coalition," Gaspar proposed. "It's what we must do to ensure that the rot is purged from our church before it is too late. To ensure that this incident doesn't damage the authority of the church irreparably. And… to be sure the interests of the faith are represented sufficiently to King Claude."

Gaspar phrased this in ways that these men would understand… and it worked rather well. Pius had been his teacher, and there were few that knew the structure of his empire better than Gaspar.

***

"The fact is, my father is on his way out." Cesare said, resting an ankle on his other leg's knee. "I wanted to let you know that this doesn't need to be the end of our arrangement. I think I've amply proven that anything that you want me to do, I can do. My father's fall from power… is immaterial."

"I agree. The sins of the father are not the sins of the son. You're very talented at making use of the resources that I provide, and thus, I intend on making good use of you." Albert gave a curt nod. "If it's just that, we don't have anything more to discuss."

Cesare leaned in. "The fact is, I think that we can profit greatly from my father's downfall. I can handle being the center of attention, and there's a great deal of wealth that he's accrued over the years. Wealth… just ripe for the taking."

"Will this be a laborious endeavor?" Albert inquired. "I need to prepare everything that I have for an upcoming slugging match."

"As a matter of fact, I think that it'll be of great benefit to you." Cesare smiled boldly. "You can think of it as helping me claim the inheritance my father intends to leave for me. And given the dire straits that he's in, he's in no position to defend himself."

Albert contemplated that quietly. "And you have no issues working against your father?"

"Not a one," Cesare said decisively.

***

Archbishop Pius sat in the chair at his desk, staring at the grandfather clock in the corner of the room. It was as if he was making a deliberate effort to ignore the Holy Paladins standing just behind him. It ticked ever onward, second by second, just as the sun went behind the mountains and the moon rose to take its place. His face had lost much of the vigor it had not weeks before.

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The door opened, and an attendant walked in. Pius turned his head expectantly.

"Where is Cesare?" Pius asked. "Did you forget my—" He cut himself off looking at the somber expression of his attendant.

"He refused to come, father. He claimed that he had other pressing business to attend to."

The archbishop turned his head back to the grandfather clock, staring at it as it ticked down. "Reach out to the cardinals," he commanded. "My nephews, my cousins, all of them. Tell them that this is the most urgent matter."

The attendant bowed his head and then walked away. The archbishop only stared at the clock, his face a mask of solemnity. Seconds became minutes, minutes became an hour, and soon enough… the attendant returned.

Alone.

Pius didn't even need to hear the reports from his attendant to know what he was going to say next. "Reach out to… reach out to all our allies in the royal court. Anyone, everyone."

The attendant left again, leaving Pius to stare at that grandfather clock once more. Day had transitioned to night long ago, yet still he waited, barely even stirring when replacement paladins came to watch over him. It was long past midnight when the attendant returned… and again, he was alone.

Pius said nothing, and nor did the attendant. He stood up and walked over to that kicking clock. He grabbed its hands and broke them off, almost resignedly. There was a knock at the door, and the attendant, perhaps out of reflex, turned around to open it up. Gaspar stood there. He looked just as tired as the archbishop did, but for different reasons.

The archbishop glanced at him and then looked back to the broken clock. Gaspar walked up in the silence that followed. He stared at him, saying nothing. He didn't need to ask his question for the intent to be conveyed.

***

Isabella walked through the wide-open space of the auction house. She looked around, drinking the atmosphere in. The auction house stood just shy of completion, yet already exuded opulence. Dark walnut paneling lined the high walls, interrupted only by tall, arched windows draped in crimson velvet. She studied the gallery boxes above. There, select nobles would soon lounge, drinking wine until they bid to unwise prices.

Isabella looked around once more. "How do you think this place looks?"

"Impressive, overdone, and just self-important enough to make you feel poor the moment you walk in," he remarked. "I'd wager the velvet cost more than my first love. All in all, it's perfect—gaudy enough to impress, but not so tasteful that it scares away the fools with money."

Isabella looked at Randolph perplexedly. "You're very well-spoken."

"You're among the first of my employers to appreciate that fact," Randolph said. "Knowing classic literature doesn't endear you to men who can't spell their own names. I've had more than one bunkmate try to brain me for 'talking like a lord.' They think I'm mocking them."

"You probably were," Isabella remarked.

"Probably," he agreed. "But only because they made it so bloody easy. In fairness, I also mock myself twice as often… and with better vocabulary. I mock out of habit, not intention. It comes to me like breathing."

The double doors to this grand auction chamber swung open, and the knight-commander walked through alone. He cast a glance at Randolph, then walked to Isabella.

"The coalition is assembled. When the questioning begins, we'll be ready to…" he looked over to Randolph, hesitant to divulge more.

Randolph shook his head. "It's the same each time—big talk starts, eyes shift toward me, and suddenly I'm being asked to 'check the perimeter.'" He said mockingly, then turned and walked away. Isabella heard him mutter distantly, "I should start charging by the secret I'm not allowed to hear. Be a bloody lord by now…"

"Your guard is insolent," Gaspar remarked. "I could arrange a holy paladin to follow you."

"No thank you. Continue," Isabella said, gesturing toward him.

"When the questioning begins, Pius' world will crumble around him, and I will become the face of the theocratic coalition." Gaspar studied her face. "And… my son."

"You've found him?"

Gaspar smiled and sighed. "The archbishop agreed to disclose his location in exchange for my word I would not press for an execution." A silence followed. "I agreed. He fulfilled his end of the arrangement, and…" the satisfaction in Gaspar's face told of the result.

Isabella was still somewhat uneasy. She didn't wish to condemn him outright, but she did ask, "Do you think that allowing Pius to live is a prudent thing?"

"I gave him my word," Gaspar said simply.

"And do you believe that he would keep his?" Isabella pressed.

"He did."

"Because your boot was on his neck," she argued. "The archbishop is a foul man, who has done incredibly foul things, and—"

"I believe I'm the last person that you need to lecture about the archbishop's behavior," Gaspar interrupted. "I hope to rise above his level of treachery, not sink to the same depths. Making an exception here is the beginning of that downfall."

Isabella said nothing. Ordinarily, she wouldn't be especially zealous in demanding someone's head, but the archbishop was dangerous person who had a web of intrigue sprawling the kingdom, even diminished as he was. He had blackmail on many, and even if he couldn't use it now, he might be exploited by another later. Left alive, he could still do great damage.

Still, this was the choice that Isabella had made. She was glad to see Gaspar take a moral stand. It signified that he was not the callously pragmatic schemer that she had once known. It demonstrated that she might even be able to rely and trust upon him in the future.

"Very well." Isabella looked up at him. "It appears you're now a father."

"It's a very frightening thing," Gaspar laughed sheepishly. "Stewardship of a life. And with no mother to look after him…" His eyes lingered on her strangely, then he turned his gaze and closed his eyes. "I've no idea where she is. Pius 'sent her away,' years ago, whatever that means."

"Given what she agreed to do at Pius' behest—entrap a child, barely a teenager—perhaps little Gaspar will be better off. Though… I shouldn't presume to give you guidance." Isabella trailed off, uncertain of how to proceed with this subject.

"I want him away from all of this—this city isn't safe," Gaspar said with conviction. "Even a man that tries to be good—Claude—wreaks havoc in his wake. But these are my burdens to bear, now. And I am ever glad to bear them, after all these years." He sighed, nodding, and when silence extended between them he looked around. "What is this place? Why meet here?"

"Most of the prominent nobles throughout the kingdom are in attendance at this royal diet," Isabella said. "I believe that it would be a fine time to open the doors of this auction house, welcoming in a very discerning clientele…"

Isabella smiled as all of the pieces fit into place. Gaspar would take the limelight, casting Pius down. She'd gain a very powerful, friendly person in power. The auction house would open under amazing conditions, and the church would experience upheaval—upheaval that ended in her favor, hopefully.

It seemed that she had weathered her first major storm. Were there more to come?