The Bell Tolls for Me

Isabella began her mornings as she often did. She soared the sky through the body of her familiar, viewing the capital city as she'd always wished to as a young girl. Every day, this was a heartening experience that calmed her heart and made her optimistic for the future ahead. It was a reminder that she could change the path that she walked on and hope for a brighter future in this life. But on this particular day…

Isabella perched on the sloped roof of a church, overlooking a priest as he gave his sermon to the people. She whipped her head to the side when she saw something dart forward, and was unaffected when she saw a bird flying nearby. She had grown accustomed to the presence of other birds by this point. What was unexpected, however, was for the bird to land right beside her. When her eyes adjusted, she recognized something very familiar.

"Isabella," the green woodpecker said, his voice somewhat urgent.

"Arthur?" Isabella squawked in surprise, and then looked around to be sure that no one had overheard them speaking.

The bird gave a nod, and then said in a quieter voice, "Not here. Follow."

Without further explanation, Arthur's familiar soared away through the air. Isabella tried to pursue, but Arthur was infinitely more adept at navigating with this avian body than she was. It took her some time to catch up. They went to one of the highest points of town, overlooking it all—the lighthouse.

"I want to ask you not to panic unduly. From what I've heard, this is going to be a very low-key affair," he began.

Isabella regarded his bird form cautiously. "Please skip the preamble," she said.

Arthur's bird gave an audible sigh. "My master wishes to have a personal conversation with you."

Isabella didn't quite know how to react to that. Of all the things that she's been expecting, an audience with the Archwizard was not one of them. That was considered a rare honor, generally, not something that the man himself put forward without reason or justification.

"To clarify, the Archwizard wants to see me?" Isabella asked, quite confused. "Why? Should I be concerned?"

"I have no idea," Arthur said, his big beak wagging as he shook the familiar's head. "I was looking into that matter that you asked me to long ago—that illness, or poison—and I involved him in it very briefly. He demanded to know where I had learned of this information. When I told him it was you… he was both resolute and specific. He wished to speak with you, and he didn't wish for that conversation to draw much attention."

"When can I expect this?"

"Today," Arthur said certainly. "Even soon."

***

After receiving Arthur's message, Isabella was on edge throughout the rest of the morning. She informed Valerio, who prepared for the arrival of the prestigious figure. Isabella herself didn't know what kind of meeting this would be. The Archwizard arrived in a very understated carriage, and descended from it with a cowl obscuring his face in an unassuming black robe. Arthur hadn't been lying when he said that this would be a low-key meeting.

Valerio and Isabella stood outside the duke's estate to receive the Archwizard. The aged man walked forward with an urgent pace to meet them. When he neared the trees lining the outside, he paused and looked up into them as if noticing something. Then, he laughed. He walked the rest of the way carrying that laughter.

"Welcome, Archwizard, to my estate," Valerio said. "What amuses you?"

"Your monkey," the Archwizard said, fixing his cloudy blind eyes on Valerio. "He's a mage. That isn't something you often see in a land like this." He stroked his wispy beard. "And you yourself… there's a very strange and foreign power within you. You've ventured a long way, haven't you?"

Valerio's jaw clenched, but he said nothing.

"Well, it's not my concern." He looked over to Isabella. "You're the only person that I want to talk to today. Shall we?"

Without waiting for confirmation from the duke, the Archwizard walked boldly into the state. Isabella was about to follow him but she felt something grab her arm and flinched. Randolph held her, his brow coated with sweat.

"Listen to me," he said quietly, then swallowed nervously. "Whatever you do, don't tell that man the truth."

Isabella narrowed her eyes in confusion. "What?"

"No matter how he tempts you or what he offers you, don't tell him the truth. I feel it in my gut. You can't." He shook his head frantically.

Valerio had stopped the moment that Isabella did, and regarded Randolph coldly. "You said the same thing about me, as I recall."

"No, I just knew you were dangerous. He's dangerous as well, but… this is different," Randolph insisted. "The last thing that I want to do is lose my peachy salary because you decided not to heed my warning."

Isabella pried free her arm from Randolph's grip. "Thank you," she said, not committing one way or another.

As she turned and prepared for this conversation with the Archwizard, her mind lingered on the way Randolph looked. He seemed more distressed than in any other instance. The expression that he wore lingered in her mind.

***

Isabella sat alone in a room with the Archwizard. He was a very old man, so much so that his eyes had gone cloudy and blind. He had a surprisingly full head of gray hair, and a wispy, silklike beard. Very few people knew very much about him. He stayed out of politics, and thus had been far out of her reach for the majority of her life. At some point, he simply disappeared, never to be heard from again. His heir, Arthur, stepped up to take his place not long after. That had been about three months before she became queen.

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Isabella was accustomed to handling things alone, but she rather wished for any of her allies' presence right now—Randolph, Alice, or most of all Valerio. That was a strange and foreign feeling to her. Unfortunately, the Archwizard was one of the most authoritative figures in the kingdom right after the king himself. That was a fact barely known because he seldom exercised his political authority, but he'd been granted comprehensive powers. In simpler terms, if he wanted to talk to Isabella alone, he could.

"I suspect that my busybody pupil has told you all about the reason that I'm having this meeting today," the Archwizard began. "You mentioned to him a rather peculiar and specific affliction. Flesh like parchment, draining strength, slowing wasting away into nothingness… an absence of pain. The illness progresses over months, with the victim eventually dying because their heart and lungs become too weak to sustain the body, even despite intervention."

Isabella thought back to what she had actually told Arthur at that ball. She'd always had a very robust memory, and it came back to her easily.

'…do you know of any disease or poison that causes one's skin to turn rough like parchment, and strength and sensation to slowly leave their body? It has no cure, so far as I can tell.'

What the Archwizard described was beyond the brief description that she had given Arthur. That told her that the Archwizard knew of this affliction, and found it important enough to approach her in this fashion immediately. Was this disease something rare, concerning? But what had spurred Randolph's sense of danger? Was it highly dangerous and contagious? If so, it was hard to believe she hadn't heard of it.

If Randolph hadn't warned her, she would have eagerly discussed this issue with the Archwizard. Now, she took a more cautious approach.

"That sounds somewhat familiar, but that happened quite a while ago. I can't remember the specific details." Isabella placed her hands before her politely. "As a matter of fact, I was somewhat surprised to hear that that was what this was about."

"You make it sound as if it wasn't important to you. Why would you bring it up to my heir if it was so inconsequential?" he pressed hard, staring at her as if his blind eyes could see all.

"As I recall… I was simply searching for some way to engage in conversation with him," Isabella justified. "I assumed that a rumor about a magic disease that I had heard might pique his interest."

The Archwizard stared at her silently for a long period of time.

"I've heard that you've recently formed your mana lock. Being that you formed it at such a late age in life, the vessel that you have to hold magic is quite limited. There are ways to remove those limits, and my office possesses artifacts that might grant that privilege. If you'd like, I'd be willing to give you access to those privileges," the Archwizard suggested.

Isabella blinked in surprise. "Why would you do that?"

"It's a rare thing for someone to have an opportunity to use those artifacts. Those that come to my tutelage are among the best of the best, and thus, the tools are just gathering dust. I can see the problem with your vessel just from looking at you. Why not offer to fix it?"

Isabella realized why he was pushing for this. He wanted to keep an eye on her. He wasn't entirely convinced that she was uninvolved with the wasting illness that she had possessed in her former life. It was quite a painful thing to say aloud, but she knew this had to be done.

"Magic is just a hobby for me," Isabella said. "As a matter of fact, I'd like it if you didn't spread word too far. I wouldn't like people to know that I was practicing it, as it's a rather unladylike hobby."

The Archwizard rose to his feet as if he was unbothered. "Very well then. That was all. Thank you for taking the time. If you should change your mind, you need only reach out. I have no problem with you engaging in further contact with Arthur, furthermore."

Isabella rose to her feet. "It was no trouble at all. Rather, thank you for giving me that opportunity. I'll see you out."

***

Isabella watched the Archwizard climb back aboard his carriage, and then set off down the busy streets of the capital. A suspiciously kind offer… permitting contact with Arthur… she looked back to Randolph, who stood just behind her.

"Thank you," she said sincerely. "Something was definitely up."

"I'm rather confident that something is still bloody 'up.' You might have stayed his wrath, but that man hasn't turned his gaze away from you." Randolph shook his head.

"I agree." Isabella nodded. "I'll ask that you keep an eye out."

"Too many interesting things are happening to you. I suppose this is what I get for asking to live in interesting times," he grumbled.

Valerio stood by her side silently, and Isabella looked over to him. "You never told me that your monkey was a mage."

Valerio looked over to her. "Well… it never came up. We have very mutually beneficial arrangement, and among our agreements is that we keep silent about the other party's business."

Isabella looked in the trees, searching for that monkey. She didn't see anything. How curious it was that a monkey should possess the intelligence to use magic. And even more curious with that Valerio was the one that harbored that creature.

"May I meet him, someday?" Isabella asked.

"I don't know," Valerio said earnestly. "That's up to him."

Isabella looked at the trees curiously, but said nothing more on the subject. They had larger concerns.

***

Claude sat in his bed late at night come with tired eyes. His wife sat beside him, stroking his back in the dead of night. Queen Margeline had a warm, round face touched by freckles, with chestnut hair pinned in a simple braid. Her eyes were a soft brown, crinkled at the corners from smiling more than a queen was expected to.

"All of these things that are being discussed in the Royal Diet… so much corruption, so much injustice, going on right under my nose. And now, countless nobles are trying to act as though they were ignorant, siding with the church or against it. It's just… disgusting." Claude shook his head furiously. "Thinking about it, these are the people that I empowered. These are the people that I've been strengthening for the past few weeks, thinking they have the best interests of the realm of heart. These… extortionists."

His wife said nothing, acting only as silent support.

"I can't let things go on like this," Claude said decisively. "These people aren't friends of the realm. They're friends of themselves. They think only in terms of benefits and detriment."

"Perhaps you could spend more time with your son," she said with a warm smile. "Little Edgar is standing up in his crib almost every day."

Claude smiled, but it was bitter and jaded. "I'd love to, but being a king has to mean something."

Margeline looked a little sad. "If you fight the nobles… they'll scratch and claw to retain every scrap of authority you've given them."

Claude closed his eyes. "I know. But someone has to. Right?" He looked at her.

"Must it be you?" she asked.

"That's what being the king is," he said. "It means you must rule."

Margeline removed her hand from his back sadly. They sat there in the dead of night, each knowing what was coming.