The Bell Tolls for Me

"I'd like to give all the praise to this this successful event to Her Highness, Princess Isabella." Archduke Felix raised his glass of wine up high in the air. "Without her fine eye for art and her expertise management, this auction house would not have had half as grand opening as it did today. I'd like to invite all of you to enjoy our food and drink."

Isabella basked in the praise all around. Valerio and Abigail stood nearby and both smiled at her proudly. She couldn't recall the last time when she many people that she respected and even liked giving earnest praise to her achievements. Even if it was due to this strange reincarnation that seemed beyond her control, she was pleased beyond measure.

"It really was quite wonderful," Abigail praised quietly once Felix finished her toast. "I thought the auction might be very formal and stiff, but it was very entertaining. That auctioneer was quite funny. I wanted to introduce myself to him, but my father stopped me. Do you know why?"

Isabella smiled knowingly. "Because he's quite protective of you." She looked over. "I'm sorry I haven't been able to visit lately. We had the Inquisition from the church, among other things."

Abigail shook her head. "My father explained. It's fine. And I—"

"Abigail," the archduke interrupted as he walked up to them. "Come with me a moment, dear. I'd like to introduce you to Prince Sylvain."

Isabella's lips tensed hearing that name. Sylvain, Dovhain's fourth king after Edgar the Great, and Abigail's first husband. By the time she could think of something to say, Abigail and Felix had already moved away. She turned to Valerio, who accompanied her largely wordlessly.

"I imagine Albert must be fuming right about now." Valerio said, speaking quietly. "Twiddling his thumbs outside the gates, lamenting as we all have great fun."

Isabella shook her head. "In all my years, I've never seen him lose his composure once. I think that he's unshakable."

She recalled him being executed with a face of calm. He almost didn't seem human.

Valerio looked into her eyes. "Then I'll be the first to break him. I'm nothing if not a master of charting uncharted territories." He offered his hand.

Isabella surprised even herself when she took his hand. He had stood up to unimaginable scrutiny, and that wasn't something that Isabella could just forget. Wherever things went from here, she was certain that he could be reliable. Perhaps it was time to tell him the truth. Perhaps it was time to unveil her secrets.

As Isabella thought on the matter deeply, she heard a voice that made her on edge immediately.

"Your Highness Isabella," Bernadetta said.

Isabella turned her head immediately. Her cousin wore a somewhat elaborate purple dress showing many of her finer features. She didn't know her cousin to wear such fine clothes, and that brought her pause.

"Congratulations on overcoming both the attentions of Duke Albert and the church. You're now wonderfully positioned to strike at Albert's auction house," Bernadetta said, her tone and facial expression both somewhat foreign to Isabella.

Valerio could tell that this woman made Isabella uneasy, and he stepped in front of her as if to shield.

"How did you get in here?" Isabella thought briefly. "Ah. Prince Rupert, I suspect. I believe I made myself clear when last we spoke. We're through, you and I."

"I'm aware. I figured that I could be more open with you now that we've severed ties. And… I am curious how you figured me out." Bernadette looked at Isabella thoughtfully. "I take pride in my ability to act."

Isabella waved her away. "Just leave."

"Are you certain?" Bernadetta tilted her head. "Perhaps I could shed some light on why the Archwizard visited you. Perhaps I could illuminate Albert's motives. Perhaps I could give you insight as to his motives… or even mine."

Valerio turned to Isabella. "Her desperation reeks more than her perfume. Are you sure you're actually related?" He looked back at Bernadetta. "I suppose weeds can grow on even marble."

"I've been trading information much longer than you think, Isabella," Bernadetta said, completely ignoring Valerio. "If you should ever want to know the answer to your countless questions, you need but ask."

Then, Bernadetta walked away. Isabella felt some tension drained from her body, and let out a sigh.

"Look at her, fizzing away like cheap wine." He turned his head. "Do you think we should do something about her?"

Isabella didn't say anything. Frankly, she just wanted to forget her cousin never existed, but after what had been said tonight she wasn't sure if she had that luxury.

"Let's just enjoy the night." Isabella locked her arm with Valerio's. "But I do have some place that I want to be after this. Can we make time?"

"Of course." Valerio smiled at her.

***

Isabella felt somewhat nervous walking through the slums of the capital late at night, but the presence of Randolph and Valerio calmed her nerves. She came to the dinghy old church that Alistair had made his home for his visit to the capital. It was quite late, and she didn't know if she would be able to find them. If he wasn't there, she'd prepared a note.

Isabella walked into the old church, looking around. She was surprised to find Alistair staring up at a statue of one of the gods, a contemplative expression on his face. When he heard the scrape of boots as their party of three entered, he turned his head. He began to walk toward them. Black skin, taller than Valerio, and a robust mane of braided hair… he looked the same as ever, and no worse for wear.

"Why are we here?" Randolph asked.

Isabella watched Alistair approach. "A confession."

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

"A confession," repeated Randolph. "A grand tradition wherein we apologize for human nature and promptly resume it. I have the good fortune of committing my sins with such clumsy mediocrity that they scarcely merit confession. How about you?" he asked Valerio.

Valerio didn't have time to answer before Alistair made it to them.

"How can I help you?" Alistair asked. Even in the midst of a trial that deciding whether or not he would be burnt at the stake, he still exuded a friendly aura that Isabella found somewhat infectious. He didn't seem to recognize her.

"Do you have time to take a confession, father?" Isabella asked.

"No need to call me father." Alistair kept his friendly smile. "I'm afraid that the church has suspended my right to be called a bishop until this matter with royal diet is resolved."

"But you think that they don't have the right to do that. You've preached as much." Isabella said. Alistair said nothing more, just kept smiling. "Can we have a person-to-person confession, then?"

Alistair shrugged. "I see no reason why not."

Isabella took a deep breath. "I'm afraid that I'm the person responsible for getting you in all of this trouble. I translated your thesis, and I…" She dipped her head. "I apologize."

"Hmm." Alistair pursed his lips. "I… think I remember you now. You asked for a copy of my Six Errors, as I recall. You spoke some Elestian." He stared at her for a time, and she feared his next words. "Still, you're not the first person to say that you were the one that translated it. Regardless if it's true, no need for an apology. This has been perhaps the most defining event of my life. It taught me a great deal about the faith and my life."

"It wasn't my right," Isabella insisted.

"But nevertheless, the publication showed me just how many people shared the sentiments I expressed. It taught me of the discontent bubbling beneath the surface. I thought myself utterly alone, but it showed me how much of the world thinks just as I do. It revealed the dissatisfaction with the corruption and the faithlessness of the upper hierarchy of the church."

Valerio spoke up, commenting, "And now Pius is removed from the picture. Things can begin to heal. Meaning… you've succeeded."

Alistair didn't look pleased. "Pius was the scapegoat for the sins of many. The upper hierarchy of the church is still fundamentally corrupt. When the church first reached out to me, they proposed compromise. Now, as I've gone through this royal diet, I've come to believe that the only future for the faith is a massive decentralization. Church leaders should answer to no one but the people they shepherd."

Isabella looked him in the eye. "They'll call you a heretic, and they'll burn you at the stake."

Alistair took a deep breath and sighed. "I know."

Isabella played with her hands uneasily. "You aren't afraid to die?"

"I am," Alistair said. "But if this is the price that must be paid for speaking truth, I'll pay it gladly."

"But this is bigger than you," Valerio pointed out. "You light yourself up, your followers will oblige by burning everything else. Is that what you want to be—kindling for a revolt you'll never have to witness?"

"I've always stressed nonviolent protests," Alistair argued. "Any true followers of mine wouldn't dare take up the sword."

"Ah, of course," Valerio said. "And surely the vultures who circle your pyre will be motivated purely by principle, not by the delightful opportunity to loot, conquer, and wear your ideals like a convenient disguise for their ambitions."

Alistair smiled. "My hope is that people like you will ensure those people receive no momentum. I have faith in the good nature of men and women. Under the auspices of the gods, good nature must always prevail in the end. Such is fated."

"Why?" Isabella asked. "Why throw so much away?"

Alistair looked back to the statue he'd been pondering. "When I was but a boy cast adrift in a land whose language I did not know, it was the Eternal Church that found me. I was half-starved, half-feral, and wholly adrift. They gave me shelter first, then dignity, and finally a name worth answering to. In their halls, I learned to speak not just the words of men, but the language of the divine. I learned that a soul without purpose is merely a wound waiting to fester. My bishop did not see a stranger, nor a burden. He saw a child, the same as all of us. And in their service, I found the only home I have ever truly known." He spoke so fondly Isabella herself was moved. "Thus… I refuse to back down."

Valerio looked ready to say more, but Isabella put her hand on his wrist. "Thank you for hearing me out, father." She bowed her head. "I wish you good luck on the events of tomorrow. I hope things don't proceed as I fear they will."

"Of course." Alastair dipped his head. "Go with the gods at your back."

At that, Isabella left the church. Her heart was heavy and undecided. She felt there was more she should try and do to ensure a better outcome.

***

"We have to do something more for Alistair. I dragged him into this, after all," Isabella pointed out.

Valerio nodded, lost in thought.

Isabella sat comfortably on Valerio's bed, with him sitting right beside her. He lounged back relaxedly. He looked as comfortable as she felt. She had come to be at ease with him, and after this trial by fire that they had endured together, she could say with total certainty that she trusted him. He would do right by her—not for gain, not for something transactional, but just for… her. Before she could express those thoughts, Valerio spoke up.

"I've been thinking." Valerio looked at her ponderously. "Would you be interested in doing something together? Once this is all over, of course."

Isabella frowned. "While I've been talking about Alistair dying, you've been contemplating an outing?"

Valerio chuckled. "No, I-I was listening." Isabella laughed at him, and he defended, "I was!"

Isabella regained her composure and stared at him. "What did you have in mind?"

"Given our newfound connection to artists, I was wondering if you would be interested in having our portrait done. The two of us, together," he suggested, a smile on his face. "I never had much taste for art, but… the idea appeals to me, strangely. When people see it, they'll ask who the pirate's hostage is, I'm sure."

Isabella's breath caught immediately as she imagined it. She looked away, recalling incredibly unpleasant memories. Duke Albert, watching… artists, staring… her embarrassment on display for the whole world… before she knew it, her breath caught in her throat.

"Are you alright?" Valerio asked, reaching a hand out.

Isabella stood before he could touch her, and walked toward the door bridging their rooms. She closed it once she passed, hanging on the doorknob. A few moments later, Valerio knocked. He asked if she was alright, and if he should call a physician. She didn't respond.

Isabella calmed herself after a few minutes, and released the doorknob to go sit on her bed. Then, Valerio opened the door, pausing at the threshold.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asked, clearly concerned. He vacillated between her and the exit. "If this is about me not listening, I'm sorry." He looked like a big dog confused at why someone was acting the way they were. "Should I… go?"

"No," Isabella shook her head, then looked up. "No, it's just… I just…" She stopped babbling, so as not to make a fool of herself. When her mind was clear, she asked decisively, "Could you come here?"

Valerio walked in slowly, watching her with worry. "What is this?"

"Sit, please," Isabella gestured.

Valerio obeyed, sitting beside her.

Isabella looked at him. "I think it's time that I finally tell you something."

Valerio had trusted her with his secret. Now, it was time to do the same with hers.