The Bell Tolls for Me

Valerio worried that he had overstepped by suggesting that he and Isabella have their portrait drawn. It meant taking steps to further officiate their engagement, and he worried that Isabella might have been averse to that idea. He was relieved when it seemed not to be the case, and yet what she said as explanation baffled him beyond comparison.

"I have memories of… a very long dream." Isabella sat on her bed, just beside Valerio. "They tell me of another life. Another existence just the same as the one I'm in now, but travelling a different route."

"I don't understand," Valerio said.

"In that life, my engagement with Duke Albert wasn't a fear, but my reality. It was something that I had to endure every day. His attentions, his twisted possessiveness." Isabella's eyes looked hollow and drained as she described it. "Almost every single day, he would have me pose for hours on end for portraits. They were…" she trailed off, clearly upset just bringing it up. "When you brought it up, I remembered…"

Valerio said nothing more, waiting for her to continue. When she regained her composure, she said, "I lived another life for eight years after Edgar I died. In each of those eight years, the kingdom was beset by a succession crisis. I broke free of Albert, and then made my way through the royal court all alone. I made it to the seat that Claude currently occupies not by merit, but by virtue of survival alone." She shook her head. "Male heirs to the throne became so scarce they simply had to enthrone women."

It sounded unbelievable, but Valerio lined up the inexplainable actions she'd taken with what she said. Knowing of Ambrose's troubles in advance. Knowing of the successful artists long in advance. Her uncanny knowledge of certain subjects. It would certainly make all of it make sense. But…

"This was a dream?" Valerio asked, just trying to understand.

"I… I don't know." Isabella looked at him. "But… you believe me?" she asked.

"I've seen too much evidence of that fact to deny it," he said. "And I've seen too much of the world to reject things that I can't explain."

Isabella brought her legs up and wrapped her arms around her knees. "I've been so nervous about telling you. I thought that it might… might make you think less of me."

Valerio moved to sit just beside her, their shoulders touching. "Now why would you think something silly like that?"

Isabella laughed beneath her breath, and then sniffed. "Will you stay? I have a lot that I haven't been able to talk to anyone about."

"Of course." Valerio nodded.

***

Valerio sat cross-legged, leaning his back on the headboard of Isabella's bed. She leaned up against his shoulder, fast asleep. She'd drifted off a couple of minutes ago, and he decided that this was simply his fate now. It suited him fine, as he had a great deal to grapple with. He was pleased that he had earned Isabella's trust enough to be the first person that she confessed to. Beneath it was a strange undercurrent of failure.

Every moment of indignity that Isabella had suffered inspired a strong feeling of guilt. It was a moment in her life that Valerio felt he should have been there, fixing it. He should have kept her from harm, kept her from suffering. But he wasn't. He was here, isolated from the rest of the world, sending antiquities to people a continent away. He didn't have any doubt that he was doing the right thing, but simply knowing that Isabella had suffered and he hadn't done anything made him deeply uncomfortable. He tried to console himself with the fact that he would be able to help her now, but it felt inadequate.

Valerio himself couldn't explain this strange predisposition. He felt happy and satisfied when she was near. He felt warmth in his heart, ease in his mind, and an altogether contentedness. He had killed a man that he hated, plundered treasure worth a king's ransom, and even discovered a continent wholly unknown to his people… but this sort of satisfaction was different, perhaps even better, than all of that which came before it.

Valerio had been prepared to marry someone once before. He had enjoyed her company, found her beautiful, and it was politically expedient. She was the daughter of one of the most prominent elven families in the Ithilian. But his mother had advised against it, and he heeded her advice. With Isabella, it felt different. There was something more than there had been last time. Even if his mother did advise against this, he wasn't sure he would be able to listen to her.

He felt Isabella stir slightly at his side, and turned his head to look at her. She looked to be in pain, and he focused on her face.

***

Isabella blinked open her eyes. It took her a moment to realize that she was chained to the wall. She tried to slip free of the chains binding her to little avail. A few moments later, she heard the familiar creaking of an iron gate, and light footsteps heading her way. She looked into the abyss fearfully.

"Isabella," said a familiar sardonic voice. "How long has it been?"

She couldn't forget that voice. Amaury, one of the future kings and another of her many nightmares.

"I'm afraid that your trusted allies have sold you out once again," Amaury said, his voice coming from everywhere at once.

Isabella tried to fight against the chains, but every time she struggled, more erupted from the walls, binding her tighter.

"We're going to have a long session this time, I fear. There's a lot of things that you haven't told me. You should know more than anyone that I don't like secrets," Amaury called out.

In the distance, she heard the sloshing of water in a bucket, and it made her sweat. By now the chains had wrapped around her so tightly that she couldn't even open her mouth to scream. She saw a silhouette emerge from the abyss, lingering at the edge of her cell, and then…

"Isabella!" Valerio said, shaking her head.

Isabella jolted awake, looking around and reorienting herself. She was sitting on her bed, Valerio just beside her. She looked at the window and saw that it was very nearly dawn. The beginnings of the sun poked over the horizon, illuminating things faintly.

"Bad dream?" Valerio asked. "Albert?"

Isabella didn't say anything for a while. "No. Another." She shook her head fiercely.

"You have nightmares often?" he asked.

"I don't normally remember my dreams," Isabella answered—and it was the truth. Ever since waking up in this life, she couldn't remember a single dream. Until this one, that is.

"Good. Good, I suppose. Still, having those types of dreams can't be good for you," Valerio said.

"I imagine that it's less disruptive than being woken up randomly," Isabella argued. She stood up. "Let's go to your balcony. This room feels… cramped."

Isabella walked to Valerio's room and out into the balcony. The sea was becoming a refreshing aspect of her life. She enjoyed the smell, the sights… It was difficult to believe that she had been almost entirely ignorant of its splendor. In that way, it was parallel to Valerio. Looming large, yet having totally eluded her in the last life.

"Who was the nightmare about, if you don't mind me asking?" Valerio asked as he joined her.

Isabella watched the tides for a while. "Amaury," she eventually said.

Valeria leaned on the railing. "I think I've heard of him. He's one of the claimants for the throne right now, no?"

Isabella nodded. "Yes. Amaury is one of the five that have substantial territories. Beyond being Prince of Dovhain, he's also the Duke of the Ossaire Reach. In my previous life, he participated in the Wars of the Doves that began on the heel of the Veymont Uprising. Amaury ultimately emerged victorious."

"Wars? Plural?" Valerio noted.

Isabella nodded. "It involved five princes, each bearing a different dove on their heraldry. It spanned two years. Sylvain, Roland, Amaury, Anselm, and Edouard were the claimants. It was the height of treachery in my past life. I can recall more nobles betraying each other in that two-year period than in any other length of time. The man that emerged on top of such a debacle could only be considered the very height of treachery. He was paranoid and incredibly vindictive, in some ways similar to Edgar II. Unlike Edgar, he was quite intelligent."

"Vindictiveness is fundamentally unintelligent, I think," Valerio commented.

Isabella shook her head. "The war broke him in many ways. Deprived him of everything. He imprisoned every single one of his relatives remaining at the royal palace, and spent many hours reenacting tortures that he had received at the hands of his brothers."

Valerio put a hand over hers wordlessly. It was comforting.

"The princesses had a better time of things than the princes," Isabella remarked. "One small benefit. But… perhaps none of this matters now. Things seem different under Claude. He may not be perfect, but he's just, and he genuinely wants to do good. Perhaps if we can increase our influence, we might be able to abate the coming disasters. Perhaps we can stop the Veymont uprising altogether," she thought brightly.

"Perhaps," Valerio agreed. "No matter what happens, I'll be sure that this life is far happier than the last."

"I already am happier than I've ever been," Isabella said with a smile on her face. "Now, it's time for me to look outward. I can do good for the realm where I failed in my last life. That's why I stayed here, after all."

Valerio inched closer to her. "I'm sure that can't be the only reason you stayed."

"Hmm." She tried not to look him in the eye. "Sure. There's Alice. She's true and loyal, and I'd go so far as to call her friend."

"Mmhmm," Valerio nodded, staring with a smile on his face.

"Randolph has taught me a great deal," Isabella said. "A very fortuitous encounter."

"And?" Valerio pressed. "Who else?"

"Igraine and Arthur, teaching me magic. Your chef Rahul, expanding my palate." Isabella tried not to smile as she continued to tease, but it bled through.

"Rahul? You're quite cruel." Valerio looked out to sea.

Isabella looked at him. Even pouting, he looked handsome. "And you," she finally said. "Who's done more for me in the brief time I've known you than anyone else in both my lives."

Valerio turned to study her. She wasn't sure what he was to her just yet, but it was certainly something more than a friend. She didn't intend on being hasty. Some she knew might call that unjust, but that was just who she was.

"Let's endeavor for stability in the realm," Isabella said. "Far worse than anything else is the feeling of uncertainty."

"Tell me about it," Valerio said, shaking his head.

Isabella couldn't help but laugh loudly when he said that. She plucked up her courage and stepped toward him, giving him a hug. He was sturdy, solid, and warm. He seemed surprised at first, but quickly returned the embrace.

"Is this certainty enough?" she asked.

"Getting there," he said, though his voice betrayed his smile. "I'm in no hurry, Isabella. You've been through difficult times. I'd be a fool if I didn't understand your hesitance."

Isabella sighed deeply. "Thank you."

***

"You need to walk forward boldly into uncertainty," Pius insisted. "If you want to wrest back what you've given to the nobles, you have to embrace the possibility of chaos. I've given you more than enough material to hurt them. Really hurt them."

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

"I don't want to hurt them, I just want to ensure that I'm not allowing them to hurt others," Claude said, pacing around the damp cell.

"And do you think that they'll let you take it back without a struggle, without some pains?" Pius proposed. "Exploit the unrest caused by Alistair's proposed reforms. There's no better time for you to recentralize the realm."

Claude paused, then sighed deeply. "The next time we speak… I suspect you'll learn how I fared, attempting to kill the monsters I birthed."

"I can sympathize. After all, my own son betrayed me," Pius pointed out.

Claude laughed, then studied Pius. A thought seemed to come to his mind after a while. "What was your name before Pius?"

"Why does it matter?" Pius asked. "I was no one. An orphan."

"Humor me," the king said.

"Cesare," Pius eventually said. "It was Cesare." He went silent for a long while. "I gave that boy everything I wanted out of my life." He laughed. "I suppose it worked. He's simply a better me, now."

Claude rubbed his hands together. "Farewell, Pius," he said, then left.

The king strode boldly out of the dungeon cell, greeting the dawn. His face was that of determination—the determination of a man about to go to war.

***

"…then say it plainly," Duke Brett said. "Do you retract what you wrote in The Six Errors, here and now, before this tribunal?"

The hall was silent, save for the tapping of rain against the stained-glass windows. Alistair did not speak immediately. His hands were clenched behind his back, his shoulders squared—not with arrogance, but with the kind of stubborn resolve found in men who've had too long to think.

"I do not," he said.

A low murmur rippled through the assembled nobles.

Brett remained still, eyes fixed on the man below. "You understand what this means."

"I do." Alistair's voice was calm. "If my words are false, they should be easy to disprove. But no one has. Instead, I am asked to unwrite them. Not for truth's sake—but for the comfortable trappings of traditions founded on lies."

"This is not a place for dramatics," Brett replied.

"I beg to differ." He looked not at Brett, but at the row of clergy behind him. "I will not recant, not to preserve illusions of harmony. If I must be broken, so be it—but I will not be bent."

For a long moment, Duke Brett said nothing. Then he leaned back in his chair, and exhaled through his nose.

"So noted," he said. "As you refuse to recant, you are labeled a heretic. You are to be burnt at the stake in the public eye so that your sin might be washed clean from your body before you ascend to the heavens. This will take place in the city square, tomorrow at—"

"Duke Brett," King Claude interrupted. "Given the circumstances, I believe that Alistair should be given free passage back to his home city of Veymont. We should give him that much dignity, at least. I can arrange a ship in short order."

Duke Brett cleared his throat. "Then, as per His Majesty's suggestion, you shall be given passage back to your home city by boat. There, you will be able to say your goodbyes to all your devotees and any family you might possess. A holy paladin will accompany you."

Alistair didn't look entirely calm. It was impossible to be truly calm when death faced him squarely. But he was more composed than most men could ever hope to be. Soon enough, he was escorted away by a contingent of guards. Duke Brett slammed his gavel down.

"This royal diet is concluded," Brett declared.

***

Valerio lingered in the gardens of the royal palace, lounging on a stone bench. As he sat there, someone in a cowl walked out and came to sit just beside him. When the man turned his head to look at the Duke of the Isles, he was revealed to be King Claude.

"The most important thing is going to be plausible deniability," the king said. "There's only so much that I can shield you from should this ever get scrutiny."

"Oh, believe you me, there'll be no issue on that front. I've told my men to take him wherever they want, and not to tell me. They're… resourceful." Valerio smiled. "If I could ask, Your Majesty… why did you come to me with this?"

"You came highly recommended as a treacherous but good-natured individual," Claude said.

"If the recommendation doesn't come from your sister—which I know it doesn't—I can't think of who it would be."

"Pius," Claude answered simply.

Valerio blew air out of his mouth. "That's a dangerous game you're playing." He shook his head. "Ensure that you're the one using and not being used. That man is a lot more experienced than you with this sort of thing, Your Majesty. Still, my fiancée seems to want to support your reign, and consequently, I will as well." He stood up, stretching.

Claude looked up at him. "Is that so?" He crossed his arms. "Then perhaps you could do something else for me." The king stood up as well. "I need a decent spymaster."

"Whatever for?" Valerio raised a brow.

"Pius has given me a lot of information, but I don't have much in the way of trusted enforcers." He shook his head. "Most of the nobles I thought I could trust were… just sycophants, lobbying for power."

"And you think I'm so very different, Your Majesty?"

"No, I think you've a mercenary mentality, and you don't have any people to rule over—in a word, no skin in the game. All you have is your businesses… and I can help them thrive, if you can give me what I want."

Valerio smiled. "I dare suggest you ought to remember you are my liege." He dipped his head. "But very well, Your Majesty. What would you have me do?"

"Lay some groundwork for the next royal council," the king said.

***

Alistair leaned on the railing of the ship as it sailed through the seas. This might be the last time that he was ever permitted to look upon anything so beautiful. The sea had always fascinated and terrified him. Sometimes soon, he would be back home in his city, and the men escorting him would tie him to a post and burn him alive. It was a grim fate, but it was one that he was willing to meet.

"Black Flag!" someone shouted. "Black Flag!"

Alistair turned his head only seconds before a great ship rammed into the side of theirs, casting him to the deck. He saw lightly armored men jump aboard the ship, cutlasses in hand, and spread out across the deck. The holy paladin and that had been sent with to escort was quickly subdued, and then three pirates walked towards Alistair himself, looking down as he laid there.

"I'm only a bishop," he said, making sure not to appear threatening. "Take what you will from me."

"Funny." The pirate kneeled down before him. "I happen to be looking for a bishop. There's a certain place that could probably use your guidance, father. Interested? Ah—don't answer. It doesn't matter."

Alistair looked between them. "Do you work for the church? Are you here to carry me away and torture me, not even providing me the dignity of a good death?"

The pirate laughed. "Don't take this personally." He pulled out a bag from his pocket, and then held it toward Alistair's head.

***

Isabella and Valerio sat on a table at his balcony, looking out across the sea. The seas were as calm as their lives had now become.

"Where will you take him?" Isabella asked.

Valerio shrugged. "No idea. I told my people to take him wherever, and just leave me out of it."

Isabella narrowed her eyes. "Are you sure that's wise?"

"Perhaps not. We'll see. The point is that he's alive." Valerio leaned in. "But that's enough about me. It seems as though your auction house is shaping up to be a major money maker. No doubt Roderick will be singing a different tune once he sees the money pouring in. You're very impressive, Isabella."

"I'm just relying on my past life," Isabella said, shaking her head. "It would be embarrassing if I couldn't succeed with your robust support alongside my tremendous advantage. I only wish I could do more to help make your life easier."

"And you really have no information about me?" He leaned in a little closer. "No anecdotes, nothing?"

"As I said, I could barely remember the color of your hair, let alone what you were doing. You never interacted with a royal court much. You weathered all the storms admirably, probably quietly enriching yourself and the elven people." She sighed. "I've disrupted all that. Now, the king is asking you to be his spymaster."

Valerio studied her. "The lives of the people here aren't worth less than the lives of the elven people. You want to do good for them—but so do I. I think that as long as we keep those ideals in mind, things will work out."

Isabella returned his stare. She didn't feel as embarrassed holding his gaze anymore. "I still don't understand how you went from being a pirate to doing this. It seems more than a little contradictory."

"Contradictory? Hmm." He thought. "I suppose it is, if you don't understand why I do what I do."

"Why?" Isabella asked.

Valerio seemed to debate telling her. "When I discovered the Ithilian… I wasn't searching for another continent. I wasn't searching for another trade route. I… travelled alone, on a small barge without a ship. I sailed into the uncharted oceans."

Isabella came to realize what he was driving at. "You… didn't mean to come back?" Valerio said nothing. "Valerio?" she pressed.

"I didn't," Valerio confirmed. "My troubles… they were deeper than merely losing what I had. I intended to die as I lived. At sea. Alone. Instead… I wrecked on uncharted lands, and met Roderick." He laughed, then smiled bitterly. "I'm reckless and lucky, and little else. No other sort of person would sail out into an empty sea, uncharted and unknown, other than a reckless fool like myself. But… it's worked out," he pointed out with an endearing self-satisfaction.

"I hope you've not taken a lesson from that!" Isabella objected.

"No, no," Valerio shook his head. "I've not embraced recklessness. The point I'm making is that the both of us have gone through something similarly transformative."

Isabella shook her head. "Just because things have worked out in the past doesn't mean that you should project that out for the future. We should prepare, not count on forces beyond our control to ensure everything functions."

Valerio tapped her hand. "Then help me out. What can we expect if I do decide to take King Claude's offer?"

Isabella thought for a few brief moments. "If the information comes from Pius… and assuming he's not trying something underhanded…"

***

The air for the royal council was only subtly different, but the perceptive nobles could tell that something was up. Typical cliques weren't associating so openly, and several people seemed eager to get on with the meeting. When the king emerged from his chambers and took a seat at the head of the table, the silence in the room was telling. People quickly took their place, including Duke Valerio.

"The first matter for consideration is the subject of royal bailiffs." King Claude looked at his councilors. "The proposal is to reinstate them, and reinvigorate their authority as proponents of the king's justice."

One of the nobles scoffed. "Who proposed such an antiquated law?"

Claude set the paper down. "I did."

The room went silent, and all focused on the king.

***

"Pius had a huge network of blackmail—it was part of why he was so influential. You saw some of that firsthand, during the Inquisition. He tried to extort you like countless others. He was a practiced hand. If the king utilizes Pius' network effectively with you as a medium, he should be more than capable of enacting genuine change."

"I'm hearing a big 'but' in there," Valerio prompted.

Isabella looked out to the sea. "The problem is that Claude tends to fold under pressure. If he doesn't…"

***

"The law is the law. So long as it's being abided by, there shouldn't be any issue with royal bailiffs acting independently in your territories." King Claude looked between them all. "Am I wrong?"

"It's a perfectly sensible conclusion, Your Majesty, but I have to counsel against it." Archduke Felix spoke up. "The various territories throughout this vast land have certain local customs and traditions—thus, local authorities are best suited for standing in judgment. Royal bailiffs would not possess an understanding of the nuances necessary for our respective regions."

King Claude met Archduke Felix's gaze. "If these local customs don't abide by the laws, then it's the custom that should change, not the law. The royal bailiffs are necessary."

Felix held his stare. "As your Prime Minister, I advise against this law."

"Homogeneous centralized administration is a major boon for a realm as vast as this one," Valerio spoke up. "I've been to distant territories with empires twice the size as the Kingdom of Dovhain, and a strong central bureaucracy is the foundation for an enduring realm."

King Claude nodded. "Let's begin the vote. I vote in favor," he declared.

***

"If he doesn't fold, and he has strong support from someone, I'm confident that he could actually pass some reforms." She shook her head. "But a lot of the damage will have already been done. He's lifted many of the restraints that kept nobles in check, enabling them to consolidate power in their own lands. Long term, there will be consequences… but we won't see them immediately. It'll be a slow, steady buildup of pressure. If the nobles find their puppet is acting up, they won't allow it to roam free. They'll attempt to find a new puppet. The show must go on, after all." Isabella sighed. "But that's a matter that'll take some time to play out. Are you sure you want to accept the role of spymaster?"

"From the sound of it, it's a temporary thing," Valerio said easily. "But it could result in improvements for the realm if Claude proves to be as able a ruler as you hope."

Isabella crossed her arms. "If a poor king has wise councilors, he becomes a good king." She looked at Valerio. "We just have to endeavor to be sure that he has wise counsel henceforth. If he does… I believe there's a future for Dovhain with him at the helm."

"And what of you?" Valerio asked. "This disease of yours. The disease that an Archwizard comes asking about. It hasn't brought you any concern?"

"Of course it has. Only… what do you expect me to do?" Isabella asked pointedly. "It's about as solvable and concerning a problem as the fact that you have your soul in the hands of people who threaten to break it if you disobey them."

Valerio looked optimistic. "It seems as though we've weathered the worst of the storm."

Isabella considered that for a long moment. "It seems so. But I've felt this way dozens of times before. Safe. Content. Then, bigger quakes rocked the realm than ever before."