The Bell Tolls for Me

The Archwizard took certain steps down the dark spiral staircase as if he knew the route by heart. It looked as though he was walking into a dungeon. Only the faint glow of the lamp aglow with his magic illuminated the path. At the bottom of this staircase, the pathway opened up, and a brief stone hallway led to a gargantuan vault door of solid metal.

The Archwizard walked forward, and one of his hands began to crackle with magic. He wiped his hand across the door as if cleaning the surface, and the magic spread out in the form of runes all across it. Then, he grabbed the handle on the vault door and turned it slightly. With a groan, it began to open. The Archwizard stepped by and let it pass. Light seeped out of the vault as what was within revealed itself.

Within the door, there was an attendant waiting for the Archwizard. She bowed her head and then turned and walked away wordlessly. The Archwizard followed. A small annex comparable to any wing of the royal palace in terms of luxury had been carved out of the stone, and decorated in abundance. The carpets were velvet, the walls were gilded, and the artwork was beyond reproach. The only thing truly missing were windows. There were four side rooms, but only one room seemed meant for anything more than servants.

The attendant opened the grand door at the end of the hall for the Archwizard, and then stood on the outside, bowing. The Archwizard walked past her without a word. Within was a grandiose bedroom. The most striking fixture of the room was a window overlooking a stretch of sea. This vault was built into the side of a cliff, allowing this room alone to peer out. It seemed to be for the benefit of the person lying in the bed, which seemed fit for a king.

And indeed, the Archwizard walked up to the foot of the bed and knelt, greeting obediently, "Your Majesty."

"Rise," responded an enfeebled voice.

The Archwizard obeyed, rising to his feet and looking upon the sovereign of his kingdom. King Edgar the Great laid in the bed, as still as death. His large frame was sunken and his face was gaunt, framed by wisps of silver-white hair. His skin looked rough like parchment. Even despite all that ailed him, there was an imperiousness to him. It came from those burgundy eyes of his, which retained their glint of fierce intelligence.

"How are you, Your Majesty?" the Archwizard asked with concern so deep it was as if he was asking after his own son.

The king stared wordlessly. Though his body was weak, his eyes told one thousand stories.

"Are the attendants to your satisfaction?" the Archwizard walked around to stand at his bedside.

"News?" Edgar managed, straining his whole body to speak but one word.

"I'm no further in my research." The Archwizard shook his head.

The king stared coldly.

The Archwizard looked a little embarrassed, and he quickly assured, "You could be sustained for decades in this chamber. It's state-of-the-art. So long as you're here, you'll barely be aging at all. Your disease will have all but stagnated. You couldn't ask for better treatment, Your Majesty, and I remain the most talented spellcaster at your disposal. I keep a close eye on all of your heirs."

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

The king closed his eyes, conscious and alert but incapable. There was anger writ in his features.

"It is as I told you long before you began walking this road… meddling with time is a dangerous thing, Your Majesty. There is no true history of those that have done so and survived. You knew there was a price to pay—this is that price." The Archwizard sat. "I'm endeavoring my very best to find an alternate payment, Your Majesty. Until I find it, I'll have to ask you to be patient."

"…heirs?" The king croaked.

"I'm afraid that it was precisely as messy as you anticipated. I can only describe it as chaos. Your designated heir, Edgar, was assassinated not long after assuming the throne. His reign was not a great success." The Archwizard didn't pull any punches. "After that, your eldest, Claude, Installed himself on the throne."

The king clearly looked displeased to hear Claude's name.

"…but I don't think it'll last long. He's earning himself some powerful enemies already, and he's sharpened their knives to stab him. I suspect that his reign will be cut short, either by Sylvain or Amaury."

The king laughed weakly through his nose. "Cretin," he managed.

"One of your daughters has surprised me, however." The Archwizard studied him. "Isabella."

The king narrowed his eyes as if he didn't know what the Archwizard was talking about.

"Isabella," the Archwizard repeated. Still no recognition. "Camilla's daughter." Still nothing. "Camilla the Candle, your eleventh wife?"

Finally, some recognition hit the king. His eyes lit up, and he gave a faint nod. "Hmm."

"She's managed to secure an engagement with the Duke of the Isles. Moreover, she's become a large investor in an auction house competing against Duke Albert."

The king laughed through his nose once more, harder this time. "Albert?"

"She also mentioned the disease that you're suffering from," the Archwizard continued, sobering the king. "I'm monitoring her, but… I think it was merely a passing fancy. She isn't exhibiting any of the signs you did for meddling with time, nor is anyone close to her, so I seriously doubt it's anything more than coincidence. Still, she's proving to be far more competent than any of your sons. She even went so far as to learn magic."

The mention of magic seemed to have spurred a memory in the king, whose eyes went distant as he recollected something. "Remember… her."

"If she had your ability, she might be able to assume the position of heir… but I've confirmed that she doesn't," the Archwizard said. "She may have merely inherited your intellect. Time will tell if her success was luck or skill."

The king looked to be recollecting memories of Isabella, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"But none of them can even compare to a fraction of the ability that you demonstrated as king, Your Majesty. Your conquests, your economic reforms, your legislature, your system of laws… none of them have even a tenth of the insight that you do." The Archwizard put his hand on the king's feeble wrist. "I will find a way to cure you. And when I do, you'll emerge from this retreat a man reborn. You'll take your place as king and end this ceaseless succession crisis. The people will welcome you as all but a new God in the pantheon. You'll correct all the mistakes that are being made today. You'll make the kingdom rise from this greater than ever before." He clenched his hand. "Won't you?"

The king looked out the window. "Yes," he answered, his voice strong for that word alone.

In the ocean beyond, a storm brewed in the distant horizon even as calm waves washed against the cliffs.