The Bell Tolls for Me

"You ignored reports that Duke Richard was invading the lands of Count Fulcross, preferring to 'wait for a more complete testimony,' even despite Valerio's advice that you should act immediately," Isabella outlined clearly. "By the time that testimony came, it came from the lips of Count Fulcross himself, who had lost his territory."

"But—" Claude tried to defend.

"And even until now, that issue remains unresolved. Duke Richard is setting deep roots in territories once belonging to the count," Isabella continued firmly. "And instead of heeding your royal mandate to relinquish the territory back to Fulcross, he now rallies behind Prince Amaury."

Claude went silent, looking at his hands.

"The southern nobles haven't paid taxes for the entirety of your reign," Isabella continued.

Claude's head shot up. "To abate the damage caused by the refugee crisis."

"Many of these refugees are artisans, craftsmen—these people are a boon to their economy, not a hindrance. And refraining from collecting taxes is an imprudent way to provide aid. It sets a precedent difficult to end, as I advised you." Isabella didn't allow herself to relent. "Your tax collectors have left the territory, and now, the once-thriving royal treasury is straining to pay all its obligations."

Claude stood up. Isabella worried he meant to leave, but instead he paced around worriedly.

"We've given you a long list of people that you should have fired months ago, and yet they persist on your council."

"Removing those people would be painful," Claude argued.

"Is it meant to be easy?" Isabella's gaze followed him as he paced. "Allowing a wound to fester and rot is far more painful in the long run than cleaning it once you see it. You even retain the advice of Pius, whose misdeeds were exposed before you in a royal diet with all to see."

"Without Pius, I wouldn't have been able to get half of what I did don—"

"You still speak to Pius?" Margeline interrupted, shocked.

Claude sighed, taking a seat again. His leg bounced, demonstrating his anxiety.

"Your Prime Minister has been exploiting you for personal gain, and now he's marrying his daughter, who he intends to be queen, to Prince Sylvain." Isabella stood, and walked closer to Claude. "Your council is getting smaller as various councilors leave the capital, preparing for war."

"But they are leaving," Claude insisted. "isn't that what you wanted of me?"

"You're asking Isabella if she wanted to cause a war?" Margeline said in disbelief.

Isabella felt hypocritical as she was about to bring this point up considering her role in this event, but it needed to be said.

"The single biggest schism in the church's history has come about during your reign. Your indecision in dealing with it decisively—either embracing or rejecting it—has created two tremendously large factions that split the kingdom down the middle."

"And what am I to do about that? That seemed far beyond my control."

"Everyone gave you prudent advice, but you ignored it. You chose to spend more time deliberating, and all of the while, the beliefs spread further and further to the point where now nothing can be done without causing tremendous damage." Isabella tried not to sound judgmental.

Claude cradled his head in his hands.

"The holy paladins, the core of your power in the royal palace, heed the commands of another more easily than you." She took a deep breath, and exhaled. "Even Edgar II retained control over them. The people view you as vulnerable. There is no punishment for not obeying your commands. There is no reason to give you good advice, as you never heed it. You spend more time thinking about what to do than doing something."

He looked up to her. "I'm trying to fix this. I'm still the king—I can improve, grow. What would you have me do?"

"I would have you listen to my advice only once." He seemed eager to hear her next words. "Abdicate. Take your wife, take your son, and retire back to your countryside estate." Isabella's words seemed to shake Claude. "Allow Dovhain to fall into an interregnum, the council headed by me, as we decide for a suitable replacement. Live out the rest of your life in peace and quiet with your wife, raising many happy and healthy children like our father was incapable of."

"What good can I do in a countryside estate?" Claude said disbelievingly.

Isabella eyes were stone. "What good have you done as king?"

Her words made Claude totally still as his brain ran through all of his deeds.

"Even if none of these things were your fault, the fact remains that you are viewed as responsible. But if you abdicate now, if you declare an interregnum, you might prevent a war." Isabella stood up straight. "You've seen what I've been able to do. Allow me the opportunity to enact your will as my liege and lead the interregnum. Take comfort knowing that you will have truly made the best choice for the people."

Claude looked to his wife for support, but the look on her face made it clear she concurred with Isabella.

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"Give me some time to think abou—" Claude began, but cut himself off as he realized he was doing precisely as Isabella said he often did. He cupped his face, and then started to laugh. It sounded mad at first, but slowly morphed into something that sounded rather sad and defeated. Eventually, his queen stepped up to put her hand on his shoulder. She comforted him in silence.

"Let's go home, Claude," she eventually whispered in his ear.

Claude swallowed, then looked up at Isabella. Then, he gave a slow, resigned nod.

***

"Speed is of the utmost importance," Isabella said as she stormed down the halls of Valerio's estate, the Duke of the Isles trailing behind her. "I need you to prepare your fastest ship with your best sailors to take the soon-to-be former king away from the capital. Then, I need you to get some of your best fighters together to help me assert myself in the royal palace."

"I think my mother can help you with that," Valerio said.

Isabella faltered mid-step. "Your mother?"

"She taught me knifework—I told you, remember?" Valerio reminded. "She knows her letters and numbers as well as her steel. And… I think she's starting to like you." He thought for a few moments. "As for men… what about Gaspar? I thought your gallant knight-commander in shining white armor was all but your puppet."

"Is that jealousy I detect?" Isabella questioned.

"I would never admit that out loud," he said, strongly implying he felt it.

Isabella shook her head in amusement. "Gaspar is going to be a very major part of this procedure. He'll most definitely have a strong voice in the interregnum. He's already demonstrated some tendency toward… bending the rules, even if it was for me."

"I can have some excellent fighters shadow you. I'll be among them, naturally," Valerio said smoothly.

"Have Randolph vet them," she said decisively, stopping and looking back to her guard as he kept up effortlessly. "Randolph, I want you to command my guards."

"Command?" Randolph raised a brow, scratching the top of his bald head. "I give excellent speeches, but my tactical experience consists mostly of winning arguments at dinner."

"I respect your ability," Isabella said. "And you'll have ample time to learn."

Randolph sighed. "Very bloody curious thing, how swiftly respect becomes responsibility," he complained.

"I'll raise your pay twofold."

Randolph's grim and blocky face brightened. "You make it very difficult to remain noble and reluctant."

Isabella smiled, and then turned to resume walking.

"I can't believe how swiftly this all happened. You played this masterfully," Valerio praised.

"Perhaps I did learn a thing or two," Isabella admitted quietly.

"Ah. Finally, she acknowledges it," Valerio noted.

"Still, the next few days will be incredibly fraught. There are many prominent nobles in the capital, and each and all of them will use my sex as a pretext to depose me from the role of Regent. Fortunately, unlike most other titles, the title of Regent has the largest precedent of being held by women." Isabella took a deep breath. "I can do this, right?"

"Probably not," Valerio said jokingly. "Best to call it off, run away with Claude."

Isabella pursed her lips, casting one annoyed glance at him. Seeing the grin on his handsome face, she couldn't remain so for long.

***

All of the nobles of the capital—which, of late, had become an increasingly small number—had gathered here today to hear King Claude's mandate. It was very unusual for Claude to summon his court together like this, and many discussed among themselves what this might be. Most unusual, however, was the fact that the throne reserved for the heir to the throne was occupied by Princess Isabella. People weren't quite certain of what to make of this.

King Claude rose to his feet. "Nobles, one and all… great defenders of the kingdom… I have a proclamation to make."

The king looked between the various gathered nobles, all of whom looked at him without fear or respect in their eyes. As he stood there, instead of the usual nervousness that he felt, he felt a remarkable clarity and freedom of spirit that made the next words come out of his mouth as if they were a sweet song.

"I will be abdicating as King of Dovhain," Claude declared, his voice brimming with decisiveness that he'd always lacked.

The room was soon awash with thousands of muttering voices.

The king wasted no time on ceremonial speeches or grand sweeping declarations. "I will take my family, renounce my claim to the throne and all royal territories, and retire to the countryside estate that was mine before I became king. In my place, I declare an interregnum." He turned back and threw his hand out toward Isabella. "Princess Isabella will preside over this interregnum as Regent until the assembly of nobles decide upon a new king."

The throne room quickly devolved into chaos. Claude looked out at all of them, his heart steeled. He turned, removed the crown from his head, and set it upon the pillow of the throne. Then, he took his wife's hand and departed, leaving the nobles below raving in their chaos. Isabella rose to her feet, stepping forward to handle it. She looked to an attendant on the right, and then gave him a nod.

As the command Isabella gave chained across the palace quickly, the royal bells began to ring out in less than half a minute. Their melodious yet loud chiming rose above the din and quieted all. Isabella stood before the throne, looking down upon all the nobles of the kingdom as they were tamed by the bells.

If this event were to be taken metaphorically, Isabella thought it a promising start. Claude had left in chaos, yet she had quickly quieted all assembled.

***

Cesare stuck his head out of the carriage that was secreting him and his men inside the city, peering beyond that the distant capital city. He heard the royal bells ringing, and he was puzzled by what it meant. What had happened to cause the bells to ring? They usually marked the coronation of a new king, but so far as he knew, Claude had been alive and well. Had someone else made their move to usurp the throne—and so quickly, at that?

Even as he watched, the gates to the capital rose. Their bought guard at the gate had done his part, and now they could have free access to the city if they so desired it. But if there was another claimant in the royal palace… would there be another army waiting? Would he be going into a trap if he proceeded?

As Cesare mused on the possibilities, the commander of his outriders rode up to his carriage and looked at him for guidance. "Sir, do we go ahead with the assault?"

Cesare looked around. His mercenary company—numbering well over a thousand—were all prepared. Far behind, out of view of the capital, were Duke Albert's troops, easily numbering ten thousand. They could sack the city twice over, but… did he go ahead with it, even after these changed circumstances?