The Bell Tolls for Me

Long before Isabella could exert any influence as the new Regent, she received a disturbing missive from Archduke Felix himself. He walked up the stairs leading to the throne platform and spoke to her directly.

"I've just received word from some men of mine. A large band of mercenaries have entered the city," he whispered quietly. Isabella looked at him in shock, but quickly tamed her expression. "Are these men working for you?"

Isabella didn't confirm or deny just yet. "What are they doing? Has any violence erupted?"

"No. They've yet to do anything but make their presence known," Felix continued urgently. "Apparently, they're marching on the palace with their weapons sheathed and their crossbows unloaded. But… they're most definitely armed."

Isabella felt some panic in her stomach. Randolph had secured a small group of men—perhaps twenty condottieri he trusted, more than enough to keep them safe—but that wasn't anywhere near enough to defend against a band of mercenaries.

"How many men do you have in the capital?" she asked, trying not to let her anxiety show.

"We don't have enough," Felix said. "I know you've made some preparations, but whatever the case, it's not enough to resist them."

Isabella wasn't surprised in the least that Felix already knew about her preparations. He always had the most robust Information network of any of the nobles. As she was contemplating her options, another walked up to her. Arthur of Hamore, apprentice to the Archwizard. He had been attending this event as a representative of his mentor.

"Isabella…" he began, his concern evident.

"I know." Isabella kept her composure, the only sign of her uneasiness to rapid guarding of her eyes as she tried to figure out her options.

"There's well over a thousand," Arthur said. "I've scouted with my familiar."

Should she flee immediately? If these people were would-be usurpers, her head might meet the chopping block, where she'd be maligned as the foul witch attempting a coup. But if they weren't… if she fled now, she would be ceding control over the proceedings to another noble. She would lose all control over the situation.

As she was wrapped up in indecision, Isabella felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked back tensely, but her alarm subsided when she saw Valerio standing just behind her. He said nothing, but in his dark-eyed stare Isabella received an assurance that no one else before had ever offered her. No matter what the intentions of these mercenaries, if Valerio was here, she could emerge from this unscathed. He could protect her.

Isabella turned her head and looked to the left where she saw Gaspar. She beckoned him over with renewed confidence, and he walked up immediately.

"Regent," he greeted deferentially.

"Send out a few Holy Paladins to greet the mercenaries that are coming. Try and ascertain their intentions," she commanded. "If they come peacefully, allow them to send a small party to herald their leader into the palace."

If not… Isabella wasn't quite certain what to do. She was sure to figure it out once the situation was clearer.

***

Isabella didn't know whether to be relieved or alarmed as they led a particularly dangerous man into the palace. Cesare, leader of the Gods' Bastards, walked boldly into the throne room. He fit in as well as any other noble standing around. Flanking him were two of the most renowned swordsmen of the land. They were men of great reputation, and well respected. It showcased a particular talent of his—his charisma.

Cesare was as adept a leader and politician as he was a fighter. It took great force of personality to expand his mercenary company as rapidly as he had. Even with the backing of a wealthy patron like Duke Albert, very few people could create as cohesive and effective a group as he had. Archbishop Pius had always intended to make a lord out of him one day, and as such, he was educated to lead.

Isabella turned her head backward to look at Randolph, and he shook his head no. That meant that he didn't detect any danger from these people. It made sense—Cesare wouldn't be as stupid enough to wantonly massacre the people here. That would only ensure that he became a scapegoat for whichever prince came to occupy the throne. The fact that he came now in peace and not as a warlord meant that Isabella had managed to make Claude abdicate just in time.

Still, this considerably shifted the balance of power she'd set up.

Cesare walked up to the foot of the stairs leading to the throne, and then kneeled with the practiced dignity befitting a high noble. Isabella looked upon him. He had the graceful serenity of Archbishop Pius, with white hair, white eyes, and a clean-shaven face, yet there was a handsome roguishness about him distinguishing him from his father.

"This humble servant gives his greeting to Regent Isabella," Cesare said. He raised his head, despite not being bid to. "My men and I have spread throughout the city, establishing peace and order in this time of unrest. It is our hope that we may be of aid to the interregnum council." His words made Isabella's lips purse.

Cesare was forcing her into a difficult position. Either she admonished Cesare, thereby exposing that her authority was lesser than it appeared—perhaps he would attack if she did that. Or… she embraced and condoned his actions, allowing him free rein to involve himself in the politics of the interregnum. Though legitimacy and law held a lot of weight in this society, there was still the simple reality of military power. And wielding that power, Cesare could exercise authority beyond what his station would ordinarily allow.

Countless figures looked to Isabella, awaiting her reaction. A great deal rested on what she was about to say.

"Thank you, Cesare," Isabella said. She had established this council to avoid bloodshed—and even if the situation had changed, she held fast to that principle. "Can you and your men find suitable accommodations in the city?"

Cesare rose. "I presumed that we would all be staying in the Royal Palace." He smiled for a few moments, challengingly. Then, he laughed. "I only jest, Your Highness. I thank you for your magnanimity, and look forward to the… hospitality of the capital."

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Isabella held her breath waiting for Cesare's next move. He turned on his heel and walked out the way he'd come, the holy paladins standing by his path watching uneasily. All of the nobles here knew what his presence meant. There was another player in this regency council—another dimension to this battle.

***

Isabella stood on one of the many grandiose balconies in the royal palace, looking out at the capital of their nation: the eponymously named city of Dovhain. Even from here, she could see the evidence of the mercenary's occupation. They outnumbered the garrison, and the Royal Army had not been gathered. At her side was Valerio, Arthur, Randolph, Gaspar, and Veronica—the people she trusted most thoroughly.

"I can't stand this feeling," Valerio complained gruffly. "Dozens and dozens of men, standing just outside the gates to my estate."

"You're not the only one feeling uneasy, trust me." Despite what she said, Isabella felt quite serene. Things were snapping into focus one after another.

"Why did you accommodate that foppish fool?" Randolph asked.

Isabella watched the skyline. "Because I know what Cesare is." She turned around, leaning up against the railing. "He's a mercenary. A former condottiere. And he's been gifted a very wonderful opportunity."

"What, the throne?" Veronica walked forth and crossed her arms.

"You don't pay a mercenary in thrones," Arthur said prudently, pacing around with his hands in his pockets.

Everyone around seemed to realize what they were getting at. Valerio ground his teeth together, dissatisfied.

"He's placed himself in the perfect position to play all of us," Isabella said. "He doesn't care about who ends up on the throne. Rather, I can confidently say that he's discussing with his men how they can all emerge from this deliriously rich."

***

"The money that we can make from exploiting this interregnum is infinitely more than we could expect from pillaging a few estates throughout the capital," Cesare said, looking around at all of his captains. "So long as we keep our men in line and keep our hands out begging for more, each and every one of us could retire from this rich enough to buy an island," he declared boldly.

"How?" One raised a skeptical brow. "The moment that we start actually doing something, it'll devolve into chaos. We're just delaying the inevitable—sacking the city."

"Don't you see?" One of the captains lightly bashed the man that had spoken with his elbow. "While the noble lords and the high ladies involve themselves in their game of politics, we can busy ourselves taking what we're owed from them. They'll be spending all of their time courting our favor. We're the one that's that decides how this ends."

Cesare pointed at the man and nodded in confirmation. "It's a buyer's market, ladies and gentlemen. They'll be handing out lordships like they're stale bread. I could be talking to future dukes and counts, right in this room," he promised grandly. "The future is made today, gentlemen, and we can be its heralds."

Raucous cheers of excitement rose up from even the skeptical members of the mercenary group.

"But!" Cesare cautioned, raising a finger. "It's utterly pivotal that we stay together. There's more than enough for everybody, but if one of us breaks rank, the whole chain could shatter."

"Aye. No secret meetings. No talking with the lords and ladies without the others present," a commander called out.

"And I'll hold myself fast to that rule, too," Cesare promised. "We're men of the battlefield. And if our formation breaks, the battle is lost. All of you should know that by now. That's why you're here." He grinned. "And that's why we'll thrive."

***

"You don't think we could rally enough resistance to oust them from the city?" Valerio proposed. "Felix, or others… they may not be entirely ideal allies, but they'll certainly be better than the whims of a mercenary. That bastard will be fickler than the sea, I'm certain."

Isabella shook her head, and then looked out to the horizon where the sun was beginning to set. "There's a delicate balance of power outside the city. If Cesare was ready to storm into the city, I have little doubt that he is the backing of an army behind him. I suspect Duke Albert was assisting him, given their previous relationship. Albert can easily muster many thousand men. That's more than enough to ensure that no reinforcements can get near the capital without him knowing.

"That's not even mentioning the other claimants." Isabella turned around and sighed. "I… won't pretend to know our odds in battle. But to risk thousands of lives? That isn't something that I want. Right now… I suspect he'll be busy establishing himself, ensuring that he alone reigns in the city."

***

"I want all of our people on the gates. Not a single person gets in or out of the city without our knowledge," Cesare commanded, strutting through the orderly streets boldly. "We need to have men on the docks, day and night. The old king already sailed away, but I don't want someone smuggling in a force to silently remove us. Shoot down birds delivering messages. Block the coast. Watch the gates—we're in a very valuable position, and I won't have it squandered by a lack of discipline," Cesare said firmly.

"Yes, sir," the captain following affirmed.

"But on that front… I think we have some messages of our own to send out," Cesare stopped, contemplating. "This party's a bit dull, right now. You know who can bring a bit of light to it? Duke Albert. Quite a rambunctious man. Very wealthy." Cesare smiled. "And he's got a lot of very fun friends. Princes, princesses, dukes, counts—it's customary for an interregnum to involve all the nobles of the kingdom, low and small. All need their say. Why not invite them, for the sake of our beautiful new Regent?"

***

"Duke Albert, the claimants, all of the power players of the kingdom… they'll come, even if only by proxy," Isabella said with certainty, pacing around the balcony. "Cesare has magnified the intensity of this interregnum, but fundamentally, he has no allegiance but to himself. We've not lost."

"He's got the city hostage, and he's going to go looking for whoever pays the highest ransom," Valerio said with a bitter frown. "I have a bit of experience with that game myself. Catch a man on a high sea, reach out to his rivals and his allies, seeing who'll pay more…" he scoffed. "I see now how abhorrent it is, firsthand."

"Ordinarily I'd suggest assassination, but the men at his side were true steel," Veronica said, and Valerio concurred with a curt nod.

"What comes next?" Gaspar asked.

Isabella clasped her hands together. "I'm well-accustomed to powerlessness of this sort. There's as much opportunity in this as there is peril." She pursed her lips, then looked to Valerio. "Could you get a message to Cesare?"

"Saying what?"

"I'd like a meeting," she said. "Tomorrow morning."

***

Isabella sat at a grand table in the royal gardens, sipping at her morning coffee. Somehow, her little tasting sessions with Valerio had evolved into her having a coffee every morning. Hopefully it'd make her alert for this meeting. Valerio sat just beside her, dagger in hand, spinning it through his palm intermittently. His hair was especially wild today, and he looked like a lounging lion—and quite the grumpy one, at that.

Cesare walked in, led by Gaspar and surrounded by a few of his own men. He kept his eyes fixed on Isabella as he walked up. She gestured for the chair, and he sat. Perhaps it was Isabella's mind alone, but she thought there was a tacit thought shared between them.

This meeting had been a long time coming.