The Bell Tolls for Me

By all rights, Isabella should have been acting with the utmost urgency. She couldn't deny that she was concerned, but she had been planning to spend up to a month in this place. If the regime really was as fragile as she saw, that plan could be greatly accelerated. That changed the landscape of things. So for now, she simply walked among the people that Valerio had done his utmost to help over the years.

The atmosphere was universal: unbridled optimism.

There were children of all ages running around the street without fear of their neighbors. More elven women were pregnant than not—and unlike in Dovhain where women would remain inside their homes during the duration, they walked freely around the streets. The climate was pleasant, and there were a mix of fashions. There were traditional outfits of cotton or wool that Isabella often saw back home, but also a large glut of clothes that she assumed were native to the elves—hides and furs, which often sported dangling fangs or horns on hats. They were all very decent and practical, though some would certainly be called scandalous by most back home. She noticed a few humans in the mix, to her surprise. They introduced themselves as people brought by Valerio to teach crafts to the elves.

Their food stuff was very consistent. The principal foods that she saw being treasured were meat and insects. The elves had slightly longer, slightly sharper teeth. She saw countless trees and bushes with berries and fruits that looked delectable, but Roderick always warned her against eating them. Without fail, these fruits were poisonous. She had seen fields of wheat along the river delta leading to this city, and nothing native. It became clear to her that they had no local crops they could cultivate. All of the flora here was inedible. The reason their people didn't grow crops before Valerio's arrival was easy—they couldn't.

Before Valerio arrived, their forage was insects, and their primary food meat. They were experts at imitation—with their mouths alone, they could mimic the droning noise of cicadas, the calls of animals, the chirping of birds, even the exact voices of others… it almost defied comprehension. In Isabella's eyes, it seemed they had been born hunters. Yet now, they reared cows outside the boundaries of the city. They grew wheat alongside other crops she didn't see much of in Dovhain. So many things that she thought commonplace were new realities to these people—agriculture, animal husbandry, stone working, even magic. Arthur said that none of them possessed any magical talent, but lack of talent didn't mean incapability.

And the source of all this was one person alone, in the elves' eyes. Valerio.

She heard countless tales as she walked among them. Wizard. Prophet. Messiah. It was small wonder that the Lómethar were afraid of being overthrown—in the eyes of the people, Valerio was the true power already. Each of the Lómethar were elected for different reasons. One was a judge, meant to settle disputes. Another was a master of war—increasingly irrelevant, as their power and technology grew leagues beyond that of any other tribe. The departments had expanded massively. Masters of architecture, furniture, weaving, roads, livestock… each chosen by the people. Their purpose was simple—to be the voice for the people, representing their interest. Amazingly, even the elven women were permitted voice in this matter, and could be elected. It was wholly different from Dovhain.

It was a highly chaotic, but highly dynamic system. Isabella knew that some cities in the kingdom had mayors, but the nobility or the king made most other appointments. This was unlike any other system she'd seen before. Even the Republic of Ambrose had an oligarchy of nobles. It was already bursting at the seams, of course—as the Ithilian population exploded, she could already foresee conflict. They weren't a pacifistic people by any means.

As much was on display when she visited the colosseum. It was one of the grandest buildings in the whole of the city. There, she saw several of the elves fighting each other with wooden weapons clad in leather and hide. Most weren't battles to the death, but they were incredibly brutal. Duels to the death weren't unheard of—indeed, Roderick told her they were common in many regards, especially when it came to matters of the heart. A man was expected to kill to defend his wife and her honor.

Before seeing the city, Isabella had planned to offer several things. She was prepared to essentially co-opt something that Valerio had already planned to offer later—knowledge of magic. But as she talked to these optimistic, friendly people, and as she walked among them… a new idea took root.

Something she knew very well.

***

"What they've been doing so far works excellently when they're a small group," Isabella said, sitting at a table with Valerio and Roderick. "How large was their clan before you arrived, Valerio?"

"No more than five hundred," Valerio said, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. "Even then, a lot of them were young. They absorbed a lot of friendly clans as the model succeeded."

Isabella nodded thoughtfully. "I imagine there were some conflicts in getting them to agree to a single unified Lómethar?"

"Not particularly," Roderick said. "A new vote would be held. People would be chosen."

Isabella nodded thoughtfully. "That, in and of itself, is what I see as so exceptional about your people." She leaned in. "But can it last forever?"

"…I've had similar thoughts, visiting your homeland," Roderick admitted.

"And on that front, I'm sure that you can see it as well as I can, Roderick." Isabella looked at him. "Valerio takes precedence before the Lómethar among the people." Roderick said nothing, but bit his lip. "I have little doubt that if we wanted to, a few words from Valerio in the public would turn all against them."

Roderick's eyes darted over to her. "If you do that…!"

Isabella raised her hand. "If that was my intention, I would be talking to Valerio alone right now. I understand that your people are important to you. I don't intend to do as you might fear. But as this society expands, your Lómethar must change. And that is what I intend to propose to them."

Valerio studied her. "To them? Not the people?"

"Indeed," Isabella nodded. "They're meant to speak for the people, yes? Let me remind them of that. Let me lay out the situation plainly. And failing that… we'll speak to the source. We'll hear the true voice of the people." Isabella finished.

"If you think I'll—" Roderick leaned on the table hard, but Valerio grabbed his shoulder. He looked back. "You're taking her side in this?" he asked, his voice low and dark.

"Yes," Valerio said plainly. "Because I know her. And you'll sit down and listen, because you know me."

Roderick ground his teeth together for a few seconds, and then fell back into his chair. Isabella inhaled, prepared for a long explanation.

"Understand, Roderick, I don't intend to break your people's way of life. But in my mind, it would be far more immoral to let this situation continue until it bursts," Isabella insisted. "Listen, then."

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***

Isabella walked back to the Lómethar the next day. She had asked Roderick to send word to gather them all—and by now, they were. She was trailed by Randolph and Effie, Roderick's sister, and flanked by Valerio and Arthur.

"Supernal," Randolph said.

"And what does that mean?" Effie asked.

"Heavenly. Ethereal," Randolph explained.

"And that means… divine, right?"

"Indeed. For instance, back home they tend to say, 'Randolph, whenever I gaze upon you, I am reminded of the supernal quality of the clouds," he explained.

"…they don't say that," Effie insisted.

"You're doubting me?" Randolph said incredulously. "My pulchritude is settled fact, second only to my legendary magniloquence, and third to my supererogatory service to Her Highness. I should note that both definitions of that last word suit me with that bloody Valerio hovering about her."

"You're making these words up," she said with certainty.

Isabella listened in on their conversation to calm her nerves as she approached the Lómethar's hall. This wasn't something that she wanted to go sideways, but in her mind, it would be far worse to allow this problem to fester unaddressed than it would be to oust those holding power forcibly. If they were truly the voice of the people as they claimed to be, they would see the reason in what she was going to propose.

They walked into the building, Randolph and Effie still chatting away. Isabella was weaker on this day, but she felt stronger internally as she crossed the threshold into the council chamber as she had once before. Valerio and Roderick both would be her translators on this day—the elven man had come around to her proposal, though still opposed overthrowing the Lómethar directly.

Isabella came back before the Lómethar. Before, she had been subdued, exhausted, but now her head turned boldly as she looked at each of them in turn. Randolph and Effie went silent.

"Valerio. Isabella," Taryon greeted politely. He gestured to his side, where Roderick stood. "Roderick informed each of us that you intended to make your proposal to be named Thalvassë."

Isabella was glad that Roderick hadn't told them what she intended. He trusted her plan, then. She was glad.

One of the other Lómethar spoke up in their native tongue, and Valerio explained quietly, "He's reprimanding Taryon for speaking in the Dovhain language."

After a brief argument, Taryon looked back to Isabella. "We will listen to your proposal, then."

Isabella stepped forward, releasing Valerio and coming to stand on her own. She straightened her back, and watched them without fear.

"My offering is simple," Isabella said, waiting a beat for Valerio to translate. "I intend to prevent your sons and daughters from killing each other."

The reaction was confused unrest from those who understood, and Valerio trailed off without translating. She looked back. He looked at her with a tacit question on his gaze, and she nodded in confirmation. He translated. Some people scoffed, others said things she didn't understood. But Isabella held firm.

"What do you mean?" Taryon eventually asked.

Isabella took a deep breath. "You've built something far greater than I expected, if I'm frank. You've brought to life countless things that exist in my land. Grand buildings. Fields of crops. Weavers, craftsmen, all things key for prosperous life. But given time… you'll import another tradition of ours. Conflict. Wars. Fights between hundreds, thousands. This system of yours—that of the Lómethar—all but guarantees it."

There were heckles, then, but Isabella stood firm. Taryon stood up and stomped on the floor, and fire erupted from his feet with a bang, scorching the stone. Isabella's heart jumped into her throat. All quieted, staring at him.

"She is speaking," Taryon said, looking between them all. As all took their seats once more, he sat back down, watching. She could tell he wasn't calm—rather, he merely wished to hear her out.

"What will happen as your people expand?" Isabella asked. "Choosing new members of the Lómethar will only become more difficult. Soon, tens of thousands must assemble to pick each of you. Disagreements will arise. When one of you, given the role of presiding over livestock, is replaced… what if those that herd the cows are discontent? What if the vote is close, and your people are split? What if the differences cannot be settled with words alone?" She walked around the chamber, looking at them.

"In time, I have no doubt you'll found another city. But the interests of that city might not align with the first. They're upriver, perhaps, and they dump their waste in the water. They have their own herd of cows, and they seek a largely share of the land. They want to expand their fields, but those in this city are already present." People's faced hardened. "Will you vote to stop that? But ah—they have walls. They were made to keep out predators, but now they keep you out. So, this second city refuses. And then, to make them comply, you must use force. Even if you succeed… you tear down their walls, you kill those that disagree with you, and you force compliance. But it won't end there.

"The land I come from is full of liars, of thieves," Isabella continued. "Of people who put their own self-interest before that of the civilization. It gave rise to great things, no doubt. Buildings like the one we stand in. Tools of iron and steel, boats that can sail the ocean. You've seen them," Isabella gestured. "You have seen the great lessons of our civilization. I can offer to teach you how to avoid its failures, so that you never have to see your sons and daughters dying in battle against their siblings."

Isabella waited for Valerio to finish his translation. All of the Lómethar looked greatly unsettled. She walked back up to join Valerio before she said her next words.

"And if my offer should not satisfy you, I intend to tell your children that you would sooner see them dead than change your ways," she declared bluntly.

The threat was clear, and the room grew tense. Valerio put one arm around her, watching all the threats in the room. But as he translated her words, she knew they would work.

There was some clamor as they talked amongst each other. Many threatened to leave, many shouted at the others, many pointed at her and said words that she assumed to be obscenities of some kind. But the room did settle… and Taryon regarded her once more.

"What is it that you actually offer?" he asked.

"A nation," Isabella said simply.

None seemed convinced, yet. But they were still listening.

***

"Good morning."

Isabella blinked open her eyes, feeling tired beyond compare after the long, long day of explanation. She tried to sit up, only to flop a little uselessly. She felt strong hands help her sit up, then lean her against the backboard of the bed. Valerio sat on her bedside.

"Goodming," Isabella muttered.

"Was that meant to be good morning?" Valerio asked, and she nodded. He looked at her in concern. "You really promised those people a lot." She shrugged, still waking up. "How did you know they'd agree?"

"Because I did." Isabella rubbed her eyes.

Valerio stared at her, still smiling, but clearly with concern. "They're ready to hear you out. If you can give the same explanation you provided to the Lómethar, I think the ritual should begin without issue."

Isabella's fatigue vanished. "The Thalvassë ritual?"

"Fëantaina en'Thalvassë," Valerio said. "The surrendering of the soul to the clan." He put his hand on hers. "Are you sure you want to do this? I'm not… pushing this on you?"

Isabella looked at him. "I remember you said you enjoyed me being sick. Is that what you'd like? Me, a doll in bed, immobile?" she teased.

Valerio went a little red from embarrassment—the first time she'd seen him do that. He stroked the bridge of his nose. "When I said that, I didn't mean… that's not exactly…"

"Yes," Isabella said resolutely. "Yes, this is what I want."

Valerio looked at her to assess her earnestness. "Alright. Then… let's go."