The Bell Tolls for Me 72: Silent Battle

Edgar the Great awoke.

His awakening had always been the most pivotal time for his life. He always chose when and where he slept very carefully, when he could. His power—the ability to travel back through time—was anchored by his passage to and from the world of dreams. When he traveled backward through time, the last time that he’d woken up was the period that he would emerge. This had tremendous merit to it.

These past months, however, had been utterly restricting to him. Once, he’d been free to do almost anything and everything at will. Now, there was nothing that he’d been able to do for time uncountable but stare at a ceiling and listen to readings by his serving staff. He was a prisoner within his own body.

But on this fateful morning… as he willed his limbs to move, unlike countless days before, he received a response. His hand barely lifted up off the bed. He was able to turn his head to look at his body feebly stretching outward. And when he saw that, a smile graced the face of the returning king.

Today was the day that everything would change.

***

Isabella felt an uncomfortably familiar stiffness in her hand as she closed and opened it. It was as though the very material comprising her flesh had changed to be less responsive and malleable. Even that simple movement felt changed. It brought back a deep and enduring sense of dread despite how long she’d been preparing for this.

Ahead of her, Gaspar and Randolph walked through the confines of this abandoned mine, Gaspar bearing a torch. She felt extremely claustrophobic being here. It was damp and dark. It brought back unpleasant memories of captivity underneath various people. More than anything, she wished that Valerio were here right now.

“This bloody place has more dangers than most alleys in the slums of Dovhain,” Randolph muttered. “We shouldn’t be here. There has to be a better way.”

“There’s no better way. We prepared for a long time, Randolph.” Isabella walked stiffly.

Randolph paused. “Yet you’ve still told me nothing of who it is that’s chasing you and where it is that you intend to go. You’re the regent of the kingdom. Even out in this squalid outback, who could come after you that we couldn’t handle?”

“…for the sake of myself and others, I can’t give you that information. But I promise you that things will clear up in the matter of weeks.” Isabella took a deep breath, and then coughed when something dusty entered her throat. “For now, all I’ll say is that I’m going abroad.”

“I can see light,” Gaspar said enthusiastically. “Come now.”

They picked up the pace a little, and eventually Isabella saw the light too. She had to shut her eyes as it blinded her. They emerged on a rocky cliffside without proper infrastructure. The stairs that had once led up to this area had decayed and broken down. Far below, she could see the frigid oceanic waters that had been hidden behind the mountain they’d settled at the base of. There was a fairly sizable town on the shore. It was a very beautiful sight.

“Do you notice anything, Randolph?” Isabella asked.

He shook his head. “There’s not a chance in the hell that anyone that was spying on your convoy had time enough to set up in this area. But to answer your question, no. The only danger I can see is that bloody sea, and you seem intent on crossing it.”

Isabella inhaled deeply and sighed. “Let us descend, then.”

Randolph looked at Gaspar. “That’s princess for ‘carry me, dumbass.’ Get to work, knight in shining armor.”

Seeing the descent, and feeling her weakness… Isabella didn’t argue against that.

***

Alice had been given one instruction: don't let anyone know that the Princess Regent was missing. She had spent the entirety of her time ensuring that no one could find out that information.

“The princess is unwell. She won’t be receiving any visitors,” Alice stated again and again.

It wasn’t a particularly elaborate deception. People added unnecessary details when they were lying to make their story seem more legitimate. Isabella herself had advised Alice against doing that. They didn’t have any right to know anything more. If they pressed, Alice would merely hint to womanly issues—most nobles preferred to ignore the realities of the body. Those few that weren’t deterred, she would go on the offensive.

She was resolved to face anyone. But she didn’t expect to face quite as high a figure as she did.

“If the Princess is feeling unwell, perhaps you could allow me to pay her a visit,” the Archwizard said, his blind eyes staring right at Alice until she was unnerved. She wondered whether or not he was really blind.

Alice shook her head. “I’m afraid it’s not something that magic can remedy. These are merely womanly issues. To say anything more would be improper.”

The Archwizard stepped closer. “Do you think that magic has not been already tuned to address such issues? There have been as many female spellcasters as there are males, despite modern sensibilities opposing that.”

Alice was more than a little panicked as she considered the notion that the Archwizard might force his way past. Then, memory struck.

“Isabella herself is one such example, as she told me you know. She is handling the issue on her own, and asked to receive no visitors,” Alice said. “Return at another time, Archwizard.”

The Archwizard was clearly having an internal debate as he stared at Alice. Then, he nodded. “Very well. I would ask only that you relay that message to her, should she change her mind.”

***

Isabella was helped aboard the first ship that she had ever been on. Once more, all she could think of was Valerio’s absence. She had hoped that her first ship ride would be something they might be able to experience together.

Once aboard, she looked around to see a few vaguely familiar people. These were Gaspar’s most trusted holy paladins, and they’d checked the way in advance. They would be her escorts until they met up with Valerio’s ship in a different port.

Isabella very nearly stumbled, but Randolph caught her and guided her to a nearby railing to lean against. Her stamina had never been anything to marvel at, but she felt particularly weak today. That was no coincidence. All of her was becoming diminished.

“Seasick already?” Randolph asked.

“No. No, I just need to… need to sit down,” she said. Her lungs felt heavy. “Can you help me sit down?”

***

“Help me stand,” Edgar said in a clear, unshaking voice. Not the pathetic whimpers that he’d managed the past months—a real, genuine voice. A king’s voice.

The two serving girls obeyed. They came to support him as he shifted off the bed. The moment his legs touched the ground, he could feel their weakness. Even excluding the wasting illness that he had, he’d been in bed for a very, very long time. It would take effort to restore the physique that he’d built. He was simply older, too.

He leaned on the prettier of the two girls… and as he did, inhaled deeply through his nose, savoring the close touch he could finally feel. He hadn’t felt much before. But now… now, he was back. He could indulge in all of the fineries that life permitted. He could be a king again. And he had his favored child—Isabella—to thank.

He needed to be sure to keep her safe. Safe enough that no one could even touch her.

***

Valerio ducked into a dead-end of the palace, bleeding heavily from his arm and a few other wounds beside. He had to admit he had gotten somewhat complacent. He thought that all the beasts had left to follow along with Isabella, and so he'd been unprepared for someone to strike at him. Whoever these people were, they were highly trained, and highly potent, spellcasters.

Frankly… he didn’t know if he could win. But he didn’t need to win. He just needed to escape. Life wasn’t about winning to him, anymore. He had already won. So long as he could keep what he had, he needed nothing else—no glories, no honors.

As he leaned up against the wall, he heard some loud noises down the hall. He looked toward the window, wondering if he should try and escape that way despite the risk. More noises echoed down—fire, lightning. He poked his head out—were they fighting someone else? So far as he knew, all of the holy paladins had gone with Isabella.

All that Valerio saw was the tail-end of a fight. Arthur effortlessly dismantled a mage’s protective ward, cutting off his head cleanly. Then, he turned toward Valerio. Instinct told him that the one he was facing was a veteran—that was a sensation he’d never before gotten from Arthur.

“Valerio,” Arthur called out. “They’re all dead. We should hurry. Isabella’s going to be waiting for us.”

Valerio walked into view, studying Arthur. The man gestured, then set off running. Valerio looked at his wounds briefly, wincing, and then followed. A question was swirling in his head, though.

Us? When were you invited?

***

Archduke Felix, Abigail, and Prince Sylvain rode together, each relatively low-key. They wore cloaks and had their head covered. Their retinue was present, but small and elite.

“Will you finally explain to me why leaving the central nerve of power—the interregnum council—is a shrewd political move, Archduke?” Sylvain said, with his typical stuffiness.

Felix lowered back his cowl, and drew his horse to a stop. “Because fairly soon, it’s going to cease being politically relevant at all.”

Sylvain looked at him as they all joined in stopping. “How do you mean?” He narrowed his eyes. “Are you attempting some sort of underhanded scheme? Why is that what we need to do? I am the legal heir.”

Felix met his gaze. “Isabella is gone.”

Sylvain’s eyes narrowed, and his voice was a low growl as he asked, “You killed her?”

“Heavens, no,” Abigail said, shaking her head. “She departed. Without her, the interregnum council will collapse, given time. It’s imperative that we be ahead of the curve. We need to return to where my father’s power is strong.”

“Why would she depart? Her intention was to prevent war, was it not?” He asked, his voice bordering on inquisition. “Is she ignoble enough to abandon that aim? Are you similarly bereft of moral character, as to support her in throwing the kingdom into war?”

“She departed to prepare for what comes. A force of destruction greater than war, in some ways,” Felix said, looking to the distance.

***

Edgar sat on the side of his bed, tired after walking around so much all day. He felt pathetic. He wouldn’t allow anyone to see him like this. His return… it would be glorious. He would be sure of that. He would not leave any room for mistake, no matter how many tries it took.

“I believe that she’s already exhibiting some signs of having fallen with a wasting illness. She felt unwell today, and refused visitors. Your own recovery is also sufficient evidence, Your Majesty,” the Archwizard said, looking at him.

Edgar smiled. “Show me the woman.”

“Of course,” the Archwizard bowed his head, then quickly walked away.

Edgar stared at the floor for a few moments, and then the Archwizard returned. Following alongside him was Lady Bernadetta. She stopped in front of him and bowed slightly.

“Your Majesty,” she greeted.

Edgar reached out with his arm and put his hand against her face. He stared at her as he traced her upper lip with his thumb. Her eyes betrayed nothing. “Pretty thing,” he remarked.

Tonight? He asked himself. Then, remembering his state, he decided, No. There will be time aplenty.

Edgar took back his hand. “Very well. Leave me. I intend to spend my last night in this place.”

The two said their goodbyes, and then departed. Edgar laid back on his pillow. For once, it felt welcome. He turned his head, looking out through the window that had been his sole company for all these months. It would be the last time he saw this view.

As he waited for sleep to claim him, he watched a ship drifting lazily past in the distance.

***

“Do you see that glint?” one of the shipmates asked, pointing. “There, in the mountainside.”

His fellow followed his finger and watched the distant cliffs. “Yeah… yeah, I think so.”

“Is that a window, you think?” he followed up.

“Who the hell would build a home into a mountain like that?” the second man asked incredulously.

“No idea.” He took a deep breath. “Whatever. Long journey to the Ambrose Republic. I’m going to get some sleep.”

“Intend to look tip-top for our guest?” the shipmate asked as he left.

“Hell no. Take my advice—act like she’s not ever there,” the man called out. “Best for all of us. Those types bring nothing but trouble.”

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