The Bell Tolls for Me 33: Have Faith, Child

This first scene will probably just be part of chapter 32 in the RR release. No need to break them up as I did.
***
Magic was a strange thing to manipulate. It was, by its very nature, a fickle and fleeting thing. One had to catch it and stabilize it with the use of their mana lock, and then, pluck it and weave it like the finest tapestry. The mana lock might be likened to the dreamcatchers that she’d hung up around her room as a little girl—and now, she plucked that dream from the confines of her mind and wove it as she remembered.

A string there, a thread there, a twist here, a finesse there… she handled magic like a delicate string, weaving art in her head from memory. And when it finally fit together…

Isabella opened her eyes just in time to see a bird of light dance up out of her hands, taking to the sky. Isabella felt her own heart soar far faster and higher than it did. It rose up, up, up, to the ceiling of the ritual chamber that Igraine had occupied. And when it hit the ceiling, it scattered. Isabella couldn’t feel any disappointment. Rather, she felt an elation that could scarcely be put into words. It was nothing more than a beginner’s spell—a trick used to awe children. But it was magic. Her magic. That meant more than could be described to her.

“Congratulations, Princess Isabella,” Igraine said. “You’re now a spellcaster.”

Isabella took in the feeling, smiling broadly.

“It’s a shame that you aren’t younger,” Igraine said regretfully. “I do believe you’d be a very promising student. You created your mana lock on your first try, and with such confined mental space… it’s quite fantastic. Nevertheless, you’ve succeeded. This is a day to celebrate.”

“Could you continue to teach me regardless?” Isabella asked eagerly, then shook her head. “No… I’m sorry. I forgot myself.”

Igraine stood there silently, but Valerio spoke up, saying, “I can get you anything you need related to magic, Isabella. The Republic of Ambrose has a hardy magic culture, and a great deal more freedom in exercising it than the people here in Dovhain. I can import some books for you.”

Isabella looked at Valerio with unadulterated joy. In her mind, that was the best gift that he could give her. But… she hesitated. He was spending an awful lot of money. Was that prudent?

“If I have the time… I may stop by occasionally,” Igraine said coyly.  “I do find myself with much less on my plate now that my children are grown.”

“Really?” Isabella said excitedly. “If it’s not an imposition… I’d love nothing more.”

“For a few days, at least, I’ll be a constant presence. It’s not uncommon for new mages to fall quite ill—especially ones that became mages older. It’s nothing life-threatening, but it helps to have a more experienced spellcaster looking after you,” she said, then looked to Valerio. “That’s no trouble for you, I trust. Or your mage friend.”

“My mage will be watching you closely,” Valerio said. “But if Isabella trusts you, I’ll permit it.”

“It’s settled, then,” Igraine said, looking back. “You have a great deal of catching up to do, princess. Can you handle it?”

Isabella nodded. “Eagerly.”

***

“This room right here… is your room,” Valerio said, pointing to distant double doors. “Adjacent to mine. I was using it as a storage room, but it’s been remodeled with all of your things. Shall we?” he asked, stopping at them. He looked quite excited to show her.

Isabella gave him a nod.

Valerio opened the doors wide, and then walked inside. The room was infinitely more spacious than the quarters that she’d had in the royal palace. In truth, she didn’t have much in the way of possessions compared to a royal prince—a large variety of books, her clothes and jewelry, her array of personal care items like perfumes and makeups, her calligraphy set, and a harp she hadn’t played in years. That was it. In truth, she’d only learned to play the harp because she’d been forced to.

The walls were lined with shelves of high-quality dark wood, which seemed to be Valerio’s gift to her. The books that she had only filled up one of the eight shelves. A grand, spacious bed had been placed in the middle, with an elaborate white canopy and countless sumptuous pillows. Valerio walked in further.

“I’ve set up your attendant Alice with her own room,” he explained, then pointed to a sash by her bedside. “It’s not far. That sash should summon her from there at any time. Anything more that you’d like to put in here… just talk to Roderick when you see him. I’m sure we can make some arrangements,” he promised. “Frankly, I’m not much for decorating. Anything you say goes.”

Valerio walked over to the right corner, where there was a door. “This door leads to my bedroom. We can block it off with a shelf or have it sealed up if you’d like. This was originally intended to be the duchess’ room, but… as I said, I had repurposed it to store some of my curiosities.” He looked at her, a strange expression on his face.

“I think the door is fine,” Isabella said.

Valerio gave the faintest of smiles, then moved on. “This room has windows, but no balcony. The windows open, though, if you enjoy the sea air as much as I do. And the floor is heated, just as it is in my bedroom. Frankly, I’m glad you’re here. My bedroom is the most easily-defensible location in the estate. And this room? It might just be the safest, considering there’s no balcony. All my men will watch over you.”

“Can I make a request of Roderick now?” she asked.

“Roderick’s been away on business,” Valerio said. “But tell me, and I’ll take care of it.”

“I wouldn’t like the pillows here,” Isabella said. “Other than that, this is perfect.”

“Would you like something else?”

“No,” Isabella shook her head. “Nothing to replace them, please.”

Valerio stroked his chin. “I always wondered why my pillows were always on the floor in the morning. You ought to have said something.”

Isabella felt a little embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I know that was impolite.”

“Please,” Valerio scoffed. “You live as I have, dirty pillows can hardly be considered improper.”

Isabella was again reminded of his other life. She supposed a ship couldn’t have decadent quarters—and even if they did, the rocking of the boat would cause problems.

As Isabella thought, a realization came to her. “It must be terribly dull for you to stay here for so long.”

“Not really. I still voyage occasionally,” Valerio said. “To the isles, mostly. My fief. And I swim. Few things are more entertaining to me than swimming. But living hard makes you appreciate the finer things… or, at least it did for me. Even if I wasn’t tied to this estate, I think my exploring days are over.”

“You swim?” she asked.

“Sure. The nobility look down upon it, but it’s very fun,” Valerio said, leaning up against the wall.

“The water frightens me somewhat,” Isabella admitted. “Mostly because… when wearing cumbersome dresses, you’re liable to drown within them. When I was younger, I saw one of my half-sisters drown in the palace’s lake.”

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Valerio said quietly.

Isabella had seen great success trying new things in this life… and fears were a burdensome thing to have. “Perhaps one day I can try it,” she said, trying to muster courage. “Perhaps you can teach me how.”

“It’s quite cold this time of year,” Valerio said. “I swim every morning, but that took a lot of training to manage. I still walk away with chattering teeth. As the seasons change, it’ll be more feasible for a beginner. I’d advise you go with Alice or someone similar, though, not me.”

“Why?” Isabella tilted her head.

“Nobility consider it an immodest activity,” Valerio said. “Clothes are a hindrance in the water. Thus…”

Isabella realized what he meant and blushed. “I see. I should’ve… I see. My own naivete astounds me sometimes.” She thought back to what he said. He swam every morning? Meaning…

“Don’t fret,” he said. “Anyway, you mentioned that you wanted some spell books. How about I bring you some? I believe I have a few in the estate. They might be archaic, but they’re tolerable.”

“Yes… spells,” she confirmed. Isabella was glad for the diversion, even though the thought of swimming was quite difficult to get out of her mind.

***

Archbishop Pius opened the door to a private prayer room and entered, waving away the servant that accompanied him. Within the small room was a man that filled up quite a large amount of space in the area—Duke Albert.

“Archbishop,” the duke greeted politely. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”

“Not at all,” the archbishop dismissed. “We’re merely two members of the royal council meeting to discuss the future of the realm. It’s our duty.”

“Of course,” Albert said. “And there’s much to speak of regarding the future of Dovhain. I believe that I wouldn’t be far off in saying the winds of change are coming. It’s both of our duties to guide the winds to best serve progress in the kingdom. We must direct the winds of fortune where best they’re suited, and the winds of misfortune to those who most deserve it.”

Pius smiled, and then sat beside the duke. “Indeed. And who, dare I ask, would you like the winds to affect?”

“The monarchy and the nobility are all given the right to rule by the will of the gods,” Albert said, looking upon the various statues of their pantheon. “The divine mandate, as it’s called. With Claude attempting to decentralize the realm, I see an opportunity for a partnership between you and I.”

“Interesting.” Pius wiped his hands on his immaculate white robes. “Would I be right in assuming this would be one of mutual benefit?”

“You would,” Albert confirmed. “I can offer substantial alms to fund the church’s efforts, as I’m sure you know. But for this matter? I’m willing to go so far as to donate portions of my territory to the church. Moreover… I’m willing to make the church a minor partner in my auction house.”

“That’s a very substantial offering,” Pius said, trying to conceal his greed. “I can only imagine what sort of favor you’ll be asking of me.”

“Archduke Felix and Duke Valerio are trying to destroy what’s mine,” Albert said. “Moreover, they’re doing so with artwork that degrades the moral foundation of the empire. I believe that an excommunication of both individuals wouldn’t be out of order.”

“…that’s quite the dire move,” Pius said. “It would mark them as criminals. Excommunication forces the crown to hold a civil trial for their execution or exile.”

“Hence the substantial offering,” Albert said with a nod. “To put it in plainer terms, father, I’m willing to become a member of your faction if you help me in this matter. Myself and all of my people would be at your disposal. Politically, it would only be of benefit to you to see the archduke and the Duke of the Isles removed from the picture.”

Pius saw the tremendous benefits. Albert’s faction was near as large as his own, and they were permitted greater freedom of movement in light of their secular bent.

“Artwork—even genuine displays of carnality—is hardly sufficient grounds for excommunication,” Pius said. “It’s a very flimsy basis, frankly.”

“The artwork is merely a springboard,” Albert said. “The Duke of the Isles is a pirate lord. Having witnessed some of his baser brutality firsthand, I can assure you that the man cannot change any more than a tiger can change its stripes. And the archduke? Paganism persists in the north, barbarians that they are. The archduke himself was raised as a pagan, converting only once Edgar the Great conquered the north. We can find a way to put them both in the ground if we search.”

Pius considered that. “The church is presently ill-funded,” he said. “To properly address this matter, we would need an initial offering that demonstrates sincerity, and allows us to mobilize people properly.”

“I can donate some prized artwork,” Albert said. “Or… more simply, donate the proceeds from their sale.”

“The latter would be preferable,” Pius said, smiling.

Albert nodded. “Once Valerio is condemned, I’d like you to petition for a nullification of his engagement with Princess Isabella on the grounds of his poor moral character sullying the reputation of the royal family.”

Pius had heard about Albert’s obsession with the young girl. He found it quite tasteless, but personal obsessions entwining with politics was beneficial for him. It allowed him to know how to work a person to his desire.

“That seems a simple enough matter,” Pius said. “Very well. I’ll seek an annulment as soon as possible, on theological grounds.”

“Hmm.” Albert straightened his coat, standing.

“As you know, King Claude demanded that Isabella be monitored by the holy paladins,” Pius said. “If you wish… I can have a trusted holy paladin handle that duty. Knight-Commander Gaspar. He’s incredibly talented, observant… and most importantly, utterly loyal to me. If there’s grounds for an annulment, he may be able to find it far earlier.”

“You believe so?” Albert raised a brow.

“I do,” Pius said. “But… I’d like you to do a favor for my son, Cesare. After an unfortunate incident, he needs some help getting back on his feet.”

Albert nodded. “What does he do? Is he an artist?”

“A condottiere,” Pius said. “And a top-class fighter. I want you to employ him. I promise you that he won’t disappoint. Think of it as a gesture of mutual goodwill. I entrust my son to you, and you entrust my son with your business. Let him be our liaison.”

Albert nodded. “I can do that. But… instruct Gaspar to be friendly with her,” he said. “Isabella has very recently lost a dear friend. I’m afraid she pushed her away, believing the woman to be two-faced. It’s a stretch for Gaspar to succeed, but… please,” he said.

“Very well.” Pius rose, and then offered his hand. “The gods are now with you, Duke Albert. Be heartened, child.”

Albert didn’t smile, but he looked pleased. “I am, father.”

***

“Yes, Isabella succeeded,” Igraine said in annoyance. “Who do you think I am? Some common mage, without an ounce of experience?”

Arthur shook his head. “No, mother. I’m sorry.” He looked at her. “And… how did she seem?”

“She looked like you did the week after you ran away from home, and then came back with your tail between your legs,” Igraine said.

“What does that mean?”

Igraine took a deep breath. “She looked like she thought she was very lucky. She looked like she was grateful to be alive.”

“I see. I’m ashamed to say I thought that Valerio might be mistreating her.” Arthur lowered his head, and then looked at his mother peculiarly. “Mother, are you familiar with Xerodratic Wasting?”

Igraine narrowed her eyes. “Who?”

“It’s a disease,” Arthur said. “It afflicts the entire body. It makes the skin feel like parchment, and slowly drains strength and sensation from the person infected.” He rubbed his chin ponderously. “Isabella asked me about it. It was rare enough that I’d never heard of it without significant prying, but it’s very real.”

“She asked you about it?” Igraine raised a brow. “Why?”

“She merely asked in passing at King Edgar’s coronation,” Arthur continued. “There was very little information about it. But from all that I know, you’ve handled illnesses that most people could only dream of. Have you ever encountered that in your travels?”

“No,” Igraine shook her head. “What is it? Genetic, contracted…?”

“I can’t pinpoint a cause in historical cases, but that’s often the case for rare genetic disorders,” Arthur said. “It’s fatal, whatever it is. And quite brutally fatal, at that. Even if they’re cared for, the person slowly wastes away until their heart becomes too weak to sustain them.”

“Hmm.” Igraine shrugged. “Perhaps she heard of it in passing, or read about it. Perhaps someone she knows contracted it.”

“It’s made me curious,” Arthur admitted. “Could you deliver that to her? Xerodratic Wasting,” he repeated. “I promised that I would deliver that information. It’s later than I expected, but I did find it.”

“Very well. I’ll tell her,” Igraine said.

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