Nemorosis
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The Bell Tolls for Me 91: Living Hell
🕑 Added 2025-10-06 00:32:27 +0000 UTCKing Edgar crossed his legs as he sat upon his throne in the heart of night. He tapped one finger lazily upon the armrest as beams of moonlight illuminated his face. Fatigue lined his burgundy eyes, yet there was an alertness to the man that couldn’t be diminished.
“I have the sinking suspicion that I’m being corralled by forces beyond my control,” Edgar said. “I’ve been around long enough to know what that’s like.”
“Your Majesty?” asked the Archwizard uncertainly.
The king’s bouncing finger suddenly stopped moving. “Send an emissary north.” He rose to his feet, looking back. “Use a familiar. Something that can get word quickly. Inform Isabella that I would like to have a personal discussion. I wish to see for myself what the papers say.”
“You don’t mean—”
“I’ll be sending my familiar,” the king interrupted. “I wouldn’t risk my body. But I have some interest in learning who it is that’s giving me all of these problems. I have some interest in my daughter.”
The Archwizard took the words in silence for a few moments, but eventually nodded. “I’ll send word north, then.”
***
When Isabella received the news that King Edgar had sent an emissary over to arrange a discussion, for some reason Isabella immediately felt some feelings that had eluded her since childhood. It wasn’t hope nor longing, but a sense of quiet worry that was difficult to define. Her father. She didn’t dare think that he was a man that could be swayed by familial sentiment, nor had she expected Edgar to reach out in the slightest.
“It’s not even worth considering,” Valerio insisted. “He could extract information without risk to himself. If he resets, we’d never even know it.”
Isabella raised a brow. “It’s always worth considering. Let’s consider it. What are the possible benefits and detriments of holding this meeting?”
“Exposure of some plans,” Felix said immediately. “Risk without gain.”
“I concur,” Valerio said. “If he chooses, we won’t even remember this meeting. He’ll have it, and then restart his day as normal.” He looked over to Arthur. “I thought you would’ve understood that before anyone.”
Arthur didn’t speak up right away. He looked lost in thought.
“Arthur?” Isabella asked.
“You can convince him absolutely that you’re well,” Arthur said. “Put a capstone on the idea that his most trusted wizard isn’t worth keeping around any longer due to his failure to help you. Opportunities might appear before us that offer us greater leverage—offers which we can reject or deny as we see fit.”
“All of this assumes he won’t do precisely as he always does,” Isabella said. “Namely, restart his day.”
Arthur paced around the room, still thinking. Then, he looked at her. “What if it isn’t an assumption?”
“Pardon?” Isabella asked with a raised brow.
“He’ll be coming in a familiar, Isabella,” he said. “And I know familiars.”
Isabella realized he had some design, and watched him curiously as inspiration seized him.
***
Isabella stood patiently on the roof of the Archduke’s palace. It was still quite cold and she dressed herself in warm clothes, but the palisades nearby helped block the cold winds from making this meeting place unbearable. The king’s familiar, like most spellcasters, was a winged creature. It wouldn’t take an exceptionally long amount of time to reach here, especially not under the auspices of a spellcaster.
Isabella had considered attending this meeting in the form of her own familiar. Considering one of the objectives of this meeting was to demonstrate without a shadow of a doubt that she had recovered her health, that wasn’t sensible. She was joined by Arthur and Valerio, and no one else—there was no sense in revealing too much of who her allies were.
Before long Isabella saw a black dot in the sky. It slowly descended down until its features became clearer. It was a black eagle of some kind with a tremendous wingspan and a fearsome looking head. The guards that the archduke had stationed had their bows ready to shoot it, but stood down and allowed it to pass until it alighted on one of the parapets near Isabella.
Isabella, rather than facilitate some awkward standoff, approached. She demonstrated strong, long strides as she came to stand before Edgar’s familiar.
“What do you want?” Isabella said without formality.
The eagle studied her with its eyes. “I see that you’re not maintaining even a shadow of deference.” He paused for a few moments. “How is it that you’re standing?”
“Perhaps I’m simply stronger,” Isabella suggested dryly, enjoying the irritation the bird expressed. “Or perhaps I was well prepared for what you intended to do to me. After all, it’s not the first time you’ve done it.”
The eagle’s eyes looked upon her with naked hostility. Isabella had been worried the title of ‘father’ might make her act differently in some way, but she felt no familial affection with the one controlling this familiar. He was an enemy, like the others—Albert, Pius, all of them.
“You don’t know about the horror,” Edgar said, staring at her. “If you’d ever before seen the horror, you couldn’t stand before me without fear. Couldn’t hear my voice without shaking.”
“Or perhaps, like you, I’ve seen horror enough that it does nothing to me,” Isabella said without skipping a beat. “I’ve danced in and around your world countless times. And you… your conception of the world has only narrowed with every passing day. You allow yourself to be manipulated by devils, marionetted by organizations whose name you don’t even know, in the service of your vainglory and your empty pleasures.”
“You’re right in one thing,” Edgar conceded calmly. “You’ve danced in my world. Because, Isabella, I invented the very world you walk through. Everything you do, every word you say, was defined by me alone.”
“You don’t even understand your place in this,” Isabella said with a laugh. “You heedlessly follow devils like Balat and senile old men like the Archwizard, claiming your eyes are wide open while forcing them shut.” She shook her head. “You’re pathetic, Edgar. A mindless brute. People would never follow you without threat of force. Even those you think are loyal are the strings by which your betters make you dance.”
Edgar didn’t lose composure. “And yet you stay here, shivering in this frigid waste, terrified of confronting me. You attempt to shatter my power base by alienating my most steadfast servants with transparent attempts at undermining them.”
Isabella snorted. “Or perhaps you’re beginning to realize that only the stupid and the monstrous would deign to consort with you, and lash out accusations at your enemies in a steadfast denial of reality. I’ve done nothing but cure the inconvenience you bestowed upon me—if your power base is shattering, I suggest you look inward. You live day by day, Edgar, but I live for this century.”
Edgar didn’t respond immediately. Isabella found her voice again before he did.
“Allow me to ask you a question. What reason have people to follow you, the freak who kills their sons and rapes their daughters? Why would the world listen to your requests to name yourself great when all you touch turns to ruin?” Isabella continued, her anger flaring—not as a daughter toward a father, but as a person toward a monster.
She took a few steps closer. “I wondered what good this meeting might do, but I see it now. No words you say are worth hearing, and no mercy is worth granting you. But I wish you to know this. If a hell does not exist for you, I will make it. You will find yourself trapped in time without an end—waking up, only to die again and again. You will struggle, you will thrash, but in the end you’ll greet your painful death until you beg for an end I’ll never grant.”
Isabella raised her hand up, remembering well what Valerio had taught her to utilize her powers as a Thalvassë. She slammed her palm as hard as she could into the face of that eagle. A burst of fire exploded outward—an expression of her anger in its purest form. It was infinitely more powerful than even she anticipated, and a great geyser of flame tore through Edgar’s black eagle and ruptured the air before her. Countless of the archduke’s guards nocked arrows and looked toward her in fear, but held back when they saw it was only her standing there.
Isabella felt drained of stamina and stumbled, but Valerio caught her and steadied her.
“Easy, now. Easy,” Valerio said. Arthur asked some questions, but she could only hear Valerio’s response. “She used too much power with that attack.”
“Valerio,” Isabella said as her wits returned to her. “He’s terrified. Utterly terrified.” She extricated herself from his grip and stood on her own. “That… was well worth it. Well worth it, without a doubt. I feel enlightened!” she said eagerly.
Isabella walked toward the stairs that led back into the palace, looking back at Arthur and Valerio.
“We have much to do,” Isabella said excitedly. “Come. And Arthur… a most prudent idea.”
Arthur smiled faintly. “I’m sure he’ll be shaken by this.”
***
King Edgar opened his eyes, whereupon he clutched his head in searing pain.
“That stupid bitch!” he shouted, staggering to his feet. He clutched his head in pain.
“Your Majesty!” the Archwizard shouted in concern. When he came near, Edgar pushed him away.
“She destroyed my familiar,” Edgar said, slowly reining in the sensations he felt. As he slowly sobered, he saw the Archwizard looking at him in alarm.
I can’t let her talk to me like that, Edgar thought. No one talks to me like that. I’ve verified her presence. I don’t need to let her have the satisfaction of making me look like a fool.
Edgar raised his hand up, ensuring that he wore his ring with the red gem. He punched himself in the skull, and a violent explosion erupted so quickly that he felt the pain for less than half a second. He would wake up when last he awoke. Yet…
That burning headache returned at full intensity. Edgar opened his eyes to see the scene virtually unchanged, and the pain returned in the same strength. He groaned in agony, digging his fingers against his head hard enough to draw blood. He stumbled to one knee, and the Archwizard kneeled down beside him.
“Your Majesty… was your familiar destroyed?”
Edgar looked over at the Archwizard, his breathing heavy as his mind worked. Isabella had destroyed his familiar. The pain was expected, yet…
I must’ve fallen unconscious, and then woken up before anyone realized.
The realization filled Edgar with an overwhelming rage. He had to simply allow Isabella to have talked to him like that? He had to take those words without rebuttal? He had to endure that humiliation?
Edgar punched himself in the skull once more, restarting. Once again, that agonizing headache resumed. Once again, the Archwizard checked him in concern. He wrapped his arm around the old man’s neck and snapped it, killing him—he could just bring him back later. Then he sat there on the floor, anger oozing out of him.
But soon enough the anger was gone, replaced with something else. Fear. Had she orchestrated this? Had she deliberately induced his unconsciousness by destroying his familiar, or was her mastery of time greater than his? King Edgar the Great felt a chill on his spine as words he didn’t wish to hear refused to die.
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Comments
lol
This doesn't make sense. Why would our protagonists choose to engage in this conversation? They have up untill this point been extremely careful to not have any contact with Edgar. Her whole escape was carefully planned to take advantage of the weakness of his power to avoid him at all costs. The ideas to take him down were also planned with his power in mind. This caution has been central to how our heroes deal with Edgar Yet now they throw all of this out the window. They should know that any conversation with Edgar should just end with him resetting. Isabella should never belive she would get to retain anything spoken between them. Isabella makes a mistakes I belive she would not have made, and gets rewarded for it by sheer dumb luck.
Nemorosis
It was only because she destroyed his familiar, not any special ability
Michael Frankford
Oh man, looks like Isabella can reset his starting point. This will change everything once she figures it out!
