Nemorosis
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The Bell Tolls for Me 81: Time of Troubles
🕑 Added 2025-09-01 01:02:07 +0000 UTCAlice sat uneasily. The days prior had been filled with drawn-out travels during the day and cold nights, but the warm interior of this house did little to settle her nerves. Across from her sat the person that Princess Isabella had greatly warned about at every turn: Bernadetta. She feared she was to be tortured or worse, but instead her employer’s enemy merely sat there with her. She leaned her head against her hand and watched with an indiscernible expression.
“Is tea not to your liking?” Bernadetta asked, watching her with those purple eyes.
Alice glanced at the teacup that had been set before her. The simple truth of the matter was that she didn’t plan on drinking it because Bernadetta had provided it. Bernadetta didn’t press for the answer.
There was a ruckus outside, and Alice turned her head to see what it was. A few moments later, the door burst open. Knight Commander Gaspar stood at the doorway, his breathing slightly labored. He held his hand on the pommel of the sword as he walked in.
“I see that you made it. Just in time—I’m afraid Alice was growing bored with my company.” Bernadetta smiled and rose. “Go with him, Alice. He should be capable of keeping you safe.”
Gaspar began to remove his sword from its sheath, but Alice stood up and stopped him. “Wait. She saved me,” Alice insisted. “We were attacked by the king’s men. Bernadetta and her people intervened, brought me here.”
“And how do you know they were the king’s men?” Gaspar asked, not moving his gaze from Bernadetta. “What’s to say that she didn’t arrange this herself?”
“You’re really rather foolish to come here if you think that’s the case,” Bernadetta remarked, leaning back against the wall.
“The only thing I know for certain is that you’re dangerous, and Isabella wants you dead,” Gaspar said.
Bernadetta gestured his way. “Hence the reason for this gesture of goodwill. Your plan was well executed, but Alice was vulnerable. Isabella trusts her enough to involve her in that scheme she concocted. I have no doubt her rescue buys a little goodwill. Enough for a single conversation when she returns, perhaps?”
Gaspar said nothing more, but did eventually put his sword away fully. He wrapped his cloak around Alice and led her out of the room. There was a small retinue of holy paladins waiting outside the small hut on horseback. They didn’t wear the glorious armor that they normally donned, and instead traveled Incognito in common steel plate.
“Did she do anything to you?” Gaspar asked, and Alice quickly shook her head. “Good. That’s good. Can you ride?”
“I… don’t know how.”
“That’s fine. You’ll ride in front of me, then,” Gaspar picked her up. Alice squeaked in alarm, but didn’t protest as Gaspar effortlessly put her on his horse, and then hopped up just after her. He didn’t waste any time in urging his horse forward.
“Can you tell me what’s happened?” Alice inquired. “We haven’t been able to hear anything. We’ve been avoiding every town and city on the way.”
“…by all rights, Isabella’s fine,” he said as the horse trotted onward with the moon overhead. “King Edgar appeared not long after she vanished. He claims to be a prophet sent by the gods, forced to return after death to correct the errors made in his absence. His return has been heralded by great acclaim.”
“Errors?” Alice repeated. “Has he said what that means?”
“I’m not certain. But he summoned the abdicated king Claude, Sylvain, Amaury, Anselm, and more than a dozen other princes alongside every noble in the kingdom to receive a renewed vow of fealty in the royal palace following his coronation.” Gaspar gripped the reins tightly. “I’m half convinced that he’s going to kill every one of them. And I’m entirely certain that he’ll hunt down those that don’t show up. He already has some of the veteran holy paladins of his reign searching for me and my son.”
“Why did you come for me?” Alice asked.
“Because there was nothing to lose. If Bernadetta was his steadfast ally, I’d likely already be in irons. She got the message to me about you, after all.” He sighed. “You did a lot for Her Highness. You’re owed this level of consideration, at least.”
Alice shuddered in the cold air, and Gaspar drew his cloak forward to better cover her. She clung to it gratefully, then looked up at him as he rode onward.
“What do you think will happen?” Alice asked.
“Well…” Gaspar’s eyes went distant. “He already executed Pius, and the archbishop that had replaced him. He’s confiscated church properties in the capital, and I’m sure other places are soon to follow. He’s declared Alistair of Veymont a criminal, and anyone that espouses his ideals traitors to the realm. A congregation of a few hundred has already been butchered in the streets of Dovhain for gathering to hear a Veymontist sermon. A few princes staying in the city have had ‘accidents.’” Gaspar shook his head. “King Edgar intends to create a new royal court in the same method he’s always preferred.”
***
King Edgar wandered through the barren halls left behind by Valerio.
“Duke of the Isles…” the king mused. He looked into various rooms to find them empty. “It was a mistake to let him live. I assumed that he would learn the folly of opposing me.” He stopped and looked back at the Archwizard. “Why do they never learn?”
“I learned, Your Majesty.” The wizard dipped his head.
Edgar pursed his lips and looked around. “There’s nothing remaining of his wealth?”
“The majority of his wealth was always located on the ships that he owned. They’ve simply started taking different trade routes, largely centered around the Republic of Ambrose. As you suggested, I’ve sent some agents there, but my reach is limited. Still, if they’re seen in the Republic, we’ll know immediately.”
Edgar shook his head. “It’s long overdue to bring those patricians under heel. For now, I dislike taking on too much at once.” He walked on. “How can we bring the rats out of hiding?”
“She was on a ship, Your Majesty. She may have gone anywhere. But… people find it difficult to fully abandon their home, especially when they have friends. For that reason, I suggest that we start with the destruction of the Archduke Felix and his family,” the Archwizard said.
“Going north again?” Edgar sighed. “That conquest took me well over 14 years, in my time. I don’t care to repeat it so early. But assassins, saboteurs… action that,” he ordered. “Aim for his daughters.” He stopped. “And Isabella’s cousin. You assured me that she was pliable, reliable.”
“She has been. She’s had something of an independent streak, but not once did she disobey a direct order,” the Archwizard vouched. “Perhaps she’s searching for Isabella independently of our instructions.”
Edgar opened a set of double doors and walked within. He saw a bed without pillows, and a room of empty shelves. After looking around for a bit, he spotted a single long white hair. He picked it up and studied it.
“My power has become exceptionally ineffectual in the time since I’ve left.” Edgar held his hand out to toss the hair. It was followed by flames bursting from his hand, out onto the bed. “I think that people need to be reminded of who I am. I’d intended to pick and choose who gets to live, but… I think I’ll pick new nobles.”
“Your Majesty?” the Archwizard backed away from the growing flame.
“The coronation,” Edgar decided, watching the flame spread curiously. “I’ll get rid of them all at the coronation. They’re the ones that pushed for these ridiculous reforms. I’ll remind them—the whole world, really—of who I am. Then we’ll send overtures to Ambrose. Confiscate Valerio’s ships, and surrender all those related to him, or be conquered.”
The Archwizard coughed a few times as the smoke filled up the rooms, but Edgar seemed utterly unbothered. It seemed as though he enjoyed the smell of the smoke, inhaling deeply as it rose. It was only when the flame feebly grasped at his body that he left the room and walked down the halls of the duke’s estate.
“Make sure nothing crawls out,” the king commanded the Archwizard as he left.
***
“…then as the Lómethar, we shall speak for our people,” Taryon spoke in the elven tongue, and Valerio listened raptly. “We agree to withhold from any decisive action for a period of one month. This will give us time to determine the extent of Isabella’s pollutant effect on the Crystal Lake, and give her ample time to solve the problems that plague her homeland.”
Valerio heaved a sigh of relief upon hearing the lenient sentence. It was too much, perhaps, to expect them to take Isabella’s side on this matter without restraint. Valerio honestly couldn’t say if one month would be sufficient to combat Edgar the Great, but every month that they weren’t tied down would be another that they could set to work. He looked to Isabella, who watched their exchange with curious eyes, then nodded.
“Really?” Isabella said in disbelief. “I assumed that…”
“The women of the clan were rather vocal,” Taryon explained in the Dovhain tongue. “Especially the mothers. They would brook no protest on this matter. They call you Lómelindë.”
Isabella looked to Valerio, and he explained, “It means ‘little daughter.’”
“It has a very specific meaning, actually,” Taryon corrected. “The daughter of a treasured friend who died. They feel a strong sense of obligation toward you, Isabella. As for why…” Taryon shrugged. “You would need to ask them.”
Isabella didn’t know quite what to say. One thing was certain. She was beginning to understand why Valerio had such deep affection for these people. After all, she was starting to have such affection herself.
“This was contingent on the fact that at least one of your companions needs to remain here,” Taryon added. “That was a concession that they weren’t willing to forsake.”
Isabella and Valerio shared a glance.
***
“Frankly, I’m beyond offended,” Randolph said. “Me? You’d really choose to leave me behind, instead of the immensely talented mage who was the heir to the Archwizard? It seems you can’t recognize bloody greatness when you see it.” He tore up a loaf of warm bread.
“Will you be alright here?” Isabella asked.
“The better question would be, ‘will I, Isabella, be alright without my stalwart guardian?’” Randolph tossed the bread into his mouth, and said as he chewed, “Frankly, I’m devastated. You really expect me to sleep in a warm bed every night, and spend every day surrounded by people fascinated with my verbosity in a safe and peaceful land without immediate threat of violence? How horrid. Unconscionable. Truly, how could you treat me so cruelly?”
“You told me you liked it here,” Effie said, sounding genuinely hurt.
“He’s being sarcastic,” Roderick explained.
“Could hardly sleep thinking of clashing against Edgar the Great,” Randolph said, leaning in. “Good bloody riddance, the lot of you. Leave me and the monkey, and be on your way.”
***
Not sure I'm entirely done with the elven chapters. I'm not thinking about a full rewrite, but I do think a revisit is in order before it goes on Royal Road. I wanted to create a tribal culture excellent at assimilation of ideas and mimicry, but I don't think I've portrayed that enough. I'll let you guys know if I do add any additional stuff.
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Comments
BeautifulBusinessBoi
I am excited that Randolph staying behind means that Randolph x Effie is looking likely!
BeautifulBusinessBoi
Meeting and convincing the elves only took like 7-8 chapters, which isn’t a lot of time, even if it took a month for them all to get uploaded. Im not saying it’s bad, but it is brief
V0lcano
if you want a culture that focuses on mimicry, why not have specific "voices" that people used based on context? Like in formal speech, instead of just having a certain set of words and tone, there could literally be one specific voice used. Like, the person speaking on behalf of the council always sounds like the same person, no matter who. And each member's voice could sound different in a specific way based on role and social signifiers. People would sound different fron each other speaking normally, because it's part of one's identity, but if mimicry is so easy it would be like choosing one's clothes. Ngl I'm also surprised that not one elf pranked Isabella's group by mimicking one of their voices. And culturally, from the elves perspective, wouldn't humans lacking the ability to mimic sounds make them disabled in their eyes? Like humans can still speak, sure, but it'd be like poor eyesight or being hard of hearing. On top of that, I'm surprised that humans can supposedly speak elvish language, given their capabilities. With such perfect mimicry I'd expect a lot more information to be conveyed by pitch and resonance, in a manner that humans could not. Elves may have to get used to the idea of what qualifies as "the same sound" or not in the Dovhain language. After all, the name "Isabella" can be said at any pitch - low or high. What count as phonemes to humans are also likely to be very imprecise to Elves, with their excellent ability to distinguish sounds necessary for mimicking. Or so I'm assuming. If Elves are so capable at mimicry, they might also have excellent music composed of only or mostly "singers", as they'd be able to imitate the equivalent of a lot of instruments. These are mostly ideas on how Elvish culture could be different from human ones if you want to make them feel more foreign.
