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The Bell Tolls for Me 70: Struggle Against the Torment of Reality
🕑 Added 2025-07-26 07:03:57 +0000 UTCArchduke Felix was still reeling after the revelations that Princess Regent Isabella had delivered. He sat on the side of his bed in his tent, removed from reality.
The things she’d said to him ran through his head, not fully processed. The notion of time travel, or at the very least, foresight of some manner. The manner in which his daughter died in Isabella’s prior life. His utter inability to save his family—his daughter’s execution, and his failed rebellion.
But above all, Edgar the Great, still alive—and likely seeking to transfer a wasting illness to Isabella, that he might escape his own death and reign again as king.
Edgar frightened Felix. When he conjured up the king’s face, the first thing Felix remembered was his fear. He shuddered, remembering the utterly incomprehensible way that his army had moved. He paled recalling man himself, dancing through the battlefield like he was immortal. And he recalled the absolutely uncanny insight the man had possessed, as if he knew every detail of the Kingdom of the North.
“Father?” Abigail asked. “You didn’t answer my question.”
The archduke realized that he had trailed off into thought during the middle of a conversation with his daughter. He took her hand without words for a moment.
“What are we going to do for Isabella?” Abigail asked.
“Abigail…” Felix shut his eyes. “Edgar… he can’t be beaten. Now more than ever—now that I know the terrible power he wields… what can be done? How can you fight a man who can fail, time and time again, until he achieves that one improbable success?”
Abigail looked at him with the red eyes she’d inherited from him. They had grown strong in recent times. “So, you intend to make me marry him?”
“What?” Felix looked at his daughter in shock.
“That’s what will have to happen. If he becomes king again… do you expect me to become queen in any other fashion than doing so at his side? All these claimants alive today… what do you think he’ll do to them? Name them his heir? No,” she insisted, shaking her head. “He’ll do what he’s always done.”
Felix knew well Edgar the Great’s tendency toward violent purges. It was practically a hallmark of his reign. Whenever power structures became too entrenched, a slaughter was inevitable. Even before his death—his faked death, Felix supposed—he had been planning to slaughter Archbishop Pius to seize church properties.
If Edgar resumed power, he would ensure there were no claimants to contest his throne. Sylvain, Roland, Anselm, Amaury… they would die alongside countless other princes. Isabella was who he looked for—a vessel to inherit his wasting illness. Once he had her, he had no need for them. Edgar had killed his own brothers, and clearly had little regard for kin. Now that he had what he was looking for, would he settle down with a happy, final family with his daughter? The mere notion made Felix’s skin crawl.
“Unless you would see me wed to that man, the only person we can support is Isabella,” Abigail insisted.
Felix rose. “Have you heard what she said? The power that the king wields is almost beyond comprehension. If we contest it…”
Abigal stared. “And what of contesting Isabella’s power? Can she not exert the same influence through time?”
“She admitted she doesn’t fully understand the ability that she possesses,” Felix pointed out.
Abigail rose up to stand beside him. “I would be happier going to my grave knowing that I supported my friend, who is righteous and moral, than living a long life as queen,” Abigail said, stepping forward.
“This isn’t about you or me. This is about our house. The continuation of our family.”
Abigail narrowed her eyes. “You struggled your whole life to break the devil’s curse on our house. My mother, though she knew the risks, gave her life in hopes of our freedom. With liberty in sight… will you now sign away our freedom once more, to a devil worse than our namesake of Balat?”
Felix opened his mouth, but there were no words in his mind to combat what she said.
***
Isabella read of Arthur’s findings from studying Valerio’s physique with great excitement. This was the way forward. Her life had never been more blessed than the day that she chanced upon meeting Valerio. He was her salvation in the face of the miserable fate her father thought to bestow upon her. Her faith had grown thin throughout her past life, and part of this one… but she couldn’t help but wonder if their meeting was divine providence.
“What, pray tell, was so important that my son felt it necessary to have me come to you in the dead of night sparing neither time to rest nor imparting the right to ask questions?”
Isabella rolled shut the letter, then conjured a small flame from her hand with her meager magic to set it alight. Once caught aflame, she tossed it into the unlit brazier that had been set up in her tent. “Your son may have saved my life,” Isabella said. “Suffice to say that letter was a matter of utmost importance, and I thank you deeply for delivering it.”
Igraine huffed. “I do so hate politics. The number of times I’ve heard the phrase ‘suffice to say’ is proportional to my discontentment, I’ve found.”
Isabella only smiled.
***
Isabella looked at Felix and Abigail, standing before her.
“I was concerned that you might seek to ally with Edgar the Great,” Isabella said, looking between them. “I’m… glad to have been proven wrong.”
“My father was considering it,” Abigail said, looking at him. He looked off to the side, perhaps in shame. “His loss against Edgar the Great looms large in his life.”
“As it does everyone’s, it seems,” Isabella said with a contended and polite nod. “A man who erases all his errors must seem an unbeatable opponent. That you would stand with me… it won’t be forgotten. Not in this life, or… another, should the worst come to pass.”
Abigail looked sad. “Don’t speak of such a thing.”
Sosen jumped on Isabella’s shoulder, perching silently as his head looked from side to side. Isabella didn’t flinch, by this point—she was used to it.
“Then… let us discuss what is planned.” Isabella took a deep breath. “We’re going to inform Edgar the Great that I am the one he’s been looking for.”
Both of them looked patently stunned, and spoke at the same time to the point their words were incomprehensible.
Isabella held her hand up, silencing them. “I’m not intending to do some sort of deal with him, if that’s your concern. Rather, my intent is to trap him,” she declared.
“I’ve had similar thoughts, long ago. Every trap set upon him has been reversed, and every ambush made against him has ended in failure,” Felix said. “I should know. I planned several such ambushes and several such assassination attempts. Not a one succeeded.”
“Because they all thought the same thing—victory would be met upon the death of Edgar. In reality, that was the loss condition,” Isabella said. “If death is the trigger for his reincarnation as it was mine, does that not help explain the seeming invincibility he possesses?”
Felix thought for a few moments. “He… possessed an uncanny ability to predict assassinations. If it was only because he’d experienced them once before…” he trailed off into thought.
“Just so. As I understand it, there’s no possible way that we can resist Edgar if he comes on the attack,” Isabella posited. “I suspect that he won’t directly jeopardize himself, being that he’s in no condition, but his agents will execute an attack without flaws. If they fail, he will simply start again as he always has.”
They looked deflated, hearing that.
“The fatal flaw in what he does, and the only possible advantage that I can gain, is that he needs me alive.” Isabella walked around the tent. “He needs me to bear the burden of his excessive meddling with time. Those countless children he had were all in search of the one he might pass off the wasting illness onto. I believe it all but inevitable he will succeed, unless I abandon the kingdom entirely—then, I fear a civil war, where tens of thousands will die.”
“Most likely,” Felix concurred.
“Instead of trying to prevent it… my goal is to make it occur in the most favorable circumstances possible. We will choose when they learn of my ability. We will choose when they attack. And though the attack will most definitely end in their victory… the victory will occur on our terms, concluding with my escape.”
In truth, Isabella had intended to go through with this plan if Felix had decided instead to ally with Edgar the Great. Felix would likely speak to the Archwizard or Bernadetta, whereupon she’d put this plan in motion. He could still betray her, perhaps… but that felt a distant possibility, especially with Abigail involved in this.
Felix looked perplexed. “To what end? Edgar will assume power once more, and you will begin wasting away.”
“The moment that Abigail informed me that my wasting illness would return, I’ve been looking into ways to mitigate or cure it. Recently, I have received all but reports that my other collaborator, Arthur, has found one such way,” Isabella said. “We must travel abroad so that I might retrieve this treatment. And once I have, we’ll return. Then, we’ll execute a coup. My father will not be killed, as all others sought to do—he’ll be captured. It will be infinitely easier to attack him, rather than defend against him—of this, I’m certain. Even despite that, we’ll only have one chance. Fail, and he will hunt us down remorselessly.”
“And what exactly is my role in this plan of yours?” Felix questioned.
“Resist. Hold out against his excesses as long as you can. Protect the people of the realm. Protect your family, your territory—protect all those you can, archduke. And when the time finally comes, be ready.” Isabella shook her head. “I wish there were more I could say. I wish there were more I could do, frankly. But our opponent is the man that conquered most of a continent, and held it together with utterly ruthless suppression. Victory alone would be a miracle.”
“…and this is why you attempt to secure the goodwill of the people,” Felix realized. “To aid you in the event of your return.”
“And to do genuine good,” Isabella said. “If you believe me foolish, archduke, for this plan… I would hear your advice. I can see no other way, but I have but two eyes and a limited perspective.”
“And in that way, you differ from your father already,” Felix said. “He ignored all counsel once he had his heart set on an idea. And then… I suppose he would torment reality until his idea worked.” He closed his eyes. “To defeat him was my greatest aspiration. I… will aid you in executing this trap, Your Highness.”
“And in turn, I will surrender the crown to Sylvain in the event of my victory,” Isabella promised.
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pun pundit
We have a plan! Well, the skeleton of a plan. Much is yet to be worked out, but there is a path forward.
