Nemorosis
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The Bell Tolls for Me 64: Drink With the Devil
🕑 Added 2025-07-05 06:53:27 +0000 UTCIsabella walked through the halls of Duke Albert’s estate, the architecture all around likely older than she was. It was all classical marble, its clean white given life by the opulent art and glimmering precious metals on display. All of it exuded so much luxury that it felt as though she had stepped into another world. Following just behind her was Veronica as her aide, Gaspar, Randolph, and a few other holy paladins of high repute. Despite the fact that they had gained the advantage, she didn’t dare come here alone. Isabella wished Valerio could attend to this with her, but he was needed for other aspects of Bernadetta’s plan.
Isabella passed through the doors into the dining room of Duke Albert’s estate. He sat at a long table covered by an immaculate white tablecloth. He had heard of her coming, and standing just behind him were some of the most renowned bodyguards in the realm—his knights. They were part of Duke Albert’s personal retinue, and were loyal beyond mere financial compensation. Even still, they weren’t what was protecting the duke’s life at present. It was his sheer force of authority, steadily cultivated through his long life, that made him so fearsome.
“Princess Regent,” Albert greeted flatly. “I never thought a day would come where you would grace my halls.”
“I fear that grace is not what I bring,” Isabella retorted, then studied him.
Portly, bald, hunched in his chair… once, the mere sight of him terrified her. That time was gone.
“Sit, please,” he gestured. “I have finished eating myself, but my chefs can prepare you something.”
Isabella sat down. "A glass of water, if you would."
Albert gestured, and the wheels were set in motion. Within seconds, the staff placed a silver goblet before her and filled it from a pitcher. Even the water here looked decadent. As if to demonstrate it wasn’t poisoned, Albert requested one for himself.
“No need,” Isabella interrupted. “You may have mine, soon enough.”
Albert watched as she retrieved a small vial from her sleeve and poured it into the cup that she had been provided. At once, the goblet shone with light, and the bodyguards tensed. Isabella had seen magic craftsmanship like this before. It told her what she already knew, however.
“This…” Isabella slid the goblet across the table, though the distance was far too long to near Albert. “…is a poison from overseas, procured by Valerio. It will ensure the next time you go to sleep, you don’t wake up.” She looked him in the eye. “I’d like you to drink it.”
Albert studied the goblet in silence for a few moments. “A nice thought, Your Highness, but I sleep rather soundly as is.”
“After you drink it, I’d like you to come to the royal powers where you will confess to treason and conspiracy against the interregnum council.” Isabella placed her hands on the table. “If you do this, I can ensure that your grandson and heir will emerge from this retaining your title and some of your domains.”
The bodyguards standing behind Albert clearly wanted to move and intervene immediately. The tension was thick in the room as the holy paladins escorting Isabella prepared for any eventuality. It was only Isabella and Albert that were calm.
“I presume that you have some means to compel me?” Albert must have known that this was something serious, but he remained as unflappable as ever.
Isabella gathered her thoughts and ran through the plan. This was more than some barter. This was a dismantling of a person with a domain so large he might as well be a head of state on his own.
“To begin with, I’ve secured the testimony of artists that will claim that you commissioned grotesque works of art, including depictions of the butchery of nobles.”
“Testimony from commoners of ill repute,” Albert countered. He had chosen who he commissioned such pieces from carefully.
“I believe you’ll find their reputation is rather burnished.” Isabella looked out the window. “Regardless, it doesn’t matter. Considering my ties to the archbishop, I’ll be able to call upon them without drawing undue suspicion.”
“An inquisition,” Albert said. “And how can you be sure you won’t abstract the same coalitional resistance that I did?”
“Because you’ve assassinated Prince Edouard, neutering his faction, and those that remain are cooperating with me in this matter.”
“We have sufficient insight to discover where these grotesque paintings are hidden. No Inquisition could be more certain to succeed,” Gaspar contributed.
“Yet that alone would be insufficient,” Isabella continued. “Alistair of Vermont would resurface in your territories. For cloistering someone deemed a heretic, the church would be well within its rights to excommunicate you.”
“I remain a high noble. A trial would be necessary for condemnation,” Albert said. “I have no fear of excommunication. It wouldn’t be the first time it happened to a man of my station. I remain capable of flight, even sitting here at this moment.”
Isabella didn’t doubt that Albert had a way to get out of the city quickly. This estate was ancient, and situated on the outer walls of the city. It wouldn’t surprise her if he had tunnels of sorts. That, coupled with the formidable personal retinue that he maintained in this estate, made him more difficult to assail than even Cesare.
Yet he was one man alone.
“I would also publicize your account books. This would reveal the tremendous debt that you have incurred. It’s a debt so steep that it surpasses even the crown’s,” Isabella said, bringing forth the notion of tarnishing his reputation. “I have little doubt this would immediately render you insolvent as all your creditors call in their loans at once.”
“An inconvenience. At most, they could claim the auction house. Given the damage that you’ve done, it’s not an especially enticing asset any longer. I retain my power base in my domain, and the men in my command were long ago paid.”
“While I can’t directly implicate you with Cesare, I can tie him to Prince Roland,” Isabella said. “This would fragment the coalition that you rallied behind the prince.”
“You’re assuming I’ll simply sit here and take this.” Albert raised the brow.
“No, I assume that you’ll be busy suppressing internal dissent. I can reveal great malfeasance in your territory. Undermining the privileges of the guild, circumventing mining rights… within weeks, I can crush your internal cohesion.”
That was information that Isabella herself had contributed. This malfeasance came to light only after Albert died and his grandson assumed his position. Most other avenues of attack came directly from Bernadetta.
“I survived your father, who was the most centralizing monarch that this kingdom had ever seen.” Albert shook his head. “He never laid claim to my territories, despite his efforts. I have resisted the call of fearsome forces for nearly sixty years, when I assumed my title. Even death has not been able to claim me, unhealthy and old as I am. Can you claim to have beaten death, Your Highness?”
Isabella could, but that was another point entirely. It was time, finally, to get to the biting force.
“I was always curious what it was that drew you to me so strongly,” Isabella spoke frankly. “In terms of beauty, many of my sisters are far prettier than I am. In terms of a status symbol, my father had far more prestigious children—children he would’ve eagerly married off to you, doubtlessly. When I realized it was due to my mother, I grasped for the obvious choices. Perhaps she was the one that you loved, and you were projecting those feelings towards me. Yet… that didn’t explain the humiliation you desired for me.”
Albert said nothing.
“Perhaps Camilla was a relative of yours. A cousin, a niece… a daughter or granddaughter. That would make what you tried to do even more twisted, but given your inclinations, that didn’t seem off the table,” Isabella said with calm. “The daughter of an irrelevant baron… a beauty, I’m told, but not singular. You had no relationship that was noted by the public. There was no simply reason for your attention to linger year after year on the daughter of a dead woman. It vexed me. Will you tell me why, Duke Albert?”
Albert said nothing, but just from the simple drumming of his fingers on the table, Isabella could tell that this topic of conversation struck deeper than anything else. He was finally showing some cracks in that demeanor of his.
“The fact is… I know. I know what you’ve done. And though I’ve always hated you, hearing this has made me more certain in my convictions.” Isabella took a deep breath. “In a way, I didn’t realize that what I was doing had already been done before. My mother founded your auction house, using you as her proxy. And to cut her out of the investment, you conspired with the king to seize her portion of the business for yourself.”
Most, even the holy paladins guarding Isabella, looked confused by that assertion. Albert’s reputation was all but universal.
“You sound unhinged, but I’ll forgive it, seeing as Camilla’s funeral may have inspired delayed grief,” Albert said a step too fast.
Isabella stared ahead. “You were always the public face, but she retained legal right. The only thing that could circumvent that was the king himself—and so, you sought him out, promisingly eternal fealty in exchange for a favor.”
Albert started to rise. “I have no reason to listen to this.”
“I have witnesses,” Isabella said. “I’ve spoken to the people in the barony my mother hails from—the judge that presided over the proceedings. I’ve seen the documents—”
Albert slammed his fist upon the table. “She’d built nothing before I arrived! A dinghy parlor barely fit to host a conversation, let alone an auction. Her debt was deeper than the ocean. The auction house was still unprofitable when I—”
“And the moment it started to shows signs of profitability, you sold her to the king,” Isabella interrupted. “Promised he would have her share. And when the king ceased to collect… this discreet dealing simply vanished into nothing. Or it would have,” Isabella said, firm yet calm. “The king kept records of this deal as well, underhanded though it was, their validity etched in magic. I know you remember signing them, yet when the time came for inheritance, they never passed through any court.”
“And when you reveal them, people will spit at your blatant opportunism, and lambast these documents as obvious forgeries,” Albert spat angrily.
“Documents with the king’s signature?” Isabella countered. “You sought the engagement both out of some twisted desire to diminish Camilla, diminish her very existence, even beyond the grave, and to secure your hold over the auction house,” Isabella asserted. “No wonder why you failed so quickly. All you had was the advantage of monopoly—utterly unable to adapt to the changing tides, to changing perspectives,” she asserted. “You did all of this out of a deep and resounding hatred, a sense of pride, and rote envy.”
“Envy? Just as your mother, you rose to your position because of the indulgence of your betters,” Albert said, leaning forth on the table. “Valerio, Felix, Edgar II, Claude, and—"
“Spare me your justifications,” Isabella interrupted calmly, shaking her head. “I could easily malign you, and take what I think my mother would’ve wished me to have. It would be part of a broader campaign, at which I have no doubt I would be wildly successful. However… let us return to my first proposal. I could give these documents of ownership to the auction house over to you, right now… if you will drink from this goblet and confess to lesser crimes.” Isabella pushed it forward again lightly.
Veronica stepped out, placing certain documents on the table just beside the goblet. Then, she walked away.
“Then, tonight, you’ll drift off into sleep, remembered as you wish to be remembered. Sole founder of a great auction house, and great expansionist of his house’s personal domain. The alternative? You will lose all the same, yet you will die in disgrace, your legacy tarnished forever. And considering all you did to my mother, and attempted to do to me… I believe your legacy is very important to you, indeed.”
Albert studied the documents cautiously.
“Peruse them,” Isabella encouraged. “They have magical signatures, so they can’t be duplicated. No doubt you’ll find all the ones you signed in that pile. Make no mistake, Albert. I came here to kill you. But I, at least, will give you the opportunity to choose how you die—peacefully in your own bed, or disgraced and deprived.”
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Comments
dyslogorrhea
typo: dinghy->dingy
WarStrider72
Thanks for the chapter!
