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The Bell Tolls for Me 48: Personality of Politics
🕑 Added 2025-05-10 07:13:47 +0000 UTCThere were many sad realities of politics. Foremost among those sad realities was when the pragmatic came in the way of the personal. All too often agendas would clash against one another, sundering friendships or ending business relationships. Isabella was quite worried that today might be one of those days.
Archduke Felix raised his glass high in the air, the vessel shimmering with golden champagne. “I’d like to thank all of you for coming here today for my daughter’s engagement party.” His maroon eyes scanned the assembled crowd. “It is every father’s dream to one day hand away his daughter to a man worthy of her.”
“And? Is he worthy of her?” Valerio whispered in her ear.
Isabella didn’t know how to answer that question, but she did glance at Valerio to let him know that she’d heard. He looked especially handsome today. He wore an elaborate black, white, and gold suit that complemented his features quite well. He still had a wilder look about him than most of the finely-groomed nobles. She realized her ‘glance’ had gone on a bit long, and focused back on Archduke Felix’s speech.
“…and that’s why I’m pleased to welcome my future son-in-law, Prince Sylvain.” Felix stepped out of the way to let the young man pass.
Sylvain and Abigail walked into view of the party. Sylvain was among the most physically imposing members of the royal family, but even he was only an inch or two taller than Abigail. He had a stern, uncompromising face, rather like that of his guardian, Duke Brett. Educated in law, administration, military, finance, trade, and countless other subjects… Sylvain was a hard, honest, just, yet unapproachable man with few friends. He was rather like the archduke himself in some regards.
This engagement signaled something that Isabella had long seen coming. The archduke was abandoning King Claude and throwing in his support for the throne behind Prince Sylvain. Even if Felix didn’t intend on being the hand that pushed Claude from the throne personally, the archduke could smell the chaos in the air and intended on exploiting it to his advantage.
The past two months had been a slowly gathering storm. It seemed liable to break out at any time… perhaps even this party. That would be the second time a devastating political occurrence ruined one of Abigail’s parties. For the sake of her friend, she hoped she could keep things peaceful.
And of late, Isabella’s sway had risen dramatically.
***
“If it isn’t the Velvet Princess,” her half-brother Prince Roland said affectionately, walking into the middle of their conversation.
Isabella stood amidst a group of fair-weather friends. As her auction house had grown in prominence to the point where it rivaled Duke Albert’s on all fronts—including financially—countless people had crawled out of the woodwork to associate with her eagerly. They called her the Velvet Princess and Valerio the Iron Duke—a play on the old idiom, ‘iron fist in a velvet glove,’ but also owing to the fact their auction house was named the Velvet Block.
These sycophants were a representation of ascendant times, and though Isabella found the large majority of them tasteless, she knew better than to rebuff their attempts at currying favor. She couldn’t trust them, but she could use them. They brought her information and all manner of things that she requested, hoping to get some scraps from the table. Isabella was generous to them not out of affection, but out of pragmatism.
Foremost among those attempting to capitalize on her influence was Prince Roland, another of the prominent claimants circling King Claude like vultures. He was unique in one capacity…
“I’d like to thank you for your support of the Veymontist cause of late,” Roland said, raising his glass. “It must be very difficult to stand up against the church, especially after what they put you through. That Inquisition,” he said, as if she’d somehow forgotten. “They must not have known it would only harden your resolve for reform in the church.”
Prince Roland had ridden the wave of Veymont’s theology to tremendous success, all but openly announcing himself a follower of Veymont. What he lacked in aristocratic support he made up for in popular support. The people absolutely loved him, both for his generosity and for his defense of the faith.
“I simply believe that anyone should be able to indulge in fine arts, no matter what it is they believe,” Isabella said tactfully, not committing to any side of this debate.
She knew the truth of who Prince Roland was. Behind the smiling faces and the acts of generosity was a base sadist in some ways far worse than Edgar II. At least with Edgar, one knew what they got. But Roland could hide his true face better than most she’d met. In her past life, he had invited Prince Amaury for a parlay only to capture him and torture him for months.
Roland smiled pleasantly, taking her tact refusal in stride. “All of you, look after my dear sister,” he implored.
Isabella’s fair-weather friends all barked affirmation. Moments later, Isabella quietly excused herself, searching for someone. She spotted Valerio chatting with several other nobles. He looked absolutely miserable, and when she passed he looked at her with pleading puppy dog eyes, silently begging to leave early. She smiled at him, but could do little more than that.
Isabella’s smile died slightly when she saw Bernadetta in the event. She stood with Prince Rupert, her fiancé, who lavished her with attention. Despite Isabella cutting ties with her, Bernadetta had continued to ascend in the royal court. She made excellent use of Prince Rupert’s status to move freely.
Then, Isabella finally found who she was searching for. Abigail stood alongside Sylvain, entertaining several of the guests. Both Sylvain and Abigail were notoriously reserved, and they stood silently in front of babbling barons and other such lesser nobility. Neither said a word. They weren’t exceptionally communicative people.
Isabella waited for an opening, and then approached Abigail. The large girl lit up when she saw Isabella, but her face was quickly flavored by something more serious. She quickly asked to be dismissed, and then joined Isabella in a quiet part of the venue.
“Congratulations.” Isabella said first and foremost.
“Hmm,” Abigail said distantly.
“Sylvain may seem difficult, but I think you’ll find he’s very honest and forthright. He won’t treat you poorly,” Isabella said with certainty.
There was clearly something that she wanted to bring up, and Isabella said nothing, prompting Abigail to finally break the silence. “My father tells me… that you’ve been a very ardent supporter of King Claude,” Abigail said, unable to meet Isabella’s eyes.
Isabella looked at Abigail. “I want stability in the realm. That’s my focus. Claude has been…”
A disappointment, Isabella almost wished to say.
Claude had the right intentions almost always, but his execution was so poor that he often inadvertently ended up weakening his position. Moreover, he was incapable of weeding out sycophancy from genuine advocacy. She and Valerio had been doing as much could be expected, but they weren’t the sole influences in his ear. Even from a jail cell, Pius had sway over him. Other scoundrels, too, had his confidence. It was maddening.
Abigail looked genuinely sad as she said, “Nevertheless, he… my father said there might be fewer opportunities for us to enjoy one another’s company after my engagement.”
“I wish that it wouldn’t be so,” Isabella said, just as sadly.
If it was Felix’s intent, though, she couldn’t do much to combat that.
“My father wished to speak with you about business.” Abigail stopped and looked at her. “I believe it was about the auction house. He wanted to speak with you before you left today.”
Isabella stopped as well. “I’ll do that. But… I got you something,” she said, reaching to retrieve a box that she stashed away in the sleeve of her dress. “Here.”
Abigail took the box and opened it up. Within was an elaborate necklace fashioned in the image of a seal. Its body was fashioned of a pearl, while the rest of it was detailed in silver and gemstones. Isabella had ensured that the best craftsman had been commissioned in order to capture the cuteness of the animal that Abigail insisted upon.
It hadn’t been cheap… but seeing the widened eyes and bright smile on Abigail’s face was worth it a thousand times over.
“Do you like it?” Isabella asked.
“Can you put it on me?” Abigail asked eagerly.
Despite the fact that so many people were standing around watching, Isabella didn’t feel embarrassed at all as she helped place the necklace around Abigail’s neck and put the clasp on.
“This is the nicest necklace…” Abigail mused as she stared at it, playing with it in her fingers. “I…” Abigail’s eyes reddened, and she looked at Isabella with an expression she’d never seen before. Without restraint, she hugged Isabella.
“You don’t deserve…” Abigail whispered intently.
Isabella pulled away. “What?”
Abigail only gave a final sad smile and departed. Isabella watched after her, confused. She decided to search out the archduke, assuming that something might be revealed there.
***
It hadn’t taken long to arrange a meeting with the archduke. Valerio had accompanied her, and they found him waiting in an empty lounge in his estate.
“What do you want to speak to me about, archduke?” Isabella asked as Valerio plopped in one of the couches in this lounge.
The archduke had been looking at a vase, but he turned at her voice. “I’d like to inform you that I’m selling my share of the Velvet Block.” He gestured toward the both of them. “I’m bringing this up to you first in case you two might want to be the one to purchase my share.”
Isabella swallowed, uneased both by his actions and his stiff manner of speaking. He was clearly setting lines between them, preparing to break away from any and all relationships that they had. He wanted to minimize conflicts of interest. Moreover, he was simply choosing a wise exit point from their business— no one would waste their time on the arts if war began raging all around. Coin would be better spent on steel and magic. Isabella herself had considered selling at least some of their stake to others to prepare.
Isabella nodded. “The building is the only thing I’m interested in.”
“Very good. Let’s discuss the arrangements,” the archduke continued, moving to sit on the couch.
Isabella joined Valerio, minutely disturbed.
***
Isabella and Valerio left the meeting with the archduke somewhat enriched. They had gotten the deed to the building somewhat cheaply, but the cheap cost evidenced that the archduke thought that he wouldn’t have much time to sell it off to someone else at a higher price. Considering how well-informed Felix was, she assumed that meant that the possibility of a war was more likely than even she thought.
“He’s quite flaky,” Valerio mused. “You don’t make money by following the weathervane.”
“I wouldn’t call him a weathervane. He’s quite adroit at predicting the weather.” Isabella shook her head. “No, Felix knows that something is coming.” Her eyes danced left to right as she thought deeply. Then, she said resolutely, “We’ve spent the past two months accumulating wealth and expanding influence. I think it’s long overdue to take some serious initiative.”
“Initiative?” Valerio repeated, leaning up against the wall and studying her.
“If you see armies mounting at the gate, and you know an invasion is coming…” Isabella closed her eyes. “You might be best served attacking first.”
***
Arthur flicked open to another page of the dusty tome that he had been poring over. It was written in Elestian, and it was beyond archaic… but something had been bothering Arthur for a long time, and he was sure that this book held some of the answers. There was something that his master, the Archwizard, was keeping from him. There was a grand project underway, something that he wasn’t privy to. This was the only clue that he’d gotten.
Arthur encountered a word that he didn’t entirely understand. He read through it again, trying to recall his teachings. When they all failed, he went back into his study looking for a particular book. It was a dictionary of words in the old tongue. He found it, flipping through it looking for the word that he had encountered.
When Arthur finally found the word, he was a bit perplexed. He brought the dictionary back to the old text, comparing the two. It was the right word, and it made sense in the context, but…‘time manipulation.’ That was what the word meant, roughly.
Arthur recalled one of the first things that Isabella had asked him during their dance at Edgar’s coronation.
“Do you know of any magics that allow mastery of time itself, Arthur?”
Arthur adjusted his grip on the tome uneasily.
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Comments
Thaabit Rivertree
Now it makes more sense if the original king ordered Arthur to poison Isabella
WarStrider72
Uh oh, someone's going to invoke the wrath of the Time Police.... or the TVA
