The Bell Tolls for Me-102: For Whom the Bell Tolls
Isabella alighted off the boat alongside Valerio. Looking back at his glorious vessel, Isabella was starting to realize just how comfortable she’d grown taking boats instead of carriages. It was an infinitely more convenient method of travel. Perhaps that was only true because her captain was exceptionally competent.
“Looks like they laid out a welcome mat for you,” Valerio said, gesturing.
The place where pirates, smugglers, and other such seafaring criminals would be hanged was instead occupied by people wearing resplendent white armor. Isabella recognized a few faces from her distant childhood. Those were the Holy Paladins that had served under her father. It appeared that the nobles had taken it upon themselves to purge Edgar’s old guard.
Knight-Commander Gaspar walked up to get a good look. “It looks as though the bodies have been moved there recently. They must have expected that you’d come through the front gate by carriage.”
Isabella set off walking down the docks. “I imagine most princesses would. Traveling by boat isn’t particularly ladylike, in their eyes.”
At the far end of the docks, a very sizable entourage waiting to greet her. This meeting had been planned for some time. Isabella recognized only a few of the faces in the crowd. She was surprised by the number of people that she didn’t recognize, and even more surprised by the number of women. Edgar’s purge of the nobility must’ve been quite deep. These were second sons and eldest daughters. These were people that were never prepared to rule. But… was anyone truly
ready
for rule?
As soon as she came near, all of them kneeled deferentially. “We greet the Princess Regent Isabella!”
Isabella took a deep breath, then looked at the royal palace looming in the distance.
Back here, where it all began.
***
Isabella listened to the words of her newly reassembled regency council as they discussed the future of the kingdom without delay. The fact that they were jumping right into the heart of the matter rather than the politics of the matter told her a great deal about the character of these people. These weren’t schemers, tricksters, penny-pinchers. Edgar didn’t suffer such people at his court unless their loyalty was utterly unquestionable. These were the people who were picking up the pieces of the chaos he’d left behind.
“For the stability of the realm, Her Highness Isabella must be crowned,” one of them insisted. “There is no other public figure more suited to the throne than her. She has the respect and admiration of the people. Her support base in the north is relatively untouched. Edgar has tainted the Dovhain name—yet she stood up to Edgar. She has support amongst both the Veymontists and the orthodox factions in the church. I could go on, my lords.”
Isabella was flabbergasted by the direction that the council was taking. She hadn’t said anything to prompt this, yet many people were encouraging her to take the crown. That they would suggest
she
receive it, before even her many valid brothers… it boggled the mind. But her mind had been made up long before arriving here.
Isabella had thought a long time about the crown, the monarchy, the aristocracy… about the Kingdom of Dovhain. Despite the tragedies of the civil war, there had to be some merit to their system. It wouldn’t be so ubiquitous if it wasn’t effective. Of all of the nations that Valerio had described to her, republics like Ambrose were an oddity. And the Ithilian? Not a single nation had their kind of government.
Isabella had thought a long time about how they might prevent a conflagration of this nature in the future. A true monster like Edgar was a calamity unimaginably unlikely to occur again, but how could they prevent incompetent heirs like Edgar II rising to the throne? How could they prevent factions forming within the aristocracy—factions which stoked the flame of civil war? She had consulted Valerio for answers, but none of what he’d seen had them.
Valerio told many tales. He spoke of kingdoms that possessed a noble electorate, picking among those with noble heritage. The candidates were often old, however, reigning briefly, and their frequency of civil wars was no less than anywhere else. Ambrose, meanwhile, had a very efficient yet obfuscated electoral system that was partially random. Though seldom contested, their territory was small, and their manner of government couldn’t be easily transferred to the vast territory of Dovhain.
In the end, Isabella had come to a somewhat bleak conclusion. There was no easy answer. There wasn’t any perfect solution that she could implement to establish a permanently benevolent and stable regime. Things like stability relied on factors outside of her control, and unless she intended to be as dictatorial and brutal as her father, those factors would remain outside her control.
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Isabella planted her hands upon the table and stood up. “I would speak.”
The room went silent to listen to her.
“I have heard a great many people today contemplating placing the crown upon my brow. Allow me to give an unequivocal answer. I will never be sovereign of this nation,” she said.
She watched the reactions of all those present. It was a mixture of embarrassment, understanding, confusion, and amusement. The amusement came principally from Valerio.
“I don’t have the inclination to remain within this palace and reign, nor would I contest Sylvain, the rightful heir and the primary beneficiary of Archduke Felix. His power bloc is firmly behind Sylvain—who, I might add, also stood strong against Edgar I.” Isabella walked around the council table. “Having interacted with Sylvain, I can tell you that he is a very just and forthright man, unfond of intrigue and fond of strict rules. He is truly just.”
“But Your Highness—”
“Don’t interrupt.” Valerio leaned into the table and glared at the man who had spoken.
All went silent, listening closely.
“Ultimately, one man alone does not determine the fate of the kingdom,” Isabella continued, pacing around the council chambers. “I imagine that almost all of you here today have some shared tragedy. Some common difficulty that binds you all together in understanding. I imagine that you have been exhausted by the events of the past month, beset by grief, and wish for stability and prosperity to secure your own position.
“The monarch is secondary to the culture of the kingdom,” Isabella continued. “The kingdom was facing dissolution. But it was facing dissolution not because of Edgar, but because of the culture of politicking and betrayal among our forefathers. They would sooner see thousands die than have their ambitions delayed or thwarted. The kingdom nearly died because none would dare stand up and do the right thing at fear of loss.”
Isabella had done a full lap of the room, and now placed her hands on the back of her chair. “You ask me to take the crown. I ask you to realize that the crown is not the kingdom. Laws are not permanent. The world is not static. Good outcomes arise because of good people. Let this near-tragedy be the reminder to us all how fragile and impermanent life is. I will not be the monarch. I will be the reminder of how you ought to conduct yourself.”
Isabella pushed the chair in. “And if you forget… I’m not opposed to reminding you as I reminded my father.”
Valerio stood and pushed in his chair as well. “I suggest that you turn your attention now toward how you might welcome your king.”
***
Great bells chimed melodically, faintly audible through the glass windows. Isabella opened her eyes, looking toward the origin of the pleasant noise. She saw a formidable man looking outside, finishing dressing. He looked back toward her, his silver eyes glowing pleasantly. She smiled at him.
“It’s very nice not to do anything, and still see the results.” Valerio sat down on her bedside. “Do you feel the same way?”
Isabella nodded, then said sleepily, “I do. We can simply watch how things unfold. No one’s left to pull us into the mix of things.”
“I think you’ve done all you can for these people,” Valerio said.
“Well… perhaps not all.” Isabella wiped her eyes and sat up. “But I’ve done enough that anything more would be diminishing returns. If this new generation cannot overcome the problems that Dovhain faces, it was simply never going to be solved at all. I’m optimistic. Sylvain is rigid and just, yet Felix is infinitely flexible. Together, the two can do great work. The north and Dovhain can be folded into one with more permanence. Felix is the most powerful noble in the realm by far, now, and has reason to be fully invested in the future of the crown.”
Valerio stroked his chin thoughtfully. “The last time Felix occupied the role of Prime Minister, he exploited the situation to benefit himself.”
“But now that his grandson will one day come to rule the kingdom, I suspect he wouldn’t dare try to diminish the boy’s inheritance. Rather, he’ll be committed to engineering a stable succession and prosperous kingdom,” Isabella said. “Even if I wanted the crown, to try and take it would only invite disaster. Ambition can be harnessed for prosperity. Why do I need to prevent Felix’s ambition? He may believe he’s doing this to save his family, but ambition is just as much of a factor, without a doubt.”
Valerio nodded, then laid his head on her legs. “I wish we could skip the coronation.”
She rested her hand on his head, and combed his hair. “Our presence is all but necessary. To not attend would be a grave blow to Sylvain’s legitimacy,” Isabella reminded him. “Doing this small favor for him is nothing.”
“I know.” Valerio looked at her as he laid there. “Yet it further delays our wedding.”
“It’ll come, soon enough,” Isabella assured him.
Truthfully, she was as eager as he was. A wedding.
102: For Whom the Bell Tolls
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