Isabella collapsed on her bed, glad to have some reprieve. She was experiencing nostalgia, but she wouldn’t say that it was a positive feeling. Things were back to as they had been before she became queen. The royal court had been like a vast, stormy sea in which she desperately tried not to drown. At the end of every day, her room had once been like a solitary breath of air to keep her from drowning.
I’ve been thrown back in again… but this time, I know how to swim, Isabella thought, doing her best to stay positive. My lungs are stronger, my endurance is trained, and best of all, I know how to navigate the sea. I will make it to shore. I will survive.
It was unimaginable, but… Isabella had fallen back to the past. When she fell asleep tonight, would it remain so the next morning? Instinct told her that nothing would change, that this was real. She was too lucid for this to be some imagining. But how? Why her, and why in general?
She’d asked both Gaspar and Arthur questions, but they were both superficial inquiries. Only the gods or magic would be capable of something like sending someone back into the past. Or perhaps not—perhaps there were forces beyond her knowing. Devilry? Something else altogether?
Magic, Isabella reflected. I was too old to learn it when I became queen, but… I might be able to form a mana lock at this age.
In truth, she had always wanted to learn magic, but her father had always forbidden it. Edgar the Great called it a man’s discipline, unsuited for noble ladies. When she’d tried to do so on her own, he had the tutors crack her knuckles with a stick. It was a long-enduring tradition in Dovhain for reasons that she couldn’t possibly guess.
Or perhaps she could understand, given the control it allowed noblemen and kings.
Her father had sampled women as often as he did wine. He would marry a woman one week, welcome two mistresses in the next, then execute his wife in the third. She didn’t think Edgar could love, but he certainly lusted. Isabella had once thought she was fortunate to be a legitimate princess, but it only meant that the shackles to the royal court were all the tighter—and shackles were ill-suited to swimming in a stormy sea.
Isabella didn’t honestly know how many siblings she had, but it must’ve been in the hundreds. Despite this, Edgar had been granted the title of ‘the Great’ after his death. They cited his military and economic reforms. They cited his patronage of artists, which had caused a great resurgence in the humanities throughout Dovhain. They cited his expansionist policies, which had seen the kingdom nearly double in size. They cited his vibrant court life, where there was a celebration and a ball nearly every week.
They conveniently ignored, of course, the disaster his indiscretions would bring after his death.
Her father had expended tremendous wealth to establish a good public image for himself. The more time that passed, the more Isabella had come to realize Edgar didn’t deserve his title of ‘great.’ They praised him unilaterally, but the succession crisis to come was entirely his fault. His reign had been a brilliant fruit that was entirely rotten on the inside. The matter of succession entirely disinterested him—he never addressed it publicly, saying only that ‘the gods will work out.’
As Isabella felt sleep creep up, she couldn’t help but wonder if that was the reason she returned.
“Good morning, Your Highness!” Alice said as she entered the room cheerfully. “I was very surprised to hear you requested me as your personal attendant.”
Isabella smiled at the young girl without a word. It had been simple enough to ask for Alice—right now, the factionalism hadn’t yet permeated the staff of the royal household. Isabella remembered Alice as a kind-hearted girl unsuited for the intrigues of the royal court soon to come. Someone tried to use Alice as a pawn, but she refused them—in return, she was framed for abusing one of the infant princes. Isabella didn’t know if she could trust Alice fully, but she liked her cheery nature.
Isabella had been reading the Eternal Word—the book that contained all the doctrines of the faith—for any answers about why she might’ve returned to the past. Now that the palace was waking up, she could start moving as well. She rose out of bed and put the book away in her dresser.
“Your pillows are all on the floor,” Alice noted. “Was there something wrong with them?”
“Ah.” Isabella looked at the pillows. In truth, all she could think about was Bernadetta smothering her until she’d pushed them off the bed. “I think I’d prefer to sleep without them.”
“Okay!” Alice said. “It may strain your neck, Your Highness. If it pleases, I could try and request different pillows.”
Isabella rubbed at her neck. She could feel some stiffness, but she hadn’t been able to fall asleep at all until the pillows were away. “Thank you, but no. Perhaps an extra blanket?”
“I’ll have it brought here before the end of the day,” Alice promised.
“Could you speak to the majordomo?” Isabella continued. “I’d like to go visit the archbishop.”
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There was a benefit of being one princess among dozens. It allowed some measure of discretion—the more people there were to keep track of, the less detailed the information tended to be. Isabella was a small speck on the king’s mind when he had so many other siblings to contend with. She had taken to being quiet and reserved as a defense for that reason. If she said little, there were fewer things to take issue with.
Being one royal among many came with its drawbacks, too.
“The archbishop is too busy to visit with you presently, Your Highness,” said the paladin firmly. “He sends his regrets.”
Isabella looked at him. “I’ll wait.”
The paladin swallowed nervously. Isabella could tell by his expression that the archbishop had said polite words, intending to shoo her away with niceties. The archbishop was supposed to be the attendant for the religious matters of the whole royal family, but in reality, he dealt only with the royals that mattered. She hadn’t expected to actually have an audience with the archbishop, of course—rather, that had merely been an excuse to come to his church.
“I’ll tour the grounds as I do,” Isabella informed the paladin, then gathered herself to leave.
As Isabella left, Alice followed close behind. “What a rude man,” Alice said. “Your Highness, I believe he doesn’t intend to come at all.”
“He has larger concerns,” Isabella agreed. “And I have no allies, backing, fortune, or known talents. Only the Dovhain name.”
“The name should be enough,” Alice said.
Isabella gave Alice a consoling pat on the shoulder, then continued on to where she’d intended to go from the beginning: the archbishopric’s library. As the attendant theologian to the royal family, the archbishopric’s library was naturally their library as well. Any of the books within were free to be used by the royal family.
After her identity was verified by the guards, she proceeded inside. A few members of the clergymen serving in the archbishopric took note of her presence, but it wasn’t entirely unusual for a member of the royal family to visit this library in particular. She quickly located the keeper of the books.
“I need to locate some books,” she said.
The keeper looked up at her. “Certainly, Your Highness. Which do you wish to locate?”
“I’ve compiled a list,” Isabella said, retrieving a paper from within her dress’ sleeve and sliding it over.
She read the first few entries in the paper as she passed it over.
Genealogies of the Nobility of Dovhain
Cartographies of Phillip the Navigator
Central Territories of Dovhain
Conquered Territories of Edgar the Great
It continued onward from there, each title related to politics, history, cartography, or other such educational texts.
“Would Her Highness happen to be doing a favor for one of her brothers?” the man asked as he read the list. When Isabella stared at him cryptically, he lowered his head and said, “Forgive me. It’s not my place to ask. I believe this library has the majority of these. I’ll order some of the monks to locate and bring them. It shouldn’t take any longer than ten minutes, Your Highness.”
Isabella nodded, walking away from the desk. She looked around the library.
Alice, still by her side, asked, “May I ask why Her Highness is retrieving such books?”
“To read them,” Isabella answered dryly.
Alice lowered her head and played with the hems of her sleeves after the non-response, uncertain if she should press further. Isabella had been joking, but people always took her seriously, it seemed.
“They’ll help me think,” Isabella said. “About the future. My future.”
Isabella had a solid memory, but nothing was without flaw. She didn’t wish for anything to slip by her unnoticed—and for that reason, she intended to take a robust survey of the happenings within the kingdom. Logically, the more she succeeded in changing, the further her previous life and this one would diverge.
But some things didn’t change. People’s desires and ambitions would be relatively constant, alongside their personalities and vulnerabilities. Territories, lands, discoveries… so long as she was aware of the current situation, she was confident in emerging on the other side of this. Indeed, she might exploit opportunities others had discovered or reveal scandals that were of yet buried.
As Isabella looked at the big picture, she was beginning to understand how large the opportunity granted to her truly was.
“I heard the king announced he was purging the royal dungeons,” someone said distantly.
Isabella focused on the conversation.
“Purging? You mean releasing them, or…?” one of the monks continued.
“Half and half,” the first monk said. “If their family can pay an exorbitant, they’re free to go. If they’re not… apparently, he’s just going to execute them.”
“What?” the second monk asked in alarm. “That… well, I’m sure the king has a reason. It can’t be as arbitrary as it sounds. Did he explain why?”
“This is just a rumor…” the first monk’s voice quieted. “But apparently… it was only to make room.”
Isabella closed her eyes. The first cracks in the edifice are already showing, she reflected. Sure, he’ll get a tremendous inflow of cash, but there’s a reason many of those people are in the dungeons. It astounds me how short-sighted he is. But… I suppose it’s natural. Our father made ruling over his subjects seem effortless. Edgar II only ever knew a time where his father’s word was law, and any dissent was ruthlessly crushed. He thinks he can do the same thing.
It wouldn’t take long for a rude awakening that rattled the foundations of the kingdom, and revealed the royal weakness.
It’s hard to think I couldn’t see the storm coming my first life.