Loopbreaker

“So… how much do you trust me?” Francis asked.

“At this point, I have to believe that Egbus sent you to us, because there is no other explanation for your presence,” Stenson declared. “We’re in a war that we are about to lose, and yet, a Sage suddenly appears. I’d run out on the battlefield naked with only a sword if I believed you spoke for Thonia.”

A chuckle came from Vella as she shook her head. “I pray the gods do not request such a thing. Though no doubt that would send fear into all the creatures forced to look upon you.”

Ignoring their banter, Francis set the paper on the table's edge. “These columns with the horses.”

“Cavalry,” Stenson corrected. “What about them?”

“Why are they stacked like that? In a triangle-like shape?” Francis asked.

“To charge and break through the lines,” one of the officers replied. “While we could set them up in a long row, it allows the enemy to defend against them better if prepared. The wedge means we can press deeper into the weaker parts of the troops.”

“And you’re certain there are weaker troops in that mess?”

Francis pointed at the long rows of brown blocks, none with any variance or standing for any troop he knew of, based on what he had learned so far.

“He’s sharp,” Vella stated. “You are right, though, Sage. We don’t know what is beyond the lines we can see. There are some we have encountered, like the mages. Even the one we killed, which you had told us about, had only been spotted once before. Many of us have debated what lies beyond the first waves. I’m fairly certain I know what you’re thinking, but it’s a risk we’ve never taken nor an opportunity we’ve ever been given.”

Nodding, Francis picked up a stick and handed it to Vella.

“Tell me, how far do you think the cavalry can press and still be safe? I mean, ignoring how we believe we’re all going to die.”

Smirking, she tapped a point on the battlefield.

“How far is that from where our mages could reach?” Francis asked.

“Beyond their spell range by a good two or three hundred yards,” Vella replied, her brown eyes almost sparkling. “Which is right about here.”

Francis smiled as he saw a few of the advisors catching on to what Vella and Stenson had planned.

I guess this proves they know their people well. These men are following the clues like birds and a bread trail. Part of me feels bad that I’m just following this plan they gave me, but knowing all this will help with future deaths.

“Which means our mages would have to move behind the advancing men and women,” Francis said.

“They won’t do that,” one of the advisors exclaimed. “They hide behind-”

“Silence.” Stenson’s voice cut the man off, and the general began to scratch his chin. His eyes glanced back and forth at the spot his daughter had touched and where the markers were for the mages.

“If they were given an order,” Vella said, “they would obey even if they didn’t want to. I could pull a few troops from the veterans to provide cover. Tell me, Francis, are you planning on doing what I think I already see?”

“Does that mean you know what I’m thinking, or are you guessing?”

“Gods no, boy, why show my hand when I can make you show yours?” she replied. “No doubt you can tell none of them around this table have a sack big enough to say what you’re saying, even though they all see the plan.”

He and Stenson grinned as Francis picked up the list again, took a random block, and handed it to Vella.

“Put it against the main line of the enemy. This will stand as the Frozen Boulder’s spell. Obviously, we’d use this first. Soften up the group behind them. Say, maybe fifty yards? With that spell having the longest range out of all of them, it provides the easiest position to cast from. We’d use it as the charge starts.”

She nodded, tossing it to one of the advisors and marking a spot to place it with the stick. “How wide an area do you want it to cover?”

“Three-quarters of a mile, right in the middle,” Francis replied. “No more.”

She took a few more of the same-colored tokens and tossed them to each side, where men snatched them and placed them as she tapped down.

“Once that spell starts, you must order the men to move forward,” Francis said, going through the mental checklist of tactics and the plan Stenson had created. “They’ll already be on the offensive, not blowing horns, and hopefully getting farther across the battlefield. Depending on how they line up and when the cavalry and troops are spotted, that will determine exactly where that spell does strike.”

“Boy, you could be an advisor with a mind like that and a sack that big,” Stenson said with a chuckle. “Continue.”

Others in the tent murmured and bobbed their heads.

They are so selling this plan of theirs… I look like a gift from the gods… Having a plan like this when everyone knows I shouldn’t have a clue about anything military related…

Ignoring the praise, Francis got ready for the next part of the plan.

Knowledge is everything… None of us knows how this fight will end, but if I do die, I’ll know more for the next time. Maybe with their help we could come up with a better plan…

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“I’m assuming they’ll have spells to deflect some stuff,” Francis continued, “but once we start to engage, the biggest thing to do is keep softening up that center. Our goal is to push to the deepest part of the enemy and see if we can’t cut off the head of someone really powerful.”

The advisors and officers around the battlefield began to nod and smile, whispering and pointing at spots that had been marked.

“When we engage, the mages will cast the Brimstone Rains spell,” Francis stated. “It will hopefully soften up the middle, but we want more of the spell to hit on the right side of the battlefield. I think we should ensure that it strikes that entire edge. I’d probably do this about fifty to seventy yards past where we expect to engage with the veteran troops.”

More tokens were passed across the table and set in place.

“Now for the hard part,” Francis said as he tapped the paper. “How much time do they need between spells?”

“We’ve never done them that rapidly,” Vella replied. “However, I’m assuming they could cast them rather quickly. Maybe a minute or two between them. It will probably lessen the range and damage. You would be draining all of them dry like this.”

“Yes, I would be,” Francis replied.

Stenson shook his head, and the other advisors hesitated momentarily before mimicking the general.

“So you really are going to recommend using the Thorn Barrier on the left?” another officer asked.

Francis nodded.

“We can cut off a section of the enemy we don’t want to engage, shift the cavalry to the right, and then use the final spell in preparation for the last push. While that is happening, can we bring our archers and use them to weaken the left side? With no cavalry over there and only the veterans, they will need help.”

“Jaeggar’s balls… that’s impressive,” an advisor cursed. “You’d put that spell at max range, forcing our mages to keep on the move, but could take out a chunk of enemies. After that, you could send the bulk of the cavalry through whatever was left, into the forces that lie beyond. I mean, it’s basically suicide if we don’t win. Some might be able to move back if a retreat was sounded, but… it would be costly.”

From the corner of his eye, Francis saw Vella smile for just a moment. That combination of archers and spells had been her idea.

“And that’s where this next part might sound wrong,” Francis said. “I need to be with the cavalry near the back.”

Silence was Francis’s reply as he played the only card the general and Vella weren’t aware he had.

“I’m sorry, Sage, but why would you go with them?” Stenson asked. “There is no reason for you to join those warriors. Do you even know how to ride a horse?”

“I don’t, but how hard could it be?”

Shaking his head, the older man frowned, brown eyes glaring at Francis. “These are battle horses, not some tame creature used to pull a cart or plow a field. They are bred for battle and will stay in formation, not leaving it unless their rider knows how to control them. I would be putting you on something that might be too much for you to handle. It would sense your lack of skill and could try to remove you. Even worse, there would be no way for you to avoid being caught up in the charge as it would follow the other horses.”

“I’m aware of that,” Francis lied, trying to appear confident. “Trust me… this is the plan I feel we must do; and this is the only way it will work. I must be there with them. If not, the gods may not grant us a victory.” He crossed his arms and prepared for the backlash that might come.

Both daughter and father stared at him, each looking displeased with the last addition Francis had made to their plan.

Meanwhile, the advisors began to mutter and nod.

“That sounds reasonable.”

“Everything he says has been perfect.”

“I’ll go with him,” Vella announced. “You, General, need to be with the king.”

“Like hell I do!” Stenson argued. “If one of us is to die, let it be me! I can finally be free from my wife and her constant nagging!”

They glared at each other, and Vella shook her head, taking a deep breath before letting it out.

“When you survive and hopefully return with that one arm still attached, I’ll make sure she knows what you said.”

“I’d deny it emphatically,” Stenson replied.

A hint of envy crept into Francis’s heart. Seeing a father and a daughter joking like this reminded Francis of what he had never experienced.

Someday… if I have a child… no matter how many I have, they will know what love is.

After lifting the list from the table, Stenson moved to a torch. When it got close, the paper burst into flames, gone faster than one could blink.

“I guess it’s time we went and told the king our plan,” the general said. Are you ready?”

“Actually, could we get something to eat first and have you bring my brother to join me?” Francis asked. “I’m starving!”

***

Francis felt an awkward stare from Michael, who was just sitting there, chewing the same piece of bread slowly for almost half a minute.

“You going to stop trying to bore a hole through my head?” Francis asked.

“No… you’re not telling me something… I mean, even more than what you haven’t told me already! What the hell is going on?!” Almost leaping up from the padded chair he was sitting in, Michael waved the piece of bread in the air as he moved around the empty tent. “All this! How they speak about you! They say you are a Sage!”

The last few words had almost been a whisper.

“You’re not a sage, Francis!” Michael shouted. “I’ve known you since the day you were born, and we both know you’re not that special! What’s going to happen when you get caught? Am I going to die?!”

Setting down his fork and knife, letting the piece of meat he had been enjoying take a break from the way he had been attacking it, Francis sighed.

“I told you what I could. Anything else puts you at risk. Just know… I have a sage skill.”

“Bullshit BULLSHIT!!” Michael shouted. “There’s no chance at all that you possess such a skill! If so, why have we lived as we have for the last six years? Why did we almost starve repeatedly? How come we got our asses kicked and mistreated by almost everyone each day of our lives? Why would you hide it?!” Both hands lowered, and Michael’s shoulders slumped. “Why would you hide it from me?”

At that moment, in the pained words, Francis knew that was the real problem with all this.

Sliding his chair back and standing, he moved to where Michael stood, looking like he had been beaten and betrayed.

Without waiting or asking, he embraced Michael, pulling him in tightly.

“I love you more than anyone else. Trust me when I say one day I hope I can tell you more. If you believe that I care for you as I say, wait for that day. Then everything will be explained, and the only thing I care about will be safe.”

His brother squeezed him back, sniffing a few times, and nodded.

“I’ll wait… and I trust you… just… don’t leave me alone.”

Giving three taps on Michael’s back, Francis broke the embrace, and he gazed at the only person he knew who had ever loved him.

“Everything I’m doing is so you and I won’t be alone.”

A half-eaten piece of puff bread was shoved into his face by his brother.

“You’re right, you know. This stuff is amazing,” Michael said, his tone pleasant and a wry smile on his lips.

Laughing, Francis punched his brother’s shoulder and motioned to the table. “Let’s eat a little more, then. In a bit, I’ve got to meet with—” he paused, as the words almost seemed impossible to say. “—the king.”

Sighing, Michael let out a breath and then shoved the bread into his mouth to fill the void.