Loopbreaker

“You’re having second thoughts about all this?” Michael asked as they sat on the platform's edge, the King had overseen the battle from the day before.

“I’m… All I want to do is keep you safe,” Francis replied. “I… had thought that perhaps if I could save you… somehow keep you alive long enough and then make an escape… we’d be fine. I realize now that the dream isn’t going to work. Now…” He gestured with his hand at the large cloud before them, which was occasionally discharging bolts of green, black, and red energy. “I see that isn’t going to happen. Stenson said if the army falls, the nation falls. From the few times I’ve seen things, we’re screwed.”

“I still think you’re full of crap, but,” Michael replied, then paused for a moment. “The story you told me… I can see how that makes a little sense. Still, I can’t believe it. You… the scrawny one… suddenly as strong as you are. I mean… you…” His brother glanced around again, making sure no one was close. “You can’t die!”

“Oh, I can die as I told you already, and I have multiple times,” Francis said. “What I’m trying to figure out each time I do is how to keep you safe. That’s why I’ve been training as much as I have whenever I get the chance.”

Michael scoffed. “Yeah… but I mean, the whole coming back stronger and knowing what will happen. That’s got to take a real edge off the whole dying thing.”

Francis couldn’t help himself, swinging his fist and smacking his brother in the arm.

“What the hell?!” Michael yelped.

“Listen,” Francis growled. “Only one thing in this life means anything to me and it’s you, you dumbass. No one but you!” He waved his hand around the entire camp. “I don’t give two turds about this kingdom or the man who sits on the throne if I can’t keep you alive. So if something happens and you die, then what? What’s the point of staying alive and trying?”

Francis heard Michael sigh.

“You… you know that you mean a lot to me,” his brother stated. “The truth is, I know both of us would be dead if it weren’t for the other. Don’t get me wrong, you’ve often been a pain in my butt. Still… to know that you did all those things to try and save me means… more than I can say.

“But you have a gift,” Michael continued. “A crazy and painful gift, but think about it, Francis! You can learn everything possible and keep repeating this over and over, getting stronger every time! Don’t you realize that?”

Francis bobbed his head as he frowned. “What happens if there’s a limit? What happens if one time I die and you’re dead and… and I come back and find you’re still dead? Trust me, I’ve considered the possibility, which is why I’ve always tried to push my stats as much as possible. The problem is that there is only so much I can do. I don’t even know if there is a limit to how many points I can gain in a certain amount of time.”

“I… I…” Michael started and stopped. Francis watched his brother’s mouth open and close, words not coming as they locked eyes with each other. Finally, Michael took a deep breath and fixed his gaze upon Francis. “You’d have to go on. We both talked about this at least a hundred times as kids. If one of us were killed, the other would either get revenge or make sure to live a life great enough for both of us. You can do exactly that, Francis.”

“Bah, we did, but that was just us being stupid and young,” Francis said. “We both know that. How could I possibly leave you behind? Especially with this gift?” Drumming his fingers along the rough wooden platform, Francis scowled. “When I say that my only fear comes from losing you forever, I mean it. If I have to die a thousand times or ten thousand times to keep you around, I will.”

Neither said a word for a few minutes, choosing instead to listen and watch the camp shuffling about like ants. Troops moved logs and pieces of fabric in orderly lines, responding to flags or the blowing of horns.

“So now what?” Michael asked.

“Tomorrow, I’m going to ask them to let me enter the forest and see if I can’t at least learn something about the enemy, provided no one comes back before then.”

“And if you die?”

“At least I’ll know what happens,” Francis said. “Then the King and his advisors can try to decide the step to take the next time I’m reborn.”

Michael suddenly started laughing.

“What?” Francis asked.

“Just promise me that each time you do this, you’ll ensure that Bella and Lucy take care of me. Knowing that I’ll have something like that too, even if I don’t know it at the time, makes all this easier.”

Francis slugged Michael’s arm again.

Both brothers sat there, laughing, ignoring the looks of those who walked by.

“I love you,” Francis said quietly.

“I know.”

“You’re such an ass.”

“Just like my younger brother,” Michael replied, with a wink. “And I love you as well.”

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***

“Sage Francis, I must admit I wasn’t expecting you here,” Vella said. “Surely someone else would be a better person to speak with.”

Shaking his head, he studied the tall woman. He could see the bags under her eyes; her posture was not as tall as it had been on other occasions when he had been with her. Francis assumed they were all signs of her not getting enough rest, but like her father, she hid it well.

“No. Actually, I need to ask you a few things, and it might sound weird… just trust me that it’s for the best of the Kingdom.”

“If you tell me to visit you in your tent–” the captain started.

He saw her eyes start to narrow and felt an awkward laugh escape his lips as he waved his hands. “No! Nothing like that, I promise. I don’t see you that way at all!” he exclaimed.

Vella scowled, her brown eyes almost appearing darker in the tent's light. “And why is that? Am I not a woman? Does my–”

“Stop, please!” Francis protested. “I’m not good with words, and while yes, you are an attractive and intelligent woman, what I need right now is only your trust.”

She grunted, took two steps to the table with all the troops laid out on it, and leaned against it. Crossing her arms, Vella nodded at him once.

“So… Sage Francis. How do you expect to earn my trust?”

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, all Francis could think about was how quickly this conversation had gotten away from what he had planned.

“The night that I came and we first met. What could I have said to Dirk, to tell you, that would have let you know immediately that I was a friend and ally to be trusted?”

Her head cocked sideways a little and a perfectly manicured eyebrow rose.

“I’m sorry… you’re the Sage who sees the future and you’re asking me for what? A story of my childhood or–”

“Anything like that,” Francis said, cutting her off. “A passphrase, or some joke or a story that would immediately let you know I needed to be in your presence no matter what.”

“Why would you need this?” Vella asked, eyes narrowing. “We already know each other, and I trust you to a decent extent.”

“Yes… Like I said before, humor me. What is something any guard or again yourself or your father would know meant–”

“Apples under a hat.”

Blinking a few times, he studied her face, blank as a new sheet of paper. “Apples under a hat?”

“That’s the phrase,” Vella stated. “Tell me or my father that, and we’ll know to at least hear you out.”

“And that phrase comes from…” Francis asked, his mind very curious about the phrase.

“Something only a few know. The ones who do have our complete attention. Now tell me, why do you need this?”

“My power is sometimes… strange,” he lied. “Knowing people and small things that are secret or uncommon helps.”

“How did you know about my father and his ability?”

“Sometimes I see things as if I were there,” Francis lied again. “I saw a vision of your father fighting the special bearskin on the other side. I witnessed the power of his sword and his skill. To say I was a bit nervous about seeing that kind of might, even in a vision, is an understatement. The power of his sword shows me I have a long way to go. And that was before seeing him swing that heavy one in the training tent.”

Vella began to laugh and then burst out laughing; a moment later, she wiped a tear from her eye.

“He did that… that bastard. Always loves to show off just how strong he is. You know how many can lift that sword like him?”

Shaking his head, he waited.

Vella slowly raised her hand and held up a finger.

“My father.” Another finger joined the first. “And the King.”

She paused and added a third finger, frowning as she did. “Somewhere out there is the man who trained my father. If he is still alive, then there are three. And that’s it.”

He could hear the change in her voice as she talked about the mysterious third person. “How strong does one have to be to lift that sword?”

Vella shrugged. “Stronger than me. I can almost get it up with two hands, but there’s no way I could swing it well enough to work on my technique. The problem is, I don’t have the time to worry about that kind of thing. As you heard him say, my job doesn’t require me to be on the front line. Instead, I’m in here,” she stated, motioning to the tent and table she still leaned against. “Sometimes I think he tricked me. He knew I wanted to be like him. All my childhood, he spoke about how much harder it was to be a tactician than just someone who swung a sword. At other times, like now, I honestly believe he didn’t expect me to make it. The weight of knowing so many lives depend upon the decisions you make…”

She cleared her throat and clapped her hands. “But that’s enough about my life. What about you? I’ve heard a few rumors, and the details I’ve managed to piece together tell me your story has more holes in it than the cook’s strainer.”

“What do you mean?”

“From what I’ve learned, you were one of the many who were caught in a recruitment trap. Towns where the farmers paid more than they should have to keep you working, all while waiting on the King’s recruitment squad. As I’m sure you’re well aware, no man walks away from those squads.”

“Yeah, that magic witch… she’s a–”

“Don’t speak like that,” Vella growled. “Those with that kind of power are the only reason we’re still in this fight. Every day we’ve risked getting run over by that horde of never-ending creatures. Right now, we’re facing an enemy that uses magic from a different source than ours. If all of the country’s mages came and answered the call, we could push them back and maybe even drive them from our lands. But they haven’t. Still, we owe much to the ones who did.”

Francis studied her, seeing a look of hope on Vella's usually hard face.

“If you believe that to be the case, why doesn’t the King–”

“Because he can’t,” she whispered. “That question isn’t one you want to keep pressing, but even King Baxter cannot force every mage to answer his summons. There is… a conflict of some sort between him and a Grand Master as well as the Concord. That conflict has given those who focus on the magical arts the ability to ignore anything but a direct summon, so most still do that.”

“My sister… I half expected her to be here. Last I heard, Trina was nearing the advanced rank in the magical arts.”

“That quickly? She must be like you, gifted with strong blood to progress that fast,” Vella replied. “And what about your brothers?”

“I don’t have a clue. Honestly, it’s been years since Michael or I had any contact with our family. They… ignore us if we’re lucky. We got caught up in a gathering trap because we were trying to keep as far away as possible from our father. He’s an asshole.”

The captain chuckled and slapped him on the shoulder.

“You know, Francis… one of the things I like about you is you don’t talk like all those other… pompous asses. Most with the power and ability you have would demand that everything be done according to their will. Even the King would have a hard time not giving in to some of your demands, especially since you proved your ability and saved the troops you did. Yet here you are, asking me for random things and not taking advantage of me or anyone else, from what I’ve gathered. Well, except for those two women who catered to your brother’s needs.”

“Ahh… yes… I sometimes wonder if that was the best decision, but Michael sure seemed to enjoy it.”

Both of them laughed as Francis prepared for the next part of his plan.

Perhaps one of these repetitions I’ll see what all the fuss is about.