Loopbreaker

The sound of the morning bell called out.

"It's earlier than usual," Michael grunted as he sat up. "What gives?"

“Just another day in paradise,” Francis replied, sitting up and grabbing his boots. “Let’s get moving. Today’s going to be fun.”

Ignoring the grunt from his brother, Francis considered the fight just a moment ago.

Well, I know the sword can cut and do actual damage, but I’m still not strong or fast enough to last against that specific rhino-kin.

He had managed a single cut along the arm, thought it had still caught him. The rhino-kin had shrugged off his strike, seemingly unfazed by the injury.

Francis had heard Kels shout, but before the knight could save him, the beast had killed him again.

[ Status ]

Francis Lancaster

Age 17

Strength: 28

Endurance: 30

Agility: 29

Wisdom: 15

Perception: 21

Magic: 10

Skills

Swordsmanship (Common) - 52 Advanced

Shield Use (Common) - 39 Proficient

Tracking (Uncommon) - 11 Novice

Stealth (Uncommon) - 11 Novice

Traps (Uncommon) - 3 Basic

Rock Throwing (Common) - 7 Basic

Mental Resist (Uncommon) - 25 Novice

Blood of the Undying (Unknown)- 100+ Sage

Fast Learner (Epic) - 1 Basic (Locked)

Mace (Common) - 6 Basic

Horseback Riding (Common)- 8 Basic

Horseback Handling (Uncommon) - 6 Basic

Pain Resistance (Uncommon) - 31 Proficient

Poison Resistance (Rare) - 12 Basic

Power Strike (Rare) - 9 Basic

Brawling (Uncommon) - 25 Proficient

Strong Bones (Rare) - 19 Novice

Death’s Dance (Epic) - 2 Basic

I guess I should try what Stenson said. Right now I’m dead so fast that I can’t gain skills against the creature and this might be the best path right now to get stronger.

“Your face tells me you’re thinking, which we both know is unusual,” Michael said, having finished getting his boots on. “What’s up?”

“Just wondering what it would be like to live in the capital.”

“Caereenal? Seriously? What kind of dream did you have? We both know that would never happen. Heck, we’d barely get past the gates before being scooped up again and sent off to the front line, provided we even made that far.”

Francis nodded and stood, slipping on his shirt. “Yeah. Still, a man’s got to dream, right?”

His brother snorted, shaking his head in disapproval. “Might as well dream something real. Now let’s go, I don’t want to be late.”

***

Stenson’s face had displayed shock only twice in the entire retelling of events after Francis had asked for a moment alone and said the phrase harvest of red leaves. The phrase had prompted the first expression of shock, and the explanation of the time loops had caused the second.

“So… I can’t argue with everything I’ve heard, because the only way you would know that phrase and everything you have told me is if you’re telling the truth,” the general said, slowly spinning his cup in his hand. “Though now I need to convince the King to send you and your brother to the capital. It’s doable… but I’m wondering what I was thinking that previous time.”

“Well, you had mentioned I was missing a lot of potential skills and actual training. I’m curious if I’ll find out why more nobles' children aren’t here en masse and the mages don’t come.”

The older man spat, then scowled for a moment.

“You’ll learn about that, have no doubt. The Concord of Staves tied Baxter’s father’s hands. We don’t have time to discuss it all, but know the odds of them risking their life for us are almost non-existent unless the enemy approaches Caereenal’s walls. And if they did… the city would survive for a while, but eventually would fall.”

“You mentioned me getting training and an education. Are they really going to allow that even though I’m a ninth son? I mean… I’m also older than most when they first arrive.”

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“Don’t worry about that. A letter from me will handle all those problems, though it might cause several others. Your brother is the biggest issue. With no real talent, he’s basically the weakest link. Did I advise you not to worry about him and just let him… die?”

Francis frowned but nodded.

“Not going to happen. At least not this time through.”

Setting his cup on the small table near him, Stenson leaned forward.

“Listen, son.”

Unable to help his reaction, Francis winced but the general didn’t apologize.

“The capital is in bad shape. While it continues to operate and send supplies, the inner section of the city you two would be living in is the Scholars' Spire. The other sections, such as the Ringwall and the Old Quarter, are merely people crafting the items and supplies the army needs every month. Even now, the Rivergate Docks have become nothing but a haven for smugglers and refugees who have fled there, trying to escape the draft and hiding in that section of town.”

Frances’ mind swirled as so many different things came at him quickly.

“I can get your brother a place in the Barracks Row. He’ll be trained as a low-level soldier, but if he ends up in the Spires and word gets out you two are related… they will use him against you.”

“Who?” Francis asked.

“Everyone. Teachers, trainers, other students, nobles, even some of the servants,” Stenson replied. “Trust me when I say that there is a reason I prefer being a fighter. Politics isn’t my focus. I come up with battle plans and lead armies but the constant backstabbing, bribes, and other games that take place require time and energy I do not have. You, Francis, must learn this art.”

“I thought I was going to get stronger and learn skills.”

Stenson sighed and leaned back in his chair, scratching his chin for a moment.

“What good is that if you don’t understand how to work within the group that surrounds the King? Tell me, how often have those in the tent or on the platform been against you?”

Francis frowned and began to see what the older man was saying. “Too many.”

“And I’m guessing you and Priscilla have butted heads?”

“Is that a lucky guess or…?” Francis asked.

“From what you told me and described, I know for a fact that she would go against most of what I want to do. That was until you mentioned the anti-magic area created when two spells collide. She can be an ally if you know how to get her on your side, but that is only going to happen if you understand who she is and why she does what she does.”

“Can’t you just tell me?” Francis asked.

“No. We are all bound by promises, as I am to the one I made you today… and I guess the time before this. I’ll do what I can to help you get stronger and learn the ways of the kingdom. You’re strong and smart and show a willpower most don’t possess, Francis Lancaster. Now, you need to utilize those things to improve further. When you do die, come to me before attempting anything else. No matter how badly something might pull you in a direction, come find me. We can discuss the next step, depending on how much you grow.”

Having spoken, the general stood and held out his hand.

“Now come, it’s time for you and your brother to go. I have a battle plan to show the king and I must convince him you’re worth sending away.”

“Thank you,” Francis said, shaking the man’s hand. “I’m glad I took a risk and told you the truth.”

The older man laughed and shook his head.

“Part of me wishes you had done it sooner, and the other part is glad you didn’t. Knowing how strong you have become and what you have acquired proves what you’re willing to endure. Now, we need to hone you and turn you into the weapon that will cut off the head of our enemy. Good luck, Francis.”

***

“You were serious!” Michael exclaimed, even though he was trying to whisper. “You can see the future!”

“Quiet,” Francis replied, pointing at the two guards a few strides ahead who were leading the brothers through the maze of tents. “We’ll talk later. But yes, I was. And yes, I can.”

His brother’s face contorted a few times and eventually stopped as he chewed on his lip.

Francis touched the letter in his jacket with a smile-- the outfit each brother wore was worth more than either could even fathom. Stenson had given Francis a letter for each of them and clothed them; a few minutes after Francis discovered that a pouch with five gold crowns in it.

What would possess a man to give away this much money?

Considering that thought, Francis quickly realized that the general must have faith that Francis could eventually become the weapon to help defeat the beastkin army.

“We’re here, sir!” a guard announced.

The pair of guards had stopped outside a blue tent. It was odd—not just in the color but also because it was boxy, about ten feet wide, and only ten or twelve feet tall. No guards were stationed outside, and the pair motioned to the flap covering the opening.

“We just go in?” Michael asked.

Their reply was a nod. The pair of guards bowed once and then turned, leaving them standing there in the dark.

“That’s weird,” Michael muttered.

Shrugging, Francis glanced around the area and the light coming from the torches. Thousands of lights illuminated the camp, all like fireflies announcing their presence. One small torch was burning near the opening, casting its glow.

“No point in waiting, let’s see what’s inside,” Francis said.

As he pushed the flap to the side and stepped in, Francis felt his stomach tighten.

“Ahh, the young sage and his brother. Fleeing to the capital, are we?”

Priscilla had turned around as they’d entered the space, her blue eyes studying him.

“Not fleeing, just obeying the gods' commands,” Francis replied. “Still, why are we here? Aren’t we supposed to be headed to Caereenal?”

Scoffing, the woman pointed at a section of ropes that formed a rectangular shape about five feet wide and eight feet tall.

“You really don’t know anything, do you? You somehow give precise details about so many things, yet you don’t know what this is.”

“It’s a teleportation string,” Michael answered.

“Very good,” the mage replied, nodding her head at him. “Perhaps that’s why he is here. Yes, this is a teleportation string as you called it, but we call it a gate. Only those who aren’t trained in magic, or perhaps those who are common, would call it such. Still, it allows me to send a few people to the one located in Caereenal quickly. Likewise, those in the city can come here if needed.”

“But why are you here doing this?” Francis asked. “Surely there could be someone else with that power ,so you don’t have to.”

“You would like to believe that, but the answer is no, Sage Francis.”

Her tone at his title left no doubt in his mind that she wasn’t doing this of her own volition.

“Only three of us in the camp have the knowledge or power to do this. I do not need the assistance of magical items to make this work. But before I send you two, I need to ask something.”

When Francis and Michael didn’t reply, the woman frowned slightly and took a step toward them.

In the light of the tent, she seemed imposing. She was slightly taller than Francis, and her red robe looked eerie in the blue light of the tent. Pricilla moved with the knowledge that she possessed power and could kill them both with ease if she wanted.

“What is the purpose of all this?” she asked. “Why come now with this information, and then scurry off like rabbits to a city you have no clue about? There has to be a reason why Stenson somehow convinced the King that you two needed to be sent away like this. Now tell me why?”

Francis could see his brother shrink back a step, but he stood tall, then stepped toward the woman he knew was the strongest mage in the camp.

“Because the kingdom only wins the war if we go there.”

A glimmer of something yellow illuminated the pupil in her eye for a moment. Something touched him. Like cold water being dumped on him, his skin tingled and Francis had to fight back from shivering. A pressure grew for a moment in his chest and then vanished a second later.

Slowly, she nodded.

“I cannot imagine how that must be true and yet…” Priscilla sighed, turning and raising her right hand.

Light began to form around her pointer finger as she traced the shape of the rope.

Where her finger moved, the rope began to glow gold, and when the entire outline had been illuminated, a white box appeared between the ropes.

Glad the woman’s back was turned, Francis forced his mouth closed and elbowed Michael, whose mouth was open as well.

“Go, I do not want to waste the mana it takes to keep it open,” Priscilla said.

Tugging on his brother’s new jacket, Francis pulled his brother toward the portal. The pair moved on either side of the mage, yet her eyes only focused Francis.

“I pray to the gods,” she said, “that whatever reason they have for doing this happens soon. For your sake and the kingdom.”

Another sensation struck his back and Francis felt a burning pain between his shoulders as he stepped through the gate.