Chapter 66

  Stenson's command tent was smaller than the king's, but it felt more lived-in.

  Maps covered every surface, some pinned to the canvas walls, others spread across tables and weighted down with stones and empty cups. Notes in the general's cramped handwriting filled the margins, tracking troop movements and supply lines and a dozen other details that kept an army functioning. This was where the real work happened, away from the politics and ceremony of the royal tent.

  Francis stood across the main table from Stenson, studying a large map of the southern front. He'd seen similar maps in other loops, had memorized the terrain and the enemy positions through countless deaths. But this was the first time he'd looked at it with someone who actually understood what they were planning.

  "Before we talk tactics," Stenson said, "I need to understand the timeline. You said your loop point is the morning bell in the Southern Kingdom. If you die, you wake up there, that morning, and everything resets."

  "That's right."

  "And if you absorb the northern looper, your loop point shifts t. Everything before becomes fixed."

  "That's what happened with the southern one," Francis confirmed. "My loop point moved to a few days before the absorption. I don't know exactly why it was a few days before instead of the moment itself, but that's how it worked."

  Stenson leaned over the map, his fingers tracing the distance between the southern front and the portal to the north. "So if you absorb the northern looper while we're still fighting here, the war becomes permanent. Whatever state we're in at that moment is locked in forever."

  "Which is why we need to win decisively before I go north," Francis said. "Not just push them back. We need to break their army completely, make sure there's no threat remaining when my loop point shifts."

  "How long do we have?" Stenson asked. "After we win here, how quickly do you need to reach the northern looper?"

  "As fast as possible," Francis said. "The northern creature can reset whenever it wants. Every moment I delay is a moment it might decide to undo everything."

  "But it hasn't reset yet," Stenson pointed out. "You've killed it multiple times, and it's reset each time. But right now, in this loop, it's still waiting. Why?"

  Francis had thought about that. "I think resetting costs something. Energy, or life force, or something I don't understand. The creature on the throne looked ancient, decaying. Maybe each reset drains it a little more. It won't reset unless it feels genuinely threatened."

  "So as long as you're here in the south, fighting our war, it feels safe," Stenson said slowly. "But the moment you start moving north..."

  "It might panic. Reset before I can reach it." Francis shook his head. "Which means I need to move fast once I start. Win here, get to the portal, get through, and reach the structure before it realizes what's happening."

  "The portal," Francis said. "How quickly can we open it?"

  "Priscilla and the other mages can have it ready within hours of the battle ending," Stenson replied. "I've seen them do it before. The hard part isn't opening the portal. It's keeping it stable long enough for people to get through. How many people are you wanting to take?"

  "Just me," Francis said. "Maybe a small escort to get through the initial defenses, but for the final approach to the structure, I need to go alone. The defenses are designed to kill groups. They're actually easier to navigate solo."

  Stenson frowned. "You're going to assault an ancient fortress, fight through whatever guards it, and absorb a creature that's been alive for millennia. Alone."

  "I've done it before," Francis reminded him. "Multiple times. I know the layout, the defenses, the patterns. I know where the traps are and how to avoid them. Having more people with me just means more variables, more ways for things to go wrong."

  "And if you fail?"

  "Then I reset and we try again." Francis met the general's eyes. "That's the advantage I have. Failure isn't permanent for me. It's just another lesson."

  "All right," Stenson said, pulling the southern map closer. "Let's talk about winning here first. What do you know about their positions?"

  Francis leaned over the map and began pointing out locations. "Their main force is here, in the valley. About eight thousand beastkin, mostly infantry with some cavalry support. They've got siege beasts in the rear, those massive grey-skinned creatures with catapults mounted on their backs."

  "We know about the siege beasts," Stenson said grimly. "Lost a lot of good soldiers to those things."

  "The key is taking them out early," Francis said. "In loops where we focused on the infantry first, the siege beasts tore through our lines. But in loops where we sent fast strike teams we did better. They're dangerous without direction, but they're not coordinated. They become a problem for both sides instead of just ours."

  "How do we reach the controllers?" Stenson asked. "They're on top of the beasts, fifty feet in the air."

  "Archers can reach them if they know to aim for the pandakin specifically. The bearkin archers up there provide cover, but if you time it right, there's a window between volleys. Three or four well-placed shots can take down a controller." Francis traced the positioning on the map. "Once the controller falls, the beast goes berserk for about two minutes, then it just stands there, confused. Either way, it stops being a threat. I'd say we could use mages, but we'll need them to help keep our troops safe."

  Stenson nodded slowly, making a note on the map. "Strike teams for the controllers. Dedicated archer units targeting the pandakin. What else?"

  "The Elite units." Francis pointed to several locations on the map. "This is where it gets complicated. There's an Elite Tigerkin on their eastern flank. Dual swordsman, incredibly fast, formally trained."

  Stenson's expression didn't change, but his jaw tightened. Francis knew why. In previous loops, the Tigerkin had killed the general. It had taken his arm first, then finished him.

  "I’ve told you before, he's killed you more than once," Francis confirmed. "Which is why you need to avoid him this time. Let someone else handle him, or better yet, let me weaken him before anyone engages."

  "You want me to run from a fight?"

  "I want you alive at the end of this battle." Francis met the general's eyes. "You're too important to lose to pride. There are other threats that need your attention."

  Stenson was silent for a long moment, then nodded once. "Go on."

  "On the western flank, there's an Elite Jaguarkin and an Elite Pantherkin working together. The Jaguarkin is power and discipline, fights with claws until he gets frustrated, then draws his swords. The Pantherkin is an assassin, waits for you to commit somewhere else, then strikes from your blind spot."

  Francis tapped the map. "But King Baxter can handle them. I've seen him fight, and he's one of the few people who can take both of them at once. If we put him against that pair, he'll win."

  "And the Elite Rhinokin? The one that guards the siege beasts?"

  "Baxter killed that one before too, in another loop. Cost him dearly, but he did it." Francis shook his head. "But we're not going to make him fight both battles. I'll handle the Rhinokin after I deal with the bigger threat."

  "Which is?"

  Francis pointed to the forest behind the enemy lines. "The Lizardkin mage. That thing has killed me more times than I can count. It's also killed King Baxter. And it's the one that casts their death spell."

  Stenson went still. "The death spell. That’s the one you talk about that looks like a black sheet that killed ten thousand of our men in a single moment."

  "That's the one. In loops where we didn't stop it, the Lizardkin cast that spell once our troops pushed too far forward. Wiped out entire formations. The only reason any of us survived was because I knew it was coming and had the horns sound retreat early." Francis's voice was grim. "If we want to win this battle decisively, I need to kill that Lizardkin before it can cast. That means going deep into enemy territory, past their front lines, into the forest where it hides."

  "Alone?"

  "I'm the only one who can survive its beam attacks. My Magic Resistance is high enough to take a hit and keep moving. Anyone else would die before they got close." Francis traced his planned route on the map. "I'll push through the eastern edge where the terrain is rough, circle around to the forest, and kill the Lizardkin. Once it's dead, their magical support collapses. No death spell, no devastating beam attacks on our formations."

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  "And after the Lizardkin?"

  "Then I go after the Rhinokin. Take out their heavy hitter near the siege beasts. Between losing their mage and their strongest Elite, their command structure will be in chaos." Francis looked up at Stenson. "That's when we push. Hit them hard while they're reeling. Baxter takes the Jaguarkin and Pantherkin. You coordinate the main assault. And we break them."

  Stenson studied the map for a long moment, his tactical mind working through the possibilities. "You're putting yourself against their two most dangerous threats. Back to back."

  "I've killed both of them before. Multiple times." Francis's voice was steady. "I know their patterns, their weaknesses, their tells. The Lizardkin dies if you get close enough to hit it. The Rhinokin is slow once you wound its legs. Neither of them is invincible. They just require the right approach."

  "And if you die?"

  "Then I reset, and we try again. But I don't plan to die." Francis allowed himself a small smile. "I've gotten very good at not dying."

  "Assuming we win here," Stenson said, "what happens next?"

  "The moment the battle is over, we open the portal. I go through with whatever escort you can spare. We move fast, don't stop for anything, and reach the barbarian territories within a day."

  "The barbarians," Stenson said carefully. "You mentioned knowing people there."

  "Warchief Glitvall," Francis confirmed. "Your letter to him has helped every time. Their jarl is a woman named Ylva... she’s a bit harder, but Glitvall has always handled her. In this loop, they won't know me, but I can earn their trust quickly enough."

  "And from there?"

  "The structure is hidden in the ice fields. The approach is the dangerous part. There's a killing field, two hundred yards of open ground with no cover. Then the structure itself, filled with Reavers that mimic human voices to lure victims into ambushes."

  "Reavers," Stenson repeated. "We’ve heard stories. It’s been ages since we’ve seen one."

  "They're real," Francis said flatly. "And they're worse than the stories. But I know how to avoid them now. The structure has patterns, rhythms. If you know when to move and when to hide, you can get through."

  "And at the center?"

  "The throne room. The creature. And whatever guards it's kept close." Francis paused. "Last time I fought through, there was a robed figure with devastating ice magic. It could freeze me solid in seconds. That's the last obstacle before the looper itself."

  "You make it sound almost routine," Stenson said.

  "It's not routine. It's memorized." Francis met the general's eyes. "I've died in that structure more times than I want to admit. Every death taught me something. Now I know the path. I just have to walk it one more time."

  "Tell me about the absorption," Stenson said. "What actually happens?"

  Francis was quiet for a moment, trying to find words for something he barely understood himself.

  "When I killed the southern creature, something changed. I felt the parasite leaving its body, searching for a new host. It tried to take me, to make me into what the creature had been. There was a... battle, I suppose. Not physical… Mental. The parasite wanted control, and I had to fight to keep myself."

  "And you won."

  "I won. But it wasn't easy. The parasite was old, powerful. It had memories, experiences, and apparently thousands of years of existence. It tried to overwhelm me with all of that, to drown me in its history until I forgot who I was."

  "What stopped it?"

  Francis thought about that. "I'm not sure. Stubbornness, maybe. I refused to let go of myself and my memories. It stole some of them… most of them that I know are gone are about my brother Michael and me. I refused to let it take any more, and I wouldn’t become what it wanted me to be. Eventually, it gave up trying to control me and settled for... something else, I suppose. It's still in there, somewhere. I can feel it sometimes. But it’s like it has gone silent."

  "And if the northern parasite is stronger?" Stenson asked quietly. "Older? More experienced at this kind of battle?"

  "Then I'll have to be stronger too." Francis's voice was steady, but he felt the weight of uncertainty beneath the words. "The southern parasite was my first. I didn't know what I was doing. This time, I'll be ready. I'll know what to expect."

  "And if you lose?"

  "If I lose the mental battle, the parasite takes control. I become like the creature on the throne, a host for something ancient and hungry." Francis paused. "But I don't think that means I stop resetting. If anything, the parasite would want to keep that power. It would just be using it for its own purposes instead of mine."

  "So worst case, we'd have you as an enemy," Stenson said. "With all your knowledge of our defenses, our tactics, our plans."

  "Worst case, yes." Francis held the general's gaze. "That's why I need to win. Not just for myself. For everyone… for my brother."

  ***

  The planning continued for another hour, working through contingencies, backup plans, and the thousand small details that could mean the difference between victory and defeat. By the time they finished, the sun had moved past its peak and was beginning its slow descent toward the horizon.

  Stenson leaned back from the table, stretching muscles that had been tense for too long. For a moment, he looked less like a general and more like what he was, an old soldier who had seen too many battles and buried too many friends.

  "You said you left your brother training when you took off here," he said. "Michael, yes?"

  Francis nodded, surprised by the shift in topic. "He's with the garrison in the east. Learning to fight… or he was. They’ll be headed this way now."

  "Does he know? About any of this?"

  "No." Francis's voice was quiet. "He doesn’t know anything this loop. I’ve told him about it many times. We’ve even had a few breaks, choosing to not fight until we were forced to. That was your idea actually. But right now… to him, I'm just his younger brother who took off and forced Phillip to let me go."

  "You've never told him about this before leaving?"

  "I've told him in other loops." Francis stared at the map without seeing it. "I felt it would be safer this time if he didn’t know."

  "Safer for him, or easier for you?"

  The question hit harder than Francis expected. He opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again. Stenson had a way of cutting to the heart of things that Francis preferred not to examine too closely.

  "Both," he admitted finally. "Every time I tell him, I have to watch his face change. Watch him realize what I've been through, what I'm still going through. The pity is almost worse than the fear."

  Stenson was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was softer than Francis had ever heard it.

  "I had a brother once. Younger, like yours. He died in a battle I could have prevented if I'd been faster, stronger, smarter." The general's eyes were distant, looking at something far away and long ago. "I've spent decades wondering what I could have done differently. It never gets easier. The wondering never stops."

  "The difference is, I can actually do something different," Francis said. "Every loop, I get another chance. I can save him. I have saved him hundreds of times. But he never remembers being saved, and I never forget watching him die."

  "That sounds like a special kind of hell."

  "It is." Francis looked up at Stenson. "But it's also hope. Because one day, I'll get it right. One day, the victory will stick. One day, I'll save everyone, and it won't reset. That's what I'm fighting for. Not power, not glory. Just the chance to finally stop dying."

  "And what happens after?" Stenson asked. "If you win, if you absorb all the loopers, if the war ends. What do you do then?"

  Francis blinked. It was a question he'd never really let himself consider. The end had always seemed so far away, so theoretical. What came after had never felt real enough to plan for.

  "I don't know," he said honestly. "I've spent so long fighting to survive that I've never thought about what surviving actually looks like."

  Stenson nodded slowly. "Then let's make sure this is the loop where you get to find out."

  ***

  They reviewed the plan one final time before Francis left the tent.

  Tomorrow, the army would begin moving into position. The day after, they would attack. Francis would push through the enemy lines to kill the Lizardkin mage before it could cast the death spell, then circle back to deal with the Elite Rhinokin while King Baxter engaged the Jaguarkin and Pantherkin pair.

  If everything went according to plan, the battle would be over within a day. The beastkin army would be broken, their commanders dead, their Elite units destroyed. The Southern Kingdom would be safe.

  And then Francis would take the portal to the north and try to mobilize an army there.

  He stepped out of Stenson's tent into the sunlight, feeling the weight of what was coming settle onto his shoulders. This wasn't just another loop, another attempt, another lesson learned through failure. This was the real thing. The plan that would either save everything or condemn him to start over once again.

  Michael and the rest of his old squad were most likely spending one more night before starting the journey here. He was unaware of the war his brother was about to win for him.

  Somewhere to the north, the creature on the throne was waiting, ancient and afraid and running out of time.

  And here, in the middle of an army camp surrounded by soldiers who would never remember him if he failed, Francis Lancaster prepared to fight the most important battle of his eternal life.

  Two days until the southern battle.

  Two days until everything changed.