Chapter 37

  Four days into a new loop, and Francis had settled into the familiar pattern. Tormund was aware of the loops, accepting them with the same patience he showed when working with the metal under his hammer. Kerhi had been teaching axe work, her questions about his obsession were gentle but persistent. The Ursaloths had died to his blades dozens of times across different loops, though the alpha remained an insurmountable obstacle if he wanted to live.

  Francis was working at the forge, shaping a piece of steel into what would eventually become a short blade, when he noticed someone watching from the entrance. Not Kerhi this time. Someone else.

  Jarl Keara stood in the doorway, her blond hair braided in the intricate style favored by clan leaders. She was tall even for a barbarian woman, built like a warrior but carrying herself with the confidence of someone who commanded rather than just fought. Francis had seen her before in previous loops, usually at a distance during clan gatherings or when she met with Glitvall.

  "Jarl Keara," Tormund greeted her with a respectful nod. "What brings you to my forge?"

  "Curiosity," she replied, her eyes fixed on Francis. "I have heard interesting things about the Southerner who works metal like a master and trains with the dedication of a man possessed. I wanted to see for myself."

  Francis set down his hammer and straightened, meeting her gaze. She studied him with the same intensity Kerhi did, but there was something different in her expression. Calculation, perhaps. Or an assessment of a different kind.

  "Francis Lancaster," she said, making his name sound almost musical in her accent. "The one who earned the mark of our gods. The one Glitvall himself has spoken of with respect."

  "I'm just trying to help," Francis replied carefully. He'd learned across multiple loops that clan politics among the barbarians could be treacherous. Jarls competed for influence, for resources, for the favor of the warchief. Being caught in those games was something Francis had no interest in.

  "Just trying to help," Keara repeated, a slight smile playing at her lips. "How modest. Tell me, Francis Lancaster, what do you know of clan alliances?"

  "Very little," Francis admitted. "I'm still learning your ways."

  "Then let me educate you." She moved closer, her presence commanding the space. "When someone of value appears in our lands, particularly someone blessed by the gods as you are, clans seek to align themselves with that person. To build relationships that benefit both parties."

  Francis glanced at Tormund, who had suddenly become very interested in his own work.

  No help there .

  "What kind of relationships?" Francis asked, though he suspected he knew where this was going, having avoided it before.

  "Whatever kind serves both parties best." Keara's smile widened slightly. "My clan is strong, Francis. We have the best warriors, the finest weapons, and considerable influence with the clan leaders. An alliance with us would provide you protection, resources, and status. In return, we would benefit from your skills and from the favor the gods have shown you."

  "I appreciate the offer," Francis said carefully, "but I'm not sure I'm in a position to make alliances right now. My focus is on training, on getting stronger."

  "All the more reason to accept," Keara countered, her smile never fading. "We could provide you with the best training partners, access to weapons and armor you would not otherwise have. My clan's shamans could teach you techniques that others keep secret." She paused, letting her words sink in. "And of course, there are other benefits to such an alliance."

  The implication in her tone was clear. Francis had seen this tactic in previous loops, usually directed at warriors the Jarl wanted to bind to her clan. Offers of status, of position, sometimes of more personal arrangements.

  "You honor me with your offer, Jarl Keara," Francis said, choosing his words with care. "But I must respectfully decline. My purpose here is specific, and I need to remain free to pursue it without obligations to any particular clan. I hope you understand."

  Keara's expression didn't change, but something flickered in her eyes. Surprise, perhaps, that he'd refused her. "You are certain? I assure you, the benefits would be substantial."

  "I'm certain," Francis replied. "Though I'm grateful for your interest."

  She studied him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Very well. However, please be aware that my offer remains open should you change your mind. A man of your talents should not stand alone when he could stand with powerful allies." She turned to leave, then paused at the doorway. "Oh, and Francis? A gift, regardless of your decision. Consider it a token of respect."

  She gestured, and a younger barbarian who'd been waiting outside entered carrying a bundle wrapped in furs. He set it down near Francis's workstation and left without a word.

  "Quality steel from my clan's personal stores," Keara explained. "Even if you will not ally with us, the gods have marked you as one of our people. That deserves recognition." With that, she departed, leaving Francis staring at the unexpected gift.

  "That was interesting," Tormund observed once she was gone.

  "That was a test," Francis replied. "She wanted to see if I could be bought."

  "And you passed by refusing." Tormund examined the bundle of steel. "Though she will not give up easily. Jarl Keara is persistent when she wants something, and she clearly wants to bind you to her clan."

  "Let her try," Francis said, returning to his work. "I don't have time for clan politics."

  "Perhaps not," Tormund agreed. "But be careful. Refusing a Jarl can create complications. Not enemies, necessarily, but complications."

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  Francis nodded, filing that information away. Another thing to navigate in future loops. Another variable to manage.

  ---

  Kerhi noticed immediately when Francis arrived at the training grounds.

  "You look troubled," she observed, setting down her practice axe. "Something happened."

  "Jarl Keara visited the forge," Francis admitted. "Made me an offer of alliance."

  Kerhi's expression shifted, a hint of concern crossing her features. "And what did you tell her?"

  "I declined. Politely, but firmly."

  "Good." Kerhi's response was immediate and certain. "Jarl Keara is ambitious. Too ambitious. She sees you as a tool to increase her influence with the warchief and the clan leaders, nothing more."

  "You don't like her," Francis observed.

  "I do not trust her," Kerhi corrected. "There is a difference. She is a capable leader, a strong warrior, and good to her people. But she plays games of power, and those games often hurt those caught in them." She picked up her practice weapon again. "You were wise to refuse."

  "She gave me a gift anyway," Francis said. "Quality steel from her clan's stores."

  "Of course she did." Kerhi's tone was dry. "Now you are in her debt, whether you accepted her alliance or not. That is how she operates. Small gifts now, larger ones later, until you owe her enough that refusing becomes difficult."

  Francis felt a flash of frustration. He'd thought he was navigating the situation well, but apparently, he'd still been outmaneuvered. "What should I do?"

  "Use the steel," Kerhi advised. "Do not feel obligated by it, but do not insult her by refusing her gift either. Just remain firm in your refusal of alliance. Eventually, she will realize you cannot be moved and will look elsewhere." She gestured for Francis to take his stance. "Now, enough talk of clan politics. Show me what you have learned."

  They trained for the next two hours, Kerhi pushing Francis harder than usual. It felt almost like she was trying to distract him, or perhaps work out her own frustration about Keara's interference. Either way, Francis welcomed the intensity.

  His axe work had improved significantly over the past loops. The weapon felt less foreign in his hands now, more like an extension of his body. He still preferred his swords for actual combat, but having axe skills gave him options, flexibility.

  A notification appeared as Kerhi's practice weapon slammed against his in a particularly demanding exchange.

  [ Axe Increased - 31 ]

  "Better," Kerhi approved, stepping back. "Much better. You are starting to think like an axe fighter, not just a sword fighter using a different weapon."

  "Thanks to your teaching," Francis said, breathing hard.

  "Thanks to your willingness to learn." She set down her weapon and looked at him thoughtfully. "Francis, about Jarl Keara. She will not give up easily. Be prepared for more offers, more gifts, more pressure. And be careful. Some Jarls do not take rejection well."

  "I'll be careful," Francis promised. "And thank you. For the warning and for caring enough to give it."

  Something softened in Kerhi's expression. "You are strange, Francis Lancaster. Full of secrets and driven by obsessions I do not understand. But you are also honorable. That is rare enough to be worth protecting."

  ---

  Francis killed the third Ursaloth and immediately turned to run. He didn't wait to see if more were coming. He didn't push for a fourth kill. Three was the limit he'd learned through painful experience.

  The alpha's roar echoed across the rocky terrain, closer than he'd expected. Francis's Battle Sense screamed warning, and he poured more speed into his retreat. His Life Core Channeling flooded power through his threads, enhancing his legs, pushing him faster than normal human limits.

  He heard the massive beast pursuing, its heavy footfalls shaking the ground. The alpha was fast for something so large, faster than the smaller pack members, and it had the intelligence to cut off escape routes.

  Francis vaulted over a boulder, changed direction sharply, and sprinted toward the treeline. The alpha couldn't follow as easily through dense forest. Too big, too bulky. If he could just reach the trees before it caught him.

  A notification appeared mid-sprint.

  [ Life Core Channeling Increased - 29 ]

  The power boost was immediate. Francis felt his control over the threads tighten, his ability to pull from his core improve. He pushed harder, legs burning with enhanced effort, and dove into the forest with the alpha's snapping jaws just feet behind him.

  The beast roared in frustration as Francis disappeared into the trees, its massive form unable to pursue effectively through the dense undergrowth. Francis didn't stop running until he'd put significant distance between himself and the territory, only then allowing himself to slow and check his wounds.

  Minor cuts and bruises from the fight with the three smaller Ursaloths. Nothing serious. He pulled power from his core and began healing, watching the gashes close faster than they had even a few loops ago.

  Still not fast enough for the real regeneration I need. Yet I’m getting closer… One loop at a time.

  As Francis made his way back to camp, he thought about the day. Jarl Keara's offer. Kerhi's warning. The skill gains from training and combat. Everything was progress, even the complications.

  Being over two hundred deaths since acquiring the Life Core Channeling skill had been interesting. Each loop was another to learn from. Another chance to get stronger.

  He'd keep refusing Keara's advances and keep training with Kerhi. Francis would always keep working the forge with Tormund, and he'd keep dying to the Ursaloths until he was strong enough to face the alpha and win.

  However long it took.

  Whatever it cost.

  ?