Argrave felt that he had learned all he could about the time loop itself. The things that he had seen with [Minor Truesight], while lesser than what Anneliese might’ve picked out, still confirmed to him without a shadow of a doubt the truth of this endless repetition. And even more than that, he finally found a path to confirming some hidden things. If Sophia was the cause of the loop, and the Heralds were harnessing her power to kill all those that spoke of the prince, then she, herself, would most likely be untouched by it. In other words, she was his best source of information.

“I have to go now, Sophia.” Argrave took the lens and hid it away in his duster’s inside pocket. “We’ll see each other again. But before I go, can I ask you something?”

“Okay,” she nodded easily.

“You remember Mr. Butler? Bogart?” Argrave put his hands together. “I saved him. He’s the reason why everyone’s panicking, running about everywhere.”

Sophia went through uncountable emotions, and by the end of it all, only watched Argrave with her wide, uncertain red eyes.

“All that’s to say… your father doesn’t have power everywhere. I’m as much a king as he is, and I want to help you. But to do that, I have to understand things. Can you tell me about your brother?”

Sophia blinked her eyes and looked at the ground, then looked up suddenly in what looked like horrified revelation. “Then Sir Ghost… is King Charles? And you… you… came back from the dead to take revenge?”

Argrave smiled at her. “If that’s what you want, Sophia. But most of all… I want to help your brother, if I can—help him as I helped Bogart. And I think you’re the only one who can help me help him. Can you tell me his name? Can you tell me anything at all?”

Sophia played with her hands, and the hem of her red dress for a long time in quiet. Argrave waited patiently. “My big brother’s name is Griffin. He’s one hour older than me. He likes knights, swords, blueberries, and snow. He’s…” After she’d listed the mundane things, Argrave had little doubt that the more emotional memories were surfacing. What they did together, how they lived—their arguments, shared triumphs.

“He stopped daddy and the maids from punishing me when I made a mistake because I’m stupid,” she continued, suppressing her tears with practice a seven-year-old shouldn’t have. “And when daddy took us to the cellar, where those people were…” she started shivering badly. “Griffin did everything daddy wanted me to, because I couldn’t do it, because I’m a baby. Then, to punish me, daddy would leave me in the cells overnight, with all of the…” her eyes went distant, but Argrave got the image. Her father left her among the recently tortured—enduring their resentment, enduring the sight of their misery. To them, she was the daughter of the man that had tortured them. It would’ve been terrifying for anyone, let alone a small girl.

“My brother was going to be the best knight in the whole world, stronger than daddy, and he was going to make sure we never had to do anything we didn’t want to. But then the red knights came, a-a-and…” she trailed off as her shivering became more and more intense.

knelt down, tremendous guilt welling up from within for unearthing such memories. “You don’t have to say anymore, Sophia. I’m sorry,” he told her. “Your brother sounds like an amazing person. I’ll do my best to bring him back, just like Bogart. But you’ve got some things wrong.” He

on the couch to offer her, but she fell onto his arm. He hesitated for a moment, but he felt if anyone deserved it, Sophia did. He held the broken girl carefully, even as his

related to Gerechtigkeit, and I doubt Sophia knows anything. As for the Heralds… I don’t know how I’d find them, and given their power, I don’t know how I could compel them to speak. He considered the possibilities. Maybe

Argrave saw the path that led to her freedom—all he’d need to do was get his companions on the other side in their proper place, and they could both be freed without a doubt. He wasn’t quite sure what that freedom entailed for this microcosm, but surely anything would be better than this. It was

physically for the smallest infractions, to be exposed to the most heinous crimes of humanity, to have her mother killed by her own father…

good deal of time crying. “I’m sorry, Sir Ghost. I-I—" she began to stammer,

you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from

have. I’ve got all the time in the world right now, and I’ll figure things

#####

Sophia, Argrave wrote down a detailed list of his plans. It bothered him that he’d need to rewrite this every time he returned to the beginning of the loop, but at the same time, he did truly have all the time in the world. Or at the very least, a

once he

was ninety days. Twenty-four hours was nearly six years. He doubted that his companions would be that incompetent to leave him stranded for six years, but at the same time the prospect

her, with the intent to kill—the loop might reset. But Argrave resolved himself never to do that. It was the

the bare minimum, sixty seconds. Even if they understood and obeyed him absolutely and immediately, they’d need to find exactly what he asked, and execute it perfectly. Five, ten minutes? Twenty? Either way, he’d undoubtedly be trapped in this little bubble for weeks—and not normal weeks, either, but one where he’d be conscious for all twenty-four hours in its seven days. He’d been fretting about lacking time to gather information, but the reality was that he should’ve been more concerned about how

runs, Argrave did his research. He went to each of the three power-mongers—the elder, the mayor, the silver-tongued priestess, and asked them all the questions he could muster. But the Heralds gave

what drove them to be as they were. Even the king wasn’t immune to Argrave’s scrutiny. And his scrutiny confirmed something obvious—the king wasn’t mentally well. He

power-mongers—he needed to gather them in the castle when the loop ended for his companions to deal with, but that one wasn’t as difficult as it sounded. His intimate grasp of the people within the castle made it

every ornery citizen… his endless treks through time not only frightened him, but enticed him. He kept his knowledge, his memories, but returned everything back to normal at the end. That was frightening, yes… but also a tremendous

Why, experience.

He could create new permutations of spells using segmentation. He had no new spells to learn, but he could simply make them. But most important of all, Argrave could finally deal with a

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