Chapter 73: Valdemar #2

  Earlier that loop, just past midnight…

  Masked Valdemar stood before Graham Stanford’s corpse. The body was seated upright in a chair, five knives buried deep in its chest, pinning a piece of paper half-soaked in blood that read: Traitor.

  He observed the body silently through the mask’s glowing red eyes, then began pacing around the room—Thea’s room—looking at all her things. Stanford had left everything exactly as it was on the day she was taken.

  There was no need to clear the room for this run—Viktor wasn’t coming. So more than anything, Valdemar did that out of habit.

  Back when Viktor came here all those loops ago, the room was cleared during this very night as a safety measure. Valdemar knew he couldn’t make mistakes; that was physically impossible for him, but he was always careful. His mind worked very methodically, and it was what made him who he was, so he allowed himself that ritual.

  He looked at Stanford again.

  The previous time he saw him was a few weeks ago, when Valdemar came to collect the machine he built for him and to inform him that Thea was safe. She had been saved long ago, of course, though Valdemar hadn’t told him—he needed to keep Stanford motivated on building the machine. He also wanted to tell him she wasn't coming back—that she decided to stay with him.

  And why wouldn’t she decide that? After being a prisoner of the Primarch and Vorrick, why would she choose to return to being a prisoner here? Why would she’d go back to being an imprisoned girl when Valdemar gave her so much freedom through Libra? After he gave her purpose? After he cared for her—the real her?

  In the end, Valdemar had decided not to tell Stanford about Thea’s decision. Taking away the man’s hope of reuniting with his daughter so close to the End Date was far too risky.

  The safer plan was to ensure he was silent until the very end—until the End Date. Until today.

  Then, he became disposable.

  Well, not entirely. Valdemar still found use for him in confusing Viktor. He hadn’t planned on using Stanford—or his house—as a location to send Viktor to, but it turned out to be a fortunate addition, one that helped bring him closer to the truth. The real truth. Not the fraction that he was—hopefully—going too learn during his visit to the Census Archives this run.

  Suddenly, Riven burst into the room.

  “V, I heard what happened—” he began nervously, only to freeze when he saw the scene. “Holy shit. That was…unexpected.”

  Valdemar shrugged. “He served his purpose. It was to time get rid of him.” He turned to Riven sharply. “Thea must not hear about this when she wakes up, you understand?”

  Riven’s eyes widened. “But she’s – “

  “Doesn’t matter,” Valdemar cut him off. “She has a crucial role in today’s plan. I can’t have her distracted.”

  Riven hesitated, then nodded and sighed. “Sure.” His gaze lingered on Stanford’s lifeless form. “What are we going to do with him now?”

  Valdemar exhaled—a rough, distorted sound through his mask.

  “Leave him here. Cremate him. Whatever. Viktor had already found him before. He played all his parts already—even as a dead man. Just make sure his COG gets to Novus before noon.”

  Riven nodded slowly, looking just slightly confused. “Right. Time loop shenanigans, huh?” He turned back to Valdemar, smiling weakly. “Where’s your counterpart right now?”

  “An Ironwatch holding cell in Orlinth. Devin played his part,” Valdemar replied.

  “I still don’t understand how you knew it would be him beforehand…” Riven muttered, rubbing his chin.

  “Nor do you need to.”

  Riven continued. “But I mean, like…I get the explanation and at the same time, it sounds so wild.”

  “The world we live in is wild,” Valdemar said calmly. “Thanks to Cecilia it couldn’t have been anyone other than him.”

  Riven’s smile remained. “How many times have we had this conversation already?”

  “Too many.”

  Riven chuckled. “May I note you sound awfully patient considering that?”

  Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

  “You may because I am,” Valdemar replied evenly. “For things to unfold exactly as I envisioned, some moments must be repeated every time. And so…here we are.”

  “Right,” Riven muttered, though it didn’t sound like he fully grasped it. His eyes drifted back to Stanford. “A bit of a shame he’s dead now. Guy was a genius. Could’ve been useful for Solvane’s next stage tomorrow.”

  “Wrong,” Valdemar said flatly. “He’s a Skyhavener—part of the problem.”

  Riven frowned. “I’m a Skyhavener too. So is Thea.”

  “There are exceptions to everything,” Valdemar said. “Stanford wasn’t one of them. He was rotten to the core. ZK-0 is proof enough.”

  Riven nodded as he recalled the automaton. “That’s right. The mutt. Zee.”

  “If Skarn hadn’t told us it came to his clinic, it might’ve caused us some serious problems.”

  Riven sighed again, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Well, you know best. As long as everyone’s saved and the oligarchs pay for their crimes against humanity, you won’t hear a word of doubt from me.”

  “They will.” Valdemar nodded once, then turned to leave.

  “Wait, V,” Riven called to him. “About the mission—KNOWING? Are you sure Viktor would even—“

  Valdemar raised a finger to stop him.

  “First of all, shut up,” he said calmly. “There’s a reason the Long Chain exists. Don’t break it. If you have any doubts, you address them to the person who gave you the order, so they can address it to the one who gave it to them, and so on until it comes back to me. That’s the only way to go about it. Understood?”

  Riven nodded silently.

  “Good,” Valdemar said. “Secondly, Viktor will be there. I can read him like a book.” He paused. “Vorrick will be there too.”

  Riven shifted in place, eyes and smile widening. “Are you sure?”

  “Was I ever wrong?”

  Riven shook his head, still smiling. “Never.”

  “Remember to follow the order to the letter,” Valdemar said over his shoulder as he stepped out of the room.

  On his way outside, his mind quickly went over his full plan for the upcoming loop accounting even for Viktor’s possible Checkpoint run that could—if triggered—change things drastically.

  Eventually, just as he passed through the house’s door, he nodded to himself—all the pieces were either already in place or ordered to get into it.

  All but one…

  Back on the silent streets of Halden Heights, Valdemar extended his hand—and from thin air, pulled out an object most people believed he didn’t possess.

  A COG.

  He strapped the bracer to his left arm, then reached again into the air and withdrew something else—a transparent crystal that looked like a small piece of glass—a Vitrum.

  It was unique. No mine in the Foundry would ever have anything like it. Because…this wasn’t a simple crystal. It was a gift from Dolos—part of their “three wishes” agreement.

  Valdemar had three of them in total at the start of each loop even if he used them in the previous loop.

  He slammed the Vitrum into the COG’s Channel Core, and using its magic, he suddenly vanished.

  He reappeared in a completely different place: a vast, green garden just at the northern edge of Skyhaven’s platform.

  Someone was already waiting for him—a hooded figure wearing a smooth white wooden mask with only two holes for the eyes. Far behind him, two figures—obvious bodyguards—stood watch.

  “You’re late,” White Mask said.

  “I got here from Halden Heights in under a second, and you’re complaining?” Valdemar replied, then focused on the man before him. “I don’t like your mask. Take it off.”

  “And I don’t like yours,” White Mask countered with amusement. “Yet you don’t see me making demands. Besides, while you know who I am—with or without this mask—I remain in the dark about you.”

  “And it shall stay that way until the moment you draw your last breath,” Valdemar said, sitting beside him.

  White Mask laughed softly. “I can’t wait, then.” He cleared his throat, shifting into seriousness. “Now speak. Tell me why you wanted to meet.”

  “You should already know why.” Valdemar leaned back on the bench. “Today’s the day.”

  “And?”

  “I’m just making sure you remember our agreement.”

  “Oh, I remember,” White Mask said. “I just hope you remember your role in it.”

  “It’s my plan. Of course I remember,” Valdemar replied evenly.

  “Exactly why I’m saying this,” White Mask said. “Because it’s your plan—and you probably left yourself a dozen windows to fuck me over. So consider this less of a reminder and more of a threat.”

  “Threats from you are nothing but air,” Valdemar said. “I’m untouchable.”

  “That was before our…arrangement,” White Mask countered. “Back when I blindly chased you, trying to figure out what made you tick. That changed when you revealed yourself to me. You’ve already slipped more than once, whether you noticed or not. Still, I’ll respect my side if you respect yours. Remember—the crystals must stay.”

  “A lot of empty words, Primarch,” Valdemar said. “Any ‘slip’ you think you caught was intentional. But you should’ve realized that by now.”

  Dalton Rose removed the white mask and smiled. “Fine. I’ll take it off.”

  “Good,” Valdemar said coldly. “Don’t try to mimic me. You’re far beneath.”

  Dalton Rose chuckled. “And people call me arrogant.”

  “It’s not arrogance if you can back it up.”

  Dalton Rose shook his head. “Whatever you say.”

  “I need you to send Vorrick to the Census Archives. To KNOWING, specifically,” Valdemar said. “Make sure the order travels through a long chain of people.”

  The Primarch nodded. “I already sent him in the previous loop, but – “

  “Don't lie. You’re not Dolos’ looper,” Valdemar interrupted, voice sharp.

  Dalton Rose’s smirk returned. “How would you know?”

  “Because I am.”

  The Primarch chuckled. “Or maybe you’re lying.”

  “Maybe,” Valdemar said. “But your composure is far too stable for someone reliving the same day over and over.”

  “Same as yours.”

  “I’m a good actor.”

  “Maybe I am too?”

  “Not that good,” Valdemar shook his head. “Either way, you know the truth.”

  Dalton Rose shrugged. “I know nothing. Dolos said he’d choose one of us four. With Cecilia out of the picture, the choice became much less clear. Either way, the choice was up to his godly mind.”

  “His ‘godly mind’ is worth nothing, and calling it that is pathetic. Even for you,” Valdemar said, disgust heavy in his tone. “You already know his real goal. He’s far from benevolent.”

  “According to stories, most gods aren’t.”

  “I am benevolent,” Valdemar said.

  Dalton Rose smiled faintly. “But you’re no god.”

  “Really?” Valdemar asked. “Then how else would you explain my existence?”

  The Primarch laughed outright this time. “You are something else entirely—but not a god.”

  “Maybe not by raw definition,” Valdemar said. “But at the end of this day…even that will change.”