Stenson’s eyebrows had almost become one connected layer of hair.Francis had seen this expression multiple times in all his deaths, but this particular one was different. There was nothing more than a tiny narrowing of the brows, just barely brought closer and the general’s lips curled in slightly. His jaw didn’t show the tightness it sometimes held; instead, it barely reflected anything beyond teeth held together.It was moments like this that Francis had been sent to the Spires, or when he had been told to attempt something new, that had resulted in leaps of improvement.“How long do these conversations go?” Stenson asked. “I mean, I think they must get longer each time.”“I try to keep them as concise as possible,” Francis replied. “Over a few thousand deaths, one learns what’s important and what’s not. Still, we’ve been talking for almost two hours and you’re at the point where the questions you ask often repeat, or occasionally a new one comes along. Each time I mention a new skill or how these last few major fights went, I’m not always certain what you’ll say. I could try and repeat them as exactly as possibly, but I think I get more from you when I don’t.”Francis intertwined his fingers and leaned back in his chair. “This next part was something we discussed only two times in all my deaths,” he lied.He had spent the day traveling with Michael and the others, working through a few things that had bothered him. No matter what he did, there was a wall he couldn’t climb alone. Today would be a day others were called in to help scale this mountain.At least my ability to lie has grown… I guess one day I’ll find out if there’s a skill for that.“We need to convince Baxter to join us on the battle line. The time has come to see what happens when no one holds back. That means I’ll make sure Priscilla joins us on the front line as well.”Stenson frowned and sat there for almost a minute, not (...)