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The Shanty Codex I, by Saint Morgan LeFay.
Eloise couldn’t believe it. The bounty hunter was actually worth trusting.
The sequence of events only served to make her upset, as he met every action of hers with understanding instead of retaliation.
Save for the part where he burned me to a crisp.
Her reluctance, however, wasn’t without precedent. Was she to be blamed? Bounty hunters were a crafty bunch that only cared for filling their bags and beds. How was she supposed to know he wasn’t playing the long game?
Still, the emerald ring that Eloise fiddled with was the clearest indication that this one was different, even if she wasn’t sure if it was the right artifact.
“One way to find out,” she said with a tired sigh as she looked at her twin brother.
The poor thing stood no chance against that lamentable tower. Even she would’ve succumbed had it not been for her Rejuvenation fragment.
Luckily, her brother was afflicted with something seemingly manageable in the short run, prolonged unconsciousness aside. She didn’t know what followed the coma, and she didn’t want to wait for it to occur.
Without another second of hesitation, Eloise immediately put the ring on her brother’s index finger. It wasn’t the right size, but that was irrelevant; the Shanty within it was what she valued.
***
By the time Francis found himself in Saint Agnes’ evergreen dreamscape, he realized that he had passed out the night before.
The space was the opposite of obsolete, and the rare moment of lucidity only served to reinforce its utility. And knowing the Saint, the dreamscape might even serve as a momentary afterlife for those who gained her favor.
“So,” Saint Agnes said from the side, seemingly materializing out of thin air. “How did the expedition go?”
“Better than I expected,” Francis replied with an awkward bow. He never bothered with such formalities, but after seeing the way the others treated her, he concluded it was wise to emulate them.
“Elaborate,” she said as she walked, following her more of an order than a question.
“Apparently, the strange Stanza is a part of a Shanty called the Shanty of Blight,” Francis explained as he followed along.
“Makes me wonder about what effect it has,” she said in a deadpan manner, making Francis deliberate whether that was in jest or not. “How did you solve the issue?”
“I turned it into an artifact. It should be on the level of an Acolyte if the man’s word is to be trusted.”
“You used Rejuvenation, I assume?” she asked as they neared the cliff.
“I did. But it only shielded me from the worst of it,” Francis replied, remembering the excruciating pain the ailments subjected him to.
Saint Agnes paused for a heartbeat before turning to face him.
“The Shanty of Blight. That sounds quite troublesome,” Saint Agnes admitted with a troubled sigh.
That, in turn, took Francis aback. He never saw the woman’s fa?ade crack, not until that moment, anyway.
“Rejuvenation artifacts aren’t exactly a common commodity in the market,” she continued. “So anyone who isn’t a Deacon would struggle to counter such a threat.”
The Saint raised a great point, if Eloise’s behavior was any indication.
Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
“There is something I would like to ask you about, Most Exalted.”
“Sure,” she replied, sending a slight shiver down his spine as she looked him in the eyes.
“I encountered this woman who mentioned that she had Rejuvenation as a fragment rather than an artifact. Could you please tell me what that means?” Francis asked as he maintained eye contact, half expecting her to petrify him with her ancient green orbs.
“Oh, that,” Saint Agnes said as she thankfully turned toward the ocean waves. “It’s a byproduct of the Shanty of Alchemy.”
The what now?
“Individuals who were bestowed that Shanty can fragment Stanzas into individual pieces and turn them into potions,” she continued. “Assuming it’s not a Saintly miracle.”
“Fair enough.”
“Oh, it’s more than fair. A Reverend’s Stanza can only be maintained for a short time, while a Venerable’s can be used for mere minutes.”
The limitation made the concept rather unappealing. But then again, a potion can’t be taken from someone’s body, unlike a piece of jewelry.
“Precisely. As powerful as artifacts are, it only takes disarming you to negate their effect,” Saint Agnes, who unsurprisingly read his thought, added.
“I’m assuming there is an additional catch?” Francis asked, hoping it wasn’t too informal.
Saint Agnes chuckled. “Try combustion after ingesting more than five fragments.”
Why is it always combustion?
“Regardless,” she said, something that he grew to learn was the beginning of a dismissal. “Try to retain the Blight artifact. You never know what might happen if it fell into the wrong hands.”
Saint Agnes snapped her fingers, and he was gone.
***
Bargaining was never an issue for Valeria, not with the amount of treasure she plundered, anyway.
“You’re offering what?” the old man asked in shock.
All she did was offer the poor fellow fifty gold pounds, and here he was, acting like she dropped the sky on his head.
“You heard that right,” Valeria confirmed. “Fifty gold pounds for a copy of the parchment you gave to Francis.”
“Sure! I’ll be back in half an hour,” the old man replied, not an ounce of hesitation in his voice.
Frankly, the treasure in question must’ve been worth far more than fifty gold, but he didn’t need to know that. Not when the treasure was certainly an artifact.
“What’s so special about the parchment, captain?” Daisy asked, undoubtedly thinking her captain a philanthropist now.
Valeria considered her words carefully. “Let’s just say Saint Agnes Archipelago isn’t as dull as most think it is.”
That was the only thing it took for a quiet understanding between the two.
The new Reverend might have been slightly cowardly, but she certainly made up for it with intellect. She was even smarter than Robert in some regards.
Thinking of Robert reminded Valeria of the logistical nightmare she had on her hands. Her first mate had no way of contacting her, leaving her without much foresight.
Whether half her crew made it to Grenada or sank in the ocean was beyond her. Something was certain, however. It was a win regardless, as it entailed the artifact landing in someone else’s hands.
I just hope they don’t get themselves killed in the process.
“Say, captain,” Daisy said after a long while. “Got any plans this evening?”
“Depends,” Valeria replied cheekily, causing Daisy to huff adorably.
“I want to explore the archipelago. I’m tired of the same dozen faces,” Daisy explained.
The place wasn’t exactly a tourist destination, but it did have its own attractions. Logreef, for instance, served as an excellent change of pace.
Assuming Pedro recognizes us before shooting a lightning bolt.
“Sure,” Valeria said languidly. “I’ll take you elsewhere as soon as the old man brings the parchment.”
Daisy nearly beamed. “Where to?”
“Logreef. The place is remote enough, opening a few possibilities.”
“Isn’t that the island Francis burned?” Daisy asked in concern, which led Valeria to laugh uncontrollably.
“The man is half an ocean away; he won’t burn it again anytime soon,” Valeria reassured her.
Daisy was on the verge of protesting further when the old man returned.
“Aren’t you fast?” Valeria said in mock amazement.
“I sent my son to fetch it,” he explained, before handing her the paper.
With no reason to dishonor the agreement, Valeria fiddled with her navy coat before pulling fifty gold pounds and handing them to the man. “For your trouble.”
The man stood in awe for a moment before profusely thanking her and heading out.
“Open sesame,” Valeria said as she unfolded the paper, which drew a playful sigh from Daisy—or at least she hoped it was playful.
Thee who is of most closeness.
Dare not think that I departed with no wholeness.
Remains you shall seek, prepared only for one who is not meek.
Heed my word, remnant of mine, for what I entrust aids in crossing the line.
A line most deem madness, but I see it as a gateway to vastness.
Heed and look far, what centers the green is the color of tar.
A tar most splendid, guarding an essence and metal that are blended.
“I knew it,” Valeria said with a grin.
“What?” Daisy asked, unable to contain her curiosity.
“Booty.”
“Huh?” Daisy asked, seemingly confused.
“As in treasure, loot, plunder,” Valeria explained in disbelief. “Daisy! You have been a pirate for years.”
The comments seemed to make the younger woman flush red. “Sorry, I haven’t interacted with the crew much.”
After a moment of contemplating the parchment, Daisy spoke once more. “Regarding Logreef. I… don’t fare well with unpredictability.”
“Aren’t you the one who suggested exploration?” Valeria asked in amusement.
“Yeah. Other towns, not forests!”
“Who said anything about the forest?” Valeria retorted. “There is, in fact, a town there.”
A town that was in desperate need of giving up its artifact.