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The Shanty Codex I, by Saint Morgan LeFay.
Francis half expected to wake up on Gazpachos’ wooden floor, maybe his own bed if Bertrand and Leonie were generous enough.
Instead, he was back at his house in Saint Agnes Archipelago.
With Camila sleeping by his side.
Had I really been dreaming all of it… or had the fever finally gotten the better of me?
“Morning, sleepyhead,” Camila said as she embraced him. “Took you long enough.”
“How did I… When… Camila?”
Camila, in turn, chuckled softly. “Are you still half asleep?”
Francis was nearly tempted to believe that the last month was but a dream. Which wasn’t improbable—sailors often claimed dissociative plants could conjure entire lifetimes in minutes.
Besides, that would align perfectly with what he heard and saw. Teleportation? Dreamscapes? Clothes that dried in a second? It all sounded like a bad hallucinogenic trip.
When did the trip start, though?
“Can you tell me what happened yesterday? I think I drank too much,” Francis asked Camila, who now had enough space on the double bed, yet still chose to linger close.
Frankly, he was drunk, just not on alcohol.
“You said you were going to Logreef,” Camila explained, before her face turned embarrassed. “But I stopped you at the last moment.”
If this was a dream, it was certainly a crafty one. It perfectly knew how to replicate Camila’s mannerisms.
“How did you stop me?” Francis asked, testing her limits.
Camila’s face grew redder. “I… basically begged on my knees.”
That doesn’t sound right.
For all her enthusiasm, Camila was ultimately a dignified person. She would never force him to stay if that wasn’t his wish.
“Where was that?” he asked.
“Back in my house.”
That made it even less plausible. She would never act in such a manner in front of her mother.
Francis grew silent for a moment, comparing the inconsistencies of both realities.
Saints and their spectacles might’ve sounded unreasonable, but so was summoning flames.
Francis then looked at his hand, and sure enough, a ruby ring glared back.
Camila, on the other hand, wasn’t a caricature of a person, even if the old him thought so.
She had her own allegiances, her own opinions, her own decisions. Something that their separation made clear.
“Camila,” he said as he got out of bed. “I have something to confess.”
“Yeah?” his betrothed said, repositioning herself.
“I have been lying the whole time,” he confessed, filling her face with both sorrow and confusion.
“What do you mean?”
“I have been looking for treasure behind everyone’s back.”
That, in turn, lightened her expression. “Why would you hide that?”
He summoned a ball of flames. “This is why.”
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Camila jumped in fright, nearly falling headfirst on the hard floor. “How did you… Francis! Did you sell your soul?”
Huh?
The reaction was a perfect imitation of the one she had weeks earlier, save for the differing circumstances.
“Not yet. This is just a tool,” Francis explained, the truth served as a long-awaited release.
Camila took a moment to respond. “What do you mean by that?”
“The sea has been singing to me for a while now. I simply haven’t answered its call yet.”
“Francis…” Camila said, covering her mouth as tears began flowing. “Why would you do that?”
Good question. Why abandon a quiet, happy life for a sea full of horrors, both ordinary and divine?
“Because flawed momentum beats flawed stagnation,” Francis replied at last.
The words only served to trouble her further. “So that’s what I am to you? flawed stagnation?”
“No,” he said, inwardly cursing his rashness. “You are the only thing stopping me from choosing momentum. Or at least were.”
He then observed his surroundings in search of inconsistencies. “None of this is real, is it?”
“Did you consume something you shouldn’t have?” Camila asked, voice still shaky. “It was those parasitic pirates, wasn’t it?”
“You’re not real.”
“We need to take you to the apothecary,” Camila said as she drew nearer, sorrow seemingly replaced by urgency.
Francis deliberated for a moment, then tried to reach for Intimidation, which worked.
I knew it.
Camila instantly fell to her knees. “What was that?”
“The Stanza of Intimidation. Something I theoretically shouldn’t have,” Francis explained to the illusion. “You’re not real.”
Suddenly, Camila’s expression grew deadpan. “Do I have to be?”
“What do you think?” Francis retorted with a snort. “You think I’m fond of being trapped in a coma?”
“You’re dying, Francis.”
That gave him pause.
“Come again?” Francis whispered, not believing his ears.
“You shouldn’t have removed the ring prematurely,” fake Camila explained. “It didn’t heal everything.”
Francis was stunned at first, then he paced around in disbelief. “What do I have?”
Fake Camila exhaled sharply before answering. “Rabies.”
***
“So,” Daisy said as the two women emerged from the water. “Do you still remember where the town is?”
Logreef’s forest didn’t exactly recover, but it was no longer an eyesore either.
“I don’t need to,” Valeria replied. “Not when we have a tour guide.”
“A tour guide?”
As if on cue, Pedro emerged from the other side, raising his hand in reluctance.
At least until he saw Valeria.
Sure, it was certainly a coincidence.
“Valeria!” he said excitedly as he rushed toward her and Daisy.
The pirate captain was drenched head to toe, yet Pedro didn’t seem to mind, as he hugged her before shaking Daisy’s hand.
“Aren’t you enthusiastic?” Valeria said as she chuckled.
“You’re my saviour! How could I not?”
“His saviour?” Daisy, who was utterly out of the loop, asked.
“Long story short,” Valeria explained. “One of the elder’s sons was a menace to him, at least until I broke his heart.”
That, in turn, made Pedro laugh uncontrollably.
At last, someone who finds my jokes hilarious.
Daisy sighed melodramatically. “My dear captain, knowing you, you probably froze his heart solid.”
Valeria smirked. “Bingo.”
A small, nearly buried part of her urged her to have empathy for the lad. But last she checked, he had none as he terrorized the poor villagers in the name of his father.
And struck me with lightning.
“Say, Pedro,” Valeria said to the younger man. “Do you think it would be safe for us to come to your village today?”
Daisy seemed to raise her brow when she heard the euphemism, but she said nothing.
“Oh, more than safe,” Pedro replied as he ushered them forward, making the pair naturally follow.
“Do tell,” Valeria said in amusement.
“After what you did a month ago, the elder realized the error of his ways. We can’t survive by pretending that the outside world doesn’t exist.”
“Wise words,” Valeria said as she ruffled his hair. “And to think that you’re only seventeen.”
“Twenty!” Pedro replied defensively, leading the two women to laugh deeply.
In truth, Valeria wasn’t much older herself, but the years at sea left a mark that remote islands rarely did.
As they approached the treeline, she recalled a detail that escaped her. “Daisy, how old are you again?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” she said with a ridiculous smile. “… no offense, captain.”
Why does she act like I’m going to cannibalize her?
“None taken. Thought I might get offended if you were older than me.”
“Twenty-four,” Daisy replied with a hint of unease.
“You’re safe,” Valeria said with a deadpan expression. “You can thank the two years separating us for that.”
As they walked closer to the village, Valeria couldn’t help but inwardly appreciate Daisy’s appearance in her life, especially as Robert left quite a void.
No, she was shaping up to be better, as the relationship between her and her first mate was mostly transactional.
In multiple ways at some point.
The idea gave Valeria slight discomfort, but Daisy served as a mirror of sorts.
English, Submerged back home, abandoned by family, forcibly became a pirate.
The more Valeria thought about it, the more uneasy she grew.
Was Daisy a spy?
No. It wouldn’t make sense. Carefree as she was, Valeria always observed her surroundings, an observation that proved futile in regards to Daisy.
Additionally, as far as Shanties went, the woman outranked her, allowing her to escape captivity if she so pleased.
When have I grown so paranoid?
Valeria was on the verge of contemplating her months at sea with the stolen cargo when the familiar village outlined itself. The place was left untouched, save for the larger number of chickens. It immediately reminded her of England, the pleasant parts anyway.
“Shall we meet the elder?” Valeria said to Pedro as the villagers’ gazes began lingering on them. She then spotted her attendant from a month ago, causing him to turn his gaze.
One would’ve expected animosity, as she killed one of their own, yet most seemed… indifferent.
Who would’ve expected a guy shooting lightning on sight to be unpopular?
“That won’t be possible,” Pedro said as his face turned solemn. “He passed away not long ago.”
That gave Valeria pause. The coincidence was convenient, terribly convenient. And if her experience was to go by, that only meant one thing: a conspiracy.