-
The Shanty Codex I, by Saint Morgan LeFay.
As Leonie attempted to follow Francis, the guard raised his hand. “He only wants to see him.”
Francis wanted to retort, but he feared that the subsequent scene would destroy everything they worked towards, and so he let it go.
Leonie immediately got the memo, shrugged, and left the modest establishment.
And modest it was, as it took Francis barely a minute to be led to Ironhook.
“Here he is, boss,” the guard said before taking his leave.
The “office” had certainly seen better days in regards to its walls. But the furnishings were at least presentable.
“To whom does Orange Town owe the pleasure?” Ironhook said as he observed Francis.
Contrary to his name, the man looked painfully average. Francis would’ve confused him with a passerby on the street had it not been for Leonie’s intel.
No wonder he survived as long as he did in plain sight.
“I have a question of my own,” Francis replied. “Why stop me from gambling my gold?”
Ironhook seemed to be caught off guard by his directness. “We are but a humble establishment, I’m sure you understand.”
Francis did, in fact, understand. What he didn’t understand, however, was the man’s erratic tastes. Tastes that seldom ask for permission.
“I’m really bad at this,” Francis said as he held his head.
“Pardon?” Ironhook said, which was met by a wave of Intimidation.
The novice pirate didn’t fall to his knees, but he appeared pained regardless.
“Too bad your Enthral doesn’t work against opponents on your level,” Francis said as he stepped closer, before unleashing a column of flames.
Ironhook barely had time to flinch as the wave hit him in a flash, instantly scorching him.
Francis half expected him to use Rejuvenation, but he had none.
And neither did he have a pulse.
“Wow,” Francis said as he put his hand on Ironhook’s desk. “An Acolyte with two artifacts, incinerated in a flash.”
Francis was… disappointed. Partially because murder had become mundane to him, and partially because knights of yore galavanting and shiny armor was a far cry from the reality of Submerged battles.
All it took was the first move, and victory was assured—a system Francis wanted no part of.
But he also abandoned the illusion of choice long ago.
“I’ll be taking these, if you don’t mind,” he said as he extracted the artifacts from Ironhook’s corpse.
Francis then pulled out a new necklace and placed it on the man’s chest. Refusing to let the tower incident repeat itself.
***
“You want what now?” Henry Every said, seemingly at a loss.
The man must’ve been frightened when he saw Blackbeard’s flagship on his shores. At least until Queen Anne’s Revenge raised the white flag.
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“Don’t you get it, Every?” Blackbeard said. “At this rate, that fraud will topple all the Pirate Kings combined.”
To his credit, Every was a genius, something seldom seen in the pirate world. Blackbeard had long lamented the lack of intellectual stimulation among his peers, and seeing Every’s mind at work was… refreshing.
“I don’t know, Teach,” Every said as he paced around. “I have no guarantee that you won’t stab me in the back once the dust settles.”
“Neither do I.”
That made the Pirate King chuckle slightly. “Fair point. However, you’re the one who proposed the alliance, so the odds of you having a wildcard are far higher.”
Blackbeard remained silent longer than usual. “Fair point.”
The sea-scurvy swab was obnoxious, but he was right. Blackbeard and his trusty Queen Anne’s Revenge were far from the most trustworthy pair on the high seas.
“Still,” Every added as he pinched his nose. “If you, of all people, raised the white flag, that must mean that the situation is most dire.”
“I knew you’d see sense!” Blackbeard replied with a sigh.
“Well, kindly elaborate,” Every said as he sat down.
“Today, one of my forts in The Bahamas got assaulted by the fraud,” Blackbeard explained. “So I unleashed Devastation on them.”
“Consistent as ever,” Every said with a chuckle. A lesser man would’ve deemed it mockery, but Blackbeard saw the admiration in the man’s pale blue eyes. “Let me guess, they burned to a crisp?”
Blackbeard remained silent for a moment too long.
“Not a scratch.”
Those three words had greater value than a thousand to Every, who instantly reverted to pacing around.
“This is… troublesome.”
To say the least.
The Saint of Untether was immune to emotional outbursts. That made his concern more valid than most.
“Could it be… Rumpelstiltskin?” Every asked, meeting Blackbeard’s gaze at last.
“Who else would it be? No one else plays by the same rules.”
“But why?”
“Who knows how that guy thinks? Us Saints are closer to mere mortals than we are to him.”
Lingering on Rumpelstiltskin was pointless, however, and so the pair switched to discussing the fraud. “I heard he can turn into a giant octopus now, though I’m not sure of its validity.”
Dominion Saints and their theatrics.
“He can turn into a pufferfish for all I care,” Blackbeard said in dismissal. “I want him dead.”
That in turn made Every laugh heartily. “Good to know Sainthood didn’t rob you of your humour.”
Saints everforsaken, how ironic.
“Alright,” Every said, seemingly done with evaluating the predicament. “Where do you want to strike first?”
Blackbeard didn’t hesitate. “New York.”
***
Francis would’ve paid his weight in gold just to see the guard’s expression again.
Leaving his boss’ office after minutes of silence must’ve been confusing, leading him to observe the room. The shout that came after was even more pleasant, at least until the man went running towards him.
Francis simply unleashed Intimidation once more, dropping the mere human to his knees.
Who attacks someone after seeing they burned their Acolyte boss to a crisp? Moron.
The other henchmen must’ve gotten the memo; how could they not? He was carrying a bag that looked suspiciously circular.
As for the patrons, whatever conflict they thought had happened, they wanted no part in it, instead opting for returning to their gambling seconds later.
For a moment, Francis nearly felt exhilarated by all the reactions he had amassed, but then quickly felt guilty. The world had enough men who were drunk on power.
And it needed less, not more.
“How did it go?” Leonie asked as he made to the entrance.
“Terribly uninspired,” he replied with a sigh. “He thought he could use Allure and Fascination on me, not realizing that I’m an Acolyte myself.”
His words gave Leonie pause, undoubtedly considering the implications. “Glad I didn’t come alone, then.”
“Who knows? Your Fragment doesn’t appear to be a trivial one.”
In truth, Francis was far from a Stanza expert, but a “blessing” allowing you to punch a limb off was certainly nothing to scoff at.
“Wow,” Leonie replied. “Enthral is useless more often than not.”
“Miss Intel Broker appears to have forgotten that they can still charm tens of millions of people.”
“… Touché.”
Wasting no time, the pair immediately headed to the Iberian Garrison. Luckily, the soldiers instantly recognized him and cleared the way.
The lot’s second reaction put their first to shame, even if he merely hunted two outlaws.
In two weeks.
The middle-aged woman from before beamed when she saw him. “Yves, good to see you’re still at it.”
“The pleasure is mine, Miss. Someone needs to clean now and then.”
“And get paid handsomely for it,” she replied with a chuckle.
Yeah. Because it’s all about money, isn’t it? How shallow.
“Who’s the lucky fellow this time?” the woman asked.
“Ironhook,” Leonie replied, seemingly proud of her handiwork.
Francis then placed the severed head on the table, before the clerk inspected it.
“Burnt once more,” she said in amusement. “Bold choice, I must say.”
That’s my only offensive Stanza, I’m afraid.
“What can I say?” Francis said with a playful bow. “I love theatrics.”
“Such is Dominion, I suppose,” she said, more fact than accusation. “As for the head, that’s him.”
She then pulled a familiar bank check and filled it with the necessary details before authenticating it. “I trust you know where to convert this into silver?”
“Sure do,” Francis said as he received the slip of paper.
As Leonie and Francis walked towards the exit, the lady called for him. “One more thing, Yves.”
“Yeah?”
“Take caution. Read is but a day’s voyage from here.”
The revelation felt like a stab to the heart—the man who caused so much misery was close, terrifically close.
And Francis had the ability to do something about it.