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The Shanty Codex I, by Saint Morgan LeFay.
Contrary to popular belief, not all intel brokers had a price.
The fact was made abundantly clear when most brokers Francis talked to flinched the moment he mentioned Read.
Then again, Orange Town was the man’s turf. Betraying him was the equivalent of putting a target on your back.
Luckily, Gazpachos remained operational despite the looming threat, except for Bertrand being there.
Smart fellow.
Still, an open bar with no intel was of no use to Francis.
Fighting Read blindly was an option, of course, but so was hanging oneself. If he wanted a shot at defeating the Warlord, he needed intel, and a lot of it.
“Want me to bring you anything else, Yves?” the man Bertrand hired said.
“No, thank you,” Francis replied with a wave of his hand.
Prior to going back to Orange Town, he half expected the establishment to be closed, even destroyed.
Yet most was not out of the ordinary.
The scene nearly made him doubt the validity of what had happened last week. But then again, Bertrand was nowhere to be seen.
And neither was Leonie.
Francis tried his best to avoid thinking about the woman, as that would only open the already fresh wound.
Easier said than done.
The moment brokers stopped approaching Francis, he realized that lingering for much longer would be unfruitful, and so he did the second-best thing and went outside.
Orange Town’s humidity was by no means pleasant to the senses, but his hometown wasn’t much different, making the relentless assault all the more familiar.
Since Gazpachos wasn’t the most cooperative, he had to find an alternative, and fast.
The bar Eloise sent him to served as a nice start, but he doubted it would provide much. The woman used it to lay low, not plan an attack on a Pirate Warlord.
Other bars were a nice alternative, but Francis quickly dismissed the idea.
The last thing he needed was losing the element of surprise due to far too many people noticing the nosy fellow gathering intel on their town’s boss.
“Life was far easier with Leonie,” he mumbled with a deep sigh.
“Who’s that?” a familiar voice said from beside him, causing him to nearly jump.
The man might have looked ordinary enough. But Francis would recognize that half-toothless grin anywhere.
“Xavier!” Francis said in feigned cheerfulness, still unsure what to make of the guy.
“We meet again, old friend!” Xavier said, his tone equally as cheerful.
And possibly as fabricated.
“Where have you been?” Francis asked, trying to steer the conversation for once.
“A few jobs here and there. You know how it is with a poor elderly man.”
Francis nearly felt bad before remembering the dry clothes incident.
“What about you?” Xavier added. “I haven’t seen you around for a while.”
As if you don’t already know.
“Where do I even begin?” Francis said wistfully. The last few weeks were no picnic, and the less remembered, the better.
“Share only what you’re comfortable with, friend,” Xavier replied, surprisingly understanding.
The man was as puzzling as when Francis first met him. How on earth did a dirty old fisherman have such eloquence? How did he know so much about the Shanties?
None of it added up, and each possibility was worse than the last.
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Then again, aren’t I the same?
That thought gave Francis pause. On the surface, he was just another bounty hunter who happened to use a Stanza or two.
But deep down, he spoke to a Saint that shouldn’t exist on a weekly basis.
Xavier was still as suspicious as they came. But that line of thought offered him enough benefit of the doubt.
“Well, shortly after the last time we met,” Francis began recounting. “I went on a mission to investigate a certain tower.”
The last word appeared to make Xavier beam. “So that’s what happened!”
“You know something?” Francis asked, treading lightly. Of course Xavier knew about the tower.
“I heard some nasty stories about that place,” he explained. “Everyone who approached it died under mysterious circumstances.”
“They’re not as mysterious anymore,” Francis retorted, taking joy in discovering a Shanty.
“Oh, I know,” Xavier replied. “That’s what the drunks at the bar I go to say, anyway.”
“Let me guess,” Francis confronted. “You know the Shanty that caused it?”
“Of course I do!” Xavier said enthusiastically. “I wouldn’t be worth my salt if I didn’t.”
The more Francis tried to make sense of the man, the more confused he got.
“You’re a fisherman, Xavier.”
“And you’re a bounty hunter, Francis.”
Hearing his name on Xavier’s lips made Francis’ throat tighten. No one in Orange Town should know it.
“Pardon?” Francis managed at last.
“Sorry, was that too offensive?” the fisherman asked hurriedly. “I heard Sir Robert call you that, so I thought it was okay.”
Yeah. I’m sure that’s what happened.
“It’s supposed to be a secret,” Francis explained. “That’s why I introduced myself as Yves at first.”
Lying would’ve probably been safer, but the guy was no moron; he would see through it.
And only the Lord knew what would happen if he did.
“Very well, Yves,” Xavier said. “Your secret is in safe hands.”
That appeared to be the perfect opportunity to bid him farewell, and so Francis resolved to take the initiative.
“Well. It was nice seeing you, Xavier,” he said as he began walking away. “Let me know if there is anything I can aid you with.”
“Actually,” the fisherman followed. “There is something.”
Francis stopped in his tracks. “I’m all ears.”
Suddenly, Xavier flashed his glorious grin. “No. You only have two.”
Kill me.
“Anyway,” Xavier said, still slightly amused by his own joke. “Mind lending me a silver coin?”
The question genuinely caught Francis by surprise. Of all the things Xavier could’ve asked for, he asked for a piece of silver.
Francis obliged anyway.
“Thank you, friend,” Xavier said with his increasingly familiar grin. “I’ll pay it back with interest.”
Francis wanted to snark, but thought better of it, leading him to bid the man a second farewell before walking away.
This time, he didn’t follow.
***
The moment Francis made it to the garrison, he was abruptly stopped by the sentries.
He was perplexed for a long moment before realizing the reason.
“It’s me, Yves,” he explained to the guards.
The two men looked at him in confusion.
“You look… younger,” one of them said.
“And here I thought you were a seasoned veteran,” the second said, before his face grew uneasy. “No offense, naturally.”
Just how ill-tempered are the bounty hunters you usually deal with?
“None taken,” Francis said reassuringly. “Now, can I please go in?”
“Of course,” the two said in unison, before letting him pass.
As the building was a modest one, it barely took Francis any time to reach the clerk he grew fond of.
The feeling appeared to be mutual, as she grinned the moment she saw him. “Yves! Another bounty already?”
“In a sense,” he said with a warm smile. “I’m here to gather intel about a certain someone.”
The woman raised a brow at that. “Couldn’t you just use your usual channels?”
“I tried,” he explained. “But most rejected my request instantly.”
That gave the woman pause for a few seconds. “I’m listening.”
Francis cut to the chase. “I want information relating to Read. Any amount of intel would be greatly appreciated.”
The clerk sighed deeply. “With all due respect, Yves, you’re not up to the task.”
“I’m aware,” Francis replied calmly. “But I still have to try.”
“I can’t do that,” the woman exclaimed. “I won’t have your blood on my hands.”
“The thing is, I’m going after him regardless. I’m just here to make it easier for myself.”
The woman sighed deeply once more before seemingly getting lost in thought.
“Very well,” she said in resignation. “Just keep this between us.”
The clerk then stood up and headed to an archive at the far back of the room, an action that was swiftly followed by her throwing a document onto her desk.
“Would you like to wait for a copy to be made? Or would you prefer to have it delivered to you?”
“I can wait,” Francis replied as he moved to take a seat outside.
“Yves,” the woman called for him. “There is no shame in retreat.”
Francis simply nodded before exiting the office.