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The Shanty Codex I, by Saint Morgan LeFay.
In a surprising turn of events, Francis found himself in Saint Agnes’ meadows first.
At least when excluding the woman at the seat of honor.
He attributed his usually late arrival to their connection being weaker than the rest. Yet if that was the case, why was today an exception?
Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, Saint Agnes made it clear instantly.
“Do you have anything to tell me, Francis?” the Saint said, voice hard as stone.
“What do you mean?” he replied, as a jolt went down his spine.
“Your island appears to be a blank spot in my field of vision,” she explained. “Do you perhaps know what might have caused it?”
Francis wouldn’t dare lie to the Saint, and she knew it.
Thank you, Divination.
He tried to think of a potential reason behind the Saint’s troubles, but was met with even more questions.
What could possibly cause a Saint’s Stanza to fail? Other Saints were equally as powerful, true, but he didn’t know of any that suppressed one another.
Think, Francis. What could’ve caused it?
The garrison couldn’t have done it, and neither could the pirates.
Even Read was an ant in comparison to the woman facing him.
His mind drifted to a half-toothless smile, a smile that troubled him greatly. But he couldn’t recall much about it.
“I’m... not sure,” he replied at last.
Saint Agnes must’ve divined his thoughts for a while, as she simply nodded instead of scrutinizing him further.
Moments later, the rest of the members arrived. Francis half expected theatrics, yet all that met his eyes was an instantaneous appearance. It was the kind of mundane acts that made the Shanties even more terrifying.
To think that I’ll be able to do this once I’m a Saint.
“Shall we begin?” Saint Agnes said shortly after.
The group bowed silently before getting down to business.
“I have some intel to share,” Lina said hurriedly, undoubtedly proud of her abilities. “Teach and Every have finally attacked the supposed Emperor.”
“How come?” one of the men asked in puzzlement. Francis didn’t understand the source of confusion, but he figured that Pirate Kings seldom worked with one another.
“The New York ruler attacked one of Blackbeard’s basses, resulting in the latter destroying the Armada and forming an alliance with Every,” Lina explained.
“Why haven’t I heard of any of this?” Francis said, his turn to be confused.
News of such a battle should’ve traveled from Florida to London. Yet somehow, he stayed in the dark.
“I’m not surprised,” Lina replied. “The events are only common knowledge among the Blackbeard Pirates and some of Every’s men.”
No wonder you were excited to flaunt such knowledge.
“More importantly,” Arwa said. “How on earth is it not over yet?”
“Exactly!” the long-haired tan woman added. “Every can turn into a dragon, while Blackbeard can pulverize an Armada. Why would they struggle?”
The question had the same answer it did last time.
It was due to the Emperor operating outside Shanty norms.
Suddenly, Saint Agnes shifted, drawing attention as she always did. “Everything you spoke of points to only one conclusion.”
“What do you mean, Most Exalted?” one of the men asked reverently.
“The Stanza of Imagination,” Saint Agnes replied flatly.
For a moment, all there was to be heard was the illusory waves and gentle breeze.
None dared utter a word.
How could they? Shanties were, after all, quantifiable, measurable, cataloged.
But Imagination? Who or what could even face such a thing?
“As the name suggests,” Saint Agnes continued. “It allows one to influence reality using the mind.”
Lina was the first to speak. “That opens quite a lot of possibilities.”
“It also paints a target on one’s back the size of the Atlantic,” Saint Agnes said, humor absent from her voice. “LeFay has never been fond of her authority being challenged.”
“But if that’s the case,” the long-haired tan woman said in fright. “Why is the supposed Emperor allowed to persist?”
“My dear Avni. Who said he was working alone?” Saint Agnes replied. Spreading a suffocating silence once more.
“Rumpelstiltskin,” a few attendees said in unison.
“What a mess,” the Saint said with a sigh.
“Is there anything we can do, Most Exalted?”
“Not really,” Saint Agnes replied dismissively. “Teach and Every will probably take a beating, then spend several months preparing a coalition. Just lay low until then.”
The group appeared to have several replies in mind, but none voiced them, instead choosing to bow again.
“That will be all for now,” the Saint added, before snapping her fingers.
***
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Francis wished to wake up normally, but life had other plans.
At first, the knocks were gentle, then they grew more persistent as he refused to humor them.
“Yeah!” he said at last, voice as grumpy as they came.
“Yves?” a feminine voice he didn’t recognize said from the other end. “Is that you?”
The mention of his pseudonym rendered most of the grogginess gone. He swiftly activated Observation in hopes of surveying the woman before opening the door.
Her heartbeat was normal, and so were her surroundings.
Francis nearly lowered his guard, until he felt it.
She was using a Stanza.
“Mind introducing yourself first?” Francis asked reluctantly. Getting killed by Read in such a manner was the last thing he wanted.
“We have a common friend,” the woman said. “Leonie. I hope she didn’t forget to introduce me.”
Seems like I won’t be rid of that woman anytime soon.
“Sorry, doesn’t ring any bells,” Francis replied, still refusing to open the door.
“Very well,” the woman said, seemingly sighing. “You can find me downstairs.”
Francis then heard footsteps, and before he knew it, she was gone.
The incident left him at a loss. Why would anyone approach him in the early morning? It’s not like intel brokers were anxious to sell him anything, so who could it possibly be?
Leonie’s brother was a possibility, and so was the garrison. The thought seemed ludicrous at first, but it slowly made sense.
Besides, Read is no silent assassin. And that thought served as another small comfort.
Still, Francis didn’t acquire brain damage just yet, and so he decided to leave the room using a far more trustworthy method.
He opened the window and nearly skipped a beat before remembering his emerald ring. The bounty hunter then took a deep breath and plummeted down.
The crisp morning air hitting his face was refreshing for a short while, at least until the impact.
The throbbing sensation in his legs was akin to the lightning bolt Eloise subjected him to, but it quickly subsided as Rejuvenation did its thing.
Francis was half tempted to start taking attacks headfirst and waiting for them to heal, but the more he thought about it, the more moronic it sounded.
Rejuvenation might’ve made him a humanoid lizard, but it was still painfully slow. And the last thing he needed was getting flanked by two Submerged while missing a few limbs.
Right. I almost forgot what I left my room for.
Francis entered Gazpachos from the front door and was unsurprisingly greeted by only one customer.
A very attractive one at that.
“Aren’t you the paranoid type,” the gorgeous woman said with a chuckle. “You even left from the window.”
“I nearly died twice recently,” Francis said as he drew closer. “I’d rather not confirm a certain saying.”
The curly-haired, dark-skinned woman raised a brow. “You mean third time is the charm?”
“More or less,” Francis said with a slight smile as he sat down. “Jokes aside, what can I help you with?”
“Before that,” she said as she propped her chin on her hands. “Mind exchanging introductions?”
Francis snorted at that. “You already know who I am!”
His reaction must’ve been amusing, as the woman laughed heartily. “Leonie was right, you’re a funny one.”
“The local jester wants to know your name, fine maiden,” he replied with a mock bow.
His instincts screamed at him to mistrust the woman, but he was simply... exhausted.
The last week or so have been nothing but paranoia and flared Observation. Relaxing for a few minutes would never hurt anyone, especially when he was armed to the teeth.
“Very well, Sir Yves,” she replied, sharing his energy. “My name is Lucia, and I’m a navigator.”
“You don’t say? Let me guess, you’re of the Shanty of Cognition, aren’t you?”
“Try Reverend of Cognition,” she replied, killing his amusement instantly.
As far as Shanties went, she was on the same level as Read. What on earth did someone like that want from him?
Scratch that. Relaxing does hurt.
Lucia must’ve sensed his reservations, as she deeply sighed. “I forgot that you’re the hypervigilant kind.”
The woman then put a conspicuous bag on the table. “I’ll cut to the chase. You have something I want, while I have something that you might benefit from.”
Her words eased his worries a bit, as they finally explained why she would even approach him. “I’m all ears.”
“I trust you turned the Shanty you came across in that tower into an artifact?” she asked, tone serious for once.
Francis simply nodded.
“Mind telling me more about the Stanzas?”
Francis didn’t exactly study the thing in depth, but he had an idea. “Acolyte level, can either release ailments on contact or remotely.”
The woman’s face shifted drastically. “I’m assuming the first is more potent?”
“Can’t say for sure,” Francis replied. “But it appears to be the natural conclusion.”
“That’s... incredible,” the woman replied in awe after a long pause. “The amount of versatility it provides is unprecedented.”
Of course, a Reverend of Cognition would talk like that.
“Right,” the woman said after a cough, seemingly recognizing that she got carried away. “Now let me show you what I have to offer. I bet you’ll love it.”