-
The Shanty Codex I, by Saint Morgan LeFay.
Francis was no stranger to the world’s cruelty.
As a matter of fact, he was increasingly becoming an agent of said cruelty.
Yet somehow, getting woken up after such a close call was still unamusing.
He half expected it to be Read, even going as far as praying three Our Fathers while waiting. And it appeared to have worked.
“Fancy prayer,” Xavier said in his off-beat Spanish as he approached.
“Not much of an English speaker, I take it?”
“Not really,” Xavier replied. “I never liked the English much.”
That got a chuckle out of the haggard Francis. “Can’t say I disagree.”
When excluding that feral blondie, of course.
The unusually learned fisherman not speaking the lingua franca was still unusual in its own right, but it was far from the strangest thing about him.
Besides, he saved his life. And that should at least earn him some trust.
“You’re an odd man, Francis,” Xavier said unexpectedly.
“What makes you say that?” the presumably odd man replied as he raised a brow.
“Moments ago, you were praying to an orthodox deity,” Xavier explained. “Yet you still wear a pendant mired with saintly essence.”
Francis wanted to feel surprised, but that would’ve been dull. The man made it clear that he knew too much.
Far too much.
“I’m afraid I can’t discuss it,” Francis said apologetically.
“In any case. It appears that your prayers have been answered,” Xavier said in his usual tone. “Both, as a matter of fact.”
“Third time is the charm,” Francis replied with a silly smirk. Nothing about his predicament was enviable, but one couldn’t let the gloom triumph.
“Do you believe in miracles, Francis?”
That let the gloom triumph. “What?”
“Do you believe in miracles?”
He didn’t understand why Xavier grew esoteric all of a sudden, but he humored it.
“Hard to say,” Francis answered after a moment of contemplation. “But such a prospect is becoming more plausible by the day.”
Xavier grinned at that. “Do you have any wishes of your own?”
“Plenty.”
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
That appeared to pique the fisherman’s curiosity. “Enlighten me.”
“If I had to choose, I’d say the most pressing one would be altering my identity,” Francis replied, which was met with an amused laugh.
“Quite the wanted man you are,” Xavier said as he composed himself. “What else?”
Francis pondered for a while. “Perhaps a change of scenery would be nice? Can’t say I’m fond of this island anymore.”
Xavier nodded. “An understandable sentiment.”
“I’d also like Read gone,” Francis added solemnly.
His words visibly changed the atmosphere, and so Francis attempted to make up for it. “What about you, Xavier? What do you want?”
Francis expected the easy-going man to reply playfully, but there was none to be seen.
For the first time ever, Xavier looked serious. “A way out of my stagnation.”
The man’s words at least explained a few things. Why on earth would such a knowledgeable person end up as a fisherman in Orange Town?
“If you don’t mind me asking,” Francis said carefully, “are you a fugitive?”
That, in turn, appeared to amuse Xavier. “In a manner of speaking.”
Francis had the urge to pry further, but the man’s newfound confidence was all the more proof that he was no mere fisherman. So he put it to rest.
Xavier, however, wasn’t the reserved type. “What about you, Francis? Any reason you lingered in Orange Town instead of going your way?”
Answering such a loaded question was its own struggle. But then again, what choice did the man offer him?
Fortunately, the door spared him the trouble.
Unfortunately, the one sparing him the trouble wasn’t a friendly face.
Francis instinctively put on his artifacts before grabbing his new flintlock and aiming it at the approaching figure.
“Yves,” Read said patronizingly. “Hard man to find.”
As much as the theatrics were a pain, Francis at least appreciated that the man gave him enough time.
“How did you heal without Rejuvenation, anyway?” Read added, mockery turning into confusion. “Not like I felt any ripples.”
That, in turn, confused Francis. Xavier was right there, so why didn’t he consider him as a possibility?
Unless Xavier wasn’t really there.
The realization sent a shiver down the bounty hunter’s spine, but he had to compose himself.
Was Xavier even real? It’s not like he ever saw him talking to anyone else.
What about the convenient timing? The odd backstory? The unfitting expertise? None of it added up.
And it all pointed to one ugly conclusion.
Here goes nothing.
“I was actually nursed by my friend over here,” Francis explained honestly.
The explanation only served to confuse the Pirate Warlord. “Did you get brain damage?”
I knew it.
Francis then looked at Xavier and noticed that not much about him had changed.
And neither had Read.
As a matter of fact, he was still.
Too still, for someone of his character.
“Took you long enough,” Xavier said in a monotone voice.
“Pardon?”
Xavier didn’t offer him the dignity of replying; instead, he turned his attention to the motionless Read.
Someone froze time. And it was neither Francis nor Read.
Xavier then looked at Read more deeply. “From whence you came.”
Within a heartbeat, Read combusted.
Francis’ gaze lingered against his wishes and was met with a terror unbeknownst to him.
A Venerable was dead.
No—erased.
Just like that.
There were no organs, no skin, nothing. Just a simple pile of flesh spread evenly across the room.
But of course, was it really going to be any other way? This world’s “divine” did as it pleased, and mere mortals suffered the consequences.
Even when said mortal was a step away from sainthood.
“That was for the silver coin,” Xavier said as he turned to Francis. “But I’m afraid the other two will make you indebted to me.”
It took Francis a long while to focus on what was said, but he managed.
“Sure.”
“That eager?” Xavier said in amusement.
Francis zoned out once more before nodding weakly.
“Very well,” Xavier said as he clapped his hands. “I’ll come to collect when the time comes.”
The fisherman then moved toward the door, stepping on the pile of gore in the process.
“Oh. I almost forgot,” Xavier said, turning to look at him. “I rid the pendant of the pesky saintly essence. Consider it a token of goodwill.”
Francis didn’t respond.
He simply stared blankly into a blurry room.
For once in his life, Francis didn’t hate monotony. And monotony he got for the remainder of the afternoon.
End of Book One.