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A Letter to Edward Teach.
Francis would’ve paid a fortune to see the expression Rhys made again.
“You actually came willingly?” Rhys asked Carmen. “How come?”
“Simple,” she replied. “This guy over here proved persuasive enough.”
Being referred to as “the guy over here” wasn’t the most dignified, but it was better than being called Yves.
Rhys, in turn, paced around the empty bar. “No offense, but I don’t trust you.”
Carmen raised a brow at that. “Awfully rich for someone who tried to abduct me.”
That’s fair.
“Regardless,” Rhys said, seemingly coming to a decision. “I’m sure you know why I wanted to meet you, correct?”
“How could I not?” Carmen replied with a chuckle. “You made it clear every chance you got.”
Truth be told, Francis had no confidence in Rhys’ plan. Not when he knew how terrifying a Pirate Warlord was.
These two don’t even come close.
“Do tell,” Carmen said, drawing nearer to Rhys. “Why now of all times?”
“The vacancy, naturally.”
Carmen appeared to be troubled for once. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Dead serious,” Rhys replied. “The vacuum Read left presents a chance of a lifetime.”
“You really think the position wouldn’t simply go to a lieutenant of his?”
“There is a chance,” Rhys admitted. “But it doesn’t have to be that way.”
Carmen went silent for a long moment. “So what’s the plan?”
You guys are insane.
Rhys might’ve had a Venerable-level Stanza, but that was hardly enough to consolidate such a throne. Especially when his partner was a mere Deacon.
“By the looks of it,” Rhys said as he finally sat. “Seeking Iberia’s protection is our best bet.”
“And risk losing autonomy?” Carmen replied indignantly. “No, thank you.”
“Carmen,” Rhys said in a low voice. “In case you haven’t noticed. The world is moving fast. Far too fast.”
Francis couldn’t agree more. But then again, was it the world, or was it him influencing said world?
“I know we started on a shaky foundation,” Rhys added. “But you can’t deny that an alliance would amplify our talents tenfold.”
“A very fancy way of saying that you want to exploit me,” Carmen replied in scorn.
“Trust me, I have my methods,” Rhys said calmly. “Assuming you don’t think my bounty is just for show.”
This time, Carmen had no snark to spare. “What even is your Depth?”
“I’d prefer discussing that another time,” Rhys replied as he looked at Francis.
Got the memo.
“I’ll leave you fellows to it,” Francis said as he approached the stairs.
“Edmond, wait,” Rhys said in haste. “I haven’t forgotten our promise.”
The man then reached into his pocket and pulled out a vial containing a blue liquid not unlike the one he had consumed in Orange Town.
Then again, same Shanty and all.
Francis snuck a glance at Carmen and found her smirking—undoubtedly due to knowing his ‘actual’ name.
Francis then nodded to Rhys, and went on his way.
***
Most people would’ve been fast asleep around such an hour. But apparently, Valentina was far from most.
“How’s the mission?” she asked as she sipped her red wine.
At least it’s no coffee for once.
“Nearly attacked an Inquisitor,” Francis replied as he lay on the bed.
“Glad you didn’t. Otherwise, you’d have to find a new house.”
“And you’d be right,” Francis said with a sigh. “Serves me right for expecting a fight with a Deacon to go smoothly.”
“A fight with what now?” Valentina said, visibly startled.
“Someone of the third Depth,” Francis explained.
“I know what Deacon means,” she replied. “How did you manage?”
Referencing Read yet another time would’ve been the equivalent of beating a dead horse, and so Francis refrained.
And if Francis was honest with himself, Valentina’s reaction made perfect sense, especially when he kept most of his powers a mystery.
“To be fair, I was armed to the teeth,” Francis explained.
Valentina frowned at that. “So you’re basically telling me that you’re just a regular citizen with access to tools that would get you executed?”
“Depends on whether my answer would get me evicted or not.”
Valentina, in turn, chuckled. “Edmond, my dear, I’m operating a bar attracting all sorts of outlaws. I don’t flinch easily.”
Here goes nothing.
“I’m close to becoming a Deacon myself,” Francis explained at last. He was on the verge of divulging more, but the woman hadn’t earned such trust yet.
“Huh,” Valentina said calmly. “That does put all the tossing and turning into perspective.”
“Not the reaction I expected,” Francis replied in amazement.
“I told you. I don’t flinch easily.”
“Serves me just fine,” Francis shrugged. “At least I won’t need to find another house.”
“Or a dazzling roommate,” Valentina said as she finished her glass of wine. The way she walked towards him made it abundantly clear what would happen next, but he didn’t object.
Not until he remembered a lingering thought.
“Say,” he said to Valentina, who was a mere meter away. “I have a Rejuvenation artifact that I would like to sell. How much do you think it would fetch?”
“Rejuvenation?” Valentina said, seemingly bewildered. “Where did you get that from?”
“A Supplicant’s corpse. It’s served me well ever since.”
He expected the woman to be shocked, perhaps even revolted. Yet there was no reaction.
What on earth did this woman experience?
“Two hundred to three hundred silver, give or take,” Valentina replied at last, before lying down next to him.
“Would you like to buy it?” Francis asked.
“I have my own,” Valentina replied. “My job effectively demands it. But thank you.”
Francis couldn’t believe that he didn’t notice, but it was to be expected, as people in Havana didn’t flaunt their Stanzas like those in remote regions.
Valentina then drew closer, and started smelling him. “Why do you smell like sea salt?”
Her puzzlement made him chuckle despite himself. “You can thank my Preservation Ritual for that.”
“What ritual?” Valentina asked, looking even more puzzled.
“We Submerged have to partake in certain tasks often to avoid… dying a horrible death.”
Valentina’s puzzlement was swiftly replaced by indignation. “Are you mocking me?”
So she doesn’t know everything after all.
“I wish I was. At least I won’t have to drink seawater every week.”
“You’re serious,” Valentina said, slightly looking lost. “Why didn’t I hear of such a thing before?”
“It’s simple, truly,” Francis replied. “Deny a Submerged access to the sea, and they’re as good as dead.”
Francis half expected the woman to default to snark once more, yet there was nothing.
For once, Valentina was terribly quiet.
“So that’s what happened,” she finally said with a deep sigh.
“Do you mind elaborating?”
“Let’s just say someone dear to me stayed away from the sea and paid for it.”
“My condolences,” Francis said, inwardly regretting the sudden shift in atmosphere. “I didn’t know it was a sensitive topic.”
To her credit, Valentina didn’t linger. “Think nothing of it. It happened forever ago anyway.”
At least that saves me the trouble of feigning sadness.
He knew such thoughts were questionable, but was denying their existence any better? All that mattered was respect, and he showed that in plenty.
“As for your artifact,” Valentina added, unaware of his mental gymnastics. “There is a gathering of sorts that is attended weekly. Maybe you’ll find a buyer there.”
“A meeting where people sell artifacts? In Havana?” Francis said, dumbfounded. “I think I’ll pass.”
“Trust me. The government knows just fine,” Carmen replied. “Who do you think is buying half the artifacts there?”
“And the other half?”
“Will find its way there, eventually.”
Her words were surprisingly comforting. A meeting that is secretly sponsored by the government was bound to be safe, perhaps even safer than most black market venues. Regrettably, Valentina forgot to account for one troublesome variable.
“What about tracking? Did any attendees report a tail of some sort?”
“It is a possibility,” Carmen admitted. “But then again, a cook doesn’t make one a chef.”
“Is that a Havana idiom?” Francis asked, already fed up with the city.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
Valentina sighed playfully. “As in, just because someone owns an artifact, doesn’t mean they’re a Submerged. Especially in a place as dangerous as this city.”
“Fair enough. You got me interested,” Francis replied after contemplating the prospect. “Let’s hope I find something that interests me there.”
***
Against all odds, Francis woke up early.
Earlier than usual, anyway.
The effort was for naught, however, as Valentina was already drinking her coffee.
Does this woman sleep to begin with?
Alas, there was no competition to be had. And so the bounty hunter went on his routine, before sitting across from her.
In silence.
“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today,” Valentina said with her characteristic eyebrow raise.
“If only,” Francis replied with a sigh.
“That was an idiom, Edmond,” Valentina said, humor slightly creeping into her face. “In all seriousness, what’s wrong?”
The woman raised a good question. What was wrong? He should have it all figured out, should he not? Powerful Shanty, armed to the teeth, better informed than most. So why the angst?
“I never wanted any of this,” Francis replied at long last.
Thankfully, the woman had enough decency to refrain from making jokes. “Would you like to tell me more?”
“Last time I opened up about this, my whole crew disappeared. But sure.”
Valentina, in turn, raised her hands in the air. “Got no such tricks. Talk to your heart’s content.”
“I always thought that my quiet life was killing me,” Francis replied after a moment of deliberation. “But recently, I’ve come to realize that there are fates far worse than death.”
He then locked eyes with Valentina, and saw… understanding. Perhaps recognition, even.
“Got a habit of stumbling upon folks that love to live quietly, don’t you?” Valentina asked.
“That an accusation I hear?”
“No,” she clarified. “Mere curiosity.”
Curiosity was even worse, but not from her. “What can I say? People are often drawn to what they can’t have.”
“You really think getting your old life is far-fetched, Edmond?” Valentina asked, locking eyes with him.
“Yes.”
Francis was on the verge of elaborating, when a disturbance downstairs snapped the pair to attention.
“Stay behind me,” Francis said as he opened the door, to which Valentina nodded.
A few stairs later, the disturbance had a name attached to it.
And a coat of arms.
An Iberian coat of arms.
Francis wanted to speak to the two soldiers, but the establishment wasn’t his, and so he left it to Valentina.
“Good morning, officers,” the woman said. “Awfully early for an inspection.”
Francis expected the senior officer to lash out, yet he maintained decorum.
Right. Havana and its delicate balance.
“It’s nothing of the sort, Miss Valentina,” the officer clarified. “We actually have several questions about a particular character who frequents this bar.”
“Would you like any drinks while we conduct the investigation?” Valentina asked, already moving to the bar counter.
“Some ale would do, thank you,” the senior officer said before he and his partner moved to sit next to her.
Naturally, Francis followed.
I’m going to set myself on fire if this isn’t about Rhys.
“Miss,” the officer began as he held his parchment. “When was the last time you saw Rhys Blackwater?”
Francis wouldn’t have lied. And he trusted that Valentina knew better as well.
“Last night. He’s allowed to use the bar as a venue after closing,” Valentina replied truthfully. “For a price, naturally.”
“Is that the full extent of your partnership?”
“More or less,” Valentina said as she handed them their ale, Francis included. “I’m not exactly the combat type, so I probably can’t handle anything else.”
The man took a sip while seemingly lost in thought. And who could blame him, truly? Rhys was one suspicious old man.
An old man who could probably give me a beating.
“I’m assuming you haven’t heard about last night’s events?”
“Not really,” she said as she looked at Francis. “I was too busy doing… other things.”
The officer cleared his throat in understanding. “I see. Do you at least have an idea about his motivations?”
“Can’t say I do,” Valentina replied, seemingly truthful.
“What about you, Master Edmond?” the officer turned to him. “Rumors have it that you and Rhys spent some time together.”
Blast me to bits.
Francis wanted to lie. But an angry officer threatening to feed him to an orca was the last thing he needed in life. “Ever since the Yves guy was revealed to be Read’s killer, Rhys… lost his mind.”
The choice of words made Valentina flinch, but she kept it to herself.
The officer, on the other hand, simply nodded. “Kindly elaborate, Master Edmond.”
“Well, if the man is to be trusted,” Francis began. “Read’s death presents the opportunity of a lifetime for mediocre pirates. Especially those that aren’t affiliated with the cursed English.”
“Kindly refer to them as privateers,” the officer corrected.
“My apologies. Privateers.”
The officer didn’t appear to have much else to say, and so Francis continued. “From my understanding, Rhys seeks to benefit from the chaos.”
“What motive does he have?” the second officer spoke for once.
“Much like myself, he doesn’t appear to be fond of the English. So I suppose that’s his way of channeling said resentment.”
The senior officer appeared to raise an eyebrow at the first part. “Master Edmond. You’re a dual citizen, I presume?”
In truth, the Spanish citizenship was a luxury more than anything. A luxury people from backwater islands were seldom afforded.
One’s lineage could be traced back to Castile and Aragon and still not get it.
Not unless they moved to an area administered by the Spanish, anyway.
At least it’s not as troublesome as that of England.
“My father is from there. But I never set a conscious foot in England,” Francis replied. “So no. I’m just Iberian.”
His patriotism must have impressed them, as they visibly relaxed.
Mercifully, Valentina interrupted. “Officers, is there something I should know about Rhys?”
The question gave the pair pause, at least until the older man broke the silence.
“He’s your client, so curiosity is only natural,” he began. “As for his actions. Yesterday, he was seen going on a recruitment spree all over the Western Dock.”
“What for?” Valentina asked in puzzlement.
“Probably what Master Edmond mentioned earlier,” the officer replied. “Our best guess is that he’s building a crew before setting sail.”
“Quite the scene that lad Yves caused,” Valentina said in amusement.
“To say the least,” the junior officer said. “Especially when he was essentially a nobody before killing Read.”
“Are we even sure he killed him?” Valentina asked, not daring to believe the prospect.
No. He didn’t. But the English Crown knows better, I suppose.
“It is but a natural conclusion,” the senior officer interrupted. “Read was last seen chasing the lad, then… nothing for days on end.”
Francis was getting tired of hearing about the incident, but the conversation served as an opportunity to fish for intel. “Did later investigations yield any results?”
“Nothing,” the senior officer replied. “Whatever the Yves guy used, it was flawless.”
Xavier’s mouth is far from flawless, but no matter.
Suddenly, the junior officer began convulsing erratically. The scene shocked Valentina, who instantly rushed for her first aid kit.
The senior officer, on the other hand, put a ring on his partner’s finger, undoubtedly a Rejuvenation artifact.
“What’s happening?” Francis asked, genuinely perplexed.
“It’s not working,” the senior officer mumbled. “He’s having a seizure.”
The man grew limp at once, causing Francis’ heart to drop. Whatever the reason was, neither he nor Valentina would escape scrutiny.
Luckily, not all hope was lost, as the senior officer touched his partner’s wrist and found that he was still breathing.
“Apologies for the inconvenience. We will take our leave after I bring backup.”
“Don’t worry about it, Pedro,” Valentina replied. “I’m the one who should apologize.”
“Well, it’s certainly not your ale. Otherwise, all of us would’ve fallen.”
It didn’t take Francis long to connect the dots. The senior officer did the talking, with his partner mostly listening.
Furthermore, he was the only one who experienced a seizure.
And it happened the moment Francis thought of Xavier.
Was the officer using divination to read my thoughts?
It was far-fetched, was it not? But again, it was a Reverend-level Stanza. One Havana’s police force would happily lend an officer if it meant results.
And results, they nearly got.
Had it not been for Xavier.
Again.
Well. At least he can’t take my soul in Rome.