-
A Letter to Edward Teach.
It took Francis a great deal of effort to find the venue. But eventually, he managed.
One would’ve expected a meeting where illegal weapons are sold to occur in a shady bar.
Yet, there he was, in Havana’s Royal Museum.
The nature of the event demanded secrecy, however, and so most attendees were draped in long cloaks and wore masks that bordered on ludicrous.
You’d think I’m joining a cult.
He wished for Carmen, or even Rhys, to tag along. But both appeared to have more important matters to attend to.
Valentina wouldn’t have refused, but endangering the woman further wasn’t right. She had already taken a huge risk by harboring him.
And so alone he went.
As Francis walked deeper into the venue, he noticed the mismatch in attire. Some wore brown cloaks, others black, and a few were even vibrant. The masks fared no better with their different shapes and sizes.
It doesn’t appear to be an aesthetic choice, that’s for sure.
Suddenly, the lights changed, and with it came the shuffling of guards.
Soon enough, a platform made itself visible to Francis. And with it came a confident voice. “Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to this week’s auction!”
The crowd instantly paid attention to the man, undoubtedly anticipating what he had in store.
“I’m sure you’ve heard about the recent developments out at sea,” the masked man said. “And I must say, the world is growing more dangerous indeed.”
Francis wasn’t sure if the man wanted to unsettle the audience, but if that was the intention, then the awkward shifting was all the evidence one needed.
“But as the old saying goes,” he added. “One man’s misfortune is another’s boon.”
Did he just make that up?
The atmosphere, in turn, lightened dramatically. Whatever the auction had in store, it must’ve been impressive.
An attendant then handed the auctioneer a piece of cloth covering a long object.
A blade? Isn’t that too old-fashioned?
“For our first item, we have Inferno! A Supplicant-level sword that was seized off our coast a few days ago.”
The item sent a wave of anticipation across the room, making Francis grateful for his natural talents.
“Starting price: 300 silver pounds!”
“350!” one of the attendees shouted.
“400!” another shouted.
“400 silver pounds! Going once.”
The auctioneer wasn’t allowed to finish, however. “450 silver pounds!”
“Very well. Anyone else?”
Francis expected a slight rise, but there was none. And so the auctioneer moved on to the next item.
“Next, we have Glacier! A Deacon-level bracelet providing Rejuvenation, Observation, and Dissipation.”
Quite the bountiful harvest.
“Starting price: 2,000 silver pounds!”
As things stood, his Evasion ring was the only Deacon-level artifact he had witnessed in person, making “Glacier” rather unique.
Unsurprisingly, the audience shared the same sentiment as bids began rising.
At least until one person put it to a halt. “5,000 silver pounds.”
The bid appeared to knock the air out of everyone’s lungs, leaving the man as the undisputed winner.
“Sold!” the auctioneer shouted.
While Francis possessed flames, he was still in serious need of another offensive tool—something that Glacier would’ve provided plenty of.
I really need to make more money.
The prospect instantly reminded him of a task he had long forgotten, prompting him to slowly move backstage.
“Halt,” one of the guards said as he drew near. “State your business, esteemed guest.”
Francis stated the only business he had. “Here to sell a Supplicant-level artifact.”
The guards exchanged weary glances before turning to him again. “What Shanty?”
“Demise. My bottom line is 300 silver pounds.”
“Kindly hand it over so an expert can inspect it,” the guard said after further deliberation.
Francis obliged and waited calmly as the bets continued in the background.
Truth be told, the price was a bluff. He would be more than happy with 250 silver or even 200. Besides, the real scramble for wealth hadn’t even started yet.
Moments later, the guard returned with a small pouch and the ring in hand. “It was valued at 250 silver pounds. What say you?”
“That won’t be an issue,” Francis replied truthfully. “It’s only 50 silver, anyway.”
The guard, in turn, nodded, handed him the pouch, then returned to his post.
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
The motion left Francis no other choice but to return to the crowd.
Or at least try to.
The moment he was far enough from the guards, a voice spoke from behind him. “Don’t turn. If you do, I’ll strike.”
The voice was familiar, very familiar. It was the voice of someone he had met in Havana.
“What do you want?” Francis asked, keeping a casual tone.
“You killed an asset of mine,” the stranger replied. “He was a handy one, too.”
Francis focused on the voice further, and sure enough, it was the blonde woman.
The one using Enthral.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Francis tested.
The Lord knows I killed a dozen.
“Acting moronic now, are we?” the woman mocked. “Want a shot to the skull to refresh your memory?”
“Oh,” Francis said in realization. “The Untether user.”
He couldn’t see the woman’s face, but she must’ve looked pleased. “Indeed. And now you owe a debt that must be repaid.”
The woman’s methods weren’t exactly unreasonable, especially considering how dangerous he was, but he would’ve still preferred a more dignified conversation.
“I’m listening, so can we please take this conversation elsewhere?”
“And risk you attacking me?” the woman scoffed. “Not a chance.”
Called it.
“What do you suggest?” Francis asked, seeking a compromise.
“A client of mine is waiting near the Eastern Dock. He’ll approach you once it’s safe.”
“Straight to the point, I see,” Francis said, amused despite himself.
“Well, we both know who to thank for that,” the woman replied, before she grew silent.
Or at least that’s what Francis assumed, before realizing that she had already left.
Eastern Dock, eh? No rest for the wicked, I suppose.
Francis was about to head out when a bid attracted his attention.
“And for today’s star, we have: an Acceleration Fragment!”
Francis didn’t know what Acceleration corresponded with, but the audience’s uproar signaled that it was nothing to scoff at.
“What’s the fuss about?” Francis asked the person near him, indifferent to anonymity.
The person naturally ignored him, prompting Francis to ask a few others until one replied. “The fourth Stanza of Untether. Basically telekinesis.”
Telekinesis? Isn’t that overkill?
The reveal brought Francis’ attention to another variable. Although they were checked for any artifacts they possessed at the entrance—with his Rejuvenation one wasting fifteen minutes of his time on an inspection—the prospect of someone attempting to steal it wasn’t to be taken lightly.
“Starting price: 7,000 silver pounds!” the auctioneer said.
“10,000!” someone shouted instantly.
“25,000 silver pounds!” another added shortly.
It was obscene—utterly obscene. Just how much were people willing to sacrifice for the Stanza?
“30,000 silver!” the first man shouted.
Francis expected to wait a while to witness the bid’s fruition. But suddenly, the auctioneer disappeared.
What replaced him shortly after was a man akin to the crowd. The stranger then snatched the yellowish vial from the assistant’s hand and flew.
Actually flew.
Everyone in the museum was shocked momentarily before all hell broke loose.
Guards barked orders, patrons shouted in confusion— even the auctioneer looked at a loss for words.
Someone stole a Reverend-level Fragment.
In a second.
The guards used Stanzas of their own to take down the man, but it was for naught, as he swiftly threw an object outside, then swapped positions with it.
I’m not leaving this place anytime soon, am I?
***
It was beyond expectation, but the attendees were allowed to go in no more than half an hour.
The longer Francis thought about it, however, the more reasonable it appeared to be. The culprit had the ability to fly. Why on earth would he have an accomplice?
Especially when said accomplice could be used as leverage?
As Francis made it out of the museum, he instantly found a secluded alley and discarded the weathered garment and mask. Replacing the pair every so often would eventually prove a hassle, but he could live with it.
The next order of affairs was complying with what the blonde woman said, and so the bounty hunter made his way towards the dock.
Let’s just get this over with.
If he was honest with himself, the way the woman approached the matter made him detest the prospect of cooperating, especially when her goon was the one who attacked first. Still, the results were virtually the same, and so he had to bear the consequences.
Lest the woman hurt others.
Seeing Havana busy during such an hour felt rather surreal, as the streets he usually roamed were akin to ghost towns.
Then again, Havana’s most affluent region had no shortage of law enforcement, either.
Considering the scope of the city, walking to the agreed-upon location was bound to take at least an hour, forcing Francis to reconsider his approach.
His twilight years were still ahead of him, making walking an inconvenience and not an impossibility. Nevertheless, he absolutely didn’t want to trigger the woman’s wrath. And so he began calling for a carriage.
A few shared carriages passed by, but he had no interest in those, resulting in a monotony that only intensified the longer he waited.
More time to ponder, I suppose.
His time in Havana had so far proven… enjoyable. The Inquisition, gang violence, and recently acquired bounty weren’t enviable, but the benefits did overshadow the tribulations.
But was it truly his calling?
No. What was his calling?
He obviously wasn’t satisfied with the quiet life. Otherwise, he would’ve stayed.
He didn’t want family, either. Not when this world could obliterate them and call it collateral.
He didn’t even enjoy sailing as much as he thought he would. And neither did he fancy killing people for money.
So what did he want?
Luckily, the last carriage that arrived spared him the hassle of having to actually answer the question, at least until he got in.
“I should go back to my hometown,” he mumbled, refusing to mention any names. “Then I’ll decide.”
Awfully convenient, that was. How could it not be? When said hometown was half an ocean away. He could theoretically spend years in Havana before making it there.
No. Years won’t do. I have to stay here for a few months at the worst.
The sale of the Demise artifact provided Francis a hope of sorts, but he didn’t dare linger on it.
It was a one-time liquidation of a finite resource, not a business opportunity.
“Speaking of liquids. It’s about time I drink you,” Francis said as he eyed the Rejuvenation Fragment.
Hiding it from the guards was no easy task, but he managed. Of course, he could’ve drunk it back home, but Valentina getting a friendly visit from the Church wasn’t on his list of daily tasks.
Additionally, a moving carriage was far harder to track, as far as ripples went.
“Here goes nothing,” he mumbled once more, before downing the liquid.