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A Letter to Edward Teach.
Rhys had no illusions about his status.
Come sunrise, Iberia would know. And once they did, he would be the most wanted man in Havana.
It was of no consequence, however, as he already acquired what he needed.
And how glorious it was.
“You look happy for once,” Carmen said as she stood next to him.
“How could I not be?” Rhys replied, looking at Havana growing ever smaller. “I got an artifact and a Fragment in one night.”
The crew they amassed in a few days was a modest one, but it had to do.
Especially when this is just the beginning.
With Carmen as the captain, him as the first mate and quartermaster, a navigator, boatswain, and carpenter, they were essentially a full crew.
The inclusion of a surgeon and a cook wasn’t at the top of his list, but Carmen insisted, and so he agreed.
Let’s just hope she doesn’t decide to recruit a bunch of swabbies next time we dock.
“I really hope you know what you’re doing, Rhys,” Carmen said, now leaning on the ship’s railing.
Rhys, in turn, had a long moment of silence. “How about we revisit this in a few months?”
“You really think we’re going to survive for that long?” the younger woman said.
“My dear Carmen,” he began. “Do you really think I’d dare to antagonize two superpowers if I didn’t know what I was doing?”
His answer, in turn, appeared to make her indignant. “How am I supposed to know! I spent my whole life surrounded by morons that fell at every turn.”
Rhys couldn’t help but sympathize. They were, after all, the same. He also spent most of his life following orders that were issued by weak, shortsighted men.
The Englishman was nothing short of stern in most cases, but in that moment, he chose to offer the woman comfort. “Rest assured, captain, you’ll become a Pirate Warlord in no time.”
“Let’s hope you’re right.”
The disillusioned deserter wasn’t offered the dignity of waiting, however, as an Armada made itself visible not far away from their own ship.
His Observation made it clear that his crewmates were uneasy, some even terrified, which was essentially akin to urging him to do something.
“You got a plan, I hope?” Carmen asked, heartbeat irregular.
Although he named her Captain, he was the one in charge, and what a thankless job it was.
“I always do,” Rhys replied, before going airborne.
Approaching the marines like a bird of prey was all the confirmation the Iberian Crown needed. But it didn’t matter, not when they were dead men.
Regrettably, his Levitation was no innate Stanza, making every second count.
And make them count, he did. Rhys closed the distance in less than a minute, then unsheathed his new sword and released a column of flames onto the nearest ship.
Then a second.
Then a third.
Before anyone knew what happened, the fire had already spread to the entire Armada.
The man was no pyromaniac, however. The assault was but a cover for his actual objective.
Rhys’ Observation remained ever-present. Whether sailors jumped into the water or attempted to shoot, it mattered not. Everyone who didn’t use a Stanza in that instance was beneath his notice.
A lesser man would’ve either lamented the carnage or relished it. But he wasn’t such a man. His decades of service under Saint George’s Cross taught him that there was no valor in conflict, only consequences to be lived with.
Assuming one was afforded the luxury of living.
His Stanza failing at any moment made the wait grueling. But eventually, he felt a ripple.
The pulse swiftly gave itself shape, as the Submerged began putting out the fire on his own ship using Dissipation. It was reckless, even moronic. Which, perhaps, was the whole point.
Left without much of a choice, Rhys picked the lesser evil and descended upon the ship like the celestials of old.
The landing naturally pushed the sailors to action, with some even attempting to land a hit. But did he really survive so long just for a common soldier to put him down?
Rhys responded by releasing his newly gained Acceleration on all sides, knocking most of the sailors overboard.
Save for the Submerged.
Rhys was on the verge of taunting the man when he suddenly unleashed a barrage of icicles at him.
It was of no consequence, however, as he instantly stopped it telekinetically, before aiming his sword at the man and sending a wave of flames.
The Submerged dodged the attack, but it wasn’t without damage. Whether instinctively or not, he began healing his charred flesh using Rejuvenation. But Rhys cut it short by sending him flying.
The “flight” was short-lived, however, as Rhys applied Acceleration again. This time, pulling the man toward the deck.
The man must’ve attempted to do something, but all Rhys saw was a marine painting a wooden deck a deep red.
The Navy deserter walked towards the corpse in an attempt to turn it into an artifact, but he was quickly interrupted by a new face.
One attempting to hypnotize him.
Enthral seldom worked on him, however, as his Venerable Fragment meant that only one of a similar stature could hope to make such a cheap trick work.
The inferior adversary didn’t have to know that, though, and so Rhys walked towards the woman. The moron looked pleased, undoubtedly expecting an easy victory.
Regrettably, her hopes were cut short as Rhys swiftly froze her in place using his telekinesis, before scorching her alive using the Ignition sword.
The corpse was on the verge of falling overboard, but Rhys grabbed it and tossed it near the pool of gore he created a minute before. He then crouched near the woman and began sensing for any Rejuvenation ripples.
None. Good.
With the interruption taken care of, he pulled two rings out of his pockets and placed them atop the corpses.
The process took valuable time, but he eventually remade their essence into weapons.
Luckily, he didn’t have to stop there, as he sensed a ripple coming from a close ship.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Rhys went airborne once more and closed the distance in a flash. The man using the Stanza turned in haste, but it was still not enough, as Rhys applied all the kinetic and telekinetic force he had and ripped his head clean off.
He then ascended higher, head still in hand, and turned it into an artifact while waiting for any further ripples.
The counteroffensive was easy.
Too easy, in fact.
And that only meant one thing.
Or maybe I’m just too good at this.
Rhys didn’t have to wait for an answer, as a fourth Submerged made themselves known to him.
Except this time, it was no weak ripple.
The adversary was using a Reverend-level Stanza.
He wasn’t sure if it was a taunt or an error. And he didn’t wait to find out.
The moment the artifact creation was over, he tossed the head into the void, then made his descent to the ripples’ source.
Fortunately, the opponent didn’t disappoint.
Wearing long white robes, a veil of the same color, and a tree necklace, the woman appeared to be a nun preparing for a sermon.
And how many Submerged wished that was the case.
“I didn’t expect the Crown to go this far,” Rhys said to the Inquisitor across from him.
“And neither did we expect you to commit such a crime,” the woman replied, tone calmer than it should be.
“I’m afraid it’s too late,” Rhys said with a mocking tone. “Unless you plan to make me puke it out.”
He expected her to at least get irritated, but it was to no avail. Inquisitors were truly a different breed.
“Rest assured, we have our methods,” the woman said at last, before lunging forward.
***
As Francis finished his bath and went downstairs, the bar felt… different.
Unsurprisingly, the outlaws finished cleaning the scene long ago, leaving the wood clean, if not spotless.
More social cred for us, I suppose.
The cleanliness was far from the sole anomaly, however. The way the gang members looked at him wasn’t a subtle one. The scorn and observation from before were quickly replaced by awe, even if it had a certain measure of resentment underneath.
“I hope our bath was to your liking, sir,” one of the gang members said, bowing slightly in the process.
“It was,” Francis replied flatly, dreading the fa?ade. “I appreciate it.”
“Serving you is our honor, sir,” the man added, bowing noticeably deeper.
Must be their brightest. I doubt most speak this way.
Francis walked a bit further and was greeted by flinching faces, with some going as far as gasping. The reaction was overblown by every metric.
Or at least, that’s how it felt at first.
Were they truly mistaken? They just watched him behead someone, before pulverizing the chest of another.
Then left them to clean it while he took a bath in their own establishment.
Not trusting himself to utter another word, Francis left the building in haste, then headed to where Stacey’s goon waited for him.
“I hope I didn’t leave you waiting long,” Francis said as he took a seat across from the man.
“Nonsense! You took as long as you needed,” the man replied enthusiastically, undoubtedly considering his return a victory. “How did it go?”
“The gang is yours,” Francis said flatly.
“Excellent!” the man said in glee. “Miss Stacey made the right call by approaching you.”
Approached me with a loaded gun, maybe.
“Are we done here?” Francis asked, dreading the prospect of lingering for much longer.
The subordinate, in turn, handed him a parchment, then got up. “This address should make future cooperation easier.”
Francis was on the verge of uttering half a dozen profanities, but he went with nodding in acknowledgment instead.
In all fairness, I did cost them a member. I got off easy, all in all.
Left with nothing better to do, he gestured for the bartender, before ordering a glass of red wine.
***
The night’s events left Francis with plenty of desires.
A warm meal, a warm bed, warm company—anything that would distract him from the carnage.
The moment he spotted the bar he called home, however, it became extremely clear that he was getting none of it that night.
Unless he fought a few officers, that is.
“Master Edmond?” a familiar officer said as he drew near.
“Evening, officer,” Francis replied, while observing the closed establishment. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
“A few, in fact,” the officer said in haste. “Could you kindly come with us?”
Absolutely not.
The last thing Francis needed that night was his artifacts getting confiscated because he dared to trust the law. “Does the matter truly require relocation?”
“I’m afraid so, Master Edmond,” the officer replied. “We have a few things that we need to ask you about in private.”
Francis wished to argue further, but that would’ve only made him more suspicious.
And so he complied.
Luckily, the officers brought a carriage with them, sparing him the inconvenience of walking to their headquarters.
Unluckily, he had to sit across from two officers the whole way there.
“Lovely night,” Francis said in an attempt to strike up a conversation.
“When excluding the heist that happened hours ago,” one of the officers replied.
Serves me right for offering you dignity.
“Yeah. I got front-row seats,” Francis said, instantly drawing their attention.
“Master Edmond,” the officer began. “Are you admitting to witnessing the crime in person?”
Francis would’ve kept his mouth shut if attending the gathering entailed legal trouble.
But it didn’t.
“Indeed,” Francis replied. “It ended as fast as it started, actually.”
The officers looked at one another in silence, undoubtedly a silent understanding passing between them.
“Do you perhaps have an idea about who might have done it?” the second officer asked.
“I have a more pressing question,” Francis replied abruptly. “Am I under arrest?”
“Not in the slightest,” the first officer said defensively. “This is but a routine inspection.”
Francis doubted routine inspections entailed closing an entire establishment, but there was no point in voicing it.
“So, when can I go?” Francis asked.
“That would depend on the results of our investigation,” the officer replied, seemingly ready to restrain him.
In all honesty, leaving the officers in the dirt would’ve been child’s play. But he wasn’t the only one involved in such a mess.
Valentina must’ve gotten detained as well.
And she had far more to lose than a fake identity.
Still, their involvement with Rhys was insignificant, leading Francis to believe their arrest was but a hiccup.
Throughout the rest of the journey, the officers asked further questions, but Francis kept insisting that he would address it all once they reached the station.
***
Rhys was no stranger to fighting Inquisitors, yet most paled in comparison to the one facing him.
Most of his Stanzas were on par with hers, making overwhelming force a distant dream.
The deserter was in the process of thinking of a counter, but the woman offered him no space, as she released another inferno.
And an inferno it was. His Supplicant-level fire was but a drizzle in comparison to hers.
Rhys quickly dodged using Levitation, but not before his attire was scorched. It didn’t matter, however, as his body was sturdier than most.
That still won’t protect me from a Reverend’s fire, though.
His intimidation was on par with hers. Enthral was ineffective. Even ice shards proved impotent in the face of her flames.
Rhys was convinced that had it not been for the Deacon-level Rejuvenation he snatched that night, he would’ve died ten times over.
So that’s the kind of people they send when you finally gain their notice.
Anyone else would have cursed their own weakness. But what for? The Inquisition was no understaffed, overworked government branch. They were the pride and joy of the Apostolic See.
Of course they would pose a hurdle; only a fool would think otherwise.
“Must you keep resisting?” the woman said. “Why don’t you make it easier for yourself, Rhys?”
“An Inquisitor calling me by my name? I’m flattered,” Rhys replied mockingly. “But you already know that I don’t negotiate with your kind.”
He wasn’t blind to the subtext, however. The woman resorting to diplomacy meant that the stalemate was a two-way street.
And that served him just fine. Especially with his trump card ever closer.
As their fight progressed, most of the Armada was in flames, rendering most ships inoperative. Sadly, the one they were on did survive the flames—but only due to the constant use of ice.
Besides, she can always swim.
That single fact highlighted the importance of what Rhys had done that night. Fragments and fancy artifacts aside, the deserter was a mere human.
Painfully human. Even a Supplicant was closer to the divine than he was, had it not been for cheating the system.
Still, that made his stalemate with an Inquisitor all the more impressive.
Let’s hope the reinforcements arrive fast enough.
The woman lunged once more, forcing him to push her back telekinetically before going airborne.
His pushes proved weaker by the minute, however, as the woman recovered from the last one in mere seconds. She then hurled another column of flames at him, burning half his face.
The middle-aged deserter swiftly replied in kind, as he sent a dozen icy projectiles at his adversary.
Unsurprisingly, it was of no use. “For LeFay’s sake, Rhys! We can do this all day, and it would still bear no fruit.”
“Speak for yourself,” Rhys replied, before a jolt of lightning hit the Inquisitor in the back.
The dark obscured most of the ship. But in that moment, Rhys was convinced that her expression was worth more than his head.
The woman must’ve attempted to utilize Rejuvenation. But it was for naught, as Rhys’ ally struck her again and again.
Until both ripples and heart went quiet.