"For I charm the willing, and subjugate the rest."
Saint LeFay's Journal, 2 P.C.
"What do you mean?" the girl asked, confusion written across her face.
Perfect.
Valeria leaned back slightly, unsure about how to approach it.
"This is just a guess, but I noticed… there's something different about him," Valeria explained, using the tone of someone who had an eternity to spare.
"When we were sparring," Valeria continued, letting her words roll out carefully, "his moves… they seemed almost superhuman, if that makes sense."
The girl's eyes widened slightly, a spark of recognition—or worry—stirring within her.
"Are you saying that Francis is… one of those heretics?" she asked cautiously. Valeria guessed the girl meant Submerged in whatever backwater Church terminology still survived.
If only the poor soul knows what the Apostolic See has truly become.
Valeria shrugged lightly, feigning innocence. "What do you mean?"
"The priests often speak of sailors who started believing in malevolent creatures and got supernatural powers as a gift," she replied, voice uneasy. "Is that what happened to Francis?"
Valeria almost pitied the girl. Almost. There were no malevolent creatures to speak of. Only the endless expanse of blue singing to those it chose—the expanse protecting them from actual malevolence, if anything. She debated whether to correct that lie with an even bigger one, or illuminate the girl once and for all and spare everyone the trouble.
"No. What happened to your betrothed is far more sinister. I remember seeing him sneaking around a few days ago with a blank expression on his face," Valeria bluffed. "Then, when I questioned him about it a day later, he looked really confused."
Valeria nearly burst out laughing. Blaming evil spirits for one's wrongdoings was such a peasant classic, yet it still worked no matter where she used it. The only catch was getting "exorcised" by the local priests, but that was a far lighter punishment than taking responsibility for your blunders.
Let's just say very few survive actual possessions.
"But what about him sailing to another island so suddenly?" the girl asked.
"That was probably the spirit influencing him to do it without his knowledge. It likely had an inheritance of some sort it wanted to reclaim."
The word inheritance made the girl's eyes light with recognition.
"Less than half an hour ago, an old man told me he gave Francis an old paper with some kind of poetry on it. Then, a short while later, Francis went back to him and gave him ten gold coins. Do you think the two are related?"
Valeria's expression almost cracked. The inheritance angle had been nothing but a bluff—yet here it was, turning out to be true. The whole encounter was generational.
"Yes!" she said, layering on feigned excitement. "That's it. He must've gotten possessed as soon as he read the contents of the paper."
Her words brought a strange comfort to the girl across from her. Probably proof, in the girl's mind, that her betrothed wasn't a lying sack of filth. Or maybe just hope—hope that he'd come back, since he had an "evil spirit" as his protector.
The truth was far more delicate, however. Did the paper actually contain anything of value? Probably. Where else would he have gotten ten gold coins? Serving ale wasn't exactly a skill rare enough to earn that kind of money on the seas. The treasure had to be real, and if he'd handed out ten gold coins without a second thought, then he must've found something worth far more.
An artifact.
Of course it was an Artifact. What else could it possibly be? Treasure troves were worth almost nothing unless they held an item once owned by a Submerged. Otherwise, why would countless sailors throw their lives away chasing them?
And the possibility of it being an Artifact explained everything—the ripples she'd felt a few days ago, the sudden forest fire, the secrecy, the caution. The pieces clicked together one by one. Valeria felt herself illuminated at the peasant girl's expense, and it was glorious.
"Could you perhaps…" the girl began, then trailed off. "Sorry, nevermind," she added, already shifting to leave.
"Speak," Valeria replied, assertive enough to make the girl flinch back into her seat.
"Could you please go to Logreef to check on him? I can pay."
Valeria doubted the girl could afford her prices, but she considered it anyway. The potential of recruiting a Submerged far outweighed anything the girl could offer.
"Don't worry about it. Consider it my apology for not noticing his off behavior sooner," Valeria said, rising from her seat and heading for the door.
"Thank you!" the girl called after her, her voice fading into the background as Valeria stepped away.
***
Francis didn't know where to start. How could he? The last few days had been nothing short of a fever dream. A forest fire, a drowning, a deadly coin toss, and of course, Saint Agnes. The sheer avalanche of events left him with no choice but to lay low and consider his next move. Something Saint Agnes had probably anticipated, given that she… teleported him to Logreef instead of the main island.
"So much for being done with you," he muttered with a bitter smile.
Then again, maybe she picked this place because his signature lingered strongest here. How could it not? His powers had burned half the island to the ground.
"Whatever the reason, I need to find a way back to town," he said as he moved through the forest, pushing aside branches and ash-blackened undergrowth.
He checked the shore for a while, hoping to spot a ship or at least a skiff. Instead, he found only a lone local patrolling the coastline. Figures. He briefly considered building a skiff himself, but that had never been part of his bartender training—and building a raft was essentially a death wish.
Praying to Saint Agnes to teleport him back to the main island crossed his mind for all of five seconds before he dismissed it. She was a Saint, not his personal coachman… well, coachwoman.
The Descension had robbed him of plenty of things, but he was glad his humor had at least survived.
"I can go swimming. Assuming the hypothermia doesn't kill me first."
Stuck. Stuck Francis was. Made all the more tragic by the fact that Camila might, at this very moment, believe he was dead. Although knowing her, she probably went ahead with the wedding preparations anyway—assuming her mother agreed to keep cooking the stew, that is.
At first, all the lying and deceit didn't feel that bad. He told himself Camila shouldn't be privy to such a world. But after he drowned, he realized he was still dragging her into something she should never have had to bear.
Then again, she had expressed her willingness to support his seafaring dream, even if it meant his disappearance. That thought alone stopped him from drowning in guilt. At least for now.
As Francis continued pondering his next move, he recalled something that had completely escaped his mind. Since Valeria was a Deacon, she had the ability to sense ripples whenever someone used their powers, and since Logreef wasn't far, him releasing a burst of energy would most certainly attract her attention. Being outed as a Submerged was its own predicament, sure, but the woman had her sights on him for a while already, so confirming her doubts would only serve as a sign of his goodwill.
And willingness to be exploited.
Regardless, whatever Valeria had in store was still better than getting stuck in the middle of nowhere. Especially since they weren't far off strength-wise, a thought that would've bordered on lunacy not too long ago.
Releasing flames would most certainly have marked him as the high seas' biggest moron, especially considering the aftermath of his rashness last time, which, unsurprisingly, still left its mark on the land around him. Since he was an Acolyte, however, he had access to another Stanza. Francis focused all of his attention on that one.
At first, not much seemed to happen. Then he felt it: small animals scattered, insects grew quieter, even the air itself seemed to freeze. He had unleashed a wave of Intimidation for the first time—and it did not disappoint.
Let's just hope it works on people as well.
***
A while after finishing her conversation with Francis' betrothed, Valeria returned to her cabin, eyes fixed on the cursed artifact as she contemplated what to do with it. Robert had certainly raised a valid point. Divining the item's location from such a distance would have been a logistical nightmare given its level, but sooner or later, the Apostolic See would catch on. Discarding it had to be her top priority.
Besides, even if her name wasn't officially tied to the heist, carrying an item of such importance did her no favors. One inspection by a Venerable, and her head would rest on Saint Colin's table.
It has to go.
Her rare moment of focus didn't last. Ripples stirred from the east—ripples of what seemed to be a Dominion Stanza. It clicked instantly: Ignition was a Dominion Stanza, and whoever had released this one had likely been the one who burned the forest days ago.
"Hello again, tease," she said in amusement.