"The English Crown shall face the wrath of those it oppressed through no fault of their own."
Saint LeFay's Journal, 2 P.C.
As Francis waited for his prey to appear, he did what he did best: ponder. Saint Agnes' predicament was peculiar. People of her status didn't hide; they made others flee. Facing multiple Saints in battle would be unpleasant, sure, but it didn't have to end that way. Any organization would welcome a Saint with open arms, no matter the crimes committed.
That only implied one thing: her choice to live in the middle of nowhere suggested involvement in something that far surpassed his understanding.
I'm giving myself a headache.
Fortunately, the prey emerged from the trees, or what remained of them, shortly thereafter.
"I knew it was going to be you," the drenched woman said in delight.
"Good to see you again as well, Valeria."
She didn't bother with ceremony. She strolled forward, sat across from him—close enough to spray him—and fixed him with one of her looks.
Is she a dog?
"Although I do wonder," she said, tone fishing without even pretending otherwise, "how does one go from mere mortal to Acolyte in a few days?"
"I'm not that dull, you know?" he replied, as amused as she was.
That caught her off guard.
"Well, well. Someone isn't as timid as they once were."
"What can I say? Power does indeed corrupt."
She let out an unrestrained chuckle. "Fine, I won't pry. But you definitely owe me one."
"For the shower?" Francis teased.
"Your betrothed isn't as dull as you thought she was," Valeria said casually.
That caused him to skip a beat. Part of it was the idea of Valeria going near Camila. The other part was the possibility of his lies finally unraveling.
"Oh, relax. It's okay now," Valeria added, clearly sensing his unease. "But you'll probably have to get exorcised by the local priests."
Huh?
She launched straight into the explanation—each detail more absurd than the last. Camila's panic. The priests' tales of malevolent creatures. The parchment. The "possession." The treasure. The ten gold coins.
By the time Valeria finished, the situation had truly achieved a level of lunacy only Saint Agnes' favorite plaything could stumble into.
"Why go through all that trouble?" he finally asked.
That earned him an amused eyebrow raise.
"Because I trust you're honorable enough to return a favor, naturally."
Of course.
"I have something that needs fixing," she continued, tone light but eyes very much not, "but I can't do it on my own. And I don't trust my crew enough to do it. So I figured a certain Acolyte could do it for me."
"Didn't expect you to be a blackmail enthusiast," he replied dryly.
Truth be told, he was grateful to the woman. He wasn't ready to confront Camila after all the lies—especially not now, not after everything had blown up in his face. The silly possession story wasn't foolproof by any stretch, but it bought him time. Time to think. Time to figure out how to explain himself without dragging her into a world she had no business knowing.
Even if lying more made him sick.
But Saints and Divine Instruments were his reality now. Keeping Camila out of it was probably the only decent thing left he could do.
I really am despicable.
"I prefer calling it partners in crime," Valeria bit back. "You can always expose my powers to the town, after all."
"Fair enough," he said, conceding the point. "So. What can I do as payment?"
"Why, spend an unforgettable evening with me, of course~"
"I'm not laughing."
"And here I thought the Descension ended your prudish streak," she sighed, theatrically disappointed. "Jokes aside, I have something I want delivered to one of the major cities. And I'd appreciate it being delivered as soon as possible."
"Can I at least go back to town first?" he asked. He didn't bother hiding the edge in his voice; he needed to see Camila—just once—before disappearing into the unknown again.
"Fine. Not like a few days would make much of a difference," she said.
But her tone betrayed her.
"One question," Francis said.
"Do tell."
"How are we gonna go back to the island?" he asked, eyeing her drenched clothes—clear proof she hadn't brought a boat.
"Swim," she said, as if stating the time of day.
"Swim," he echoed dryly.
"If my attire is any indication, yes."
"Have you ever heard of hypothermia?"
"Yeah. I also heard it doesn't affect the Submerged. Assuming your powers aren't a cheap trick lent to you by an artifact," she replied, tone dipped in taunt.
"And here I thought joining your crew was a good idea," he sighed.
"In all fairness, it never was."
"Oh well, the protection of a Deacon has its drawbacks, I suppose," he said.
Valeria froze mid-step.
"Is there something I should know about?" Her tone changed instantly, the kind that made him regret opening his mouth.
Right. I'm not supposed to know that.
"The treasure I've been hunting delivered a piece of information or two about the Shanties," he lied. "And yours was explained to a degree."
It worked. Her guarded expression loosened—to a degree.
"What else did it contain?" she asked, undoubtedly expecting a satisfactory answer.
"This." He raised his right hand, revealing Saint Agnes' ring. "Acolyte-level artifact. Allows for Liquidation and Premonition."
He regretted revealing it the moment the words left his mouth. But then again, it was hardly the full truth.
"Handy," she said. "Although I do wonder—what came of the lightning artifact?"
How does she know that?
"Was taken before I reached it."
"Clearly." Her eyes flicked over his hands again, confirming he only carried one artifact. "Now, let's get drenched, shall we?"
The walk to the shore was tranquil—at least until Valeria opened her mouth.
"There will be an initiation, you know."
"Huh?" Francis asked, already exhausted by her antics.
"Whenever someone joins my crew, they have to spar with every member. Tradition."
"Of course they do," he replied before face-palming.
"As if you didn't know how much that lot loves fighting," she shot back.
"Fine. We'll see how well they fare against an Acolyte," he said in anticipation.
"I must say... that predatory grin is quite new," Valeria noted.
Her response caught him off guard. But then he realized the last few days had certainly had an effect on him. How could they not, when he'd gone from a scrawny nobody to a Submerged with five Stanzas? A change it was—an unpleasant one it was not.
As they reached the shore, Valeria walked straight into the water without a second thought, catching him momentarily off guard before he remembered her bathing habits.
She went deeper, then actually dove. Which was as obvious a taunt as any.
Ugh. Fine.
He didn't know what kind of aquatic powers his Shanty offered, but he figured Valeria wouldn't throw him into danger on a whim. Probably.
"Here goes nothing," he muttered, then ran toward the water and plunged in before he could change his mind.
The moment the sea swallowed him, the memory of drowning surged back—sharp enough to push him to the brink of panic. But then, seconds later, he realized he wasn't bothered by the seawater flooding his lungs. Which was somehow harder to believe than the fire-summoning and teleportation. Then again, it was water that had killed him last time, not fire.
Am I some sort of sea creature now?
"Handy, isn't it?" Valeria said—telepathically—as she drifted up beside him.
He opened his mouth to reply, then quickly realized how idiotic that instinct was. Judging by the way Valeria burst into laughter, she realized it too.
"You'll learn how to do it soon enough," she added—again, telepathically—before drifting off into the distance.
He followed after her—and to his surprise, he was swimming far faster than he ever had before his Descension, which quickly explained why Valeria chose to reach him the way she did. Still, as a Deacon of the Demise Shanty, her skill in the water made his look pathetic by comparison.
To her credit, she noticed the gap quickly enough and slowed down to let him catch up.
"So, how's the hypothermia treating you?" she asked teasingly.
Talk about tone-deaf.
If Francis was honest, the whole experience was still jarring. The only reason he hadn't passed out from sheer panic was the fear that losing consciousness might cause his newfound powers to fail him—so he forced himself to keep swimming.
Doing this would've been impossible under normal circumstances. But with Valeria around, he figured he could rely on her if something went wrong. She was still a pirate captain, sure—but she wasn't stupid. At the very least, she wasn't shortsighted enough to let an Acolyte drown for sport.