"But now, even the king listens to her whims."
Admiral Bryce's Autobiography, 20 P.C.
"Sea creature, as in?" Francis asked, unsure whether to go back to sleep or not.
Robert, in turn, chuckled slightly.
"It's not a kraken or a leviathan if that's what you're asking," he reassured him. "I doubt those exist."
"Doubt," Francis said flatly.
"Aren't you cranky?" Robert said. "I mean, they're nothing more than sea myths—and trust me, I don't use that word lightly."
As infuriating as his pretentiousness was, he was right. A Submerged who had sailed for years wouldn't dismiss something just because he hadn't seen it.
"Still," Francis said, trying to sound less blunt. "What could it be?"
"Probably a whale or a shark. They're no strangers to harassing vessels that pass by."
Francis could live with a whale; at least those were studied methodically. And with that, he bid the first mate goodnight and went to his cabin.
I'm killing the next whale that disturbs my sleep.
***
As hours bled into days, Francis grew ever more bored. He tried talking to the crew more, discussing geopolitics with Robert, and even training—far away, at least, since the crew wanted nothing to do with his flames or intimidation.
Still, the list of things to do was shrinking by the day, and so he had to find something more sustainable. Starting a journal would be a good first step, but that risked eventually running out of incidents to write about. Studying the books he borrowed from Robert would be productive, all things considered, but the denseness was only bound to intensify the boredom.
No wonder Valeria is so restless.
Unfortunately, monotony gave way to Francis' specialty: pondering.
In hindsight, Valeria's absence wasn't much to go by, especially if the task was a dangerous one. But wouldn't that require her presence even further? That, and the casualness both she and Robert displayed, was quite unsettling; it almost seemed like a… conspiracy.
Then again, was Valeria wasteful enough to part ways with her first mate and half the crew? She wasn't the brightest, but she wouldn't have lived as long as she did if such moves were the norm for her.
Which only made her harder to read.
"Here comes the headache," Francis mumbled as he grabbed his throbbing head.
Luckily, the shouts of a crew member spared him further brainstorming.
"Land!" the man repeated as the others rushed forward, Robert excluded.
"Huh, I thought we wouldn't dock until we reach Grenada," Francis said as he drew nearer.
"Unless you want to eat beef jerky for another week, yeah," Rodrigo said with a chuckle, before remembering who he was talking to. "No offense, Francis."
"None taken," Francis replied, inwardly in disbelief. Even Rodrigo grew to fear him. Then again, he was capable of unleashing an inferno and making grown men wet themselves with Intimidation, so it wasn't far-fetched. He detested that such respect came from the sea's blessings rather than his own character, but he pushed it to the back of his head.
"It's about time we resupply," Robert said from behind as he stood alongside the group. "Staples in particular are beginning to run low."
Staples was a fancy way of referring to hardtack, but Francis kept the thought to himself.
"When are we going to sail again?" Francis asked, hoping that they would stay on land for longer.
"Ideally, as soon as possible. But I doubt depriving the crew of respite is productive."
Listening to Robert speak like a poet of yore was annoying, but it still paled in comparison to the crew's usual gibberish.
"Any idea about which island that is?" Francis wondered as he pointed at the distant silhouette slowly taking shape.
"Guess," Robert said in amusement.
"Saint something," Francis replied flatly, tired of half the islands being named after one Saint or the other.
Except Saint Agnes, of course.
"No. It's called Orange Town," Robert said with a hearty laugh.
"Orange Town?"
Robert took a moment to compose himself. "Indeed, they named it after… you guessed it, the oranges growing there."
"Too bad I can't drown," Francis said, regretting the conversation.
"Anymore," Robert remarked with a grin.
"Anything we should worry about?" Francis asked, hoping Robert wasn't taking them to a Royal Navy stronghold.
"Hard to say," he replied. "Last I checked, it was an unremarkable town of a few hundred."
Francis didn't know what to call his town if Orange Town was unremarkable, but Robert wasn't exactly a country bumpkin, either.
"I heard the lasses there were really nice," one of the pirates said, drawing agreement from a few others.
Of course that's all you can think of.
"Just make sure not to get bamboozled like you usually do," Robert chided.
"Don't worry! I won't let what happened in Havana happen again," Rodrigo replied, full of confidence.
"Mind enlightening me?" Francis asked the lot.
"Back in Havana," one of the pirates started. "Rodrigo—"
"Hush!" Rodrigo snapped, clamping his mouth shut.
"I actually want to hear this one," Francis said, frightening the poor pirate and making him feel guilty. "Or not, I'll spare you the embarrassment."
He then turned to the first mate.
"What about you, Robert? Think any lasses would catch your eye?" Francis said in an attempt to make him uncomfortable, which went ignored.
"Regardless, keep your guards up. A town this close to Grenada is no haven," the killjoy said at last.
***
"Is this really necessary?" Daisy asked, fatigue evident in her tone and expression.
"I'm afraid so," Valeria replied, continuing the interrogation in the bar Francis used to work at. The establishment was closed for the moment, but the owner didn't fancy a fight with a pirate captain.
"Well. I was born and raised in London," Daisy recounted for the twentieth time that week. "My father was a carpenter, while my mother was a maid in a noble's house. I had three brothers and one sister."
"When did you become a Submerged?" Valeria asked once more.
"When my father threw me in the Thames," she answered, her expression turning bitter.
"Why did he do that?"
"Because I was a disgrace," she spat. "God forbid one lives on their own accord."
She's sounding just like Robert.
"Why did you go back to them after you survived?" Valeria wondered, getting the same pained expression from the girl she had seen two dozen times now.
"I had nowhere else to go. And when Read passed by, father served me to him on a silver platter," she answered earnestly, bitterness giving way to disgust. "Captain, can you please stop making me recall these memories?"
Truth be told, Valeria felt bad for the woman; she also wished she didn't have to conduct such an interrogation, but one didn't simply steal a crew member from a Pirate Warlord. Such a procedure was the least she could do.
"This will be the last, I promise," Valeria reassured her. "Lastly, what about your time on his ship?"
"Both the men and women were a pain, but my powers kept me afloat, no pun intended," Daisy said, which made Valeria laugh softly.
"Why turn on him?"
"He enslaved me, captain. I wasn't given a choice. How can I respect such a man?"
"Didn't I do the same?" Valeria tested.
"Am I free to leave your crew, captain?"
Smart girl.
"I wouldn't have left you alive if you weren't, Daisy."
"That's why I'm following you. You gave me a second chance. I'd take a sword strike for you, captain," Daisy said, beginning to border on worship.
"Let's not go that far," Valeria cut it out. Meat shields were the last thing she needed. "Got any goals?"
The question gave Daisy pause as she began pondering for a few seconds.
"No. Read didn't give me the luxury," she replied, before thinking for a while longer. "I would love to see the other side of the Atlantic."
"The other side is relative," Valeria said teasingly.
Daisy seemed to have something snarky to say, but she stopped herself. "I want to see Havana and Santo Domingo."
"Oh, you will. I just need to get a certain task completed."
That appeared to make her beam. "Really! Read never let me sail that far."
"Speaking of that worthless waste of space," Valeria said, her expression hardening. "Do you want him gone?"
"Can you… do that?" Daisy asked, seemingly at a loss for words.
"That's irrelevant. Do you want it done?"
The question was apparently not within her expectations, as she remained silent for a long while.
"I… don't think so," she finally managed.
Congratulations, you passed.
"That's noble," Valeria complimented. "I might still do it, though, so keep that in mind."