"Nevertheless, I believe that it is befitting of me to continue performing my duties to the best of my ability, even if I have not much hope for salvation."
Cardinal Jean-Paul, Date Unknown.
Francis knocked lightly on the door. When it opened, Camila appeared, hair in disarray, eyes heavy with fatigue. She looked as if she hadn't slept enough either, yet somehow, the messiness only added to her charm.
"Morning," Francis said, voice groggy.
"You… didn't go to mass today? That's not like you."
Camila yawned and rubbed at her eyes. "I was... busy last night," she replied vaguely.
He didn't press; he suspected she'd turn the question back on him, and he wasn't in the mood for a round of interrogation. Instead, he asked, "So… when do you want the wedding to be?"
Her eyes suddenly brightened, and a smile spread across her face. "A week from now," she said, the excitement in her voice shaking off any and all traces of morning lethargy.
She really likes me, huh?
Francis felt a shiver run down his spine at the thought of organizing everything so quickly, but he forced his features into composure. "A week, then," he murmured, nodding.
"Perfect!" she said, practically bouncing on her heels.
He gave her a small, reassuring smile, leaned in for a brief, polite farewell, and stepped back. "I'll see you soon," he said.
With that, he turned and made his way to the bar, knowing full well the place would be busy once more.
Truth be told, the arrangements were as sudden as they felt. But such was life in a town like Saint Agnes. For most, marriage wasn't a romantic affair but a practical one. Francis could fancy himself as captivated by Camila—he certainly was—but he couldn't ignore that a union with her was far preferable to a life of celibacy.
Well, near-celibacy, thanks to her.
And there was another weight to consider: she had expressed, without hesitation, that she would support his dream of exploring the vast oceans. That alone made the idea of marrying her more than palatable; it made it… destined. He would probably not come across such an understanding person for a decade, no, a century.
The thought of potentially having a child and not seeing him grow with his own eyes did sting. But imagining a future where he returned, even after years at sea, kept him sane. That, and the knowledge that he would be in Camila's capable and caring hands, made the notion bearable
Francis finally made it to the bar, pushing his ponderings aside. The warm, humid air hit him, carrying the scent of spilled ale and tobacco, comforting in its own chaotic way.
The old man was nowhere to be seen, but that was fine. He came here every day anyway.
Who was there, however, caught his eye immediately: Valeria. This time, she sat beside a lanky man with medium-length hair and spectacles that lent him a scholarly air—though his pirate garb betrayed his true nature.
Francis's heart skipped. She didn't even glance at him, yet the faint smirk she gave the moment he approached the counter made him feel simultaneously noticed and deliberately teased.
"Morning, bartender," she said casually. "Didn't think you'd make it in time today."
Francis blinked, frowning. "I… I'm here," he said, feeling both flustered and ridiculous under her gaze.
Valeria leaned back slightly, her smirk never fading. "This," she said, gesturing at the man beside her, "is Robert. First mate of my ship."
Francis blinked. "First mate?" He leaned in a bit, curiosity cutting through his lingering embarrassment. "Where… where are you from?"
Robert adjusted his spectacles, his expression calm, almost scholarly. "Continental colonies, to the west. Grew up reading maps and sailing when I could."
Francis nodded slowly, pieces falling into place. "Ah… that explains a lot."
Valeria's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Robert here can answer any questions you have about the sea."
Francis's gaze flicked between them, intrigued. "Anything?"
"Almost anything," Robert said dryly.
"Of course," Valeria added, leaning closer, "for a price. Knowledge has a cost, and I expect something of equal value in return."
Francis hesitated, unsure what she meant. "Equal value?"
"You'll know it when you see it," she replied, voice teasing. "Don't worry, it's not necessarily gold. Could be a task, a favor… your imagination is your limit."
Francis ran a hand through his hair, a mixture of nerves and excitement rising. "I… I see. Well, I suppose I can manage that."
Valeria grinned, satisfied. "Good. Then start thinking of your questions. Robert is patient, but he does like a challenge."
Robert simply gave a small, polite nod. "Ask wisely, and listen carefully. The sea doesn't forgive ignorance."
Aren't you a charlatan?
Francis exhaled, heart racing. This was going to be… interesting.
Francis leaned forward, curiosity overriding his usual caution. "I… I've heard… strange rumors. About humans wielding fire, lightning… things like that. Is it… possible?"
Valeria burst out laughing first, a sharp, melodic sound that carried across the bar. Robert followed, though his laugh was quieter, restrained. Francis felt his face heat up.
"You're serious?" Robert said after a moment, shaking his head. "I'll answer this one for free, just because it's… well, common knowledge out there."
Francis swallowed nervously. "Common knowledge?"
Valeria's grin widened. "You haven't been paying attention to the world, have you? Humans can wield such powers. Fire, lightning… all sorts of things."
Robert added, "But, of course… nothing in this world comes without a price. There's a method, a secret. And learning it… isn't cheap."
Francis nodded slowly, digesting the information. "So… it's possible. But I'd have to… pay? A lot?"
Valeria's eyes glinted with amusement. "Heh. You catch on quickly. That's the gist of it."
Francis leaned back, letting the weight of the realization settle. A secret method, attainable… if he had the means. And he would have to pay dearly.
His mind then went still. Those recurring dreams… the ones pushing me to conquer… claim what's mine… He felt a twinge of unease but kept it to himself.
"I… I asked the priests about… powers like that," he began cautiously. "They… refused to answer."
Valeria's gaze sharpened, her tone carrying weight. "Not surprising. The Church doesn't take lightly to wielders outside their jurisdiction. Acquire such powers without their sanction…" She paused, letting the warning settle. "…and the best you can hope for is to be turned into a magical resource."
Francis swallowed hard, the implication sinking in. "A… magical resource?"
Robert leaned forward, voice quieter, almost conspiratorial. "Not a pleasant fate. That's why secrecy matters."
Francis nodded slowly, the unease pressing down on him. He hadn't realized how dangerous even asking questions could be. Some knowledge came with a price… and some mistakes were fatal.
Valeria's lips quirked in a teasing smirk. "That's a free sample, you know. Ask another question like that, and you'll have to pay for the real answer."
Francis blinked, caught between amusement and apprehension. "I… understood," he murmured, careful not to press too far.
Robert chuckled softly beside her. "Best to take it slow, lad. Knowledge like that comes at a price, sometimes heavier than you're ready to bear."
The conversation then switched to trivial topics until Valeria had an inquisition. She leaned back slightly, eyes curious. "So, Francis, what sort of plants and animals do you expect to find outside Saint Agnes proper?"
He straightened, thinking through the forest and the fields. "Well… you've got wild onions, thyme, nettles, a few varieties of berries. Animals… rabbits, pheasants, snakes if you go further inland. Mostly edible, all things considered."
Valeria nodded approvingly, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. "Good. Wouldn't want to pay a premium for the town's produce if we don't have to."
Robert piped up, voice dripping with mockery. "Edible, you say? What about the tomatoes around here? Those things will kill you."
Francis blinked. "They're clearly fine. The town uses them all the time."
Robert recoiled, eyes wide. "Used them? Those tomatoes are a recipe for diarrhea."
Valeria finally sighed, cutting through the back-and-forth. "Alright, alright, enough. Shut up, both of you." She shot Francis a teasing glance. "And you—don't worry. Robert and I will handle the food acquisition. Try not to lecture anyone else while we're gone."
With that, she and Robert stood, exchanging a quick look, and the two of them strode out of the bar together, leaving Francis behind with a mix of relief and exasperation.
***
Hours later, the old man finally showed himself, hurrying toward Francis with surprising speed given his age.
Francis gestured for him to step to the back of the bar, ensuring some measure of privacy. Once there, he shared the details of his findings before handing over the ten gold coins.
The old man's eyes widened in disbelief, and for a moment it looked as if he might faint on the spot. Then, slowly, he regained his composure, clutching the coins tightly to his chest. "Thank you… Thank you so much, Francis," he murmured, voice shaking with gratitude. "Your honesty is rare to come by."
For the most part.
Had this happened yesterday, Francis might've felt a tug of guilt for not mentioning the ring. But after everything he'd learned this morning, he doubted the faintly glowing piece of jewelry was any ordinary heirloom. And he doubted even more that the old man could handle whatever it really was.
So he simply told him he'd pass along anything else he found. Nothing more, nothing less.
With that, Francis left the old man to his joy and made his way back toward the bar counter, pushing down the uneasy weight of the secret resting in his pocket.