"For I will do what I must, and the Lord shall bear witness."
Saint LeFay's Journal, 2 P.C.
In a cruel twist of fate, Francis actually fell asleep.
He was glad to be rid of the pirates, of course, but the circumstances were surprising nevertheless. And the fact that he was lucid made it all the stranger.
Unlike the drowning dream or the ramblings, this one was tranquil. Grass dotted the land, flowers bloomed, animals grazed. It was almost magical.
Wait.
He pinched his arm, and sure enough, pain flared. He tried counting next—and came up with precise numbers. Peace gave way to fright as he looked around frantically. It was no normal dream; something supernatural was behind it.
"Hello!" he shouted, hoping to lure the thing out. He then cursed himself. If something was powerful enough to pull him into a dreamscape, it was powerful enough to rip him apart.
He began thinking about who, or what, could do something like this. As far as Submerged went, he only knew three, and only one had the ability to accomplish something this miraculous.
"Sharp as ever, my dear bartender," said a voice he knew too well. He spun around, and sure enough, Saint Agnes stood there with her characteristic grace.
"I must say," she added, stepping closer, "you held your tongue far better than I expected. You even kept the ring I gave you."
"I'm not stupid enough to defy a Saint," Francis replied, doing his best to sound reverent.
"You'd be surprised," Saint Agnes said absently before turning and walking away—which naturally left him no choice but to follow.
"Could you please tell me where we are?" he asked as he caught up.
"Let's just say the medal I gave you is more than a mere decoration."
Well, and a letter carrier.
"That too," she added.
"I forgot you can read my thoughts," he said, facepalming.
"Not that you have much to hide anyway," Saint Agnes said as she looked back at him, green eyes piercing straight through him.
As they walked on, the grassy expanse gave way to a cliff overlooking a rocky beach. Francis didn't know if falling here would kill him—and he had no intention of finding out.
"Now," Saint Agnes said as she suddenly stopped, "shall we discuss the specifics?"
"Sure," Francis said stiffly, not daring to sound too impolite.
"As I'm sure you've already guessed, this land operates as a secret base of mine. You'll be expected to show up here when your presence is needed."
He couldn't even begin to analyze what she'd said. How could someone turn a dreamscape into a secret base? Then he remembered who was speaking and immediately stopped thinking about it. Saints were miracle-invokers; attempting to comprehend them was pointless.
"Am I the only one?" Francis asked instead.
"Guess," Saint Agnes said, amused.
"No. You probably summon multiple people here, and occasionally hold meetings to discuss certain important matters."
The Saint nodded approvingly. "And that's why I picked you."
She resumed walking, perhaps hinting at her preferred form of exercise.
"Of course, your involvement won't be without reward. The members do help one another when needed, which includes selling loot and treasure that can't be sold elsewhere."
"Like an artifact made out of a Venerable?" Francis asked, not daring to utter the other one.
"Or a Saint," she replied, finishing the sentence for him. "Though if you found such a thing, your best bet would be throwing it in the ocean and hoping no one divines your whereabouts."
"What if I came across one anyway?" Francis asked, unsure what to do in such a situation.
"As I said, discard it and run for dear life," she affirmed. "Reciting my invocation might make it easier to divine everyone's whereabouts, including yours."
Just how strong was divination? It allowed one to track others, track items, even read thoughts. He didn't know which progression of his would grant such a power, but it would be a welcome one.
"Are the meetings held at a specific time?" Francis asked, attempting to change the topic.
"Depends on my mood, really."
Pardon?
"Most members are quite busy, pulling them here constantly would only add to their workload."
He didn't exactly perceive Saint Agnes as someone who cared about others' well-being, but he took her word for it anyway. After all, she was the one who allegedly nursed him back to health after his Descension ritual.
"That would be all for now. I'll summon you again once we have a meeting," the Saint said before raising a hand, undoubtedly to snap her fingers as she usually did.
"Wait!" Francis said hurriedly, before realizing how impolite that sounded. "I need your advice regarding something."
Thankfully, Saint Agnes didn't seem to mind. "Do tell."
"My betrothed and I separated today because of my… gifts. What do you think I should do in the future?"
He expected mockery, perhaps even a long, hearty laugh. Instead, the Saint gave a sympathetic expression.
"Never get too close to mortals. It never ends well for people like us," she said—at least before snapping her fingers.
***
By the time Francis woke up, the crew had already moved on to the campfire. Except for her.
"Didn't expect my hits to be so potent," Valeria said, sitting beside where he was slumped.
"Didn't expect you to care," he shot back, a smirk betraying the words.
"I don't. I was hoping you'd die so I could turn you into an artifact."
Francis still couldn't understand why Valeria had waited for him to wake, though he suspected it was to intervene if something happened. An Acolyte's life wasn't cheap, and they both knew it. As for sentimentality, he doubted his captain possessed much of it.
Wait. Since when do I think of her as my captain?
"Cruel as ever," he said as he pushed himself upright, now sitting across from her.
As he looked at her, he noticed a brief flicker of hesitation before she finally voiced what was on her mind.
"I know you're dealing with… well, a lot. But when do you think you can carry out the mission?" she asked, the sincerity in her tone revealing just how urgent it was.
"Well," Francis said, exhaling, "I can cry about my betrothed leaving me all I want, but that won't change anything, now will it?" A rare moment of self-awareness cut through his voice. "Ready when you are. Truly."
"Don't take it to heart. She's just scared of what she can't understand," Valeria said, trying to comfort him. Which, to her credit, was far more solid than most attempts at consolation. "Besides, plenty of lasses at sea would kill for a Submerged."
He instantly regretted his words. She was terrible at this. Then again, they were approaching it from two very different perspectives.
"Have you ever loved someone?" Francis asked, the bluntness surprising even himself.
"Awfully blunt today, are we?" Valeria replied, eyebrow raised.
"I meant no offense."
"None taken," she said nonchalantly. "As for your question… the fact that I have to think about it tells you everything you need to know."
Figures.
He couldn't help but pity his captain. Just what had happened to her back in England for her to become like this? But then again, those exact qualities were what her line of work demanded.
"Care to share the details of my mission?" Francis finally asked.
Valeria seemed to weigh her words before speaking. "You are to transport a piece of cargo to Grenada."
"Cargo?" Francis echoed, amused.
"Stolen artifact," Valeria corrected.
He had plenty of questions—the artifact's level, the buyer, the source. All of them felt inappropriate given their dynamic, like overstepping a line she hadn't explicitly drawn but absolutely enforced.
"Would I be taking your ship?" he asked instead.
"You're not an orca, so yeah. You'll be taking my ship."
"And you're not afraid of getting stranded here if I go down?" Francis pressed, ignoring the jab.
"Well, according to a certain someone, the island that is full of timber has a shipwright," she said, still mocking him. "So no, I'm not worried."
This woman will be the end of me.
"What about Grenada itself?" he added. "What should I know about it?"
"Let's see…" she said, thumb resting on her chin as she thought. "Neither the Church nor the Royal Navy has much interest in the place, so you'll be dealing with the locals instead."
"Dealing?"
"In case you haven't noticed, a place without the military or the Church isn't exactly a beacon of law and order."
The assignment sounded harder by the second. Still, he figured she wasn't shortsighted enough to hand him a task beyond his ability.
"Let me guess. You chose it precisely because it doesn't have those two forces."
His response made her smile. "Bingo."