"Sadly, the secret remains closely guarded."
Admiral Bryce's Autobiography, 20 P.C.
"Elaborate," Francis said, not believing his ears.
"Surprise!" Robert exclaimed mockingly. "Even pirates have a higher authority."
"Robert," Francis asked firmly. "I'd appreciate it if you cut the mockery."
The old him more than warranted it, true. But the new him didn't seem deserving of such treatment, not when he crawled out of hell.
Well, floated.
"Sheesh! Understood," he replied melodramatically. "Yes. We do, in fact, have a self-proclaimed Pirate Emperor, even if most don't take his claim seriously."
In all fairness, why would anyone? The whole point of being a pirate was the freedom it gave. If one sought a monarch, they might as well stick to their islands.
"Awfully ambitious," Francis said with a snort.
"Awfully delusional. At least the Pirate Kings earned their title by ruling actual islands."
"At least you recognize that I know the difference between a king and an emperor," Francis replied in amusement.
"I'm a tease, Francis, not an idiot."
His words made Francis feel bad about shutting his humor down, but it had to be done. People were known to push boundaries when allowed; the Lord knew he had dealt with that for long enough.
"And Master Emperor calls himself that because?"
"Because he's an alleged Saint," Robert replied, which didn't surprise Francis in the slightest. Of course it was a Saint—who else would have enough power to back their delusions of grandeur?
Francis wanted to learn more, but it was getting late, and he desperately needed to unwind.
"Good for him," Francis said as he got up. "But I'm afraid a good night's rest is more important right now."
"You really did change, huh?" Robert said in a rare moment of sincerity. "Perhaps going from normal to Acolyte isn't without its drawbacks."
Francis took slight offense to that, but he put it to rest; he had to control his irritability.
"Sweet dreams, first mate," he said instead.
"Likewise, fresh meat."
"Love you too," Francis added before hurrying to the counter. An extra second or two, and he might as well punch the guy.
Luckily, the tavern served as both a bar and a hostel, saving him the trouble of looking for another establishment. Unluckily, he couldn't walk for five seconds without attracting unwanted attention.
"Hey, handsome," a woman his age said as she grabbed his arm. "All by yourself tonight?"
"I am, as a matter of fact," he replied flatly.
"Wanna change that?"
The act was certainly lacking in originality, but he couldn't fault the woman. The poor thing must've learned how to talk to the brutes here the hard way. He nearly rejected her advances, but then he figured that he would just exacerbate the problem.
Besides, he desperately needed someone to talk to who wasn't an illiterate pirate or Robert.
"Yeah, actually. Just please keep your distance."
The woman looked perplexed before eventually dropping the act. "Serves me just fine," she said with a shrug.
He then reached the counter and quickly booked a room with separate beds. He did need company—just not the physical kind.
"You're an odd one," the woman said as she walked behind him.
"I just have a lot on my plate."
"Mysterious," she said playfully, "making me reconsider right now."
"No, really. My life is horrendous currently. I just want to talk. Is that okay with you?"
The woman shrugged again as she got his point.
Not long after, Francis fiddled with a lock as he struggled to open the door, making the situation rather embarrassing. Thankfully, the woman kept her thoughts to herself.
"Ladies first," he added as he finally opened the door.
"Quite the gentleman," she replied before going in and picking a bed.
Francis quickly followed and instantly collapsed onto the other bed, grateful for the lack of motion for once.
"You look like you have a lot to share," the woman said as she got comfortable.
"Where do I even begin?" Francis said with a bitter laugh. "Most of the people surrounding me aren't exactly the empathetic kind."
Opening up to Valeria or any of her pirates was akin to talking to a brick wall—the kind that would tell you to just deal with it.
"You can start with what's bothering you the most," the woman replied, surprisingly good at this.
Who would've expected regular citizens to have empathy?
Perhaps it was the fact that he'd never see her again, but Francis was suddenly willing to share what was troubling him.
"I always thought of my hometown as boring and saw myself as deserving of more," he started. "Yet the alternative isn't exactly living up to expectations."
"The alternative being?" the redhead said, green eyes seeming to pierce his soul just like those of Saint Agnes.
Could it be?
He nearly jumped in fright before considering how stupid that thought was. Why would she come to Orange Town of all places?
"Sailing," he explained. "I thought that was my purpose in life. But when I realized how horribly mistaken I was, it was too late."
The woman's look softened. "Too late?"
"I lost my betrothed because of… because of my dream. Now I can neither have a quiet life nor enjoy what I perceived as my dream."
The woman shifted slightly. "What brought you to Orange Town, if you don't mind me asking?"
"Our captain wants to sell this… commodity we recently got," he replied, before quickly noticing the twinkle in the woman's eyes. It was as if she knew something, as if she had targeted him.
Francis quickly got up in an attempt to lunge at her, but was swiftly suppressed as she started singing a haunting melody. He looked for something to swap locations with and settled for the bed behind her. The Stanza was futile, however, as the suppression effect lingered.
Left with no other choice, he used Intimidation, which was equally useless.
Deacon?!
Eventually, suppression gave way to exhaustion, knocking him to the floor.
"Initially, I was planning to kill you. But your kindness was… rare to come by," the woman said from above. "Good night, Francis. I'll make sure you don't get implicated."
***
Not long after Francis left, Robert's third Stanza activated.
No, no, no, no!
The revelation nearly froze the seasoned pirate solid. What he saw wasn't a part of the plan, catching him off guard.
He was naturally the type to have a plan B for plan B, but what could he possibly do here? The secret was out in mere minutes thanks to a clumsy, half-baked Submerged, and Robert was the one getting punished for it.
Assuming he didn't act.
"Arrivederci, lads. It was good while it lasted," he mumbled to himself before heading toward the exit inconspicuously, Saint-level artifact strapped to his side. He wasn't going to fall today—not after the years of planning, not after bearing Valeria's nonsense, not after he was promised something better than his useless Shanty.
***
The moment Francis woke, he was overwhelmed by a throbbing pain that engulfed his whole body. He didn't know if it was the work of the mysterious lady or a byproduct of sleeping on the floor, and he didn't care. He got up with difficulty and lay on the closest bed after an arduous struggle.
Right. It's certainly the perfect time for poetry.
The curtains nearly obscured the outside, but the brightness made it abundantly clear that it was at least noon. The thought gave the aching pirate enough sense to get up frantically. If the woman's target was his crew, then the others must've been assaulted after he got incapacitated.
He nearly pondered why she showed mercy before stopping himself mid-thought; it was time for investigating, not daydreaming.
He pushed the door open, then walked—or rather limped—to where he last saw the crew. Gijs, Joaquin, and that idiot Rodrigo all headed in the direction he took, meaning that the other four didn't go far.
Francis approached Rodrigo's room first, knocking politely at first, then more insistently. Both were met with silence.
He then did the same to the others, bearing the same results.
Mild panic gave way to utter fright, prompting Francis to rush for the counter to inquire about what had happened. If a fight had occurred, the clerk would've surely noticed. Yet his questions were met with confusion.
"What about the lanky guy wearing glasses?" he asked, tone shaky.
"He left last night, I'm afraid," the clerk replied.
None of it made sense. Did the woman hypnotize them? How was that even possible?
A certain recollection quickly filled in the dots. Not too long ago, Valeria used a Stanza not so different from what he faced the night before. And if the assailant possessed something similar, the crew was indeed as good as lambs to the slaughter.
Francis wasted no time, quickly sprinting to where the ship was docked despite the immense pain, hoping to find at least evidence of what had happened.
There was nothing.
Much like the crew, the ship had completely vanished.
With no ship, no crew, and no navigator, Francis was essentially trapped in Orange Town—the threat of the mysterious woman looming ever closer.
It took a moment for his new reality to set in. He was alone in every sense of the word.
Almost.
Left with no other choice, Francis found an isolated corner, grabbed his oval medal, and chanted silently.
Oh, Saint of Dominion
Venerated are thee
And revered is thy might
Aid me in my tribulation
And shade me from harm.
End of Act II