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Rosa “La Serpiente” Delgado’s Private Journal.
Without waiting to test his theory, Francis improvised. “Leonie, wait!”
The sudden mention of her name must have worked, as she looked visibly shaken. “How do you know that name?”
The woman’s sense of style remained the same, even if it showed more skin.
The ear-length hair, however, nearly made her unrecognizable.
“Answer me!” she said, eyeing him wearily.
Should’ve thought faster.
“We’re old acquaintances from Orange Town.”
His words did little to calm her, as she lunged forward once more.
Francis wished to dodge, but that would’ve emitted too many ripples.
Ripples that pointed to his house. And so he let the woman grab him by the throat, trusting that she wouldn’t decommission him.
“Who told you I’m from there?” the woman shouted. “Were you sent by Read’s lackeys?”
“No,” Francis replied weakly, fingers pressed hard against his windpipe. “I promise, I’m just an old acquaintance.”
Leonie still looked unconvinced, but her grip mercifully loosened. “If what you’re saying is true, then tell me something only a few would know.”
Oh, I have plenty, Leonie.
The question wasn’t what to share, however. It was what not to.
The woman knowing that he was Yves was only going to complicate matters, and so he refrained for the moment.
“The Yves guy entrusted this woman called Lucia with protecting your family before he fought Read.”
His words did the trick, as Leonie’s grip loosened at once. “Heavens above. You are from Orange Town.”
“That’s what I was trying to say,” Francis replied while coughing. The woman’s grip was simply unmatched. He could heal it, naturally. But the fewer ripples, the better.
“That still doesn’t answer my question,” Leonie said, blue eyes focused on his. “Who are you?”
The artifact Stacey provided was simply incredible. He spent weeks in Leonie’s company, even talking for hours at times.
Yet, there she was, treating him like a complete stranger.
“Also, aren’t you too young to be a part of the underworld?” Leonie added.
Right. Keep rubbing salt on the injury.
“That’s what I want others to think, anyway,” Francis replied.
He half expected Leonie to relax.
No such luck.
The woman grew even stiffer. “Awfully amiable for a guy who killed two of my comrades.”
“Is that what this is about?” Francis said in shock. “You were sent after me because I killed those two?”
He was tempted to use the word ‘thugs’, but it was probably a horrendous idea.
“Well, yeah,” Leonie replied. “I’m an Enforcer. That’s my job.”
“Enforcer?”
“I told you,” she said with a sigh. “You’re too young for this. Why don’t you go back to school?”
The words would’ve been mocking, had it not been for her earnest tone.
“Sorry to say this,” Francis began. “But I’m older than you. Besides, I only arrived here a few weeks ago.”
“Makes the two of us,” Leonie shot back. “Yet I know what an Enforcer is just fine.”
Knowing me, I probably was an Enforcer without even realizing it.
“Very well, Miss Enforcer. Is there a way we can come to a better arrangement?”
“A better arrangement than scattering your brains all over the floor, you mean?”
“Precisely.”
Leonie appeared to be in thought.
Actually in thought.
She was serious about decommissioning him, even after learning about his background.
Francis couldn’t help but feel guilty, as abandoning her was the main reason behind her ending up like that.
Still, what was he to do? Read had to be dealt with. Otherwise, her family would’ve tasted his wrath.
A sacrifice had to be made; he simply chose her over her kin.
Or at least, that’s what he told himself to cope.
“Can you offer something of equal value?” Leonie said abruptly.
“What’s the value of a human life?” Francis retorted.
“Normally? Priceless. Here? Ten silver.”
The mercenary had the amount. What he didn’t have, however, was street cred to spare.
And paying for damages cost plenty.
“Would it be better if I simply pay you and act as if none of this happened?” he said, attempting to bargain.
“Fifty silver,” Leonie said.
“Come again?”
“Fifty silver,” Leonie affirmed.
The amount was more than half his liquid assets. More importantly, it was the average laborer’s yearly wage. It was simply ridiculous.
“Could you at least lower it to thirty?”
“I can also take an arm and a leg,” the woman replied. “Fancy that?”
Had it been any other person, Francis would’ve shot their head off. But the person facing him was Leonie.
Sweet, enthusiastic Leonie.
Or at least, that’s the person she was.
“Fair enough,” Francis said with a sigh, before pulling his pouch and handing five golf coins.
Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.
Leonie’s eyes slightly gained their long-forgotten twinkle, before making her way to the door.
He couldn’t believe that he was fleeced by Leonie of all people. Then again, he was hardly the victim.
He killed two men in cold blood. Fifty silver was nothing, all things considered.
“Oh, another thing,” she said in haste. “Have you heard anything about Yves Saint Agnes?”
Plenty, as a matter of fact.
“As much as anyone, truly,” Francis replied.
His response was evidently not the one Leonie hoped for, as her mood instantly soured once more. “Well, I’d appreciate further information if you acquire any.”
“You two were close, I take it?” he asked, taking advantage of her ignorance.
“More or less,” she replied with a sigh. “At least before he decided to be a hero.”
Francis was amused by the choice of words, which alleviated some of the guilt. “Seems like he did become a hero,” he replied, testing further.
“Yeah,” Leonie said. “And got a massive bounty as a reward. Good for him.”
Good for me, indeed, Leonie.
Without much to say, Francis merely lowered his gaze, before the woman went her way.
“That blasted fool,” he heard her say faintly, before closing the door behind her.
And truth be told, he was a fool.
A fool who had multiple superpowers running in circles.
With all the privacy in the world, Francis sat down as he began contemplating his next move.
Descension was essentially his best bet, especially when Leonie took half his liquid assets.
Of course, admitting that he was Yves was always an option.
An option carrying its own baggage.
“That settles it then.”
With the decision made, Francis stood, concealed his flintlock, and went ahead.
***
All of Francis’ confidence seeped away the moment his eyes met Havana’s polluted coast.
Not only was the prospect of spending an hour marinating in such filth repulsive, but he didn’t even know if it would work.
How could it? When waste was as ubiquitous as water.
The scene was... anticlimactic, to say the least.
Logically speaking, he could swim far enough before starting the ritual. But that still entailed passing by the waste, and that was a compromise he wasn’t willing to make.
“If only Rumpelstiltskin gave me enough time to do this in Orange Town,” he mumbled with a sigh, passers-by oblivious to his troubles.
And mercifully so, as merely hearing too much about that creature was enough to kill a man.
Or a woman, theoretically speaking.
Francis nearly considered going to the arena with sheer bravado, when he spotted a few skiffs to the far end of the harbor.
Naturally, he approached in haste. The boats must have belonged to small fishermen, as nothing about them was ornate.
To Francis, however, he might as well have been handed gold.
“Good morning,” Francis said to the youngest among the three fishermen.
“We’re out of work, lass,” an older man said. “Come back another time.”
“I’m not here for work,” Francis replied. “I’m here for business.”
His youthful appearance, coupled with those words, must have been amusing, as the trio laughed in unison.
“No offense, lass,” the third man said. “But my wife would kill me.”
“I’m not a lass,” Francis corrected. “And it’s not about that. I want to buy a skiff.”
His words gave the fellows pause.
“Buy a skiff, you say?” the younger man said. “How much are you offering?”
“How much are you taking?” Francis replied.
“Twenty silver and it’s all yours,” the older man interrupted.
Francis was at his wits’ end. “Make such an offer again, and I’m going to knock your teeth out.”
Luckily, the men didn’t take offense, with the older one even laughing.
“Don’t listen to Santiago, he’s trying to scam you,” the younger man said. “Ten silver, and you might as well set my skiff on fire.”
Trust me, I will.
The con wasn’t lost on Francis. By making an outrageous offer, the younger man’s proposition appeared reasonable by comparison.
He was getting fleeced.
Utterly fleeced.
But again, it was far better than the alternative.
Additionally, with nearly fifty silver left, he did not need to haggle. What he needed, however, was subtlety.
“I don’t know,” Francis said, feigning hesitation. “I spent a long time getting the silver.”
“You’re going to get it back in no time, lad,” the older man assured.
“Yeah, it’s a risk,” the other man pitched in. “Just like every other investment.”
Like you know anything about that.
“Can you at least lower it to seven silver?” Francis replied, switching to bargaining.
The younger man seemed hesitant, before eventually making a decision. “Fine. Nine silver, and it’s all yours.”
“Thank you!” Francis exclaimed, bitterness at getting robbed well-hidden.
He then pulled the silver out carefully, lest the lot know he carried a year’s salary.
“There you go,” the younger man said, making space for Francis to board his new skiff. “Just avoid sailing too far, alright?”
The man’s tone was patronizing, but Francis kept the discomfort buried.
After all, he was one step away from becoming a Deacon.
A Deacon of Dominion.