"With me at the fore, as is only natural."
Saint LeFay's Journal, 2 P.C.
"Do you really need to do that?" Valeria said as the pair gathered around a makeshift fire.
"My ritual doesn't involve getting drenched daily, so yes, I have to do this," Francis said, trying to dry himself and his clothes. That, in turn, got an eyebrow raise from her.
"Aren't you a scholar?" she said mockingly. "I still can't believe you weren't a Submerged less than a week ago," she added, accusatory.
Truth be told, neither did he. Getting entangled in so much in so little time forced his usual introspection and pondering out the window. He vowed to analyze it all eventually, but for now, he had to focus on what's more pressing.
"Some secrets are better kept that way, I guess," he replied, still trying to focus on getting rid of the dampness.
"Speaking of secrets," Valeria said. "How would you like to approach your 'magical' return?"
Francis didn't fancy himself a genius, but even he noticed the new nature of their relationship. Before he drowned, he seemed nothing more than a plaything to her—perhaps a curiosity at best. But now that she'd confirmed he was a mere level below her, she… humanized him more—as ironic as that sounded.
"Since someone picked the possession story for me, I'm afraid I don't have many options," he replied dryly.
"You're welcome," she said casually.
The woman raised a good question, however. Showing up in full health after days of absence was bound to cause a commotion. The fact that his wedding was supposed to be within that timespan only made the whole ordeal weirder. He could go to the priests and get the possession nonsense over with, sure. But that still wouldn't solve the existential problem he had.
Still, he couldn't exactly discredit Valeria either. As carefree as she was, she was ultimately a dangerous pirate with two dozen men under her. Even if his artifact allowed him to flee when needed, the town wasn't extended the same privilege.
"The priests it is," he finally said, drawing an amused smile from her.
I'm going to regret this.
"Just pretend to be in a daze when others spot you. I'll handle the rest," Valeria said before putting the fire out using her ice powers. The fact that she utilized a Stanza in front of him so casually was a bit unsettling. It was proof that there was no escaping her grasp anytime soon. He then quickly reminded himself that Valeria was to Agnes what a cockroach was to an elephant. And as things stood, he had a way to contact said elephant hanging around his neck. Valeria would've been a threat before the sea blessed him, but now she was a mere inconvenience. An inconvenience that held his town hostage. Even if neither admitted it.
As they pushed deeper into the island, Francis realized that he was… terrified of returning. He naturally couldn't care less about the drunks and deadbeats; their life order was beneath him. Camila, on the other hand, was a delicate matter. The more he thought about lying to her, the worse he felt. The girl might not be a part of his grand plan, but she still loved him unconditionally.
No, Camila deserved the truth.
If she chose to love him anyway despite it all, then she was entitled to at least hear his side of the story—and see if it was still worth it.
He shortly realized that meeting the priests was certainly a close second, at least under these circumstances. The holy water and the gospel were fine—a small comfort, if anything. Pretending to be possessed by a spirit, however, wasn't. He'd need to act erratically, twitch, and possibly scream. All because a smug pirate loved speaking on his behalf.
"I wonder," Francis finally said, as the sand gave way to cobblestone, "is Observation the reason why you picked me out of everyone in Saint Agnes?"
Valeria let out a small snort. "Don't flatter yourself. I only chose you because everyone else seemed as dull as they looked," she said. "…At least initially."
"Oh?"
"At some point, your Shanty reached my ears," she explained, paying attention for any signs of townsfolk. "Not fully, but enough to discern that someone was on the verge of Descension."
"I'm guessing my caution set me apart more than anything, huh?" he replied wistfully.
"Mhm. You were awfully conspicuous for someone who lived here their whole life."
"And now?" Francis asked, before cursing his idiocy.
It sounds like I'm flirting.
"Hard to tell," she replied, thankfully not getting the wrong impression. "But I must say, I like your new demeanor."
"Praise be to losing one's humanity," he said flatly.
Plenty of other locals appeared soon after, undoubtedly shocked by his survival. Hard not to be, considering he had been presumed dead at sea for days.
The stairs made Francis quite uncomfortable, but his focus on his acting thankfully served as an adequate distraction—at least until he saw her.
Big round eyes, fair skin, freckles dotting her cheeks and nose, the red dress he loved so much. He shouldn't have felt this emotional; he knew he had left her safe and sound. But part of him—a sentimental, treacherous part—still wanted to quit acting and rush to her, hugging her tightly.
I really thought I would never see you again.
It wasn't until that thought that he realized how deeply impactful drowning had been on him, and how cruel the sea was for bringing him back only for this to become his new reality. It took every ounce of concentration to keep his facade and continue walking.
"Is he okay?" Camila asked Valeria after drawing near—too near for comfort.
"I found him near the shore. Looks like his boat capsized, but he somehow survived," Valeria replied, not bothering to stop walking.
"What about that… look?" Camila added, meeting his eyes in the process—eyes that were threatening to go soft at any moment.
"Seems like he's under the trance I told you about earlier. I think it's better if we take him to the priests to exorcise the spirit once and for all," Valeria said, seemingly reassuring the distressed Camila.
Her betrothed then gave him a look that seemed to say, There'll be hell to pay once you're awake, but she refrained from saying anything, possibly afraid it would agitate the "evil spirit."
Too bad Valeria and I are the only evil spirits around.
The walk to the chapel was short, even if the gazes they drew made it feel otherwise. It suited Francis just fine, however; the less time he spent in front of his betrothed, the better.
Valeria knocked urgently, disregarding whether the priests were awake.
Can't say it's out of character.
Luckily for her, and unluckily for Francis, the bishop himself opened the door.
"What can I help you with, esteemed guest?" he asked, before noticing Camila and Francis behind her. "You're back… Praise be to Thee, you're still alive!" he added, practically running to Francis and shedding tears of delight—tears that mirrored Camila's, even if she tried her best to hide them.
"I think you should tread lightly, Father. He seems to be possessed," Valeria said, causing the bishop to halt at once.
"Could you kindly elaborate, Lady Valeria?"
Calling her "Lady" nearly made Francis burst out laughing, but he managed to maintain his composure.
"That vacant stare of his has been etched onto his face since I found him on the shore. He does respond to orders to an extent, but isn't talkative."
"Can you heal him, Father?" Camila asked earnestly.
"I'll see what we can do. Help me bring him inside in the meantime," the bishop said, his voice suddenly more casual, though Francis wasn't sure if it was habit or fear.
The trio then ushered me inside the building.
Decreeing that my troubles needed mending.
Gone was his mind, they said.
But hey, at least he wasn't dead.
…Perhaps my poetry hiatus was for the best.
The amusement didn't last long, however, as Francis was immediately bound to a chair with rope.
The bishop then sprayed him with a flask that undoubtedly contained holy water. Normally, that would've been an inconvenience, but the already drenched Francis had little dryness to spare. The bishop then pointed a wooden crucifix at him and began a mixture of prayers and invocations that Francis had no idea about. With no energy to act further, he simply closed his eyes and lowered his head in an exaggerated manner—before raising it again a few seconds later.
"What's… where am I?" he said, feigning confusion.
The response came in the form of Camila rushing toward him and squeezing the air out of his lungs—at least before the scowl set in.
"You and I are going to have a long chat when we get back home, mhm?" she said, offering a humorless smile.
I'm dead. Well, again.