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A Letter from Edward Teach to Bartholomew Roberts.
Francis didn’t know when afternoon gave way to evening, but he was glad nevertheless.
After all, that meant that he was spared the torment of pondering. Something he grew to appreciate the more Havana tightened its jaw.
Absentmindedness was equally corrosive, however, and so he focused on his next move once more.
Financially, he was reliant on Stacey.
Socially, he was a fugitive.
Spiritually, his Shanty desperately wished for Descension.
Psychologically, he watched for Xavier’s shadow at every interval.
Blasted mess I’m in.
Solving all of it at once was charming. Terribly charming. But it was also the surest path to burnout. And so, he had to ration his mental capacity.
“First things first,” he began. “I have to secure what Stacey promised.”
Such a path covered both his social difficulties and financial ones, leaving only Xavier’s shadow looming over him.
Then again, what am I supposed to do about such a being?
With his mind set, the Dominion Acolyte got out of bed and opened the door.
Time passing by was evident the moment he stepped into the narrow corridor, as vice faintly coated the rooms surrounding him.
The increasingly familiar noises were of no concern, however, as he made his way downstairs.
As much as he wanted to interact with Stacey directly, he knew that the woman was only reachable through her trusty clerk.
Such is the life of a gang leader, I suppose.
The moment he made it downstairs, he noticed that most of the familiar faces were absent. Except for one.
“Edmond!” Amber called. “Care for a round of Werewolves?”
The woman speaking to him casually after the moment they shared was mystifying to him, as he was barely able to lock eyes with her. But he figured that she was far better at it than he was.
Which made sense, considering that it was her profession.
“Sorry, Amber,” Francis replied. “But I’m in the middle of something.”
“You sure you don’t want to be in the middle of her instead?” one of the girls said, leading the rest to laugh heartily.
Crude.
“Pardon?”
His confusion appeared to be amusing to the group. “Oh, you sweet summer child.”
The blatant disrespect was distasteful, but beggars couldn’t be choosers when one was evading Iberia, England, and the Apostolic See.
Francis drew closer instead. “I’m all ears.”
“Well,” Amber began. “We have a tradition where the winner can demand anything from the losers. Including… well, you already guessed it.”
He raised a brow at that. “Why was the finger pointed at you in particular?”
His words made the young woman blush ever so slightly. But it was there. “These fine ladies have a running joke about us fancying one another.”
Yeah. I wonder who created it.
“I’m assuming the one with the highest number wins?” Francis asked.
“No,” Amber said. “This is the original version.”
“There is an original version?”
“Sure there is,” the woman from before said. “But lowlifes had to change the rules because it was too long for them.”
“And involved less gambling,” another woman added.
“Their loss,” Amber shrugged, before turning to Francis once more. “So, you’re in?”
As much as Francis wanted to get talking to Stacey over with, he couldn’t deny that trying an authentic Havana game was intriguing.
Thus, it was settled.
“I’m in,” he replied as he got even closer to the group.
“But before that,” Amber said, staring at the group. “Let’s get introductions out of the way first.”
The woman had a point. Playing the game while not knowing anyone’s name would’ve been a hassle.
“Edmond Crowley.”
“Amani,” a woman with long black hair and fair skin went first.
“Sherone and Charmaine,” a Jamaican duo that appeared to be twins said.
“Call me Marcela,” the woman who mocked him said, her features not so different from Amani’s.
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
“Amber,” the terribly hilarious blonde woman said.
“I’m Josephine,” a tall woman with hazelnut hair and green eyes said.
“And the best for last,” a woman whose ethnicity he couldn’t pinpoint said. “Aylen.”
“Pleasure meeting you all,” Francis said. “But if I may, why aren’t you working?”
“Have you been living under a rock?” Marcela mocked once more.
“More or less,” Francis replied flatly. “My last mission left me rather exhausted.”
“I’ll explain,” Amber said. “Half the city is on lockdown after the Inquisitor incident. So now barely anyone is showing up to our establishment.”
“Figures,” Francis said in understanding. “Why else would you play such a game?”
“Because it’s fun?” Amani said, offended.
Francis doubted a card game was fun enough to require the attention of nearly a dozen for an hour, but he was willing to try.
“Very well. Prove me wrong.”
“Wait,” Josephine said in haste. “Who will be the game-master?”
Good point.
Francis expected one or two of the women to volunteer. Yet, none did so.
“Seems like we’re all eager to play,” Amber said with a chuckle.
“I’m not,” their trusty clerk said as she joined the group. “Let’s get this party started.”
Careful, Beatriz, you’re indirectly announcing your age.
Oblivious to his scrutiny, Beatriz grabbed the deck and began shuffling.
“Shouldn’t you explain the rules first?” Francis said, worried about spoiling the game before it even started.
“It’s simple enough,” Amber said. “The roles are: Villagers, Werewolf, Seer, Witch, Hunter, Cupid, Little Girl, and Sheriff.”
That is not simple, Amber.
He must’ve looked as confused as he felt, as Amber elaborated further. “The objective is catching the Werewolf before he kills everyone. Otherwise, he wins.”
“I’m assuming you’re not going to explain the other roles?” Francis said, frustration growing.
“Eh,” Amber simply shrugged. “You’ll learn along the way.”
Very helpful.
Still, the game seemed simple enough, making him willing to take Amber’s word for it.
Not long after, Beatriz finished shuffling and then handed each person a flipped card.
Francis took a glance at his, and was not shocked in the slightest.
It was a Werewolf card.
“First night,” Beatriz said, prompting the others to close their eyes in haste.
Including Francis.
It was short-lived, however, as Beatriz nudged him slightly, before giving him a disapproving look.
Oh. I’m supposed to be the exception. Of course.
“Werewolf,” Beatriz announced. “Which villager would you like to eliminate this round?”
Perhaps unsurprisingly, Francis pointed at Marcela.
“Marcela, you’re out,” Beatriz announced, leading the woman to open her eyes.
The moment she noticed that Francis’ eyes weren’t covered, she glared daggers at him. But as per the rules, her mouth had to remain sealed.
Beatriz then nudged Francis once more and gestured for him to close his eyes.
“First night is over!” the game-master announced. “Now it’s time to investigate.”
The girls wasted no time investigating the “murder.”
“That was too fast,” Amani said. “The Werewolf didn’t even allow us time to organize.”
“Why would they?” Amber retorted. “Isn’t the whole point catching us off-guard?”
As much as the question was suspicious, Francis had to know what they meant. “Are you saying the Werewolf can choose not to attack?”
“More or less,” Amber said. “Though they’re only allowed that once every two turns.”
“I expected more roles to be invoked,” he said in confusion.
“That’s just how the first night always is,” one of the women explained, name already forgotten.
“Regardless,” Amber interrupted. “Why Marcela?”
“Yeah,” Josephine echoed. “Why?”
Francis had to swiftly reply before the blame fell on him. “Because she’s insufferable, I bet.”
The woman wasn’t allowed to react, sparing him her indignation.
“But is that enough reason to kill her?” Amani wondered.
“Wasn’t she rude to Edmond earlier?” Amani said, causing everyone to stare at him. “Think that’s what this is about?”
“I don’t think so,” Amber said. “Again. That’s how the first night always is.”
She really wants me, huh.
“Better safe than sorry, no?” one of the twins said.
Blast it.
“Not really,” Amber replied. “We haven’t established a pattern yet.”
Amani appeared to have more to say, but the game-master saved him. “Ladies! Time’s up. You have to vote now.”
“Shouldn’t we choose a Sheriff first?” Amber asked.
“Good point,” Beatriz said. “So. Who do you want it to be.”
Francis had but one vote. Yet using it strategically was essential nevertheless. “I choose Amber.”
The rest of the group chose. And mercifully, Amber was the winner.
“What’s the job of the Sheriff again?” Francis wondered, causing Amani to groan.
“You voted without even knowing what it does?”
“I mean. I’m still a part of the game, am I not?”
Amani looked defeated at that. “Fair.”
The group cast their votes shortly after, which ended with a tie between Francis and Amani.
At least before Amber made her verdict.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m out,” Amani said before the Sheriff even spoke.
Amber, in turn, smirked. “Your words, not mine.”
“Ladies, and Edmond,” Beatriz said. “It’s nighttime.”
All the participants covered their eyes at that.
Save for Francis.
It didn’t last, however, as Beatriz gestured for him to cover them.
“Seer,” she shouted shortly after. “Pick which player you would like to pry into. While whispering, naturally.”
Francis heard a few whispers, but he couldn’t distinguish the voices, and so he didn’t think much of it.
“Witch,” Beatriz said. “Choose your next move.”
Moments later, the verdict came. “Amani has been revived.”
Blast me.
Thankfully, the woman left the room by the beginning of the round, missing when Francis didn’t close his eyes.
“Cupid,” Beatriz called next. “Pick two to fall in love.”
What am I even playing anymore?
Not long after, Beatriz spoke. “Edmond and Amber. Your fates are now intertwined. If one of you dies, the second follows.”
Whoever Cupid was, they were dumb as a rock.
Amber was the Sheriff, giving her vote greater weight. So even if Francis was the Werewolf, not much would be done about it.
No, it’d be counterproductive.
Alas, whoever made such a move was probably trying to prove a point, not win the game.
Unless…
Linking his fate to that of Amber would make eliminating her easier, which would in turn eliminate him as well.
It was essentially the perfect rallying tool.
Not as dumb as I thought.
“Werewolf,” Beatriz announced. “Pick a victim for the night.”
Francis wanted to refrain. But on second thought, he had no reason to. Especially when killing a random participant would sow confusion.
Without a moment of hesitation, Francis pointed at one of the twins.
“Charmaine,” the trusty clerk said. “You’re out.”
Charmaine opened her eyes. But instead of glaring at Francis, she merely smiled. “This is going to be intriguing.”
“Charmaine!” Beatriz shouted. “No hints.”
“Sorry, Miss Beatriz.”
Are we sure she’s a mere clerk?
The moment the group looked each other in the eyes again, something about Amber was… different.
Up to that point, she maintained a poker face. But after last “night,” a permanent smirk was drawn across her face.
Could she be the Seer?
Even if that was the case. Her fate was tied to Francis’, and so she had to keep him alive regardless of her feelings.
Still, the stakes were nowhere near as desperate as he framed them. They were a Werewolf and a Sheriff against four villagers.
“For the record,” Beatriz said. “The Witch has already been eliminated.”
Good riddance.
The prospect of the Witch killing either one of them using a potion spelled disaster, and the fact that he got lucky enough to eliminate her was essentially assistance from the high heavens.
“So,” Josephine said. “What just happened?”
“Yeah,” the remaining twin said. “That was… random.”
“I suppose that absolves Edmond, at least,” Amber said with a sigh.
“Sorry, Amber,” Josephine replied. “But your judgment hardly matters in this instance.”
“Fair enough,” Amber said with a shrug. “Still, that doesn’t change the fact that someone needs to be eliminated.”
“Not if we decide not to,” Amani said, which drew enough agreement from the rest.
“Very well,” Beatriz exclaimed. “Third night it is, then.”