Rise of the Archmage Alister

"... and this was blessed by St. Velicent IV," Julieta, later known as Myrtle, said to the captain of the smuggler ship named the Ever Fruitful, “It seems like a simple hand mirror, but I used it to discover your smuggling. And to the right buyer it's worth a fortune." She said by way of explanation of the plain silver hand mirror in front of her. On the back was a magic arrangement of quartz dust.

Two minutes.

"Will that suffice?" She asked. The captain, a shorter man with dark grey hair, dusky skin covered in scars, and one revealed grey eye with the other hidden beneath an eye patch to preserve night vision, simply stroked their long beard kept in intricate braids. They took their time in answering, seeming to consider it.

One minute.

“One hand mirror, one silk shawl, both of which are ‘allegedly’ sacred artifacts and two hundred silver demeril for thirty-six people across the most pirate-infested waters of the Hourglass sea…” a series of ‘tsks’ followed. “I’m not so sure that’s worth it. However…” A raise of the captain’s hand was the only cue that Julieta needed.

The onyx-haired woman shot to her feet, a dagger flying from her sleeve as she scooped the pearlescent shawl off the desk. The chair shot back, angled so that it rammed both the kneecaps and genitals of the crew member at her back. That left two as the first crumpled to the floor, taking a solid kick to the head in the commotion. Taking advantage of her element of surprise, she leaped forward, running the blade across the next one’s belly. Guts spilled out and fell all over the floor, prompted by the following elbow jab.

The second member dropped to the floor, going into shock. The last one had the knife flung at them as they reached for their firearm. It met their skull at the pommel with a heavy CRUNCH as the nose and sockets between their eyes became splinters. But the blade didn’t stop there. Even after cracking the smuggler’s skull, it bounced and continued on as if it had been just thrown.

At the same time as this happened, the captain had drawn their own firearm. While the knife flew, the shawl unfurled in front of the prophetess. As the bullet projected from the gun barrel, it seemed to slow to a visible crawl in the air, not falling yet barely moving forward.

The dagger, known colloquially as the Thief’s Flying Knife, slammed into the wrist of the captain, another nasty crunch following. One last bounce saw the blade land millimeters away from the neck of the pirate leader.

Everything fell quiet and calm just as fast as it rose to chaos. The only noise that could be heard was the groaning of men clutching wounds. “... perhaps adding the Thief’s Flying Knife to the pot would sweeten it enough?” Said the woman calmly, praying her vision was correct. Praying desperately to Vera that what she saw after this was correct. It had been so far, down to the minute, but it was always possible…

The captain, once gritting teeth and glaring daggers at her, suddenly burst out into laughter. “Ahhh, the high priestess has a sack of lead ‘tween her legs after all! The rumors were true then…” He said, grimacing at the pain in his shattered wrist. “Royal High Priestess Julieta Ov’Nevre fled the capital, alongside a handful of servants, a general, and the chief treasurer… then managed to form the rabble together well enough to gather them all up and collect a few sacred treasures in the process…”

The bullet, no longer being slowed, flew at full speed as Julieta stepped out of the way and back to her seat. “It is true, yes. I am the Chief High Priestess of King…former King Hastera. May he rest in peace, and that traitor Kavan in pieces. I’ll even heal you and your men if you’ll agree.” She said, giving a charming smile as though the prior forty seconds hadn’t passed.

This just got another chuckle, and the captain extended his hand. “Very well, but know that it’s only because I’m faithful to Vera myself. It is clear that She is with you even now, and the rumors of you being part of the coup were false. I was a corsair under His Lordship Hastera, and I’m back to being lowly pond scum again with that rat King Kavan in charge,” He said, spitting at his feet in irritation, “Well, get to the healing then. No sense in letting anyone bleed out or go blind.”

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Before long, Wisteria joined her mother aboard the Ever Fruitful. The ship was already mostly ready to go, and could set sail almost immediately. Setting sail quickly was a necessary step, according to the captain, as there were already rumors of the woman poking around the docks. As soon as word got back to the wrong parties, the area would be flooded with people looking for her. It helped that Julieta planned to be there exactly when they were ready to go in the first place. A rather keen advantage of being a prophetess for a goddess of luck.

Dark clouds covered the sky and the weather took a turn for the worse as night descended. Normally an ill omen, but Julieta could sense it was the opposite this time; the superstitious lot that most sailors were would all usually hold off on setting sail, but this crew had the certainty that it was Vera protecting them, and that it was best to leave now while no others would.

Some of the crew did find this unsettling, but they were mostly a newer bunch that were hired on to replace those lost in a recent attack with the Yfreni military. The battle itself was devastating and resulted in many fatalities, though the crew took on a “you should have seen the other guy” approach to it. But for all the gusto and bluster, it was very clear that there was a substantial divide between the new crew and the old crew.

Not the least of which concerned the passengers among them. The captain had a policy of honesty with his crew, and so they were well aware of the nature of their company. This made the crew divide even more clear. Though pirates were always a questionable lot, whether or not they worked for a given state, there was a clear difference in loyalties between members.

Namely, the older members were also faithful to Vera, and sought mostly to see Julieta to her destination as swiftly as possible. The new crew, however, were recruited hastily and out of desperation. They did not share the common faith, nor did they share the same loyalty to their captain.

Though it was kept quiet, careful ears heard dangerous rumblings about what exactly should be done with Julieta. Namely, the newer members wanted to return her to the nation from which they fled, or at the least sell information on where they made land to drop her off. All to be done in hopes of possibly becoming “reputable” sailors once more. Any time the old crew caught wind of this, they would shut it down hard, which brought some respite to the worries of the refugees.

Soon, though, they would have greater problems confronting them than the division among the crew. As the sun set on the first day of sailing, a large mast appeared over the horizon. Upon that mast was the flag of the neighboring nation of Yfren. This was very bad news; they were a major naval power and were in a constant state of conflict with Typer Qoar and pirates over the narrow space between the southern and central landmass. It was clear that the ship was substantially larger than the one that Julieta was on, and had many more guns. It certainly was no merchant vessel, nor a protector; this was a warship through and through. The fact that they were out in such a storm as this made it clear what they were after. Julieta could only hope that it was ill fortune that saw this conflict occurring while the Qoari were aboard. But she doubted it.

Her faith however would not be shaken, and the air was heavy with tension among the Qoari as she led them in prayer to a few different deities. The strength of Julieta’s faith was far from common, and though the people who followed were scared, the prayers and incense they brought helped steel their nerves.

This is why Julieta chose this vessel, she knew. Though she couldn’t say how, exactly, all would turn out well despite the naval mismatch.