The Royal Magician

Rosamund was sitting on the bed.

The pirate was sitting on a chair next to him.
He looked angry, which Rosamund deemed understandable.

"I apologize," Rosamund said. His voice was a bit hoarse. "You startled me."
"Apology not accepted on the basis of me being in pain," the pirate replied.
"That is understandable. Can you please tell me - where am I?"
"Vivienne. Captain's cabin. I'd have said welcome aboard, but I am now quite unhappy about you being here."

What a childish man. It fit his small stature, the man was only around 150cm tall despite being an adult. His right leg was replaced with a simple wooden pegleg, and he was dressed in simple clothes that seemed to have undergone some unskilled repairs. He had a dark skin and long, straight brown hair. His eyes were a warm brown color too, and somehow he evoked that Shakespeare's poem in Rosamund. Or was it a play? Shall I compare thee to a summer's day...? Despite his silly pouting, the man had an aura of warmth and friendliness.

And then there was the matter of the diadem.
It shimmered in a soft silver light, but it looked nothing like what Rosamund was used to seeing on mages. Instead of brilliant gems and intricate designs of the usual tiaras, he instead had a simple braided band around his head. There were leaves and flowers woven into it, making it look a bit like a flower crown. He never saw something like this. He had no clue what he was looking at.

Well, he had an idea. Especially considering the pegleg. "How did I end up here?" he asked. He would've woken up, right?
"We picked the two of you up in the morning. Nita carried you in here and told me to take over. You had a fever when I got you, you know. And I didn't give you to our butcher."
Rosamund knew that he meant the ship's doctor. "I see. Thank you." A strange guard he was. "Would you tell me your name?"

"I am Teodolit," he said.
A strange man, indeed. The more he spoke, the better the mood he was in, and by the time he finally introduced himself, the silly pouting antics were gone. He also said his name proudly, as if it was truly something special that it was he who was here, as himself.
"A pleasure. You must also be the mage that turned the wind, weren't you?" he asked.
Teodolit squinted his eyes. "Now, now. How did you know that, I wonder." Before Rosamund could stop him, he grabbed his right wrist and pulled his sleeve up, taking particular interest in his forearm and the back of his hand. He was surprisingly strong, but not strong enough that Rosamund couldn't free himself.
"Just my luck," the pirate said.
"Do you mind explaining yourself?" he asked, pulling his sleeve back down.
"Sure. Do you drown often?" he asked.

"Excuse me?!" What in the world did he see on his arm?!

"Well, you see, you have a minor blessing," he said.
"It is my eyesight, I am well aware," Rosamund replied.
"Well forgive me, I didn't notice it sooner. Do me a favour and don't tell Nita, I am supposed to be good at my job."
"Alright, I won't. Why did you ask me about drowning?"
"Your minor blessing came from the brackish waters," he said. "You either have a problem with drowning, or Fate Himself saw this coming and has a sense of humor. Which is it?"
Interesting. He never heard of anything like that, but that was a matter for a later day. "What kind of a mage are you?" Rosamund asked in return.
"Oh! Feisty! I like you!" he brightly said. He was widely smiling. "Alright, we'll play even. I won't ask."
"Thank you."

Teodolit got up and went beyond the curtain that Rosamund presumed separated the bed from the rest of the cabin. He was still smiling to himself. He carried back a few slices of bread that looked surprisingly fresh. And a whole apple, also fresh. And a cup of very fragrant tea that gave off a scent of herbs and citruses. "Obviously you can get more food later, but for now I'd like to be sure you'll keep it down, you know."
"Thank you," Rosamund repeated. "Where are we?"
"Hannau Cove. I asked Nita to let you be here, considering you weren't feeling well. Best sleep it off, I said."
There we go. The city of pirates. They officially didn't need poison to kill him. He picked up the tea, suddenly aware of how hungry he became. "And how long was I out?" he asked.
"Oh, I don't know. It's late afternoon now... around five?"
He slept through most of the day, then. "This tea is very good," he said. Was this man some sort of a potion master? A herbalist? The tea looked normal, but he felt his headache fading. He felt better... aha, no. That would be his dehydration, not magic. Better drink more.
"Thank you."

"So, about that wave," Rosamund said.
"We're still playing even, aren't we?" he asked. It sounded almost threatening.
"I was about to ask whether you did it intentionally."
He visibly relaxed. "Oh. Well, no. I was a bit busy with, you know, the barrages of cannon fire that you were shooting at us. I am not a perfect man. You're a governor, I'm sure you've heard of... what was the word? Priority... Prioritization?"
"Yes. I have."
"Well, there you have it. I'd have been gentler if I wasn't in a rush to get us away from your little fleet."
"I see."
So - do potion masters normally control storms like flying a kite? He assumed not, at least he has never heard of it. Alchemists can bottle up lightning, but they can't control it once it's out. They extract magic out of nature, such as metals, and could then use it to change the natural properties of things around them. Enchanters can only create magical properties in objects, forcing magic into them.
Both of those processes required a long and arduous setup. Open control of a natural force was not possible for normal mages. What was this man, then? Did he somehow turn this entire ship into a magical circle for himself? But, how would he-


Dots suddenly connected in his head.


"You are a witch, are you not?" he asked.

"I am not particularly fond of that title, seeing how it could have me burned at a stake," he said.

"I see."

"And you have drowned before, have you not?"

Playing even, right? "I am not particularly fond of that anecdote," Rosamund said.

"It would seem we both have some wounds on our minds. Best not go digging too deep around the hearts of people you've barely met, am I correct?" Teodolit asked. He sounded bitter. And Rosamund decided that was understandable. He pried too much, after all.
"I apologize," he said.
"As do I, considering my question started this. Let us lay the matter to rest. Finish eating, and I can take you to the city. I am bored here!" he complained, back to his childish antics. "And you need proper food, too, I suppose."

Yes. Rosamund could agree to that. "And where is the Pirate Queen? I'd like to speak to her as well."
"She's got a prior engagement," he said. "What would you like to talk about?"
"I'd rather tell her, not you."
"Well, I am her right hand. And I advised her to nab you, you know."
"Pardon?"
"I figured, if it happened once, it'll happen twice. I told her to get you out of the sea again, and not kill you this time."
"I wasn't aware you knew."
"Right hand man, as I said." He seemed proud of it, too. "It would be my job to know. According to her, I was hanged right next to her, you know?" he said. "I would follow her to the death, but I'd prefer not to follow her to death. I'd like it better if we stay alive."
Such loyalty! Rosamund was honestly impressed. "Can you tell me more about what happens?"
"No, I'll leave that to her."
"I understand. Then, what about your professional opinion?"
"My what?"
"I've never heard of a way to turn back the time," he said.

Teodolit leaned back, rubbing his chin. "Ah. Hm. Yes." He was looking at him oddly. Sharply. The childishness was a ruse, it seemed, hiding a good intellect. That opinion didn't rise just because Rosamund was partial, seeing how this man asked Adanita to save his life. He offered the Queen advice, and she took it. Before him was a clever man, someone who was highly respected and listened to.

After a few moments, he admitted: "I have no clue. I thought perhaps it was some strange prophetic dream, but considering the state she was in after waking up... To be frank, this is beyond the realm of my knowledge. I hoped you might know something, in fact. You are the one with an education, after all."
That didn't sound fair. He was educated at least somewhat, Rosamund was almost certain.
"The libraries in the Governor's or Earl's estates could be of use to me, but that would require your cooperation," the pirate added.

Aha. There we go. "We can discuss this at some point, once I know more about what happened. Or, what happens," Rosamund replied. Time travel was confusing.

"Playing it even?"

"You must understand. You have me at a disadvantage in every way. All I can do is negotiate and hope for the best."

"I'd agree to that at least somewhat, I suppose. But, as long as you're with me, you will be safe in the Cove. Nita also ordered the crew to keep their hands off of you. The order is circulating through the city as we speak. Most people will see you as a hostage, I suppose... but again, with me, you will be safe."
"You must think my role is very important in what's to come."
"I can't say for sure. You had died yesterday, after all. However, Nita's point of view is missing a lot of context, at least from what I can tell. I am not well versed in the matters of the Royal Court, you see. I need you to at least clear things up for us."
"So, I was merely the most convenient nobleman for the two of you to capture?"

"Now you're getting it!" He happily clapped.

Well, he supposed that was fair. From their perspective, not his. He'd very much prefer to be back at home. He sighed and went back to eating, and Teodolit got up again. "I keep distracting you from your meal, so I'll wait for you over there," he decided.
It didn't take long for him to return, however. This time, he was carrying a pile of clothes that included his coat. "I tried to have it cleaned a bit, but you know how it is."
Rosamund had no idea how it was, but he was grateful for a change of clothes. Teodolit left again, and he finished the food he was given before changing to the new clothes.

The downgrade was painfully obvious.

Alas, better this than the sea-soaked and salty clothes he had. There was still sand on him from the fight, too, though someone - Teodolit? - tried to at least clean his face and hair.

The shirt was passable, the pants weren't exactly the latest fashion for the nobility of this world, and his coat was depressingly wrinkled.

No matter.

Finally he went past the heavy wool curtain and entered the main area of the cabin.

Huh. It was better furnished than what he thought. A proper Captain's office, complete with a large and heavy polished wooden table, a fine armchair, a comfortable sofa, and several bookcases filled with what he could only assume were numerous log books - after all, this ship was on the sea for decades.

And there were also expensive trinkets laying everywhere. Weapons, figurines, paintings, jewellery, pure gems, a golden ingot with a stamp of Franac Republic serving as a paperweight - you name it.
Someone had a hoarding problem, it seemed.

Teodolit was sitting on the sofa and reading one of the books. When Rosamund came out, he closed it and got up. "Pick out a weapon," he said.
"Pardon?"
"Nita said you should be allowed to have a weapon. Pick whatever you like."
"You must be joking."
"Not at all. Anything here is up for grabs, she said. Go for it."

Rosamund waited for a few moments, to see if he would admit to a joke, but he didn't. Reluctantly, he approached one of the piles and picked out a flintlock pistol and everything else necessary for loading and maintaining it. He picked out a simple leather belt to tie the powderhorn to, as well. The weight of the weapon in his hand immediately put him at ease, and he holstered it on the belt too.
Finally.

Why would he be permitted a weapon? Self-defense? Or was it Adanita's attempt to even out their position, considering she needed his assistance? He will ask her when he meets her, he decided.

"Shall we?"