By lying [+DIVINE BLOOD]

You are a Conman.

You had killed again. You killed because you had to. But each time it sickened you to the marrow. Each stab and each bloody, desperate struggle chilled you to the core. Each time you swore you would do better and – eventually – you did.

You learned to lie, and you learned to speak. You learned to weave half-truths into seductive promises, and you learned to make people tell themselves the tales they so desperately wanted to believe. Every mark saw you increase in skill, and when you told the Naive Navigator you were an experienced sea voyager, he believed you. Of course, he believed you.

You were found out, after a while. But by then, you had experience and reputation both. The Navy patents its officers and some others apprentice under master seafarers, but not all captains or patrons care. The Captain did not, and she offered you a job on the spot. You accepted.