”Blackbirds tend to like shiny things.” ~ The Bloody Raven
The 1982 Mexican Libertad saw the Mexican Mint’s first production of this 0.999 bullion coin a departure from previous versions bearing the “Ley” purities of 0.925 like the 1 Onza Medallic from 1978 to 1980 and into what we now accept as the current standards for Investment grade bullion.
Still a beautiful coin that even as a mass produced bullion coin, this 1982 Inaugural Libertad still commands a hefty premium in a Brilliant Uncirculated condition. This typical Brilliant Uncirculated specimen still set me back a hefty premium considering the bag marks and weak legend. Bigger premiums are significantly higher on those harder to find better than MS60 without the bag marks.
The 1982 Mexican Silver Bullion Libertad
As Sister Argénta rode towards the battle she could see General Morelos and his few men were now fighting for their lives.
Almost overwhelmed by sheer numbers the now Cavalry moves in to crush the Rebellion's leaders once and for all and take the treasure. Meanwhile, Sister Teresa appeared distressed and in pain with her head veil gone and blood splattered over her white Wimple bib.
She was defending a treasure wagon, bodies of Royalists at her feet. She was fighting for Morelos, proof enough that she was no Royalist spy!
Sister Teresa D’Mordicai Part 7: Sister Argénta Savioré
July 14, 1789 Paris
It seemed not so long ago that night.
The madness had overtaken the people of Paris that fateful day and night forever etched in her memories. All day and night were the sounds of screams, shouting and musket fire. With the storming of the Bastille the French Revolution had begun, and so the French Republic is born out of pain, hunger, and an unfulfilled justice.
Before that, her Papa was the finest gunsmith in Paris and the head of the trades most influential Armory Guild. A master and genius at his craft such that Monsieur François Savioré's well-earned reputation was sought after by many aristocrats as well as King Louis XVI himself to craft magnificent personal arms. His reputation and quality work also made him a target. The Revolution demanded arms for the cause and they forced their way into his shop. The men beat her father as they demanded all the weapons that were locked and hidden.
Argénta was a very young girl at the time. Her Father taught her the practice and unique power of the pistol despite her age and fair sex.
As the rogues continue to beat her Father and sack the shop for more guns, little Argénta loaded her pistols as fast as she could to save her Papa.
After repeated demands for weapons and then his purse, the four men lost their patience and struck him down as she entered the shop with her weapons drawn.
Argénta cried, "Leave my Father be!”. She focused on her Father's shooting lessons and first was to be calm and aim to the center of the closest target. The pistols were a unique pair of slim barreled rifled pistols for improved accuracy and range. The stock and grips where fashioned from rare Gopher wood with the strength of oak but the lightness like pine. Each meticulously inlaid with Cameo Ivory, tooled silver, and as a fine work of art....
"Now now, little girl, you don't want to zoot your uncle Minói." The leader of the four was as an unkempt street vagrant likely taking advantage of the Revolution as a pretext for robbery.
"What would your mama think?"
"My mama is with God, leave or I will send you to ze devil myzelf. "
"Mon fillés, what lovely set of pistols you have, they'd fetch a few nice Francs on ze street no? Just hand zeem over to your uncle Minói!"
He made a sudden lunge at Argénta. Her right pistol spat with a loud crack. The vagrant clutched at his heart and then fell at her feet.
The other three were shocked.
"MINÒI!" The second vagrant dropped his booty of pistols and stomped menacingly towards her. "I will strangle you with my bare hands!" The left pistol fired, his face grimaced then he too collapsed.
"She'z empty, keel ze girl,"said the third rogue.
The remaining two vagrants one armed with a knife the other a club split up when she shifted her aim.
Her thumbs depress concealed switches on the pistol grips opening the stocks, the rear portion of the barrel rotates out flipping in place a concealed preloaded chamber and locked into place with audible clicks. The stocks close as the pistols return to their original appearance.
The knife man charged as her right pistol discharged into his face, his head lurching back, blood splatters the wall behind him, before his body fell backwards with a thud.
The club man was almost upon her as the left pistol fired point blank into his chest. He dropped his club and fell to his knees with a groan before toppling flat on his face.
"Papa!" Argénta sobbed as she cradled her Father's bloodied head on her lap. "Don't go away, please Papa!"
"L… Listen Argénta, I am so proud of you ...cough...cough. I never regretted you for not being my son, I will always love you. Go... go to Saint Boniface Convent and see... Father Henri Patrice. I left a special present for you and the Nuns there will keep you safe ... my beautiful daughter. So beautiful as your mother. We will watch...over y...."
For years since Argénta kept blaming herself for not being quick enough. The sight of her Father struck down played like theater in her mind over and over. Often she dreamed that he would reappear from behind the curtain onto the stage to take a bow in applause. He loved the theater.
In her spare time at the convent she spent what hours she could practice loading, drawing, aiming and when permitted... supervised shooting outside the grounds. It became a part of her ritual as much as her role with her duties and personal devotions. Four Savioré pistols were the gift her Father had left along with a purse of gold, silver, a letter and her mother's ring. He had prepared for the event that something could happen to him.
The new pistols were not light. They were designed to fit the hands of a mature woman, likely modelled to her mother's hands. She took on duties that require lifting to strengthen her upper arms and shoulders. She learned her weapons well becoming a part of her very being.
She ministered at the nearby Republic garrison camp as an excuse to study the troops in training and shooting exercises. She also volunteered to accompany Father Patrice to various honor duels that often showcased pistol duels more often than sword.
Her peculiar behavior didn't go unnoticed by Father Patrice or Mother Cossette who felt convinced that Nun life wasn't suitable for a young girl with bitterness in her heart or life in an orphanage considering her Father's generous contribution and legacy to the Convent. Father Patrice will keep his promise to François and help cleanse the burdened conscience of a man whose sole art was designed to kill men.
But where could his orphaned daughter fit in?
It was a day Father Patrice had promised to accompany Argénta out to the fallowed field for her shooting practice.
The answer came when the Cardinal’s carriage was traveling in a reckless manner pursued by ten Highwaymen down Duvalier road not far from the Convent. It was if by God’s providence that could not have been denied.
The sounds of gunfire resonated from deep within the forest, moments later a Vatican carriage careens out of the forest. The driver was wounded but still manages control while his coachman appeared slouched over and may be already dead. Two remaining cavalry guards turn to face the pursuers taking down two of the masked Highwaymen. The Highwaymen overwhelmed the guards were cut down from their mounts then continued to pursue their fleeing prey.
"That's a Vatican VIP carriage, it's in trouble!" Exclaimed Father Patrice.
Argénta waited for the carriage to pass before stepping into the middle of the road. She put her hand up and ordered, "In the name of God, Stop!"
The masked Highwaymen hesitated slightly at the sight of the nun only to draw their swords and bore down towards her.
"Then God have mercy on your souls!" Argénta calmly reached inside the refashioned pleats along the sides of her habit. Opening the hidden slits of the skirt revealing her pair of pistols strapped over her white bloomers.
The first rider raises his sword.
In a single fluid motion she drew her right pistol, thumb cocked, fired.
As he fell from his horse she switched chambers with the flick of her right thumb, at the same time drew her left pistol raised to the next rider, thumb cocks, and squeezed the trigger.
The second rider jerks, slouches before falling.
The third rider was surprised and yet assumed her pistols spent.
He assumed wrong.
Her right pistol spat fire at the same time her left pistol rechambers it's hidden round.
His body jerks and falls lifeless onto the ground in a cloud of dust.
Again, she lifts her left pistol at the same time holstering the spent right pistol, revealing and drawing her third pistol.
The forth rider is shot amidst his confusion fell from his mount then dragged off screaming by his horse passing on her left.
The leader orders his remaining three men to stop and draw their pistols.
Stone faced, she draws her forth pistol and calmly paces forward, "Come come do lay forth yea souls in repentance and I shall grant zee mercy, else I charge yea headlong into flaming perdition!"
She estimates thirty paces the typical smooth bore pistol were hardly accurate.
Argénta stands her ground.
They lined up and fire.
Two rounds whistle passed her right side.
One plows into the earth.
Yet she did not flinch.
And last just harmlessly tearing through the fabric of her skirt.
Her brows furrowed, "My turn!" She lines her sight down her right barrel at the leader and cocks her weapon.
Alarmed, the leader turns his horse to flee signaling his remaining thugs to do likewise.
She lowers her left pistol, leaned forward on her right foot, breathed out, then squeezed the trigger.
The Leader's hat flies free from his head.
She walks over to a corpse, wrests the pistol from the grip of the dead Highwayman, "Chàrtrè Republic Arms, ...pft... cheap garbage pistols!" and tosses it over her shoulder.
The carriage came to a slow stop.
Father Patrice runs up alongside and swung open the carriage door, "Are you need your Eminence?" He stared into the bodyguard’s pistols but the Crimson clad robed Cardinal ordered him to stand down.
The Cardinal replied, "I am unharmed by my assassins yet I saw everything. Who is my amazing guardian angel?"
Father Patrice replied, “She is my ward and understudy, Sister Argénta Savioré."
Since then, the Arch Bishop Puis became Pope Puis and Argénta found purposeful roles as body guard, counter espionage agent, special messenger and sometimes Investigator in a long established covert organization nicknamed D'Angel du Çharles'. Her current long term assignment brought her to New Spain to find facts and to facilitate the movement to liberty.
She dismounts and runs into the fray.
I hope you enjoyed this coin feature,
And thank you for stopping by my Blog for a little bit longer read.
Previous chapters of Sister Teresa D’Mordecai;
The #fiestatuesday and #worldcoinwednesday tags are the brainchild of SSG Tag Master @silverd510 and you don’t have to be a member of the #steemsilvergold or #ssg-community to participate, please feel free in joining us in sharing our Stacking treasures and adventures. Viva la Revolution!
“Et lux in tenebris to serve laboro, sum sicarius” “I work in the shadows to serve the Light, I am an Assassin”
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