Captain Rutherford Philip Kaskelfinger of the 5th Regiment had been sailing nigh over thirty-three years, and he had yet to come across a sight as strange as the one before him. About a quarter-league towards shore, a young, sodden man in a mixture of fine engraved armor and tough peasant’s clothing seemed to be trying to argue with a hornless unicorn.

“What ho, my young friend?” the captain cried.

The man turned around. The horse seemed to raise an eyebrow. “Ah, thank Firena above you’re here!” the man said. “I am King Hugo XXXXVII of Antelle, and this is my trusty steed, Gillifer. We are in need of transportation to Hiwataki.”

“The king, eh? I know the king of Antelle, and he is most certainly not you.”

“I…” Hugo caught his breath. “The late king died a fortnight ago. I am his son, going to Hiwataki to avenge his assassination.” He held up his signet ring as confirmation.

“Ach, I’m sorry to hear that,” Captain Kaskelfinger sighed, aching in his sharp blue eyes. “Well, then . . . come aboard.”