As the mountains of the Horn seem to slide benath you, the small isle of King's Stone keeps getting closer and closer. Lorenz sighs. His plan is delicate, and timing is absolutely essential. He turns to his quartermaster. "Take the helm." the captain says, before adjusting his feathered hat and walking towards his cabin. On the way, he sees a few of his passenger. The captain sighs again, frowning. A highwayman who looked far too sure of himself, a war veteran who had clear problems with sea-faring, and a seamstress who had a strange obsession with a donkey. It was not exactly what the captain hoped for.

The Sun has already almost disappeared over the horizon, and the last rays of its light are painting the sky a dark red, while the first stars of the evening are beginning to shine. From here you can see the lights of the town, built on the top of a rocky island. There are many ships on the horizion, from the small fishing boat to the immense galleon. The bow of the Swallow cuts wave after wave, and the crew begins to sing another old [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5IR2WHgP39I]shanty[/url]. One sailor approaches the two men talking, and another one the maiden who had just tripped. The message was the same, delivered in few, harsh words: "Lads! The capt'n wants ye in his cabin before we land."