The prow of The Princesses Blade cut through the high waves of the mornings swelling tides. The men aboard held to ropes and railing as the boat dipped, lurched, and rose again. Chaos ruled the belt of water between bay and sea but even so, one man stood abreast the main mast. His lax arms were crossed and he was not the least bit phased by the rocking of the ship. The man stared out into the distance, listening to the horizon calling to him. Singing a song forgotten. Pleading in grieving psal. . .