Maska, captain of the Sea Queen , leaned over the rail, gazing at the calm waters. “Wha’der y’ think that dot o’er there is, cap’n?” asked her bosun, Scriptail. Maska contemplated this question. “I dunno, only one way t’ find out, eh?” Scriptail chuckled evilly. “D’yer want us t’ find out?” Maska winked at him and nodded. “Aye aye, Cap’n!” Then Scriptail roared out orders: “Steer ‘er t’ starboard, mates! To’ards that there dot on the ‘orizonline! Bend yer backs to it, ye frogspawn scum! Ye flotsam an’ jetsam!” The crew swiftly stretched the sail-ropes taught, and the snow-white sail had every inch of its canvas stretched tight. Like a great bird it sailed over the water. It skimmed, more like. The Sea Queen was renowned for her swiftness, and was the fastest and strongest ship in the fleet of Goldorran, great fox king of all Alcitiumon and Milmarad Isles. A series of rich paradises, the chain of Alcitiumon islands covered the reefy and shoaly turquoise and blue waters of the far south. Seven of them all together, they were named Giltmalad, Alltilt, Samorica, Saphira, Rilanstryke, Daplerrlela, and Turquiosa. Then there were the five Isles of the Mighty, as they were called. Set like gems in crystal silver-blue waters, they were slightly more towards the southwest. They were the islands of Makrias, Jayedion, Sodien, Parmal, and then the island on which the palace stood, Lillthrealana. Wreathed in the sweet-smelling smokes of glory, the Milmarad Isles were indeed the richest of jewels. Not scented a bit by the evil they harboured, it was Goldorran’s tradition to preserve the beauty of the Isles, both of Milmarad and Alcitiumon. As the Sea Queen skimmed the waveless seas Maska allowed herself a rare smile. The seaspray wetting her face, the sun shining bright overhead, everything was just right. Maska saw the small longboat, and beckoned to Scriptail. “C’mere, what do yer make o’ this?” Scriptail answered, “Well, it’s a neat liddle sailboat, quite a beauty. Great fer pleasure cruisin’ and moonlight rides, pleasant feel, nice rockin’ pattern.” Maska cuffed the other stoat on the ear, laying him sprawling. “Y’ fool, I’m not askin’ what y’ make o’ the ship, I’m askin’ yer ‘bout the beasts inside o’ ‘her, thick’ead!” Scriptail stoop up slowly, rubbing the spot where he had been hit. “I dunno, I ‘aven’t e’en seen ‘em!” “Well take a look, nobrains!” growled Maska. Scriptail peered at the boat, and saw Samilcar and Salvarad working to gain speed. “Hohoho!” he chuckled. “Quite a pair to bring back to Goldorran!”