Heinrich Herzog sat alone on the lurching, salt-caked deck, anxiously eying the growing horizon. The sun felt warm. It was a welcome change.

It had grown far too hot for him around the Colony. The roads had been too well patrolled, caravans now left with armed escorts, the pretty ladies (always so eligible for ransom) had stayed at home. While he was eager to credit his own reputation for it, Heinrich knew marauding Forestlings were much more culpable for these changes. Besides, even the underworld had grown to distrust him. Too many brigands run through in shady beer cellars, too many horses missing in the night. No, it seemed best to start anew.

The scarred man grinned to himself as he thought of the opportunities that awaited him in King's Stone. New women to bed, new ales and wines to try, new caravans to rob. He figured he would lay low for a day or so, haunt the taverns and council cellars, learn what he could about the local merchants, the highways, the caravan routes. Not to mention enjoy himself, a holiday of wine and women. He had possessed the foresight to gather a purse of coins before heading out, enough for him to live comfortably for a few weeks in a new town. Long enough to learn a few necessary items. And then the people on the roads around King's Stone would meet Heinrich Herzog.

The rocking of the ship bothered him little, he had spent a great deal of time on his family's vessels. Standing up, he strolled with little difficulty along the deck. His eyes lit on a soldierly type. The kind of man with a purse full of back pay and every intention of spending it. A potential drinking buddy, or perhaps even a target. Heinrich's pale blue eyes looked over the man before joining him at the railing with a smile. "Don't quite have your sea legs yet, do you?" he said with a sympathetic laugh.