The royal seal lands on the chart table with a weight far greater than its size. Captain Rafe Marrow turns it once with the gold fingers of his prosthetic hand, studying the dead king's crest.

Outside, the lookout calls three sails on the eastern horizon.

"This was sewn into your luggage." Rafe's voice remains almost pleasant. "Either you carry wars without checking your pockets, or someone paid dearly to place you aboard the exact ship most likely to search them."

He slides a knife across the chart until its point stops before you.

"Cut open the rest yourself. Let us discover which story your belongings support."