*

Five years later, the main square of Lima City was filled as never before, to hear the announcement of the great Prince Karofsky's husband to be.

Trumpets sounded, making known that their Prince was ready to tell of the grand news.

“My people,” Prince Karofsky called out to the public. He was looking down on them from a tower that overlooked the main square. “A month from now, our country will have its five hundredth anniversary. On that sundown, I shall marry a man who was once a commoner like yourselves. But perhaps you will not find him common now. Would you like to meet him?”

“Yes!” The townspeople shouted collectively, in support of seeing their other future king.

“My people, the prince, Kurt!”

Again the trumpets sounded, while Kurt made his way down a red velvet carpet. He looked absolutely dashing.

The subjects of Lima kneeled before him. They were in complete awe of Kurt's beauty. One would expect someone in Kurt's position to be beaming with pride. But he did not care to become a prince. This was all truly meaningless to Kurt.

Kurt's emptiness consumed him. Although the law of the land gave Karofsky the right to choose his husband, Kurt did not love him.

Despite Karofsky's reassurance that he would grow to love him, the only joy he found was in his daily ride.

He would ride his horse far, far away from the castle and anything to do with Karofsky and his royal family. Then, and only then, was when his mind was the clearest.

Kurt and his steed were nearing their beloved and charming spot by the river where they would purely think and ponder and just be.

But he noticed there were strangers occupying his area. Three of them. One was a young Asian man who had his hand glued to his sword. The other was a tall, large lipped, blonde fellow with muscles to certainly be reckoned with. Finally, was a skinny, and terribly attractive young man. He had brown hair and greenish-hazel eyes that seemed to hold an aura of mischief.

“A word, good sir?” asked the attractive, mischievous one.“We are but poor, lost choir boys. Is there a village nearby?'

“There is nothing nearby. Not for miles,” Kurt politely informed him.

“Then there will be no one to here you scream.”

The trouty-mouthed boy made his way up to Kurt and his horse. Kurt was about to scream, when the blonde stranger squeezed a place on his neck that rendered him unconscious.

*

“What is that you're ripping?” asked the Asian boy from the crew's small ship, docked by the river.

“It's fabric from the uniform of an army officer of Westerville,” said the mischievous-looking leader of the group. He tied the ripped piece of fabric onto the saddle of Kurt's horse.

“Who's Westerville?” asked the blonde boy, carrying the currently unconscious body that was Kurt, onto the ship.

“The country across the sea! The sworn enemy of Lima!” It was like talking to a couple of morons. “Go!” he shouted at the horse, which then rapidly galloped away. “Once the horse reaches the castle, the fabric will make the Prince suspect the Westervillians have abducted his love. When he finds his body dead on the Westerville frontier, his suspicions will be totally confirmed.” He seemed so proud of his evil scheme. His smile curled at the thought of his master plan.

“You never said anything about killing anyone...” mentioned the trouty blonde.

“I've hired you to help me start a war. It's a prestigious line of work with a long and glorious tradition.” the mischievous one replied simply.

“I just don't think it's right, killing an innocent boy.”

“Am I going mad? Or did the word think escape your lips? You were not hired for your brains, you hippopotamic land mass.”

“I agree with Sam,” the Asian boy chimed.

“Well, the sot has spoken! What happens to him is not truly your concern. I will kill him. And remember this: NEVER forget this! When I found you, you were so slobbering drunk, you couldn't buy brandy! And YOU,” he continued, addressing Sam, the blonde. “Friendless, brainless, helpless, hopeless. Do you want me to send you back to where you were? An unemployed stripper? In Kentucky?”

Over these few weeks of being a crew, the Asian boy, known as Mike, and Sam had grown to be quite good friends. It was never fair that their leader was constantly yelling at them. Mike had learned the secret to cheering Sam up when times got rough. A good 'ol rhyming game to ease the tension.

“That Sebastian, he can fuss,” said Mike.

“Fuss...fuss...think he like to scream at us,” responded Sam.

“Probably he means no harm.”

“He's really really short on...charm”

“You've a great gift for rhyme.”

“Yes, yes, some of the time.”

“Enough of that!” yelled Sebastian, annoyed already.

“Sam, are there rocks ahead?”

“If there are, we'll all be dead!”

“No more rhymes now, I mean it!” demanded their leader.

“Anybody want a peanut?”

“Argh!”