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Our ship arrived at port just after nightfall. We were laden with silks and spices and the crew was itching to get ashore after the 18 month voyage. We too were eager to turn our cargo into cash so that we could repay the many debts that we entered into in order to finance the expedition and realise the huge profit that we had earned.

But the outer streets were almost deserted except for isolated campfires around the citadel walls. When we approached the unexpectantly closed gates we were told by a begger that a terrible curse had been placed on the royal family. “Hardly anyone enters or leaves now. It’s like the plague. Or worse.”

Our good friend, the Prince, was in no condition to see us, now or at any other time.

Unless we can lift the curse within the space of seven moons his condition will become permanent and he will never ascend the throne as his tragically deceased father had intended. But that is the law.

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