Life was such a bore. Stephen hated this time of the year. Every man or woman of any consequence was invited over to his house to have balls, dinners, garden parties, and anything in between. And Stephen was forcibly pushed into attending every single one. Simply saying how do you do to every individual in sight, all the while keeping a pleasant demeanor and maintaining expectations. He desperately wished for something new.

And perhaps he wished a bit too hard.

He dragged himself to his bedroom after what seemed like the millionth ball that week, getting ready for bed and dozing off in the process a few times. He finally collapsed in his bed and was out like a light. He vaguely recalled being startled awake, only to be knocked out right after.

He came to consciousness, and immediately realized a few things. The first being that he felt very sick. The floor seemed to be shifting under him, and he felt as if he were about to throw up. The second, that he was tied up. And, after a moment's deliberation, the third. The floor was shifting under him. He was on a ship. Out at sea. Tied up in an empty room.

Well, at least it wasn't a formal brunch.