"Eyes starboard, Cap'n, riders," called the lookout in the crow's nest. "We may'm be sighted!"

"And charged with illegal river-boating, an infestation of flesh-eating bacteria in their noses," Captain Hips muttered and raised her spyglass to her perfectly smoky shadowed eye. "Blow me to the South Pole, why 'tis the great Master Il Répoute hisself, and his son to boot, and by Poseidon's arse, he be carryin' off a golden haired wench, no doubt for nonconsensual canoodling!"

She swept her arm imperiously. "Ready the canons, me boys, starboard, and we'll blast that bugger from here to—"

"Captain," the man passenger said, "if you shoot him, you'll shoot her, too, and think of the hypothetical international scandal involving your boat and your passengers."

"Argh—may his liver turn to mush. You have a way with words, man. As much a rare pleasure 'twould be to fire me canons at that cabbage....Hold steady, boys."

"Cap'n, another rider upon the highway, coming up swift behind."

She swiveled and aimed her spyglass. She gasped. Wisps of smoke escaped from the top of her curve-hugging, heart palpitation-inducing pants. Her corset struggled and strained at the laces. The captain sighed in longing and was saved in extremis from toppling into the sluggish river by her passengers.

The queen (all right, if you haven't figure it out, yet, her concerned passengers are the king and queen of Maskulinia) had a sudden flash of insight. The rider chasing Il Répoute, the lone knight who cut a figure so dashing, so fine that the pirate captain's underpants burned to smithereens, was none other than her beloved son, flying headlong towards his unfortunate destiny.

"Captain Hips, stop that rider!" she shouted, hands clutching her pearls.

"Crusty barnacles, you're right, woman! We must haul him aboard, clap him in irons, lock him in my quarters for interrogation. I'll have him stripped, and whipped (but gently) and oiled and set on me lap—"

"Cap'n!" cried the crow's nest sailor, "Carriages on the highway!"

"What-what?" She peered into the distance.

Behind the knight came two carriages, filled to bursting, and hurtling pell-mell over the road. The captain shouted a string of curses that made even the crassest, hardiest pirate cringe.

"What is it?" the king asked.

His lady-wife slumped into his arms. "We're too late."

He took the spyglass to see for himself. The carriages overflowed with barely clothed, energetic harlots all waving their arms for the knight to come back.

"Jolly me Roger," swore Captain Hips. "Why 'twould appear he has the whole of the Enchanted Bushes Brothel a' chasin' him."

*** And when the whole brothel is chasing you, something big is going to go down... Pictured above is an exclusive peek into Captain Hip's love nest cabin. ***