200 BC, in an alternate timeline

The deckhouse door slammed open as the navigator barged in, his russet-colored face soaked with sweat. "Baal-Hammon be praised, we've sighted land at last!"

Isceradin's cup of wine slipped down from his grasp as he took in the sailor's words. It took his wife Arishat's lightning reflexes to catch it before it could shatter on the floor. Not that he would miss it too much if it did break and spill, since the liquid was well over halfway to turn...