It is summer, and the whole world seems made of brass: the wooden ship, the golden sea touched by the setting sun, and on the far horizon, the towers lining the shore. You have traveled across land and water, faced hunger, piracy, and betrayal, and now, on this small, creaking ship, your journey to Byzantium is nearly at an end.

You have already said farewell to your companions, and now find yourself among unfamiliar faces: the soldiers, scholars, and merchants who, like you, have answered the call of Dr. Sabbatine.

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You realize you're squeezing the doctor's letter tight in your ungloved hand. A young man—a merchant, you guess—notices what you're holding. Smiling, he holds up his own version before tucking the paper back into his waistcoat.

"A soldier, hmm?" he says. He sizes you up and tries to peer under your broad hat. "And not a local, it appears. Where are you from?" He regards you for another second, then says, "You speak Koiné, right?"