It was on the third and final day of their cruise that Lanister Randulfr would experience the first of many moments that he would briefly be able to describe as the singular dumbest moment of his life. He, accompanied by the holy knight Kamalo, descended into the ship's brig to be greeted by a single guardsman, a young man in his mid-twenties with chin-length blonde hair, at a desk. He grunted over his magazine at their approach.
"Welcome to scenic brig," he began, "my name is James Ivan and I'll be your tour guide today. Behind me are people who managed to get imprisoned on a luxury cruise somehow. You'll note that's a grand total of one. And behind you is the direction you probably want to be moving."
Lanister, a gnome standing shorter than four feet, bore scholarly robes and a vast gray-green beard that extended most of his person. He waved