I’ve never met an individual so feared and erratic and spontaneously unpredictable.
Charming and lethal; seductive and repulsive; magnificently dressed whilst seemingly dripping with poison. Sinsamene was playing his violin filling his Ark with beautiful music one minute and attempting to mash Doff, Marty and me with his pet minotaur between courses at dinner the next. (I can assure you, that’s not how I was brought up to treat guests.)
For all his ancient ways and wisdom (and his 600 year-old floating fortress), Sinsamene seemed to know an awful lot about the modern world. I fear the Commander Knights underestimate him at their peril for despite all the other words that fling into my mind when I think of Mr Sinsamene, there’s one that stands above them all. One that burns itself across the ancient timbers of the Ark.
And I wasn’t too keen on his cat either.
“No matter what Kitchener says, I didn’t sink the Ark. I had nothing to do with it.”
Battle for the Ark
Sinsamene’s mighty wooden fortress is assaulted from all sides by the Commander Knights.
For 600 years they have plotted and planned their revenge. In June, 1914 it ignites.
Nought but fear and fury in the most perfect beast of war ever seen.