In the upper district of Tsyanou, the wooden clock tower vibrated with the heavy strokes of iron bells crying in alarm. A figure dressed in a yellow tiger skin robe clutched at a shaking rail as he leaned out of the highest window, surveying the jungle below him. “Where is my army!” he cried in distress, but the clanging bells drowned him out. Far below, the town was swept with commotion as the villagers rushed out of their homes and gathered near the gate.

  Corran put his arm out to steady Zartro, who was swaying like a flag from the window. “Do not lean so far King, for if you fall, the crowd will erupt into chaos!”

  “It’s chaos already!” Zartro looked down at the city. “Sharusu was sent to request help from Sentinel City. And you sent another scout a few days before that! Shouldn't they be back by now?”

  “It is no easy task to march an army of men through these jungles.”

  “Then how did this horde arrive at my doorstep? And with full carts and teams of servants, like they're gonna tear down Tsyanou and build a celestial palace in its place?”

  “They will do no such thing,” replied Corran. “We must hold back this force until at least our first legion arrives. Then we will be outnumbered only two to one, and those are very good odds, considering the skill of our men.”

  “We have strong weaponry, thanks to the Great One,” said Joao. “Yet I have never seen invaders such as these. If it comes to battle, I fear we are doomed without our reinforcements. Are you prepared to flee the city if the need arises?”

  “Yes,” admitted Corran, “everything is arranged. But I hope it does not come to that.”

  The three watched the scene below in worry. The villagers of Tsyanou had taken up arms, barring the city gates and stationing themselves around the perimeter of the city. The invaders had paused their march, wavering outside the city’s walls. There was a commotion below the tower.

  “Someone to see the King!” cried a voice.

  “That's you,” reminded Corran, pulling Zartro's arm and herding him down the winding staircase.

  “This is uncalled for… I should have been notified the moment this army entered Atakala,” protested Zartro, ranting like a Xenonite prisoner on truth drugs.

  “Yes, yes, that would have been wonderful. Ah, Terk. And, uh…” Corran looked up to see a mammoth of a man, clad in thick brown furs and wearing a silver helmet with white tusks popping out of the sides. Blonde, curly hair dripping with sweat fell out of the helmet and continued down his face, culminating in a long beard partially obscuring his many chins that rolled into his neck like the Tygard Highlands. His arms were like cedar trees ending in hairy fists, the right fist clenched around a club the size of Zartro and studded with spikes. He was half as wide as he was tall, his tremendous girth supported by two stocky legs scarcely visible between his thick deerskin skirt and wide, leather boots decorated with copper buttons.

  “Oh my,” mumbled Zartro. “How can I help you?”

  “Take mich to your leader!”

  “I am the leader.”

  The barbarian laughed. “You? You are das leader of this run down svamp? You are scarcely a boy!”

  “I come from a long line of established men, er, warriors, thank you very much,” retorted Zartro. “Serfs, be gone!” Joao and Corran gave him a confused look. Surely he didn't want to deal with this man alone?

  “That's you,” said Joao, poking Terk, who blinked as if woken from a coma and backed apologizing out of the room, thankful to get away from the giant whose spiked club could bring down an elephant.

  Zartro accepted this as sufficient and smiled proudly at the barbarian. “Come, have a seat.” He motioned towards a large bench against the wall. “How can I help you?”

  Corran had a moment of panic… was this a bench Joao had made? Such a turn of fate could not end well for anyone.

  The barbarian plopped onto the wooden bench with a satisfying 'thump'. “Don't mind if I do.” Corran let out his breath… the bench had not collapsed.

  “Now, what do they call you?” asked Zartro, his only thought being that if he kept talking he might not die.

  Joao and Corran flashed each other looks that said As soon as he swings, you push Zartro out of the way, and I'll run for help.

  The barbarian grunted. “Ich bin Odoacer, leader of die German varriors. Vee have come to pillage und burn your cute little land. Your cities Makoi und Ralakiti, you know them? Vee hafe destroyed them into pulp. Many smaller fillages have vee destroyed, und also a host of soldiers who came upon us in die jungle.”

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Joao felt as if a stake had been driven through him. It could only have been the army of Sentinel City. As chief weapons technician for the Atakalan Army, he had worked closely with many of them. He stared in anger as Odoacer continued.

  “This city ist next… it vill be difided up into tiny pieces, loaded into our carts, und carried avay to our storehouses in das land of vinter und vrost.”

  “Why would you do a mean thing like that? We never plundered Germ,” retorted Zartro.

  “It's called Germany,” whispered Corran.

  “Germany, whatever. What have you got against Atakala? Why are you attacking us?”

  Odoacer frowned. “Hmmm. Vee just heard so many dang stories. Eferyvhere vee vent, vee heard das same thing–people says Vhat's Germany compared to Atakala? und You guys should see die veapons they hafe and I bet Atakala could take you ofer. Each time vee pillaged a nation, their king mocked us for picking on die 'little guys.' The Piking Raiders have stopped sending their annual tribute of lutefisk. Even die children make fun of us, claiming dat Atakala ist a real superpover, vhereas vee are a bunch of furry barbarians vho like to act tough. As you can imagine, vee vere getting quite sick of die vhole thing. So, vee decided to do something about it und see if die rumors vere true. They efidently veren’t.”

  “Ah, wonderful,” interrupted Corran. “Now that that's all sorted out, I'm sure you'll be happy to take your army and head back to Germany? You can let them know there's nothing in Atakala worth attacking.”

  “Oh, I not say that,” said Odoacer. “Your army is laughable and your defenses absurd. But vee vant to make sure the rumors go avay for good so that vee can become the vorld's next superpover.”

  “Destroying our peaceful little nation isn't going to make you a superpower,” retorted Zartro. “Just because you guys are meaner, stronger, and bigger than us doesn't mean anything. It's all about technology now, and that makes us better than you, no matter what.”

  “Vhat's technology?”

  Zartro pointed at the wooden tower above them. “See that circle thingy up there? We call it a clock. You can tell the time of day just by looking at it, and it doesn't need sun or water.”

  “Vho cares die time of day? It's either time to sleep or attack–depending on if vee see die sun.”

  “We have telescopes, too. They're magical tubes you can look through and see all the way to other planets. Also, there are lanterns and compasses, eyeglasses and windmills… the thing is, we're smarter than you, and there's nothing you can do about it.”

  “Vee can take all of your stuff. Und kill you.”

  Zartro faltered. “Er, I guess that is an option.”

  “Vee banter vhile my troops grow bored. I vill be straight vith you. Your people are smart, dis is true. Vhen vee attacked Makoi the people burned down die city and fled. It vas a bad day for plundering. Vhen vee came upon Ralakiti, they too burned down die city und fled. Vee are tired of this. Plundering cities is good, but not if dere is no plunder. So, vee are villing to bargain. Vhat vill you give us to stop our attack, so that you do not hafe to burn your city down?”

  “Nothing,” said Zartro angrily.

  “Nothing? But, surely this city means something to you. And vee are tired of plundering heaps of ash.”

  “Zartro, we must give in,” urged Corran. “We are no match for his army.”

  “This guy needs to refine his question. He meant to ask, ‘What will you give us if we leave Atakala, and go back to Germany to play glockenspiels’.”

  Odoacer nodded. “Ok, fine. Vhat vill you gife us if vee promise to leafe this land?”

  Zartro thought for a moment, and then looked up at the tower. “A clock. Finest in the city. Rings every hour, on the nose.”

  “Not on your life.” Odoacer raised his club. “I vill call my men.”

  “Wait…” said Joao hastily. “We can work this out… this war must end. What is it you want?”

  Several hours later, the Germans departed with sixteen carts stuffed with food, gold, tools, and clocks. Zartro watched despondently as the horde vanished into the jungle. “Joao, is there anything left in the city?”

  “I am afraid not very much, Sir. They got the whole nine yards.”

  Corran sighed. “Well, at least they’re going back to Germany.”

  “Let us hope so,” agreed Joao. “Though I think we should gather all who are able and chase after them… they have many of our own as prisoners. We cannot let our friends be carried off as loot to the northern wastes.”

  Corran stared at him blankly.

  “What?”

  “I was just expecting something a bit catchier.”

  “Ah, as in 'though we cannot defeat our enemies, we must rescue our friends'?”

  “Yes, that's much better.”

  Zartro frowned. “But what chance do we stand against that army? They outnumber us a gazillion to one.”

  “We don't need to destroy their army… only rescue the captives before they leave Atakala.”

  “I do not see the point,” said Corran. “Even if we had a hundred men, we would be destroyed in the attempt.”

  “We shall have to do it covertly.”

  “Aaah, now you're talking. We will covertly infiltrate the most powerful army ever seen in this land.”

  “And then be destroyed.”

  “No, no, we must not talk like that. We will think of something. Let us follow them until they are out of Atakala. Then, we will make our move in the cover of night. They will never suspect we followed them the entire way, and even if they did, it would not be worth their time to march back to our nation just to retaliate.”

  “A crazy plan,” said Corran, “but it might work! I am surprised to hear this from Joao and not Zartro. Shall I gather some fighting men?”

  “Why bother?” asked Joao. “We want to be covert. I think the four of us should be sufficient.”

  “Um, just us four… that seems a little optimistic,” said Neb.

  “It is fewer people to die in case we are caught.”

  Neb raised his eyebrows. “Your logic is so rational, it's suicidal. You're worse than Jaw.”

  “Does he always talk about dead people like that?” whispered Corran to Joao.

  “Yes, he thinks he's Neb. From the founding of Atakala. Just play along; he seems harmless enough, and he does have a good sense of history.”

  “Why don't we try it?” asked Zartro. “The history books say years ago this land was saved by a small group of diplomats and digditchers. Isn't this right, Neb? Surely you remember the celebrations and becoming king? And, we're not saving a land… just a few score prisoners.”

  “Something like that,” muttered Neb, but he knew no one was taking him seriously. Even Zartro the Tenth, who was playing along, must have never believed or he would have remembered that Neb repeatedly told him that he fell unconscious prior to the victory at Sentinel City, and was not present during the coronation. Neb had become king in name only, but the actual crown went to Jaw and Zartro the First.

  “I am ready,” said Corran. “That makes three. Neb, will you join us?”

  Neb shrugged. “Okay, fine. I don't have anything better to do… count me in. As long as we're covert.”