On a castle wall, somewhere in the middle of a kingdom—name not important right now, of either castle or kingdom—a guard was guarding.

  His part of the wall.

  His first time guarding alone.

  Normally, on a boring Thursday afternoon, not a lot would happen. The kingdom wasn’t at war. No threats from goblins. Even the killer goose of Atrium had had a quiet month.

  The guard instructor had therefore felt confident enough to let little guard—sixteen years old, mostly elbows—take a shift solo, while he went off to play dice.

  Little guard took the job very seriously.

  He scanned the horizon—the treeline—with the kind of professionalism you only ever see in castle wall guards.

  In the silence, he heard a noise.

  Bam.

  He leaned over the wall to look.

  The view below was... strange.

  Two grown men.

  One silver-haired, strangely reflective—difficult to look at directly. The other shorter, carrying a lute.

  They were jumping off a chicken coop.

  Onto the chickens.

  When the chickens got stressed and scattered, they climbed back onto the coop.

  Then jumped again.

  "Stop that!" the guard shouted.

  No response.

  Annoyed, he remembered the trick his instructor had taught him:

  Just throw a coin. They’ll leave.

  Ninety-five percent of problems, solved by money.

  He checked his pockets. Found some.

  "Here. Now scram!" he called, and tossed a coin toward the chicken jumpers.

  Before it even landed, the shorter one missed a chicken entirely and fell headfirst onto the cobbles.

  The guard tossed a few more coins just in case.

  "Job well done," he muttered to himself.

  Then pulled out Form B-48 and a pen, and began filling out his incident declaration.

  ***

  Narro turned into Mayo.

  He felt his head. No damage.

  The dangerously large owls had almost gotten him.

  On the ground lay a single coin.

  “Look! When you hit the bricks, coins come out!” he shouted, bewildered.

  Reralt, now clearly Linguini, turned with wide eyes.

  He stared at the coin like it was sacred.

  “What a marvelous world,” he whispered—then struck a brick with his bare hand.

  He found another coin.

  “Amazing,” he muttered.

  Then hit another one.

  And another.

  “Where is the princess?!” Reralt roared suddenly.

  Narro pointed to a structure up ahead—a drawbridge, crooked and half-rotted.

  “Surely, she is held inside that castle,” he declared.

  They both nodded solemnly.

  And off they went—jumping from obstacle to obstacle, shouting that the floor was lava, occasionally whacking bricks just to see if they still paid out.

  ***

  “Oh no!” Linguini gasped, pointing as they stepped onto the drawbridge.

  “Turtles!”

  He combed his mustache with his fingers—a gesture of deep concern.

  Two armored sentries stood at the far end of the drawbridge.

  Massive shields covered them from knee to neck.

  Unmoving. Implacable.

  “We should jump them,” Mayo said solemnly, nodding.

  This was, of course, the only logical thing to do.

  They started walking—by hopping along the bridge rail.

  “Why can’t we just run?” Mayo complained.

  “We have to hold a bee,” Linguini said, glancing around.

  “then press it, See any?”

  “Look out—one with spikes!” Linguini froze, eyes wide with terror.

  “Oh no. We have to jump them twice,” Mayo said grimly.

  They both nodded. Of course.

  ***

  In the middle of the bridge stood a small black figure.

  A gnome. Dressed head to toe in dark cloth, her pointy hat tilted just so—like evil had a fashion sense.

  A wicked grin stretched from cheek to cheek.

  In her tiny hand: a sharp, poison-coated knife, glinting in the sunlight.

  “Time to meet your destiny, tall people!” she shrieked.

  Her eyes sparkled—not with madness, but with tears of joy.

  Mayo took a big step.

  A high jump.

  He landed squarely on Gnomum—her pointy hat dropped over her eyes, blinding her.

  “Ack!” she squeaked, stumbling.

  Linguini followed, crashing down with his full weight.

  Her hat crumpled around her like a black accordion.

  Then Mayo gave her a solid kick.

  “AAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!” she shrieked as she flew across the drawbridge—first slamming into the guard on the left, then ricocheting into the guard on the right.

  ***

  Both sentries stood unmoved, giving each other a long look.

  Should they interfere?

  “What exactly is our job again?” the left one asked.

  “Guard the bridge or the door?”

  “Well, we’re sentries,” the right one replied. “Sentries usually guard doors, no?”

  “So as long as they’re on the bridge, we don’t have to do anything?”

  They looked on as the two intruders jumped the poor gnome again—just as she managed to wriggle her tiny hat off her face.

  “She looks so pathetic... I think I’ll help,” the left one muttered, stepping forward.

  Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

  “Fine but you fill the D-68 form”the other one said annoyed by the thought alone.

  “Hands off, you tall people!” Gnomum screamed as he picked her up.

  “My rage is not for you today!”

  The two sentries burst out laughing.

  She sounded like an enraged frog-armadillo hybrid with anger issues.

  “Laughing at me?!” Gnomum hissed, brandishing her tiny, poison-tipped knife.

  “Aww, look—she’s got a little knife!” the left guard chuckled.

  “Adorable,” the right one cooed in a baby voice.

  “Do you want to help the big guys toss these bouncy idiots off the bridge?”

  Steam rose from Gnomum’s ears.

  The insults stacked—one after the other—too much for her tiny fury vessel to contain.

  “You just made it onto my list!” she howled—and stabbed both of them in the leg.

  The left guard winced.

  “Aww, look! She’s a little warrior, isn’t she?” he said, petting her head.

  That’s when Mayo jumped on him.

  His knees, already buckling from the poison, gave out instantly.

  Linguini tackled the right guard, spun him sideways, and kicked him into the left.

  Gnomum was caught between them like an angry gnome sandwich.

  All three slid off the bridge with a collective “AAAAAHHH!”

  SPLASH.

  “Combo hit,” our two heroes said in unison, giving each other a high five.

  Eyes wide.

  Pupils dilated.

  Clearly still tripping on shrooms.

  They turned and casually walked into the castle.

  ***

  “Ah, pfff,” Linguini muttered, surveying the situation.

  An open field. Mushrooms everywhere.

  A big green tube descending into the ground.

  Turtles, owls, and strange black-and-white spotted creatures wandered aimlessly.

  “This is going to take forever.”

  He looked at Mayo, sighed, and stepped toward the green pipe.

  “Wait!” Mayo called out, pointing at a stone stairway tucked just beside the castle wall.

  It led straight into the castle.

  Only one turtle guarded it—half-asleep and buried in a mountain of paperwork.

  “I found a warp zone,” Mayo said smugly.

  “But I feel like there are coins in the tube,” Linguini replied, hopeful.

  “You know we get an extra life at a hundred?” he added, as a last-ditch argument.

  “Why?” Mayo asked, sincerely baffled.

  He’d never heard that rule. He hadn’t heard any rules.

  Not of this world.

  Not of this logic.

  So it could be true.

  “Okay,” he finally said, after that entire train of thought ran its course.

  They both jumped into the castle’s old stone well.

  Everyone in the courtyard looked at them for a second.

  Stared at them.

  Then, one by one, went back to whatever they were doing.

  ***

  They fell into the refreshing water of the castle well.

  “Oh no—a water level. I hate those,” Mayo sputtered, turning a mouthful of water into a fountain.

  Linguini resurfaced with two handfuls of coins.

  “Ha! Extra life for-a me!” he shouted happily.

  As their eyes adjusted to the dark, the surrounding cave came into view—

  littered with stalagmites and stalactites, glowing with the soft shimmer of red and blue crystals that bounced the light just right.

  A bit to their left: a small island.

  They swam to it, climbed ashore, and gave themselves a good shake.

  Then Mayo saw it.

  A rat.

  A big one.

  Without thinking, he picked up a large round stone and hurled it.

  “Rattus, I choose you!”

  The rat looked surprised when it got smacked squarely by a boulder.

  Mayo picked it up and shoved it into his backpack—

  although, up to this point, he hadn’t been wearing a backpack.

  “But I still have four free slots,” he told Linguini.

  Linguini nodded. The logic was irrefutable.

  “A whattus?” his only comment.

  “Ah yes, sorry. Wrong game,” Mayo muttered.

  He grabbed a large red mushroom and stuffed it into his mouth.

  “Oh my,” Linguini said. “You are twice as big now.”

  “Yes. I feel twice as big,” Mayo said, flexing slightly.

  And maybe a bit poisoned.

  “Let’s go to the warp zone now,” he declared.

  “You’ve got an extra life. I’ve got a Rattus.”

  “Yes. YES,” Linguini nodded, eyes wild.

  “It all makes perfect sense now.”

  They started to climb back up the rope. Out of the well. Into the courtyard again.

  ***

  Together, they ran toward the warp zone stairs.

  A guard blocked them after only two steps—

  his spear leveled, eyes fierce, as if he saw something in their souls.

  “Rattus, I choose you!” Mayo shouted—hurling the rat straight into the guard’s face.

  The rat woke up mid-flight.

  Still surprised.

  Decided to take his surprise out on the guard—

  whose face was now getting awfully close.

  The guard went down almost immediately,

  wearing the exact same surprised expression the rat had.

  “Sharp thinking,” Linguini commended.

  They looked around.

  More guards were approaching—fast.

  “This level is full of turtles,” Mayo muttered, just as an arrow zipped past his ear—close enough to measure in baby fingers.

  “The hammer-throwing type,” he added grimly.

  “Quick—to the warp zone!” Linguini shouted, taking big strides up the stairs.

  ***

  The guard from earlier—the one still struggling to complete his B-46 expense declaration—was now squinting at a problem.

  He hadn’t properly accounted for the copper pennies and half-pennies he’d thrown at the chicken jumpers.

  Now, those same chicken jumpers—clearly under the influence of something—were sprinting straight at him.

  He got a bit upset.

  All his training. All his exams.

  And now? No idea what to do.

  He blamed the chicken jumpers for it. Naturally.

  “This is not in the manual!” he shouted, yanking a large book from his backpack.

  He flipped to the Table of Contents.

  Invasion – “An invasion is defined as ten or more enemies breaching castle walls.”

  Nope. Only two.

  Siege – “A siege is when enemies remain outside the gates and attempt entry without invitation.”

  Also not it.

  He was honestly unsure whether they were invited.

  Then he found the correct section:

  Criminals and Escaping Enemies –

  Detain and call the City Guard immediately.

  Perfect.

  Proud and enthusiastic, he drew his sword, cleared his throat—

  —and was promptly flung over the castle wall.

  He landed on a pile of softly flustering chickens.

  His nearly completed B-46 fluttered gently toward the moat.

  “Ah no…” the guard groaned.

  “Now I need to fill in a B-20 Delta just to request a new B-46.”

  He sat up slowly.

  “This is gonna take me all day.”

  As sung by Narro, then quietly disowned by Narro.

  Two chicken-jumping heroes bold,

  Found coins in bricks (as tales foretold).

  They stomped a gnome, they kicked a guard—

  And filled the moat with tales unmarred.

  A turtle blocked the warping stair,

  But Rat-tus flew through castle air.

  The guard went down—his form half-filled—

  A paperwork soul, tragically spilled.

  The shrooms were strong, the owls were fast,

  The logic strained, but still it passed.

  They fought with hats, with knees, with cheese,

  They leveled up on NPCs.

  A warp zone beckoned, glowing green,

  A shortcut few had ever seen.

  Yet still they dove into a well—

  Where rats and crystals softly dwell.

  So if you see them, let them be.

  They’re not invading, technically.

  Just fools on quests with glitchy grace—

  And forms they’ll never fully trace.