It’s the dawn of Judgment Day. A mass choir with each member carrying lit candles lead the army through the forests engulfing Salsa to Omnipotent Towers at Legends’ Heights where the gigantic statue of Gorr stands, singing moving hymns along the way.

The army kneels before the statue for Gorr’s blessings. The King is to mount a platform beside the statue.

Everyone looks up. The King is no where to be found. “Where is he?” Voices mutter into the ears of other voices.

Then the news hit everyone like a poisonous snake jab aimed at one’s throat : the king is dead.

It was major league and their captain was no more.

Hot dispute and mistrust break out among the war generals about the real cause of the king’s death. To complicate matters, his body was no where to be found.

Acrimony spread widely throughout the divisions of the army like the work of an evil spirit.

The Zengo armies were divided and some even went as far as pledge allegiance to Cicly, ruler of Delli. Rumours spread that Cicly was planning to invade Zengo and the royal family fled into exile.

Things were happening so fast like some evil curse had been pronounced on the Zengo dynasty. The once mighty military superpower was slowly evaporating and effacing itself from the pages of history.

Terrorists and bandits were returning to the highways, robbing and raping travellers.

It was like the beginning of the end.

One foggy night in the month marked XX on the Delli Kingdom’s military calendar, Prince Cicly gathers an overwhelming number of his forces and sets out to launch a surprise attack on the falling Zengo Empire.

When his forces reached the Drunken Witch river, no one could cross it. Anyone who tried, was immediately shot down by invisible arrows.

As they contemplated what to do, a thick cloud of arrows sprang from the river and pinned a chunk of the army to the muddy river bank.

Almost immediately, voices from the river chanted in unison, “Long live Zengo!!!”

A thunderous response seemed to come from the woods nearby caked in thick fog, “Long live Amia of great Zengo!!!!!”

At once, Porkette the capital of Delli went up in flames.

Masses of masked faces emerged on horses from the woods and from the river, surrounding the forces of Delli.

Fierce fighting broke out. With vengeful hearts, the Dellian armies fought tooth and nail to salvage what could be left of their heritage set ablaze.

The Zengo armies were drunk with adamantine stubbornness, they were resolute in their stance that no enemy shall set a single foot on Zengo soil, and they were ready to spell it out loud with their blood to the Dellian militants and their prince of darkness.

With wooden smiles on their faces, many of Cicly’s men fell, smiling their way to the underworld at their folly in believing the tricks played on them by the invincible forces of Great Amia the sleeping dragon.

As more arrows eliminated and reduced the forces of Delli to a bunch of wounded and demoralized soldiers, it became clear to Prince Cicly that those were not just arrows of wood and iron, but also arrows of false rumours, tricks, espionage and months of intense war games and manoeuvres.

Tales of the great king Amia’s mechanic resurrection and defeat of the Delli Kingdom floated in the air of the Zengo Empire, from the capital Salsa to Vendi in the north.

The tales changed their colour and taste from state to state, town to town, village to village until they came back to Amia in a form that made him fear and envy himself.

A dejected Jaguar rode his horse slowly to Ghost Town. The godfather of Ghost Town was back to where he belonged.

Despite the victories of war and the medals he had received, he longed for Temptress, wondering what might have happened to her in the vicious prisons on the Islands in the Mediterranean Sea.

A surprise awaited him at home.

“What in God’s name is keeping this idiot from opening the door,” he muttered angrily as he banged the gates of his magnificent building.

“Welcome home!” One of his guards said after finally opening the gate, an idiotic smile on his face.

“What’s funny?” Jaguar blurted.

“Welcome home!!!” Some voices on his compound echoed, bursting into laughter.

Jaguar was stunned. King Amia, the queen, General Patuto, Jaguar’s father Caeza de Barbaria and some of the generals were paraded on his compound.

His father was as usual with a bottle of wine that early morning, smoking wee, his eagle on his right shoulder.

“How…when…how did…you…” Jaguar tried to express his surprise.

Patuto cut in, “Surprise!!!”, ushering Temptress into the compound from the main hall of the building. She held a lantern in her hand. She was hurried out in the middle of something by her maids who were impatient to bring her out to their master.

“Our small way of saying thank you for your contribution in the Womanizers’ League.” The king explained.

THE END