There was a distant crash of metal and timber. "They're through the gates," said Skwib mournfully.
Doog hovered protectively before the throne. "Your Majesty, what should we do?"
The king blinked slowly, and his tongue flicked in and out.
"The king can't answer you, Doog. He's an iguana."
"We had a system! One flick for yes, two for no."
"Is that how you decided where to place the defenses?"
"They'll never take the privy," said Doog.
"That they won't," Skwib conceded. He sighed. "You know the worst part?"
Doog shook his head, lips flapping.
"The Rinthians' king is a goldfish."
Tools of the Trade: The Perpetua Pencil
1 day ago