every single afternoon.

The afternoon sun blazed a bright orange, hanging in the sky awash with clouds, its piercing rays bringing light to the lands of R.

The clan chief raised his head to get a better look of the time, it was nearly past noon. The time was ripe, it was to be now or never. The forces have already been gathered, just a decent number of the best thieves in the clan, each handpicked by the chief himself. Taught from a young age that thievery was a work of grandeur and that being caught was the greatest dishonour one could ever receive, these thieves were the genuine fingersmiths of their generation. The clan had only one true purpose. They wanted to, they needed to, they had to. The king's treasure. It was the reason why they were placed on the planet. They were armed to the teeth with invisibility cloaks, portal maps, draughts of different shapes and sizes.

R was ruled by a fat and jolly king. But behind his crooked smile lied a man with a truer purpose. He had been entrusted by the Gods themselves to protect the ultimate treasure. The king loved the treasure more than anything else in his life for it was the treasure which allowed him to spend his days as he pleased ruling R. And should the treasure be taken from the king, the lands of R would fall into darkness until the treasure is restored back to its rightful place.

Because this treasure was so precious to the king, he had as many guards as he could afford to pay help guard it. It was locked deep in the castle's most secluded dungeon. In a small cell in the dungeon lay five adult fire-breathing dragons that were ferocious and more fearsome than any other creature in the kingdom. Outside the cell, the guards took watch. Always ready, always steadfast, ever awaiting the call of duty to protect what they swore they would with their lives. It was a complete maze in the dungeons, a hundred times more complex than an ant's colony. Guards patrolled the dungeons at random, some never seeing daylight again when they got lost.

The band of thieves had already gathered at the castle gates. The chief shot off the first flare of distraction. It symbolised the beginning of the operation. Like ninjas, the thieves disappear and re-emerge past the moat and into the castle. The castle siren rings and the king sits up from his throne, biting his nails, praying that today will not be the day he loses his dearest treasure, time.