3. Foundation of Food

The Chameleon-of-many-names set up his stall. He held an ultra-wide, almost painful smile, as he displayed the wares he’d procured with so much effort. Bulls, bears, and wolves walked by without taking notice. A fox seemed interested, then pulled their hood further over their face and walked on. A herd of sheep visited too, but were obviously not interested in what he had to sell.

The Tattlerat stood at the edge of the plaza, ready to take notes on whatever happened. He always thought he was invisible, hidden. But, well, he was no chameleon. When camouflage was in your blood, everyone else stuck out like a sore thumb.

“It’s going to work this time!” he yelled across the forum at the rat. The gossip gerbil sighed and gave him a quick gesture that was the rat version of a thumbs-up. “I’ll be rich! Beloved! I can feel it in my colorful bones!”

The chameleon climbed on top of his stall and yelled: “Magical clothes! Made of magical wool! Buy it now! Only five gold apiece! Don’t want to miss it!”

Pivoting his entire business idea in one day had left him without sleep. It involved negotiating with several shepherds, haggling for a magical razor from a dodgy witch, and somehow learning how to knit while the moon was high, but he had done it.

More and more interested clients came for his stall. They studied his clothes. They started counting their coins. The chameleon licked his lip—

A fire broke out. After only a short delay, panic broke out across the forum in equal measure.

What building was that? Looked expensive and—oh yes, the private residence of none other than the consul.

A bird flew to a moldy rooftop, yelled to a raccoon, who tapped on a wolf’s window, who pushed the wrong button and then the right button, yada yada, a boar was tickled, a church bell rang—

Two elephants, who were already on high alert, were informed of the fire. Their truck instantly raced downhill to meet it.

They made a short detour first. Dousing the fire was only one of their jobs; the other one was to catch any criminals fleeing the scene.

The jeweler had, quite eagerly, agreed to fulfill this job. Being a rhinoceros made them stronger than almost any thief anyway.

They slowed down their truck as they passed the jeweler. They expected him to be rebuilding his shop, but he just sat among the ashes. Bewildered. A statue.

“Come on! See the smoke?” Ollimo pointed with his trunk. “Thieves to catch! Come on!”

The rhino shrugged. “Don’t care.”

“What?”

“I don’t care. Whatever. Life is unfair anyway,” he mumbled. His leathery skin was almost entirely exposed, his fancy clothes now worn by a trash-exploring raccoon.

Ollimo looked at his father. He didn’t know what to make of it either. Their truck kept rolling downhill all the same.

“Safety first,” said Olfaman. “Stop the fire.”

They left the jeweler alone, took the corner with the grace of a fat dragon, and arrived.

Ollimo had seen a lot of fires in his time. His father had seen even more. While extinguishing this one, they needn’t say a word, only exchange worried glances.

This fire was different. Smaller. Didn’t spread for. At the very least, it hadn’t been created the same way.

Must be—

“Distraction!” yelled Ollimo.

As he said it, as if meticulously timed, the ground shook. A dust storm shot fingers at the sky, somewhere in the Throne District. A tall and imposing temple, sometimes dubbed the Fortress of Faith, proved to be anything but untouchable.

It crumbled.

Ollimo tried to climb on his father’s back. From here, the masses could only see the triangular temple roof, which was there, until it cracked and suddenly wasn’t anymore.

The Firetrunks of Toxotes immediately went there. They had to fight a crowd of animals running away from the disaster. Many of them prayed for mercy, but they didn’t know to which gods. Most of them looked unhappy, of course, but a certain chameleon was especially livid.

The crumbling of a massive temple is no easy task. The consequences are also far more severe than a simple house fire.

The elephants had to battle through smoke and uneven terrain to get close. A few firebirds swooped down to look for survivors, and came up with a hefty haul of unlucky merchants.

Ollimo moved his focus to something in the corner of his eye. Vague shadows, covered by pillars and jagged stones, leaving through another exit.

“There! Follow them!” he yelled at father.

“Can’t! It’s uphill! You must go alone. I stay here to help.”

With heart beating painfully in his trunk, Ollimo accepted. With a mighty roar, his father pushed the truck, speeding it up.

He lost sight of the dark shapes. Fortunately, their bickering was loud and frustrated.

“You almost dropped the roof on all of us!” yelled someone. They turned another corner, back to the forum.

“As I told you!” yelled a small cat. “My powers give no certainty-or-something!”

“Run now, debate later,” said a commanding female voice from—from up above?

Ollimo craned his neck.

He almost ran into a wall.

The truck veered dangerously, losing the contents of one entire water barrel. He shifted his weight and turned to chase the thieves. But what could they have stolen? That temple was a friendly meeting place for the community. It held no riches. These beings were worse than thieves!

They were out of the dust and debris now. His sight cleared, his truck was faster than the running speed of a boar, and they had nowhere to go at the for—

They were gone.

A chameleon knew his plan was working. A few clients had run away initially, when the fire broke out, but now returned to purchase his magical clothes. What they did, exactly, was unknown to him, but he had prepared the lie that they “made you look incredibly beautiful to everyone”. Which worked.

Until four creatures dashed onto the forum and pushed aside the clients. They initially ran past the stall, then froze and retraced their steps.

“You again?”

“You again!?”

“Grab a disguise! Anything!” commanded a large bird.

Before he could change colors, the chameleon-of-many-names became a chameleon-of-nothing-to-sell.

The Tattlerat wrote it all down impassively.

“Yes,” said the chameleon, “and write down that there were fifty of them, and that they were big and strong and had weapons, and that they stole my clothes because they were so beautiful, and—”

“I deal in juicy gossip. But you can also go too far.” The rat dashed away, following the escapades of a male boar dressed like a lovely princess.

The group made good speed, until they suddenly froze again.

Ollimo had circled the forum, hoping to cut them off. He’d already prepared a solid water beam in case they turned the corner.

They wanted to turn the corner, saw the rat and chameleon.

“That large gray lump of elephant is blocking our hideout!” cried the cat.

“We can’t stay still,” said the boar. “Mmhmmhmm, dig us a—”

“Oh please, I can’t dig a tunnel that fast.”

“Agreed,” said the bird. “We go through Dilova’s restaurant.”

The four of them straightened their backs and stepped onto a different street. They walked through the front entrance of the restaurant with a smile on their face. A sign asked for patience and understanding, for their waiter was “having a bad day”.

Dilova herself was talking to two horse-like creatures, but they were the size of bunnies.

“Oh Quili, I don’t want you to risk your lives just for me, I don’t.”

“The gods want to help, Dilova, but their paws are tied.” She turned to the other horse, who was playing with food. “Epoh, you sure we can smuggle grain into the city? Past the guarded city walls? "

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, don’t worry friendy. As long as Dilova is prepared to become a bakery for life.”

All of them muted themselves and looked at the four intruders.

“My name is Wilpl—Wilbertus. Just here to, erm, inspect your kitchen,” said the viverra.

“Yes. Surprise inspection. Very necessary,” agreed the boar. “A routine task for princesses.”

Dilova held some status as one of the very first birds. She also had only one leg, which now hopped around with uncertainty.

When the Tattlerat and chameleon entered her restaurant too, she collapsed under the pressure.

“Alright then. The kitchen’s there. It’s clean and all, it is. Just don’t disturb my sleeping father, will you?”

Some quick nods. As the self-proclaimed Rescue Squad made for her kitchen, Wilplink snatched all the food from the tables for “taste inspection”.

It took mere seconds for an elephant to burst in too. He sprayed water over the horses as he hastily asked if they’d seen four strangers Or, as Ollimo was certain now, the criminals who made the temple collapse.

Even so, when they all made for the kitchen doors … the Rescue Squad was nowhere to be found.