Calm Autumn winds blew gently through the hilly fields west of Triboar, carrying with them a dancing display of vibrant, discarded leaves. The creaks of wooden wheels turning could be heard in the distance, accompanied by the soft pants and heaves of struggling children.

A young boy emerged from beyond the crest of a tall grassy hill. "Mark, Hakan, this is the spot!" he hollered back down the slope. The boy gleamed with excitement as he turned back toward the vista, brushed his curly brown hair from his eyes, shielded them from the afternoon sun, and scanned the horizon.

From that hilltop, he could see the vastness of the countryside. Cows, goats, and horses grazed in grassy meadows as farmers reaped golden fields lush with wheat and barley. To the north, a rugged and rocky hillscape hid the expansive Neverwinter Woods. An ever-present pillar of steam and smoke peaked past this veil, reminding everyone of the fearsome volcano that lurked behind it.

A few moments passed as his joy turned to focus. "Hmmm… where..." he muttered. The squeaking sounds of rickety wood grew steadily behind him.

"One more push!" an out-of-view Hakan shouted. With a sudden lurch, a mysterious wheeled contraption shrouded in a patchwork sheet overcame the hill’s steep. It rolled forward as two older boys shoved with all their might, their faces dripping with sweat. After hours of work, the rickety machine finally came to rest at the summit.

"Whew... There!" Hakan huffed triumphantly, his arms still clinging to the contraption. With one eye open, he could only watch as his older brother let go, dropped to his knees, and began clawing at his shirt. He hacked and wheezed, trying to take in as much air as his lungs could bear. "Damn Mark, you goin' to be alright?"

"I knew—heeh—we should have—heeh—gotten help—heeh." a dull thud punctated Markus' pants as he dropped to his side and rolled onto his back.

"You just wanted to show off in front of Sara." Hakan teased.

"She's a friend!" the oldest snapped, working the collar of his pale green tunic like a bellows. "And I was—heeh—talkin' about Aran."

"Suuure you were. I'm sure you were thinking that too while staring at her—"

"There—there, I see it!" the youngest interrupted. Matthew turned to the others grinning ear to ear, excitedly pointing and repointing back toward the horizon.

They went quiet, continuing their back and forth with smug and irritated expressions. Eventually, Hakan's curiosity caused him to cave in, "What'd you spot, Matty?"

"Our target!" the 7-year-old beamed.

"That… doesn't help."

Matthew slipped his overstuffed pack off without elaborating, guided it to the grassy floor, and squatted beside it. A loud pop sounded when he released the only button holding it all together. 

As Matthew began to rummage through the contents of the bag, Hakan questioned his other brother, "Mark, you helped build this thing. What's he talkin' about?"

The supine adolescent, still recovering from his labors, relaxed and pondered the thought, "...Beats me." he finally admitted.

"What?" Hakan's smug demeanor dissolved into bewilderment, "You helped him build this thing, and you don't even know why?"

Markus stared up at the ocean blue sky and watched as a lonely cloud searched for company, "I dunno." he shrugged, "Matty wanted to keep it a surprise… but I know what it is."

The middle child sighed, "So… what did you build?" the 12-year-old questioned, turning around to evaluate what they had brought.

"It's a surprise, Hak. Give Matty a second." he yawned. Lethargy was setting it. Rolling to one side, Markus nuzzled into the soil and closed his eyes, "We've got all day. Just relax."

Hakan crossed his arms as he tried to reason what kind of monstrous wooden structure lurked underneath that patchwork blanket. He leaned from one side to the other, taking notes and guesses. He looked over his shoulder. Markus was trying to nap, and Matthew was half-buried in a pack filled with mismatched tools and half-built gadgets. The moment seemed perfect. With his forefingers, he pinched the shroud and began to lift it, cautiously peering underneath.

Before he could get a good look, he felt a sudden pain and heard a resounding crack as a walnut struck his hand. Hakan recoiled in pain, dropping the sheet with a loud yelp. Matthew knelt a few yards away with a spent slingshot and a furrowed brow, "I built it, I say who reveals it, got it?"

"Y-yeah—got it!" he hissed.

"Great!" the little engineer's mood quickly switched back to joy. "Marky, wanna do the honors?"

The eldest sighed disappointingly. Tearing himself away from the view of the open sky and the comfort of the cool autumn earth, Markus stood up and brushed the dead grass and loose pebbles free from his tunic, "Sure thing, but I'm not explaining it."

Matthew nodded and rushed over to Markus' side. The eldest reached up and grabbed ahold of the poorly made shroud. With a forceful yank, the blanket slid from the mysterious machine, its body billowing in the gentle autumn breeze as it glided to the floor.

Markus struck a dramatic, seemingly rehearsed pose; he spread out his arms in a grand fashion to emphasize the reveal. The only thing betraying the energy of the two standing side by side was the adolescent's absent-minded stare.

What stood before the three boys was a large, stout chassis made with mismatched wheels and salvaged wood. It was twice as wide as it was tall, fastened together with a mix of nails or rope, and at its center was a long, towering arm with a woven basket at its apex.

Without hesitation, the young engineer broke into a fervent explanation, "Behold my greatest invention! This engine can hurl rocks ten times bigger and further than da can! 'How' you ask?" no one asked how "like a really big seesaw! By pulling back the beam with these wheels, ropes, and pulleys, we can make the—"

"—It's a catapult." Markus interrupted.

"Markus! It’s more than just a catapult; it’s the Buckley Breaker.”

He shrugged, eyes softly watching the spirited youth pout beside him, “Oh uh… yeah, it’s the Buckley Breaker then… ” embarrassed, he started twirling a lock of hair, “So… if it’s got a name like that, then it must mean… “ Markus slowly turned on his heel to look out toward the vista. What he saw was a vast ocean of rolling hills covered in alternating blankets of grassy meadows and vibrant, Autumn groves. In the far distance, the snowcapped Sword Mountains could be seen, juxtaposing their fiery northern neighbor. Below them, in one of the nearest meadows, was a prosperous ranch built on either side of a meandering tributary. Arching over the trail leading to the homestead was a large wooden sign with ‘Breskyn Ranch’ painted on its face.

Once he saw it, Markus’ fatigue vanished, “Matty, you’re not serious, are you? This is the Buckley’s ranch.” 

The small boy’s eyes darted between Markus and the catapult, “...Y-yes... yes I am!” he choked. Putting on a brave face, he marched to his magnum opus and ducked beneath a supporting column. He emerged moments later, bearing a smoothed granite ball that was far too heavy.

Hakan nursed his hand as he watched Markus rush to save the engineer from his ambition, “W-wait, you, a 7-year-old kid, built a siege engine and made me and Mark push it for two hours through rough hills just so you can launch a couple of boulders at the Buckley’s house?”

“Ah-ah!” Matt panicked under the weight of the rock, only to be saved by Markus at the last moment, “Thanks! Uh… yeah, that about sums it up. You’re not mad, are you?” he asked as Markus lifted the polished rock.

“What? No. Why would I be mad? To hell with the Buckleys, let's wreck their house!”

What little remained of the youngest’s apprehension melted away, “Yeah, fuck the Buckleys!”