It took longer than anyone could have thought for the authorities to wise up to the army camped in a field near Nevada, Iowa. It was getting close to dusk by the time the first police cars showed up. Most of the people driving past had ignored the growing encampment.It was the fires and the smoke that drew the attention of the landowner and he was the one who called the police. Hundreds, no thousands, of people trespassing on his field and moving the bales? Potentially burning them? You bet your ass he called the police.

Several police cars, red and blue lights flashing in the deepening darkness, pulled up along the side of the highway and a half dozen officers started walking toward the encampment. A couple of the younger ones had their hands on their weapons, but no weapons had yet been drawn.

On the other side of the hastily built fortifications, on the other hand, many of the members of the Red Army held bows drawn and already aimed at the police officers.

“Stand down,” Called out one of the officers, “I’m Deputy Clayton. You are trespassing on private property.”

Chancellor Nathariel stood on a small platform just inside the first ring of defenses. He raised his hand for silence as the troops murmured to each other in response to the Deputy’s statement. “I believe that you are mistaken, Deputy Clayton. You and your fellows are trespassing on the Sovereign lands of the Empire of Azmael.

One of the other deputies, hand on his gun, whispered to a fellow. “Does that guy have pointy ears or am I seeing things?” The other deputy only responded with a mute shake of his head.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“Sir, this field is private property. The landowner did not give his permission for you to hold your event here.”

“His Excellence the Emperor Pharendrus Gallentine of Azmael has laid claim to this land by right of possession. Let all who would oppose his claim defend their own in battle.”

“What?” Deputy Clayton sounded incredulous. “By order of the Story County Sheriff's Office, you will immediately disperse or we will be required to use force.”

More hands found their weapon amongst the deputies,eyes searched for cover where none was available. In building their barricade, the Red Army had cleared the nearby fields of any sort of cover. Even as the pair of deputies in the back of the group began backing toward the cars for cover, the soldiers behind the defenses lifted their bows and opened fire.

The two deputies in the back ran for cover and the rest dove to the ground, trying to make smaller targets of themselves. Clayton took a knee and a stable firing position and returned fire.

The first barrage of arrows passed harmless overhead while the first bullet burrowed straight through a soldier’s leather armor and the muscles of his shoulder. The deputies scrambled for cover, the two already behind the cars returning fire.

Clayton moved much more slowly than the other deputies, he tried to keep the archers pinned down while the others sought cover. For his efforts, he was the first Iowan to be shot by the Red Army. The arrow dug deeply into the flesh just above his knee as he was nearing cover. Deputy Clayton went down cursing, holding his knee.

Back at the cars the other deputies were already calling for backup. What Clayton and his fellows had figured would be a simple matter of evicting some crazy roleplayers, had devolved into battle.