The White King

Give up already.

I'm invincible.

Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock,

tick-tock. - Wait.

Check.

And

mate.

I knew you could it, nice job.

Come on, Dad!

- Hey. - Hey.

Come on!

I got it!

Whoa, I got it, come on!

Whoo, you can't get it!

Yeah, Dad, pass the ball!

Ready?

Wait.

Don't you ever turn into your father.

Go, get it!

What are you lookin' at, Hank?

See how he's watchin' over us?

Young Hank Lumber, trailblazer of the Homeland.

- Believe that and you'll believe anything.

My teacher said he's a hero.

You see what he's really guarding?

Young Hank had loot to hide,

all the treasure you can imagine.

At the foot of that statue,

there's a giant cave filled with Young Hank's gold.

Really?

Perhaps Young Hank never existed.

Exactly.

There's a vagabond with a mangled face

who guards that treasure.

He goes by the name of Pickaxe.

They say he prowls around the metal fence at night,

whispering to the birds.

Who knows what's true.

Don't blindly believe anyone.

Peter?

Fitz, Peter Michael Fitz?

It's Peter to my friends.

Dad?

Djata.

What's happening?

I don't know.

Now?

Yes.

Can I say goodbye?

Sure.

Couple of minutes won't make a lot of difference.

- Djata, these two men would like to ask me a few questions.

- These, uh, gentlemen are your father's co-workers, right?

They want him for his expertise.

- Which is why I'm not gonna be here for a while.

But I promise I'll write, okay?

Can I come?

No, Djata, it doesn't work that way.

Plus, you wouldn't like it there anyway.

Do you promise me you'll be good

and you'll take care of your mom?

Yeah.

You're the man of the house now.

Okay?

But.

- Come along now. - It's okay.

Don't want you to be late.

And you're right,

we really need your husband's expertise.

Let's go.

Stay strong, all right?

Okay.

Don't go, Dad!

It's okay, it's okay.

It's okay, it's gonna be fine.

See ya soon.

We'll see him soon.

Yeah.

- As you all know, tomorrow is a big day.

We expect you to be punctual, presentable,

and on your best behaviour.

Junior Defence League Cadets,

remember to pick up your uniforms and rifles here

at 1000 hours, make us proud, School Number Three.

You are the seeds of tomorrow's harvest.

Left, right, left, right, left, right,

left, right, left, right, left, right,

left, right, left, right,

left, right. - Hut!

Sir.

And halt!

All right come on. - Come on.

Faster.

H-How are we gonna get it done?

Seriously, how does he expect us to make a banner

by tomorrow?

That's rough.

I'll get my dad to help.

My dad'll give me some paints.

It'll be sweet.

What about you, Djata?

I dunno, I'll figure somethin' out.

Let's play some ball.

- Yeah, come on. - Yeah.

Let's go.

You know what?

I'll catch you guys later.

Really?

Yeah.

Okay.

Come on.

Let's go, boys, woot-woot!

Hey, losers!

- Over here! - Hit it!

What you got, what you got?

Hi, Mrs. Setterman.

- Tomorrow, starting at 1200 hours,

citizens in every corner of our land will celebrate

the 30th anniversary of our great independence.

- Hi. - Glory to the Homeland.

There's a letter.

It's from your dad.

Did someone cross this out?

Oh, yeah, they sometimes do that.

It's okay.

Go on.

"I will see you soon."

Yeah.

We just have to be patient.

Yeah, you're absolutely right.

They just can't do without him.

Is that good?

Yeah.

I gotta go to work.

You'll be okay?

Yeah.

All right.

Night, Mom.

Night.

How many times do I have to tell you?

It's a wasteland, just read the signs.

- Think they'd put a sign up saying treasure?

I don't care what you think.

My dad says there's gold in there.

He's kinda been away for a while.

Your dad.

He's okay, he's not sick, is he?

- Sometimes you say some stupid shit, Shabby.

What I know is that buried deep inside the forest

is Young Hank's treasure, and it's impossible to get inside,

because it's guarded by a vagabond

with a messed up face.

You keep out!

Or my dog will rip you in half!

Pickaxe, Pickaxe!

I told you, I told you!

My dad said you were a bad influence.

You bet!

Perfect.

Good.

Good.

Hold it up, son.