The car finally passed through a large, magnificent gate after the driver finished with the safety procedures. By what they could see through the tinted windows, the king had heavily armed men at his disposal positioned throughout the yard. By the looks of them they were more for intimidation purposes than for anything else, though it would have been unfair to underestimate a man with a gun. The car pulled over in front of the stately mansion and the four men got out of the car. Someone immediately came to escort Skipper and his team to where the king was expecting them.

The mansion looked amazing seen from in front. What a viewer coming through the main gate wouldn't see was that it also extended into two wings in the back, which, at their extremities, touched on the surrounding forest.

It was very late in the evening, but the four PENGUINS were still on USA time and jet lag was sending the first hints of its presence. No matter how long they had been doing this job they still got jet lagged. It was a piece of cake now compared to when they started out. Skipper and Kowalski really wanted to get the diplomatic end of the business over and done with so they could get some shut eye. Private and Rico only thought about sleep.

The man accompanying them stopped before two grand doors and turned to them.

'You are about to be in the presence of our great king Julien the XIIth! Have any of you Americans ever been in the presence of royalty? Do you know the proper royal etiquette?'

Skipper, Kowalski and Rico looked at him dumbfounded and somewhat angry that he was stealing some more of their time. Private looked uncertain. Facts about Queen Elizabeth II were tumbling through his head.

'Right!' the man said, gauging from their faces that they were lost. 'You are not to speak first. You will engage in conversation only when the king addresses you. You are not allowed to touch any of the members of the royal family unless they extend the first gesture.'

'That's the most idiotic thing I've ever heard!' exclaimed Skipper.

'Yeah! How are we supposed to do our jobs? What if one of them is attacked. How should we protect them if we can't touch them?' asked Kowalski.

'That is not my problem, friend.' Said the man, with an extra dose of apathy. 'One last thing. When you're addressing the king, call him "Your Majesty". If you really want to call him by his name, he prefers the full title.'

'What, King Julien the XIIth?' asked Skipper surprised.

'Yes'

'Freak.' Muttered Rico under his breath. The man gave him a warning look, then turned around and pushed the two massive doors aside. They opened on the mansion's ball room turned in the king's makeshift throne room. In the day the huge windows lining one half of the room would let the natural light in, but now chandeliers shone all the people gathered. Their guide gestured for them to make their way towards the king, indicating that he would not be joining them any further. Skipper and his team stepped through the doors as determined as ever. No pompous royals were gonna impress him.

They were not even midway across the hall when they were stopped by a couple of young men stepping in their way. By what Skipper could tell by their clothes and lack of weapons they were not guards, nor any kind of servants.

'Kowalski, analysis!' he muttered to his second in command.

'I really don't like saying this Skipper, but I don't know. By their clothes, they look like they are part of the high society. But I don't know why they would stop us. All we did was walk, like normal people. Unless, they don't walk like normal people here…' he said as if he had made a great discovery.

'OK, I need you to shut up now!'

The two young men eyed them before one of them cleared his throat to say:

'Prepare to feast your eyes on the magnificent presence of the crown Prince, Julien!'

The lights from the chandeliers dimmed bit by bit before a veritable barrage of sound and a light show began. Beautiful young women in shimmering and jeweled outfits were dancing their way to the center of the room and in their midst, meandering about, a young man. Was that supposed to be the magnificent Prince Julien? though Skipper. We're certainly not in Kansas anymore. The group started an elaborate dance number on a strange but compelling instrumental rendition of "Welcome to the Jungle" from Guns N' Roses. The whole show was unfolding right in front of the four man team, since they never got a chance to move out of the way. The music was now staccato now melodious, it was quiet then turned back to fierce and passionate and the dancers followed suit. Skipper pried his eyes away from the dancing forms and raised them towards the dais where the throne sat. A few people were gathered around the sitting figures of the king and queen: two young women, one with a young boy. Farther behind the throne, there was a man, somewhat shorter and with a stout built. He had an inconspicuous air about him, as if being able to not attract attention when he wanted to. Taking a better look at the king, it was clear to see that this interruption had not been his plan. He was very displeased. Skipper also noted that he looked unwell for a man of his years, but it could just have been the distance or the changing lights playing tricks on his eyes. Nevertheless he filed the information away.

The dance quickly escalated into an extravagant showstopper complete with lights, artificial fog and a human pyramid and when it came to its inevitable end, the Prince came to a stop just a few inches away from Skipper's face, his chest heaving from the exertion and a wide grin on his face. After he properly caught his breath he asked the four men in front of him:

'So, how did you like my grand entrance?' the four eyed one another trying to assess what to say without screwing this for themselves from the very beginning. It was obvious they were coming up short until Private piped up.

'Smashing!' in his charming British accent. Julien turned his beaming smile on the young agent and it seemed like he was measuring him from head to toe for a couple of seconds. Around them the hall was returning to its original state, the lights were coming back on and the lady dancers were dispersing in the crowd of onlookers.

'O-ho! I like this cutesy guy! I did do the smashing!' the PENGUINS relaxed visibly. It was not that Skipper or his men put any importance on the status of royalty, especially not that of Madagascar, but this was a mission and if Skipper lived by anything it was never fail a mission. So, if he had to cozy up to some royals for a month or two he would grin and bear it as best his temperament could take it and so would his men.

'I'll take you to my father now! Come!' the Prince declared as if only by his will the team would have ever seen the king. They crossed the hall and stopped in front of the dais. Skipper could feel all the eyes in the room boring through the back of his skull. Just as soon as Julien took his place by his family, the young boy sprang from the woman's side, presumably his mother, and enveloped Julien's legs in a tight hug.

'Ugh! Mort, not the feets!' the Prince exclaimed with a suffering expression on his face. He finally managed to extract himself from the vice-like grip of the boy and pushed him back towards his mother. .

'Thank you Julien for that… charming artistic interlude earlier.' Said the king in a restrained voice so that it wouldn't carry over the room, without looking at his son, his eyes trained on the new arrivals.

'Oh, no, no it was my pleasure!'

'Believe me, son, I know.' added the king with a sigh. 'So, you are the Americans. Are some of you upstairs unpacking, lost on the way? What is going on here?' he asked the Special Forces team in front of him. He scrutinized each and everyone of them with a cold stare, although his eyes had a warm chocolate colour.

'We are the avant-garde… Your Majesty.' replied Skipper, content that this situation was creating some discomfort for someone else apart from himself.

'What, all 400 of you?' Skipper cocked a quizzical brow at the number he had just heard.

'No, all four of us. Drink us in!' the commando leader told the king flashing his most charming smile. It might not have gone the best way. A deathly hush had fallen over the entire room, as if everybody was straining to hear the conversation they were having. Even the king felt the shift in atmosphere. He stood up slowly and directed his attention towards the courtiers gathered there.

'Everybody out!' he ordered. Skipper and his team watched behind them as they all scrambled to leave as fast as they could through the nearest exit. The only ones left were the royal couple, the Prince, the two ladies with the young boy and the man standing farther behind the throne. Pleased, the king sat back down, his gaze returning to Skipper.

'Now… I was expecting some 400 of you. At least 40 if they were sending a joke…'

'Sir, I assure you it is no joke. If you'd have been screwed over we wouldn't be here at all.' Said Skipper, anger clearly showing in his voice. 'My team is a specialized military task force codename PENGUIN. Our superiors considered us capable to keep the situation under control and to keep your family out of risk until the extended support arrives. Which will be shortly.'

'Hmm…' Kowalski cleared his voice as way of inserting himself into the conversation. 'Also, at some point it would be useful to know who we will have to protect specifically… Your Majesty… if you don't mind…Sir.' The king looked for a second as if he'd forgotten about that part.

'Well, you've already met my son, Julien.' he inclined his head towards his son, who was casually leaning against the throne.

'Hello, PENGUINS!' said the Prince, laughing as to an inner joke to which only he was in on. The four team members looked at each other a bit unnerved.

'This, of course, is my Queen and wife, Malala. This' he said gesturing to one of the women standing on the other side of the dais 'is my daughter, Rina and her son Mort. And this lovely woman is my son's fiancée, princess Lea.' The four men courteously saluted the three women with a bow of their heads. 'Now, I'll leave the decision of how you will do the protecting to you. You are the professionals, after all. Although I can't see how you'll manage between the four of you.' The disdain was obvious in his voice although he was making a minuscule attempt at concealing it.

'Oh, don't worry about us… Your Majesty. Just keep worrying about your life.' Said Skipper. He felt Private tugging at his hand and knew he might have stepped a bit out of line. 'I'll have Kowalski give you a report on our decision regarding your protection in the morning.'

'Very well, you may retire. I'll have someone show you to your rooms.' He finally said waving a hand disdainfully.

The walk to their rooms led them through long and winding corridors. The thing on both Skipper and Kowalski's mind was that that talk was anything but diplomatic. None of them could understand why the man was being so hostile when they were there to help him. Skipper stopped them from going into their own rooms for a brief meeting. If the man weren't his superior, Rico would have bit his head off. On the other hand, it was visible to the naked eye to see how the sleepier Private got the softer around the edges he became. Once inside Skipper's room, Private fell face first on the bed. Skipper shook his head and went to check on his luggage first before he started the meeting. Seeing as there was time to spare, Rico and Kowalski sat down themselves, one at the foot of the bed and the other on a chair, respectively.

'OK, men! I just wanted to inform you who will handle which royal family member.' Said Skipper rubbing his hands.

'You've already decided that?' asked Kowalski.

'Yes. And since you asked, you will take care of the king's daughter, princess what's her name and her son.' Kowalski just nodded his head. 'Rico, you'll be in charge of the king and queen.'

'Wha'?' he couldn't believe his ears. Perhaps it was just the sleep depravation. Skipper couldn't mean it seriously to leave the most important people to him.

'What what? You're ruthless, buddy. I know nothing could pass by you. Someone smack Private.'

'I'm awake, I'm awake. No one smack me, please!' pleaded Private lifting his head with just one eye open.

'Private, you will protect the Prince's fiancée.'

'OK, I can work with that.'

'That leaves you with the Prince, Skipper.'

'Clever observation Kowalski. Anything else obvious you wanna state while you're at it? Yeah didn't think so! Tomorrow I want that report for "his Majesty" and a schedule for our guard and other duties. Ok, now get out of my bed Private. Let me hit the hay!'

Sleep came quickly that night for the four PENGUINS, but their dreams could not have prepared them for what their lives would become in Madagascar.