In the heart of Verdantalia, a Jeep raced across the vast savannah, the windows rolled down, revealing zebras and antelopes grazing lazily on either side.

In the front seats, two rugged men puffed on the local dry tobacco, the distinct scent of the smoke filling the air around them. Both had handguns tucked into their belts, their conversation a mix of local slang and muttered words that would be incomprehensible to outsiders.

In the backseat lay a small, unconscious girl—none ...