Nothing greets a new day like the gift of the rising sun. Sunlight peeked through the curtains, pressing gently on the faces of a slumbering Duck family. No one wanted to get out of bed, so it took some heated motivation to get everyone started. If the sun could speak, it would say, “Wake up! We have a journey to begin!” But no journey could truly begin without a continental breakfast. The suite may have been nothing special, but that did not matter when breakfast was on the brain.

When they found the kitchen, they were greeted with a bounty of pita bread, eggs, fresh juice, and coffee. On Scrooge’s tight-fisted budget, it was a feast fit for adventurers. As everyone chowed on their eggs and veggie platter, Donald began thinking. Donald believed that the best way to find the magic sword was by researching it first. The local library might have what he needed and even enough for the others, should they join him. Unsurprisingly, Scrooge refused. Unmoved, he took the boys on a Jerusalem tour, hoping the tourist traps might sell him a book—or anything to distract him from his nephew’s delusions.

“Wait, Uncle Scrooge,” Donald uttered, “Don’tcha wanna dress in something lighter?” To which Scrooge threw his head up and remarked, “Hmph! I’m rich. No heatwave will force me to stoop to such common dregs.” And with that, Scrooge ushered the boys his way and left Donald to his own devices.

At the heart of Israel pulsed a city brimming with ancient stories. Its streets whispered of civilizations past, and every stone seemed to echo with the footsteps of prophets. The air was thick with the scent of sun-baked mud brick, mingling with dust and history, making Donald feel as if he had stepped straight into the pages of legend. This was the city of Jerusalem.

“Gosh…” Donald murmured, “It’s like the centuries are pressing in from every corner. Feels like I’ve wandered into the world’s oldest attic. This has to be the place—I wouldn’t have hauled my family here otherwise.” He pressed on, curiosity burning, but his awe was cut short by a stabbing migraine. His temples throbbed, and he clutched his head, yelping, “Argh! My head…!” He quickly blamed the relentless heat.

Agony washed over Donald, blurring his vision and leaving him reeling. When the pain finally faded, he blinked and froze—he was standing in the middle of a busy freeway. The roar of an engine thundered toward him, pinning him in place like a startled deer. It seemed his adventure might end before it began, until suddenly… WOOSH!

“Wak!” Donald cried as a large cloth swooped in and tackled him into a nearby hay cart. Although he was saved, Donald did not appreciate being tackled or being doused in hay.

“PTOOEY!” Donald spat, “HEY! Get off me!” Donald shouted as the weight of the cloth crushed his beak.

Thankfully, the cloth had some manners and promptly helped poor Donald back on his feet. The cloth apologized strongly.

“Sorry, friend!” the cloth apologized, “But you were stuck in the middle of the road. Why, you were nearly crushed by the Silver Slider!”

“Uh… you mean that luxury car?” asked Donald.

“Yes, yes! The Silver Slider! They come around very much in this town,” The cloth explained, “Oh! Forgive me, sir. My manners are ill-gotten. I am Alumak. Alumak Acar.”

“Err… Donald Duck.”

“Donald Duck? Oh, ho! Ho! Ho! What a pleasure to meet you, Donald Duck!” Alumak greeted, “So, Mr. Donald… why in Allah’s name were you walking carelessly down the road?” asked Alumak.

Donald stated that he never intended to walk into the freeway. If it wasn’t for his migraine, he would’ve never been on the road in the first place. And he certainly would have never met this colorful individual.

The stranger absorbed every word that Donald expressed. But rather than respond with humility, the stranger only responded with laughter. He laughed, much to Donald’s offense. Donald was about to cut him loose, but the stranger assured him that he meant no offense. In actuality, the robed man seemed to enjoy his particular pattern of speech. He then asked if Donald was American, making the assumption that all Americans must sound as gruff and scratchy as he did. While his question didn’t offend Donald, Donald was unsure of whether he was insulted or complimented.

“Oh-hoh! Oh, come now, sir. Don’t have a frown!” Alumak laughed, “Here. To show I mean no ill will, how about I buy you a drink, yes? Something cooling to soothe those aches and pains.” He would even try to imitate Donald’s speech as he spoke. Donald raised his hand to politely decline, but Alumak took the gesture as a form of acceptance and dragged him along to the inner city.

As Donald was off making friends, the indomitable Scrooge McDuck decided his time was best spent exploring the markets of Jerusalem with his nephews. If only those markets were up to his standards. Just seeing the decorum of the shops made Scrooge cringe in disgust. The tight spaces, the disorganized inventory, the disheveled shopkeepers. Urk! The state of these markets could make a grown businessman cry!

“How gaff!” Scrooge bemoaned, “Why, it's no wonder I don’t set up shop here! How could anyone sell anything if they can’t keep track of their own inventory?!” Clearly, the incoherent market did little to quell his grief. But that did not seem to dissuade his nephews.

“Ooh! Ooh! Look, Unca’ Scrooge! There’s trapeze toys!” shouted the boys. The boys eagerly rush into the crowds, squeezing through many just to get a better look at the toys. Not wanting to be left behind, Scrooge tried to rein them in, but that only led him to be gobbled by the swarm of over-clothed clientele.

“Boys!–Hey!–Come back!” Scrooge cried out, “Ack! Get off’a me, you feartie! I’m tryin’ to find me’ nephews!–Don’t pick at that! That’s worth more than you!”

Fortunately, the squabbling entrepreneur was able to pull himself from the crowd. Unfortunately, he ended up tumbling into a pot of boiling water. The scalding heat would launch him across the market, bouncing the old miser from one kiosk to another. He bounced through different shops before his body got caught in a clothesline.

“Bagorra…” Scrooge sighed, “Once I get outta this… I’m gonna-… Whoa!” Scrooge unwound himself from the clothesline and fell into a dark tent. The tent’s folds closed in once Scrooge arrived. Precisely, candles lit the interior, revealing a table before the old man. Scrooge found himself in the presence of an old table with a crystal ball seated in the center. Scrooge thought nothing of it and decided to leave. That was until he was called on by a creaky voice.

“Ahhh… welcome, good sir,” the creak greeted, “Please, come in. Your energies could lead to good fortune.”

A draped figure emerged from behind the table. The figure was dressed in a dark green cloth lined with beads. Her eyes were the only sensory organ that connected her with the human realm. Her stance was crotchety, seemingly as decrepit as the mud-brick that built the city. She greeted Scrooge, but he was unwilling to provide the same respect.

“Bah! Like I need another palm-reading to earn me more fortune. How’s about you show me the closest route to the airport?”

“Oh, but I insist,” uttered the gypsy, “A man of such extinguished tastes deserves an even greater fortune. I will even offer my service with very little to charge.”

“Hmm… if it’ll make up for me’ expenses, I’ll play your little charade.”

“Good, good. Now sit! We have much to discuss.”