Sir Mercyhale and Hasslevain

CHAPTER II. Acquisition of a royal boon.

In which the Knight and Dog are subjected to a deadly influx of insignificant information.

"My good sir Hailmercy," said Hasslevain, leading Mercyhale back up the hill, "if you want to be gloriously rich from this quest, you should bring yourself to the palace so that the King and Queen will be aware of your heroic courage. That way, even if you fail, you'll still be known for having tried! And they might be generous with some extra resources."

"Mercyhale," Mercyhale corrected.

"What?" Hasslevain bounded off into the distance.

Mercyhale did not rush to keep up. "You got my name wrong again!"

"I'm never wrong!" Hasslevain continued on like a speck of dust blown away by the wind. Or perhaps that was just Mercyhale's wishful thinking. The Dog didn't look back as he called, "Hurry up, my good sir, the majesties hate waiting; that's why they make their good people wait for them to do anything, let alone die."

"But they don't even know we're coming."

"Stop trying to be reasonable, Hercymale, it's rather unbecoming." Hasslevain scuttled down the field like a strange-looking crab, which would be every crab ever because Mercyhale had never seen a crab except on a plate, which he thought might be a good place for this little Dog to be right about then.

"Have you any idea where we're going?" said Mercyhale, looking at the unchanging surroundings. He was not very good at navigation, which was probably how his horse had gotten away from him. It was a miracle, really, that he had managed to find his way home. And now he was heading away again, he remembered with a sigh.

"We're headed to the palace, dear sir, do try to keep up," said Hasslevain.

"Do you know the way there?"

"Of course I do! Look, we've found it."

Mercyhale looked ahead and was quite startled to find a person sitting on the ground in front of them. He glanced over his shoulder and discovered that they'd gone a long way. Perhaps this wouldn't be so difficult as he'd imagined.

"But this isn't the palace," he said aloud, looking down at the pitiful person. It appeared to be an adolescent boy with sad hair and dejected shoulders. He looked up at Mercyhale with wide brown eyes.

"I'm the Palaceweight," said the boy sadly.

Mercyhale noticed, then, a rope tied around the boy's waist. He followed the other end of it upwards, into the sky, where he found a floating castle tethered to the other end.

"Hello, Plomp," said Hasslevain cheerfully. "How's palaceweighting?"

"Fun," Plomp said, sounding utterly miserable.

"I didn't know palaces knew how to fly," said Mercyhale, still staring up at the palace.

"It doesn't fly; it floats," Hasslevain said. "Have you never been to the palace before? Sir Curtsyhale, what a dishonor!" Mercyhale sputtered to defend himself, but Hasslevain just shook his little dog head in disapproval.

"It only started floating six months ago," Plomp informed them.

Mercyhale looked down at him. "How do we get in, then?"

"Plomp?" said Hasslevain expectantly.

The Palaceweight sighed and grabbed the rope, beginning to reel in the palace. It landed lightly on the ground, the front door facing them.

"Thank you, Plomp, it's a delight as always." Hasslevain knocked against Mercyhale's leg. "Gratitude, my good sir! I thought you were more honorable than this."