Rynagon, Maltaia, Pumim, and Tagumi advanced upon the castle. It was a big and menacing castle, as per regulations.
"Rynagon, we must save the oppressed people who the eeeeeeeeeeeeeeevil king rules over!" Maltaia cried dramatically. The author took this time to go into a description of her wavy copper hair, forest green eyes, revealing clothing, and perfect hourglass figure, which lasted about half a page.
Pumim, the sickeningly cute little animal that followed them around, made some smart comment.
"Actually," said a peasant, overhearing, "we're quite happy. The king has lowered taxes, stabilized the economy, and given us commoners a voice in the government."
"Oh Maltaia, you are so wise!" cried Rynagon, ignoring the peasant. "The people of this land must surely be unhappy!"
The hero and heroine took this time to make out.
Later, they finally stopped staring into each others' eyes and began to walk towards the castle again. "There will be a side entrance," Maltaia said.
"You are so wise, Maltaia!" said Rynagon. They began to make out again.
After they had finished, they FINALLY began to walk towards the castle again. "Let us go and look for the side entrance," Tagumi, the annoying talking animal familiar, said.
They hunted around the side of the castle, finding no side entrance.
"Is the only way in really the 60-foot high double-doors?" asked Pumim.
"Yes," said a peasant.
"Let's steal uniforms and sneak in as guards!" cried Rynagon.
The hero and heroine made out. Again.
Using their SpeshulCharacterSkillz™, they knocked out some guards, despite the fact that the guards had much more training than them. They stripped down the guards and stuffed them in the convenient closet. Then they entered the castle.
"Hey!" said a guard, pointing at them. "It's the heroes!" And they were immediately captured.
"The uniforms were supposed to have face-concealing visors!" Rynagon complained. "We weren't supposed to be recognized!"
The man guarding him felt an urge to ask who he was talking to, seeing as the cell was empty, but shrugged it off. "Rule 65," he quoted under his breath. "Anyone attempting to make light conversation with the prisoner will be executed."
"Saay," said Rynagon. "Is it hard, being a guard? Don't you get any time off?"
The guard relaxed. King Tolor had warned him that the hero might try this. He had also given the guard a good reply.
"Yes," said the guard. "I only guard people on Mondays and Saturdays. The rest of the time I am a landscape artist."
"What?!" said Rynagon. "Huh. Um… are you feeling sleepy?"
"Yes, I am," said the guard. He waved at a guard entering the dungeon. "Hey Joe, can you take my place for a sec? I need a nap."
"Sure, Travis," said the new guard. They switched places.
Sighing, Rynagon searched the cell for the obligatory exposed pipe. His OldMentor™ had taught him Morse code just in case he was captured.
No exposed pipe? There was ALWAYS an exposed pipe!
No reflective surfaces? Nothing that could be unraveled? What kind of dungeon WAS this, anyway?
He sighed and settled back to wait for the king's daughter. She, at least, would free him.
"Whaddaya mean, the king is childless?"
In her own cell, Maltaia was having similar problems.
"Heey, how's it going?" she asked her guard, adjusting her revealing clothing to reveal even more.
"You're disgusting," said the guard, who was a woman.
This fascinating conversation was interrupted by a man walking down the stairs. He was wearing a light blue tunic and brown breeches. On his head was a crown.
"Hi," he said cheerfully. "I'm King Tolor. How are you?"
"I will never marry you!" cried Maltaia.
"That's good, because I don't want you to marry me," said the king calmly. "I find you obnoxious. Besides, I'm already dating a very nice woman."
"Um," said Maltaia. "Upon seeing and hearing you, I have fallen in love! I will marry you!"
"Riiiiight," said King Tolor. "Anyway, I don't really like capital punishment, but it seems you have disrupted many people's lives. One old woman claims you started eating her house, then attempted to burn her. And the wolves have passed around a petition regarding your deeds. I'm afraid the citizens have voted, and they want you dead. Sorry."
"Will you at least allow me a moment alone with my TrueLove™ before I die?" Maltaia pleaded.
"No," said King Tolor.
"You don't know the meaning of the word mercy!" Maltaia cried.
The king whipped a pocket dictionary out of his sleeve. "1. A refraining from harming or punishing offenders, enemies, persons in one's power, etc.; kindness in excess of what may be expected or demanded by fairness; forbearance and compassion. 2. Imprisonment rather than the death penalty imposed on those found guilty of capital crimes. 3. A disposition to forgive, pity, or be kind. 4. The power to forgive or be kind; clemency. 5. Kind or compassionate treatment; relief of suffering. 6. A fortunate thing; thing to be grateful for; blessing." He snapped the dictionary shut. "And Webster's is never wrong."
"How long have you been carrying that around?" asked the guard.
King Tolor shrugged. "A while."
It was the day of the execution. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, the people were going about their daily business.
"Where are the crowds?" asked Rynagon. "There are always crowds at an execution."
"They don't like seeing death, even of those who deserve it," said Tolor. "So I'm respecting their wishes."
"Where are Pumim and Tagumi?" asked Rynagon.
"They were adopted by good families," Tolor replied.
"You may destroy me," Rynagon began, "but you will never destroy the rebellion! The-"
He made a slight gagging noise as his head fell off.