Palos felt the air whiz through his hair as he was roughly thrown down several stair steps while a gruff and brutish man yelled many nasty things, that are best left unrepeated, at him. He rolled onto his back, slowly getting up, working out stiff joints in a noisy street of Candaroon. He had tried many ways of getting into the palace, and all had been unsuccessful. He was now starting to panic as the fear that he would fail the mission took his mind by storm. He scratched his head for any ideas, reviewing the various ways his plan had epically failed. I could try going in through the stables, Palos thought, but a memory of three stable boys, each twice as big as the scrawny fifteen-year-old, caused that plan to vaporize.
He recalled trying to enter through the main gate, then shook his head as an uncomfortable thought spread through his mind. And now, he had tried to get in through the servant’s entrance, the results of which had landed him in the street. He let a loud grunt of frustration escape him as he imagined trying to scale the cliff behind the palace, in order to get in. In the midst of his scheming, he was distracted by the sound of an old man laughing very loudly. Palos was given the distinct impression that he was the source of such mirth. He spun around, looking for the source of the noise.
Just as he had suspected, an old man in a worn out cloak was laughing at him. Palos felt his temper rise; no one had any idea of how important his mission was, and no one seemed to care. “What’s so funny?” Palos walked up to him, clenching his fist but unwilling to hit an old man.
“Why, my dear boy,” the old man spoke as he made an effort to get his laughter under control, “I have watched you three times now completely fail to get inside the castle. Now, I reckon it must be very important, or else you would have given up a long time ago.” This did nothing to placate Palos, only making him angrier.
“Yeah?” his nostrils flared, “So what? You think it’s funny that my whole village is counting on me to get help and the people of this vile city could care less?” Palos exclaimed.
“Oh no, not at all.” The old man spoke, turning deathly serious and conspiratorial in an instant, “It’s just that,” he spoke in more of a whisper, so that Palos had to strain his ears to hear him, “One would have thought you might try and use your head to get in, rather than storming in like an idiot.”
Palos looked insulted, taken aback by his cruel words, “And I imagine you have a better way?” he snorted.
“Why yes, yes, I do.”