"Wouldest thou, leastways, aid me in a diversion?"

"T'would be my pleasure...and (Floke chuckles) I've been waiting for some jolly mischief even if thou, the King, hath to draw into such...strange behaviour."

"Hast thou a meeting ye must be at?" Pennelore asked, flustered. Floke changed his expression in a confused manner.

Within hours Pennelore and Merler were sitting together making plans for something they had both been planning for a few days. Hidden down inside a cellar was the fruit of their labor. A huge catapult had been stored and beside it was a very large wooden bucket full of slime. "We'll never get it up the slopes outside the center village," Merler stated despairingly.

"Aye, we shall use the cover of night and place it beside the dead trees leading away from the village," Pennelore said cheerfully.

"Nah, Floke'll be out there all week, watching for the black birds."

"I have brought Floke into this knowledge earlier. I wanted his help and need his willingness to be in the middle of any eventual mishaps."

"I understand...but please tell no others. We don't need their help! Crap, I'm starting to sound like you!"

"Meanest thou what?"

"I hate this."

"Art thou mocking me?"

"For the gods' sake, it's like someone has taken out all your brain matter and replaced it with charmed flutes and jingly bulbs!"

"Hath thou lost thy brain matter?"

"Yeah, a long time ago, but I was lucky enough to find some twigs and dried leaves."

"Thy brain doth crackle under foot."

"Thy brain rattles upon highest steed, and no one knows where the sound is coming from."

"Verily, mine hath a bright nature."

"And always reminding me of an unhinged rattling state of natural hysteria."

After a few nights had passed, the plan was set into motion. "T'is not revenge for the constant melodies at all hours, befalling the moon wheree'er it go. T'is not my unfulfilled longing to set long courses through uncharted lands. T'is not vengence for all those robes they cloak me in with garlands of gold and amber that stick to the flesh like rabid swamp-mites that can easily drain the blood from an army of men my stature..."

Merler stood by Pennelore, almost as if he's ready to fall asleep. Pennelore continued. "To make up for past fancy, I'm bored dear Merler..." he said as he let the lever go and it shot the slime cargo over several dozen yards of overgrown grass and into the center of the main village. As one would guess, this messed up a good deal of the colorful small tower in the center of the quaint little town. Many villagers were also slimed.

"It must have been a Bullseye!" Merler exclaimed as he could barely make out a few people looking in the direction of the tower. "Let's book!" Merler began pulling the catapult away from the area. Pennelore and Floke followed suit and soon they disappeared back towards the swamp-like features of this unusual kingdom.

"We can take the underground tunnel-it's all smooth stone through there-we can easily push it through unnoticed," Merler said as Pennelore and Floke stopped for a moment to catch their breath. Suddenly large, black crows starting circling them.

They ran away and towards Pennelore's castle. As they took one last look behind them they could see the catapult sink into the soft, mushy ground. "How you could just leave an entire catapult near the marshes, is beyond me," Merler said as he shook his head.

"Giveth me but one fruitful idea from thy wizard's source of how one may tug such a burden through the marshes, and I'll remedy it!" Pennelore said back.

"All you would have had to do was take it through the tunnel."

"Why for thou sayest not a word then?"

"Oh gee, I'm sorry, you must have misunderstood me when I said 'let's go through the tunnel.'"

"Surely, I had not heard thee."

Floke just stood wide-eyed, looking on in disbelief. Then he sunk into some tender soil of the marshland, struggled out and ran off completely unraveled. "He's never been out this way before," Merler said.

That night, Pennelore, Merler and the LadyKnights, and one of Pennelore's queens, Kyriethe held court and feasted while the celebrating villagers sang their storm and moon songs. Ingra had brought a few cloaks, smooth and amber, for the others-except Pennelore who was promised a giant cloak with gold and silver traces to produce an emblem of a majestic dragon with scales and tiny bits of armor, to adorn the back of the cloak. As Ingra had made the amber cloaks herself, she had given news of this magnificent attire being made at the moment by his other two queens who were safe and sound in their neighboring kingdom, visiting the elders.

When Ingra saw the look upon the king's face, she handed him one of her own, hand-made cloaks and sat down. "I knoweth not how to adorn cloaked dragons upon my shoulders, therefore, I shall use them as drapes."

"Thank you, Ingra, you are my favorite! You saveth me from much annoyance. Verily it shall look better upon thee!"

"I shall maketh another plain, moonsoft amber cloak, and giveth the dragon unto a deserving party."

When, at last, everyone had retired...Pennelore lay there in his massive chamber listening to the song. A strength the kingdom would need to prosper was in the wording therein. He fell asleep. The song ceased...and quiet breezes flowed. For as it was foretold, the song the villagers had sung that night opened an abyss of unknown realms within one of the less traveled forests.

MORE TO COME.....