The Perfect Prophecy Part 2

After getting the sword from the janitor’s closet and ordering a knight to give it to the swordsmith to have it refurbished, he went to his office to try to write out the prophecy King Kenton wanted. But after five failed attempts, and five crumpled pieces of paper being thrown into the wastebasket, he decided that it might be easier to find this “Chosen One” first and then write out the prophecy.

With the riots still going on outside the palace, Pennyworth had to sneak out through the back, wearing a hooded cloak to hide his identity. Who knew how the mob would react if they saw him and knew he was the king’s butler?

He walked around the town, looking for the young candidate who would be the Chosen One. The king had wanted him to pick a youth, but Pennyworth couldn’t bring himself to choose some child in their tweens. The candidate would have to be at least seventeen. That was young enough to still be a child but old enough to almost being an adult, somewhat.

He saw one young boy sitting on the steps of his house, carving a block of wood with a pocketknife. He was tall and ruddy and looked to be pretty strong. And he didn’t seem too young, perhaps about eighteen. “He should do,” Pennyworth thought. But just as he was about to approach the fellow…

“Dickory!” A man called from the back of the house. “Come here and help me with the chickens.”

“Yes, father,” the boy said, and he hurried over to the backyard.

Pennyworth sighed. Not an orphan. Not a Chosen One. He kept looking. Later, he saw another boy who seemed more promising than the first. He was taller than the first boy, muscular. He was chopping wood

Pennyworth continued his search, but every boy and girl he saw were either too young or too old, had parents, or both.

Pennyworth was starting to get frustrated. This was going nowhere! “The king and his stupid requirements,” he muttered. “Why on earth does the Chosen One have to be a youth, anyway? An adult would be easier! And then a magic sword? Who’s going to believe that!? This whole plan’s no good, I say. I should’ve never become a servant of the royal family! I don’t care if my pay rate’s high, the King’s requests are becoming more insane by the day. I should quit and see how he likes it.”

As he walked by a group of boys playing ball, still muttering to himself. As the boys played, one of them kicked the ball too high into the air, and it began to fall down towards Pennyworth.

“Hey, look out!” the boys shouted.

But Pennyworth didn’t notice. He was too busy muttering. By the time he noticed that the boys were shouting at him, he looked up to see that the ball was heading straight for his forehead.

Then, just as the ball was about to hit him, a young boy darted in his path and smacked the ball away. The ball bounced and then rolled on the ground. He turned to Pennyworth. “You okay, sir?”

“Y-yes. Thank you, lad.”

The boy nodded. “Anytime.” He started to go back to join his friends.

“May I ask what your name is?”

“Gorgonzola.”

Pennyworth paused. “Pardon?”

But the boy had already gone back to his friends.

Pennyworth walked away and rubbed his chin. Gorgonzola? That was a strange name. Could it be a nickname? Could that boy be the Chosen One he needed? He shook his head. The boy was young, like the king wanted, but he seemed too young for Pennyworth’s tastes. He looked to be about twelve. The youth would have to be a teen at least.

His stomach growled. “It must be lunchtime.”

He went to the local tavern and took a seat at the counter.

Dave, the owner of the place, walked over to him. “Hello, there sir, what can I serve you today?”

“Some bread and soup would be good, thank you.”

“Alrighty. Be back in a few.”

A few minutes later, Dave returned with his meal. “There you go.”

“Thank you.” Pennyworth ate his food. Though he felt his strength return to him, the food did not make his worry of going back to the king empty-handed go away. He was beginning to think that no matter how long he searched, he wouldn’t find what the king wanted.

“You alright there, sir?” Dave asked. “You seem a bit down.”

“I’m fine. It would’ve been a lot worse had it not been for this boy I met.” He told him about what had happened with the boy who saved him from a ball that was about to hit his head.

“Oh, Gorgonzola! I’ve heard about him.”

“So Gorgonzola is his real name?”

“Yes. His parents were more of the creative sort. Silly, but creative. Nice lad, the boy is. A hard worker too.” Dave shook his head. “Tis a shame, really.”

“What’s a shame?”

“Haven’t you heard? The boy’s parents passed away a few months ago.”

“They did?”

“Yes. Now he has to take jobs where he can find it to support himself. Sometimes he’ll play with the local boys, but most other times, he’s workin’.”

Pennyworth never would’ve thought that the news of a boy having no parents would give him a glimmer of hope, but he supposed that was what working for King Kenton did to a person. “That is a shame. I would like to give him a job, but he’s much too young. I need someone who’s at least seventeen.”

Dave stared at him for a moment and laughed.

“What?”

“He is seventeen.”

Pennyworth stared at him. “Pardon?”

“The lad looks younger than his age, is all.”

Pennyworth couldn’t believe it. The boy was shorter than him. He didn’t have any facial hair at all. He looked like a twelve-year-old. But the boy was seventeen. And he was an orphan like the king had wanted. And he had saved him from getting a concussion and possibly from dying, so he was Chosen One material already!

He left a pouch of coins on the table. “Keep the change, good fellow!” He left his seat and hurried out of the tavern and made his way back to the palace. He knew what prophecy he was going to write, and he knew exactly who the Chosen One would be.