The Perfect Prophecy

 

The people of the Dahlia Kingdom rioted outside the palace as they held up signs and shouted. “Down with the dragon, or down with King Kenton!”

Pennyworth, the King’s servant, shut the windows. Just as he had finished closing the second window, several rotten tomatoes splatted against the glass. “How uncouth,” Pennyworth muttered.

King Kenton slouched in his throne and rubbed his temple. “Ugh! They’ve been bothering me for a whole week! Why are they mad at me?! I’m not the one making the dragon come down the mountain to burn their crops and devour their livestock! Why can’t they just leave me alone?!”

“Um, your majesty,” Pennyworth said. “In times of crisis, people tend to look up to their superiors for leadership.”

“And your point is?”

“My point is that if you want them to stop rioting outside, you need to do something about the problem.”

“Like what!? Send someone to kill the dragon? No one wants to face the dragon and those that did have been barbecued already! What am I supposed to do?! Find The Chosen One to solve all our problems for us and get everyone to stop making a ruckus!?”

“Well…I mean…that could work if there is a prophecy.”

The King paused and stroked his beard. “Wait a minute. That could work!” He rose from his throne and paced around the room. “Ha, ha, ha! Why didn’t I think of this sooner?! We need a Chosen One!”

“Very well, your Majesty.” Pennyworth turned to leave. “I shall see if there are any prophecies about a Chosen One and—”

“And where do you think you’re going?”

“Uh, to the archives to find a prophecy.”

“Don’t be daft, Pennyworth! You’re not going to find a prophecy.”

“I’m not?”

“No! You’re going to make a prophecy.”

“I am?”

“Indeed! The perfect prophecy! The prophecy that shall get rid of my problems and get the pestering peasants off my back! Now get a pen and paper and start writing one!”

“B-but we cannot just pick a random person for the job. It will never work.”

“I agree.”

“You do?”

“Yes. It can’t be a random person. When you make the prophecy and look for our candidate, you have to make sure The Chosen One is an orphan.”

Pennyworth looked at the king in shock. “What!?”

“Well, if we pick a youth who has parents, then the parents aren’t going to let him go fight a dragon, now will they?”

“A youth?”

“That’s usually how Chosen Ones work, isn’t it?”

“Well, sometimes, but I mean it can be an adult too.”

“Yes, yes, but youths don’t know any better about the dangers of facing monstrous beasts. They won’t be afraid. They’ll be too excited for adventure to be afraid of dying. Also, they don’t have families to raise, and they most likely don’t even have jobs, so it’s not like they’ll have anything else better to do. So, go get an orphaned youth or you’re fired!”

“Y-yes, your Majesty.” He bowed and turned to leave.

“And one more thing Pennyworth! Make sure to give The Chosen One a magic sword.”

“But we don’t have any magic swords.”

“Well, we do now. So, give a magic sword to him while you’re at it. Or her. It doesn’t matter if the Chosen One’s a boy or a girl. Hurry along now!”

Pennyworth sighed. “As you wish, your Majesty.”

He hurried out of the king’s throne room, wondering how he was going to make the perfect prophecy. It would require clear instructions, but also enough vagueness so that almost any youth would do. Then he had to find a “magical” sword. He was sure he had seen an old one in the janitorial closet somewhere. How it got there he didn’t know, and he didn’t want to know. As he went on his way to get the sword, he took out his pen and notepad from his pockets and began to write the prophecy that would save them from the dragon. Or, more frankly, the wrath of the townsfolks and the wrath of the king.