“Do you have any idea just how delusional you sound?” Reece asked, exasperated, just before another arrow flew from Nelson’s bow, whistling through the air and thudding deep into the dummy at the other end of the firing range. 

“Bullseye,” he bragged, brushing his hair back with one hand, combing his fingers slowly through his unkempt brown hair. 

“You missed the bloody target!” Reece shouted, angrily gesturing down the range at the arrow that had landed on the dummy’s leg, far below the paper target bolted to it. “What are you, blind?” 

“Blinded by my own perfection,” Nelson sighed, a pompous smirk on his face that might as well be permanently cemented there. He nocked another arrow, drew it back and fired, this time missing the dummy completely. “Another perfect shot.” 

“I seriously don’t know if you’re stupid or pulling my leg.” 

“Pulling your leg?” He scoffed, gesturing out to the field. “I wasn’t aiming for that target. I was aiming for his friend behind him, the one with the crossbow ready to put a bolt between my eyes.” 

Reece didn’t even bother looking to where he was pointing. “There’s only one dummy on the field.” 

“If you only aim for the enemies you can see, you’ll never hit the enemies that you can’t.” 

“Oh, for the love of God.” 

“Indeed, God does love me the most.” 

Reece clenched his jaw, looking straight up into the sky and balling his hands into fists, silently begging for the strength not to knock Nelson onto his arse. After hearing Nelson fire off one more arrow that almost certainly missed once again, he let out a long breath. “Alright. Fine. Let’s say you are this ‘chosen one.’ What then?” 

“I travel the world, of course! On my grand mission to slay the Lord of Demons.” Nelson slung his bow over his back, stepping off the shooting platform without even bothering to retrieve the arrows from the field. “That’s what the prophecy says.” 

“Nelson.” 

“Yes, my friend?” 

“There is no prophecy.” 

Nelson blinked, pausing for a moment, before exploding into a fit of laughter, slapping his hand onto Reece’s shoulder repeatedly while he stood there, stone-faced. “I’d have expected someone of your age to be a bit wiser!” 

Reece raised an eyebrow, pushing Nelson’s hand off. “Nelson, listen to me, alright? There is no prophecy. There. Is. No. Prophecy. You got hit by a bolt of lightning and survived, that’s it. That’s it. You are not the ‘chosen one.’ There isn’t even… the ‘Demon Lord’ doesn’t exist! Demons don’t exist!” 

“Are you sure? Have you ever seen a Demon not exist, hm?” 

“Wha— no! What does that even mean?” 

“Exactly!” His grin grew wider while Reece’s scowl deepened. “Not to worry. Soon, the prophecy will be discovered, and when it is, they’ll realise it’s already been fulfilled! By the Knight of Light, Ser Nelson Rivers!” 

“Stupid title,” Reece muttered. 

“You know what I think, friend?” Nelson strode past him, walking into the barracks. “I think you’re jealous of my status. Who wouldn’t be?” 

“No, actually, I think you’re going to defect from the King’s royal army, be hunted down and sentenced to death for deserting.” 

Another guffaw from Nelson. “Don’t be ridiculous. The King will know the Chosen One when he sees him.” 

The barracks doors slammed open suddenly, and one of the Kings Guard stood at the entrance, his silver armor polished to perfection and his shining sword by his side. “Men! There has been a call to marshal all troops.” 

“Ah,” Nelson said, looking over his shoulder at Reece. “The prophecy commences.” 

Reece rolled his eyes. “Might we know what this call is in regard to?” 

“Some of the noblemen invited to attend the King’s banquet tonight are uncharacteristically late. You will be sent out to search for them.” 

“Demons,” Nelson hissed. “Not to worry, Ser! I, Nelson, the decorated Knight of Light, shall strike down these demons and end the horrible plight of these noblemen!” 

Reece sighed as Nelson continued to spill delusions to the poor messenger. “Every other time this happens it’s just bandits, but oh no, this time it’s more than that, isn’t it? I’m so special, chosen by God, blah blah,” he muttered to himself, walking forward past the two and entering the barracks to don his armour.