The castle is a disaster zone. Smoke curls from charred sections of the gate. The courtyard looks like a goblin rave gone wrong. And there’s a suspiciously large dent in the cobblestones where the orc’s club landed.

I’m pretty sure the king’s prized pineapple hat got burned. And for some reason, that’s what’s going to get me in the most trouble.

Because of course.

I’m standing in the throne room, trying to focus on King Marcus’s words and not the soot on my armor. The king is pacing, his golden robe trailing behind him like a very judgmental shadow. His face is redder than a tomato in a heatwave, and his eyes are locked on me like he’s thinking about the best way to roast a gate guard.

“You abandoned your post,” he thunders.

“Technically, I saved your castle,” I say. Which, in hindsight, might not be the smartest move.

His eyes narrow. “You’re fined.”

“Fined?” I ask, my voice rising. “For what?? Doing my job too well?”

“For—” he waves his hand at the destruction outside the window. “That.”

“Your Majesty,” I say, putting on my best “this is absurd” face. “If I hadn’t left my post, we’d all be orc food by now.”

“You’re still fined,” he says with finality. “And consider yourself lucky I’m not cutting your wages for the next ten years.”

Great. Just great. Because nothing says job satisfaction like saving the day and getting a bill for it.

Bob, who’s standing next to me and somehow looking like he belongs here, clears his throat. “Um, Your Majesty? If I may?”

The king glares at him.

But Bob continues, oblivious as ever. “Greg was essential in stopping the Horde of Shadows. He pulled the lever, Your Majesty. The lever!”

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The king’s glare doesn’t soften. If anything, it hardens. “The lever doesn’t excuse his rule-breaking.”

I turn to Bob and mutter under my breath, “You’re really bad at this.”

Bob flashes me an apologetic grin before turning back to the king. “Regardless, I’ll need Greg for my quest.”

The room goes silent. I can hear Dave’s muffled snort from the hallway. Thanks for the support, buddy.

“Greg?” the king repeats, as if Bob just suggested taking a sandwich to fight a dragon. “For your quest?”

“Yes,” Bob says earnestly. “He’s brave, resourceful, and…” He pauses, searching for another compliment. “He’s very good with levers.”

“Lever skills aside,” the king snaps, “Greg is a gate guard, not an adventurer. And as punishment for his…” He waves at the destruction outside again. “Whatever that was, he’s staying here.”

Bob looks at me, his eyes wide and pleading. “Greg?”

“Don’t look at me like that,” I say. “I’m not exactly thrilled about this either.”

The king’s eyes narrow further. “You’re fined and you’re staying.”

The words land like stones in my gut. Sure, staying means I won’t have to deal with Bob’s “snagon” nonsense. But it also means I’ll be stuck here, getting blamed for every goblin arrow and orc footprint. And if Bob dies… Well, let’s just say I’ve got a bad feeling that “Chosen One” paperwork is the worst kind of paperwork.

“Your Majesty,” I say, stepping forward before I can stop myself. “I volunteer to go with Bob.”

The king blinks at me. “What?”

“What?” Bob asks, looking both thrilled and surprised.

“What?” Dave adds from the doorway. Because he’s a supportive friend like that.

“I’ll go,” I say, louder this time. “If I stay, I’ll be fined into the ground. And let’s be honest, Bob’s not surviving this quest on his own.”

Bob beams. “You really think so?”

I give him a flat look. “That wasn’t a compliment.”

“Fine,” the king says, waving a dismissive hand. “Go. Both of you. And don’t come back until the prophecy is fulfilled or you’re dead.”

“Motivating,” I mutter as I turn to leave.

***

By the time we’re outside the castle gates, Bob is practically skipping. “This is going to be great! Two brave adventurers, united by destiny, setting out to save the world!”

“Yeah,” I say, walking along behind him. “Great.”

Bob’s excitement doesn’t let up. “I’ve got the map, the sword, and the glowing orb. You bring the practicality and the…” He pauses, searching for words.

“Sarcasm?” I offer.

“Yes! That! It’s a good balance.”

I groan, already regretting every decision I’ve made today. But as I glance back at the smoky castle, I can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, keeping Bob alive might be worth it. If only for the entertainment value.

“Alright, Bob,” I say, lifting my spear. “Let’s go save the world.”

And with that, we set off. Two unlikely allies facing impossible odds together. Because apparently, that’s my life now.