Lucidity

Chapter Four: Choose Your Friends Wisely

"Excuse me, what?!"

Hjalmar stood opposite Lieutenant Pritshitz with a firm stance. He knew he didn't look like a chosen one - Xiran had apologised for the black eye and gash on his arm afterwards, but had also said he that didn't regret it because apparently Hjalmar now looked like a work of his art - but he knew this was his responsibility now. When he'd joined the army, he'd planned on just serving his country and finding Linus, but if destiny called, he would follow.

With a fed up expression, Hjalmar repeated, "I'm the chosen one. I know I don't seem like one, but last night a mage sent me a dream and you can't seriously believe I'd be making this up. I joined the army on my own accord, I'm not that desperate to leave already. But I believe I've been chosen to help end the war, so I want to go and try my best. Please understand, sir."

After this short speech, Hjalmar had been hoping for a smile or a pat on the back. Something. But all he got was a frown. Oh boy, this could be a long day.

"You know, I've previously had people waltzing in here, claiming to be the chosen one or saying they've had a prophetic dream before. Occasionally one is speaking the truth, though a chosen one claim has never been legitimate so far," Lieutenant Pritshitz said, crossing his arms behind his back as he turned around to face his giant map. It was covered in pins, marking different troops and different battles. It was a wonder it fit in the tent, though respectively, it was a large tent.

"How do you expect a chosen one claim to be proven correct if you never let them go and live out their destiny, sir?", Hjalmar retorted, just about remaining reasonably civil. Lieutenant Pritshitz turned around with a sliver of a grin on his face, "We've developed an impeccable test. Come with me."

The lieutenant marched past his right shoulder, leaving Hjalmar nothing to do except follow the surprisingly feminine man - not that his feminity was especially relevant, it was just his long hair and the shape of his hands made Hjalmar notice this. They headed through the bustling camp. Luckily Hjalmar was used to the heat of the desert-like camp, otherwise he would be even more irritated by this point.

His superior halted in front of a small burgundy tent, pulling the corner of the door up, "Redruig, we have another chosen one!" She said it with an air of humour that made Hjalmar's pride stung a bit. He didn't really enjoy being laughed at.

There was no reply, but nevertheless, Lieutenant Pritshitz gestured at him to enter. Slowly, he dived through the tent's enterance, the fabric sliding behind him, and came face to face with a rather odd-looking woman. Her hair was purple and consisted of thick strands - thick as snakes - that went in all directions and bent and twisted to form various geometrical shapes. Her skin was green and she had two sets of eyes on her face of which the upper one boasted wide eyes with irises the colour of her skin, whereas the thinner bottom pair of eyes were entirely white. There was no nose on the face, just a lipless mouth. She wore purple flowing robes, though they barely covered half her body, especially since they needed to adapt to six arms and four legs. Her spinal chord extended into a slender, smooth tail which ended in what looked like a white and red leaf with an incredibly sharp tip. Hjalmar couldn't help but gulp.

Uncertainly, he bowed down, "I believe you are Redruig."

Her head swayed from side to side as she examined him, looking at her subject with great curiousity, "You are correct, child."

"They said you would test me. Whatever it is, let it begin. I know I must be able to handle it, for I know what I dreamt," he declared, standing upright and hiding the tingling fear he felt. He wouldn't have been chosen unless he could handle whatever test lay ahead, right? Surely nobody would chose a hero who couldn't even get so far as to set off on his journey.