Chronicles Of Made Up Scenarios I Force My Friends Into On Discord

The sky was blue, the air crisp, and birds chirped overhead. Meanwhile, Howard's flank ached as he rolled across the cobblestone.

"Damn… that's one buff-ass old man. Who knew a basketball could hurt that much?" He ran his fingers over his ribcage, wincing.

Beside him lay Kevin, his friend of five years, curled up in a fetal position and staring at the clear sky.

"Oh, hey, Howard. You're here too?" Kevin smirked lazily. "I ran in front of a garbage truck."

Howard blinked. "What?"

Kevin sighed, stretching out like a cat. "Yeah, it's a long story. Anyway, you really are my lucky charm. Wherever I go, you're always there. I'll just follow."

"Stop spouting nonsense," Howard groaned, sitting up. "We need to figure out where we are—I cannot handle another isekai scenario."

As he stood, he finally took in his surroundings. A bustling medieval town square stretched before them. Merchants shouted deals over the chatter of passersby, wooden carts creaked under the weight of fresh produce, and blacksmiths hammered away in the distance.

"Look at us, two Asians stranded somewhere in Europe, by the looks of it. Aren't we a rare sight?" Kevin remarked, eyeing the fantasy RPG setting.

"Forget race," Howard grumbled, inspecting his clothes—tattered rags, no better than a peasant's. "We need to get jobs. Hopefully, without any economic discrimination."

Kevin raised an eyebrow. "Bold of you to assume this world has worker rights."

The sun had begun to set when the two reunited at the town square.

"So, how was job hunting, homie?" Kevin leaned back against the stone steps, taking a sharp bite of the stale bread he had bought.

Howard wiped the sweat from his brow with the edge of his tattered sleeve, his muscles still aching from the day's labor. "Got a job working the wheat fields. Pays five copper a day. At least I'm staying in shape."

Kevin smirked and jingled his coin pouch. "Pfft. Five? I one-upped you. I get double that as a janitor at the stables."

Howard wrinkled his nose. "Yeah? Well figures, you're literally cleaning shit. Good luck finding a place to shower around here."

Kevin only grinned. His black, messy hair was now tangled with straw, and his peasant rags bore questionable stains.

Howard exhaled, rubbing his temples shooting Kevin a sideways glance. "Alright, now that we've got our finances somewhat handled, did you actually learn anything useful today? Or were you too busy dealing with shit?" 

Kevin swallowed his bite and pulled a coin from his pouch. He turned it between his fingers, studying its design. The copper piece was worn but intricately crafted, its edges engraved with unfamiliar script. 

On one side, a stern-faced figure in a spiked crown gazed outward, a sword raised beside him in what looked like a gesture of conquest. The other side bore an emblem—a roaring lion intertwined with a serpent, their bodies curling around a blazing sun. 

"This town is part of something called the Zailes Empire," Kevin mused, tilting the coin under the fading sunlight. "Never heard of it in history, well our history at least, so by conclusion…" He flicked the coin up, caught it effortlessly.

Howard groaned. "We might not even be in our world. That's just great. Hopefully, this fantasy isn't the soul-crushing type. If it is, do you have any overpowered cheat abilities?"

Kevin snorted. "Bitch, I can't even see my status, let alone get a cheat skill." He waved his hands dramatically. "Status! Stat! System Call! Profile!—Abracadabra!" Nothing happened. He let his arms drop with a sigh. "See? Nothing. He really just dumped us here with nothing."

Kevin struggled to tear another bite from his rock-hard bread, his jaw working overtime. "Sho—wheh… whe' we sshhhleepin'—" He swallowed hard, wincing. 

"Ugh—damn, this is dry as hell, no wonder it's only one copper. Anyways, where we crashin' tonight? Inns're 'spensive, an' streets're—" He choked slightly, smacking his chest before forcing the rest down. "—not comfy."

"My employer has an empty spot in his barn. Guess we'll be sleeping on hay for a while." Howard turned to leave, then grimaced. "Also, go find a lake or something—I am not sleeping near the smell of shit."

As the morning rays shone through the barn, Kevin cackled, choking on his bread, and jogged after him.

Howard woke up with a splitting headache.

"My head is killing me," Kevin groaned beside him. "All Howard's fault."

"For what—"

A sudden thunder of hoofbeats and the clank of metal cut him off. Outside, the town square erupted in commotion.

Howard's employer rushed toward them, pale-faced. "It's the Zailes Knight Brigade! Quickly, gather at the square—or they'll have our heads!"

Howard and Kevin exchanged glances.

The duo joined the growing crowd as a platoon of knights rode into the square. The leading knight dismounted, unrolled a scroll, and cleared his throat.

Kevin nudged Howard. "Damn, there's like twenty-plus knights. What do you think is the occasion for all this?"

Howard sighed. "Probably some 'By order of the King, you're all under our control' bullshit or something along those lines."

The knight's voice boomed through the square. "By order of the Zailes Empire, the quarterly draft for men-at-arms shall commence!"

Murmurs rippled through the crowd.

"Those who comply will have the opportunity to bring great honor to the Empire. Should you demonstrate exceptional valor, you may be promoted to Junior Knight."

Howard stiffened, his grip tightening around the rough fabric of his tunic. His jaw clenched, and his lips pressed into a thin line as the knight's decree rang through the air. He could feel the weight of the inevitable settling onto his shoulders like an iron yoke.

Kevin, being Kevin, immediately threw him under the bus. "Uh… yeah sir knight take him. He's durable."

Howard scoffed. "You're three times more durable than me."

"And? You're three times stronger than me."

"Psh. Doesn't matter."

"It does. Push you're taller so you're more knight material."

"I'm a bigger target. You're small, harder to hit."

"No human skin is sword-proof. Strength is everything. You'd do better on the battlefield."

"Yeah, well, at your height, no one would even see you."

"Low blow." Kevin swatted at Howard playfully. "I shovel poop. A farmer is more physically suited for war."

Howard smirked. "Ten copper is ten copper. And who's gonna grow food if they draft the farmers, huh? They need people who can handle the horrors of war. Like you—you deal with horse shit daily."

Before Kevin could retort, Howard spun on his heel and strode off, his pace brisk, deliberate. "I'm going back to work. If you're feeling adventurous, by all means—try out for knighthood."

Kevin simply shrugged and turned to the knights. "So anyways, Sir Knight, I'm good at cleaning. I hear battlefields get messy."

Howard wiped sweat from his brow, his hands coated in dirt as he hunched over a pile of half-dug trenches. The farm work was grueling, but it was honest. It kept him grounded. Kept him from dealing with the madness that was medieval warfare.

Or at least, that's what he thought.

The rhythmic clop of hooves against the dirt sent a chill down his spine. Slowly, he turned.

There, chatting with the knights like they were old drinking buddies, was Kevin.

Howard's stomach twisted.

Kevin suddenly turned, flashing a mischievous grin, and pointed directly at him.

Howard's entire soul left his body.

Kevin leaned toward a knight. "Hey, my friend over there? Super strong. You should take him too."

Howard immediately deadpanned. "I don't know that guy. Total weirdo. Never seen his face in my life."

The wooden wagon rocked beneath them, the town shrinking in the distance. The scent of damp wood mixed with the earthy musk of horses, but none of it registered to Howard. He sat stiffly on the rough planks, arms crossed, his expression hollow—empty.

Kevin stretched lazily beside him. "Something on your mind, buddy?"

Howard's eyes bore into the horizon with the weight of a thousand regrets. When he finally spoke, his voice was tight, controlled. "Why did you have to clean shit so well? We wouldn't be drafted."

Kevin grinned. "Because I'm good at my job. You wouldn't hold a grudge, right?"

Howard turned to face him, gaze sharp as a blade. He inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly, and then—

"Fuck you."

Kevin cackled.