The Green Knight

Chapter 1

Beric Highgrove, 28 and strong, sat on a boulder half a mile away from his village, sharpening his hatchet. The steady rhythm of stone against metal was the only sound in the quiet morning air. Beric's rough hands moved with practiced ease, his gaze distant as he worked the blade. The fields beyond him stretched wide, golden under the rising sun, but the weight in his chest made them feel much smaller than they used to. His village lay just beyond the hills, peaceful for now, but Beric had heard the rumors, the kinds that crawled through the countryside like a sickness. Something told him the time for simple tools was running out.

Beric: *finishes sharpening his hatchet* Alright, time to head home. Hey guys! Lend me a hand with these logs! *gets up, dusting off his trousers, slides the sharpened hatchet into his belt* Hey, come on guys! Gonna lend me a hand?

"We're coming, Beric!"

From the tree line, a couple of familiar faces emerged, wiping their brows and grinning as they made their way over. It was another day of hard work in the village, and Beric and his two friend's, Gabriel and Hector, were doing the town's work, collecting firewood.

Gabriel: *tosses his axe over his shoulder, laughs* "You know, Beric, if you keep sharpening that hatchet any more, you'll turn it into a stick.

Beric: *smirks* At least mine's sharp, unlike that dull blade you've been dragging around.

Hector: *chuckles as he hefts a log onto his shoulder* Hey, leave Gabriel's axe alone. It's not his fault the thing hasn't cut anything but air all season.

Gabriel: *playfully glares at Hector* Pfft, like you'd do better.

Beric: *grabs a few logs* Alright, less talk, more work. We better get these back to the village, you know how the reeve'll be if we don't bring enough.

Hector: That old geezer gets on my nerves. Grumpy ass...

The three of them then head to their village with the logs, which fortunately were enough for this day.

The village of Grovegard sat nestled between rolling hills and dense woods, its modest thatched-roof cottages clustered around a central square. A small stream wound through the village, providing fresh water for the townsfolk, who bustled about tending to their daily tasks. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys, mingling with the scent of freshly baked bread and the earthy aroma of tilled soil. Though simple, Grovegard was a peaceful place, where hard work and community kept life steady, far removed from the looming unrest in the Kingdom of Arthurian Isle.

The Kingdom of Arthurian Isle stretched across vast, fertile lands, bordered by mountains in the north and the glimmering sea to the west. Its capital, Camelot, stood as a shining beacon of prosperity, with towering stone walls and spires that pierced the sky, a symbol of King Arthur's legendary rule. At the heart of this kingdom sat the Knights of the Round Table, twelve of the most skilled and noble warriors, sworn to protect the realm and uphold justice. Their leader, King Arthur, was a man of legend, said to have risen from humble origins after pulling the enchanted sword Excalibur from the stone, marking him as the chosen ruler. Under Arthur's reign, the kingdom flourished, uniting once fractured lands through peace, prosperity, and a strict code of chivalry. A kingdom all would love to be in.

Back in Grovegard, the three friends made it to the house of the village's chief margistrate, Reeve Reginald Thorneby, 72 years of age.

Beric: *knocks on the door of the Reeve Thorneby's* Morning, Reeve Thorneby sir! We've brought the wood you asked for. We've got plenty for the coming days.

Reeve Thorneby: *opens the door and frowns a bit, grunts* Well, it's about time! You lads always take your sweet time with everything. Bring it around the back and stack it neatly. And don't be leaving a mess, or I'll have you hauling rocks next! *shuts the door*