The Green Knight Anthology

by Bercilak

The complete anthology of short stories detailing the adventures of Sir Bercilak de Hautdesert, the Green Knight, within The Ancient Magus' Bride universe. Join Chise as she struggles to reclaim Bercilak's stolen limbs from nasty boggarts, or Anaisha, as she's thrown into the deep end on her first day of apprenticeship!

A complete illustrated version can be read via Twitter at Wicked_Pesku

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'The Stranger on Tory Island'

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The Gate

On Tory Island, four times a year and at the zenith of the night, you might find seven stones. These seven stones, stacked three on the left and four to the right, form a gate. A gate of which this world shall never open. Should never open.

Until one day, the fourth on the right fell down; by the loathsome hand of someone or something. Now this gateway, it doesn't seem like much to the untrained eye; but it leads to a place no soul dares visit, for the ancients of the earth slumber here. A gateway to a land unlike the dwellings of fae, or the ice-wreathed crags of troll-folk. No, here is an eternal pit of rot and festering mud that harbors the world's most malign.

On Tory Island, four times a year and at the zenith of the night, you might find this gateway to another world, but this is no bitter-sweet home of fairy-folk. It is a haunting prison.

The Stranger

The toads were vocal tonight, mused the Stranger as it strode through the knee-high silt. Reeds shook and rattled in what little breeze there was, making it seem as if something was following you no matter where you went. If the reeds were present, so was the danger in the back of your mind. At least, not in the Stranger's. This was his world, the dirt and the stagnant water was his home. And oh did he hate it so.

He hated the repetitive landscape and the mundane aura that smothered it. It was however, cool, dark and damp. He liked that part. That reminded him of his true home. Somewhere long lost on the shores of Toraigh.

Something slithered past his ankle, yet he did not fret. No beast would harm him. Could harm him. Because he was beyond. He was beyond any of them. That's why he was here, because he was beyond them all; or so he thought.

That ostentatious hero of a thousand tales would surely be dust by now, he thought. But there was always more. No matter where he went, there were folk who revered the names of their mighty ancestors. The champions of foreign gods were the worst, he thought. Troublesome for himself and his late kin. They could often contend, if for a time.

This land of eternal twilight sat between worlds, and its moon was bright and clear. There was remarkably little rainfall, and yet it was always wet and boggy, down in this prison fen. Ironic that he had once wished the whole world to resemble his home; he hated going without water to sink into and ponder the matters of higher beings.

The Stranger left the silt-lake behind and stepped up onto firmer ground. Each day he would trek across this hell-scape to the gate. And each night he would trek back.

But not today.

The Stranger's singular eye flickered beneath his hood. The pupil of the glowing orb waxed strong, and a glint of moonlight was caught forever in a globule of mucous. The Stranger released his breath, and it undulated slowly as it exited his nostrils. The next breath brought a chuckle, and this shook the earth and sloshed the silt to and fro. A quake came next; the sudden reality had dawned on him slowly. His throat released a high-pitched nasal note that soon developed into a leering grin that sucked the life from all that crawled beneath him.

The water was roiling now, crashing against the earthen bank and sweeping its denizens beneath the silt and clay. The Stranger plodded towards the twin bowing oaks and marveled.

And then it spoke.

And its voice came like hurricane winds and the scorched earth of the drought. It came like the groan of ancient glaciers scraping across stone, and the thunderclouds high above. Its elemental immensity was projected in mere words alone, yet its meagre form was soon to match. What it said no one can know.

The Stranger stepped beneath the boughs, and for the first time in millennia, he felt the cool night air of home. He straightened up, then looked to the stars. He was sure that if he stared long enough, one might wink out beneath his gaze. Perhaps in a different time he might wish that, but now was different. The prison was one of reflection, yet it did nothing but stoke the fires. Stretching his arms, from one cliff face to the next, he inhaled the brackish sea-air and smiled with cage-like jaws.

"Home," he said, and the world cried out in pain.

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'As Green as Green Could Be'

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"I don't think you should be rummaging around in there, Chise," warned Ruth as he sniffed the small, rickety door frame.

"It's the cupboard under the stairs," Chise replied, as she knelt down to look through the old stuff that cluttered it. "It needs sorting through."

"You'll find more than the odd broom or dead mouse, I'm sure," Ruth stated. "This cupboard didn't even exist until yesterday."

"Well, yes but…"

"You'll get told off again."

"Oh hush," Chise retorted, then got down on her hands as well. "Does it have a light inside?"

"No," Ruth said bluntly, as he looked up to find a switch but to no avail.

Chise pushed some things out of the way and her hands got covered in thick dust. "I bet nobody's opened this in decades," she said through a sneeze. "It's disgusting in here."

"I'm sure it's slipped his mind by now," Ruth replied, then glanced back to see Silky walking by. "What's in this cupboard?"

Silky looked at them, cocked her head then shrugged her shoulders like she didn't even know it existed.

"Ooh, what's this?" Chise wondered as she pulled out an odd shaped thing wrapped in parchment paper. She crawled out of the cupboard and sat with her back to the door frame with the thing in her lap. Ruth sniffed it and sneezed as well.

"It smells like really stale herbs and grass."

Chise tentatively unwrapped the thing with care and discarded the wrappings. "A horn?" she murmured to herself as she turned the curling instrument over; the sharp end had been fashioned with brass into an opening.

"It's old," Ruth stated simply. "Very old."

"What's it for?"

"How would I know?"

Chise stood up and forgot about the open cupboard behind her. "Wait, it's got some letters carved into the brass part," she almost exclaimed in excitement. "Can you read them?"

Ruth craned his neck and gazed at the lettering. "No, this is older than me I'm afraid."

"Will Elias know?"

"Will Elias want to know why you were snooping around his stuff? Yes," Ruth replied rhetorically.

"Good point," Chise said then closed the cupboard, picked up the fallen wrappings and dashed upstairs to her room. Ruth shook his head but followed anyway.

"You'll ask the Neighbors?"

"Naturally," Chise replied then placed it on her desk. She closed her eyes for a moment. "A nature spirit will do," as a Hawthorn Sprite leaped down from the aether.

"Hello there!" the rounded fae squeaked as he landed on her shoulder.

"Hi, could you help us, please?"

"Ooh, what have you got there I wonder?" the fae mused, then he clambered off Chise's shoulder and trotted along the desk. He peered at the horn and tapped it in numerous locations.

"Can you translate these words for us?" Chise asked as Ruth attempted to sniff the little fae.

"Hmm… Sure, but what will you give me in return?"

Chise thought for a moment, before rummaging around in her desk. A few seconds later, she produced a crystal flower and handed it to the sprite.

"Ooh, that'll do just fine!" the fae said excitedly as he accepted the treat. He chomped on it and swallowed it whole, much to Chise's surprise.

The sprite gave her a mischievous grin, then turned back to the horn; savoring the sweet taste as it lasted. "Let's take a look-see, shall we? This is a type of Futhark; very old runes. Not sure which one, but I can figure it out!"

"Futhark?" repeated Chise with a frown.

"The alphabet of the Anglo-Saxons and other Germanic tribes," explained Ruth.

The sprite ran a finger along the lines and read: "When sounded, so shall appear a Green Knight of old. Beware, she who walks the foggy night shall deem thee bold."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Chise asked, and the sprite shrugged his little shoulders.

"Beats me. Try it and find out," he giggled, then leaped out through the open window. "Thanks for the treat!"

Chise looked at Ruth and he shook his head. "But I don't learn if I don't try, right?"

"Well, I'm having nothing to do with it," Ruth replied, then left the room with a swish of his tail. "Do as you wish, but don't blame me."

"I will!" Chise called back, before turning her attention to the horn. She picked it up and went to the open window. "I guess it's as simple as it looks."

Chise took a deep breath, then held it up and blew into the ancient horn; it wailed and resonated throughout the house. After she ran out of puff, Chise lowered the horn and waited while gasping for breath. She glanced at the clock in her room, then looked around before being startled by the snapping of branches around her.

"What on earth?!" she exclaimed as branches pivoted upwards from the floorboards, while a ring of leaves and grass encircled a glowing green light. A number of branches moved on their own, then, during the sudden growth of vegetation, it looked at Chise with a masked face carved like a fox. It leaped out of the circle and scampered off. The greenery grew thicker until it covered the entire room, then little mushrooms and mosses began to spring up until a wild garden had taken over her humble dwelling. It was a fairy ring.

"My sincere apologies for the delay, your Majesty. I was chasing a Dryad and…" a warm yet mighty voice announced as if it was speaking from beneath a helmet.

Chise glanced back to the little grove that had grown in her room from beside the window, and there stood a huge man in a suit of armor, with a glorious deep green cape and antlers adorning his helm. He could have been as tall as Elias.

"Oh, wait a moment. You're not my queen," the knight said and scratched his head, or helmet. "How did you get a Green Horn?"

"A green what?" Chise asked in awe as she looked the man up and down; she wasn't as shocked as she could have been.

"Don't tell me you've found the recipe? I thought we destroyed it," the knight tutted, then stepped out from the fairy ring and it began to die back and disappear into the floorboards. "Summoning me is unwise, human."

"Are you a neighbor?" Chise asked as she circled around him to get a good look.

"Neighbor? No, I am a man. Well‒no, not really," the knight tried to explain. "I'm not really anything except a heap of metal and nice clothes, oh and a bit of magic."

"W-what?" Chise stuttered as she stopped before him.

The knight sighed and swept his cape aside, then walked over to her bed and sat down like he owned the place. It creaked under his weight. "You foolish girl, you shouldn't have summoned me…"

"Chise?! Why are there roots growing from my ceiling?" Elias shouted from downstairs. "And what was that noise?"

The knight looked up to the door. "That voice…" he said, as Elias appeared and popped his head around the frame.

"Bercilak?" Elias replied, seemingly shocked yet showing little expression. "Good heavens, how are you ‒" he began, then looked to the Green Horn in Chise's hands; she promptly hid it behind her back and grinned.

"Ainsworth? How good to see you. This little cretin summoned me, with a Green Horn you shouldn't have," the knight called Bercilak said, then folded his arms with a clatter of metal.

Elias shook his head in disappointment. "It's my fault. I never mentioned this to her."

"Is she the apprentice that I've heard so much about? A Sleigh-Beggy?" he asked, sitting forwards slightly.

"Yes-yes," Elias replied, then turned out of the room and beckoned him to follow. "Now that you're here we might as well welcome you to our abode." Chise heard him mutter: "You are in so much trouble when he's gone," under his breath as he walked away.

"Please, take a seat," Elias gestured to an armchair as Bercilak clunked into the living room. "I will see to it that the Silver Lady brings us some tea."

"That's very kind of you," Bercilak replied as he drew a glowing glyph in the air, then suddenly transformed in a flash of vibrant green light. His armor had changed into a dashing evergreen waistcoat and dark gray formal trousers. He promptly took a seat and folded his arms; he was grumpy.

"Y-your head is still…"

Bercilak looked up at Chise then cocked his still helmeted head; it now had a silky plume of horsehair instead of antlers. "This is my head. I said before, I am made of steel."

"You're a suit of armor?" Chise inquired as she took a seat opposite him.

Elias returned with a cake stand, then placed it on the table. "Once again, I must apologize. My apprentice here found the Green Horn that I had stowed away carefully."

"He put it in the cupboard under the stairs," Chise said directly to the knight.

"A magical cupboard," Elias tried to correct her but Bercilak shook his head.

"No matter, I am here now so I may as well make the most of this outing."

"I trust her majesty didn't have need of you?" Elias asked to ascertain the gravity of the situation.

"No, not particularly. I was chasing a pesky dryad that keeps trying to steal my axe," Bercilak explained with a casual dismissive wave of his gloved hand. "I'm not needed until tonight, when I host a dinner party at Hautdesert Castle."

"I think it ran through the house," Chise added, as Silky came in with a tray of tea and set it down before them on the coffee table.

"Thank you, Silver Lady," Elias said and looked back to the knight. "Now, I suppose I should formally introduce our guest here to you. This is Sir Bercilak de Hautdesert, the legendary Green Knight of Great Britain."

"I think I've read a story about you," Chise said as she perked up at the familiar name. "It was in Elias' study."

"It's probably false. I never knew King Arthur before you ask, and Morgan le Fay is another name for the fairy queen."

Chise shut her mouth before she could ask that very question.

"Now, what might your name be?"

"I-I'm Chise Hatori, Elias' apprentice," Chise stuttered, even though she expected the question.

"Hatori? Hmm, a name from a distant land," Bercilak pondered with a finger to his chin, although he didn't seem to care all that much. "Now‒may I ask, dear Elias? Why do you still have a Green Horn?"

Elias pulled at his collar awkwardly. "You could say that I kept it in case of an… emergency. After all, you are the protector of the realm, are you not? It's no different to having telephone boxes on every street, if you get what I mean."

"Telephones do not summon the Champion of Tír na nÓg," Bercilak said bluntly then folded his arms again. "Unless you connect to the Sprite-Line, but that's not the point."

"I didn't mean to inconvenience you, Sir," Chise said apologetically, and Bercilak's shoulders sagged.

"Yes, I suppose you're right," he replied then leaned forward and poured some tea now that it had brewed. He took a little sugar but no milk, then held it up to his visor. "Why don't we discuss other matters?"

"Matters?" Elias asked as he poured some tea for Chise and himself.

Bercilak opened his visor and tipped the tea back and it disappeared into the infinite abyss that was his head. He downed the whole cup, then sat it back down on its saucer and closed his visor. "Yes, what's happened since I was last here?"

"Bercilak, the last time you were here was years ago," Elias said. "Do be more specific."

Chise held up her hand to speak and both Elias and Bercilak looked to her and listened. "I met some dragons."

"That sounds wonderful. I hope they were nice," Bercilak said warmly. "I have had to slay the odd one or six."

Elias leaned in to Chise. "Bercilak helped manage the man-eaters, years back."

"Oh, uh… these ones were nice to me."

"I'm glad they're doing well," Bercilak said with a nod of his head. "Elias, tell me, has that beast Cartaphilus returned at all? I haven't paid him back for when he stole my head. I spent ten years aimlessly wandering Scotland…" he exclaimed and shook his fist.

"Unfortunately, we encountered him for the first time a while back. It was inevitable."

Bercilak held out his right hand, and an axe grew out of vines that suddenly burst from the rim of his cuffs. "Do tell me if you get the chance, I'd love to…" he began eagerly, but Chise held up her hands to calm the situation.

"Whoa, no weapons in the house! Silky will have a fit."

"Oh, alright," Bercilak sighed, then he placed the axe by the side of his chair. He glanced at the arrangement of cakes then took a plate and served himself a scone without cream. Like before, he opened his visor and dropped it back where it disappeared into the inky gloom.

"Don't you like dairy food?"

"I'm lactose intolerant," Bercilak said as he closed his helmet again. "That was nice."

Elias leaned in and whispered: "He eats a lot when he's in a bad mood. He also serves himself first to make a point of it."

"How can a suit of armor be intolerant to dairy products?" Chise inquired after acknowledging Elias.

Bercilak looked at her blankly. "I suppose it's a habit from when I was alive."

Chise frowned. "So you weren't always a suit of armor?"

"Of course not!" Bercilak chuckled then served himself another scone. "I was once a man, but I got shot and died. It was by a nasty poison; quite painful," he explained and tapped his shoulder where the bolt had struck him.

"Oh, that's cheerful," Elias scorned the knight as he sipped his tea. Chise held the warm cup in her hands and thought.

"I suppose it's not right to pry," Chise murmured, mostly to herself.

"It is what it is, I am what I am," Bercilak said to cheer up the mood. "I do enjoy being immortal though," he mused, then pulled his head right off and held it up above him. "See?"

"Good grief, Bercilak, do behave!" Elias scorned again and Chise giggled.

Bercilak chuckled, before throwing it into the air, catching it and finally reattaching his head. "So long as my queen lives, I cannot die, for my soul is hers and hers alone."

"I found something of yours," Ruth mumbled through gritted teeth, as he walked in with a bundle of sticks and dropped them at Bercilak's feet. The bundle got up and looked at the knight, then to his axe.

"No sticks in the house!" Chise exclaimed, then she realized that it was the creature that had scampered off earlier when Bercilak had been summoned. The dryad went to grab the axe but Bercilak snatched it up and held it away.

"Please stop trying. It's not yours, now go home," Bercilak warned the little dryad and its fox mask drooped; it sulked away and out of the room. Everyone looked back to see Silky open the front door then boot it out of the house with a swift kick.

"Well, that was an odd little fellow," Elias said as he turned back to the knight.

"Pesky little thing. It won't leave me and my axe alone," Bercilak said, "In hindsight, it must suck to be him now."

"Why's that?" asked Chise.

"Because I was in Norway when you summoned me."

"Oh dear," she replied and bit her lip. "He's got a way to go then."

Bercilak cleared his nonexistent throat and stood up. "Now, I suppose it's been brief but I feel like I've overstayed my welcome."

"No, it's fine, you can stay if you want," Chise said and stood up too.

"I'm afraid I should get back to the other side. I have a duty to uphold," Bercilak explained, then his axe disappeared into his cuffs just like how it had appeared. "I appreciate your hospitality, and for that you may keep the Green Horn."

"We can keep it? You made a big deal about destroying all of them last time you…" Elias began to explain but Bercilak shrugged his shoulders.

"I trust you enough, and you make a fair point. I am Protector of the Realms after all," he said, then walked out of the sitting room with Elias and Chise close behind. "Just don't let anyone else use it," he added.

"Are you sure you must be off so soon? I was hoping you could talk to Chise about your travels."

Bercilak put a finger to his chin guard and thought briefly. "I have lived a very long time, and I have been to many places. It would take an afternoon to just cover the years I spent alive! Yet alone this immortal form."

"I really would like to hear some stories. It's not every day you meet a real knight," Chise said, somewhat disappointed.

"And if you ever do, please cut out the bad bits; I don't want you giving my apprentice nightmares…" added Elias. "I understand you have to deal with some awful things but there's a time and a place for it."

"Ah, I'm afraid I must go now. I'll invite you both to my home sometime, I promise," Bercilak replied and patted Chise on the head. "In the meantime, if you are in mortal danger, sound the horn and I will be there."

Silky appeared from the kitchen and handed Bercilak a basket of scones. "Oh, thank you dear Silver Lady. I appreciate your generosity," he said with a knightly bow. Bercilak straightened up then turned back to Chise and Elias as he opened the front door.

"Farewell, Bercilak. Do take care," Elias said with a simple nod.

"Goodbye," Chise said with a little wave and a smile. "It was nice to meet you."

"I'm glad to have met the one who has the realms in hushed whispers," Bercilak replied with another bow then he turned and headed out of the door. "Farewell," he said, then as he made his way down the path, his body disintegrated into dandelion seeds that drifted away on the breeze.

Elias closed the door as the knight disappeared from view. "Now, why were you rifling through that secret cupboard?"

"I‒um, was looking for a mop?" Chise said and scratched her head. "Ruth suggested it!"

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'Red Robin and the Knight's Shoes'

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January was mild this year. The frost was just arriving in force; while the months previous seemed more like glorified autumn than the beginning of winter. Next month there would likely be snow; just before spring arrived.

Chise was out and about with Ruth at her side, basket in hand; the last of the winter mushrooms were on their way out, so she knew that this was her last chance to collect them. She was quietly searching for Field Blewits on the outskirts of a small woodland not too far from the house; these purple-stemmed mushrooms were good to eat, so she wanted to collect some for Silky to cook with.

Ruth sniffed out a new patch and Chise trotted over to inspect them. She placed her satchel and basket down, then took out her knife and carefully cut the stem just above the ground. This was a big one, so she gave it a good look over before she placed it in her basket.

"We've done well, Ruth," said Chise as she stood back up from her crouch. "I think Silky would be proud."

"What do you think she'll cook with them?" said the salivating Ruth.

"No doubt something delicious," replied Chise, as she looked away from her basket suddenly. Her satchel was rattling and something inside was vibrating like a mobile phone; but she didn't have one, so what could it be? Tentatively, she opened the bag and was greeted by an explosion of roots and vines that grew and twirled around her, casting a net around them both and engulfing them in sparkling greenery. She yelped, and Ruth hissed his frustration as this strange magic spirited them away into the dark.

"Chise! Are you alright?" barked Ruth as light came back to her eyes. Chise was lying on a polished wooden floor; and the troublesome Green Horn lay beside her.

Chise rose up and looked around, then to the horn. The greenery was receding into the hollow instrument. "What happened? Was it the Green Horn?"

"I think so, it seems to have summoned us to some strange place," replied Ruth as he intensely sniffed the bespoke desk next to him. "This place smells weird."

"Where are we?" asked Chise as she stood and picked the horn up from the shiny floor.

"I don't know, but I think it has something to do with him…"

"Who?" exclaimed Chise as she looked up to the desk; there, on its side was a knight's helmet. Specifically it was Bercilak's; the Green Knight. Chise stifled a groan.

"Huzzah! It worked," cheered Bercilak as his disembodied head lay inert. "Hello Chise, I'm really sorry to bother you but I'm in a bit of trouble here, and you were the only person I could call on."

Chise approached the desk and looked at Bercilak's 'head'. "The Green Horn can summon me to you?"

"Yes! It's a two-way connection; if you blow it you will summon me, if I connect with it via my roots, I can summon you too!"

"I'm not even going to ask how that works…" said Chise as she looked around the room they were in; everything was dark bespoke wood, from the myriad of bookcases to the fireplace, while it was lit by what seemed to be chandeliers and oil lamps. "Where did you take us to?"

"This is my home! Castle Hautdesert; a sub-dimension of Tír na nÓg."

Chise grimaced. "Okay, but why?"

"Good question! I'm currently in pieces, my body is scattered all across the castle. I need your help to put myself back together."

Chise picked his head up off the desk and looked it up and down. "How did this happen, Bercilak?"

"Boggarts."

"Boggarts did this to you?"

"Also, landmines."

"What?"

"Magic landmines did this to me. The Boggarts then stole my parts and scampered off with them."

Chise made a funny face. "I don't get it?"

"A band of Boggarts snuck into the castle while I was having a nap and set up a bunch of traps to cause mischief. These ones are more like true goblins though, so they're not nice."

"So you want me to go around and find your body parts."

"Yes."

"Right…"

"I'm literally in pieces over here. I'd appreciate a hand, or two."

Chise sighed, then nodded. "Sure, we'll help, isn't that right, Ruth?"

"Provided we get to go home again," said Ruth as he sniffed Bercilak's head.

"Of course! Remember; I was human once, I know the importance of living in the human world. I'm not like my queen in that regard."

"Right, well where do we begin?" asked Chise as she tucked Bercilak's head under her arm. Ruth transformed into his human form, since they would need both of them to carry all of Bercilak's body parts.

"Over in the next room, I can feel one of my arms in there," said Bercilak. He seemed content to be carried around.

"Alright then," said Chise with a gentle smile. She took the lead and opened the polished wooden door into the next room. This area was much like the last, with more bookcases, a large table, numerous chairs and three desks. "Why do you have so much furniture? You live alone, right?"

"That's not even close to how many chairs I own," mused Bercilak as he looked to the furnishings. "Besides, there's plenty of fae that live here too." As he said that, a shuffling fuzzy ball made its way from one side of the room to the other, not minding the presence of Chise and Ruth. The creature was familiar to her.

"Look, here's his… arm?" said Ruth as he picked it up from beneath a table.

Chise grimaced again. "I thought it would be metal," she said as Ruth turned it over; a pitch-black void existed where his shoulder would begin. It looked like his metal arm still had its human-like glamor over it.

"Wonderful!" exclaimed Bercilak as Ruth tucked it under his arm; while resisting the urge to run off and chew on it. "And yes, I was in my waistcoat when I blew up. Pesky Boggarts."

Chise sighed, as she walked up to a bookcase and took a cursory glance at the many tomes Bercilak owned. "Where next?"

"The door to your left. I'm not sure if it's my right or left foot."

Chise approached the next door and twisted the handle; it was heavy but she pushed it open nonetheless. "Wait, what? You have two fireplaces?" she queried with a frown, as she examined the next room.

"Oh no, I have seventeen."

Chise inhaled a deep breath and proceeded into the room. Again, this space was much like the last, but with a billiards table in its center. "Say, where are all the windows?"

"There are no windows."

"Why are there no windows?"

"Because we're currently floating in an infinite black void between realms."

Chise felt a pang of panic strike her heart as he explained this macabre detail; but she quickly ignored it and powered onwards. Ruth followed her through and sniffed the air. "Over in the corner, I think."

Chise looked around and spied a mahogany bureau in the corner. She jogged over to it and stuck her hand beneath the ornate piece of furniture. She felt what seemed to be a shoe and pulled it out, only for something wickedly sharp to lash out at her. Chise reeled back as a Boggart lunged forwards, but she raised Bercilak and smacked it over the head; knocking it out in one go.

"Ow! Please don't use me as a weapon," cried Bercilak as his arm began making a rubbing motion, as if it were trying to calm a bruise before it swelled; Ruth was thoroughly concerned as the arm was moving on its own.

Chise looked down at the unconscious Boggart; it was a sickly yellow-grey goblinoid with bulging eyes. In its hands it still gripped a piece of stone as a weapon. "Are they all like this?"

"Yep."

"Great," replied Chise as she picked up the shoe with part of Bercilak's leg attached. Again, the same void seemed to cut off the point where it connected to the rest of him. "Well that's three parts. Where to next?"

"The door behind Ruth," said Bercilak and Chise turned to find it. She handed the shoe to Ruth and he tucked it under his arm with Bercilak's own arm. Chise heaved this door open, and looked around.

"This all looks the same again!"

"No it doesn't; this is my dining room. Look, it's got a bigger table," defended Bercilak as she scrutinized his home. Other than the big table, it really was just the same as all the other rooms. "Anyway, it doesn't seem like there's a part of me in‒" he began as a Boggart came running out from underneath the table towards an open door, with Bercilak's other arm being dragged behind it.

Ruth made a move to grab it, but Chise opened with an overarm hurl of Bercilak's head and it collided with the poor fae like a ballistic missile. Bercilak went flying off into another room while the Boggart went sprawling into a wall.

"Got him," smiled Chise as Ruth gathered up the body-part. Again, the Boggart was knocked out so she chose to leave it there. Bercilak could deal with them when he was put back together.

"I thought Elias taught you better than this!" exclaimed Bercilak from the next room. "My head hurts!"

Chise stifled a giggle and hurried over to pick him up. "I'm sorry, it was instinct," she said truthfully as she looked up to survey this new room. This time it was a kitchen, but quite an old fashioned one at that. It had a few modern additions like taps and a kettle, but wouldn't look out of place in a period drama. The stone floor echoed with her footsteps and she could smell yesterday's dinner still hanging in the air; it seemed to be something spicy. She still didn't understand how or why he could eat; being an immortal spirit bound in a suit of armor.

Ruth followed her in and sniffed the air. He felt pretty hungry, but denied himself the chance to grab a snack. He figured that Bercilak wouldn't mind either way.

"Can you sense the next part of you?" asked Chise as she turned to the next door.

"Yes, although I think it's above us. Go through this door and down the corridor to the lobby, you'll find the grand staircase there."

Chise opened the door and thought for a moment, before speaking up again. "Just how many rooms are there?"

"Three hundred and two."

"Let's just hope they haven't gone too far then," said the mildly irritated Chise. She looked up and her expression slackened. "Corridor you said?"

"Yes, this is in fact a corridor."

"Bercilak, it's so far I can't even see the end."

"Better get running then," replied Bercilak.

Chise sighed, then broke into a jog down the corridor. She passed dozens upon dozens of other doors; she was very glad that she didn't have to search all of these too. She carried on for about three minutes; she was getting a bit out of breath since Bercilak's head was quite heavy, until she abruptly tripped and went flying.

"Not again!" cried Bercilak as he flew down the corridor and Chise collapsed; hissing under her breath as she looked back to a trip-wire. Ruth ran up to her and helped her to her feet.

"Are you okay?" he asked intensely, then sniffed the air for Boggarts.

"I'm alright, it looks like another one of their pranks," she said as she dusted herself off and went to find Bercilak. She found him face-down on the carpet a good twenty yards farther down the corridor. She heaved him up and turned him around. "Are you okay? Did you get hurt?"

"Only my pride."

"Great, let's get going," said Chise as she tucked him under her arm and reached the end of the seemingly infinite corridor. She turned to her left and instinctively took the door there. It opened into a great marble lobby, with ornate brass bannisters snaking their way up an immense flight of stairs. "Wow. You've got more money than Elias."

"It's all relative," said Bercilak.

Chise noticed that opposite the staircase was the front door, but with no windows present she had no idea what it would open out to. "Where does that lead?"

"My front door?"

"Yeah."

"Go take a look while we're here then."

Chise didn't trust what he said; she figured it would be something akin to his warped sense of humor, but she approached the door anyway and opened it. Behind the great door she found a gentle woodland in Tír na nÓg with a few mushrooms here and there. The only thing that was strange was that everything was upside down.

"Don't ask," said the knight. "The western entrance opens out into a river in East Anglia and the north into solid rock."

Chise closed the door and sighed again. "Where were we?"

"Collecting my body. I can sense something over on the stairs," replied Bercilak and his disembodied hand pointed over to the staircase. Chise approached it with Ruth close behind. Halfway up lay the other half of his leg. Chise picked it up and looked it over. Ruth handed her his lower leg and foot and she placed Bercilak's head down to figure things out. She took both parts and pushed them together like a jigsaw and they stuck like magic. Now they had a whole leg, complete with a shiny shoe and one half of a pair of formal trousers, so she handed it over to Ruth again.

"We're getting closer, where to next?" asked Chise as she watched another fuzzball shuffle by with a book in hand.

"Somewhere on the top floor is the rest of me, I can sense it!"

Chise nodded, and climbed to the top of the stairs. She found three doors; left, right and center. "Which one?"

"Straight ahead," replied the knight with certainty. Chise turned the handle and opened the door. Suddenly, a bowling-ball on a chain swung towards her and she raised Bercilak's head in defense. It crashed into them and knocked her back a step, but the knight took the brunt of the impact.

"Why do I keep getting hurt!" yelped Bercilak as his hand balled into a fist.

"Because you're made of steel," replied the startled Chise. The trap stopped swinging, so she carefully ducked beneath it and carried on into the new corridor. "For someone who fights dragons, you sure do complain a lot."

"First of all, I don't do that anymore, second you keep using me as a weapon and a shield! You wouldn't like it if it were you instead."

"I'd literally die before that would even be possible," said Chise, disinterested in the knight's protests. She scanned the corridor ahead and saw that it had a reasonable number of doors this time.

"Let's make this quick, I'm starving," said Ruth as he trailed behind.

"I think there's more of me in the room three doors down," announced the knight. Chise stopped before the designated door. "Yes-yes, I think the rest of me is in here."

"Alright," said Chise as she drew her staff and willed the door to open; not wanting to get caught in a trap this time. The heavy door creaked open, flooding light into the dimly illuminated room. Two Boggarts were busy messing around with the rest of Bercilak's body; one of which was bashing his remaining leg against the torso for no apparent reason.

"Aha! Retribution is at hand," declared Bercilak, as Chise entered with her staff at the ready, and Ruth dropped the parts he was carrying then transformed into his canine form. The Boggarts squawked and jumped up in panic. The one on the right hefted Bercilak's leg like a club and swung it in front of him.

"I can't believe you lost to these things…" muttered Chise under her breath.

"Landmines!"

Ruth leaped forwards and growled at them; causing the unarmed Boggart to throw its hands up as if to surrender. The other gave Ruth a mighty whack with the leg, but was promptly slapped into the floor with a swift paw. He struck the other one down for good measure.

"Good work, Ruth," said Chise as she approached the rest of Bercilak's body. "Fetch the other parts and let's put him back together."

Ruth transformed into his human-self again and gathered up the limbs, then dumped them beside Chise, where she quickly stuck him back together again. Finally, she placed his head upon his neck and he jumped into life again. "Huzzah! I am whole once more! Thank you dear Chise and Ruth, I couldn't have done it without you!"

"Literally."

Bercilak flexed his limbs and sorted his clothes out, only to notice that one of his shoes were missing. "Damn, I only have one pair of these…" he muttered. "Well, let's go on a hunt for my missing shoe; I'm sure it won't take long at all!"

"Oh no," replied Chise, throwing up her hands in protest. "We're done here. Can you please send us back home?"

Bercilak dipped his head and sighed. "I suppose you're right. It's been quite fun despite the pain. I rarely ever have friends over," he said; somewhat disappointed. "We could have had tea."

Chise's expression softened slightly. "I'd love to stay longer, but Elias must be going ballistic as it is. We ought to get back," she replied and Ruth nodded.

"Ah well, I'm very grateful for your help in putting me back together. I'm not usually so devastatingly incompetent."

"Well, next time you can pay us back with some tea and scones."

"Oh, I'm dreadful at baking. You'll just want the tea, trust me!"

Chise giggled. "It's been fun either way; so how do we get back?"

Bercilak motioned to her satchel. "Hand me the Green Horn," he said and Chise took it out for him. He gave it a light tap and suddenly it exploded with vines and roots again. "I'm sending you to your doorstep, have no fear. Thank you, both of you; I hope to see you again soon."

Chise and Ruth vanished beneath the thicket of greenery and were swiftly spirited back home, where the magical foliage appeared before the front door of their house. It was dark now, and Silky came bursting out of the door with her arms out, with Elias close behind.

"Where on earth have you been? You said that you'd only be an hour to collect mushrooms," asked the quietly panicking Elias. Silky embraced Chise, and she smiled in return.

"I'm sorry Elias, we got caught up with some Boggarts and couldn't come straight home."

"We were spirited away to Tír na nÓg by the Green Knight, to help him put himself back together," explained Ruth as Silky let Chise go.

Elias cocked his head. "How on earth did he manage to get in such a mess that he needed both of you to help?"

Chise looked at Ruth, then they both looked back at Elias. "Landmines," they said in unison.

Elias said nothing in response and put his hands on his hips. "Well, I'm glad you're back safe."

"Don't worry, Bercilak was the only one getting hurt," said Chise with a dismissive wave of her hand.

"Good, well it's almost six, so we ought to start dinner. Come inside then," motioned Elias.

Chise nodded and took a step forward, before stopping abruptly. "My mushrooms!"

#

'The Mountain Folk'

#

It was the first day of May. An ideal time to get the garden finished off and ready to display its flowering population. Bercilak took his shovel and gardening fork in hand, then opened the back door to Hautdesert Castle. He stepped outside onto the gravel path that led through his endless garden, then placed his tools down to quickly roll up his sleeves; something he had forgotten to do. Reclaiming them, he approached the first flower bed. It was time to remove the upstart weeds.

Now Bercilak, being the Green Knight, didn't have to labour away when it came to the earth; a flick of his wrist and the entire landscape around him would obey his command, however, he felt it unnatural to force change upon the land unless he had to. Doing it the old fashioned way seemed kinder at least. Those plants that he did remove by hand, he devolved into their seed and would take to scatter elsewhere.

Bercilak wasn't particularly passionate about gardening; it was, by his reckoning, rather artificial to dictate what grew where and how, however, if he were to have human guests to his home it only seemed right to do as they did. He was, by default, probably the best gardener on the planet. Saying that, he didn't find his work to be the most aesthetically pleasing; likely because he preferred the rough wildness of nature's work more. No matter how neat he tried to plant things, it always seemed wild. Come to think of it, having plants spring up wherever he walked didn't help his efforts to weed. He did his best to stick to the gravel path.

The knight managed to get half-way through his work, when an odd sensation ran along his spine and up through his arms. Bercilak straightened up, then stuck the shovel into the earth. He frowned to himself, despite the fact he lacked a face.

"I haven't felt that chill in a long time…" he mused while staring into the distance. Snapping out of his thought, Bercilak left his gardening be and raced to the door. He hurried through the myriad of corridors that led through his enormous home, and threw open the western entrance. A blast of frozen air struck him and ice began clinging to the doorframe. This entrance opened out into a river, with stepping stones that led to the bank, but it was frozen solid.

"Impossible," he whispered, as he felt his strength weaken at the biting cold. He was in his spring form, his most mighty, so he shrugged off the unnatural cold and drew his transformation glyphs in the air. A moment later he was armed and armoured.

A blizzard was blasting the countryside during the last few weeks of spring. It couldn't have been natural, but Bercilak was sure that such a thing could never happen again. He crossed the stepping stones and reached the bank that led into a forest. The plant life around him was dying at the cold's touch, so he willed it to return stronger; hoping it would brave the storm. Icicles were forming where the trees were being raked by the terrible winds. It was if a god of deep winter had descended upon the earth with a vengeance. The knight could barely see through such a storm, and his senses were dulled by this fell magic. He couldn't see through the trees and the earth as he once could; this malign power was far greater than he was. Only his queen could match this blight.

"Come alive now, shield this forest with your ancient boughs and give your branches to hold back the cold," declared the knight, and he spread his arms. The trees at the forest's edge suddenly woke up, roused by his power, and began to shift. They too spread their arms and linked hand in hand, their leaves forming thickets of shielding greenery that blocked the snow and hail from reaching the forest floor. It became darker than before; now he was wreathed in shadow. The ground was smothered by many inches of snow, and the land was cast into temporary twilight. It could have been beautiful, if it were natural.

Bercilak trudged through the snow towards the centre of the forest; he could feel the blight's presence there. Only a few minutes passed, and the ground began to tremble. An undulating groan shook the air and cast snow down from the tree-tops, then the canopy began to break apart in the near distance, letting the blizzard into the forest once more. It seemed as if he had angered something.

This was a foe he hoped no mage, alchemist or mortal child would ever have to face. Like the dragons of old, an ancient behemoth of primal immensity had arrived once more, and he knew not why or how. The Green Knight's lips would have curled into a snarl if he could, yet his blank helmet showed nothing. He gripped his axe tighter and summoned the strength of the earth into his body. He would need it. The ground started to crack where the dryness of the ice and cold had taken the life-giving water from the earth. The trees began to waver, as the thundering came his way. Bercilak took a deep breath, as the trunk that blocked his line of sight was suddenly uprooted and hurled aside with a reverberating roar of ruinous power.

And there it was, a titan of the northern lands. A great mountain troll descended upon him like an avalanche, its ice-wreathed fist aimed to crush the knight into the dirt. Bercilak leaped to the side as the tusked colossus shattered the spot where he stood just moments ago. Its bulbous nose was framed by two elephant-like ears, while its face was illuminated by a pair of tiny yellow eyes that saw with a cunning brutality.

Sparing no time, Bercilak brought his magic to bear, and willed the trees around him to ensnare the beast with their powerful roots. The troll's arms were as thick as Bercilak's body, and pulled away from the writhing roots with ease, then it slammed its fist down upon him; Bercilak hopped backwards, and hacked his axe into the knuckles of the giant. The troll pulled back but brought the knight with it. Using the strength of the monster against itself, he was thrown into the air as he pulled the axe free. A darting vine shot from his gauntlet rim and snagged a tusk, letting the knight grapple towards the head of his foe.

"You should not have come here!" roared the Green Knight, as a mighty swing sliced into the bridge of its nose and blinded both eyes. It howled, guttural and ferocious; one hand grasped at its face to knock the knight off, but smashed the branches from a nearby tree instead. Bercilak was thrown from its shoulders and crashed into the snowy earth, as it thrashed around. Its eyes would soon heal themselves; he needed a plan to finish it for good.

Bercilak lurched up and snared a sturdy fallen branch; he quickly whittled down the ends into a stake with his axe blade, as the troll shook off the pain and regained its eyesight. It locked its gaze on the knight again and bellowed, recklessly charging towards him with its scaly claws grasping. The moment before it arrived, Bercilak threw himself to the left and rolled past the charge. The furious troll turned, but had the stake thrust into the side of its belly for its trouble. Grunting but otherwise unharmed, it snatched Bercilak in one great fist and roared in triumph.

The Green Knight looked the titan in the eyes; it seemed content with its victory and was wondering if he was edible. Before its small mind could decide upon one choice or another, the stake exploded into life; sending roots into the ground and growing outwards and upwards, impaling the startled troll along the trunk of an entire tree from the inside out. It made a horrified yelp, before its life was snuffed out for good. Bercilak was dropped, and he landed on his feet as he watched the roots of the tree consume the great form of the troll. Bones cracked as the coils constricted limbs like a titanic snake; there was no way that even a troll could regenerate from such a death.

He exhaled, then picked up his axe that he had dropped earlier. Even in his mightiest form, a troll that brought the winter with it was a formidable foe. However, a more pressing matter was at hand; there was a mountain troll in the east of England. That should not have been possible.

It didn't take him long to find the source of the blight; a tunnel, twenty yards in diameter had been carved into the earth and was billowing the frost-wreathed magic like an exhaust vent. There was no doubt in his mind that this led to the 'other side' of Scandinavia; a far more dangerous place than the realm of fae in the British Isles. He resisted the urge to follow it, but to leave the land he protected was both foolish, and would strip him of much of his power. Instead, he willed the roots of the trees and all that grew within the forest, to seal up the tunnel and keep the blight trapped within. This was only a temporary solution, for such a thing did not happen by chance. The troll hadn't wandered in by accident; after all, he had driven them back before and made sure they would never return, yet return they did.

Bercilak would need help to get to the root of the problem; he'd have to get Spriggan.

"No."

"What do you mean no?" repeated Bercilak as he stood before Spriggan and his faithful hounds within the confines of Tír na nÓg.

"No means no, Green Man. I am the guardian of our sacred lands, not the human world," said the stern Spriggan without a hint of sympathy.

"We are both guardians. We both have a duty to uphold," retorted Bercilak and he folded his arms.

"You are the agent of our queen, I am her royal guard. I cannot stray far from her side. The human world is your responsibility, and yours alone."

"Spriggan, the trolls have returned and I don't know how; if they can cross a sea they can cross into our lands too. The winter they brought was terrible to behold; the neighbours felt its sting, I promise you that."

"And if they enter our lands, I will deal with them," scathed the diminutive fae.

"The first time the trolls came they took a terrible toll, I lost my‒"

"I know what the Jötnar wrought that day, and the days after that, but I will not have a hand in your crusade against them. Not again!"

Bercilak's anger flared and the plant life around him stood on end. "Do not speak to me of crusades, Spriggan. I have seen the terrors of such dogma and believe me, I hold none of it!"

"You did once, human, you can again. I will not help you," Spriggan stated; his word was final.

"I have protected your kind for over seven hundred years; and still you do not trust me?"

"Perhaps if you were a free man I would trust your good intentions, but you are little more than a slave bound to her majesty." Bercilak did not respond to this, and gave a simple nod. "I can give some help in the form of simple guidance; many-many moons ago, a wise Jötunn stayed behind to tend to the destruction his belligerent kind brought with them."

"Skogtroll?"

Spriggan nodded. "You know of him then. One of my hounds will take you to his grove, after that, I will have no hand in your fight."

Bercilak nodded in return; Spriggan was tough as rocks when it came to stubbornness, so arguing further was pointless. "Thank you."

"Bercilak? Is that you? You look‒different. Wait, what's happened to you? You left for the east and they told me… The fae folk? You can't say that here! What's gotten into you?!"

Bercilak snapped out of his day-dream. He was following the hound to the Skogtroll's grove. He had let his mind wander, provoked by the memories of the trolls. The Skogtroll lived in a hidden wilderness in the east of England, fortunately not too far from the western entrance to Castle Hautdesert. The walk still took most of the day, but fortunately, he did not tire like a man would. The neighbors were on edge today; no doubt they had borne witness to the rampage of the troll.

"Green Knight-Green Knight, tell us, are you going to punish the Jötnar again? Oh please tell us?" a mischievous Ariel asked as they flitted around his antlers.

"Punish?" repeated Bercilak in thought. "The ones that bring destruction to our lands, yes."

"No more nasty trolls! Except Skogtroll, he's a nice one," said the Ariel with an approving nod. The spirit landed on his head and sat down. "Say, you seem glum and gloomy today? Whatcha thinkin' about?"

"Hmm? Oh, good question. What am I thinking about?"

"You tell me, silly! Something's troubling you, wanna tell me about it?"

"Not particularly, no."

"Oh cheer up already, you stopped the first meany and the ones before it. You can do it again!"

Bercilak thought. "Is it wrong to take pleasure in your duty, even one as grim as mine?"

"You mean killing trolls? You have every reason to hate trolls!"

"I know I do, I just can't tell the difference between the need to protect you, and that human urge for vengeance. The lines are blurred for me. One is a noble pain, another a gleeful hunger, yet they feel like one and the same right now."

"Aw geez, that's a bit deep for me, Green. I just play games all day and eat berries."

"Yes, I figured as much. Perhaps we should change the subject?"

"Eh, I'm gonna head off now. Good luck," replied the Ariel, and they flew off into the sky. Bercilak stopped and watched them go. It seemed like his gloomy attitude had scared them away. The guilt was fleeting, so he took off again and carried on going. Casting his mind back a day, he pondered on how he slew the troll. The stake tactic was good, but he couldn't carry big sticks around everywhere he went. A small tree came into view; its striated bark was covered in yellow lichen, while wood ear fungi grew along its boughs; shying away from the sun. It was an elder tree.

Bercilak stopped before it and took a knee. "Elder Mother, may I take some branches from you? My intentions are violent, but I believe them to be right." If he couldn't pull off the same trick with every troll he met, he would curse them to death instead.

A gust of wind spiraled around the knight, and the branches of the elder lowered down to him. Bercilak rose up and took his axe. "My thanks, Elder Mother," he said as he lopped two branches from the tree. Elder was a weak wood, so he had to cut these stakes small and thick. Once he had whittled them all down, Bercilak was left with five short stakes, and so he tucked them into the cuffs of his boots.

Giving one last look to the kind tree, Bercilak continued. He could have simply waved his hand and the tree would regenerate in mere moments, however it was a willing sacrifice to give its body as a weapon, and so their agreement held power, even if it did not benefit the arcane tree itself.

The hound turned back to look at the knight, and he hurried over to it. It pointed its snout to a large collection of trees perhaps a mile away.

"Thank you, faithful hound of Spriggan. I will continue alone now," said the knight, and he bent down to pet it. The hound lowered its head, then turned around and began walking back the way they had come. It seemed indifferent.

"Skogtroll, I seek your guidance. Reveal yourself to me, if you would," announced the Green Knight as he picked his way through the overgrown grove. He could smell the sweet scent of wood smoke drifting through the trunks. A bout of jovial laughter made the knight look to a small clearing beyond a bramble.

"Yar har har!" chortled a throaty voice. "It be a vengeful knight in shining armor, come to seek an audience with a troll?"

"Indeed I have," Bercilak simply replied and stood before the troll's home. Skogtroll stomped out from his moss covered grotto and scratched his nose. He stood about three or four heads taller than Bercilak; much smaller than the mountain trolls, but still large enough to crush a man to death. The fortunate fact of the matter was that, unlike many of their kind, Skogtroll was intelligent.

"Ar-har! I haven't had a visitor in yonks. Bercilak de Hautdesert, is that how yar pronounce it?"

"A little less guttural but yes, that is my name," he replied and looked around. "You seem like a hermit of sorts?"

Skogtroll snorted in laughter. "Yes-yes, it's just me 'ere." The troll was hairy and wore a grubby tunic; more like a fairytale troll, and less the terrors from the north. Some mosses and little flowers grew upon his body, along with the odd mushroom, but he clearly didn't seem to mind. "Come inside, I was just makin' some stew!"

"I'm not here to kill you, if that's what you're wondering."

"I know you ain't, 'cause I know who you are, and you know what I do. Our jobs cross paths," replied Skogtroll as he bumbled into his grotto. Bercilak followed him in.

"Good, I didn't want to seem threatening. You've heard that a mountain troll appeared not far from here?"

"I smelled 'im before he crossed beneath the sea!" replied the hairy giant as he accidentally knocked a wooden bowl off his kitchen table; said table was almost as tall as Bercilak, and Bercilak was tall himself. A handful of dried bay leaves were scattered across the bare clay floor. "Mind getting' those for me?" he asked, as he fumbled with a great cauldron over the fire.

Bercilak sent vines from his cuffs and they collected the fallen leaves, then deposited them back into the bowl. Skogtroll gave the stew a stir; an entire deer had been crammed into the cauldron. Fetching a large pottery bowl from a top shelf, Skogtroll dished up a serving for Bercilak then handed him both it and a grubby wooden spoon. The knight took it while he stood, and looked at the spoon.

"Good thing I can't catch rabies."

"Ar har-har! That's tha' spirit," chuckled the Skogtroll as he made himself a bowl of stew. Bercilak opened his visor and tried a spoonful; it was actually better than his own cooking.

"It's very good, thank you," said Bercilak, as he took another.

"I was told yar were a cheerful chap; the mountain ones seem to be bothering you?" asked the Skogtroll as he sat his rear on a creaking stool.

Bercilak looked up from his stew. "Do you remember the first time the trolls came?"

"Of course I do, I was with 'em. I didn't come for the blood and the guts though, I was just sick of the mountain folk hassling me all the time. Us Skogtroll would rather be planting trees! I stayed behind when they were sent back; thought the locals wouldn't mind me. Now they love me!"

"I'm glad they do," replied Bercilak and he took another spoonful. "Do you know why they have returned?"

Skogtroll nodded. "Aye, yar I do. The mountain folk have a new king; one that doesn't hold the same values that you hammered into the old one."

"A warmonger, or a fool?"

"He's a Jötunn so probably the latter and the former," chuckled Skogtroll as he guzzled back his stew and dished himself up another bowl full. Bercilak dwelled on this for a long minute, and Skogtroll looked up. "Yar going to kill him?"

"I have no choice. He sent a troll to the shores of England; the local neighbors cannot stand up to such a thing. The first time they came, they sent a scout much the same. Then there were dozens. I cannot go through that again; the spring is not as strong today as it was many centuries back."

Skogtroll nodded. "They would kill so many more of them humans too; they're all over the place now."

"I couldn't slay the last troll king alone; it almost shattered my soul. I fear it may be too powerful for me this time. They will kill… so many."

Skogtroll gazed at him with his beady eyes. "Kill him first," he said, bluntly, as he put down his stew and rummaged around a creaky old cabinet. He found a jar with a single black seed in it, the size of a grape. He took it out, then handed it to the knight. "Those elder stakes look like weapons to me, but you'll need something far more potent than those."

"This is… wholly unnatural," said the curious knight, as he looked the pitch black seed over. "It's not of this world, is it?"

"Before I crossed the sea, I took with me one of the last surviving seeds of Yggdrasill."

"The World Tree?"

"Aye, the very same. You'd do well to plant that in its home soil. They might even appreciate it. Make it count though, nicking it wasn't easy."

"How will this help me slay the troll king?"

"I'm sure you'll come up with a cunnin' plan," snorted Skogtroll and he picked his bowl back up.

Bercilak put a finger to the seed and felt it through his magic. This seed was beyond old, and it would take every ounce of his power to make it grow. He hoped the seed's home soil would make up for his loss of magic. He absorbed the black seed into his body for safe keeping. "Even if I fail to slay him, I will make sure to plant this seed back where it belongs."

"I hope yar get the revenge ya seek, Green Knight."

Bercilak finished his stew and placed the bowl upon the table. "A part of me hopes I don't. A part of me wishes I could…"

"You'll see her again at the end of all things."

Bercilak dipped his head. "No, we're on different paths now. I cannot tread the same earth. How did you know?"

"Because I was there…"

Spriggan sensed something. The fairy folk seemed full of sorrow this day. The Ariels lazily drifted by, and even the hot blooded fire spirits glowed with a dull flame. The gentle breeze was cold, and a single snowflake rushed past his eyes. He furrowed his brow.

"Bah, the chilly bugs must be causing a nuisance," grumbled the stout Spriggan and his entourage collectively stopped and sniffed the air. One barked and took off at a sprint. Spriggan, stalwart at usual, watched it go. Only when the others followed suit, did he break into a run too.

Some minutes later, he came to a grove scattered with mushrooms. A set of double doors stood in a clearing, and they were open; billowing icy air. The front door of Castle Hautdesert.

Grumbling, Spriggan commanded his hounds to heel. There was a rumbling coming from inside. Pushing through the blizzard that blew through the doors, Spriggan found himself in the lobby of the castle, and there was a troll standing in the center, smashing everything it found.

Bercilak had been right, but Spriggan didn't let this bother him. If the blight was contained within the castle, then it wouldn't reach the land of the fae in force unless more showed up and broke their way through; there was a reason why the castle was built between Tír na nÓg and the human world.

The short fae stepped into Bercilak's lobby, braving the storm of frost that had engulfed the home of the knight. He closed the door and tapped his polearm against the floor. The troll swung around to look at him.

"Foul creature from another world, you have no right to defile our home!" growled Spriggan, his eyes bulging and his form contorting. The troll hurled itself forwards. "The Green Man may be your enemy, but I will deal with you‒myself!"

Spriggan erupted into battle, his body growing dozens of times larger and a sundering stone fist came down like a meteor; it smashed the troll's face into the tiled floor, shattering it with titanic force. The other immense fist caught the troll's throat, then heaved it into the wall; sending portraits and statues flying in bits. The beast groaned as it collapsed; but Spriggan showed it no mercy. He pinned it against the wall and pummeled it senseless, if it had any sense at all.

The stone colossus broke off his assault, as he noticed the creeping ice crawling along his arms. This moment gave the troll the chance to fight back; it breathed in deeply, then exhaled a storm of ice and foggy air that began to restrict Spriggan's limbs. He felt his fingers go numb and his right arm lock into place. The troll lurched forwards with its arms out, but was tripped by entangling vines that coiled around its ankles. Bercilak came charging through a door with his axe in hand.

"Green Man, the blight is on our shores now. Finish it so I might return to my charge," said Spriggan, as he wiggled his fingers free. Bercilak had his axe raised high, so the stone colossus pinned the troll's head down for the killing blow. The axe swung true and chomped into the spine of the beast, killing it.

"How long ago did this happen?" asked the panicked knight, and Spriggan shrunk down to his normal height. "I resealed the tunnel as I came through…"

The fae reclaimed his polearm and grumbled. "I had just arrived. You need to lock your doors more often," he spat, then turned away.

"Will you still not help me?"

"I told you, I will not act unless they threaten our lands directly. I have done my part," Spriggan muttered the last sentence, as he opened the front door to the frostbitten castle. "Did you find the guidance that you sought?"

"In part, yes. I need to seek another sort first, before I follow the tunnel."

Spriggan stopped and glanced back. "You're going to go back?"

"I have no choice. The problem is worse than I feared."

Spriggan dipped his head. "May the strength of all that grows and our dear queen bless you. You will need it."

The tractor trundled through the countryside with Bercilak sat in the trailer among a number of tools and sacks. Gordon the farmer had the sight and owed the knight a favor; saving him another day's walk was the least he could do when Bercilak had saved last year's entire harvest from an unnatural pest. They passed by an old flint wall and went slowly around the bend, letting a car go past on the other side. The rusty old machine came to a gentle stop and belched. They were nowhere in particular, just the turning onto a crop field.

"Will this do?" asked the old farmer, and he looked over his shoulder. Bercilak jumped down from the trailer.

"Thank you. If you would wait for me, I may be some time," he said, as he straightened out his trousers. His pristine shoes would get dirty, but he didn't care.

"Anything for you, Berty. I owe you far more than a tractor ride," laughed the farmer, then he took a pair of reading glasses from his pocket and a small book. "Take all the time you need."

Bercilak made his way up the gentle verge and walked into the field; the young crops that he trampled suddenly sprang back up from his life magic. A hundred yards in, he stopped and looked down to a spot. Nothing in particular, just another spot that contained more of the same crop.

"I didn't bring any flowers this time. I'll admit‒I forgot. Please don't be angry. My mind is a little foggy at the moment," he said to the spot. A while passed and he spoke again. "I'm struggling to remember the village now. It's been so long; I can barely remember your face… but I can still feel the blight here. It's stronger than your memory."

Bercilak became lost in thought for a time, before he spoke again. "Is it the blight that smothers my memories? Are they trapped within, or is it a wall? How do I erase it? I would very much like to see you again, if I knew how."

Ten minutes passed.

"If I do this again… I may not return. I am not as powerful as I once was, and I will be treading their realm this time," he murmured, then looked into the distance. A church tower stood above the trees; it wasn't the original, but it was in the same spot as he remembered. Or maybe it wasn't? He wasn't sure. "I know you cursed my new face, but I am very much the same person I once was, before I left."

Silence again.

"No, no I'm not. A different man came home again; a better one. I don't regret this new form," whispered Bercilak, and a hand went to the helmet that formed his head. "My only regret is that I could no longer be by your side…"

An hour passed.

"I am over seven hundred years old‒maybe even eight hundred now. I may live for a thousand more, or I may live forever. I don't think I can imagine what that would be like. Having a fog smother my mind for eons alone. I think it would drive me quite mad."

"It seems to me like you only have one choice," said Gordon from behind him. He removed his glasses as Bercilak turned around.

"I won't come back if I go with war on my conscience."

"Don't then."

Bercilak frowned.

The old farmer laughed. "No-no, I mean don't go to war. Can you talk your way out of this one?"

"War is the only language they speak."

Gordon shook his head. "When I was over on the mainland, we may have spoken different languages, but we could all communicate just fine and get along. You just gotta find out how. Find something in common."

"I don't know what else motivates them. They are not human."

"It's worth a try, no? Leave your axe at the door this time. If you can't fight them, find another way."

Bercilak looked away to the church again. "I'll admit, I never thought they were ones for words. But if I can't strike them down, then any plan is better than no plan."

"Aye, I'll be at the tractor when you're ready."

"Don't wait for me, I have something to do first."

The farmer thought for a moment, then looked down to his book in hand. He turned the cover over and stared at it. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. Gordon opened his mouth to speak but Bercilak cut him off.

"That's not me," said the knight as he noticed the novel's cover. A giant bearded man, green from head to toe, stood before another knight.

"You haven't even read it," replied the farmer with a shake of his head.

"It's a story; about how people believed me to be. They took my likeness and turned it into a fairy tale, someone's adversary. I know that much."

"Belief is a powerful thing."

"You think acting as if I were that green giant would somehow help me?"

"You are larger than life to me. I don't know how or why it works, but I stand by what I say; belief is a powerful thing," Gordon affirmed, then held the book out but Bercilak shook his head.

"It's not me."

"But it could be. If not for yourself, then for those that believe in you. Hardly anyone knows you exist, at least in this… form; but they know this you," he said and tapped the cover.

"It's not me, Gordon."

Bercilak ducked the ancient boughs of a yew tree; he definitely remembered this one, as it was older than he was. Opening a small gate, he entered the churchyard. The church itself was built from flint, but was nothing like the original. He walked down the meandering gravel path that was full of weeds, and came to the main entrance. Pushing them open, he stepped within the confines of the old building.

"I never thought I would come back here again," admitted the knight, as he took a seat amongst the pews before the altar. The stained glass window showered him in tinted light and floating motes of dust. He wasn't sure what to say.

"I did my best to speak with you, but you never spoke back. Not when I was alive; not even as I died. I saw an empty void as I closed my eyes. I expected the promised light, but all I saw was…" Bercilak stopped. What had he seen? He remembered a time of inky gloom, but then out of the foggy night came a delicate figure. "Ah. That's right. She came for me; whispering scorn for the Conqueror God. Ironic that she chose me, but then I suppose… you'd never expect me to stand before you again, flying a different flag."

Once more, a time passed. Bercilak stood up. "I know what I must do. If you won't lend me your voice, I will make do with my own," he declared and looked to the stained glass with intensity. He shook his head. "I don't know why I bothered coming here."

Bercilak had resealed the tunnel entrance before he had discovered Spriggan and the troll within his castle, and fortunately it had held firm this time. The remnants of ice still frosted the immediate vicinity, but it was contained and controlled.

A flick of his wrist and the roots and vines that smothered the tunnel died back. Bercilak didn't make any last visits to friends, or even his queen. He knew his duty and he would see it fulfilled, or never face her again. He could not die, he was immortal; yet that did not ensure his return. He could end up buried in the frozen mountains, alone and without comfort. It wasn't the cold or the snow that would end him, but the sapping fell magic of the northern lands. Bercilak would be leaving most of his power behind; for his was the might of all that grew within the British Isles. Scandinavia was different, he had little power there.

If his hunch was correct, this tunnel would lead all the way under the sea and into Norway; and if he were lucky, it would take him straight to Trollveggen: the Troll Wall. In a secret passage at the base of the rock formation could be found the home of this particular dynasty of mountain trolls. Many months ago, Bercilak had been there to check up on its inhabitants; in fact he'd visited it many times over the years to ensure all was well. But this was the first time he would be bringing his wrath with him, and it was not in his favor.

"Green Knight-Green Knight, where ya going?" called the Ariel from before. It swooped down and perched on his antlers. "Can I come too?"

Bercilak looked up, although couldn't quite see them. "This is no place for your kind. This is something I must do alone."

"Aww, why? I'm as fast as the wind; those dumb trolls couldn't catch a gnome!" protested the fae. They folded their arms.

"You can't outrun their power, even the wind bows before them," replied the knight and he shooed the Ariel away. "Please, do not follow me."

"Aww you're no fun," sighed the Ariel and it flew to a nearby tree. "The least I could do is keep a look out; just in case something gets through again."

"I would appreciate that, thank you," the knight said as he turned to face the blighted tunnel. Drawing green glowing glyphs in the air, his glamour was replaced in a flash of light by his true form. Ironic that the fae folk tolerated a being literally made from steel; he supposed that he was the exception. Bercilak hefted his axe and looked at it. "Do you like me for who I am, or what I do?"

"You talking to me?" asked the Ariel. "Huh, well… You smell like freshly cut grass and the midsummer's rain. There's not a whiff of iron on you. That's what you meant, right?"

Bercilak was surprised; he'd never thought to actually ask the neighbors about this. "That is a comforting thought. Thank you." Perhaps his steel body was not what defined him, but his purpose in life.

"Yah, just keep that axe away from me," laughed the Ariel and they lay back with their head against the tree trunk. "I'll keep an eye out."

Bercilak nodded. "I may be several days or more."

"I'll keep an eye out just a little bit."

The tunnel was the epitome of a sensory swamp. The air was thick but cold, and the frozen earth was rough and did not crumble beneath his boot; this made traversing the uneven dips and rises all the more awkward. Roots dangled from the walls, and the stench of troll would have made a man gag. Bercilak lost track of time; only the bioluminescent mushrooms that he grew in the palm of his hands kept him company. It was a trick he learned from a visiting nature spirit; after all, such things did not normally grow in this part of the world.

He must have been walking for the entire day, although he wouldn't know it. Fortunately, the earth was quiet and no quaking stomps of troll feet ended the perfect silence prematurely. Skittering half-fae creatures came and went, not interested in the knight except for the curious glow he emitted from his makeshift torch.

And then, something spoke to him. Bercilak looked around but could see nothing. It sounded like a man, but grouchier than any he had met before. The sound came again, and he looked to his right; a small tunnel branched off, and in said tunnel was a dwarf.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand you," replied Bercilak and the dwarf grumbled; much like Spriggan. It placed its pickaxe down and pointed to the shattered mineshaft supports. The troll had ripped its way straight through here; straight through a dwarven mine. This told Bercilak that he had crossed over into Scandinavia, although he couldn't feel his powers leave him just yet. This was an overlapping point in the two land's power, although it was far beneath the sea. He could tell that much.

The dwarf stared at him and twiddled its mustache. It nodded suddenly; it knew of him, probably, and was asking for assistance. Bercilak looked around at the damage and nodded in return. Flexing his fingers, he called upon the powers of the earth and sent new life into the support beams; they suddenly exploded into action and grew roots that sunk deep into the rock and soil, then trailed along the ceiling so that they connected with the other side. In a matter of moments, the tunnel was stabilized.

The dwarf laughed and clapped his hands; his mineshaft had been saved by pure chance. He did a little jig on the spot to celebrate, but he stopped as he noticed the axe Bercilak carried. The Dane-axe was a relic from a time before even he, and held great power. If its wielder believed that it could cut through something, it would; even things that a mortal axe could not split. Unfortunately, nobody alive actually knew this. Not even Bercilak.

"Jötnar?" he asked with a thick finger pointed at the weapon. Bercilak could understand that at least.

The knight nodded grimly. The dwarf thought for a moment, then raised its chin and took the necklace from his thick bearded neck. He trotted up to Bercilak and handed it over, saying something in his own tongue.

Bercilak took it with his free hand and observed. Mjölnir. The hammer of Thor. The knight was not too knowledgeable about the customs of this land, but he did know that this was a protection charm.

"My thanks, miner. I hope you find what you are prospecting today," replied the knight as he tied the pendant around his neck. The dwarf said his farewell, and departed, leaving the knight alone again. Bercilak put a finger to the hammer-shaped necklace and thought. This was no knick-knack; anything that a culture revered would hold power, however small, yet he knew that this one in particular was mighty, and so he was thankful that he had the blessings of a god on his side.

Another day likely passed before Bercilak reached the other side. Hauling himself up the steep slope, he quickly scrambled over the disturbed mound of earth to find what he had expected on the other side. The Troll Wall was standing ominously before him.

This was the home of the warmongering tribe of mountain trolls, and the hidden entrance was in sight. There were no patrolling brutes, just gentle birdsong. There was no ice either, which was refreshing. Here were verdant trees and a quiet breeze, sitting in the shadow of adversity. Flexing his fingers once more, he could feel his power being dragged away back down the tunnel; back towards home. The greenery around him was some comfort though. While it wasn't winter here, this was still the troll's home territory, and they could summon the cold regardless of if it were in season; why this new king chose May of all months, Bercilak knew not. He dreaded the thought of another invasion during the winter. It was one thing to come here with most of his powers drained by distance, it was another to have them drained by the cold, deathly touch of winter. He imagined that he would have absolutely no power if that were the case.

"Just be glad it's spring," he said to himself, before making his way up the slope. The spot in the wall got closer as he climbed, and he could feel the cold of the other side. The ground leveled out a bit as he reached the entrance; the dirt was scuffed and showed the tell-tale signs of a giant creature. Bercilak looked over his shoulder, back into the valley; the trees would stay behind. Forwards only had death to behold.

The knight inhaled the cool air, although he had no lungs to breathe. Bercilak reached for his axe and hefted it in both hands then stepped beyond the veil.

Bercilak was blasted by sub-zero winds and ice quickly began to claw at his soul. He shivered; something he rarely did, or couldn't do. Holding up a hand to shield his vision, he saw nothing but blanketing snow in all direction. The entrance behind him had no shape; it was just empty space. Brushing some ice from his helmet, Bercilak powered through the snow, trudging his way directly forwards. The howling wind seemed no different to the howls of these monsters; he wouldn't even be able to tell if one were right behind him.

Fortunately, no beast met him. He continued through the drifts for a time, before he came to a pillar of rock sticking out of the snow, and beside this pillar slouched a giant. Bercilak stopped and observed the creature, and its elephantine ears flicked up to detect his presence. The troll raised its mangled face and did its best to peer at him with its single beady eye. Its tusks were broken and skin had been torn from its ears; these were new injuries, ones that were struggling to regenerate. The knight recognized the beast through its scarred head, and it recognized him in return.

"Green… Man," it wheezed through its broken jaw. The old king struggled into a sitting position and observed him.

"What happened here?" asked Bercilak and he lowered his axe. Last time they had met, Bercilak had struck half his face from his now exposed skull. The old Troll King exhaled and brushed some snow from his head.

The troll closed his eye and leaned back with some pain. "The food was short last winter. The others wanted to raid ashore; I said‒no, so they took the crown from my head… They never accepted our last encounter, hated me for it."

"I gave you no choice," replied Bercilak and the troll opened his one eye again.

"They are fools. I now know better than them… thanks to you."

"Never thank me for violence," replied the knight and his fingers twitched in response. "Where is the new king?"

"You cannot stop him, not here. I smell your weakness," said the troll and he spluttered. Kicking off the snow, the old king struggled up to his feet and picked up a tree trunk that he used as a walking stick. His back was bent and misshapen, and he hobbled along with some difficulty. "I will show you the way, for you have come here on your own accord."

"My thanks," Bercilak simply replied and waited for the troll to lead the way.

The troll led him to a passage between two cliffs. The entrance was guarded by two mountain trolls, armed with great clubs made from uprooted trees and boulders lashed together. The old king stopped and turned.

"I can go no farther," he said, and lowered his head as the other trolls spotted them. Bercilak expected them to attack, yet they stood their ground and remained in place. They were obviously well disciplined and possessed a modicum of intelligence.

"Rest well, slayer of my kin. You may have aided me, but know that we will never stand together. Rest until the end of time, crippled for your misdeeds," replied Bercilak and he looked away. He had little to say to the troll that had started it all. The knight wished to lop the head from his shoulders right here and now, but knew better. His suffering was just revenge. "You will never be forgiven."

"I don't seek your forgiveness. My soul is already damned," said the old king and he turned away. Bercilak glanced back, but felt no pity. The giant trudged away, its head still low as if in repentance. Returning his gaze to the entrance, Bercilak could feel the cold now stripping away any spring power he might have had; now he barely had the energy that a new seed might muster at the end of a harsh winter, but that's all he needed. He placed a hand on the pendant that he had been given. This land was governed by different rules, and so he had to play their game.

Bercilak approached the guards and they looked down on him with their yellow eyes. They knew who he was, in fact these two may have even fought against him many centuries ago. "I am here to challenge your king. Bid me entry, and let me test his might against my own."

The trolls seemed surprised, then burst into laughter at the thought of the tiny knight challenging the king in his own domain. "Stupid man-thing, you cannot stop the king with that tiny axe," one chortled and jabbed a taloned finger at Bercilak's weapon. Their voices were like thunder over the raging blizzard. Bercilak threw his axe to the side and balled his fists; the trolls suddenly stopped laughing and looked aghast.

"I will challenge the king with my strength alone. I cannot say the same for you two," exclaimed the knight and the trolls parted ways for him, terrified of his implied might. This was a simple trick for simple creatures, and it worked a treat. "Good, wait for me outside. When I return, I will be your new king."

His confidence alone was enough to get the troll's compliance, for they valued strength more than anything else. A worthy challenger was more than enough to get a troll to stop and listen. Bercilak passed by the guards and entered the craggy gulley. A great bout of laughter resounded from every direction, and a click of huge fingers forced the blizzard to cease its assault upon the knight.

"I respect your strength, Green Man, but your confidence may go only so far…" said the new Troll King from upon his carved throne. He was colossal; far taller than any troll that the knight had met before, with a beaten metal crown adorning its scraggly head. A great mace leaned against the throne, its head the size of a car. The titan's power over the winter was like that of Bercilak's during the spring; immense. "You've come to challenge me? Spout your conditions."

The clearing air revealed a number of other trolls that had been busy working within this encampment, but now all eyes were on him. Their vast larder of frozen meats were the main attraction, with many spits and fires about the place; clearly this was their priority over everything else. All sorts of beasts were hanging from hooks, from stolen cows to unknown creatures from this gloomy world. The appetite of the trolls was voracious; no wonder they had rebelled during a hard winter.

"Challenging can come later, first I must ask to negotiate with you. I trust your wisdom is great and true. Perhaps we can come to an agreement?" declared the knight and he stopped twenty yards from the king.

The troll smiled. "You cannot trick me with honeyed words, foolish man. You cannot give that which I cannot take for myself. I will burn that land of yours myself, if I must," replied the dismissive king and he stood up, shaking the earth. Straightening to full height, he could have stood among the canopy of a small forest. "You will challenge me, or else."

"Very well then," nodded Bercilak as he looked around; fortunately he could utilize his peripheral vision without giving away the direction in which he was looking, for he lacked eyes. He spied his victory. "My strength and power is nothing to your grandeur, so perhaps we should contest on equal grounds?"

"And what's that? What could you possibly hope to best me at?" snorted the king and the other trolls laughed. Their amusement sounded like the cross between a honking donkey and a roaring lion; it was most unpleasant.

Bercilak pointed to the spits. "You and I will eat until one of us dies. I assure you my appetite is greater than yours," he said, knowing full well he had no stomach. "If I win, I will become king of this realm. If you win, I will not be around to stop you from attacking my own realm."

The Troll King's smile became a leering grin. "Ahah! I accept. Bring us each an equal measure of roasted flesh, and let us contest!" he called to his aides and the other trolls quickly got to work. The king had nothing to fear from a tiny human. He could have crushed him in his weakened state and be done with him, however he knew that if he rejected the challenge his subordinates would not be happy.

Bercilak and the Troll King sat before each other. Two huge piles of meat were stacked beside one another, both as tall as two men. The Troll still had a grin on his face as he watched the knight with confidence in his tiny eyes.

The Green Knight took the initiative by opening his visor and taking a slab of meat. He threaded it through his helmet and made the action of chewing to ensure the troll was fooled. The king chuckled and took a fistful of meat, shoveling it into his jagged maw but not breaking eye contact with the knight.

Bercilak remained calm and simply focused on consuming the meat, not heeding the king's glare and affirming his supposed dominance over the beast. This annoyed the troll but he paid it no mind. He had already beaten the human.

"You prepare meat well, Mountain King," said Bercilak as he took another slab and consumed it. The king swallowed another fistful and grinned, spewing fat and gristle from his lips. Ten minutes later and the troll was halfway finished, while Bercilak was going at a gentle pace. Twenty minutes later and he finished just a quarter of his meat. "I must say, this is getting difficult. Perhaps I underestimated you," he said and finished a mystery leg.

The king snorted and finished the third quarter of his pile, but a rumbling in his stomach gave him pause to think. The human was doing well, but he knew he could beat him with ease. His guts ached from the flesh, but he ignored it despite a pang of doubt that washed over him.

Bercilak eventually reached half-way and patted his stomach. "Blimey, I'm not sure if I can go on any further," he said as he lowered the piece of meat he had been chewing; he slipped the black seed into the flesh and flung it over onto the pile. "I concede; I can eat no more. Perhaps you could show me the extent of your great hunger and finish what I could not? Prove that you are indeed the greatest to your subordinates."

The Troll King laughed and the gulley rumbled. "You fool; you could never best the King of the Trolls," he gloated and scooped up Bercilak's pile of meat and shoveled it down in two gulps. He licked his cracked lips and grinned. "But you said that we were to eat until one of us died, and so you must now die for conceding!"

Bercilak stood up and shrugged his shoulders. "I am trapped here; why not keep me around, I'm sure I will be good company? My powers were left behind in Albion; you have nothing to fear."

The king's guts rumbled painfully again and he belched. "That was not a part of the agreement, so you will die now!"

Bercilak stared the Troll King down and stood his ground. He flexed his fingers and summoned his power, but he felt what little was left dwindle in the shadow of the great winter beast. This was it; if he could not muster his power now, he would never return. He exhaled, as one hand gripped the Mjölnir at his neck and broke its string. He raised his fist and channeled his life magic through his limbs, then he thrust his hands outwards at the troll and willed it into the beast's belly. His hands glowed faintly green, but it soon died away.

"Ahahahah! You foolish man, you said it yourself; you have no power here," said the Troll King as he reached for his great mace. Bercilak could feel the seed of Yggdrasil calling for help, yet his magic was spent. He balled his fist and almost crushed the pendant beneath his grip.

No, not yet.

"I call upon you; God of Oak Trees and God of Storms. God of Fertility and God of Might; lend me your strength, for the first and last times…" Bercilak desperately reached out to the heavens with the pendant in hand, then a crack of thunder and a shard of lightning came down upon him; energizing his form and conducting through his armor plates. "I will give to you, your ancient Ash, the World Tree. Our common ground; sacred earth and sacred life. I call upon the power of Thor."

A verdant green light burst from Bercilak's finger tips and struck the Troll King in the belly, making him stagger back and drop his mace. Bercilak was now a glowing avatar of the earth; empowered by a common goal between one world and the next. Another beam of light bore into the troll, and a crack resounded through the air. A thick root burst from the stomach of the beast, followed by many more. Another ripped through its spine, while a great form contorted the troll's chest. The roots sunk into the frozen earth and banished the cold, then a trunk pivoted outwards from the upper chest and through his neck. The Troll King erupted as the young Ash tree exploded into life, scattering bloody chunks of the beast and slaying him outright. The other trolls looked on, horrified, as Bercilak's body ceased its radiance, and he fell back into the snow.

When the red mist had settled, a young World Tree stood upon the remains of the king. Bercilak was so very tired. He rolled over and flexed his fingers, feeling the melting snow slip through his gloves. The knight groaned as he heaved himself up, only to find the trolls bowing down before him. The old king stumbled through the pass and looked on to see the young Ash standing tall. He dropped his walking stick and went to his knees.

"Never again," said the knight, his voice hoarse and wiry. "Never again will you bring war to my shores; to anyone's shores. This is my only declaration as king."

The trolls looked up to see the knight pass them by, dragging his feet through the slurry. Passing through the gulley's entrance, he took back his axe and propped himself up. He gave one last look to the stunned trolls, then left their world behind for good.

Staggering back to the tunnel, a thought came to Bercilak. He took the elder wood stakes; now no longer needed to curse the trolls, and stuck them into the earth around the entrance, then gave them all the gift of life. The knight then collapsed. His mission completed. He wished now that his tired soul could rest for eternity.

The scraping of metal on stone was the only thing Bercilak could hear. His world was dark. He must have stumbled down into the tunnel when he had collapsed from exhaustion, yet he was moving. He stirred, and looked up. A faint light gave him his bleary sight back. He was being dragged.

"Are yer awake?" asked Skogtroll, as he plodded through the gloomy tunnel.

"I am," replied Bercilak.

"I could carry yer, if you'd prefer. It's a long walk though," said the troll.

"This is fine," he said.

"Suit yerself," the troll snorted.

"Why did you come back for me?"

"Cause it's been two weeks and I knew a part of you wanted to stay behind, but there are still those that need ya. Yer gotta be what people need you to be, Bert."

"Someone else said something similar," replied the knight.

"Then by all accounts, he must be pretty wise too!" laughed the troll.

"As wise as someone a tenth my age could be, I suppose."

Skogtroll shook his head. "You won. The realm is safe again, all because of you."

Bercilak sighed. "Until the cycle begins anew. I will never rest."

"Well, let's just hope it doesn't start again for a while, shall we? Let someone else deal with the trouble this time."

"My trouble has only just begun."

Skogtroll had returned Bercilak to England and said his farewell. The magic of the land returned Bercilak to his full strength, yet his thoughts and feelings were still a tangled mess. He sat upon a bench within the confines of his garden, his head in his hands.

He had slain the Troll King, stopped the invasion and planted one of the last seeds of Yggdrasil in its homeland; the creatures of that realm would no doubt be thankful. The knight looked up, and took the pendant from his pocket to inspect.

"Green Knight‒Green Knight, the winds are all atwitter; you returned with the blood of a Jötunn on you," said the Ariel and they sniffed the air. "It's true, you stopped the monsters! Just like you always do."

Bercilak raised his head, his green plume brushing his shoulders. "Please do not celebrate death. I am the avatar of life; but one who must also extinguish it."

The Ariel shrugged their shoulders. "I don't care; you're a good spirit, Green Knight. One of my favorites!"

Bercilak returned his attention to the pendant again, before glancing to the Ariel. "Do me a favor, would you? Find a human‒any human, and give them this; tell them he's real. Belief is a powerful thing, after all."

The Ariel picked up the hammer pendant and looked it up and down. A strange artifact to them, but also somewhat familiar. "Sure thing, that's the least I could do for you!" they said and darted off into the air. "Get some rest, Green Knight!"

"I'll try," replied Bercilak, and he leaned back into the bench, watching the butterflies dance around the flowers. There were more weeds than before, but he made no effort to remove them; instead, he let them grow this time.

#

'Bercilak is on the Roof'

#

"Bercilak?" said Chise. "Bercilak, what are you doing?"

"I'm thinking," replied Bercilak.

…

"Bercilak?"

"Yes?"

"Why are you on the roof?"

"To think."

"Bercilak, you can't be on the roof."

Bercilak did not reply.

"Bercilak, please get off the roof," she insisted.

"No, I'm thinking."

"Come inside, you can think there."

"I'd rather not."

"Silky, get the ladder!" called Chise to the Silver Lady within the house. Bercilak sprung into life at the thought of an angry Silky. He leaped off the roof and landed before Chise. He straightened up.

"Oh, alright then," grumbled the knight. "I'll think inside."

Chise tried to make eye contact, although Bercilak was avoiding her gaze. "What's wrong?"

Bercilak glanced at her. "I was just dwelling on some old memories. That's all."

Elias popped his head out the front door. "Bercilak, I catch the scent of troll blood upon you. Have you been at it again?"

"Troll blood?" repeated Chise and the knight looked at the old magus.

"It's nothing to be concerned about."

Elias folded his arms. "You know the Ariels won't shut up about it?"

Bercilak pulled at his collar. "How about we have some tea?"

"It should be me saying that," Chise said, then took his hand; she knew he was troubled, although not sure why. She led him into the living room and gestured to a chair.

"Thank you, Chise," said the knight as he took a seat. "Don't worry about me, I'll be fine."

Chise considered this. "You may be centuries old and have a helmet for a face, but I know when someone has something bad on their mind. I have plenty of experience with Elias."

"Please don't drag me into this," said the magus as he carried a cake stand in. "The Silver Lady is preparing some tea."

"Thank you; I know last time I said I'd invite you over to my home, but I'm still clearing up the lobby."

"What happened?" asked Chise as she took a seat.

"Troll."

"Ah."

"Yes."

"What exactly is a troll?"

"Don't get him started, Chise," warned Elias as he sat back in his chair.

Bercilak ignored him. "A troll is much like the neighbors of Britain; closer to a Boggart in fact, or a goblin. Except, they come from Scandinavia and are two stories tall."

"Oh."

"They have great tusks, rock-grinding fists and weigh multiple tons."

"We don't have anything like that in England."

"Actually, we do."

Chise almost choked on her breath.

"Tell me about it," said the knight, unenthused. "You should see the hill giants."

"Well… I hope everything turned out alright," smiled Chise and she twiddled her thumbs.

"Everything went fine, I'm just a bit tired," replied the knight and he laid back in the armchair.

"I didn't know spirits could get tired."

"They can if sapping magic is involved," he said with an exhale of his nonexistent breath. "Winter magic is anathema to me."

Chise studied the featureless head of the knight. "Are you sure you're alright? Something's definitely troubling you."

Bercilak did not reply.

Elias cleared his throat. "Bercilak has a long history of conflict; in fact, he's probably been in more fights than I've had cups of tea. He's fought in almost every war involving Britain since the Ninth‒" Bercilak seemed irritated and Elias stopped. "That was heavy handed of me, I apologize."

"Queen Titania sent you to war?" inquired Chise, curious.

"No, not exactly. My leash is long. I am almost totally independent; so if I feel like something may threaten this country, I go ashore and investigate, or outright fight to stop it. But in truth, I am obligated to protect our world, less so the human one."

"How do you manage that? Surely you'd be in all the history books and…"

"I work in secret and with glamours. It's not my place to dictate the will of the country, but I will do my best to ensure no catastrophe occurs. And yes, for the past near eight hundred years I have at least observed each and every war; a grim task but a necessary one."

"How about some tea now?" asked Chise as Silky came in with the tea set. She placed it on the table and gave Bercilak a warm smile.

"Perhaps you need a new hobby or calling in life?" suggested Elias as he started pouring.

"My schedule is rather full, I don't think I have the time."

"Elias is right, you need to find something to distract you once in a while," said Chise.

"I tried the roof but you told me off."

"No, something a bit more… interactive than our roof."

"I liked the roof."

"Bercilak, you're deflecting again."

"You do that all the time," tutted Elias and Chise flushed pink in the cheeks.

"I'm not sure what I could do. I know my duty and I do it with pride," said the knight and Elias passed him a cup of tea.

"You could teach me how to sword fight!" suggested Chise.

"Absolutely not," Elias stated and put his cup down on its saucer with some force. "I would suggest doing what I did and acquire an apprentice."

"I'm not in the market for buying orphaned children."

Silky punched the knight so hard his head came off.

Chise's face slackened yet she did her best not to laugh.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean that," said the disembodied head. Silky calmly walked over and picked him up. "Blimey, that was a swing and a half!"

Chise looked to Elias and caught him doing his version of a giggle. He almost spilled his tea. Silky stuck Bercilak's head back on and returned to her spot beside Chise with a wry grin.

Everyone regained their complexions. Bercilak sipped his tea.

…

"Especially not one for an under-aged bride."

"Silky, no!"

"I like the apprentice idea, you could take them along with you on your missions," said Chise as Bercilak knocked the dents out of his head with a small hammer. He brushed a spot with the back of his gloved hand and stuck his head back on.

"Do you think that's a good idea? It would be dangerous. I'm far from omnipotent and I already failed to pro… I mean I think they could get hurt. Plus I can't teach magic, I am magic. It's not something I learned nor know how to tutor. It's much like the power of the fae."

"I can supply the necessary materials. I say the concept of the Green Knight's squire is interesting," said Elias with a nod.

"They'd need to learn how to wield the same power I do, and wield a blade in equal measure," said the knight as he pondered the idea. "How would I find one though?"

"I could ask Alice to make an ad for you online, you might get some alchemists bite," Chise replied and sipped her tea.

Bercilak scoffed. "I don't want some stuffy alchemist learning my magic."

"Agreed," said Elias.

"Maybe not an alchemist, a mage would be better, but then they'd have to be around my age."

"Eh, perhaps I'll take up baking or something. Silver Lady, would you be able to teach me?"

"She says no," Elias replied as Silky shook her head.

"I said I was sorry," huffed the knight and Silky relented.

"I don't think baking is befitting of a knight, Bercilak. You ought to find something that furthers you as a person and your work," explained the magus.

"I thought the idea of distancing yourself was what we agreed upon?" asked Chise and she placed her cup down.

"But you just supported the notion of an apprentice," said the knight with a gesture.

"Yes, but it'd mean you wouldn't have to do it alone. That's probably a better idea in hindsight."

Bercilak stared at Chise, then looked to Elias. "Are you sure I can't teach her how to sword fight?"

"Get your own human."

"How cold."

"It'll be good for you, Bercilak," affirmed Chise and she smiled. "I don't know your troubles, but when I met Elias many of my own disappeared."

"Your relationship is a confusing one, but perhaps you're right." Bercilak thought for a moment. "Silky, do you want to learn how to sword fight?"

"Bercilak, no," huffed Elias as he folded his arms. "Go out and find an apprentice."

"Okay, you're right. I'll do that," said the knight. "Chise, could you ring that Sebastian chap for me?"

"Bercilak…" growled Elias.

"Hypocrite."

Chise bit her lip. "You're using witty humor to detract from your feelings, Bercilak."

"When did you become a therapist?" asked the old magus.

"Do I?" asked the knight.

"He's been like this the entire time I've known him."

"Ouch."

Bercilak slapped his knees and stood up. "Fine, I will go and find myself an apprentice and teach them how to be my squire. I will also not purchase one using underhanded methods."

"Please don't purchase one at all," corrected Chise.

"Good, I will go and fetch some books for you," nodded Elias and he rose from his chair.

"Wait, even with books I can't teach them how to use it, could you…"

"No."

"Perhaps learning how to teach yourself would be good too," explained Chise and she too stood up.

"Well, I can do the sword fighting part. The magic can come second," replied the knight as he downed his tea in one go.

Chise watched Elias leave the room and head upstairs. When he was gone, she leaned in and whispered: "Can you teach me how to sword fight?"

"Absolutely."

"I'm telling Elias," said Ruth and he took form beside Chise.

"Good grief, how long have you been there?" exclaimed the knight.

"Aw, Ruth…"

"You heard Elias, magic is one thing but you aren't cut out for physical combat."

"I'll get her a suit of armor," said the knight. "You can be the Red Knight."

Chise stifled a laugh. "It's fine, I have tons of work to do myself."

Elias came thumping down the stairs with an armful of old books. "This should be just about everything a person needs to learn about life magics. After that, I'm sure you can figure something out using your powers. You are technically a familiar after all, so you can grant your powers as a neighbor might."

"That's true," said Bercilak as he accepted the heavy tomes. "Although, that's not quite how it works."

Elias waved his hand. "Yes, I know, but for all intents and purposes. I hope you find what you're looking for, Bercilak."

"I hope I do too," said the knight as Silky led him to the door.

"Just don't let Silky catch you on the roof again," added Chise. "Please do your best."

"I will; thank you for your help, all of you. My mind is a tad clearer today because of it," replied Bercilak as a vine opened the door for him, since his hands were full. He stepped outside and thought for a moment. "I hope I wasn't a mopey hassle."

"For the record, I found Elias in a pond the last time his mind was a mess," Chise said as she jabbed a finger in Elias' direction. "The roof was a better choice."

If Bercilak could smile, he would have. "Oh, and one more thing‒"

Silky slammed the door.

…

"Say, Elias? How did you meet Bercilak?" asked Chise as she turned to the magus. Elias looked down on her with his mouth slightly open.

He turned away, his gown sweeping past the door frame to the sitting room. "I do not remember."

#

'The Hunger among the Peaks'

#

The hunger.

Ever since I had opened that book, I had felt so‒so hungry.

A terrible hunger; one that had consumed my reason and my body. It rolled over the land and through the air, gobbling up everything and anything. Trees, rocks, animals. Anything, not even the gentle stream could escape my hunger‒or my thirst. It started with my familiar… whatever that was, I don't remember now. I'm eating my own mind.

I felt icky. Like I was sweating constantly and without end. With every mouthful of flesh and every stone ground to dust, I felt a heat rising and permeating my form.

Form?

This sludge was all that remained of me, and that which I had consumed.

I didn't want to eat. It had been a mistake. Or had it? It must have been; humans enjoy eating, but even then there were my limits. I couldn't taste the stuff I ate; the only thing that was of concern was that I could eat.

And eat I did.

My hunger took me to an isolated house in the middle of some highland. The lights were on, but through this abyssal form all I saw was hazy motes of light. I rolled forth, picking up everything not joined to the bedrock of this earth. This avalanche of putrid flesh and slime gave no time for the occupants, and so I ate them up alongside their home. I passed straight through it all and out the other side, growing larger now as I dissolved their bones and the timber frames. I took the time to eat their car too, as the cat fled with a panicked hiss. I let it go, not even my hunger could make me want to catch such a swift thing. The effort would make me hungrier than the reward would satiate.

The road gave no sustenance, so I took the country route and consumed the odd bramble and hawthorn as I went; looking for the next meal. Despite my predicament, I could perceive the world clearly; at least in my own way. It was vivid, even though my palette consisted of several shades of grey and red. The red was a luxury, as you might imagine.

Some flittering forms escaped my reaching arms and I groaned in aggravation. The sparkling ones were among the best of morsels. Their energies were like candy to me. I wanted mo‒

I screamed.

I had never felt pain. Not like this. Not in this form, at least.

I turned, my many eyes rotating backwards in their sockets. I heard the drumbeat of hooves on the dirt track.

I screamed again as a point pierced one of my retinas. A bolt? What could a piece of wood and metal do to me?

Aaaaah!

"It burns!" I cried, as yet another struck my ooze. It burned and hissed through my folds and melted my soul.

The drumbeat came louder now, and I saw a glowing steed and a glowing rider. It was if the fourth seal had been broken, and I cried out in pain. The man, greater than any I had yet seen, was followed by the wrathful vengeance of the green earth, and his roar was flanked by the rumbling voice of Gaia. It swept along the track like a hurricane, and with this momentum swung a rough-handled axe of ancient design.

I screamed again; wailed as the biting steel ripped a glob of my body away, as the rider barreled straight past. I turned and fled, yet I knew my legs would not carry me far. This enchanted metal was anathema to me.

Fleeing the way he had come, I rolled through the bushes and down onto the banks of a river. I did my best to avoid consuming the briar thicket so that it might slow the rider, yet as my eyes perceived in sluggish motion, the tangled mess of thorns parted for the steed. I gasped, as death was upon me. I stumbled and fell, almost into the water, with the rider close behind. I struggled up and forwards, but I felt a point pierce me and hold me down.

A javelin impaled my form into the earth.

I screeched and flailed my arms, and had them sliced from my body for my trouble.

"Please!" I gasped in gurgled tongues. I spluttered ragged breaths as the rider leaped down from the saddle.

"No," it replied. "You've done quite enough."

"Good grief," exclaimed Bercilak, as he reached into the black blob with a gloved hand. He rummaged around until he found what he was looking for. "Aha!" he said, then ripped a small black book out of the goop.

The creature smelled awful, and the book even more so. Turning it over, Bercilak spied a number of runic symbols and other imagery. An evil book to be sure, one that no alchemist should be meddling with. Yet meddle he did, and so a price was paid.

This book was a mystery to the knight. It was unlike other ancient texts that he had come across. It was almost alien, yet even then, he had had no issue in vanquishing it. It did not belong on this gentle earth.

Bercilak walked over to his glowing green steed and patted its side, before taking a vial of liquid from the saddle pouch. The horse was calm; although it was not of this world, and so had nothing to fear. It stamped its hooves, glad that the evil thing had been slain.

The knight turned back to the goo. It was creeping away in every direction, somehow trying to live on despite its crippled soul. There would be no one to show this thing to the other side. He threw the book into the pile of goo, then hurled the vial, smashing the glass and combusting the liquid in green flame. It crackled and hissed, eating the blob as it had done in equal part, and turned the book to ashes.

The blight was gone, now just charred earth remained. Bercilak raised his hand and new plant growth rose with it in the spot where it had died.

This hadn't been the first time Bercilak had had to deal with the careless actions of a rogue alchemist or mage; the former was the more common of the two. He sighed. No doubt tomorrow would bring its own troubles, and he would start his grim work once more.

#

'The Broken Man of Stone'

#

Bercilak sat upright next to a large oak tree within Tír na nÓg and pondered. His head was slumped forwards as he stared at the grass between his legs. He had been feeling a bit better ever since the problem with the trolls had ended, yet as usual, there was something more; something nagging at his mind. He rapped his knuckles against his metal head and sighed.

"Am I cursed, or am I just forgetting with age?" he said to himself and leaned back against the trunk. "I'm a spirit, how could I forget? I am not confined to the limits of biology, and yet I feel nothing but a haze in the back of my mind… Where could she be?"

"I am right here," came a female's voice and Bercilak's head shot up. He looked around at the familiar voice, then to his left to find Queen Titania standing beside him.

Bercilak stood up at once and into a kneel. "My lady, what brings you here?"

Titania put a hand to her lips and covered a wry smile. "I'm sorry, that was a cruel trick to play."

"Not nearly as cruel as the tricks of my mind," replied the knight, and he rose. "How might I be of assistance, my lady?"

"It's I who might be of assistance to you, dear Bercilak," replied the queen and she seemed to shimmer in the twilight of the realm. Her raven hair picked up a gust of wind and it sparkled in the enchanting light that danced around her. "Ever since you defeated the Jötnar, you haven't been the same. Tell me, what's bothering you, dear?"

"Nothing, my lady. And even if it were true, I would rather not trouble you with it," replied Bercilak and he straightened his tie.

"Don't lie to your queen, Sir Hautdesert," replied the fae, and she folded her arms. "Don't forget, I own your soul, and so I can feel it as if it were a part of me. Tell me, if you would."

Bercilak looked away. "My memories have been troubling me."

"Something you did in the past?"

"No, more so I cannot remember."

"Remember what?"

"Her."

Titania blinked. "You have no need for her any more. You have me, and have done for centuries. Why now?"

"The Mountain Folk; the memories came back, in part at least. They ache my head, and I know not why."

The queen raised her chin slightly. "I thought that you had moved on since then? She chose the Conqueror, and you chose me. What more could you possibly want?" she asked with a slight grin. It was almost sinister.

"A good night's sleep would be good," said the knight under his breath and Titania stuck her finger out, placing it on his forehead and he buckled.

"Something really is the matter; you've never been so ill-mannered in my presence," said Titania and she released her hold. Bercilak gasped as the strange power dissipated and he fell to his knees.

"Spriggan would surely give me a bollocking if I did," he replied and she resisted the urge to do it again. An odd feeling of something welled up within the queen, yet she didn't act on it. All the denizens of this land were her children, and sometimes they needed to be disciplined.

"You're rather curt today, Bercilak. Something really is hurting you," she said and put her hands around his chin to lift his head and he rose up. "Please, tell me why?"

Bercilak hesitated. "There's a fog in the back of my mind. It blocks my sight of her. I can see almost everything else, just not her face. I can see her being torn apart, devoured. I can see the villagers scream and cry and die in droves. I can see the axe in my hand, the shield in my other. I can see myself caving in the skulls of Mountain Trolls; I can see the blade bite into the king's bone and rip half the visage from his putrid flesh. I can see my gauntlets; pure red. My boots too; red. I remember chasing them over leagues, running them down alone until they fled to their mountain holds. I feel their fear, like it was yesterday, and the fear of the children I could not save. There is only one thing I cannot see. Please, use your power to alleviate my suffering."

"No," said Titania, her complexion now cold.

"No, you won't, or no you can't?"

Titania shook her head. "You don't need your memories; they would only serve to cloud your judgement. You have your duty‒"

"And I do it with pride," the knight cut across. Titania was taken aback and he looked away again. "Was it you?"

"Was what me?"

"Was it you who planted the fog in my mind? You own my soul and can control it. Why don't you want me to see?"

Titania's perfect visage was marred for just a moment as a look of disgust overtook her. She regained her complexion swiftly. Her eyes flickered over the knight. "If I tell you what you want, will you stay by my side? Even if it were your own choice?"

"I will."

Titania's gaze dropped slightly. "I cannot let you see her."

"Why?"

The queen fell silent for a moment. "You came to me over seven hundred years ago, and I have loved this human as my own, ever since. Yet I cannot truly control you, Bercilak."

"Please, tell me."

"You see, when you stumbled into this eternal realm, you were a ghost‒blinded by rage. I had you seen to, but you were almost ready to pass on. I did what I could to save you from suffering, but you were… so angry."

"I was angry at the failure of the crusade, yes. You took my soul and placed me within my armor."

"No, which is why I cannot truly control you," replied the sullen queen and she took his hand in hers. "Your fury was more powerful than the force that bound you to this world, and more powerful than the one that beckoned you to the next. You grasped onto the one thing you could, this… shell. But you couldn't stay like that for long, you were a revenant at best; so we made a pact, so that you might remain by my side forever. I admit, I wanted to keep you from Him, so that I might have the last laugh, but that's not all. Your anger is the one thing that keeps you bound to this plane of existence: I mediate this."

Bercilak was silent. He placed his free hand to his helmet for a head; he had long since replaced his accursed crusader helm for a better one, a sallet. That helmet had been the only tangible thing his soul could bind to, since he had never worn a full suit of mail until after his death.

"I modeled you on concepts and figures that came before, and stories soon came after. You are formed in the image of elder gods, and that same wrath is yours to command. The ferocity of Cernunnos, the might of Thunor, and the kindness of Gaia. I kept you fighting, so that you might still walk by my side. If you ever remember her face, you will leave this world forever."

"Why?"

"Time has mellowed your soul; you aren't the killer you used to be. Your anger has all but subsided, so if you can ever remember the one thing you need, you will finally be at peace. No fury will remain in this wiry soul," she said and embraced the knight. "If you need someone to be angry with, please, let it be me… But understand‒I did it for you."

Bercilak did not know what to say for a while. Time passed. Eventually, he placed his hand upon her shoulder and exhaled. "Yes, I am angry with you. I will not forgive you, but I will not resent you either. You are my lady, and long ago I made a vow to protect you and all who live within your domain. But, can you promise me one thing?"

"Yes, Bercilak?"

"When the time is right… When I am at the end of my path… When you know, and you will know, it is time; please‒let me go."

"I will," she whispered, and let the knight leave her embrace. He hung there, almost in some kind of trance, until he straightened up to attention.

He laughed. "Now you say it, the stories make me look more like the horned one than I actually am."

"He's right, you know? If this is your existence, to fight for others, why not show yourself in the image they chose for you? I think you might find power in that," replied the queen and she twirled around. She placed her hands behind her back and looked over her shoulder.

Bercilak scoffed. "No, I'd rather not look my age."

"Come now, eight hundred is nothing to me and I have not a wrinkle," she said with a mischievous wink.

#

'The Lapse'

#

Many, many years ago…

The air felt sick. The plants too. Some kind of abyss had found its way to his lands, and he knew not how or why. He did however know that it was close.

The Green Destrier clopped along the hidden path at a brisk pace. Whatever Bercilak was following, it had knowledge of the secret ways about the realms, and he felt it was dangerously close to Tír na nÓg. This sub-dimension he found himself in seemed to be an endless forest and a single track ran through it. It was dim here and seemed like a brisk winter's day; the sky was white with a smothering cloud, and fog drifted through the skeletal boughs like a creeping miasma.

Bercilak and his horse came to a ford and he slowed down to cross the rushing waters that cut the path in half. The Green Destrier felt the freezing waters nip at his shins and whinnied. Bercilak patted him as they reached the other side of the stream. The trace of blight that he had been following along the track had disappeared. Perhaps it had been washed off in the water? No, this thing was all blight. Or so it seemed. Or so the Neighbors told him. Bercilak looked around; the trees swayed in the gentle breeze and owls hooted in the darkness beyond the track. Then his horse startled and reared up on his back legs in panic.

"What's the matter? I can't sense anything," assured the knight as he tried to regain control over his steed. That's when something exploded from the stream and lunged at him. A pitch black figure of impossible height snatched him from his saddle and sent him crashing to the ground. His horse fled, as the darkness pinned him down with savage strength.

"Leave me alone!" rasped the inky, coiling shape. "Leave me be!"

Bercilak grunted as the thing's claws reached through the gaps in his armor and raked into his soul. The other scrabbling hand slashed him upside the face as the rest of its immense body held him down. The knight jerked his head back as the claw struck and it left a rent in his visor. His arms were held by shadow, but he got a glance in before the being lifted him up and swung him into a tree with great force. His axe went flying from his grip and was lost to the undergrowth.

Bercilak looked up and pushed off the ground. "Leave this land and we shall have no quarrel, creature of the abyss," declared Bercilak as he reached a crouching position.

The spindly shadow rose up and thrashed its head from side to side like it was trying to shake a bad memory from its mind. "No! I cannot. I must keep walking!" it howled before setting its glare back on Bercilak. They held the stare for a moment longer, before the shadow pounced. The knight lurched up like a blur and sent a steel-clad fist under the beast's jaw and rocked its head back so hard he diverted its trajectory up and sideways. It collapsed, but scrambled up as Bercilak moved in. The shadow bared its fangs and claws then swiped out with its right hand, but Bercilak battered it aside and crunched his fist into its emaciated gut. It howled and swung with its left-hand talons, but a quick duck and upper-cut quickly left the shadow in stumbling disarray.

"Leave me alone!" cried the beast and its howl turned the soil black like soot. Bercilak side-stepped a desperate lunge and drove his extended fingers into where it's liver would be. Another howl left its ragged breath as it desperately tried to regain the advantage, but the nightmare predator was in unarmed combat with a man with centuries of combat experience. Bercilak sent a flurry of jabs and counters that beat back the shadow and every move it made was blocked or redirected into an advantage. The now overwhelming speed and strength of the knight made the shadow recoil.

"You seem to be in distress; surrender and I might help you yet!" replied the knight as coiling tendrils burst from the shadow and lashed out. They reached inside his helmet and tore through him, making Bercilak stumble back and gasp as he felt the blight touch his soul. He pulled the tendrils off and backed up. "Your touch can harm me… What are you?"

"I do not know!" screamed the shadow and it grew in immensity; towering at twice Bercilak's height. It reared and spread its arms, waiting for the knight's next move.

Bercilak had mere moments before it lunged again. He thrust his hand out with a flash and his axe was snatched by vines and pulled into his grip. The knight braced the Dane-axe upon his shoulder as he lowered his body to brace for the next attack. A sudden gust of wind blew through the trees and with it came a haunting yet familiar voice.

"Bercilak, I command you: save this soul…"

The knight looked up. "My queen?"

The shadow shrieked. "No, leave me be!" It turned and fled.

A coiling root gripped the shadow's ankle as it lurched forwards and fell to the earth. It turned its head back and snarled; black tentacles lashing. "I have my orders," said the knight as verdant light glowed from beneath his armor. Briar and rose burst from the joints and quickly eclipsed the shadow's tendrils. He rose up on a dais of wicked roots and vines that threatened to drag the shadow down. "Surrender to me, or I will teach you the meaning of thorns…"

"Never!" howled the shadow as it exploded into darkness; dissipating to the umbral corners of the earth as quickly as it had appeared. Its final shriek froze the stream solid and frost spread across his helm. It was gone, far faster than the knight could anticipate. No being he knew of bore a stench like it had, or a confused anger as violent and pitiful. He could feel the blight had left the realm, and he lowered his axe. Bercilak starred at the marred spot where it had fallen and thought. The feeling was familiar; one time, long ago, he too had felt the same.

#

'One Immortal to Another'

#

Clang...clang...clang

Hiss

Clang

Hiss

The flames licked the sunset steel as the hammer struck again. They ran along the edge of the blade and danced around the cinders and ash upon the anvil.

Clang...clang...clang

Bercilak lifted the blade into the air; his forge below Castle Hautdesert was suffocating and humid, the fires flickered across the dingy room's walls and played with the shadows of his form. His arms were bare, and his muscles tensed with each strike of his hammer; this blade would be special. He poured his determination into each swing, and with it came motes of his verdant power. A salamander to his left snorted a roaring stream of fire against the red-hot steel and smoke billowed from its nostrils. Bercilak turned the steel with a pair of tongs, and began hammering away on the other side.

"Come now, power of the earth; entwine yourself with your hated enemy… Give this blade your strength, so that it might guide my soul one day. This edge will be the servant of my new apprentice," Bercilak looked up from his work and stopped. "But I must find them first."

The knight quenched the blade in a vat and it bubbled away. Next, he went to a kiln and took out a boiling crucible of liquid bronze. A mold sat upon a workbench, ready to accept the glowing metal. Carefully, he poured it down and gave the mold a knock with his hammer to make sure the metal flowed into every gap. This too was quenched.

A time later, Bercilak returned. He broke open the mold and retrieved the pommel of the sword. It was a weighty thing, one side engraved with the visage of The Hunter God, the other his Dark Lady. A fitting icon.

The cross-guard had been made earlier; it looked as if the steel was twisted into entwined arm-like branches, and the center where they met displayed a hooded figure that was more tree than anything else. The Elder Mother.

The handle that covered the tang was shaped from antler. In fact, the antler was even older than he was. It came from a great beast, long since extinct. How he came to have it, he knew not. It was the closest one could come to touching The Hunter God, for he was truly ancient, and so was this creature. Both from a time before even written language was born.

The blade was now ready to be ground down to a fine edge. He took a seat next to the grindstone and smiled to himself. This would be a fine sword; one that could cut the fibers between this world and the next, and banish the dark things to the corners of Hell. He just needed someone to wield it.

Anaisha shunted the door of the court building open and stormed down the front steps. She kicked a discarded can into the road and hissed. "Stupid sonofabitch! I needed three more days to pay, that's all," she swore as a passerby gave her a disapproving look. Her raven fringe was swept aside by a gust of wind that heralded the coming thunder-clouds.

The young woman placed her hands in her pockets and skulked away. The landlord had been less than lenient with her rent, and now she had nowhere to go. She barely earned enough to eat, yet alone live. Her old room was the best she could afford.

Anaisha decided to get a coffee to calm her nerves. She had her life in her rucksack; she made the effort of packing up her stuff before the court hearing, since she knew it wouldn't end well. Especially after she gave the magistrate the middle finger half-way through. She turned onto the high-street; it was packed with market stalls and bustling with people; another busy Saturday. Her favorite coffee shop was overflowing with customers, so she'd have to get one to go.

The line was long, and did nothing to sooth her agitated nerves. A burly man almost knocked her over as he squeezed past, he didn't even realize. Hissing again, she secured the strap of her rucksack on her back and stepped forward to the counter.

"Just an Americano to go, please," she said, not even looking at the barista.

"That'll be three fifty, please," replied the young man, and Anaisha took her wallet from her pocket. An awkward moment of searching yielded no coins, so she took out her card and tapped the card machine. Her face slackened as it was rejected. The young man felt awkward as well. "I'm sorry, Miss. Your card was rejected."

Anaisha hissed again and rummaged around in her pocket for change. "Crap, sorry. I can't pay," she muttered and turned to leave, as a green gloved hand placed some money on the counter.

"Two coffees please," said the tall man, as Anaisha walked out of the shop. She grumbled to herself as she returned to the street. She had no money, and her credit card bills were outrageously high. No money meant no food, and worst of all, no coffee. Her job as a waitress ended last week when she kicked a customer in the groin for a poorly worded remark. She didn't even get the pay for the earlier days she worked, the thieving bastards.

Anaisha made her way to the park and slumped into a bench. Her stomach rumbled. She didn't have any friends to call for help; she figured she'd need to find a soup kitchen or something.

"Coffee?" asked a voice, and she looked up to find the owner of that green gloved hand. His arm was outstretched with a steaming take-away cup just inches from her face.

Anaisha stared. "Why are you in cosplay?" she asked, ignoring the coffee.

"What's cosplay?" asked Bercilak, as he lowered his hand. "I saw that you lacked the funds to purchase coffee; that suggests you have no money."

"That tends to be how it works, yeah," she replied, bluntly, but took the coffee anyway.

"You seem agitated," said the knight.

"Only a bit, but I'm not interested in whatever your game is," she replied and stood up. "Thanks for the coffee."

"Are you in need of help?"

"Not from a knight in shining armor," replied the girl, and she walked past him.

"I could pay your debt off, if that would make your life easier," replied Bercilak and she turned.

"How do you know about that?" she scorned and her eyes narrowed.

"I was at the court hearing."

"I don't need a good Samaritan, and I bet you're not doing it for my own good," she replied and continued on her way.

Anaisha took out her phone to pass the time while she thought of a plan. Her battery was almost dead, and she had no credit. She'd need to use a coffee shop electrical plug to charge it, but that meant actually buying something and staying. She stopped walking in the middle of a quiet side street and thought. She'd probably wind up in jail with all the debt she had, and no means to pay it.

Crap

She didn't even realize that she had nowhere to sleep tonight. She wasn't keen on sleeping rough. Maybe the knight-headed man was genuine; she imagined anyone with unsavory intentions would look shadier, at least, that was her experience. She owed a lot of people a lot of money.

Anaisha looked up suddenly; something flicked past and out of sight. Then, in the corner of her eye she spied a shifting blob, the color of tar.

"What the hell?" she exclaimed and turned to see a big eye staring at her from below the drain grate.

"The human realm is home to many spiteful creatures; you're drawing them to you with your bitter thoughts," said Bercilak from beside her. Anaisha jumped and whirled around.

"The hell did you put in my drink?" she demanded and threw it on the ground. It splashed on his shoes.

"I had an alchemist friend of mine whip up an elixir to give you the sight. I figured it'd make convincing you easier," replied the knight, then he folded his arms.

"Convince me of what? To buy more of whatever shit you put in my coffee? You're the wackiest looking plug I've ever met."

"I don't understand what you're talking about," replied Bercilak and he cocked his head. "You look as if you wish to leave this world behind you, what if I were to give you that opportunity?"

"I'm not looking to OD, if that's what you mean…" snarled Anaisha and she balled her fists.

"Your soul is like sun-fire, you will do nicely," affirmed Bercilak with a nod of his head. "I'm looking for an apprentice, one with a strong will and stronger fight in them."

"Apprentice? I dropped out of college, like, last month," replied the girl. "Leave me alone, would you? I'll be fine on my own."

"You don't believe me, do you? You think I'm some kind of charlatan? I'm not trying to fool you, I am looking for a squire to train."

"What? Like a knight? Don't tell me you think you're a knight because you wear a helmet."

"I'm not just a knight, I am Bercilak de Hautdesert, The Green Knight; defender of Great Britain and Champion of the Fae."

"You mean like that green beardy guy from that King Arthur story I read in middle school?"

Bercilak sighed. "Yes, just like him."

"Prove it."

"Prove it?"

"Pull your head off," she replied and folded her arms too. Bercilak yanked the head from his shoulders, and Anaisha fainted.

Anaisha awoke. "Crap, did I actually get spiked?" she grumbled as she sat upright. She had been lying on the same bench from earlier.

"Only by a magical elixir," replied Bercilak, and Anaisha jumped on the spot.

"The hell?"

"I'm real, I'm genuinely telling you the truth. You live in a world of magic and monsters; your eyes can now perceive them," he said, as an Ariel fluttered down and perched on his outstretched arm.

"Hello sweetie, this old metal-head is giving you a great deal! I'd take it if I were you; who wants to live in this awful land of grim concrete and grimmer people? He's bad at talking to regular everyday humans, but he's telling the truth."

"T-that's a fairy?" stuttered Anaisha, and she recalled. The Ariel jumped onto her shoulder and perched.

"I'm an Ariel, and we like the term 'Neighbors'. I much prefer that!"

Bercilak made a movement with his hands, and from the aether he pulled a longsword in its scabbard. Anaisha's eyes darted to its handle and she promptly forgot the living fairytale on her shoulder. "I am Bercilak, the Green Knight, and I am in need of a squire. I chose you because you are alone in this world, and because you have the flare of a true fighter. If you touch the handle of this sword, our pact will commence. Draw it from its scabbard, and we will have a deal. I will teach you the ways of this sword, and the true nature of this world. You will never again want for wealth or the vanity of human life. I can give you everything; you need only take this blade."

A silence overcame Anaisha as she tried to make sense of the situation. As far as her eyes could tell, he really had pulled his head off, and there really was a fairy beside her. "Are you human?"

"I was once, yes."

"How… old are you?"

"Nearly eight hundred. I was once a genuine knight."

"Can I see your face?"

Bercilak put a hand to his head and felt the contours of the steel helm. "I'm afraid I don't have one, and I've long since forgotten what I looked like; when I was alive that is."

"You're a ghost?"

"I'm a spirit; some might call me a revenant."

"That sounds freaky," she replied and rubbed her arm.

Bercilak looked down at his shoes. He didn't think to stop and polish them clean. "I'd like to think people appreciate my presence, more so than intimidated by it."

"Well, you're six four and have a helmet for a head. Go figure."

"Six five and would you please be my apprentice? My arm is getting tired."

"W-what's in it for you?" asked the exasperated Anaisha.

This question hit Bercilak harder than expected, and he took a moment to reply. He looked at the engraved pommel of the longsword, then back to Anaisha. "I am so very lonely."

Anaisha was perplexed, but his voice was true; in her world, she had met more than enough liars. She looked at the Ariel on her shoulder; there was so much more she needed to know, but the handle was there and waiting. The fairy nodded. She offered the Ariel her hand and it replied by taking one of her fingers in its grip. It was real. The park was empty, when previously it had been full and bustling. Did the knight scare everyone away? Was it some kind of spell? She hesitated. There was nothing in this world for her; she had no friends, no family that cared for her, no job and crippling debt. She'd probably wind up dead anyway; the people she owed money to were dangerous. When they caught wind that she had been evicted, they'd come looking for their due.

"What do I have to do, if I take this?"

"Protect the world you hate, and protect the world you'll soon learn to love."

"Will it be safe?"

Bercilak shook his head. "Debt collectors will be the least of your worries. Boggarts and Hill Giants are foes you'll soon face."

Anaisha smiled. "Well, at least I'll have a sword this time," she said, and gripped the handle. She looked the knight in the eye. "Are there others like me?"

"Every mortal who bridged the void were searching for something," replied the knight, and with it, Anaisha drew the sword from its scabbard. A verdant light escaped from the sheath and sparkled in her eyes, as the steel hissed free from its home. She gripped the blade in two hands and felt the weight behind it; it was very heavy, at least for her. Anaisha looked it up and down, from the ornate cross-guard to the bronze pommel and marveled. She then followed the edge that seemed as if it could cut the light itself and was transfixed by its sheen.

She then swung it at Bercilak.

Anaisha yelped in surprise as the Green Knight caught the edge with a newly leather-bound fist, and she looked up to see him shift his form into steel plate. Great antlers sprouted from the top of his helm, and an evergreen cape wove itself around his waist. His immensity seemed to extinguish the shine of the sword, and she quickly paled.

The two stared at each other. A bead of sweat pooled at Anaisha's temple.

"Good grief, what a way to start! This blade was forged to banish demons and fiends alike. Don't go swinging it so carelessly!" barked Bercilak as he yanked it from her grip.

"I-If you were really a spirit, wouldn't it go straight through you?"

Bercilak knocked the pommel against his breastplate. "I'm literally a suit of armor, my spirit resides within it."

"But you've got arms like a man?"

"It's a glamour, I don't really have flesh," replied the knight as the Ariel took off. "Honestly, if you were Ainsworth's apprentice he'd give you a right talking to! Be glad I don't like shouting at people."

"Who the hell is Ainsworth?!"

"Someone who would give you a right talking to, now come along, there is much to do!" exclaimed Bercilak in a passive-aggressive manner. He extended his other hand and roots began to entwine it. "Take it, we are going to the most wondrous place on earth!"

Anaisha looked to the twisting roots. "Disneyland?"

"No, the Fairy Kingdom."

"That sounds like a crappy knock-off‒OW!"

Bercilak bonked her over the head with the pommel of the sword. "I've changed my mind, I want the sword back."

"Wait, no!" cried Anaisha, and she grabbed his hand. The two were quickly engulfed in foliage and whisked away to the other side.

Anaisha blinked. She rubbed her eyes and blinked again. There was a set of double doors, grand and imposing. They were also standing alone in the middle of a cool, dark woodland. Around her, scuttling things and fungi lived beneath the trees; a walking mushroom waddled by. Bercilak put his hands on his hips.

"Here we are, Castle Hautdesert."

"But it's just a door," replied the befuddled Anaisha and she shook her head.

"All doors lead somewhere," replied the knight as he was momentarily distracted by the ambulatory fungus. "Your door has opened wide to reveal a new world. This is your home now."

"Will I ever be able to go back and visit?"

"Of course, I met you in a coffee shop. You're not held here against your will. And…"

Anaisha looked up at him. "And what?"

"I'd prefer if you did spend as much time in the human world as possible. You might grow an extra pair of legs if you don't."

"I what?"

"Come now, let me show you inside," said the knight and he beckoned her to follow. He stopped and turned suddenly. "What's your name, by the way?"

"Anaisha; I thought you knew? You were at the court room."

"I lied, I was never there. My Ariel friend chose you when she gave you that pendant," explained the knight as he pointed to the Mjolnir at her breastbone.

"T-that fairy gave this to me?"

"How else did you get it?"

"I thought I'd accidentally stolen it from a thrift shop!"

Bercilak cocked his head. "I was given that by a dwarf in Norway and it helped me slay the king of the mountain trolls. It's cast in solid silver…"

"Can I sell it?"

"Absolutely not!"

"What will I do for money?"

"Nothing, I'm a millionaire."

Anaisha's face slackened. "Y-you are?"

"I've lived for nearly eight hundred years. I'm sure you can imagine how much gold I've accumulated over the centuries. Warfare has its boons, I suppose. If you care for that."

"I thought you were a spirit?"

"Okay, I've existed for nearly eight hundred years," replied the knight with a huff. He took the handles to the great doors and pushed them open, revealing his castle home. Anaisha tilted her head to look.

"Is it me, or is everything upside down?"

"There was an accident when we were building the place. Dimension manipulation is really not a magic anyone should meddle with. Anyway, step inside and it will right itself."

Anaisha look a tentative step forwards, then a rush of air flipped her upside down and she stumbled; catching her footing before she fell. She looked up to find the grand lobby, sparkling in her eyes. "Whoa, you really are loaded!"

"Why thank you," said Bercilak as he followed her in.

"Do you have servants and stuff? Maybe your own guard?"

"It's just me here, and a few Neighbors. Perhaps I should get myself a Silky."

"Like a House Brownie?"

"Yes. I usually don't cook for myself since it's just me."

"Wait, you eat?"

Bercilak looked away to a painting that he had replaced since the troll attack. "It keeps me human."

Anaisha watched him. Something of pity welled up in her stomach. She'd only just met him, yet even she, with her lacking social skills, could tell he was truly a troubled man. The way he stopped and stared before his response to deeper questions was quite profound.

"No matter, come with me. I'll let you explore the castle on your own, but let's have some tea in my sitting room. I'm told my home is unnecessarily huge."

"Why's that?"

"I have five sitting rooms," he replied as he started towards the door on the left-hand side of the lobby. Anaisha followed, craning her neck to get a glimpse at the heraldry that lined the ceiling.

"Why do you have five sitting rooms?"

Bercilak didn't move his head to look back in reply. "I thought I'd have more friends to share it with."

"Don't you have many friends?"

Bercilak opened the door that led to the long corridor. "Most are fae and so care not for human dwellings. Some are centaurs, and so cannot use chairs. Most humans are forbidden from coming to Tír na nÓg. All the alchemists I know would be set upon by Spriggan's hunting hounds if he found out. Turns out, having a big castle and no one to share it with is quite depressing."

"I-I'm not surprised," stuttered Anaisha as she entered the corridor. It was long. "Which one of these is it?" she asked, while surveying the numerous doors.

"Just this one," replied Bercilak as he opened the closest one on his left. Anaisha wiped her brow in relief. The door opened into a cozy little sitting room of ornate dark wood, comfy armchairs and a crackling fireplace. A small coffee table sat between a half ring of seating. A number of suits of armor decorated the corners; they ranged from some of the very first types, to the very last. Even the armor of a Winged Hussar stood proud beside the hearth. To her surprise, there was already a trolley of tea and biscuits waiting, while the kettle hissed above the fire. It was very old fashioned.

"Were you expecting this?"

"To have tea? The castle always expects me to have tea when I come home," said Bercilak as he took the kettle off the heat. He poured it into the teapot. "It's hawthorn."

"The castle expected you?"

"It's a magic castle."

"Yeah, I figured that. Is it alive?"

"Not really, it just keeps itself tidy and makes sure there's tea ready whenever I need it," he said and closed the pot. He straightened up.

"Does the castle have arms that go and dust the shelves or something?"

"Nope, I just walk into a room and tea is waiting for me, and the rooms are tidy and clean."

"Why?"

"It'll be easier for both of us if you didn't ask. I'm not a magic teacher, or actually understand its intricacies."

Anaisha took a seat in an armchair. "But… you are magic, right?"

"Yes."

"But you can't teach magic?"

Bercilak shook his head. "Unlike my peers, I was not taught how to perform magic, I am magic. An Ariel never learned how to bend the winds to their will, neither did I learn to give life to the earth. I just… am."

"But can you teach me magic?"

Bercilak took a seat across from Anaisha. "Yes but no. I have a big stack of books Ainsworth gave me for you to read. Because I am a spirit, I can act as if I were your familiar; something most need to perform magic. That way, I can both mediate and produce the magic you require to be my squire. You'll be learning general magic from books, but life magic will be coming from me directly. I cannot teach you that, and no book from that musty bonehead would ever come close to what I can do."

"So… I'll be using your magic?"

"You'll learn how to use the basics of general magic yourself, but yes, you'll be borrowing my power to perform life magic."

"Why just general magic?"

Bercilak put a finger to his chin. "Because anything more requires a teacher. Magic can be disastrous, but it's no matter; you won't need anything more than my brand of magic. Hand me your pendant, would you?"

Anaisha took the Mjolnir from her neck and handed it across the table to Bercilak. The knight took it and his hands began to glow green. "I'm infusing this pendant with some of my power for you. That way you'll be able to use my magic even when I'm not nearby. When it stops glowing, tell me and I'll recharge it," he said as he handed it back.

The pendant was warm to the touch and glowed gently with a hue of green that made the silver shine verdant. She stared at the hammer, until her attention was drawn to Bercilak pouring the tea out. He placed the sugar bowl and a plate of biscuits in the middle of the table, then, when it was poured, he gave her a cup of tea.

"Thank you," said Anaisha, as she replaced the pendant to her neck. She looked down at it. "Cool, now I have a magic necklace."

"Indeed."

Anaisha looked back to Bercilak. "Why does magic exist?"

"That's quite a loaded question."

"I mean, I figured out that there's things I couldn't see before, but… why?"

Bercilak put a finger to his chin and thought. "Magic and science are two sides of the same coin; where they overlap, we call it alchemy. It's simply another law of this universe, as is gravity or other physics. It's certainly easier to understand than science."

"It is?"

"Well, that's what I think. Remember, I was born in the 13th century," replied the knight and he sipped his tea. Anaisha watched him open his visor and tip it back, but thought better of asking that question. "For now, it would be better to believe what your eyes tell you. You won't be encountering many illusions; only unscrupulous mages and alchemists, or maybe a playful imp will cast such a spell."

"Take it at face-value, got it," nodded Anaisha and she stirred some sugar into her tea. She sipped it and thought to herself. She laughed suddenly, and Bercilak looked up from his cup.

"I know I'm witty, but not so much that my silence cracks jokes too."

"No-no, it's just… bizarre."

"Bizarre?" repeated the knight and he set his cup down.

"I was working at a restaurant and living in a tiny apartment trying to live from paycheck to paycheck. Everything went wrong, and then you, a real medieval knight shows up from out of the blue on the streets of London."

"Green."

"And now we're in a magic castle sipping tea and talking about this fantasy world that I could never see before; all of this happened in the last two hours or so. It's so… bizarre."

Bercilak rested his chin on his fist as he thought.

"Wasn't it the same when you first found out?"

Bercilak looked towards the crackling flames and inhaled before his response. "My introduction to this world was violent and painful. In hindsight, I may be making a mistake in bringing you here…"

"No, I want to be here. Seriously, screw that old world. I'd much rather be here, fighting goblins and crap like that!" exclaimed Anaisha but Bercilak's gaze remained on the flame.

He exhaled. "I suppose I wouldn't understand what this means to you then. I'm glad you appreciate my decision," replied the knight as he returned his eyes to Anaisha. "You may leave at any time you wish, if it becomes too hard."

"I bet weaker people have made a name for themselves here," she said and pointed her thumb at herself. "I did boxing for a year."

"Well, it's a start I suppose."

Anaisha suddenly felt how tired she was and yawned. "Wow, I feel exhausted for some reason."

"You've got a tenacious spirit."

"Do I get my own room here?" Anaisha asked, ignoring his remark.

"Yes, there's fifty seven bedrooms. Take your pick."

"Preferably one not too far from the entrance."

"There's one next door," said Bercilak and he stood up. "Follow me, I'll show you."

Anaisha finished her tea quickly and followed after him. He turned out onto the corridor and pointed to the door ten yards down the hall. "Thanks."

"You'll find everything you need in there; it has an en-suite as well."

Anaisha took the handle and turned it, pushing the door inwards to be greeted by a rush of scalding hot air and a wailing screech that pierced her eardrums.

"DESPAIR, KNIGHT OF THE EARTH, FOR I SHALL‒"

Anaisha slammed the door and turned, gasping. "What the hell was that?!"

"Sorry, next one along."

"What was that?!"

"Fire giant; please don't go in there."

"Why the hell is there a fire giant chained up in a bedroom?!"

"That's a laundry and the dungeons are full!" retorted the knight.

"Why do you have dungeons?!"

"This is a castle!"

"Why are they full?!"

"Because it's a magical jail and they'll be released once they've served their sentence!"

"Why do you jail monsters in your own home?!"

"Because killing them is not always the answer!" exclaimed the knight and he almost stamped his foot. He quickly composed himself and straightened his tie. "I'm sorry, I don't normally yell."

"N-neither do I!" agreed Anaisha and she wiped her brow. "Can it escape?"

"No, the chains that bind it were forged by a god from ancient Greece," explained the knight with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Do you have pajamas?"

"N-no, I don't," replied Anaisha and Bercilak made his way over to the supposed bedroom. "I'm not sure I'm comfortable with a fire demon next to me."

"Fire giant and I can sort that out for you right now," said the knight and he pointed his finger at the door, then swept it across the left-hand corridor. The door zipped along and shifted the whole wall around. It then settled somewhere far out of sight. "Sometimes the rooms move on their own."

Anaisha's shoulders sagged. "Just take it at face-value…"

"That's the spirit."

Anaisha took the handle of this new room and tentatively opened it to reveal a quaint little bedroom with a large, four poster bed in its center. A mahogany dresser took up one side along with a matching bureau and shelving unit, while her own armchair sat in the other. Another door led to the bathroom. "Hey, this is pretty nice. Where are the windows?"

"Don't ask."

"Please tell me?"

"No. You'll find everything you need here; there'll be some spare clothes that should fit you in the wardrobe beside you, although you might find them a bit dated. Leave any used clothes in the basket and they'll be clean when you awake."

Anaisha opened the wardrobe. "There's a bonnet and nightgown in here."

"Yes, well I haven't replaced the clothes here in decades."

"More like centuries."

"Anyway, I know today has been hectic but I hope you'll find it comfortable here. Get a good rest and we'll continue tomorrow," concluded Bercilak and he pulled the door closed.

"Wait a second," said Anaisha and the knight popped his head around the frame before it closed. "Thanks."

Anaisha awoke. She had no sense of day or night here, and without windows she couldn't hear birdsong either. Her mouth was dry and her eyes wiry, but that was to be expected when waking up from a previously exhausting day. She pushed the heavy covers off and revealed the dated nightgown she wore in place of modern pajamas. The room was the perfect temperature; normally she awoke to a freezing room, even in the middle of summer. This made waking herself up far more pleasant, and she sprung to her feet to find a pair of slippers ready and waiting. She put them on, taking it as the castle's way of greeting its new resident.

"Take it at face value," she said again and nodded.

Opening the bedroom door, Anaisha entered into the corridor and looked both ways. The castle was silent, save for the flicker of oil lamps that lined the walls. Then, she smelled something burning and the thought of the fire giant escaping caused her a moment of panic. Fortunately, she doubted fire giants smelled like bacon, so she followed the scent.

The search for Bercilak took a long ten minutes, for the corridor seemed endless and she had tripped over a shuffling fuzzball who cursed at her in some strange tongue. She opened the door to what she presumed was the kitchen and found Bercilak scraping coal-black bacon into the mouth of a globular creature with inky skin.

"Oh, good morning," said the knight as the creature gulped it down with a grin. "I was just going to get you, but it seems I've ruined your breakfast."

Anaisha's eyes went from the creature to Bercilak to the creature and back again. "That's fine, I figure not having a mouth means your cooking is temperamental."

"No, I just told the salamander he couldn't have another slice and he burned it all."

"Oh."

"Yes."

"Well, I'm not particularly hungry. I'm sure I can pick something up later. So…"

"Ah, yes. Day one of being my squire…" said Bercilak and placed the cast iron pan on the stove. The inky creature shuffled off and disappeared behind some cupboards. "You'll be jumping into the deep end today, since it's a bit of an emergency I must attend."

"So much of an emergency you'd cook me breakfast first?" smiled Anaisha and she took a seat at the heavy wooden table. It wobbled a bit, as the stone floor was aged and uneven. "I could do with some tea though."

Bercilak took a kettle from the fireplace and poured the water into a pot. It seemed he had a unique tea set for each room, for hers had one too. "Spruce today."

Anaisha nodded and stared at Bercilak. He looked up suddenly.

"Oh right, the emergency. Yes, well. I got a call this morning from the College, then another from the Church. Something's gone down on the east coast and they need me to investigate."

"You work for a college and the church?" Anaisha said with a frown as the cup and pot were set before her.

"No, I do not work for them. Not at all," he grumbled, bitter. "They beg me to help when they are unable, and they are rather persistent nuisances since someone gave them my number; something no mortal should have. Fortunately, they are good problem finders… but bad problem solvers too. As defender of the realms, I am… obligated to look into such issues on the chance it is big."

"What if it's something minor?"

"Like an alchemical laboratory explosion? I turn around and head home for tea. I care not for the problems of alchemists or foolish mages. Only fell beasts and the wild magic of ruination are my quarries. To bother myself with such minor things only endangers others to fates not of this world. I am rarely able to sit still."

"I see," Anaisha replied with a small nod and poured herself some tea. It had a very Christmas-like aroma. "Your voice tells me you don't like them?"

"The College is somewhat okay, but the Church are a downright thorn in my side who both despise me and plead for help at the same time."

"Why do they hate you?"

Bercilak scoffed. "We did not have the most cordial of first encounters; at least, the first time since I was reborn. The Church I am referring to is not quite what you are thinking. It is far more practical in this world of magic than you might imagine. They thought that they could order me to do their bidding and shamed me for my choices; they called me a heathen and that my armor was sacrilege, and yet somehow I was still the servant of their God. They even tried to destroy me once, back when they were more zealous."

"Jeez, that's pretty rough. How did that all end?"

"I killed them. The people responsible that is. It's a big organization with many warring factions within."

"Oh."

"Ah, they knew nothing of real zealotry. I've seen it all, since I was forged in it. They quickly realized their mistake and turned tail."

"What do you mean?"

Bercilak stopped; he was getting ahead of himself and working himself up for nothing. "Sorry, I didn't mean to ramble."

"No, really, what do you mean?"

Bercilak hesitated. "I suppose you ought to know more about me," he said with a sigh. "I was once a knight of England, and I fought in the Ninth Crusade and at the Siege of Acre ‒ when it fell."

"Acre?"

"An important Crusader city in the Levant. Forgive me, but these are painful memories. My death comes soon after."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push you…"

"It's fine, but it's too early in the morning for me to get mopey again. Drink your tea, we have a grindylow to find."

"A what?"

"A grindylow. A water spirit of malicious intent. The College says one of their researchers was snatched while near the coast. They have a research station out at Sutton Hoo since it's radiant with ancient magical energies. It seems one of their people strayed too far while following a ley line."

Anaisha rubbed her forehead. "Right, okay. Sutton Hoo? That's a weird name."

"It's an ancient Anglo-Saxon archaeological site. It's even older than I am, and the fae love it there. It attracts researchers both mundane and magical."

"Sounds cool. So how are we gonna get there if it's on the east coast?"

"One of the entrances to my castle is relatively close, but we'll need to take a hidden path that connects nearby. That way we can cross the land in minutes. Come, get dressed and grab your sword. We ought to be prompt."

"It's just a field."

"It's more than a field," replied the knight as they looked beyond the doorframe from within the castle. Bercilak stepped out into the real-world and offered Anaisha his hand. "Let me explain."

Anaisha jumped down from the foot-high disconnect between castle and field then looked around. Only the withered frame stood alone in the field, and she frowned. "So there's just a bunch of floating doors around the country?"

"Yes, but only those with the sight can see them. This door once belonged to an old cottage, but it burned down long ago. Doorways are very hard to destroy for good, so I made use of its old coordinates and connected it to the castle. That way its memory will live on forever and be of use."

"Pretty deep stuff for an old door."

"It has more meaning to some," replied Bercilak and he folded his arms. He was still in his waistcoat and smart clothes despite standing in a muddy field. "Fortunately, the hidden path we need is not far from here."

Anaisha looked around and spied a small thatched cottage ‒ this one was still standing. "Was that its twin?" she asked as she watched sparrows flit between windowsills.

"Yes, good observation. They were both built during the fifteenth century for shepherds. Come, we must get going." Bercilak took off at a brisk pace and Anaisha followed after him.

"The air is so fresh here! It's amazing."

"I trust city air is like toxin to the lungs by comparison," chuckled Bercilak. They had left the field and were walking parallel with it along a grassy track. "The hidden path is down in the wetlands, so I hope you brought sturdy boots."

Anaisha looked down at how muddy her leather boots were. "Eh, they'll do."

The walk through the countryside was reasonably brief, although Anaisha kept stopping to marvel at the birds. They crossed a small wooden bridge and approached a flat of hardy grasses, reeds and weeping trees that hung like gallows above the crisscrossing drainage ditches. It was populated by numerous small groves of trees and shrubs, and a herd of deer was startled by their presence; they bounded across the wetland as one and quickly fled out of sight. Anaisha wasn't swift enough to draw her phone in time to take a picture.

"Through here; stay close now, hidden paths are not intended for mortals."

"What is a hidden path?"

Bercilak approached the closest grove and pushed a branch away. "Disused roads and tracks from ages past; they cross time and space but are often haunted by the most vile of things. This one leads to Sutton Hoo, for the Anglo-Saxons created it long ago."

Anaisha stopped behind the knight and peered into the bushes. It seemed as if a gloomy tunnel of trees led into an infinite corridor of boughs, yet it was formed of trees that simply did not grow here. They did not appear on the outside, yet were very real on the inside. "Freaky."

"Watch it, you don't want the spirits that haunt these lands to hear you talk about their home like that."

"Oh, sorry spirits."

Bercilak gave a small laugh before entering the grove and Anaisha stuck close behind with a hand on her new sword. "Once again, I must apologize for jumping right into the squire business so quickly, but my life is a busy one and I'd rather you didn't go wandering the castle when I'm not there."

"It's alright, I was always moving around spontaneously anyway."

The hidden path was dingy and a low-lying fog smothered the compacted earth that formed the ground. The edges of the path was lined with numerous mushrooms; some of which did not belong in her world. Some glowed gently and made sure she could see where she was going.

Rough roots ran below the earth and surfaced at intervals, making her stumble every now and again, but it was a pleasant trip for the most part. Bercilak stopped at a crossroads and put an arm out to stop Anaisha. A horrid smell invaded her nose and she gagged, then looked up to watch a grim hooded creature drift past; it was covered in ivy and mushrooms grew upon it, while its long sinewy arms were brought close to its chest as if it was clutching something precious. It looked to them, its faceless visage glaring beneath the perpetual mist that choked its form. It studied the knight briefly, then its neck jerked to Anaisha and it hissed; extending a wicked talon towards her.

Bercilak stepped in front of her and towered above the gheist. "Be gone, bog-haunter. She is under my protection; permission granted or not, she will be permitted to travel these lanes with me, understood?"

The gheist growled and retracted its long fingers. Anaisha was clutching the handle of her sword so tightly the blood drained from her hand. "W-what does it want?"

"It wants payment to use these lanes, but I said no. It's customary for a traveler to gain the permission of the inhabitants to use their routes, otherwise they will find themselves in trouble."

"W-why not pay it?"

"Because they are unreasonable in their demands; at least here they are. Normally I would pay the inhabitants, but the bog-haunters that dwell here are uptight bags of dirt."

The creature growled again.

"So what now?"

"We keep going; you have nothing to fear when I am here. Bear in mind that you must never use this route without me, for I have insulted them by not paying the tithe."

"What exactly is the tithe?"

"It wants a tenth of your body."

"Ah."

"Yes, now come along, we shall not tarry."

"Berty? Berty is tha' you?" boomed a voice from one of the many branching tunnels. A low plodding came from a route to the right of them and lamp-light was cast upon the opposite wall. "Blimey, I was just lookin' for ya, Berty," said Skogtroll as he rounded the corner with a big lantern in hand. Anaisha shrieked and fell back, and the bog-haunter shrieked louder before fleeing.

"W-w-what the hell is that and why is it calling you Berty?" gasped Anaisha as she scrambled back and stood up on shaking legs.

"Ah, Skogtroll, how good to see you!" replied Bercilak and the two grasped hands and shook.

"Likewise, Berty," said the towering Skogtroll and he looked to Anaisha who paled. He scratched his nose and sniffed. "You got yerself an apprentice?"

"Squire; I found her yesterday, so I'm sure she's a bit shocked to meet a troll already."

"A troll?!"

"A troll."

"A Skogtroll," corrected Skogtroll.

"Anyway, you were looking for me?" asked the knight as he put a hand on Anaisha's shoulder to steady her. "We're on our way to Sutton Hoo to investigate a problem."

"Yeah, I heard about it too. Thing is, something's off. Really off. I felt a bad tingle in me spine, and that's never happened since the gods walked among us…"

"Well, it must be pretty dire if you were coming to fetch me. Is it related?"

"I don't know for sure, but I can smell it coming from the coast. It's hideous. Far worse than a swamp-troll, that's for sure."

"I heard grindylows can smell pretty bad."

"You're after a grindylow?"

"That's what the College said, then the Church chimed in with the exact same thing to try and get in on the action first."

"Oh, I dunno Berty. Something's not right ‒ not right at all."

"You certainly sound concerned; not even the mountain folk bothered you like this."

Skogtroll shook his head. "Well, if you're heading there anyway I'm sure you'll figure it out. I'll leave ya too it, if you're alright doing it alone?"

"Hey, I'm here too ya know?" exclaimed Anaisha but her teeth were still chattering.

Skogtroll ignored her remarks. "The fae folk are disturbed too, they're saying it's too old a feeling even for them. This ain't like the mountain folk. Berty, I think it's worse than them."

"Worse than the mountain trolls?" pondered Bercilak with a hand to his chin. The tone of Skogtroll's normally jolly voice was alarming to the knight. He shook his head. "I don't know of anything around here that could stir up such panic; not since I dealt with the troll king."

"What if it ain't from around here? What if it ain't been here before?"

"Foes of another realm are less potent the farther they stray from home. Trust that it will be alright," said the knight and he put a reassuring hand on the big troll's upper arm.

"I hope yer right, Berty."

"I do too."

Bercilak and Anaisha left the hidden path behind and reappeared at the side of a road. They stepped out from the hedge line and onto the tarmac. "This is Sutton Hoo?"

"Not quite, we won't be visiting today. The College has a small research lab set up nearby. The place is open to visitors, so they'd prefer not to be seen."

"Ah, is that it there then?" asked Anaisha as she pointed to a complex of portable coverings and transport vehicles set up in a patch of field fifty yards down the road.

"Why yes it is."

"Hello? It's the Green Knight here, come to sort out your problems for the eightieth time," called Bercilak as he popped his head around a big tent's entrance. There were portable desks and a myriad of arcane equipment beneath the covering, yet not a soul in sight. Papers were left rustling in the breeze, and cold coffee sat by computer screens.

"Whoa, looks like something spooked them?" Anaisha chimed in as she took in the scene. "No blood or anything, so I guess they got up and fled? Kinda glad I don't have to talk with anyone though."

"Yes, but that makes pinpointing what happened all the harder. Come, we won't stick around here. Whatever the problem is, it's at the coast and… it's now raining."

"Raining? The skies were super clear and blue," muttered Anaisha as she dipped back outside the tent to look.

"Yes, that's what concerns me. The wind is picking up too. Whatever is causing this must have left the alchemists in a real panic; especially since they are not exactly feeble people."

"So… you're saying it's not a grindylow?"

"I doubt it, grindylows are minor fae and not much of a threat unless you're in the water with them. Let's head to the coast and see."

"Is there another hidden path to take?"

"Nope, we'll need to catch a bus."

"Oh."

"I hate buses," muttered Bercilak as they stepped off at the bus stop. He rummaged around in his pocket and pulled out an entire umbrella then handed it to Anaisha. She raised an eyebrow but thought little of it.

"Thanks, and I can imagine why," she said as she looked up at the sky again. It had turned a deep dark blue and grey roiling clouds were approaching.

"Perhaps a mage's weather spell went wrong, or a group of ariels decided to smite someone?"

"Whatever it is, it doesn't seem natural," replied Anaisha as a crack of lightning made her jump. She felt the sword at her belt and reassured herself. "Say, it just occurred to me that I'm walking around with a sword on me."

"I walk around with a helmet for a head."

"Won't people notice?"

"They both have a disinterest enchantment; people won't notice them unless directly engaged by it. Makes my life a lot easier."

"That seems really handy. I wish I had one for myself."

"Blimey, even I'm not that gloomy," replied the knight as he looked out over the sea. They were at a small fishing village on the east coast. "Perhaps there was a weather warning? I can't see anyone around."

Anaisha took out her phone and held it up. "I'm not getting any internet out here. Perhaps it's the storm?"

"Probably. This place often gets battered by summer storms, so it's no surprise the population might evacuate for a particularly bad one," Bercilak explained as he motioned for Anaisha to follow to the beach. "That stench is getting stronger…"

"You don't even have a nose," called Anaisha as she jogged to catch up. The umbrella was torn from her grip as the wind battered it aside. It flew off into the distance before she could grab it. "Crap, I hope you don't miss that." Bercilak began to rummage around in his pocket again. "I don't need another, thanks. The wind is too strong."

"Hmm, you're right," he replied as he stepped onto the soft sand beyond the tufts of sharp grass that grew like a barrier between the land and sea. The plume of his helm was whipped into a frenzy as the storm grew in intensity with every word. Anaisha darted to the side to avoid getting struck in the face by it.

Anaisha checked the time on her phone and squinted. "It's like ‒ not even lunch time yet and the sky's gone black!"

"Yes, this is a supernatural storm; but nothing like the magic of the mountain folk. This is more sinister, and it's certainly not a grindylow's doing." A clap of thunder and a shard of lightning startled Anaisha and again her hand instinctively went to her sword. Bercilak noticed. "I think you really have jumped into the deep end. We should leave; it's irresponsible of me to bring you here without training."

"No, I'm fine. Trial by fire is more my style anyway," she replied and kept pace with the knight.

Bercilak stopped and turned; his helmet danced with the forks of lightning and Anaisha wondered if he could be struck by it with a head like that. "For the record, if I tell you to run; run. Do not question my judgment, for I know the price of death like no other. If you are genuinely sure you can handle this, then you must listen to every word I say. Do you understand?"

"I do; I've had my fair share of scraps," she assured him and replaced her hand to her sword's handle. "I'll just swing this a bit and it ought to be fine."

"I admire your optimism, but if what Skogtroll said is true, and I suspect it is, we should have left already."

Anaisha opened her mouth to reply, but the crash of snapping wood made her whirl around. A small fishing vessel lurched up and out of the water and sundered the small pier that stuck out into the waves. The vessel shattered and dragged the pier down under the shallow waters that were now boiling and threatening to consume the shoreline. Hailstones fell and Anaisha winced; they were the size of marbles. The lightning grew in intensity, and the storm was now nearly overhead. With each crack of light, the rotating clouds sped up and the winds grew greater in power. The next groan of thunder seemed out of this world; as if it were the lungs of a great sea monster spluttering up the brine. The air was humid and stank of death, in contrast to the ice that fell. All forms of storm seemed to coalesce into a beast of unknown magnitude. "Draw your sword; this is no doing of petty fae or malign spirits." Anaisha took the blade and it hissed its greeting to the world, but even its magical qualities were smothered by the darkness that came next. Peering through the storm, she saw a cloud move and bulge out with a dark something passing by. The foul stink; the stench of the bottom of the sea, made her cough and gag and she wiped her eyes to see clearly, for the miasma made them weep in their sockets.

"What could be causing this? A dragon or something?" she spluttered through her sleeve.

Bercilak turned his head. "No, no such creature I have encountered has the means to summon such a storm; at least, none who still walk this earth. This looks like the work of the divine."

"T-the divine?"

Another groan of thunder shook Anaisha to her core and her legs trembled; perhaps she really did make a mistake coming here. She suddenly regretted not turning back sooner; street gangs were nothing to this. A whip of lightning scorched the sand mere meters from where they stood and vitrified the grains to glass. Bercilak looked to the Mjolnir at her collar and thought of the storm god, yet he had little power here; at least, not for a thousand years. No, whatever was causing this was native to the islands, but no deity came to mind. No deity he knew of.

The ragged waves threw themselves to the shore as something forced them out with a deafening crash. A light appeared in the darkness across the water, and it flickered meekly in the hurricane winds and splitting sky. The air reverberated and changed course, rushing in the direction of the light. The knight summoned his mighty axe and stood on guard. "Stand behind me!"

The air was shuddering forth one moment, then was blasted back out with that same stench and humid warmth, as if something truly titanic was wheezing. A splinter of electric fury dashed the waves close to the light, and illuminated what looked like a wall of rough scales. The little light came closer and closer, and with it the storm grew to its apex and deafened Anaisha. She could feel the plod of incredible limbs through the shifting sands, and knew that something was on its way. She knew Bercilak was speaking despite lacking a mouth; shouting even, yet she couldn't hear him. It was as if she were beside an aircraft engine, and it shook the teeth in her jaw to the point that it was painful to breath. She looked up, bleary eyed and fear stricken, as the thing approached. She knew he was shouting to run, but her legs disobeyed her thoughts.

The light came to a stop, and with it the winds calmed themselves slightly at their owner's silent command. The breathing continued with one last inhalation that sucked the life from the earth; her pendant dimmed in intensity in the calming storm, as if its light was being drawn from it with the air itself. The vacuum they stood in now seemed to shake as an amused sigh escaped the lips of the storm wrought physical.

"Ah…"

The muggy winds blew from the nostrils of the hurricane as it exhaled primal might and terror. Anaisha's face was streaming from her drenched hair and she could do little more than stare into the abyss.

Until it stared back.

A great single eyelid was lifted, and the world shook and shuddered and cried out in response to this horror from the depths. It scorched her skin and blinded her vision; the water hissed away and the hail failed to strike the sand where the beam of intensity gazed. The Green Knight was stunned into silence at the titanic eye, and his cape burst into flame as the pupil turned to him and dilated into a singularity of pure malice. The beam ripped into him like the hurricane renewed and it seemed as if his armor was ready to melt under its glare. The verdant light of the knight was engulfed and extinguished in such an overpowering immensity.

"Ah-ha," it said, its words unfathomably long and rumbling like the thunderhead above them. It was as if each syllable took as many years as Anaisha had lived, and the ancient terror that was released with each was one she felt at the bottom of her very soul.

The being blinked and the world gasped for breath. It rose up and a leering grin was highlighted by its single glowing eye. Its jaws were like a cage and its skin was a foul shade of green with seaweed catching on any and all features. It stretched to full height and unfurled an oak-thick arm that ended in talons the size of a man. It made a simple gesture to the smothered sun, and the storm ceased to be, then the blinding rays of light doused the earth in brilliant white. The air stopped moving, as did the roiling waves and the shaking earth. All stopped at the curl of wicked claws and a terrible smile that could kill a soul outright. All ceased to be, and the drought its eye wrought cracked the earth and combusted the ailing grass. The sea dried up behind it, and the sun's rays grew in intensity until it bleached the earth a sickly grey.

"Not in eight centuries have I witnessed such a calamity…" murmured the knight as his axe went loose in his grip. "This is no foreign deity, or demon from the pits of Tartarus…"

"Tell me, one immortal to another ‒ do you know my name, Green Man?" it asked, and Anaisha covered her ears as she felt them pop in response.

"I do."

"Say ‒ it…"

"Never."

#

Epilogue

#

"Chise?" called Elias as he rapped his knuckles against her bedroom door. The sound of a chair being pushed back indicated she was already awake. The door creaked open and Chise appeared.

"Good morning, Elias," said Chise, and she opened the door wide. Her eyes went to a cardboard box in his hands.

"There's a parcel for you."

"A parcel?" repeated Chise as she reached for it. "From who?"

"Bercilak," replied Elias. He seemed quiet today. Quieter than usual. "Hazel dropped it off."

Chise frowned and took it to her bed. She sat down and motioned for Elias to come in. "I wonder what he sent me? His last gift was odd."

"Why he chose a magical cactus is beyond me," said the mage and he took a seat upon the bed.

Chise pulled away the brown paper and string that bound it. She opened up the cardboard box and peered in. It was something metal.

"I swear; if he's gotten you a weapon again…"

"Again?" said Chise and she glanced up.

"Don't worry about it," Elias waved the notion away, and the mace he had hidden in the umbrella stand came to mind.

Chise returned her attention to the parcel and lifted the thing from its box. "A helmet?"

"A very-very old helmet. Older than me," murmured Elias as a finger went to his chin. "Why did he send you…?"

"What is it? This isn't the one he usually wears, is it?"

"No. That's his original helmet, I think. His Knights Templar great helm," explained Elias and he fell silent. "He sent it as a catalyst perhaps?" Elias stood up suddenly. "No…"

"No?" repeated Chise. Green motes of light danced around the helmet and it radiated a comforting warmth.

"Something's happened to him. Something terrible…"

"W-what?" exclaimed Chise and she bolted upright. "I-I thought he was a spirit?"

"There are fell magics capable of destroying the soul and breaking the cycle. This helmet is soul-bound to him, just like your staff is to Nevin," explained the mage as the glowing green light suddenly pulsed and whipped the air up in a gust. The world went bright as Chise flinched and shut her eyes.

"What happened?" gasped Chise as she fell forwards, but Elias caught her. She opened her eyes to see a bright blue sky, sunbaked earth and hardy grasses swaying in the breeze. "Where are we? Are we in another memory?"

"Acre, or at least his memory of Acre," murmured Elias as he looked to the blood stained earth strewn with fallen soldiers. A boom reverberated through the air and crumbling stone crashed to the ground. Another came soon after, and Chise saw catapults in the distance, and a great army marching towards a walled city. War horns wailed, and the cries of men joined them.

"Acre?" she repeated. Elias turned back to Chise and to the helmet in her hands.

"This is where Bercilak dies."