In the beginning, I saw the end.

On the shore of a lake, in the heart of the wood, I saw a man. Clad in armor with a cape as red as blood, this was a man who knew war. And now, he knew peace.

A man with a red blade had stalked him to this place and struck him down, before himself departing. But not before the caped knight had discharged his final duty.

“I am Bedwyr, friend of Artorigus!” he bellowed, “And I believe this belongs to you!” He had been carrying a peculiar sword, wrapped in cloth. The sword was unlike any other, with two blades extending from its golden hilt. The warped and broken blades made it clear that this sword had seen its final battle. Bedwyr, having made his proclamation, cast the sword into the lake, but as the blade neared the water’s surface, it suddenly stopped. Where once was open air, there now was a beautiful woman, cradling the sword in her arms as if it were a child. The woman now descended slowly into the lake, and as she did an unearthly voice rang out.

“Thy task is done.”

I met the man Bedwyr at the edge of the forest, alive and well. His tired eyes filled with fury at the sight of me. “You provided sage counsel so many times throughout his life. You could have warned him! You should have warned him!“ Bedwyr’s voice trailed off as his rage was replaced by sadness. This man had lost a friend. Artorigus, was it? Not just a man, or a friend, but a king, Bedwyr explained. Artorigus had summoned Bedwyr and assigned him one final task before breathing his last: to lay the sword Excaliburn to rest in the lake at the center of the woods. A task he had failed twice thus far. I remained silent. Bedwyr spoke again. “There’s no escaping this, is there? Every time I try to leave, I wind up back in front of the forest…” I considered warning him of the lakeside ambush, but realized it would do no good. What was to be, would always be, for it had already been. “Take care of yourself, Bedwyr”, I said. And at that, he ventured into the woods.