The Sword in the Stone (The Year 510, Part 1)
A fabled sword and a miracle close at home takes Sir Arnold and the Laverstocks from the crowded Londinium streets to the birth of a new Era.
Out of character. For the start of the Boy King Period I change from the 5.2 rules to 6E rules. For battles I’ll stick with 5.2 for this year. The year 510 is really where the GPC shifts gears and I will publish the events in this year in multiple parts.
Early in the year 510, Earl Robert and his household knights traveled to Londinium for a new kind of hunt—one called a tournament. It was said that the victor of this contest would earn the right to attempt the drawing of a famous sword from a stone, set beside Saint Paul’s Cathedral. If he proved worthy, he would be crowned King of Britain.
Upon arriving, their squires pitched the tents while the knights went to see the legendary stone. “It looks loose enough,” Perin remarked. “A mere trick to force a new king upon us—just superstition.” Arnold countered, “What of the prophecy of Alberick’s fate? Or do you dismiss that as mere superstition as well?”
As they rested near the tournament grounds, the Laverstocks observed a young knight practicing his swordplay with his squire—a boy of similar age, yet one who clearly outmatched the knight in skill. Amused, they complimented the squire afterward. The boy introduced himself as Arthur, the knight as Sir Kay. Both had been raised by Sir Ector, though Arthur admitted he was adopted. Handsome and with a rare confidence, Arthur spoke with the Laverstock knights, undaunted by their gleaming armor and the multitude of banners fluttering in the cold winter breeze.
Arnold, intrigued, asked who had trained them so well. "A good friend of our father," Arthur replied. "His name is Merlin, an accomplished fighter. He has been with us for as long as I can remember."
Arnold’s face went pale. "Surely not the Merlin who had the good King Uther killed with his schemes!"
Arthur laughed. "Hardly! Our Merlin is too young for such tales, and why would a legendary sorcerer trouble himself with us two? Though, I will admit, he is rather reclusive."
On the day of the tournament, the Laverstocks prepared to take the field. They spotted a nervous Kay searching frantically for his sword. Arnold smirked. "That squire of yours would be better off as a knight," he jested.
Perin, ever generous, handed a spare sword to the young knight. "But be sure to return it afterward," he added, mindful of the hard years that had left their purses light and their armory lacking in good steel.
The Laverstocks joined the ranks of the blue Team, securing blue cloth around their arms. Their conroi was led by Sir Leodegrance of Cameliard, and they soon found themselves charging against the knights of Gorre, led by Sir Uriens. Despite the blunted weapons, the clash was fierce, and the northern knights proved formidable opponents. But a great commotion suddenly halted the tournament. Without hesitation, Leodegrance spurred his steed towards Fleet Street. Earl Robert and the Laverstocks followed close behind, forcing their way through the packed crowd.
Breaking through the gathered crowd, they arrived at the very place where the sword in the stone stood. There was young Arthur, flanked by Archbishop Dubricus on one side. On his other side stood a large, imposing man—a towering figure clad in a simple pilgrim’s robe, gripping a long walking staff. He did not lean upon it, nor did he seem to require it. His beard, gray and almost white, was kept short, and his sharp eyes scanned the gathering with a fierce gaze.
Before them, Arthur held aloft the sword. Gasps spread through the crowd.
"I told you it was a trick," Perin muttered. "Someone wants us to believe we have a new king."
"But why go through the trouble of the tournament?" Arnold countered.
"The boy is king!" cried Leodegrance, falling to one knee.
In disbelief, both King Uriens and King Lot pushed forward, shoving Leodegrance and Arthur aside to test the sword themselves. The large pilgrim made no move to stop them. Neither man could so much as budge the blade. Even Perin, despite his doubts, was now surprised. Humiliated, Lot’s men grew violent and chaos erupted in the tight-packed square. In the struggle, Perin was knocked to the ground, trampled by armored feet before Gervan managed to pull him back up. Sir Robert remained unscathed.
As Perin regained his footing, he witnessed something remarkable— he saw Arthur strike down one of Lot’s knights with a single, precise stroke. That skilled sword arm again. Arnold whistled in approval.
Leodegrance’s knights stepped between Arthur and Lot’s men, forcing them to withdraw. As the dust settled, Arthur accepted Leodegrance’s oath of fealty. A sudden break in the clouds cast a beam of sunlight upon the scene.
To the Laverstocks’ astonishment, Earl Robert dropped to one knee before the boy. Without hesitation, Arnold followed suit. Perin, though still a little doubtful, did the same. From the side, Dubricus and the pilgrim conferred in hushed tones before proclaiming that another contest would be held at Candlemas, within the month, to settle the matter.
With this proclamation, Robert and his retinue returned to Sarum. Upon entering the great hall, the Laverstocks were greeted by an unbelievable sight—a familiar silhouette seated upon a bench, calmly sipping ale. A man they had not seen awake, let alone drinking, for years.
Alberick.
For years, their brother-in-law had lain in a deep slumber, struck down by a poisoned Saxon arrow. A druid had once prophesied that Alberick would not wake until the Saxon threat had been driven from Britain and a new High King had come.
Yet here he sat. Awake.
The knights rushed to him, their disbelief giving way to joy. Gone was his sickly pale skin. He looked well-rested and healthy, and was even dressed for a battle.
"I had the most wondrous dream," he said. "I dreamt of wolves circling a stag, waiting for their moment to strike. The stag stood motionless, frozen by fear for the howling wolves. But then, from beyond the trees, a great red dragon rose and breathed fire. The entire forest was set ablaze, yet the stag remained unmoved. From the sky fell grey ash and fresh blue spring rain."
He paused, eyes regaining focus. "They tell me it is the year 510. And I have slept all this time!?"
The news of Alberick’s return spread quickly. By the time the Laverstocks once again rode to Londinium for Candlemas, Alberick rode with them—his miraculous awakening an undeniable sign of the divine. Earl Robert, deeply moved by these signs and wonders, kept Alberick next to him.
The Laverstocks banners and shields now showed a proud stag on a field of blue and grey. No longer did they doubted the forces at play. They rode forth with conviction, knowing that they were witnesses to history, their banners waving proud in the soft spring breeze.