By morning, the village stood.
Barely.
Arthur didn't stay for gratitude. He left before sunrise, Percival trailing behind with quieter steps than the day before.
The road ahead was lined with wheel ruts and scattered footprints — too many for coincidence.
They hadn't walked an hour before the smell reached them.
Smoke.
Thicker this time.
Not cooking fires.
Burning timber.
Arthur stopped at the hillcrest.
Below them, another village.
Half of it already aflame.
Percival's breath hitched. "We're too late…"
Arthur's eyes narrowed.
"No."
Movement.
The monsters were still there.
————±————±————±————
These weren't goblins.
Larger frames. Darker hides. Crude armor strapped to broad shoulders.
Hobgoblins.
And they weren't rampaging blindly.
They were organized.
Two guarded the granary.
Three stood near the well.
Others dragged sacks toward the forest edge.
"They're taking supplies," Percival whispered.
Arthur nodded once.
Not destruction.
Acquisition.
Testing supply routes.
Weak settlements.
Response time.
This wasn't hunger.
It was strategy.
Morgan's lessons stirred in his mind again — look beyond the obvious.
Someone was preparing for something larger.
————±————±————±————
A scream echoed from a collapsed barn.
Arthur moved before Percival could speak.
He didn't charge the center.
He cut the edge.
Silent.
Controlled.
One hobgoblin fell before it could turn.
Arthur stepped inside its guard and drove steel through a gap in its crude plating.
Heavy.
But predictable.
Percival watched the angles this time.
Watched how Arthur never fought strength against strength.
He redirected.
Let them overcommit.
Used terrain.
Used spacing.
A second hobgoblin roared and swung wildly.
Arthur ducked, stepped inside, elbow to the ribs — blade upward.
Clean.
No wasted motion.
No flourish.
————±————±————±————
"Arthur!" Percival shouted.
Two more approached from behind the granary.
Arthur exhaled slowly.
"Stay back."
He shifted his footing.
For a moment — just a moment — the air around him felt heavier.
Not magic unleashed.
Just intent sharpened.
The first rushed him.
Arthur sidestepped and cut behind the knee.
The second tried to flank.
Arthur kicked a loose bucket into its path, breaking its stride long enough to thrust through its shoulder joint.
They fell.
Hard.
The remaining monsters hesitated.
That hesitation was enough.
Arthur advanced.
And they broke.
Retreating toward the forest.
Not mindless.
Not scattered.
Ordered.
They withdrew together.
That was the worst part.
————±————±————±————
Silence settled over the ruined village.
Smoke drifted between broken beams.
A wounded man leaned against a well, staring at Arthur.
"They came at dusk," he rasped. "Straight for the storehouse. Knew exactly where it was."
Arthur crouched near the granary doors.
The lock had been broken efficiently.
Not smashed.
Broken.
He traced a symbol carved into the wood.
Not goblin markings.
Older.
Cruder.
A spiral twisted inward like a coiling storm.
Percival stepped closer.
"What is that?"
Arthur's jaw tightened.
"I don't know."
But he had a feeling.
This wasn't simple raiding.
This was territory being reclaimed.
————±————±————±————
They worked through the afternoon.
Extinguishing fire.
Clearing debris.
Reinforcing what little remained.
The villagers didn't ask who Arthur was.
They were too tired for that.
They only asked:
"Will they come back?"
Arthur didn't lie.
"Yes."
A pause.
"But next time, they won't find you unprepared."
————±————±————±————
That evening, Arthur stood alone at the forest's edge.
The wind carried something deeper now.
Not goblin musk.
Not smoke.
Something ancient.
Heavy.
Watching.
Percival approached quietly.
"You feel it too… don't you?"
Arthur didn't answer immediately.
He stared into the trees as dusk swallowed the light.
"This isn't random," he said at last. "The attacks follow a pattern."
"Food. Tools. Roads."
"They're securing supply lines."
Percival swallowed. "For what?"
Arthur's voice lowered.
"For war."
A long silence stretched between them.
Somewhere deeper in Britain, something old was stirring.
Not a bandit.
Not a warlord.
Something that believed this land still belonged to it.
Arthur's fingers tightened slightly at his side.
"If someone is orchestrating this," he said quietly, "then they'll make a mistake."
"And when they do…"
His green eyes hardened.
"I'll be there."
Behind the trees, unseen, something shifted.
Not close enough to attack.
Just close enough to observe.
The smoke rising across Britain wasn't chaos.
It was a signal.
And the board had just been set.
(A/N: Some guy reminded me I still have this so I just post chapters that has been stockpiled)