The wind whispered soft sighs through the leafy glades of Hwethyd, which glistened vivaciously with morning dew. The castle stood atop the barony's tallest and in fact only real hill of significance, a low-lying granite structure that sprawled out across the plateau. Inside its walls, however, one would be apt to think themselves back in the forest - trees grew everywhere, wildly, within the courtyards, as did tall grasses and specifically fenced off cultures of various herbs from across Britannia and beyond.

That was where Lady Meredith could be found today, wearing a long, flowing green robe belted with a leather band studded with copper rivets. Her long auburn hair was left to sweep down her back and in tresses across her shoulders. Her dress was, in many ways, somewhat liberal for a woman of her stature, and it certainly would not have been appropriate in public, but for Meredith conforming to social convention was something that she had made a habit of avoiding.

On this particular day, the Green Woman was stooped low over a particularly earthy patch of land between the small chapel that she very rarely frequented and her own, personal library, which was stocked full of tomes pertaining to medicine, herbalism and - in a small compartment accessible only through a hidden staircase - mysticism and occultism. Meredith's fingers raked lovingly through the dirt, drawing up tiny little red bulbs that she placed delicately in a small wicker basket at her elbow. 

There was a disturbance in the garden, and Meredith noticed immediately. The trees and bushes were not singing as naturally as before. She stood, hands still muddy, and turned to find her handmaiden, Éalla, a strong-looking Welsh girl with broad shoulders and a broader brow. "M'lady," She said, sweeping into a perfunctory curtsey. "A messenger has arrived from Camelot," She gestured towards the arches of the courtyard that led from the library, and Meredith turned to observe the messenger. He bowed tentatively, his eyes scanning around the garden wildly. 

"I am not going to put a hex on you, dear man," Meredith said with a sly little smile. "If that is what they are saying in Camelot," 

***

Meredith rode for Camelot later that same day, her armour and various tomes of herbalism in tow, along with assorted jars, vials, pots and boxes containing a whole host of herbal remedies in a small cortege. Clad in the light-fitting leather armour and mail of the Saxon invasion, Meredith rode purposefully atop her horse, and all the way the peasants bowed low in their doorways, muttered to each other, and crossed themselves with fear.