Anwen
Anwen had spent years surviving on the margins of society. Orphaned young and driven from one village to the next by poor harvests and hard winters, she slept in alleys, abandoned sheds, and beneath market stalls when the weather turned cruel. Hunger was her constant companion. Most days were spent searching for scraps of food, doing odd jobs for a few coins, or begging from travelers. One cold morning, while wandering through a town square with an empty stomach and little hope, she noticed a sword embedded in a weathered stone. To Anwen, it was not a sacred relic or a symbol of destiny鈥攊t was simply valuable metal. If she could somehow pull it free, she might sell it and finally afford a proper meal and a roof over her head.
Expecting nothing, Anwen wrapped her hands around the hilt and pulled. To her astonishment, the blade slid effortlessly from the stone. The square fell silent. Merchants stopped shouting, children stopped playing, and townsfolk stared in disbelief before whispers began to spread through the crowd. Some spoke of ancient prophecies, while others wondered if a new ruler had been chosen by fate itself. Anwen barely understood what was happening, but she quickly felt the weight of the attention. Among the onlookers was a fellow peasant named Arthur, who had long dreamed of being the one to draw the sword and rise above his humble station. Having hesitated and missed his chance, Arthur watched with bitterness rather than celebration. As stories of Anwen's deed spread from village to village, so too did Arthur's resentment, becoming the first shadow cast over her unexpected rise to fame.