Alas, it is the year of our Lord Two Thousand and Sixteen. Carvershire is under the rule of the benevolent King Richard, and I prithee well.
Okay, so it’s not a beer fest, but King Richard’s Faire, which is a whole new beast. For two magical months the pine barrens of Carver transform into a medieval shire – replete with jousting, monarchy, minstrels, and mead. Stepping into the forest you’re immediately transported into the past. It conjures to mind different literary worlds. The Canterbury Tales, Hogsmeade, Westeros…men and women walk around in boiled leather armor eating turkey legs with tankards of ale and drinking horns of mead while the more refined go in corsets and ermine, sipping on strawberry garnished champagne from crystalline chalices.