Chapter 88: The First Archers of Percvale
Seren shot a few more times and after a while she returned inside, leaving only Darion outside. The bow and arrows were temporarily hers now so he did not return them to Garren. She also took the targeting board with her.
Now Darion stood alone.
He felt good about the conversation. Not excited, just settled.
Seren had said yes without much deliberation, which told him the idea had been accepted willingly rather than something she was agreeing to out of politeness.
For a moment there he had expected she wouldn’t agree, maybe say something like:
’This wasn’t the agreement! I’m not teaching anyone! Fuck you’
But she had agreed, and easily because she genuinely thought this was a good idea and would do it.
The courtyard went back to being a courtyard and soon he found Garren near the barracks, talking to two knights about something he couldn’t hear from a distance. When he saw Darion approaching he said something brief to them and they dispersed.
"I’m starting something," Darion began. "Or bringing it back, I’m sure Percvale had something like this before."
Garren looked at him.
"Currently Percvale has no ranged force," Darion explained. "We have zero archers. We’ve been working around it since the first hunt. Knights who had some bows and arrows had been using it, but they’re not real archers. If we end up in a real war, working around it won’t be enough." He paused. "There are hunters in this barony. People who already know how to use a bow, even if only for hunting. That’s a starting point."
"Seren trains them?" Garren said.
"Yes. She trains them through the basics which is stance, grip and consistency. The ones with real ability will show quickly enough."
Garren thought about it for a moment.
"That’s... a good idea m’lord," he said. "Not everyone who shows up will be useful though."
"As expected," Darion said. "They don’t stay."
Garren nodded. "Trials in the morning?"
"Trials in the morning," Darion confirmed. "Spread the word today. Tell them the Baron is recruiting archers. Anyone who can shoot comes forward. If they pass, they get paid and fed the same as knights."
"That’ll bring people out," Garren said.
"Exactly, the idea of it as a job will definitely attract them."
Garren went on with spreading the word, using the knights and soon, the word spread the way things spread in a small barony, fast and slightly distorted by the time it reached the far end of town, but essentially correct.
By evening, people knew. Some took it seriously immediately, the hunters especially, men who had been using bows for years and had wondered if that skill had any value beyond putting food on the table.
Some were curious in the way people were curious about anything new.
A few thought it was strange that the Baron wanted archers when he had knights, and said so to whoever was nearby. Those people were likely stupid because weren’t archers different from knights?. It was like saying ’Why wear clothes when you have skin...’
Seren had mentioned the previous evening that her dusts needed three days to replenish properly after the intensive sessions of the last week. No soil singing for three days.
He understood and totally agreed with her. When they had their morning walk discussion, she had explained how the dusts worked.
Perfect timing by the way.
Now she had time to fully focus on the Archery.
She came down the next morning without the leather pack or the tool bundle, dressed plainly, and found Darion at the table eating.
"They’re already gathering outside," he said.
She looked toward the window. "How many?"
"Garren’s counting."
She ate almost quickly and went outside.
They had gathered near the barracks training ground, which Garren had decided was a better location than the castle courtyard.
It had more space, further from the castle’s daily activity and room to set up properly.
The target board was already positioned at the far end, propped against the barracks wall, the faded red mark visible from the line that had formed naturally without anyone telling people to form a line.
People just understood. This was a test.
There were about thirty of them, which sort of surprised Darion. He didn’t know that the people of Percvale had this many ’Archers’. Or maybe some had just come because of the benefits not because they particularly had the skill?
They had come in loose groups, some standing together, some alone. A handful were holding bows, comfortable grip, looking like people who had carried one before.
Others had borrowed equipment or come empty-handed, planning to use whatever was provided. Mixed ages: a couple of young men who couldn’t have been older than seventeen, a woman in her thirties with a hunter’s build, a middle-aged man whose hands were calloused...
Seren arrived and looked at the group.
She didn’t say anything for a moment. Just stood there and looked.
Then she said, "Line up," and people moved.
Garren stood to the side, watching. Darion positioned himself further back, out of the way.
The first man stepped up. Hunter type, confident in his stance before he even raised the bow, his feet planted right, his weight balanced.
He drew and released and the arrow hit the board to the left of the red mark. Not badly off. He drew again. This one went right.
Seren watched both shots.
"Next," she said.
He stepped back, unsure if that meant he had passed or failed. Seren appeared at his elbow. "Wait over there," she said, pointing to a spot to the right. The man went.
The second was a young man who held the bow too tightly. It was obvious in his shoulder before the arrow left the string, the whole upper body rigid, nothing relaxed. He missed the board entirely on the first shot. Went wide on the second.
"Enough," Seren said quietly. "Step aside."
The young man nodded and left.
The third talked before he shot. Something about how he’d been hunting since he was ten, how he’d taken deer at a hundred yards, how the bow he’d brought was one his father had made.
Talking like he was some myth or legend.
He raised it, drew, released.
Missed the board.
He lowered the bow and looked at the miss with genuine surprise.
Seren said nothing. Just pointed him to the exit.
The fourth was a woman who came forward without saying anything. She stood, drew, and put the arrow inside the red mark on the first shot. She drew again. Almost the same result but now the arrow was slightly beside the red mark.
’Wow...’
Seren looked at her for a moment.
"Again," Seren said.
Third shot. Inside the mark.
’How was she this perfect’ Darion thought.
Was she some bulls eye?
When he had been expecting complete amateurs Seren could train, he had gotten this?
"Stay," Seren said, and moved her eyes to the next person.
The process continued like that. Most of the talking ones missed, though there was a guy who boasted and delivered.
Most of the quiet ones were at least consistent. A few were somewhere in the middle, decent first shot, falling apart on the second when they tried to replicate it consciously rather than just doing it again.
Seren caught those and gave them a third shot to see which version was real. Usually it was the worse one.
Seren handled the rejections cleanly. Brief, not unkind. No one argued.
By the time the line was empty, ten people were standing in the passing group. Mixed in every way: age, background and equipment.
People who had nothing in common except that they could put an arrow somewhere useful with reasonable consistency.
Seren walked to stand in front of them.
She looked at them for a moment.
"You’re not exactly good," she said. "You’re just not bad enough to send away."
She pointed to the woman who had given three good shot.
"Except her of course."
The woman felt pride about being mentioned specially but did not let it show.
Nobody spoke.
"While you’re here you listen, you adjust, and you don’t argue with corrections. That’s all I need from you." She looked along the line. "If you can’t do that, leave now."
Nobody left.
Darion watched from the side. Garren came and stood beside him.
"Turned out good but it will take time," Garren said quietly.
"We have some," Darion said.
Not much. The thought was there underneath it the ’We have some’.
Fifteen days on Aldric’s clock, infiltrations running every night he could manage, the farmland half-restored and seeds in the ground and livestock reproducing and the barony slowly assembling itself into something that could survive what was coming.
But enough to start.
Seren looked at the ten people standing in front of her.
"Line up properly," she said. "Shoulder width apart. Bow in your left hand."
She looked like she was having lots of fun doing this.
They shuffled into position, awkward but willing.
She walked along the line, adjusting a grip here, repositioning an elbow there and saying nothing except what needed to be said. "Too high." "Relax that shoulder." "Don’t look at the arrow."
The first shots went up.
Some hit the board. Some didn’t.
She didn’t react to either result. Just said "again" and watched the corrections take or not take, and adjusted accordingly.
Darion watched for a few minutes longer, then checked the sun.
Almost noon.
He had somewhere to be.
Another round of infiltration awaited him.
