The three of them lined up behind the crowd signing up,
"Come on, it'll be fun!" said Louis, poking back at Caelen, who was seeming to not have it.
The rewards for winning the contest were ten agrim coins and a small surprise reward.
even though I am a hunter, my skills are pretty mediocre, it'll be so humiliating…
Although I have to admit the reward is very tempting.
Can we even leave by this point?
"I'm pretty confident in my skills, what about yours Louis?" said Asha while flexing her arms.
"Well… I'd still consider myself a novice, but I can hit my targets."
By this point, the crowd had dispersed, leaving only twelve other contestants, fifteen counting themselves. A familiar figure approached.
Lanky and towering over each of them.
"So, you're joining the competition too…" said the tall boy, his gray hair slicked back, eyes fixed directly on Caelen.
Marek…
He's such a headache to deal with.
"Still thinking you're a big shot because you became a hunter?" he taunted.
"Look, it wasn't my decision- "
"You're not even one fraction of the hunter I could be." Marek stepped closer, now looming over Caelen. "If it wasn't for you, I'd already be following in my father's footsteps."
He pressed a finger into Caelen's chest. It hurt more than Caelen expected.
"You should just resign" Marek whispered, directly in Caelen's ear.
"Okay, that's enough, Marek!" yelled Louis, grabbing the arm pointed at Caelen.
Marek turned to face Louis, slowly.
"Let go."
Louis hesitated for a moment but kept his hand firm.
Marek immediately shrugged his hand off but not without taking his eyes off him.
"You're a hunter merely because you're a mage, without those chains of yours, what are you?"
"Don't talk to him like that" snapped Asha, "Just because you didn't get a spot in the hunter' s crew doesn't mean you should be bothering us!"
Marek immediately burst out laughing.
"You? Why are you even hanging out with them? Weren't you the one who told everyone Louis was a mage, while being one yourself? Talk about betrayal." he said amidst laughter.
Asha fell silent. Her posture changed almost instantly, her confidence shrinking back to how she had been days ago.
He snorted.
"And Caelen… I suppose the Captain's decision was based solely on who was the most pitiful person he could find. He must have felt really bad for you."
At that moment, Caelen's vision narrowed. The world seemed to tilt.
Pity, I hate it.
His legs moved, a loud thud came out, then his hands started pressing on something, warm, his grip became far stronger than he meant.
What was he holding… ?
He held Marek's neck.
It seemed like Caelen had tripped him and was now choking Marek while on the ground.
"Ughk!.." Marek gasped.
"Oi, what's goin' on here?" slurred a lightly armored man approaching them. He was clearly drunk, though the town's sigil on his chest marked him as a guard.
"Caelen, let him go!" Louis urged, pushing at his shoulder.
I must.
Calm down.
His grip finally released, he lifted himself up from the ground, while looking down at Marek.
"I don't need pity."
Marek rubbed his reddened neck and let out a weak chuckle. "We'll see…!"
"Tsk." The old guard clicked his tongue, clearly irritated. Fights rarely broke out, and this was likely his one chance to look important.
The group now all had entered the contest, after a moment of tense silence between them, the starting was signaled by an announcer.
They were led to a neighboring street. The main path had been cleared, with several stalls lining the sides. At the far end stood a small table where four judges sat, all wearing serious expressions.
Each participant was handed a small numbered parchment to pin to their backs. Caelen received number eleven, Louis number two, and Asha number thirteen.
Workers quickly rolled barrels into position in front of the targets. On top of each barrel lay a short bow and four arrows. The targets were made of packed hay with a red circle at the center.
"Round one starts!" the announcer called.
The objective was simple: hit the target. Missing entirely meant immediate disqualification. Hitting the center only mattered in case of a tie.
Caelen picked up the bow and an arrow. He glanced sideways. Louis was struggling to nock his arrow properly, while Asha had already drawn hers with ease.
But her hands trembled. Slightly.
That idiot really got to her…
Just beside Asha was Marek, who in a blink had already hit the target.
"Such drawing speed!" one of the judges exclaimed.
I hate having to perform in front of other people but… I can't let Marek win.
Caelen calculated around a 10m-15m distance for the target, easy for anyone who has ever used a bow.
He cocked the arrow, his form slightly stiff but not too much.
He let go of the arrow.
Successfully it hit the middle of the target.
A minute passed before the others' results were given.
"Contestants number three, five, eight, nine, and thirteen have been eliminated"
Thirteen...?
Asha's arrow had veered sideways, striking the ground before reaching the target.
She's a much better archer than me…how?
They were given a two-minute intermission break between rounds.
"I'm just not feeling well," Asha said quietly.
"It's fine. We all mess up sometimes!" Louis tried to reassure her.
"I'm sorry. I think I'll just watch from over there." She pointed to a distant bench.
"But— Asha—" Louis began, but stopped himself.
She could have just stayed by the sidelines… why go so far?
The break was called off.
Next round started.
The targets had been moved farther than before.
This time it was around 25-30 meter.
I can't get away with a stiff posture now.
He took a deep breath then adjusted himself, he changed his aim slightly higher due to the arrow drop.
A clean hit.
"Contestants number four, seven, fourteen and fifteen have been eliminated"
Both of them passed.
The break was called on.
"This one was tricky…" he admitted.
"You just need to tilt your bow a little higher," Caelen explained.
After a brief discussion about technique, the break ended again.
Third round.
By this point a large crowd had gathered, multitudes of people came to bet on each contestant.
The noise made Caelen falter.
The targets were now around 40-45 meters.
This distance, it's really large...!
The wind drift, the arrow drop, it's all getting too hard to calculate.
Caelen braced himself, aiming his bow high and letting go of the cocked arrow.
The arrow flew. A breeze nudged it off course.
No...!
It wasn't a clean hit but it still had managed to hit the target.
He exhaled deeply. He had passed.
"Contestants number two, six, ten, eleven have been eliminated"
Louis!
"I gave it my all," Louis shrugged. "Guess I'm not built for shots like that."
"You should be proud, Cael. You're impressive."
"I- well. Barely hit it."
"You're one of the finalists! Give yourself some credit!"
I wonder who is the other finalist?
"Looks like it's just us, Caelen," came a familiar voice, dripping with arrogance. "I'm impressed. A useless mutt like you managing that shot."
Marek.
"Go away, Marek, you'll see how hard Caelen beats you!" said Louis.
"Hah, the next shot is going to decide that" he smirked as he walked off.
The final round, by now the small crowd that had gathered at the start of the competition had grown multiple times its size.
Even in the corner of his eye he witnessed a pair of the royal knights gathered, watching from afar.
In the right side stood his father, Robert, who cheered him on.
The stakes were at an all-time high.
Caelen picked up the short bow once more and reached for an arrow.
He set the arrow against the string and lifted the bow.
The final target stood farther than all the others, nearly at the end of the cleared street. The red circle looked smaller now, almost insignificant from this distance.
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
"Final round!" the announcer called. "The final shot!"
The wind brushed lightly against Caelen's cheek.
It's too far to rely on instinct alone. I have to calculate this carefully.
He planted his feet firmly against the ground, feeling the weight distribute evenly. He raised the bow higher than before, adjusting for the drop. His fingers tightened around the string, pressing hard to the point it hurt.
Across from him, Marek moved first.
Of course he would.
Marek drew smoothly, posture relaxed, almost elegant. For a moment, he held the tension perfectly still.
Then he released it.
The arrow sliced through the air with a sharp whistle.
It struck the target.
Not the center, but extremely close. Just outside the red.
A wave of impressed murmurs followed.
"Amazing shot!" one of the judges announced.
Marek lowered his bow slowly, eyes already drifting toward Caelen with a faint smirk.
"Your turn."
The world felt louder now. Cheering. Whispers. Coins clinking as bets were adjusted.
At the edge of his vision, Caelen saw his father standing straighter, hands clasped tight.
This isn't about Marek.
It's not about the coins.
It's not about proving I deserve the hunter title.
He inhaled slowly.
The noise faded, the world went silent for a second.
It's about me.
He focused on the wind first. A slight drift to the right. Not strong, but enough to matter at this distance.
He adjusted left.
Then the drop. He raised the bow a fraction higher.
His fingers trembled.
Calm down.
He exhaled.
And released the arrow.
It leapt forward.
For a split second, it flew clean and straight.
Then a sudden gust swept across the street.
The arrow tilted.
The crowd gasped.
No—
It dipped slightly, correcting just enough as it descended.
The impact echoed sharply against packed hay.
Silence.
Then a judge stood up from the table, squinting at the target.
The crowd leaned forward.
Caelen's heart pounded against his ribs.
Please.
The judge raised his arm.
"Center."
The street erupted.
Cheers exploded from every direction. Coins clattered. Someone shouted Caelen's name.
Marek's smirk vanished, turning into disbelief.
The arrow had pierced the red circle dead in the middle.
Louis rushed forward, grabbing Caelen by the shoulders.
"You did it! I told you!"
Asha had come forward "Congrats..." she said, still in her low tone.
Caelen stared at the distant target, barely processing the noise.
I... really, did it?
Across the street, Marek's jaw tightened. For a moment, it looked like he might say something.
Instead, he turned and walked away without a word.
A judge approached Caelen, holding a small wooden chest and a pouch heavy with coins.
"Ten agrim coins," the judge said firmly. "And the winner's chest."
As they opened it revealed a small coin in it, it wasn't golden or anything, in fact it seemed rusty and old.
"It's a coin from an olden era, it has a high historical value."
He picked it up, then pocketed the small coin.
A bell rang, it was reaching midnight.
The town fell silent except for a single person, Robert, who opened his leather case and brought out a small banjo.
His fingers brushed over the strings, producing a soft melody.
Then his pace quickened.
His fingers danced across the instrument as the music began to rise. And he started to sing with the melody
"When the road is mud and the sky hangs gray,
And the field won't take the plow You curse the rain, you curse the day,
But you keep on working somehow." A couple of old people started to sing alongside him.
Everyone started to walk towards the center of town, the music following.
"When your hands are raw and your back is bent,
And the harvest still comes thin,
You don't ask fate what it never meant,
You plant the seeds again."
There in the middle, stood a large rectangular lapid stone.
"if the wall gives way and the roof falls through,
And the night comes cold and long,
You strike one spark, then another too,
Till the dark forgets its song."
The three of them walked together, Louis stayed behind Caelen, Asha too.
"It is not the win that makes a man,
Nor the cheer that fills the square,
It is standing up while you still can,
Even when none seem to care."
Caelen knelt before the lapid stone, the hundreds of small, carved names laid before him.
"So, stand while you can, my stubborn son,
Stand though the day feels lost,
For a man is measured not by what's won,
But by what he bears the cost."
His hand brushed over one name, the person who he had lost.
Claire Mirage Thornbook.