I Will Be the Greatest Knight

"I am speechless, Henry..." Irene uttered as she was handed the bow and quiver.

From first glance, one would think the bow that was crafted from a single stave of a yew tree was simple and unsuitable for a woman who was going to be the Duchess one day. However, Irene knew that this bow was unlike the composite bows most used in the kingdom. It was exactly the same as the Sunstoian bows her grandmother allowed her to use before—the same one Irene returned to the old woman when she was buried.

The yew was a resilient wood that could take the bending required to pull back the string and get a good shot a million times over before it would show wear. Not only that, but it was unbelievably hard to master a solid and proper pull because it was meant to be shot far and strong. It could go through a deer cleanly. Even a bear could be shot down after a couple of arrows from such a thing.

The arrows didn’t go unnoticed either, as she gently tilted the quiver and saw iron-tipped arrows inside. These ones would be strong enough to withstand a lot. Each one she would have to go back to retrieve because she didn’t want to lose a single one.

Henry allowed Irene a few moments to turn the bow in her hands and look through the quiver. The entire time, her mouth hung open in amazement, so much so that he was beginning to get worried that, as the temperature dropped the closer it got to evening, her mouth might start to freeze like that.

"Why?" Irene finally asked when her green eyes were on him once more. "How?"

"I want to adorn my wife in jewels, but this seems to suit her so much better," he explained with a small smile.

"I mean, how is this possible?" she asked. "This design is certainly that of my ancestors. Bows are not made like this in the kingdom."

"I... stole one of your precious books," he admitted. "Had someone renowned in the duchy for their craftsmanship travel to the tower. Of course, they weren’t allowed to take the book, so they sketched the pictures in detail and did a bit of research of their own. This was merely supposed to be a wedding present, but it turned out to be made just in time for this trip. You told me stories about how you had arrows the last time you went north. I thought that this could be useful, especially if we face something that neither one of us wants to face head-on."

The bow and sheath were cradled against Irene’s chest like a baby, and she took a couple of steps forward to lean into her husband and squeeze him with the one arm not occupied.

"Thank you so much," she breathed. "I will never get used to your thoughtfulness. My one worry now is that I don’t have the strength to even use a bow crafted for someone in their prime."

He was eager as ever to hug Irene, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing her thoroughly despite the items between them in her arm. After growing up with nothing to spare and nothing to offer anyone except himself, he loved getting things for people that might not be attainable if it weren’t for all of the resources and wealth at his fingertips.

While the bow might be expensive for some, it wasn’t even a drop of water in the ocean that was the wealth of his duchy. Even if the last ducal couple weren’t the best, they still had funds that built over generations and were underused because of how they had neglected many aspects of their knighthood and their people in general.

"As I see you warm up to bows little by little with Sven and the apprentices, I can’t help but believe the opposite," Henry admitted. "Shall we leave our things and test it out?"

Irene’s heart was racing, and she practically leapt in excitement at the suggestion that they should test it out. She felt childish at the thought.

"Yes," she agreed. "I better practice if I’m meant to be useful with a bow again."

"We can lay out a couple of nets," Henry suggested. "But we will try to rely on the bow for dinner.

With that, they both set out for the clump of trees in this area, knowing that this was where animals would be, and it would also be the safest place to camp considering the steepness of the hill behind them and lack of trails in the snow showing that it wasn’t often used by the wildlife in this forest.

While Henry grabbed the nets, Irene adjusted the sheath on her body, deciding where it would sit comfortably and not hinder her movements. She then began to stretch out the bowstring and warm up.

It was tight, but it was doable, she decided as she expertly pulled back the bow with two fingers. Luckily, her gloves were thick because she wasn’t sure if she had calluses in the right place anymore. For a long time, she had blisters that eventually faded to thick patches of skin on her fingers. In comparison, swords were so much nicer to the hands, but bows were so much more precise and often less messy to kill with.

"Are you ready?" Henry asked as he quietly waited for her to warm up.

"I think so," Irene responded.

"I found a bush we can reasonably hide behind that is still quite thick despite the lack of leaves," Henry explained. "The nets are already set up if needed. Let’s test it out."

Irene nodded. As she followed Henry, there was more energy in her step as she walked. She was trying to contain her excitement, but such a special gift from her husband had brightened her mood considerably.

Not long after sitting down, the two of them witnessed a deer walking by. Of course, it perfectly went over the nets buried in snow, but those nets weren’t meant for large game, and they wouldn’t be able to pack all the meat that a deer would offer them.

Despite being eager, Irene resisted testing the bow in such a way.

Quietly they waited, and eventually a grouse did show up. It would be the preferred meal that day since grouse tasted good compared to other things that could be found in this forest. It was on the edge of the net.

Irene’s eyes drifted to Henry, who nodded once. He was already hanging onto the nets in case the animal decided to fly, but he would trust his wife before acting.

As Irene quietly lifted the bow to line up her shot, her shoulders dropped as her posture straightened. The string was tightened. Her breathing became shallower until she held her breath as she let go, allowing the arrow to fly.

"Dammit!" she whisper-shouted.

Two feathers pierced into the snow, but the bird was nowhere to be found.

She was a bit rusty, but she could do better.

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