Lora of Two Worlds

The two armies had camped with a mountain stream at their backs, runoff from the Thanehorn Range. Noticeably cooler than the Stoneford plains.

With time to kill, Hayes Hadrian proposed: the two forces should compete in archery.

He counted heads, grinning: "The Lohenheim force has only three hundred.

One team, and you'll say we're bullying the smaller group. Split in two, each joining one of ours."

"Fine, two teams. Leon judges." No sooner had Roland spoken than General Conrad pointed at Lora: "The lady is our team captain."

Hayes Hadrian laughed: "Then aren't we bullying you? All right, Lord Roland, you're our captain. The remaining Lohenheim men choose sides."

He assumed, as staff officer, most men would pick Roland.

He never expected: all three hundred Turkic guards chose the young lady.

This guardswoman, quite the figure. The General's treasure... a female general? Well, Weybrook's army didn't lack a few men either.

General Conrad was surprised but pleased. He exchanged a satisfied glance with his deputy An, like a father showing off his daughter-in-law:

I'll tell the lord when I get back, the young lord's matter can't wait. Without status, he's no right to approach the Odenheim house...

Leon wasn't surprised. Corin and his men had come to follow Lora. He laid out the rules:

"Three events. Standing archery, mounted archery, and shooting a silk letter. Each team fields five per event. Five arrows each. Center hits tallied. Most hits wins."

Hayes Hadrian added: "Both captains must compete in one event. Otherwise, no leading by example!" He wanted to see what this coddled guardswoman was truly capable of.

Corin was about to object. Conrad patted his shoulder: "Let her play. We'll win the points back for her."

"I'll do standing archery." Mounted, she couldn't even ride properly. Silk letter, she didn't know what that was. Standing, she could do.

Even if they'd already counted her zero, one hit was a win.

Teams set. Targets, straw butts, erected. Lora's standing archery was first.

She knew she was giving away points. She stood at the line, focused.

"First squad, loose!"

Her form was decent. Her draw was weak. The arrow reached the target at the end of its strength, bumped the straw, and fell.

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Corin and Shawn applauded wildly: "The lady's amazing! She hit the target!"

Lora nocked another. Conrad stopped Corin: "Don't distract her. Let her find the feel. She'll hit."

The feel? She remembered, in the Yanshan mountains, shooting bandits. A few arrows had connected. She'd nearly fallen from the tree laughing. Yes, that feel.

She recalled her stance. Adjusted her anchor point. The second arrow flew, and stuck, solid, in the target. Not center, but beyond everyone's expectations.

"Adjust your angle based on the deviation." Conrad murmured beside her.

Maybe too much pressure. The next two missed. Roland had already shot his five, all center.

But no one watched him. Every eye was on the young lady, shooting her last arrow.

Maybe too much pressure. The next two missed. Roland had already shot his five, all center. But no one watched him. Every eye was on the young lady, shooting her last arrow.

"Follow your heart. Let it guide the arrow to the center."

Leon's voice. Lora closed one eye. Steadied. Released.

"She hit it!"

Even the arrow-collectors jumped for joy.

Lora exhaled. Roland came over, patted her shoulder: "You haven't trained long, and you couldn't practice every day. This score, as your teacher, I'm satisfied."

"Satisfied, my foot. Why didn't you let me win a few? Now we're down four arrows..." Lora pouted at her brother.

"On the battlefield, would they let you? Not one arrow. Look, they've started."

Round two. Every arrow mattered. Standing archery had few misses. After five men, Lora's team still trailed by four.

Lyle and Corin both shot mounted archery. At the signal, both kneed their horses, bows drawn, charging.

Mounted archery, the steppe peoples' birthright. Even if Lyle and Corin both hit all center, the team would only make up three.

The last event, they needed two more to win.

Shooting a silk letter: in battle, arrows carried written demands, ultimatums, or insults, shot onto city walls.

The arrow carried weight. The angle was upward. Same stance as standing, but requiring more strength and precision.

For the contest: instead of thin paper, each arrow carried a small block of wood, like a fire arrow.

Shawn competed in this event. It was a covert guard's specialty. Making up two arrows, their target.

Lora watched the weighted arrows. She turned to Lyle:

"Go ask General He, do they've any black powder? If so, find a small reed tube."

"Black powder? The mountain shrine has some, I'll fetch it." Lyle was observant, everywhere they went, he'd scouted the surroundings.

"How do you know?"

"Ha! Look at that shrine, half the wall is scorched black. Who else would climb up there to burn it but themselves?"

And he was gone.

The match ended. The result was maddening: a tie.

Lora's team had made up exactly four.

"We tied after all that? Overtime!" someone on Conrad's team shouted. Without the lady's zero, they'd have won clearly.

Weybrook's men didn't want overtime. Another high-difficulty event? How could they compete with men who'd ridden and shot since childhood?

"Overtime! Overtime!"

"I'll be blindfolded. I'll shoot at falling leaves. If I hit none, both teams win.

If the number I hit is odd, I join the lady's team. If even, the points go to Lord Roland's team."

Leon, the judge, raised his hand: "I have a fair method. Fifty-fifty odds for both sides."

"What method?"

"I'll be blindfolded. I'll shoot at falling leaves. If I hit none, both teams win. If the number I hit is odd, I join the lady's team. If even, the points go to Lord Roland's team."

In his former life, stripped of his title and confined to the Princes' Quarter, Leon had found ways to amuse himself.

He'd shot falling leaves in the courtyard. No leaves? Two attendants shook branches with poles. His archery, honed in those years.

But the courtyard was too small for mounted archery. So his riding was weaker.

"Blindfolded? You won't hit a single leaf."

Summer. Leaves were green, soft, fresh. Not dry and brittle. Hard to hit.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!