Lora of Two Worlds

Lora also found Leon's "fair method" novel. At first, beside Felix and Roland, Leon had seemed the lesser: less literary than Felix, less martial than Roland. No standout trait.

But over time, she'd seen: his gift was reading hearts. His fair method was like the legendary general who shot a halberd from a hundred paces to settle a dispute. But fairer.

Unless he could control whether the leaf count was odd or even.

No one believed he could.

So, either a tie, or genuine fifty-fifty odds. Looked fair. Everyone satisfied.

No objections. Linn unwound the black cloth from his cap, folded it into a strip, and blindfolded Leon.

Then Linn drew his sword, sprinted to an oak tree, kicked off the trunk, leapt, and slashed through the branches. Green oak leaves, like small fans, cascaded down, filling the air.

The dense shower of leaves killed any thought of "just hit one, that's odd."

Leon raised his bow without hesitation. The arrow flew toward the tree.

Thwang, it buried itself in the trunk. And on the shaft, a string of small fan-like leaves.

Leon removed the blindfold. Smiled at the stunned soldiers:

"Well? Count them. Odd or even?"

Odd was active. Even was passive. The sovereign's "nine and five", active.

"One, two, three... nine! Nine leaves, odd!" The guards shouted, jubilant. Odd meant Leon was on Lora's team. Nine hits. They'd won, decisively.

Even Corin, who'd been forced to borrow money from Leon, now regarded him with warrior's respect.

"No need for further contest. A clear winner. I concede." Hayes Hadrian paused: "But, does the winning team have a prize?"

Hayes Hadrian increasingly felt this "Lord Leon" was extraordinary. Every gesture carried the ease of deep breeding.

He wasn't a fool. He knew what he wanted, a worthy lord to follow.

Weybrook's fearsome reputation came from its household guards, hereditary, tax-exempt, richly rewarded. But that system was showing strain. The guards cared only for their own interests. Skilled at internal politics, weak in the field.

Hayes Hadrian didn't want to be a duke the guards could depose. He wanted Weybrook as the He family's hereditary domain, passed down for generations. That was why he and his father focused on governance and economics.

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Leon's suggestions had been perfectly timed. When the unsigned letter arrived through Chancellor Clifford Quentin, he hadn't hesitated. He'd marched.

Military custom: after victory, soldiers received copper coin rewards. They were professionals, many father-and-son soldiers. Their families' prosperity depended on merit pay.

Leon smiled: "Naturally, a reward. Corin, tally the men. Five marks each for competitors. Five hundred pennies each for non-competing teammates."

"Oh, our loss! If we'd known there were prizes, we wouldn't have held back! Right, boys?" Hayes Hadrian led the jeering.

"A loss!" The Weybrook guards bellowed.

Lora spotted Lyle and Keane returning with an armload of reed tubes of varying sizes. The black powder had been found.

She smiled:

"You all marched for us. We can't let you lose out. I have a prize too, for everyone. Both teams."

The soldiers erupted: Another prize? They'd barely fought, and here was a second reward? If every campaign was like this, once a month would be fine!

Then they saw what Lyle carried: Reed tubes? What kind of prize is this? Women's promises, never trust them.

Lora selected a finger-thick reed pole. She directed Shawn to cut it into short sections, one end closed, the other open.

They inserted a fuse, filled the tube with black powder, and lashed the powder tube to an arrow shaft.

Arrows with powder bundles, the soldiers had seen those. Siege work: fire-arrows with powder pouches shot at gates and towers to sustain combustion.

But this, a small reed tube, they hadn't tried.

Lora had been watching the silk-letter event. It reminded her of childhood firecrackers. The true rocket, from a later age, needed better powder than this era's formula.

But even this powder tube was useful.

"This two-fletch arrow will be a bit inaccurate. Next time, try three-fletch. The arrow spins in flight. The powder tube, once lit, accelerates the arrow initially. Then, it explodes."

Explodes? The Odenheim guards perked up. The young lady had done this in Yorvik! That was spectacular. "Can it kill?"

Lora blinked:

"It can startle someone."

What?... All this... to startle someone?

Hayes Hadrian was laughing so hard his teeth showed: "Roland, Roland, your guardswoman is adorable! Really, you won't trade her? Ten beauties for one!"

"Phweeeet!"

Why explain? Lyle lit the fuse, raised the bow, and loosed, skyward.

"POP!"

The sound from high overhead was still loud. Everyone who saw it gaped. Those who didn't, froze.

"That could signal distant troops!" someone called.

True, with the powder tube, the arrow flew farther and faster.

A Redmane soldier pushed forward. He held out two arrows, already modified to three-fletch:

"Lady, like this?"

Lora took one, examined, smiled: "Exactly. Three-fletch spins in flight. Heavier, shorter range than two-fletch, but more stable. Add a powder tube, speed and range are solved."

Leon took one. Nocked. Shot at the same tree.

"Phweeeet!"

The guards gaped. The arrow had landed in the same hole as the first shot. Now everyone suspected: this man really could control how many leaves he hit.

The Empire did have three-fletch arrows. The old King's great arrows had four fletches. But three-fletch arrows cost more, and in rapid fire, the slot was harder to find than on two-fletch.

So the shorter-range three-fletch was uncommon. Its stability was unknown to these young soldiers.

Another three-fletch arrow was fitted with a powder tube.

General Conrad said: "Allow me."

He nocked, aimed at the tall target from the silk-letter event, and released. The rocket trailed sparks from the fuse.

It struck the straw target. POP! The target exploded, straw flying, burning debris scattering.

It couldn't kill en masse, but the man it struck was doomed.

"Thank you for the lady's prize!"

General Conrad raised his bow above his head, a full warrior's salute to Lora Odenheim.

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