Chapter 32 - The Archer

122 AC

The second day of the sixth moon

Harlon Flowers POV

As I made my way towards the tourney grounds, the innkeeper's daughter's words echoed in my mind like a sweet melody. "I wish you well, ser." Her voice carried a genuine warmth, leaving me with a lingering sense of encouragement.

The morning air was crisp, and a gentle breeze rustled through the trees lining the path. My steps quickened with anticipation, my heart beating in sync with the rhythm of my purpose. The tourney, a grand spectacle of skill and honor, beckoned me like a siren's call.

Thoughts danced through my mind as I walked, envisioning the jousts, the clash of swords, and the cheers of the crowd. It was a chance to prove myself, to test my mettle against the finest knights in the realm. The thrill of competition coursed through my veins, mingling with the nerves that stirred deep within.

As I approached the tourney grounds, a sense of camaraderie filled the air. Knights clad in shining armor, their banners fluttering proudly in the wind, gathered in anticipation of the day's events. The atmosphere buzzed with excitement and friendly banter, creating a palpable energy that electrified the surroundings.

"The competitors for the archery, please gather in the grounds!" echoed the resounding voice of the announcer, cutting through the air and igniting a spark of anticipation within me.

With renewed focus, I tightened my grip on the sleek wooden longbow, feeling its familiar contours and the smoothness of its polished surface. The weight of the weapon reassured me, grounding me in the present moment as I made my way toward the designated area.

As I approached the archery range, a sense of camaraderie enveloped the scene. Archers from all walks of life stood shoulder to shoulder, their bows in hand, eyes sharp and determined. The atmosphere crackled with a shared passion for the art of archery, and a mutual respect flowed between us, transcending the boundaries of competition.

The archery range sprawled out before us, marked by neatly arranged targets at varying distances. Each target beckoned, taunting us to test our skills, our focus, and our ability to tune out distractions. The scent of freshly cut grass mingled with the faint aroma of resin from the bowstrings, creating a unique ambiance that spoke of countless hours spent honing our craft.

As the announcer's voice boomed once again, commanding attention, the archers fell into a hushed silence. All eyes turned toward the official's stand, where the rules and guidelines of the competition would be relayed. It was a moment of shared reverence, a chance to absorb every detail, every nuance that could tip the scales in our favor.

With a nod from the official, a tangible wave of concentration washed over the archery range. We took our positions, each archer finding their own space, drawing upon years of practice and muscle memory. The bow became an extension of my being, an instrument through which my spirit would express itself.

As the first arrow soared through the air, the crowd erupted in applause, their cheers resonating with a blend of admiration and excitement. The rhythmic thump of arrows hitting their mark echoed throughout the range, intermingling with the occasional "bullseye" that evoked a collective gasp of awe.

In that moment, time seemed to both stand still and rush forward, as each arrow released from my bow was a testament to countless hours of dedication, perseverance, and unwavering focus. The competition was fierce, but I remained steadfast, driven not only by the desire to win but also by a deep love for the art of archery.

As the final arrow left my bow, a profound sense of satisfaction washed over me. Regardless of the outcome, I had given my all, leaving no arrow unshot, no ounce of passion untapped. The archery grounds had witnessed my dedication, and the innkeeper's daughter's voice lingered in my mind, a constant reminder of the unwavering support that buoyed my spirit.

The resounding roar of the crowd washed over me, pleasing my ears with its thunderous applause. The thrill of their fervent cheers coursed through my veins, electrifying my spirit and fuelling the fire within. It was a symphony of adulation, a testament to the captivating display I had just performed.

But amidst the cacophony of jubilation, a single voice pierced through the tumultuous sea of sounds. Lady Jeyne Rowan's sharp words echoed in the depths of my mind, cutting through the euphoria like a cold, biting wind. "Bastard," she sneered, her disdain dripping from every syllable.

As Lady Jeyne Rowan's cutting words reached my ears, a surge of emotions coursed through my veins. My breath quickened, and a mix of frustration and indignation bubbled within me. "She's not here," I muttered under my breath, desperately trying to anchor myself in the reality of the situation.

With each repetition of those words, I sought solace in the knowledge that she was far away from this moment, confined to the halls of Hornhill alongside our father, Sam, Sansara, and Arlan. Her absence, however, did little to quell the lingering impact of her scornful remarks.

In the depths of my mind, I conjured images of Hornhill, envisioning the towering walls and familiar faces that resided within its grounds. It became a sanctuary, a distant haven where the echoes of Lady Jeyne's contemptuous voice held no power over me. There, surrounded by loved ones, I could find solace and strength to face the challenges that lay ahead.

As I willed myself to focus on the present, I reminded myself of the purpose that had brought me to this very moment. Lady Jeyne's words were like gusts of wind, threatening to extinguish the flame of determination that burned within me. But I refused to let them undermine my resolve. I was here, on my own path, forging ahead with unwavering determination and the unwavering support of my family.

The memories of Sam's encouraging smile, Sansara's unwavering belief in my abilities, and Arlan's steady support fortified my spirit. In their absence, I drew upon the strength of our shared experiences, the bond that transcended the physical distance that separated us.

With renewed determination, I silenced the doubts that threatened to consume me. The weight of Lady Jeyne's disdain was a mere whisper compared to the resounding chorus of love and support that enveloped me from afar. It was a reminder that family extended beyond the confines of physical proximity, that their unwavering belief in me would serve as a guiding light, even in the darkest of times.

As I stood tall, the air tingling with anticipation, I shed the shadows of Lady Jeyne's words. They no longer held power over me. I had my own purpose, my own destiny to pursue. The strength of my family's love and the unwavering support that emanated from Hornhill would propel me forward, guiding my every step with unwavering conviction.

And so, as I took a deep breath and steadied myself, I carried the echoes of Hornhill in my heart. Lady Jeyne's presence may have been absent, but the bond that tied me to my family remained unyielding. With their spirits intertwined with mine, I pressed forward, ready to conquer the challenges that awaited me, secure in the knowledge that I carried the love and support of Hornhill wherever I may roam.

In that moment, amidst the lingering echoes of Lady Jeyne's disdain, my mind gravitated toward a cherished memory—a memory of my father's unwavering presence during my first hunt. The recollection warmed my heart and provided solace, serving as a beacon of strength in a sea of doubt.

I can still see the pride that danced across my father's weathered face, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of joy and admiration. "Well done, boy," he said, his words a melodic symphony to my ears. In that fleeting moment, I could sense his unyielding belief in my potential, in the path I had chosen to walk.

But as elation coursed through my veins, doubts threatened to overshadow the triumph. "But I'm not a Tarly," I had confessed to my father, my voice tinged with a hint of sadness and longing. The weight of my bastard status, a label my father's wife abhorred, cast a shadow over my accomplishments.

In response, my father's gentle reprimand punctured the air, cutting through my doubts like a blade. "Harlon," he said, his voice firm yet filled with understanding. "You may not bear my name, but you carry my blood within your veins."

Those words, simple yet profound, washed over me like a comforting embrace. It was a reminder that my worth extended far beyond societal conventions and the limitations of names. The legacy of our ancestor, Harlon Tarly "The Hunter", lived within me, an indomitable spirit that transcended the confines of lineage.

Emotions welled up within me, and tears streamed down my cheeks as I stood vulnerable before my father. In that moment of raw vulnerability, he wordlessly enfolded me in his embrace, his silent support speaking volumes. It was an embrace that conveyed a depth of love and acceptance, reminding me that the bond of family extended beyond societal constraints.

In the embrace of my father, I found solace and strength. His unwavering belief in my potential, in the resilience of our shared bloodline, fortified my spirit. I would no longer be defined by the disdain of Lady Jeyne or the constraints of my birth. Instead, I would forge my own path, guided by the teachings and love of my father.

As I took a deep breath, the memory of that embrace empowering me, I resolved to honor my father's words. I would embrace the legacy of Harlon Tarly the hunter, my ancestor, and weave my own story, transcending the boundaries of name and societal expectations.

And with every arrow released, every target struck, I would carry the strength of my father's bloodline within me.

"Everyone, gather in an hour's time," the announcement rang through the air, carrying the anticipation of the crowd. The moment of truth was approaching, the unveiling of the results that would determine the seven archers who would advance to the next and final round.

As the weight of those words settled upon my ears, I felt a mixture of excitement and nerves course through my veins. The hours of practice, the sweat and dedication poured into honing my skills, had all led to this pivotal moment. With renewed determination, I made my way through the bustling tournament grounds, my steps guided by a sense of purpose.

But as I navigated the throngs of people, hunger gnawed at my stomach, a reminder of the physical exertion I had endured. It was a brief respite before the tension of the results consumed me. Seeking sustenance, I meandered towards the inviting aroma emanating from the food stalls that lined the outskirts of the grounds.

The air was alive with the mingling scents of savory meats, roasted vegetables, and freshly baked bread. The symphony of sizzling pans and cheerful chatter created a lively atmosphere, offering a temporary reprieve from the anticipation that hung in the air. I approached one of the stalls, drawn to the display of culinary delights.

With a grumbling stomach and a sense of urgency, I ordered a satisfying meal, savoring each bite as the flavors danced upon my palate. The nourishment provided a brief respite, a momentary escape from the nerve-wracking wait. It allowed me to replenish my energy, both physical and mental, fortifying myself for the upcoming announcement.

As I sat amidst the lively atmosphere, surrounded by fellow competitors and spectators alike, I couldn't help but steal glances at those around me. Some wore expressions of quiet confidence, their eyes reflecting the determination that mirrored my own. Others exhibited nervous fidgeting and whispered conversations, their anticipation palpable. We were all united by a shared desire—to prove ourselves, to seize this opportunity and leave our mark upon the annals of the tournament's history.

Finishing my meal, I stood up, a renewed fire burning within me. The time for idle distractions had passed; it was time to face the impending verdict. With each step I took back towards the tournament grounds, my resolve solidified. The taste of victory lingered on my tongue, mingling with the anticipation that surged through my veins.

As I rejoined the gathering crowd, a surge of energy filled the air, an electric current that crackled with anticipation. The time had come to discover who among us would emerge victorious, who would earn the honor of advancing to the final round. With my heart pounding in my chest, I steeled myself for the announcement, ready to embrace whatever fate awaited me.

In that moment, amidst the mingling scents, the lively conversations, and the collective breath held in anticipation, I reaffirmed my commitment. I would give my all, drawing upon the hours of training, the unwavering support of my father, and the resilience that flowed through my veins. I would seize this opportunity, leaving an indelible mark upon the tournament and proving that my skills as an archer were unmatched.

As the hour slipped away, the buzz of anticipation filled the air, gradually giving way to a hushed silence as the crowd settled into their seats. All eyes were fixed upon the podium, awaiting the announcement that would determine the archers who had qualified for the next round. Tension hung thick, a palpable presence that caused my heart to quicken its rhythm.

One by one, the names were called out, each utterance met with a mix of hope and trepidation. Merwyn Flowers—the sixth name to resound through the arena. My breath hitched, a surge of worry gripping my chest. Had I done enough? Doubts seeped into my mind, fueled by the memory of Lady Jeyne's snide remarks that had once haunted me.

The weight of those memories threatened to pull me into a pit of self-doubt, questioning my abilities and worthiness. But before despair could take hold, the announcer's voice resonated with clarity. "Harlon Flowers." The words hung in the air, electrifying the atmosphere. Relief surged through my veins like a burst of sunlight, and elation replaced the doubt that had momentarily clouded my mind.

A rush of jubilation consumed me, eclipsing any lingering insecurities. In that moment, the snide remarks of Lady Jeyne lost their power. I had proven myself worthy, rising above the constraints of my birth. The cheers and applause from the crowd swirled around me, a symphony of validation and support that filled my heart with a renewed sense of purpose.

As I stood there, basking in the jubilant atmosphere, I felt a surge of gratitude for the unwavering belief my father had instilled in me. His words echoed in my ears once more, reminding me that my worth transcended any societal constraints. In this moment, I stood tall, the embodiment of his faith, and the embodiment of my own resilience.

With a newfound confidence, I stepped forward, my gaze set on the challenges that lay ahead. The doubts that had momentarily clouded my mind dissipated like smoke in the wind. I was prepared to face whatever trials awaited me, armed with the knowledge that I had earned my place among the chosen few. Lady Jeyne's snide remarks were nothing more than echoes from the past, powerless against the strength of my spirit.

As the cheers of the crowd continued to resonate around me, I embraced the exhilaration of the moment. I would carry this triumph with me, drawing upon it in the battles yet to come. The tournament was far from over, and the path ahead would demand every ounce of my skill and determination. But I was ready, fuelled by the knowledge that I had defied expectations, defied the limitations imposed upon me.

The competitors were arranged in a line, with some distance between us, the tension palpable as we prepared to shoot at the targets placed in front of us. The first target, positioned at a mere fifty meters, seemed almost within reach. As the signal was given, we drew our bows and released our arrows, a chorus of twangs filling the air. To our collective relief, each of us managed to hit the target, a testament to our skill and focus.

Emboldened by our initial success, the target was then moved to a hundred meters, testing our abilities further. Once again, we stood side by side, our hearts pounding in unison. With unwavering resolve, we released our arrows into the distance. Miraculously, all of us proved our mettle once more, hitting the target with precision. The crowd erupted in cheers, their applause mingling with our own sense of accomplishment.

However, it was when the target was shifted to a daunting hundred and fifty meters that unease settled upon us. The vast expanse seemed to stretch endlessly before us, challenging our resolve. Anxiety flickered in the eyes of my fellow archers, their hands trembling ever so slightly. But within me burned a fire, an unyielding determination to overcome any obstacle.

Summoning every ounce of focus and skill, I drew my bowstring with steady hands, fixated on the distant target. With unwavering confidence, I released the arrow, watching it soar through the air with a grace all its own. To my immense satisfaction, it found its mark at the center of the target. Yet, two of my fellow competitors faltered, their arrows missing the target altogether, while two others grazed its edges. There were only three of us left standing, a testament to the unforgiving nature of the competition.

As the distance increased once more to a challenging two hundred meters, my resolve remained unshaken. Adjusting my aim, I let loose an arrow guided by unyielding focus. It sailed through the air, defying the odds and landing true at the center of the target. Glancing at my remaining competitors, I was surprised to see their arrows stray from the mark, missing the target entirely. With a mixture of disbelief and elation, I realized that I had emerged as the victor of the archery contest.

A surge of triumph coursed through my veins, accompanied by the roars of the crowd. In that moment, I stood as a testament to the power of determination and skill. The doubts and insecurities that once plagued me now dissipated like mist in the morning sun. I had faced the daunting challenges of the competition head-on, emerging triumphant against the odds.

With humility and gratitude, I accepted the accolades bestowed upon me. The cheers of the crowd reverberated in my ears, mingling with the beating of my heart. It was not just a victory for myself but a victory for all those who had ever been doubted or underestimated. I had transcended the boundaries of my birth, proving that one's lineage did not define their capabilities.