Taris made his way to the shade of a nearby tent. The sun was killing him. Literally killing him in fact. His kind were meant to stay in the shadows, out of the sun and lighted areas of the world. His eyes burned and his skin tingled, even beneath hood and cloak. The elf looked around the field at servants running back and forth, bringing the other contestants water to cool off. None came near him however, and he sighed. It seemed the powers-that-be wanted him off balance. He glanced to the dais where the royal family was seated, but couldn’t find Aera.

The assassin pulled his hood down further, and looked through the shadows for her. It didn’t take long, he found her just outside some tents beneath some trees. Seemingly from nowhere a brown-cloaked figure joined her, and a genuine smile lit her face. [b]Enlor`Lei[/b], he’d have to remember the name when he gave his report. The man in the cloak removed his mask to reveal he was sister clan to Taris, though Taris’ own clan hailed from far more distant lands. They began speaking. [i]In elvish[/i], he thought to himself, [i]how long has it been since I’ve heard, since I’ve spoken my native tongue?[/i] After a moment it became clear he was eavesdropping on a very personal moment for Aera, and he felt somewhat guilty. [i]Wait, what? Why should I feel guilt? I’ve seen more personal moments than this…[/i]

Despite that he let go of the shadows, and raised the lip of his hood. He quickly registered that someone was waiting just outside the tent, and called out, “Enter.” The figure’s shadow jumped and quickly stepped inside. She was just a little waif of an elf, and Taris could very nearly smell the tunnels on her. A thief then, or at least an initiate. She was nervous, and held a pouch in her hands. “[b]What is it, little one?[/b]” he asked in elvish though it felt somewhat strange on his tongue. She looked up, and held out the pouch, which he could now identify as a waterskin, “[b]From your fans, Master Archer, we wish you luck in the tournament.[/b]” The girl bowed and started to exit the tent, pausing by the flap. She turned back, “[b]Please win[/b].”

Taris smiled, “[b]Of course, milady.[/b]” She giggled and ran off, leaving Taris alone. He always was good with kids. After pulling out the stopper he took several long draughts from the skin, and dumped the other half over his face to cool the burn of his eyes. He could hear the herald calling for him and the Prince to step forth, and he readjusted his hood before stepping back out into the hated sun. The Prince was already waiting, and he could see that his target had been moved back a few more paces. Glancing at the dais, he could see Aera had returned to her seat. Taris bowed low to Kentaro, who merely sneered. The elf could smell the wine on him, and was further disgusted with him. The Prince’s first shot hit only the fourth ring. 

Taris had had quite enough. From someone that was said to be a skilled huntsman to only hit the outer rings, he must be quite drunk. And he refused to consider that the other contestants were more inept than a drunken royal, they must have thrown their shots wide. Not Taris, he pulled his own bow, sighted down the shaft and let fly. The arrow sank several inches into the target, right on the edge of the bull’s-eye. He nearly spat on the ground, held in check only by the knowledge that such an action would surely land him in the dungeon. Kentaro’s next shot didn’t even hit the target. Taris scowled behind the mask, his second shot slicing in beside his first. The Prince was frowning in confusion, visibly pulling himself together before his last shot. The third arrow at least hit the outer edge of the first ring. The assassin wasted nothing, he’d already beaten the man, but still he drew, his final shot sinking near the very center of the bull’s-eye.

The crowd was almost silent, at this elf that had so soundly beaten their Prince. Even Taris’ new fans kept still. The Dark Elf bowed low, “Well shot, Your Highness.” The Prince opened his mouth, and closed it, the elf had just given him a chance to retain his dignity. He curtly nodded in response, and the elf rose and turned away to where the little elf-girl was waiting with another water-skin. The near silence became a low thunder as the crowd began to mumble to each other as the servants collected the used targets. It was to be the last round, the only opponent left was Kasca.