"No, no, not a spear," Silke quickly countered, "that wouldn't work. It has to be a bow- at least for now. I can find you someone to tutor you in other weapons at your leisure. The sword is the most practical melee weapon," she commented thoughtfully as bit her lower lip in contemplation. Since he had the reputation of being a hero, she hadn't considered whether or not he might need further education on combat and self-defense. No one truly expected the country to go to war anytime soon, so it was incredibly unlikely he'd ever need to do anything more than friendly duels and exercises with some of the more athletically-inclined noblemen, but it wouldn't hurt to expand his skill set. Internally she chastised herself. Elevating Galt was a project for which she had taken full responsibility and she had overlooked securing a martial teacher.

Sitting back in her chair, she poked at her food with her fork. That she had such an oversight bothered her and, with one perceived 'wrong' in her planning, she was twice as anxious the rest. Silke was not afraid of defeat or setbacks; she had experienced many in her political career, if one could call it that. What bothered her was adding another party to the equation and potentially causing [i]their[/i] failure. Galt still saw himself as a thief, a rogue, and a trickster to some degree. If he had been lacking in moral fiber and character, if he had been a true scoundrel, she wouldn't mind if her aspirations for him went unrealized. Because he was considerate and charming there was increased pressure that she placed on herself to succeed.

Her lips twisted upwards in amusement when Galt queried whether he'd be going hunting in a few months after he'd been schooled on the art of archery. The clever ruse she had in mind had escaped him through no fault of his own. He was a breath of fresh air that didn't hold to the biases and stereotypes of the aristocracy, who enforced dogmatic nonsense in the name of culture upon the wealthy. Patiently she waited for him to agree and finish making his questions. The time it took for him to speak gave her an opportunity to eat a few small bites of food.

"Vincent is..," she drifted off for a moment, trying to find the right words. "He's an honorable man, so he'll judge you through your actions, and not by your past, not that I've said anything about it myself. It's not my secret to tell. I've told him I have a good impression of you and I wanted to help you learn about being a nobleman. He doesn't need to know anything more than that," Silke said with a soft sigh. "If he knew I was helping you to climb higher instead of him he'd only be hurt. I adore him dearly, but he just... it wouldn't work with him. Being a count is almost more than he can handle honestly." For several long seconds she was completely quiet. Whenever she talked about her family, truly talked about them, she couldn't help but feel emotionally raw and vulnerable.

The melancholy hadn't quite left her gaze by the time she composed herself enough mentally to continue. "All you need is you need is to learn how to hold it properly. Accuracy isn't an issue. I'd imagine a week should be sufficient. Vincent is my first choice to tutor you, though I can secure someone else if you prefer. I can't teach you myself since of course ladies are inferior at such things," she explained in a light tone. "I attend hunts more as a companion than a competitor. Most of them are decent with an arrow but shoddy at tracking, so I point them in the right direction." Servants traditionally went with their employers, gathering arrows, securing the haul, and performing other menial tasks, so it was not unusual that there would be other people in the hunt than just the nobleman doing the hunting itself.

By the coy way she spoke and phrased herself, never outright saying how good she was personally with a bow, it was increasingly obvious that she wasn't as awful as she had fooled everyone into believing through their misogynistic assumptions.

"Count Thrule is my first choice for a host," she said, crossing her arms over her chest as she nibbled on her lower lip in concentration. "He has a woodsman of some sort working for him that keeps his forest healthy, ensuring there is neither too few nor too many of any game. Of all the places to hunt, he's the best, and he isn't haughty. Everyone would understand if you accepted an invitation from Count Thrule, and it wouldn't look as if you were chasing after the dukes for better stature." Silke paused. "Ah, he has a daughter that just turned seventeen if you'd like me to make introductions. Like any other noblewoman, they'd expect courtship with at least a possibility of marriage. It wouldn't offend me at all if you would like me to help you make a match."

Silke was lying. It was not intentional nor overt. She lied in the way she held herself with confidence and strength, while her skin still had a unhealthy pallor and there was a flash of resigned weariness across her features intermittently. She lied in the way she reassured him she'd help him find a lovely girl, but the edges of her mouth subtlety tightened as if the sentence was sour in her mouth. She lied in pretending she didn't care that she could manipulate everything in his favor to make him crowned a duke, when she couldn't even show her competence with a bow.