Location — The Grand City of Atutania@Erode
The Prince of Hahral stood at the center of attention, which at least lasted for as long as his demonstration of his skills lasted until the next would come and show him up. It was a disgusting way to treat these trials but it was something that Zyran had to make peace with. For however long he remained the focal point of those around him, he would bask in the glory that was watching
him show everyone what a true archer looked like.
And it was a beautiful thing to witness. He knew it. They knew it. Everyone in the entire world knew it. The way that he held his bow, tight yet gentle, as was the way he was taught, Zyran took that position, dead center, in front of the practice dummy. It was a hideously-made figure.
Doubtless a showing of Atutania itself, the prince thought. The mana flowed through him. It felt warm and assuring at first, like the feeling he got whenever he ordered a slave around, but then it shifted. Crackled. The energy took shape as the Hahralian pulled at an arrow from his quiver. It was properly made from the finest material with the heads from a high quality iron. This would be impressive had he just taken the shot as he would've, but he wouldn't be who he was if he didn't add a certain kind of
flare.
So mana was applied. And with it came the element of lightning. As gold as the jewelry he wore, it snapped and crackled and
popped with the electric energy that Zyran embodied perfectly. It only lasted for a split second because that's all was needed.
Four arrows were fired. Four speeding bursts of electricity shot after another dead center into the practice dummy, splitting each other until the fourth. Zyran could have done it all day. This was just like breathing to him. The most natural thing ever. Even if the year of training hadn't granted him much in the way of abilties, he could do
that with his eyes closed.
But even the fun for a prince — and the attention that came with it — came to an end as others took their turn. One person created a dust cloud reminincant of those one might find in the dessert of his homeland from a mighty swing. Zyran was actually impressed. No trace of fear crawled up his spine from it...well only for the small amount that literally made him worried about making that person angry. No, he was merely impressed by the show of strength. There was a redhead who had impressive footwork and swordplay, but the concentration needed some work.
And then there was the elf. Zyran half-wondered if they felt shame that they didn't use a bow and arrow? Were they a disappointment to their people? Everything about the elves that Zyran had heard from stories told him about their skills as an archer. Part of him even wanted to see it in action, to see exactly what one of the few who could call themselves a "true archer" might look like. Alas, he found himself in a constant state of disappointment. Impressive as it was, it wasn't enough to hold his attention.
What did and what he had completely overlooked for a brief moment was the wannabe archer with the false bow, otherwise known as a crossbow, had. Zyran was observant enough to see that and he smiled in only the superior way someone like him would.
"Certainly!" He obliged stepping closer.
"What I have—" The Prince lifted up his golden bow, the craftsmanship undeniable.
"—This is genuine Hahralian excellence. Much like me, it was made from only the highest of materials. My arrows are also made with the best materials. But more importantly...well just look at you. And then look at me!" With arms spread out, Zyran actually gave her a moment to actually bask in his glory.
"I am what a true archer looks like. And you saw, didn't you? You saw that I am clearly the best archer to exist in the entirety of ever!" Zyran smirked and finally gestured to her crossbow.
"Besides, do you really think your little crossbow actually compares to what I have?" Of course she can't because there wasn't any comparison. Only fools and idiots would compare, let alone think crossbows were superior.
But it
was the weapon of the peasant, so maybe this one did think so. Pity.
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