The Tournament of Henpele - Chapter 1 - Sparrow's Tournament

Chapter 1 - Sparrow's Tournament

                Sparrow signed up for the open archery competitions early in the morning, ignoring the occasional stare cast at her wings. I swear, the next adventure we have is going to be 'Sparrow drags us all up a mountain, to find the southern group of winged ones and make them wander around the Duchies again so she can stop being stared at', she thought to herself. The northern duchies - Amdam, Riverjoin, even Rangehaven - were fine; they had frequent contact with the winged people. And along the trade routes between the Duchies, the winged one towns and the Greater kingdom winged ones were so common as to not draw attention.
                But down south, in Norduchy and Souduchy (and even somewhat in Gracewood) people had rarely seen a winged one. And so they stared. Then again, I stared when I met that Psionis in the Greater kingdom. Small horns above the eyes is a fairly unusual deformity, though, even for them.
                Sparrow sighed, and went back to the inn to check her bow.

                A few hours later, she stood waiting for her turn to shoot. Three targets were set, fifty, one hundred, and one hundred and fifty metres away. Each competitor was allowed to shoot three arrows at each target, with points awarded according to where the target was hit. Most of the archers were able to hit all three targets (most of the time, anyway), though only the skilled, and the lucky, could score highly.
                There were about fifty competitors; ranging from local youths and hunters to knights and mercenaries. The highest score - out of a possible two-hundred and twenty-five (if one scored an unlikely nine bull’s-eyes) - that any made before Sparrow's turn was ninety-seven, one Sparrow was fairly sure she could beat.
                On her turn to shoot, she stepped forwards to the line and drew her first arrow. She was forced to use a tournament bow, and arrows for the accuracy competition (although for trick shots she was allowed to use whatever she desired). She lined up her arrow, checked the wind, let out her breath and fired.
                The arrow shot forward, streaking straight at the target. With a light thud, it landed in the top half of the bull’s-eye. A cheer went up from the watching crowd. That's one, thought Sparrow to herself. She had noted that the bull’s-eye was too small to sink more than arrow into, and was only planning to attempt two (and thus avoid completely losing an arrow or some other mistake).
                She nocked, and drew her second arrow. After a moment - as she gauged a light breeze - she sent the arrow flying at the target. For a moment, Sparrow feared it would arc too low, but it flew true and became deeply embedded in the lower half of the bull’s-eye. Sparrow grinned as the crowd cheered once more.
                Her third arrow followed soon after, sinking into the ten point zone surrounding the bull’s-eye. It was the most impressive first round so far (the only other individual to score two bull’s-eyes had scored one in the first and third, rounds). Now to repeat this on the harder target, Sparrow thought to herself.
                She shuffled along, moving to stand in front of the one hundred metre target. As she drew back her fourth arrow, she noticed - right before she fired - that the area around the target seemed to be affected by a strong breeze. She adjusted her aim accordingly, and sent an arrow hurtling into the target. A roar from the crowd went up as she scored yet another bull’s-eye.
                With a smirk, Sparrow readied another arrow. Just as she was about to release her shot, however, the wind changed. She loosened her aim with a start, and thought, I hope no-one is cheating. She pulled her arrow back once more, adjusted her aim, and sent it flying -
                Only to spot the breeze changing dramatically shortly after her arrow was launched, pushing it gently away from the bull’s-eye and into the surrounding ten point zone. Shit! she thought. That's still ninety-five points in total, though. She readied her final arrow for the target, and watched the wind carefully. Let's pretend that someone is cheating and use it, she thought to herself.
                Noting that the wind would send her arrow to the left, she aimed slightly to the left of the target and le the arrow fly. The wind changed as the arrow arched towards the target, sending it to the right, and straight into the bull’s-eye. Loud applause burst out, and Sparrow chuckled - though her thoughts were worried. That doesn't just happen. Someone's cheating. Since they're bad at sabotaging the competition, they were probably only intending to try and guide a friend's shots towards the bull’s-eye, she thought.
                Standing in front of the one-hundred and fifty metre target, Sparrow nocked an arrow and paused. This is the hard part. I wouldn't be sure to it the bull’s-eyes from this range even with my own bow, and now I have to outsmart a cheater. If I was trying to sabotage someone, and knew little about archery I would probably pull the arrow down (although up would be better if you knew what you were doing) next, if I thought they knew what I was doing. So it's time to aim a little high, she thought.
                Sparrow drew and sent her arrow flying, aimed so that it would land above the bull’s-eye. The wind changed, forcing the arrow downwards, further, and right into the bull’s-eye. As the crowd roared, Sparrow thought, now to try and figure out which competitor has a complete lack of wind during their shots. The arrow had landed very close to the bottom of the bull’s-eye, but was also on an odd angle that prevented further shots on the bull’s-eye. As such, Sparrow decided to score two more ten point shots without really aiming for the bull’s-eye.
                Despite the wind continuing to act up - once pushing her arrow up, and once diagonally down and right - Sparrow managed to score another twenty points, bringing her total to one-hundred and sixty-five points. Returning her bow, she sat down on the competitor's bench, and watched.

                It was easy to spot the cheater when his turn came. The wind went quiet immediately, and remained so for each shot he took. He scored equal to Sparrow on the first target, forty-five points on the second, and twenty-five on the third. His one-hundred and thirty points put him into second place (third place had been taken by a well-known local hunter, with one-hundred and twenty-six points who had also been sabotaged). He seemed disappointed with his score and glared daggers at Sparrow after he returned to the bench.
                After the competition was over (by which point it was late afternoon), and all points counted, Sparrow approached one of the referees with her suspicions. Together with a couple of other referees they searched the target range, looking for any symbols etched into the ground, or conveniently placed rocks. It did not take long before one of the referees found a rock. A quick inspection by a scholar (grabbed from the dispersing audience) identified it as the symbol for air control.
                "So now what?" asked Sparrow. "Will we rerun the competition?"
                "After an investigation, ma'am," replied one of the referees. "This is a crime, and it would not do to spook the cheaters."
                "I suspect they've been spooked already, by us combing the grounds for stones," replied Sparrow, "but alright. I'm lodging in the Boisterous Crab if you have need of me."

                Sparrow chatted idly with Annette and Graeme in the evening. Annette had been placed in a team with three other squires, and together they had fought in the melee competition (the count favoured battles with two teams of four fighting one another). Graeme had competed in the joust; and had heard of a minor tragedy. "We had a death today," he said. "Henry of Norsgren took a splinter to the throat and died of suffocation."
                After some more idle talk, Sparrow made her way to bed, and slept. Her dreams were, for once, appropriate - she dreamed of all the trick shots she could do to amaze the judges. Shots while swooping, spinning, hitting targets midair... And some more fanciful than practical.

                The next morning, when told one particular rule, Sparrow said, "What? Fuck! Fuck that. Feet on ground during the entire shot? Really? Why? Why in the name of the founders of the fucking Spire is there a rule like that?"
                "Because one year a group of travelling martial artists did some spinning flip trick shots, and one of them killed the current count's uncle," replied the official. "I'm sorry if this restricts your shots, Miss Deepdrift, but it is for the safety of all present."
                Sparrow groaned, and said, "Fine. Just take me off the list for this competition. All the trick shots I know are aerial, damn it. And sorry for making an ass of myself."
                "Honestly, we should try and get that rule removed," said the official, "and institute some more stringent safety requirements instead. But the rule is in force for this tournament, and we must abide by it."
                Sparrow nodded, before turning and walking away. Left with nothing to do, she wandered through the stalls that had sprung up to take advantage of the crowds attracted by the tournament. She bought herself a snack - well fried chunks of meat in some flat bread - and peered at various trinkets.
                Nothing caught her fancy, and she wandered back to the inn. She spent some time fletching arrows - a few new ones, and replacing the feathers on some - until mid-afternoon, when she heard a knock upon the door.
                "Sparrow Deepdrift?" asked the man - a constable, judging by his uniform.
                "That's me," Sparrow replied.
                "Can you come with me, please? We're looking into a ring of cheaters including those responsible for rigging your event," he said.
                "Of course," said Sparrow. "I need a moment to clean up here first, though." Sparrow quickly packed up her fletching gear, grabbed her bow, and followed the constable out.