About this story
Your skill at the butts draws the notice of Sir Philip Harclay, a knight back from thirty years abroad who studies your face like a man meeting a dead friend, then offers to adopt you as his own son. You choose loyalty to the baron who took you in instead — and leave behind a warning that excellence earns enemies, and an old servant certain your birth deserves a higher station than anyone admits.
How it opens
Crossbow bolts struck the straw mark below Lovel Castle while morning light flashed along the wet battlements.
The baron's sons and nephews wore fine belts over their practice coats; your own had been repaired twice.
William Fitz-OwenAnother shaft in the centre, Edmund, and even Robert must call the prize yours.
Robert Fitz-OwenA servant may win a round without forgetting who provided his bow.
Choose
Then I will honour the bow by using it well.
The prize belongs to the best shot, not the richest belt.