Eirwen checked her bowstring beside the Alder embassy pavilion as the envoy arrived with the arena terms for Hajin.
The sweet fragrance of pine sap and blooming silver-bells hung thick in the cool afternoon air of recovery week six.
Eirwen stood beside the equipment pavilion, checking the silken string of her carved yew recurve bow.
Across the lawn stood an eleven-Shard Alder outrider captain named Ronen, his dark green cloak fluttering in the autumn breeze.
"Your prolonged residence in this human city has dulled your edge," Ronen declared, his tone sharp and critical.
"Our elders sent an expeditionary escort to safeguard an envoy, not a court ornament who watches street tournaments."
"If you believe my bowstring has slackened, prove it with arrows instead of insults," she replied calmly, nocking a practice shaft.
"A moving trial," Ronen proposed, gesturing toward the woodland obstacle course where fifty wooden target disks swung from high branches.
