The Winner

The archery contest between Lord Philippe and Bowen had drawn a sizable crowd. Servants, nobles and guards alike gathered, their murmurs and cheers filled the place.

Some guards began placing bets, their voices carrying over conversation. Most of the bets were in favor of Lord Philippe, his reputation as an excellent marksman well known throughout the kingdom.

Philippe stood tall and confident, his expression calm but focused. He turned to Bowen, his lips curling into a smirk. "Strike first, Bowen. I will follow."

Bowen bowed deeply. "How can I, a mere guard, strike before my lord? That would be a disrespect to you, my lord."

Philippe considered Bowen's words, his smile widening. "Of course, you are right," he said, pleased by Bowen's deference. He would enjoy the opportunity to set a high standard, confident that Bowen would not be to beat it. "Very well, then. I shall go first."

The archery range had been set up with five targets, each farther than the last. Philippe and Bowen were given a set of five arrows each.

Philippe took the first arrow and notched it on his bow. The crowd hushed, all eyes on him as he drew the string back and aimed. He released the arrow but to his surprise, it flew wide and missed the target entirely.

A ripple of shock went through the spectators. Alita, watching from the sidelines couldn't suppress a laugh. She quickly cleared her throat and stopped when she noticed people staring at her but the hint of a smile remained on her lips.

Philippe, maintaining his composure laughed as well. "Just warming up," he said, brushing off the miss. He notched the second arrow and fired. This time, it managed to hit the third ring on the target drawing polite applause from the crowd.

Determined to redeem himself, Philippe raised the third arrow. He took a deep breath and steadied his aim and released. The arrow flew straight and true, hitting the bullseye. The crowd cheered and Philippe allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction.

He quickly followed with the fourth arrow, which landed on the second ring and then the fifth arrow which once again hit the bullseye. The crowd clapped and cheered impressed by his recovery.

Philippe turned to Bowen with a confident smirk. "Let me see you beat that."

Bowen stepped forward. The bow was suited for hands much smaller than his own but being a shapeshifter, he subtly reduced the size of his hands to fit the bow. He glanced around to make sure no one had noticed his transformation. Philippe mistook Bowen's careful movements for hesitation and laughed.

"You can forfeit now," Philippe taunted. "You don't have to play the hero."

Bowen smiled, unfazed by Philippe's words. He bowed and then picked up an arrow. With a fast, fluid motion, he notched it and fired. The arrow sailed through the air and struck the bullseye dead center.

The crowd gasped, murmurs of disbelief spreading among the spectators. Philippe's smile faltered as Bowen's arrow hit the mark.

Bowen feigned surprise, widening his eyes dramatically. "Oh my! My hand slipped. I think fate is on my side today."

He picked up the second arrow and fired, once again hitting the exact same spot in the bullseye. The crowd's gasps grew louder and even Alita couldn't hide her admiration. Bowen continued with the remaining arrows, each one landing perfectly on the same point in the bullseye.

The courtyard fell silent for a moment, stunned by Bowen's flawless performance. Then, Alita started clapping, the sound breaking the silence. Slowly, the rest of the crowd joined in, though some did so reluctantly.

Philippe's face flushed with anger and embarrassment. He had been outdone by a mere guard.

Bowen finished his performance with a deep bow to the audience, his expression calm as he straightened up.

Collias muttered to his companion, "I should have bet on that arrogant bastard. Why did I bet on the useless lord?"

Philippe, his pride wounded and anger barely concealed approached Bowen with a scowl. "You must have done a trick to win," he accused, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear.

Bowen met Philippe's glare with calm composure. "I used no tricks, my lord," he said respectfully but firmly. "I told you, it's been a while since I practiced archery. You did not bother to ask me when I last practiced. I only stopped archery recently when I came to the capital."

Alita, observing the exchange couldn't help but smile in victory. She stepped forward, her voice sweet but laced with satisfaction. "Now you see why I don't want you to teach," she said to Philippe, her eyes gleaming. Turning to Bowen, she added, "You must teach me everything."

Philippe's face turned crimson with rage. He pointed a trembling finger at Bowen, his voice shaking with fury. "You..." He couldn't find the words to express his anger and frustration. Instead, he turned on his heel and stormed off, Raff trailing behind him, his face a mix of concern and embarrassment.