Stay and participate in the archery contest

Returning to the area Alric showed you before, you await instructions on how the archery tournament will play out. To your relief, there is one other lady participating in the tournament, though she doesn?t appear to want to bond with you. When the director arrives, he invokes the rules. Every person gets five arrows. The goal is to come as close to the target as possible, with points being awarded for accuracy. The winner will receive a brand new bow manufactured by Those without a bow of their own will be given one. As you are the only person without one, he hands it to you immediately.

Painfully, you are selected to be last to go. Not only does that give you more time to become nervous about the tournament, but also more time to dwell on the health status of Alric. What if he?s dead? What if he never comes home? Where will I go? After a half hour of torturing yourself with questions, you find yourself startled by one of the contestants. Pointing out to the arena, he says, ?Didn?t thou hearest thine name, Lady Gaelwyn??

For a second, you think him crazy, but thankfully remember the name Alric signed you up under. Gathering your wits, you stride out onto the course with your bow. The crowd gives a courtesy applause as the director shows you the arrows in the canister beside you. He turns and shouts to the crowd, ?High score is currently held by Christabel Baker, who hast outshot all the men in our tournament with thirty-six points out of a possible fifty. This is our last competitor of the day.?

He turns to you and says, ?Thou may go, miss.? Nervously picking up an arrow, you place it on the nocking point and pull back, testing its elasticity. Bringing it up to eye level, you quiver as you attempt to aim the arrow. Not surprisingly, your fingers slip off the bowstring, sending the arrow high and far beyond the intended target. The crowd laughs at your expense. The director also affords himself a chuckle. ?Four more to go. May as well get it over with.?

Wiping your hands on your dress, you figure you can?t embarrass yourself any further and approach the next shot with confidence. Setting up the arrow, you align your sights with the target, aiming slightly above the center. Without hesitation, you release your grip.

Bulls-eye! The crowd cheers your good fortune, while the director even joins in with some applause. Having felt redeemed, you grab the next arrow and aim again. Another bulls-eye! Now the crowd really gets into it, and you feel they are actually rooting for you now. Before there?s time for the cheering to settle down, you?ve hit the center of the target again! With a rush of calming adrenaline, you set up the final arrow, knowing you only need a seven point mark to win the tournament. With that foreknowledge, you effortlessly place the final arrow dead center. Bingo.

The crowd goes nuts while the director sings your praises. Caught up in the moment, you afford yourself a smile and wave to everyone, hoisting your bow up in the air. The director motions for you to wait back in the antechamber, and informs you he will bring you your prize shortly.

The room is empty, save some equipment and a bench. Stretching, you sit yourself down. You can?t so much as wipe the sweat off your brow when a man wearing a bandana mask darts in the room. Before you can speak, he wrestles a gag into your mouth, hoists you up, and takes you out the back. Your muffled screams reach no one as he dumps you in a cart being pulled by a horse and its rider, also wearing a mask.

You found yourself winding through the streets of London, eventually reaching what looks to be a very poor section of town. Dingy shanties are the norm, and the peasants look dirty and ragged. Finally, the horse stops in back of a tavern, where the two men rush you inside and downstairs to a dimly lit room. As they remove the gag, a gentle looking man approaches from the shadows.