Arrows chased the morning light and pierced the clouds

The morning light in King's Landing today is softer than yesterday's. Traces of the opening ceremony and warm-up spear duels still remain on the sandy ground of the arena—a dozen or so broken spears are neatly stacked in a corner by the servants, their tips gleaming in the rising sun, almost like a ceremonial guard erected for today's archery competition.

Unlike yesterday, ten archery targets were set up on the west side of the arena today, with the bullseye sewn with scarlet silk. They were arranged in order from near to far, with the farthest target even set up on a small boat in Blackwater Bay. The boat swayed gently with the waves, and the bullseye was faintly visible in the morning light.

The atmosphere in the stands was also more relaxed, with most of the lords having removed their heavy armor. Taimond Lannister of the Westerlands had changed into a dark red brocade robe and was twirling a bronze ring in his hand.

As for the Reach, Big Horas Redwyne, having finished dealing with the Redwyne fleet's trade matters today, stood on the east side of the stands with his two nephews. Alyn was wearing a navy blue blouse and was playing with an anchor-shaped pendant in his hand, while Little Horas beside him seemed a little uneasy, his fingers repeatedly rubbing the quiver at his waist, the hem of his light green robe wrinkled from his grip.

"What's the rush? It's just shooting a few arrows." Alyn patted his brother's shoulder, his voice full of teasing. "Forgot the techniques Jarman and Harlan told you yesterday? Draw the bow steadily, aim accurately, don't end up like you did last time on Arbor, feeding all your arrows to the seagulls."

Horas blushed and pushed his brother's hand away. "I haven't forgotten! Last time the waves were high! Today the seas are calm, I'm sure I can hit the farthest target!" Even as he said this, he still secretly glanced in Daemon's direction—

Jarman Waters and Harlan Hunter were standing beside Daemon. Jarman was dressed in dark gray shorts, with a short knife at his waist, and the fletching of the arrows in his quiver was shiny black.

Harlan was dressed in the silver-gray outfit common in the Vale, with the House Hunter's hunting arrow pattern engraved on the arrow shaft. The two were talking to each other with their heads down, occasionally glancing up at the moving target boat in the distance.

"Jarman, you used one of these black-feathered arrows to shoot the throat of Lys pirate on the opposite ship back at the Stepstones, right?" Harlan's voice was soft, but tinged with curiosity.

Jarman nodded, drew an arrow, and handed it to Harlan. The wood grain on the shaft was clearly visible. "Oak shaft, raven feathers, arrowhead with a touch of Dragonglass powder—good enough to deal with pirates, but for moving targets, accuracy is key."

Daemon, holding Rhaenyra, added with a laugh, "Don't listen to his modesty. Last time on Crab Claw Peninsula, he shot a Wildlings chieftain's quiver from 300 paces away, causing the Wildlings to scatter arrows all over the ground and eventually surrender."

Rhaenyra seemed to understand, patting Daemon's arm with her little hands and Daemon as if she were calling out "Arrow! Arrow!"

Aemma quickly came over, gently took her daughter, and said with a smile, "Don't teach her bad habits. It's better for a girl to learn embroidery."

"Embroidery is nothing compared to archery!" Jeyne's voice suddenly rang out. She was wearing a silver fox fur cloak and holding a small wooden bow, which Daemon had specially commissioned the craftsman to make yesterday. "Little Daemon, I'm going to shoot later too! I'm sure I can hit the bullseye!"

Daemon smiled and nodded, reaching out to ruffle her hair. "Okay, Harlan will teach you later, how about that?"

His archery skills are unmatched in your Vale.

Just then, the bugle sounded, and the Kingsguard in charge of the competition walked to the center of the field and announced loudly, "The archery competition consists of three rounds! In the first round, a fixed target at thirty paces away, those who hit the bullseye advance; in the second round, a moving target at one hundred paces away, rankings are based on the number of hits; in the third round, a target mounted on a boat at three hundred paces away, those who hit the bullseye win!"

As soon as the words were spoken, the sons of the feudal lords went down to the field one after another. Little Horas took a deep breath and followed the crowd to the starting line. Alyn shouted from the stands, "Don't panic! Just think of it as a bunch of grapes from Arbor!"

Little Horas glared at his brother, drew an arrow from his quiver, and nocked it to his bow—a specially made yew bow by the House Redwyne, its limbs engraved with grape patterns, a gift from his father when he left Arbor with Daemon.

The first round of the competition began quickly. The fixed target was not difficult for most of the noble children. The House Marbrand boy from the Westerlands hit the bullseye with an arrow and excitedly swung his bow.

Borros Baratheon of the Stormlands appeared somewhat clumsy. He was clearly more accustomed to hunting with a battle axe and spear, and his archery practice was usually just for show. This time, his arm was shaking as he drew the bow, and his first arrow went astray, the fletching grazing the edge of the target.

This caused Brandon Stark to burst into laughter, looking up as if to ask, "Borros! Are you aiming that arrow at a bird in the sky? I can't see it!"

Borros blushed, and with brute force, he shot the second arrow, snapping the bowstring with a "crack," which drew laughter from the crowd. He simply threw the broken bow on the ground, muttering, "Archery is no fun. When it comes to hunting, it's much more satisfying to swing a battle axe or throw a spear," and turned to walk back to the stands.

On the other side, Jarman and Harlan seemed to be handling the situation with ease.

Jarman's bow-drawing motion was as swift as a gust of wind; the black-feathered arrow flew out with a "whoosh," hitting the bullseye perfectly, the fletching still swaying slightly.

Harlan appeared more composed today. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and when he opened them again, his gaze was piercing. His silver arrow landed precisely in the center of the bullseye, embedding itself alongside Jarman's arrow in the scarlet silk, prompting Daemon to applaud. "Excellent archery!"

Little Horas also advanced smoothly. His first arrow hit the edge of the bullseye, and his second arrow, after adjusting his breathing, hit the center steadily. As he walked off the field, Alyn gave him a thumbs up, and Big Horas Elder smiled with satisfaction, excitedly boasting to the Reach lords beside him that this was his nephew of the same name.

The second round was a moving target exercise, with the target mounted on a wooden cart that was pushed back and forth by attendants. This was significantly more difficult than the first round.

Many noble scions missed their targets one after another. A young lord from the Westerlands even shot an arrow toward the stands, nearly brushing against Taimond Lannister's brocade robe. Startled, he quickly dodged, his face instantly darkening.

Jarman went first. He watched the moving target cart, tapping his fingers lightly on his quiver. When the cart reached the center, he suddenly drew his bow.

The black-feathered arrow, like a dark shadow, pierced through the morning light and struck the bullseye with pinpoint accuracy. The servants ran over to check and discovered that the arrow had actually penetrated the bullseye and was embedded in the wooden frame behind it!

The arena fell silent for a moment, then erupted in cheers. Daemon Targaryen even whistled and shouted, "Jarman! That's impressive! One-Eyed Shooter!"

Harlan, however, used a different approach. Instead of waiting for the target cart to move to a fixed position, he moved his feet in rhythm with the cart, keeping his bow always aimed at the bullseye. Just as the cart was about to turn, the silver arrow flew out and hit the bullseye perfectly, his movements as fluid as dancing.

Even Yobert House Royce, watching from the Vale stands, couldn't help but nod, praising Earl Hunter beside him, "The House Hunter's archery skills truly live up to their reputation."

Little Horas then encountered trouble. His first arrow went astray due to nervousness, and the cart moved faster than he expected. His second arrow also only hit the edge of the bullseye.

Alyn, pacing anxiously from the stands, yelled, "Keep your eyes on the target vehicle! Don't just stare at the arrowheads!"

Little Horas took a deep breath, recalling what his older brother Jarman had taught him. "Move with the target." With the third arrow, he moved slowly in rhythm with the cart, and as soon as the bullseye appeared in the center of his vision, he immediately drew his bow and released the arrow—the light green fletching flew past and hit the bullseye steadily. He breathed a sigh of relief, and fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.

After the second round, only Jarman, Harlan, Horas, and three other noblemen advanced to the third round, including a young knight from the Reach who was said to have won the archery competition in Oldtown.

The third round was a 300-step boat-mounted target exercise. The target was located on a small boat in Blackwater Bay. The boat swayed with the waves, and the wind added to the difficulty.

Many of the lords stood up, their eyes fixed on the small boat in the distance. Queen Alysanne lifted the carriage curtain and softly asked Jaehaerys, "Who do you think will win?"

Jaehaerys chuckled and shook his head. "It's hard to say. It requires not only accuracy but also an understanding of sea breezes and waves. It depends on who is more attentive."

The first to appear was a young knight from the Vale, said to be a squire of Sir Hunter, Harlan's father. He took a deep breath, drew his bow and released an arrow, but the fletching swayed in the sea breeze and finally landed in the sea near the ship, splashing only a small wave.

The second nobleman from the Riverlands fared even worse; his arrow missed completely, not even touching the shadow of the boat.

Little Horas was the fourth to appear. He walked to the seaside and felt the direction of the sea breeze—today's wind was blowing from the Narrow Sea, carrying a faint smell of sea salt, which would affect the trajectory of the arrows.

He drew a specially made long arrow from his quiver. The shaft was half an inch longer than that of an ordinary arrow, and the fletching was made of seagull feathers, which could better resist the wind.

Alyn shouted from the stands, "Watch the wind direction! Half an inch to the left!"

Little Horas nodded, deliberately tilting his bow slightly to the left as he drew it, and then released his fingers.

The pale green arrow flew through the sea breeze toward the small boat. Everyone held their breath, watching the arrow's trajectory. Finally, with a "snap," the arrow struck the edge of the bullseye. Although it wasn't in the center, it still hit the mark. Little Horas excitedly swung his bow, and Big Horas the Elder's eyes lit up.

Harlan then appeared, walked to the spot where Little Horas had just stood, closed his eyes to feel the sea breeze, and when he opened them again, he drew a silver-feathered arrow from his quiver. The arrowhead was heavier than that of an ordinary arrow, specially sharpened to withstand the sea breeze.

He drew his bow more slowly than before, and as the wave pushed the small boat to its highest point, he suddenly released the arrow. The silver-feathered arrow, like a streak of silver light, struck the bullseye precisely. The arrow's fletching swayed gently in the sea breeze. Applause immediately erupted from the crowd. Yobert House Royce, the Regent of the Vale, even excitedly clapped his hands on the stands, exclaiming, "Well done! Truly worthy of the House Hunter!"

Finally, Jarman appeared. He didn't rush to shoot arrows, but walked to the sea, bent down to touch the seawater, felt the rhythm of the waves, and looked up at the clouds in the sky—the clouds were slowly moving, indicating that the wind direction would change slightly.

He drew the black-feathered arrow, coated with Dragonglass powder, from his quiver, nocked it on his bow, and drew the bowstring taut. The black-feathered arrow gleamed coldly in the morning light.

Everyone fell silent. Even the Grey Ghost swooped down from the sky and landed next to Daemon, tilting its head to look at Jarman with curiosity in its golden eyes.

Jarman waited for about half a minute, and when the wave pushed the small boat to the middle and the sea breeze was blowing from the side, he suddenly let go of his fingers.

The black-feathered arrow, like a black lightning bolt, flew straight towards the small boat through the sea breeze and waves. With a clang, the arrow not only hit the bullseye but also pierced through the wooden plank behind it, with the fletching sticking out and swaying gently with the boat!

The entire arena erupted in cheers! Brandon Stark leaped to his feet, twirling his battle axe in a flourish, and yelled, "Jarman! That arrow could pierce the deck of Lys pirate ship!"

Borros patted the stands, clearly having forgotten his earlier embarrassment. "Great arrow! Better than mine!"

Daemon walked over with a smile and patted Jarman on the shoulder, "Well done! Such archery skills are rare among the Seven Kingdoms!"

Harlan walked over and bowed slightly to Jarman: "You won, Brother Jarman. Your archery skills are still superior to mine."

Jarman shook his head, his voice tinged with humility. "It was just good luck; we happened to catch the surge and the wind direction."

Little Horas stood to the side, a hint of disappointment on his face. Alyn walked over and patted him on the shoulder. "Don't be sad, you've done a great job. It's your first time participating in such a big competition, hitting the ship's target is already very impressive."

Big Horas the Elder approached, holding a gold grape badge, which he pinned to Little Horas's robe. "This is the House Redwyne's badge," he said, "You deserve it."

Horas's eyes lit up instantly, his earlier disappointment vanishing completely. He nodded vigorously, "Thank you, Uncle! I'll definitely win next time!"

After the competition, King Jaehaerys personally presented Jarman with an award: a sapphire-encrusted dagger with a dragon design engraved on the hilt, a weapon specially made for the royal family.

The old king held Jarman's hand and said gently, "Your archery skills are excellent. I hope you can serve the Iron Throne better in the future and protect this land."

Jarman bowed deeply. "I am willing to serve His Majesty the King and the people of the Iron Throne."

Queen Alysanne watched the spectacle unfold before her, then glanced at her family: Viserys was holding Rhaenyra, Aemma was playing with her daughter, and her niece Jeyne was beside them;

Jocelyn held Rhaenys's hand, while Laena and Laenor surrounded Little Horas, curiously examining his gold badge;

Daemon, with Gael and the others by his side, stood beside Jarman and Harlan, talking to them with a smile on his face.

She sighed softly, her voice filled with happiness. "These days are truly wonderful."

Jaehaerys took her hand and looked toward the distant Narrow Sea, where the flagship of the Velaryon Fleet was moving slowly, its sails gleaming silver in the morning light.

He knew that this peace might not last forever; the undercurrents within the Triarchy, the Wildlings of the the North, and other hidden threats were all waiting for their chance.

But at this moment, looking at the smiles of his family, at the harmony among the lords, at the arrows flying and the cheers in the arena, he suddenly felt that as long as the blood of the Targaryen remained, as long as the lords of the Seven Kingdoms were of one mind, there was no difficulty that could not be overcome.

Daemon also noticed Corlys's flagship. Their eyes met in mid-air, Corlys Corlys slightly to him, his eyes showing a hint of seriousness—a scout from the Dark Blade Guard had reported last night that several unidentified fast ships had been spotted in the direction of the Narrow Sea, suspected to be ships of the Triarchy.

Daemon gently patted Jarman on the shoulder and whispered, "We might be in trouble now. The Dark Blade Guard needs to be on standby."

Jarman nodded, his eyes instantly sharpening, like the black-feathered arrow that had pierced the bullseye, ready to face any unknown danger.

As the sun gradually set in the west, the cheers from the arena still echoed in the sky above King's Landing's Landing. Grey Ghost hovered in the air, occasionally letting out a soft cry that mingled with the distant roars of dragons.

Little Horas, holding the gold badge, excitedly told Laena and Laenor about the details of the match;

Harlan chatted with the House Hunter family members, a gentle smile on his face;

Jarman stood beside Daemon, his eyes warily fixed on the Narrow Sea, the black-feathered arrow still tucked at his waist, ready to be drawn at any moment.

The archery competition that day was like a gentle interlude, temporarily calming the undercurrents between the Seven Kingdoms, but it also made everyone realize that behind the calm, perhaps a greater Storm was brewing.

All they could do was grip their bows and arrows tightly, guarding the peace before them while awaiting the challenges to come.