A new teacher

Three days later, the new archery teacher arrived at Winterfell.

He belonged to House Karstark of Karhold and served as a personal guard to the Earl of Karhold. His archery was masterful; hitting a willow leaf at a hundred paces was routine for him.

"You three, my name is Larrik Karstark. I'll be staying in Winterfell for a month to teach you archery techniques."

Lari, who was in his thirties, seemed a little nervous and awkward on his first visit to Winterfell.

Robb smiled reassuringly. "There's no need to be so nervous, Teacher. You come from House Karstark, distant relatives of our House Stark. By that reckoning, we might even be your nephews."

Lari dared not overstep his station. "Please don't joke, young Master Robb. Let's begin our lesson. First, I'd like to know how skilled the three of you currently are at Archery."

Robb went first. "I can hit a wooden target twenty meters away."

Snow followed. "About the same for me."

Gary thought for a moment before saying, "If it's a stationary wooden target, and you give me a powerful bow, I can hit it from forty meters away."

Lari glanced at Gary. "You're Luke? If you aren't boasting, then your talent is indeed rare. But you mustn't get conceited. You need to practice even harder. At your age, I was far better than you are now."

Gary humbly accepted this. "Understood. I'll work hard."

In this world with its imperfect laws, danger lurked everywhere. What was more, troubled times were coming, when human lives would count for nothing. Civil war in the Seven Kingdoms and an invasion by the White Walkers would unfold one after another.

He had to gain the ability to protect himself before those troubled times arrived.

Lari surveyed the layout of the Training Yard. "This place isn't suitable for the next lesson. We'll hold it outside the city."

He told the three of them to take their bows and arrows and walk with him to a patch of grass outside Winterfell.

Lari drew his sword and cut a cross into the trunk of a large tree. Then he led Gary and the others to a spot fifty meters away from it.

"Your task today is to hit the mark on that tree. Once you've done that, you can return to the city."

The three boys exchanged glances. Wasn't that a little far?

Robb was eager to try and was the first to draw and shoot. Unfortunately, his arrow flew only twenty-odd meters before burying itself in the ground.

Snow tried as well, with much the same result as Robb.

Both turned their eyes toward Gary, hoping he could work a "miracle."

"Don't look at me. I can only give it a try."

Gary was considerably stronger than either of them and pulled the bowstring to full draw.

Whoosh!

The arrow shot out, but it fell to the ground after traveling only forty-odd meters.

Robb looked full of regret. "The wind outside the city is too strong. Without it getting in the way, you definitely would have hit it!"

Gary disagreed. "It's the bow. This is already the limit of its power. I need a stronger bow."

"The bow? No, the problem is you."

Lari interrupted their discussion. "A bow's power is indeed limited, but with the same bow, I can hit a target a hundred meters away. Yet you can't even hit a wooden target fifty meters away?"

He nocked an arrow and drew the bow to demonstrate. "Your method is wrong."

As soon as he finished speaking, the arrow shot out, tracing a perfect arc through the air and striking the mark on the tree trunk over fifty meters away with precision.

"Bows have never killed through 'direct fire,' but through 'arcing fire.' Only by learning to shoot in an arc can you bring out a bow's true power."

"Arcing fire?" Seven-year-old Robb and Snow had studied archery for less than two years and usually only practiced shooting wooden targets in the Training Yard. How could they understand the principles of arcing fire?

But as a modern man, Gary understood immediately. "I see. But shooting in an arc greatly reduces penetration. It's nowhere near as powerful as direct fire. It shouldn't be able to pierce iron armor, should it?"

"Even the sturdiest armor and helmets have gaps. If you can hit a vital spot, it's enough to kill." Having said this, Larrik turned and walked aside, leaving the three boys to practice on their own.

Gary wasted no time and immediately loosed a second arrow.

This attempt was much better than the last. The arrow traveled over fifty meters, but unfortunately failed to hit the trunk.

Then came the third arrow, the fourth, the fifth...

Only after shooting all the dozen or so arrows in the quiver at his waist did Gary barely manage to hit the large tree's trunk. He was still a long way from hitting the mark, however.

"You hit it! Luke, you hit it!"

Snow shouted excitedly.

Robb had also grasped the principle behind "arcing fire." "So instead of aiming at the target, you have to aim above it?"

He and Snow began trying as well. Neither was as strong as Gary, so they had to aim even higher.

An unknown amount of time passed, and the boys lost count of how many times they retrieved their arrows. Finally...

Gary successfully hit the mark on the trunk. His hands were covered in blisters, and his fingertips were bloody.

Snow and Robb, however, still failed to get the hang of it and could not hit the trunk.

"You're incredible, Luke. Even with the wind interfering, you can calculate exactly where the arrow will land." Robb was thoroughly won over by Gary's talent. "Snow and I can't do that. It'll probably take us a while to reach your current level."

"Not bad. That's enough practice for today. Let's return to the city," Lari said, walking over.

They had left the city early that morning, and it was now afternoon. None of them had eaten lunch, and they were all hungry.

The children were still growing, and one of them was the highborn eldest son of the Duke of Winterfell. Lari dared not actually let them go too hungry.

On the way back, the three children kept chattering away. Today's lesson had been interesting and had made Robb and Snow even more interested in archery.

Suddenly, a hare darted out of the roadside grass. It ran swiftly, trying to reach the other side of the dirt road.

Snow and Robb were still eager for more, and both drew and shot at once. Unfortunately, the hare was extremely nimble. Both arrows missed the moving hare.

Gary had hunting experience and was confident he could hit the hare, but his fingers hurt now, and he did not want to move them at all.

Seeing this, Lari drew his bow as well. But rather than aiming at the hare, he aimed at the sky above them.

The hare was only a few meters away. Surely arcing fire was impossible here? Then why was their teacher shooting into the sky?

All three looked up together. There were no birds in the sky either. Just what was their teacher shooting at?

While they were still puzzling over it, an arrow fell from the sky, dropping straight down and piercing the hare's skull.

It pinned the still-struggling hare to the dirt road.

It really was arcing fire? But that hare had been running! How had Lari done it?

"A feel for the wind, the force of your draw, the arrow's flight time, and anticipating the enemy's path. Only by mastering all four can you hit your enemy." Lari showed off while giving Gary and the others another lesson.

Gary was stunned. The rest was manageable, but a feel for the wind... how was he supposed to train that? Arrows were far larger than bullets and extremely susceptible to wind.

Robb praised him. "You truly deserve your reputation as House Karstark's master archer."

Lari picked up the hare, pretending to be composed while secretly counting himself lucky. Fortunately, the hare had been running in a straight line. If it had happened to turn, he would have made a complete fool of himself.

"Ahem. Let's head back. This rabbit will be an extra dish for you."

Snow muttered quietly, "Just one rabbit? That isn't even enough for Luke alone."

Lari: "..."

After dinner, Robb came to see Gary and Snow again.

"Luke, why don't we skip sword practice today? Look at your hands. Let them heal for a few days."

Over the past three days, Robb had come every evening to teach Gary the two-handed sword. Unfortunately, compared with Gary's talent for archery, his talent for swordsmanship... was truly embarrassing.

"No need. These little injuries are nothing."

The two went to the Training Yard and sparred for several hours by the light of the surrounding torches.

It was called sparring, but in reality, Gary simply took a one-sided beating. After three days of learning, he still had no ability to fight back, even with Robb deliberately going easy on him.

Robb rested on his sword in silence for a while, then said, "Luke, perhaps you should stop practicing the sword. Focusing on archery might be the right choice."

Though he had not said it outright, Gary understood what he meant.

Well, he was fed up with how clumsy I am.

Snow scratched his head helplessly. "Luke, Robb has a point. Continuing like this is just wasting your time."

Robb added, "Luke, you're strong. You don't need to practice sword techniques at all. In the future, you can wear plate armor that covers your entire body and overcome skill with strength. Then you'll be unbeatable."

A heavily armored warrior? No, no. That armor would be so cumbersome, and the helmet would obstruct my vision. How would I draw a bow and shoot?

"It's getting late. If I don't go back soon, Mother will come down to ask about me."

Robb said goodbye to the other two and left first.

After Gary and Snow gathered up the scattered wooden swords, they returned to their room as well.

They lay on their own little beds, chatting across the room.

"Luke, I think Robb has a point. Your strength is your advantage. You should make good use of it."

"But I don't like that sort of style..."

Bang!

The sound came from the window being blown open by a strong gust.

Windows in this era were not modern glass windows. They were simply two rectangular wooden boards that blocked not only wind but light as well when closed.

Gary immediately got out of bed to shut the window again.

"Huh?"

A clump of white granules on the windowsill caught his attention. What was this? Dried bird droppings? It did not look like that.

Puzzled, he picked up a few between his fingers. They felt icy cold. Hail?

Winterfell had four distinct seasons, unlike the Wall, which was covered in snow year-round. It was summer now. How could there be hail here?

"Give it to me. Give me the crystal..."

What was that voice? Gary jumped in fright and hurriedly backed away a few steps. He turned around with a terrified expression and asked, "Snow, did you hear that? There was a man speaking just now!"

Snow shook his head. "No, nobody said anything. Luke, are you tired?"

The moon was fairly bright that night. Still shaken, Gary looked at the wall outside the window by its light. There really was no one there.

"Was I hearing things?"

"Give it to me!"

A man's furious roar rang out beside Gary's ear, deafeningly loud, as though he stood right in front of him.

What the hell!

Gary shuddered in fright and hurried away from the window.

Whoosh!

A cold wind carrying snowflakes blew into the room, instantly lowering the temperature inside.

Unable to dodge in time, Gary was buried beneath a mass of flying snow.

There seemed to be a demon whispering in the snow, making him unbearably drowsy, and he fell straight asleep.