A Crown Of Blades(ARTK, Book 3)

Chapter 127-128

Anug 15th,3330 A.G

Giselle added another arrow to the ever growing pile beside her. She'd known this might be expected of her, and that it were in their best interest for her and the other who knew how to do this to teach more of the soldiers- but she liked for it to be quiet as she worked. And so she'd set up her tent a litttle bit further than the outskirts of camp, right on the edge of the river.

Hundreds of archers needed thousands of arrows. Giselle tried to remind herself of this as her hands began to cramp up, as she looked at work then to a group of soldiers sitting around a fire and back again.

She did not wish to join or speak to them but.... Multiple times over the last hour she had fantasies of marching over there, demonstrating an arrow carving once- and riding off with her horse.

Giselle had made her decision, she'd told Andre she would travel with the army, but by the gods she preferred the small comforts of House Tomhend.

That were the problem, she supposed. She'd allowed herself to grow too comfortable in too dangerous a world. She'd allowed herself to grow used to the idea that she might be able to stay there forever in peace- no matter how good she were with a weapon.

She might be expected to fight in the coming battles, and as sick as it were.... She did look forward to that, it would be a small break in the monotony of travel, an entirely different sort than there'd been at House Tomhend.

As she drug a very sharp dagger up a stick, she heard the footsteps and her heart skipped a beat. She would know those footsteps anywhere- it were just those beside them she hadn't memorized yet. But when she turned- she saw that they belonged to the Young Warrior Maude and filed those footsteps away in her mind.

She could care less of what the child looked like or what she were holding but Andre..... something about his face drew her in now. Whether it were the dirt his horse had kicked up onto him or the messy hair from only combing it once that day, she didn't know.

On him it all worked. It all managed to make him a more attractive man, if that were possible.

But she felt nothing for him beyond a friendship and that simple acknowledgment. That were what she'd been telling herself, at least.

Maude And Andre sat with her without a word while she continued to carve arrows, hardly aware that she were doing it. Maude watched for a few moments, fascinated by how quickly she were doing it and in disbelief that this woman had supposedly once believed she were terrible at carvings.

Maude were the first to speak. "I have a sword that once belonged to Torcull Whittaker."

At that, Giselle's head snapped up and she stopped what she were doing. To not know of his cruelty when she'd lived on the continent so long- she had to of been under a rock. And to not listen to how the soldiers talked of him....

He'd almost redefined the terms 'mad' and 'cruel'. His actions in a single year could have done so, had Nara Ashhand not taken care of him.

But when Maude Beckett held that sword out for her to hold and look at.... It took a lot not to comment on the craftsmanship. And the tiny carvings on the handle- they had to of taken someone a hundred hours or more. Unless he'd threatened their lives or children's lives to motivate them to finish it sooner-

"Anna Whittaker gave it to me and... I have not used it much since that day." Maude shrugged. "Though I haven't had many opportunities. One of the soldier blacksmith's is working on a new pommel. The grip especially.... Just isn't my style. I was wondering if you could... find the time to carve me a new one?"