Of Kings and Pawns

Chapter 32 - The Archer

William Brighton stood at the archery range, gazing at the targets riddled with arrows from the longbowmen who had just finished their training. He felt a pang of nostalgia as he watched the arrows buried deep in the hay targets. The longbow had been a part of his life for as long as he could remember, and it still felt like an extension of his arm. With a sigh, he picked up one of the bows and nocked an arrow, feeling the familiar tension of the string as he drew it back.

His hands, however, trembled... something he hadn’t felt in years. The arrow shot off course, missing the mark by a wide margin. He frowned, shaking his head. He tried again, but the second arrow struck far from the bullseye, landing awkwardly in the target. With a frustrated grunt, he loosed a final arrow, only to watch it fall clumsily to the ground. William sighed deeply. His days as a longbowman were behind him, his place now was in the vanguard, leading his troops on horseback.

Still, the sensation in his hand lingered... an odd, unnatural tremor that didn’t seem like ordinary tension. It felt as if something was amiss, something deep within him that had gone unnoticed for far too long.

"Father," a voice called from behind.

William turned to see his second-born son, Mattias, approaching, his face tight with worry. William could sense the anxiety in his son’s posture, the war casting its shadow over both of them.

"Mattias," William greeted him, forcing a smile. "Come to practice with the longbow?"

Mattias shook his head, his expression serious. "I wanted to talk to you. About Henri."

William lowered the bow and faced his son. "What about your brother?"

Mattias hesitated, then spoke carefully. "I don’t think Henri is fit for war."

William frowned. "Henri can be violent, yes. You’ve seen how aggressive he is in training. But he’s competent, Mattias. He’s been preparing for this all his life."

Mattias shook his head again, looking uncomfortable. "That’s not why I think he’s unfit, Father."

William crossed his arms, studying his son. "Then what is it? Speak your mind, Mattias."

Mattias swallowed, glancing around as if afraid of being overheard. "I’ve been hearing things… from the common folk. They say Henri’s not… stable. They’ve seen him acting strange... always drinking, talking to himself like someone’s there when no one is. The people are getting scared of him."

William’s expression hardened, but a flicker of concern crossed his face. "Henri has been under a lot of pressure lately. The war is looming over us all, and he’s scared... though he’d never admit it. He’s been aggressive, yes, but that’s how he deals with the fear. He knows he’ll be coming with me to war, and that weighs on him. This… this is his way of coping."

Mattias lowered his eyes, his voice softening. "I’m not trying to make him look bad, Father. It’s not because I’m the second son. I’m just… concerned. I’ve seen him lately too, and he doesn’t seem right. I’m worried about what will happen when he’s out there on the battlefield."

William stepped forward and placed a firm hand on Mattias’s shoulder, his voice gentle but firm. "I understand, Mattias. And I appreciate your concern. But don’t think for a moment that your opinion is any less important because you’re the second son. You’re just as important to this family as Henri is. Second sons often see things firstborns don’t. Don’t ever doubt your place here."

Mattias looked up at his father, surprised by the reassurance. "Thank you," he said quietly. "I just… I don’t want anything to happen to him, or to you."