A couple of goblins, both in their mid-teens, hurried into the training hall soon after the commotion had come to a temporary pause.
The troublesome noble had come prepared, it seemed. Everything he needed to win the debate he had proposed was ready at hand.
"These two are members of my clan," he said, his gaze shifting between Ken and trainer Ceruki. "Both of them participated in your recruitment event. They were rejected for their lacking skills, and I have nothing to say in their defense. But I am forced to inquire, why is there a rumor of that outsider being selected despite performing even worse than my clansmen?"
Trainer Ceruki opened his mouth in an obvious attempt to deny the accusation, only to be interrupted by the young noble.
"Let this training hall be witness to another fairer test. This young man you have picked can choose his opponent among the two rejected ones. He needs only to show a degree of performance better than his opponent in combat, and I shall retract my remarks and apologize."
Ken's eyes became a bit sharper. The young Goblin named Furlo was turning out to be much smarter than he had assumed. His arrogance was accompanied by caution and adaptiveness. More than indignation and righteousness, young master Furlo had a well-calculated plan in his heart.
.
Captain Ceruki chewed on his own tongue, unable to retort in a way that could let him bypass Furlo's trap. He knew that Ken didn't have the skills to compete with any rookie warrior with a couple months of practice, let alone these sons of large clans who had years of training in their tracks. The only reason these kids were so eager to earn the low position of sentry guards was due to a certain benefit that their clan couldn't offer them.
Breaking the quiet inside the training hall, Ken coughed suddenly, attracting everyone's attention.
"Young master Furlo proposes a reasonable offer. But since I am under no obligation to agree or to invalidate every random rumor that reaches his ear...I would like to put some conditions on this competition in my favor if he wants me to accept it."
Furlo looked a little thrown off his rhythm from the way Ken had phrased his request. Ken's words made it evident that he didn't think of Furlo's discontent as a threat to his position. To put conditions over the competition for his benefit so bluntly was tantamount to taunting Furlo, testing his dedication to this drama.
But Furlo's dedication went beyond question.
.
"Speak," he said graciously. "I've heard that your choice to pursue the path of a warrior was very recent. It is reasonable for you to fear competition. Worry not, and put forth what conditions you'd like to impose on your competitor."
A masterful stroke, his reply was. Before it, Ken had the moral high ground. Now, Ken was dragged down to the position of a boor trying to save his skin. The momentum of their debate had shifted wildly.
"Firstly, I only have limited skills in archery. So it is the only discipline I want to compete in."
Ken's condition didn't surprise anyone. Young master Furlo pointed at the newcomer duo. "Which one among you is worse at archery?"
A dull wave of ridicule passed throughout the training hall under the guise of laughter. One of two the goblins raised his hand, his face taking on a shade of purple from shame. Ken, who should have taken far more offense as the target of the scorn looked unperturbed.
.
"Secondly, he has to use my equipment to compete. It's hardly fair to let him use high quality bows and arrows when I've only ever touched those with the lowest quality."
This time the wave of laughter was short-lived. Ken's second condition was a fair thing to ask for, and the confidence with which he was directing the scene was beginning to arouse everyone's interest, drowning the overly obvious ridicule in their minds.
.
"Thirdly, to determine the winner, we will use the measurement method. Each of us shall get three opportunities to shoot. The distance between the bullseye and their shots will be added together, and whoever has the lesser number there will win the contest."
"Fair method," Furlo commented, sounding as surprised as the rest of the audience were.
"Let's begin, then. Captain Ceruki, lead us to the archery training ground. Everyone," he looked around the room, addressing the other trainees, "please, come and bear witness."
It was clear that the young noble didn't fear of a loss in this competition. He had confidence in his clansmen. Why would they lose to a rookie who had just begun his training one day ago?
Ken unceremoniously picked his practice bow and the wooden arrows. The sight made his competitor's face go dark. These practice weapons were really not suitable for anyone who had grown used to good equipment. Even Furlo grew a litte nervous, finally realizing why Ken had put forth the second condition.
But their nervousness disappeared when they saw Ken pick a target that was placed just thirty meters away. For skilled archers, this distance was no different than their arms' reach. Even if Ken's competitor lacked skills in archery, he had nothing to fear with the target so close.
.
"Should I go first?" Ken said, which earned a jittery nod from his competitor, a goblin no older than fifteen. Ken almost felt a little pity for him...almost.
Tugging the bowstring for a moment, he threw it over to the young goblin, catching him by surprise.
"You go first. That's my fourth condition, and the only one that really gives me a proper advantage. I hope young master Furlo wouldn't raise a complaint?"
As Ken's gaze fell back on Furlo, he snapped back. "Not at all. Ferdie, go ahead."
.
Nervousness spiking again, the teenage Goblin nocked an arrow onto the bow and entered a solid stance. Ken could see the discipline and practiced rigidity in it. His own stance was far from it.
A dull thrum rang through the air as Ferdie's arrow hit its target, rocking it back and forth from the force exerted. Ceruki and Ken went over to measure the distance between the arrowhead and the pin-size bullseye.
"Three centimeters!" he shouted, holding a tape over the target.
"Keep shooting," Ken ordered, throwing him another arrow. Ferdie gave him a confident look and picked it up.
But as the second arrow left the bowstring, his countenance changed immediately. Everyone watched it sink into the wooden target, but with far less accuracy this time.
"The target! It moved!" Ferdie roared, bewildered.
"Seven centimeters!" Ceruki declared, appearing unconcerned with Ferdie's complaint. Even Master Furlo, his backer, didn't try to defend his claim. They had all watched the arrow being shot. How could the target move without them noticing?
"It's okay to make mistakes, Ferdie. Just make sure to not repeat it."
Seeing the lack of support, Ferdie could only swallow his grievances and pick up the third arrow.
"Fuck! It moved again!"
The moment the arrow hit the target, Ferdie repeated his furious claim. However, the derision that had been directed at Ken until then eventually gathered on him. Everyone was watching, and no one had seen the target move. Wasn't this kid just lying to save his dignity?
And his dignity did need saving, because Ceruki shouted the total distance his three shots had amassed.
"Within thirty meters' range, your three arrows averaged a distance of six centimetres, eighteen in total," Ceruki said, shaking his head in mock disappointment.