Rembrandt takes the arrow missing a feather and runs a finger along its length. "Yup, that happens. No stress."

He hands Iomedae a new arrow with an absolutely neutral face. "Wait for Joy to call before you shoot anything. Six arrows in the closest target here."

When Iomedae's brothers and father are having an archery competition they throw things to shoot in midair, usually. Sometimes someone will point out an apple on a tree and try to hit it. But it makes sense, that if you wanted a direct comparison without too much luck in it, you'd do it like this. Her instincts are really strongly against holding an arrow at full draw for very long - she literally cannot do it on a good bow, for one thing - but that doesn't mean she isn't lining up the shot thoroughly in her head, thinking about it, while she waits for joy.

"Everyone back behind the line?" Joy calls. Rembrandt coughs noticeably and Joy freezes, then corrects herself. "Is the range clear?"

The range is clear!

"Loose when ready," Joy shouts because that's what her other teacher had her saying and it's the more period phrasing, and then she remembers it's more important to be consistent. The nerves are getting to her a little bit. "Fire at will!" 

This target is really quite close and Iomedae knows the bow a bit better by now. Only one of the arrows misses outright, and three are on the gold. She tries not to look too pleased with herself, because it's a very easy shot for any real archer.

Rembrandt shades his eyes with his hand as he counts the arrows. "Five, five, five, four, four, that's twenty-three."

She shoots so fast he reckons she can get a second round in before there's a call to retrieve. "You want six more arrows for the next target, or you want to take your time?"

He points at the thirty-yard target to make it obvious which he means.

People have been doing quite a lot of asking her if she wants to take her time and she feels like she should probably check if they have some wisdom relevant to the kind of beasts you fight in America. "Trying to kill a angry car with legs, take your time no a good idea. Trying to kill a car eat grass, take time a good idea?"

"Uh, I don't think you should try to kill a car with arrows. Or any metal object. You'll break all the arrows that way." 

"A car no wearing steel."

"A... wagon?" 

"Wagon eat people or grass?"

"...wagons don't eat anything. They're carts. Cars with no engines?" 

"...what things you shoot?"

"Today we are shooting targets." Rembrandt points to the circles. "Targets are things made specially to be shot at. The one you were shooting earlier is made to look like a sheep. And the one far away, over there, that you got the ear of, is a gargoyle." 

"Yes. But - take your time, or no take your time, a person is the way they shoot. If shoot to eat, take your time. If shoot so gargoyle no kill, no take your time....is this religion."

Rembrandt frowns quizzically. "Uh, no, this isn't - the royal round is supposed to measure both how good you are at slow shooting and fast shooting. You have as much time as you like for this target. Later, we'll do a speed round and then you want to shoot fast. Why would that be religion?"

"I no understand what religion is but I know there is a rule, no religion. The world is religion I know, and devils. But gargoyles are not religion? ...America think a knight good slow shooting and good fast shooting?"

"Oh, that's a common misunderstanding. Religion's totally allowed, just you can't have it as an official part of an event. Gargoyles aren't religious at all. And America doesn't have any opinions on knights as far as I'm aware. Atlantia thinks an archer ought to be able to shoot both precise and fast.... uh, how much of that do you need in easier English?"

"...all of it?" The parts where she thinks she understood the English she didn't understand the claim about reality.

"...okay. So, religion is allowed. It's okay. We just don't do official religion. So you can't force anyone to do anything religious but you can do whatever you want to do on your own. Who said there's a no religion rule?" 

"My foster father."

"...huh. Okay, well, that's not a rule for the SCA but I bet it's some kind of foster rule? Talk about gargoyles all you like here." 

"Thank you, sir. I wanted know, what kinds of things I shoot, not shooting targets. The targets are to grow strong, to shoot not-targets good. If the not-targets are gargoyles, shoot fast. If the not-targets are mans in steel, shoot ...precise? Yes?"

This is not the kind of question archers normally ask Rembrandt in the middle of a royal round, but he supposes that's on him for immediately asking the brand new archer if she wanted to shoot competitively.

He scratches his ear. 

"Soooo... if you're not shooting targets then you're doing combat archery. For that you need to wear armour and be authorised. And then you can shoot as fast or precise as you like, depending on if someone's charging at you or if you're behind friends with shields, and how good you are at not hitting your friends." 

"And you need both those, so royal rounds competes both?"

"Yes! This round you get as much time as you like, but only six arrows. In the fourth round you get as many arrows as you like, but only thirty seconds. So you want to do them differently, right?"

In the background, Joy calls, "Last arrow!"