"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!" 

"Yes." Okay, with this account of why to try to spend more time between shots she'll try it, though she doesn't want to change her form any mid-competition. 

"Bows down! Retrieve arrows!" Joy calls, and Rembrandt shoos Iomedae down range to fetch her arrows back.

Iomedae will fetch her arrows! And then she will fire them again, taking longer between shots to pay attention to the wind and her footing and the precise place she wants to hit but aiming and firing with the same motion which is the one she knows how to do.

"Nice shooting!" Rembrandt adds up the points on his fingers. "Five, five, three, three and one is seventeen. Very nice shooting. We're at forty already, which is where we'd start calling you a marksman, if you can keep that average." 

"Marks-man?" Meaning that she shoots as a man? That would be a very satisfying title to earn. She beams at him.

"Marksman, yes, the rank above archer. Next set is going to be the furthest target, then the speed round. You got this." He is now strangely invested in this baby archer, wherever the hell she came from. 

She can recognize the tone; he is being encouraging. She is not, actually, nervous; it's not that she's ever done competition shooting before, she hasn't, and it's not that she doesn't care very much about proving she can shoot as a man, but it's just impossible to be nervous with a weapon in hand. It is helplessness that is frightening; if one isn't helpless then all problems are just tactical ones. 

"I got this." She'll shoot at the farther target.