Cael arrived that evening, drawn by the same rumor that had already spread halfway through Rootrest, and stood before the crude weapon for a long moment without speaking.
"You built this," he said finally, "without ever holding one."
"Valen described it. I saw the rest."
Cael picked it up carefully, testing the draw, the balance, the weight of it in his hands. Something like wonder crossed his face, quickly tempered by honesty.
"It's weaker," he admitted. "The draw's lighter than ours… our smiths use steel bows, not wood, and the string's spun differently, tighter. This would barely trouble a man wearing proper armor. Ours punches through it."
"But the design," Kael pressed. "The idea. Is that right?"
"It's right," Cael said. "Just early. Like the first attempt at something we've had generations to refine."
Kael turned that over. "How many of your people know how to build the better version? The one that could punch through armor."
