(A/N: Hey! I actually got this to you guys in a timely fashion! :D)

"Who's Baron Arald?" Clint asked as they headed back towards the cabin.

"He's the ruler of Redmont fief," Halt replied as they strode across the grass with Will periodically jogging to keep up. "He reports to our monarch, King Duncan."

Clint nodded, silent for a few moments. "And how many fiefs are there?"

"Fifty," Halt replied shortly. Halt had a sudden feeling that this man would be almost as annoyingly inquisitive as Will.

Clint let out a low whistle. "Big country. How are we going to going to get an audience with the guy who runs one fiftieth of it?" he asked, strengthening Halt's suspicions.

Halt shrugged. "Well, Redmont is a rather large fief, so Arald actually controls a bit more than a fiftieth. As for getting an audience, I suspect we'll just walk through the door," he said as he mounted the veranda and opened the door to the cabin. Clint followed him inside, his brows furrowed in confusion.

"I know nothing about medieval politics, so correct me if I'm wrong here, but wouldn't you have to schedule an audience? I mean, I wouldn't think that commoners would be allowed to just walk in without any notice," he elaborated as he followed Halt into the room next to Will's.

Halt gave Clint a severe look as he knelt in front of the chest at the base of his bed. "And what makes you so sure that we're commoners?" he asked as he opened the chest and started to shift through the clothes inside.

Clint blinked, a little taken aback, and glanced at Will, who was clearly hiding a grin behind his hand. "Well, you live in a log cabin," he said, turning back to Halt, who was pulling various garments from the chest and placing them on the bed. "I can't imagine any sort of royalty living in a three-roomed house, that's all."

"Oh really," Halt grunted as he rose from his kneeling position, continuing to pile on the mock severity as he studied Clint with a raised eyebrow. "What kind of house would royalty live in, then?"

Clint recognized the banter for what it was and copied Halt's severe look. "I was guessing a castle. You did say that you have those, right?"

Halt smirked. "Well, you're not wrong," he conceded as he continued to riffle through the trunk. "Will and I are the farthest you could get from royalty, but we aren't commoners either. We're Rangers." He finally found the pair of boots that he had been looking for. He closed the chest and set them on top, gesturing to them and the clothes on the bed. "Get changed. You can ask your questions on the way there."

He shooed Will out of the room, closing the door behind them to give Clint some privacy. Clint moved over to the bed, examining the clothes with some interest. They were identical to the wool clothing that Will and Halt wore, but without the cloak and double scabbard. Clint quickly changed as he thought about Halt's statement. What even were Rangers? The only thing that he could think of was Aragorn from the Lord of the Rings. So did that make these guys warriors? They must be pretty high ranking ones if they could just walk into the equivalent of a Governor's office unannounced. Will seemed fairly young to be one, so he must be Halt's apprentice. But then again, these were the dark ages. Clint wouldn't be surprised if Will was already a senior warrior by this point. The kid certainly seemed to carry an air of confidence around himself.

Suddenly, Clint felt a thrill of excitement. These guys had probably trained and fought with their bows for a long time. He'd never met another warrior archer before. Despite only knowing the both of them for about twenty minutes, he already trusted them completely. Clint didn't become a master assassin and spy without developing an innate sense of who he could trust. He couldn't wait to see what these two could teach him. He might be a long way from home, but that didn't mean that he couldn't enjoy his time here. He knew that these kinds of things had a habit of working out. With Tony's and Bruce's genius and Thor's Asgardian knowledge of magic, limited as it was, they would probably have him home in no time.

He paused in the act of cinching the buckles on his boots as a momentary darkness draped itself over his mind. He quickly shook it off as he finished getting dressed. The others would bring him home. They wouldn't give up on a friend. He had to believe that.

He slung his quiver of regular arrows over his shoulder and grabbed up his bow before opening the door to find the two Rangers (he still wondered what exactly that title entailed) with their quivers on underneath their cloaks and their bows strung and slung across their backs. He could see that the long cloaks, which must be some kind of uniform, had a flap over their right shoulder that could easily be thrown back to expose the arrows in the quiver.

Halt gave him a quick once-over, nodding in approval. "You're still far too clean to pass as a local, but it'll suffice." He gestured to the bow in Clint's hand. "That'll have to stay here. It's just too…" He hesitated, trying to find the right word.

"Weird?" Will offered.

Halt frowned, glancing at Will. "I was going to say conspicuous. There just aren't any other weapons like it around here. It would draw too much attention. Unfortunately, we don't have any extra bows to lend you, but I doubt you'll need one in the castle anyway."

Clint listened attentively to his argument, but shook his head. "I have to bring it. You two seem trustworthy, but I can't say the same for the rest of the world. I'm already going into this situation blind, so I sure as hell won't be going unarmed as well." Halt's countenance darkened, but before he could reply, Clint held up a calming hand. "Don't worry, I'll keep it concealed until I absolutely need it."

Will tilted his head in curiosity. "How's that?"

Clint smirked. "Like this." He pressed a button on the grip of the bow and the arms folded in on themselves, turning the bow into a compact rectangular shape that he could easily tuck into the waistband of his pants. He snapped the bow out again, demonstrating how he could arm himself at a moment's notice.

Both of the Ranger's brows shot up at the display. They'd certainly never seen anything like that before.

"How does it not break when you draw it?" Halt asked, bending closer to stare at the bow as Clint held it up for them to examine. "I would think that those hinges would snap as soon as you loosed an arrow, especially with the abnormal amount of force that that bow has behind it."

Will nodded in agreement and amazement. "What even is your draw weight?" he added as he bent forward to study the hinge halfway up one of the arms of the bow. "Halt estimated that it has to be at least a hundred and fifty pounds."

Clint shrugged. "I don't know how it doesn't break. The S.H.I.E.L.D. techs were the ones who designed and built this thing, not me. I'm just the guy who shoots it. As for the draw weight, they told me that it was 200 pounds."

Will let out a low whistle, his eyes wide. "That's twice Halt's."

Halt simply smiled. "Well, you are full of surprises." He ducked into his room again, emerging with another quiver of black-feathered arrows. "Here," he said, handing them to Clint, "at least use those. Your own arrows are an issue as well."

Clint set his own quiver on the table and slung Halt's over his back, folding his bow and tucking it into his waistband at the small of his back as he followed the two Rangers out the door. As they headed down the path that would lead them through a half mile of farmland to a haphazard little village in the distance, two short, shaggy horses in a stable near the house nickered in greeting. Will waved at them cheerfully as Halt held up his hand in a 'wait' gesture. The bearded Ranger had done the same thing earlier that day when they had gone to see Clint demonstrate his weapons. The horses didn't seem to be tethered or fenced in in any way, and yet they never strayed from their stable.

"They're well trained," Clint observed, impressed as he looked to Halt.

Halt nodded, a small proud smile gracing his lips. "All Ranger horses are well bred and put through vigorous training. If you earn their trust, they'll never let you down."

Clint nodded, turning his gaze to the countryside around them as they emerged from the woods. The air out here was clean and clear, with none of the pollution and smog that had plagued New York. The faint scent of wood smoke and the stronger scent of manure drifted past him, bringing memories of his farm and his family there. Another moment of darkness clouded his mind, but he shoved it away again. He'd just have to trust in his team. Nat knew where they were and the older kids would be able to help Laura with the baby. This wouldn't be the first time that he was away from home for a long time. He knew they would be fine. He just wished that he could see that with his own eyes.

They walked for several minutes through the farmland, passing several villagers who gave the stranger and cloaked Rangers one look and immediately frowned and turned back to the tasks in front of them. Clint raised an eyebrow at his two companions.

"You don't seem to be very popular with the villagers," he observed.

Halt let out a small huff, a smirk curling over his face. "Yeah, you could say that. A lot of them think that Rangers practice dark magic. Farmers also aren't the most trustworthy type. They usually give strangers the cold shoulder, so you might as well get used to it."

Clint frowned and opened his mouth, but Halt anticipated his question.

"They think that we practice dark magic because they don't understand how we can move without being seen," Halt explained, "All Rangers are trained in unseen and silent movement, along with archery, knife throwing, tactics, hand-to-hand combat, geography, and any other subject that they might find useful."

"That's a lot," Clint mused with a laugh, looking to Halt, who was walking on his left side. "Kind of reminds me of my own training."

"It is!" Will confirmed with a grave nod of his head from Halt's left. "A lot, I mean. Apprentices are trained for years before they can graduate as a full-fledged Ranger. I'm in my third year and I'm still nowhere close to being ready." He looked up at Clint in curiosity. "What were you trained as? You keep mentioning something called 'shield'. Is that some sort of knight's order? I never thought of a bow as a knight's weapon."

Clint gave a chuckle. "No, we don't have knights in my time. S.H.I.E.L.D. stands for the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. It's a secret organization that operates independently of my country's government to take down international threats that might threaten our or other country's citizens. I used to be an assassin and spy for S.H.I.E.L.D. They would send me out to take down various scumbags. Arms dealers, drug lords, terrorists." He ticked the examples off on his fingers. "You name it and I've probably had to deal with it. More recently, I've been a part of an elite group within S.H.I.E.L.D. called the Avengers," he explained, kicking a pebble so that it hit a knot in a nearby tree.

"Your S.H.I.E.L.D. sounds a lot like our Ranger Corps," Halt said, nodding. "Rangers are assigned to each fief to deal with trouble before it becomes a problem and to make sure that the baron and craft masters are doing their jobs. We report directly to the king, so we aren't under the command of the people that we're overseeing. We offer him counsel in times of need and when cults or governments in other countries become a threat, we're sent to gather intelligence and deal with the problem if necessary."

Clint raised his eyebrows at the other man, impressed. "So that's why you can just walk in and see the Baron. You guys are of equal rank," he summarized, glancing between Halt and Will with an impressed look.

Will's chest puffed out a bit, obviously proud of station in life. That is, until Halt spoke up. "Well, I am. The only people that Will outranks are those farmers over there," he said dryly, turning his head so that Will couldn't see him wink at Clint as the apprentice deflated considerably. Clint simply chuckled as Will almost immediately perked back up.

"What are your teammates like?" Will asked as he peered around Halt. They were a quarter of a mile away from the village now.

Clint grinned. "They're some of the most dysfunctional, damaged, reckless, brave, intelligent, and selfless people I have ever met," he said, staring off at the horizon. "We started out with six members, but now we have more than double that. Most of them have powers or abilities that you people really would consider to be witchcraft."

Halt frowned as Will tilted his head in an owlish fashion. "What kind of powers?" Halt asked.

Clint gave them both a sidelong look and a smirk. "Neither of you would believe me even if I told you."

Halt's frown deepened but there was an unmistakable spark of mischief in his eyes as he said, "Try me."

Clint shrugged. "Don't say I didn't warn you." He looked ahead to their dirt road morphed into the cobblestone streets that ran between the storefronts and houses of Wensley Village. Another minute's walk and they would be in the steady flow of villages moving in and out of the streets. "But I think that can wait until later."

Halt followed his gaze to the town ahead and the crowds of people that one always found in these kinds of villages. He nodded. These kinds of stories could wait until they didn't have to worry about someone eavesdropping.

As they walked through the town, Will pointed out different shops and landmarks to Clint. The buildings rarely exceeded a single story and they were mainly composed of whitewashed wattle and daub with timber frames and thatched rooves. The only two-story house in the entire village was the inn.

"The silversmith and butcher are back that way," Will said, gesture back down the main road to the other side of the town. "The quay is down on the Tarbus River, obviously, and the battle school and horse school are over near Castle Redmont on the other side." He pointed to each direction in turn, alternatively giving Clint a tour and nodding to different villagers as they passed them. The villagers seemed to like Will better than Halt. Some of them even deigned to nod back.

Suddenly, a delicious smell drifted past the three of them. It smelled like roasting meat, but better than any other meat that Clint had ever smelled before. His stomach immediately let out a loud growl, reminding him that he hadn't eaten at Halt's cabin after all.

Halt smirked and pointed up to the right. "And that's Jenny's restaurant. Best place to eat in all of Redmont fief."

Will beamed with pride. "Some people say that she's even better than Master Chubb."

Halt smiled down at his apprentice. "Careful. Don't let him hear you say that."

"Who's Master Chubb?" Clint asked. The three had stopped outside the fletcher's shop and his stomach continued to growl as the smell from the nearby restaurant washed over them.

"He's the kitchen master up in the castle," Will explained, gesturing up at the three-walled fort. "Jenny became his apprentice the same time that I became Halt's. We're both castle wards, you see. A little while ago, Jenny left and started her own restaurant, which has been flourishing ever since." Clint's stomach chose that moment to let out a particularly loud growl.

Halt smirked. "I think we have time to take a short detour. I'm worried that that monster in your shirt will eat you if we don't feed it soon."

Clint shook his head wryly and followed them into the restaurant. He had to duck in order to get through the door, but the inside was warm and the delicious scent from outside was even stronger. To the left of the door was a bar and a door that probably led to the kitchens. The rest of the room was filled with tables and chairs, a few of which were occupied by customers conversing and nursing tankards of ale. Conversation stalled as Clint and the two Rangers entered the room, but they quickly lost interest in them as a blonde girl that seemed to be about Will's age rounded the bar.

"Will, Halt, how good to see you!" she exclaimed, pulling first one, then the other into a hug. "Rafe, table for three!" she yelled over her shoulder. "And who's this?" she asked, turning to Clint as a young man came out and started to set up their table.

"Clint Barton, ma'am," Clint introduced himself, shaking her hand. "Halt and Will tell me that you're restaurant is the best in the fief."

"Do they now?" she mused, smiling at the two Rangers as she almost absentmindedly cracked the ladle in her left hand over Rafe's head. Clint winced at the sound as Jenny turned to the waiter. "Knife on the right, dear. Now what would you all like to eat?" she asked, turning back to the trio. "I have a wonderful hog on the spit at the moment with sliced and grilled potatoes and herbs, as well as a lamb stew with peaches. And then I have my tomato and herb soup and for desert I have several pies that are just out of the oven."

"I think that lamb stew sounds delicious, Jenny," Halt said as they all took a seat at the table that Rafe had finally managed to set up.

"Excellent! I'll have that right out," she exclaimed as she bustled back into the kitchen, cracking another server over the head as she passed.

Clint whistled lowly under his breath. "That woman's a force to be reckoned with."

Will laughed. "You have no idea."

(A/N: So… They were actually supposed to get to Baron Arald's office, have a conversation, and actually get started on their quest by the end of this chapter but the characters decided to be chatter boxes and I didn't want to have you guys wait any longer. XD So yeah, they'll be doing all that next chapter!)