They parted ways the next morning. It was off to the edge of the forest out of town, where the Hunter's guild was. It wasn't too hard to find, as there was the occasional Hunter that could be asked. They weren't too happy to hear about someone wanting to be an Archer, though. Still, there was some kind of unwritten rule that one not be judged for their choice, so with a huff, a Hunter would gesture in some general direction.

Oh god, his right arm's larger than his left. Roland almost spat out that thought as he saw the Recruiter. It was a pleasant, long-ish wooden building some distance away from the Hunter's guild office. The recruiter had his tunic sleeves cut off, showing very strong arms. Without armour on, his right shoulder was also noticeably larger.

"Did you see the dog sitting on the roof on the way in?", asked the recruiter.

"I saw a wooden wolf with a green collar painted on". The recruiter laughed. So did another figure at the corner of the room that Roland didn't notice.

"Good. You got the eyes for the job. Welcome to the Archer's Guild. This is a Specialist class with the support role in mind for combat. Your true power lies in what you send downrange and where you put it. We're glad you're willing to join us, but there's the matter of your badge as proof and payment…?", said the Recruiter as he held out his palm. The skin on his fingers was thicker and callused. Roland pulled out his badge from his collar and the 8 silver out of his pouch. On receiving payment, the Recruiter smiled.

"What's your name, Archer, for our records?"

"Roland without the W". The figure at the side started laughing first.

"Well Roland without the W, your training starts today. Your teacher will be Rowland with a W. Follow him". So that's why the figure laughed. He approached, bearing a mug of water and some bread. Is that gratitude on his face?

"Thank you for choosing us, Roland. With so many wanting to be Hunters, there aren't many true Archers around". Roland's first task after the water and bread was to take a wooden statuette of a cat with a white collar painted on, climb a small ladder to the roof and replace the wolf statuette.

"Do you have any idea how long the lil' pupper was sitting up there?"

He was led through a door to another larger and longer room. There were about 10 single but plain beds on one side, a long dinner table on the other. He was told to take off his shirt and choose a bed to set it on. There was a space where bow staves of different lengths, curves, and sizes were set and loose arrows sitting in barrels. A trapdoor leading underground was left open. There were doors on both ends of the rooms, presumably for the Archer Guild recruiter and Teacher. Out another door, a clear, wide open space with sticks set in the ground, each farther away. There was a spot darkened with constant digging and refilling, in which long stakes were planted in the ground.

"You will address me as 'Sir' or 'Master'. Stand straight, arms out. Let me see you". Hands grabbed and felt Roland's shoulders, neck, back, hands and arms. He could feel the harder skin on Rowland's right hand. His joints were rotated a bit too.

"You've handled bows before."

"I-I think so, sir. But I can't remember". Rowland understood what Roland meant.

"Apparently you have, but you were playing with some children's bow. Which is your main arm?"

"Right, sir."

"I have you for six more days. For today, you will be taught the exercises and jobs you will do every morning. Tomorrow, weapons training starts. You will learn the bow before anything else. Understood?"

"Yesser."

On day 1 he was taught the calisthenics to train target muscle groups. Emphasis was given to his back and right arm. He was made to jog up to the first marker and back, then jog to the second marker and back then on and on till the farthest marker, almost 400 meters away. Before he knew it, he was made to run for many kilometers. Blunt arrows were fired at him to keep him moving. 'Bigger lungs, more pull, and I sure as hell could use the practice', was what Rowland yelled. The Recruiter decided to join in and they laughed as they shot at Roland. The arrows never hit him, always landing close to his feet and he had to pick them up on the run back.

On day 2 he was woken at sunrise and taught to chop wood with a hatchet. It wasn't as simple as swinging to crack it. Rowland insisted that a log not be cracked in the centre, so it yielded different sizes of wood and kindling. He was made to carry the bundle back to Alterna and bring supplies to the Guild. All the while, Rowland accompanied him. Then calisthenics till noon. He was issued a bow, bowstring, archer's glove and bracer, and a quiver with a sheaf of arrows. He was taught which belt went where, how to string the bow and how to tie his glove and bracer on so it wouldn't get caught in the string.

"This is the 40-pound training bow, and the draw weight is the main difference between the Hunter and the Archer. That weight can be triple of this, and any Hunter can pull it just as well as an Archer can, but many Hunters choose not to. To the untrained eye, it's people doing archery. To an Archer", he said, jabbing Roland in the forehead once, "you know you can out-range that Hunter because your bow is heavier. Understand?"

"Yesser."

"But doing that takes practice, and it's a long way off before the skill difference shows, and you will have to purchase your own bow to do it later. For now, the trainee Archer will fire his first arrow." Rowland stepped back to join the Recruiter who had come to watch. They were both prepared to practice as well.

"He has used a bow before?"

"His muscles felt like it. Only one way to find out", answered Rowland. "Now Roland, take a deep breath. Muscle memory will tell you what to do. Aim for the first marker."

"But don't keep us here till sunset", joked the Recruiter.

Roland stood sideways, left foot leading. He breathed in as he pulled, held and released. The arrow sailed and landed 3 feet away from the marker. The Archers cheered and money changed hands. They were betting on something. The Recruiter rolled his barrel of arrows into line and pulled his war bow. It was as tall as a man. His arrows landed right at the base of the furthest marker.

Rowland explained that Roland did in fact know how to shoot a bow since the bowstring did not slam into the left forearm, but just a different one since he stood and loosed a different way. He then corrected a few things.

"You want to achieve being able to loose as soon as you finish your draw, so you only hold your arrow for a split second. The longer you hold, the more your aim goes off, especially when handling the heavier bows. When you leave, practice as much as you can. This is one of the many things no master can teach. It is like your muscles; it must be developed on your own."

"Yes, sir."

"Now go stand by his barrel, shoot for the next 2 hours. Don't rush, let your body learn the motions. Your goal is to have the arrows land at the correct range. You will learn to land them at the correct spot later. Pick up the arrows after that."

"Yesser", Roland sighed as the Recruiter laughed.

"Glad to have a student do the dog work."

Roland's fingers and arm hurt from the training. He ate with his left hand that night. The other 2 decided to spoil him a bit by letting him have meat and ale with his bread and water.

That was the daily routine; chop wood, carry it to Alterna, carry supplies back to the guild, exercise, bow training, picking up arrows. Night was sharpening the hatchet, maintaining bows and arrows, basic positioning in combat and once felling a small tree for more wood. On the fourth day, the routine was changed as Roland was made to go into one of the rooms (which was an armoury) and take out wooden mannequins. They were fitted onto the marker poles and Roland started training placing the arrows at specific points, at different ranges. Archery was meditative, Roland found out. There was deliberate practice designed to give the same result as often as possible. The distraction dulled the pain in his fingers, arms and back somewhat. His breathing wasn't as ragged as his body grew accustomed to the high-intensity work that was pulling a bow over and over again.

The last day was a surprise. Roland accompanied Rowland to the Hunter's Guild for joint archery practice. The range was separate from the combat pit, but Roland could hear the grunting and some clashing of weapons. Like any guild, trainees learning the Class and students learning skills were separated so Roland was with 2 Hunters at a range. The Hunter range used round targets, with the emphasis on hitting the centre. One hunter was fairly competent and could be let to train on his own. Another one was a girl named Yume who had a weird dialect, a slim build and orange hair with twin braids. The Hunter teaching her was patiently explaining the way a doting father treated a daughter.

"Observe, now you learn the difference between Hunter and Archer", said Rowland. Hunters carried machetes on their hip, and some kept their quivers on their backs, which by Archer standards was an inconvenience because an arrow had to be drawn above the head. They seemed to manage it well enough, though. They wore fitting leather, which suited their more agile close range fighting which included rolling. Anyway, Roland outperformed the Hunter, which annoyed the person somewhat. The target is set so close, thought Roland. Easy win. This Yume however, could barely shoot at all, so the Master Hunter just said with a laugh that it was all hopeless. She laughed with him, although she wasn't sure what she was laughing about. Damn, that ditzy personality makes her quite endearing. Dinner was a solemn but somewhat lavish affair with roasted boar(brought from Hunter's guild), ale and better quality bread. Archers were few in number and each one trained formed a bond with the 2 Masters.

Rowland woke Roland while it was still dark. The Recruiter lit the fire. Breakfast was what was left of yesterday's feast. Rowland was outfitted as a novice Archer; the same worn leather bracer and archer's glove he wore, the same hatchet he used to chop wood with a belt to carry it on his left hip, the same brown tunic and pants that replaced his red T-shirt and cargo pants, a quiver of training arrows with the belt to hold them to his right hip, and a better bow.

"We usually let you use the same bow you trained in, but this old softie here got you a better one", said Rowland as he took a stave from the rack and let Roland string it.

"Wasn't this the one I brought yesterday?", asked Roland. The 2 men laughed. It was a used bow, but with slightly more draw weight than the one he trained on.

"Thanks", said Roland.

"Any questions before you leave?"

"One. What's the name of the skill I learned to graduate Archer?"

"Chop."

"Wait, what?"

"Well, it's what you do every morning. Any fool can chop wood. It's how I taught you to aim the hatchet that you can make firewood and kindling from a log. Use that in battle so you're not swinging that thing like some drunk tree feller."

"Oh you thought shooting at markers and mannequins is the same as shooting Armoured Orcs? Idiot boy", said the Recruiter as he gently slapped the back of Roland's head.

"All classes start with a short-ranged skill, Roland. The only exception is the Priest. Even the best student Mages have 15 meter ranges at best. Your bow training will help, but you will no doubt have to let it go and pull out that hatchet until your party has enough experience."

"Not the dullest with a bow, but oblivious to everything else, eh?", said the Recruiter, as the 2 men laughed at Roland.

"Now pull out a copper and flip." Roland flipped heads. The recruiter continued laughing, but at Rowland.

"Damn it. I chop wood today. Get out of here. Go on". It was a way of sending off, Roland realized. As he walked back to town, he wondered if other guilds were this close.