Mihail did not tend to show an interest in very much. He perceived it almost as a sign of weakness, an opportunity to give people something to exploit and twist to gain power over him. That was nothing more than a result of his upbringing, the way the Thanasi household had raised him up until this point. But there was one thing that he adored and, despite his preference for keeping his secrets well hidden, it was hard to avoid revealing his love for archery. He made a habit of practising the sport almost every day when there was little else to do - the majority of Mihail's other daily activities were much less sporting, and something had to account for his lithe figure.

It was a rare moment of joy, then, when word had reached Colchis of the archery competition being held in Illoclis. There had been a moment of nerves when he'd thought there wouldn't be any opportunity for him to attend - and imagine the idea of him being unable to showcase his one real skill simply because it was in another kingdom! - but luckily, as one of them usually managed, one of his sisters had come through, and the eighteen-year-old had successfully made his way to the province. Nethis had brought him. Nethis of all people. His eldest sister had allegedly had business of some sort to attend to in Athenia and had agreed to allow the boy to travel with her, provided he proved no bother for the rest of her time in the kingdom. Mihail had almost scoffed. He was most certainly never a nuisance.

It seemed he had arrived early, no signs of the contest having started just yet. It didn't exactly matter to him that he was currently alone and knew nobody. Independence was his usual state and it didn't bother him in the slightest. All it did was give him further opportunity to examine his bow and ensure everything was in order, something he made a habit of doing often, and always taking care to do himself. Mihail would never have let another handle his bow. He would not be losing any competition due to the sheer stupidity of someone who didn't know what they were doing handling his bow and breaking it.

Persephone was a little nervous. While she had been running things behind the scenes for several years now, handling the simpler and more autonomous tasks of running a kingdom, her father's grief had never reached out to the point of him refusing to attend public events. Ergo, she had always been second when it came to opening new public buildings, making appearances at games or competitions or launching new vessels into the Athenian fleet.

This time, however, the event was a small event meant only for the nobility and was located a fair distance from the capitol. As such, the king had seen it as an opportunity for his eldest daughter to start managing public events and she had been sent in his stead to open the games and present the price to the winner. While it was a fair distance from Athenia to Iloclis it was no distance at all between the event and her own barony of Arcana and so Persephone had spent the previous night in her baroness appointed manor in Arcana before beginning the three hours carriage ride between her second home and the archery contest's shooting grounds.

The lands, owned by the Antonis family were being used by the noble House as a means of their barony connecting with that of others. Apparently, they had an eldest daughter who was approaching an unmarriable age and were desperate to see her make further connections amongst the nobility but when Persephone arrived at the event's locations she noted the noble family sitting to one side in the judge's stands and making little effort to interact. Curious...

Another issue she noted was that the grounds had not been carefully cared for prior to the event and clearly only been cleared of livestock a day before instead of the week or so that was needed for the land to settle. After the rains of the previous night there were several large puddles of dirty rain water scattered about and, as she glanced out of the curtained window of her carriage, Persephone noticed the wheels trundle through one of them and - almost - cover two young lords in the muck it sprayed.

When the carriage pulled to a stop a few feet beyond, on to the dry and clean grasslands just past the muddy entryway to the meadow, Persephone was escorted down the steps of her carriage and her arrival was announced.

Her first port of call, however, was to give the darker patched of earth a wide berth and make her way to the two men who had almost had their chitons darkened with dirty rainwater.

"My lords I apologise on behalf of my driver. He should not have steered so close." She commented with great propriety, assessing the men to be nobility down to their fine clothes and the fact that one of them had a bow in his hand and was therefore clearly competing.

She smiled kindly, surprised at the men's features for they were not entirely Greek, but similar enough to each other for her to identify a familial relationship.

The Archery contest was a big deal for any and all self proclaimed archers within Athenia, and none were more eager to prove their worth than Belen. Clad in the most basic of leather armour, with a mixture of green and brown robes, the young hunter hand made his way into the contest with more than sceptical looks and begrudging sighs. He may of looked out of place, like the one black sheep within the heard of pristine white, but the paper work checked out. Not that Belen could verify it himself, due to that small problem of being unable to read or write.

However that is where his scribe had came in useful.

The scribe in question was a male called Madora, from what Belen could gather after a few talks with the man, was he held some disdain for the nobility. Not enough to go and commit gruesome killings, not from what Belen could deduce, but just a want too show them up. Hence the reason he picked up a young orphan archer off the streets, perhaps the perfect person too show the nobility the skills even commoners held. Then again, Belen wasn't Madora's first choice. Belen after all was a terrible first choice for anyone. He was small, skinny, a thief by heart and a hunter by trade, with no home of his own. Belen was only at the age of fifteen, old enough to feel the full force of the law, but he was still a child, with wanderlust taking up his full view. Which after all, was one of the few reasons Belen had taken the offer when he first got it.

Pay the scribe for the forgery of nobility, enter the contest and give the nobility a run for their money. Perhaps a tall order for a child, but Belen had learnt to grow up quickly, and wasn't scared by the challenge. Besides a chance too show off his skill to the world? Even if he did enter under a fake sense of nobility, everyone would remember his skill, his fight from today. He just needed to make himself known.

Belen could feel peoples eyes on him as he stood there, watching the nobility flood in, people such as the Princess herself joined the event, for a moment it hung a sense of doubt over his head. Yet with a shake of his head he regained his focus. He had no delusions within his own skill. If it was not for his own skill he would of gone hungry and perished a long time ago, his skill with a bow was the only thing that kept him alive at times. After all, if he couldn't hunt a meal for the night, he would go hungry.

With the formalities growing, Belen did but the safest thing he could, keeping his head down, and lingering too the outside of nobility. He didn't want to risk getting caught of being nothing more than a commoner, and then in turn getting thrown out. Not while he had the chance too prove himself. So with his head down, and his mother's bow strapped too his back, he merely kicked the dirt waiting for the contest to truly start.

Persephone's eyes turned from concerned with the Lord she had yet to meet in person, to pleasantly surprised when the handsome Marikas lord approached the small group.

As the nobles that she would later learn to be of the House of Axios, bid her that where there was no harm there was no foul, Persephone's smile brightened and she nodded her head shallowly by graciously as was respectable to both her own rank and theirs.

"In which case, I am glad of the near miss and welcome you to the games, my Lords." She told them with genuine sincerity and a friendly tone.

It was then that her attention was drawn away and by Lord Rafail who, surprisingly to Persephone offered up a gift to her with barely a word of hello. Shocked as the forwardness but also flattered at the attention, Persephone's mouth formed a pretty "o" as she was graced with a beautiful ruby necklace, set into a gold design. She wondered at the coincidence of this as she was dressed in a deep red gown and wore flecks of ivy gold in her coiled hair; pieces of jewellery that gave the illusion of the crown she might one day wear. She wondered how the man had known what she would be dressed in for the contest, or whether it was pure coincidence? She was smart enough to know that the latter was unlikely and felt uncertain as to her feelings regarding the amount of attention the young Lord was clearly offering her.

"It is quite beautiful, Lord Rafail..." Persephone commented, a delicate hand reaching out to touch the edge of the piece carefully before withdrawing it. While it was an appropriate addition to her current outfit, Persephone never dressed or adorned herself, so she was uncertain on how to proceed with accepting the gift...

The item of jewellery - exquisite in its fine craftmanship and impressive in the size and ornateness of its jewel - looks spectacular in the box it was nestled into. Persephone was no amateur in the fields of the glamour and expense of the noble classes, so she could appreciate the work and eye that had gone into producing such a piece.

Even if the item was not at all to her personal taste.

While she had meant her compliment of the necklace and was honoured that the Lord had gone to the effort of having it made and ensuring that it was to be given to her on a day where her outfit would match, she was more flattered by the man's attentions than she was by the item itself. For herself, Persephone preferred simpler pieces. Quality over size, elegance over excess. Her mother had always said to never let a piece of rock outshine your own natural assets.

This being said, Persephone was a lady. She could appreciate the beauty of the piece, the efforts Lord Rafail had gone to and the fact that they were standing in a public setting. To refuse the gift, however forward it was of him to offer it, would be to embarrass Lord Rafail and the House of Marikas. And, as she was growing to like the young Lord and his flattering attentions, Persephone would never have shown any indication that the necklace was perhaps a little ostentatious for her own preferences.

Instead, she bent her head slightly to allow for Lord Rafail to fasten the piece around her neck, the smile she had in place growing slightly when he fumbled for a moment. Perhaps he was not used to offering ladies such gifts in this way?

As the man reached out to brush away a few of the hanging curls around her face, Persephone stiffened and her smile hardened in place, but she did not pull back.

The very tips of Rafail's fingers brushed over the curve of her temple as he moved aside the dark tendrils.

In a skilled moment of social etiquette, Persephone bowed her head to look down at the pendant, now nestled at the top of the dip between her breasts and gently touched the jewel that rested upon her décolletage. The movement of her head removed the connection between her face and the Lord's hand but in a way that seemed more accidental than not.

"I thank you greatly for the offering, Lord Rafail." She said with a smile as she looked back up at him. "As well as your words of compliment."

Looking around at the field she raised a hand to indicate the far-off archery targets in the distance.

"I think it time we open the games, do you not think?"

Allowing the man to escort her across the unruly ground and closer towards where the crowd of participants were waiting, Persephone carefully mounted a small staging area with an awning decked in Xanthos and Antonis colours. Her bodyguards and ladies’ maids, who had lingered a few steps back while the princess and Lord Rafail spoke, filled the rest of the stage behind her; her own personal retinue. Several of the armoured men stood before the stage as Persephone looked down towards Lord Rafail and the rest of the contestants.

"My Lords and Ladies, I welcome you today so that we might all praise the Goddess Artemis with our individual skills with a bow." She said in a calm and projecting voice that managed to never sound like a shout. "The rules of our contest are simple." She continued as an adjudicator came out with parchment and quill in order to take his place at the targets set back from the firing line - a position set before the royal stage. "Each contestant will be permitted to fire a total of 3 arrows." She informed them, moving on with the instructions. "After each release the distance between arrow and target centre will be calculated and recorded. The arrow to strike closest to centre, of the three, shall be your final entry, no matter the order in which they were shot."

She smiled and head a hand out towards a table of scribes set to one side of the event.

"To all those of whom which to compete as opposed to simply witness the skills presented here today. Please attend to scribes. Your patents of nobility will be requested, your name added to the list and it shall be this list that is called from when we are ready to summon you to shoot." She spread her hands wide and gracious welcome. "I wish all who enter the best of fortune in your honouring of Artemis."

Evidently, Persephone had appreciated the gift Rafail had brought her - the way she had glanced down at it and her smile told him that much - and he could not help but return the expression when she looked back at him. Had she been any other girl, he would have taken this as the perfect opportunity to lean in, plant a soft kiss on her lips and then drag her away to his bed. Unfortunately, he did not have that chance with this particular lady, not solely because she was a princess and thus required special attention but because they were in such a tediously public area.

Bowing his head slightly in acknowledgement of her words, he offered her an arm to take in order to escort the princess back to the main crowd. Of course, he had noticed the way she had said 'we' rather than 'I', and as far as he was concerned, that was a sure sign she was considering them a pair and, therefore, that she found the relationship to be progressing just as well as Rafail imagined it to be. Once they had returned, he allowed her to make her way to the stage while he moved to stand again amongst the rest of the contestants, waiting for the competition to get underway.

Rafail was not the greatest archer, but he was far from awful. It was part of the luck of having a father and brother with past prowess in the military, and the training he had hence managed to receive as a result. He had high hopes for his moderate skills today, under the impression that a show of ability in front of Princess Persephone, coupled with the gift he had already given her, would make it easier for him to win her hand. And, even if Rafail did not do as well as he envisioned, he was sure he could play it off as charming and still find a way to obtain her affections.

The young lord moved with the others present to present his patent to the scribes in question, mildly irritable that he should have to prove himself as a noble when such a thing should have been evident to all. Did his name no longer carry the recognition he thought it did? "Rafail of Marikas," he announced himself, putting particular emphasis on his family name. He supposed it did not matter too much. When there was a Marikas on the throne again, there would be no more questioning his title. "Baron of Thesnia."

Tedious formalities handled, he took his bow back from his companion, striding over to meet the other competitors who were awaiting their turn. The first to shoot he did not recognise - Rafail assumed he was some dull lesser noble who was not worth giving the time of day - though he did quite well, landing a shot comfortably within one of the blue rings. It would not have been unreasonable for him to appear so proud, but the Marikas was already confident he was superior, the arrogance evident in his expression as he approached. Raising his bow and preparing himself to shoot, he could not help but glance in the direction of the princess once more, throwing her another charming smile. As though he were doing this for nought but her benefit.

Once his attention was returned to the target, Rafail steadied his arm, aiming carefully as he drew back the string, fingers softly brushing against his cheek before he released. He did not need the luck they were offering, at least, he did not feel he required it as the arrow flew straight through the air, finally sinking into the target trapped almost exactly between both the red and blue rings. As far as Rafail was concerned, it was an excellent shot and, hopefully, the princess would be admiring his prowess from where she watched.