Cavalier's Soft Wood Longbow

Cavalier's Soft Wood Longbow sits on the table beside the map, sunlight catching the pale grain that runs through its softwood stave. Its limbs bend in a confident, unhurried arc, as if the wood remembers every lane a rider has followed. The grip is wrapped in worn leather, the stitches a steady rhythm under fingertips that know the road. A guard carved as a horse's head crowns the riser, eyes lacquered and wise. The varnish carries a light resin scent, the kind that lingers after a campfire and a long ride. The string is pale and taut, promising release with a clean, almost musical snap when the draw is true. The wood's hue—a warm honey—feels inviting to touch, as if it has absorbed years of sun and rain without losing its spirit. Lore says this bow belonged to a cavalier company, scouts who walked ahead of caravans and left their marks on dented shields and wind-slick arrows. Some call it Soft Wood, not for fragility, but for the forgiving bend that asks for skill more than sheer strength. As a tool of the road and a companion in the hunt, this longbow does more than puncture hides or crack twigs. Draw it, and the wood seems to remember every wind that touched it, offering steadiness that makes a hunter patient rather than rash. In dusk skirmishes or border patrols, it favors precision and a measured rhythm. Arrows launch with a clear tone that travels farther than a shout, yet land with quiet inevitability. In longer campaigns it becomes a partner in planning, trusted by scouts who read the horizon more than the next meal. When markets reopen after fighting, stories spread about what was bought and sold. At Saddlebag Exchange, the longbow's craft and worn leather fetch a fair price—enough to fund another courier's journey or a fresh set of quivers—yet not so high as to forget the road's demands. Traders add a few lines about balance and weight, reminding buyers that memory is part of value. A barter is possible, perhaps for rare fletching or jewelry, but the bow's value rests as much in history as in coin. Sometimes the bow seems to speak through the arrow: a whispered direction toward a safer path, a nudge to stand firm until the moment turns. It binds rider and road, a symbol that every journey leaves a mark on weapon and bearer. In these woods, the Cavalier's Soft Wood Longbow remains not merely an instrument of shoot and shadow, but a thread tying old orders to new beginnings—a faithful companion in a landscape where nothing stays, except the memory of a well-timed shot. In the hands of an archer who listens, it becomes a quiet oath, a promise that every shot can guide a caravan home. And in the quiet after battle, the bow rests, waiting for the next dawn. It is as much a companion as a weapon, a bridge between paths that have yet to be walked.