Silvairre shot a look of unbridled disdain at the adventurer, now a would-be archer, and folded his arms across his chest

“Hmph. I see it was too much to hope that you would not return. The others believe that you have potential, but I am not so easily convinced. Like so many adventurers, you have not the faintest inkling of what it means to be an archer.”

“And how could you? Archery is the proud tradition of the Wildwood Elezen of Gridania. The essence of this art─to read one's enemy─has been instilled in us over centuries. In that time, we have defended this great nation against every imaginable foe, granting us insight which you will never possess.”

“Can you recognize the subtle signs that betray a coming action? No. Can you accurately predict an opponent's movement? No. Can you glean your foe's intentions at a glance? No. And can such things be learned by one who knows nothing of our traditions? No. It is only out of respect for Luciane that I have agreed to teach you.”

“Your every movement is wasteful, adventurer. Your back is crooked, and your elbows misaligned. It takes you an age to prime your bow, and twice as long to loose an arrow. In summary, you fail on all counts. You have no talent as an archer─none whatsoever.”

He shook his head in dismay. “For our sake─and your own─we should revoke your membership. As I've always said, outsiders can scarce be expected to understand─never mind master─our noble art. We waste our breath trying to teach your like.”