Chapter 175: The Wind; An Ally

He smiled faintly. "I made the wind my ally." He told them.

"But how?" One person asked.

"It’s different for everyone but the general consensus is that you befriend the wind. It should guide you. Some people claim that can taste it and use it as momentum while others falim they can perceive it. Being an archer isn’t just about knowing how to shoot an arrow. It involves precision and calmness. Don’t rush to be the first. Instead, I’ll advise that you rush to be accurate... not that that makes any sense." He told them.

"I’m not sure I get the theory behind this." One person muttered.

Orion smiled. "You’ll get it. Just trust your gut and follow the wind."

A few nervous laughs escaped. He leaned the bow against the stump.

"Now, it’s your turn. And remember, if the wind gets there before you do, you’ve already lost." he informed them.

They hesitated, unsure whether he meant metaphorically or literally. Orion didn’t clarify. He just stepped back, folding his arms, eyes scanning the line as the trainees started taking position.

When the first trainee took position, Orion said softly, "Don’t aim for the stone. Aim for the breath between you and it."

The words made no sense to half of them, but they hit like a mantra all the same.

Orion moved around correcting their forms and how the held the arrows. Telling some where they missed and even removing some people from the group citing that their weapon wasn’t the arrow. Even Garron took note of what he pointed out, storing the information as something he could use to help the trainees later.

When the archers were deep into their attempts, Orion clapped Garron on the shoulder.

"Keep them steady. I’ll move to the spearmen."

"Understood."

He crossed the field again, signalling for the spearmen to follow. They did and gathered at another edge of the training grounds, holding wooden spears almost twice their height.

"Let’s begin." Orion said to them with a nod.

One trainee—barely older than Dren—shifted uneasily. "Um...they’re... kind of long, sir."

"That’s why they’re called spears," Orion replied dryly.

"Um...I’m not sure I’ll be able to handle them." The boy muttered.

"One thing a warrior shouldn’t have, is low self esteem because that leads to you doubting yourself therby making you fail before you even begin fighting." Orion informed the boy but he was speaking with them all.

"Just because you are short, doesn’t mean you’re weak or you are not capable. Besides," Orion added. "There’s someone shorter than you here and she looks determined to learn." He said with a smile.

Dren immediately knew who Orion was taking about and coughed into his fists trying to stop the laugh bubbling out.

Orion the turned to the boy who had been worried. "Don’t sell yourself short." Then addressing the crowd he spoke. "None of you should do that."

The trainees nodded.

Orion took one of the spears, and held it upright beside him. The wooden shaft caught the pale light. "The spear is not for wild swings or brute strength. It’s for control. Your power lies in your reach. If your stance is wrong, you’ll spend more time fighting your own balance than your opponent."

He tapped the snow with the spear’s end, then spread his feet apart. "Your front hand guides. Your back hand drives. You push, not pull. Feel the line from your heel to the tip. Every thrust begins there."

He demonstrated—a smooth, fluid movement that cut the air with an audible whisper. The snow at the spear’s tip scattered outward in a neat line.

"See that?" he said. "It’s not about force. It’s about rhythm, precision, and knowing when not to strike."

He handed the spear back to one of them. "For now, you’ll do nothing but hold it. Learn the weight, the balance, the drag of air when you move. You won’t fight with it until your body understands it."

One of the taller trainees frowned. "Just... hold it?"

Orion smiled faintly. "Yes. You’d be surprised how many people can’t even do that right."

When a few groaned softly, he added, "Your patience will determine how far you go. The spear doesn’t reward impatience."

He gave a brief nod. "Garron will test you on grip and stability later. Keep your lines tight."

By the time Orion crossed to the axe group, flakes of snow had thickened into a fine veil, softening the edges of the world. The six trainees there stood in a loose semi-circle, each holding a short-handled wooden axe. Among them was Cat.

Orion stopped before them, gaze sweeping over the axes. "Six of you," he said.

He bent slightly to draw a line in the snow with his finger, marking a boundary. "The axe," he began, "is the weapon of momentum. It’s heavy, yes, but it doesn’t care about strength as much as timing."

He picked one up, testing the weight with a few slow swings. "If you fight the weight, it’ll own you. If you move with it, it’ll fly." 𝐟𝐫𝕖𝗲𝘄𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝕧𝐞𝚕.𝕔𝕠𝐦

He demonstrated—a clean downward motion that sliced the air with a heavy whoosh before stopping inches from the line in the snow. "You never swing blind. Every swing costs you energy, and you won’t last five minutes if you waste it."

Cat tilted her head. "So we let the weapon move us?"

Orion smiled slightly. "Close. You guide it. Like a dance partner that weighs twenty pounds and wants to kill you."

A few chuckles rippled through the group. The tension eased.

"Each of you will find your rhythm," he went on. "Axes are unkind to hesitation. If you pause mid-swing, it’ll throw you off balance. Trust the motion."

He gestured toward a row of wooden stumps lined up before them. "Your task is simple: one clean strike each. No hacking, no corrections. I want to hear one sound per hit. If I hear more, it means you’ve lost your rhythm."

As they prepared, he walked through their line, adjusting grips and stances. He paused briefly behind Cat, nudging her elbow higher. "Don’t let your shoulder do the work. Let your core handle it."

"Got it," she said.

He nodded once and stepped back. The snow fell thicker now, muffling the world until all that remained was breath, wood, and heartbeat.

"Ready," Orion said quietly. "Strike."

Six axes rose. Six sharp thuds answered.

He listened to the rhythm, the precision, the weight behind each blow. Then, after a moment, he spoke.

"Better than I expected," he said, and a faint smile ghosted over his lips. "But don’t get comfortable. The axe is a teacher that punishes arrogance faster than I do."

Cat nodded as she continued with her task. Orion had one more group to attend to before Sophia’s group. One group with one person he didn’t expect to be teaching to fight right now.