Chapter 195: The Lesson of Discipline

Orion only let the silence settle for a while before he barked at Joren.

"No!"

The word cut through the cold morning air like a whip.

The trainees stiffened instantly. Joren—who had just begun to lower himself to the ground—froze mid-motion, blinking up at Orion in shock.

Orion’s expression was unreadable, but his tone carried a warning edge. "Don’t even think about it."

"But I..." Joren swallowed, glancing around as several trainees turned toward him. "...I have a reason this time."

Orion crossed his arms, staring him down. "There’s no need."

The boy hesitated, his face flushed red from embarrassment and cold alike. "I’m sorry, Alpha. I forgot that you prefer when a person kneels."

A startled silence followed his words—then Laia snorted. Nia and Sophia tried, and failed, to stifle their laughs, the sound spilling out bright and uncontrollable.

Tobias withheld the smile threatening to break free as he turned to Orion. "What’s going on?" he asked. "Why is he kneeling?"

"He thinks it’s a way to show me how grateful he is," Orion replied.

The rest of the trainees exchanged uneasy looks, unsure whether to laugh or keep their eyes forward. Garron folded his arms from the side, exhaling heavily like a man who’d seen this before and knew it wasn’t going to end well.

Orion’s eyes narrowed, his patience visibly thinning. "I do not want you to kneel, Joren. I do not need it."

Joren’s eyes went wide. "But, Alpha—"

"No," Orion cut him off.

The boy swallowed hard, his shoulders hunching slightly. "I really have a reason this time."

"And I have a reason for telling you not to kneel or bow. If you do that, then you can kiss training with me goodbye."

Joren swallowed. "But I like training with you," he told Orion.

Something in the tone—the sincerity of it—gave Orion just the briefest pause. His expression softened for half a heartbeat before hardening again.

"If you do," he said firmly, "then stop kneeling to thank me for something I showed everyone."

Joren nodded quickly, but his lips parted again. "It’s just... it was like a blessing to my eyes," he murmured. "But since you don’t want me kneeling or bowing, I’ll stop."

Orion exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. Tobias was definitely laughing now—silently, shoulders shaking beside him.

"Fine," Orion said, lowering his hand. "Okay."

He turned sharply toward the rest of the group, his tone snapping back into command. "And that goes for everyone."

The noise died instantly.

"No one"—his gaze swept across every face—"and I mean no one—should even think about kneeling or bowing to thank me. Do I make myself clear?"

The silence that followed was taut, heavy with restraint. The only sound was the faint whistle of wind skimming across the open field.

"I’m not a god," Orion continued, his voice rising just enough to carry. "And I’m certainly not that so-called Moon Goddess you all serve. So no one—and I mean no one—bows or kneels just because they are grateful. It doesn’t matter if I like one more than the other."

The weight of his words pressed down hard. Even Laia and Nia stopped smiling now, their expressions sobering.

"And no one," he added after a beat, "thanks me yet—or even thanks me at all. You all asked for this, you wanted to train under me, and we haven’t even begun the hard part, so what are you thanking me for? You’ve not learned anything you can use yet, so what warrants your thanks?"

He let the words hang there for a moment, his eyes steady and cold, before asking, "Until we are done with this training, there shall be no thanks. Do you understand?"

Every trainee nodded quickly.

"Yes, sir!" they chorused, their voices sharp and unified.

"Good."

Orion’s expression didn’t soften, but the faintest flicker of satisfaction passed through his eyes.

Then, suddenly, he barked, "Joren?!"

The boy jolted upright, heels clicking together. "Yes, sir!"

"Do you understand?" he asked him.

"Yes, sir!"

A ripple of laughter almost escaped from Laia’s throat again, but Nia elbowed her hard.

Orion turned and gestured sharply toward the open expanse of the field. "Everyone, divide into the same groups you were in yesterday."

The trainees moved quickly, boots crunching through the frosted grass as they reassembled. Within moments, the open training ground was divided into its familiar sections—the archers to one side, the sword and axe bearers to another, the spear holders to the far end.

Sophia adjusted her gloves, watching the organized rhythm return. Even after the tension of Joren’s interruption, the field seemed alive again with purpose. The cold morning wind brushed through the trees, and the faint smell of steel and sweat filled the air.

When everyone was settled, Orion spoke again.

"Tobias," he said, his voice ringing out, "will be in charge of the archers today."

Tobias gave a lazy salute, the grin still playing at the edge of his lips. "Understood."

"Garron," Orion continued, "will handle those training with longswords and axes."

Garron nodded once.

"I’ll take the spear holders and shortsword fighters," Orion finished.

A few of the younger trainees exchanged glances, excitement and nervousness flickering in their eyes.

"But understand this," Orion said, pacing slowly across the field as he spoke. "None of this is permanent."

He turned slightly, his cloak catching in the wind. "I’ll still go around. I’ll make sure I pass what I know to every one of you. But the groups stay for now. I want each of you to get specialized attention. Remember how I said I’ll be teaching you guys how to read your opponent and how to improve your footwork—that’s what we will be working on today."

Sophia caught herself leaning forward slightly, absorbing every word.

"You have this week," Orion said, his tone dropping lower, more dangerous. "One week to show improvement—especially those of you who’ve been here longer."

He stopped pacing, eyes sharp as a blade as they scanned the line of older trainees. "You are not novices," he said. "You’ve been training for months. Some of you for years. If I don’t see progress by the end of this week, you may as well look for another department to work in."

The words struck like cold steel. A few of the older trainees shifted uncomfortably. Even the air seemed to grow heavier.

Orion’s voice didn’t waver. "Not everyone is going to make it into the ranks. Not everyone who aspires to be a warrior will be one—and it should be noted once more that I have no intention of dragging dead weight. Show me you are willing to learn and improve, or you may as well leave."

Orion’s gaze shifted to the younger ones next. "And as for the rest of you," he said, "don’t mistake your inexperience for an excuse. Your training will be harsher because you only have a week to adapt too. Perseverance is key, yes—but so are determination and your zeal to learn. Not everything is talent."

"And one more thing: if any of you feel like you’re in the wrong place," he added, "say so."

The trainees blinked, surprised.

"What do you mean?" Micah asked him.

"If you’re holding a spear but your instincts are better suited for a bow, come to me. If you’re struggling with a longsword but can move better with daggers or axes, come to me. You’re free to change," he told them.

"But you made some of us move to a different group," Micah spoke up.

"Yes, I did, but that doesn’t mean you don’t get a choice. At the end of the day, you are in charge of how you want to fight. If you feel I was wrong in making you a sword bearer or an axe bearer, then come to me or Garron and we’ll change it," he told them.

"I like where I am right now," Cat piped up.

Orion smiled. "I’m glad you do. I’m just trying to tell you guys that just because I told you once that a certain weapon suits you doesn’t mean you don’t have a choice. The goal is to make sure you become the best fighter you can be, not the fighter I think you should be."