Next day early in the morning, sig takes Adam to a certain school unlike the swordsmanship classes. They get in and meet an old bearded man sitting at the reception. The go towards him.
***
'Hello sir, I was wondering were I can pick a weapon to learn."
[He looks at Adam for a sec and points at a door at the back. They walk inside and it takes them to the back field of the school and on the side are multiple weapons besides swords. Adam looks at them thinking.]
"What are you thinking will fit your style. "
"My possible choice was a bow and a halberd for combat."
"Then what will you do."
[Adam spots a man at the edge laying lazily on his back. He walks towards him and shakes him alittle forcing the man to look at him.]
"Pardon me sir, how do you conduct the teaching lesson in this place."
[He looks at Adam with a bored stare.]
"We don't teach, [He points at a stack of books on the dirt floor.] Read through those and learn yourself kid."
[He went back to lazily laying around again.]
"What are you going to do. They don't seem to care at all."
[He goes and picks two books.]
"I'll just tech myself how to use both the bow and halberd."
[Sig looks at him and smiles.]
"Then I'll handle the payment, you can start reading through those two books."
[Sig let for the reception leaving him in the field to read.]
***
Two manuals lay open side by side on the stone slab near the center of the training field. One described the longbow—its stance, breathing techniques, anchoring positions, and release principles. The other explained the halberd's mechanics—grip changes, distance control, body alignment, and rotational force. He read both in turn, comparing phrasing, dissecting diagrams, memorizing movements. His eyes flicked from line to line with care, fingers pausing occasionally to trace the inked illustrations.
He started with the bow.
He stood upright, feet shoulder-width apart, following the stance diagram on the page. He adjusted his posture, rotated his hips slightly, and raised the bow. Nocking the first blunt-tipped practice arrow, he drew the string back slowly, feeling the tension increase across his shoulders and arms. The manual stated clearly:
> "Anchor the string to the corner of the mouth or the cheekbone. The elbow of the draw arm must align with the arrow."
He complied, holding the full draw for three seconds, observing the strain, then released.
The arrow veered slightly left of the center. He rechecked his stance, repeated the draw, anchored at a different point on his face this time, and released again. Closer.
He continued, one arrow after another, always adjusting. He shifted the placement of his front foot to test balance. He experimented with breath control—holding it before release, exhaling mid-draw, releasing at the exhale's peak. He noted which combinations gave the cleanest trajectory and which made the shot wobble or dip.
When the manual instructed him to shoot in rhythm—drawing and loosing in a steady sequence—he began training for consistency. Step, nock, draw, anchor, release. Step again, repeat. After thirty repetitions, he no longer needed to think about the motion. It flowed.
But then he began to alter it.
He took a wider stance than suggested, shifting his body weight between shots to simulate movement. He tried drawing while stepping, loosing during the step instead of after it. He adjusted the bow's angle for shots aimed slightly upward, downward, and off to the side. The manual had only touched on stationary target practice. He added motion, weaving left and right, turning the waist to simulate a fast-response shot. He loosed arrows from a crouch, tested half-draws for close range, and practiced quick nocks with minimal adjustment time.
When one arrow skimmed off target due to wind, he adapted by training against the wind's drag—altering release timing and posture.
Once he emptied his quiver and gathered the arrows, he repeated everything from the beginning, this time alternating between manual instruction and personal improvisation. He recorded in his mind what worked and what failed.
After several hours, he placed the bow aside.
He turned to the halberd manual.
The first pages outlined basic stances: forward guard, rear guard, middle stance. He gripped the polearm and mimicked each precisely. Feet staggered, knees bent, hips turned. Blade angled slightly forward and outward. The manual stated:
> "Always control the middle distance. From here, all attacks and defenses are possible."
He practiced the standard cuts: vertical chop, upward sweep, sideward arc. Then thrusts—straight-line jabs with the point, two-handed drives with full-body weight behind them. He moved into the turning drills described in the manual: pivot-step, rotate the hips, drive the rear leg, follow through with the shaft's momentum.
He repeated each motion again and again, halberd whistling through the air as he chased exactness in every arc. His muscles adjusted to the weight, learning the counterbalance of the shaft and blade.
The manual described combination attacks—chop followed by thrust, sweep into reverse swing, hook with the back of the blade then drive forward.
He trained each combination at half-speed, then full-speed. Measured steps supported each motion. His hands glided along the haft, changing grip positions mid-movement to transition fluidly between attack types.
After mastering what was shown on the page, he tested his own sequences.
He added feints—short shoulder flicks before a full sweep, or delayed thrusts after false swings. He used the halberd's shaft to parry imagined counters, then drove the bladed tip back into exposed angles. He interwove low and high strikes that weren't diagrammed in the manual. He used his foot to kick forward in the middle of a thrust to simulate breaking an opponent's balance.
He visualized opponents. One to his front. Two to his sides. One rushing from behind. His feet moved constantly, the halberd circling and responding in all directions. He moved it defensively, then aggressively, testing its reach and recovery time.
The manual advised training at three ranges—wide for sweeping control, mid for balanced offense, and close for jabbing and hooking.
He trained each one, marking imaginary thresholds around himself. When in wide range, he focused on large circular swings and horizontal cuts. At mid, he shortened his steps, reduced the travel of his blade, and aimed tighter. When simulating close quarters, he reversed the halberd, striking with the butt, slamming the shaft into targets, and pushing as a pole to break space.
Every few minutes, he would stop, glance at the book again, and correct his angle or foot placement, then return to flow drills.
He practiced pivot turns while dragging the halberd behind, spinning it around his body, and striking in reverse to simulate recovery after a missed swing. He tried halting momentum abruptly, using body resistance to stop the blade mid-air, then instantly redirecting it into a different strike path.
His arms trembled from exertion, but he kept going.
After switching back to the bow, he resumed the shooting drills, now adding pressure. Sprint five steps, stop, draw, shoot. Tumble, recover, draw, shoot. Fire from behind obstacles, then fire while half-exposed. He crouched, rolled, stood, and fired in one motion, learning how to get the arrow off while repositioning.
He ran combinations: three shots in rapid succession, moving between each. Then one long hold, full draw, breathing controlled, then a delayed release.
He transitioned back to the halberd. He increased speed. Faster steps. Sharper pivots. Shorter rest intervals. He simulated exhaustion, continuing drills with weakened arms and legs, replicating combat fatigue.
Then he practiced switching.
Bow to halberd. Halberd to bow.
He set both weapons nearby and began simulating different threat distances. If the enemy was distant, he picked up the bow, fired three times while stepping back. As the imaginary opponent closed in, he dropped the bow, drew the halberd, and met the charge with a thrust.
He repeated the switch from different postures—on his knees, on his side, facing away, bent low, mid-run. He trained the transition until it became a seamless motion—fire, drop, turn, strike.
Occasionally, he returned to the manuals, reading sections again, comparing them to what he'd tested. He'd note any difference between instruction and instinct, test both, and refine.
As the day progressed, the drills became harsher. He challenged his balance by standing on uneven ground while firing. He attacked uphill and defended downhill with the halberd. He trained within narrower spaces, practicing minimal movements with maximum effect. He trained silently, counting repetitions only in his head.
Footwork drills followed, both for bow and halberd. Forward advances, backpedals, side steps, cross-steps, and spins. With each movement, he trained to maintain centerline control, balance, and readiness.
He drilled single-arm halberd strikes when both hands were too fatigued to grip tightly. He practiced short-range halberd counters from awkward positions. He trained how to block with the shaft only, letting the weapon absorb impact without letting it fly from his hands.
He practiced shooting with either hand. He forced his non-dominant side to mimic the same release as his dominant side. Accuracy suffered, but he corrected form shot by shot.
At no point did he stop to rest fully. Only moments of stillness when he read the manuals again, comparing his movements to the ink, correcting what faltered, expanding where it was lacking.
When his arms failed to lift cleanly, he relied on core momentum. When legs weakened, he adjusted his stances to rely less on jumps and more on pivots.
When his breath shortened, he shifted to steady forms, slower and more deliberate—but never still.
By the time he stood again before the training dummy and loosed his final arrow, it struck center mass. The shot was clean. Anchored without thought. Released without hesitation.
The halberd's final sweep was heavy, but precise. The blade stopped inches from the target, controlled, balanced, silent.
Then he lowered both weapons, returned to the manuals, and closed them with care.
The field was marked by his passage—arrows in clusters, footprints etched deep, earth scarred by halberd sweeps and shifts. Every trace a repetition. Every mark a correction.
He turned once more to face the field before walking away, hands raw, breath steady, memory full.
***
This was better than I expected, and when I get a chance to look for a smith I can make a compound bow and arrows as well as the halberd and Sigurd's sword.