“That weakens the choke immediately,” he explains. “It’s instinct to pull away, but that only tightens the hold.”
He moves again, faster this time, hooking his leg around mine, using his hip as leverage. A sharp twist, and I lose my footing. The next thing I know, I’m the one off-balance. My hold is broken. Thane grabs my wrist, yanks downward, and just like that, I’ve lost.
I stagger back, staring at him, breathless.
He stands, calm as ever. “Now, your turn.”
I rub my aching elbow, heart thudding. “You make it look easy.”
“It is,” he says. “Once you understand how to use your opponent’s strength against them.”
Thane steps behind me and places me in a chokehold again. I drop my weight first, feeling how it shifts my balance. I turn toward the hold instead of away, my shoulder pressing into his ribs. I hook my foot behind his, pivoting—and for the first time, I feel the shift of power. His stance weakens. His hold loosens. I yank down on his wrist and suddenly, he’s the one who has to step back.
Not much. But enough.
I breathe hard, grinning before I can stop myself.
Thane nods once. “Better.”
He steps back, arms loose at his sides. I shake out my limbs, shoulders sore, muscles screaming. Thane doesn’t look winded.
“We’re moving on,” he says, already heading toward the weapon racks. “Pick a sword.”
I blink. “What, no break?”
He doesn’t answer—because of course he doesn’t.
I sigh, wiping sweat from my brow before following him. My fingers tracing over the cool steel of the blades. The scent of oiled metal and worn leather fills the air, grounding me. I pick up a sword—one that feels familiar. A short, slightly curved blade, similar to what I trained with in the village.
The moment I lift it, Thane speaks. “That’s the wrong sword for you.”
I glance over, brow furrowing. “What?”
He crosses his arms, head tilted slightly. “Too heavy in the wrong places. The balance is off for your frame.”
I frown, shifting the grip in my hands. “I’ve used this kind before.”
“And that’s the problem,” he says evenly. “You picked what’s familiar, not what’s best for you.
I exhale, resisting the urge to argue. Instead, I set the swordback on the rack.
“Then what should I use?”
Thane steps forward, scanning the racks like someone who knows every piece of steel by name. His eyes move quickly, precise. Then he stops and reaches for one. He hands a blade to me without hesitation.
“Try this.”
I take it, adjusting my grip. The difference is immediate. It’s lighter, but not too light. The balance is even, fluid, built for speed and precision without sacrificing strength. I test the weight, rolling my wrist slightly. It moves with me rather than me working just to hold it.
Thane nods. “Your size and reach matter. A blade that’s too heavy for you will slow you down. You rely on movement, not brute force. You need something that lets you stay fast but still hits hard.”
I shift my stance, gripping the hilt more firmly. It feels right.
Thane steps back again, arms folded. “A well-chosen weapon becomes an extension of you. This one won’t make up for hesitation, but it’ll let you move the way you’re meant to.”
I look at the weapon, feeling the weight of his words as much as the blade in my hand.
He turns, motioning toward the sparring mat.
