The crowd within the Hall of Arms slowly split as the instructors divided the first-year warriors according to their chosen weapons.
The clang of wooden blades echoed beneath the vaulted ceiling while instructors barked orders from every corner.
Spears occupied the eastern rings.
Sword users gathered in the central lanes.
Shield bearers drilled against one another beneath heavy wooden frames.
And for axes... only one instructor stood waiting. Garret.
He leaned lazily against a weapon rack, scratching the back of his neck with little enthusiasm.
A pair of compact axes rested upon his shoulders.
Unlike Thane's monstrous training axe, Garret's weapons were considerably shorter, their crescent heads polished from years of relentless practice. They looked swift rather than powerful... They were made for speed, angles, and precision instead of overwhelming force.
Garret looked at Thane, then at the giant axe, and then back at Thane.
"...Put that thing back," he ordered.
