A few minutes passed by after the basic drills, and each group gathered into their own respective specialization training.
The polearm group stayed on the field they usually used. Town guards were busy setting up training dummies made from straw while weapon racks were arranged nearby. Leon, Reinhart, Siegfried, Elmharn, and Davion—the people Lambert had specifically chosen for this training—were scattered around the area.
Lala and Lulu from the Clown Brigade were also helping out by sorting out the polearms that were going to be used for the training.
Unexpectedly—
Lambert himself was there to observe.
Clap. Clap.
“We are starting in a minute. Line up.”
The scattered trainees immediately moved.
“Leon, Davion, Reinhart, Siegfried, and Elmharn—to the front.”
Leon quickly stepped forward.
He was the only kid chosen for the polearm training.
Siegfried and Davion were adventurers who had visited the village after hearing that Lambert was giving free training. From what Leon could tell, they were decently equipped.
Siegfried usually wore leather jacket-style armor reinforced with steel plating, while Davion wore heavy full-plate armor. Both used halberds as their main weapon.
Lambert crossed his arms and looked directly at the two adventurers.
“Davion. Siegfried.”
“We are going to start from the basics.”
“From the looks of it, you two are decently ranked adventurers.”
“Are you sure you want to participate in these drills?”
Davion, the fully plated adventurer, gave a firm nod.
“Well, sticking back to the foundation is not bad.”
“So I will be joining the training.”
Siegfried casually shrugged.
“I have been slacking on the basics for the past few years.”
“Might as well start from the beginning again.”
Lambert gave a short nod.
“Well then…”
“Everyone, grab your training weapons.”
The trainees moved toward the weapon racks.
And then—
Lala and Lulu also lined up.
But instead of using proper polearms…
Lala grabbed an umbrella.
Lulu grabbed a fishing rod.
Silence.
Leon blinked.
Reinhart blinked.
Davion’s helmet tilted.
Lambert stared.
“…What is that?”
Lulu immediately saluted.
“Yes, sah!”
“These are polearms of a sort too, you know!”
She proudly raised the fishing rod.
“Right, Lala?”
Lala twirled the umbrella dramatically.
“Polearm…”
She struck a pose.
“With something extra!”
“Right, Lulu?”
Lambert and Fidly both lowered their heads.
The disappointment was immediate.
The two clowns continued goofing off as they wielded their bizarre “weapons.”
Lulu flicked her fishing line.
“Long-range hook attack!”
Lala spun her umbrella.
“Defensive weather formation!”
Siegfried visibly looked away.
Davion’s shoulders trembled slightly.
Leon was already struggling.
“…Fine!”
Lambert suddenly barked.
“We are starting!”
He slammed the butt of his weapon into the dirt.
“Welcome to specialized training—Polearms!”
“As many of you know…”
“Polearms are the core of being a warrior!”
“Most of the skills used in polearms are transferable to other weapons!”
“Davion!”
“What is the core principle of using a polearm?”
Davion immediately straightened.
“Proper weight shifting, precision, balance…”
He paused.
“And of course—wit.”
Lambert nodded.
“Correct.”
Leon tilted his head.
“Weight shifting? Balance? Precision?”
Lambert looked directly at him.
“Right, Leon.”
“The weird sensation you are experiencing when swinging a sword…”
“Those are the three.”
“You’ve started noticing the difference in weight.”
“The balance of the sword.”
“And how to precisely wield it by changing your grip.”
Leon unconsciously looked at his hands.
“…Oh.”
“Fidly!”
“Yes!”
Fidly immediately stepped forward.
“As you all know, we were practicing how to thrust and swing polearms during basic training!”
“Now, we are moving to the next step!”
“Learning when to thrust…”
A sharp strike.
“When to swing…”
A wide sweep.
“When to charge…”
A sudden forward burst.
“And when to retreat!”
A clean backward reposition.
Leon raised his hand slightly.
“Charge? Retreat?”
Fidly grinned.
“Right, Leon!”
“Polearms are about proper positioning too!”
“That means knowing when to attack…”
He thrust forward.
“And when to back off.”
He slid back.
“Today, we are going to start off from the proper stance!”
Everyone straightened.
“Raise your weapon!”
Weapons rose.
…Including one umbrella.
And one fishing rod.
Lambert chose not to acknowledge reality.
“Left hand at the upper part of the polearm!”
“Right hand around two feet below it!”
“Left foot forward!”
“Right foot at the back!”
The line shifted.
“When using polearms…”
Lambert’s tone sharpened.
“Thrust strength and swing speed are not the most important.”
“What matters…”
He demonstrated.
“Is switching your weight from your left foot and right foot while thrusting.”
“Using your enemy’s force…”
He redirected Fidly.
“And momentum…”
Fidly stumbled.
“As your weapon.”
Leon’s eyes widened.
“With the current stance that you are in…”
Lambert adjusted his footing.
“You can easily switch from offensive to defensive.”
“For example…”
He leaned forward.
“If you are looking to charge and thrust…”
His weight shifted.
“Your body weight goes forward while using your right foot to move.”
A sharp thrust.
“As long as you properly aim…”
The spear struck center.
“Your spear will do the rest.”
Fidly clapped once.
“Try moving forward to charge!”
The trainees stepped.
“And backward to retreat!”
They stepped back.
“That will be today’s activity!”
“Practice the stance…”
“And how to properly move using it!”
Since Lambert and Fidly had already shown the basics, the trainees began trying to imitate it in their own way.
Leon gripped his practice spear tightly.
At first—
It felt awkward.
His steps were too stiff.
When he charged, he leaned too hard.
When he retreated, his balance shifted unevenly.
His spear wobbled.
“Too much upper body!”
Lambert barked from across the field.
“Your feet move first!”
Leon immediately corrected himself.
Left foot.
Right foot.
Shift.
Thrust.
Again.
And again.
At first, his movements were clumsy compared to the others.
Siegfried adapted quickly.
Davion looked like he was born in formation.
Even Reinhart maintained decent control.
But Leon…
Leon was learning.
Slowly—
Something started clicking.
That same strange sensation he had been feeling with the sword…
The pull.
The imbalance.
The adjustment.
He finally began to understand it.
Instead of forcing the spear forward with his arms—
He pushed with his legs.
His weight shifted.
His body followed.
The spear suddenly moved straighter.
“Oh!”
Leon blinked.
For the first time—
The thrust felt… easier.
Not stronger.
Not faster.
Just…
Right.
Fidly immediately noticed.
“There!”
Leon looked up.
“That!”
“You felt it, didn’t you?”
Leon hesitated.
“…Yeah.”
Lambert crossed his arms, watching closely now.
“Again.”
Leon reset his stance.
Left foot forward.
Right foot back.
Shift.
Step.
Thrust.
This time—
Smoother.
His shoulders stayed steadier.
His grip adjusted naturally.
The straw dummy shook from a cleaner hit.
Siegfried raised an eyebrow.
“…He’s getting it fast.”
Davion gave a slow nod.
“The foundation was already there.”
Lambert’s stern expression didn’t change.
But—
“…Good.”
It was small.
But Leon heard it.
And somehow—
That single word felt bigger than praise.
Nearby—
Lulu accidentally hooked another dummy.
“I caught two!”
Lala spun her umbrella.
“Behold! Elegant formation!”
Lambert immediately regretted existing again.
But even through the chaos—
Leon kept practicing.
Again.
Shift.
Step.
Thrust.
Again.
And little by little—
It became noticeable.
Leon wasn’t just copying anymore.
He was beginning to understand.
---
A few moments after the training session ended, Lambert practically stormed out of the field.
He didn’t walk.
He marched.
Fast enough that even Fidly briefly considered pretending not to know him.
The guild doors swung open with a loud bang.
“Hey!”
Lambert’s voice immediately echoed through the building.
“Is Beardy here?”
Several guild workers looked up.
One of the receptionists blinked before casually pointing toward the back.
“He’s at the forge.”
“Really?”
Lambert didn’t even wait.
“I’m going.”
The moment he reached the back workshop—
“HEY, BEARDY!”
CLANG!
A loud metallic crash echoed as the dwarven blacksmith nearly slammed his hammer into the wrong section of steel.
“WOAH!”
The large bearded dwarf turned, smoke practically rolling off his forge apron.
“Lambert?!”
“What in the molten pits is wrong with you?!”
“Do you have any idea how close that was to ruining a perfect temper?!”
Lambert, still visibly tense, stepped closer.
“A unit of Pierro just joined the training sessions.”
Silence.
The dwarf blinked.
Then blinked again.
“…Those bunch of clowns?”
“What’s up?”
Lambert’s expression didn’t shift.
“They said…”
His voice lowered.
“He was seen going south.”
The dwarf’s previously annoyed look vanished.
Completely.
“…He?”
For the first time—
Even the forge felt colder.
Lambert’s jaw tightened.
“…Arthas.”
CLANG.
This time—
The hammer actually slipped from the dwarf’s hand.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
The loud sounds of forging from the outer workshop suddenly felt distant.
The dwarf slowly straightened.
The humor was gone.
“…Are you sure?”
Lambert nodded once.
“Pierro scouts.”
“They were joking around as usual…”
His eyes narrowed.
“But they slipped it between performances.”
“South.”
The dwarf’s brow furrowed deeply.
“That mad dog…”
Lambert crossed his arms.
“If Arthas is moving south…”
“…Then this isn’t random.”
The dwarf let out a slow breath.
“No…”
“…It never is.”
For once—
Neither of them laughed at the mention of clowns.
Because if the Pierro were delivering information directly—
Then it was never just comedy.
It was warning.
The dwarf grabbed his hammer again, though this time not for forging.
“…How long?”
Lambert answered immediately.
“No exact date.”
“But recent enough that they sent word personally.”
The dwarf clicked his tongue.
“Tch…”
“That’s bad.”
Lambert nodded.
“I know.”
From the front of the guild—
Faintly—
Lala’s voice echoed.
“Emergency clown delivery complete!”
Followed by Lulu—
“Warning package successfully ridiculous!”
The dwarf slowly closed his eyes.
“…I hate that I trust them.”
Lambert sighed.
“…Same.”
For a brief moment—
Silence returned.
Then the dwarf reached for his gear.
“Well then…”
His voice lowered.
“If Arthas is really heading south…”
The humor fully vanished.
“…We may have a real problem.”