Fencing

"A wise choice."

The Experimental Ensign hands you a tasselled scabbard and motions you to follow. She leads you up another two flights of chairs to the room set aside for sparing. There, high walls and more exposed brickwork welcome you. Roof beams and airy windows separate the open expanse between, and even the grain of the hardwood flooring follows distinct lanes.

Two sailors have taken the rightmost spot, their blades flashing in the lantern light and gleaming with the Liar Stars. Metal clashes against metal and you almost miss her hand around yours, pulling you to the one on the far left.

The Experimental Ensign slips off her shoes and, barefoot, levels her blade at you. "Let’s dance."