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You walk across St. Hartley’s central lawn, trying to remember where Jess pointed out the athletics facility. “Right, next to the mess hall…” you mumble to yourself, turning in circles.

That’s easy. You just ate breakfast in the mess hall. You find the building with gargoyles lining the roof, then walk to the adjacent building, the one surrounded by neatly-trimmed hedges.

When you walk inside the athletics facility, you hear people grunting and shouting and panting, all from different locations. One door leads to a swimming pool, and another to the weight room.

You walk down the hallway until you find a door with the label “Falcon Fencing”. On either side of the door, posters display various students who went on to compete at the Olympics Games.

They must’ve fallen far from grace, then, considering they randomly placed you on the fencing team. You take a deep breath and push open the door. Immediately, you hear steel clashing.

Across the room, on the fencing piste that runs left to right, two sabreurs feint and lunge and parry. They both wear form-fitting white jackets, along with red gloves and black masks.