At the professor's instruction, she stepped up across from Oliver, taking her position a few strides away from him, her hands on her sword. Around them, the sparring had already begun. Wood clacked against wood in furious and irregular rhythms, and there was the occasional grunt mixed in with it, as a strike slipped past a man's guard, and the sword slapped into the padded jerkins that they'd been forced to wear.
Of course, Oliver was forced to wear the same thing. He'd taken off his jacket, and left it leaning against the wall with his shirt. He was too fond of it. It was such a fine piece of clothing, he still hadn't gotten over how good it felt. Even the silken shirt that he wore underneath, he didn't particularly want to sweat in it.
