“Sloppy,” Naberius says, the point of his sword just barely brushing against Austin’s throat. “Try it again.” He shifts in his chair, crossing one leg over the other, and leafs forwards a few pages in the book he’s been reading. With his free hand, he makes a loose, wrist-flicking gesture, sending the hovering sword back into a resting position across from Austin. Austin eyes it warily, the weight of his own sword straining his muscles, his upper arms throbbing with the effort of maneuvering it.