"I've never used a long sword. Nor armor, as I think thou wouldst...?"

They're in the stable's wide aisle now. It's well-lit, smelling of straw and clean wood and horses. In France, Enjolras was perfectly comfortable in but not actively drawn to stables. Here, though, so far away from everything else of home, there's a deep and visceral familiarity in every inch of the building.

"But cause, not much. Opportunity, some, but not overmuch. I practice with Bahorel often enough, and other friends somewhat, but barehanded or singlestick more than the blade."