"Four hundred years? Give or take a century," Klaus answered nonchalantly, heading over to the other set of wooden sticks. "I've never tried using two at once, either." It just wasn't how it was done. In a battle, you picked up anything you could get your hands on that might allow you to survive. In a duel, be it a spar or a real fight, you only used one sword. That was the way he had been taught.

He shrugged out of his hoodie, dropped it in the corner, and picked up the wooden sticks, focusing on his right hand for now, twirling the stick in it until he felt he had a good handle on it, and it felt more natural. The same with his left hand, and he turned around to face Nuada, unsure even what kind of stance to fall into, with two fake swords. "This is going to be interesting."

Which mostly meant painful, but there was nothing quite like pain to progress. It was how he had learned swordfighting in the first place, less so with his brothers, more so with the few times Mikael had seen fit to teach him a lesson. These had been some of his best lessons.