Grayson had already been making a name for himself, even at the age of fifteen. He was already seen as beautiful, business oriented, and skilled. That was because his grandfather, Tobias, put him into so many clubs, sports, and quite literally everything he could.

His grey eyes skittered around the fencing studio under the mask, surveying the people that he was going against. He could beat them, easy. Fencing was his thing. So was a lot of things, but fencing? He perfected this.

He analyzed the person who stepped in front of him, making sure to follow the fencing protocol, his mask already down as his hands clenched the handle of the Sabre. Then, the match began.