The sovereign's words replayed in her mind as the group was lead to the interior of the castle armory. As they passed the threshold she couldn't be sure if it was the surrounding air, or the King's words that forced a chill down her spine.
Everyone started grabbing anything that tickled their fancy. Large beasts of men, including the behemoth she bumped into previously, grabbed the finest but surely some of the heaviest weaponry she has ever seen, maces, claymores, and warhammers the size of her head were the popular flavour. There was nothing in this room of her size to be sure. Instinctively she reached and touched the old small sword on her side. The sword was old, quite old, hell, as old as she could remember, but it was her own. She withdrew it and rested it in both hands. It was pathetically small compared to the others in the room, but it was hers. Seeing no advantage to a heavier weapon she doubted she could even pick up, let alone swing, she walked back out of the crowded armory and into the yard, as she replaced the weapon to hits sheath.
Outside, she took in the air as well as the others that had volunteered, or in her case “volun-told”, their services. There were people of all shapes and sizes, some gigantic and muscular, others thin and more athletic in appearance, she even spied a dwarf among the crowed. That was truly unexpected. The dwarves mostly kept to themselves nowadays, although their influence occasionally showed up. Despite her travels in scholarly expeditions she had never actually met one.
The thought was fleeting as she looked over the group once more. She'd need allies if she had any hope of actually surviving this ordeal, let alone accomplishing what they were setting out to do. Many were already starting to form groups. She scanned them with her analytical gaze piecing together the best combination in her mind.