The iron doors to the lower armory groaned as they swung open. A few small torches lit the room up and a couple colored could be seen on a table.
Ranging fron swords, spears, and a few warped bows that had seen better days. The prisoners filed into the room, their chains still clamping against the floor.
Most of their eyes were sunken from long days in the cells, but there was a hungry gleam in their eye now. Lady Genevieve stood at the end of the table.
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