As the last of the Greenbands entered the fort, the Watchmice shepherding them followed steadily, metal doors slamming behind them with an eerie finality. The hall they walked was brightly lit on either side with torches, reflecting light off of the many shields, axes, and swords displayed on the walls between tapestries and portraits of Redfield's past monarchs. All around them, Watchmice scurried between halls and doorways, as if every mouse present was late. Some hurriedly made their way through the halls single file, carrying cauldrons of stew or trays of bread, while some slowly carried construction materials or stretchers of the infirmed in groups of two. The Redfort buzzed with sights and sounds of work, which appeared fairly routine to the Greenbands. Despite the cacophony of entire armies of mice trotting up and down the halls, none of the Watchmice surrounding them seemed like there was anything out of the ordinary. The greywhisker leading their group seemed less formal than he did during his speech, trotting along with his walking stick at a smoother cadence, waddling to and fro as he discussed some private matter to the ear of a Watcher beside him. The Watcher nodded, and without missing a beat, turned the next corner and broke off from the group of Greenbands.

Eventually, the old Watchmouse led them to a door, dismissing the rest of the Watchers with a clenched fist in the air, signalling them to scatter themselves down different hallways, marching to some other obligation.

[color=9B363B]"First thing's first. There'll be no talking while I'm talking, so shut the hell up."[/color] The Watchmouse said to the crowd of silent Greenbands. He unlocked the door, opening it to reveal an empty room -- no tapestries or swords adorned its walls, or anything else for that matter. On one end of the room was a set of wooden double doors, with two mice stationed at either side. In front of them was a large crank built into the floor like a millstone, and in the center of the room, a pile of weapons and armor.

[color=9B363B]"Those of you who weren't dropped off with pappy's sword and a kiss on the cheek should arm yourself here."[/color] The old Watchmouse said, making his way to the double doors with a steady tap of his cane. [color=9B363B]"If you fight over a sword, fight with your hands. You don't want to start the trials with a gash, believe me."[/color] He chuckled softly. Reaching the double doors, he swung them open to reveal not a room, but a wooden platform. If the Greenbands had seen an elevator, they would know what it was, though there were still only two of its kind in Gnaw.

[color=9B363B]"When you're done, come over here, and don't dilly-dally."[/color]