There are racks and racks of weapons in the chamber, all of them crap. “You can take one thing. That’s it. And don’t come whinging to me when it breaks. This is all you get.”
A dozen squabbles break out over guns, axes, knives. Splint finds a decent looking falchion under a chair and keeps it behind his back until he can inch his way over to Filip.
“Check it out,” he flashes sword. “What’d you get?”
Filip hefts his shield.
“How you gonna kill anyone with that?”
“As long as I’m alive,” says Filip, “I’ll count it a win.”