Word had traveled fast through Arendelle, citizens were both excited to take their revenge for their beloved king's death, and scared to have their loved ones leave for battle. A call was issued, a draft of sorts, and the new recruits were being trained. Elsa had voiced her desire to be ready for war in just two months, a short time to ready troops for all-out battle.

The courtyard echoed with commands and the sounds of clumsy men who had never held a sword before. A tall man with red hair and golden armour shouted the commands, at his side his daughter, Anna. His gaze was stern as he looked over the mass of men before him. Anna's father was a good man; loyal and just. He was head of the Kingsguard, now Queensguard, and had done nothing but the best he could to serve his beloved ruler.

He had been the kings best friend, no greater an honor in the man's eyes. He was distraut when his King refused his company on the trip to the Southern Isles. The news of his assasination had all but destroyed him. For several days after he stayed in seclusion. The weight of his guilt pressing down on his shoulders. If only he had pressured the king into letting him go. If only he had been more firm in his standing, perhaps the king would still be alive. Alas, he had not, and the man could not help but blame himself.

Weeping helped no one, instead Anna's father had promised himself that he would serve the Queen, Elsa the child he had watched grow and blossom into the monarch she was now, better than his late friend.

"Well this is a promising lot," Anna commented idly as she visually inspected the large group of men. Her father let out a noise that was somewhere between a grunt and a snort. His hand came to rest on the hilt of his sword. "They are clumsy and untrained, I will have them fit for war in the allowed time frame." He took a step forward and barked another order. Anna's gaze fell back to the men, she scanned their faces. Every single one of them shared both the fire and the fear of training for war. All except one. A tall man, with hair as yellow as a dandilion. He was big, a man more reminicent of a bear than anything.

"Who is that?" Anna inquired. "Who?" Her father followed her gaze to the man in question. "You." His hand came to point at the tall blonde. "Come here."

The man did as he was told, stepping forward, the rest of the men stopping their actions, curious as to the situation at hand. Anna's father turned his attentions to his new recruits. "Did I instruct you to stop?" This of course caused the men to scurry back into formation and continue their training.

Anna looked the man over again, now that he was closer. "What is your name sir?" the red head asked, a small smirk pulling on her lips. He looked at the shorter woman, curiocity in his gaze. "Kristoff. Kristoff Bjorgman," he answered. "Kristoff," Anna echoed. The name fit him, oddly enough. "Well Kristoff, what do you do for a living?" Anna was curious as to what profession made a man as big as Kristoff. "Ice, ma'am. I am an ice harvester."

Well no wonder, ice harvesting was a hard living, dangerous indeed. Kristoff was up and down those mountains all the time, he would be particularly useful in the battle field; strong and attentive. "Thank you Kristoff. I'm Anna by the way." Anna smiled. "I know who you are, Will that be all?" He asked, his tone a bit flat. Anna frowned; that was pretty rude. "Yes, that will be all." The introduction wasn't a complete loss, after all, Anna had learned something new; spend your life with the ice and you become as cold as the ice.

She watched Kristoff return to training and returned to her father's side. "Kristoff is an Ice havester, father. He may have survival skills to teach- If you can get past his grumpy exterior that is." She gave a soft smile and crossed her arms. "Good, men with useful skills to the cause are always in need." He commented back idly. The war would be long and hard, so they could use all the help they could get.

Anna was not naive to the hardships of war, though she herself had never experienced them, she had spent her time studying war tactics and diaries. There was nothing pretty about it, she knew that. Anna knew that half of the men present would probably not even come home, even with the same training from her father that she had recived. The knowledge saddened her, but it was a truth she could not out run.