As her old leader started explaining why they were all there that night, Valéria leaned back against the wall of the small structure, arms crossed. She listened to him grimly, sure from the beginning that his story would not be a happy one. That the absence of a comrade prompted his explanation made her sure of this. His referencing his family distinctly in the past tense confirmed this. So, Wolfgang had finally settled down. The family life was not one that Valéria wished for herself. Indeed, she didn't know how any of the likes of them could just change their lives so dramatically. But he'd been happy, and she wished that for all of her former crew members. She pitied him for his loss.

The identity of the culprit surprised her. Arturo? Back with the Italian military? She herself had entertained more than one passing fancy of a reality where she could return to that life, but to actually pursue it... It was madness. And to betray Wolfgang in the process? He had to have some sort of reason for doing it all. He'd been distant, sure, but no more so than herself. [i]Betrayal is not difficult in the face of fortune and glory,[/i] the cynic in her reminded, [i]we all have something that would tempt us.[/i] Still, his actions were unacceptable. She was not filled with rage, and her blood didn't boil. But, as her mind established this one simple fact, the next logical step was clear. Reparations had to be made. And, as someone who considered herself Wolfgang's friend, she would help him attain them.

One by one, the others pledged themselves to the cause. Fredrik went into it as was his way; a physical show of affection and an empassioned declaration of justice and loyalty. While she'd have to challenge his statement of being 'unmatched' at a later date, she appreciated that he was still as she remembered. Lucian, of course, threw his lot in as well. As he'd said himself, he was in the business of revenge. She would have been very surprised if he hadn't considered it a worthy cause. Then, there was Madelief, expressing her grief for him with a show that would elicit an eyeroll from Valéria if it were coming from any other person, but was almost infectious from Madelief. The glint of her blade punctuated her words, and as she swore justice, it reflected quite dangerously in her eyes.

Feeling rather as though all attentions were on her, she considered her own loyalties too obvious to bother stating -for, like many who are considered difficult to understand by others, she considered her motivations and positions to be as clear as day- and simply looked at Wolfgang expectantly. "It seems that we await your orders, then," She commented. By now, it may have been noticed that her accent was much less thick than when the group had first formed.