The atmosphere in the war chamber had suddenly become even more awkward than before and since Neria did not own a horse she followed the male imperial and took her weapons and backpack from the guards. 

Despite his obvious connection to the legion, the contrast between him and the dimwit she had encountered at the castle gates could hardly have been greater. The soldier, whose name she did not know, had an expression on his face as if his new companions had suddenly revealed themselves to be two skeevers, a scarecrow and a troll. Yet he reminded her of the stories she heard as a teenager from her masters. While Morrowind and the empire had not always been on great terms, many dunmer held a great deal of respect for the imperial army, especially members of house Redoran. Their soldier’s discipline and mastery of strategy had once unified the whole empire, outmatching any other standing force in Tamriel – until the Thalmor came to power and took over. This event marked the beginning of the legions downfall and the civil war in Skyrim only further reduced the number of strong, reliable soldiers the legion once prided itself on. These days, sadly the idiot gate guards were the rule and men like her new companion made the exception. He looked like the last remaining true legionary; strong, loyal and determined. Quite obviously he was going to follow his orders to the point; Neria had no doubt about that. She made a mental note to stay on the right side of his orders; she was not aiming to gain his friendship, but to avoid unnecessary conflict, which might hinder their mission.
 
And then there was the man who called himself Dio of Tel Oloth. Neria was certain, that despite his armor and accent he was contrary to the guard’s assumption, no dunmer. Firstly the proportions of his body were off; legs too short, hands and feet too big, shoulders and hips too broad. Secondly his movements, although natural, were missing a certain - graze. Neria couldn’t think of a better word, but her gut told her that he was more man than mer. His affiliation with a great house did not change that. While not overly common outsiders were allowed to join a great house every once in a while, even if they belonged to a different species. 
As for his character; Telvanni members were known for being reckless, arrogant and often powerful mages, who pursued only their own personal goals with little concern for costs, often ‘consuming’ enormous numbers of slaves in their endeavors. A cruel habit and yet despite this the Telvanni were well-respected in Morrowind. It was in fact their result-driven mindset which was considered an important part of dunmer culture and earned them their reputation, even though they continuously pushed the borders on what was considered to be ‘good-taste’ – necromancy and such. Dio certainly seemed to have a high enough opinion of himself to truly be a Telvanni and therefore Neria would have to make sure to not trust him easily. However it might be nice to have someone around familiar with dunmer customs.

Neria passed a painting on the wall, depicting a man dressed in rich clothing balancing several gold nuggets on a scale. The painted metal led her mind to the latest member of their small group. Qa’va; a white Khajit and presumably a thief. During her travels across Tamriel, Neria had come across several of these furred creatures, most of which were travelling in caravans and made camp outside bigger cities to trade. The feline people were known for illegal activities and an unhealthy addiction to Skooma. So far Neria had only witnessed events which confirmed this reputation and was therefore not exactly enthusiastic to travel with the oversized white cat. 
Neria scolded herself in her mind; she could not possibly conclude Qa’va’s nature just from this first short encounter. The Dragonborn had known her – obviously, and maybe even trusted her. Additionally her anger seemed genuine enough; she most likely really wanted revenge. All this was reason enough to give the cat-lady a chance. Still Neria could not shake the feeling that her clawed hands would somehow end up in her pockets at some point. Luckily she traveled light and owned little of true value anyway.

Lastly there was the person responsible for the little meet and greet. Kriisa. The young woman looked innocent and sweet, but Neria was not mad enough to be fooled by looks. There was a dark aura surrounding her which reminded Neria of a lunatic serial killer. The image of a little girl smiling while holding up a bloody knife came to mind. The Dragonborn’s former companion was undoubtedly an assassin and would certainly proof deadly. To whom however was another question, the answer to which Neria was certain she would find out soon enough.

For now she just continued to follow the man in front of her. Silently.