The primalist, if only for now, held her tongue as she followed her company in suit.

The stone room they were led to bore an eclectic tone of decoration, one that seemed to be the subject of interest to both her and Ceria, the latter of which sat herself upon one of the seats before the broad desk whereas Arthera by contrast stood beside her. Despite the ordeal not long ago General Cavanaugh seemed no worse in demeanor for it, by fortune's favor not even made aware of it perhaps, rather more content to admit in light the inanity of the ceremonial display in the midst of a greater threat. The tall, blonde figure could not agree more in those regards nodding quietly to herself no matter if the man paid her any heed; the time for attention was best suited elsewhere, not on celebrations of events done by the works of men long old.

As Ceria's commentary grew more tense, Arthera lifted a hand and beckoned one of the cups Loxim had said out for them all, waiting after the general had filled them all. While doing so, her animal attentiveness did not leave him, nor did it peer aggressively. The display was not a game of show or an effort of force, but a foundation for her comment that was born after the elf relaxed some again.

"Better they died free souls than slaves of a witch, something I am sure those of the city of Bourgund can appreciate." She said, all the while not breaking her gaze from across the table, "But... as our host has said, there is time to discuss that coming."

The cup, now having found itself a resting place in Arthera's surprisingly large palm, was held gingerly at the handle with a sense of refinement she remembered from that old life a time ago. She sipped upon its contents quietly, then placed it deliberately just beside her, this time without the aid of her talent. She pressed on with question thereafter as the man had opened an unofficial forum, so why not oblige him? He certainly had the authority to do so, making this a rare opportunity for all present, or so the woman thought.

"Does your city often have speakers of doom preaching to the masses on days of celebration, General?" Arthera attempted to pique his interest, both to find answers she and her cohorts sought earlier, and to infer their meeting was perhaps more important than they all at first new.

She was uncertain if such an instinctual notion was accurate, but it seemed too uncanny for comfort, and if anyone was to reasonably know then it would be this man.