Phirra was late. She was not happy that she was late, but she accepted that there was nothing she could do about it. It was a long journey westwards from her homeland, and the carriage driver (generously provided by Lancelot, since for most people no amount of money could put tem within fifty miles of Camelot) had gotten them lost in the foreign land. Thankfully, once they'd reentered familiar territory, they picked up enough speed to only be slightly late. Inconvenient, but not disastrous.

After having a pair of the castle's guards bring her Ether harvester to her room, Phirra proceeded to the main entrance of the castle. As she got close, she heard a distinctive, commanding voice, muffled but still audible through the wood doors. Cursing, she ran the last ten feet or so, entering the castle in time for the second half of Lancelot's speech.

"In two days you will..."

Good. She had only missed the pleasantries. She hadn't been very interested in hearing them anyway.

Once Lancelot was finished, Phirra waited before speaking. She wanted to look at the great gathering of psychopaths for a moment, see what was in store. 

Once the woman - no, vampire - named Ester was finished speaking, Phirra finally decided to speak up herself.

"You, I like you." She began, pointing at Ester. "Good plan. A distinct lack of me getting murdered would be absolutely golden. Got that, everyone?" Phirra continued, now adressing the entire room. "Listen to Ester, she has a head. Wait, you don't even know who I am, do you? How rude of me. Phirra Darnos, Artificer Extraordinaire, at your service." Phirra bowed as she said this. "Well, not really. That is, not really at your service, I am an excellent artificer, but though I'm on your side, I'm not serving you. I serve me. Come to think of it, that's also a good plan. Serving me is good, not killing me is also good."

And with that, Phirra pulled up a chair and sat down.