Aurélie ate her stew with the fervor of a starving animal; Quiet, suspicious of the others and arguably taking as much as she could. Who knew how long they'd go before another meal? If Ser Giles intended to continue command over future firepits, they may never eat again. What manner of leader can't start a simple fire? Not that she envied the attempt in these conditions, but she wasn't about to step in unless it was life or death, or these stiff nobles started exercising their right to boss her around. 

She paused in her quest for a full belly and stared at the knight as he spoke, weighing his words against the stormcloud impression he'd held up to this point. Nothing is ever as quick, painless or easy as it is imagined in the tales. She smirked to herself, pondering what they'd write of this when it was said and done. In the company of knights and nobility, she doubted she would make much of a character for any fledgling troubadour.

Any aspiration to mirth drained from her as the templar - Ser Hugo - spoke up. His stiff devotion to playing the part he's chosen put her off before they even left Brest, and his tale of bravery in England did not aid matters. Aurélie stiffened in turn. Templars are dangerous. It doesn't matter what you believe, do or say. If a templar thinks you wicked, they will not stop until you are dead. What few stories she'd heard, observed and what she gathered from Ser Hugos' words led her to one simple conclusion; Watch what you say and do. Men devoted to faith - and worse, men of honour - had notoriously foreign views on how the natural world should operate.

It wasn't long until the next voice sounded off, and Aurélie got the first real look at the only other woman around. Just a girl, though invariably exactly as she'd come to know the wives and daughters of nobility and the rich; Pretty, delicate, unpleasantly dramatic. Still, it made perfect sense to bring a negotiator to a quest like this, and given enough grace, she'd be sure to soothe any unpleasantness. So long as she didn't break into pieces along the way. Aurélie watched the girl take to her instrument, falling into a momentary lapse as she listens and merely ponders her own situation. Knights and nobles. Saving a-.. what was it? Princess? Why did she get dragged into this?

The warm flare of green shocks her enough to send her back into the present, and to catch the last of the Magus introduction. He earns himself a stiff sneer for his theatrics, albeit warily so. She isn't surprised there's one of [i]them[/i] along, but she doesn't have to be pleased either. Another one to watch out for.

So it is that the next member of their assembly is a welcome relief. The man known as Tristan Veneti appears to be the counterpart of the young Concordia: A noble fop with no skills of note outside of their regal courts. He even admits to having no experiences. Just another man to protect on the road. Doubtful he'll even have a mind to look her way. 

Chomping down on a particularly hard-fought bit of stew at the bottom of her bowl, she ponders her predicament. Why is she here? Amid nobles, knights, and mages? Shifting on her comfortable log seat, she puts her bowl aside and comes to rest an elbow on the hilt of her arming sword, leaning back to regard the group. 

[i]I am here because I am expendable. Without livery or loyalty.[/i]

It is only now she realizes her perhaps overt shuffling has drawn attention in the ebb of Tristan's introductions, and she glances down towards the dirt quickly. Nothing she can say will measure against them, so nothing is what they should get. "I," She clears her throat to rid herself of that awkward hesitation. "Aurélie. I'm a fighter."