The winter had been a productive one. After her last stint at the castle Yvonne had left north toward the veritable warzone that was Tretagor, reconnecting with the old company for a short while. From there they navigated to Helvetia, where she stashed her kingly ransom in the most secure bank she could find. She took a small risk and named the captain her next in kin should she failed to reclaim the gold, a measure from years of trust and relationship. Better them than letting her actual family somehow worm their way into that wealth.

That aside, she restocked and rearmed before making her way back to the land of her birth. There's more to be gained, enough for a truly opulent retirement. She honestly wasn't sure if she would quit even after, she liked her current life too much for it... but perhaps it's something to consider.

Eventually the invitation found its way to her, and back to the castle she went. A few familiar faces, a few new ones. Some were missing, but she suppose it's an inevitable development. Flashing a toothy grin, the mercenary briskly followed Sparky as the summon finally called them to meet the monarch.

[b][color=#a4161a]"Yvonne Rosenving, at your service."[/color][/b]

Her weapons were handed over already, but otherwise Yvonne showed up dressed for war. The brigandine was brand new and expertly made, with a suspiciously familiar scrap of purple fabric sewn on the surface. Her gauntlet, greaves, joint protector, and the open-faced sallet too were gleaming like something fresh from the smithies. All in all, she cut a striking figure not unlike a preening peacock, roguish confidence oozing with her every steps.