Laila’s eyes swept over the garden as the Emperor started to gather their party and prepare to begin the mission. A seemingly motley group, they were. As a sell-sword she was probably the least conspicuous person of the group, even more so than the young cook with sharp eyes if only because her kind were expected at this sort of venture. That was just fine for her. Doing her job was always easiest when people wrote her off and then ignored her. And who knew, perhaps the diversity would work to their advantage as they worked to figure out the mysteries of the plague. Getting their without killing each other first, however, might prove a bit difficult. They hadn’t even done anything yet and already the young knights and man cocooned in foreign armor had their hackles raised like back alley dogs. 

She sighed and shook her head slightly, moving to where a line of holsters held the leads to several fine mounts. If there was one thing Laila knew, it was horses. She had been raised on a horse farm, and then served many years as a scout practically living off the back of one. None of those she had previously, however, were of as fine a quality as those brought from the Emperor’s stables. She headed straight for a blue roan towards the back of the line. The gelding was a fine looking courser. A more sleekly built horse than the descriers that the Emperor and many of his knights preferred to ride, but perfect for the Ghost who liked to approach problems from the side. They were bred for use by scouts and messengers but were also great for skirmishes too.

After offering her hand to the horse for a good sniff, Laila gave him a firm pat on the neck and ran her hands along his body, down his legs, and making sure his shoes were in good order. She doubted there would be any deficiencies with mounts from the Emperor’s own stables, but her training since childhood compelled her to check every inch of the horse over. Satisfied, she unslung her bag so she could distribute it across the horse and ready herself for travel. 

Her crossbow was unlashed and set gently on the ground next to her, and she strapped a small harness on over her leather armor. Made for mounted crossbowmen, the small hook on the front allowed her to re-cock her small crossbow while riding. It didn’t mean that she could reload and fire quickly, just made it possible for her to use multiple times. That weapon she slung on her back and tied the quiver down to the saddle so that it’d be in front of her left knee. Her bag she tied down behind her own seat, not willing to take some of the things hidden within the confines of it out in order place them in the provided saddle bags. Namely her Nightfighter garb and a variety of poisons. Nothing would make her less happy than having to explain her possession of those things away.

With no way to ready herself more, Laila hopped into the saddle with one fluid motion to await their departure, nodding her thanks to the holster who had brought out the horse. She guided her new mount away from the line of steeds with just a little pressure from her knees, happy at the gelding’s responsiveness to her slight commands. A fine horse. She gave him a rough scratch at the base of his mane to let him know.

“You know,” she said turning her attention to the recklessly open young woman and the poor boy she decided to drag along behind her. The girl she knew to be a performer from a famous troupe, having seen the show a few times herself during her travels. And the boy, well, he smelled of cooking meat and was covered in grease. On top of that he had a body that looked used to lifting heavy sacks of grain and flour, all of which led Laila to believe he had worked in a kitchen. “You may want to ask for a proper weapon while you have the chance. It’ll be good to have one and even if you don’t know how to use it, it’s not so difficult to be taught the basics. Unless, that is, you plan to kill brigands with handstands and camp stew?” She smiled crookedly, her voice light in good-natured, teasing manner. Still, her suggestion had a note of seriousness to it.