Alice disentangled herself from The Andred Lady, and became aware of Settionne launch into a flurry of words somewhere behind herself about honour and the like when it came to the treating of prisoners. Amusement played it's course across Alice's thoughts as she knew from first hand experience few people could stand up to a Vrettonnian letting fly with hostile wits, if only because the accent obscures most speech at that speed to foreigners, leaving the agressées floundering. Even if she had the control to restrain childish thoughts like that in such a morose circumstance she would probably not. Instead she kept it far from anyone else, and not a twitch reached her face.

Ursaren quickly moved in to the more intimate and comforting position, trying to keep wayward eyes on himself and away from her captors. [i]At least the eyes now see,[/i] Alice considered this to be at least somewhat of an improvement. Next came coherent speech, and with it tragedy. [color=Silver]"I am Lady Jezebeth, Daughter of None, Knight and Commander-Aspirant of the Guardian Order, Bane of Demons, Poverty & Famine-"[/color] the woman paused, but Alice knew what she was going to say. Almost any person with military knowledge or noble heraldry knew those names, let alone a Vrettonnian. [color=Silver]"-Ruby of the Knighthoods of Andred-"[/color]

Alice began to put a picture together. Andred was very powerful indeed, it was foolish to believe that they had no knowledge of events around these parts, even if they knew only the symptoms and not the causes. The Elven queen might not know of such a move because it was signature Andred heavy handedness to try and sort it out by themselves, without contacting the locals since "if they saved the day who can argue?" But clearly, that hadn't happened. So Andred had sent some knights to deal with a dragon, as the bards would sing about surely, and their precious jewel with it to champion another cause. Something had happened along the way and The Ruby of Knighthoods, or Jezebeth, though it was hard to put a simple name to such powerful titles, was distraught over her loss. 

The cold calculation of circumstances made it seem like Alice didn't care or sympathise at all, though this was far from the truth. Though she'd never shared the same shoes, she understood the dance. Such things you didn't even pray to guard against, because they are unthinkable. Stories like the kind Alice had just figured (perhaps wrongly) make you think about what it would be like if such a thing were to happen to yourself, and likely wake you up in a cold shiver for nights to come until your mind can settle itself. She took a swig of the Elven juice still clutched in her hand, and wished it were Dwarven Stout.

Still, Alice moved away and listened to the other conversations, if not taking an active role. She noted how even when the Elves tried to switch the conversation to their own language An-Hasst kept it in the common tongue. Being born in the Vrettonnian courts, few social cues like that escaped her attention, and she found a new respect for the half-breed. Now was not the time to divide, and it was good to be travelling with people of the same belief. She also noticed his hostile glance towards Jezebeth at the mention of his homeland, no doubt due to the great friction between the two nations. Although Andred and Vrettonnia were constantly fighting Alice couldn't really relate in the same way. The way her homeland interacted with the other power was more along the lines of sibling rivalry and 'rough and tumble' in comparison to the conquest of The Kaelic Isle, few Vrettonians felt kindred with An-Hasst's kind.

She decided to stand near the conversation, though stayed out of it for now. The Elf, Verya, probably had her hands full as it was!