The following few hours was a bit of a blur. The short rest and resupply was over in a blink, and then the party continued their way back to the capital. Normally Yvonne wouldn't have any issue keeping up for a day or two, but she saw fiercer combat and injuries in the last few days than in the last year combined. She stayed awake, of course, however the body's need to shut down and heal wasn't something easy to fight off.

It felt like she'd briefly nodded off a couple of times before finally arriving at the castle, dead in the night like a group of rogues. Well, clandestine jobs were nothing new. Brief interlude between the bear, Matilda, and the chamberlain, then it's finally time to rest. Props to ol' Freddy, he had staff up and ready even at ass-end o'clock in the night. One of them ushered Yvonne to a suite, the splitting of the party raising some alarm in her mind, but considering the capabilities of the members... it's probably safe enough.

Her eyes were on the maid as they walked past dim hallways, though soon enough the attention was shifted to the surroundings in a brief moment of clarity. The place's familiar, yet foreign at the same time. The mercenary had been to the castle several times before, and the Rosenving estate itself bore similar display of casual opulence in every corner. Or at least before its fall, back in the days. No other footsteps could be heard, no assassins jumping out to silence the hounds now that the hunt was over.

Click. The door opened, oiled hinges swinging noiselessly to reveal a well-lit room larger than most commoner's house. The color theme was burgundy, splashes of dark crimson and gold linings decorating every corner of it. Yvonne knew of this place. The Rosenving's crest was almost identical in their palette, and the rare times her family was hosted in the palace this was the room reserved for their stay. She frowned slightly, betting to eat her boots if this was a coincidence, but exhaustion handily won over aesthetic disagreement. At this moment, the glaring light was a larger annoyance than the jab at her lineage.

[b][color=#a4161a]"Fuck's sake, dim the light. It's past bloody midnight."[/color][/b] She strolled in, surveying the room for anything amiss. [b][color=#a4161a]"And since you're already here, draw me a hot bath. And a light meal too."[/color][/b] Might as well peruse the room service while she's at it.

[i]"Of course, milady. It will be done."
[/i]
The next fifteen minutes was spent examining every corner of the room, from the massive curtains to the walls whose she tapped with the pommel of her sword. Yvonne had found the concealed servant's passageways by the time her request was completed, ignoring the way the maid stared at how she devoured the platter of bread, smoked meat, and blue cheese. Next was the bath, though this time she stopped the maid from following in.

[b][color=#a4161a]"Leave me."[/color][/b]

Alone with her crimes, Yvonne saw her sorry reflection in the bronze mirror. The chain hauberk and gambeson was no more, replaced with bandages and a plain shirt taken from Baker's establishment. Her hair had seen better days, bits of dried dirt and blood sticking to the sorry bun. Sighing, the mercenary unsheathed her sword and went to work as bandages fell off her figure in long strips alongside flakes of scabs. The skin underneath was pink and tender from recent healing, the potion doing wonders in accelerating the process. At least she'll look presentable tomorrow, if she could get her hair in order.

Perhaps she shouldn't have kicked out the maid, but pride dictated that she's now stuck with her own self. Besides, she's not giving an unknown entity the perfect position to strangle and/or slit her throat.

A prodigious amount of shampoo and soap usage later, the now lukewarm bathwater had turned murky grey from all the dirt extracted from her. Clad in only a long bathrobe and a towel around her hair, Yvonne exited with her sword in hand and her rondel dagger strapped unseen at her ankle. The rest of her stuff... nothing irreplaceable. If the castle staff took it away, they'll provide replacements in order to ensure she's presentable to meet the king. The maid remained standby in the room, so Yvonne gave her the permission to clean up. That done, there's finally nothing left to do but rest.

But first, another lap around the room. Didn't seems to be anyone or anything nefarious hidden, so that's good. The mercenary sat at the edge of the bed, laying down and closing her eyes... before promptly opening them wide again. She twisted left, right, then sat up straight with an annoyed sigh.

[b][color=#a4161a]"Gods damn it. I dont remember this thing being so bloody soft-"[/color][/b]

When the maid returned, she'll find one of the chair dragged to the corner of the room - the Rosenving heir seated and fast asleep on it, an ornate sword cradled in hand.