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Yvonne wasn't about to get involved at first, it's already hard enough to follow the conversation with the thick accent thrown around. But then she heard the price tags and couldn't help but raising an eyebrow. It was not a small sum. Well, considering the party there's multiple people that can handily throw around that kind of money without batting an eye. But there's no way a regular caravan can.

The man really sounds like a snake oil salesman... unless his items are legit. Which opened a whole new can of worms by itself.

"Pricy wares you've got there." Yvonne swaggered in from the side, eyeing the admittedly pretty nicely made stuff at a glance. "Ain't you worried about brigands, travelling alone like that? Awful lot of confidence approaching us like that, yeah?"

Yvonne gave a grin, one that never reached the eyes, the gesture dissonant to the conveyed intent.

"You know about us or something? That there's a few moneybags here that could be amenable to a good trade?"
Yvonne recollected her luggage and weapons from the "safekeeping" by the castle staff, in good anticipation after the carelessness of last time sent her out travelling with her backpack stuck in the inn because the group just departed immediately. Same case this time, it looked like. It's still a light(ish) kit, but enough for a few days worth of forced march if needed.

With how things were expected to went, she'll need every edge she could scrounge against the impending shitshow.

"Who's driving this time? Doc again?" Yvonne inquired to no one in particular as she loaded the saddlebag, picking the decidedly smaller horses of the lot. "I'll take the rear guard then. Anyone praying for safe travel?"

Yvonne showed no reservation in heaping her plate, the quantity likely second only to the bear twins. She did devoured the stuff with no issue though, somehow managing to maintain a decent table manner in the process despite the speed various slice of pies and cold cuts and whatnot disappearing into her. No alcohol served in brunch unfortunately, but she can pretend the apple juice was cider.

"Is it now?" She said, tone slightly coy, eyes narrowing inquisitively at the elf. Last time, none of the personnel brought in by the king was mediocre. Each and every one had a field they're specialized at. What would this one bring to the table? "Well, no matter. We'll have much opportunity to see what you've got, yeah?"

He cant keep his secret forever. If they were to be stuck up shit creek without a paddle like before, he damn well better contribute something. Or he'd die, plain and simple. Even someone highly skilled was a goner, with a few others skirting at the brink. Yvonne only hoped that Freddy wouldn't send a fodder along with them. Surely the king cant be that senile yet?
The blue elf came up for a chat, a welcome distraction after that little awkward moment with the prince. A bit stiff, but maybe it's because she's used to Sparky's attitude. The grin widening, Yvonne matched the bow with perhaps a little more theatric than absolutely necessary.

"Good day to you too! Yvonne Rosenving, as you may have heard earlier." On a closer look, the man really liked the color blue. Everything her wear was in that shade, she had to pause and wonder if he'd bleed blue if cut. Bring another meaning to "blue-blooded", heh.

It wasn't a bad combination though. In fact, it matched quite well somehow.

"So, how'd you end up joining this little band of mischief?"
"They both got a good point, Sparky." Yvonne said, surprisingly mildly, the box flipped around and back into the pocket. It's quite clear that the little prince had to forcefully grow into a fledgling monarch, not exactly a great feeling forced by circumstances like that. She would know, it's similar thing that led to her rebellion against her family back then. "I'll find some way to get it passed! A lesson on rulebreaking is probably the last thing you need right now, yeah?"

How exactly, well, she could just ask Thermos later. The old man was at least diplomatic enough not to reject her outright. And if even that failed... well, no matter. It simply meant that the chasm between them was wider than she thought.

Now, for the sudden influx of people. Everyone gravitated to Sparky again, huh? Not strange, the elf carried herself with authority that even the king tolerated. It's hard to get any more important than that around this part. Crimson eyes gazed on the newcomers, recalling what she could get from them... not much, honestly. Small sparks of recognition here and there, nothing beyond that.

"Voltspear, like the legendary shieldbearer? Heavy namesake you're carrying there. Pleasure meeting you." Yvonne was heavily into tales from the last war, where he great-grandfather was a blazing star. As a side effect she knew more of the other legendary figures, including the all-famous Voltspear of the Twin Shields. As far as she knew the man had no descendant, but then again... naming one's child after a famous character wan't out of the norm.

Then there's an Ironside with the infamous greeting, an awkwardly submissive gesture that somehow lasted as a tradition. Yeah, not going anywhere near that lot. And lastly it's another elf! A lot more blue than Sparky, and dressed in a fashion sense strongly resembling Yvonne's own sensibilities. At least before a certain asshole mage burned all her trophies adornment, the motherfucker. To him, Yvonne offered a grin and a wave.
"Give him a break Sparky, he's a bit too young for all this!" Yvonne lingered in the room, approaching the young prince right behind the elf with her usual lopsided grin on her face. Previously she would've gotten quite physical in her greeting, a slap on the shoulder or the like, but this time she stood clearly apart. There's a wall between them now, she realized after the rescue last year. A distance that no amount of old memories will bridge, and instead will continue to grow wider as time passed.

Honestly? She didn't regret it. People come and go, that's just life and even moreso for mercenaries. But... at least she's glad that the kid she once knew had grown so well.

"Ain't sure if I'd see you again, but I'm glad you're here." Reaching into an inner pocket, a small box lined with satin was produced. If opened there'd be a well-crafted pen within, the brass nib gleaming under the light. The pen itself was of Helvetian make, while the satin lining had Kindeance's heraldry embroidered at the center. "Hope you get to use it more than a sword, yeah?"
What's with politicians and dragging a sentence for ten times the required length? And, she had noticed, the higher their station the more long-winded they went. She's used to tune out the mumbo jumbo and fish out the important details, which practically boiled down to the king's uncle - a minister, she recall. What's his name, Thermos or something? - playing the part of an envoy that may be able to either secure a less violent outcome or otherwise open the door so that a directed violence can be applied.

Not as good of a plan as she'd like, but eh. At least there's something to work with.

"Suppose that's the best we can get." She shrugged, not quite agreeing but not leaving either. She'll first see how the others think of the matter. Sparky, in particular, got a good brain underneath that pretty face. And speaking of...

"If it isn't my favorite elf in the world! How you been since I last saw you, Sparky?" It may be hard to determine if Yvonne favor or disfavor someone, what's with how she liberally throw around unwanted nicknames to all. But it's quite simple, really - if it's not something insulting, and wasn't accompanied by cussing, she probably liked the other party to some extent. In this particular case, it's certainly a positive connotation.

Not like the elf caught on, apparently. Nor would Yvonne herself explain it, the behavior coming sort-of naturally to her.
So Cedar got grabbed, no wonder he's missing. Too bad, how sad, but that's how the world went. Shit just happened if you're not alert. Wasn't he also nabbed by Freddy's men back then? Seems that he hadn't learned jack shit. Well, since rescuing him was part of the job description, might as well. However, the rest of the job was... how to say it? Problematic, yes.

"Your majesty, from what I hear you're asking us to slay some of the most well-protected men and women in Meche." That's assuming they can somehow figure out who's pushing for the war. Even after they did, it still entailed the killing of some very important people or even the big man, the king himself. Backward as Meche could be, their equivalent of Jonas Delving would still be guarded by some of the best fighters the country can scrounge up. Especially at turbulent times such as this. "Just one, we can likely manage with the people in this room. But any more is suicide mission, they'll have their guards up by then, and I'm not signing up for that."

No offense to the parties present, but they're more sledgehammers than the surgical blades that were assassins. Whatever altercation will blow out of proportion instead of settle down quietly. Sure, there's a few unknown faces this time, but she doubt it'll make up sufficient difference to whatever fighting formation worked last time.

"I'm all onboard up until Stritzel. Anything beyond that, I'd like to hear a solid plan before I throw my lot in."

Whether dealing with king or baron or even just simple village head, mercenaries will be mercenaries. They're paid to take risk, but all the money in the world wouldn't matter if you walk into certain death trying to hoodwink the reaper. There's a clear difference between risky and suicidal, and Yvonne wasn't interested in the latter.
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.

"Yvonne Rosenving, at your service."

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.
Name: Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade"

Species: Human

Age: 29

Gender: Female

Appearance: Shorter than average, dark hair, somewhat sun-kissed skin from outdoor activity, and way less scars than one would've expect. Often clad in a set of brigandine adorned with a piece of suspiciously familiar scrap of purple fabric (or a pretty dress, at rarer occasion), and always with at least one weapon in her person.


Bio: When Yvonne was born she's the only child to the opulent but very much declining house Rosenving, it took less than two more decades of ridiculous parties and all-around bad financial management before it was driven to the verge of bankruptcy. Naturally there comes the talk of marriage upon which Yvonne, an oddball obsessed with distinctly unladylike things like driving the business end of a weapon into someone's soft flesh, all but absconded with her great-grandfather's blade. The rest of her life was spent in a wild ride of mercenary work and avoiding (more commonly, well, thoroughly violencing) the men hired by her family and/or her would-be fiance to bring her back. Her journey brought her all round the three kingdoms and more, even after her ancestral home collapsed and pursuers stopped coming.

After stashing the kingly ransom from the last job into a Helvetian bank, Yvonne made her return for the second part as promised. With risk comes reward, and surely ol' Freddy wouldn't be stingy this time around? Besides, she came better prepared this time around...

Skillset: Well versed in outdoor survival, knack for murder and violence, oddly high spatial awareness, dancing, easily thrives in chaotic situation, very good at intimidation, weaves pretty dang well, and is proficient using common melee weapons. Personally prefers the mace despite her title.

Spells:
-Mansplitter (Self-buff. Gain inhuman strength for a very short period. The stronger the effect, the greater the backlash.)
-Warcry (AoE debuff. Inflict terror in a wide area. Greater effect on closer target, and greater effect on direction Yvonne is facing.)
-Bloodlust (Passive. Haste, pain tolerance, and resistance to mental effect. Starts off weak but ramps up as the fight goes on.)
-Resilience (Passive. Harder to injure, less affected by existing injuries, and heals a lot faster than normal at the cost of increased calorie usage.)

Equipment: Daily necessities (preserved rations, a tin pot, medical supply, knapping, change of clothes, etc), adorned brigandine, the sword her great-grandfather wielded that probably never saw use since then until it landed in her hands, a heavy flanged mace, a rondel dagger, a belt of high-quality potions in silver flasks.

Other: Can be inserted to the plot any time it's convenient (or fun) to do so.
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