Beside her stands a silent godtouched. Her hip-length blue hair kept in place by a pretty golden hairband; a gorgeous pair of sapphire eyes elicits a wonderment similar to the first time you laid eyes on Augustine. Pretty... The handle of a sword (also wrapped in a white cloth) juts out from her hip, and a combination of chainmail and plate armoring her body decidedly shows money, but the way she keeps her eyes in a docile stare at the ground dispels aggression.

''Thank you for coming. I understand your home is a fair journey from the city,'' Thibault says, starting the little assembly with his studious presence. He wears garbs of beige wool and removes the gloves covering his hands, then leans slightly on a cane; you catch a glimpse of a rosy stone atop it. A whispering stone. I'll wager his father is listening, so Thibault must really want to end this conflict of ours.

''Aren't we missing a culprit? The walking metal who tried to imprison my daughter?'' your mother says, strong and commanding, practically glaring at everyone who meets her eyes.

''Oh, he's busy elsewhere,'' the tall, brown-skinned woman answers casually, puffing out a waft of smoke. ''I'm the leader of these boar-headed fools, so consider his failing my responsibility.'' A foreign woman leading a mercenary company of men?

''Surprising, right?'' she continues, smiling with full teeth; remnants of smoke peek through the openings between them. ''I hail from the lands of the Pharaoh, Muribel. Call me Maria; my other name is dead and buried. I've no intention of waging war on you people, unlike that snake.''

''And the lady beside you?'' your father asks.

Maria's eyebrows raise as she glances down at the blueberry next to her. ''She's my aide, here to make sure I don't forget anything. Right?''

''Yes.'' The blue lady answers swiftly, her gaze never leaving the floor. ''Klesiah Zaheed.''

''Zaheed?'' your father continues. ''Do you hail from the Pharaoh lands as well?''

''My ancestors did, long ago. Survivors from the Great Crusade, mysir.''

''So!'' Maria claps her hands, putting her now-extinguished pipe in a leather bag. ''With our lordship and the leader of our militias as witnesses, I do acknowledge the... inadequacy of my outfit, particularly my subordinate Jules, with the flagrant overreach of trying to imprison our lady-elf here.'' She points to you. ''And I'm willing to submit to our lord's judgment for peace and justice. The fault is mine. Entirely.''

''Thank you, Maria.'' Thibault gently taps the ground with his cane. ''I understand there's been a great many growing pains between our peacekeepers and our new arrivals.''

Kraus nods; the sheer impressiveness of his physique makes the gesture look grave. ''It's an outright enmity, mysir. Since they are allowed to patrol where they want, our groups operate independently. I wholly trusted the report of the elven miss here and decided to show these newcomers they aren't beyond our lord's law.''