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The woman barely stood out amidst the bodies gathered, choosing anonymity over recognition for her rank. It would be shown only by the scarlet trim to the longsword slung across her light pack. Even still her sword was hidden under a standard green cloak.
She wore an approximation of general attire in a nondescript gray covering Elven mail, with an Elven dagger sheathed in a band about her thigh.
A matching band around her other leg bore several throwing daggers as did a hidden sheath in her pliable black boots. Generally, the woman traveled light, intending to use speed and agility over brute force.
The blonde Vagaran was on loan to the group from the 4th Covil of the 26th Imperial Legion and felt any authority she could wield would be entirely unwelcome and presumptuous. She had arrived only the day before, and had kept to herself, save a visit to Eyvind's office. Even now she shaded her face with the cowl of her cloak and said very little.
Rank, Covil, proper assignment, it was all arbitrary anyway, Kella realized. Her Covil was a fiction and she had no brothers in arms save those she had made in her early months in the Legion, and maybe the quartermaster. She spent an inordinate amount of time with him keeping up appearances. The Black Bell members were sequestered one from the other in a sort of solitary confinement, consoled by their access to an array of weapons and armor beyond their pay-grade.
If spotted, Kella explained her mail and weapons as presents from a wealthy brother, or part of the privilege of working for the quartermaster. If they wanted to shine boots and sharpen spears for candlemarks on end, she retorted, they too could have access to such goodies.
As she looked at the familiar faces, Kella realized it had been months since she had seen one. Even longer since seeing either in proper battle. Each one, including herself, had a slightly different visage to wear when immersed in the business of combat. Eyvind had a more commanding air, and seemed almost respectable, even a little fierce. Frankly, she'd never get over the man's extraordinary height, she'd have to jump to say something in his ear.
Cyrus was characteristically stoic, but a new creature shadowed him with an eerie loyalty. While he had never been an entirely merry figure something darker trailed him now, and it struck Kella momentarily sad, though she could not articulate why.
Kella's posture of a keen listener waned only as the men began to split, moving towards their boats. In the swiftly passing seconds she pulled back her hood and took in the new formations, wondering where Eyvind had decided to affix her.
Spying Cyrus's boat she gave a brief nod towards it and a quiet benediction.
"Aslan go with us."
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