Okay, these people were threatening her a while ago, at least some of them... But... It's sort of a compliment if you think of it right, isn't it? That she's enough of a threat they need a full response.

Her ears flicker briefly to each loud or startling noise. Her tail curls anxiously. She flicks it repeatedly, scattering little blue fires from the tip that form up in a circle five feet around her. They feel hot to the touch but won't actually injure people. (This time.) 

...Being openly special like this is an uncommon experience! She's usually a quadruped for it. She's usually disguised when in humanoid form. She's not sure what to say.

She wants to, and doesn't want to, at the same time, and follows a surge of some sort of emotion (embarrassed pride?) and starts dancing. Her moonlight dance, the one that she can do almost without thinking, slow and elegant and twirly. She pilots the lights in spirally orbits around her and keeps walking forward as she does.

The magic performance gets cheers and applause.

Weiss leaves behind her an impassioned argument as to whether she's a "dance sorceress" or merely a dancing sorceress (or wizard or druid!)

They'd probably follow her a distance if they didn't have posts to get back to and a Field Marshall (who's operating on the observation that Weiss is still skittish around the people who stopped her (if not around people full-stop, but there's less she can do about that)) to inform them of this.

Within its walls, Korvosa is a dingy city. It may or may not be nice by the standards of early-modern cities on Earth, which is to say, Korvosans have prestidigitation and they do use it, but... that's the reference class. There is more fecal matter on the street, both human and animal, than someone walking barefoot might strictly prefer.

The streets are bustling with humans and horses and stout bearded dwarves and and waifish elves and chickens and pigs and people with slightly pointed ears who stand three feet tall and have large furry feet and walk barefoot as a rule and a dog chasing the chickens and a person chasing the dog chasing the chickens. 

The houses are multistory and cramped together. It seems that some of them have been built even taller, and the construction rarely looks up to code.

There's a human child with wide eyes that wants to know "What are you?"

Yeah, cities are like that. There wasn't really enough magic in the other place to make them clean, either. And she just bets there's a slum and orphanages around somewhere, and a fancy district where merchants and nobles live.

She's paying attention to what people seem to think of Hunter Guy, and whether he seems uncomfortable in the city like she kind of is.

"I'm a fox. See?" Kids are cute. Sometimes. She won't let them touch her tail, though! Kids YANK.

The kid is incredibly disappointed by the fact that the fox proves to have a personal bubble.

If Hunter Guy is uncomfortable in the city, it shows in how his smile grows wider but less of it reaches his eyes. He separates the dog and the chickens, which all parties present--canine, fowl, and hominid alike--seem gladdened by; whatever else he is, he's very good with animals. Whenever someone waves and shouts at him, he waves and shouts right back.

Hunter Guy told you that his friends call him Marcus, but it seems that everyone else calls him "Commandant" or "Lord Endrin."

"Say, Marcus, I don't have a good idea what the local soldier types are capable of, and the reverse seems also true. Probably you want to keep an ace in the hole, or three, but getting more familiar with what to expect would be a good idea?"

He takes a moment to roll her words over in his head before he says, "It's hard to speak sweepingly. Most humans--the kind of thing I am--don't have any innate magic. We only have the kind that you learn the hard way, or get from a god, with fairly few exceptions. Spellcasters have tricks, too many to easily list, but most of us soldier types are just normal mortals wearing shiny shirts."

"And the rest of you 'local soldier types,'" Fiducia Falco adds, "can punch through solid stone and wrestle hippogriffs and survive ordinary forms of execution and can shoot the wings off a fly in the dark."

He nods because it's true. "People have a variety of skills and are varyingly good at them."

"Nnnno that seems like magic to me. Just, magic of the body, not the fire-flinging kind. I've got some of that too."

"Certainly I know some extraordinary people, but I wouldn't call them magic. Detect Magic can't detect someone's underlying factor of selfhood, and Dispel Magic can't dispel durability or strength unless it's granted by a spell or item, nor can Antimagic suppress it."

"Sounds like a terminology problem to me."

She suddenly leaps fifteen feet into the air, and lands light as a feather.

"See? That's unnatural. That's magic, to me."

That's was a very impressive jump. He will golf clap, sincerely.

"It's interesting that your language doesn't disambiguate. To me, magic is... magic and the supernatural are the things which aren't on the same continuum as animals are. Some things in nature can leap further than others, some are stronger or faster or better swimmers, but none can fly without wings or conjure summoned outsiders. That's what I regard as magic."

"Seems like a case of unclear boundaries and definitions, yes. I'll have to use the local terms lest I confuse everyone I talk to. C'es la vie. You have-" A ridiculous stack of magic items, she was about to say, but stops herself short. "-Hm, no, nevermind, nonsense thought."

Your path takes you to the foot of a steep marble stair which leads to the bronze doors of a towering temple made of gleaming marble and bronze.

The fiducia gestures with a hand. "The Bank of Abadar."

"-Thank you, sir. I think it likely I'll want to buy Share Language tomorrow."