Cynric has a perfectly straight face and a downright earnest expression. No funny business here, no sir and/or ma’am and/or polite gender neutral pronoun of your choice.

“Yeah, I was going to play escort mission and then be the first to cry foul if she seemed too sketchy, it’s only fair if I’m bringing her aboard,” he agrees, nodding. “‘Kay, thank you, ma’am.”

Visor back down. "Good. ...the Scions of the Seventh Dawn are here, too, and they are comparatively more tolerant of hedge knights that they have never met and have no reason to distrust. So that's an idea of where you could go to help."

"Oh, they are? That's very helpful, thank you."

"Mmhm. So do make sure to not give them reason to distrust you. Or her."

"We're just folks offering a helping hand to those in need," he agrees solemnly. "A lot of innocent people will die if the Dravanians break through. Nobody wants that."

"...the Dravanians seem to want that."

Oh boy, they're having a subtext conversation while having an actual conversation that other people can listen to and read into. Well, more than they were already doing, anyway. Except this is talking about topics that might get someone to point at him and go 'heretic' if he gets it wrong. This needs to be navigated very carefully.

"Nidhogg and his brood are a bunch of crazy murderous blighters, so who cares what they want," he sniffs, with all of the air of a proper disgusted Ishgardian. "They get to die for being murderous fucks. Speaking of, we're all about to be very busy, yeah?"

"Yes, we are," she says, her half-smile visible through the gap of her helmet.

Phew. Freedom.

... To sneak Lady Iceheart into the Ishgardian defense line in the middle of a Dravanian siege. That everybody thinks she is responsible for. Why is he doing this again? Sweet Halone, he is absolutely going to die, and if he's lucky it'll be to the damned dragons.

But he said he would do it, so. He'll do it. He guesses.

He makes it to the Lady Iceheart in question. She is, by this point, properly helmeted and has had her talking privileges revoked, to the point where she's wearing a small charm usually reserved for loud prisoners who are suffering the tender mercies of inquisitors that silences her voice entirely. So. That'll help. Probably.

She tilts her head when Cynric returns.

"Yeah," he sighs. "So, the Scions are here, and our best bet is probably hanging out with them. Still sure about this, Vanya?"

He doesn't put any kind of stress on the name she'll be going by. It is, as far as he's concerned, her name while she's got that helmet on.

...

Stoic nod.

"Okay, don't blame me if everyone else isn't impressed with the silent treatment."

To the Scions! The irony does not escape him, but he is not going to be thinking about it right now.

The Scions are easy to find as the most colourful bunch.

Literally; Ishgardians favour body-covering armour of dour dark colours, but the Warrior of Light himself is a tall blond raen au ra wearing green poofy trousers and a green hoodie that only covers as far down as his chest and leaves most of his torso entirely exposed to the elements, and the other Scions are similar flavours of much-gaudier-than-normal.

...

At least they're easy to find. Even if he does not at all understand their fashion choices.

"Uh, hey. Are you guys the Scions of the Seventh Dawn?" he asks, politely, because just because he knows they are doesn't mean he shouldn't open with clarifying it.

"That would be us," says the au ra, turning around to look at him.

"Oh, good, um. Do you happen to have space for a couple of adventurers going spare? Her rep," he tilts his head at her, "is nonexistent, and she's mute to boot. She's decent with her sword and board and unwilling to take her helmet off, but from what I've learned she's really mad at some dragons. I figured playing face for her would get us one more person against the hordes, which is worth it, so. Hi. I'm Cynric, the best name I've gotten out of her was Vanya."

Helmeted elezen lady waves. Stoically.

"Well, more swords against the Dravanians is better than fewer. What's your spec, and are either of you any good with cannons?"

"Fast and stabby, occasionally with acrobatics. I volunteer as tribute to be a cannon guy, I'm decent enough with them. Ishgardian, you know. Dravanians showing up from the skies twice a month."

Helmeted lady crosses her arms, then shakes her head. She taps the shield on her back.

"I have places for both of you, then. Come with me." He nods to the person he had been idly chatting to and leads the way.

Off they go!

(This is still the dumbest thing he's ever done! AAA!)

The Warrior of Light seems reasonably gullible willing to trust Cynric anyway. Here's a cannon, there's already someone there but they're sent off to do something else when he arrives. These cannons have aetherial charges meant to go through thick Dravanian hides plus a stun setting that should be able to subdue even Nidhogg himself but completely drains it of charge and needs careful aiming.

"Oh, I know this type. Expensive. The steps get the nice stuff, don't they. Guess they need it. Do you want to see me fire off some practice shots before you leave me alone with it, prove I know which end goes in which direction?"