Ophelia nods.  "I certainly think it's one of the better uses of my time," and at this point she scans the area for suspicious animals before continuing, "around the same as 'develop a ritual that will deprive the Voices' loyalists of Nerat'."

"You can do that? Yes, that would definitely be worth pursuing. How long do you think that development will take? I don't know much about sigils or rituals."

"It's - fundamentally uncertain, given that developing new magic is often a matter of 'take a lot of drugs and hope the hallucinations show you something useful', and this is the first time I've tried - but Lantry and I have high hopes; it's a short distance from things we already know, even if it's uncertain how hard getting there will be."

"I'll not assume your success, then, but I'm sure I can draw up a couple contingencies if it works. I'll trust you to prioritize."

She nods.  "I am glad we can both trust eachother to behave in a competent manner."

She nods back. "Here they are. Colus, I have your new assignment."

A man in the light armor of a Crescent Runner but with the better part of a dozen years on the typical Runner stands up. "Fatebinder, ma'am. We're honored."

Sitting at the same fire are three others - a young man with a (nonstandard) shortbow and quiver on his back, a woman who tilts her head toward the newcomers but leaves her eyes closed, and a man about Colus's age who looks their way but shows no reaction.

"Sergeant Colus, I presume?  A pleasure to meet you.  Have you been briefed on what the Marshal is asking of us?"

He nods. "She mentioned there are some missing Earthshakers and that we could help you find them without getting knives in the back. And whatever else you decide needs doing outside of camp."

"That's the gist of it.  I hope I won't need to impose beyond that, but there's also the matter of some missing shipments that we definitely do not want the Chorus to get their hands on."

"Iron?," he asks, looking toward the Iron Marshal. She nods. "Aethra told me something was wrong with Isotanis's forge recently. We'll help, of course. Ah - introductions are in order. Aethra?"

The woman grins, then stands, and opens her eyes, nodding to Ophelia. "Aethra, as he says. Isotanis was only wary when people were watching."

When the other older man stands, he says, "Antenor. The stealthy one. Stealthier. They're fine at it. I'm better."

The young man names himself as "Phorbas. I'm a good shot with javelins, and a great shot with this bow. And that's much easier to do while unseen."

Aethra's declaration draws out a softly impressed, "Oh, you're good."

And when the team has finished introducing themselves, she speaks once more, picking up where Phorbas left off: "And I am Fatebinder Ophelia Vaudelle, as you already know.  I am a sigil-caster specializing primarily in support magic via the Sigils of Life and Vigor - but I also have a knack for Illusions, which help vastly with stealth when used properly.  I've done my own fair share of sneaking through both urban and rural environments, in the siege on the Bastard City and later on in Azure.  When I'm not doing support spells, I cast Lightning or Force, or stab things.  And, of course, I am a Fatebinder, which means that I have to have an eye for details.  Professionally speaking, I came to this duty by way of having diplomatic training, which means that I specialize in talking people into, out of, around, and through things - and given the chance, I do prefer to talk first, rather than fight.

"Let's go meet everyone else you'll be working with, shall we?  Though, actually - speaking of the iron - Marshal Erenyos, did you see anything that I missed, in the shipment records I copied to you?  If you've had the time to review them at all; goodness knows there's a lot to do to organize a campaign, especially on short notice.  I should likely leave you to that, if there's no other business."

"I haven't reviewed them yet. Probably in a few days. Once I'm confident all our people know the new situation and have sensible orders for it, my days will calm down somewhat."

She nods.  "Do please let me know if there's anything I can help with in the meantime; I feel as though I ought to owe you one for the surprise, especially since Nerat certainly won't be able to make up for it personally by the time we're done with him."

"Oh, I've been nervous something like this would happen just about every time the Archons were in the same tent since we left the shadow of the Bastard City. Even before we lost Brennix. There's never a good time to start fighting two armies at once, but don't blame yourself much."

"I'm hoping we can bring the number of armies we're fighting down to approximately half of one as we continue on, honestly; the parley made some very good progress on the diplomatic front, from my perspective."

"Hopefully. But being hopeful isn't my job."

"Indeed.  Truthfully, it's not my job either - I have to squeeze it in in my personal time."  She gives a small, but sincere, wry smile; she's making a joke.  "Nevertheless, I'll leave you to it, shall I?  Fate be with you, Marshal."

She nods, and leave Ophelia with the scouts.

"Let's meet the others, then," Colus says, "Barik, a Scarlet Fury, and a Sage, if I heard right?"

"Technically the Sage was one of ours, first, and regardless of that he's quite ex-, after the Burning - but yes, Barik, Verse, and Lantry, respectively.  There's also someone who used to be Vendrien Guard under my command, technically, but I intend to send her on diplomatic errands and suchlike, not put her in a fight; I didn't ask that of her when she swore."

"Fair enough. Easier to trust someone for that duty, too." The squad will fall in and walk with her.

"And I already know to expect that she'll identify with her counterparts.  That's - a pretty common thing for diplomats, getting friendly with your opposition."

And she'll lead them to where she's expecting her retinue to be!

Barik's sitting outside, oiling his sword. "Colus! You'll be screening for our Fatebinder, will you?"

"Sure will, Barik, sir," he says, with a bit of a gleam in his eye on the 'sir', "And your rattling carapace, to boot."