Stepping into the hallway with the other nobles was a tall... someone. Six feet high and perhaps a bit heavy, though most of that could be blamed on their legs looking as though they could break a horse's neck. The person's clothing choice was surprisingly masculine, consisting of an open jacket with decorated shoulders, wide cuffs, a snug vest, form-fitting pants, and a pair of boots that climbed up to their thighs. It was these that gave away their gender, her hips being just too broad to hide with her current attire. She brushed a lock of platinum blond hair behind her ear, and gave a most elegant bow, not taking her icy blue eyes off of her charge. "Cyrille d'Amour, at your service, madam," she said with courtesy that was both masterful, yet practiced to the point that it may or may not have been second instinct by then.<br/><br/>Cyrilled straightened, and rested the tip of her flambard, looking to have been made of cold iron, on the stone floor before holding it in place with her palms laid gently on the pommel. Her mouth curled into the faintest of smiles.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>