Tamrys wove quickly past the guards into the room, assuming a chair some ways away from the mantle and pulling her knees immediately up to her chest, her boots coming to rest on the unblemished, plush seat. Her eyes tracked those who entered intently, one by one, with no lack of curiosity. So fascinated with the other mercenaries was she that one might think she was there for tourism rather than to earn gold. As all assembled within the room she seemed to grow increasingly overwhelmed by the diversity of the crew, unsure of whether to feast her eyes at first upon the dwarf before the fireplace, or to look for the towering ashen beast that she had seen before the door. Then, of course there was the human-- she had seen her share of them on the journey to Orlais, and the city elves. She had never truly gotten a good glimpse of them before entering Jader and in all honestly, she was not entirely certain what their business was outside of the alienage, or what belief they held that this human would pay them when he could presumably simply enslave them.<br/><br/>She caught herself staring at the elven woman so nonchalantly filing her nails, as though she had every business being there, before the man who was obviously a dignitary of some sort, in this sort of establishment. There was something about her attire that vaguely resembled a uniform, and Tamrys could only wonder at to which consort she belonged. Was she perhaps a scout? The likelihood seemed low, for from what she had seen, the Orlesians would scarcely trust an elf enough to place them in the military. Her speculations were interrupted by the Duke, and she turned her attention to him. She spoke up almost immediately, with the question at the fore of her concerns.<br/><br/>"How long," she inquired, in a clear and formalistic tone, "Does an 'expedition' last?"<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>