From the very moment that she opened the door, Jeanne wasted no time in swiftly spinning on her heel with mechanical precision and returning to Duke Leland's side, without so much as a word to the line of recruits waiting outside. In her eyes, the open door itself would suffice as a statement, and any who didn't comprehend that would be a waste of breath. And much as she had anticipated, they understood the message quite clearly and neatly filed into the room as she calmly walked back to her original position beside the duke's desk. Up until turning around, the chevalier hadn't even given the group so much as a cursory glance... so finally seeing them all organized before her seemed to throw her off-guard for just a moment. It had been purely an assumption, but she had expected Orlesian commoners to make up<i>at least</i>a majority of their potential ranks. So naturally, it left the woman a bit confused to see that majority being elves instead, and by a healthy margin.<br/><br/>Personally, she held no ill will towards them like some of the upper-class. At least, not maliciously so. But it was still an unusual sight, elves with enough agency to make the cut as sellswords. Throughout her life, Jeanne had only ever been exposed to them in subservient positions... In a way, not unlike herself; treated with respect, but more as a decorative object than an equal. The main difference being that her status was a<i>choice</i>, of course. But these elves? It was quite obvious that they weren't pampered pets of nobles. The one carrying a shortbow was the first one to draw her eye, purely by looking so out of place in even a city such as Jader. If the mere thought of it hadn't been so ridiculous on its face, Jeanne would have sworn that she looked like some Dalish savage, but the knight knew quite well that those outcasts preferred to keep to their forests in utter seclusion, far from any city or village. Regardless of that logic, however, the conundrum left her staring daggers at the elf for a good few seconds as she struggled to place some sense of identity on her, just for the sake of sanity.<br/><br/>Just beside her, of course, was a much easier case to evaluate. Caked in at least a few layers of dirt and sporting only the finest scrap-leathers that one could find at the bottom of any barrel in the city, it was a safe guess to mark the elf as coming from an Alienage. Lined up next to even this ragtag group of misfits, Jeanne almost felt a bit of pity for the young girl in how she still failed to measure up to that low bar of quality. It was fairly obvious that this was a desperate ploy for the reward, without any preparations or understanding of just how perilous the Deep Roads could be. Without the rest of the group carrying her the entire way, the chevalier sincerely doubted that the elf would be capable of cutting down a single Darkspawn with those poor-quality blades that were strapped to her diminutive form.<br/><br/>The third elf, on the other hand, was... presentable, at the least. Of the three, she clearly had the most ornate weapon, indicating<i>some</i>form of higher status than the other two. But at the same time, everything else about the elf spoke contrary to the blade's presence. As far as Jeanne could tell, she was only garbed in simple robes with no actual armor to back it up- which left the chevalier aghast purely on principle. To her, it seemed worthless to carry such a fine blade while forgoing even the most basic protections. Skill with a sword or the quality of a blade meant little if your opponent could strike you down in a single blow, after all. It was truly such an affront to everything that the knight stood for that it was all she could do to just gape at the elf with a blank, dumbfounded look, as if she had suddenly grown a second head right before the chevalier's eyes.<br/><br/><i>I wonder which will die first,</i>Jeanne pondered intently as the duke spoke up, only snapping her attention back once the archer-elf addressed him directly. The lack of any honorific or title attached to the question, regardless of the tone, elicited a clear scowl from the chevalier. Though she still couldn't quite figure out that riddle of an elf, at the very least, Jeanne knew that she was foreign-born.<br/><br/>"<span style="color: Magenta">When speaking to the duke, you will address him <i>properly</i>, or remain silent</span>." the knight interjected, taking quite a few measures to hide her visceral disgust behind a calm, stoic facade. In a way, it was almost a personal offense to her as well; lack of due respect for her patron trickled down the social ladder, after all. Whether or not he chose to take issue with such disrespect, honor required Jeanne to at least make a cursory attempt at salvaging the interaction. Without hesitation after finishing her statement, she immediately turned her gaze to the duke and bowed her head ever so slightly, deferring the matter to him by way of an apology for speaking out of turn. "<span style="color: Magenta">Your Grace</span>."<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>