The woman had curiosity in her eyes, something which Imenry had come to expect from most people. She didn't look Orlesian in the least, something which many had already commented on, and something Imenry herself was grateful for, because she'd seen what Orlesians looked like. Her resulting opinions on them in general were not flattering. Not that they couldn't be kind, but everything came with a measure of falseness. They might act polite, but that was usually only for appearances. It was something that Imenry had found hard to grasp upon first reaching this country. She'd lived in a small village. There'd been no need for lying and backstabbing. Everyone knew anyway.
Circling around past the chevalier Imenry watched the woman take note of the camp, greeting the others as she'd greeted her. She seemed polite at least, on the surface. She would make enough effort to do the same. Shifting the claymore off her back she lowered herself to sit a few paces away from Francois. The scent of the fire and the stew drowned out the smell of alcohol that seemed to constantly be drifting off the man. He shifted slightly and glanced towards the chevalier, raising his bottle to her in some sort of drunken greeting.
The young one, Auguste, wiped his hands nervously on his pants as he approached, glancing between the other mercenaries and the pretty looking newcomer. She was young and he offered her a shy smile. Young as he was, he'd heard a great deal about chevaliers. Mostly tales painting them in heroic light. Though he'd also heard that some of them weren't quite so heroic, he couldn't help but be slightly in awe of this pretty lady. Even if he was slightly jealous that she got to be a real knight while he was stuck in cheap armor, having spent all the funds from his very first job just to buy some passable blades.
Still, too nervous to sit near her he moved to sit across the way, watching the merchant woman as she cooked and chattered. Imenry smelled the food and knew she was hungry, but she didn't take her eyes off the chevalier. Was she going to demand payment for her services, like the merchants feared despite the fact that they were being welcoming as ever and not showing in the least that they were wary of her. The first bowl of food was filled and served to the mounted knight, the woman offering her a smile. After serving the food to the chevalier she moved away from the fire and went to dig something out of one of the wagons. Wrapped in cloth and stowed in a small box she found a find crystal goblet. She withdrew that along with a bottle of their best vintage and brought it to the woman. "Please, help yourself."
She went to serving food for the others, and Imenry thanked her as she studied the stew. It was tinged red from the wine, but it smelled good, she was forced to admit. Of course, she'd have been fine with a rabbit roasted plainly over the fire.