"It was a good idea, at the time," Yonca stated flatly, releasing Desiderio's arm. "I am actually quiet serious. The worst injury you took was a shattered wrist; many mages placed in your position during that battle would now be dead. You should consider training in armor."
As practical as ever, it would seem. Yonca twisted a few strands of hair back into her messy plait as she turned away, settling neatly on the ground beside the fire. She pulled her knapsack into her lap and produced a stack of dogeared papers, a familiar pile that had grown smaller and smaller over the last few nights. She'd been reading her way through the documents pilfered from the Templar days before, apparently committing to memory what seemed as though it might prove useful, burning each piece of vellum when she was finished with it.
"At the very least, a sword. Were you an older man it would be easier to explain your stave as a walking stick. If you can imitate one well enough you should consider affecting a mild limp, if you wish keep your stave when we enter Gwaren," she commented absently, eyes scanning a page.