[ Although she doesn't say it, only nods with a smile, she does appreciate the advice. It's the same type of thing Lancelot had told her, the same thing her teachers had been telling her for months. Use her dominant side, focus on that, adjust, use her smaller stature and her ability to move a little faster, if need be, to dodge and move. It made sense; she wasn't the type of person with a great deal of physical strength and she was still learning how to make that work for her, how to actually survive when she had to do something with sword in hand.

Hermione wasn't a warrior, she was a witch, but she felt like the lines were beginning to blur.

Reaching out, she takes her cup, sipping and relaxing for a moment before she turns her head to listen to him.

Something strikes her when he speaks, an echo of a memory, a sudden rush of shame and guilt making her stare, unblinking, watching his face. I am not here to pander to you, to pout or do anything, especially not with a king that doesn't have any kind of crown. You're not my king, Gilgamesh, and you are not my ruler. I am yours, I am Marchioness of this Citadel...

She swallows. ]

I've heard that Leathann is quite nice. I'm sure you'll be very comfortable there.

[ And, after a moment's hesitating - ]

And you'll be able to handle any escaped prisoners from last year, too.