Constance’s reply was as neutral as possible, no hint of what it meant showing on his face. Vim had seen people like this before: not exactly like Constance, but with a psychopathic tic behind their eye, a mind so deceivingly simple and yet difficult to comprehend. In the old days, he even saw a person like this as a challenge: like the delicate construction of an instrument set to explode, it was like a game to keep the temper at bay and see what he could make of their strange internal dialogue. Of course, Vim had since learned that things were rarely so simple, and Constance’s own version of morals were proof of this. Vim could almost understand them, though he wasn’t sure how that made him feel: relieved or disgusted with himself. All he knew now was exactly what he was to Constance, and with a person with so much power and so little empathy, it wasn’t going to afford him much protection. It was a bit of irony, perhaps, for a person who would have thought a lot like Constance only a few years ago. Vim had chosen to mostly ignore the old man, knowing that anything he had to add to the conversation would be either useless or something he might regret saying later. But he had to admit, he was starting to feel a thrill of excitement in the deep recesses of his stomach. Now this, this was going to be something. As he looked at the map again, even the idea of juggling Constance’s rage didn’t seem that bad to him. Why couldn’t he? He’d dealt with worse before. If Vim had been the kind to smile, he might have allowed himself a smile. As it was, all that changed with a slight shift in his posture, a slight release of her shoulder and the tension in his neck.

Unfortunately, it was not to last. Vim looked up as she saw the woman at the next table making her toast, and his eyes quickly darted over to Constance. He wasn’t sure exactly what Constance would do, and whether he would do anything at all, but he had heard enough about him - and seen enough here now - to expect it to be nothing good. Constance paused a moment before rising to his feet. Vim shifted in his seat, and was on the verge of shooting to his own feet when Constance moved his chair and settled back down. Though Vim felt like it would be an invasion of privacy to go craning his neck to have a look at the woman’s expression,he couldn’t help tilting his head slightly to see. She looked completely petrified, and she was clutching the arm of the man next to her so hard that it looked like it would leave a bruise. The man started to whisper something to her, but she cut him off immediately, tense and quiet. She looked at Constance and then away quickly, and the girl next to her let out a dry cough. The whole party still had their drinks in front of them, but not a one of them was drinking. They were sitting quietly, and the whole tavern seemed to have reached a momentary silence, though the light chatter quickly picked up again. As soon as Constance addressed him, Vim turned his attention back to him. His posture was again relaxed, but this time it was intentional. Fortunately, it was only too easy for Vim to fake, and as long as Constance was going to act like nothing had happened, Vim played along. The only signs of tension were a nervous tic in his leg and the way he turned his head slightly every time there was a sound from near the woman’s table.

“I assure you I’ll be able to sail fine without getting seasick,” said Vim, keeping his voice light and level. He had been in a ship quite enough times to know how to handle himself. “I, of course, would leave the decision of whether to get a boat up to you. And I don’t think it will be necessary for me to give my farewells to anyone, or to return home for any reason before we set off.” Vim was choosing his words carefully, though the way they came out of his mouth, silky smooth, made it seem as though he had put no thought into them. “I can purchase any supplies I need here. As soon as you’re ready to leave, I will be too.” They were simple words of fact, and as such it was easy for Vim to get them out without taking his full attention off of the woman’s table. It wasn’t really that he was afraid . . . not for himself. And he didn’t really think Constance would do anything, not now. But if he did, Vim wondered what he would do. Could he risk jeopardizing the mission and Sir Constance’s opinion of him so soon? He’d rather not find out. His hands were back at the holy symbols now, and playing with the black hair braided into his own, a classic adornment worn in mourning for the Heroes.

“If you need the night or more to get ready, I can easily stay here,” Vim continued. He hesitated for a moment, considering mentioning his horse, but he wasn’t even sure if he would walk out to find it still there, so he decided to omit that detail. “I’m sure you’re the expert on this sort of thing, Sir Constance, so if there are any details I’m omitting I’m sure you can enlighten me.” The words themselves nearly bordered on sarcastic, but Vim said them quite seriously, and with no hint of derogation. He had to be gentle with Sir Constance. Like a child. A dangerous, overpowered child who could kill him at any moment or, worse, turn on someone else far more innocent and kill them. Perhaps that was why Vim had been asked on this mission. After all, his way with words wasn’t exactly a secret, and if Sir Constance was going to be going on such an all-encompassing mission, he might need someone to temper his justice. If this was the case, Vim certainly hoped Sir Constance didn’t figure it out, because that might be the end of any arrangement like that. For now he was fine, though: Sir Constance didn’t know anything about him, and if Vim was careful it could stay that way for a while longer.

The sheer level of fascination Constance held for Vim continued to grow. Being astute in terms of reading people was something Constance was, but for Vim, he was falling short. The one thing he was beginning to understand about the nature of this man was that he was rather agreeable. Too agreeable. He paid no token of emotion that gave insight into what he was thinking at Constance's prior action. Was Vim perhaps a creature devoid of emotion? If so, it made sense as to why he seemed to be so much of a 'yes man'. No, he cannot be so simple. Underestimation was not something he was going to pay Vim with. As much as Constance wanted to learn Vim's character completely in a rapid manner, there was something that compelled him to draw this out. To play a game of wait and see. Its not like he wouldn't have the time to do so considering the journey they were going on together, assuming Vim didn't give him reason to no longer keep him around.

No farewells? Interesting, but not something he would pry about. There were people Constance should probably notify of his coming departure from the kingdom, but this lack of communication was personal. The King failed to converse a good enough reason for why he wasn't among the chosen group, so in return, he would fail to notify anyone of this absence. While this was a choice that was highly personal, he knew it would not stop them from replacing him with another that would try and fill his occupation. It would be temporary, because Constance was determined to return. To see the face of the King and the court members looked to him with as he strode through the kingdom as the man that brought the Heroes back. People would have no choice but to celebrate him! Then, how serious he was about enforcing the laws would be made so abundantly clear, nobody would ever dare commit crime within the kingdom again. This was not a mission derived on the need to be praised, or even to be vengeful, but they would be perks he would welcome. This was a mission greater than him... oh right, and Vim. The doting attention upon returning would be shared with Vim, wouldn't it? Vim didn't seem the type to want to revel and bask in such glorious light, but then again, Constance didn't know him well enough to make that judgement. The visions of praise and change brought him to leave a momentary silence between him and Vim. Refocusing his attention back to the present based reality, he spoke his reply fluidly.

"A boat would require the need of extra bodies accompanying us, and Im only willing to grant one being to accompany me on this quest." His tone was even and he offered an almost kind smile to Vim, but he didn't actively try to lace it with any trace of warmth. "Yes, I will need the night to prepare, so you will remain in close proximity until I'm ready in the morning. I prefer to be up before the sun, so hopefully you are accustomed to being a rather early riser a well." There was an authority to his tone, but similar to his smile, he did not actively try to change the manner of his speech. However, he did narrow his eyes slightly and drop that smile before speaking again. "I am an expert on enforcement and justice Vim. If it's enlightenment you seek, let that be it." Constance was merely acting out a bit now because he truly had no experience as to how to approach this situation. This was new, and as exciting as it was, control of his surroundings was something he feared he wouldn't have for much longer. Taking a moment to glance around the tavern, he could see just how easily it would be for him to disrupt his settings for his own amusement. In lands where rank and reputation failed to matter, it would be very different for him. His urges and tendencies to inflict power and control would be limited, and if Vim was implying that Constance was more knowledgeable on the mission at hand, did that mean Vim himself would be utterly useless? Or was Vim concealing the fact that he did in fact know as well as understand how to handle himself in this kind of situation? Was this a test then, to see if he could mock the Grand Cross's ignorance? Constance had to work to suppress his level of growing anger and paranoia. Vim had not actually given him any reason to be inclined to feel such things, but his thoughts would not allow him to not be open to the fact Vim may not be as harmless as he appears.

Looking to the map, he studied it. His eyes scanned every part of it, preparing himself for the fact that soon he would be walking the path of the Heroes. Reaching out, he took the map into his hands and rolled it. The way he looked to Vim as he did so was with an expression of curiosity. Would he try and denounce his action, or even dare try and stop him? Vim's prior reactions led Constance to believe neither would be the case. "I don't trust you wont find yourself giddy and leave with yourself, supplies, and the map before I arrive in the morning, so it stays with me. Rest assured, I will be coming back for you. Here is a token to prove that promises worth." Rising for just a moment, he unsheathed his sword and set it onto the table. The way he did so almost made it seem threatening, but that was more so for his amusement. "I go nowhere without this sword, and it will be something I return for. If I so happen to find out you try and sell it for quick wealth, or dare you let ignorance become you and this sword is lost, I will kill you. Do you understand?" He asked, raising a brow to make sure Vim fully understood the full extent of just how much his life was at stake should something happen to the sword. Vim didn't look to be the stupid type, but it was important for Constance to know he made clear that ignorance was not a quality he would tolerate. Not in general, and especially not when it comes to his most prized possession.

Vim sat quietly as he offered Sir Constance the choice, and Sir Constance immediately snatched it up. Choice was something Vim didn’t expect to have much of during this adventure, though he couldn’t help fancy that he could gain control in a quite different way if he really wanted to. It was just a notion, and Vim tried to dismiss it, but he couldn’t help tucking that idea to the back of his mind - it was so justifiable, and it could easily become so necessary. Vim didn’t say anything in response to Constance, and when Constance gave him a smile, Vim didn’t smile back. Even if he were the kind to smile, he wouldn’t have trusted that Constance’s smile was genuine. Why did people like him smile like that? They had other ways of getting people to cooperate, and Constance certainly didn’t seem adverse to using those ways. A snake’s smile was for people who had no other way of influencing people in life. Constance didn’t fall into that category, not by a long shot. Or maybe Vim had formed an opinion of him too soon - after all, he knew only too well that it didn’t pay to rely too heavily on first impressions. “Travelling across the land sounds like the best option, in that case,” Vim agreed as Sir Constance told him that Vim would be the only one allowed to “accompany” him on their quest. “And I’ll be ready to go as soon as is needed.” As Sir Constance continued speaking, his smile dropped, and Vim kept his face neutral as he made a rather ominous-sounding comment. Rather than finding it disconcerting or nerve-wracking, Vim felt bolstered. If Sir Constance felt the need to say this, even after having threatened Vim already, perhaps Vim had made more of an impression than he had thought. It might have been the circumstances that unbalanced Sir Constance, or the close quarters in which he was forced to work with Vim, but no matter the reason, Vim felt slightly comforted. He nodded like a quiet and obedient child being told not to cause trouble.

As Sir Constance glanced around the tavern, Vim could see the woman from earlier averting her eyes, which brought up another question: if Vim was here to temper Sir Constance’s violent tendencies, would he be able to stop Constance from harming anyone? Maybe he was expected to be some sort of martyr who would risk life and limb to save innocent lives. If so, he was pretty sure he would fall short of that mark. He could say with some certainty that he didn’t really agree with Sir Constance’s methods - though he couldn’t totally condemn them - but even if he had hated Constance with a passion, Vim wasn’t going to throw his health and safety away just like that. Of course, it was no real use speculating on why they were here and how much Sir Constance really knew. If someone wanted to eliminate Vim, he would deal with that when he had to. If someone wanted both Vim and Constance gone, Vim felt that the two might be able to make it out alive. And if the offer was legitimate, then that brought about the whole new problem of following and bringing back the Heroes. It was bothering him, really, how his mind kept jumping around like this, to different possibilities and fears. He had always been analytical, always with a quick mind, looking for any angle and always with an eye on the escape. But now, with no objective for his restless mind to pursue, he felt antsy and almost nervous.

Sir Constance leaned forward to look at the map, and Vim made to do the same, but before he could get a good look, Constance had already taken the map and rolled it up. He gave Vim a strange look, not quite a challenge, and Vim simply leaned back again to show that he didn’t have a problem with Sir Constance taking the map. He would have thought Sir Constance would be content to take the map without a word of explanation, and let his authority speak for itself. But as he took the map, he made a point of telling Vim that he didn’t trust him. Something like irritation flitted across Vim’s face, and he uncrossed and recrossed his legs as though trying to get comfortable. He might have wanted to say something, but Sir Constance was still talking. His look immediately changed to one of surprise as Constance stood and unsheathed his sword. As Constance set his sword down on the table, Vim blinked and dropped the expression from his face. It wouldn’t do well to show any sort of weakness to Sir Constance. The threats were no greater than those Constance had already flung at him, and Vim’s attention was too taken up with the sword to really be listening to him. He felt as though there must be some trick - after all, Constance’s opinion of him must not be high enough that he expected Vim to have honor. “I will kill you. Do you understand?” Vim took his eyes off of the sword and stood to match Sir Constance. He met the man’s pale green eyes, his neck craning slightly due to their height difference. “I’m no thief, Sir Constance,” he said evenly. “And I would never make the mistake of misplacing such an important object. I don’t believe any threats of violence are necessary to prevent the loss of your sword.” Vim had the urge to give Sir Constance a small, vapid little smile, but instead he turned to the sword to have a better look at it. He would have let Constance take the map with no assurance that the knight would return, but the sword was a token of Sir Constance’s good will - whatever that meant, and however long that would last. Vim was fairly confident he could take care of it until the next morning, and whether this was a test or not, he felt that returning Sir Constance’s sword unstolen and unlost might give him some respect in the knight’s eyes. And that respect was certainly worth having if he was going to be travelling withSir Constance. “I promise I’ll take good care of it,” Vim said. Although he had no sheath to place it in, it would be easy enough to carry it up to his room. Seeing some of the crowd giving him strange looks - likely due to the fact that they had just seen the mighty Sir Constance turn his sword over to him - Vim added, “I believe I’ll look into getting a room now, unless there was anything else you wanted to discuss.”

Vim and Constance both seemed to be studying one another, but Vim made it a point not to look too keen nor too interested. Vim knew better than to seem overly-invested too early. It only made people suspicious - not that Sir Constance wasn’t suspicious already. But this was no affluent young lady or good-hearted noble Vim was hoping to squeeze a few coins out of. As if the quest wouldn’t be dangerous enough, Vim didn’t want to start thinking about how long he could make it with Sir Constance. It’s like a game, said a little voice in the back of his head. Just like you used to play. Only this one’s for keeps. It’s more exciting. Vim was still too focused on Sir Constance, though, to even register his own thoughts. This sword and how Vim reacted to being given it would establish their relationship moving forward. He was expecting a few more life threats from Constance, and so it didn’t take him completely by surprise when Constance replied to him with, “Of course threats of violence are necessary.” He might have been taken aback if he hadn’t been braced for some such thing, but still, Sir Constance’s bluntness was something he would have to get used to. Vim was used to skirting around things in some sort of dance of etiquette, and at the very least he never in his life thought he’d have someone he’d just met threaten him with no subtlety whatsoever. It seemed almost unfair that Constance could get away with something like that, but such was life, Vim supposed. Nothing was fair for anybody.

“Of course,” Vim said in response to Sir Constance’s threat. It was true, too, from what he knew of the world. There was no greater sword to wield than one constructed of words. He said it mildly, as though agreeing on someone’s appraisal of a recent play over a pleasant supper. Threats he could handle for now, and had many times. Though Sir Constance had a more imminently threatening aura than most people Vim had known in his life, he was still just a person and he had weaknesses and cracks in his armor like everyone else. People, at least, were fairly predictable and easy to understand. Sir Constance was already setting behavior patterns, and Vim was already growing more confident that he could work with and around these. The insecurity which had been shivering in his chest was dwindling now. It kept coming and going, like most whims in his life: emotion which didn’t stay long enough to make a lasting impact on him. Maybe he felt a little bit stronger with Sir Constance’s sword, though he wasn’t foolhardy enough to think he would be able to take the knight on even with the sword. He could fight well enough, but not enough to even think about taking on someone like Sir Constance. With a quick, “no, nothing more” in response to Vim’s question, Constance turned towards the door. He offered Vim some flicker of a smile which Vim did not return.

As soon as Sir Constance left, Vim decided it would be best to go to his room as soon as possible. People were sure to want to know what had happened, and if it seemed Vim and Constance had formed an alliance - which they had, in a way - he doubted anyone would be very happy with him. He wanted to start out the next morning uninjured and with Sir Constance’s sword still in his possession. He took the sword off of the table, angling it almost subconsciously so that people could see it clearly. He had his horse to attend to first - if he’d lost his, he’d have to get another one for tomorrow. Luckily, he found that the boy he’d paid hadn’t swindled him, and his horse was waiting for him in the stable. As people spotted him holding Sir Constance’s sword, they gave him very uneasy looks. Vim could only imagine what was running through their heads. He would have liked to have made something up. “Sir Constance is lucky he buckled and gave me his sword before I really harmed him,” he’d tell them. Or, “Oh, this? He lets me use it anytime I want. I fancied a few swings with it this evening.” Of course, he didn’t fancy his chances if Constance found out he’d said anything of the sort, so he kept his mouth shut. But he couldn’t help but have a certain air of smugness about him as he checked into a room at the tavern. Upon being asked to pay for his room, Vim dished out a generous amount of coins and said quietly to the owner, “How about a round for the tavern?” He ascended the stairs to his room and said his prayers for the night, laying Sir Constance’s sword gently on the chest at the end of the bed. As he started to climb into bed, though, he couldn’t help but be drawn to the sword. Well, what Constance didn’t know couldn’t hurt him, could it? Vim didn’t even pause to think it through further than that before taking the sword in his hands and slicing through the air with it a few times, trying it out. It was a bit heavy for him, but it handled beautifully and it gave Vim a certain thrill. He set it down again and laid down, unable to sleep, eyes trained on the moonlight gleaming from the sword’s hilt.

Vim was up far too early the next morning. He tried hard to force himself to fall asleep again, but it was of no use. So he rose and set about getting himself ready for the day ahead. He had purchased a pack last night and a number of things he thought might be necessary for such a journey: changes of clothes, non-perishable food, a water pouch, rope, a few daggers, and a few other odds and ends. Fortunately, he was very accustomed to packing, and it all fit nicely into his pack. He wore the same clothing as always: a bit brighter than might be wanted on a mission like this, but practical all the same. He’d worn the same sorts of things traveling along coast and desert alike, so he saw no reason to change for this. He picked the sword up several times during packing just to feel its heft in his hands. He was moving rather sluggishly due to his tiredness, but by the time he’d finished packing up he was feeling alert and more than ready to go. For just a moment he considered writing a letter to Brio to explain everything. He had said he didn’t need to say goodbye to anyone, and it was true. He was certain Brio would be perfectly fine with Vim taking off without telling him. It just seemed like maybe there was some sort of something Vim should say before going off on an adventure that would likely get him killed. Like what? No, Vim didn’t have time to think up a whole letter right now. He scanned his room once more and took the steps two at a time to get to the bottom.

His horse should have been brought around to the front by now, ready to go. There were some undeniable benefits to money that Vim appreciated - people were willing to do most anything for you if you paid them enough. In this case, Vim was satisfied to see his horse, fully saddled with a red-faced man holding it by the bridle. The horse had been named Harmony by the breeder, and Vim had just kept it. He didn’t get attached to animals that way, not like other people did. Maybe he’d always just thought of his mare as a possession. That was something to feel guilty about later, though. A quick scan showed that Sir Constance was already there, apparently waiting for Vim. He looked quite different today, less knightly without his armor and with no sword in his sheath. The huge, wild horse he rode on seemed only right for him - Vim’s own horse was the exact opposite of his, a shining golden-brown Akhal Teke with thin legs and black hair. Vim nodded to the red-faced man, who came over and handed Vim the reigns. Vim gave him a small nod and moved towards Sir Constance with the mare in tow, clutching the sword in his free hand. “Sir Constance,” Vim greeted, swinging the sword in his hand ever so slightly. “I hope you didn’t wait long?” It was more out of habit than anything, because he doubted Sir Constance would be eager to make polite conversation. For a moment his grip on the sword tightened imperceptibly, but after a beat he raised it, hilt up, for Sir Constance to take. “Well, you made good on your promise, so here it is.” As if he weren’t already significantly shorter than Sir Constance, the knight’s height combined with his horse forced Vim to crane his neck, squinting in the sun, as he waited for Constance to take the sword.

It was becoming fairly entertaining for Constance to watch people stroll by; some didn’t care to glimpse at his figure, while others would give double takes to see whether their eyes had failed them or not. Did his soon-to-be absence from the kingdom make him an off duty knight? He wasn’t sporting his occupation's attire, nor did he even have the sword that was almost always loyally sheathed to his side. Despite the excitement he was harboring beneath his surface, he couldn’t help but think of what his leave from the kingdom meant. There would be many that would not miss the presence of his ruthlessness. People would get comfortable, for without the threat of his presence, there was little to fear. The Royals and the court would do just as they had done when the Heroes left. . . nothing. The people of Victory will wrongfully believe that Constance’s departure means a euphoric grace of lawlessness will blanket the kingdom. How wrong they will all be. He alone is the thin line between chaos and stability, and with the thread cut, Victory will soon fall a pathetic victim to the defiant nature people will embrace. Upon your return, the Royals will kiss the very ground you walk in if it means you restore their kingdom’s glory. Your kingdom’s glory. And with the Heroes on either side of you, the real mission is complete. The low whispers had previously ceased to greet him this morning, but they too seemed to enjoy the idea of being hailed vital for Victory’s survival. Alive and well, the whispers hummed a chorus in the recesses of his mind while Constance’s attention shifted away from people watching.

Catching sight of the familiar smaller man approaching him, this time, Constance offered no trace of a smile. After making his sights on Vim clear, his eyes traveled to his sword. It looked wrong to see it in the hand of another, and while it was a mildly disturbing sight to him, Constance suppressed the urge to just tear it away from Vim’s grasp. The greeting was sufficient enough for him, but Vim proceeded with a courteous inquisition. A small smile did tug at Constance’s lips, but the sword would come before a response. With impatience nipping at him, Vim turned over the sword and Constance eagerly took it back into his own grasp. Inspecting it momentarily as he turned it to and fro, he sheathed the sword. A feeling of wholeness swarmed him, and his hand rested gratefully on the hilt. Giving it a few taps, he then angled his gaze down to look upon Vim. “I’m sure there are things you hope for Vim, but I doubt one of those things is me having to not wait long on you.” Instead of a daunting or malicious smile, Constance gave one that could instead almost be taken as friendly. Constance was not necessarily being friendly, but he didn’t feel the need to come across as threatening. For now, at least. “If I wasn’t planning on following through with my promise, I wouldn’t have made one.” Constance stated with a slight raise of his brow, borderline offended that Vim’s action of returning what did not belong to him, came across as a reward for Constance. A minor irritation, but best not to dwell on minuscule indignations. As unnatural as it was to lay things that bothered him to rest without addressing them, perhaps the whispers were right. They usually were.

Glancing to Templar, who seemed unimpressed by Vim’s mare, Constance then let out a brief sigh. “Northeast is our destined direction,” Constance muttered more to himself than to Vim as he faced the direction, “I’ve already studied the map, so should you find yourself wanting to do the same, ask and you shall receive.” Being in possession of the map granted him a sense of control over their situation, but he knew very well that it’s best to repress the inclination to desire it right now. Getting back up into the saddle on Templar’s large frame, Constance took a moment to run his hands along the neck of the horse’s flossy black coat. Waiting for Vim to follow suit with mounting his horse, he made it clear he was ready to leave now. Templar was just as eager to move, and wasted no second to turn and stride in the direction Constance directed. After a small passage of time, Constance slowed and scowled at a group of knights. The center of his attention was placed on his Second-In-Command, Legend. The knight was only a year older than Constance, and sworn in a year after Constance, and yet he paraded around the kingdom as if he were a knightly saint. Legend’s wild raven colored hair paired with his electric blue eyes was deemed ‘fetching’. The swooning attention Legend would receive was gag worthy in Constance’s eyes. The Grand Cross was no exception to the occasional fling, which he was sure was an astonishing fact to some, but at least he didn’t trade duty for pleasure. Serving was actually a more enjoyable task than trying on any level of intimacy to Constance. Averting his gaze before his comrade took notice of him, he beckoned Templar to continue forward. What angered Constance most about Legend was that combat wise, they were nearly equals. The only difference was that Legend was blessed with being birthed into a wealthy family and had the luxury of being paired with exceptional trainers as he grew. Constance had a very different upbringing, and a very different training experience to be where he is today. There was a time when Constance lost many battles, and day after day, his young body was beaten down and covered in its fair share of ‘marks of failure’. Now though, the scars of the past have faded for the most part. Failure was no longer a flaw he tolerated for himself, and if a mistake upset him enough, self-punishment is what he would dish. That fact was his own secret, which to him, is not nearly as bad as the secrets coveted by the people somewhat responsible for keeping the kingdom from collapsing.

The Royals and courts, every knight on his force, and even the majority of nobles all had their own dirty little secrets. Constance knew most of those said secrets. It’s one of the reasons he doesn’t speak much around high ranking individuals unless he deems it necessary. The things you hear when your mouth is shut is rather fascinating. Despite the level of intel he has on the very personal lives of the political backbone of the kingdom, only once has he used such a strength to his advantage. The silly idea of forcing a political relationship onto the Grand Cross to better his image was proposed not too long ago. What an amusing thought! Constance holding the hand of a beautiful and daintily figured woman through the streets of Victory, or offering his beloved a bouquet of the finest flowers as a declaration of adoration. ‘The day the King admits to committing his acts of adultery to the entire kingdom is the day I acquire a woman of my own,’ is what Constance had replied with a great level of callousness to his tone. The reminder of the look on the face of the royal adviser was a thought he could have chuckled at, although he speculated he might be looked at with a critical eye for laughing to himself like a madman. Isn’t that what he was though? Perhaps a little, but not merely as crazed as others. At least he had a real purpose to serve. If the label of ‘mad’ was the burden he had to bear, so be it. Focusing on the present, Constance turned the focus of his green orbs to Vim. “We aren't exceedingly far from the edge of the kingdom,” Constance said, though he did make a point to give Vim an observant look over, “though I suppose there’s no need for me to point out the obvious. Most people know where the boundaries of their kingdom lie, so I’ll assume you’re a part of the majority. Correct me if I’m wrong of course, though I can’t imagine you for a completely ignorant being. Unless you are, in which case your journey may be far shorter than mine.” Letting a small smirk cross his features, he faced forward again. It wasn’t a threat by Constance, because not even he could triumph over the lethal force stupidity brings forth. What he said was true however, he did not view Vim as stupid by any means. Mainly because he refused to believe a dull-witted individual could ever be chosen for such a glorious mission.

As soon as Constance set eyes on Vim, the knight’s gaze traveled to the sword gripped in Vim’s hand. Vim could understand the sort of desire that objects brought, but from what Vim knew, this sword also held a deep personal significance for Sir Constance. That wasn’t something Vim understood. Things were just things, and while he could appreciate the sword for its fine craftsmanship and magnificent handling, it could just as easily have been replaced with an equally fine sword and he wouldn’t have seen any difference. As Sir Constance finally laid his hands back on his beloved weapon, he seemed to Vim to regain some fraction of calmness. Vim’s eyes followed the sword as Sir Constance sheathed it, but they snapped back onto Constance’s face as the knight replied to his greeting. “I’m sure there are things you hope for Vim, but I doubt one of those things is me having to not wait long on you.” Vim was neither offended nor baffled, and simply took this statement in stride. As Constance gave him something like a smile, though, Vim’s eyes crinkled up slightly to indicate good will. Constance’s genial mood, however, was short-lived, though Vim remained with an amicable expression on his face. “A man of your word,” said Vim in reply to the knight’s statement. “Honor’s such a rare trait these days.” He obviously wasn’t expecting a reply, because he was already moving towards Harmony.

Sir Constance had taken it upon himself to be keeper of the map, which was no surprise to Vim. It seemed that it might be desirable to have made a copy of the map in case anything happened to the first or the two were split up, but it was too late for that now - that would take more time than they had. “Ask and you shall receive,” Sir Constance told him. Vim didn’t acknowledge this except for an almost imperceptible nod. He had travelled enough to know which general direction they were going, but it was the exact route that he would have to memorize. He had no idea how much Sir Constance knew about travelling. It could be that, having rarely left his home where he served under the king, Constance would struggle with the task. Vim wasn’t really inclined to assume that Sir Constance lacked talent in any department, but if the knight insisted that he knew better, things could wind up very badly for them. For now, though, Vim didn’t have to think about that. He mounted his mare smoothly a moment after Sir Constance mounted his Templar, and as soon as the inky-black stallion started forward, Harmony trotted after him. She had no trouble in keeping up, having been bred for speed, but Vim pulled on the reins slightly, bringing her a bit behind Templar and Constance. He could only hope that Constance would take it as a sign of respect, or simply assume that Harmony had fallen behind due to her lesser breeding.

In truth, it had been a long time since Vim had been to town. He had rode in knowing the chances of anyone spotting or recognizing him were pretty slim. He also, at that point, hadn’t had Sir Constance with him. He could think of a million reasons why he wouldn’t want to be recognized at Sir Constance’s side, and a million more why he wouldn’t want anyone confronting him while Constance was there next to him. In any situation he played out in his mind, it ended up very badly for either him or the person confronting him. It was better to get out of town without incident, and hope that when and if Constance did find out what Vim was known for, Vim would have gained enough control to make sure nothing truly awful happened to him. Vim tilted his head forward enough for his hair to fall to the sides of his face, hiding his features to any curious onlookers. Rather than slumping his shoulders, though, he stood up even straighter, the holy symbols on his chest rattling again like pendants to ward off prying eyes. The only thing that people might recognize from long ago was Harmony, but there was nothing he could do to change her appearance. All in all, though it was a given that people would want to know who was riding with Sir Constance, most everyone’s attention was on the knight.

After a bit, Constance slowed down and Vim looked up, doing the same. For a moment he wondered if was about to be witness to a justice-induced massacre, but instead Constance was looking at the kingdom’s second-in-command knight, Legend. Of course, Vim knew of Legend, and he had seen him a few times. He could distinctly remember being wildly jealous of the well-built, shining-haired, blue-eyed sweetheart of Victory. And he’d always wondered about Legend. Could someone really be that beloved and never once fall prey to the temptation to use that for their own personal gain? Vim hadn’t come across a single person in power who hadn’t used their power selfishly at some point in their life. Most, in fact, made a habit of it. Glancing at Sir Constance, Vim wondered what his power had ever been used for. He had the feeling he knew exactly what Constance got out of it. It wasn’t always material things that people wanted. Well, what’s wrong with wanting something for yourself once in a while? Why is it greedy not to be thinking about other people every moment of your life? Vim saw Constance moving forward again and followed after him. Talking just to hear himself speak, he said quietly enough to avoid being overheard, “Worried about leaving him in charge?” This wasn’t the best phrasing, and he had the feeling that Sir Constance would object to the word “worried,” but he really was curious. Did Constance trust any of the knights with his position while he was away? Surely at least he trusted his second-in-command. Sir Constance might have been the type to shun the idea of friends, but his fellow knights were allies. If Vim was going to be one too -tentatively - he should know how Constance treated his allies.

Vim had again fallen slightly behind as they moved away from Legend, but as Sir Constance began speaking to him he urged Harmony forward in order to make conversation easier. Constance had mentioned that they weren’t far from the edge, and Vim was prepared to reply with some throwaway conversation tidbit, something like “we’re making good time” or “shouldn’t be long now.” But Constance didn’t stop there. He continued, delivering what may or may not have been an attempt at an insult or even a compliment. Vim settled back into his saddle with no intention of butting in until Sir Constance had wound down. Though he wore no smile, there was some amusement evident in the gleam of his eyes. “Why, thank you, Sir Constance,” Vim replied, his tone on the unknown border between respect and sarcasm yet again. “I do in fact know where the kingdom’s boundaries are. Will we be passing through Jubilee or going around through the swamplands?” Though both had their dangers and Vim personally would have preferred to avoid Jubilee, he knew that everything was already mapped out and any real choices they had to make would probably fall to Constance. He supposed it would be safer through Jubilee, since Harmony would be built for speed and not strength and parts of the swamp could be difficult to power through. Jubilee, on the other hand, was very much unlike Victory in that it was known for rampant crime, and Vim wasn’t sure how Constance would react. He waited for the decision, throwing around the idea of trying to convince Constance otherwise if he chose to go through Jubilee.

When Vim asked Constance about leaving Legend in charge, whether he was worried about it, the man gave no response. While Vim was initially inclined to believe that Sir Constance had chosen to ignore him, it was more likely that he hadn’t heard - Vim had always been a quiet man, not in amount of speech but in volume. But this did leave the question of how Constance treated his allies. Vim wasn’t fool enough to repeat the question on the off chance that Constance had chosen to ignore it, but the question continued to buzz at the back of his head as they moved on. He had no expectation of being treated well, but if he was going to be treated poorly, he would have liked to know exactly how poorly. Constance had already made it clear that Vim’s life meant very little to him, but what would it take for any given moment to be Vim’s last? He was more confident now that he could avoid this deadly wrath, but certainly knowing what would cause it would be a good first step to ensuring his safety.

Giving Constance the option of which way they would go, he waited as Constance paused. It seemed that he either had travelled here before, and was weighing known pros and cons, or had not, and had little information to base his decision on. But after a few seconds he seemed to have made up his mind. “We’ll go through Jubilee.” Vim, who had already been contemplating trying to re-convince him if he made this choice, paused as well. Exercising subtle influence over the knight’s decisions was something that he would surely have to do during this quest, and testing it out this early might be a good idea. But Vim also knew that there was only a certain amount of time that people would put up with this before they grew suspicious, and he had no idea how long the journey would take. It would be even more beneficial to build trust now, while he could. It might have been somewhat of an unsavory thing to do, but after all, he had very few skills to wield against the brute force and force of personality that Sir Constance possessed. “An excellent decision,” Vim said mildly, as though he couldn’t have cared less which way they went.

As Constance settled his gaze on Vim, he looked back, waiting for Constance to speak. He had expected some degrading comment, or a thinly-veiled threat, or maybe just a comment on Jubilee. Instead, Constance did what Vim hadn’t expected and asked him a personal question. So far the knight had wanted to know nothing more than Vim’s name and his basic capabilities, and Vim had been fine with that. As far as he knew, Constance saw him as a nondescript sidekick to his own epic quest, easily replaced or simply eliminated. Vim raised his eyebrows slightly, and though the question was a simple one, he had a moment of suspicion. He himself had dug into people’s personal lives to grow closer to them, using secrets like weapons, and he remembered Constance’s comment about there being no greater sword than that constructed of words. But Vim only hesitated momentarily before replying, “Yes, I’ve done my fair share of travelling, in and out of the kingdom. Through Jubilee, among other places.” In fact, Vim had always found Jubilee’s lack of laws a detriment to his particular brand of money making, so he had only been through there a few times. He had always preferred the more lawbound places, where people had little recourse against his technically-legal actions. But that didn’t mean there was no risk of running into someone Vim knew from the old days in the kingdom.

They drew to a stop as they approached the border patrol guards. Vim, who was still lingering behind Constance, caught a glance from the man which was quite clearly an order to keep his mouth shut. Vim saw no benefit to him getting involved, so he stayed quiet, waiting for Constance to deal with the guards. One engaged Sir Constance in conversation, but the other had locked his gaze on Vim. With all of the people that Vim had met in his life, he couldn’t always put a name to a face, and he shifted with slight unease, hoping that the guard was nobody he knew. As Constance was asked about Vim, he looked to the knight, wondering what it was he would say. “A guide.” Perhaps it was an insult, maybe it was really what Constance thought of Vim, or maybe it was a lie. Vim had trouble imagining that a man like Constance would ever have to resort to lies, but after all, lying wasn’t against the law, and the law was what Constance stood for. The guards were moving back nervously, and Vim gave them an almost imperious look. Sir Constance was the only guard Vim had ever had to fear anything from, and it was only now because of their close quarters. They moved past and Constance remarked on his pleasure in seeing the two men squirm. “Quite,” Vim replied, keeping his voice even. He had never found much joy in threatening or intimidating people, despite the many other unsavory things he had once found pleasure in. Lies, cheating, theft, blackmail, those all had the thrill of risk, the danger of getting caught. People responded with anger and threats, which had only made him more delighted with his little tricks. But seeing people frightened or sad didn’t have quite the same adrenaline rush, and it was a one-sided game with no real reward.

Riding into Jubilee, it wasn’t immediately evident how it differed from Victory. The structure was much the same, the people wearing much the same clothing, and everyone seemed to be going about their day-to-day lives. Unlike in Victory, people hardly took any notice of Sir Constance and Vim. A few people who were obviously from the neighboring kingdom whispered to others as they passed, but most people seemed to have no idea who Constance was. Some, certainly, would have known his name, but without his armor he was just an ordinary citizen. There were guards here, and they were recognizable by their light armor, but they sat playing cards, flirting with townswomen, frequenting street vendors, and otherwise proving themselves entirely useless. A few grubby little children played out in the street, slowing foot traffic and irritating the horses. A brazen woman with a tray of dry-looking pastries pushed through the crowd, loudly trying to get people to buy her wares and screaming at the kids to come over to her. As she came across Sir Constance and Vim, she tripped to a stop in front of their horses, thrusting her tray forward. “Care for a biscuit, sirs? Two copper each!” Her voice was entirely too loud for the situation, and her face was bright red from the sun. She stood firmly in front of them, looking like she would take both of them down to force them to buy a biscuit.