"Good morning, Mister Mortimer!" Governor Thompson's cheerful voice called. She stood in her tulip garden, bright morning light washing over her on his first real day under her employment.

She was too bright, too happy for such an early hour of the day. The sun hadn't even risen completely yet, but there he was, walking towards the Governor with bags under his eyes and his unlit pipe in hand. It was packed with vireen, but a part of him had been too nervous to smoke it, scared that he would somehow forget how to use the power it gave him.

"Good morning, ma'am," he replied. It still felt wrong to use the words, but he was just there for the money. "I hope you don't mind if I smoke."

The Governor waved dismissively and with a shaking hand, Vincent lit the pipe. It always took a few seconds for the vireen to kick in, but when it did, it brought a smile to his face. The spark of magic pulsing through his veins was a relief to the tension and stress he had been feeling for weeks.

Vireen was hard to master for anyone new to using it. The first few times he had smoked it when he was younger, it had flooded his senses and overwhelmed him. After years of using it, he was able to push the magic towards specific parts of his body without a struggle. As it flowed through him, he focused it on the bruise on his head, and the ache in his neck from how he had slept. It didn't heal it instantly, that wasn't how vireen worked, but it did speed up the healing process.

As soon as he was done, he focused the power on his eyes and ears, finally able to hear and see the way he was used to. Perhaps he was too dependent on vireen for his senses, feeling blind and deaf without it, but he didn't care. It was good to be able to hear the waves crashing against the beach, and see the cracks in the brick walls.

If he pulled out his gun or his knife, he'd be able to show off the white-pink magic that the vireen gave him. It wrapped around his wrist like vines and curled around whatever weapon he was holding. For him, the magic acted like thorns, spreading from any wound he inflicted on someone else until they were covered in tiny puncture marks. It wasn't the strongest he'd ever seen, but it still hurt his enemies.

Unlike a certain someone who happened to be standing not far from where the Governor knelt in the dirt. Spencer's magic was like water and razor-sharp. Having that knife at his throat the week before had been nerve-wracking, even though a part of him knew that Spencer would never kill him. He had too much fun tormenting him to ever permanently end it.

He was grinning brightly but Vincent couldn't find the reason why in his eyes. It was still unusual to see him without the mask, but he had the feeling he was going to have to get used to it. He raised his eyebrows at the other man, questioning and confused, but didn't get anything back.

The Governor looked up at him then, a small smile on her face. "I figured I would have you two follow me around for the first few days so I could get to know you better," she said, her hands in the soil. "We didn't get much time to talk yesterday."

So much for not ever being in the company of the Governor. So much for being watched over by another guard. It seemed she had other ideas from her advisor. And, of course, it meant that he would be in the presence of Spencer again, who he had hoped he would be rid of once they were in New Feridian. After their awkward conversation the day before, he didn't particularly want to see him.

"That's not a problem, ma'am," Vincent said, not sure what exactly he was supposed to say to her. Spencer huffed out a laugh behind her and he shot him a glare, too tired to deal with his attitude.

"I told your friend when he got here, but you don't need to call me ma'am, I don't like it very much. Charlotte is fine," she said.

He had only been there for a day, but the longer he was in the Governor's company, the more she confused him. When he thought the Governors, he thought of people like Nicholas, straightforward, serious and didn't care for anything except themselves. But there was his Governor, a woman in her forties with a friendly face and far too many tulips for one person to look after.

"Right... Charlotte," he muttered, taking another puff of his pipe. He looked over at Spencer before he could stop himself, but the younger man just gave him a shrug. Perhaps he wasn't the only one who was confused by the Governor.

She wore the same dress as the day before, with the dirt-stained apron and a pair of thick gardening gloves. She didn't seem to notice Vincent's obvious confusion and continued speaking. "We're not going to be doing much today. I need to finish up here and then I have a meeting to get to," she explained. "I thought it would be easier for the two of you to get settled in if you were working with someone you're already friends with."

"We're not friends," Vincent replied, deadpan.

The Governor - Charlotte - frowned up at him, but before she could say a word, Spencer slung an arm over his shoulder. "I don't know, how long have we known each other? Six years? Seven? I'd say we're friends by now," he said, beaming at him like a child.

"You stole from me last week, you've still got the pouch attached to your belt," he replied, pointing at the black leather pouch with his pipe.

Spencer let out a shy laugh. "Yes, well, you've got vireen now, don't you?" he asked, waving away the pink-tinged cloud of smoke drifting towards his face.

The Governor was laughing at them, a hand hiding the smile on her face. "Not every friendship is as straightforward as most would like to think," she said and let out a small sigh. "My childhood friend and I would fight all the time but we always stuck by each other... That was a long time ago though."

"See, Vincent, we're friends, even Charlotte says so." He was acting like a child, joking and playing around when they were supposed to be watching over the Governor. He wasn't taking it seriously at all. Not that Vincent wanted too either, but if he wanted to keep getting paid, then he had to at least act like he wanted to be there.

"Sure," he said, only to make Spencer shut up, and shrugged the arm off his shoulder. He didn't want to be friends with Spencer, not after everything they had done to each other, but they hadn't killed each other yet. Maybe that meant something... Not that he could figure it out.

With a sigh, he went back to smoking. It didn't take him long to finish his pipe, getting lost in the thrill that ran through him. It had been so long since he'd been able to lose himself in the feeling of vireen boosting him, making him better. He took a few indulgent seconds to himself, despite where he was. When he was done, he tucked the pipe in the pocket of his grey uniform jacket, pulling at the itchy material.

He'd found it sitting on the table next to the door of his little room that morning. A grey jacket, black pants and a white dress shirt made out of material he could have sold for a whole pouch of gold. They were itchy and uncomfortable, and after only a few minutes, he missed being able to wear his long black coat.

But it was uniform and he had the feeling he would get in a lot of trouble for not wearing it. Even Spencer had put his on, but he still looked naked without the mask. There was something in his eyes, something off, that made Vincent wonder if he felt just as wrong without the mask as he looked.

He kept a hand near the handle of his gun as he stood off to the side of Charlotte, looking over the small amount of land she owned. It was big enough to fit at least four houses, maybe more, but instead, it held the manor and the garden, ringed by the ugly grey wall. Beyond it to one side lay the ocean, where the birds squawked loudly, on the other were the small dorm buildings he now lived in, made of red brick and hotter than the spring air outside.

There wasn't much to see other than that. Guards patrolled the inside of the wall, occasionally glancing over at Charlotte and her two strange bodyguards. They were probably staring at Spencer more than him, as he was standing there like a bodyguard should. Spencer had crouched down next to Charlotte and was asking her questions about her flowers.

She let out a small giggle that sounded like something a teenage girl would come out with, eyes locked on Spencer. Vincent scoffed and glanced away, not in the mood for whatever it was he was trying to do. The awful feeling that had been in his stomach since he met Henricks came back in a rush, pushing away the thrill that the vireen had given him.

"Well, I'm all done here," Charlotte said, pushing to her feet. "I need to change again, then we'll head to my meeting, alright?"

"How long does it take you to tend to all of these?" Spencer asked, but not even Vincent could tell if the curiosity was genuine.

She sighed and rubbed at her shoulders. "Far too long," she answered with a small huff of laughter. "I want to hire some gardeners once we can afford it. We're spending quite a bit on you."

That was enough to make Vincent stop in the middle of the path for a second. The Governor, the person who ran the entire province, couldn't afford to hire her own gardeners. It didn't make any sense at all, but nothing had since he had been hired. It wasn't his business to figure it out though. He wasn't supposed to care.

"Oi, come on!" Spencer called from the doorway of the manor. Pushing the thoughts away, Vincent walked up the small set of stairs and followed the pair into the foyer.

Charlotte took them upstairs this time around and Vincent cursed at himself for expecting something grand once again. She had just said that she didn't have the money for gardeners, why would she have the money to make her home lavishly decorated? It was the same as the rest of the manor, white painted walls and clear glass windows, the occasional vase of flowers decorating the halls and rooms.

"So, Charlotte, what is it like being the Governor of a place like Morgot?" Spencer asked. It was immediately obvious what his attempts at little jokes and polite conversation had been trying to do. He wanted information. Hadn't he said back on the road that he was curious about what was happening to the money? Spencer wasn't the most subtle of people, but he was making it far too obvious.

She shrugged again, one corner of her lips quirked up in a knowing smile. "What is it like being a ranger?" she asked.

"Hard," he answered without hesitation.

"Well, there's your answer," Charlotte said. "It's hard. I have been attacked, I have a threat looming over my head and while I'm dealing with that, I have to make sure that Morgot is running perfectly well for our Queen in Nuran. It's... Well, it's about as difficult as you'd expect it to be."

That was probably the first time anyone had asked her how she was dealing with it all. As far as he was aware, Charlotte had taken over as Governor only six years ago, when her father had passed away. She probably had a lot to get out in the air, but Vincent couldn't find it in himself to care about any of her worries, not when she lived in such a place, not when her biggest money troubles were about hiring gardeners and not whether or not she would be able to eat that night.

She disappeared into a room not far from the stairs with the promise that she would return in a few minutes. An awkward silence fell over the hall as the two rangers stood on either side of the door. Vincent had no idea how long they stood there, but questions rang in his mind that he needed to ask Spencer.

He never got a chance to ask them. The door opened again, revealing Charlotte, who was dressed in a similar dress to the one she had just removed, but it was a pale green with far less dirt on the apron. "Come along," she said. "The meeting is downstairs. I've got a bunch of orchard runners and farmers to talk to. I'm just going to hear the same thing I've been hearing for months. Not enough food, not enough money. But no one seems to understand that Nuran isn't helping much anymore, not where there aren't as many vireen transports."

The meeting room sat in the hall at the end of the foyer, but Vincent didn't get to see the inside of it. The second they reached the bland wooden door, they were ordered to stand outside of the room until the meeting was over. The only thing Vincent saw was the scowl Nicholas shot them from behind Charlotte's shoulder as she closed the door on them.

At least he might finally have the chance to ask Spencer the many questions he had echoing in his mind. He waited for a few minutes after the sound of muffled voices started, before turning to the younger man. "What are you doing?" he asked, hissing it under his breath. "How sneaky do you think you are right now?"

"Not very, but I don't care about it," Spencer replied with a shrug. "What are you trying to do, acting so serious? I didn't think you'd actually like this job."

For some reason, the words stung. "I don't. I'm just trying to gain their trust so I can steal from them without being caught," he replied, hoping they wouldn't be able to hear him through the door. He was playing a long game, but there were so many things that would get him hundreds of gold pieces when he eventually left, he just had to be patient.

The mocking pout on Spencer's lips made anger curl in his stomach. "Am I ruining that for you?" he asked, amusement in his eyes.

"Are you taking this seriously at all?" he snapped. They were in the middle of the Governor's manor, two criminals, and Spencer was acting like it was any other day.

"Of course I am," Spencer hissed back, rolling his eyes at him. "Not everyone has to stand there and act like the big serious bodyguard. I'm here for gold and vireen, that's all."

"Oh, so you're not trying to figure out what's going on with the money and the food?" he asked, raising his eyebrows at him. "You told me that was what you were trying to do. I just thought you'd be a bit more discreet about it."

Spencer shrugged, uncaring. "So what if I am? I thought you weren't interested in all of that."

"I'm not, but I don't want to lose my job. I need this money. So do you, you said so yourself." Even as he said it, he couldn't help but disagree with himself. He was a little curious, but only because it was affecting him too. He wasn't going to go out of his way to find out what was going on. The less he was involved with the Governor, the happier he would be.

"You're not going to lose your job because of me," Spencer said in the same uncaring tone. "Let me deal with this. You'll get your money and I'll get my answers, simple as that."

"I didn't realise you cared so much, Spencer," he said, letting a tired sigh escape his throat.

The glare Spencer shot him hurt, but he couldn't figure out why. "Things change, people change. I couldn't give two shits about the people in the towns, but I am allowed to worry about the country I live in, you know," he snapped. "Now shut up if you're so worried about your damn job."

It was such a sharp contrast to the conversation they'd had the day before, the one that had made a home in Vincent's dreams, repeating itself over and over again. He had actually angered Spencer, which was hard to do. He should have kept his mouth shut for once instead of letting curiosity get the better of him again.

Instead of speaking again and potentially making things worse, he stayed silent, eyes locked on the white paint on the wall in front of him. It was easier to listen to the muffled discussion behind the door than to listen to his thoughts, which were full of regret that he didn't want to acknowledge. Like he'd said before, he and Spencer weren't friends, no matter how well they knew each other, and they never would be.