A new view, a new set of armor, and a new lord; yet still it always ended with the silence before the plunge. Having gone back on his word, Vincete had not expected himself to be still residing in Colovia, nor did he expect to be serving one of Noble blood yet again. But here he was, upon the battlement, early morning the blanket of ice still lingered over the landscape. Vincete had found the lands under Volund Decentius were rather calm, all things considered; he found himself with his thoughts more than he had expected. Introspection, mending, and just trying to come to terms with old demons, the nightmares that plagued him.

Early morning, Vincete preferred it to the patrols he had at dusk, it was all in the type of silence that each presented. Vincete used to revel in the night's silence knowing that people would lay their heads down to rest, finding comfort in feathered pillows, and finding the bliss of a dream. Vincete would be allowed to drink in silence, and find happiness in a woman from a brothel in his younger days; war made one put life in perspective. At that time, he figured indulging in worldly pleasures was the smartest thing he could do.

Power and Gold, both of those were his biggest weaknesses. Being offered a small fortune to monitor the Regent of House Deamata. Sure he knew it was the Worm Cult but in the end. Gold was gold. And of course the viper came back and bit him, though not on the ass, it was the throat, on the neck. This woman was a vampire. So the nights would forever plague him, for he remembered every kill he made, innocent or not. Some of them were inhumane, dealing death was something Vincete was fine with, but acting like a rabid attack dog. That was not who he was; a soldier was who he was, not a pet.

As Vincete rode Alabaster along the road, looking over the lands of Decentius ensuring nothing was amiss. The silence of the morning had now become his favorite thing to take part in, the soft clop of his steed's hooves, the shifting of his armor, the early song of birds, and the rustling of the wind. The sun would rise, and melt away the cold armor on the vegetation, and life would come forth. Vincete had come to appreciate this more, not only because the sun was in some ways a source of protection, but also because he could feel the scars of the past slowly fading, and the horrible person who he had been so long ago was slowly becoming a distant shadow that would never see fruition again.

Vincete knew that if he were to go to Oblivion, he would fight every moment of it, do as much damage possible if he could. But, if by some chance he would be graced by the Eight, to pass on into the afterlife and be with his family, well, it would be a pleasant surprise.

Having veered Alabaster off the road and toward a hilled portion of land; enjoying the crunch of the frozen grass, he basked in the oncoming light from the horizon. Vincete was not as fragile as he was a year ago and on the mend.