Governor Thompson appeared at the entrance to the pen, looking surprisingly nervous despite who she was. “If you would follow me, my advisor, Nicholas wants to speak with any new arrivals regarding your job,” she said, smiling sweetly at them. He still couldn’t see her as a Governor and not just a kind woman tending to her tulips.

There was a small door at the end of the stables that led into the house. Part of him had expected a grand entrance lined with paintings and lanterns, but instead, he got a dim hallway with nothing of much importance. A vase of roses sat on a pedestal near another door, but there wasn’t much else.

Henricks didn’t follow them in, leaving both Vincent and Spencer to walk in awkward silence with the Governor. Doors lined the halls, but they were all closed. Vincent’s curiosity threatened to get the better of him, but he pushed it away, focusing only on where they were heading.

The hallway eventually reached what he assumed to be the foyer, a small space with a thin staircase on one side and another hall at the end. Like the rest of the house, it was not as grand as he expected, but the windows on either side of the double doors showed off the tulip garden outside. Next to the stairs was a door that led to a small sitting room, where someone was already sitting, waiting for them.

The man sitting on the small green loveseat drummed his fingers against his knee as the Governor entered. He looked up at her with dark eyes and an unusual smile on his lips. That smile dropped when he caught sight of Vincent and Spencer walking in behind her, and he instead ran a hand through his thinning black hair.

“This is Nicholas Ulandra, my advisor,” she said. Vincent knew that surname from his limited education, but it wasn’t one he had heard often since the orphanage made him leave to find work. It was the surname of every member of Nuran’s royal family.

“I didn’t realise we had new arrivals,” he said in a rumbling voice that held a similar accent to the Governor. He stood and held a hand out to Vincent. “Mister Mortimer, I presume? Your wanted posters look a lot like you.”

“That’s a lot of judgement coming from the man who decided to hire us,” Vincent snapped back before he could properly think about it. There was a huff of laughter from next to him and a small swell of pride went through him, much to his chagrin.

The Governor let out an awkward laugh. “I should change out of this dress,” she said and turned back towards the door. “Please, Nicholas, get them up to speed on everything, if you would.”

“Of course, ma’am,” Nicholas said, but by the time he finished speaking, the Governor was already gone. The air was thick with tension as he gestured for the two rangers to sit in the armchairs facing the loveseat, judgement in his piercing eyes. “I would like to let it be known that if these were normal circumstances, I would have only liked to see you on the other side of a jail cell.”

Vincent bit back the angry remarks that wanted to come out and let Spencer have the next word. “Fair enough,” was all he said, a disappointment compared to the arguments they’d had on the road.

“I’m assuming Mister Henricks filled you in on a few details of the job?” Nicholas asked, his eyebrows raised. He didn’t even wait for either of them to speak before he continued. “Good, now before we get into it, you will refer to me as either Sir or Mister Ulandra. You will call Governor Thompson ma’am and that is all, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Vincent grumbled, hating the words even as they spilt from his lips.

“And you, Mister Cannibal, you will need to remove your mask.”

Everything seemed to freeze then. Vincent swallowed the lump in his throat and watched Spencer, who blinked under the watchful gaze of the advisor. “Can do,” he said, sounding far calmer than Vincent expected him to, and lifted the bottom of the mask up.

Most expected to see scars under Spencer’s mask, but instead, they got the dark skin that he had inherited from his mother. It was skin that didn’t let people take him seriously, that got him kicked out of homes, shops, jobs. It was a skin colour that forced him onto the road with a gun and a pouch of vireen, and forced him to don a mask so people would listen.

“Ah,” Nicholas muttered, running a hand over his stubbly chin. The judgemental look in his eyes changed to something else, something brimming with anger and disgust. Unease settled in Vincent’s stomach, but he stayed silent. “I’m hoping your… heritage will not be an issue for you with this job, Mister….”

“Bowers. And no, it won’t be. I have no contact with any native tribe,” Spencer replied in a drawling voice. It was the first time in years that Vincent had seen his face. He had filled out considerably since then. His jaw was sharper, his wide nose slightly more hooked and his full lips no longer looked out of place.

His dark eyes met Vincent’s and he grinned, small dimples forming in his cheeks, hidden under a layer of stubble. Last time Vincent had seen his face, he had been gangly and pimply. In the last couple of years, he had grown into it and against Vincent’s better judgement, he looked good.

Nicholas cleared his throat, bringing the attention back to him. “As for the job itself, you will be patrolling the grounds and the perimeter, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious. I have people searching for the natives behind this, I just need more people keeping an eye on Governor Thompson.

“You will not be in the company of the Governor unless she has specifically requested it. You might have the opportunity to accompany her on any trips outside New Feridian should it be required. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Spencer said, leaning back in the green armchair. His legs twitched as if he were about to put his feet up on the coffee table between them and Nicholas. “What about payment? When does that start?”

The older man rolled his eyes and sighed. “You will get the first batch of vireen tonight. I’ll need you at your best if you’re going to protect the Governor,” he explained. “After that, you will get a pouch of gold and vireen at the beginning of each week.”

Vincent pursed his lips but didn’t get a chance to speak. “Seems reasonable to me. I’m assuming we start tomorrow?” Spencer asked.

Nicholas nodded, briefly inspecting his already clean fingernails. “If you see anything suspicious, alert the other guards and investigate it. The native people have been quite dangerous as of late and I don’t want anyone else hurt,” he said in a voice that said he didn’t care that much.

“When was the last time someone was attacked?” Spencer asked.

“Last week, it was someone working in the orchards. Two weeks before that was one of our guards,” he explained and let out a sigh. “The week before that was the Governor herself while she was on a walk about the city. They were wearing masks to hide. I’m sure you understand now why I asked you to remove yours?”

“Of course.”

With yet another sigh, Nicholas stood and gestured to the door. “I believe that’s about it,” he said. “I’ll have one of the other guards show you to where you’ll be staying. Any other questions?”

Both shook their heads and within minutes of arriving, they were standing outside the sitting room once again. The Governor hadn’t returned by the time a man in a grey jacket met them and told them to follow him. Thankfully, he didn’t bother sparing either of them more than a glance, obviously too tired to care.

They weren’t to stay in the Governor’s home, but in one of the two hastily built dormitories on either side of the manor’s large driveway. The guard led them back through the tulip garden, but Vincent wasn’t paying much attention, his thoughts focused on the rush of information he’d just been given.

Something was bothering him, something that didn’t make much sense but there wasn’t a chance to openly question it. How could anyone from a tribe make it all the way through New Feridian to attack the Governor without being seen or caught by the city’s citizens? They stuck out like a sore thumb, anyone would have noticed them, even with masks. And it shouldn’t be that hard to find them out in the bush, even if they were nomadic.

If they were constantly attacking the Governor, then they had to still be close to New Feridian, which meant they shouldn’t be that hard to find. But there Vincent was, protecting the Governor because they were struggling to find a group of people that should have been easy to spot. It didn’t make much sense to him at all.

But he didn’t get enough time to question it properly. Spencer caught up to him and nudged his arm, a frown on his face. It was still strange to see him without the mask around so many people, it felt wrong just looking at him. At the same time, there was the thrill that shot through him whenever he saw Spencer’s face, as if he was seeing something he shouldn’t.

“Does that happen often?” Spencer asked.

“Does what happen often?”

“People thinking you’re a woman when you’re not.”

He had completely forgotten about the Governor’s assumption in all the rush with Nicholas. He shrugged, eyes focused on the tulips they were passing. “About as much as you would expect,” he said.

That seemed to confuse Spencer more. “But... You don’t look like a woman at all. Why would anyone think you do?” he asked.

It was almost as if he were blind, but there was a small part of Vincent that revelled in the words. “Look at my face, Spencer. I have never grown facial hair, I have the curves of a woman,” he said. “You’ve heard my voice. At one point in my life, I was a woman, but I am not anymore. People can’t see that though. They make assumptions based on my appearance.”

Spencer’s mouth was agape, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He looked almost childish, but Vincent couldn’t figure out why. “I- I’ve never seen you like that. I never even realised,” he whispered, incredulous. “You’ve just been Vincent to me, nothing more, nothing less.”

There was no laughter in his voice, no amusement in his eyes; he was being completely serious. Just Vincent, that was all he wanted people to see him as. Of course, the one person who did just happened to be the one person he didn’t want to spend much time with. “This won’t change things, will it?” he asked in a small voice, feeling like a coward.

“Of course not. Why would it? Nothing’s changed, Vince. Well, everything’s changed, but not us,” he said and once again, his grin was back, bright and taunting. “You’re always going to be my favourite person to torment.” Vincent didn’t really know what else he expected to hear, but he still hated the small smile that tugged at his lips.