Somehow, in his head, more time had passed since sending Verdant away than the true reality of it. There was naught really for him to do in those two days, after the order had been given, and so he simply waited. Not with the greatest degree of idleness, for sitting still for too long would always invite something towards his interest.
He'd spent time with Nelson, ensuring that his horse remained in good condition. Then he'd spent time with his sword, slashing at the air, going through the rhythms of training, but without that usual seriousness that he did it with. He more enjoyed the act of it than anything else, well aware that he was simply filling time, and that he didn't need to punch through quite as urgently as he had been forced to in the past. He simply enjoyed the quietness of the position.
