Even though the sun was not yet hot and the air was cool on his skin, beads of sweat had formed on the knight's temples. Ordhan sheathed his sword and drew a hand across his forehead, brushing aside the clinging hair. It took only a few moments to regain his breath, but the need for it frustrated him. He should not be this fatigued after a single match. Constans waited with a patient expression, or so Ordhan interpreted it. He always looked patient.
"That is true," he replied. "Though I am not unwell, as far as I know. It would be very poor timing for it." His smile was thin, making the jest thinner. There was only one night left before they set out--no more taking a watch instead of sleeping, if he wanted to be useful at all at the journey's beginning.
Both knight and tranquil were comfortable with silence, finding no need for words to fill empty space--usually. At the moment Ordhan found the waiting awkward, likely because it was waiting on him. "Have you learned whether you will be moving on?" he asked. He knew that the tranquil would not be in his own company, as he had not seen him with those gathered the day before, and Hilda had not mentioned him as one of her traveling companions. Still, there were others setting out from Vigil's Keep besides them.