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Convincing the man that he was in command was easier than she thought.

Truth would no longer be in the way, while he was blind to the truth... she almost chuckled at the pun, and the irony of the situation. She returned to the ice cold room and sat at her spot on the table, where she waited for a few moments for another guest to arrive.

Without much wait there was a knock on the door, and someone apathetically let themself in. He was an older man, with a short silver beard and long grey hair. He smiled at the woman and was about to speak when she cut him off.

"Don't speak my name."
The old man frowned. "But it's such a beautiful name."
"I don't know who's listening."
He sighed, then began. "Fine... Charity." She smiled at this. "He's not a concern now?"
"No, he's not. But that's not why I called you here. What was your business with him last night?"
"Who, Truth? That is none of your concern."
"We had an agreement. I am in charge, I answer only to you. As such, if you have a problem with him, it will go through me."
The old man grinned at her assertiveness. "Quite the forceful woman you've become, Charity."
Charity grinned. "I take on after the king, Cyrus."
Cyrus had no problem with the woman's secrecy, but he didn't care who heard his name... for all intensive purposes, he didn't exist.
"Don't worry, Cyrus. I can handle Truth. As long as you give me your word that I am indeed in charge, I can give you my word that he will not interfere."

Cyrus pondered this notion, and finally agreed. "I give you my word."

* * *

Truth was leaning up against the stone wall that divided Britain into its northern and southern halves. It was a damn cold night and he was tired of waiting. Finally, a shadow appeared around the corner. He walked over to it.

The figure asked silently but firmly, "I take it she's not a concern anymore?"
Truth shook his head. "For the time being. But she seems to disbelieve that I'm in control. This may be a problem, Cyrus..."