Oliver too softened. There was no hint of deceit from Greeves, though he tried to pass it off as a mere joke. The years had been tough on the man. With each month that passed, he felt the death of Loriel all the more keenly. It didn't seem to be the sort of thing that he would ever recover from.
The memories of their battle kept him up at night, and he turned to the bottle when he had to in order to block them out. He wasn't the only one among the villagers who could not seem to put those thoughts of the battle behind them – it had been that intense an affair, after all. There was little to be done about the matter.
"Oliver's trying to put me in charge," Nila cut in, giving the merchant the time he needed to settle himself. "What do you think about that? I would have thought it would be better going to you."
"No – he's right," Greeves admitted easily. "I'd prefer it if you take that on. What we've built will continue to move smoothly with that."
