"You using hunting analogies, Boss?" Judas said. "That's a rare one."
"Shut up, you. Do business with this little fox so often and you'll find yourself speaking like her whether you like it or not," Greeves said. "And you, boy, wipe that look off your face. You'll only scare the villagers. You don't want to restrict the freedoms of those that ain't doin' nothing just for safety. It's better to have them looking out for themselves."
"I suppose…" Oliver said, his anger abating only slightly, though the heat of the problem still didn't seem to want to go away. "All we can do is ensure more rigorous gate inspections. There should be no way for a thief or a smuggler to slip past our n."
"Aye, that's all," Greeves said.
"Put so good hunting dogs on with them," Nila said. "That'll give them a harsher inspection than any human eye could ever hope to do."
The girl said it with confidence. With her increase in wealth, her own hunting thods had changed as well. Beginning the year before last, she'd started to use hunting dogs herself. She doted on those animals more than a mother doted on her child.
"If you'll have them trained, then I'll leave it up to you," Oliver said. "You'll be in charge here when I'm gone, after all."
Nila's smile faded, and she took on a guilty look. "Is it really fine for to stay?" She asked.
"That's not for to decide, Nila," Oliver said. "You know I wouldn't turn you away if you decided to co, but there's too much for you to leave. Your companies, all your business associates and your employees, your family… the village itself."
"There are those things," Nila said, before continuing in a quiet voice, "but it ans abandoning you."
"Abandoning ?" Oliver said, incredulous. "Whilst you rule my village in my stead. How is that abandoning ?"
"Blackthorn is ready to give up everything she has to follow you," Nila said. "I can't win against that."
"Win against that? Whatever do you an? You don't want to copy Blackthorn. She has her own goals. She wishes to beco accomplished on the battlefield, so I suppose the campaign might be the best place for her. You, on the other hand, despise it," Oliver said.
"Despite that, you've assisted in battle nurous tis. What sort of man would I bet if I asked you to do the sa again."
Nila folded her arms in front of her chest, a cross look on her face. "I don't like it," she declared.
"None of us do," Greeves said.
"I should be going, out of anyone," Judas said, looking guilty.
"Judas, don't," Oliver said, "not you as well. You've a wife, and two children. Your youngest is barely a year old. You don't need to be getting yourself killed in the middle of nowhere."
"Hah…" Nila said. "It doesn't feel right."
"Agreed," Judas said. "We ought to go, I reckon, no matter what happens."
"Fools," Oliver said. "Don't try and convince yourself away from already sound reasoning. Why do I need to have everything important to in one place? You'd limit if you followed . By staying, you extend . My presence can be felt in two places at once.
Solgrim will grow in my absence, and I will still be able to assert myself on the battlefield."
"Sothing really important to you, you'd never leave it behind," Nila pointed out. "Not for so long. Three years, Oliver. That's an impossible ti. You never go anywhere without your father's sword on your hip – could you imagine leaving that anywhere for three years?"
"Three years is the worst case scenario. It seems unlikely," Oliver said. "And there are many important things that I would not drag with everywhere. If I had a family, I would not wish for them to be with on the battlefield. I'd rather they be safe."
In the face of that point, even Nila was forced to relent. She growled, irritated, trying to think of a point around it.
"A woman like Blackthorn, though, you couldn't leave her behind, could you?" She said, She looked incredibly cross for a reason that Oliver couldn't even hope to understand.
He frowned, looking to Greeves for so sort of support. The rchant gave a rare smile, apparently enjoying the uncomfortable tension that Oliver was forced to dwell in. "Give it up, boy. It ain't about winning the argunt or losing it. Sotis a woman just wants to vent her frustration."
THWACK!
A solid punch to his shoulder sent Greeves staggering. He groaned, imdiately silenced. It was a punch from a fist of the Second Boundary, whether man or woman, such a fist would never be light. Oliver thought it to be lucky that Greeves had not broken a bone.
Nila stood up, her anger still flaring like a fiery blanket, the very colour of her red hair. "You've to make a promise, Oliver Patrick," Nila said, pointing at him.
"It depends on what that promise is," Oliver said evenly.
"You must return within a year," Nila said, pointing a finger at him. "And you better not change too much in that ti. If you co back ho a different man, with no use for us any more, I'll never forgive you."
It was an impossibly childish request, but such tis were one of the few instances in which Nila Felder could afford to be childish. For a girl of eighteen, she had a trendous amount of responsibility placed on her shoulders, and she needed to put on a mature and calculating face to match what her roles demanded of her.
"Ho, eh…" Oliver said. It struck him how right that word felt. Solgrim was indeed that. From the mont he'd returned for the first ti, after Blackwell had given him the village, Oliver had known it to be ho. That feeling had only strengthened in three years of governance. He knew every face, and every na.
It was a hard-fought ho, but it was his, nonetheless.
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