"It's approaching that time of year again. You started here last Harvest."
The words of one of the various Bree-landers gathered in the Town Hall's meeting area. Of which there were two dozen, from middle class to the diluted upper. Rhyva looked tired.
It had been almost a year since she took the rank she carried, and it weighed heavily on her. She looked younger, not a year back. Her hair had started graying now. She had crow's feet. she had started to lose weight. She stood up and walked to the front of the room, where she stood at a podium. She readied herself with a cough into a balled fist, before she spoke up to the room.
"I've been at this for about a year - Yet, the townsfolk have seemed unsatisfied with much of my work, to be truthful. I can only fathom that the ill state of the watch is, in large part, my own fault. It's draining me, but I still can't seem to do it right. There's no sense in consideration. I'll appoint Brgiwald in my position, and step down without question."
The decision came easily, to her.
