"Sometimes other people's dreams have to be protected as their legacies." Noah leaned back again into the chair, and took his forearms off the table. "We've always seen that, Korbin. We've seen sons and daughters take over their parents mantles, running their businesses and trades with the same values as the ones before them." While it was common in Halo, it really wasn't demanded of the people. It had been an unspoken way of life, but the hunter supposed Korbin could change that. "You might not want to run this place like Weaver did, but maybe you should find someone that does. Letting it rot like this, it's like spitting in her face." Noah did not want the raven to feel shame for how the tavern had become, because it wasn't his fault, but he did have the power to change it. Korbin could appoint someone as a manager of the Kraai while he advised them, as he would have Weaver when she was Warden. He didn't have to stand behind the bar, but someone with a heart for this place and the people did.
He sighed when he spoke, for the first time to Noah, aloud about his grief. The Olson took another sip of his whiskey. "I know." He had watched it happen to his father. He let the grief of losing his wife, Noah's mother, and his daughter, Noah's sister, entrap him. He spent weeks in his room with the door locked, barely moving. Even before he had ventured into the tundra on a hunt he should not have attempted, and was killed, Noah had to take on the responsibility as the leader of his family for the sake of himself and Ezekiel. "It's just one step at a time. No one is expecting you to be all better tomorrow."
