In truth, he had never considered a wife. No one had ever enticed the idea for him. His devotion was spent on his family, his town, his people. He’d imagined his life would dwindle on that way, him expending himself on their behalf. On and on the fighting would go. Deals and tunnels and problems, and he would die eventually, somewhere amid all the noise with no great love to leave behind. Just the pub, the stacks, the mills, the mines. Kenton and the rest of the world churning on without him.
