It had been a long journey back to Greenville, though the time since then had seemed even longer- an endless week of meetings and conferences with the Queen and other court members and knights, reviewing everything that Owen could remember about the mission and the attack. Reviewing (what felt like) every single one of his failings. He couldn't stand the looks of some of the other knights, looking at him as if he had no right to be standing there- as if someone else should have survived in his place. Owen was determined to prove his worth- even if only to himself- but that was something that would take time.
For now, he had been stationed in Greenville, running patrols that were almost mindlessly simple. It was a demotion of sorts- at least it felt that way- but Owen tried not to take it to heart too badly. It at least kept him from sulking in the knights' barracks, kept him out and about, among the busyness of the marketplace.
Owen was surprised when, seemingly out of nowhere, someone ran right into his back- he was jarred by the impact, however, simple it had been, and stumbled forward a few steps before recovering and turning to see the culprit.