A Day of Splinters and Stumbles

Hail, friends. Bjorn here. Spent the whole blessed day locked in a duel with a pile of wood. Needed staves for a barrel. Needed wood from the east forest. The forest, it seemed, did not need me visiting. Three trips, three times I got turned around in the thickets like a green recruit.

Between getting lost, I'd wander and find a nice glade or a curious rock—small victories. Then back to the workbench! But my axe was dull, my measurements off. Splinters? I have plenty. Barrel staves? Not a one.

The wood in Britannia mocks me. Tomorrow, I sharpen the axe and my wits. This barrel will not win.

-Bjorn