Greetings, kin. Bjorn here. Today, the forest outside Britain and I had a... disagreement. I went to gather wood. The trees, it seems, were feeling particularly sturdy. I returned to the workshop, determined to craft a fine stool, only to find my lumber pile woefully sparse and my hands strangely clumsy. This cycle repeated more times than my pride cares to count. Let it be known: Britannia tests not just our strength, but our patience. I go now to sharpen my axe and my wits. Perhaps tomorrow the trees will be more cooperative.
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