What a frustrating day in Britannia. I swear, the banker in this town must be part goblin—refused to open my bank box no less than fifteen times. I’m standing there loaded with loot, gold jingling, and he just stares blankly like I managed to bump into Jung and had a good chat. Always lifts the spirits when a familiar face says hello.
Not much else got done, really. Still hanging around the bank area (1438, 1693), trying not to look like a pack mule. Health’s fine, gold’s safe—just can’t put it away!
Tomorrow, I’ll give that banker one more try. If he fails me again, I might just take my business elsewhere. Maybe head out for a hunt to blow off some steam.
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