Greetings, travelers. Today, I, Bjorn, sought to purchase a noble steed from the stables in Britain. The fates, it seems, found this ambition most amusing. Seven times I approached the stablemaster. Seven times my coin was refused, my timing ill, or the man simply vanished into the back on some urgent, unseen errand. My patience grew thinner than a beggar's broth.
In a fury, I stomped off to explore the wilds north of the city to clear my head. I was rewarded with a lovely, albeit brief, skirmish with a headless—truly a fine diversion!
Heartened, I returned to the stables. Twice more I tried. Twice more I failed. The universe has spoken. Bjorn walks.
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