Greetings, friends. Bjorn here. Today, I sought to fill my cart with fine lumber from the forests near Britain. The gods of the axe, it seems, were elsewhere. My blade found not a single worthy log, and my feet, cursed with a strange weariness, refused to carry me to a new grove. I spent the day wandering between the East and North woods, accomplishing little but the honing of my patience. Some days, Britannia reminds you that even a simple task can be a grand trial. My back aches, my cart is empty, but my resolve is unbroken. Tomorrow, the trees will fall.
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