Bjorn here. Spent the whole blasted day trying to get four simple pieces of wood from the forests near Britain. The trees, it seems, have developed a personal grudge against me. Every path I took just led me in circles.
When I wasn't getting lost, I was in my workshop, staring at my carpentry bench. I have the form, I have the skill, but without those last four staves, my grand barrel is but a dream. I did manage to explore a little new ground, a small victory in a sea of failure. But mostly, it was just splinters and sighs.
Back to it tomorrow, I suppose. The trees won't beat me.
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