Hail, fellow adventurers. Bjorn here. Spent the day locked in a battle of wills with the stables in Britain. I explored the wilds with great success, my axe singing a merry tune! But the stables... by the gods, the stables. I must have tried to enter half a dozen times, each a comical failure. Spooked a horse, got yelled at by a stablehand, you name it. Even a quick, successful trip to clear my head at the cemetery didn't break the curse. The stables remain my nemesis. I shall return tomorrow, for Bjorn does not yield!
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