Sunrise: Found Hrolrygg passed out at post (again). Nothing out of the ordinary, of course. No sign of trouble on the seas. Supply ship should show up today. Good thing; this horker jerky’s getting old.
Mid-day: Minor altercation in the village square. Everyone’s getting restless. Seas still clear, as usual. Can’t wait to get off this frozen rock.
Sunset: Supply ship arrived late. Sent Hrolrygg to help unload. Looks like our mead shipment was cut down—that’s going to be trouble. No reports of suspicious activity between here and mainland.
Midnight: Damn wolves raising a fuss tonight; doubled perimeter patrol. Cold.
Even here on Bleakrock, there are alchemical lessons just begging to be learned. Too bad I’m being hampered by ignorance. No one in that tiny village would let me set up my equipment in any kind of shelter, even when I offered to share the fruits of my labor for no fee!
Working out in the field has had some unexpected challenges. Two days past, I was attacked by some scruffy-looking wolves right as I was on the verge of a breakthrough! They must’ve been attracted by the liquefied goat liver I was heating with the berries of a native bush I hadn’t seen before. Then, last night, for fear I’d lose my new potions to the frost, I placed my pack closer to the campfire than usual—too close, I guess, as I was jolted out of sleep by a minor explosion. Maybe I should have hired a guide; I feel like I’m going to learn more about surviving these damned wilds than about alchemy at this rate!
My Son,
Word’s reached us all the way in Windhelm of your glories in battle. Heard you cut your way through twenty Orcs and drove the rest of ‘em to flee when you took the head of their warlord in one swipe! I always knew you’d take after me, leading the charge. Makes an old Nord proud. I’d be right there next to you cleaving through those Covenant dogs but for this damned leg of mine. Keep count for your mother and me!
I’ve sent you my old axe, Snow-tusk. I even paid the courier extra to be sure it ends up in your hands. It hasn’t seen blood in some years, but it’s sharp as the day it was forged and longing for the battlefield. Give it the action it deserves!
Kyne watch over you. We’ll be ready for great feasting on your return.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think the Dark Elves just do it to frustrate us. Great House this and that and all the running around to get permission to do anything. I don’t know who to go to for what half the time! Back home, you have your Jarl, and that’s that; you know who the boss is and who makes the decisions. Here, you’re in trouble for looking the wrong way at the wrong Dark Elf!
They’re completely humorless! Just one little joke and all of the sudden, the only trade route you can get authorization for is to this damned rock. I thought we’d profit nicely off the trade opened by the Pact, but I’m not so sure about it now. If one more snotty Elf looks down his nose at me, I swear I’m going to break it!”
