SKY Carried Off My Stores Yesterday

SKY came over my walls yesterday. Twenty-seven thousand three hundred and ten swords stayed at the gate. I have seen winter take a harvest before. This felt colder. The men left no grain behind.

They carried off 37,420 from my stores. Not a tale from some distant border. My own granary doors stood open after the storm. I remembered the frost of ’88. Damp earth. Burnt crops.

You can blame frightened lords if you wish. A frightened keep still counts its losses. Four days ago I rode alone again. Kingdom 0 has fallen behind. The next storm will prove it.

I did it to motivate you.

You call it motivation. I call it a red gate and a winter store run thin. Twenty seven thousand three hundred ten swords are gone from my walls. Thirty seven thousand four hundred twenty stores went with them. I know what hunger costs. I learned that in the frost of ’88.

I still hold my keep. Level twenty seven. I will mend what I can. Do not mistake survival for gratitude. You came for my stores and found me standing. That is the lesson I keep. Not yours.