#Breeland

The day was quiet, which made a welcome change for Furley's ears. Then again, it was just before dawn, and he'd gotten up early to avoid the bustling and humdrum, or at least that's what he told himself. In reality, he'd decided to skulk off without bothering anyone, and largely to go unnoticed. 

The disgrace! The damned misery and disrespect I've endured tonight! I have to say I wouldn't expect anything of these northern trollops on a normal occasion... but this! This is almost more than I can endure. 

I must admit, I didn't start it well. Grabbing Dru like that from behind in jest, wearing the stinking clothes of a vagabond ranger. Not my finest idea of a joke. Still, I changed and presented myself to her proper, so that crisis was averted. No wonder she objected to me wearing those damned rags with her elbow. 

Finally!

Lord, I'd grown so damned tired of this place that I couldn't even be bothered to put ink to paper and write it all down. This place drains the life and soul out of a man. Surrounded by farmers, drunks and stinking tanners. Bree is a cesspit. I'd say this is where ambition comes to die, but to say anyone here had any ambition at all to begin with would be an outright lie. Nay, this is where people are born, live, and die, without seeing beyond the Brandywine or the Marshes.