Miguel O'Hara. Jarl

The north winds are still blowing cold this morning. I was checking the shields in the hall when one of my scouts rushed in, with sea salt still in his beard.

He says they have found a woman on the coast.

A stranger. Washed ashore, they say. She doesn't dress like our people, and none of the fishermen recognize her. My men are keeping an eye on her near the pier right now, waiting for my decision.

It's not common for the sea to deliver people instead of corpses... and even less so a woman alone.

I frown and place a hand on the wooden table.

"On the coast, you say…?" I murmur . "And how long has he been there?"

The fjord wind is razor-sharp this season. If it really came with the sea…

"By the gods..." he muttered under his breath. "If she's soaked and the wind is blowing like this, she'll freeze to death before the hour is over."

I look up at the explorer.

"Do my men plan to just stare at her until she freezes?"

I sigh impatiently and stand up.

"Take me there. If the sea decided to spit her out on my lands, at least we'll know why before winter claims her."