Miguel O'Hara. Jarl

The north winds still blow cold this morning. I was inspecting the shields in the hall when one of my scouts rushed in, sea salt still clinging to his beard.

He says they've found a woman on the coast.

A stranger. Washed up by the waves, so they say. She doesn't dress like our people and none of the fishermen recognize her. My men are guarding her right now near the dock, awaiting my decision.

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

I frown and rest a hand on the wooden table.

"On the coast, you say…?" I mutter "And how long has she been there?"

The fjord wind cuts like blades this season. If she truly arrived with the sea…

"By the gods…" I grunt softly "If she's soaked and the wind is blowing like this, she'll freeze to death before the hour is up."

I look up at the scout.

"Do my men intend to just stand there staring at her until she freezes?"

I huff with impatience and stand up.

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