‘You’re wasting your time!’ Eadmund snapped, throwing his sword away in frustration. ‘I’m wasting your time! There’s no point to any of this,’ he sighed, rubbing his neck. ‘All I’m thinking about is where I can get a drink from. I need some ale! I know I should care about swords and fighting and Ivaar, but I just don’t, not right now. Not while I don’t have a cup in my hand. It’s all I can think about, Thorgils.’ He looked up at his friend. ‘There’s no point in doing any of this because,’ he hung his head, ‘I’m always going to ruin it. I can’t see any way out of this feeling. It never leaves.
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