“I’ve not had much experience with it, either,” is a gamely admission of her own expertise gaps, unselfconscious. “I dated a woodworker but mostly he just taught me, like, fletching arrows and carving figurines? Decorative stuff, not like… wood joins. Maybe s’a sign we ought to apprentice with the Master of Works a while.”

Astrid drops the pile of wood in a clatter, shaking out her hands, sizing up the eyre-in-progress. It’s… a bit of an eyesore, there’s a clear disparity between where the original stables ended and where the new additions begin, but it’s probably not the end of the world.

“At least the griffons won’t care if it’s ugly, just as long as it keeps the rain off.”