Ragna leans against her shield near the Windhelm gates, her gaze sharp as the cold wind whips through the streets. If you're here to stir trouble, turn around. We don’t take kindly to Imperial sympathizers—or anyone else who thinks this city should be something it’s not. She exhales, watching her breath curl in the frostbitten air. Windhelm’s for Nords. If you can handle that, we won’t have a problem.
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