Opening post by Ser Roland Crakehall · #1
Right, after closing my gates until the host was fit to fight, I put the gate winch under suspicion. Its chain dragged on the last turn, and the crankman had to lean into it as if the iron owed him money. A spoonful of rendered fat is now waiting beside the winch, which is the sort of advancement my keep can afford.
Look, I will grease one side of the chain and leave the other bare, then raise the gate twice and mark which arm complains first. You may call that crude science, but a tired crankman is a witness with excellent lungs. If the greased side moves cleanly, the winch earns mercy; if not, the fat goes in the stew.
Right, this is no promise of a shining age, only a small trial before the next alarm finds us. The gate does not need to admire the method, and neither do you. It only needs to rise without making every man beneath it wonder whether the hinges have chosen treason, does it?