Darin groans. "Goddamn it. Why do we even bother writing stuff down if assholes are jus' gonna go and steal all of it?"
"How bad is it?" you ask.
"All the troop numbers. Some unfinished battle plans. Maps leadin' down to Krorid, plus the route we marked. He left behind ration details, daily camp routine, and other papers relatin' to logistics," the huntsman says with a sigh. "Some of my huntin' guys will probably have spare maps on them. But those censuses are gone."
Darin's soul seems to leave his body at these words. He clasps his hands together and says, "Welp. Should probably get started on a new census then, shouldn't I?"
"No," you say. "You rest. Recover your strength."
"I—"