Word got around that Colonel Worm has left town.

Gerrit took it pretty well - in a way, all those Summer Courtiers did leave their mark on the Ogre. He never quite got around their way of thinking, their hang-up with Wrath. It just felt like a lot of emotion for little gain. Weirdly, all those Summer flakes had shown him that the true way to be a dependable and functioning member of the Freehold wasn't to indulge in those emotions, but to give them other ways to vent.

The Stonebones therefore took his frustration out on the punching bag at the boxing studio. He didn't train with passion or anger, he found that he managed to turn off his brain and just coldly managed to focus on the technique and the sharp jabs of pain radiating out from his fists. Wrath makes you act before you think. Anger makes you act on impulse before you have the chance to reconsider. You abandon friends, you leave a tricky relationship instead of talking it out. He conveniently forgot that the Ice Law told each Winter Courtier to leave without a trace at the sign of real trouble, forgot that he himself acted out due to his Sorrow as well.
This wasn't about fairness, this was about perspective.

Winter was his home, Sorrow was his Mantle. There was merit to his previous opinion, to caring for your friends and creating a nurturing haven for everyone to enjoy. But he came around to Winter's more cruel lessons more and more.
Or rather: those teachings that others might consider 'cruel', but that ultimately were responsible for saving your hide - and that kept your head clear enough to save the hides of others.

After another hours Gerrit finished his training.
He thought he had become rather good at this.