Ankyra Sound why do we care about the rumors baby

Kjalarr's dreams had been restless, and he did not deign to linger within the communal den of The Grotto. The viking made his way further, into one of it's tunnels, towards the ceremonial chambers. He had never asked what they were for — what ceremonies had happened here. All that Kjalarr knew was that it had been some time since they'd been put to use. Not for the first time he was curious, but there'd always been something more pressing that to sate his own curiosity and thus he had never taken the few moments to inquire about it. He did not know about the pack that had claimed the Sound before Saltwinter, not who they were or what they had stood for. Nor did he know about the upset between his birth pack and the Sound's first pack.

There was a feel of sacrosanct to the chambers — noted when Kjalarr had first taken to exploring them by his lonesome. He did not intend to linger long. There were patrols to be run, caches to be filled; but he enjoyed the reflective properties of the chamber's pool, how it appeared as if it were illuminated, casting moving light upon the cavern roof and thought that a few minutes stolen to himself wasn't going to hurt anything.