Ragnar hadn't forgotten about the man that Thistle had found washed up upon their shore, nor his promise of what would happen if too much time went by and the man did not call for him to discuss whether he was well enough to be a useful edition to Stavanger Bay or if he would need to be chased off. Stavanger Bay wasn't a charity and Ragnar was not willing to waste the resources they were gathering, stockpiling for winter on a stranger. The resources would be needed for Julooke and her young infants, and Nerian and his infants when they were born, if the Priestess ever went into heat again. Ragnar's days felt busier than usual, with assisting the wolves that had stuck around with making sure the caches were prepared, on top of his patrols and making sure that Julooke, out of everyone, had enough food for herself and her babes. Ragnar knew Verrine was doing what he could for her but Ragnar figured that the extra concern couldn't hurt. Plus, he cared about Julooke in his own way and didn't want the deaths of her babes on his head. They would survive the winter, of that he was concretely determined.

Ragnar dropped the rabbits he had caught into one of the caches when the howl rose for him. He did not immediately recognize it and thus figured that it was the old man that was at death's door (the one that Ragnar had almost suggested they kill and eat) finally ready to talk to him. That was good; get it out of the way before he went on his trip to the Spine pack in search of the white eyed man that had nearly killed Julooke. Finish up the loose ends so that if a hard and unpopular decision had to be made it wasn't placed at his Queen Wife's paws. Ragnar adored Thistle, and loved her for her bleeding heart and while he knew for a fact she could be a spitfire he couldn't help his concerns that she was soft. Of course it was her softeness that complimented his glacierness. She cared so that he didn't have too. (which wasn't strictly true because Ragnar did care about his pack and it's members).

Swiftly, the scarred Scandinavian covered the cache back up with the dirt he had up-heaved and made his way to where the call had risen from. It did not take him long to find the man, surprised to find that he had stayed in the 'Halda as Ragnar had instructed. He smelled pungent, like medicines mixed with bile and blood, and Ragnar's nicked muzzle wrinkled slightly with disgust. He had smelled worse, of course, but something about being on a battle field, in the aftermath in a river of blood, entrails and carnage did not bother Ragnar. But other things did that really, didn't make much sense. Are you well enough to discuss if you will stay or if you will leave? Ragnar asked him, though it was a bit of a rhetorical question. Likely, there was little other reason why the man would be calling him.

Ragnar's presence was greeted with a low bow of the other man's head and the Jarl slowed, fixing the man in his icy gaze, wondering if it wouldn't be smarter to just chase him out. At Ragnar's own decree he had been healed with the bare minimum because Ragnar couldn't and wouldn't waste their medicinal resources on a wolf only to potentially have him die, anyway. As it stood, Ragnar wasn't overly confident that the man wouldn't die, which would only prove to be a total waste of all the resources if it came to pass. With Winter bearing down upon them, numbers fluctuating pretty regularly and four newborn mouths to feed it wasn't something they could spare. Ragnar had already been told to his face — and not for the first time — that he was a tyrant. Though heartless was something he had never disputed. The lives of wolves outside of Stavanger Bay had no consequence to him (except for Junior but that was different because she was considered family) and why was he a monster for not wasting his time and energy providing or caring when he had more pressing things to care and provide for ...like his pack?

The stoic Scandinavian was met with a simple reply and nothing more. For a moment Ragnar waited for Mordred to continue on with which option he'd chose only to be met with a continued spin of silence. Ragnar's weight shifted as he waited before lips spliced apart to speak, And? Which one do you choose? The Viking encouraged the male.

Ragnar was silent when Mordred spoke that he chose to stay, remaining silent, biting lightly down upon his tongue at the male's following words of being indebted to Thistle Cloud. As if the meat that the capable members of the pack hunted and was given to him meant nothing. As far as Ragnar was concerned Mordred was indebted to them all, him especially given that he could have easily chosen to let the sea take him and do with him what it would. He had used their resources even if Ragnar had dictated that it was the bare minimum because he had to watch out for the well being of the pack first and foremost. With Winter breathing heavily down their necks he could not stand to waste such things that would become precious to them. Eyes narrowed as they swept over the man in an assessing manner though Ragnar kept his thoughts to himself, instead listening to what skills the injured man had to offer him and the wolves of Stavanger Bay. All things we could make use of, Ragnar drew after a prolonged moment of silence, contemplating what Mordred had to offer with a cant of his head. I need to know that you're staying isn't just to repay my Queen Wife for the healing she has done to you. I need to know that everything you do is for the good of Stavanger Bay, just as I ask of every other member seeking a home within our borders.

Ragnar was quiet as Mordred deduced what he would give and what he would take. In many ways that was what a pack was – a giant game of give and take. If you want a home here you will contribute. Everyone contributes, even the children when they reach an age that they are able. Ragnar had no tolerance for those who did not contribute, and he had no desire to carry dead weight. If he discovered it he would, easily and without so much as a second thought, cut those that would be dead weight away from the pack. Especially with Winter upon them they could not afford anyone to not be pitching in and assisting where they were needed, even if it didn't fall under their trades. I do not ask of my members anything that I do not willing give myself. Of course, if Ragnar didn't carry his weight as their Jarl there wouldn't be a pack but that was irrelevant and besides the point, the Viking amended himself mentally.

Just out of curiosity you mentioned protection a bit ago. Protection from what? Ragnar inquired, fixing the other man in his icy Caribbean blue gaze. It was possible, Ragnar rationalized that Mordred simply meant protection from starvation, from hypothermia or whatever else but he could have also meant from something else and if there was a bounty on his head...Ragnar wanted to know about it, especially if it meant he would potentially endanger the Bay.

Ragnar didn't know Mordred, and the necessity to state what was obvious just in case the message hadn't, initially gotten across. Whether Mordred took insult to it — or anyone else that Ragnar had spoken those words to, for that matter — took offense to it or not was their own issue. Ragnar was just doing his job and sometimes that included saying the most obvious things so that there were no misunderstandings in the future, despite it's redundancy. I am well versed at taking care of a pack during the winter months, A plus side, as far as the platinum colored Jarl could see, of having been born and raised in the frigid temperatures of the North. Then it should be no issue, Unless someone was hunting him, even though accepting Mordred into Stavanger Bay sort of meant that he was Ragnar's responsibility to protect from the winter and from his enemies lest they live still. Very well, Ragnar drew in a soft breath. Welcome to Stavanger Bay, then, Mordred, For a moment Ragnar was silent, clinging to his pause as he dwelled upon his consideration. Perhaps a good place to start would be to help my Queen Wife replenish the stores she used to heal you. It was a suggestion and Mordred wasn't obligated to do it, though it would, admittedly, make him look better in the harsh Viking's eyes.

After all, winter was coming and medicines and food would be in short supplies, soon.