Ragnar was glad to be home. Being away from Stavanger Bay for any long period of time made him anxious. He could never say why. It wasn't like he couldn't, nor didn't, trust his Queen Wife blindly with his and the life of everyone else within their little Norse pack. Of course he'd trusted Vali in the same way and that had ended up with a knife of betrayal lodged in the Jarl's spine; but this was Thistle. She was young, and not as experienced as a leader as Ragnar was but he trusted her not to be too soft hearted, and to make the right decisions in his absence. He was anxious to see her again, though not to divulge in what he had learned. Not yet. For now, he would keep those burdens and his forming plans to himself. His place was at the helm of his Bay and he could not continue to stretch his journey on needlessly without scheming out his battle plan, and without talking strategically with his Queen Wife, of course. At the end of the day, he really didn't need to ask her permission but she was his Queen and her counsel was revered by the Jarl. It was Thistle Cloud that he missed the most, whose absence of warmth he felt the most in the bitingly chilly autumn nights and it was his Queen Wife that he was the most anxious to rekindle with. They had much to discuss, him and her, and there was much more he needed to speak with Nerian about if she would even speak to him or if she would refuse and shrink deeper into her bubble of self seclusion.

His long strides took him easily across the length of Sea Lion Shores, steps pausing at the call of a howl in the nearby distance, a silhouette of a creature outlined against the towering hang and arch of the sea cliff that acted as a natural border to his Bay. Ragnar's pace increased letting out a chuff as he drew nearer, body held in the natural pose of his rank. “You called?” The scent of his pack could still be scented upon his coat despite that it was mingled now with the scent of others. Eyes of caribbean ice assessed the other silently as he waited for the man to explain his presence upon Stavanger's borders.

Longer than he had anticipated had Ragnar been gone from Stavanger Bay, and yet falling back into familiar routines had happened literally in seconds. Though he desired to see how things had went in his absence he would attend to the ebony man standing upon his borders, first. The ebony male spoke in response to Ragnar's inquiry, giving way to Ragnar's initial suspicions. It was not often that strange wolves came to their borders inquiring about little else; and with Winter fast approaching Ragnar suspected that Stavanger Bay's numbers would likely rise in accordance. It wasn't a bad thing, since the more adults they had aiding with the hunting the better the chances were that they would actually have more successful hunts which meant full bellies and caches rich with their spoils. It did not come as a huge surprise to Ragnar when Thistle appeared soon after the ebony man responded to Ragnar, given that he hadn't gotten the chance to tell her that he was home. He waited until his Queen Wife slid up against his side before his lips parted to speak once more.

“I am Ragnar and this is my wife, Thistle,” He did not bother introducing her as his Queen Wife, for her status was evident in the way she carried herself, but also because he was not sure how much longer he would have two wives — which was definitely a pressing discussion for the two of them in the immediate future. First, however, they needed to address what was presently the priority: this stranger at the borders of the Bay. “These lands are called Stavanger Bay,” He introduced his home to the stranger at the borders, giving a slight pause in order for the other man to push in an introduction before the Jarl continued on with, “Winter will be upon us soon and the work will pick up. We have four newborn mouths to feed and we're in dire need of Hunters.” So much so that on numerous occasions Ragnar had considered giving up his pursue of the Counselor trade in favor of the Gameskeeper. “What skills can you offer Stavanger Bay? What skills would you be willing to work on as our demand calls for?” Ragnar inquired, eyes of Caribbean ice remaining a steady gaze upon the male.

There was a time and place to speak to his Queen Wife about what had happened in his absence — which was admittedly quite a bit, but it was neither the time or the place. Ragnar intended to seek her out privately to discuss such matters a little later. Ragnar was silent and stoic when Krikor spoke of his skills, of what he could offer Stavanger Bay, judging the words heavily. It was true that with Julooke and Verrine focusing their energies upon their newborns that neither really could spare the time to hunt for the pack, neither did Ragnar expect them too. Being with their children was important; as a father Ragnar understood this. Stavanger Bay could use a couple of good hunters, so much that Ragnar had decided to aim for Gameskeeper for his third trade, omitting the work that he'd done to try to get his counselor trade. At present, it wasn't what they needed and, frankly, wolves tended to come to him anyway and therefore he did not think that he needed any sort of official title. “They will be our focus in these months to come,” If only because they were the youngest and henceforth the most vulnerable of them; they were also the next generation of this pack and they needed to be prioritized. With that, though Ragnar fell silent once more as Thistle took the reigns from him and questioned if he had any other skills that they could use.

Ragnar supposed the borders could always use another body. “Could you put that skill towards border patrol? The borders could always use another body.” It was where Ragnar spent a good chunk of his time, but his sons had picked it up as well, their scents prominent along the borders, even if they were a little inexperienced when it came to border patrol he was proud of them taking the initiative, nevertheless. The best way to learn was to actually do the thing itself, Ragnar had found over the years. “Are you willing to adapt and learn new skill sets as are prioritized?” Ragnar wasn't a huge fan of not playing upon the strengths of others within his pack but there might be times in which other trades took precedence and he needed his subordinates to be flexible. If they were willing to learn, he was willing to ensure that they were rewarded for their efforts and hard work.

“I value loyalty and I expect the clear hierarchy of this pack to be obeyed and kept in mind,” Ragnar told the other male grimly, having taken back the reigns from Thistle. “I will not tolerate insubordination, nor betrayal. I will not hesitate to banish, or depending upon the severity of the crime, kill. I do not share the morals of other men.” Just so that everyone was on the same page about how the scarred Scandinavian worked. Killing did not phase him, had never phased him, and he would not be hindered by the consciousness that might have stopped lesser men. Pointless deaths would not get him into Valhalla but Odinn did not punish killing when it meant the survival or protection of what was important.

The scarred Scandinavian was stoic, quiet as the man spoke his peace in regards to what he could do, and what he would be willing to do, which was pretty much anything Stavanger Bay needed. That was useful, Ragnar deduced. Some wolves were set in their ways, and whether he was or not wasn't really a deciding factor in the decision that Ragnar had to make regarding the ebony colored male before him. “As long as your morals don't interfere with my rules against insubordination then we won't have a problem,” Ragnar warned grimly, having no time to play that game again. He had chased and threatened the lives of two wolves, one who had trespassed and the other, one of his subordinates who defied and spoke against him. As it stood, his threat still rang true. If either of them ever dared to appear on his borders again he would tear their lungs out of their body and wear their skulls as a crown. Ragnar wasn't as dramatic as Bjorn had been but flair had never hurt in the face of death and victory. The same was true for anyone. Ragnar was assertive and this was his pack, and he didn't put up with the things that Pump let slide because he wasn't Pump.

He was ten times more cruel. “Prove your loyalty and you will not be disappointed in what Stavanger Bay has to offer you in turn. I expect you to pull your weight, just as I expect from everyone else,” Perhaps it was a bit redundant but just because the other male boosted of skills didn't mean he would help contribute. Ragnar wasn't a mind reader, nor could he see into the past. He was running off of nothing but first impressions. “Welcome to the Bay.” Ragnar spoke simply before the Viking turned to his wife and offered her a nudge of his nose against the silken fur of her neck. Now, the two of them could seek somewhere more private to discuss what it was they needed too. “I will give you a tour,” Ragnar told their newest subordinate before he glimpsed back at Thistle. “And I will seek you later, my love.”