Trying to get Stavanger Bay on track wasn't as crushing or as hard as he had initially assumed it might have been, though if anything the fact that the shit storm slammed through while Ragnar had been absent, handling an important outrider mission made Ragnar less inclined to ever leave his Bay again. There was fault in that determination, though. As of right now he was the only Outrider they had, but his duties as Jarl were far more important in the long run and so it was within the confines of the claimed lands of his pack that he would stay, at least until the Bay had some more wolves to their ranks. Currently, they needed every body they could get to assist in pack hunts, and with the three young mouths to feed Ragnar was running on overdrive. He was used to this, to the pressures of harsh and savage winters and it was not the prospect of the oncoming winter that filled the Viking with trepidation. It was the fact that, until otherwise, he and Thistle now had three fostered infants to take care of. It wasn't so bad as long as Mercury and Gunnar helped out and thus far the sons did not seem to mind helping out.

Ragnar had been on a check of the pack's caches when the howl had been sent up, slicing through the cool, crisp autumn air that dithered on the cusp of being winter. Eyes of icy carribean blue moved in the direction of origin, close to the beach, likely calling from the massive arch that acted as mother nature's own barrier to ward out those that were unwanted within the Bay that it protected. Abandoning what he was currently doing he wasted no time seeking out the owner of the voice, the sand cool against his large paws as it molded without resistance to each step the platinum silver Viking made. “What do you seek at my borders?” Ragnar had a pretty good idea of what it was, but he wasn't so arrogant as to assume without allowing her to speak it first.

Ragnar admired wolves that got right to the point, preferring them over wolves that tended to beat around the bush. Ragnar wasn't the type of man to beat around the bush, going for the straight and narrow, even if the lack of flowery words tended to bite him in the butt at different times. The woman before him got straight to the point herself, ready to answer, likely, he assumed, before he'd even asked his question. She wasted no time answering him, nearly directly after he'd inquired as to her purpose at the borders of his Bay. Ragnar was on the mark with his assumption as she confirmed it, causing him to give a small nod of his head in acknowledgment to her words. “I see,” Ragnar drew in a soft voice, strange, perhaps, to be spilling from his lips given his outward appearance. He'd never thought of it before, unless his brothers or kin were making fun of him for not being obnoxiously loud and boisterous. Ragnar had always been the quiet one of his family, and that still held true even now. “What can you offer the Bay? What skills do you excel at? What are you willing to learn should the Bay need it?” Ragnar inquired. After all, it was a huge game of give and take. Ragnar refused to carry around dead weight. If wolves couldn't step up and play their part they would find themselves seeking another pack that would put up with that kind of behavior because Ragnar wouldn't. He had no qualms with chasing wolves out, even if he sometimes felt that chasing out was far too lenient.

The stranger smiled at him though the stoic Northman didn't return it, instead lending her his ear when she went on t tell him that she was an experience fighter and hunter — both of which, admittedly, Stavanger Bay needed at the moment, especially given Julooke's disappearance and Verrine's assumed death. He needed the remaining wolves of the Bay to step up to the plate, especially because winter was practically upon their backs. Ragnar worked tirelessly to prepare them the best that he could but he was only one man and it was a job that required the dedication of each and every capable member. “Jarl,” Ragnar corrected her, breaking his own silence with the word that left his lips in his naturally soft, heavily accented voice. He didn't expect her to know the title that he preferred to 'Alpha' but since she was a candidate for the Bay the Lodbrok figured that he might as well inform her what he liked to be called. Her spoken word held promise to the Viking, but he wasn't quite ready to let onto that just yet.

After correcting her he fell silent once more as she seemed to have more to boast to him of. At the end of her montage, Ragnar drew in a soft breath and let it out. “As I am sure that you understand I cannot just take you entirely at your word,” It seemed, probably, silly to ask the wolves seeking a place within his Bay their skills then, but it was imperative, nevertheless. “If it is true what you say about your skills then there is a place within my Bay for you, Aemilia,” Ragnar didn't bother stating that he didn't really care where she came from. Place of origin had no bearing upon the Viking, but he was nice enough not to say it. If being from “Rome” (where ever that was) was supposed to impress him he hated to tell her that it didn't, really. The scarred Scandinavian would be impressed when she began to prove herself to him and the pack.. “Just telling me something isn't good enough. You'll have to prove it to me,” He paused, salmon pink tongue gliding across his platinum colored lips. “The easiest way of doing that is trying to go for a trade. We are in need, especially of hunters and fighters.” Ragnar told her simply, drawing on a pause once more.

“Loyalty is something that I hold in high esteem, myself. I do not tolerate abandonment, traitors, or those who are insubordinate to me or my Queen Wife,” In truth, Ragnar wasn't sure why he still referred to Thistle Cloud as his “Queen Wife” when she was now his only wife. Old habits died hard, he supposed. “I will not hesitate to deal punishment for those crimes. I do not harbor the hesitation most men do when it comes to killing. The severity of the punishment depends upon the severity of the crime.” Just so, before she told him that she absolutely wanted to be apart of Stavanger Bay, she was very clear on how tight of a ship Ragnar ran. He was giving her, as he gave everyone, a chance to bow out without consequences.

The woman Ragnar now knew as Aemilia repeated his title, a Norse word for Alpha — though there were many he could have chosen when he had taken the faithful helm of Odinn's Cove. He could have used his brother's favored Kóngur which translated to the common tongue word for King; but Ragnar was saving that for something indefinitely more special than a title. He had intended to name one of his sons that, in honor of Björn despite his elder brother's betrayal of the family. It had been a long time ago and Ragnar's grudge had ended with his brother's last breath of life. The Northman gave a nod of approval. He supposed, in the long run, his subordinates could call him whatever felt most naturally to them, but he would forever see himself as Jarl and no amount of other titles was likely to ever change that. Eyes of Caribbean ice followed the girl's firm nod, stating to him without verbal communication that she understood his terms. Part of Ragnar wondered if he was too strict upon his subordinates, too harsh towards newest recruits; but he'd give his life for Stavanger Bay in a heart beat, without so much as a secondary thought of doubt. All he asked for was loyalty and to contribute to the Bay, which was no different than any other pack out there.

“Good,” Ragnar spoke with a small twitch of his lips. It was more of a smirk than anything else. His smiles were usually reserved and very rare to come by, especially these days. “Then you are welcome into Stavanger Bay,” The scarred Scandinavian paused to allow that to settle in before he took a step back, inviting her across and into the borders of her new home. “Come. I will give you a tour.” Ragnar turned then and began to lope towards the tree line, pausing to glimpse back to make sure that she was following along with him.