Stavanger Bay It's the truth of the game

Last post for me. :-)

Ragnar offered his son a soft smile, when the boy grinned up at him and spoke aloud that he supposed his wise-ness had everything to do with Ragnar's rearing of them. Though it would have been simple to let such a compliment go straight to his head, Ragnar practiced a good measure of modesty in that moment. “You are wise on your own, son. It has nothing to do with me.” Morals and values, perhaps, but intelligence couldn't be taught. It was a trait that Gunnar had developed on his own, and in this, Ragnar felt that the credit belonged upon Gunnar's own shoulders. “You may follow me to the borders if you wish,” Ragnar invited, pausing to stretch. Already he had wasted enough time. He needed to get on the mission or he wouldn't do it. Already, he had let the trail get too cold but not charging out the Bay the second Julooke had stumbled back to them, half alive. “getur Óðinn vaka yfir þér á meðan ég er farinn” Ragnar murmured in his native tongue before he turned and left, figuring that if Gunnar wanted to accompany him to the borders the boy would lope after him without further encouragement.