King Elk Forest ᚷRIÐUNGAR

he parades before her like he is a prize to be beheld across all the realms. it does not impress her so much as make her glower, narrow-eyed and caviling. she was no broodmare, just as he was no stud. true strength does not come from the body, not physique.
but even then his display, despite her disdain for it, is not entirely in vain. the heart is what matters, yes, but prowess proves he is capable. a claim over this land gives him rank: if someone follows, perhaps there is reason to, and so she meets him where he stands. his eyes begin at her face and lower, appraising.

“jarl hvers?”