As the boy's brows draw together, a frown creasing his face, the viking king figured he could explain himself. Let Astraios in on the plan. "We are deep cleaning the space, because it will be too cold to do more than spot clean soon." Prepare for the winter, get ready to receive guests, and do all the things that kept them in respectable, functional condition.
The boy reflects on his fights, on the things that had bested him. A loss, but it had been the boy's first raid. It was one of the reasons they'd gone after a pack that looked weak-- his own fighters needed the practice. Finally setting down the table and handing the boy a broom instead, Víðarr sets about beating the rug. Chores.
"You have grown, Astraios. I will make you an offer-- you prove to me that you have grown into a fine herdsman too, and I make you one of my herdsmen. Thrall no more." The words come without ceremony, though they carry weight as Víðarr speaks. It's an offer all the same.
Víðarr has two Karelian bear dogs and a white morph tawny owl. Assume they're within calling distance unless otherwise stated.
Víðarr speaks with a dense Swedish accent.
Cooperative
![[Image: bfcOTDt.png]](https://i.imgur.com/bfcOTDt.png)
