The repairs to the pack proper had taken priority over all else. Certainly the market stalls hadn't been high on their list. Not until dens were habbital once more. But at last, the Warlord and his wolves had started to make progress in the market itself. Tables had been rebuilt, and supplies had been regulated to the stalls. The benefit of trade couldn't be overlooked, not when they could earn things to replace their lost supplies that way.


It was a cool spring morning when the last pieces were put together, and the market reopened. The Warlord found himself leaning against the cave wall. Out of the way and to the side, simply watching and waiting to see who might wander in.

Though the market had moved in, Víðarr had seen this place before. He knew it. He knew it, and the forest beside it. The viking king had walked these lands just before a pack had moved in and claimed them as their own, and perhaps that's why he's so confident as he walks the market. Long strides and a steady, contemplative gaze as he moves into the market. Erik at his side-- keeping up rather well, to the boy's credit. Both of them carried rolls of goods to trade strapped to their sides-- the first of the wool shorn from their sheep, a pair of sturdy axe heads, bear pelts. Erik too, had a roll of smaller bits he'd collected. Teeth and claws, porcupine quills, the sorts of things young boys pick off of carcasses to trade like pocket money. "Go on, find your cat man then." The viking king helps the boy free of the larger parcels, sending him off into the market. Víðarr can't help but smile as he watches the child disappear excitedly into the maze of the market. Erik wouldn't be hard to track down, in the unlikely event he didn't return before it was time to leave. The viking king takes this moment to set his things down and take a long look at the stalls laid before him. Catching his breath. After his encounter with the ram mere days before, his hip was still sore. Ah, there's no harm in taking a moment to rest, the walk down from the mountain was a long one. "Víðarr"

A mountain of a man walked in and began to peruse the stalls. The wolf on market duty had slipped out to grab stock. Leaving… The Warlord to sell the product. Hmm, perhaps that hadn't been the wisest move on his part. There was a reason he relied on diplomats. Still, the Warlord moved forward. Flicking his ears back and he heard Wylan race after the young wolf that had accompanied the stranger. As he did so, he realised he recognised the kid. That was one of Sednas. Interesting, this wolf didn't smell of tojo. His attention moved forward again as he approached.


“Hello, looking after the mite for Sedna?” He asked, his voice more welcoming than if he had been talking to a stranger. A friend of Sedna was likely welcome here. “Welcome to the Armada. I'm Sirius Fatalis.That sheep wool looks high quality, have you come to trade it?” He asked, catching the sharp scent of it. It would be a great benefit to the Northern pack. It would just be better if Sirius wasn't the face of the market. He knew himself well enough to acknowledge it. Still, he would always go to great lengths for his wolves.

The viking king watches as a boy, maybe about Erik's age, races off after him. Erik had been his navigator for the day, after the time they'd spent with the Armada during their travels. The roaming... it's the viking way. There were many other things within that viking way, things that Erik would learn later. For now, the boy would enjoy his cats, enjoy his training. Enjoy learning how to pack a punch, despite his difficulties. While many of his siblings showed more promise (Akito in particular managed to stand out), there was fight in him. Rage recognized rage, after all. All things that would come together in time. They were only boys now. They had time, and he refused to pit them against each other. Not these boys. Though no one quite knew it yet, life for the eldest viking litter was golden in ways it would never be for the others. Someone was approaching him... a greeting, one that left the viking king tipping his head to the side for a moment. He'd seen this man before, during the fall of the false idol at his own hands. "I would not call it that, he is my son too." Víðarr's grasp of the common tongue was still tenuous in places, especially when he's been able to retreat and speak only the mother tongue around his pack. Well, it's good practice regardless. Still, there's a bit of a smile on the edge of his tone, and at the corners of his shadowed lips. While a stranger, Víðarr remained relaxed and neutral as he turned to look at Sirius. The Armada-- Sirius Fatalis. There had been whispers, and the viking king could finally put a face to the name. While not particularly politically inclined, Víðarr has at least rough ideas. The lay of the land. "Víðarr Trygg, from Heiðinn." An introduction that he'd give with a relaxed smile, a confidence about him. Would it prove easier to trade the wool than he thought? Sirius's interest in the wool has his interest in turn. "Yes, beautiful wool, with the promise of more later in the season. Some bear pelts, and a pair of fine axe heads too." Víðarr gave a smile, a tip of his head. He'd come to trade as an honest man, but he wouldn't undersell himself by any means. "Víðarr"

The Warlord blinked in surprise at hearing this wolf and Sedna had shared a litter. He wasn't terribly surprise, when she had been a part of his pack she had spoken of her mother's ways. Multiple fathers were not abnormal for her people. “Congratulations. The winged rugrat chasing him is my grandson.” He turned a moment to watch the boys play, a fond smile on his maw. Kids had always been his greatest weakness, and he found himself relaxing in front of this wolf. Vidarr was a stranger to him, but even years later he trusted Sednas judgement.


“Heiðinn,” he said thoughtfully, turning his attention back to Vidarr. “You're a mountain pack as well, are you not?” He nodded as Vidarr spoke of his collection. He had a few bear pelts himself. But their sheer size and warmth was valuable, especially when they had lost much or their bedding in the flood. Axe heads were less vital, with two smithys. But perhaps it would be interesting to compare. Right, down to business. “We can trade you in precious gems-” the numerous warrens that made up his territory made for good discoveries there “-herbs, salts for drying meats. What interests you” he said, to name a few things they had in surplus.

They watch the boys for a long moment. Víðarr was unable to conceal his smile. It reached clear to his eyes, crinkling at the corners. Ah, it felt good to see the boy out, having a nice time. Though he'd been worried about the disability, it was nice to see him out playing with another pup close in age. Two young, strong boys. A little reassurance that Erik was, in fact, normal. The gods had put him through more, and he would be more for it. Víðarr was grateful for that. Right, down to business. The viking king looked to the warlord, considering for a moment. "My wife has sent a list of herbs, and we are always looking to trade in alcohol." A brilliant smile on Víðarr's lips, he can't help it. A little rakish, and a pride colors his gaze as he mentions her. His wife. Sitting up a little straighter. There was also the question of Erik's condition, something he doesn't doubt the warlord already privy to. "There is also... information, if you have it. Any advances in treatment of my son's..." Víðarr's tone had dropped some, become more confidential. As he trailed off, the shadow king gestured to his throat. Right, his son's... you know. Though it would be obvious for anyone who spoke with the boy, it was better for Erik to be the one to let them know, in Víðarr's mind, lest the others see him a target. "Víðarr"

The Warlord’s opinion of the man only grew as he saw the true adoration in the others' faces as he watched the boys. This younger wolf clearly loved his son. The Warlord grinned, a hint of humour peeking through the corners as he looked at Vidarr. “A list is a good idea, I can pass it on to my healers. I fear it’ll be mostly gibberish to me” he admitted. His talents had never lain in healing - other than the occasional bandage to stop a wolf bleeding out.

He pushed back the little hint of sadness that always appeared in moments like these. The mother of his children was gone. But he was hardly about to get into that with Vidarr. “I see.” Sirius said thoughtfully, his voice also growing a little serious. “I can not promise anything, but I’d be more than happy to set up a consult with my lead healer”


"Speech"

Art by Salt

The viking gave a chuckle, a nod-- it's the same. All Greek to him, frankly. The list was for those who knew what they were doing, and Tenshi would inspect whatever he brought back carefully. Hell, she would have come herself, had she not been busy tending to their most recent charge. That, and Víðarr was far too nervous to have his queen out while pregnant. Not only was she everything to him, she was one of their most fearsome warriors. To have her sidelined right now was a vulnerability he wouldn't advertise. At the mention of meeting with the healer, he gave a nod. That sounded good. Sedna was one of the brightest among them, though her demeanor may lead some to not believe it. Tenshi, too. But the more minds they could bring together on the subject, the better. For Erik, Morg, and Vei's sake. In these moments more than ever, he's more father than king. "You deal in jewels, do you have a jeweler?" Víðarr questions, his last quest for the day. This is a more personal request anyway. His wedding was coming up, anyway. "The wool for the herbs, the pelts for the consultation?" Eyebrows lifting as his gaze slipped to Sirius, curious. "Víðarr"

The Warlord managed to hide his reaction to Vidarr’s question. His jeweller had died in the flood, and that loss was still fresh to him. Keeping his expression neutral, he let his eyes flick back to the kids again. Their playing forms gave him an excuse to take a second before he replied. “I do, my son.” He explained. He had a lot to learn, but showed promise. He had no doubt the boy would enjoy any challenges the Warlord threw his way.

The wool for the herbs, and the pelts for the consultation was a very good deal. It cost them nothing they were short of - the herb gardens being out in the woods meant they hadn’t suffered overmuch from the flood, and what they had lost in dried herbs and salves were being replaced. “Deal. if you pass the list to Wylan, he and your son can fetch Halo, who can bring the herbs and get to know him a little before starting her consultation.” he suggested. He had no issues with volunteering Halo’s help. He knew she wouldn’t hesitate to help the boy if she could.


"Speech"

Art by Salt