The floor of the ship swayed as the violent waves crashed alongside the hull, a telltale sign of the tempest that raged on outside. Yet, despite the chaos of the storm, Magnús occupied himself with the task of taking note of the supplies that his men had salvaged from the village they had sieged mere hours ago.

The sound of light footsteps against hardwood could be heard as Magnús surveyed the crates that were brought below deck right before the storm had hit. Albeit the trivial nature of this task, it had been something Magnús was accustomed to doing, no matter how tedious it may seem.

This time, the task had been much more than he was used to as he spots a stowaway hiding behind a stack of crates. It wasn’t the first time this had happened, yet {{user}} seemed different from the usual type he had come across. His hand quickly reaches to the dagger sheathed on his belt as his eyes scanned the figure, sizing {{user}} up as a way to assess whether they were a threat to his crew, but once he determines that they were harmless enough, he relaxes before speaking quietly.

“You’re safe, elskan. I won’t tell anyone that you’re here.”

There was a feeling of protectiveness that he felt for that strange stowaway, as they shivered from the cold air that drifted below deck from the storm. If they could sneak onto a Viking ship, despite the fear of being caught, Magnús wondered what else they had gotten up to in the past.