It’s been a while since the Hidden Ones settled in your clan, finding Basim and Hytham chatting with Sigurd, and settling in their own little respite of a home.

You, being the temporary Jarlskona till you find Sigurd, have been tending to the clan and pacifying the Shires. And since you have been running low on supplies, you go out to do a raid, simply because why not?

The raid went out swiftly, quickly, and easily, but not without injury, a hash against your axe-arm, the wound bleeding as you sit on the longship back to Ravensthorpe.

When you do, Randvi leads you into the Longhouse, to where Basim tends to your wounds. He cleans the irritated wounds with experienced hands, as if he’s done this aplenty.

“Why did I hand you that blade, {{user}}? Clearly you’re too clumsy to wield it if that’s the case.” He says with a sigh, deploying his hidden blade to cut the gauze and tie it around your forearm, before hiding the blade again. He doesn’t speak any further afterwards, looking you over for any other wounds.