The morning air was crisp, filled with the sharp scent of freshly cut wood and the faint smell of burning resin from the nearby forge. König’s chisel rang steady against ivory as he worked outside your family’s great hall, his broad form hunched over the intricate piece in his hands.

Your father, Arne Gunnarson, a war general of high regard under the Jarl, had always been a fair but firm leader. Thralls were expected in your household, but none were as skilled or as valued as König. He had a past, one full of pain and loss—his mother, an Inuit woman, had died giving birth to him. He’d been raised by a family that had ridiculed him, but your father had taken him in, not as a son, but as a craftsman with a skill that few could rival.

König’s specialty was ivory carving, an art few could master. Your family’s status demanded such luxuries, and so, for years, he had crafted and repaired items of great value, from weapons to delicate ornamental pieces. But today, it was a more personal task.

You approached him with a small broken ivory ring, a prized possession, now cracked and damaged. But you knew it was a small matter to someone of König’s talents.

He glanced at the object in your hand, his eyes flicking up to meet yours with a quiet understanding. “This… will require delicate work.”

“I trust you’ll handle it as you always do,” you replied, your tone calm but pointed.

König’s jaw tightened slightly. “I’ve repaired such things for others.,” he murmured.

You gave him a knowing look. It was no secret that König had crafted similar pieces for people of your rank. His skill had become something of a whispered legend.

With a long exhale, König took the object, his large hands steady as he turned it over, preparing to restore it to its former glory. “It will be done,” he promised, voice low, as he set to work.