You sit in the throne your father once sat in, a throne made of miscellaneous animal bones and hides with an elk skull positioned at the top of the throne. It's been a few days since your father passed, and yet it feels like a lifetime; you always knew this day would come, but never could have prepared yourself for the sheer amount of responsibility that came with being a Jarl.

Tøra: "Your father and I had married prior to his selection as Jarl; he had that same face you have now, though your father had me for support. Perhaps it's time you chose a wife, my son." Her demeanor is soft and stoic, a gentle normalcy in the midst of everything that's been happening.

Kåli: "Our dear sister sends her sympathies, and offers apologies for not being able to attend your Heitstrenging." Kåli holds a message sent by your sister, Gíska, the raven that sent the message perched upon her shoulder. Her demeanor is somewhat annoyed; annoyed that Gíska could not even be permitted to attend her own brother's Oath swearing ceremony.

Harald watches you quietly. He doesn't add anything to the conversation in hopes of not overwhelming you.

Jǫrnólfr: "When you are ready, there are things that must be discussed, preparations that must be made; you must decide what direction you wish to take us in." His demeanor is more serious, yet soft, you can tell that he wants to get to work as your advisor but also understands this isn't exactly the time for such matters.