Wherever you go, I will follow

3

Miraculously, he manages to arrive at the Saxonate building on time the next day. He can't say it was easy but he managed to do it, and he is proud of himself.

He enters the building and approaches the front desk immediately. After informing the young man about why he's here, he exchanges meaningful glances with one of the guards by the door. The guard comes closer, and the receptionist tells Ragnar to follow him.

The guard starts walking and Ragnar does as he's been told. They pass some sculptures on their way, and he, being the curious man he is, stops to examine a few odd ones. Many are woman figures, actually. He runs his fingers along the face of a man, and, judging by their looks, he isn't surprised its touch is rough. These aren't the usual white, smooth-looking sculptures you see in museums ‒ these are grey and brown and look like they were formed out of sand. They look like a time-capsule from ancient times, like a fading memory owned by someone who is desperate not to forget them.

When the guard leads him into a dimly-lit room, he immediately spots the loosely dressed man sitting on a huge, cushy couch in the center of the space. He quickly scans the room, finding that there are only a few tripods and camera equipment in here besides the couch and the man sitting on it in kingly splendor; otherwise, similarly to the whole building, the room shows its old-fashioned architecture with great pride.

"Ragnar Lothbrok is here, sir."

"You can leave us now," the man addresses the guard who, with a nod, steps out of the room, and closes the door. "Won't you join me?" He pats the couch next to himself.

Ragnar eyes him suspiciously. The man's beard is shorter than his and lighter in color, and his face seems welcoming but also portrays a great deal of determination. Whether good or bad, Ragnar can't decide yet. However it may be, he slowly makes his way over to the couch and sits on the other end of it.

"I am Ecbert King, owner of the Saxonate company. Please just call me Ecbert." He extends a hand which Ragnar takes and squeezes lightly. The man returns his arm to the back of the couch. "Yes, I know there was an actual king with that name," he shakes his head with a smile, then his face goes stern. "I suppose my parents were just as ambitious as I am."

Ragnar smiles dishonestly.

"So, to business then. I hope you enjoyed your stay yesterday and rested well. Did you like the hotel?"

Ragnar smirks and rolls his head down. It's a question the man obviously wasn't expecting an answer to, as he continues on with his speech. It seems like he had previously thought about what he was going to say when Ragnar arrives.

"I freed up my calendar for today, I wanted to work with you personally. Let me share my ideas."

So he does, and Ragnar pays attention. It's a short talk ‒ mainly consisting of Ecbert doing the talking ‒, and their dynamics don't really change either when they get to the actual photoshoot part.

They finish in no time, less than the other few photoshoots he's been to, but more meaningful too: he feels a deep energy surrounding the two of them the whole time. It's not necessarily romantic but it could turn into that, not friendship-like either but it could turn into that; and not enemy-like but right now their relationship seems to be the nearest to this last one. It is just that, he decides: a sense of similarity and understanding between them, and lots of potential neither one of them can identify just yet.

At the end of the meeting, Ecbert hands him an envelope in which Ragnar finds a ticket for a plane leaving tomorrow at 9 am. He smirks at the man and leaves the room and the building as well.