At the moment, Ragnar was sitting in his executive office in City Titan, having his leg looked over by his "Chief Medical Officer," a former Saxon herbalist named Aethelred the Healer.
It had been a few days since his return from the hostile takeover at Sandwich, and his injury was well maintained due to the high-proof alcohol he insisted on using as a disinfectant.
Despite the primitive nature of medieval medicine, the man seemed to be somewhat competent, having read the translated texts Ragnar had acquired from the Andalusians.
As such, he carefully observed Ragnar's shin, which had a nasty bruise turning purple and yellow, the bone beneath likely fractured but setting straight.
"The bone will knit, Director, albeit slowly. You will have a limp when the weather turns cold. I suggest you get yourself accustomed to life with a cane before you go on any further hostile takeovers."
