He watched, not entirely displeased with the view, as she tore off her clothes in favor of more form-fitting ones. But he said nothing, and he didn't attempt to keep the images in mind; instead, he smirked at her overjoyed demeanor at having her things back. But, just for good measure, he'd have to bring her down a tad bit. 

"No mask or weapons during feasts. I can carry them for you, but even arming a servant would be too much. When I'm Oberjarl, we can make some changes to that, but for now, I'll have to carry them. Oh boohoo, don't pout. Your staff will have to wait in my room; it's too large and people will protest my carrying of too many weapons. I'm not Oberjarl yet. You can carry them to my room, though."

He jerked his head at the door, and waited for her to walk past him, after she picked up her discarded clothes. Shutting the chest, he followed and locked up as they left.

Returning to his room, they received a great deal more stares than before. It was unusual for the inferiors to stare so much, but the new petite slave, brought to the Volsung's room, was not expected to be in one piece- especially not the confident and curvy self she was, proud in her Death's Handmaid.

And, even more surprising, following along in Aulfr's confident steps.

He opened the door for her, unusually gentleman-like, and they entered the room, Aulfr following Rayt in.

And the moment he locked his door, he whipped out his sword and slashed at her, blue blade ringing almost happily at being used, testing her instincts again.