"—Four of my men had died in the night. Frozen solid, their eyes stared at something only they could see, Master Hiccup. And after five days without food, the men and I came to the devastating decision to ea—"
"Aaand we're here!" Hiccup said, cutting off Johann's fifth story of the short trip. Maneuvering Toothless and Merchant to park parallel to the general store, Hiccup pulled the wagon brake and rested his elbows on his knees. Johann blinked owlishly at him.
"Yes, well, perhaps we should save the climax for another time." He mumbled, stepping down from the wagon and patting Merchant's flank. He smoothed the frizz from his beard and looked to Hiccup. "I will give the shopkeeper our supply list and then visit our friend. Watch the wagon, Master Hiccup."
Humming in agreement, Hiccup watched as Johann disappeared into the general store. Minutes later, stock boys were beginning to fill the wagon with crates filled with canned fruits and vegetables.
Stepping down from the wagon, Hiccup put a hand on Toothless's side. "Bud, you're in charge while I'm gone, okay?" The horse whinnied, then shook the sweat and dirt of the journey from his coat.
Basheem was a mid-size livestock town that acted as a restocking destination for weary travelers heading west. With a constant stream of strangers passing through the town, nobody paid two more any mind as they melted into the crowded streets filled with wagons and pedestrians.
The blacksmith's forge was located at the end of the street, near the horse stables. As Hiccup approached, the familiar clink of a hammer against metal grew louder. Entering the forge, the man behind the anvil was larger than Hiccup by a head, with a thick black mustache. He was whistling a tune to himself as he molded the frame of a wagon wheel. Seeing Hiccup, the man lowered his hammer and waived him over.
"Howdy, Partner. What can I do for ya?"
"I need to restock my supplies." Hiccup said. "I need a few sheets of your thinnest steel, a few rods as well." Hiccup eyed the blacksmith's shelves where tools, weapons, and horse tack all hung on display. "Oh, and some quality leather. Elk? No, moose if you have it. Oh! And four… no, five cans of lamp gel, please."
Typically, Hiccup would cure his own leather, but with the excitement of the past few months, he hadn't found a spare moment to go through the tedious process. Basheem's smith's work seemed to be quality enough, and Hiccup could make do with store-bought leather for now.
"You a blacksmith, boy?" The man asked eyebrow raised as he gathered Hiccup's requested items.
"Yes, sir." Hiccup said proudly. "I'm traveling with a group of trappers, and I make all the horseshoes, nails, bullets, and anything else they need."
"Are ye any good?"
Hiccup shrugged, "I make do, sir."
"Well, I'm always lookin' for an extra pair of skilled hands if ya need the money, boy."
"Thank you, sir." Hiccup said with a smile. "I appreciate the offer."
And he did. Hiccup, as a young boy, had spent countless hours in Berk's forge. What had begun as a way to keep Hiccup out of trouble while his father worked had turned into a beloved hobby and a useful skill. When he had first left home, he had considered finding an apprenticeship and living off the trade. But, fourteen and skinny as he was, people saw him as nothing more than a beggar.
Maybe now, at twenty-four, with his skills improved considerably, he could be seen as something more than a beggar or a thief. He had considered leaving the gang before, especially after the Berk Massacre. He was intelligent, and he had a trade. Life within the law would be an easy transition for him. But he always thought about his friends-turned-family. He couldn't leave them behind. Not until he knew they were provided for.
And he couldn't leave Viggo's side. Not when Viggo had rescued him from starvation and taught him how to survive.
Hiccup paid for his supplies, and gathering them in his arms, returned to the wagon. With the supplies from the general store packed away, Hiccup was able to load his smithing supplies and cover the back of the wagon with a tarp to protect the food from flies.
Then, figuring himself to be a free man in Johann's absence, Hiccup decided to conduct reconnaissance. With Basheem being the closest town to their camp, any rumor about their whereabouts could be dangerous for the gang.
The Sheriff's office was quiet when Hiccup entered. The deputy sat at his desk, but with no prisoners in the cells, there was little for him to do aside from paperwork. Hiccup tipped his hat to the man, but he paid him little attention. Walking over to the far wall, Hiccup examined the posters pinned to a board.
Fortunately, the wall was mostly covered in posters of petty criminals. However, two posters hung in the center, drawing Hiccup's attention.
Viggo "The Vicious" Grimborn
$25,000
Wanted Dead or Alive
Wanted for Murder, Theft, and Crimes Against the Archipelago.
Hiccup's fingers thumbed the edge of the poster, Viggo's inky black eyes staring through him. A perfect image of the man, Hiccup ripped the poster down and tucked it away in his satchel. From the corner of his eye, he checked to see that the deputy was still unbothered by his actions.
Seeing no stirring, Hiccup turned his attention back toward the wanted board. Beside the empty space that Viggo's poster once filled, a stranger and a reflection stared back at him.
Night Fury
$50,000
Extremely Dangerous. Kill on Sight.
Wanted for Murder, Arson, Theft, Assault with a Deadly Weapon, and other Crimes Against the Archipelago.
Although the nome de guerre was his, the face staring back at him was not. Wanted posters were never able to accurately portray Hiccup's likeness, as he went to great lengths to preserve his identity. No one outside the gang knew his real name, and few enemies ever saw beneath the black bandana and lived to tell. The outlaw that stared back at Hiccup was stocky, with short, dark hair and the beginnings of a goatee. He frowned.
More and more wanted posters were portraying him as a younger version of Viggo. He missed the days when the posters were blank, ominous descriptions such as "Size: Unknown" filling the page. Now, too many believed Night Fury to be the bastard son of Viggo Grimborn. Maybe he was.
Behind him, the door opened, bathing the room in sunlight. Hiccup turned his head to see the new caller, only to have his blood turn to ice. Director Krogan Flyers was walking toward him. Hiccup turned his eyes forward, pretending to mull over the bounty posters. His heart pounded in his chest, and his fingers itched to feel the comforting weight of his Scholfields. After examining his wanted poster for an appropriate amount of time, he pulled it down and tucked it into his bag. The action drew the agent's attention.
"You fancy yourself a bounty hunter, boy?" Krogan asked. He was close enough to Hiccup that he could see the stitching of his leather vest and smell the aftershave the man wore. Hiccup was reminded of the letter that sat buried in his satchel. Krogan was working for Grimmel to track him down. To execute him. Hiccup hoped Krogan couldn't hear the thudding of his heart.
"No, sir." Hiccup said, patting his left leg. Krogan's eye traveled down Hiccup's lanky frame, settling on the metal prosthetic with a calculating eye. "But my Pa and brother were blessed by Magne, so they do the huntin' when we need some spare change. They sent me to look for a job or two."
"And you chose Grimborn and his Night Fury?" Krogan asked, raising an eyebrow. "They will need more than Magne's blessing if they go after those terrorists."
"I have faith in 'em, sir. They've been bounty huntin' a reeeal long time. We're makin' our way West off the rewards." Hiccup lied smoothly, hoping Krogan couldn't see through his accent. "I heard they blew up a train out near Thor's Canyon?"
"Yes," Krogan said, clasping his hands behind his back. "Killed quite a few of my men. Many of the passengers are still trapped."
"Well, with luck, maybe my Pa will bring them in for you!" Hiccup said. "I best be getting' back to him, sir."
Hiccup, tipping his hat to the man and calming his racing heart, turned toward the door to leave, only to be knocked to the ground.
"I'm Fi—" Hiccup's words were lost in his throat, as standing above him was the girl that had haunted his dreams for the last decade. Astrid Hofferson. Beautiful, frightening, Astrid Hofferson in all her brashness, was peering down at him. Her golden hair was braided over her shoulder, and it fell forward, dangling so close to Hiccup that he could almost reach out and stroke it. Astrid was holding a hand out for him to take, her brow furrowed and her lips pursed as she watched him gawk at her.
The ten years apart had been kind to Astrid. She was no longer the young girl that had tormented Hiccup for not appreciating the importance of taxes or for not being strong enough to lift her during dance lessons. She was tall and lithe, but Hiccup knew there was muscle hidden beneath the white of her blouse. Hesitantly, he took her hand, eyeing the blue embroidery on the cuff of her shirt.
Oh, Gods, It matched her eyes.
Her eyes, filled with annoyance, watched him critically as he hoisted him up. "You should be more careful."
"Me?" Hiccup gaped. "Y-You're the one who came charging in here!"
"Well, I…"Astrid frowned, an embarrassed blush creeping up her neck. Then, doubling down, she thrust Hiccup's hat toward him. "I have important business in here. It's urgent."
"Then I won't keep you from it, Miss." Hiccup said, taking the hat from her and exiting the Sheriff's Office. As soon as he was out of her sight, he exhaled, slumping against one of the building's support beams. He didn't know if his heart was beating from Krogan or Astrid or a confused combination of the two, but he could feel each panicked thud in his fingers, and he could hear it echoing in his head.
xXx
"My, that was quite an entrance, Miss. . ." Krogan said, trailing off. Behind him, the deputy was watching her, trying to place where he recognized her face.
"Hofferson," Astrid said, adjusting her shirt and stepping forward. "Astrid Hofferson. I'm Sheriff Einar's daughter."
"Yes, of Berk?" Krogan questioned.
"How is Einar?" The deputy asked.
"He's well, sir. Busy with reconstruction efforts, but as fearless as ever." Astrid said, and pulling the letter from governor Haddock from her pack, held it out for Krogan. "Governor Haddock is sending a group of forty men to help with excavation efforts. He wants to send more, but with half of Berk still under repair, we're spread too thin."
"Any help is appreciated, Miss Hofferson. Sit. I will draft a response for you to take to him."
Astrid took the chair across from Krogan and watched as he read Stoick's letter.
"Do you have any leads on the Grimborns?" Astrid asked.
"A few. Viggo is traveling with quite the entourage. He must be in the area, as it would be extremely difficult to transport so many people in and out without being noticed."
"Viggo would be a fool to stay in the area!" the deputy interjected. "He's too smart to stay this close to the scene of the crime."
"And that is where you are wrong, friend," Krogan said, not bothering to look up from the letter.
"His attacks have been concentrated between Berk and Basheem, so they have to be in the surrounding area." Astrid supplied.
"Correct. Viggo fancies himself to be clever. Everything is a game of Maces and Talons to him. He believes that hiding under my nose puts him one step ahead. It does not."
xXx
Hiccup sat on the wagon, nursing his third cigarette of the day, and anxiously waiting for Johann to reappear. Tapping his foot, his eyes moved from the Sheriff's Office where both Astrid and Krogan were, to the street where men and women hustled by—Johann never amongst them. Across the street from the general store stood a saloon, and Hiccup considered joining the work-weary men who were trickling into the building for a drink.
Leaning back against the wagon's backboard, he groaned. "I just don't get it, bud. What is Astrid doing in Basheem? Of all places! Oh, Thor, what if she recognized me?"
Toothless, supportive, but growing tired of Hiccup's rambling, whinnied in the pause of Hiccup's speech.
"Yeah, but what if she's working with Krogan? Her dad is Berk's Sheriff, it would make sense! What if she tries to find the gang? What if she's hunting me? She always wanted to be a bounty hunter!" He wagged his finger for emphasis, remembering the games of cop and robber they had played as little kids. He ran a hand through his tangled hair and sighed if only she knew. . .
Astrid.
Hiccup had spent many nights by the fire, dreaming of her hair and her eyes and the life they could have had if Hiccup hadn't been so scrawny and weak and useless. Nearly ten years had passed, and the mere sight of her made him a lovesick fool.
His eyes traveled back to the Sheriff's Office, settling on Stormfly. Hitched on a post outside the building, her tail swished lazily in the afternoon heat. Hiccup remembered Stormfly well. A blue and gold spotted fox trotter, she was likely the only horse that could give Toothless a real challenge.
Sweeping his gaze across the street—still not seeing Johann's head amongst the crowd—his eyes settled on the saloon again. Rag-Time piano could be heard drifting from the open windows when the lull of the street died down. Men were laughing and shouting, enjoying drinks and company after a hard day of work. Hiccup flicked his cigarette into the dirt, thoroughly wishing he had never agreed to go on this 'adventure'.
He could have—should have—stayed in his cot. He would have never been faced with a ghost from his past, he wouldn't be waiting on a stiff wagon in the late summer heat, and he certainly wouldn't be constantly checking over his shoulder to make sure that a man who wanted him dead more than anything else, wasn't closing in on him.
From the saloon, Hiccup heard shouting and then a gunshot rang out. Hiccup's muscles coiled, ready to spring into action if needed, but from the saloon's door, two drunken men sauntered out, followed by an entourage of screaming and cheering men and women. Swaying with each step, they were slurring curses at one another and waving their pistols in the air.
"Idiots," Hiccup muttered under his breath. Egged on by the cheers and whoops of the saloon's customers, the men agreed to the terms of a duel. Then, wobbly, they turned on their heels and begun counting their steps. With each step, people were shouting out bets and words of encouragement. None of Basheem seemed to be bothered with talking the men down.
But by the fifth step, the man furthest from Hiccup had already turned around to face his opponent. Taking a moment to aim, the man fired two shots from his gun, the first landing in the dirt, but the second, hitting its target in the center of the other man's back.
The crowd gasped in disbelief of the dishonorable display, a few women screaming for help. Hiccup itched to leave, but as he looked through the growing crowd, Johann was still nowhere to be found.
Damn him. Hiccup thought bitterly.
Up the street, the doors of the Sheriff's Office burst open, the deputy, Krogan, and Astrid all rushing out into the street.
Hiccup could see Astrid had her hand over her holster, ready to fire if needed. But Krogan waived her down, and casually firing three bullets into the air, stilled the crowd. Even the drunken fool knew to keep quiet, as watched the government agent walking forward, the deputy in tow.
"What is going on here?"
"Jus' a duel, sir! That sack of horse shit" He motioned to the man bleeding out on the street, "called me a coward! I ain't no coward."
"Yet you shot him in the back."
The man nodded proudly.
Astrid kneeled beside the dying man, but even from his wagon perch, Hiccup knew that shot had been fatal.
Krogan, unbothered by the dying man, kept his eyes on the drunkard. "Are you aware that dueling is illegal in this state?"
The man's proud grin fell into a confused frown. "Well, no..er—But I was jus' defenin' my honor!"
"And now you will have the chance to defend your honor before a judge. Deputy, arrest this man." Krogan said, holstering his gun and turning on his heel to leave the deputy and Astrid to clean the mess. Hiccup watched him retreat until he was out of sight.
From the corner of his eye, Hiccup could see a man climbing up onto the wagon. His first impulse was to pull his gun and shoot, in fear that Krogan had somehow doubled back around and snuck up on him. But it was only Johann, who placed a hand on Hiccup's shoulder.
"I think we should be getting home, Master Hiccup."
Hiccup glanced back to Astrid, still on her knees, trying to help the dying man. The cuffs of her shirt now stained with blood. For once, Hiccup couldn't agree more.
xXx
Reaching Raven Point, Hiccup left Johann to unload the camp's supplies. Unlatching Toothless and Merchant, he gave them both a quick rub down before releasing them to graze with the other horses. Gathering his smithing supplies and heading toward his tent, he was surprised to see the camp almost entirely deserted. Anyone not on guard duty had seemed to simply disappear.
Dropping his supplies off in his tent, Hiccup headed toward the edge of the cove, where a single torch lit a cluster of people who had gathered around a tree. From where he was, Hiccup could see Snotlout holding the torch, and he could hear the distant mumblings of an argument.
"We should just kill him!" Hamish urged. "Slit his throat and dump him down river."
"No!" Ruffnut cried above the crowd, "I love him! We can't kill him!"
"Well, he can't stay here!" Snotlout said, his voice thick with jealousy. "I say we Kccch!" And Hiccup could see him draw a line across his throat.
"If we're gonna kill him, we need to do it before Hiccup gets back." Sven reasoned.
Hearing enough, Hiccup loudly cleared his throat. A third of the circle jumped at the sound, and seeing Hiccup, instantly parted to let him to the front of the circle.
"And just who are you killing before I get back?"