While Berk received strange new visitors, Aurorae received new visitors as well. A group of 4 mercenaries, each clad in light leather and wearing a sword by their hips and a dagger across their chest. They walked with a certain air of formality. They all had their hoods pulled up, shrouding their faces. They carried no insignia, all the more reason to be worried of them. Faceless mercenaries answer to no one. They stopped in the middle of town before setting off towards the Brawler Pit.
The Brawler Pit was technically open but no one was inside, there were no fights to spectate and no fights to create. As the door opened, a long beam of light cut a swathe through dim darkness. Down below in the ring, Jack, the owner of the Pit, was pacing about, kicking sand around. He was expecting someone. He heard the gate open and turned, a smile on his face but when he saw who it really was, his expression turned into one of pure fear, "Oh shit, please! I don't know anything!" He raised his hands in surrender, cowering and stooping over, "Please! I haven't seen him!"
"You lie!" Came a feminine voice. Jack looked up and saw the mercenaries standing in a line, except for one who had taken a single step forward. The lone mercenary pulled off their hood and revealed a lovely face with eyes of emerald green, framed by silky black hair. Well, her face would've been lovely if it was scarred over, as if her face was pushed into a fire, "He was here just a few nights ago! He killed a man. We have proof. Damn near everyone in the town saw that fight. Where is he?"
"I don't know! I swear! If I knew, I would tell you!" The woman took 7 long strides, closing the gap between her and Jack. She towered over him, stopping for a moment to examine the quivering, puddle of a man below her. Without warning her hand shot out and grabbed him by his hair. She yanked him forward, never letting go. Jack howled as his body hung by his hair. She then pulled him up and looked at the other mercenaries, "Get me 2 chairs. And some rope." Within minutes, they arrived with what she had demanded, her hand still holding onto a motionless Jack. She dragged him along, pushed him into the chair and told the others to tie him up. The other chair was placed in front of him and she sat down, calmly and with poise. Jack had his chin on his chest, "Look at me." She said sweetly, words flowing like honey, "Look at me dear." Jack slowly raised his head.
"I swear, I don't…" The woman shushed him, placing a finger on his lips.
"Hush, hush now. It's alright." She cooed, "I'll be asking the questions. Do you hear me?" Jack managed a muffled yes, "Good. Now, this man. Beast. Atlas, whatever you call him, he is very important to us. We are concerned for him," She spoke with deep sincerity, "And if you don't help us, he might end up hurt. Now. Tell us everything you know about him. How did you meet?" She took her finger off of his lips, wiping it off on the side of her chair.
"He… He…" Jack swallowed hard, trying to find the right words, "He came here, about 2 years ago. He seemed angry, full of just pure hate. I let him in there against our then-champion and he just let it all out. He won in less than a minute."
"Good dear, that's good, what else do you know about him? Family? Where he lives?"
"No, he was really secretive about everything. He never really spoke to me. All I knew was that he had been to the East, what with all his tattoos." Jack wasn't lying about anything. Why would he? "That's all I know. Please, you have to believe me."
"I do dear, I do. We're going to let you go now." Without warning, she reached the dagger she had strapped across her chest and pulled it out of its sheathe in one, fluid motion, revealing the clean blade that shone like a star.
"What?! You said you believed me! You said you would let me go!" Jack started to struggle and squirm and shake.
"We will let you go, don't worry but, if word of this gets out, we'll find you and we won't be so lenient." She told the other mercenaries to wait for outside. Once she was sure they were gone, she said to Jack, "If you ever see him again, I want you to give him this." She took something out of an unseen pocket. It was a locket, a beautifully engraved silver one with a particularly shiny looking garnet. She hung it on his neck and cut him loose. He didn't stand up, "Tell him I said hello." Suddenly, she buried the knife in Jack's knee, wedging directly in his joint, separating his lower leg from his thigh. Jack howled loud enough to make her ears ring. She sighed and twisted the knife in his knee just a bit to the right, but enough to make Jack scream even louder, if that was even possible. And left without another word, leaving Jack tossing about on the sand, clutching at his leg, cursing and screaming all the way. As the woman left, one could swear there was a smile on her face.
Hiccup and Astrid lay in bed, arms wrapped around one another, both in blissful heaven. Both nude and happy. Neither said a word but each had a wide grin on their faces. Astrid was the first to break the silence, still panting, "Where'd you learn how to do that?" She breathed. Hiccup turned his head to look at her.
"Experience." He managed. Astrid turned her head to look at him then turned back around to stare at the ceiling. She was too tired and too pleased to inquire what that meant. Within an instant, she fell asleep. Hiccup remained awake and after a few moments, he crawled out of bed, not even trying to be stealthy. Astrid was fast asleep. He retrieved his prosthetic first and strapped it on, not even bothering to check the condition of his stump. Too tired. He then put on his pants but left his boots and tunic lying on the floor, he would need them. He climbed up the stairs and found himself in a large room. The stairs had put him in a corner of the room. The room had wooden floors along with planked walls and thick columns made out of deadwood. There was no visible door. In the middle of the room was a rectangular depression, lined with stone and a chimney that carved through the ceiling and past the room. Beneath the chimney lay a fire pit, along with a fairly large roasting spit that had not been used in a long time. In fact, the entire room had a fine lining of dust to it, just the room below. This was where Hiccup used to eat. There weren't any chairs as Hiccup was used to sitting on the floor, either cross-legged or stretching his legs, trying to achieve that perfect full split that he still (believe or not) hadn't managed to achieve. In the opposite corner of the room were a set of counters and cupboards, shelves (filled to the brim with all sorts of varied liquors, Hiccup's favorite were a wonderful but strong bottle of cognac he had managed to nick from a merchant in mainland Europe) and a large set of knifes, 1 set of utensils (Hiccup rarely used them) and a set of 4 tankards and 8 fine, glasses that Hiccup had, once again, nicked from another merchant. Along with that, there was a strange device, made of bronze-colored alloy and covered in condensation and dials and knobs and buttons and gauges next to the shelves of liquor. The device had a small little dispensing tray for whatever it produced. Along with this strange device, on the counters, there was a bowl with a hole at the bottom that led to some unseen place, alongside with a small brass spigot with a valve above the bowl.
He walked over to his liquors and picked out both a bottle and a glass. He examined the glass first, blowing away any dust. Unsatisfied with its cleanliness, he walked over to the bowl, held the glass underneath the spigot and turned the valve. At first, nothing happened and Hiccup frowned. Then, he heard a hiss, a click-click-click sound and, without further ado, water flowed out of the spigot and Hiccup proceeded to turn the glass around in beneath the water, wetting every little centimeter. Finally satisfied, he opened his bottle (a rather delicious blend of bourbon) and poured it into his glass, about a third-way full. He hesitated for a moment, deliberating whether to pour more. Giving in, he poured the glass half-way full. Closing the bottle, he walked over to the his strange device (dubbed oh-so creatively, the 'ice maker'), he pushed the tray into its slot in the machine and fiddled about with the knobs and dials on the side of the machine, carefully checking his gauges until he pressed a small button on the front. He heard the machine groan, and he heard a rattle and pulled the tray out. And there lay, 3 perfect cubes of ice. He grabbed the ice cubes, dropped them into his drink and took a good long sip, not bothering to savor the taste. He raised the glass to an invisible companion and quietly muttered, "Here's to a happy future." Before taking another sip.
Hiccup easily drained his third glass of bourbon, taking it all down in one long gulp. Despite this, he barely felt anything, no dizziness, no odd feelings in his head, no lowering of his inhibitions (as if he had any). The bourbon barely touched him. All he had was a slight swagger in his walk. He held up the bottle to his side and examined how much was left. Plenty. He unscrewed the cap and poured himself another drink, the ice in his glass already melted away. He walked over back to his ice maker, pushed in the tray, pressed the button, waited and pulled out 4 more ice cubes, quickly dumping them into his glass. He put the tray on top of the ice maker and stood against the corner. He held the glass at chest level and swirled it the glass, careful not to drop it. He stopped, and lowered the glass so that it now rested at waist level, resting his elbows on the rough, stone countertop. He held the glass elegantly, delicately; thumb, index, middle and ring curved around the cool crystal while his pinky remained poised upwards, no even touching the glass. He waited for a few moments until he could feel the glass start to cool and he gave another mock toast, to yet another invisible companion. He titled his head down, keeping his eyes up and gave a small smile before taking the lip of the glass to his mouth and downing the whole damn thing in one go. He could feel the warmth spread down his throat and into his belly. He finally pulled the glass away from his mouth and left out a hearty belch, apologizing to an unseen guest. He suddenly felt unnaturally warm, the air around him suddenly turning hot. He frowned and walked over to another corner of the room.
He grasped around the dead wood column, until his fingers finally found their target, a little button on the other side of the wood. He pressed it firmly and let go, taking a step away and facing the wall. A hiss, a groan, a rattle and slowly, jarringly the wall dropped down into the floor and revealed a scenic beach, the water stretching for about 200 meters until dropping down to the ocean far down below. A small wooden porch was built and palm trees shaded it. A gravel path led away from the porch and split in two, one heading towards the beach and the other heading towards a low, squat building that seemed to stretch back and forever into the jungle, the walls built of thick stone. A peculiar thing about the building, the seams between each stone was blackened and char marks spread from them, almost as if liquid fire seeped through them. A cool gust of wind hit his bare chest, touching at his skin, kissing it almost. He looked down at himself, the powder concealing his tattoos had almost rubbed completely away, revealing just a hint of the black ink embedded into his skin. He would have to concoct some more. He almost slapped his head in that moment, he suddenly remembered the purpose of his trip to Berk. Supplies! He panicked and suddenly rummaged through each and every one of his cupboards. He stood and leant against the counters. He would have to go back but that would be impossible! He could create another alias… Yes, he could do that. He looked out towards the beach and saw his airship, parked in the air and tied to the dock, the airship floated and rocked and lurched, just like a real ship. He sighed and started for the stairs. Suddenly, he stopped. He turned on his heels, ran back, leant over the counter and nicked the bottle of bourbon. He would need that for the trip.