Standard Disclaimer: This is not an official sequel to IHHS.

Warning: I skip around a bit with the timelines of the next four scenes. This'll be the "in medias res" chapter of the bunch. Normally, I don't explicitly say this kind of thing, but I decided I should do it this time, since, even with context, it can be confusing, and because I haven't done it before.


"Make waves."


It was supposed to be a routine inspection of the island before the other tribes arrived – just a quick tour of all the important sites to make sure nothing too bad happened to the place after another ten years of solitude. Can't have last gather's dragon "ambush" happening again just because we're too lazy to be thorough about it. Now that I think about it, that was probably more our fault than theirs. Maybe this time we'll leave some eels in the mountain, just to let any wild dragons know that the place is off limits.

Everything outside the mountain seemed to be in order – the statues of the Gods were all undamaged and upright (Odin was in the middle and facing away from the mountain, with Thor on His right and Loki on His left). The two stone stages just in front of them were still standing. The forest looked just as large and wild as usual. We probably would have cut down more of it by now if we didn't have to catch so much wild game to keep everyone fed and happy during normal gathers.

Savage (who I need to ask Oswald about later) went to the outhouses before we started heading to the mountain, saying he should be the one to "inspect" them. Nobody argued when he volunteered. Say what you want about him; Savage does have damn good timing.

Once it was down to the three of us, Gobber and Oswald followed me into Odin Hall. It's the only real "building" on the island, if you could even call it that. Centuries ago, the first Vikings used the natural cavern at the base of Odin Mountain to sign into effect our primary laws and officially begin our way of life. The laws have been added to at every gather ever since. They say the cave was carved out a bit more with each new law, but that must have stopped long before I became chief. When we couldn't change the caves anymore, all that was left was redecoration. There's not much left to be done to the place now – it was even furnished by Trader Johann with some exotic and very expensive chairs not too long ago. Vikings spare no expense when it comes to looking bigger and stronger than everyone else.

I don't do that much of that myself anymore; I've made too many mistakes as it is.

Still, that doesn't mean I don't understand why each tribe but the Outcasts paid the 100 gold pieces for their own pair of 'chief chairs', one for the Cavern – the biggest, oldest, and most open part of Odin hall, and first room you see when you enter the mountain – and one for the signing room. I guess Alvin's alright with sitting a bit lower than the rest of us if it means he can use the money for cheaper shows of strength. It's fitting, too. Won't stop his vote on the council or anything, but I'm not complaining. I still don't know how Norbert the Nutjob managed to fit all the old furniture on that raft of his. He wouldn't even let his tribe take any of it for him, paranoid as he was about them stealing it before he could start handing it out. He almost tried to take his new chairs with him, claiming to be fine with sitting on the floor, but we had to draw the line somewhere.

Once we finished making sure that the furniture was in as good a condition as Johann promised it'd be after ten years, we moved on to the rest of the Hall. We inspected the Hall's armory (which was very well stocked, but still hasn't been used in centuries), the kitchen, the signing room, and we were just about to make our way out the front doors again when they burst open on their own, causing a loud echo that bounced off every wall in the Cavern.

Four soaking wet, terrified Meatheads dropped to the ground at the threshold, obviously out of breath and still (for the life of me I never figured out how) managing to scream at the top of their lungs. I caught something about a draugr and a purple, Viking-eating demon, but a minute of trying to make sense out of nonsense was all I could take.

It seemed Oswald had the same idea, because we both spoke over the chaos at the same time. "ENOUGH!"

The exhausted Vikings collapsed to the floor, now even more out of breath, and definitely grateful for the chance to catch it. Oswald and I exchanged a glance before he gestured at me to continue.

I nodded and turned to our hosts. "Now if it wouldn't be too much trouble, I'd like for ONE of you to tell me what's going on." They were all about to start talking again when I cut them off. "Thuggory! That means you!"

The heir to the Meathead tribe was still panting heavily, and only let out a few short words in between gasps. "A purple demon," pant "a draugr riding it," pant "and a devil hanging from it!" deep breath "Attacked our ship!" deep breath "We jumped overboard!" pant "Swam here!" pant "Run!"

I've had just about enough of trying to think through madness. "CALM DOWN! You're not making any sense! Take a moment to catch your breath. All of you!"

They all nodded and promptly rolled onto their backs, chests still heaving.

"Gobber, go get us an unopened barrel of wine from the kitchen. It should still be safe to drink." Wine is one of the only things we can leave here for a whole decade that won't spoil. It might not be mead or ale, but nobody was complaining when we got that good deal from Johann.

"I'm on it!" Gobber seemed to be enjoying every minute of this, wearing a smile bigger than any I've seen on him in a long time. He was so engaged that he'd managed to keep his big mouth shut this whole time, at least until he answered me. Before he disappeared into the kitchen, he called back to us. "And here I thought we left the twins back on Berk."

I sighed. "Not even those two could do something like this."

All I heard was a chuckle before he disappeared completely into the other room.

Now that I had it, I took the chance to get a good look at the Meatheads. They were all still panting and extremely tired, but I couldn't spot a single fresh wound anywhere on them. When I was absolutely sure that they weren't physically hurt, I decided to do a head count. First and easiest to put a name to was Thuggory, Mogadon's heir. Next were… Porkbelly and Beefbelly, I think, two middle-aged Meathead helmsmen. Last, there was Slackjaw, one of Mogadon's best men and a damn fine tactician. They were all lying on the ground, all… four of them. Seems I'm missing a head.

So, Mogadon didn't run from the 'demon', then? That's not surprising. That old dog's the most fearless Viking I know; between the raids hitting his tribe the hardest and all the nest searches, it's a miracle he made it through the end of the war. If it hadn't been for the last-minute scramble to leave, I probably would have felt a lot more relief than I did when we found his message.

After another minute of waiting, Gobber finally returned with a barrel, lid already off and cup-hand already half-empty. From the wide smile still on his lips, I could tell he was going to enjoy this as much as he could.

I took the barrel and set it on the floor in front of the Meatheads. "Now, I want each of you to drink just enough to wet your lips. I need you to be sober if I'm going to get to the bottom of this."

The exhausted Vikings didn't need to be told twice, each taking a mug and downing it before Oswald and I could even take a sip of ours. They were about to reach for another round right alongside Gobber when I grabbed the now half-empty barrel and set it aside.

I turned back to the youngest of the bunch so I could get an explanation as soon as possible. "If you need more time to catch your breath, Thuggory, take it. Don't make me stop you a second time."

I heard him swallow before he shook his head. "N-no, I think I'm ready."

"Alright then. Tell us what happened, from the beginning, and don't leave anything out."

A loud bout of laughter from outside stopped him before he could even start.