Standard Disclaimer: This is not an official sequel to IHHS.
The Burglar ship was just as sleek and sturdy as the day it visited our mainland last winter. Not a single plank was burned or dented anywhere on the boat, telling me two things right away: they didn't bring it on any nest searches (which, considering it's one of their best ships, meant they didn't go on any nest searches), and their mainland didn't suffer any post-winter raids from that brown Night Fury.
Mogadon led a big search after the ice unfroze earlier this year, got decimated, and ever since then the Night Fury has had a grudge against ships. The number of undamaged, top-notch ships in the archipelagos has been getting lower and lower. There are only a few places you can still find pristine vessels: the mainland of each tribe, a few lucky islands, and Trader Johann.
As I walked down the pier and past the Meathead ship (which had plenty of burned, broken, and now-repaired planks), I sent a quick prayer of thanks to the Gods. The moment I'd heard the Burglar horn a few minutes ago, I started looking for any excuse to greet them without having Hiccup tag along, and I thought I was out of luck until Norbert showed up. It's not that I don't like him, but the plan I've been thinking up for the past hour doesn't call for draugrs or dragons, no matter how I tried to spin it.
Now that everything about my approach is seemingly "normal", I should be able to get a few questions answered before the Burglars learn about my Skrill and Hiccup (in that order, of course). I want to see exactly what's going on, and although I definitely want to see their faces when I get to the fun news, I've learned from harsh experience that you need planning and finesse to get everything you want. Only idiots settle for less.
The gangplank dropped, and the game was on.
Camicazi was the first from the ship, her blonde hair and blue eyes just as bright and lively as they'd been before last winter. She was wearing more than one set of furs, but they weren't very big or heavy-looking, with black leggings and fur-trimmed boots to complete the outfit. It's weird seeing her without her usual sword hilt, or without a bola dangling from her belt, or without any weapons in general – some people are more affected by that 'no weapons' rule than others – but she didn't seem all that bothered by their absence. She mostly ignored me as she followed orders to tie down the ship, but I did catch a quick glance and a brief smile right before her mother took to the gangplank.
Unlike Camicazi, Big-Boobied Bertha hasn't changed at all since the last time I saw her. That piercing stare is just as cold and hard as it was last winter (which is still weird/cool coming from her of all Vikings). Those icy blue eyes were sunk deep in their sockets and many wrinkles and bags decorated the face around them. Her lips were set in a thin, firm frown, which went well with her mostly-black outfit. She had no enthusiasm whatsoever, especially not when she addressed me.
"Dagur." There was no anger, no interest, and no emotion. Only acknowledgement.
"Chief," I returned (as courtesy dictates) with as much respect as I could manage to give. "I'm glad to see you could make it-"
"Don't." The interruption was swift and resolute. "Just… don't. I'm runnin' late, it's almost high noon, and I don't have time for lies, especially from you."
I had to slightly adjust my own features from mild curiosity to formal neutrality as I once again got that look from a Viking chief. I forgot how good she'd gotten at 'playing the game'. Not many Berserkers saw through her act when she arrived at our mainland – my father certainly didn't – and even those that did wouldn't have refused to help her. The victim act is powerful that way. Well, I guess it wasn't entirely an act, but she certainly had a plan to get just about everything she needed, and the finesse to carry out that plan, which means I now need to adjust my plan. Again. How Stoick could have pushed through it to deny her any aid is beyond me.
I sighed loud enough for her to hear. "I wasn't lying, but I'll cut to the chase. The chief of the Meatheads gave me the impression that you were still in mourning. Is that true?"
Her gaze hardened even further as calculation was added to the mix of cold and caution. "For my brother, yes."
I didn't raise an eyebrow. Neutrality is my best friend right now, and even curiosity could be taken as rude. "Why not both?" I asked, jumping straight to the implication.
"My husband received a proper funeral, along with the others, a few days after the raid. He was fortunate-" (she spat that word out with particular malice) "enough to have died in one piece. My brother was not so lucky. Even less that one of the pieces was carried off."
"Why does that-"
"His head and heart were on that piece."
"Ah."
Most people would have probably said something along the lines of being sorry for her loss at this point. I knew she'd rather not hear that tired old formality, especially not from me, so I settled for something more… me. "I might have heard some rumors about the dragon that carried him off, after you told us the species, if you're interested in hearing them."
"We heard those rumors too," she said. "Doesn't mean the brown Hel-spawn was the one that did it."
"I guess you're right," I shrugged, still neutral. There were two Night Furies, after all. Now for the really important question. "I guess that means you haven't remembered the color yet?"
"No," she said, more frustration seeping into her voice. "If I'd known how important that detail would be, I would have looked harder." Her frown turned even more sour, somehow.
"I should have been paying attention, but I wasn't, and I'm not going to try and convince myself one way or the other now that it's said and done."
I was only slightly surprised that she was being so sensible when her emotions were that tangled up in it. But then again, if she's really giving her honest effort to do right by her husband and brother, she wouldn't want to take vengeance on the wrong target, would she? Well, that is, she'd kill either Night Fury if she had the chance, of course. Just like me. But which one is she going to curse to the realm of Helheim when she kills it? THAT'S the question, and she's being careful not to get it wrong.
I nodded, but didn't press her on that clear source of frustration, no matter how much I wanted to. I got the only answer I'd get, so I moved on. "Do you know what you're going to do about the funeral-"
"Enough with the doom and gloom already!" Camicazi, who was done with the ropes and apparently fed up with both of us, stomped over in hot frustration. "Isn't there anything else to talk about?"
Bertha's hard features melted at the sound of her daughter's voice, and she gave an apologetic smile to the Burglar heir, who was now standing by her side. "You're right, dear. Your mother just gets caught up in the past sometimes." The two had some kind of touchy-feely moment that I'd rather not describe, at least up until the point where her features hardened again. "No thanks to him."
I tweaked my approach one last time after I got a dual glare, and shrugged. "I was just making sure you could handle the news, is all."
"News?" two voices asked, one eager and excited, the other skeptical and wary.
I kept my voice calm and casual as I counted off on my fingers. "One case of un-extinction, one case of resurrection, the discovery of the century, or the prank of the century..." I trailed off as I glance at the sun and remembered we didn't have all day. "But we only have time for one," I said, remembering how limitations can be fun, too.
Bertha, unfazed by the range of topics (probably because I was the one who introduced them), sighed and nodded. "And I'm guessin' we'll be hearin' about our choice on the way to the ceremony?"
"Yup. Now which-"
"The prank!" Camicazi shouted.
"Alright," I shrugged, not minding how I was cut off. Again, genuine enthusiasm never bothered me.
"Cami…" her mother hesitantly began, but her daughter didn't let her get any further.
"It sounds like it'll be dumb, and fun, and that's all I care about. That's all we should care about, at least right now."
Her mother obviously wanted to hear about the actual news, but I was silently rooting for Cami to come out on top of this little argument.
I've seen Cami's instincts in action before, in a sporting fight last gather. She always made exactly the right decisions before even she knew what she was doing. Or at least that's how she made it look. It's only natural she chose the option that indirectly involves the important information and gets her caught up with the whole Meathead situation.
After a few seconds of silent staring, her mother gave in. "You're right dear. I keep forgetting." She sighed again, and motioned for me to begin. "Lead the way."
I didn't even try to stop the excitement from reaching my lips and voice, but that's okay. It's completely natural to be eager about something like this, so I stopped controlling my face as I took my first step and spoke my first word.
"It all began two whole hours ago, when the Meatheads announce their arrival. We Berserkers got here yesterday, and I'd been planning a big surprise for my fellow archipelago-dwellers at the time… but there was nobody here." I spread out my arms dramatically. "My plans got delayed-" I raised a finger "-but only slightly! With a little help and a little waiting, I was ready for action again. The sun was rising, my Skrill was chirping-"
"Skrill?!" they both predictably interrupted.
I stopped walking, turned around on the final plank of the pier, and gave the answer I'd already prepared. "You chose option four, not option one. Do you want me to continue, or should I stop now?"
Even though her mother looked like she was about to protest, Camicazi eagerly shook her head. "No! Keep goin'!"
I felt my grin widen, and continued walking, ignoring Bertha's huff. "The sun was shining, my Skrill was chirping. He was harnessed and ready to help me give the Meatheads a little surprise before they docked. Hiccup was on his back-"
"HICCUP?!" they both predictably shouted.
Even though I'd seen that one coming too, anticipation isn't always enough to physically prepare for sudden noise. I let a small amount of annoyance (mostly at myself for not bracing enough) creep into my voice this time. I stopped again, turned around on the now-dirt path, and repeated my response. "You chose option four, not option two. You chose the prank, not the premise. Do you want me to continue, or should I stop now?"
Bertha looked way more ready to protest this time, but her daughter beat her to it once again. "NO! Keep goin'!"
My grin widened even more, and I continued walking again. "The sun was shining, my Skrill was chirping, harnessed and ready to give the Meatheads a small surprise before they docked, and Hiccup was on his back, ready to help me give the Meatheads more than a small surprise before they docked…"
A few short minutes later, I had brought my notoriety right back where belongs...
And just in time for the opening ceremony. Whoopee.
