"A what?" Hiccup said, unsure if he had properly heard her.

"A sorcerer."

"But that can't be. Magic isn't real!"

"It is. After all, have you seen all the things I can do?"

Hiccup had no answer for that. It was true, Gothi could cure almost every illness and could tell you things about you that even you didn't know.

"Wait, so how do you know that he's a sorcerer?" he asked.

"Anyone of the name Arcanum inherently has power in their blood. They are all sorcerers, of varying strengths and potency of magic."

"And how do you know all of this?" Hiccup wondered. "About the whole magic family tree and everything, I mean. Well, I'm assuming it's a magic family tree or something, I'm not sure."

Gothi sighed. "I believe it is time for me to tell you a story. About how and where I learnt everything I know. But not here. Down where the sorcerer is. Where Alphas is."

She got up and trudged back downstairs, stick tapping against the wood rhythmically as she made her way back.

Hiccup was the first to follow. "Why would you come upstairs and back downstairs in just a few minutes?"

"I don't presume to know the powers that bind our actions."

The first thing that Hiccup and Gothi saw as they reached downstairs was Alphas standing by the fireplace, standing loosely, relaxed, looking at all the ornaments on the mantle.

"Ho-how did you do that?" Hiccup said in absolute surprise, a touch louder than his normal tone of voice.

As he was joined by more and more people coming downstairs after Gothi, Alphas finally did something to acknowledge their presence.

"It's easy enough to get out of those ropes when the chair's that narrow," he said without looking around.

"What do you - gaahh!"

Astrid's first reaction to seeing a prisoner free was to immediately run at him with her axe in hand, yelling a war cry to announce her presence. Alphas turned his head to look at her, then at the very last second, he moved, impossibly fast.

As Astrid swung the axe at his head, he bent over backwards, the axe passing above and in front of his face, and Astrid hadn't even completed her swing that he neatly pulled it out of her hands. He took one step backwards, whirled the axe around in his hand, straightened, and then caught Astrid and slammed her against the wall, the axe to her throat.

It all happened in the span of two seconds.

Everyone froze. Nobody spoke for what seemed like an eternity, a moment caught and stretched to infinity.

Alphas cocked his head at an angle, dipping to the left and turned slightly upward so that he was looking at Astrid haughtily, arrogantly.

"And what did you hope to achieve with that?" he asked, his tone of voice amused.

Astrid recovered quickly from the shock of being beaten in one simple moment, and kicked him in the stomach. Alphas grunted and staggered backwards, releasing Astrid from the death hold of her own axe.

Astrid leaped at him and her fist connected with his jaw, knocking him backwards onto the floor. The axe skidded across the ground out of his grasp. Astrid made to take him out right then and there, but Alphas rolled out of the way of the strike and jumped to his feet. Hiccup, finally managing to make some sense of what had just happened, pulled out Inferno and raced at Alphas, quickly followed by Gobber and Valka. Gothi sat to the side.

Alphas saw them coming out of the corner of his eye, and growled. With anger. And frustration.

Well this wasn't good. From what Hiccup had seen on the island, this guy had major anger issues. Kind of like Dagur, but a lot more controlled.

That was bad.

Alphas brought his hands together, and tapped his palm with his ring finger.

Purple mists of energy exploded outward from that point, slamming everyone back into the walls, catapulting them through the air, pinwheeling back and into or over tables and chairs.

The room, only a few seconds previously neat and tidy, was now in complete disarray.

"This is what you get," Alphas said disdainfully, and turned away, walking towards the door.

"No," Hiccup croaked.

Alphas turned back around. "No?"

"You can't leave," Hiccup managed to force out.

And then Alphas became truly angry. It showed in his dark eyes.

"I can't leave, huh? I can't leave?" he said angrily, his voice rising every minute. "Just how stubborn are you? How hardheaded? How stupid? How blind to the truth can you be to feel as though you're the injured party? This is what you get! This! Is! What you get! For trying to get me to come with you, to interrogate me, to keep me from going away! Haven't you learned your lesson yet? How long will it take you? HOW LONG?"

Alphas was spitting fire at this point. Almost literally. His eyes were glowing purple, and his mouth was the same. Sparks and crackling bolts of purple magic were erupting with every word and running down his body. His hair had risen up by a little bit, and was now floating around his head. It would have been a truly mesmerizing sight, were it not for the look of fury on his face, the look that suddenly, inexplicably reminded Hiccup of the way his father had looked at him, before everything that happened, what with defeating the Red Death and all.

Disappointment.

Anger.

Disgust.

And the slightest trace of thoughtful confusion.

This was what Hiccup's own father had looked at him like, before he came to see all the things that Hiccup was worth, the ideals that he had come up with, that he had introduced to a stubborn Berkian world.

And that, for some strange reason, gave him a feeling of the deepest sadness he had known since his father.

Alphas was watching him, the fury having subsided, now replaced with a cold frown. He turned, opened the door, and walked out. The door clicked into place as he shut it.

Hiccup tried to get up, but his body simply wasn't listening to him. He collapsed back onto the floor with a moan. He stared down at the grainy wood as he waited for the feeling in his body to return. Dark oak, he thought absently. His thoughts were interrupted by a snore. He looked around to see Gobber sitting slumped against the wall, fast asleep.

His brow furrowed. He looked around more, and saw everyone fast asleep, except for Gothi, who seemed to be extremely drowsy. Her eyes were unfocused, and she was leaning rather heavily on her stick. She yawned widely.

She was definitely almost asleep.

Hiccup realized that he could now stand up, although weakly, wobbling on his unsteady feet. He yawned as well, and realized that he, too, was feeling extremely sleepy. He hadn't noticed before for some reason, but he was feeling a lot like curling up in some warm place and just lazing around until he was out of it. Like Toothless.

That was the last thing he thought before his legs slowly collapsed beneath him, depositing him relatively gently on the floor, but hard enough to make him feel kind of woozy.

Hiccup passed out with the rest of them.

=0=

Alphas walked out, shutting the door behind him. He couldn't afford to have them escape easier than they would have otherwise. Even if opening a door only took a single second, he knew that every second made a difference. Another benefit of closing the door would be that they couldn't see where he was going. Well, the scrawny Viking with the tousled hair couldn't. He had been the only one awake from the blast. Strange, that. Usually the influx of magic was supposed to overload bodies and make them fall unconscious. Maybe that one had a little bit of a higher tolerance than the others.

Now, he had to find his gear and get the hell out of here with Wreckage.

'Where would it be?' Alphas wondered, not aloud. 'The smithy?'

He strode through the village, until he found a smithy. He vaulted over the counter, thankful that there was no one up yet except for the idiots that had had a hand in kidnapping him and their friends. He briskly walked to the pile of weapons waiting for repair, and gave it a cursory glance, making sure his blades weren't in there. Once satisfied, he looked around, and spotted the living quarters of the smithy.

A quick sweep ensured that his weapons weren't there either. Alphas gritted his teeth. He needed his sword and his dagger, as well as his other equipment. At the moment, he only had a single blade on him, and even that only two inches long or so. Oh well, at least it had come in handy for cutting his bonds. He grinned. They should have tied his hands differently. If they had, he wouldn't have been able to reach the tiny little knife he kept in a sheath on the inside of his sleeves. As it was, they hadn't, and he had managed to take the knife out and free himself while they were upstairs discussing.

If his other blades weren't here, where could they be? After a moment's pondering, it came to him. One of the riders must have stored it away and not taken it out. He exited the way he had come, and went to find the dragons.

Wandering around the village, he took a moment to pause and snatch some fruit from a nearby abandoned vender's stall. He was hungry, and it was the least they owed him for the treatment he'd been given, he justified. He made a mental note to repay them if he ever felt guilty about it later.

Upon hearing a growl, he quickly ran to where it had come from, but it wasn't a dragon, only a wolf terrorizing the sheep. Alphas sighed. He didn't want to waste any more time, but livestock were important. So he quickly ran over to the wolf, which snarled at him, and leaped for his throat. At the last moment, Alphas moved the upper part of his body to the side and out of the way, and shot his hand out, grabbing the wolf by the throat. It yelped and began to struggle, but Alphas held on. He walked to the edge of the nearby woods, which cost him another few valuable minutes, but he promised himself he would make up for it. There, he let the wolf go, where it scrambled away from him, disappearing into the trees. Alphas watched it go, then turned back the way he had come. The wolf had cost him a few minutes, and he had to be careful around here. He petted a sheep as he walked past, smiling at the feel of the soft wool on his hand.

"Come on, Hookfang!" he heard. He ducked behind a building, and peered out. The short, stocky Viking from earlier was berating a Monstrous Nightmare, which appeared to be his mount. The Nightmare, unwilling to take that from his rider, promptly threw his rider into a trough of water. He splashed in it, and glared at his dragon, soaked. "Really?" he asked angrily.

Alphas smiled quietly at the dragon's antics, and turned to go back, when a thought struck him. He could get the rider and interrogate him for a change, ask him where the other dragons were. As the idea solidified in his mind, he grinned to himself. He'd always loved a good hit and run. Or in this case, run, capture, and run. He steadied himself, then ran out of hiding. He charged at the rider, who saw him but was too slow to react. He almost screamed when Alphas dragged him out of the trough, but got a swift punch to the jaw that shut him up for a little bit. The Nightmare snarled at him, and got ready to fire. Alphas quickly dipped his hand in his pocket, and when he withdrew it his fingers had a light green substance stuck to them that looked like the faint smears of the pulp of a fruit. The Nightmare immediately calmed down, and drew closer to him, sniffing delightedly. Alphas put his hand to the ground and rubbed the substance off on the grass, leaving the Nightmare to lick it off the ground with a forked tongue.

The rider was positively whimpering as Alphas dragged him, sopping wet, around the corner of what seemed to be a stable. He slammed him against the wall, holding him up by his tunic. The rider hit the wall with a wet smack, and stared wetly at Alphas, dripping.

"Now," Alphas said, staring at him in the most menacing way he could, "Where are the dragons being kept?"

"W-w-what?"

"You heard me," Alphas growled. "Where are they?"

The stocky Viking held his hands up in surrender. "I-I mean which ones?" he asked, smiling nervously.

"The Night Fury, the Stormcutter, and the Gronckle," Alphas told him.

"Uh, which Gronckle?"

Alphas gripped him tighter. "The Gronckle that belongs to the skinny Viking, or the woman with brown hair, or the fat one."

"Oh, you mean Meatlug. They're all in the Hangar."

"Whatever the dragon's name is. Take me there."

"Uh, sure," the Viking smiled nervously again.

Alphas let go of him, and the Viking thumped to the ground. He dragged him up and, holding him by the scruff of the neck, let him lead the way. He decided to give the Viking a warning, despite knowing that it was hardly necessary. This one was nothing more than a coward. Arrogant when he had the upper hand, timid when he didn't. Still, it would be good to give him a little fear. Let him know where the power lay.

"Just know this," Alphas whispered. "If I find that you've led me into a trap, or that you try to, the moment I escape I will come for you, and I will cut you in half. Understood?"

The Viking nodded quickly, terror showing in the shaking of his body. Alphas allowed himself an evil smirk. It felt good to be vile, for some reason.

A few minutes of traversing the quiet houses had led to a spiraling wooden staircase set into the ground. The Viking slowly, gingerly walked the steps. Eventually the staircase straightened, becoming direct, and the wood beneath his feet gave way to stone for a bit, then quickly became wood again. Alphas paused to appreciate the effort and the full majesty of the work that went into a project of the scale before him.

A high, curving roof greeted him, and little cages and pens for each dragon. Sections were made for different types of dragons. Class, perhaps? A quick survey confirmed that yes, the stables were made with the qualities of different classes in mind.

The floor was made of wood, and, looking around, Alphas saw that there were feeding and watering stations dotted all over the place. Squinting past the horns of the helmet of the Viking before him, Alphas saw that this 'Hangar' opened out to a clear sky beyond. This place was massive, now that he realized it.

It also seemed to be a bit of a labyrinth, as his unorthodox guide was taking turns here and there. Alphas was suspicious at first, but when they passed some Boulder Class dragons, he immediately knew the Gronckles were the first stop on the list.

Rounding a corner, Alphas saw the large, sandy-haired Viking in the distance, talking to and petting an excited Gronckle, the same one from their little scuffle on that island.

Alphas train of thought was interrupted by a nervous stammering. "Can I-can I go now?" his guide asked.

"Not yet. You still need to show me where the Night Fury and the Stormcutter are," Alphas responded, steering him to an empty cage.

"What are you-" the Viking began, then shut up as Alphas threw him in the cage and slammed the door behind him, locking him in.

"I'll get back to you when I need you again," he said, smirking, then turned his attention to his target, who had most definitely noticed him and was frozen to the spot. Alphas ran at him, and the Viking screamed. He didn't even try to run away, he just stood where he was and screamed.

Strange man.

Alphas caught him and spun him around, then pushed him into another empty cage. It seemed that they didn't have many Boulder Class dragons, either that or these ones got special treatment.

The Gronckle that the large Viking had been attending to had been completely indifferent to the events playing out before it. 'Her,' Alphas corrected himself. You could tell by the wideness of their eyes. The eyes of male Gronckles were usually less dilated. They became wider only on special occasions. Adoration of their riders was not enough to make them go this wide. Perhaps the sight of their children would be enough, but none of the little ones were here. This Gronckle was quite obviously female.

Alphas rummaged through the saddlebags, finding nothing of significance except for a map, which he took out and perused for a while, looking for familiar islands that he could use to find his way back. Nothing caught his eye, and so he put it back, thinking that maybe Wreckage could just lead him back to where he had come from, and they could work backwards from there. Good old Wreckage, he had so many useful skills. Such an exquisite dragon. Alphas' heart softened for a bit while thinking about his reptilian friend, then he scolded himself, reminding himself of the task at hand. He turned and went out, walking to where he had locked his guide in to prevent him from escaping.

Alphas unlocked the cage and hauled the Viking out. "Take me to the Stormcutter and the Night Fury."

His guide nodded quickly, fearfully, and led him away through the maze of pens and cages once more. When they reached the Stormcutter's pen, where it appeared to be asleep, Alphas saw that there were no forms of storage on it. Not even a saddle, which he had expected after seeing the state of the Gronckle, equipped as it was with various amounts of leather and iron.

Alphas cursed quietly to himself, then indicated to his guide to lead on, which he did.

They reached the Night Fury, which regarded him with curiosity and mild aggression, which Alphas quickly suppressed by allowing him to sniff his hand, which still smelled like the concoction he had pacified the Nightmare with. The Night Fury began nosing his hand, trying to get at the attractive prospect of the mixture, which Alphas made a mental note to give the dragon some of later. He hated to disappoint creatures who weren't people.

He withdrew his hand, and shoved the Viking into another pen. This one, too, was empty, although this time Alphas saw clearly that the reason for that this time was the remarkable absence of Strike Class dragons. The Night Fury was the only one that he could see in this entire section of the 'Hangar'. Oh well. He had more important things to focus on.

Alphas delved through the saddlebags one by one, and didn't find anything that looked even remotely like his weapons, or even some of the other things absent from his person. In the third saddlebag, however, he found his dagger. He slid it into the sheath on the left side of his waist, and resumed his search.

"I don't get it."

Alphas looked up at his guide. "What?"

"I don't get it," he repeated. "Why aren't the dragons aggressive towards you at all? And what did you give to Hookfang?"

"I gave your Nightmare a special concoction of mine. It pacifies dragons. As for why they're not aggressive, they can still smell the stuff on my hands."

"What's your 'concoction'?" the stocky Viking asked, his curiosity aroused despite his sullenness at being thrown in a makeshift prison. Alphas grinned light-heartedly at him.

"Trade secret."

Alphas turned his attention back to the saddlebags, and found his sword in the biggest one. It had poked a small hole in the end of it. Alphas thanked his lucky stars that the sword hadn't fallen out mid-flight. It seemed he had, though, his clothes were even colder than normal in the late morning wind. Maybe that was just the way things were on this island, but Alphas thought his clothes did stick to him a bit. He snorted quietly. How careless could they be, to let him just… fall? Into the ocean?

Returning his focus to his sword, he ran a finger up the blade, making sure it was just as sharp as before, although there was no reason to really check. It had only been a few hours, after all. But he did it still, as was his habit to do so.

He reached up and over his shoulder, and the sword slid neatly and snugly into the diagonal sheath on the right side of his back. It felt good to be armed again, but there were still a few things missing.

Back to the saddlebags he went.

As his hand shifted through the various things, it hit soft, stiff leather. Alphas grinned. Jackpot.

He pulled out the book, and flipped through it, making sure the runes he'd inscribed into it almost fifteen years previously were still there. And they were. Alphas shut it with a muted thwoompb, but before putting it away in the special compartment he'd made on his waist for it, he made sure that the scalpel, the stick of charcoal, and the brush that he'd fixed to it were all there as well. Which they were. So he put it away.

Even if he hadn't found his weapons, he would have gladly left them behind in favour of the book. This one of his most treasured possessions, and he took it with him wherever he went. He needed it. For almost every single thing he did. His missions. His life back home. His life in his occupation. His life with Wreckage. Everything. The runes in those pages were everything to him, and he constantly updated the volume every time a new rune was discovered, a new formation of lines and curves.

He tucked the volume away and dipped his hand into his pocket again, and held out his hand to the Night Fury laying in the pen with him and regarding him curiously, his fingers once more smeared with a light green pulp look-alike. The dragon before him sniffed his hand, and then his – of course it was male, how had he not noticed that before? – tongue darted out and gave Alphas' hand a good lick. The Night Fury licked his hand well and thoroughly, taking every last trace of the pulp into his mouth. He licked his lips and put his head to the floor, sighing contentedly. Alphas' eyes widened. This one, it was a lot smarter than the rest. Other Night Furies he had seen were intelligent, but this one licked its lips. That was something he had never seen before on any other dragon. It could almost pass for… no, that was impossible. It was confirmed that Night Furies were dragons, nothing more. And besides, even if this one could almost pass for one of them, it lacked the distinct talents that made them what they were.

Alphas was distracted again. It seemed to be happening more and more these days. He shook his head. He might have been twenty-six, but he felt like he was growing to be over sixty years of age. These distractions were uncharacteristic of others his age. But then, were they as thoughtful, as innovative, as he was? Probably not. His ideas were ingenious, but the sheer amount of them made them difficult to accept. Some regarded him as insane, others as possessed by something.

Alphas mentally slapped himself. He was getting distracted by his own thoughts of being distracted. That was definitely a first.

He walked out, not bothering to shut the door behind him. The Night Fury was at peace, and it wouldn't be coming after him any time soon. He ignored the protests of the Viking he had locked in, and continued on his way back out of this 'Hangar'. Luckily, he remembered the path he had taken, and even if it was rather roundabout, it was definitely the right way back.

Right, left, right, right, straight on, fourth left, straight on, second right, then left again and he would be at the exit, or perhaps the entrance. Whatever. At this point, it was irrelevant. Sure enough, following these directions led him to the exit, and as Alphas ascended the spiral staircase he gripped his dagger tightly. There could be a party ready to welcome him back to the chair. He would prefer to avoid that, or at least get out of it, at all costs. Well, maybe not at all costs, but quite a few.

As he reached the end of it, the grip on his dagger relaxed, and Alphas calmed himself. There was no one in waiting for him. Quickly, he made his way to the docks. It seemed the village was waking up now, as there were people coming out, going to their stalls in what seemed to be the market, or perhaps tending to the farms. He kept his head down, trying not to attract attention, but as he passed, he heard whispers start up behind him. It was probably his clothes. Alphas cursed internally, wishing he had a sigil available to become invisible. He had everything he needed to make one, but these things required time and an effort not to mess up the lines, and he didn't have very much of the first. He should make a request for permission to have an invisibility sigil on hand for whenever you needed it. Who cared if he wasn't part of the Stealth Division? It would probably come in handy on multiple occasions.

He reached the docks, where two men, one short and squat with brown har, and the other tall, with blond hair and a bucket on his head, were getting ready for something. He peered into the boat, and saw there was a fishing rod and some nets laying in the boat. They were going fishing. Alright then.

He sauntered up to them, his hands in his pockets, – his clean, empty pockets – and greeted them with a smile. "Hello there," he said, making sure to emphasize the 'lo' part of 'hello'. It made him seem friendlier, easier to talk to, from his experience in the past.

"Oh, hello!" the one with the bucket on his head said happily. His accent was rather thick.

"Oh, hey. How're ya doin'?" the squat one asked, his accent slightly different and a little less thick.

"I'm fine, thanks. And the two of you?" Alphas asked politely.

"Oh, we would be just fine if Bucket here remembered how ta fish!" the squat one remarked. There was a glint in his eye, and he turned to face Alphas fully. "Say, I don't remember seein' you around here before! What's yer name? And where'r ya frum?"

"I'm visiting," Alphas responded. "My name is Alphas. As for where I'm from," he took his hands out of his pockets and hooked the thumbs alone in, staring at the sky, "I'd rather not say."

The squat one shrugged. "Fair 'nuff." He nudged his companion, who, from what Alphas had gathered, appeared to be called Bucket. "Say, Bucket, don't leave me ter do all the talkin'! Have a chat with our new friend over here!"

He seemed rather amiable.

The one called Bucket turned around to face him. Up until now, he'd been trying to hook the nets to the fishing rods, and failing every time they slipped from the broken one without any string, and therefore any hook, that he had picked up.

He waved at him, a jovial expression on his face. "Hi!"

"Hey," Alphas said, smiling at him as nicely as he could manage. "So you're going fishing?"

"Yer darn right we are!" the squat Viking piped up, his voice muffled. He was tending to something to do with the boat. Alphas looked at them, amused.

"This early in the morning?" he inquired. The one who had spoken began shaking furiously, and it took Alphas a while to realize he was nodding.

"We gotta get a mornin' catch, so's everyone gets a nice, fishy breakfast," he supplied helpfully. Alphas nodded. It made sense.

"The fish are very happy this time, too. They always wake me up when they make noises in the morning," Bucket said, equally as happy as the fish probably were in that little world of his. "Isn't that right, Mulch?" he asked excitedly. Alphas blinked, unable to process the fish waking him up.

"What?"

The squat one, Mulch, slapped his forehead and groaned. "Ignore him. He thinks that sheep lay eggs."

Alphas nodded slowly. "I… see."

"Bucket, how many times do I gotta remind you that fish don't crow?! That's chickens!"

"Oh," Bucket said despondently. He got into the boat and trudged towards the nets, sitting down alongside them. He buried his head in his hands.

"Don't mind him. He lost half his brain in a lightning strike ya know. Took some things away and gave him a few others."

Alphas winced. "Well, that sounds painful."

Mulch nodded. "Oh, it was. We couldn't get him to stop screaming or even sleep for a week. Really messed us all up."

"Hmm."

"Well, I got to be going now. Nice talkin' to ya, Al!"

"Don't call me Al," said 'Al' grinned at him.

Mulch grinned back, and waved a hook at him as he got on the boat. Alphas hadn't noticed the hook, and so he almost jerked away before he managed to control himself. As Bucket and Mulch sailed off, there was shouting behind him. He turned to see the scrawny Viking and his friends running towards him. At the exact same time, he heard a grinding roar in the sky, and as he pulled out his sword, he looked up to see Wreckage barreling his way. He looked back at the Vikings, and raised his hands in mock surrender. Wreckage swooped down and caught him by those hands, flinging him up into the air so he landed on his back. It wasn't clean, and it knocked the air out of his lungs, but it was a solution in a time of urgency, and so there were no real drawbacks to it.

Alphas got up and took a proper position on his dragon, sitting upright.

It felt good to be back.