V for Viking
AN: Alright, so here's the eight chapter, and things have started to pick up (both literally in that I am writing again and within the plot). I did upload Chapters 7 & 8 on consecutive nights, so make sure you didn't miss one before starting this one.
Chapter 8
I silently trod through the village; I made sure to wait for the complete darkness of night before moving. No one has found Ruff or Tuff yet, but I'm sure that Stoick and Spitelout know what their absences mean. I don't know what they may do next, and I can't afford to lose any momentum so waiting until morning for this is not an option.
I need my first allies. I need someone to throw their weight behind me and announce to the village that joining me means preserving the village. I need everyone to see that Stoick and Spitelout won't honor 'neutrality' unless it comes with a threat, and if I can gather enough support, I can be that threat. Eventually, I can get more followers than Stoick or Spitelout combined, and at that point begin to facilitate peace talks, whether by their choice or by force.
So I really need to pick my first supporters wisely, and I need them to believe in me 100%. That's why I'm here, unannounced, in the middle of the night. Because this clan is familiar enough with me that they would overlook such shady circumstances.
I knock on the door whilst swiveling my head from side to side. My grandfather once told me that it doesn't count as paranoia if they really are out to get you.
I heard footsteps slowly come to the door. The door opens and—speak of the devil—my grandfather opens the door. Before he speaks, I cut him off with a shush and he catches on, silently letting me inside before closing the door hastily. He beckoned for me to go deeper into his hall, to the back room where he sleeps. It's been years since grandma died in a raid and he built a hall for himself and the families of two of his widowed daughters—my aunts and little cousins. His eldest daughter married into the Thornston clan, while four of his five sons are alive and keeping their own halls (including my dad).
But make no mistake, Papa Hoff runs the Hofferson clan. He's young for a grandfather and 'retired' from being a warrior after serving as the second-in-command under Stoick's father and then worked as our training instructor for a few years before letting Gobber take over. Everyone in our family jokes about how he retired too early because he always seems to be doing something new to utilize his time. Point in case? During the Archipelago War, he un-retired and Stoick promptly loaned him to the Meatheads to serve as a battle strategist. While we all were happy that he would be safe, we kept hearing tales from Meathead soldiers about a gray-haired general who lead the charge to take back Freezing to Death Island.
When asked about these events, Papa Hoff would just shrug and put on an unreadable expression, but every time any Meatheads would come to visit they would always freeze for a moment when he came into a room.
None of those tales surprised me in the least, however. While most of the Hofferson clan views Papa as just a grandfather and old war hero, I happen to have gotten to know the brilliant strategist and flawless warrior hiding in plain sight. Once the raids stopped and it appeared that dragon-slaying skills weren't very useful anymore, Papa Hoff decided to teach me the art of combat in his spare time.
That's why I am here. The Hoffersons are still neutral, and if I can convince Papa Hoff to throw the clans support behind me, then I just might make my plan work.
He lead me into the back room and lit a candle, before turning around to see me still caked in blood from my earlier struggle.
"Whose is that?" He asked gruffly, keeping his voice down to both keep the rest of the hall asleep and make sure no one overheard.
"Not mine…can we talk somewhere more…?" I trailed off, hoping he would know what I meant.
For a few years, he had always hinted that he had a hidden room, a small sanctuary and storage area—his own war room—hidden away somewhere, though he had never shown it to me. He always commented that someday a day may come when I needed to use it, though it never occurred to me that I would use during a war on Berk.
I was afraid he wouldn't trust me enough, or that he would be skeptical of the fact I showed up covered in blood past midnight, but he appeared to talk it over in his head before going to the chest in the back of the room and opening the lid. Inside where just some assorted winter blankets, but he began taking them out and setting them on his bed. Once the chest was empty, he removed the bottom hatch to reveal a hole in the floor with a ladder leading into the ground below.
"Well, go on down and make sure someone catches me when I fall…" he mocked. Papa Hoff always was one to makes 'old jokes' about himself, more to mock the people who would be dumb enough to call him old and fragile.
I climbed down as instructed, and he handed down a candle before coming down himself, making sure to close the lid behind him. Leaning against the wall on the base of the floor were a few blankets and a replacement for the bottom of the chest, which he then used to cover the hole in the bottom of the chest. Anyone who came into his room while we were gone would see a bed with an extra blanket or two, and a chest in the corner filled with blankets, per usual.
Once candles around the room were lit up, I saw a room exactly the same size as Papa Hoff's, just built directly beneath it. There were wooden rafters serving for a sealing with what appeared to be very precisely placed tar to seal it, and the walls were built the same way. There was a table against the wall with a map of Berk on it, much like the map Stoick was using in the Great Hall, except this one appeared to be hand-drawn by Papa. On one wall hung an impressive assortment of weapons while the mirroring wall held Papa's old battle armor, but the fourth wall intrigued me the most. There were shelves covering all of the wall except where the ladder came down in the corner, and the shelves appeared to be decorated with trophies. Among them were a fancy Berserker helm (with a large dent), an assortment of various jewelry, and…a strange black scale.
"Interesting, isn't it?" Papa asked from a chair he had pulled from the desk. He had caught me staring at the scale instead of everything else.
"It…yeah, I guess. Why one scale among everything else?"
"It's just a reminder of a battle I lost…of a day where I should have died… But I believe we were going to talk about you…"
"Er...right. I was…uh…attacked, earlier…" I said somewhat shyly, as though having an assassination attempt on your life was taboo. Two, actually.
"Spitelout tried to bump you off, eh?" He replied casually and I remembered that his sharp mind wasn't just good on the battlefield; he was also good at reading people and playing them against one another.
"Him and Stoick, actually. Spitelout sent Tuffnut and Stoick sent Ruffnut…" My reply was greeted with his eyes raising slightly, before I continued. "…and they're both lying dead in an alley between two halls. They'll be discovered in the morning by someone."
"Well, I'm going to go on a limb here and say that you rejected Spitelout's offer to switch sides, but what'd you do to Stoick?" He asked, clearly with suspicions but not giving voice to them just yet.
I took a breath to calm myself down before answering.
"He wanted me to publically declare my allegiance to him, and I told him that I felt that would cheapen my oath as a shield maiden, but…" I trailed off.
"…but you have reservations about fighting for Stoick? You don't want to pick a side, do you?"
"That's why I said no. I don't think we should have feud at all; it's going to tear the village apart."
He looked at me skeptically for a moment, before chuckling through his next comment.
"…and your pacifism is why you're covered in blood?"
"More or less, yes. Neither of them appreciated my position and decided that I was a threat… which made me think, why not be a threat? If I can gather enough support, I can force them to settle this like somewhat civilized people and keep war away from our homes."
"Forced arbitration? Well, that's certainly an interesting idea, but I never took you for one to usurp the throne…" he trailed off sharply, watching my reaction.
"I know that's how it will look, but that's not what I'm trying to do. I just want to give everyone a third option—someone who wants to fight to keep Berk together—and hopefully show Stoick and Spitelout that they will either have to fight by themselves or settle things without blows."
He was silent, never breaking eye contact or expression anything in his face. I could tell he was judging me, weighing his options, predicting how things might play out, so I returned his steely stare.
"…and that what brings you to me. You're not worried about the people you killed and looking for advice from your wise old Papa; you're asking me to pledge the allegiance of the Hofferson clan to you over Stoick or Spitelout."
"You're not pledging your support for me as chief, Papa. Your declaring that you want nothing to do with the feud, and that you will help support anyone else who also wants nothing to do with the feud. If we can get the majority of the village on our side, then we'll force Stoick and Spitelout's hands. You're not pledging to me; your pledging to our future…"
He stared at me for a little longer, before chuckling and waving his finger at me.
"Heh heh… I think that, as long as you finish with that line, there isn't a clan not named Jorgenson that wouldn't support you. As soon as you want to publically declare your position, your family will be there with you."
I smiled and got up to give him a hug, which he readily accepted. When we broke apart, an idea struck me.
"Say, Papa, you wouldn't happen to be able to think of anyone else who would be ready to support us, would you?"
4 HOURS LATER – SUNRISE
It's amazing what a few hours of sleep and a change of clothes can do for your mood (thought beginning to see a plan come together doesn't hurt either). Papa woke me up just as the sun was starting to peak over the horizon, and I was able to visit the halls of three more families that Papa Hoff identified as potential allies, and while they seemed skeptical, they agreed that an alliance of allied clans for collective bargaining couldn't hurt and agreed to join.
Now I just have to figure out the best time to make an announcement to the village. It would be best to play on any regrets villagers might have about picking a side, so if I can wait until after the first skirmish between Stoick and Spitelout then my message may be more powerful, but that means that lives will be lost because I waited. I think that given the fact that I'm trying to save all of Berk, a few Vikings dying in battle is a small price to pay.
But that doesn't mean I have to like it, though.
As I exited the hall of the third family I spoke with, I began to notice a sense of panic in the air as people began rushing towards the fields. I kept up with the crowds only to notice everyone stop about fifty yards away from one of our mills; specifically, the one that also housed Berk's largest bread bakery. While bread seems (and tastes) dull on Berk, there should be a sizable storage of bread in there, making this an excellent spot for a food raid.
And currently, with this mill far away from the docks, it sits in what is unquestionably Stoic's territory.
That being said, it was being ransacked by Spitelout's men in a very organized and intentional manner. Half of the men worked to bag as much bread as they could before heading out, and the other half stood guard while ignoring the crowd that had gathered to watch them. They weren't expecting to just steal some bread and leave; they were prepared to battle Stoic's men in front of anyone who would watch as a show of strength and a hopeful recruiting tactic.
Once a man had a bad full of bread, he headed off through the fields towards the woods. The people around me began to question why running away with the bread would make any sense, but it didn't take me long to figure it out; they control the docks, which means boats. They must be beached somewhere on the other side and figured it safer to just sail around then march through Stoic' territory. It was actually a smart tactic.
"WHAT'S GOING ON HE—WE'RE UNDER ATTACK! EVERYONE WITH ME!" Stoic boomed as he rounded a corner to find the crowd and raiding party, before charging straight at the armed guards, hammer in hand. Several men came to his aid, and just like that we had a fairly even fight with a full crowd to watch.
Just before Stoic reached the men, Spitelout's commander (as Spitelout was absent, likely still hiding at the docks) ordered for everyone from his bread-sacking group to retreat while his guards held the line, and then shortly after a small explosion came from within the mill, catching it on fire from the inside. Stoic was startled at this, but quickly regained his rage as he realized that they were not planning on leaving anything behind.
Except…I saw surprise in the commander's eyes. While he certainly wasn't sad to see that a fire had been set, the small boom and subsequent fire surprised him. He likely just wrote it off as one of his men taking the initiative, but if neither side wanted that mill on fire, then that meant some else wanted that mill on fire.
And that likely means that there is something else entirely going on here that I haven't found out yet.
Instead of diverting anyone to save the mill, Stoic lead his counter-attack against Spitelout's forces, soundly forcing them back while killing the first four men he came across. Once the commander noticed Stoic's progress, he redirected more men then Stoic could handle at him and Stoic—known for a remarkably cool head during a fight—backed down rather than take on what was an obvious challenge he couldn't win. With Stoic's momentum stopped and the mill deeply ablaze, the commander ordered his men to make a full retreat (and by that start running as fast as they could for the woods), and before Stoic could give chase a blood-curdling scream was heard from inside the mill.
Not just any scream, either. A little girl's scream. Followed by another, and then a little boy's scream, and then another.
Without any hesitation, Stoic charged head-first into the burning mill, but only returned with one little girl before the whole structure collapsed on itself.
The girl's parents—part of the Ingermann family, one of Stoic's greatest supporters—ran up to take her from Stoic, who handed her off then marched back towards town with a fury that would make a mountain tremble. Those who considered themselves close or loyal supporters of Stoic followed sheepishly, leaving a large crowd gathered around a severely burned little girl.
"Baby! What happened?! Why were you in there?" The girl's mother frantically voiced.
"We were playing behind the mill and—OW—we played Dragons vs Vikings and then a—OW OW—when we say the men breaking in we were scared but then—OW—a man told us not to worry and to just go inside and hide—OW—and that he was a good guy and if we were quiet no matter what then the men wouldn't find us!" She cried while trying to be as still as possible; when she moved, it aggravated her burns and set her through even more pain and tears.
The crowd was silent, save for the occasional hysterical mother who remembered her kid asking to go play games with their friends earlier that day. We all knew that Dragons vs Vikings always has at least ten kids to start, and usually is higher than that. It didn't take long for that math to spread through the crowd.
At least nine children, dead. Burnt to a crisp, seemingly by Spitelout's men. Everyone else had the same realization.
"THEY KILLED OUR CHILDREN!"
"WHAT DOES SPITELOUT THINK HE'S DOING?!"
"NO ONE DESERVES THAT!"
Then soon came a chorus of opposing views which only served to confuse the crowd and stir up conflict.
"THAT'S NOT SPITELOUT'S FAULT! THEY JUST WANTED STOIC TO WASTE TIME PUTTING THE FIRE OUT SO THEY COULD LEAVE!"
"YEAH! THEY COULDN'T HAVE KNOWN THAT STOIC WOULDN'T CARE!"
As the crowd's arguments began to get heated, I spied a wooden box that had somehow escaped both the raiding party and suspicious fire, and I made my way over to it then jumped on top of it.
"EVERYONE, LISTEN!" I yelled at the top of my lungs and was successful at gaining the majority of the crowd's attention. "This isn't something we can chose someone to blame for! This is something that we can only blame ourselves for! Spitelout wasn't right to raid this mill, and Stoic wasn't right to let a fire consume part of his village! Everyone is losing their head and deciding what side of a war to take, when we haven't realized that we shouldn't take part in the war!"
The crowd was silent, all eyes on me. It's now or never. I scanned the audience, and caught sight of my Papa who nodded to me.
"If Stoic and Spitelout want to tear each other's throats out, then that's between them. But when they try to tear our village apart…when children die because men are too busy fighting in a feud they have no claim in…THAT'S not something we can stand for! I won't allow Stoic or Spitelout to bully anyone into picking a side! Both Stoic and Spitelout tried to have me assassinated when I refused to pledge to them…" a few mouths gasped in the crowd, and I noticed a few members of the Thornston family in the crowd. "…and I'm sorry to say that both Ruffnut and Tuffnut failed to kill me because I killed them back, but that taught me that we can't afford to be 'neutral'! Not picking a side is not an option! I want to keep Berk from destroying itself by stripping Stoic and Spitelout of their followers, their influence, and their power until they can settle this like grown men, not the damn children they've been acting like!"
And, finally, the moment of truth…
"Is anyone with me?!"
I'm not sure what I expected, considering that my chief would basically see this as treason, but I felt extremely nervous. I wasn't sure if the crowd would stare silently or go nuts, but I was praying to Thor that something good would happen. I knew that Papa had promised to publically pledge support, and gaining those first followers is key to getting more to follow, but I still felt so completely anxious once I finished my speech.
I didn't need to be. Like we had planned, Papa Hoff spoke up as soon as I was finished.
"The strength of the Hofferson clan supports you, Astrid the Protector!" Papa hollered as he drew and raised up his sword, all the while giving me a new title. As soon as I heard it, I knew he had spent all night thinking of this moment and everything he could do to help. Protector. It emphasizes that I'm trying to preserve Berk and not steal the throne.
I like it.
To Papa's credit, he played his part dramatically and perfectly. Once he finished, the three other (admittedly smaller) families I has spoken with declared their support, and then the crowd began to become restless. While many people did not want to throw their weight behind me, many others did, and at the very least I had given everyone a third, less bloody option.
As those who disagreed dispersed back towards the village, I finally got a good sense of what I had accomplished, and it was far more than I could have hoped for for my opening move. Standing before me was around one-third of Berk.
I had leveling the playing field, and I was just getting started…