A\N:

Sorry for the delay! A HTTYD montage project (Google "Toothless Shot of the Day #500 Special"), COVID-19, work, and my worst nemesis, procrastination, delayed this already-challenging chapter greatly. But, there's good news: The upcoming chapters should come quicker as I've overhauled my plot plans. Expect updates about every 4th weekend, with the exception of the next chapter, which will come at the end of June.

Also, a warning: There are some dark moments in this story. I can promise that this story won't go past a T-rating (PG-13), and I don't enjoy stories stuffed full of violence, but there are some dark moments.

Special thanks to fellow writer RowanMackenzie24 for providing invaluable feedback and suggested edits.

Hiccup woke up early the next day. It was dark out, and the sun had not risen yet, but a few villagers were up and about outside. The nights were getting longer as winter approached, to the point that the darkness outlasted the time one needed to sleep.

He noticed that the rest of his family was still asleep, and decided that it was time to start the day. He clambered out of bed and fumbled in the dark, searching for his prosthetic leg before accidentally knocking over a piece of wood with a great clatter. He winced.

Astrid and Nuffink remained sound asleep. Hiccup smiled, wishing he had the ability to sleep through noise like they did. Unfortunately, however, Valka and Zephyr were stirring as they weren't deep sleepers. He personally blamed Valka for passing that trait onto him and subsequently his daughter.

"Rise and shine everyone," Hiccup called. He lit the torches in his family home before opening his wardrobe to get dressed. Vikings had many traditions, and while he had abolished many of them by bringing dragons to Berk in years past, there were some customs that were definitely worth keeping in his choice of clothing.

He put on his usual tunic before donning his self-made, black-scaled chestplate on top. It was Viking tradition for Chiefs to wear armour, even in peacetime, and he was glad to do that. The scales made for a surprisingly warm layer in the cold, too.

He tapped the metal and scale plating of his leggings before putting them on. It was also common to forge armour from the metal and materials left behind by lost loved ones. Stoick's helmet had gone into the metal backing under various pieces in the armour, supporting the outer layer of Toothless' midnight scales on top. Valka also used to wear a helmet before Cloudjumper took her from Old Berk, and Hiccup had forged that into his armour as well.

He put on the rest of his gear, save for his helmet, and strapped on his wings out of force of habit. He paused, contemplating if he should take off the wings or not, before deciding to keep them. He wouldn't mind if his villagers thought he looked strange, and besides, he liked to think that he had never lost his ability to fly, even if he had lost Toothless. Additionally, his folding wings were very compact and wouldn't get in the way of anything.

"My goodness, look at you!" Valka said. She had awakened and dressed, and was currently looking over his outfit. "That's quite some elegant armour you have there, but what's with the wings? Are you thinking of going out for a flight at this hour?"

"Oh, I felt like putting them on," Hiccup said. "I probably won't have time to use them today."

"You felt like putting them on?" Valka asked, before smiling. "I suppose they feel natural for you to wear at all times, hmm?"

Hiccup nodded, and she continued.

"I always knew you had the soul of a dragon in you."

Hiccup groaned. "Mom, you've been saying that for about ten years straight."

"I'm serious, Hiccup," Valka chuckled. Hiccup rolled his eyes, and they went over to the kitchen to make breakfast.

Zephyr joined them, and after they ate, Hiccup gave her a hug before she went off to the village forge where Gobber was. Zephyr was young, but she had already taken up an interest in forgecraft and mechanical things, and Gobber was more than happy to feed her curiosity and take on a new apprentice.

After checking again on the still-sleeping Astrid and Nuffink, Hiccup decided to leave a note and some food behind for them, and came to Valka.

"Well, I suppose we better discuss what you were warning me about last night."

"Yes," she sighed. "Let's go out for a walk."

"Sure."

Hiccup grabbed a nearby torch before frowning disdainfully and taking his fire-sword, Inferno, instead. It made for a good light source, albeit an unusual one, and he preferred his own handcrafted piece of work over a burning stick anyway. He loaded a canister of his pitch-and-oil incendiary mix into the sword and followed Valka outside.

It was dark out, but daybreak was fast approaching. A wave of blue was beginning to march across the night sky, retaking the ether from the clutch of darkness.

Valka silently turned for the gloomy forests and bleak cliffs, and Hiccup followed. He saw a few villagers out in the torchlit streets chopping wood and setting out salted meats to dry, and he wondered if Valka's news was going to tear him away from the monotony of preparing for winter.

Valka did not utter a single word as they walked through the village and surrounding trees, and Hiccup began to get apprehensive. Eventually, they arrived at a clifftop at the corner of the island, overlooking the sea to the east and west.

"Huh," Hiccup said, looking towards the glowing horizon where the sun was due to rise. "I came here last night to watch sundown on the same night you came back to Berk, and the next day you bring me here to watch the sun rise. Isn't that a coincidence?"

"You don't say?"

They watched the predawn horizon for a time. Eventually, Valka spoke.

"Well, I think it's time I tell you about what I've been up to, and what I've seen during my time away from Berk," she said. "As you may have figured, it's not good."

She paused to take a breath and continued.

"Cloudjumper and I have been active for several years, and it's a long story, but to be quick, we went hopping from one tribe to the next so I could infiltrate and get information."

"That sounds awfully risky," Hiccup said. "Why did you do that?"

"I wanted to know if the warlords and dragon hunters had stopped their pursuits or not, and I do have some good news," she said. "Two out of the three warlords who came to our island, along with Grimmel, have passed away, and the last warlord alive seems to be incapable of enslaving dragons."

"Go on. What's the bad news?"

"Well, as I said last night, the hunters have found a way to harvest dragons for war, and it all revolves around this one particular island tribe…"

"Fire!"

A catapult hurled a cloth ball up above an island, and, after a few moments, there was the crack of ballistae. Several bolts flew past the target, and one found its mark, impaling the target and causing it to disintegrate midair.

From the hilltops of the same island, Andor Folkvarðrson watched his ballistae-men cheer as their practice target crashed to the ground. Another target launched into the sky, only to be shot down again, and Andor cracked a weak smile. His catapults could fire the training targets so far up that the aerial target practice could be seen for miles by anyone, particularly by the foreign warships about to make landfall on his island.

He was not under attack, but he very much felt the same. In just a few short minutes, he would be due to meet down by the docks with the man responsible for all the problems he faced as Chief. The man who had taken up Drago's mantle after his disappearance.

The ongoing aerial target practice was really just a show of force, a demonstration in case he got any ideas about enslaving a dragon army like his predecessor did. Sure, such anti-air weaponry was probably unnecessary in a world nearly devoid of dragons, but Andor wasn't going to let his guard down. Nobody imagined a Bewilderbeast could be enslaved until Drago did just that, nor did anyone think dragons could be tamed until Berk did that too. The unreal became real on a regular basis, and for all Andor knew, the warlords of the present day would bring back their airborne armies. Where there was a will, there was a way.

Someone approached from behind. It was Skuf, one of his deputies.

"Chief? Sorry to bother you, but I believe it's time for us to go down to the docks. For the meeting."

"Right, thank you for reminding me," Andor said. "Assemble an escort and ask Scale-Stalker to come along. We will require her services to inspect our purchase when it arrives."

"One moment," Skuf said, leaving to fulfill Andor's request.

Andor turned to face back towards the sea, letting his gaze wander over the grim ships below before noticing a familiar, haunting emblem on their sails.

His island was alone because of that emblem—a sword and the outline of a Monstrous Nightmare's face glaring down at the viewer. At first glance, it appeared as if the sword was impaling the dragon, but in actuality, it was attacking downwards with the dragon. The symbol of the Dragon Army.

Drago Bludvist was dead, and his airborne army had collapsed after him, but not his men or fleets. They were still around, for a new man had taken Drago's helm, and so their flags continued to fly, provoking an old memory in Andor's mind.

He recalled receiving a parchment stamped with the Dragon Army's emblem, many years ago. He didn't recognize the emblem at the time. Nobody did.

The dragon menace was growing out of control, the paper had said. Several tribes were dying to onslaughts of dragon raids and attacks. He was summoned, along with many other Chiefs, to a great gathering of Chieftains to discuss the problem. But he was ill at the time and could not attend the summit. He cursed his luck at first, until he learned of the truth when one of his merchants approached him a few weeks later.

"Andor," the merchant said, looking worse for wear. "My trading ship has just returned from the Volsung tribe."

"Well, how was it?"

The merchant shuddered. "I… I don't know what to say… my tradesmen came back empty-handed."

"What?! Why? Was there some kind of dispute that went foul?"

"No. The Volsung tribe no longer exists."

The entire Volsung village was gone. Buildings and people pillaged and killed. Survivors told tales of a colossal entity that could crush entire buildings with its feet and summon a horde of dragons at will. A 'Bewilderbeast'.

And it was all connected to that Chiefs' summit, many years ago. The Volsung tribe's Chief went missing after attending the summit. Furthermore, just about every Chief who attended the summit disappeared shortly thereafter. It was not a coincidence that they had all disappeared. It was a trap.

Andor later learned that all the Chieftains who attended that summit died, for a man named Drago Bludvist had enslaved dragons and ordered them to crush the Chiefs' hall, burning everything in sight. Rumor had it that Stoick the Vast was the only Chieftain to survive, but alas, leadership around the region was knocked out in a single strike, enabling Drago to take out tribes while their leadership was compromised.

As the reports of newly extinct tribes came in, it seemed like there was nothing that could stop Drago, and Andor recalled feeling a black, icy sensation of tightness in his chest each time his trade ships came back, empty-handed, from yet another tribe that went extinct.

Andor blinked, and his recollection of the past ended. He found himself back in the present, standing on his island's hilltops as he watched three foreign warships gliding into his harbor below. Those warships belonged to Drago's successors, and he was going to let those ships moor on his island! He could not believe himself for allowing this to happen.

But it was necessary, he reminded himself. The warlords who had taken Drago's place could've walked over his island if he had stood by and done nothing over the past years, so he took action. It was only through deterrence and diplomacy that he could keep his tribe safe. His people.

He turned to look around his island below, taking note of the structures that comprised the first method of protection, deterrence. Countless arrays of catapults, ballistae, and archer towers lined his town, all of it surrounded by one mighty wall. Even if the warlords got past all that, they would be met by pockets of resistance inside his village in the form of turrets installed in the plazas and atop buildings. Not even the innocent tradesperson or their family would be vulnerable to extortion, for most of them had joined the island's militia.

But not even all of this militarization could stop the warlords' armadas that seemed to stretch off to the horizon. It would only make invasion attempts a costly hassle for them at best.

The second method of protection was diplomacy. If Andor could offer the conquerors some kind of reward, some trade for allowing his tribe to stay free and neutral, then they would leave his island unscathed.

But both of these methods came at a cost. Literally. His people were not true warriors, and every chiseled brick, fletched arrow, and handcrafted catapult consumed resources that were supposed to go towards feeding the village. Furthermore, his people would practically have to sell themselves and their entire livelihoods if they wanted to buy their tribe's sovereignty from the warlords.

The solution was to pioneer more profitable, exotic trades. Something that could fund the extravagant defenses and appease the warlords, something that no other tribe could offer; Dragon harvesting.

Andor heard footsteps from behind again, and realized that his deputy, Skuf, was back.

"Sir, your escort is ready. We are waiting for you on the main path, and Scale-Stalker is with us, as you requested."

"Thank you, let's go."

As Andor left his hilltop perch, he realized that today was going to be one of the few times in his life that he would join an escort for protection. He had almost never needed personal guards during his years as Chief on this island, for it was a peaceful place, but today was different. He was due to meet with the foreigner in charge of those warships in his harbor. If his memory served right, this man was dangerous and unpredictable, a megalomaniac.

With the exception of today, however, Andor's island was tranquil. He kept his people happy, and they kept him happy, and so his island was nearly devoid of internal conflict and traitorous spies.

Andor strode down to where his escort was waiting. He spotted Scale-Stalker waiting among them, a hooded figure wearing a dragonskin cloak and a weave of Stormcutter scales underneath, complete with double-hooked staff on her back.

From what Andor knew, Scale-Stalker was a nameless woman who hunted dragons, as her name implied, for the exotic materials that they provided. She claimed to be a tribeless wandering trader of sorts, and Andor was initially suspicious, but he eventually came to trust her, and hired her for what she offered. She had a knack for hunting down extraordinary dragon parts, if paid well enough, and she had an encyclopedic knowledge of dragon anatomy gathered from her trade.

"Greetings, Scale-Stalker," Andor said.

Andor approached her and called her name. "Greetings, Scale-Stalker."

Valka nodded back from under her hood. "Hello, Andor. Let me guess, today we've got another live purchase down by the docks that needs inspection, correct?"

"Yes. Well, the usual inspection for an unusual dragon. I've never even seen this one with my own eyes before, but maybe you have, given your years of experience."

"Indeed," Valka said. She scowled and adjusted her cloak, glad that nobody could recognize her face or her angst under the hood's ever-present shadow. This dragonskin cloak was uncomfortable and mortifying to wear, and she hated it. It wasn't hers, and was stolen in fact, just like all the other things she sold to Andor, but she nonetheless felt guilty for wearing it.

"Now," Andor said, "I require you to leverage your expertise in dragon anatomy today, to ensure that they are selling us a healthy dragon and to assess its value. To be fair, I'm not sure if you will be able to estimate the value of a one-of-a-kind creature, but apart from that, it's the same task as last week."

"Of course. But as I've told you before, I wish to return to my hunts and leave this island by the end of the month. My true pursuit is hunting dragons, not trading," Valka said. It was all a ruse, of course, but Andor didn't notice her forced tone.

"Absolutely," Andor said. "But your services as a wandering trader of sorts are greatly appreciated. In fact, I have come to rely upon you as a supplier of sorts, and I will gladly await your return in the future. Would a small extra payment incite you to stay here longer?"

"No, my apologies. Let's go."

Andor nodded and assembled his men, forming a protective shroud of guards around himself and Valka. They turned for the shoreline, beginning a downhill march to the place where three warships were beginning to moor.

The procession moved down the hills and into Andor's town, clearing a path through the crowded streets. As Valka followed, she progressively became more and more tense and alert. The town was a claustrophobic, entrapping, and artificial place, and she immediately felt the urge to return to the open, free hills where wilderness and safety was, even though she couldn't. No dragon could enter and rescue her from the town, but it was the place where all the important business took place.

She scanned her surroundings. The weather was poor, and yet the town around her was warm and bustling. Townspeople traded freely in the markets and struck up small talk on the street, oblivious to the overcast skies above that filtered out the warmth of sunshine and saturated the buildings with dreary, cold sunlight. Or maybe that grey appearance was a byproduct of her mood, her emotions fouled by the grim knowledge of the things that happened in this village.

She found it hard to believe that she was surrounded by normal people with normal lives, not bloodthirsty warriors or obedient peasants. But many of Andor's people supported or were directly involved in acts of obscene cruelty against dragons. To them, dragons were lowly animals, or simply objects, that didn't warrant much thought. If only they knew, she thought.

As the escort moved through Andor's village, they came within earshot of incessant screeches and squawks. Valka tensed. She knew that sound too well from her time spent here. It was the sound of dragons in distress.

They passed by the source of the noise—a large, metal-reinforced stone building with dragon-sized doors—and Andor stopped.

"Wait," he said to his group. "Let's halt for a moment. I wish to check something."

The building's doors were open, and inside, a Deadly Nadder could be seen chained down to the floor. The building's walls were lined with cages containing other Nadders, noisily protesting as they watched the scene unfold.

Valka suppressed a gasp when she saw the chained Nadder and its striking sky-blue scales. This dragon wasn't Stormfly or any of the other Nadders known to Berk, but nonetheless, it was very much a Nadder with a life and soul. No, he was a Nadder with a life and soul. While Nadders didn't have much in the way of facial expressions, Valka could practically see the despair written all over his face.

Around the restrained Nadder, two armed men stood, both of them holding axes. One of them raised their blade above the Nadder's neck, and the commotion from the nearby dragons doubled.

The Nadder struggled against his chains, before squawking feebly and closing his eyes in defeat. The axe came down, and Andor grimaced and looked away while Valka stared on at the atrocity, her hood concealing her despair as the Nadder let out a final screech.

As soon as the Nadder's spasms ended, the two men stepped over to do their work. Valka broke her gaze and turned away.

After some time, the two men finished their job, and another team of men arrived. There was the sound of something being dragged away, and Valka turned back. To her great relief, the Nadder's body was gone.

In place of the mess was a pile of silvery metal powder, a pile that seemed to shimmer in the same way a Nadder's scales did. A few flecks of metal floated freely in the air, glinting in the sunbeams coming through the building's barred windows. Valka looked at the pile, wondering what exactly she was looking at. Was this some distillation from the Nadder, something taken from its body?

"Nadder's fire-extract," Andor supplied. "It's rather nasty to work with, but it's incredibly useful."

As the pile sat out in the open, the shining metal began to slowly tarnish and lose its shine. Valka frowned; most shiny metals took months to tarnish, not minutes. There was something strange about this substance, something dangerous that she didn't know. Andor's tribe had uncovered a way to cultivate Nadders, but she began to doubt that they could've truly tamed this wild fire-extract, the essence of the Nadder's soul.

But how could Andor's tribe sustain the harvest of Nadders? Nobody knew of the Hidden World's exact location, and while there were some dragons who had not found the Hidden World, or wished not to return to it, there were only a few dragons left in the skies above. Any harvesting or trapping operation would surely run out of dragons in no time.

"Andor, I have to ask," Valka said. "How do you find enough dragons to replace the ones you've killed in these… processes? There are hardly any dragons left—they've almost totally disappeared from the world above."

"Ah, the Great Disappearance. I remember that very morning when they vanished!" Andor said. "It was a strange day, which turned into a strange week, and then a strange year before it became the new normal. The end of an era, I suppose. That day is going to go down in history—it'll be forever engraved into the books as the beginning of the end for the dragon menace."

Two workers appeared from around the corner as Andor talked, approaching the pile of metal powder with shovels and buckets.

"But the dragons aren't gone just yet," he continued. "A few stragglers still soar in the skies above, and so the spark of dragonkind stubbornly simmers on, like the embers from a fire that refuse to be put out. If we don't quench those embers, there's a risk that they will rekindle the fire of dragonkind until it grows into an inferno that threatens us all, a wildfire that engulfs the pillars of civilization."

Valka didn't respond. She silently watched the two workers as they began shoveling the metal into their buckets, noticing how a few sparks flew out each time their metal spades struck the powder.

"Oh, my apologies, I didn't answer your question," Andor said. "To put it simply, while there are only a few dragons around these days, whether it be the stragglers in the wild or the odd ones who were in captivity before the Great Disappearance, you only need a few of them. As long as you have male and female dragons of the same species in captivity, the problem is solved."

Valka suddenly felt very glad to be wearing a hood that concealed her feelings right now.

"I suppose it isn't a very pleasant process, isn't it?" she said.

"Not at all," Andor said, shaking his head. "Frankly, this whole enterprise of dragon harvesting is just too violent and dangerous, no matter how lucrative it is. But it's necessary."

One of the workers' shovels struck the metal pile hard, producing several sparks. Suddenly, the surrounding powder ignited, catching fire with a small, brilliant white flame. The workers stepped back, unharmed.

"Watch it!" Andor barked. "Get some sand and put out those flames now, but whatever you do, do not use water."

The two workers responded promptly, grabbing the nearest firefighting buckets and swinging them at the fire. Bucketloads of water came pouring out, and they realized their error a moment too late.

The blaze exploded. There was a blinding flash as the flames swallowed up the water, and a pillar of white smoke shot up to the roof, sending sparks and metal fragments flying out in all directions. The two nearby workers caught fire, and they ran frantically for the nearest place to stop, drop, and roll.

Andor flinched when the blaze exploded, and Valka took a few steps back before noticing that the flames were not spreading. The floor was made of stone, and even though the area underneath the fire appeared to be melting, the flames didn't grow. But regardless, it almost seemed as if the blaze had flared in spite of the extinguishing attempts, as if the fallen Nadder's soul was burning and defying Andor's men from beyond death.

Andor grimaced and turned to the men in his escort. "Reinn and Skuf, help them put this out, with sand, please, before you treat their burns. Thorvald, go get some more help for them." At that, he turned to the others. "As for the rest of us, let's move. We're going to be late for the meeting."

Valka blinked, waiting for the spots of glare to fade from her vision. "Wait a moment. Are you sure they'll be okay? Shouldn't we stay and help?"

"You raise a fair point, but the men I sent will take care of this, and that building is made out of stone, so it won't burn down. If we stay, however, we'll be late and arrive after the ships come, which we cannot afford."

Andor beckoned his men, and they resumed their journey to the shoreline. Valka frowned under her hood, and turned to follow.

They arrived at the docks.

Valka and Andor's group made their way around one last building, and three ships came into view. One full-size warship loomed high above along with its two accompanying escort ships.

The ships had just arrived, and Andor's villagers were coming over to assist them, tying them to the wharfs and raising gangplanks. But their movements were terse and faces sullen, for there was a palpable feeling of tension in the air.

A perimeter of flags and militiamen enclosed the area, forming a border that no sailor or townsperson could cross. A few townspeople had gathered to watch things unfold, and if any of them looked closely, they could've spotted a few archers lurking atop the nearby rooftops.

Andor's group approached the wharf, and the line of guards cleared the way. Andor brought his procession down the planks and stopped halfway towards the ships to wait, and after some time, several sailors filed out from the biggest ship. Eventually, their leader emerged.

A foreign man of a medium build, clad in a dark brass chestplate, pauldrons, a spiked helmet, and a dark blood-red tunic. Valka froze upon seeing the man. She recognized him, and recalled fighting alongside the other Dragon Riders against him and two other warlords during the armada Battle of Berk…

"Greetings, Chaghatai Khan," Andor said coolly.

Chaghatai lifted his hand in a half-hearted wave, "Hello, Andor Folkvarðrson and… who are you?"

"Scale-Stalker," Valka said briskly. "Dragon trader-for-hire, here to inspect a purchase on Andor's behalf."

Chaghatai squinted, struggling and failing to recognize the oddly familiar hooded figure before himself. "Hello Scale-Stalker. Let's get to business."

He turned to direct his sailors as they unloaded a large, covered dragon cage. They dropped it harshly on the planks, and the creature within grumbled indignantly.

"Well," Andor said, looking over the tarped cage. "If this dragon is the one you've told me it is, then we might be making history right here and now. The first dragon of its kind to be captured and sold alive!" He paused. "But I'm surprised you managed to find one at all. I thought your late mercenary Grimmel had exterminated this particular species before you hired him."

"And so did I," Chaghatai agreed. "He claimed to have hunted all of them down, so I, along with my fellow lords Ragnar and Griselda, thought it would've been wise to hire him to capture Berk's Alpha during our conquests. But Grimmel turned out to be a traitor, and an incompetent one at that. He thought he had hunted down every last Night Fury, but he didn't know that they simply fled north when he began his hunts. Heck, he didn't even know of Berk's infamous Alpha Night Fury until I told him of it."

"Huh. I thought he said that the beasts couldn't survive in the cold."

Chaghatai scoffed. "It's already cold here, compared to the lands I come from at least, and yet they've had no trouble surviving. Besides, any dragon can keep themselves warm enough as long as they find enough food to fuel their inner flame."

"Interesting. So, did you manage to capture Berk's Alpha in the end?" Andor said.

"No. Grimmel had captured it for a brief time, but he then betrayed us at the worst moment during the Battle of Berk. The Dragon Riders swooped in while he was dangling the Alpha in front of us, quite literally, and Berk's Chief retook control of the Night Fury shortly thereafter. Grimmel had taken Berk's dragons, but somehow, the Dragon Riders had conjured a way to fly without their beasts… using some kind of armour with artificial wings… and they flanked us from above when we least expected it. We ultimately lost the battle."

"Well, that sounds like an interesting story," Andor said. "But maybe it would be better if you gave us the full details another time. Let's see the dragon you brought."

"Absolutely."

Chaghatai's men pulled the tarp off the cage, revealing… another tarped cage inside.

"A cage inside a cage?!" Andor exclaimed. "This mustn't be a trick."

"Oh, my apologies," Chaghatai said. "As you know, this is a rather valuable shipment, and we've been getting plenty of interference from the former Dragon Riders. This cage's inner tarp cannot be removed without unlocking the outer cage, preventing spies from seeing what's inside if they were to peek underneath the outer tarp."

"My goodness, that sounds like an extensive measure to stop foreign activity," Andor said. "I didn't know that the former Dragon Riders were still active."

"They are indeed still active, and thanks to the late Grimmel, we know where their new settlement is. I reckon we ought to do something about it."

Andor didn't like where this was going. He did not have any good feelings towards the self-righteous people of New Berk in the slightest, but he did not want to be dragged into a war he had no interest in. "I suppose so, but weren't you saying something about your dragon cage here?"

"Ah, yes. We used a double cage to contain this dragon because it keeps things secure. Not just against former Dragon Riders, but the beast itself—this dragon seems to be smarter than the others we've captured. Hel, it might be smarter than my soldiers. It has a knack for escaping."

Someone opened the outer cage and yanked off the inner tarp, revealing a sleek, black-as-night dragon with glossy scales and piercing yellow eyes. A Night Fury.

Andor and Valka flinched upon seeing the dragon. Andor was surprised to see a Night Fury up close with his own eyes, and Valka was shocked upon seeing a Night Fury that wasn't Toothless for the first time in decades.

As the tarp came off, the dragon quickly swiveled its head around, scanning its surroundings for an escape. Once it found none, it turned to look over each nearby person, as if judging their character. When it somehow recognized Andor and Chaghatai as the men in charge, it began watching them intently. Andor found it deeply unsettling.

"My goodness. You actually captured a Night Fury."

"After spending many men and resources," Chaghatai sighed.

"Well, I'm quite surprised that you managed to do that, but I have to ask, why would you sell this to me? I presume that you are still trying to enslave the dragons, and a Night Fury would most certainly be worth keeping in that case."

"Well, I suppose I can tell you why I'm selling this, considering you already have a good guess about my plans," Chaghatai said. "I was indeed planning on keeping this dragon to try something like what my predecessor Drago did with his Bewilderbeast, but my attempts to enslave it have failed. Night Furies are just about impossible to capture, contain, and enslave, it seems, and no matter how much potential they might have, they're simply not worth the effort."

"Hmm. Berk made it look easy," Andor said, looking over the dragon. This would be a very expensive and dangerous purchase, especially if Chaghatai considered it to be uncontrollable, but he decided that it would be best to buy the Fury anyway. The less dragons Chaghatai had in his possession, especially powerful breeds like this one, the less dangerous he was.

"Alright, I have one last question," Andor said. "How did you manage to capture this dragon? That doesn't happen every day, or at all, for that matter."

"Well, I almost failed entirely," Chaghatai said. "It seems that the remaining Night Furies out there stick together in one or more packs, making it just about impossible for my men to escape retaliation after capturing one. Oh, and don't get me started on our failed attempts at sneaking up on Strike Class dragons. They're just about impossible to ambush, but if you take the brute-force approach and send an army, they'll just flee further and further north until your men die of the cold!"

"Look, I don't want to hear about your struggles," Andor said. "How did you capture this very Night Fury before us?" He needed to know if Chaghatai had gotten lucky, or if he had found some new strategy or weapon that enabled him to capture the uncapturable species.

"Oh, we had a stroke of fortune. This one happened to be a loner, so we were able to track and ambush it without being attacked by the rest of its kind. Of course, it was all easier said than done, but after many tries, we did it."

"Ah, alright," Andor said. He watched the dragon for a moment before addressing Valka. "Scale-Stalker, it's time to do what you came here for. Examine this dragon to determine if it's in good health before I buy it—"

The Night Fury turned as he spoke, and Andor realized that it had been intently watching the active speaker in the conversation as they spoke, which was him right now. He froze.

"Very well, I'll have a look," Valka said. She walked over to the cage, and Chaghatai's men opened the door for her to enter. She took a deep breath and stepped in, and the men closed the door behind her for their own security.

Andor and Chaghatai began to discuss some other matters amongst themselves, and Valka tuned them out. She met the yellow eyes of the hissing she-Night Fury in front of her, and sighed sadly.

"Oh, you poor creature," she whispered. This muzzled female dragon before her was utterly restrained—the chains around her chest were so tight that they effectively pinned her against the cage walls. Valka tried to step closer to get a better look, but the dragon lifted up a paw and snarled, stopping her from approaching.

She stepped back and slouched, making her posture submissive. "Don't worry, I'm not here to hurt you," she said, careful not to be heard by anyone other than the dragon in front of her.

The dragon stopped snarling and lowered her paw before looking at Valka… skeptically? No, Valka reasoned that her last thought was caused by her mind twisting what she saw into something else.

"Here, have a smell and maybe you'll get to know me better," she said, holding out her hand.

The dragon smelled her morbid dragonskin sleeve, and unsurprisingly snarled again, before Valka pulled back the sleeve so as to expose the second cloak underneath. The dragon sniffed her weave of Cloudjumper's donated scales, and froze.

"I'm not one of them," she whispered. "I look like a hunter on the outside, but on the inside, I'm a Dragon Rider."

The Night Fury cocked her head and looked up at Valka, producing a quiet, questioning warble.

"I'm going to get you out of here someday," Valka whispered, "I don't think I can free you today, but I'll come back later to save you. I promise."

Someone knocked on the cage door behind her, and she turned to see who it was. It was Chaghatai. "Excuse me Scale-Stalker, what are you doing?"

"I'm pacifying the dragon before I inspect it," she said calmly. "I can't examine a dragon if it's angry and trying to hurt me."

"Huh, very well then," he said, before turning away to resume conversing with Andor. Valka turned back to the dragon, which had resumed glaring at her since Chaghatai's interruption.

"Could you play along?" she pleaded, stepping over to the dragon's side.

Surprisingly, the dragon obliged and extended a wing.

"Huh. Well, let's begin."

Valka brought her hands up to the wing and traced the leading edge, checking the joints for damage.

"My goodness, you have a story," she said sadly upon finding several scars. "You've flown many winds and fought many battles—were you trying to get away from the hunters?"

The dragon hummed sorrowfully.

Valka scanned the rest of the wing for any tears or punctures, and found none. "Here, let's have a look at your tail and the other wing."

She loosened the bindings to let the dragon move away from the wall of the cage.

"Oh my Gods, what did they do to you?" she hissed, rushing over to check the other wing. This one was covered in several manmade welts, and, upon tracing the wing, she noticed that one of the wing-bones was fractured. The dragon suppressed a whimper when she brushed her fingers against it.

"Monsters," she breathed. She turned to look at the dragon's amber-yellow eyes, and made her sympathy as clear as possible. "Mark my words, I will get you out of here someday, even if you cannot fly."

The Night Fury warbled quietly, and pressed her muzzled snout into Valka's hand. She flinched in surprise. Most wild dragons were slow to trust anyone like that.

Or maybe this dragon wasn't truly wild. She moved over to check the dragon's legs and tail, taking care not to be intrusive. "My son used to be great friends with one of your kind… did you ever get to know a human before?" That would explain how this dragon was so trusting of her and seemingly aware of spoken words.

The Night Fury warbled again, this time more excitedly. Valka frowned, trying and failing to interpret the multifaceted sound. She didn't have the chance to learn the tongue of the elusive Night Fury species in the past, and she couldn't tell if the dragon had somehow understood and responded to her question affirmatively, or if the dragon was just happy to see someone who wasn't a hunter. She considered bringing out her rattle-staff to communicate, but decided against it, for fear of drawing attention to herself.

Eventually, she finished inspecting the dragon. There were several scars and minor injuries, but the only serious thing was the wing that she had seen earlier. She finished up her business, and began to move towards the cage exit until she looked back at the Night Fury. The dragon seemed to become more and more distraught as she pulled away, as if losing a friend.

Valka quickly glanced around to check if nobody was watching, and stepped back within whispering distance.

"Stay strong, dark one," she said. "I know the world looks bleak, but no matter how surrounded you may feel by the darkness, do not quench your flame of hope. Let your soul burn brightly and defiantly like a midnight torch, bringing light and warmth to the world around you, and know that the gloom will not last forever. Eventually, the night will end, and dawn will come to join you in your struggle against the dark."

The dragon hummed and looked at her for a moment, before withdrawing to the corner of the cage and lying down to rest. Valka turned towards the cage door and got the attention of the nearest guards. They let her out, and she walked over to the spot where Andor and Chaghatai were talking.

Chaghatai was in the midst of rambling on about something, but it didn't seem very important, considering that Andor broke away from him mid-sentence as she approached.

"Welcome back, Scale-Stalker. What is the report?" Andor asked.

"Well, this adult Night Fury of thirty years or so is in average shape and has no signs of illness, but it has one major injury you should consider," Valka said. "Its right wing has been lashed and struck multiple times, breaking the bone on the leading edge and preventing it from taking flight." She paused for a moment, thinking of a way to spin the truth into something that could help.

"I would advise you to set the bone back in place so it can heal, even though you obviously don't plan to set the dragon free," she added. "A grounded dragon's mental state will deteriorate much quicker and make it harder to control than an uninjured one, even if both of them are contained and have no chance of returning to the sky."

Chaghatai frowned, and Andor scoffed before speaking. "Mental state? Since when did dragons have mental states?" he said. "But, I suppose you have a point about fixing its wing to stop it from going berserk. Anyways, it's good to hear that the dragon is in fair health otherwise, but I have to ask you something. Is it male or female?"

"...it's female."

"Good—" Andor began.

"So, I'll be candid," Chaghatai interrupted. "Do you want to buy it?"

"Absolutely," Andor sighed. "A dragon of such great calibre requires equally great compensation."

Andor gestured to his men, and he left to help them wheel over a cart containing a collection of scales and claws, among other less glamorous parts, and a large quantity of gold.

Andor saw Chaghatai's eyebrows rise as the cart came to him, and he felt a wave of guilt wash over himself. Chaghatai would most certainly use these dragon-derived products to harm other tribes. Bones, claws, spines, and teeth made for lightweight, sharp blades, while scales and hides made for unique armour, somewhat weaker than their manmade metal counterparts, yet much lighter. Andor detested knowing that Chaghatai would use these things to harm others, but it wasn't like he had a choice, did he? He knew of no other way to appease the warlord's greed.

"My goodness, this is a sizable overpayment," Chaghatai muttered to himself. "I usually only see this much gold after raiding a small village or two—how did you get so much?"

"Well, the dragon trade is lucrative, and their scarcity has only driven prices up," Andor said. "If it weren't for the inherent dangers, it would make for a fine trade." He paused before deciding to take a shot at Chaghatai. "Not to mention that it's far less cruel than taking land and gold by force."

Chaghatai didn't hear him, and Andor watched Chaghatai's men transfer the gold to his ships until he remembered something. There was some unpleasant business that he had to get out of the way, and it would be best to do it now while Chaghatai was still in a good mood from the excess gold.

"Oh, could I ask you something?" Andor said, "I wish to renew our treaty. Would you mind signing it?"

Chaghatai's face fell. "Right, the blood oath treaty. Let's get it over with."

Andor retrieved a parchment and a dagger, and drew blood from his own palm before signing the paper. He quickly checked over his writing—an agreement that stated Chaghatai and his men wouldn't touch Andor's island so long as Andor provided them with a steady supply of dragon products—and he handed the paper and blade over to Chaghatai.

The warlord repeated the process nonchalantly before handing it back, and Andor nearly gawked at how casual he was—a blood oath treaty was nothing to scoff at. But then again, Chaghatai wasn't from these lands, nor was he a Norseman for that matter, and his word wasn't worth much.

"Alright, now that the business is over with," Chaghatai said, "what do you wish to do now?"

"Well, if we're finished our business," Valka interrupted, "I'd say that we ought to leave and carry on with our own affairs, shouldn't we?"

Andor nodded with her, but Chaghatai objected. "Actually, I have a few things I wish to show you before I leave—"

"No thank you," Andor interrupted. Chaghatai had a habit of showing off 'a few things', or inventions and weapons, rather, for intimidation and propaganda. It would be best to change the topic. "Say, what was Grimmel the Grisly like before he betrayed you?"

"Grimmel? Ah, he reminded me of Stoick's son. They were runts who couldn't stand the pressures from their villages to mature, so they cheated and fooled everyone into thinking they were greater than they actually were. Grimmel claimed to have killed every last Night Fury, while Stoick's son supposedly tamed one. Heh, I wonder if Stoick knew how much of a failure his successor would be."

"Hey, Stoick the Vast was a fine dragon-slayer until his son learned to control the dragons. It's a shame his son betrayed him in the end by commanding a Night Fury to kill him."

"No, the runt's control over it was weak. My late lord, Drago, had the Night Fury kill Stoick. Nothing stood in the way of his dragon army."

Andor scoffed. "Where is this 'dragon army' you keep mentioning? From what I've heard, that lone Night Fury took down Drago's beast and then took over what would've been your dragon army!"

Chaghatai didn't respond. Valka stared at her feet.

"Berk's Night Fury took down a Bewilderbeast!" Andor shrieked. "Do you know how much firepower it takes to blast that monster into submission?! If a Night Fury can do that, imagine what it could do to an entire village! Night Furies are a threat to the safety of my people—all dragons are a threat to the people, to mankind. I can't have that."

"And that is why Drago tried to conquer them," Chaghatai said. "By conquering the dragon menace, he could stop its spread."

Andor looked at him skeptically. Conquering the dragons had given Drago lots of power, and all of that power had corrupted him. Andor suspected Chaghatai was no different. "But Drago couldn't hold on to the dragons, and neither could Berk. They lost control of them in the end."

"Maybe they have, but I won't," Chaghatai said. "It's only a matter of time before my scouting ships find the dragons' current refuge. We've narrowed down the search perimeter by a fair amount already."

Andor shook his head. "I think you're playing a fool's game—trying to hunt down their home is suicide. One of my expeditions came close, and I learned that lesson at the expense of my men—trust me, it's not worth it."

"I think we'll have to agree to disagree," Chaghatai said. "My belief is that Berk released their dragons because they were afraid we would capture them, so they decided that it would be better for nobody to have the dragons instead. But I think we can still find and control them though, if we try hard enough."

"I suppose that's one possible explanation for the Great Disappearance," Andor said. "But now that Drago and his forbidden knowledge is gone, how will you control the dragons when you get them? What, will you just capture New Berk and demand to know their secrets?"

"Why yes, you just read my mind," Chaghatai said, menacingly stepping closer so that only Valka and Andor could hear his words. Valka felt her pulse quicken upon hearing that, and for a moment, she thought Chaghatai was trying to provoke a response from her. But she managed to conceal her tension, preserving her disguise. She needed to find an excuse to leave this place within a few hours so she could bring the news to Hiccup as soon as possible…

"Well, good luck with that," Andor chided. "It's a mountain of an island and just about impossible to attack, even if your forces outnumber the defenders."

"I can always deploy more men to overwhelm the problem," Chaghatai said. "Failing that, I'll just lay siege to the island. Would you be interested in assisting my troops?"

"No." Berk was the one tribe that Andor would not care for if they disappeared overnight, but he did not wish to shed blood over an island he had no stake in.

"But aren't you an enemy of Berk?" Chaghatai questioned. "If you're the enemy of my enemy, you ought to be my friend. Would you do me a favor?"

"No, I decline. I am not on good terms with Berk, but they have not provoked nor harmed me or my people, so they do not concern me."

Valka felt her skin turn pale. She was very, very grateful that she had thought of wearing a cloak for anonymity before stepping onto this island. Andor would most certainly consider her espionage to be a provocation, if he ever recognized her.

"Are you sure they have not done anything to you?" Chaghatai said. "They have been raiding my merchant ships for years both before and after the Great Disappearance. They would definitely be interested in your dragon harvesting and trading operations." He shot a glance at Valka as he spoke, trying to elicit a reaction from her, but she remained impassive.

"I don't think so," Andor said. "How would they raid my ships? They don't have possession of dragons anymore, and their naval fleet is practically nonexistent."

"According to my subordinates, their raiding parties drop out of the sky with false wings and armour made of scales," Chaghatai said.

Andor gaped. "I thought that was a myth! No man can fly without the help of a dragon."

"It's not a myth."

Andor shook his head. "Well, I'll believe it when I see it. Anyway, about Berk's raids, I'm sure I could always negotiate a compromise with them if I had to. There's no need for an invasion and bloodshed over simple disputes."

"Why settle a matter with pencils when you can settle it with swords? It's much quicker that way, and the winner takes it all," Chaghatai said.

"Please, I'd rather not discuss this further," Andor said. "If you wish to assault Berk, that is your business. Let's talk about something else."

Valka breathed a sigh of relief, before she saw Chaghatai smiling unnervingly at Andor. "Very well. Perhaps my great Dynasty's latest inventions will fascinate you."

"Inventions? I didn't come here just to watch a weapons demonstration."

"Oh please, I'm sure you'll appreciate it," Chaghatai said, turning to address his men.

One of his sailors handed him a strange crossbow and a few arrows, while another arranged a painted target in front of him. Valka noticed a lever and a tall box built into the crossbow, above the place where one would usually load an arrow.

Chaghatai spun and aimed at the target, racking the lever back and forth. A sudden volley of arrows shot out, and Andor's guards flinched.

After Chaghatai ran out of shots, he opened the box, loaded a few arrows, and then immediately began firing again. He unleashed another storm on his target, and upon finishing, he turned back to Andor. He held up the weapon, looking satisfied.

"The repeating crossbow," he announced. "The lever mechanism and gravity-fed magazine combine the action of drawing, loading, and shooting the bow into a one-handed movement, enabling the user to fire at a much higher rate of fire than your normal crossbows can."

Andor was unfazed. "But not with nearly as much force or accuracy as my metal crossbows and windlasses can achieve, I see that."

"You can fire ten shots and reload this repeating crossbow in the time it takes to wind up and fire one crossbow bolt," Chaghatai countered. "We cover the tips with poisons or tranquilizers to make up for the weak shots."

"I've seen these kinds of bows before, and let me tell you, they're useless against dragons," Andor said. "Their accuracy and power is horrible. A trained archer with a longbow can achieve a similar rate of fire, albeit with much more range and power, if they hold multiple arrows in their hand. Furthermore, the tranquilizers take too long to act, unless you have found Grimmel's long-lost Deathgripper venom recipe."

"Fair point, but these things are easy to use and make—even the peasant's housewife can use one, no training required. Just hand these out to your common soldiers, and they will eventually defeat a dragon if you deploy enough of them. There will be some losses, but that's inevitable."

"My people are not expendable, nor are they peasants!" Andor barked. "Their lives are just as valuable as my own."

"Hmph. It's a small price to pay to maintain your reign. How else will you conquer your foes?"

"I defend my island with a well-trained militia. I don't take land by force."

"Well-trained? High training is unnecessary for the common army," Chaghatai said, glaring at him. "It's wasteful for soldiers that will inevitably die in battle."

"Excuse me, the whole point of training is to prevent them from dying!"

Chaghatai raised his voice. "The best way to keep your forces intact is to simply recruit more of them!"

Andor bit his tongue and took a breath to calm himself. It probably wasn't the best idea to get into an argument with a warlord. "Okay, fine. I suppose we have different opinions, considering that I lead an island with a small population, while you rule over the mainlands with much more people."

"Indeed—"

"Now, I'd rather not get into a debate over the art of war," Andor interrupted. "Can we change the topic?"

Chaghatai chuckled. "Sure, but, isn't that a bit awkward?"

"We are not friends," Andor said sternly. "I supply you with dragon exports, and in return, none of your men set foot on my island."

"Dragon exports… Say, I heard you figured out how to extract the Deadly Nadder's fire. How did you manage that?"

Valka interrupted on behalf of Andor. "It's a secret."

Andor nodded with her, and Chaghatai grumbled before burrowing his face in his palm. "Okay, let's change the topic."

Andor nodded. Maybe he could get some information about the latest events by asking Chaghatai a pointed question or two. "I recall that you used to be in an alliance of sorts with two other warlords, Ragnar and Griselda. How are they doing now?"

"They're dead."

"What?"

"Ragnar the Rock was eaten alive during the Battle of Berk—by a horde of Hobgobblers, of all things. They practically ate the deck of his ship out from underneath him."

"Well, that's unfortunate—"

"It wasn't a big loss. He was an impressive, hulking warrior, but about as mature as a child. His troops practically begged for me to take over in his place."

"Er, fine then," Andor said. "What about Griselda the Grevious?"

Chaghatai chucked gruffly. "She and I nearly met our end during the same battle as Ragnar did. While we were fighting the Dragon Riders, a dragon cage slipped and trapped us aboard a sinking ship, but we managed to escape dying. Well, I did. When we began our retreat after the Riders' victory and Grimmel's death, I learned that Griselda had planned to kill me and Ragnar in order to take over our fleets. Now, I'm not much of a backstabber like she was, but Ragnar was already gone, so I figured I was next. Ironically, she was the one who ended up with a knife in her back."

"Huh. I don't know what to say about that," Andor said. He shook his head. The conquerors' endless pursuits baffled him—it was all in the pursuit of power, power over others, power to satisfy their desires to place themselves on top of the world. It was a cruel game, a fool's game that cost too much gold and blood, ultimately ending with a dagger in one's back.

"Andor, it's a dragon-eat-dragon world out there," Chaghatai said. "Sometimes you've got to cut out a path for yourself."

"Well, I can agree with the first part," Andor said. "Now, I'd say that we've done enough good business and talking for one day. Shall we bid farewell and head off for our own affairs?"

"Wait, there's one last thing I want to show you," Chaghatai said, turning to speak to his sailors. They went off to his ships, retrieving something.

Andor saw the previous crossbow demonstration for what it was. Posturing and propaganda. "No thank you, please. I already spend too many resources on my own extravagant weaponry."

"No, you will definitely appreciate this one. It's a tide-turner, for sure," Chaghatai said coolly as two men emerged from his ships, carrying two narrow boxes. Andor noticed that the boxes featured paintings and carvings of eagles, dragons, and other predators of the sky.

Andor chuckled nervously. "Well, what is it?"

Chaghatai's men unslung their boxes and set them down the planks. One box contained a compartment with several tubes inside, while the other came off to reveal a strange object resembling a lance. It could only be described as a long tube with a cone-shaped top, and several fins at the bottom in imitation of a dragon's tailfins.

"My alchemists have discovered 'flaming medicine', as they call it," Chaghatai said. "They named it after the failed search for the nonexistent elixir of longevity, but let me tell you, it's definitely not medicine you'd want to give to anyone other than your enemies."

Andor noticed a few strings trailing out from the bottom of the box and odd lance. A sailor grabbed them with one hand in preparation to light them with a torch.

"'Flaming medicine'?" Andor scoffed. "Let me take a guess. It's a new poison that causes a horrible burning sensation in the victim. Ha!"

The sailor lit the strings.

"No, actually. It's a weapon of war that's so effective in battle, it created an entirely new profession dedicated to making more of them," Chaghatai said. Suddenly, he ducked and brought his hands up to cover his ears.

The bottom of the lance ignited, and a violent, hissing torrent of fire shot out from the bottom, sending it rocketing upward into the sky. It flew up so quickly that Andor lost track of it for a moment until he craned his neck up to watch it rise. His guards took a few steps back, drawing their swords in panic, but there was nothing they could do but watch as the unnatural projectile rose—

It exploded. A colossal, savage fireball blossomed and blocked out a few clouds, throwing streaks of metal shrapnel into the sky as a great thunderclap shook the air.

Andor backpedaled, ears ringing. "What the—"

The second box erupted, sending a volley of fire and smoke shooting up into the sky, followed by a horrible, earsplitting cacophony of explosions and shrapnel. A few islanders screamed, but they went unheard, the noise of the blasts drowning them out.

In an instant, Valka and Andor's group retreated off the wharf. Nearby horses in the village went on a stampede at the sudden noises, and some villagers burst out of their homes, thinking their island was under attack. A few militiamen assembled nearby while others went off to load nearby catapults.

Chaghatai turned to look at Andor, barely concealing his smugness. "Behold, the great Fire Lance. Impressive, is it not?"

Andor took a moment to steady himself. He looked around, noticing his distraught guards and islanders looking to him for guidance, before turning back to glare at the warlord with ferocity. "Chaghatai, I distinctly recall warning you in the past not to demonstrate your weaponry on my island."

"This display just took place above the water, off of your island. No harm was caused."

Andor scowled, turning to his men to whisper an instruction.

His lead guard gawked upon receiving the message. "You want me to—are you sure?"

"Yes, do it now."

The guard turned to signal to Andor's archers on the rooftops, and they turned to pass the message on to unseen messengers. Chaghatai began reciting some speech about his empire's greatness and their advanced weaponry, but Andor ignored it until his men signalled back to him. The weapon was ready.

"Chaghatai," Andor interrupted, his expression becoming grim. "Your show of force is impressive, but I will not tolerate such incursions on or near my territory. I have already warned you in the past."

A catapult fired in the distance, and Valka looked up, spotting a cloth ball soaring high above. It bore a resemblance to the balls used for Andor's target practice, but there was something different about this particular projectile. It was burning.

The flames ate through the cloth covering, and it burst open. A searing, painfully white fireball engulfed the projectile as it flew, leaving a concentrated torrent of sparkles in its wake. Buildings and people on the ground grew another shadow as if illuminated by a second sun.

Valka gasped, recognizing the fireball as that of Nadder's fire-extract. The projectile began to arc towards the ships, and she watched it in horror, as if the storm of sparkles was a window through which she could see a dead future, a future where the spark of dragonkind was entrapped and weaponized forever.

The fireball fell out of the sky and struck the water. Upon impact, the flames erupted, sending a geyser of hot water sweeping over Chaghatai's men. None of them were seriously hurt, but it was enough to spook them.

And then there was a pause.

Valka looked around, and she suddenly found her staff in her hands when she saw Andor's islanders and Chaghatai's sailors lined up on opposite sides of the docks in a showdown, weapons drawn.

A cacophony of silence hung in the air as the standoff dragged on. For a moment, Valka thought a battle was about to break out, until she looked at Andor. Everyone had their weapons drawn except for him, as he did not carry a sword.

"That was a warning shot, Chaghatai."

A beat passed.

"I understand."

Chaghatai's acknowledgement defused the tension, and the sailors and islanders alike relaxed their postures and weapons.

"I have been developing my own unique weapons as well," Andor said. "As you may have figured, the one you just saw is an anti-ship weapon that can be used on land and at sea, generating blazing infernos that cannot be put out with water."

"Is that a threat?"

"No. Let me get this straight; I do not wish to fight you, but I do request and demand that you do not disrupt the peace on my island."

"Alright," Chaghatai said. "I won't do that again."

The islanders and sailors around them relaxed further, and some semblance of normal life returned to the village. Andor sighed, partly in relief and in frustration. He had finally earned the respect of the warlord before him, but only after showing his mettle and provoking a near life-and-death confrontation.

He took a breath, and spoke. "If you don't have any other important activities to do, I'd say that you ought to get going once your ships are ready. If you need to purchase anything to restock your ships, ask my people for Skuf or any of my other deputies, and they'll help."

Chaghatai nodded. "But one last thing," he said, before suddenly turning to look straight at Valka. "Scale-Stalker, I think I remember you from the past. Your voice and mannerisms are too familiar." He turned back to Andor. "Did you see how she was inspecting that dragon you bought earlier? I know this woman. Scale-Stalker is a Dragon Rider from Berk, and she rides a four-winged Stormcut—"

"Nonsense!" Andor barked. "First you disrupt the peace on my island, and now you're trying to oust one of my most loyal traders! Besides, I can always have her show me her face if I ever have any doubts—"

He heard a scuffle from behind, and halted mid-sentence. His guards turned to look around, confused.

She was gone.

Valka turned and ran, breaking out of Andor's escort before they could react. She had seized the advantage of surprise and ran away, as she could not risk getting entrapped in a bad situation this far from home. Besides, she had seen and heard enough bad news for a lifetime, and she needed to get out of here now to tell her son.

"Scale-Stalker, where are you going?!" Andor cried. A few guards called after her until they realized what she was doing, and began chasing.

Valka ignored them and pumped her legs faster. Thankfully, they were not catching up to her as they were just as burdened by their armour as she was by her cloak and scales.

She angled for the streets that lead uphill, towards the uninhabited peaks and hilltops of the island. Cloudjumper could not rescue her here, not in the middle of a village with dense defences and streets, and she needed to reach his hiding place in order to escape. But Andor's people had horses, and the cliffs were distant. It would only be a matter of time before they caught up to her if she couldn't think of a way to evade them.

She scanned her surroundings as she weaved through the streets. This part of the village was close to the docks, the hub of commerce, and was densely packed as a result. Some buildings sported multiple floors and balconies, and many of them barely had more than enough room between themselves for a person to squeeze through. A plan began to take shape in her mind.

And it was not a moment too soon before she heard hoofbeats up ahead. A horseman came barreling around a corner ahead up, charging right at her. She dashed for an alley and made it just in time, the horse skidding to a stop at the narrow entrance just behind her.

"Odin damn it!" the rider cursed, before addressing the pursuers on foot behind him. "You lads, come here! Make sure she doesn't sneak out this way while I loop around to the other side."

Valka rushed down to the end of the alley as fast as she could, finding an entrance to a building with a second floor and a balcony. She burst in, suddenly finding herself in a shop with shelves of dragon-derived weapons around her, a stairway at the back, and a merchant right in front of her.

"Oh! Scale-Stalker!" the merchant said. "It's good to see you again. You seem to be in an awful hurry—do you have some dragon parts I could buy off of you?"

Valka ran past him for the stairs, accidentally knocking over a few tables as she did, much to his distress. She raced up the stairs and made her way to the balcony on the second floor before stepping outside.

Someone shouted from below as she came out. Andor's guards were fast approaching.

She took a deep breath and climbed onto the balcony railing, easily balancing on the handrail as she drew her staff. She lifted it up to hook onto the roof above, finding a steady grip before heaving herself up with a grunt. After climbing up onto the rooftop, she took a moment to look around, realizing that she had a great vantage point from atop the merchant's shop. From here she could see a few ship masts poking up from beyond the nearby rooftops, and in the other direction, the hills that led to Cloudjumper's hiding place. To freedom.

She walked over to the edge of the roof, looking down into the narrow alley she had just ran through. Andor's men were storming it and the building below, searching the area for any trace of her. She smiled. They did not know that she had climbed onto the roof just yet.

She turned her focus to the building across the alleyway. It was another two-floor building like the one she stood on, and it was tantalizingly close.

She took a few steps back before running forward and jumping. After clearing the gap, she continued running, finding another easily traversable gap to leap across. Eventually, she came across a building that was much lower and further away than the one she now stood on, requiring a daring jump.

She sized up the gap before herself and grinned. This was child's play compared to hopping from one airborne dragon to the next at her old dragon sanctuary, many years ago.

She pulled back to run again, and held out her staff in front of herself as she lept. She fell short of the roof ahead, but caught the edge with the hook of her staff, using her feet to absorb her momentum against the wall of the building. She ended up in a hanging position against the wall before hauling herself up onto the roof.

She took another look at her surroundings. Andor's chasers had completely lost track of her and were nowhere to be seen. Andor's militia was competent, and they had mobilized efficiently to capture her, but they could not predict that she would climb to the rooftops to escape, nor did they know that she had years of experience in jumping from one place to another in a living nest of dragons.

She laughed for a moment before silencing herself, chastising herself for being so smug. After taking a moment to catch her breath, she flew over a few more rooftops with feral agility until she reached a gap she could not cross, and then lowered herself down to the ground with her staff. She dropped down with a roll and began jogging for the hills, cutting through the side streets to avoid as many villagers as possible.

Valka reached the crest of the hilltops and leaned over, chest heaving. She made it.

But not quite. As soon as she stopped running and the sound of her own footsteps subsided, she picked up the sound of horses approaching rapidly.

She ran over to a nearby cliff and swung her staff several times, producing a summoning whistle. A bellow shook the air, and a red-and-orange Stormcutter shot out from a cave at the base of the cliff. It was no dragon other than Cloudjumper himself.

"Cloudjumper! Hurry!" Valka called. He looked up and acknowledged her plea with a roar, pumping his four wings as hard as he could to hasten his ascent towards her.

Andor's horsemen came up the hilltop and spotted her, turning towards her and charging. Cloudjumper was still climbing up from below, and it quickly became clear that he would not reach her before the horses did.

An insane, reckless idea took shape in her mind, and she peered over the cliff to look into Cloudjumper's eyes, her trust in him resolute.

Cloudjumper seemed to wordlessly understand her plan and nod back at her. She took a few steps back from the ledge and launched herself forward to jump off, throwing out her arms as she tumbled towards his open claws.

A\N:

Literal cliffhanger ending! Sorry, but I couldn't resist ironically mocking the trope. Then again, that technically wasn't much of a cliffhanger because we know Valka survived and made it back to Berk…

This chapter was long and dense! Hopefully I didn't overwhelm you with too much information. Please let me know how I did and leave a review.

Onto the actual chapter notes:

-According to the HTTYD wiki, the Deadly Nadder's fire type is magnesium. Magnesium fires burn with extreme heat and brightness, and react violently with water, hence the unique properties of "Nadder's fire-extract".

-Chaghatai's "Fire Lances" are weaponized fireworks. "Flaming medicine" is the literal translation of the Chinese word for gunpowder, and it was invented around the time the Vikings were active in Europe. While gunpowder didn't spread to real-life Europe until a few centuries later, it could've already reached the Vikings in the HTTYD universe. One of the warlords from the third film, Chaghatai, has made it to Berk (Northern Europe), and the wiki states that he's from Asia. So, gunpowder is here.

-Andor Folkvarðrson's name means "eagle" and "guardian of the people". He's actually the primary antagonist, but you may have noticed that he's nothing like Drago or Grimmel at all. You see, I can't stand the shallow "bad guy" template; the villain who is monstrously evil yet simple, one who just enjoys hurting others. No, I had to write something different and overly ambitious. Hopefully, it all goes well… (for me, the writer!)

Whew, that's everything! Future chapters should come much quicker thanks to my upgraded plans. With the exception of the next chapter, expect updates every 4th weekend or sooner. The next chapter should come at the end of June, after the school crunch ends.