"Stoick, it is time for you to lay your tributes." A messenger says.

I look down.

"Take them and leave. We've done what you want." I hiss.

The messenger nods and turns. I have nothing left to care for. Let them have their tributes. It doesn't matter to me anymore. What kind of a father wouldn't stop the challenge? I could've stopped if. I should've stopped him. 

"Oh... there is one more thing before I forget." He turns to me.

"What now?" I sigh looking up.

"A number of our scouts have been slain in the fields near the old Berk." He says.

I look up. Gobber tuns.

"Yes, word has reached our ears of a man moving here, one with one leg." He says.

My eyes widen. Could it be? Could it be truly true? I grip my hands.

"He's headed this way. We'll put up scouts and archers here, wouldn't want him to cause any trouble for you here." He says.

"Are you really sure it's him causing the trouble?" I ask.

"You would be wise to remember your place, Stoick. Remember, we spared your entire people and Graciously gave you this new home." He says.

"Hmh. If that is what you would call raiding and burning." I say.

"Well... there will be losses." He turns.

"Go back to the Hell that rots you!" I stand up.

He turns and smiles at me.

"Oh no, Stoick this isn't hell for you. It's purgatory." He says.