The weather outside was dreadful, the wind howling fiercely and pounding on the walls of the chief’s house, rain hammering on the roof. Occasionally a flash of lightning illuminated the interior of the cozy little home, and a rumble of thunder harmonized with the stormy concert surrounding the island, forbidding anyone from sleeping. Inside, though, the fire burned brightly in its pit, throwing long shadows on the walls and casting warmth over the scene. Chief Hiccup Haddock of Berk, forty-two, was sitting comfortably at the table across from his twenty-year-old son Hamish. Both men were gazing in studious silence at the game board that sat between them, eyes flitting over each other’s pieces, strategizing and plotting their next moves. Nearer to the fire, Hiccup’s wife Astrid sat in her chair, sharpening her axe with smooth, practiced motions. Hiccup’s Night Fury Toothless was curled up at her feet, eyes half-open, hovering between wakefulness and sleep.