Our world

The regime

This is Berk

The morning sun shone from behind the mountains, covered by pure, thick snow, while the light reflecting from it brightened the Viking village, and hence, the wooden huts. Inside them, some people were still snoring in their beds, some were waking up to their daily work, and some were children, who have been actively playing in the white powder since the sun's raising.

The Island, but also the village, that has its ups and downs

It was well known that the busiest part of the area was the docks, which surrounded was by stalls, fish buckets, sellers, and customers willing into buying their breakfast. One of these fishermen working was his hardest, cutting the fish, serving his clients, and trading the meat with golden coins.

"Next!" The brown-haired Viking yelled, after a proper, earlier-made exchange, and his green eyes locked on the hooded figure. "What can I do for ya?"

"Three fish, please," the person asked, with a gentle, female voice, whose volume was close to a whisper.

"Fresh or older? The second type is cheaper."

"Fresh," she answered, keeping her head low, avoiding the fisherman's sight. "I don't mind the cost," she added, taking out from her pocket the sachet of coins.

"Doing well, aren't ya?" The man chuckled, packing the ordered meal into the empty, leather bag. "The weather is admirable today, isn't it?" He pointed out, attempting to glimpse the woman's face, who only covered herself even more at the question.

"It is nice, lovely."

"Ya think? I would say many things, but lovely?" He went on, trying to keep on the conversation, but noticing the woman's unwillingness to do it, he gave up. "Six," he summed up, placing the order before her.

"Of course," she agreed, and taking out the mentioned price she pulled it out to the man. "Thank ya."

Suddenly, her covering slid from her face, discovering her hidden features. The man detected her reddened over cold, freckled cheeks, weak grin, and dark, green eyes that were lined by the Auburn hair strands. Immediately, he moved away the bag from her, creased his forehead, and rubbed it, sighing.

"Hiccup Haddock, how many times do ya have to be repeated the rules?"

"I have no idea what ye're talkin' about, mister Larsen," Hiccup reacted, shrugging and pressing her lips together. "I don't remember here bein' some rules that apply to me."

At that statement, the man leaned forward abruptly, causing the young woman to flinch forward, and tapped on the wooden sign over him. "We do not sell to dragons," he read the caution on it, sharply.

Although, for some time, these are mostly downs.

"Yes, but as ya can see, that rule doesn't apply to me," Hiccup noted, taking off her hoodie and waving her hands. "Look, I am human, with hands and everythin', just like ya!"

"For now," he remarked as his expression closed up and he leaned his forearms on the table, which was also his stall's part. "Look Hiccup, these rules weren't created without reason. The last time the dragons were let inside the docks five people ended up bruised."

"I understand, I really do, but I'm not exactly a dragon! I won't do a thin' that will cause anyone harm!"

"I'm not that sure of it, maybe somethin' will get into ya, and I don't want to be the one responsible for it."

"Nothin' will get into me!" Hiccup fumed and loosened, inhaling soundly. "Larsen, please, try to understand that I have two men in the house, who will be hungry after the long day of work, and I can't leave them meal-less."