No one knew who he was or where he came from.
That was not so unusual these days in the Castle Town. Ever since the Twilight Invasion and subsequent spawning of monsters, many people had fled the hinterlands for the relative protection of the castle walls. The invaders had decimated the castle guard and set the grand towers ablaze, but then left it and its remaining inhabitants alone, like an animal that had ousted another from its burrow.
However benign the new ruler might be within the walls, fleeing outsiders told chilling tales of nameless shadows that devoured human and Goron alike, leaving nothing behind. The rumors said that even the Zora had been attacked, their Queen killed, their Prince in exile somewhere in the town.
Telma knew all of the rumors, and could verify the truth of many deemed too frightening to be real. She also knew quite a few things about what went on inside the castle, for instance that their Princess was alive but imprisoned. As long as their monarch drew breath, much of Hyrule believed, there was still a chance for their country. After all, hadn't the Princess herself disappeared for seven years in the old tales of the Hero?
So the thin man with scarred arms was just another visitor as far as Telma was concerned. The hood he wore over his face was no different from the six or seven others that dotted the tables. She did take note of the way he moved, with a easy grace, as if accustomed to slinking in the shadows. He did not dwell in the doorway like most, but went straight to the bar, and acknowledged her with a nod of the head.
"What can I get for you, honey?" she asked, putting on her best business smile.
He made a quick look around. "A place this big must have some kind of house specialty." His voice was low, and calm.
"One special, coming up," Telma replied. The visitor had piqued her curiosity. Most outsiders came in looking lost and afraid. This man was obviously not from the town, but in his travels had apparently not come across anything frightening enough to shake him. Hyrule could always use people like that. She selected a home brew of her own making, something that had been passed down from her mother's side of the family.
He took a drink, pausing halfway through. "Unusual stuff, this."
Telma winked. "Old family recipe. Said to be handed down from the desert bandits."
He snorted. "That's quite a claim, lady."
"Every good bar needs at least one."
"Fair enough." He said nothing more, but drained his drink, left a few coins on the table, and departed. Disappointed, Telma cleaned his glass and went back to work as usual.
Not for long. He came again two nights later, but this time requested plain beer. "The desert brew too much for you to handle?" Telma joked.
He scowled, and looked as if he wanted to say something more, but didn't. She tried to strike up a conversation but got nothing out of him, just a grunt of thanks as he tossed his coins on the table.
So when he came the third time, Telma resolved to say nothing after fulfilling his order. He didn't speak either, but she noticed him watching Rauru and the others in the side room. He did so surreptitiously, so subtle that she would not have noticed if she hadn't been doing the same to him every moment. It occurred to her that he might be a spy from the castle, though she wasn't aware of the usurpers hiring local people to do anything. Their servants were shadows and monsters, and they were anything but subtle.
"So, where are you from?" she asked, trying to shift his focus from the little knot of Resistance members.
"Out of town," he replied, uninterested.
"Yeah, I can see that. But you're not Ordonian, or from the mountains. And you're definitely not from the lowlands."
He stared at her for a long moment, then said, "I am from south of Ordon. And I am looking for work."
She leaned down on the bar. "What kind of work?"
"I am a monster-hunter."
She made a short laugh. "Well, you've come to the right place! But why didn't you say so earlier? I could have hooked you up with a job or two the first time we met."
He took a long drink, as if considering his answer. "I wanted to see if there were any others around, first. I'm only interested in fighting monsters. Not other hunters."
"Trust me, there's more than enough to go around. Is this your first trip to Hyrule?"
"Yes."
"It's not normally like this. But I guess you knew that, right? That must be why you came all the way here for work."
"I do a lot of traveling. I've been to many places."
"Well, we don't have a lot of monster-hunters because we don't usually have a lot of monsters." She lowered her voice. "There was a coup not too long ago."
He took a drink. "I'm not interested in your local politics."
"Fair enough. Just giving you some background. Anyway, that's why you don't have to worry too much about competition."
He put down his glass. "So. Do you have work? Or do I need to speak to someone else?"
"You said you're from south of Ordon, right? Then you must have seen the gangs of Bokoblins in the fields. There's always people willing to trade gold for their hides, to try and keep what's left of the roads relatively passable. Bring the hides to me and I'll pay you the bounty."
He nodded. "Very well. I'll be back in a few days." He tossed his coins on the counter.
"Say, friend, what's your name?" Telma asked with a winning smile.
He frowned, and turned away. "None of your business."
Four days later he brought in six Bokoblin hides. Telma could not help being impressed with both the size and the number. "Did they give you any trouble?" she asked as she handed over the money.
He pushed a few coins back toward her. "Not really."
She poured his drink. "We can always use talents like yours. Don't be afraid to ask for more work."
He drank in silence for a while, then asked, "What kind of work?"
"Well, we've got messenger duty."
"I've got no horse and I'm not much of a runner."
"There's for-hire bodyguards."
"I don't play well with others."
"Treasure-hunting?"
"I can do that on my own."
She sighed. "Well, there's always more monster-hunting to be done, but you need to be careful. They belong to whoever's running the place now, and he or she or it probably doesn't take kindly to people killing them."
"There's no need for you to worry on my account."
"Hm." Telma crossed her arms, thinking. "I'm guessing that if you can take out Bokoblins so easily that you're good with a blade, but do you have any magic skills?"
"Magic?" He frowned in disbelief. "Is there anyone in this country that has that?"
"Well, whoever brought those things is packing some pretty heavy mana. We don't see much of that here, though of course the tales tell us that such things were more common in the old days."
"Old tales always do. I've seen magic done, but I don't have any myself." He paused for a bit, staring at his glass. "Just let me know if you need any more monsters cleaned out. It's the one thing I know how to do well. Let me worry about their owner. Unless there is anyone else?"
Telma frowned. When the trouble started, she had eagerly watched for any sign of a Hero sent by the Goddesses, assured by Rauru that there was more history than myth on those old stories. But now she was beginning to doubt him.
"No," she said at last. "There isn't. Go to the fields between Kakariko and Ordon – I'll pay you for whatever hides you bring in."
The man left the bar, weaving his way in between the crowds of people in the streets. Or rather, spirits. For he could see them as they were. But the spirits did not seem to take notice of him, their semitransparent eyes traveling over him and away. He crossed the courtyard with its dry fountain and walked up to the gates, where two guards stood. Neither one acknowledged him, even when passed straight through the solid oak wood.
He walked over the bridge, through the frosted, charred gardens. He passed through a second set of doors, made of stone this time. For he, too, was a spirit, and as he entered the main hall of his palace he changed his ethereal form to reflect the one he had carried in life.
"Zant," said the man. Even without the use of vocal cords his voice echoed throughout the hall. Within moments a hail of twilight descended and coalesced into the form of another man, in foreign robes with sleeves that hung over his hands and an odd helmet that hid his face.
The newcomer knelt, not daring to look up into the golden-eyed face above him, even though he had seen it in a much more impressive form. Whether his head was wreathed in gold fire or crimson hair, this man was still his god. A man that literally held the power of the gods in his hand, as evident by the mark it bore. "Yes, my Master?"
His god's face curled down into a scowl. "Zant. At what point did you think it appropriate to slay the Queen of the Zora?"
"M-my Lord Ganondorf!" Zant squeaked. "I-they would not surrender, so I was forced to take certain measures..."
"Zant." Ganondorf did not raise his voice, but at the sound of his name his charge nearly folded over. "The Zora control the river. They cannot dispel the ice in which you have locked their water."
"I merely was using the same method that you yourself-"
"Zant!" Ganondorf snapped, and he cowered. "How did I know this? I saw the fountain in the court was dry. The people complained to the guards. The guards said the lake was dry. They also said that the winds from the north were unusually cold. And," he said as he leaned down closer to the terrified man, "I heard talk that the Zora Prince was hiding somewhere in the town. There is only one reason he would attempt that journey on his own."
Zant's incoherent mumbling bubbled up from his trembling frame, until finally Ganondorf burst out with an angry roar. "Zant! I did not suffer years in exile in the Twilight Realm for you to destroy the land that I covet. It is not your place to meddle. Your place is on the Twili throne, once I have secured mine. Until then you only do what I tell you, nothing more. Is that understood?"
"Y-yes, Master!"
"Then go play your part!"
Zant disappeared. Ganondorf frowned down at his semitransparent form. Until he got his body back, he needed that fool to keep up appearances. But he was hardly worth keeping around if he destroyed Hyrule before Ganondorf could finally come into his own. He would not have even known about the death of the Zora Queen if he had not gone looking for information on his own.
When he had first heard rumors of a resistance movement, Ganondorf wanted to crush it immediately. Yet rooting around the town had given him invaluable information. Perhaps...just perhaps...if he got wind of the presence of a Hero long before he was strong enough to fight, Ganondorf could finally secure Hyrule as his own.