The tavern was filled with the typical bustling, rough-housing, and of course drinking. Ernest, the bartender, considered his good fortune that he would be filling his coffers again. The old hairy man leaned back against his cabinets surveying his patrons whilst cleaning a glass. Two dozen of the customers were usuals. Hardworking men who had earned themselves a tall cold stout at an affordable price. The rest were travelers passing from Termina to Absistus or vice versa.
"Ernie!" cried Tomy, one of the regulars, "gimme a drink for my new friend here." The barrel chested man patted his "new friend" on the back.
Ernest pushed off of the cabinet and reached under the bar for a bottle. "You gonna pay for this or is it goin' onta yer never-ending tab?"
Tomy pointed at Ernest and simultaneously winked while clicking his tongue. Ernest shook his head, but poured a glass for the stranger anyway. Tomy nudged his near empty glass forward ready for the expected refill.
"So what's yer name friend?" he asked, succumbing to his worst/best customer's prompting.
"Marcus Brutus," the man said lifting his glass to thank the generous bartender.
Ernest raised an eyebrow. "A noble?" He glanced at Tomy for confirmation. The man was already hidden behind his upturned glass. "What brings you to my humble tavern Lord Brutus?"
The man smiled revealing perfectly white teeth. "Not a lord, Master Ernie, just a humble Hyrulian Knight."
Ernest leaned over the counter to see that there was indeed a decorated pommel protruding from the man's belt.
"Well, Ser Brutus, what misfortune befell ya that you came across Tomy?" It was not irregular for knights of the surrounding kingdoms to spend the evening at The Cross Guard. It was, however, irregular for one to arrive alone and without some blusterous announcement.
Not only was Ser Brutus's entourage and squire nowhere to be found, he wasn't wearing any armor. As far as Ernest could see the man wasn't wearing anything besides a simple brown traveler's tunic, his sword, and a dagger.
Brutus chuckled kindly. "I consider our meeting good fortune," he patted Tomy on the shoulder in a familiar manner. "If it were not for this fine gentleman I would be stranded somewhere outside Termina with nary a clue where to go."
"You see?" Tomy asked with a drunken grin. "I'm not but a kind, hardworkin' gentleman. Plowin' fields, choppin' wood, and lendin' my aid ta knights and nobles." He clumsily toasted the knight's glass, which was still sitting on the counter.
"Where are you headed then?" the bartender asked. He figured it best to ignore Tomy, lest he cross some boundary and try the knight's patience.
Brutus lifted his glass and took the smallest of sips. Setting the glass back down he answered, "There was no set location. I am supposed to meet an old friend tonight. Unfortunately poor communication has left me unsure of the setting." He tilted his head towards Tomy. "Master Tomy assured me that any traveler within a one hundred mile radius would stop here in your fine establishment."
Ernest bowed slightly. "You flatter me and mine establishment Ser. Would you like a table while you wait on your friend?"
Brutus waved the bartender off. "That isn't necessary."
"Nonsense! Richard, Sakon!" he called across the room. Two patrons looked up from their conversation. "Give yer table to Ser Brutus 'ere!"
With hushed grumbling the two peasants stood from their seats and meandered over to the far end of the counter. Brutus stood up and offered the men a nod.
"Thank you." The knight reached into his tunic and pulled out two red rupees. He tossed them to the uprooted men. "For your inconvenience." Then he retrieved one more rupee and tossed it to the bartender. Ernest's eyes almost leapt from his head as he held the titian-orange rupee. "For Master Tomy's tab."
Ernest tried to mumble some sort of appreciation but the knight cut him off. "If you see a man in a green tunic, probably carrying a broadsword across his back, would you send him to my table? He'll answer to Link."
Still stunned by the two hundred rupee deposit the bartender could only nod stupidly.
"Thank you kindly Master Ernie." With that Marcus Brutus carried his drink over to the table and sat down alone.
"How's about another drink?" Tomy asked, oblivious to the transaction or the knight's absence. Ernest tucked the rupee into his pocket quickly.
"Tomy, you old scoundrel. You drink for free tonight."
Link could hear the clamoring and jovial processions of the pub all the way from the stable.
"Sit tight girl," he said quietly as he rubbed the neck his friend and steed. "I'll make sure you get some oats before you sleep." Epona gave an affectionate whinny. Their day had been long, no doubt she felt she deserved such a reward.
"Good girl," he said giving her one last pat. He stepped around her, closed the door to her rented stall, then headed for the tavern. He wasn't much in the mood for alcohol but he hoped the kitchen was open so he could feed his stomach and maybe buy some supplies. If he could avoid having to turn in towards Termina he would, even if it cost him some extra rupees.
Just before Link reached the entrance he brought his hand up to his face and felt his beard. It had been months since he'd seen a mirror, and weeks since he'd shaven. He bathed regularly but still, he hoped he would not look like a crazed man from the mountains.
Warm air and a thick scent of man and alcohol greeted Link as he opened the door. Those closest to the entrance glanced at him, eyes lingering on his sword and shield, but paid him little attention. Good, Link thought, the less attention I draw this close to Hyrule, the better. Encouraged by the lack of change in the atmosphere the man garbed in green strode up to the counter.
"Oi, yer friend 's over there, Ser Link."
Link froze mid-step, eyes widened. He could feel his heart triple its pace.
Thirty-five men. Eight too intoxicated to fight. Twenty with daggers. Seven with swords. Two hundred-fifty pound bouncer in the far corner. Two exits and a staircase. Bartender's heartrate is ninety-three beats per minute. Five men are looking at me now. None of them have hands on their weapons.
The information flooded Link's mind in less than three seconds. With no immediate danger he decided to act collected until he could identify the threat.
"Have we met?" Link asked the bartender, the man who had called Link by his name.
The man had a round face, bushy eyebrows, crows' feet on the sides of his eyes, and a thick neck. His jugular vein could be seen pulsing calmly on the man's exposed nape. Under a brown apron, a fairly clean cotton shirt and a sufficient layer of fat was a reserve of muscle, built by years of carrying barrels, moving furniture, and tending to horses. His hands were calloused and his knuckles were scarred. He had put an end to more than one fight in this bar. He was also right handed.
"Nay but yer friend came in an hour or so before ye," the man explained. He was rubbing a glass clean with a tan cotton rag. "Said he s'pected you'd be arrivin' t'night."
With the rag in his right hand he pointed towards a table forty-two feet away from the counter, seven feet from the wall. The man sitting at the table was one of the five who were looking at Link. One of the twenty with a dagger. One of the seven with a sword.
"Ta Ser Marcus Brutus!" one of the too-intoxicated-to-fight men cheered. Two more too-intoxicated-to-fight men repeated the first man's cheer.
I know that name, Link thought with dread. This was bad. This was disastrous!
Link cleared his throat. "Thank you, friend." The bartender nodded then proceeded to follow Link with his eyes as he left the counter.
Ser Marcus Brutus's heartrate quickened from sixty beats per minute to seventy-five as Link approached.
"My dear friend," Link said coolly. Years of training helped him keep his breathing and pulse in check.
The stranger nodded his head. "Take a seat, Link." He gestured to the empty chair.
Mind working a million miles a second, Link took the offer. Slowly he unbuckled his sheath, and set the shield and broadsword on the table in front of him, pommel of his weapon facing him.
"You're here to kill me," Link stated.
The man nodded. "I am," he said evenly. "I rather wish you had stayed far away from this land. Unfortunately your years of absence do not absolve you of your crimes." Without taking his eyes off of Link, Brutus brought his half-empty glass to his mouth and took a tiny sip. Setting it down he said, "That being said, I am a huge fan of yours. I was hoping we could speak as gentlemen before we shed blood."
Link gestured for the bartender. "I don't see why not."
A smile lit up the stranger's face. "Excellent."
Author's Note: This is going to be a short story. Hope you all enjoy.