Chapter XXI: Games and Politics

Medli knocked at the door a second time. She had arrived a little early, so perhaps they weren't ready. She looked around, wondering if she might spot them on the way back from a walk or something like that. The neighborhood was quite busy for it being this early in the day. Several homes around Jasper's were being rebuilt, each in differing stages. The neighbor on the west side seemed to have suffered little damage to their home. The men were up on the roof repairing several areas where fire seemed to have burned through to the inside. In a couple places they were already doing shingle work.

Medli turned to look at Jasper's home with a frown. He had not been so fortunate. A considerable burst of this blackfire the villagers spoke of must have just missed their neighbor on the west side and collided with Jasper's home. The roof was caved in and burned away on the west side of the house, and the wall itself seemed to have also suffered considerable damage. They seemed to have come away with a little good fortune, as the damage left the major supports of the structure unharmed. But the insides were partially exposed on the roof and on the west side. Gethrim had told her that they were still able to sleep in the house, but in order to keep warm at night they had to sleep in one room.

These weren't the worst, however. Many had been completely destroyed when Gannondorf had come to challenge Link. Families burned alive inside their crumbling homes, unable to escape and unknown to the fleeing villagers around them. Those that survived but who had lost everything were taken in by those who could support them. Life within the city had largely returned to normal, but out here things wouldn't be normal for a long, long time…

"Um, 'scuse me…" a little voice inquired behind her.

Medli turned to find a serious faced boy with short, red hair standing behind her. She smiled. "You must be Gavin," she said.

The boy nodded, his his freckled face scrunched up in the light of the still rising sun. "That's me. An' you're the lady my pa's got to come watch my sisters an' me."

Medli nodded. "My name is Medli, it's nice to meet you," she stuck out her hand to shake his.

He looked at it funny and then looked back up at her, nodding off to the east with his head. "Follow me. Pa an' the girls are just finishin' breakfast at the Shoemaker's." And with that he turned and was off. Medil blinked and then followed behind. Maybe she hadn't done it right, the hand shake thing. Zelda taught it to her, saying that it was a custom among the Hyrulians when meeting new people. She shrugged. Little boys are strange, she decided. Komali had taught her that plenty during his boyhood. She had to fight to keep from rolling her eyes involuntarily as she remembered his bratty little face.

The boy suddenly turned and entered a small house on the left, shutting the door behind him and seemingly forgetting she was there at all. She sighed. Yup, just like Komali, she mused. She approached the door and went in herself. A short hallway led past a family room and bedroom, into a kitchen area where five people were seated around a table, Gavin taking the sixth seat and crossing his arms as he stared sternly at Medli. Jasper and the others looked up as she entered the room.

"Gah-lee, Jasper!" said the elderly man as he looked on. "Where'd you find this one? Ya said she was purty, but I didn't realize you meant—

The man yelped as the elderly woman whacked the back of his head, "Hush, Mr. Shoemaker! You'll embarrass the poor girl." Medli did her best to keep her face from heating. The elderly woman rose and gave Medli the sweetest smile as she came to greet her. "Hello, dear. I take it you're Medli?"

Medli nodded, still somewhat uncomfortable but doing her best to smile. "Y-yes, ma'am."

The woman smiled wider. "Good, good. Come, sit down and have a bite to eat. You can call me Martha."

Medli obliged without meaning to as the elderly woman practically guided her to the last empty chair, right next to Jasper— who was staring intently into his plate. In a moment a plate was put down before her heaping with breads and fruits and some kind of meat she'd never seen before but that smelled incredible. A glass was filled with water and put beside it. She glanced at the elderly woman gingerly, who waved emphatically, "Well, eat then!" Medli nodded and smiled nervously, and began with the sliced fruit.

It was sweet but also somewhat tart, reminding her of the pears that grew on Dragonroost. It was somewhat more crisp than they were, but she found that she enjoyed it. "Um," she said, "what is this called?"

"That is called an apple, dear," Martha said with a smile. "We grow them in orchards here on Hylia."

Medli nodded, then moved next to the strange meat. It was… she didn't know what to call it, but covered in some kind of a sheeny oil. And it smelled more savory than anything she had seen in her life. She picked up one strip of it and bit down, and then couldn't get the rest of it into her mouth fast enough. She ate the remaining three strips just as fast, and couldn't help but lick her fingers clean. She glanced at Martha, wanting to ask but now entirely too embarrassed to do so as the entire group just watched her. Martha must have sensed it, and said, "That's bacon. Cut from pigs and fried over the fire."

"Ain't ya never seen bacon before?" Mr. Shoemaker wondered aloud. "What, did you grow up in a hole in the ground?" he said, the last with an incredulous look on his face. Medli sighed. But Mrs. Shoemaker just gave him another whack on the back of the head. He rubbed at it, "Careful, woman!" he said. The oldest girl giggled and thumped the man herself, and he turned and started tickling the child. "Oh no, not you too, ya rascal!" the girl laughed all the harder.

Medli smiled, feeling the tension ease out a little as she started on the bread. She glanced at the youngest girl, who sat next to her father on his right. She was looking at her rather oddly, and then suddenly opened her mouth wide and exposed a copious amount of chewed-and-yet-to-be-swallowed food, making an obnoxious and self-amused "aah" sound. Jasper reached over and lifted the child's bottom jaw closed without looking, taking a considerable pull from his glass of water. All the while, Gavin just watched Medli with sour look on his face.

This was going to be interesting, Medli decided. She smiled to herself and finished her breakfast.

"Alright, now just wait a hot minute here," Impa said setting down her gavel on the table gruffly. She looked about the room as she sorted through her thoughts. Along with a delegation from the Princess's council, she sat in the smaller of the conference chambers used for settling civil matters which required the Princess's attentions. Most disputes could be settled by delegations such as this one, a handful of men overseen by one or two trusted persons that would decide what to do. But on occasion, a problem might persist, or the issue might require a higher authority, or something to that effect. All that Impa knew was that she had been stuck in this stuffy room with a bunch of old men listening to problems that, at surface level, seemed almost silly but apparently had folks at each other's throats. Further, she had been stuck here all day and by Din she was fed up. She looked hard at the cantankerous old noble standing before her on the left, gesturing to the ragged man in shackles on the right, "You mean to tell me you actually had this poor man thrown in jail?"

"Of course I did!" the grouch bellowed. "He's refusing to do his duty to the people of this kingdom, and with the state of things we can't afford to fall behind in trading with the Isles to the south!" He was Aberforth Phenton, the owner of one of the shipping companies sending tools and equipment made in the city to the Outset Isles.

"My wife and children are living in the rubble of our home!" the man on the right cried out, pulling against the chains around his wrists and ankles that had him shackled to the spot. "If it isn't rebuilt they could die!" He was John Corbin, a foreman at the docks for Phenton's shipping company. He hadn't worked in nearly three months when Aberforth had him seized and imprisoned for "disorderly conduct" and "inciting civil unrest" (most of his coworkers were helping him, and each other, rebuild all of their homes, which had been destroyed by the sorcerer). John had since been in prison, and his case hadn't been brought before the council until a month ago, and then was receiving it's final hearing today: more than 3 months since he was imprisoned.

Aberforth turned and shook his fist at the man, shouting, "If men like him don't do their duty, then the whole city is at risk!"

Impa stared at the man, stricken. She looked at the other five seated at the table with her, set before the two men like a series of judges. "And you struggled with this?"

One of the older men folded his hands in a supplicating gesture, but his offense was poorly disguised. "Madam, please understand," he said. "What this man says is true: The economy of our kingdom is in ashes. Something must be done if we are to survive."

Impa gestured emphatically at John while questioning the man seating at the end of the table to her left, leaning forward to glare into the man, "And putting this man in jail is going to help?"

The man sighed, gritting his teeth in both frustration and discomfort. "Well, no, Madam," he said, hunching a little, "Hence our dilemma."

Impa sat back, dry washing her face. "Alright," she said, staring into the table and counting each question on her fingers. "Is whether or not John and his men go to work today the only thing in the way of reestablishing trade to the south?"

The councilmen muttered among themselves, and one of them, the one seated directly to her right, said, "No, madam. The netters and iron workers have yet to resume their craft."

"And why is that?" Impa questioned, counting the second question on her second finger.

The man at the end on the left spoke up again, his voice dry, "Because the majority of them were drafted into the guard and are still on duty there."

Impa nodded, her growing smile dripping with sarcasm. "And is this man rotting in jail going to do anything about that, or the host of other plagues on trade?" The lot of them heaved a sigh, refusing now to dignify her berating with a response. As steward of the throne, she had the authority of the Princess while Zelda was away. If Impa wished it, this man could live or die. "No," she said, shaking her head. "Guard, release this man and escort him safely to his home." The guard hesitated before doing as commanded, and stopped as he was startled by Impa's further outburst, "Thats not enough!" She looked at Aberforth, pointing with an angry finger. "Phenton, fifteen percent of your assets in foodstuffs are forfeit to the crown, and they will be given to the Corbin family to account for his loss in wages."

"What?!" the red-faced nobleman roared. Three of the councilmen drew in sharp breaths between gritted teeth at the words, and the others paled. The noblemen literally stomped his foot, "This is outrageous!"

Impa waved her hand at the man without looking, and at the gesture the second guard began to corral the man out of the room amidst shrill curses and cries. Once Corbin had also been safely escorted out and the doors shut, the councilman at the end of the table, called Locke, stood abruptly, thrusting his chair out from the table and sending it several feet back, "You go too far, Madam Steward."

"Oh, is that so?" Impa wondered aloud disinterestedly.

The man moved around the table to stand opposite her, beating the table with his hand. "You risk alienating the nobles with decisions like these."

"Because I didn't put a homeless man in jail for trying to rebuild his home?" Impa retorted.

Locke groaned and turned to take a few steps away as the man to her right, called Bartimus, interjected, "No, madam." He took a slow breath, choosing his words carefully, and more kindly than the other, "Over the course of the week the decisions you have made have been… honorable, and certainly your compassion for the needy is commendable. But—

"If you do not take care," the other returned, interrupting, "you will anger the nobles and risk provoking their animosity against the crown."

Impa looked from person to person, "And each of you feel this way?"

The woman at the right end of the table, Deborah, nodded saying, "The balance of our society has always been a sensitive thing, and it is even more so now."

Bartimus added, "The weight of each step in leadership isn't with the individual decisions, but with their sum."

The man seated directly to her left remained silent, seemingly lost in thought as Locke continued to berate her. "The nobles respected King Daphnes because he advocated for their voices in the direction of this Kingdom. If Zelda wishes to preserve the relationship between them and the crown, she would be wise to take this into consideration."

Impa raised an eyebrow, her own indignation taking spark now, and spoke low, "I may be little more than a nurse, Councilman, but I'm also a representative of the Princess. If I ever hear you use her name so casually again, I'll drag you down to the stocks myself."

The man glared at her, and then turned and left, slamming the door. Bartimus sat back with a sigh. "He may be a proud man, Madam, but his concerns are not unfounded."

Impa gave the man an assenting look, her frustration cooling. "I know, I know. His crappy attitude makes me think people are already getting restless."

Bartimus nodded, without reply. Then he looked to the man seated to Impa's left, an older man, and said, "What say you, Remus?"

The man glanced at Bartimus, then back into the emptiness of the room as he shared his thoughts. "The balance of power is a sensitive thing. The common people love the Princess, perhaps even more than they did her father— she is the herald of their martyred hero, and a hero herself. And the nobles are no less glad for their salvation, but their sensibilities are…different."

"How so?" Impa asked.

"Well," the man said, "what the common people value most is community, livelihood, and regard for their need. But the nobles prize dignity, economy, and deference to their opinion. For the common people, now that their lives are no longer threatened, they can begin rebuilding and these values of theirs are again secure. But it is not so easy for the nobles— their wealth is at times redistributed for the good of the kingdom, and this is humbling; their businesses are not as easily rebuilt as a home, and their own livelihood is at risk; and their minds are heavy with anxiety about these things. They wonder if their anxieties will be heeded."

Bartimus smiled, nodding, "Well spoken, Remus."

Impa nodded as well, "That… makes a lot of sense." She looked at the man, "What can we do about it now?"

Remus shook his head, "It is not something to be addressed in the short term. Bartimus had it right, it is the long term by which such battles are fought."

"Well I don't think I can accomplish all that in the week or so I'll be doing this," Impa said, wringing her hands nervously.

Remus smiled. "You and I both know the Princess, Madam. The young man left quite the impression on her— she is not likely to resume her royal duties until whatever this quest she is on is finished. And I doubt it can be done in a week."

Impa nodded. "Yes, I fear you are right."

"Just consult us," Bartimus interjected. "The right decisions might be clear to you, but if you add to your consideration our own perspectives, you will be all the more equipped to move wisely."

Impa nodded, somewhat satisfied by the arrangement.

After breakfast Medli and the children left the Shoemaker home and, on their way home, the girls asked to stop by the local park to feed the birds. So they made their way over but found that most of the birds had already dispersed— it was too late in the day at this point. So they returned home and Medli offered to play a game with them. This led to a complicated debate among the three of them, but eventually both sisters arrived at the mutually agreeable "tea-party"— whatever that was— but Gavin favored the good, old-fashioned "sword-fight" and refused to join them. Well, they wouldn't play anything without him, so between the three of them they revolutionized play-time and gave birth to the abomination that was "tea-party-sword-fight".

It was a game short-lived. The girls sat upon stools at a little table built for them by their father, pretending to sip at tea from a hodgepodge china set and their brother burst in on the whole thing with a wooden makeshift sword and got a little too excited and actually broke the table and some of the cups and plates. The girls ended up in tears and Gavin stormed off in a huff while Medli, bewildered, cleaned the whole thing up. Once that was over, Medli suggested they play a different game. Both Gavin and Lucy refused to look at each other, let alone play together, but Mary suggested the somehow-cultural-boundary-defying-classic hide and seek and all of them forgot they were mad at each other and off they went before Medli could begin to count.

This, as it turns out, was a terrible suggestion. Medli would have expected there to be few places to hide, what with the damage to the structure at large. But no, these children seemed to find places to hide that would have made house mice blush, because Medli searched for twenty minutes and could only find two of the three children. If she was going to have trouble finding any of them, she would have expected it to be Gavin. Mary must have been sired by some kind of species of rodent, because not even the other children knew where they could find her.

"I don't understand where she could have gotten to!" Medli expounded, growing a little more emotional by the minute.

"Aw, she's around here somewhere," Gavin reassured her as he toyed with his wooden sword— his disinterested tone was not reassuring in the least.

Medli frowned at him, and he seemed unfazed. She looked at Lucy, "Is Mary always this good at hiding?"

Lucy nodded as she peeked under the couch again for a second time. "Papa says it's a part of her feminine charm, says she gets it from Mama."

Medli made a face, "What?"

Lucy shrugged and said, "Papa says Mama was 'hard to get'." And she continued looking.

Medli frowned again and thought to herself, Well that's a weird thing to say to your children. "Well, keep looking, children— we need to find your sister. What am I going to say to your father? 'Sorry Jasper, but I seem to have misplaced your daughter."

Gavin made a sound Medli took to indicate his lack of surprise, "Eh. Wouldn't be the first time."

Medli looked over her shoulder as she rifled through the couch cushions. "Pardon?"

Lucy stuck her head up from the other side of the couch. "Papa says Mary's like a kitty— she comes and goes as she pleases."

Medli felt her brow crease. "Your Papa says some pretty concerning things about his little girl."

"Mary's a pretty concerning kid," Gavin remarked snidely.

"Now, now," Medli chided, trying to remain patient, "be nice. You only get one littlest sister, so you'd best treat her kindly." Medli straightened and dry-washed her face. "Ok... she wouldn't hide upstairs, would she?"

Lucy shook her head. "Papa said not to go upstairs because of the hole."

Medli's eyebrows jumped, "Would that stop her?"

Lucy made a face as if she were thinking about it, then turned on her heel and proceeded to the staircase in the hallway. Medli replaced the cushions on the couch and sat down. She had literally searched everywhere she could think to search. Every nook and cranny of every room on the first floor (they had ruled the second off limits because of the damage). Then she had checked it all again, wondering if perhaps the girl had been moving from spot to spot (children were clever that way): but still no luck. She looked over at Gavin, "How often do you play hide and seek?"

He shrugged, "We play it lots, I guess."

"Has Mary ever gone to hide somewhere outside?" Medli asked.

Gavin made a face, "Mary won't go outside, 'least not by her self."

Medli's brow creased, "We were jut at the park. And I thought Lucy said that she comes and—

"We were all together at the park," Gavin interrupted. "And Mary likes to be alone sometimes, so she just up an' goes off to another room. But she won't go outside by herself."

The look in his eyes told her he didn't want to talk anymore about it, so she called out for Lucy, "Lucy, any luck finding your sister?"

Lucy's muffled voice responded, "No! Do you want me to keep looking?"

"Yes! I'll have another look down here!" Medli called back. She rose from the couch and watched as Gavin continued to play with his wooden sword. For a moment he reminded her of Komali— so often lost in his own little games. But her growing worry broke the thought. If Mary couldn't be found in the house, then she had to have gone outside. She turned to Gavin again, "Gavin."

"Hmm?" the boy said as he took a swing at the air.

"You're sure your sister wouldn't have gone outside?" she asked. He only nodded, and then she asked, "Well, do you think maybe your sister wants to be alone right now?"

He shrugged, "I don't know, maybe."

His continued apathetic demeanor was irritating her now, so she mustered some more of her patience and and knelt beside him, taking him by his shoulders and turning him to face her. "I need you to stop for a minute, Gavin. I can't find your sister and I'm starting to get worried." His face remained serious, and she could tell he didn't want her looking him in the eye. But she did it anyway, and asked again, "Do you think your sister wanted to be alone?"

He was silent for several moments, but then something seemed to give. He shook his head, "No. She gets all... weird, when she goes off to be alone."

Medli stood up, her worrying slowly becoming frustration. "I just don't understand how a little girl can just disappear like—

Some creaking overhead, like feet on old wood, caught her attention and she stopped mid-sentence. Perhaps Lucy found her sister! "Lucy, is that you?" she called out. "Did you find Mary?"

A small voice behind her caught her off guard, "Is what me?" Medli turned around, surprised to find Lucy there. She must have come downstairs while Medli was talking to Gavin. She shook her head, "Uh-uh, I didn't see Mary anywhere."

More creaking overhead. Medli made a face. "Well, that girl's definitely got to be up there— those sounds don't make themselves. Maybe we should go up together and look one more time."

"Don't think we'll need to," Gavin interjected.

Medli turned, getting a little fed up with the boys sour attitude, "We need to find your sister, Gavin."

Gavin shrugged and pointed upward, "Found her."

Medli looked where he pointed to the cross-beam that rested on the walls. Perched upon it was the young Mary, grinning and snickering at being found. "Aw shucks!" she said with a laugh.

Medli felt her heart skip a beat— out of both joy and worry. "How did you get up there?"

"I climbed," Mary said simply, smiling and fidgeting with her toes.

Medli felt her face tighten, her patience running thin, "Will you..." she cleared her throat, trying to relax a little and to put on a smile. "Please come down."

Mary nodded, "Okie-dokie." And as the child proceeded to stand, Medli realized that she should not have left to imagination the means by which she was to dismount the cross-beam. For such things, left to the imagination of children, always breed the nightmares of adults like her. It was as though the moments that followed passed in slow motion as Mary leapt from the cross-beam— some ten feet in the air— to where Medli stood. Now, Medli did not know if it was by sheer chance or by some hideous talent that it happened, and neither did she have time to contemplate the horrors of either. For as the young girl arrived at Medli's place in space and time, she parted her legs and caught Medli full in the face— tackling her to the ground in a nearly animalistic fashion and wrapping her legs around Medli's neck.

Aryll woke to the sound of crackling, and looked to find a pensive Komali staring into the fire. She watched him silently, unsure if she wanted to roll over or rise to sit next to him. At their initial departure from... from the place, he had seemed normal. But as they continued on their journey back, he seemed to draw more and more inward. There wasn't much time (or ability) for conversation while upon horseback, so they hadn't interacted all that much on the way south in the first place. And she hadn't been very personable anyway because of the awkwardness of spending more time with Zelda...

She shook the thoughts from her mind and rolled over. Probably it was what happened at the temple... he had drowned, was dead for all the world to see. She had had her own run-ins and close-calls— heck, she had lost part of her left leg recently. That stuff had definitely messed with her head, but... she couldn't help but think this was different. That stuff wasn't just sea water, it was some kind of... some kind of liquid hell. It was colder than ice and smelled worse than a dead drunk's corpse. Her inner-panic had kind of protected her at the time, but looking back she knew— on top of all that— there was an evil quality to it. What if... what if that stuff did something to him?

She rolled over again, almost involuntarily, to see if she could get a closer look at him. He just... sat there, staring into the fire. But the look in his eyes wasn't normal. Glazed over, distant... like he was daydreaming. He was half there, and half not. But there was something else there, too... Like he had stepped out and something else had stepped in. Then his eyes suddenly went wide as he stared into the fire, and his face paled. That was it, that was what had been bothering her. It was the look in his eyes. She had to roll over again— she couldn't look at him like this, not like he was right now. It... it frightened her.