In the Vocaloid song Servant of Evil, do you think if Rin stopped dressing like Len and showed herself to Kaito, do you think he'd faint from the shock of seeing somebody come back from the dead? After all, to his knowledge, Rin got her head chopped off at the guillotine, and she's still up and about! Hehe, I can just totally see it… I just had to put this here. I'm sorry. I know it has almost nothing to do with this story as of yet.
Anybody else notice how ridiculously anti-climatic updating chapters are? I work on this thing for days, edit it ten times over, fret over its quality all the way through the Document Uploading sequence, and hesitate for half an hour before pressing the "update chapter" button, and when I finally get the guts to press it…it's just ridiculously anti-climatic. At least have some sort of fireworks display with a huge "CONGRATULATIONS!" message. I deserve that much.
--
Here he was safe…probably. One never could tell. Link glared at his shadow, still slightly out breath for being forced to climb all the way to a goddessdamned roof to escape any possibility of some vicious prank. Midna usually operated on messing with other unsuspecting people and causing funny reactions. Of course, sometimes they weren't so funny for Link.
Voices were floating up from below. Link listened half-heartedly, only faintly registering the meanings to the sounds that should have been words. Being up here gave him a pretty good view of the ocean, and it was a little more interesting than voices.
"Where do you think he went?"
"Who?"
"You know! That rich boy! The brown-haired one!"
"There's plenty of brown-haired boys."
"The one that…you know…"
It was two women, probably gossiping. Rumors and gossip never occurred in Ordon, but it was the most common thing besides dirt in Castle Town. Sometimes it held interesting tid-bits, sometimes it just served to anger Link at the blatant untruthfulness of it all—not that he ever said anything about it, though. The Link Castle Town knew didn't even have a temper.
"Oh! You mean the one from the educated family?"
"Of course! Such a shame, such a shame… They had too high expectations of him, don't you think? Plenty of people get around with C grades, but no, that family demanded a perfect A…"
"It was probably the lack of his musical ability that set them off, don't you think?"
"Probably. They were even bigger on music than education. He wasn't bad, but he certainly didn't want to play the viola, always talking to those swarthy sailors—"
"I thought he played the violin?"
"Violin, viola, same thing, really. But they were such sticklers on music. Did you see their instrument collection they left behind? Astonishing. Of course, it's cleared out now. Who knows who took it. Probably those thief children—"
"You know what I heard?"
"What?"
"That when he came home and found that his parents had disowned him and moved off Windfall, he packed every single instrument they'd left behind, took the money they'd left him, and announced, 'I will cease to care about anything!' Or something like that…"
"Anything? Anything could mean…well…anything! Friends! Family! Life! Are you sure he wasn't exaggerating?"
"Dead sure. And then afterwards…he…you know…"
"Yes, I heard… They say he killed himself…"
"Only logical to assume such a thing. He hasn't been seen since three years ago."
Link shook his head, getting up and leaping to the next roof, farther away from the ladies. They probably didn't even know what they were talking about anyway, and it was depressing to listen to that kind of thing.
It was certainly more peaceful here, and Link stretched out on the dirty roof shingles, careful to avoid the bird droppings. Lying on his back, he could clearly see the clouds, traveling in slow motion to…somewhere. He stared at the sky for a while, slipping back into that zoning state of mind that he'd been in just before he'd been whisked away to this strange, vast ocean world a month ago… Had it really been an entire month? Looking back, it had seemed to go by so fast, but he knew that at the time it had seemed like time wouldn't move fast enough.
"Link…"
Link took one look at Midna, standing on the shingles next to him with her arms crossed, and immediately scrambled away. "What?" he asked, suspicious, crouched on the roof in preparation for anything.
"I'm ready to forgive you," Midna declared, straight-faced.
Oh, it couldn't be that easy, Link knew. She'd only pulled one prank, which made everything only more suspicious. "Really. So what's the catch?"
Midna smirked. "I have three conditions."
Depending on the conditions, this could either be okay, bad, horrible, or good-sounding with a nasty loophole that Midna would find a way to exploit. Link watched her face carefully, as if this were a game of Fake Out. "Alright…let's hear them."
"One!" Midna held up one thin finger. "I want to know…do you really understand why I'm angry?"
"Possibly."
"Stop being so vague!" she snapped. Link rolled his eyes, giving way to more growling. "Do you or what?"
"Yeah, I know why."
"Are you sorry?"
"Is that your second condition?" Link asked with mock innocence.
"No!" Midna waved her arms in frustration. "Just answer the question!"
"…Yes."
"Do you regret it?"
"Regret," Link pointed out, "isn't the same as being sorry. I said I'm sorry."
Midna crossed her arms again, sulky. "Fine. There is a Twilian proverb that says, 'Regret is the one force that can defy the Goddess of Death.' You Hylians put it as, 'It's better to regret doing something than to regret not doing something,' or something like that. Right?"
Link shrugged. He'd been holed up in Ordon most of the time, so he didn't know much more than she did. "Sounds about right."
"Anyway, we're getting off topic. Second condition." She dramatically put up two fingers in Link's face. "Promise you'll never do something like that again. Ever!"
Eyes narrowed, Link replied coolly, "Then you have to promise the same thing."
He'd gotten her with that one, because it was clear from her face that she was taken aback. "What?"
"I promise I won't do something stupid and self-sacrificing like that, and you promise the same thing. I thought I was pretty clear the first time." Link crossed his arms, sitting adamant on the roof.
Midna glared at him. "This isn't about me! It's about you!"
"I won't promise until you do," Link sang. She would break eventually, because she wouldn't be making him promise this sort of thing if she didn't care. Using this, Link could get her to do this sort of thing.
Her hands curled into fists, and she muttered through gritted teeth, "…Fine."
"Okay!" Link grinned, folding his arms behind his head. "I promise I won't do anything self-sacrificing, and you promise that you won't do anything self-sacrificing. Agreed?"
"Agreed…"
Link leaned back on the roof, letting the warmth of the sun cover his whole face. Victory was sweet, even if it was small. "And what's the third condition?"
Midna perked up, smiling evilly. She snapped her fingers, conjuring a small black stone from Twilight. "I want you to carry a rock for me."
"…A…rock…" Link repeated in disbelief. That was it?! It wasn't even that big!
"Yeah," Midna giggled, holding the rock out for him to take. "Be a good servant and keep it for me, will you? You can keep it in a pocket or in that magical bag thing of yours, I don't really care, but just don't lose it."
"Do that snappity thing you do and store it in the Twilight," Link suggested, doubtful of her motives. "You don't need me to carry it."
"Just take the rock, wolf-boy!"
Link rolled his eyes and swiped the rock, examining it. When Link had first stepped into the Twilight, it had felt like an icy hand had clenched itself around Link's heart. He'd grown to ignore it, though. For some reason, this rock reminded him of that particular moment, but the feeling was only a ghost. Like hell this was an ordinary rock.
"What is this?" he asked, squinting at it in an effort to make sense out of it.
"Exactly what it is," Midna answered blithely.
"Geez. So helpful."
"And take your bag back already. I'm tired of carrying your junk." Midna dropped it right in his lap, and Link slipped the rock into the bag. "Good doggy!" she giggled, clapping her hands together. Link rolled his eyes.
It better not be some sort of practical prank, Link thought dubiously. If it blows up in my face or something like that, she's really going to get it.
--
Medli knocked on Komali's door again, trembling slightly. "K-Komali, just come out and talk about it—"
"Go away," he repeated from behind the door. Medli miserably stared down at her feet, strangling her harp in her hands. They were the same age, but because he was the prince and she was only a lowly attendant, he had been to receive his scale last and she was to go right before him. Climatic purposes, the chieftain had said. Like saving the best for last.
Since she'd gone first, she'd noticed the mood Lord Valoo had been in. She should have said something, she should have voiced that nagging worry in the back of her mind that perhaps Lord Valoo's slightly strange behavior hadn't been just nothing. He'd been trying to hold his temper in check when Medli had visited him for her scale right before Komali, she could tell, but she had thought that Lord Valoo was probably just irritated about the broken wind shrine. And because Komali had received it last, Lord Valoo finally hadn't been able to hold his temper anymore and blown up as Komali had approached. Medli had dragged Komali from the fiery wrath as the dragon unexpectedly thrashed and roared.
Komali thought it was his fault that Lord Valoo had begun his temper tantrum, that because he wasn't good enough to be the Crown Prince, Lord Valoo had rejected him and was letting the world know of Komali's incompetence. But Medli knew it wasn't Komali's fault. It was her fault. She'd failed as an attendant, as a guardian of the great Lord Valoo.
"Komali…"
"Go away."
"But—"
"Go away!" he bellowed, voice strained as if he were holding back tears.
Medli blinked back tears of her own, turning and running as fast as she could down the corridor. She kept running through the central hall, various postmen yelling as she nearly knocked one of them down in her rush. She sprinted up the labyrinth of stairs to the highest level, finally coming to an outside balcony. Her feet made hollow clacking noises on the wooden boards as she slowed to a stop, clutching her harp as it were some sort of security. The wind whipped past her, playfully toying with her ponytail.
Play with me! Let go of those you care about and soar!
She strapped her harp to her back with care and extended her arms, watching as her bare arms burst with feathers, tickling her a little. Medli flapped experimentally, knowing that she still wasn't good enough to fly. Yet, despite her lack of skills in the air, it felt so natural, like she belonged in the air, as if her home was in the sky…
She would love to accept the invitation and join the wind in the lovely sky, but what was the point of having these wings when she wouldn't be able to fly and share her joy with Komali?
--
The small hut was tucked away in the deepest shadows of the buildings of Windfall, and Link had only been able to find his way here because of the music he'd heard. Honestly, this music seemed dry and…hollow, almost, as if there was no emotion put into it, but it'd caught his interest anyway. The only music he'd ever heard before was singing, and this wasn't singing. It was something else, something indescribable.
"Shh!" Link held a finger to his lips, signaling Emit to be quiet. "I want to listen!"
"No! We need to get supplies—"
"Five minutes!" Link begged under his breath.
"…I guess," Emit sighed.
Link smiled his thanks, then turned back to peering through the door into the hovel. Each player wore faded clothes of various grays and browns, all adorned with dirty smudges on skin and clothes alike. Their instruments were battered, the wood scratched, although the instruments were still obviously useable. He'd only seen these instruments through books, so it was fascinating to see them up close. He tried to identify them, struggling to recall all that he'd read on music. It was hard, because he'd never found anything interesting about music other than the role the conductor had, mostly because it looked fun to stand in the middle of an orchestra and wave a stick around.
Those three over there had what seemed like the melody and the instruments they had were quite small, so he assumed them to be the violins. There were two instruments that were easily identified as cellos…but there wasn't anyone else other than the conductor, who continued to bounce the stick up and down, her movements tired and expressionless.
Three violins, two cellos, no violas, bass, or winds, one conductor, without even sheet music or chairs, all standing in the middle of a completely bare room. Sturgeon had said that the smaller orchestras had perhaps ten first violins, fifteen second violins, six violas, and four basses. Did this even count as an orchestra? Maybe it was some sort of quintet…
Link tapped his chin. They looked like people who had no idea where they would find their next meal, people with no money. The poor, in other words. So why did they have instruments? It didn't make any sense. Instruments were expensive, according to Orca.
Abruptly, the conductor shook her head and waved her baton, cutting off the players. They stopped playing, slouching where they stood as if tired. Even the conductor's shoulders were hunched over, as if bearing invisible weight. "No, not like that. Eve, play out more." A blonde girl nodded, whispering to the two other violins, two boys. The conductor continued, "In fact, all you violins, play out more. Sven and Hikali, you don't have the melody, so back off and let the violins through." The boy and girl playing the cellos nodded. "Then right after that, it needs to be as quiet as you can play it."
Link inched farther into the doorway, really interested now. Obviously, the conductor wanted more volume in certain places because she could hear the emotionless, hollow value the notes held as well, but would increasing volume be enough to dispel that kind of feeling?
A brown-haired boy groaned. "Sure, sure, but when can we stop?"
"When we're done, Sven," the conductor said briskly. "We need to perfect this, or this will be the second day we haven't eaten anything. You want that?" She barely mustered a glare to fire at the five players.
"No, Ma'am Wakana," they chorused half-heartedly.
"So put more emotion in it!" Wakana growled, but Link could see her spirited tone was forced.
Link leaned even farther into the doorway, forgetting that he might get spotted. And get spotted he did, as the conductor's eyes snapped and locked onto him.
"Visitors!" the conductor exclaimed gleefully, all lethargy disappearing. "Come in, come in!" Before Link knew what was happening, Link and Emit were inside the little house and the entire orchestra was surrounding them excitedly.
But before anything could even happen, Emit intervened. "I'm sorry," Emit said smoothly, "but we were just passing by. We have to keep moving."
"O-Oh…" Wakana seemed to deflate, she seemed so crestfallen, and it was heartwrenching to see her kind face fall like that. "A-Are you sure you don't want to listen?"
"Ten rupees per person to listen to one performance," the blonde girl volunteered cheerfully. "I'm Eve, by the way."
Emit cast an eye around the room, then sighed. "If it's money, you can have it. But we really need to get going—"
"Emit," Link whispered, tugging at Emit's hand.
"What?"
"I want to ask her," Link pointed shyly at the conductor, "a question."
"So why're you telling me?"
Link smiled uneasily, then cleared his throat. "Ma'am…"
"Yes?"
"What do you play?"
Wakana tilted her head back, a kind smile curling her lips. "What do I play? I play the orchestra, of course."
Link was confused. "How?"
"With this," Wakana explained, holding up the thin conductor's baton. "I use my magical powers to force them to play." The rest of the players started to snigger, like it was a regular joke.
"Magical powers? Really? You force them to play?" Link gasped. He could almost hear Emit sighing again, and the quiet laughing grew a little louder.
"Yes, really."
Link thought it over for a minute before declaring skeptically, "You don't really force them, do you." It should have been a question, but he didn't say it like one.
Wakana's smile grew. "So you're not as naïve as I though. Yeah, you're right, if you're going to take it literally like that. There's no invisible puppet strings attached or anything. They don't have to follow the beat I conduct, but they should for the sake of the orchestra."
Link frowned. "Oh yeah… Uncle Sturgeon said that all conductors do keep the rhythm." To that, Orca had emphatically objected, but Sturgeon had pointed out that Orca had about the same amount of experience with music as a worm.
"That's pretty much all conductors do," Wakana agreed. "We can't really do anything else."
Link smiled back. "Well, it doesn't look to me that that's all conductors do. You're the leader, right? It's a 'lead by example' thing. They'll just respond accordingly to whatever you do."
"Okay, we really have to go," Emit interrupted. "I'm really sorry, but we have to get going—Hey!"
"Here you go," Link offered, holding an orange rupee in one hand and Emit's stolen wallet in the other. Wakana immediately crossed her arms and shook her head, face freezing into a stony mask, but the other children looked interested.
"Ma'am, it can't be that bad…" Eve said slowly.
"We just have to swallow our pride, is all," Sven pointed out, and without waiting for Wakana to respond, he took the orange rupee with near reverence. "We can't rely on him all the time."
"I wasn't going to rely on him, and I'm not accepting any pity offerings," Wakana said softly. "No begging, no favors, and no stealing."
"We never said stealing," Sven retorted. "You've taught us better than that. But still, I don't think it's pity offerings."
There was a moment of hesitation. "An orange rupee? Really?" Wakana asked, her lips still twisted in distaste. "That's a hundred rupees right there…"
"Why not?" Link shrugged, and Emit nodded after a moment. "It was fun talking to you, so consider it…uh…" Link scrabbled in the dark for a word that wouldn't wound Wakana's obvious pride. "I dunno. But take it."
"Ooh, that's a pretty sum right there," a voice called. "Wakana, I'm back!"
Wakana whipped around, a murderous glint in her narrowed eyes. "Train!" she shrieked, hurling her baton at the newcomer's face. Link flinched, scared at the abrupt flip the kind woman had taken.
The boy named Train ducked, drawling, "Careful, we don't have enough money to buy another one. Well, maybe we do, thanks to that orange beauty right there, but we should probably spend that on food instead. In fact, why don't you just sell your baton for extra money?"
"You're hours late!" Wakana seized Train's shirt and shook him. "You're our only viola! We need you!"
Train pushed her back and scoffed, "I don't care. And if you're going to be like that, I guess I'll go kill another hour somewhere else." Then he turned around and stalked right back out of the house. Pretty dumb, Link thought. If you're going to walk into a house, might as well stay longer than three seconds and make the effort worth it.
"GET BACK IN HERE!" Wakana bellowed, but Train was already gone. Link and Emit just kind of stood there, watching awkwardly. "Goddessdamnit, boy!"
"Ma'am Wakana, please," another violin boy pleaded. "He's always been like that. Nothing we can do."
"That little jerk pisses me off!" Wakana seethed, jabbing her finger viciously at the door. "Does he think he can just waltz in here? I care, even if he doesn't! He has to learn when to grow up and stop running away! Get the little chicken to grow some balls!"
"Don't use that kind of language," Emit whispered to Link. Link nodded.
"We'll get him." Eve seized Sven's arm and dragged him out of the house.
"And let's follow them!" Link cried excitedly, taking Emit's arm and following Eve and Sven. "Bye, Ma'am Wakana! Thank you!" Wakana didn't respond, but waved instead while examining her baton for scratches, eyebrows still furrowed in anger.
Eve and Sven seemed to know where they were going, so Link just followed them through the winding, dark alleys. Link didn't know how anybody could live there, it was so claustrophobic with the tall buildings stretching up the sky and allowing such little freedom. Here, Link couldn't see the ocean, just increasing his panic.
"Ah! Up there!" Sven shouted. Sure enough, Train was scaling a building wall with a rope that had somehow attached itself to the side of the roof. "That cheater! He's got a grappling hook and we don't!"
"That's awesome…" Link breathed. "I want one…"
"The Hookshot is way more useful than some grappling hook," Emit muttered.
"Don't you think I'm right?" Eve demanded, glaring at Sven, seeming to completely forget that Link and Emit were standing right there.
"How could you be right?" Sven scoffed. "It's the stupidest reason I can think of!"
"It's possible! It's more than possible! It's probable, even!"
"It's a reason, but it's so stupid he shouldn't even be bothered—"
"It's possible! It's the only reason I can think of!"
"Let me put it this way: It's possible, but it's so stupid that it's impossible!"
Eve and Sven were in full-blown argument now, completely forgetting that Link was there. "Let's go," Emit hissed. "We've wasted so much time!"
"No!"
"You said five minutes! Let's go!"
After hesitation, Link nodded half-heartedly, still loathe to leave these interesting people. As Emit pulled Link forward, Link whispered, "Emit…did you notice anything odd about Train's hair?"
"No. What about it?"
"It was the color of ash!"
"So?"
"Have you ever seen anybody with hair the color of ash? Light gray? Somebody that young?"
"No, but I wouldn't be surprised if somebody did. I've seen people with green hair."
"Oh. Never mind, then."
--
Link finally picked up that something was off when people started moving to the sides of the streets and activity stilled somewhat. Something poked the bottom of his bare foot irritably, so he took Midna's advice and followed suit. A short man with ridiculous hair that stuck out on the sides of his head in misshapen spheres waddled down the street, sticking his plump chest out like he was just that important. Link thought the man looked pretty stupid, but people eyed him with distaste and respect. "Who's that?" Link asked the elderly man next to him under his breath.
"That would be Cannon," the elder said, grinning a toothy grin with gaps in his teeth. "Only bomb maker left in the world, y'know. Runs a monopoly on anything explosive. Instant-lighting candles? He sells 'em. Fireworks? He's got those too. But his biggest trade is on bombs, and he reaps a pretty sum from merchants. That is, any merchants who dare buy those bombs. Most people are scared witless of those things."
The older man shook his head. "He's a right pompous little man. Highly influential. Last time somebody stole bombs from him, the thief's face was on every wanted poster out there. The woman was caught in less than a week. Not surprising, since Cannon made her out to be a wretched little demon hellbent on murdering somebody, even though she wasn't. People believed him because of his influence. But she was only doing what she could in poverty, and she wasn't a threat. She was a pretty little thing, too…" The old man tapped his chin. "What was her name? Kana? Ahh, my old age is getting to me."
Cannon turned the corner, and the streets were once again busy as always. "Anyway, I gotta get back to my book stall. Don't get on his bad side, and you'll do fine, laddie," the elder advised, already beginning to slouch off.
"Yessir," Link replied dutifully. "Promise."
Midna snorted from his shadow, and Link could understand why. A little smirk twitched his lips as he waded through the crowd in search of something interesting.
Yeah, they had a habit of breaking promises anyway.
--
Train, Sven, and Eve will serve a purpose later. Wakana will too. Everything I do, it seems, has a purpose.
By taking Train, Sven, and Eve's names, I'm paying tribute to one of the founding inspirations of Free as the Wind, so people who know them, it's not a crossover, just recognition…and because I was too lazy to make my own names.