Disclaimer: The Legend of Zelda, its characters and locations are all property of Nintendo. Any and all OCs and original locations belong to me unless specifically stated to belong to someone else.
Soul Remnants
Chapter 51
"How are you feeling?" Angen asked as he watched Link go through some basic attacks on imaginary opponents. The Hero's movements were stiff and slightly slower than usual, hinting that he was still not completely mended.
"I'd think it's obvious how I feel," Link replied, annoyance coating his words. He felt about immediately after—Angen had only meant to be polite. "Sorry," he said, relaxing his pose—slowly as to not aggravate his back. "It just...annoys me. I can't move like I'm used to." He looked at the innkeeper. "It's frustrating," he finished lamely.
"No offense taken," Angen said, nodding. "I understand how you feel. You're a warrior, and you're reliant on your body being at its best at all times. What Iteos did...that was a dirty trick, and as a knight he should've been above it."
Well, he had good reason to win, Link thought, though he didn't say it. No one could know about the bet he'd made with the arsehole knight. "I guess he just really wanted to win," he offered up.
"Maybe if he'd been fighting for his life such methods could be condoned, but...nah, you just don't do that to a sparring partner," Angen said. "If it'd been me, I would've bided my time and exacted bloody vengeance."
That's what I've wanted for the past week, Link thought. "Not my style," Link grunted.
"Didn't think it'd be," Angen agreed. "You're a rare breed. Honourable men and women are hard to find these days. Most of them happen to be in this camp, even if they mix with...undesirables."
Link grinned. "Are these the same undesirables you get drunk with every Friday?" The way Angen's face fell made him guffaw with laughter, something he immediately regretted when his back gave a twinge of pain in return. "I was kidding," he added.
"I'm not a man of honour, I can drink with anyone I like," Angen said mock-defensively. They shared a laugh.
Link felt his shoulders falling slightly in relief. He'd been on edge the entire week, especially the times Iteos had, for the lack of a better term, checked in on him and his injury. The human was impatient to claim his prize, by the sound of it, and every time he asked politely if his back was feeling better, Link wanted nothing more than to chop his head off, and that scared him, because Link had never truly wanted to kill someone. Well, there was Ganondorf...and Speil...and those who hurt Sheik, but apart from those, he'd never wanted to kill someone. And he didn't want to want either.
"Can I ask you a question?" Angen said.
"Go ahead," Link said, shaking the ugly thoughts from his mind and reassuming his stance, mentally cursing his back to hell for refusing to cooperate. He winced when he tried to do a simple swing and it felt like something tore.
"Why's Iteos so interested in knowing how you're doing?" It was an innocent enough question, probably no malicious thoughts behind it, but Link couldn't help but hate the innkeeper right then and vaguely contemplated telling him to go away...but Link couldn't bring himself to be rude either. Not when he wasn't the first to draw, so to speak, at least.
"We...made a bet," Link said.
That was a good start.
"A bet? About what?"
"About who'd win the fight, of course."
Promising, promising.
"I see... What were the stakes?"
"Er...gold."
Stupid, stupid, stupid...
"Gold, huh? How much?"
"More than I have ever owned." Not that I've ever owned any gold to begin with. Rupees, sure, but no gold, Link thought. From the way Angen's eyebrows rose, he must have known Link was lying, but he said nothing about it. "Dumbest bet I've ever made," he added, as if to make an already unconvincing lie worse.
"Aye, sounds about right," Angen said, mercifully not pushing the question. "Might want to be careful around that one. Hear he's pretty merciless when it comes to collecting his debts."
"I'll make a note of it," Link acknowledged.
"Right, I should be getting back to the sick tent, Agneta's going to ride my ass if I extend my break any longer," Angen said, turning back towards the camp. "And I do mean that literally."
"Thank you, that's exactly the mental image I needed to finish my training," Link drawled.
"Heh, anything to be of assistance. Oh, and Hero," Angen paused and gave Link a serious look. "You're a terrible liar. Whatever you do, or don't do, don't let Sheik find out."
"I...what?" Link's face fell. "What are you talking about?" he yelled after him, but the innkeeper didn't answer. "He knew...he bloody knew!"
"That he did," Iteos said, stepping out from behind a tree, grinning as Link jumped with surprise. "Scared you, did I?" The knight chuckled as he stepped into the informal little fighting ring the army had set up as a place to spar and practice. His hand was on the hilt of his rapier. "Heh, of course I did. How are you feeling, Hero? Are you back to your quick and...flexible self?" he added a little lecherous grin.
"You've been watching me long enough," Link said, making a guess and looking in Angen's direction. The innkeeper was gone, having disappeared among the tents. "You'd know."
"True, and I'd say you've still a ways to go until your back is completely fine." He came closer to Link, who took a step away. "But," he continued, still grinning, "I'd say you are just fine for...certain activities." Something malicious fell over him then, and his eyes grew cold. "And I know that you are going to argue, trying to weasel your way out of a fair bet and deal...but I will not have it, Hero of Time." His voice didn't change, but his eyes made the tone anything but pleasant.
"And if I say I don't want to do it?" Link asked, pointing his sword at him. He hated going against his own words, but...he couldn't let it happen. "What if I refuse?"
"Since I have no desire to kill you, I'd simply be forced to find someone else to idle away the time with," Iteos replied, shaking his head. "Though I have to say that I am in the mood for something young...and those are in short supply in this camp. I suppose I could wait until your little lover comes back and convince him to bear the brunt of your mistaken bet..."
"You stay the hell away from Sheik!" Link growled. It wasn't the fear of Iteos seducing Sheik that made him react like that. It was the fact that Sheik would probably do it to settle Link's debt. It was just the way he was. And there was no way in hell Link would accept that. "You hear me?"
"Fair enough," Iteos admitted, nodding. "However, that leaves only one last option for me, does it not?"
Link's eyes grew wide. "You wouldn't..."
"Not normally, no, but you leave me with little choice, don't you?" Iteos said, licking his lip. "I do owe the pup a little bite back."
"He's a mage, he'd burn you to cinders before you have chance to get close," Link said.
"A minor setback," Iteos said, chuckling. "But I've dealt with mages, witches and warlocks before. I daresay I have a little...trick, to neutralise the threat their powers create. The bed renter is right, Hero...I am without mercy when I'm out to collect a debt. It's up to you whether you want me to take it out on someone else."
"I...I could kill you right now," Link tried desperately.
"Hm, no, you couldn't," Iteos said, shaking his head. "Not in your current condition. I'd run you through within seconds. And if you do kill me, my men will leave, and you'll be depriving this...army of a powerful fighting force, surely dooming the rebellion to a messy end. Do you want to be responsible for that?"
"I...no..." Link sighed, knowing he was beaten. He couldn't let someone else suffer because of his weakness, and definitely couldn't ruin RIal's rebellion. His mind wandering, he wasn't aware of Iteos' arms circling him from behind until he was caught firmly in the knight's grip.
"I don't understand why you fight this so, Hero," Iteos purred. "Are you worried about your little boyfriend? I'll keep my lips sealed—he'll never know a thing. Worried about yourself? I assure you, I am not a selfish lover. I can make it just as pleasurable for you as it will be for me." He buried his nose in Link's neck and drew a deep breath, inhaling the Hero's slightly sweaty scent. "Just one night."
"One night?" Link said, weakly trying to pull out of the human's grip, but Iteos held him firmly, but gently in place.
"One night," he confirmed.
"When?"
"Tonight, if you feel up for it," Iteos said quietly. "But I will be expecting enthusiasm and participation on your end. The k...my last partner was positively lethargic, and while it was certainly pleasant enough for me, I'm quite sure he did not appreciate my attempts to make him liven up."
Link took a deep breath. As far as he was concerned, this couldn't be over fast enough. If a little backache and...whatever he'd be feeling after a night with Iteos was what it required, then so be it. "All right," he said. "Tonight...but no one can know."
"Of course, I respect your privacy...and I am nothing if not discreet. Your tent is quite empty these days with the shadow league out on their big, important mission, isn't it? I'll come in at midnight...be ready..."
Link waited until Iteos was out of sight before he released the shudder he'd been withholding since the human had embraced him. He already felt dirty, and he didn't want to think about what he'd feel like in the morning.
Dinnertime was a morose affair, at least for Link, whose mind was preoccupied with thoughts that were certainly not appropriate for the social occasion. How he hated Iteos. How he hated that Sheik had left without him. How he hated this war. How he hated...well, he wasn't all that fond of Lumina in general at the moment. He didn't voice this to Riveth, Rial and the others around the campfire—they didn't deserve having to listen to his whining.
His eyes met with Ard's across the fire, and he nodded at Link, as if he understood what he was thinking about. Of course he does, Link reminded himself. Iteos tried to force himself on him as well. Maybe that's where Angen had gotten the information from. Nah, Link told himself. Your horrible lie took care of that.
He finished his ration and put the bowl down in the snow, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his jacket. Winter and rebellion didn't allow for good manners. He was about to excuse himself to go answer the call of nature when the first signs of something being wrong showed themselves.
A light mist had begun to form as dinner had started. Nothing strange about that, everyone had thought. But Link had subconsciously been keeping an eye on it as he ate—it had reminded him of the room in which he'd fought his shadow for the first time, and he had never trusted fog and mist after that. As he rose from his seat, he saw that the light "mist" had now turned into a thick haze, more akin to smoke than anything else.
Then the arrows came. They fell like rain all over the camp, striking the rebels at their most vulnerable, unprepared and relaxed. Many saw their friends and comrades spill their food and keel over with a shaft sticking out of their bodies, their eyes wide and unblinking. Dead.
A trumpet sounded, and soldiers donning the uniforms and banners of the Royal Army came charging out of the fog—which turned out to be slow-working smoke bombs. They had been waiting for it to build up so they could sneak right up to the rebels without being seen. The rebels closest to the smoke never stood a chance as they were cut down by the first wave.
"Enemy within the perimeter!" Rial shouted over the din of a one-sided battle. "To arms, to arms! Drive them back!"
The attackers weren't a full army—not even a full company by the looks of them. The line established itself and stabilised on the north side of the camp—the only direction from which they could have come. Had they been a battalion, they would have surrounded the camp before attacking, but this was probably just one of the many search parties that had been established to find them.
The rebels fought fiercely, and Link soon found himself on the frontline, reinforcing the hastily formed shield wall. He was surprised at how quickly he found his place among the soldiers. He'd fought for Zelda, but never as part of the army proper. Granted, the defenders were currently a mishmash of men and women of Riveth's, the nobles' and, surprisingly, Iteos', so they weren't a proper company as such, but there was still a sense of...purpose and belonging.
I could get used to this, Link thought as he pushed against another wave of attackers with the other shield bearers. Their combined strength made it difficult for the enemy to get past them, and if they tried to go around, they'd meet row upon row of spears and swords. He ducked as a javelin went flying past him, inches from his face. Some poor bastard behind him took the small spear in the chest, but Link was too busy lashing out with his sword, catching someone's ankle. The blade came back bloody, evidence that he'd scored a hit. His back protested slightly, but Link was able to ignore it in favour of the rush that battle gave him.
"On three, push and strike!" the unofficial leader of the shield wall—an experienced-looking, middle-aged man from Reimos' house, ordered them all. It was met with grunts and shouts of agreement. "Ready! One, two three, push!"
Link grunted and pushed forward with all his strength. The enemy crashed was pushed back on their heels, unbalanced. Quickly, those with weapons lowered their shields slightly and lashed out, scoring hits all along the wall, before retreating behind their shields again. Link had gotten lucky—he'd stabbed forward and hit a spearman right in the gut. He disappeared from view, but Link knew he wouldn't be back in the fight for a long time, if ever. The leader ordered another push, and this time Link didn't hit anyone. The man beside him took an arrow to the face, however, and fell away, screaming. The hole was plugged by the man behind him, but the sight rattled Link quite a bit.
The enemy, surprised at the speed at which the rebels had organised a defence, realised that attacking the wall was useless and started to pull back slightly, letting their unseen comrades in the fog wear away at the wall with their arrows. Link looked back and saw Rial standing a few ranks behind him, apparently struggling to get to the front. There was no stopping that man, Link was sure of it. If there was a fight, one could count on the general to try and be first in line.
"They've been softened against our wall of steel!" Rial shouted. "Counterattack into the smoke! Push, push, push!"
The shield wall broke up as the rebels charged against the attackers, causing them to fully retreat into the protection of the artificial fog. Link felt the exhilaration, barely aware that his feet were carrying him swiftly into and among the enemy lines. Visibility was practically zero; he was only able to see a few feet in front of him. Everything else was reduced to shadows and barely glimpsed shapes in the fog.
His keen hearing picked up on footsteps approaching him quickly, and he ducked out of the way just in time to see an axe chopping at the air where his head had been a second before. The axe's owner came almost tumbling out of fog, and a quick and precise strike from Link's sword sent him crashing to the ground, bleeding from his femoral artery. Another chop to his neck ended his cries and left him still on the forest floor.
Never enjoy it, Link told himself as he walked, looked and listened for the next opponent to challenge him. Never enjoy killing. I don't enjoy killing. I don't. I don't. I don't...
The next enemy had the courtesy of impaling herself on Link's sword without the Hero having to do anything, not noticing the blade she was running at before it was too late. Link put his boot on her chest and pulled his weapon free, giving the woman a pitying glance before moving on. Ignore their faces, ignore their voices...
He suddenly emerged from the smoke, having walked right into the enemy's staging area. Rial and his troops had already reached it and were laying waste to the archers that had been waiting for them. It had come at a heavy cost; at least twenty of Riveth's men lying dead with Goddesses knew how many arrows in them just at the edge of the fog. Link threw himself into the fray, easily defeating archer after archer. He did his best not to kill them, knocking out those he could.
It only took a few minutes to break up the ranks of archers completely, and Rial and Link soon moved on to the enemy officers. The general and Hero gave each other nods of acknowledgment before attacking. The officers fought valiantly, but fell one by one until only the commander and his adjutant were left.
"I'd surrender if I were you...colonel," Rial said after throwing a quick glance at the man's uniform. "You're beaten."
"We'll never surrender to the likes of you, traitor!" the colonel snarled, dropping sword and drawing a dagger which he raked over his own throat in a gory display of loyalty and patriotism. The adjutant looked from the bloody corpse of his commander to Rial.
"How about it, captain?" Rial asked, not even looking at the now dead colonel. "Are you going to join him in this foolishness? You won't be killed or tortured; you have my word on that."
The captain looked at the body again before dropping his sword. "I surrender!" he exclaimed.
Rial nodded. "Good man. Take him prisoner, men, and treat him properly."
The rest of the attackers were either dead or retreating now, so Rial allowed himself to sit on a stump, looking at the carnage around them. "We were lucky," he told Link.
"How so?" the Hero asked.
"This was a small company—barely a hundred and fifty men. There was no way they could have beaten us, even with such a cowardly sneak attack."
"Then why did they attack?"
"No idea. Maybe they underestimated our abilities...or miscounted our numbers. It's also strange that colonel would be in charge of such a small force, but...I don't know. What I do know, however, is that we will have to be on our guard until sunrise. We'll have to move the camp now that they know where we are."
"Yeah... Do you want me to stay and guard—"Link began.
"No, you're still technically injured," Rial said, raising his hands. "You should go to your tent and get as much rest. That Agneta woman is going to give me hell for letting you fight in the first place."
"Let me fight, huh?" Link said, quirking an eyebrow in the way he'd learned from Sheik.
"That's the official story, at least," Rial said, winking at him and rising from his seat. "Anyway, I should organise the defences so—"
"General Vortan, General Vortan!" one of Riveth's men came running out of the fog, shouting for Rial. "It's General Riveth, sir," he told him. "She's been hurt!"
All trace of mirth fell from Rial's face, and he looked seriously at the man. "Take me to her," he said.
"This way, sir!"
Link tagged along, which Rial had no objections towards, it seemed. They were led almost all the way back to the camp, next to the fire they had taken their meal at. "Enemy broke through, sir," the man explained. "General Riveth was hit."
They spotted the ex-general lying on her back with Agneta crouching over her and surrounded three more medics. Her plate armour and chainmail had been taken off, lying discarded on the ground beside her. Riveth's chin was covered in blood, which she kept coughing up with loud, wet rasps. The blood was an unpleasant shade of black, the likes of which Link had never seen before. Surely blood wasn't supposed to look like that?
"What happened?" Rial demanded. He tried to get closer to his aunt, but one of the other medics pushed him back.
"She needs space, sir," he told Rial, who looked on helplessly as Agneta tended to Riveth.
"Bastard hit her in the chest with a mace," Agneta said without looking at him.
"Who'd...have...thought...they...used...those...anymore..." Riveth breathed out, coughing again.
"Don't speak, Drena," Agneta said gently. "Concentrate on breathing. The plate took the brunt of the blow, but your chest has still taken some damage," she noted.
"Blow...hah!" Riveth exclaimed.
"Be quiet, I said!"
Rial watched in silence, his frame tense. Link placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, but it did little to calm down the general.
"No thoughts about it," Agneta announced after a few minutes of listening to Riveth's breathing. "I need to operate. You three, get her to the sick tent!" She pointed at Link, Rial and the man who had come to get Rial, who immediately sprang to action and gently lifted Riveth between them. Even with three of them carrying her, Link was surprised at how light and frail the ex-general felt.
They carried her inside the sick tent and placed her on the surgery table, after which they were chased outside by Agneta and her medics. Angen was among them. He and Rial shared a look, and Angen silently told Rial that he was going to do everything he could to save her.
Sighing, Rial paced back and forth in front of the tent for a few minutes. "Typical," he muttered. "Typical..."
Recognising someone who desperately needed a distraction, Link spoke, "You have those defences to organise," he reminded him.
"Yeah, but—"
"No buts," Link continued, using the tone of voice that Zelda had used when she wanted absolutely no arguing or nonsense. "Your aunt is in the best of hands, and you've already done everything you can do to help. Pacing here and talking to yourself isn't productive at all. You need something to occupy yourself with, and you still have a job to do as a general. Go deal with the defences."
"And you?" Rial asked, gritting his teeth in the face of the truth the Hero spoke.
"I'll stay here," Link said. "I'll come running to you if there's a change."
"I...all right," Rial agreed, stalking off and hounding his men into action.
Link sighed, feeling the combat high wearing off, leaving his legs weak and feeling like jelly. He sank into a chair outside the tent and stuck his sword in the icy ground, resting his forehead against the pommel. Time for a little rest, he decided, the ache in his back returning with a vengeance. Resisting a whimper, he turned his attention to the sounds coming from within the sick tent. He heard Agneta's voice cursing loudly very often, which didn't seem like a good sign at all.
"Don't you dare die, Riveth," he muttered to himself, and waited.
He heard a sigh and opened his eyes. He spotted Ard standing on the other side of the rough street, looking anxiously at the opening. Link frowned. When Ard was angry, annoyed or even just bored, he looked older than he truly was, but now...now he reminded Link of the scared child he'd been when his twin had died. It made his heart ache. Standing up and leaving his sword where it was embedded in the ground, he crossed the street and stood next to the young warlock. "She'll be fine," he told Ard quietly.
"She...she can't die," Ard said. "She can't."
"Agneta won't let her."
"I'll...be alone..."
Link smiled sadly at him. "No, you won't be alone. The rest of the camp will still be here...Rial will be here."
"And...you?" Ard asked, his voice so quiet it could barely be heard.
Link blinked in surprise. He didn't even know Ard liked him all that much. Sure, he'd been invited to bear witness to his brother's funeral pyre, but he'd been under the impression that he was only there as a necessary witness. Nodding slowly, he said, "Yeah, I'll be here."
"And Sheik?"
"Sure, him too." Link sighed. "There's no point in dwelling on this, Ard. Riveth is going to be just fine, up on her feet and laying waste to the enemy in no time." He patted the boy's shoulder, grinning at him. "You think she's gonna let something like that stop her?"
"Guess not," Ard agreed, nodding.
And with that Ard's allotted quota of words for that day had run out, and the conversation died. Link retrieved his sword and began cleaning it, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the coagulated blood coating it. After finishing, he seated himself beside Ard and began a staring contest with the flap of the sick tent. Every now and then it was pushed aside, but it was usually only to let other patients or medics in or out. Link wasn't sure how long it took, but he estimated it took at least two hours before someone involved in Riveth's operation emerged into the night and approached them.
"Please inform General Vortan that we have stabilised Riveth," he told them curtly. "She is still unconscious, and we don't know when she will wake up."
"But she won't die?" Link asked, giving Ard a meaningful look.
"Not from the wound, certainly," the medic said, looking between them. "Oh, and tell the general that there is something Agneta wishes to...discuss with him in private. Very important."
"I'll go right now," Link said, pausing and pointing at Ard, "Can he go see her?"
"Certainly," the medic said, smiling at the warlock, who had pulled his mask back on. "Just don't expect her to talk back."
"I never said anything about talking," Link said as he walked away, chuckling. The cleanup from the attack was nearly done. The dead—both rebels and enemy soldiers—were gathered and covered in cloth. It was too cold, and the ground was too hard to bother with proper burial, especially since they had to break camp at dawn. Hopefully, the war would be over and someone could return and give them the proper respect before the bodies were preyed upon by the hungry animals of the forest.
The direction from which the enemy had attacked was definitely being reinforced, and Link followed the steady stream of soldiers massing there for night watch duty. His instincts had been right, and he found Rial there, directing and setting up a schedule. He waved the general over, and he excused himself.
"Well?" he asked expectantly and nervously, definitely fearful of the news being bad. "You have an update?"
"Yes," Link said, smiling at him. "She's stable and will survive. She's still unconscious and they're not entirely sure when she'll come out of it, but at least she's safe."
Rial's entire being sagged with relief, and he ran a hand through his short hair. "That's...good to hear," he said, voice filled with barely suppressed happiness. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me, thank Agneta," Link said, and leaned closer. "Speaking of her, she wants to talk to you in private."
"About what?"
"I dunno, I didn't ask. I figured it was private," he said again. "And it sounded pretty urgent, so I'd get there right now if I were you."
"All right, I'll go right now." Rial briefly instructed one of the higher-ranking officers to take over the defence and turned back to Link. "Thanks for your help, Hero...you're a valuable asset. Now go get some rest. You—and your back—have earned it. I'll send someone to wake you at dawn, if you wish."
"Thank you, I appreciate that," Link said, nodding and heading for the tent he shared with Sheik and the others. It was lonely in there these days, and he didn't sleep well. The lack of sleep made it difficult to wake up in the morning, and he felt like he was getting sloppy in everything else. All because he didn't have Sheik to snuggle up against—it was almost ridiculous how much of an effect Sheik's presence—or lack thereof—could affect him.
He had come to terms that it would be another night of struggling with sleeping when he noticed someone standing outside the tent. He growled to himself when he recognised the form of Sir Iteos. He'd forgotten about that.
"Ah, there you are," Iteos said quietly as he approached. "I was beginning to worry you'd forgotten."
"I had," Link replied and strode past him into the tent. Iteos followed, but made no attempts at anything else, looking around the interior. Link lit an oil lamp and began removing his equipment. Undoing and taking off the bandoleer to which his sword and shield were attached was a relief for his back, and he groaned appreciatively.
"Now that's a sound I like to hear," Iteos said, chuckling.
Scowling, Link continued, removing his outer clothing and the chainmail underneath, leaving him in his usual tunic and tights.
"Tights? Interesting choice," Iteos commented.
"Not asking for your opinion," Link said sourly, crossing his arms. "Where were you during the fight? Didn't see you anywhere."
"I was with my men," Iteos said, studying his fingernails. "We barely had time to react before the fight was over. I'll give the ragtag rebels this—they adapt well to surprises."
"How convenient," Link said, glaring at him. "What now?"
"That's entirely up to you. I told you, I expect enthusiasm and participation, and since I'm quite tired...well, why don't you take the lead?"
That was the worst thing he could have asked of Link at that moment. It was bad enough that he had to do...that with Iteos, but expecting him to get it started...it was like a double-betrayal of Sheik.
Oh, Sheik... He felt guilty about planning to keep this from his lover, but...he couldn't be allowed to find out. Not about this.
"Start by undressing yourself...and then me," Iteos said non-helpfully, grinning lecherously as he tied the tent flap closed, ensuring that no one could walk in on them. "The sooner you get started, the better, Hero..."
Muttering angry curses under his breath, Link undid the ties of his tunic and pulled it off, revealing his toned upper body, which was covered in scars, old and new. Iteos made another appreciative sound, eyes roaming over him.
"Mmm, can't believe you've been hiding that under all those clothes...they really do add bulk, don't they?" he said.
Link ignored him and pulled off his boots, blushing deeply as he did the same with his tights. In his undergarments, he stood before Iteos. "Is that enough?" he asked, to which Iteos began to laugh.
"What, you think we are simply going to cuddle? All of it, Hero. And do it slowly..."
Face burning with shame, Link did as he was told, sliding off the loose-fitting garment. He shivered slightly as the still-cold air in the tent nipped at his skin—though he was willing to attribute half of that shiver to the lecherous gaze of the knight.
"Beautiful, absolutely ravishing," Iteos said, chuckling at the attempt Link made at maintaining his dignity by cover his crotch with his hands. "Oh, come now, Hero, it's not like I haven't seen anything like it before."
"I hate you," Link muttered.
"Good, that'll make things more exciting," Iteos said, beckoning Link over. "Now, undress me...and let us begin."
Face burning even hotter, Link went to work, praying to the Goddesses that it would all be over quick...
...but it wasn't.
Rial looked at the sleeping Riveth with worry. Her face was pale, and while the blood on her face had been cleaned off, he couldn't help but see flashes of it. He kept replaying the scene over and over in his head—the sight of her lying prone on the ground, blood running out of her mouth like a river... She was covered in a blanket, but she still shivered slightly. It was to be expected, Agneta had told him. Her body had just gone through a terrible shock with the injury and the operation. Rial also had suspicion that it had something to do with what the medic wanted to talk about with him in private.
Ard was sitting on a chair next to Riveth, holding her hand while saying nothing, simply staring at her in a forlorn way. It was unfair, Rial thought. First he lost his brother, and now his adopted mother was severely wounded. Sometimes he wanted to do nothing more than to grab the bastard Rehm, who was responsible for all this, and smash his face repeatedly into the floor until nothing remained but a flat, gory pancake where his face should have been. His enjoyable mental image was ruined when Agneta cleared her throat from behind him.
"General," she said, tiredly waving for him to enter the small, screened area that served as the head doctor's office. It was quite bare—a small table, two chairs and a bookshelf was all it contained. Rial was beckoned to seat himself, which he did. Agneta sat down in the chair opposite him. She looked exhausted—the operation had taken a long time, and it was evidently not a hundred percent success judging by the look of sadness on her face.
"Call me Rial, please," he told her after she began to address him by rank again. "I'm here as a relative, after all." It was a bad joke, and it did nothing to hide the nervousness he was most likely radiating.
"All right, Rial," Agneta said, clearing her throat. "I'm not one to beat around the bush, I believe in telling the truth in as straight a way as possible. I've been informed in the past that it's a terrible strain on people's feelings, but..."
"I can handle it, whatever it is," Rial reassured her, not at all assured himself.
"Right, so here goes: Your aunt is dying."
The words hit him like a sledgehammer in the chest, and it took him a few seconds to completely process what she had said. "E-excuse me?" He asked. "I was told you'd—you'd stabilised her completely."
"Oh, the wound is completely stabilised and she's not in any danger of dying from blood loss," Agneta said, shaking her head. "Judging by your reaction, I guess she hasn't told you."
"Told me what?" Rial asked, feeling agitated. Had his aunt been hiding something from him?
"I'm sure Riveth would kill me for doing this, but since she's obviously in no condition to tell you herself, I will take the responsibility," Agneta continued, taking a breath when her voice threatened to crack. Rial realised that this wasn't easy on the doctor either, and gave her an encouraging nod. "Some years ago, she approached me with a persistent cough. She'd caught a cold the week before, but it had cleared up nicely...except for that cough. I figured that it was just some remnant of the cold and gave her some regular medicine..."
"But it wasn't a normal cough?" Rial asked.
Agneta shook her head. "No, it wasn't. At first I suspected pneumonia, but as the cough grew wetter and more violent, and none of the pneumonia medicines worked, I grew suspicious. I consulted dozens of medical journals and textbooks, and I eventually figured out what was wrong."
Rial held his breath.
"Rust lung."
Another sledgehammer hit him.
Rust lung was a fatal lung disease that had run rampant throughout Lumina five years prior. No one knew its cause, only that it had initially surfaced in and around Ironhill. Doctors and physicists believed it had something to do with the heavy industrialisation of the area and that there was something in the air that perpetuated it. However, when the disease began to spread, the theory was quickly dropped.
It was a nasty disease. When caught, patients began to suffer wracking coughs that only increased in intensity as the condition progressed. The first stage, where only the cough was a visible symptom, could last for months. Then the patient's lungs began to deteriorate. It could happen fast, or it could happen slow—it varied from patient to patient. It became harder and harder to breathe, and the patient would begin to cough up blood. Eventually, the lungs would fall apart completely, shrivelling up and turning a rusty red, from which the disease got its name. It was invariably fatal—doctors discovered a series of drugs that would keep it at bay for a long time, but a cure was never developed.
After about a year of ravaging the Luminan countryside (it never spread to the capital), the disease disappeared. Those who had contracted it died, but no one else caught it. It was a medical mystery, and attempts were made to find it again, but they never amounted to anything.
"H-how?" Rial asked. "You were in exile, how did you—"
"Come into contact with it?" Agneta asked. "Well, a caravan from Ironhill arrived one morning, carrying merchants who were selling weapons. Riveth began bartering, and just as they were finishing the deal, one of the merchants' children stumbled out of a wagon and coughed in Riveth's face. We didn't know anything about rust lung at the time, but I realised what was happening two weeks later. I've been force-feeding her the drugs for years now, and I thought I would be able to keep it at bay for quite a while longer, but...I was wrong." She sighed. "She's entered the second stage now. Her lungs will begin to shrivel up, it will get harder for her to breathe, the blood cough will continue..."
"And then—"
"Her entire system will collapse on itself when her lungs finally give out. I don't know how long it will take, all I know is that there's nothing I can do and—"she paused as her voice finally broke and a solitary tear slid down her cheek. She rubbed angrily at her eyes. "Look at me, a fully grown woman slash warrior slash doctor and I can't even handle telling someone that their relative is going to die..."
"It's all right," Rial said, his hand shaking as he patted her shoulder. "She's your friend. You're a doctor, but you can't remain objective—not in this situation."
"Thank you," she said, smiling sadly at him. "You're handling it a lot better than me, though, that's for certain."
"I have a feeling that if I let up now, I'll never be able to get back up again," Rial said quietly. He wanted nothing more than to lie down and just forget about absolutely everything, but knew he couldn't. He couldn't fall apart now—he had an army to lead. There would be time to grieve and...and arrange funerals and those things later... His breath hitched in his throat, and he looked away. "How...how long do you think she has?" he asked.
"That's the thing about rust lung—it's impossible to give an accurate prognosis. She's held it back for so long, and now that her body is so weakened from the wound and surgery...I fear it's not very long. A few months at the most."
"I see..."
"Rial...when the third stage begins...she told me she wasn't planning on sticking around to become a pale-faced ghost in a bed."
Nodding. "Sounds about right," he muttered. He couldn't imagine his aunt dying in her sleep in a comfortable bed. If she had anything to say about it, she'd go down in a blaze of glory. It was the way she wanted it. It was the way Rial wanted it too, now that he thought about it. It was the way, he was sure, the rest of her men wanted to see her go as well.
He only hoped that she'd get the chance before it was too late.
"Does Ard know?" he asked.
"No," Agneta replied, shaking her head. "Riveth didn't want either of the twins to worry about her. I imagine she will tell him as soon as she wakes up. Or maybe you would like to tell him—"
"I don't know," he interrupted her. "I doubt it. It is not my place."
"I suppose you're right," she agreed. "Right, now, as a doctor, I suggest we both get some rest. She's not liable to wake up anytime soon," she said, trying to change the subject.
"Yeah..." Rial said, standing up. "We're moving camp at dawn—it's too dangerous to stay here now that Rehm's men know where we are. Will it be all right? To move her, I mean?"
"As long as the jostling doesn't reopen her wounds, I believe so," Agneta said with a nod. "I'd advise you to get some strong men to carry the bed."
"I doubt it'll be hard to find volunteers," Rial said as he left the office and stood watching his unconscious aunt for a few minutes. "Will you let me know if there is a change in her condition?" he asked.
"Of course, general," Agneta said. She was back in her physician mode. "Now, go get some rest. Doctor's orders."
"Yes, ma'am," he said with a mock salute.
"And take him with you," she added, pointing at Ard. "It's way past his bedtime."
"Right, right."
Ard didn't resist as Rial gently grabbed his arm and pulled him with him. Neither of them said anything as they walked to the command tent. None of the soldiers or officers bothered them on their way—an odd hush had fallen over the camp when Riveth's injury had been announced. It was like they waited for a sign that she was going to die or not. Rial wasn't about to give it to them. He had no idea whether to tell Ard either. Surely that was a matter between Riveth and him? But if Riveth never woke up, never had a chance to...
He shook his head. No, that was far too negative. Most victims with rust lung had been awake and lucid long into the second stage. It was only at the third stage, when the brain didn't get enough oxygen from the lungs that their minds went.
Even so...he doubted that Ard would handle the news tonight. He was already visibly upset from the wound Riveth had received. Telling her that she was definitely dying on top of it...nope, too much.
After entering the command tent, as they headed for their respective cots, Ard rounded on him and stared him in the eyes. "She won't die," he told Rial firmly. "She's not going to let this stop her."
The words were said with such conviction that Rial couldn't help but smile and pat the boy on the head, wishing he could feel as optimistic. "You're right," he said, forcing a grin to his face. "She's too tough."
"Too tough," Ard repeated.
"She'll shrug it off."
"Shrug it off."
"It'll take some time, though," Rial added after a few seconds of silence.
"Yeah," Ard agreed, looking at his feet with interest. Then he promptly disappeared behind where his cot was. "Good night," he added a minute later.
"Good night," Rial replied, beginning to strip off his armour. He was sure his second in command could handle things until dawn. He felt so tired...and sad...and upset. He'd be surprised if he'd get any sleep at all, but orders were orders, especially a doctor's.
Contrary to his belief, sleep claimed him quickly after his head hit his pillow. But the sleep was filled with nightmares, and judging by the uneasy whimpers and mutterings coming from the warlock's cot, so was Ard's.
Jeryd left the master's chambers, walking gingerly along the hallways. Shame filled him, and he wanted nothing more than to disappear in a black hole and never return, but...it was a wasted hope.
"You all right?" Lezal asked, suddenly walking beside him. The older man must have been waiting for Jeryd to come back.
"What do you think?" Jeryd snarled quietly at him.
"What, you thought he'd just welcome you back with open arms?" Lezal said, shaking his head. "Naïve."
"I didn't expect that, no," Jeryd said. "But...didn't expect this either..."
"Could be worse."
"I fail to see how it could be."
"Any other assassin would have been dead the second he or she set foot in Ironhill again. The only reason you...er, I hesitate to call it 'get off', but...well, you're still alive because you were his favourite. It's the only reason you still have a chance to redeem yourself."
"You know what he asked of me?"
Lezal looked uncomfortable. "I do," he said slowly. "He told me soon after you abandoned your post in Lumina City, what he'd expect if you ever tried to return."
"Then you also know that there is no way in hell that I can do it."
"Jeryd, please—"
"No!" Jeryd exclaimed, stopping and shoving Lezal into the wall, ignoring the wave of pain that washed over him. "I won't do it! And if I see you or anyone else trying to do it instead, I'll cut your throats so damn quick you won't even realise what's happening before the walls are painted with jugular spray!"
Lezal remained quiet, just staring into Jeryd's eyes. It made Jeryd uncomfortable, and he pushed himself away from the other man, glaring at him.
"No deal," he said. "Where are they?"
"One of the private guest rooms," Lezal said, patting down his clothes, brushing imaginary dust off of them. "I sent the boy to entertain them."
"Take me to the room."
"Follow."
An uncomfortable silence covered them as they walked. Jeryd hated this place, hated the bare walls, hated the cold atmosphere...he hated the random assassins they passed in the corridors. They gave him surprised glances, obviously recognising him—probably wondering why he wasn't dead. He glared at them. The only one he wouldn't glare at was Lorasi—or Lor, as he preferred to be called. Speaking of which...
"What happened to him?" he asked Lezal.
"Who?"
"Lorasi—the boy," Jeryd repeated, annoyed at Lezal's feigned ignorance.
"Ah, him...well, a decision was made and he was declared unfit to be an assassin," Lezal said. "He failed his first and second exams, and that was all the patience we could afford him."
"Then why isn't he dead?" Jeryd asked, gritting his teeth at the off-hand manner Lezal was speaking in. Lor and Lezal had never gotten along, especially not when Jeryd had still been stationed in Ironhill. There was just something fundamentally different about them that forced any attempts at friendship or quiet respect up against the wall and stabbed it a few dozen times. But it had never come to physical blows before, and yet Lezal had slapped Lor quite hard inside the brothel, and the boy hadn't even said anything about it, had just taken it quietly. "Last time I checked, the guild does away with failed novices."
"That was the plan for him initially," Lezal said, his tone turning neutral. "An assassin who cannot kill is useless to us...but it was discovered that he has certain...talents, especially in the art of seduction. So a special concession was made for him, and he was allowed to live in exchange for working in the brothel until we either grow tired of him or find a better use for him."
Jeryd gritted his teeth again. What an utterly heartless way to treat a person, and while Lezal was by no means a saint, he had never expected such words to come from him.
"And...the tattoo?" he asked.
Lezal looked at his feet, clearly uncomfortable. "To signify his...status," he eventually replied. "So there can be no doubt what he is."
"A good-for-nothing whore, huh?" Jeryd asked.
"I wouldn't say that, he makes more money than any other in the broth—"
"Shut up!"
He hadn't meant to shout—his voice was embarrassingly loud in the hallway—but he couldn't stand hearing a friend being talked about in such a way. It filled him with a white-hot rage, which replaced the shame he'd been feeling before. He made a decision then. Lorasi wouldn't suffer much longer in this place. Lezal must have known what he was thinking, because he slowly shook his head.
"You're already pushing it just by coming back, Jer," he said quietly. "Try and do something about this...and you'll be hunted till the end of your days."
"Small price to pay for ending needless cruelty," Jeryd said, shrugging and continuing down the hallway. "I know the rest of the way. Don't bother following. And definitely don't call me Jer!"
"Protocol dictates—"
"Fuck your protocol!"
He followed the mental map he'd made of the place years ago and eventually found the series of isolated rooms that honourable guests of the guild were given. He only heard voices from one of them. He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down before entering.
Sheik, Elenwe and Kafei were sitting cross-legged on cushions around a low table, on which a bottle of some unidentified alcohol was sitting. Four small glasses were placed evenly around on the table, but none of them were filled. Lor was sitting two paces away from the table, the servant's position. He was apparently in the middle of a story judging by the way all the attention was focused on him, but he stopped talking upon Jeryd's entrance, making everyone focus on him.
"There you are," Sheik said, nodding to him. "Long meeting with the master?"
"Er, yes," Jeryd said, slapping himself mentally for hesitating and making that stupid sound. "There were some details about my debt that had to be settled. It's all fine now, though." He sat down at the table in the unoccupied seat, noticing that Lor was giving him a knowing, sad look. He shook his head at him, trying to indicate that he was all right. "Have I missed something?"
"Just embarrassing stories about your time here before you left," Elenwe said, grinning stupidly. "I didn't know you were such a wolf."
"Wolf?" Jeryd asked, looking to Lor for an explanation.
"I, er, told them about the times you and...and Drake and the others did—"
"Oh, right," Jeryd said, his cheeks burning. That had been an interesting time of his life. Trying to change the subject, he looked Lor's position again. "What are you doing over there?" he asked. "Come sit at the table."
"Oh, I can't, I'm here to—"
"Entertain us? Balls to that! You're my friend, not a servant."
"But—"
"He's right," Sheik agreed. "Please, join us." He looked at Jeryd, shrugging apologetically. "We tried to tell him to sit with us before, but he refused."
"He'd better not this time," Jeryd said, staring at Lor until he finally relented and seated himself across from Jeryd, scratching his neck in uncomfortable embarrassment. The tattoo on his cheek made Jeryd angry. Even if he was condemned to a life as a...a brothel worker, why did they feel the need to mark him? That was just unnecessarily cruel...
But then a thought struck him. Lezal had never been hesitant when talking about whores and brothels before, but he had seemed downright uncomfortable when talking about Lor's supposed "talents". Which meant that there had to be something else...
"Is something wrong?" Lor finally asked, tired of being stared at.
"Ah, no, nothing," Jeryd said, clearing his throat. "Just, ah, amazed at how big you've gotten."
"It's been four years," Lor said drily. "I was eleven when you left. Normal kids do tend to grow a bit in such a time period. What, surprised that I'm actually normal?"
Ah, there was the good old Lorasi he knew.
"Of course, I didn't mean to imply—"
"I know, Jer," Lor said, giving him a small smile. "I was pulling your leg."
"Like you always did." Jeryd smiled back, not objecting to the nickname being used. Lor was probably the only person left in the world who was allowed to call him that. Well, him and... He glanced at Sheik, who was quietly talking to Elenwe about something or other. Well, maybe him too, if he ever wanted to.
"So," Kafei said suddenly, jerking him out of his thoughts, "I was given to understand that this guild was founded on Sheikah values and such..."
"Yes?" Jeryd said.
"I have yet to actually see any of it," Kafei continued, glancing around. "No symbols, no decorations...your outfits don't look anything like ours..."
"Ah, well, it is mostly our training regimen that was based on yours, Master Sheikah," Lor said before Jeryd had a chance to speak. "A founding member visited Hyrule long ago, witnessed your people's training and fighting styles and brought a lot of it back here."
"I see...and don't call me Master or Sheikah," Kafei said, not unkindly. "My name is Kafei Dotour—but you may use my first name if you'd like."
"Thank you Ma—Kafei," Lor said, giving Kafei a dazzling smile that would have melted anyone's heart in a second. It certainly melted Jeryd's.
"Speaking of that," Sheik suddenly said, fixing Kafei with a penetrating stare. "You never told me how you came to be a part of the Dotour family to begin with."
"Me neither, actually," Elenwe said, joining in.
Jeryd didn't know what to say. The only Dotour family he could think of was the one from Termina, whose head had held the mantle of mayor just before Clockwork City had been wiped out by the cataclysm. The same one that had taken Kafei's fiancée from him.
"Perhaps a story better left for another time," Kafei said, clearly uncomfortable.
"I'd like to hear it now, actually," Sheik pressed on. It seemed a bit pushy, but Jeryd couldn't see any ill will in the youngest Sheikah's eyes. He was just honestly curious—and he was simply too stubborn to let it lie. "We apparently have some time to wait until the tunnel is ready, anyway..."
"Eugh, all right," Kafei said, sighing. "There really isn't much to say. After I left Hyrule, I didn't know where to go. I couldn't stop thinking about you or Impa...actually, I thought about you the most—I was worried you didn't make it..."
"Right," Sheik said, clearly trying not to think about his brush with death that night.
"Well, I eventually took what little money I had left and hopped on a trading caravan that was bound for one of the southern empires. But I never got any further than the Terminan border. When I couldn't pay the caravan anymore, they threw me off and I was left to fend for myself in a foreign land."
"What did you do then?" Lor asked, enraptured. Jeryd smiled at the enthusiasm. It was good to see a little childishness in the boy who seemed so grown-up.
"I figured I would make my way to the capital, thinking that there was surely someone who would be interested in hiring some help. Perhaps work in a warehouse or something. But that was still a long ways off. Turns out that people in Termina are even more mistrustful of strangers with red eyes than they are in Hyrule. None of the farms along the way would give me the time of day. The only kind people I met along the way were a pair of red-haired sisters who allowed me to sleep in their barn for a night and gave me some food the next day before I returned to the road."
"Were they pretty?" Elenwe asked.
"I'd say so," Kafei nodded. "In a farm-ish sort of way. Cremia and Romani were their names. Cremia was the oldest, probably a few years my senior, while Romani was probably around your age, Sheik. Anyway, the food they gave me only lasted a couple of days, and soon I was back to begging random passers-by on the road for food."
"You could have stolen some, surely," Sheik said.
"I could, but I was determined to not use my training or abilities for anything illegal. I was so certain I could get out of the life that lay ahead of me. I just wanted to be normal, not indebted or forced to fight for anyone. I eventually arrived in Clockwork City, but things didn't improve. No one would hire a young boy filthy from travelling and looking like he was about to collapse from malnourishment. I was forced to live on the streets as a beggar. I had to do...terrible things just to get by, sometimes."
"Goddesses," Elenwe muttered, looking at him sadly. Clearly she had never been treated to Kafei's life story either, and Jeryd began to wonder if he and Lor should have gone outside while he spoke, as this was an intimate story to Kafei.
"I was about to give up and try to go back to Hyrule," Kafei continued. "Even though I highly doubted I'd make it back alive. I was prepared to beg Impa to take me back. I would gladly have taken any punishment she'd see fit to give me."
"But something happened?" Sheik asked.
"Yes. It was pure coincidence that I happened to be on that particular street at that particular time. It was during some festival or other—apparently, it was held every year to celebrate the moon and make it feel honoured so it wouldn't get angry and crash into the earth. Ridiculous, but... Anyway, I was making my way through the crowds, begging for scraps, coin, anything that would keep me alive another day, when I noticed the mayor and his wife. They were as popular as anyone could be, and they loved mingling with the other citizens. Someone had clearly seen their chance to cause mayhem, however, and had hired and assassin that was sneaking up on them with a knife, clearly intent on ending their lives. My instincts kicked in, and I intervened. I was weak from living on the streets, but I was still a better fighter than the hired killer. We scuffled, and at some point or another he had his hands around my throat. I did what I was taught, and turned the enemy's weapon back on him. I stabbed him in the gut."
Sheik was nodding, agreeing with the tactic.
"How did the people react?" Lor asked.
"There was panic and chaos, and the watchmen thought that I was the one who had tried to kill the Dotours, hauling me off and throwing me into a cell. But the mayor realised what had happened and visited me. He thanked me for saving the lives of his and his wife, and asked me who I was and where I'd come from. I told him my story, thinking I might as well get it off my chest. He took pity on me and ordered me to be released. I was so thankful, and then he gave me an offer. He and his wife would take me in, in exchange that I would protect them from whoever had tried to have them killed. I agreed, but told him that it would be difficult to explain a Sheikah in their household, to which he replied that he had an idea. We worked out that I was to take on the cover of a son who had been sent away to school years ago and had finally returned home. I dyed my hair the same colour as theirs and spent some time learning the Dotour family history."
Sheik looked thoughtful, and Jeryd wondered what he was thinking about.
"I eventually figured out who was responsible for the attempted assassination of the mayor, and tracked them down and killed them all," Kafei said, his expression turning to stone. "For a time afterwards, I was worried. Not only had I forsaken my own vow that I would never become someone's tool again, but...I was afraid that now that the threat against the Dotours was gone, I would be cast aside and once again end up on the streets."
"But?" Lor asked.
"The mayor told me that he was sorry I'd been forced to commit such an act despite my vow. He promised he would never make me do something like that again and surprised me greatly—he asked me to become a permanent member of their house. He and his wife...they were unable to have children, and he said that I had become like a son to him in the time I spent there."
"So you became their son for real?" Jeryd said, to which Kafei nodded.
"I was so happy...I could finally leave all my doubts and fears behind. I could finally start living for myself. I wrote to Impa and told her about had happened, but she never replied, and she never told you, I suppose."
"Only that you were in Termina," Sheik said. "I asked to go after you, but she refused. During the war I came upon a history book that Doctor Kaura had brought from home. It mentioned you. I was surprised."
"I can imagine," Kafei said. "Well, I spent the next few years just...being myself, enjoying life. And then I met Anju..."
Elenwe hissed quietly, so quietly that Jeryd barely noticed it.
"We grew close...and I finally proposed. She said yes. I don't think I've ever been happier than the day she did. And then...well, you know the rest of the story. The comet, or meteor, or whatever fell, destroyed the city and...I never saw Anju or my p—the Dotours again." Kafei took a deep breath and released it. Telling the story had been difficult.
"I'm sorry," Sheik said. It was probably the first time Jeryd had seen him apologise to his cousin. It was...strange, and oddly endearing. "I didn't mean to pry—"
"No, no, it was...nice to tell someone about it," Kafei said, giving Elenwe an apologetic look. "And I'm sorry for not telling it to you sooner, but..."
"Wasn't my place," she said.
"But it was," Kafei said. He didn't elaborate on that, but a meaningful look passed between him and the Gerudo.
Jeryd surreptitiously reached for the bottle of alcohol and poured himself a small amount. His nerves had begun to act up when Kafei had finished his story, and he just needed a little bit to—
He was stopped by a two-pronged assault from both Sheik and Lor. Sheik had reached for his wrist and gripped tightly while Lor simply gave him a disapproving look. Relinquishing his grip on the bottle and feeling Sheik doing the same with his wrist, he let his shoulders fall and began to feel utterly miserable. He wasn't even allowed that small comfort!
There was a knock on the door, and Lezal and a pair of assassins stepped inside. They were carrying the gear Sheik and the others had left behind at the inn.
"The master thought you'd need these tomorrow night," Lezal explained as they packs were put on one of the beds. "I was told to inform you that the work on the tunnel is progressing well and should be ready by morning." He gave Lor a disapproving glance, and the boy quickly removed himself from the seat at the table, returning to the servant's position.
"Thank you," Sheik said, nodding. "It is much appreciated." There was no truth in the words. He clearly didn't like Lezal or the way he treated Lor.
"Also, he has appointed a guide to take you through tunnel system and get you inside the halls," Lezal added.
"Who?" Jeryd asked suspiciously.
"Me," Lezal said and left the room without another word, the assassins hot on his heels. The door closed, and the group was left on their own again. Lor had to be coaxed back to the table once more, which annoyed Jeryd. He couldn't remember the boy being so submissive before he left.
They spent the rest of the night talking about everything and nothing. No subject was too dull to be discussed, not even how to stitch holes in socks. After everything they'd been through on their way to the guild, Jeryd knew they were all trying to stave off the awkwardness that would result from the silence stretching on for too long.
Lor, however, seemed to be enjoying himself immensely. Jeryd wasn't surprised. He probably wasn't used to being treated like a normal person on occasions like these. How he hated the guild for doing that to him...
The time for sleep came eventually at dawn. They decided to sleep through most of the day so they would be awake and alert for the night's mission. Lor gathered up the bottle and cups and excused himself, but Jeryd followed him outside, stopping him.
"Lor."
The boy looked at him, noticing they were alone. "Yes?"
"Can...can we talk? Alone, I mean, and not here?"
"I need to go to bed, or else the matron will have my head," Lor said apologetically. "But I have a few hours off today at noon, if you feel up for it."
"Of course," Jeryd said with a smile.
"Great. Meet me at the clock tower, then." Jeryd could've sworn that there was a slight skip to the boy's steps as he walked away.
Sliding under the covers of his bed, intending to get a few hours of sleep before meeting with Lor again, he felt a comfort at having seen a friendly face—one he hadn't expected to see ever again. Someone snored, but he didn't feel bothered by the sound at all. Eyes closing, he yawned and let himself fall asleep, the unpleasantness that had occurred within the master's chambers forgotten for now.
To be continued...
Longer chapter than usual this time—hope you enjoyed it! Going to be a little busy in the time ahead, so there probably won't be very many updates until May rolls around. Thanks for the reviews, everyone!
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