PART SEVEN - THE SHADOW OF MY KIN

The small office was quickly becoming known as a scriptorium with piles of more papers entering and making themselves at home. It had been days since Silas's escapade but to him it felt like weeks. He could still feel Viktor's anger on the subject but the old man didn't open the matter again and spoke to him only when he had to. Sally was keeping a closer eye on her Lord and Silas knew she was hiding the keys to the front door. Oh, if only she knew how he actually got out.

In those passing days, Silas waited restlessly but still received no word from any of the villages. It was as if Desmera was all alone in Eldin. No one was coming in and thanks to Silas's new rule no one was leaving. How was Hyrule dealing with the monsters? How many villages have been destroyed?

No one spoke to him regarding the missing hunters but he could still see the glares thrown at him days before. Sally worried for his health and she was right to feel so. He kept having sweets to calm his nerves even though they were against the apothecary's order. It was until Viktor put his foot down.

Silas stopped to stretch his sore wrists. These days he had done writing and worrying. He hadn't seen much of Link or Katie, not with the increased number of monsters to keep them busy. Viktor had them out the door as quick as he could no doubt, and Silas missed hearing their voices, even if they were just arguing. They fill the void in the manor. They made it less empty.

He glanced over the window where Sally opened it for him. Gloaming approached the mountain in a wave of feverish colors. Speckles of birds flew in union across the sky. There were dots from the town, torches being lit and hung. And that fellow down there must be Link coming back from a long day's work. Silas turned to his work but then quickly turned back to the window.

Wait a minute.

He got up from his chair and went over the window. The evening air was cold, cooling his face. It wasn't just the chill that made him shudder. Something…something wasn't right.

He squinted at the figure that stood next to some low shrubs. His eyes then widened. The person bore no green tunic and had no colorful fairy at hand. The inscrutable figure was dark, too thin to be anyone Silas knew. It must've been a play on his mind since the figure was nothing when he rubbed his eyes.

I must be tired, he thought, sitting back down. It had to be the result of the nightmares he was getting. It was the same one as usual, about the dark man in the shadows. By now, the nightmare was getting a bit clear. Silas could make out a faint but powerful voice.

He sighed before returning back to his work. He wished he could take a stroll outside. Being in this stuffy room was suffocating. But he didn't want to start pushing his luck with his servants. They had been right to worry about him. He spent his days fretting over things he knew he had no control over.

For one thing, there was no word from the friendly Gorons as well. It was strange to see the streets without the Gorons carefully wadding their way through without stepping on the little Hylians. Silas smiled a little. Grey certainly loved the mountainous beasts and you could often catch them carousing around in the bars. With the Gorons' help in trades, the Desmera was recognized for lapidary and the Haidrunds was able to help a great deal in finance for the crown.

He longed for those days. He longed for the days when things had been so simple.

Silas put down the quill and rubbed his face with trembling hands. These memories were the worst part about his confinement. He could handle the memory of the funerals, the memory of the shock from when he discovered the body. He could handle all of that.

But memories of happiness, of times when he could smile and see things on the bright side, memories when he spent the evening not writing and sulking like he did now but drinking tea in front of the fire in the company of his family. Memories of him and father talking about anything and the third member of the family, so reticent, just drank her tea quietly.

Those memories were the worst. If he could just get rid of them, tear them from his soul, he would.

He had a cup of nightshade hiding under his bed. It had been tempting to gulp it down the moment he brewed it but he was wise to save it for later. Licking his lips eagerly, he found that he was already at his bed and the cup already in his hand. He'd have to finish it before Sally came in. It wouldn't do well if she saw that he was taking medicines on his own agenda.

Then the door opened.

Silas, who was by his desk with his cup, nearly jumped out of his skin. For a split second, he considered throwing out the drink.

"Ugh, I'm so done!" Link grunted, walking in as if he was invited. His tunic was darkened with dirt and sweat and his hair was a mess.

Silas narrowed his eyes. "I'm busy."

Link fell on the couch, groaning. "Oh my days."

"Link—"

"Just leave me alone, will you? Go back to work or whatever."

Silas thinned his lips. He thought of the days when he was the one to barge into his father's office, practically shaking with exuberance. Lawrence always complained about how he could never finish one paper without some barbarian bursting into the office. Silas could now understand his pain.

His nerves did relax when he swallowed up some of his nightshade. Then Sally walked in just as he set the cup down. Panic bloomed in his mind when the nightshade was out in plain sight.

"I tried to stop him but he wouldn't listen to me," she said angrily, snapping a look at Link who had his face on the couch. She didn't notice the nightshade thankfully. She wasn't nearly as obsequious as Viktor. "Hey you, can't you see that he's busy?"

Link lifted a hand to shoo her off. "I need to talk to him anyways," he said, his voice muffled. "Now if you don't mind?"

"He is busy or can't you tell?"

Link lifted up his grumpy face to look at her. He snorted. "You know you keep making that face so much you'll starting to get wrinkles."

Silas sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose in irritation when the argument started to heat up. "Alright, alright! Sally, can you bring us some sweets? And, Link, it better be important."

Link shot her a smug. Sally stormed out.

The young Lord sighed. "Link, I want you to treat her with respect. She's been like my second mother to me."

As he drank his hidden cup, he knew the statement should apply to him as well. She had always been there for him, ever since he was a spoiled little brat. But Link, of course, wouldn't care. He picked himself up from the couch and waltzed over to the shelf that was packed with books.

"Did you read all this?" he asked curiously.

"Some of them," Silas replied, writing down a letter for Grey. The captain hadn't written him a repot in days. "How goes the monster slaying?"

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about actually."

Silas stopped writing. "Did something happen?"

"Calm down. Nothing happened." Link took out a book from the shelf. Unlike with the rest of the décor of the room, he handled the book with care. "Just something I've been seeing lately. Frank even noticed it."

Silas frowned slightly. "And what did he say?"

Link opened the book and his eyes widened in shock. Silas saw his nose wrinkle. "How the heck do you read this? The words are so small!"

"Ah, that's probably one of the old books my father bought from Faron," Silas said. "Hmm, I thought he had those thrown away. You have to read them with a magnifying glass."

Link squinted at the text. "Why's the words so tiny? It's like a mouse wrote this."

"It must be a book from way before the king was born. Back then, paper was scarce and so scholars were forced to make every page count." Silas hadn't read much of the books which was a shame since they were written by great scholars. It was just too irritating on the eyes; there were no paragraph breaks, only this chunk of words all sandwiched together. "What's the title of the book?"

For a moment, Link was silent.

"Link?"

"Never mind." Link returned the book in almost of a haste.

Silas blinked. He'd never be able to understand this guy. Link acted careless with everything else in the room, but he never went near the book collections before.

"You can take some of the books if you'd like," Silas offered but thought it was a silly thing. Link didn't strike as an articulated individual.

"Look, forget it," Link said curtly. "I want to talk about the monsters."

"Alright then."

"There's something not right with them." Link's expression was troubling. "I know monsters inside and out—literally. I know how they are and this isn't normal. They don't raid the same place over and over again. And here's the thing—they're not even taking anything!"

"Not true," Silas interjected. "I've been getting reports about stolen livestock and raided stores."

"And when did you get those reports?"

Silas paused for a moment. "A while ago," he admitted.

"My point then. They aren't doing anything but getting at people."

Silas shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Did Grey say anything about this?" If Link's observations were right, then Grey should've been the one to tell him all of this. Why didn't he report it?

Link scoffed as if he thought of something he didn't like. "We don't see eye to eye."

Silas hoped he didn't look frustrated. Didn't he tell Grey to cooperate? Was swallowing his pride too much to ask for? For Din's sake, it took someone like Frank to notice something wrong was going on. They all needed to work together.

"He hasn't sent me a report," Silas said, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know what's he doing but this isn't acceptable."

"I don't like him," Link admitted. "But I'll tell you to take it easy on the man. He's the reason why you don't have an angry mob on your doorstep."

Silas looked up in alarm. "What do you mean? Is there a riot going on?"

"No, and that's thanks to him." Link frowned. "Come on, shorty, don't look like that. You think people are happy about your new rule?"

Silas winced. "That isn't—there is no other choice here, Link, and you know that."

Link sighed. "I know but people aren't happy and your captain is the reason they're being good right now."

"I suppose you have a point then." Silas wished he could bury himself in the ground. Thinking of those glares made him feel much worse. Maybe he shouldn't have left his manor. "Did Katie say anything about this?"

Link's nose scrunched up and it told Silas enough.

Silas sighed. "Did you two argue again?"

Link went over to slump down on the couch. With Link, he doesn't just sit down, he throws himself on the cushions, resting his back on them, propping his boots up. "I swear that sprit is going to crack my head open," he growled lowly. "No, she didn't say anything about the monsters because she might as well live in the library now."

Probably to get away from him, just as he was doing with her. These two…Silas knew he should say something about this, about these arguments, but Link would only rebuff him.

"Well then, thank you for bringing this to my attention." Silas crunched up the paper he had been writing and brought out a new one. "I need to speak to Grey about all of this."

He selected a different quill and dipped it in the ink, but his mind was blank when tip of the pen hovered over the paper. What would there be to talk about? If the monsters were behaving odd, then there had to be a reason behind it. From what Link analyzed, the monsters were only interested in destroying them. The concern itself would seem a bit insubstantial but Silas trusted Link with this. It was well known fact that monsters would only invade towns for their supplies.

Silas set aside his pen for now. "What do you make of this?"

Link had his arms behind his head and closed his eyes. "I can say one thing: I feel like this is bigger than a monster problem."

"How so?"

"Man, I don't know. This is from my guts and my guts' rarely wrong."

Silas tried to take more of his drink but found it empty already. Quietly, he slid his finger around the inside just to get every bit of drop. "Have you spoken to anyone about this?"

"I tried to talk with your butler," Link said with an edge.

Silas hid away the mug in one of his drawers. "I'll speak to him then. Just…please don't think ill of him. He tends to mistrust people who he thinks aren't loyal. Not that I accuse you of—"

"Grey's loyal," Link pointed out, "So why isn't Viktor kissing his ass?"

Silas couldn't find an answer. This quarrel between his captain and butler was still much of a mystery and it had been going on for as long as he could remember. He asked his father about it, firmly stubborn on getting an answer, but rather than be ushered out, his father had a glint in his eyes and chuckled.

Now Grey and Viktor are the among the loyalist men you can find. But here's the interesting part, son: they were hired in different ways and these different ways are what goes against their precepts.

Another godforsaken riddle. Lawrence loved torturing people with them.

"I don't know," Silas said with an exaggerated sigh. "They've been at it like dogs and cats. But at least they're mature about it."

Link laughed dryly. "Mature? They look like they're about to rip each other's throat off."

With the current circumstances, Silas could imagine the edge they were standing and the patience that was thinning between them.

Silas began to write down his letter as soon as the words started to flow through his fingers. Meanwhile, Link found ways of entertaining himself by playing around with Lawrence's things.

"Link, please." Most of the things here were fragile and delicate. "Now is there anything else I can do for you?"

The swordsman returned things in a disorderly fashion that would no doubt agitate Viktor. "I'm just curious about something. You keep saying you don't have the men to fight for you and to look for your hunters but why can't you just hire?" Link settled back on the couch with his arms spread. "Aren't you rich? You can make it happen, right?"

"Father told me never to trust a man who fights only for money," Silas said sternly.

"Uh huh. And you're captain is working for free?"

"I'm paying him but it's different than paying a mercenary. He's fighting for the law and on my principles underneath a sacred vow. Besides, neither my father nor Grey trusts the Silver Company. I feel much better if you're the one doing the fighting rather than Banard." He shuddered slightly. "I don't trust that man."

"Smart move."

Silas reviewed the first draft of his letter and took out a fresh paper to rewrite it. "I wish things were that simple though."

"What about food then? Why can't you buy a load of it?"

Silas gave him a look. "Link, it's not that easy."

"How is it not easy?" Link asked, annoyed. "You have a shit ton of money. Other people can't even buy a piece of bread."

Silas couldn't name the times when people tried to shame him for being privilege. He set aside his indignation and said steadily, "I'm doing the best I can."

Link snorted. "Yeah, you're really working out your fingers with all the papers over there."

"These papers," Silas said bitingly, "are the contracts and requests that would be made to improve the town and make the lives of people easier. It has to be done orderly or there'll be chaos."

"And you just can't give people money?"

Silas had the exact same thought in the program. He thought problems could be solved in the most obvious way and couldn't understand why it hadn't been done before.

Sally walked in before he could reply. She served them dessert with some of Silas's medicine. Yvein. Din save him from this poison. He shot her a sweet smile. "Thank you."

"Don't forget to take it this time," Sally said and looked at Link distastefully. "And you better behave yourself, clear?"

Link rolled his eyes. "Yes, mother. Anything else? Do I have to take medicine too?"

"Link," Silas warned. "Thank you, Sally. That will be all."

She bristled but left quietly. Link only took some bites out of the lemon cake before deciding that he wanted fruits instead. He always carried some around, Silas noticed. Viktor complained that Link never cleaned up the orange peels after himself.

Silas savored the soft taste of the sweet, wondering how Link wasn't devouring his. "About your question, Link," Silas said once he was done. "Let me reply it with a another question: what makes a town?"

Link was reclined in the couch, popping grapes in his mouth. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Just humor me."

Link chewed his fruit thoughtfully. "People, I guess."

"And what brings people together?"

"I don't know. They want to get together to feel safe or something."

"And to form a community." Silas folded his hands in front of him. "Now to form a proper and organized community that is well maintained in food, security, construction and the likes, we need to divide certain work for every individual. Everyone needs to play a role with jobs that benefits our said community. A community is what forms a society. Are you getting me?"

"More like you're boring me," Link said with a groan. "Why does this matter?"

"Because that answers your question. I can't throw money everywhere. See, being a Lord is like a shepherd. People give me their trust to protect them, and I use that trust to divide and set them to work. Through that, they'll all play out certain roles that benefit this community. A work of a Lord needs to be handled meticulously, Link, since it's similar to being a king. The king is the master shepherd, you could say, and he relied on his nobles who are the lesser shepherds to watch over certain parts of his land. We're his eyes and mind. We help him keep the peace."

Link scratched his head. "But people aren't well now. They're starving."

And it ached Silas to hear that. "I know. It pains me but I can't solve their problems with a snap of my finger. Hylia above us, it would be easy to buy a stockpile of food and be done with it."

"And you can't do that because?"

Silas lifted a finger. "Because there isn't anyone selling them, Link. And that's what I'm talking about what makes a community. I can have all the money in the world, with the biggest manor and the best lands to go with it. But the truth is that power ultimately lies in people's actions. If there weren't any farmers, there would be no crops, no livestock.

"Take yourself for example. In these circumstances, your power is far greater than my money. If the town goes under—Hylia prevail us—then my money would have no meaning. And this is what I'm saying. Money acts as a catalyst for these transactions. It is what drives this community. But is it really essential? Is it the only thing that matters in this world? It keeps our community in tact true but I have to disagree that it's the most imperative thing.

It was exciting to see Link attentive. It reminded Silas so much of his sister. She never liked long and complex discussions and he had to speak to her slowly and simplify some things just like he was doing now with Link.

They're kind of alike in a way, Silas thought and squished the thought of her before it ruin the rest of his day.

"Being a Lord sounds heavy," Link said after a moment of silence.

"It's a weight that I'll continue carrying."

But for how long? How long could he stand this? The weight was crushing him, breaking his bones rendering them to splinters. It was breaking his mind.

Link got up, saying he better move before the sprit goes looking for him. For a desperate minute, Silas considered calling him back.

Please, please don't leave me alone.

But the doors closed, and in his mind he heard their thud much louder with finality. Then following it was the one thing that he most dreaded the most.

Silence.

Empty, silence. Loud in its own way, dark, cold like an empty soul.

Silas took in shaky breaths, holding his head down. If he had Link's strength, would he be able to endure it? Or maybe he needed ruthlessness. He was always told that he cared too much. If he could make decisions without second-guessing, without fretting over people, would that be better?

No. That sounded too much like Sophia.

I should've seen it coming, he lamented countlessly. I never should've let her stay that day. I should've listened. I should've sent her away. Far away.

Maybe she didn't mean it. She does things sometimes that were beyond reason. But she had a choice. She always had a choice. She chose to tear Father's portrait. She chose to distant herself from the family, from the world. She chose to attack Irela.

And she chose to kill her.

What could he do? How could he bear this weight that she had helped him with? He was left with nothing but shattered memories, of terrible memories of the golden days that he will never get back. His hands clenched at the papers on his desk.

I'll always protect you, she told him, over and over again. After their father was killed, Silas felt as if he had been walking through a dark mist, lost and confused and full of pure misery. But she had always been there to pull him out of it. And in turn, he failed to see the storm she was trapped in, so convinced that his pain was the worst.

And now she snapped finally. Her sanity was abandoned. Their bond was broken, shattered to splinters. If she had truly cared for him, she would never have let him make this kind of decision. If they caught her, he will have to sentence her to die.

His hands went through his hair, wanting to pull them out from his scalp. She will force him to make that decision. And he will have to make it. He will have to stand on the platform and act as he had in the funerals of his father and beloved. Stoic, unmoving, face set hard as he watch the sentence carry on, as everything crumpled around him. He would watch her die with a face of a Lord, not of a broken brother.

Black dots speckles over his eyes. He didn't realize that he was chewing on his fingers and withdrew them to see teeth marks, bits of blood seeping out. He had bit them to keep from screaming. Going through his drawers in a haste, he forgot that he had drowned all his emergency nightshade. He got up to get some more.


Viktor jostled when Link bumped his shoulder against him. The brute gave him a sly smile. "Oh my bad. Didn't see you there."

"Link, stop it," Katie snapped. "Viktor, I am so sorry about this."

She was always sorry. It was the only thing she could say. The butler, seething through his teeth, kept his decorum by wiping the dust off from the long tables in the alcoves of the hallway. Much like Sally, cleaning up smoothened his nerves.

Once he was finished, he stalked through the halls of the dark manor, his thoughts ultimately fixed onto Link despite the hour he spent to forget about him. Viktor had done his best to get rid of him but Lord Silas wouldn't see reason. He saw Link as more than just hired help but as a friend.

The fight between them still filled the air with cold silence. That argument had shown much of what Silas had been feeling. He rarely ever let his emotions show that much, not when Viktor stressed how important it was to keep his composure. It was a terrible thing for a young man to bottle up his feelings but Viktor knew it was necessary. People needed a leader.

And now Silas's infirmity was worsening as a result of the emotional suppression. The last apothecary said that Silas might need to increase his medication, except for nightshade of course. The instability of his emotions was lowering his immunity and that would make his health vulnerable.

The captain wasn't helping in that matter. That cutthroat seemed to be only good for sending useless reports of things that didn't matter. He sent in three just today—morning, evening, and night. Viktor didn't see them as reports but as something else to stress his Lord so they found their way to his fireplace. It was because that Grey didn't do his job that they were forced to turn to a brute like Link. It was ironic, humoring and infuriating.

Were it up to Viktor, he'd have Link in a nice cell and throw away the key. Link took a naïve Lord, exploiting him for money, exposing him to unsanitary surroundings, and—Din help him—forced Lord Silas to drink. Drink!

A dark shadow crossed his face by the thought of it. It was still very much a shock to him. Lord Silas was a dignified, genteel young man, a gentler and even better man than the late Lord Lawrence. Link knew the circumstances, he knew how vulnerable Lord Silas was, and used that to get what he wanted.

Sally refused to believe their Lord was going rebellious. True, Silas was a little bit of a nightmare as a child, and Viktor—having served many other nobles before the Haidrunds—was expecting the worst for the future. Imagine his surprise when Silas returned to them responsible, mature, everything that they could ever hope for and more. Much more. Silas was a blessing. He truly was. Viktor was thankful to see him grow.

And now they have someone like Link who would ruin everything good about him. Now Lord Silas was getting ideas, ideas that might be against everything he knew. He'll try to be like Link.

Or worse like his father.

Just thinking about it knotted his heart in fear. The butler was an old man but the fear had him moving quickly through his room, and he let out an easy breath when he found the letter just as he had left it. It should be burned to cinders but the respect he held for Lord Lawrence ran too deep that he couldn't bring himself to do it.

But if Silas saw this…if he reads this…

Viktor returned it back to its hiding spot, remembering how the truth had crashed down at him so suddenly that it took some days of recovering. It made very much sense on why Sally was infuriated with Link for taking Silas outside. Why, Viktor wouldn't be surprised if she stuck an arrow between the boy's eyes. She might have insisted that she hadn't used a bow in years but Viktor doubted that her skills rusted as much.

Lord Lawrence had many flaws. He loved to taunt and gibe, he played with people as if life was a game of chess. He was not the king; oh no, he was the player. But whatever you may think, you'll have a whole village and all of his servants to tell you what a great man he was. He raised two children when he nearly lost everything and had loved them more than his own life. The twins themselves were the greatest surprise. They have their own infirmities and they were unlike any noble Viktor ever served and knew.

They all had a role and they all dedicated their lives to play that role. Lawrence had seen to it himself. Silas was his heir, and Sophia was trained in the shadows with a hidden knife intended for purpose. They were his future, those twins. They were this town's future and hopes.

How would they feel if they knew their father's darkest secret? How would Silas feel when he learned the real truth behind the fake deed? It would ruin everything.

When reading that verbose letter Lawrence left behind, Viktor still couldn't get that Lord Lawrence actually foraged the deed. Yes, fine, his lordship loved to add some risks to his game—Sophia took after him—but he wouldn't be that mad enough to commit a crime.

Then Viktor saw the flames. They took down the deed almost too quickly as if wanting to remove the sin, burn it away from the world. And then he saw Sally's expression, that paled countenance, that fear of knowing how very tight the noose was.

She didn't know that he knew of the terrible truth that could kill the twins if they ever found out. Maybe he ought to leave it that way. It can't really matter now. The maid may give him a hard time, and he may look like a villain to her sometimes but they came into an unspoken, unbreakable pact: that they will keep their Silas safe and serve him to the very end.

Viktor felt he should be proud now to see how Silas was handling things. Once he had been obsessed with bugs, frolicking in the gardens, garrulously pestering about empty accomplishments. But the old man was dreaded. Every day was coming and going, but this dark cloud stayed in its place. This dark cloud—Viktor could still see it—loomed over his young lord.

He thought keeping Silas busy would be helpful. He thought keeping him away from the town would give him the time he needed to heal. But Viktor knew better. There was only one person who would not only take Silas out from that cloud for good but would scare it off like a lion to a mouse.

Sophia.

She turned into a nightmare, Viktor thought dreadfully.

It was pointless to grief himself. He had to be strong in her place but he felt like a man trying to fill in a bottomless pit. She was the only one who could bring back Silas from that dark cloud he let himself hide in. Viktor could never count on the uncle to do anything more than get himself arrested. That man, a disgrace to this family, should've been the one to die, not his brother.

He took in a deep breath. Sleep was evading him by the nights. Although he couldn't remember his nightmare, he could still see the tall black man. Whatever. Only a dream.

The butler climbed down the steps that led to the cellars. It was unwelcoming with its tang smell, puddles of muck water. Oh how he hated being down here. It showed the dirty side of the manor. The cobwebs, the creaking door, even lighting the lantern unnerved him with his shadow dancing at his back. If he were so busy, he'd dedicate himself to cleaning out every inch of this revolting eyesore.

Something black scurried past his feet, and he gave out a strangled cry. With the shaking lantern in his hand, he saw it was only a cockroach, a rather large one, and it disappeared underneath the shelves.

Silas would've loved that before. Viktor still didn't know why that boy loved such vile insects in the first place but thank goodness he grew out it. Poor Sophia used to shriek at her twin's collection. Even now when she was a fearsome warrior, bugs still had the habit of making her queasy.

Steading his breath, he stirred himself to the desk that was nearly hidden behind the rows of empty barrels and antiques. On it were papers unkempt, the last remainder of Lord Lawrence. A desk of messy papers—so much like him—was left completely untouched after his death. This was his research about the red tunic.

Link would make his demands known by abruptly strolling up to Viktor and looking at him dead in the eyes. "I want that tunic soon, old man."

Viktor grounded his teeth. Oh that boy had too much steel in him. Viktor ought to remind that eel that the tunic belonged to the hero. The Haidrunds weren't to give it to anyone but. In the end, Viktor knew he would have to look for it eventually but for now there were much more important things. Also, he hadn't been ready to move around the things Lord Lawrence had last touched and placed.

Only a handful of servants knew about this research. If people were to learn that there was a chance the red tunic was out there, it would be disastrous. Best to keep his sleuth nice and quiet.

Don't be foolish, he told himself when he hesitated at the desk. You have to get this done.

The true purpose of his visit was to really dispose of any evidence. He can't let Lord Lawrence ruin the future he himself made. What was he thinking? His son would be driven to madness! Viktor will not let that happen.

The thought helped him in the first few minutes. He set the lantern carefully so it wasn't not too close to the papers but not too far that he wouldn't be able to see his progress. He moved slowly at first, hesitated, as he had planned to return everything the way he found it. In the end, he gave up. He was too driven on his task, too furious with his late master for how close Silas was to reading that letter.

Viktor had already searched through every room in this manor, even Sally's room when she was out. He had already combed through Silas's bedroom several times. The rooms he hadn't checked had been locked. Why else would he have locked them in the first place? He was almost done and so far he had found nothing. The only place he hadn't looked was down here, in this cold and damped cellar.

There were letters, papers, documentation. He searched through them, looking for anything that would reveal even a silver of the truth. He was surprised by how much paper there was hiding in the drawers and in ledgers. This was years spent on looking for that red fabric. This was Lord Lawrence desperate attempt to bring back the lost heirloom. It grieved that his work would now be handed off to an ungrateful rodent like Link.

Papers slipped out from the desk when his search was becoming more aggressive. His heart was beating quick. What would he do if he found something? Well, he will have to tear it. Can't leave something that could ruin everyone's lives can you? But was he really willing to do something like that? It was as bad as spitting on the grave of his late lord.

I will, Viktor thought darkly.

He looked at the desk, suddenly penitent. It had been messy in the first place but now with his meddling it looked much worse. "This is for him," Viktor said in a small voice. "This is for your son. I'm sorry."

He would need to find that deed soon. Though it wouldn't really prove anything, it would be troublesome if someone in particular got his hands on it. Tristan may be a blundering hardheaded lout but he wasn't stupid. If he got his hands on that deed…

Viktor froze suddenly as a cold shiver crept up his spine.

Someone was behind him.

He could feel someone at his back, watching him. Goosebumps prickled his skin. His heart hammered against his rips. Slowly, he turned his head around and nearly fainted.

The glow of his lantern was weak and someone—something stood just outside of its warm circle. The face was opaque, obscured in the dark. It was only a figure, a shadow you could say. It just…stood there, as still as stone, as quiet as the dead.

If this was Lord Silas's way of getting his old butler back, then he better start praying to the Goddesses when Viktor gets his hands on him. Or maybe it could be Link. That would make more sense. Viktor could even see the smirk in his head. But the figure was much taller to be young Silas and much too spindly to be Link. It was so thin that it appeared skeletal, like a stick figure Silas often drew when he got bored of lessons.

Viktor's first thought that it could be Sophia, starved from her days of living in the woods, crawling back home to keep her brother safe. Then Viktor thought of his dream of the shadows, the dream of a black man. There were flames, smoke. There were screams and blood. The mist that surrounded the tall man was getting clearer.

A moan escaped the butler's lips. If he was holding the lantern, it would have shattered on the ground and the desk with the relentless dedication Lord Lawrence had put into it would've went up in blazes. The figure hadn't moved. It did look like something your mind would make up just to fill in the emptiness that only comes from darkness. But it felt real. It felt so real.

Sweat stung in his eyes and he rubbed it off quickly. When he looked again, he found nothing. For a long time, he just stood there. Slowly, his heart started to beat back to normal. A shaky laugh crackled out from him. What was he thinking? That someone broke in? His age was getting ahead of him.

He should've sat down after having such a fright. His legs were shaky and he stumbled. In an attempt to steady himself, he grabbed on the edge of the table but his hand slipped and stacks of papers were thrown down at him. The documents that were in heavy books fell to the ground but some drifted like feathers in his flushed face.

He shook his head. Thank goodness no one saw him like this. He had to get himself under control. Before he got up, a particular paper caught his interest. He caught it mid-air and recognized his old master's handwriting at once. Viktor's eyebrows slowly reached to his hairline as his eyes ran over the words.

It was only a theory but Lord Lawrence was a sharp man, and so Viktor found himself reading it again in careful scrutiny. It mostly spoke about the wretched thief who took the tunic, a crook by the name of Andrew.

Upon the completion of the crypt, Lord Lawrence and his son agreed to not give it publicity just yet. They thought to would be respectable to have everything ready first and then open it to the world on Hylia's day. During construction, no access was granted to anyone but the workers.

According to this paper, Lord Lawrence surmised that the tunic might well be in the crypts. The theft happened at night. The gates to the crypts, all passages but one would've been closed. Viktor frowned slightly. All but one passage? The paper didn't elaborate but insisted that Andrew used this one passage to make his escape but then he got trapped, and likely killed. Killed by ReDeads. Serves him right.

The ReDeads would haunt the crypts often if they didn't have guards around to wash them out at dawn. But now that no one had been near the crypt in well over months, Viktor wondered if the crypt would still be considered as a worthy resting ground for the dead.

He looked at the blueprints. The paper said that there was also another way of getting into the crypts aside from the main gates. South from here, in a swamp somewhere, was an old crumpling entrance that was used to remove wastewater. Lawrence claimed that he had meant to dismantle it as it was in the middle of nowhere and it was just begging for bandits to come.

Though I highly doubt that, the cursive writing said. As the damned place filled to the ceiling with those crawling leeches! We tried endlessly to bring an end to that infestation by bringing in a priest but the ReDeads kept returning after a few weeks of some peace. Thank Hylia we haven't lost any construction workers as the monsters lurk somewhere in the center. Though the way they keep importuning their presence is nonetheless troubling. I very much believe that the thief failed to circumvent them on the night of his theft.

This was the best clue Viktor would ever hope to get. He remembered what Lord Silas had told him, how he had Grey and his men to seal off a gate far from the town. It had to be this southern gate this paper mentioned.

Viktor was surprised to find such a clue, a very plausible one. If he looked around, he might find something else to add to it, something that would make this theory more more substantial. He could take it all to Link, emphasizing that this was the only thing he was getting, and then tell him to get out of their lives.

Oh, it was tempting. But whether Viktor liked it or not, duty ultimately came first. And when it came to duty, there was a requirement of setting one's pride aside. They needed that lousy, good for nothing lout. Until they heard a word from the other villages, Viktor will keep this paper with him.

He got out from the cellars, feeling greatly relieved to have fresh air in his lungs. He got his keys out and was about to close to the door but stopped half way. There, at the bottom of the long and narrow steps of the stairs, something was there, looking at him. He closed the door with great haste. The key took time to find its hole since his hands were trembling so badly. He locked up the cellar twice.


Misko wished he could relax. He had every reason to wind down now that he had someone to protect and guide him straight to the tunic. But Sara had a talent for making you uncomfortable. The silence between them was cold. If he didn't know any better, he felt like she was mad at him, furious even but she kept it hidden behind a calm face.

The coast was clear of monsters and bandits. Entirely. He wouldn't let that fool him though. Seeing that Hionx was more than enough to encourage Misko to start befriending his strange travelling companion.

But what should he say to get her to trust him? She hadn't said anything at all this morning! Was she mad at him? Was she pretending to be clueless about his banditry just to kill him when his back was turned? Did he upset her in some way? It was driving him insane!

She was immune to his attempts of raillery. She rarely smiled, and always looked in a daze, always thinking of something, and often her hand would brush through her ribbons. If she wasn't in a dull mood, if she wasn't completely furious, then she would look… just sad. It was that sadness that always made him reconsider questioning her sanity. She looked so much innocent when she was wistful, looking at the night sky, finger laced on the vibrant blue ribbon.

Broad daylight greeted them with his heat that had sweat running down them like a waterfall. He knew he'd have to get used to it. Sara said nothing about it of course. She was a local after all.

Simon was being a little shit as usual. He had been meowing, and clawing at her trouser for a good part of an hour. The legs of her pants had long lines running down them. When he succeeded in snapping her out from her thoughts, her anger had been very explosive, terrifying enough to silence Simon and to discourage Misko from opening his mouth.

"How much farther?" Misko asked, only because he couldn't take this silence. If she was mad at him, then he had to know.

Sara blinked, and he saw no anger, only confusion that chased away the intimidating demeanor. "Hmm?"

Misko went on the usual business of reminding her of everything. It would've been tolerable had he not have to go into detail. And it would've been better if she weren't so slow in her response. You had to remind her again since long silence meant that she had forgotten the question and was thinking of something else. But don't remind her too quick. You might be breaking her concentration and you'd likely face her wrath for it.

They've been going around the mountain, well away from the main road and hidden away deep in the forest. If they were to die out here, no one would discover their corpses until a good few years or so. Misko tried to look more on the bighter side of things. There were animals out here and it was easy enough to hunt them with Sara's deadly aim. Hopefully, he doesn't end up on the wrong side of her shurkin one day. They now have some food with them along with berries that he found out weren't poisonous.

"We've…been going on south, haven't we?" she asked.

"Yes, a straight path south," he replied, thankful and nearly burst with excitement when her reply came quick. "Well, not so straight. This forest is so thick here but I think we're on the right track."

She hummed. "We might need to wait until the sun almost sets. We'll walk then and keep the sun on our left. That will direct us south."

He stared at her for a moment. Though she forgets in less than three seconds of a conversation, he can't really call her stupid in the end. There were times she showed intelligence and times when she appeared to lack it. He just couldn't understand her.

"Let's check the map." She paused. "We do have a map I recall."

"We sure do," he said with a smile, hoping to keep the conversation going. The silence had been so deep that he was starved for a discussion on anything at this point.

Before he could unroll the parchment, something black and furry snatched it from his hands. The cat had been so quiet and well behaved that Misko nearly forgot about him.

"Simon, get back here!" Sara shouted.

The parchment was clenched between his teeth as he climbed up a tree that had no branches at the first three meters so even with Sara's agility she wouldn't be able to reach him in time. He settled on a thick branch, his tail curling in and out on itself, almost playfully. There was a mirthful look in those green eyes.

Sara froze. "Simon," she said. "Don't."

Now the tail waved back and forth.

"Simon. Don't."

If Misko didn't know any better he could have sworn the cat was snickering. It didn't take long for it to snow. The parchment that Misko nearly died to steal, the map of one of the greatest thing his ancestor left behind…

"You shit!" Misko yelled, and began climbing the tree. He wrapped his arms around it and then his legs and started to pull himself up. "Wait, just wait until I get my hands on you!"

Simon rested on the branch, the tail curling in and out. Misko planned cut it and make a noose out of it for that little shit. The cat wasn't exactly impressed or frightened when Misko was making progress in his climb.

"Misko, wait—" Sara tried to say.

"You wait. Just wait," Misko growled with blind rage. Spinsters needled his hands but he barely felt it. He pulled himself up on the branch and his face split to a grin when he was inches away from the cat. "Got you."

The branch creaked from the new weight as Misko tried to reach Simon. Sara yelled at them both to stop. The cat hissed at him and leaped on his face. In an attempt to shake him off, Misko tried grabbing at him. The cat used his face to jump at a higher branch while the current one Misko was on broke free.

The air was knocked out of him as he fell hard on his side. He saw Simon lying on the branch, looking down at him. The cat meowed, looking mighty pleased with himself

"Are you crazy?" Sara shouted at Misko. "You could've broken your neck!"

If he weren't so dizzy in pain and anger, he would've shrunken at her anger. Does she not have any control of her pet? Does she have any idea of the future she cost him?

The bandit sat up, patting the dust off him. His side burned with agonizing bruises. He did his best not to look at the remnants of the map. A breeze had scattered them, ruining the hopes of putting the pieces back.

"Fine, I'm fine," he said steadily when she kept asking. Relax. You need to relax. This girl could split you into two if she wanted.

"Wait, what happened?" Sara asked.

"We lost our map," Misko said as calmly as he could muster.

"We have?" Sara looked at the damage then at the smug cat. "You're very bold, aren't you?"

Simon meowed curtly.

"Well, I'm sorry to tell you that I know the way."

Her statement shocked them both. Simon nearly fell off of his branch.

"You do?" Misko choked.

"I remember most of it. Which direction was it again?"

"South." Misko tried not to feel so hopeful. There was no way she could remember the details of the map. From what he gathered, only deep memories were what stuck the most.

And it seemed that deep memories was right for Sara looked very confident. "I might forget this so make a note of it. Now I'm sure there was a river near it that wasn't on the map, or was it?"

"No, there isn't but the map is—was old." He could hear a snicker from above but hardly paid attention.

Sara thought and she cringed as she did, rubbing her head. It was incredible how much pain she would experience just by trying to remember something. It made him question a lot about her life and how she could still live it.

"The river is small," she said. "And it—it was—" Her teeth clenched and her hand balled to fists. Now Misko wished he could join Simon on the tree since her terrible anger was bubbling on the surface.

"Take your time," he said. Please take your time.

She took in a deep breath, squeezing her eyes shut. The effort in remembering was strenuous enough that sweat beaded her face. When she opened her eyes, they were bright. "I remember! There was a swamp! It was a swamp! The river is close by it." He never saw her so exuberant before. She looked so different, so alive. "I remember going there…I was lost…" She rubbed her head and added nothing else.

"Do you remember the way?" Misko asked quickly.

"I don't…what were we talking about?"

"Sara, please try to remember."

"Sara? Oh right, Sara. What were we doing again?"

It took a lot for Misko not to rip his own hair out. "The swamp, remember? The red tunic?"

For a terrible second, there was that confusion on her face. "Swamp? Yes, I saw a swamp. It'll be closer if we use the main road."

"We're not using the main road," Misko said with a touch of impatience. "Is there another way?"

"There's a river that's a little close to it. It's kind of dirty, the surroundings I mean. The rocks were...yeah they were rough and…and a little reddish. Mountain."

At that, Simon jolted down from the tree, his eyes wide and he was meowing. Misko tried to kick him but Simon was ever too quick. Sara saw Misko with shock and a dark look thundered on her face. She grabbed Misko by the shoulder. "What do you think you're doing?"

Misko couldn't say anything at first. "Th-that cat—he destroyed my map, remember?"'

Please remember. Please.

Sara didn't look like she remembered completely so she turned to the cat. "Is that true?"

Misko gaped. Don't ask him!

Then he remembered the cat was just a stupid cat. Sara still listened to the meowing and stomped her foot down. "Why would you do that?" she snapped.

He…told the truth? Misko thought dumbfounded then shook his head. Idiot. It's just a cat!

"No, he isn't trying to use me so stop calling him that!"

"Calling me what?" Misko asked despite himself.

"He's calling you a fucking dolt," Sara said nonchalantly. "Just ignore him. He's being an idiot."

When Sara turned her back, Misko shot a smug grin at the cat. Simon's eyes went slit to a hair's line and that silent anger was enough to keep Misko from taunting.

Sara suggested it would be better to travel at night where she could use the sky as her compass. Misko worried about the nights where the stars don't come out but then again what else would they do besides wait for the nights when they come out? Time really couldn't be an issue even if he was impatient.

They set up camp near a bunch of thickets and ate some of the meat they cooked up. It was still hard to believe that there were no monsters in sight. Monsters were as common to the world as cats and dogs so to not see a trace of them?

It just felt strange.

With Sara as his guide, Misko made himself useful by keeping track of their things. He went to organize the fruits they picked out and found the medal he stole from Link. In the warmth of their campfire, he saw the detail of Nayru's symbol, felt the outline with his fingers. This was real gold. The sides were smooth and weight was a wonderful thing to carry. Simon had a curious look and the bandit shooed him off, stuffing the medal in his pockets to make room in his bag for food.

Sara sat on the log she took down herself, touching the ribbons while staring into the flames. Misko tried to imagine how'd she look like with a dress on, with her hair made and even make up on. She'd look a lot like a noblewoman in fact.

He sat next to her, and pulled back his hair, smiling amicably. "So, Sara, why don't you tell me about yourself?"

Silence. He waited for about a minute.

"Sara, why don't you—"

"I heard you," she said quietly. "Why do you want to know?"

He gulped but she didn't seem as mad as he feared. "Just trying to be friendly." He gave his best smile while ignoring the grunt from the cat. "Tell me a little about yourself."

She still didn't look at him. Her skin looked darker in the light of the flames. "There's nothing good about me," she said bitterly.

"Nonsense! I could think of a lot of good things about you! Like your fighting for example."

The recondite girl said nothing. Misko thought this was a clear sign that she wanted to be left alone.

But dammit, he had to know what he was going up against. A day will come where he would leave her behind. He needed to figure out that part and to do that he had to get to know her a little better.

"Have any hobbies? What do you do to kill time?"

For a long time she said nothing. When he was deciding on whether or not he should repeat himself, she replied, "I like taking hikes." Her voice was quiet.

"Me too!" he lied and Simon meowed audibly. "What else?"

"Meditating…polishing my metals, training." She paused. "I'm sorry if I sound boring."

She could have him sleeping but he pretended like everything she said was the most exciting thing he has ever heard. Well, with the days being slow and all, it might as well have been. "Everyone has their own little perks and quirks," he said.

"I find it a waste of time to be honest," she said placidly. "I mean when I do it it feels like a waste of time. I like taking long hikes though. Did I say that?"

"There's nothing wrong with saying it twice."

She paused, and finally she looked at him. With the fire lighting her eyes, with her face glowing like that, he wished he had the courage to touch her cheek. "I know you're trying to be nice but I…I don't like talking about myself."

"You are very mysterious," he noted with a gentle smile. "Some people get curious."

A ghost of a smile touched her lips as her eyes flickered over the third member of their group. "Curiosity does kill the cat."

Simon ignored her and chose to rest on the other side of the camp. She didn't know just how tempting the words were to Misko.

Sara thought for a moment. "My father always told me…I should be honest with my thoughts. It's okay if I become blunt with them. But if I never tell people what I feel then it would be impossible for them to know how I feel."

That is a good point. Misko didn't know what was turning around in her head.

"I try my best…" She paused for a long moment. "I just hope we get the tunic back."

"Do you have any family members?" he asked casually, keeping the discussion going.

She almost looked like she would tell him until Simon meowed. She sighed. "I have a brother and an uncle if you want to know."

"Oh?" Misko was inching closer throughout the conversation, being careful not to move too quick. Fast movements alarm her.

"I've always been a burden to my family so I decided to pull my weight in training," she said softly.

"A burden?" It wasn't hard for her to be one. If you remove her skills, you'd be left with a girl who couldn't remember what she ate a minute ago.

Now Simon gingerly came up to her. His eyes were dilated, and soft. She petted his head. "My…my head cracked."

When she saw Misko's confused face, she hung her head down and parted some hair. With the light that they have, he made out a long and thick scar that was well hidden, a scar that was nearly longer than his finger. He sucked in a breath.

Well, no damn wonder! The girl actually hit her head!

"I kept making mistakes," she said as she sat up straight and looked into the fire. She was wistful. "And…my brother used to hate me for it." Simon hissed but his eyes were still gentle in the corners.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Misko said, scratching his head. "Your brother sounded like an ass—"

"Don't you dare say that," Sophia snapped. She startled Simon off from her lap and Misko jumped back away from her. "He isn't—he wasn't—" She growled as she held her head down. "I can't remember. This stupid shit." She got up. "I'm going to sleep. Wake me up when it's my turn to watch."

Misko and Simon watch her storm to the other side of the fire. Simon hesitated before he went over to sit next to her. The bandit stayed where he was, weighing his options.

The girl hit her head. That explained the memory. But her temper was something else. Was that why she was out here? Could it be that her brother was afraid of her? She talks to cats like it was normal.

He knew he'd better learn tolerate it. Those constellations to him were like another language. And if there were really monsters around he wouldn't want to test his skills as a swordsman.

Good things happen to those who wait.

A famous quote said by his great ancestor, Misko the great Bandit. Misko will wait and earn Sara's trust. He'll find the red tunic and go to Death Mountain.

Sara and Simon were finally asleep. Misko wouldn't be able to join them. Those nightmares—he was going to lose his damn mind with them. If he ever found his tunic, he planned to never return to this cursed lands. There was a terrible premonition about it; he felt it in his blood. His grandmother believed that dreams carried a message. If that were true then the nightmares were an omen.

The last dream he had motivated him on this trip. That dream revealed a lot, showing the black man to be in the middle of the town, of Desmera. That was enough to convince Misko that leaving the town was the best thing he has ever done. Dream or no dream, those nightmares were not normal.

The fire was dimming down and so he reached for the twigs to revitalize them. He suddenly froze solid, a cold shiver breaking through him. Sara was still sleeping but Simon stirred a little, croaking weakly.

Something…someone was here.

Misko couldn't breath. His eyes wandered around while his hand slowly reached for his sword. His hand didn't do much than brush the hilt when his eyes locked onto a figure from afar.

For a moment he frowned a little. It didn't look like a person. It could easily be mistaken for anything. Bis mind was convinced it was a person, a very thin, impossibly thin, person who was much taller than him. It might be his imagination—he could barely see anything—but this feeling he felt wasn't normal. It told him that what he was seeing was very real and that his life was in very grave danger.

The figure lurked just outside of their campsite next to a pine tree. It was so still like a statue and it helped prove a point that it could be his imagination. It was blurry when he squinted at it. The figure was there, standing, waiting.

Misko felt a scream crawling to his throat when he struggled for breath. He wanted to wake up Sara but he couldn't move an inch. Panic flooded through his mind. No words could leave him. Then he moved finally, pulling out his sword. His hands were slippery with sweat and they dropped the blade clumsily.

He grabbed it and whirled around with the sword clutched in two hands. He stopped when he saw nothing but an empty space. He looked around to make sure but found nothing at all. It had been a trick, a play on a tired mind.

He laughed a little, the sword becoming heavy in his weakened hand. What was he thinking? Who would be out here now, except for them? He let out a breath, and sat down, still feeling his heart hammering on his chest. Staying out in the wild for so long was doing something to him. He decided that maybe some sleep would do him some good.

But oh little did Misko know just how lucky he was that wasn't near the town. Little did he and all the residence of that town know that those mysterious tenebrous figures, those figures they assume to be a play on the eyes, were the first sign of the inevitable that was looming over Desmera.


So what do you guys think of Sophia? What do you think is going to happen to Desmera? Leave a review and stay safe!