The Pendant of Peril

by LocalTalent53

After growing up in a secluded village all of his life, a young man named Link is sent off on a quest greater than he could ever imagine in the dark times that plague Hyrule. Lost and confused, he stumbles through unfamiliar territory with only a mysterious pendant that causes night terrors to guide him. Deceptive, but an OoT sequel.

5. 5

5

Of everything that has come to pass between my marriage and the writing of this journal, there are a few moments that, to me, define the entire experience in my mind. The lasting impression of such moments will likely carry on in my memory for as long as I live, however long that ends up being. Being handed the pendant, as mentioned before, had been one of them.

Stepping out into the world proper was the next one.

Before me was a massive expanse of rolling hills and rock faces that culminated in a field bigger than any clearing I had ever seen. It wasn't what was in it so much as the size of it that forced me slack-jawed. A massive blue sky above with wispy clouds rolling ever onward shook my knees with a sudden dizziness. The low blades of grass beneath my feet melted into a sea of olive green that seemed to carry on for at least a few miles. They ended at a rock face some great distance away, transforming further ahead into a series of mountains that jutted out into the endless blue above. The tallest of them seemed to have a ring of smoke hanging lazily above its peak, an image that sent flashes of Mycenia's aftermath into my mind.

To my right, at the center of this gargantuan space, was what seemed to be a low rock formation, forty feet high at most. It seemed to be the peak of a hill, or maybe a rocky butte that had been shaved at the top to look more like a rock wall. It had an opening with worn dilapidated banners hanging to posts above indicating an entryway from even this distance. For what purpose, I had no idea, but based on the wear and tear of its appearance I wasn't about to find out.

To my left, lining the outer shell of this great field, the rock face abruptly shifted into something clearly more man-made; white stone formed a great wall some twenty to thirty feet tall, and it seemed to stretch a great distance as if surrounding a settlement or clearing of its own. Structures that I realized were buildings of stone could be seen peeking out from behind the formation, confirming to me that civilization of some sort must have lived there. An entryway could be seen with a bridge of some sort crossing over a river that the wall used as a makeshift moat.

Following the river this direction I realized that it flowed into the forest at my left, likely connecting to the one Uunco and I had come across on our hunting trip. A thought struck me amidst the awe and nausea: could Uunco have been washed up out of the forest? Looking to my right for signs of it gave me no indication of where it could breach from Lyna Forest and made me reconsider. Wherever he was, it was probably still somewhere in the woods.

I collected myself, remembering all the warnings of "unspeakable horrors." This wasn't the time to dally. Setting course for the wall of white stone, I began the long trek towards it.

The scope of the field's size hit me once again as I made to cross maybe a sixth of it; even at my careful but consistent walking speed accounting for my burning side, I was hardly making much progress. Sparse, thin trees with bark like sandpaper made for distance markers as I passed them. Having so much open space felt like I was naked, given the village clearing was the most comparable space I could think of. I wished I could jog and speed the process up, and a fear of slow recovery and its decrease in my chance of survival crept in as the great distance opened my mind to wandering. I thought once more of Uunco and Sarah, and imagined scenarios of Uunco making his way out of the ravine and finding Sarah scared witless from the thing that had assaulted us. How he would feel discovering what had happened to Caw. Whether Therel would allow them shelter at the hut. I pretended that everything went the best case scenario, because the worst was too much to process in this new environment.

An hour, maybe two zipped by quickly. The stone wall was much closer now, as was the river beneath it, and I could see now by its imperfections that it was indeed manmade. Atop the ramparts above, I caught men clad in armor looking down at me. They were too far and too high to read, but an uneasiness settled in when one stepped away from the wall's edge and I quickened my pace as much as my cracked ribs would allow.

The bridge was close now, and I could see that the corners on my side of the moat were attached diagonally up into the stone wall by chains. I realized that it was a drawbridge mere moments before the creaking of metal groaned and the bridge began to lift, threatening to lock me out.

"Hey!" I shouted, breaking into a run for three paces before my side erupted with pain. I gasped and stopped, clutching it as the drawbridge continued to rise cruelly. Watching it close was terrifying, and I collected myself to call out "Hey! I need help!"

The men looked down at me and said nothing. With a final clank, the drawbridge became vertical and locked into position as part of the wall.

"What gives?!" The silence they held even now was agonizing. "There are people that need help out in Lyna Forest! People have died! Come on, say something!" Was this horrible apathy part of the elder's warning?

Another of the men disappeared from the wall and never returned as I continued yelling at them. That seemed to click for me as a sign not to stick around, and glancing up at them one last time I continued past the now inaccessible civilization, seeking help and shelter elsewhere.

The nearest anything of note was still some distance away, and I continued slowly past the wall as I followed the river upstream. Wind cooled my face and trickling water soothed my ears as slight comforts to reduce my unease. I was gradually approaching the mountain range before me, and it loomed more and more ominously overhead with my approach. I stopped for a water break and to take a breather as I considered the possibility of being out here overnight.

The sun was beginning to fall and signal the coming night as I reached a small wooden bridge to cross the river. I hesitated given I was nearing more mountainous terrain, but jolted when I saw an opening in the rock wall ahead that was accompanied by a wooden sign hammered into the dirt.

"Here's hoping the folk there are more hospitable," I muttered to myself, and crossed the creaking bridge.

The sky melted into shades of salmon pink and tangerine orange. My feet were sore and my calves burned from the massive trek. My side ached with a dull reminder that I really needed to take it easy, and my right arm throbbed from its bruise. Despite myself I prayed to the Wind Fish that a warm meal and soft bed would follow later tonight.

The sign was rickety and mossy, but it was still legible as I reached it. It read:

Kakariko Village
Death Mountain Trail
Starting Point

I was pretty certain now that any hope of proper shelter was this way, and I looked towards the path into the mountains. It became a small pass in the rocks, and worn stairs were carved into the ground to elevate the path further in. I wondered how long such a thing must have taken to carve, then looked back to the stone wall with the drawbridge and figured that took way longer. Pondering momentarily just how unprepared I was for any sort of life-or-death situation, I took the first steps into the pass.

Having cliff faces towering on either side left me feeling a bit trapped; the fact that they obscured what little light remained out in the field did nothing to diminish the nervousness that followed. The further in I went, the higher the cliffs seemed to rise. I was a sitting duck going up these stairs, and each step ached my body as it cried out desperately for rest. I stopped for a moment to catch my breath and reassess my ribs. Unsurprisingly, they still felt awful, but they at least seemed to have not gotten worse. Sucking up to the awful pain, I continued to scale the staircase solely on the promise of a good night's sleep.

My ascent topped out as the ground returned to a more natural state and sloped up to a bend in the pass. Making the turn, the path gradually opened into a clearing and I came across dashed hopes.

Past a dilapidated sign overhead were the remnants of a village, presumably the Kakariko mentioned back in the field. Buildings stood with great damage, and few looked reasonably habitable. It was as if a terrible storm had blown through, pulling shingles off of roofs and ripping windows out of their frames. Most of the homesteads were founded on stone or brick, but many had holes knocked through them as if struck repeatedly by some hefty weapons. The village was on multiple levels, with stairways to navigate the alterations to the sloped terrain. A well sat atop the first flight of stairs further up, the rope for the bucket shredded and hanging by a thread. Looming overhead was an old windmill, sails torn and stone mossy from disuse.

Of the intact buildings, only one seemed to be receiving any sort of regular upkeep. It was two stories tall and built of a mix of chipped bricks and dull, worn wood. Patches of lighter planks were haphazardly hammered on in place of real maintenance, giving it a very disorderly appearance. The second floor in particular was of poor craftsmanship, seemingly added as an afterthought. Sloppily painted letters spelled "The Stock Pot Inn" over the entryway. I gave another glance around at the uninhabitable homes and decided to give the inn a try.

Following the steps up before me, I began to navigate the settlement. The inn was to the far right, but because of Kakariko's layout I couldn't just walk right to it. I reached the well and dared to peek in. The water had long since receded, and I was met with a deep darkness that jump started a long-forgotten fear of small spaces within me. I backed away quickly, turning sharply to the right and resolving to add more distance on top of that.

The inn was still one level higher, and I was now near the back of it where there seemed to be remains of a chicken coop. A man with a stub for an arm was passed out in it, and another sat outside it watching me with his one good eye. I felt uncomfortable and moved along as quickly as I could without straining my ribs, and it was then that I became aware that we were not alone. Shady figures and ruffians watched my movements from within the remains of buildings, some poking their head out from what were once windows and walls. The mountain with a ring of smoke, now visible to the right, loomed ominously like a great monolith. I hurried my pace as the inn towered above to my left, and despite the warning spikes from my side I made it up the last flight. The trek to the inn was brief from here and I reached it thankful no one had jumped me on the way.

Pushing the double doors of the tavern forward, I winced at the awful creak they gave and awkwardly passed through the threshold. The interior was decidedly spacious given the outer look of the inn, and its large, single room on the first floor was jam-packed full of people. Makeshift tables were splayed out before me, each occupied by more of the sort I'd seen outside. Low-lit torches gave a dim glow above their heads. Many quietly conversed with ale and eyes on me. Some very drunken individuals lounged about the stairs to the second floor.

In the very back, nearly vacant, was a hastily constructed bar at which alcohol was being served. I saw that as a safe haven amongst the unruly bunch and made for it. Wary eyes watched as I weaved through the crowd on the left side, taking extra care not to touch anyone or start an altercation. I was startled by booming laughter a table over as men rolled dice and played for small red, blue and green jewels. A man with bulging eyes and skin like mottled leather turned to gaze up at me as I sidled by.

At last, I reached the bar. The pungent odor of alcohol increased here at the source, and I felt a bit nauseated. Three of the four stools sitting at it were vacant, with the fourth occupied by a fellow with a rather burly frame to the far right. A barkeep twice my age with frazzled hair just below his shoulders stood opposite us, a tad unkempt and desperately in need of a haircut. Despite this, his smooth skin and mostly clean clothes made him stand out in the cesspool of faces pocked and scarred.

"Greetings, Stranger," he said as I took to the furthest seat left of the burly fellow. His voice was smooth and downright friendly given the current atmosphere. "Welcome to the Stock Pot Inn."

"Hi," I awkwardly replied. My stool was rickety, leaning with me to the right at a slant. I reluctantly moved one seat closer to the other patron.

"Haven't seen your face 'round here before."

I looked back towards the main room. Men were still watching me, scrutinizing and contemplating. "Do you get new faces around here often?"

"'Fraid not. The few that do either wise up or I find 'em in a ditch outside, so I don't recommend a long stay." He polished a scrambler and eyed me expectantly. "What'll you be having?"

"I'm looking for a room for the night. It's...been a long day." That was one hell of an understatement, but I'd done enough thinking about recent events and didn't wish to give it anymore tonight.

He raised an eyebrow but didn't press further. "Well, a room and breakfast'll run you twenty-five. Fifteen if you forgo the meal."

I cocked my head in confusion. "Twenty-five what?"

"Rupees," he replied, looking at me with a touch of disbelief. "You're not from around these parts, are you, Stranger?"

It seemed that I'd outed myself with the question. "Yeah," I said after a moment. "I'm from the forest." At this, the man two seats over let out a hearty guffaw, which at this point I had little patience to tolerate. "Why is that funny?"

"Ain't no one from the forest, lad. Yer full o' bull." His voice was deep and full of amusement. Looking at him now, I took in his tangled beard and torn vest as he held back a chortle.

"I'm serious. I grew up in a village there."

"Oh yeah? And what'd they use as payment in that backwards-ass village o' yers?"

"I dunno, favors and food, mostly. What the hell is a 'rupee?'" My frown deepened as his laughter did the same.

"By Hylia, the gall!" He turned to the right side of the inn and boomed out, "Oi! Get a load o' this chump! He says he's from the forest! He asked, 'what the hell's a rupee?!'" There was a deep pause as everyone took this in. Then, after a moment, laughter followed, and the room's tension eased just the slightest bit at my expense.

"Thank the gods," the barkeep muttered as he released a breath I hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"From the forest!" My fellow patron chuckled and settled back into his seat. "What a world. Never dined with a village idjit before."

"I'm not an idiot. Or crazy. Or whatever else you're going to call me."

"Nah, yer an idjit for comin' here. Young and stupid." He turned away from me and sank into thoughts and sips of ale.

I directed my attention back to the barkeep. "This a normal night for the Stock Pot Inn?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "No, it just so happens you've come in during a particularly turbulent night. The musical talent's cancelled, which's left the room mighty tense. Your entrance tonight's either going to keep the peace in my inn, or destroy it."

I figured he was being a tad overdramatic but didn't voice the thought. "So, what about the room?"

He looked apologetic. "Sorry, Stranger. I would've given you a discount were you a few short, but zero just don't put food on the table. I can let you stay out here, but know that it gets rather rowdy when the best of us have gone to bed."

I didn't like the idea of being caught in whatever "rowdy" was around here. "Okay. What if I want to go elsewhere? What other options are available?"

He gave it some thought. "Well, the immediate option's sleeping outside. That'll get you killed right quick, since the fellas out there don't know you're broke. Leavin' Kakariko gives you a couple more, but you're better off not leavin' town."

"Why's that?" Another chorus of exclamations from the game of dice erupted as I pressed further. "What are the other options?"

"You could head up on the trail to Death Mountain, I suppose."

I balked. "That's a rather ominous name for a landmark. Why's it called that?"

"'Cause it rains death on ya, idjit," the bearded patron chimed in.

The barkeep glanced over at him and continued. "Yeah, well, the mountain used to be off limits to us regular folk 'til about ten years ago. Still, nobody goes up to brave the fallin' rocks. Nothin' much to do up there 'cept die, really. That leaves Hyrule Field."

"That's the way I came from. I didn't see any other options within walking distance out there."

"Yeah, there's not much out there that you can reach within half the night. 'Sides, the field's cursed, Stranger. Monsters roam at night, and few're prepared for it. You're rollin' the dice headin' back out there."

My heart sank as I realized safety had died along with Mycenia. "So staying here's my best bet…"

"I'd say so."

We let a few minutes pass in silence as I contemplated the severity of the situation. My bruised right shoulder and arm throbbed with pain, now swollen and further limiting my physical exertion. The bearded patron kept to himself as a chorus of murmurs rose behind us. My stomach churned at the stench of booze and filthy men that permeated my surroundings. I realized that I would soon hit a point where any more worrying might send me into panic, so I sought a distraction. "So, what's your story? What led you to run an inn around here?"

He took a deep breath. "Well, Stranger, I'll keep it real brief. Believe it or not, I used to run a medicine shop back in Castle Town. Completely different scene from these parts, I'll tell you what. It was pretty lucrative, too, until resupplyin' became financially infeasible. I ended up movin' to Kakariko not long after that, and then the war hit close to home. Guess I didn't feel like movin' again."

"Do you actually make decent business here?" I was very incredulous that he wasn't getting ripped off or mugged.

"You'd be surprised what folk'll tolerate for some decent drink and a place to sleep. Most of these faces aren't allowed in Castle Town taverns these days, meanin' I'm the only one who'll serve them proper ale. Keepin' fellas of this quality tells the knights in town that they're congregatin' here and not there, so I'm tolerated in both circles."

"Huh."

"And that's the gist of it. I don't live a very excitin' life, so I won't be borin' you with more details."

I wanted to inquire further as my curiosity had been piqued, but my neighbor to the right sighed, "Yer askin' the wrong questions, lad. And too many of 'em."

I turned to face him. "I didn't realize there were right and wrong questions."

"Ya really must be from the forest with that attitude. Sheesh." He set down his mug and shook his head. "Ask 'im questions like, 'who's'it that's lodgin' here tonight? What turf'm I on?' Dumb enough o' ya to ask questions to begin with, so make 'em count."

I looked towards the barkeep and he replied, "This is somewhat contested territory between two different gangs. One's had most of the control, but members of both are in here tonight."

"You could have mentioned that before," I said as I became antsy in my seat.

"Most folks who come in already know, Stranger. They call themselves the Storms and the 'Chus."

"'Chus?' What are those?"

"'S short for bombchu," said my fellow patron. "I'd ask ya if you'd know what they were, but ya don't even know rupees. Eugh. What a nasty lot, those 'Chus."

"So you're a Storm then, I take it?" I hoped that I hadn't just pissed him off with the question, but he simply nodded and tapped his mug on the counter.

"Aye, lad, I am. Those 'Chus're here since the boss had to step out. Testin' the waters, so to speak." He glanced out behind us. "Least ya had the right o' mind to not bump into anyone walkin' in."

"Like I said, I'm not stupid; I just don't know where I am." After a moment I added, "Why are you even chiming in, anyway? I'm not part of anyone's gang, nor will I be."

"Hold yer horses, I ain't try'na recruit ya. 'S just sad to see a village idjit bumble to and fro."

"My name isn't 'Idjit,' it's—"

"And don't be givin' yer name out all stupid-like either. Draws attention to ya. At least come up with a fake one if ya really have to." He mumbled "Sheesh," through his beard, then glanced down at his ale in thought.

I groaned and looked to the bartender, who shrugged and moved to serve a man with slurred speech. I didn't really know what to do, so I took a swig of water from my waterskin and traced lines in the wood of the bar. I wondered to myself how screwed I was given that I seemed to stand out no matter what I did. My chances to make it to morning felt slimmer by the minute, and I wished that I had someone from the village to chat with for familiarity. Gingerly, I touched my side and flinched, regretting how obvious the sting that followed was in hindsight. I wasn't looking forward to any altercations in the time it'd take for it to heal. My free hand went to the pendant about my neck, and I froze as I gripped it.

I'd been so preoccupied with the anxiety of my new surroundings that I hadn't bothered to hide the trinket. It had not even crossed my mind until now, and my unease intensified. I glanced out to the right past the bearded man and scanned the room for faces with ulterior motives. Initially, no one in particular stood out, but it was when I made a second pass that I saw it, under the stairway: hidden in the shadows of the steps were three men, crouched on small boxes for seats. They were lean but muscular, and they carried kukris that glowed with bands of torchlight. Their eyes were trained on me.

I put the pendant underneath the collar of my tunic in response, and it was now that a new development slipped into my focus. The Stock Pot Inn had grown deathly quiet, the dread punctuated by the occasional cough or scratching of throats being cleared. The barkeep's expression had not changed, but his body halted with the rigidity of a wooden plank. My bearded friend had pulled himself together and was staring past me to my left with barely contained antipathy.

"Oi."

The voice was behind me, full of gravel and thin in its contrabass tone. I turned back to my left to address the newcomer. This one looked as if he'd been living outside for weeks, his brown shirt horribly torn and his hat having long since sagged. His face was a portrait of scars, white streaks highlighting his features and trailing down to his cleft chin. They could be seen through the holes in his shirt as well all over his tall, stocky frame. A stench of rancid food reached me, and it took everything in me not to cover my nose and start the conversation off rudely. He wore a pristine silver ring on his right middle finger that gleamed in the torchlight.

"Oi," he said again. "Kid. I'm talkin' t'you."

I took a moment to steal a glance towards the shadow of the stairway. The men were still watching. "Can I help you?"

"Kid. You've been givin' my pals some grievances t'night."

I assumed that he meant the bartender and the bearded fellow. "I was just conversing to find out where I am. I'm new to the area."

"Naw, I mean my pals over yonder." He gestured to his left behind him, which was the side of the room I'd traversed to reach the bar. "You bumped 'em on y'way over here."

I didn't like where this was going. "I don't recall doing so, but I apologize if I did. I was trying not to inconvenience anybody."

"Well, you've inconvenienced 'em all the same." He snorted up phlegm and spat it on the ground in what I assumed was a move to intimidate. "But I s'pose there's a fast'n'easy way to rectify it."

"And what's that?"

"The trinket, kid. The one y'walked on in with. Give it over, and we'd be right as rain."

I glanced around to gauge the atmosphere of the room. All eyes were upon us, as if we were the leads of a stage performance. "I can't give that to you. I'm married, and it's the symbol we were wed with."

"Ain't no Hylian married like that," he said, stepping closer. The stench intensified and I leaned back as much as I could without straining my injuries. "Y'know who you're lyin' to, kid?"

"Not particularly. And I'm not lying."

"You're lyin' to Boss Dovos. The Big 'Chu 'imself. Takes some balls t'do that." He stretched as he cracked his knuckles. "But that's okay. We're good at teachin' liars how t'behave 'round these parts."

"And you'll do it on yer own turf," said the bearded patron as he pushed his way between us.

"Oh. Rusta," Dovos said in acknowledgement. "What a surprise. Sure you want t'start somethin'? Guru ain't in today."

The bearded man, whose name was apparently Rusta, wasn't quite as tall as Dovos but looked as if he might explode at the smallest provocation. He spoke with a voice barely containing the rage beneath it. "Don't have to be startin' nothin'. 'Less ya got somethin' to start."

"You're the one walkin' t'me now, Rusta." He glanced between us. "So, what's the deal? You recruit him t'your stupid posse?"

"We ain't takin' no lads claimin' they from the forest. First time I've had to enforce it, but ya know those're Guru's words."

Dovos scratched his chin, seemingly ignorant of the murder in Rusta's voice. "Why you backin' the kid up, then? Y'want his trinket?"

"Just not right to jump a village idjit. Lad don't got any sense about him nor rupees; 'd be as bad as robbin' a cradle."

"Aye, but you know I've done worse'n that. I think it's somethin' else."

This was too much. I interjected, "I'm sorry, but can we not do this tonight?"

"You think y'have a say in it?" said Dovos, amused.

"No, but I do," said the barkeep. "If you're goin' to up and murder someone, I ask you do it outside, please and thank you."

"Ain't no murder gonna happen, unless it's self defense."

"That how ya justify it?" said Rusta, his voice low.

Dovos's face scrunched up in thought for a moment, followed afterward by a wry smile. "Oi. I think I get it."

"Ya say it, ya die, Dovos," warned Rusta.

"Please don't," said the barkeep. The tension in the room threatened to peak, and I realized then that I was in a front row seat to an imminent brawl.

Dovos took in the mood. Then he welcomed it, as if it was what he'd wanted all along. "Does he remind you of your lil' tyke, Rusta? What was'is name, Percy?" His grin widened. "Maybe 'fore I gutted him and left him t'die in a ditch."

Those words ignited a spark in Rusta, and he sprang to action. His arm moved to draw a dagger, and in the process he elbowed me in the ribs and sent me to the floor as my side erupted in pain. From the ground I caught sight of Rusta thrusting. Dovos caught the hand and redirected it into the bar. They danced as my side flared up like an inferno.

"By Din, what'd I tell you?!" came the voice of the bartender from somewhere above me. I turned onto my front like a boat capsizing and grimaced as a stool hit my back. The inn rose into jeers and cheers, stomps rumbling through the floorboards and clattering in my ears. I could almost taste the dried blood, dirt and vomit that caked the planks beneath me. My arms were shaky in my rise to a stand, and the struggle continued behind me with grunts and slams.

I finally turned to face the brawlers. Dovos had entered a lock with Rusta, his hands gripping Rusta's and holding the dagger mere inches away from his throat. He was up against the bar, his height seemingly diminished from his nearly crouched stance. My defender had the upper hand and seemed on the cusp of victory.

Rusta sneered, putting his all into the dagger. "I've wanted to do this for a long time," he grunted.

"Rusta," Dovos replied, his demeanor breaking into a grin. "You're a fool...like y'son!"

Something peculiar happened, then. I saw, from my position beside the fight, the ring on Dovos's hand glint in the dim light. Nothing else changed for a moment; then, slowly, he started to gain ground and push Rusta back. The scarred man's return to a stand made their visible dynamic exaggerate in Dovos's favor. It took another moment to realize that something was happening to Rusta to aid it.

The bearded fellow was, in a sense, shrinking. His muscles atrophied, and his broad frame diminished as if he'd become severely malnourished. His skin became sallow and his hair fell out in clumps as it faded to grey. His hands sank into bony shadows of their former selves and they shook as he dropped the dagger to the floorboards. I couldn't look away as the severity increased with each passing moment.

"W...what?" was all he could get out, voice reduced to a hoarse whisper. Then, after it seemed he couldn't get any thinner, his lips crusted and face wrinkled as his eyes dried and became sunken.

With a final shudder, Rusta collapsed to the floor, limp and lifeless.

The room was stunned into silence. No one quite knew how to react. I shook, a fear and confusion settling in as Dovos admired his handiwork.

"That easy, eh?" His words were booming in the vacuum following the deed. "Should'a swiped this sooner."

It took another moment for life to return to the inn. It came in the form of someone shouting, "Rusta! Ye bastard!" His cry resounded with those along the stairs, and a cascade of voices descended upon my eardrums as the other half of the room responded with their own war cries. Dovos gazed about, relishing the moment and observing the damage he'd done. I looked back to the barkeep, and he shared my panic at what was to come next.

Someone threw the first punch, and the Storms and the 'Chus turned the Stock Pot Inn into a full-on bar brawl.

The room became an incoherent mess visually. Bodies collided in tackles and punches, with no real way to tell who belonged to which gang. I caught small glimpses of moments: a table flipped somewhere to my left; a man lifted someone half his size and launched him into another patron on my right. Booze splashed all over the floor as the hall drowned all extraneous noise with an uproar of thuds and cracks reverberating off the walls and planks.

Dovos took this in with a momentary glee that made me ill looking at it. Then it vanished, and he disappeared into the blur of movement before me. I jolted as the three men with kukris rudely brushed past me, seemingly in swift pursuit of him. I had no time to contemplate it; the brawl came to me in the form of a man charging me from out of the fray, so enraged he trailed spittle in his wake. Instinctively I reached for the closest stool left standing, and with a considerable arc I swung it into his face. He took the blow and careened to the right, bumping into another tavern-goer and beginning a new bout. I dropped to the floor as my ribs screamed in protest, gasping for air and swallowed by the coming crowd.

I felt dizzy, despite the floor being concretely beneath me. Men whirled above, my ears pounding from the thunderous blast of feet and bodies hitting the floor resonating at my current level. I looked to the left and only Rusta's agonized expression met me amongst legs like tree trunks. Someone tripped over me, and I jolted as a splash of alcohol hit me from above. Someone stepped on my wrist and I yelped. I tasted and smelled nothing but ale; my vision blurred and I knew not what I saw as pain threatened to overtake everything. Time felt irrelevant and floaty. I prayed for an end to this horrible day.

"Enough!"

The voice cut through the din, accompanied by the slam of the inn doors probably being thrown open. It had a sharp, almost sing-song quality to it, reaching even me in the back of the hall. The cacophony grinded to a halt, as if every man within the Stock Pot Inn recognized deep within them the voice and its command. Before I knew it the world above me was still and quiet.

"Ruffians and vagabonds!" came the voice. "You find yourselves in the presence of the knights of Hyrule!" A tense silence followed. I saw nothing but the men around me turned to the entryway. "While this territory is normally left to its own devices, a decree has been issued to retrieve a most peculiar man! Should he be brought forth posthaste, we will withdraw and leave you to whatever skullduggery occupies your time here in Kakariko."

"Who're ya lookin' for?" I couldn't see who spoke up in response, but their voice was full of trepidation and distrust. Murmurs rippled through the crowd above me.

"We seek one who claims to hail from the forest. He could not have arrived more than an hour or two ago. Bring him forth, and we will leave."

My chest tightened as those around me began to look about, searching faces for the only person in the room who met that description. It didn't take long for someone to find me on the floor, and I was heaved up by the arms as I gasped at the now seemingly routine pain. I caught a glance at the barkeep mouthing an apology as I was dragged through the crowd, passing bruised and bloodied men who reeked of intoxication.

Finally, the sea of people parted and I came face-to-face with the new contenders: a cadre of seven men were waiting for me at the entrance. Immediately upon seeing them I realized why the room took caution. They wore metal armor and held spears of much higher craftsmanship than any weapon I'd really seen, and stood with posture that implied professionalism. Strapped to their backs were shields as wide as their widths, sturdy enough to break bone given enough force. Under the helms of six of them I felt probing eyes lock onto me as the tavern-goers let go and I stumbled to a stand.

Before me now was the seventh man, clearly the leader of the bunch. His armor was full plate and shone a deep gold in the torchlight amidst the silver of his men. It was practically untouched, polished meticulously without a single dent. Unlike the others he wore a cape that outlined his sides with a deep maroon border. He stood half a head taller and his armor clanked noisily as he stepped forward to inspect me.

"Are you the one claiming to be from the forest?" Even with a full suit of armor on, his voice rang clear and melodious in its contempt. He didn't seem pleased to be here looking at me.

"Who's asking?"

Through the visor of his helm, I caught sharp eyes that narrowed in response. "Brave words before the knights of the realm! You, cur, stand before Sir Anton the Golden One! 'Tis an honor to even be in my presence."

Despite his lavish armor and general presentability, I regarded him with a scoff. I might have reacted less rudely had the last two awful days not happened. "Not much honor I've seen out of you guys so far. Your men on the wall pretty much left me out to die. Guess that counts for something around these parts."

"Do not mock me, knave! State your name."

"I'm…" I paused, remembering the words of the now-deceased Rusta. "I'm Percy."

"Well, 'Percy,' 'twould seem that you've yet to acquaint yourself with the law of the land. Whatever your status, know that it is below mine, and that for the time being you are my prisoner."

I glanced back momentarily to the quiet crowd. No one stood up for me, and I pondered whether or not my chances of survival were about to increase or dwindle to nothing. Given how low they already seemed to be, I figured taking the gamble was probably my best bet. "What crime have I committed?"

"That will wait until we've returned to the castle. Time is of the essence, as night has fallen." He jerked his head in an impatient gesture, and two of the other knights took it as a sign to step forward and grab me by the arms. "Now, come; we depart!"

With a gasp from the sting of my side, I clenched my teeth as I transferred from one set of bad company to another. The double doors parted once more, and we stepped back out into the great land I now knew as Hyrule.