A.N: Hello again, my fantabulous audience! I hope you are all doing well. Here's the next chapter for your reading pleasure – hopefully! I've been trying to get these done quicker for you guys. I just hope the quality doesn't dip.
As always, your feedback is welcome and much appreciated. I have to say, after reading some of you guys' predictions following the last chapter, I was rubbing my hands with glee saying "Oh, my sweet summer children. You never saw the signs!" True, many of the signs were sneaky but still, I take my 'Villain laugh' moments where I can. What do I mean?
You'll have to read on to find out!
Chapter 33 – Dining Disorder
Leguna Mansion Dining hall – 281 days A.G
Link stared at the cutlery and silently stewed. It wasn't that the collection of shiny silver held any particular interest – or any confusion anymore, as he'd long since learned the difference between a salad knife and a fish knife. He simply didn't wish to look up. He couldn't look up! He couldn't face the dozens of sullen glances being cast his way.
How had it come to this?!
How could things have gone so bloody wrong?!
The calamity may have started five hours ago with Tywin's tempestuous reappearance, sporting a mysterious black eye and screaming an equally enigmatic accusation "YOU AND YOUR FILLHANDRING FLOPDIDDLES!" but its catalyst had come much early – Link's first meeting with the duke, to be exact. It was all because of a little and long forgotten white lie – long forgotten by Link at least. Innocent, well intentioned and seemingly harmless at the time; Little could he have guessed when he'd understated the offensive yield of "philandering fopdoodle" that he'd just lit the longest, most innocuous fuse for diplomatic dynamite in the history of world relations!
Certainly, the duke hadn't seen it coming before it blew up in his face – quite literally! Said explosion had occurred in the refreshment tent about twenty minutes prior to his tumultuous interruption of Link and co.'s conspiratorial conflab, and upon their meeting, it had taken several minutes for the trio to piece together even the vaguest semblance of sense from the duke's seemingly deranged raving.
The long and short – as Link had been the first to glean from the stream of expletives and histrionics fired his way – was that Tywin had been in a rather heated conversation with Eddengrin Halshaw when the giant had tossed some unknown insult; Tywin had thrown back "Fillhandring Flopdiddle"; to which Eddengrin, on grasping its garbled meaning, had thrown a right hook to the eye. Last in this unfortunate chain of events was the assignment of blame which Tywin had laid squarely on Link – who'd been half a mile away and oblivious to the whole sorry story.
One little white lie, innocent though it may have originally been, would birth a domino chain that may have just about ended Link's career. The cascading dominoes in this case were more accusations, each inflated but holding at its heart some kernel of truth.
Destroying a poem entrusted to him out of spite? Partially true, though the motive was off.
Breaking his promise as a gentleman? Depending on one's definition of a gentleman, also true.
Treating him in an inappropriate, insulting and aggressive manner? Again, depending on how you define such things, correct.
Deliberately and maliciously setting a swarm of blood hornets on him? It may have been Harlequin flies and the motivation may have been rather overdone but, at its core, a true tale.
And lastly, threatening his illustrious person with a sword? At its most basic, true, but the easiest to dismiss with the portrait as evidence.
Link had wisely restrained his natural 'chivalrous instincts' and rampant indignation to a couple of short outbursts, instead entrusting his defence to his princess's keener wit. Her performance was sterling and Tywin's accusations sufficiently overdramatic as to inspire natural disbelief. Link, however, understood that something as trivial as truth, believability or context spoil wouldn't such a wealth of ammunition against him by his courtly enemies. As if that wasn't bad enough, the council's personal investment in such ammunition sky-rocketed when, having fired his last indictment, Tywin followed up with an ultimatum: Expel Sir Link at once or lose all prospects of an alliance with Landringal; marital, diplomatic and, most important of all, trade!
The ultimatum had sent shockwaves through the glade. Its magnitude couldn't be overstated. Link had grasped it immediately as had the stirring in his stomach. Even Zelda, for all her instilled self-discipline, couldn't disguise her alarm. She had endured this man for six months, all for these prized trade agreements, which despite her understatement, were clearly vital to the kingdom and now, in one moment it could all be lost.
With their precious trade agreements in peril, numerous nobles had piled in to lend their voices to Tywin's case and for one brief moment, Link had thought Zelda might buckle, surrendering him to the braying mob. That moment of doubt was crushed with a single shared glance, before she reset her composure and battled valiantly on, leaving him guilt-ridden. Even after he had potentially undone the work of months of stoic self-sacrifice, she still rallied to his defence without hesitation. Even when his own selfish lack of discipline had endangered diplomacy itself… she still backed him up without question!
How could she forgive him so quickly? So easily? He could understand any one mistake being excusable but not the litany of errors he'd made, especially when they could have been avoided with just a little more self-control and humility. No doubt, she had borne Tywin's repeated disrespect with remarkable dignity and grace, while he had not. She doubtlessly had set aside her own pride on many occasions to placate Tywin's spoilt whims, and he had not. He may have possessed the title of the kingdom's hero… her hero, but through his inability to let go of his stubbornness and pride – or perhaps, more accurately, his desire to protect her pride – he may have sacrificed both their futures.
That guilt, while painful at the time, was nothing compared to what ate at his insides now with the benefit of hindsight, as he stewed, awaiting the arrival of the hors d'oeuvres; for hindsight had witnessed a worse crime soon to follow – a crime incited by Tywin's next move.
With all his accusations and an ultimatum having failed to persuade his "beloved", Tywin had resorted to using Link's 'crimes of indiscretion' as proof of the "so-called" hero's "Mentile unstability" and that he was "far more likely to harm than protect her".
The notion of himself somehow hurting Zelda, even by accident, set Link's blood boiling, yet as a growl rocked his guts, threatening to translate to bared teeth, he was reminded of its firghtening plausibility. The beast had been woken – an eventuality he'd expected and dreaded in equal measure – and while its sole motivation appeared to be Zelda's safety, both existential and reputational, to the exclusion of all else, its methods had always proved scarily chaotic and devoid of rationality or control.
Fortunately, it had yet to usurp his will this time and the hope had crossed his mind that, with his understanding of its single-minded instinct, he could keep it at bay, perhaps indefinitely! Little could he have known that Tywin would soon shatter his delusional understanding the beast's nature.
"He is worse than of low birth. He has no birth! His parents abandoned him, probably because they foresaw his madness!"
The blow had come as if it were Eddengrin's rib-crushing boot to his stomach, almost winding him. Yet it brought a far worse pain than that… a fierce self-loathing, biting into ever organ like spectral teeth! Even now, five hours later, he could still recall the dark concoction of sensations and thoughts. It was bewildering; Its implications… Frightening.
"It had to have been the same beast!" he reasoned to himself, spinning a teaspoon distractedly in his fingers. it checked off all the hallmarks he'd come to expect; the same red consuming his vision, so fast this time that it was as if someone hid slit open his brows and sent blood pouring into his eyes; the same intense ringing, so instant it was as though Tywin's words had been a bomb and he'd stood too close; the same strange swings from hypersensitivity to numbness and back; and… the same feral instinctual presence, demanding action without words; just growling and howling somehow perfectly translated in his head.
The one thing that hadn't matched was the trigger; the motive; the driving force! Why had its wrath flared so dramatically? Tywin had slighted him, not Zelda!? The line hadn't threatened her! Indeed, while it may have contained thinly veiled insinuations of his supposed madness leading to her harm, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, that wasn't the inducement of its fury. Tywin had provided conclusive proof to that end by striking that same sore point a second and third time for good measure… His orphan heritage!
It didn't make any sense! The mystery of his lost parentage was an old wound long since healed… wasn't it? Well certainly, it had never inspired such thoughts of bitterness or worthlessness?
…
No, absolutely not!
…
And even if it had; even had the old wound not healed years ago, why would it have any connection to the beast?
That question haunted him. He had little enough appetite as it was but the possible theories – many and all as groundless – provided a bout of nausea to diminish it still further.
Regardless of the answer, it didn't change what had happened… his final unforgivable crime!
Tywin's rantings on all the flaws of Link's empty bloodline had brought him to breaking point but he'd clung desperately on. It was only when the pompous duke turned his attention back to Zelda that the beast's leash was snapped.
"Now, you've haird my case, your highness! Step away from him!"
"I will do no such thing!"
Link had just about made out the exchange through the ringing of his ears when suddenly his entire body jolted as if struck by lightning. The rush of adrenaline. Fight or flight!
Zelda! Danger! Where?!
The error took all of a second!
Tywin's hand snatched Zelda's wrist.
Link's reached over his shoulder.
Sharpened steel hissed behind him.
Tywin reeled, shrieking in terror.
The crowd gasped.
Zelda screamed. "Link! Stop!"
He could still recall the horror on her face as he'd snapped back to consciousness; the looks of the shocked crowd; Tywin staring; half rage, half fear; his own gormless stare back, before suddenly comprehending the weight in his hand. The beast, damage done, had promptly fled back into his stomach, which in turn sunk down to his boots. He hadn't needed to look to know what was grasped in his shaking left hand, but he'd looked anyway, partly to get away from the hundreds of wide-eyed gazes bearing down on him.
His sword glistened merrily in the sun, mocking him with its bright obliviousness to the carnage it had wrought. It may not have been wielded in anger, its blade pristine and innocent of any strike, but it had been drawn in anger… and that was enough!
For a moment, silence reigned; everyone seemingly too shocked or horrified to speak. Then Tywin stormed off blistering with cries of war and pandemonium erupted!
Alfonzo, with a single nod to Zelda, had acted with remarkable calm and speed, mustering the few castle guards mixed among the tempestuous crowd to restore some semblance of order, while a small contingency, led by Borri, was tasked with escorting the disgraced royal shield from the scene. Oh, damn it! He remembered Borri had asked for his help talking with Zorran – whose mental conditional had apparently deteriorated still further since their last sombre acquaintance, to the point of talking of voices in his head. Now, with all that had happened, he'd likely never get the chance to help. He'd probably be asked to pack his bags tomorrow.
The stomach-churning prospect of his likely imminent discharge from his position had been ever-present in his mind during the agonising four intervening hours between his ignominious parting from Zelda and now, during which two vital meetings had been held; one involving and concerning Tywin; the other concerning him. He however hadn't been privy to the details of either, instead forced to stay in his room and agonize in worry and despair. He'd fully expected to be discharged immediately upon the meetings' resolution, so it was with no small astonishment that he had received the invitation to attend the main dining hall just as he had done yesterday. Certainly, he hadn't been expecting to take the same esteemed seat, within talking distance of his princess.
The hall, while not as cavernous as Hyrule Castle's, could still be described as stately, wrapped in ornate oak panelling and lit by two extravagant chandeliers. Two grand long tables and one – shorter, yet more elaborate and elevated upon a raised platform – formed a 'u' shape in the centre, with further long tables each side flanking this central configuration. The outer tables were reserved for Knights, "lower" nobles and captains of the guard – including a certain raven-haired swordmaiden, who at irregular intervals, had been offering him looks and gestures of what he assumed was supposed to be encouragement from across the hall.
The centre 'u' – or 'n' depending on your orientation - was the preserve of the true elites; the council, Princess Zelda, the host family as was custom – Lord and Lady Fairclough and the three T's – and lastly, much to his shock and grave reluctance, the recently disgraced Royal Shield. Zelda, as was only proper, was seated at the centre of the elevated high table, flanked by her three ladies-in-waiting on the right and Lord and Lady Fairclough to her left. The vivacious Lady Fairclough – tall, svelte with hair the colour of autumn but a temperament of summer – was Link's rightmost neighbour, while to his immediate left, Shad sat fidgeting nervously.
The scholar had tried to offer Link some reassurance when they'd first taken their seats but it'd soon become clear he wasn't the man for that job. Much to Link's disappoint, Shad had somehow "inexplicably" missed the incident at the glade and thus only found out about the meetings almost three hours later. What's more, what little information he could provide on the meetings was uncharacteristically woolly for the usually compulsive pedant, almost as if something – or rather someone – had bewitched the poor man into stupidity. The hero naturally suspected the identity of this mysterious spellcaster, a suspicion quickly proven when he caught her cast another spell across the table: a sugar-sweet smile – subtle yet devastating – which effectively imbued her helpless thrall with the looks and intelligence of a tomato. There was no saving him; just another willing victim of the lunacy that was love.
Such was Link's black mood that his heart didn't even try to defend love from his bleak cynicism. Then again, it was too distraught at the potential prospect that tonight could be the last time he'd see his precious princess to argue such things. Instead, It beseeched him to look her way; to make the most of their last evening together and burn her beauty into his memory forever, before the cruel hand of fate inevitably snatched him away. His head however refused. The memory of her perfection was already indelibly carved onto his soul and marvelling at it further would only deepen the pain of their inevitable separation.
He did however spare her an occasional glance and was once captured by her own, which she followed with a smile of reassurance – tainted by fragility. She hadn't spoken to him beyond a greeting and, sneaking another peek her way, that seemed unlikely to change any time soon: she was deep in whispered conversation with Lord Fairclough and a servant.
While they may not have paid him much attention, the same couldn't be said of the eleven other the council members, lining the long tables. Every other second, he felt one or other of them shoot him a sly withering glare, some along his table being so determined to convey their disdain as to dispense with subtlety and lean right out over their silverware just to deliver their most incensed looks.
The atmosphere was taut and oppressive. The outer tables buzzed with raucous animated conversation but much of the elite inner circle was cloaked in calculated muttering and surly visages – with the sole exceptions being the three T's and their closest neighbour, Grand General Alfonzo.
Alfonzo, clearly shaken by the afternoon's unfortunate events, appeared only marginally perked up by the trio's seemingly immortal zest and Link was aware of the old man's concerned gaze regularly focusing on him. He found this consideration equal parts touching and irritating and it clearly shone through in his expression as, being caught casting another anxious glance, the white-whiskered general immediately turned apologetic before hastily returning his attention to his three youthful companions, while Link had yet another reason to feel guilty.
"Ahem…" A sudden cough to his left almost startled the brooding hero. "Oh sorry Link, it's just, um, the drinks have arrived…" Ah, Shad had recovered his voice at last. "Do you want some of this?" The scholar pointed to a large bottle of what looked like some unknown vintage of wine. Clearly, voice had recovered faster than brain.
"Are you kidding?" Link shuddered. "Oh no, no! I've done enough damage already without alcohol, thanks."
"But, um… Link, all the choices have alcohol."
Of course they did! How could they not on a day like today? With a groan, he surrendered to the inevitable. "Alright, alright. Then what is the least alcoholic?"
Shad seemed to deliberate for a moment, and briefly almost fell again into Tamara's spell, before apparent epiphany struck. "Aha yes! um, ahem, err…" shad waved down the table "begging your pardon, Lord Halshaw but would you be so kind as to pass that bottle of the, um…" The scholar paused, an unmistakable blush rising to his cheeks. "… the, er, Spiced Wine?" Man, he knew the guy was bashful but a blush like that?! Simply for asking for some Spiced Wine?! Shad really was a chaste guy – in more than just the sense of "nudge, nudge, wink, wink" if one pardoned the parlance. It's only alcohol!
Halshaw grunted but obliged, while Link was struck by an odd realisation: since taking his seat there had been one face notably absent from the parade of glares and scowls. Halshaw, for whatever reason, had refrained from taking part and on meeting the man's gaze now, all he saw was disappointment and worry.
"So, ahem, Link, this is Spiced Wine, Nabooru Spiced Wine to be specific – though there is, ahem, another name for it…" Shad's blush flushed yet brighter. What was this other name? It must have been something racy. "It's, er, it's the weakest choice, in terms of alcohol at least. It's also very rare. Would you like to try some?"
"Depends. What's it taste like?"
"Well, I've never tried it myself but it has a reputation for being sweet, fruity and, ahem, as the name implies, a little spicy."
Hmm, sweet certainly didn't match his mood – that would be something hard and bitter – but perhaps a taste could change his mind. If nothing else, he'd likely never have another chance to try it. "Alright…" he said, taking the bottle from Shad before the matter of etiquette crossed his mind. It wasn't until he'd poured a small sample for his judgement that he realised his faux pas – utterly inconsequential as things stood but nevertheless another to add to today's ever-growing list. Why had Zelda invited him to this bloody dinner? Today had revealed a catalogue of courtly clangers, enough for ever day he'd been at the castle. This dinner was just another opportunity for him to add to it. Nevertheless, she'd invited him, and had the indecency to not even explain why. He glanced across at her, briefly angry only for heartache to replace it, the thought that this may be the last time he saw her piercing him once again like a dagger through his chest. Returning to Shad to lessen the pain, he handed back the bottle back. "Ahem, sorry Shad."
"Oh it's fine. To be honest, I'm still not entirely used to court manners either. Um, so how is it."
He'd only taken a few sips yet the rich nectar was already inspiring a seemingly irrepressible smile – his first since the glade. His mood remained dour but he couldn't deny the delicious sweetness of the flavour, just as advertised; and with a spicy zing that happily complemented it, rather than clashing. "Hmmm, I must admit, this is very good. I'll have some more once I've finished this. I would describe it but given you're such a lightweight with alcohol, I'm sure this'll be your choice too."
"Oh no, not me! I couldn't risk it." Shad squeaked, voice jumped an octave in apparent terror.
Huh?! Link froze, glass hovering by his lips. "Wait! Risk what? I thought you said it had "the least" alcohol."
"Oh, it's not the alcohol that's the trouble."
"Then what is?!"
"It's, um… well, it's just, um…" Shad turned away, his cheeks burning. "It all goes back to it's folk name and the, ahem, "story" behind it…"
Link sighed, half with relief, half frustration and went back to sampling his glass. All that alarm over some historical error or mystery, no doubt. Sheesh! Got him worked up over noth…
"It's other name, um, it's folklore name is… ahem, lovers wine." The scholar's voice dropped to a whisper, while his face, still burning bright, bowed to admire the tablecloth. "You see, the story goes that, in ancient times – nobody can clearly establish when – but, ahem, anyway there was an ancient sage of the now vanished Gerudo called Nabooru – famed for her spirit and, ahem, sultry beauty. Now, legend has it, Nabooru had a beau and they were very much in love but…" Link stopped drinking. He didn't like where this was heading. "… apparently, he was rather shy about "committing" so she secretly concocted what she dubbed her "special spring wine", using her mastery of exotic ingredients – many of which are rumoured to have certain, ahem, effects…" So salacious was this line that the poor sensitive Shad squirmed in his seat, though Link couldn't miss the glance he shot to across to Tamara as he said it. "Anyway, apparently she shared it with him that night – Ahem, among other, er, er, things – and by the following morning they were engaged… at least that's what the legends and folklore say – though scholars continue to debate the accuracy of such tales to this day…"
"You know what, I think this is actually a bit too sweet for my taste. I'll try something else." Link jumped in, having heard more than enough to understand and agree with his friend's distrust of the admittedly delicious beverage, however his attempts to end the topic fell on deaf ears. Shad had already started to babble and it appeared even subjects that left him red in the face didn't dampen the scholar's irrepressible compulsion to expound his knowledge to others – whether they wanted to know or not.
"Still…" The scholar blabbered on. "Apothecarists have proven there's some basis to the claims of the wine's properties. One of the ingredients is shown to possess mild "truth compelling" capabilities…"
"Um, Shad, I get the point but can we…"
"and another has been coined a "emotive romantic aphrodisiac", a rather clunky term but basically it means it heightens, ahem, romantic attraction for someone, but only for feelings that already exist." Again, spectacled eyes shot an adoring gaze across to Tamara, even as the mouth continued to blather. "Apparently, according to Apothecarists, with the small concentrations found in Lover's wine though, neither ingredient should have much effect…"
"Shad! Stop!" Link spotted danger and tried to warn his friend but was powerless to stop the flow – of more than just words!
"… There have been many a recorded romantic though who have sworn by its potency and, as faithful as I am to the sciences and confident in my stalwart self-control, I will not risk testing it. No absolutely not! Definitely not!" The scholar finished with emphatic certainty… just as his absent-minded arm finished topped up his glass from the bottle in his hand – the bottle of "Lovers Wine" Link had returned.
"Er, Shad… You just poured yourself a glass."
"Hm, Pardon?" Shad mumbled dreamily. His gaze drifted dopily from his beloved to the bottle in his hand… then to the glass… and back. Realisation dawned and then… frozen petrification. The shock seemed to render him briefly catatonic, however unlike his episode in the carriage – induced by the far more pleasant surprise of Tamara's lip-lock – his recovery was less of a gradual thaw and more a violent gesticulation.
Almost having a fit as he sought to dispose of the devilish bottle, he whirled to Link with a look of horror. "Gah! What am I going to do? I can't have this! I'll make a scene!" He whispered frantically.
In a better mood Link may have had the sympathy to reassure him, but with all his own worries, all he could offer was exasperation. "You are making a scene! Just calm down!"
"Calm down! How can you expect me to be calm at a time like this!"
"Oh, like this is the worst thing to happen today!" Link snapped hotly. The blanch from his frenzied friend immediately made him regret the outburst. It did at least seem though that the reminder of perspective – no matter how rudely expressed – had helped Shad recover his bearings.
"Of course, Link. Of course. I'm sorry." Shad mumbled, panic subsiding to sheepish chagrin. "You're quite right. I should put it in some perspective. Just take deep breaths… and think this over. I just have to work the problem; If I can solve drought and famine, I can solve one little glass of wine…"
Link waited expectantly.
"… it's perfectly simple." Shad mumbled to himself.
…
"… Um, Link, any ideas?"
This was what Link didn't want to be asked. Part of him cursed his conscience and its frustrating inability to place other's troubles, no matter how minor, behind his own, but Link ultimately gave in to its appeals – and the forlorn face of his friend – and scoured his brain for solutions. Unfortunately, the only one he could drum up was simply passing the buck – or more literally, the wine glass – onto himself, when he didn't want it either! His conscience almost had its way but, in the bleakness of the hour, selfishness finally won out and he left the solution unspoken, merely shaking his head. Even so, it was a painful betrayal, made all the more so when, a moment later, it was rendered pointless.
"Hang on, of course! We can just swap glasses!" Shad gasped in triumphant relief.
Damn it! Now, he had to talk him out of the idea – and, of course, he wasn't about to reveal that he was trying to avoid the wine for the same reason. Quick, find an excuse! "Um, er, but I've already used mine…"
"I'll take that over making a spectacle of myself."
"… Besides, I told you. I've gone off it."
"Gone off it?!"
"Yes, it's a bit too sweet."
Shad gawped, seemingly stumped. "But… you really seemed to like it?"
He did! Damn himself! He did and it was just his luck he gave the fact away before he learned the drink's terrible secret. Still, he couldn't surrender yet. "Well, it has a bit of an overwhelming aftertaste, ahem, after a while."
"Oh, well, um, could you persevere, please… Do it as a favour to me. I mean, I hate to bring it up but you did agree to a favour if I helped you learn politics, and, well, I didn't manage to teach you myself but I think I can say I found you a good tutor; arguably the best…" That he had. Zelda was indeed the best at many things. "… I know in the grand scheme of things, my problems must seem inconsequential but, for me, this is desperate. I… I think I'm in love with her, Link, and, ahem, I think… I mean, it feels rude to jump to conclusions with a lady's feelings but I… I think she might like me back…"
Shad's scepticism in that statement, whispered as though he were voicing some fantastical, outlandish theory, was so astounding in its irony that it set Link's eyes spinning in their sockets. Gee! You think she might like you back?! Most men would kill to have received even one of the brazen signals Tamara had lavished upon him, yet the clueless idiot was worried about 'reading too much into it'. Goddesses above! The guy was hopeless!
"Now, now! Let's not let jealous spoil things any further." Nagged a sanctimonious voice in his head. Jealous! He wasn't Jealous! Oh, who was he kidding, of course he was! Shad's… whatever you wanted to call it – crush, infatuation or even true love if your being truly fanciful – appeared entirely mutual and, more than that, blessed with a potentially promising future. The same could not be said of Link's own romantic dreams, which had been doomed from the moment he fell for a princess. And to think he'd had the nerve to criticise Shad for worrying of 'reading too much in it' when his own heart has made a career out of it, misconstruing pretty much every word from Zelda's mouth to give him false hope!
In his thinking he'd missed much of Shad's continued rambling but the final plaintive plea just so happened to contain two words he always found almost impossible to resist "Please, Link, please help me out."
As far as he could see he had three options; accept the plea and take the glass – the choice his conscience compelled; refuse without explanation and leave his friend to possible humiliation – the vote his own bitter mood, desperate to prove he could be as selfish as conscience sometimes claimed – or an uncomfortable middle ground, refuse but confess to his own romantic reservations.
Shad's final plea, with its magic words, tugged at him and conscience was screaming to "do the right thing" as, with all that had happened today, his reputation was already down the tubes, so what did it matter if he soiled it some more. Sacrifice one tattered reputation to protect an unblemished one; it seemed the noble and heroic choice… so, surely he had to do it. Perhaps though, it was more complex than that. If he confessed his feelings for Zelda… that wouldn't just damage his reputation… but hers as well! Oh no! That decided it. He couldn't accept.
It was possible, he conceded, that following the many weighty, earth-shaking events of the afternoon, he was treating this dilemma with far more gravitas than it arguably deserved, but his conscience, as he'd often thought, was something of a bully. With the noble sacrifice of his reputation now off the table, it turned to hounding him into a sacrifice of privacy. It quickly won.
"Hmph… Sorry Shad but I can't risk it, ahem, for the same reason you can't."
"But Link, I told you, its weak alcoholically and its other effects only… Oh…. Ohhhh, wait! Don't tell me you've fallen for Tamara as well!"
"No, of course not!" Link snapped emphatically, perhaps a little too emphatically going by the sharp huff he received in reply. In all honesty, much to his own dismay, he understood perfectly. Had someone rejected Zelda with such passion, he would have been livid. Oh, the madness of love! Anyway, he must reconcile for his insult. "Look, I'm not saying she isn't a very pretty…"
"Beautiful." Corrected his friend tartly.
"Yes, a beautiful and charming young lady, ahem, but…" How best to put this? He groaned internally, as only romantic cliches sprang to mind. "… my heart belongs to another."
"Gosh…" Shad gasped and it was Link's turn to huff. There was no need to sound quite so astonished! The annoyance was swiftly succeeded by nerves when he received the question "… and she's here? now?"
"Yes, she's here but I'd rather keep her identity a secret. That's the reason why I can't have it either."
"Oh yes, understood. Absolutely." Shad nodded, tapping his nose solemnly and Link breathed a sigh of relief, while his friend elaborated. "Believe me, I know how precious privacy is here; especially if she's a member of the court, as you're bound to have rivals and the last thing you want is them catching on… Not to boast too much but I think I've managed to evade the suspicions of mine thus far…"
Oh.
Oh dear! He'd been so caught up in his own troubles he'd completely forgotten about Shad's romantic rivals and, contrary to the guy's delusions, his "activities" could scarcely be described as the soul of discretion. When an eligible man and a similarly single – and highly desired – young lady are seen smiling and laughing together, it tends to invite attention and speculation, doubly so when both parties mysteriously vanish at conveniently similar times and for extended periods. This not only explained why he'd been sceptical of some of the glares he'd been getting – the answer being they'd been meant for Shad – but also added yet another dimension to the problem and when Shad asked a second time. "So what are we going to do?" Link still didn't have an answer. Naturally, his conscience campaigned once more for martyrdom but his concern for Zelda's reputation beat it back. They were stuck between a rock and a hard place.
"Pardon me for intruding, Gentlemen…" came a hushed yet refined feminine voice to their right. "… but I couldn't help catching that you are in something of a dilemma and I believe I have the perfect solution." Lady Fairclough smiled warmly down at them from the high table.
Shad seemed to be torn four ways by this intervention; relief, gratitude, embarrassment and mild indignation competing for dominance. The effect was likely exacerbated by this being his introduction to the mother of his heart's captor. The results, for the scholar's tongue, were decidedly muddled. "Um, er, a solution, Your Grace… um, I am most grateful, Your Grace and it's an honour to finally meet you… Ahem, but forgive me, Lady Fairclough, for while I do not want you to think me impertinent or unappreciative, Your Grace, I feel I must, um… ahem, I feel I must question what our most gracious hostess meant by… by taking the liberty of, ahem, eavesdropping on a private conversation."
If Shad's stuttering, swerving delivery had been from fear of offense, he needn't have worried. Her Grace may have been twice the age of her eldest daughters, yet they shared the same perpetual good humour thought to only exist in youth. In both beauty and spirit, age had been inordinately kind to her; the only things age had seemingly given her being subtlety and refinement. As such, she restrained her tease to merely matched his overstated formality with some of her own. "Ahem, I apologise, Lord Shad, but really, when a guest – particularly one of whom a daughter of mine is particularly fond – suddenly appears to suffer some kind of paroxysm, apparently in response to one of the wines I endorsed for the table, I – as hostess – am dutybound to investigate and ensure the complete security and satisfaction of said guest."
She did have a point about Shad's reaction being rather dramatic and potentially alarming to onlookers but Link, nevertheless, expected some level of protest from his friend. It appeared however that something in her speech had temporarily broken Shad's brain – probably the part about being a guest of whom one of her daughters was "particularly fond". Her grace, meanwhile, admired the effect with knowing amusement. Link, ever the hero, stepped in, both to save his friend's self-respect and to try and snatch whatever solution Lady Fairclough had proclaimed to possess, lest it slip through their fingers. Something told him however that he would risk earning the label of sourpuss if he didn't provide even the most basic of amusement by continuing their little game of needless mummery. "This is most considerate of you, Your Grace." he oozed in as close as he could muster to comic plumminess. Her grace's drolly eyebrow spoke approval. "Now I, as a humble guest, beseech you, please relieve us of our suspense and give us your immaculate solution…" He bowed, throwing in another "Your Grace" for good measure.
Wow! He was almost proud of himself. On the day he would be kicked out of court for ever, he finally managed to talk like one of them – well, close enough anyway!
Lady Fairclough, chuckling softly, obliged his request. "Ah, but of course, Sir Link. Lord Shad?"
"Um, yes, Your Grace."
"Your glass, if you would be so kind."
"Oh, ahem, yes Your Grace."
"Please, Caroline will do." She said brightly, dropping the façade of formality, before turning to tap her husband on the shoulder. "Darling…"
Lord Fairclough broke off his serious conversation with Zelda and turned to his wife. "Yes Dear?" This was the first time Link had seen the couple interact but as soon as he saw it, he wished he'd hadn't. The gooey look they exchanged was so disgustingly sweet it should have been illegal in public – especially in front of their own children – and he could think this without even a hint of jealousy as his gaze reflexively drifted to Zelda. Unfortunately, even looking away from the couple's disgraceful display couldn't save him entirely from the saccharine sickness as his ears still caught their conversation, despite their lowered voices.
"Would you mind awfully if I swapped your glass, if you haven't used it yet? You see, a guest mistakenly poured the wrong wine and we can't have it go to waste, can we?"
"Oh certainly. Can't let good wine go unsavoured. How considerate you always are, dearest." There was a pregnant pause and Link, by some masochistic compulsion, glanced back. The man had traded adoring smile to something even worse… a suggestive smirk and waggling brow. "I must say though, my dear, I do wonder whether you would have been quite so eager to assist this guest, had his mistake involved a different vintage."
Link shuddered.
"Oh, what an utterly appalling insinuation." Gasped Lady Fairclough, not sounding remotely appalled.
"Hmhm, My dear, I'm not as naïve with spiced wine as I was that night."
"Oh, such a shame. Still without that night and this wine, why, we may never have married."
"I would have plucked up the courage… eventually."
"And how many years would we have missed if I'd left it to you, darling?"
Link cringed and tried his best to block the rest of their disgraceful marital flirting from his perception, to moderate success. Still, if the implications of what he'd heard were true, it more than validated Shad's fear of the wine. Shad had however been rescued now, leaving just his own glass to contend with. It may have only contained a sliver of the delicious but devilish drink but he wasn't about to take any chances. Indeed, he vowed never to have another drop of spiced wine in Zelda's presence. Of course, that vow wouldn't be hard to keep, given his likely dismissal.
"Sir Link? – or could I consider myself enough in your acquaintance to simply call you Link?" Lady Fairclough's voice brought him back to reality.
"Oh, ahem, Link will do fine, your grace…"
"Caroline, please."
"Ahem, Caroline. Sorry. So, you wanted to ask me something?"
"Well actually – and I do apologise for overhearing – but if I recall correctly, you were also rather desperate to dispose of your dose of the dreaded spiced wine. There's still some in your glass. Will you muster your courage or would you prefer me to take it off your hands…"
"But I've used the glass! Surely…"
"Oh no, no, Link, I wasn't suggesting swapping your glass. The only reason I swapped Shad's – ah, yes, your replacement. Silly me. Apologies, Lord Shad. It had slipped my mind for a moment."
"Thank you and please, you don't need to use my title, Your Gr… um, Caroline."
"Hmhmhm, thank you very much Shad. I am gratified to see all she's told me is true…" She winked and Shad's jaw dropped, almost accompanied by another wine bottle. "… Anyway, as I was saying Link, the only reason I swapped his was because he'd filled his glass such that pouring was no longer an option. For you, All I need to do is transfer yours to mine, that is unless you are worried that the essence of this demon drink has somehow corrupted the glass."
"No. Pouring it out should be enough, thanks."
"Perfect. Though, if I may be so bold as to ask, what about confessing your feelings to a lady terrifies Hyrule's hero so?"
"It doesn't!" Link snapped quickly – perhaps a bit too quickly and too defensively judging by Her Graces brow which silently replied "Oh really?!" complemented by a smug quirk of her lips. "Look, I'll admit I'm not great at that sort of thing but really… I just don't see the point in confessing to a lady I'll never see again."
"Never see again?!" For the first time since they'd meet, he saw the lady's good humour unsettled.
"Well yeah. It's not like I'll be allowed to stay at court after today's fiasco." He muttered gloomily.
Lady Fairclough's demeanour was soothed with a sigh and her eyes suddenly seemed to regard him with a warm familial concern that reminded him of Uli. The sight brought an unexpected lump to his throat. "Is that really what you think? Resigned yourself as a foregone conclusion. Oh, my dear, you really should have more faith in her."
Link knew the "her" to which she was referring, however coming so close after talk of romantic confessions, he couldn't help being a little suspicious of possible sly insinuations. "Who?"
"Come now, Link. Her highness of course. Do you really think she would abandon you, simply because of one incident with Tywin?"
"It was rather more than a mere incident. I drew my sword on a foreign dignitary!"
"And from what I heard; he did more than enough to provoke you. Not to mention his disgraceful manner with Her highness. He behaved far worse than you."
"Frankly, I don't think the council give a damn how Zel. er, Her Highness is treated…"
"True."
"… They're more concerned with the threat of war and their precious trade deals going up in smoke, all thanks to me."
Her grace scoffed airily. "War is incredibly unlikely."
"And pulling out of trade deals?"
"That… hmph, that is more likely…" She conceded but refused to surrender her comforting optimism. "… more likely but far from inevitable."
Oh, how he missed his own youthful optimism. If he'd still possessed it, he'd have gratefully agreed, but then yesterday's rediscovery had been thoroughly buried by today's disaster – perhaps for good this time. "Only If I trade myself in." he mumbled morosely.
This earned him a dignified tut. "Oh, Link, you can't have saved all Hyrule with an attitude like that. Zelda has placed her trust in you…" Yes, which he'd betrayed with his own stupidity! "… Will you not do her courtesy of returning that honour."
Link shuffled awkwardly, biting back a line about today's events proving "he was never worthy of that honour to begin with" so as to avoid further argument. Those feelings were clearly best kept to himself. There were, at least some points he could concede honestly. "Oh, believe me, I do trust her… It's just… I don't really see how she can save both me and the trade deals."
"And you are worried, if forced to choose, she will pick the trade deals?"
"Well, um, we chatted about it – just a little, you understand." He added quickly, realising the potential ramifications of discussing court politics with the crown princess. 'Undue influence' and all that rubbish! it wasn't that he didn't trust Lady Fairclough, given her close relationship with Zelda, but even with lowered voices it couldn't absolutely guarantee no eavesdropping and, while his keepsake would do the trick, its effects could arouse suspicion. No, he'd just have to trust that speaking softly alone would suffice, without resorting to risky magic items. "Ahem, anyway, though she tried to downplay it, I could tell that these trade deals are very important, not just to the council but Hyrule itself… and I'm the one who's jeopardised it!"
The familial concern in the woman's gaze seemed to deepen, the humour in her smile replaced with earnestness and Link saw that he'd misjudged her. Like her daughter's, she'd presented herself as unphased to the point of seemingly being barely aware of the sombre atmosphere or the severity of the afternoon's events – an attitude Link had thought rather distasteful given the situation. He now realised however that, just like Zelda, Caroline Fairclough – and likely her daughters too – also possessed veils of their own. "Perhaps that's were Zelda learned hers from?" he hypothesized.
The three T's cheeriness suddenly turned from an act of distasteful obliviousness to a well-meaning but misguided rebellion against the bleakness – laughing in the face of it in the hopes of lifting it, even just a little. Now, as their mother let her mask slip just a little, her keen awareness and sympathy for the situation shone through her almond eyes. Still her humour and confidence glinted true just behind them – which maybe, just maybe he could take as a comfort. "Well, I must confess I cannot say much regarding the import of the trade deals as politics and economics are more my husband's forte – I merely dabble – but… I do know Zelda, almost as well as my own daughters, and I can say with certainty that you are far dearer to her than you realise and today's events wont change that. She will not blame you and regardless of these trade deals' imperilled value, she will not abandon you."
Link gave a weak smile of thanks and for a moment he dared to hope again, aided by the warming of his heart at the suggestion of being "dear" to Zelda. This hope was quickly tainted with doubt, not of Zelda's loyalty but her odds against the full weight of the court. She'd have to pull out a miracle.
"I profess I have no news regarding the current state of the 'battle', however I have something that may enlighten you. In truth, my eavesdropping on you and Shad was not simply due to his reaction to the wine. I was searching for an opening to deliver this." Lady Fairclough produced what appeared to be a bundle of serviettes wrapped in a tight ball and sealed by some sort of metal clips… hair clips, maybe?
"What is it?" Link asked.
"A gift… from a friend." She replied coyly.
"Who?"
"Who do you think?"
Something told him she was hinting at Zelda, yet her almost "suggestive" tone gave the hero a nasty shiver. Surely, she didn't think there was something of that sort going on between them. Bad enough, her seemingly intimating that she knew of their friendship, but if a lady like her suspected such a thing… Ok, best get on with the mysterious parcel.
He'd just prized off the first clip – clearly a hair clip – from the multi-layered package when Lady Fairclough added "Oh, be sure to keep one clip on until you've read it. Now, I'm sure you'd prefer your privacy so I'll leave you to your gift. If, however, there is anything else you need or wish to ask of me, Link, please do not hesitate and may I say it's been a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance."
"Ahem, thank you and, um, likewise." Link replied awkwardly, distracted by her enigmatic instruction. Keep one clip on until you've read it? Of course! Just like the wax stamp on Zelda's letter to him all those months back in the infirmary. His heart jolted at the implication. He cautiously unwrapped the outer layer, careful to keep one clip attached as instructed. Sure enough, while the white fabric – a large handkerchief rather than a serviette – appeared pristine on the outside, pealing it revealed a surface crammed with reams of miniature calligraphy – beautiful yet clearly written in haste. There was no mistaking the hand behind it – though, if there were, the initials embroidered into the handkerchief itself gave it away.
His instinct – and heart's compulsion – was to dive into her furtive words, however this message wasn't all that the "package" contained. Within this first layer, was a second small parcel wrapped in another handkerchief; this one tied in a bow to seal it. His hands explored this parcel carefully without unwrapping it. Hmm… four or five small round objects, firm but with some bounce to them… fruit maybe? But why would she…? Perhaps the message would tell him.
Hold up, what about the court? Surely pawing over such a parcel would appear suspicious? He scanned the tables, yet met no returned gaze; not even a sly sideways peep. In fact, now he thought about it, he hadn't felt any unwanted eyes on him since Lady Fairclough had engaged him – and he generally had a great sixth sense for unwelcome observers. Hang on… to be even more precise the last angry glances he'd felt had been just before Lady Fairclough's "indecent marital display". Coincidence?... or a deliberate… he was overthinking again wasn't he? Yeah! What did it matter whether it was an ingenuous scheme or an accident. It had apparently given him the privacy he needed.
He unravelled the note fully and searched for its beginning – a harder task than expected given the significant amendments and jumbled extra lines squeezed into any and every gap, some even written sideways to fit in the margins. This hasty, haphazard presentation certainly wasn't comforting but what about the words.
Dear Link,
I must apologise that I cannot relay this in person but in current circumstances it would be most imprudent for us to speak. Unfortunately, that fetters us to this most imperfect and impersonal of communication, where words are limited by both time and space. Therefore, I must be brief…
Several crossed out words followed and then a plain Sorry capped off this first paragraph – or so he presumed it was the end of the paragraph. Clearly some realisation had occurred regarding her ambitions of brevity so far, as the sentences from here on became progressively shorter and, shock of shocks, the crown princess had even resorted to contractions – though the heavy blotching that accompanied many of them revealed her turmoil at such impropriety.
Please don't blame yourself, Link! I know you'll try but please don't! This is all on Tywin, that *scribbled out word*. I wont deny our situation is *two more crossed out words* difficult but all is far from lost. The meetings achieved little and resolved nothing. Certain interested parties will force issues over dinner. I wish I didn't have to expose you but not inviting you would've been seen as proof of waning resolve and loss of faith in you. Rest assured, my faith in you is steadfast. I pray I still have yours…
Link felt another twinge of guilt. She still believed in him… even after his selfishness and lack of control had destroyed… No, he shouldn't think that way!
It'll start after the hors d'oeuvres. Steel yourself, stay strong and. above all, don't let them provoke you.
I so wish we could talk but It'd be wise to distance ourselves for the next day or so. I'll call on you… More scribbledout words and a deep blotch betrayed much pondering and rewriting, eventually ending simple when it's clear.
Link could feel Zelda's frustration at time and space's cruel constraints oozing from every inch of the unorthodox letter. He shared that frustration with painful intensity, sensing the lost words in the air around him. He just wished he could hear them; hear her dulcet voice express all she'd clearly wished to; but as she'd hinted at the start, her time had clearly been limited – Her usually beautiful writing progressively more untidy with each new line as haste had taken over. Time, however wasn't all that had run out. The margin of the delicate fabric was mere inches away.
Don't engage. Leave it to me. Good luck. Don't worry. I promise this isn't goodbye. I wont allow it. You're too…
A trio of scribbles, heavy with deliberation and then… the margin!
No! That couldn't be it! There had to be more somewhere… perhaps along the… Aha! Found y… What?!
P.S. I thought these might help you when the battle begins.
P.S? She hadn't finished signing off! Too what?! He was too what? That's what he really wanted to know. It could have been compliment or criticism… No, in the context of the letter it had to be a compliment. Princess Zelda had been on the verge of complimenting him, he was sure of it, only for the verge of a piece of white cloth to cruelly snatch it from him. But then why hadn't she finished the sentence where she put her frustratingly enigmatic P.S. note? GRRR!
Link narrowly avoided pounding the table but came to his senses just in time. He'd been lucky to have lost the council's attention. The last thing he wanted was to attract them again with some rash outburst. And this was before the battle had even begun. Oh boy!
Well, perhaps now would be a good time to see what mysterious gift the princess had provided to help. He untied the second parcel and, as part of the cargo rolled gently out into his cutlery, he couldn't resist a droll smile in spite of his mood. Green poppers… and an extra serviette. Seriously?! An eccentric plan, princess. Whether it would help at all, he couldn't say. Nevertheless, he found it a moving gesture, particularly when the possibility popped into his head that she may have picked them herself, specifically for him – an admittedly fanciful notion, but one his heart clung to, regardless of reason.
Naturally, with heart's urging, his eyes gravitated back to Zelda, who had finished her conversation with Lord Fairclough and, now chatting with Tasmin, looked just a little more at ease – still tense but less so than before. Perhaps the Lord had managed to offer the princess of wisdom some sage advice or a cunning plan? There was no way to know for sure but she seemed to shine brighter now. She noticed his gaze and returned it more confidently this time. It gave a spark of hope, which showed rather too much in his face, despite his best efforts to restrain it. To try and hide or at least downplay it, he indicated towards her generous green gifts – as subtly as possible – and gestured thanks – equally slyly.
Zelda replied with a simple nod of affirmation and her classic veiled smile. It had to be the constant stress of the afternoon affecting his judgement but that simple gesture he'd seen from her countless times before suddenly became one of the most beautiful he'd ever laid eyes on. He swiftly pulled them away, to stare unfocused at a wine bottle – the bottle of spiced wine next to Lady Fairclough – as he tried to restrain his heart. His mind finally read the bottle's label and he shuddered. Who knows what he would have done under its influence. It was certainly a near miss!
"Had a change of heart, Link?"
Link jolted with a start. Change of heart! Who was talking of hearts?! He may have been thinking with it but he certainly wasn't talking about it. Then he met Lady Fairclough's enquiring gaze and, realising the real meaning of the question, the false alarm was called. After a couple of seconds to compose himself, he replied "Oh, no thanks. I'd rather not risk it."
The vivacious women clicked her tongue and shook her head, her expression a mixture of admiration and pity, rather like how one would look on a noble but naïve martyr to some lost cause. "Very well, Link. You're my guest. If you do change your mind, just ask. Who knows, perhaps you'll find happiness is worth a little risk."
Link reckoned he understood her artful intimation but, even were he certain of it, he wouldn't have replied, for no fitting witty riposte came to mind and there was no point in fighting a losing battle. She'd never acknowledge the many complications that made it about so much more than simply his happiness, so why waste his breath on repeating them.
Fortunately, any need for reply was averted by the sudden flood of servants which signalled the belated arrival of the hors d'oeuvres. A suave middle-aged man with deep set eyes and a severe looking nose presented Link with his chosen dish. He accompanied the dish with a reverent nod before peeling away to join his peers; lined up against the hall's back wall awaiting the end of the course, when they would whisk away the empty plates and disappear forthwith back to the unseen kitchens – no doubt a hive of activity.
On surveying the culinary art before him, he was particularly glad of the distraction of Lady Fairclough and the reassurance – however tenuous – of Zelda's letter for giving his appetite a chance to recovery. Speaking of which…
He hastily unclipped the second clip from Zelda's unconventional letter and, as he'd suspected, her words magically vanished, leaving the cloth untouched pristine white. No one would ever guess it's clandestine purpose. Clever Zelda, as always. The only potential detail that could arouse suspicion was the tiny delicately embroidered initials of the handkerchief's original owner… hmmmm… and a trace of her scent…
…
Ahem! Annnyway, moving on, if it was the same as her previous letter using the same spell, reattaching the clip would reveal her message once more – and any message from her was a precious thing! Testing proved his assumption and he furtively pocketed both cloth and clip… for posterity if nothing else. After all, if worst came to worst, this could be their last communiqué; her last words he'd ever read!
No! He couldn't think that way. He wouldn't… He wasn't going back to the way he was in Ordon – regressing into unending poisonous negativity! It had taken yesterday's breakthrough for him to recognise just how low he'd sunk in those dark days, even if he still couldn't explain precisely why. Now though wasn't a time to ponder. Now was time to tuck in… and prepare for war. He may not be the one fighting it but it would require every ounce of his self-restraint.
He ate in silence, as Shad appeared in no fit state for conversation, seemingly suffering some sort of internal breakdown over his introduction to the mother of his beloved. Link was soon wishing for the distraction though as, for all the fancy flavours of his food, the dish marked the brief calm before a long storm. He could almost feel the charge building in the air. The council's fixated glares may have stopped but, even as they conversed, their auras exuded various temperatures of simmering anger – some so hot Link could almost see a heat haze rising from them. Even on the outer tables of the lesser nobles, he sensed unrest bubbling beneath short tempers.
Apprehension set in once more and with it, negativity gnawed at his appetite again. The dish was small enough that even then it was easily manageable, yet he found himself holding back, not to savour its deliciousness but as a childish act of postponing the inevitable. Naturally, each bite diminished drew the inevitable closer and all too quickly the dish was empty.
With the hors d'oeuvres finished, the servants returned for the empty plates, yet the bustle of activity did little to mask the still rising tension in the air. The chandeliers flickered in the commotion but, to Link, it was a mark of the wind that heralded the approaching storm.
"I trust that was to your liking, Sir?" Came a suave voice over his shoulder.
"Hm? Oh, ahem, yes. Um, delicious."
"Very good, Sir."
The servant bowed, took the plate and strode off without another word, joining the procession of his comrades marching back to the kitchens. Very orderly… almost military in their discipline… could even show some of the castle guards a thing or two… but perh… wait, what?!
In the place where his plate had been seconds earlier, there was a small scrap of torn parchment, bearing a strange message scribed in a hand he didn't recognise. It simply read:
Wise to avoid dessert. Could be bad for your health.
Who'd written this and why? The only thing he suspected to have the answer to was how it had been delivered. He immediately swung round to hail the servant back but the man was lost amongst the procession and, not knowing his name, Link couldn't call him even if he wanted to. He was left with this enigmatic, and vaguely ominous note by an unknown hand with unknown intentions.
Link read it again and came up with two sensible but equally alarming possibilities as to its meaning. Of course, the message was quite simply true; desserts were far from the healthiest food; however, it was inordinately improbably that anyone would resort to such a convoluted clandestine method to deliver dietary advice. No! This was a warning from some illusive ally… or a threat from a devious enemy. In both cases, the implication was the same and seemed quite clear: someone intended to poison him… via a dessert…
His pulse spiked and his stomach lurched.
But wait…
Perhaps it was the shock of the situation stirring his thoughts into a frenzy but in a matter of seconds, a dozen more questions exploded like fireworks in his brain and what little he thought he'd managed to grasp suddenly seemed uncertain.
If this was a warning from someone looking out for him, why make the warning so vague or leave no clue as to their identity? Well, that could potentially be protection in case anyone other than the rightful recipient got hold of it. After all, the message hadn't been delivered directly – unless the suave servant was the author of the note, which seemed incredibly unlikely!
But then that opened up other possibilities. What if there'd been some kind of mix up? What if the message wasn't meant for him? What if someone else was at risk? It could be anyone! What if it wasn't a warning at all? What if it was some sort of code? It could be! No, not likely.
Warning or threat; It had to be, and if he hadn't already had court enemies aplenty before, today's disaster had likely tripled their number. Were any of them devious enough to try poisoning him? He wouldn't put it past them… but he couldn't guarantee it either. It could be a bluff to set him on edge. After all, they council's goal in the upcoming battle will be to provoke him and how much easier that would be if he was already agitated by a mysterious note insinuating poison! Even if they failed to provoke him directly, he could still humiliate himself if he started a panic over a fake threat; or offend his hosts by rejecting their delightful dessert offhand.
So many theories yet no solid clue for any of them. Damn it! He hated being in the dark, yet on all fronts his intelligence was lacking and his options were limited. He considered it a moment... and came to an uncomfortable conclusion. He needed to consult… discretely.
He turned to Shad and opened his mouth to speak but the hairs suddenly prickled up on the back of his neck, freezing his tongue. He was too late. The charge in the air had reached a critical point. The storm was imminent.
While the outer tables still hummed with chatter, the centre 'U' had fallen deathly quiet. Most every guest there was straight and rigid, faces taut with tension. Even Zelda couldn't entirely conceal her nerves behind her prim, tight-lipped veil. Eyes, either wide with trepidation or slitted in sullen anger, darted round the table from all sides, on tenterhooks for any action; for someone to make a move.
Yet it seemed no one was going to… or wanted to… or even wanted to be there! No. Something was wrong with that. Someone was smiling… Vanhorn, a sly snake oil smile on his lips, twirled a spoon absent-mindedly as his silver eyes danced round the faces of his fellow councillors. Then they came to Link and the smile broadened, sending a chill down the hero's spine. The silver orbs flickered towards Zelda and then back and then… a wink.
Involuntarily, Link shuddered. What was Vanhorn's game? He clearly had one and whatever it was it couldn't be good. He already had his blackmail plan with Zel… Crap! Was he about to spring that on them?!
Link's pulse jumped again.
Already?
The battle hadn't even… Wait!
A council member at the end of the table, whom he didn't recognise, cleared his throat solemnly. Every head swivelled.
Only Link's eyes deviated, flitting to Zelda's green gifts.
Five.
Would they see him through?
He was about to find out.
Still, her letter had provided the perfect motivation. He'd be damned if he was gonna be banished without having one important question answered. What was that lost compliment? "Too what, Zelda?! I'm too what?" He whispered
The councillor opened his mouth…
The whole hall breathed deep…
Let the battle begin!