Chapter 2

A haze of blurred crimson light smudged Link's vision as he strode through the corridors of CastleMount, the tap of his boots ringing in the air. Candles, fat and dripping wax, sat in small, separated alcoves in the grimy walls either side. At his heels, his advisor trotted swiftly behind him.

The Shadow Lord's heart thumped with excitement, in time with each of his steps. It had been quite a while since he'd ever felt so energetic, and his mind was already awhirl with schemes and strategy. His mouth almost watered. Come to think of it, he mused, he was rather thirsty.

Reaching for a small bottle from his belt, he pulled free the cracked wooden stopper, then glanced briefly at the contents – thick, red liquid imprisoned by glittering emerald glass – and brought it to his lips. Rolling his eyes back as the creamy nectar flooded his body, Link let out a satisfied sigh and smacked his lips.

"There's the rub," he slurred, wiping his mouth with sleeve. He caught his advisor's disgusted expression and turned to face him. "Tingle," he said, finally recalling the man's name - it was hard for the Shadow Lord to keep track of his minions. The name was familiar, but Link had no time to chase the thought. "You don't know what you're missing, mate." Link was met with another look of pure repugnance, no doubt due to the vulgarity of the Governor's speech.

"This potion," Link continued, lifting the bottle up by its neck and giving it a small shake, "helped me many a time in my battle against Ganondorf. If not for this and its wonderful healing properties, I'd have been left dead long before I got to the Gerudo's little hideout."

"Hardly a hideout, sir," Tingle said as the two of them came to an intersection, stopping as they were faced with a myriad passageways branching from the centre. "It was this very castle, if I do recall correctly."

"You're right," Link said happily, a grin on his face. "This very castle itself. Zelda used to live here, then Ganondorf. 'Course the King decided he wanted a bigger place…near Lake Hylia. So he gave me this."

"I'm aware of CastleMount's history, Milord." He gave a small cough. "However, with regards to the potion, many scholars believe that he should not be drunk except in the most direst of circumstances."

"Right, right," Link said, distracted. It was true that he'd grown a little dependent on red potion, but he was hardly a drunkard, was he? He had no time to ponder on this, though, as another scheme baked in his mind. "Say, Tingle," he continued, "I think it's going to get rather interesting right here in Castleton. Intrigue. Murder. That sort of business. Exhilarating, really." He licked his lips. "I'm thinking I might need a little help. Could you send a message over to Darunia and the Gorons? Tell him I might be passing through for a little chat."

Tingle's aged face visibly stiffened. "Milord…" he said slowly, as though explaining something simple to a particularly difficult child, "You are forbidden to enter Death Mountain. By orders of Darunia himself."

"Am I?" Link said cheerily. Finally deciding which path to take, the Shadow Lord bounded down the corridor of his choice. "I forget," he continued and blinked, frowning. "Is there a problem between him and I?"

When Tingle spoke, his voice was strained with patience. "I believe the Goron Overlord did not take kindly to your suggestion that Death Mountain is an eyesore that should be removed with their very own bomb plants."

Understanding dawned on the Shadow Lord's face. "Oh yes," he said. "Bit sensitive, isn't he?"

"Slightly, sir, yes."

Link looked over his shoulder. "You know why I drink the potion, Tingle? Because it's better to be safe than sorry. Hence the reason," he said, coming to a sudden stop in front of a door, "why I'm going to be prepared for our little trip today."

The Shadow Lord inserted a key, heard the metal click, then pushed the door open. The duo were met with a wave of noise, a constant throbbing hum that grew to an angry buzz as Link entered. Stacked upon shelves on either side of the cramped room were row upon row of small glass jars, each burning with bright incandescent light, a frantic flutter of movement from within signifying the beating of tiny wings.

"It would appear," Tingle said dryly, "that the Princess' claim that you may keep slaves was not too exaggerated."

"Nonsense," Link said with a smile. "They love working for me."

He picked up the nearest Fairy Bottle and gave it a quick shake. An angry voiced squeaked out from within. "Link! Let me out of here! I'm not some cheap mistress that you can use at your own convenience, you worthless piece of –"

"See?" The Shadow Lord's broad grin was almost as bright as the lights in the jars. "They're loving it!"

"Very good, sir," Tingle said, giving a short nod. "Shall I prepare your carriage?"

"Absolutely," Link replied, stuffing the Fairy Bottle into his belt. A tiny muffled voice screamed, "Not there! Anywhere but there!" There was a short pause, before it added despondently, "By all that is Holy…the smell."

"Destination?" Tingle asked, desperately trying to ignore what was going on in front of him.

"A little tour of Castleton, I think," Link said, his eyes sparkling. "Before we pay the blacksmith a short visit. You know the one…used to be a rancher…"

"Talon."

"That's it. I have a little proposition in mind."

2

The blare of horns was met with a roar of approval from the assembled crowd – everyone was pleased to see the Hero of Time, in all his pomp and splendour, step out amongst the commonality once in a while. Women wept, children grinned and men bowed their heads as the Shadow Lord's procession slowly moved through the cobbled streets.

Link sat in his carriage, rocking gently from side to side, his fingers interlocked, save for the times he gave a little wave through one of the small windows.

As the tour went on, Link reflected on the fact that Castleton was no longer the small but bustling little town that it had been when he'd first came here as a child. It had expanded greatly in short number of years, consisting mainly of the Hub, the central trading area where all the shops were situated. Moving towards Hyrule Field, one would still find the Temple of Time, its grey features cracked, but still foreboding, towards the south-west of the Hub, and now would find Clock Tower towards the North, a little reminder of Link's sojourn in the land of Termina. Around Clock Tower, a number of domestic dwellings had arisen, occupied mostly by the wealthy. Further north were the shanty-towns, the places where the less fortunate lived, always ready to rebel, though the Shadow Lord himself and always managed to outsmart them without a single drop of blood spilt.

East from the Hub was where a person could find the Amphitheatre, a grand structure, lined with gold and covered with silk, where the denizens of Castleton could spend a pleasant evening being entertained as the glare of the summer's sun waned, bringing cool air, tinted mint from the mint farms situated just outside the city's gates, back into the streets. Beyond that were the Slave Camps and their dwellings.

Link, taking a surreptitious sip of red potion while Tingle was distracted, sat back in his leather-coated chair and let the sounds of his city wash over him. Fragments of speech came to him, the usual murmur of shouts and heated voices of a trader town. He picked up extra snippets, though; the lunatic preachings of the 'Hyrule for Hylians Only' rabble and the black marketers promising to sell an actual shard of the Triforce or, more bizarrely, Link's actual hat.

The Shadow Lord's hand automatically went to the said item, perched atop his head. "How's my hat?" he asked, breaking Tingle out of reverie.

Tingle gave him a pained look. "Fine, Milord."

Link shook his fist, whispering, "Silly green hat, indeed…" His eyes snapped open. "Where is Zelda anyway?"

"Our spies report that she hasn't yet left the city," Tingle replied.

The Shadow Lord's eyes thinned. "That's interesting."

With a jolt, the carriage came to a sudden halt, ending all conversations.

3

Ringed by his guards, the Shadow Lord stood in front of the blacksmiths, Clock Tower looming behind them. A crowd had formed (naturally, thought Link), smiling, entreating, weeping.

Link looked up, watching the torrents of waste water, set free from the drains that he had ordered to be built, dripping rhythmically to the ground. A dirty grey horseshoe creaked above the door as the breeze gently pushed against it.

"May I remind you, sir," Tingle said softly, "that you're not exactly welcome in Talon's shop."

"Don't worry," Link said, his hand automatically dropping to the Fairy Bottle at his waist, "everything will work out fine, you'll see." He glanced at his guards. "Wait here. Tingle, with me."

The warmth hit them like a wave, washing over their bodies and bringing blood to their skin. All around them came the sound of frenetic activity, the lighthearted insults between the workers mixing with the steady ringing of metal clanking against metal. Glowing orange rods, liquid metal that was being hammered hypnotically into shape, peeked out from here and there, their freshly burnt stench almost suffocating.

A plump man appeared at the far end, took one look at Link, then wiped the grime off his fingers with a ragged cloth. Some of the workers looked up, as though sensing some sort of storm brewing. The bigger man, throwing the cloth aside, strode forward.

"Ah!" the Shadow Lord said finally, his familiar grin spreading across his face. He walked across the threshold, all eyes upon him, to greet the newcomer. "Talon! So nice to see you-"

Talon snapped his fingers and, almost instantaneously, the duo were surrounded by a gaggle of men, swords drawn and muscles trembling. Tingle tensed, but Link kept his composure. The work continued in the background, metal sizzling and steam shooting into the air, hissing.

The Shadow Lord's eyes burned into Talon's face, his voice dropping to the harsh tone he'd used on Zelda the previous day. "This is a most unadvisable course of action," he said, his voice soft, but heavy with implication. "The King is hardly going to appreciate you killing the Governor of Castleton now, is he?"

A muscle in Talon's cheek twitched. The air was thick with anticipation. Hands gripped hilts tightly, the silence almost stifling. "What the bloody hell are you bloody doing here?" the plump man shrieked.

"I was just -"

"Bloody stay bloody silent."

"But you said-"

"I should bloody well kill you were you bloody well stand." Talon motioned to his men. "Boys -"

"If you'd bloody well keep your trap shut for one bloody moment," Link shouted, bringing all activity on the room to a deathly halt. "I'd bloody well tell you what I'm bloody well doing here!" He looked around, then added sheepishly, "Pardon my Hylian."

Silence reigned for a heartbeat. Talon stepped forward, his eyes looking them both over carefully. "Bloo-" He paused, closed his eyes, and cleared his throat. "Go on," he said, his voice soft. "But this better be good."

As usual, Link's grin grew wider. "Excellent," he said, licking his lips. "Right, I got an offer for you, mate."

"Oh?" Talon said, raising one eyebrow.

"I'm going to give you something that's going to put right everything that I've done to you in the past." He paused. "All the lies, all the deceit, all the times I sold you not-quite-up-to-scratch merchandise..."

"Merchandise that almost put me out of business and put my life in danger from irate clients."

Link cocked his head to one side. "Aye, that too. No need to rub it in."

"Go ahead," Talon said, rolling his tongue around the inside of his cheek. "I'm interested."

The Shadow Lord stepped forward, glanced left and right, then bowed slightly. "I've got something you want."

Talon cocked an eyebrow.

Link leaned in slowly. "Here it is."

The muscles in Talon's cheek stiffened as he watched silently. The other men tightened their grips on their hilts, their eyes cautious.

The Shadow Lord opened his mouth. "I" A heartbeat. "Am." A blade trembled. "Bloody." A shuffle of feet. "Well." Another heartbeat. "Sorry." Something metallic dropped to the ground somewhere behind them. "For." Someone sniffed. "Bloody." A boot scuffed the ground. "Everything."

Link stepped back, a satisfied grin plastered on his face, and spread his arms out open. "There!" he said. "How's that?"

There was a moment's silence. Talon blinked. "That's...it?"

Link nodded.

"You're...offering...me...an...apology?"

Link nodded more vigorously.

Talon's eyes grew wide. His lip trembled as his cheeks flushed red. All eyes turned to him, waiting expectantly. Then he burst out laughing, doubling over with tears streaking down his cheeks.

"What? What?" the Shadow Lord mumbled, genuine hurt lacing his voice.

Talon gasped, desperately trying to regain his breath. He waved at his men, but they hesitated, confused expressions etched on their faces. "Go!" he barked. "Just bloody go!"

Link folded his arms as Tingle stepped to his side. "Can we discuss this without resorting to cursing?" the Shadow Lord said. "Or violence, if that's peachy with you?"

"You know," Talon said, drawing himself up to his full height. "Since my daughter married the King, I think I'm pretty much exempt from any consequences should I kill you. And I feel I have every right to do so. You're nothing special here, Link. The King would side with me if I reveal to him every trick you pulled on me."

"And it's precisely the King that we want to impress," Link said, smiling.

Talon cracked a knuckle. "What do you mean?"

"I think the King may be paying us a visit."

"Really?"

The Shadow Lord nodded. "If his daughter has anything to do with it, yes."

"So?"

"So…you're not only the best blacksmith in Town, but you're the best at organising stuff like the Clock Tower festival, right?"

Talon sniffed, unimpressed. "I built the Clock Tower. The Amphitheatre, too."

"That you did," Link agreed. "I need you to build something else. A tournament ground. Then, I need you to think of a good tournament - a little battle of wills, don't you know - that'll really express my skills. To impress the King, like."

A smirk grew on the plump man's face. "I take it that you're expecting a challenge to your authority? Why should I care whether you're removed from power or not?"

"Because, sunshine," Link said, his face tight, "the reason you're so very prosperous is because Castleton has grown from a grimy little trader town into a veritable metropolis. And it's done that..."

"...thanks to you."

Link nodded, satisfied. "Right. Admit it...if you just overlook some minor discretions, I'm good for business, mate."

"Minor discretions that almost cost people their lives." Talon's voice took on an acidic edge. "Not good for business. Especially since my reputation was almost destroyed. Imagine selling someone metal that bites people."

The Shadow Lord threw up his arms. "Won't happen again. Honest." He offered his hand. "And if it was as bad as you say, you wouldn't stay here. You like it here."

The blacksmith stared at the Shadow Lord's outstretched hand. "You have it right there. And all you're offering me is an apology?"

Link shrugged. "What can I say? You're the very first," he said. "Makes it special, see. Aren't you honoured?" His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, his eyes darting left and right. "You're my first time. There was no one else. I'll never forget it."

Snorting with disgust, Talon slapped Link's hand away. "I want more than an apology, 'mate'."

The Shadow Lord considered this for a moment, pulling on his tunic to straighten out the wrinkles. "I'll pass a decree. No more blacksmiths in Castleton." Talon flinched. "Except yours," Link added quickly, clearing his throat as he smoothly regained his composure. "Naturally."

"I'll be paid, right?" Despite Link nodding his assent, Talon's face took on the expression of someone chewing on something distasteful. He spat to emphasise the point. "Agreed."

"That went well," Link said as he and Tingle rejoined the guards outside. The crowd was still there, blocking the road. Clock Tower ticked away, the hands moving with a sharp ping.

"Very good, sir," Tingle said. "I noticed you had no need for the fairy, after all."

"Can't be too careful," Link replied.

"Back to CastleMount?"

Before the Shadow Lord could reply, a scream pierced the air, sending a murmur of surprise through the crowd. All eyes turned to the sky. Thick vines wrapping itself around the clock face, its eyeless purple face grinning insanely, a Deku Baba hissed at the crowd, a small girl in its jaws, her face pale.

"Must have taken root inside," Link muttered to himself. "They really need to clean that tower out." He turned to his carriage, confident that his guards could handle the situation. The sudden silence gave him pause. Slowly Link turned back - and was faced with a throng of people gazing at him with expectant faces. He gaped, turned to his guards - and saw them all standing, head bowed, the same gormless expression on their faces. Link grit his teeth. "Oh, for the love of-"

The Shadow Lord sprang forward, cursing inwardly, but wearing a mask of determination nonetheless. Quickly making the appropriate calculations, he leapt up, grabbing onto the crisscrossed wooden beams that were nailed to the Tower. He climbed up quickly, his heart pumping in wild, irregular beats. He would have his guards hides for this!

The roof of the Clock Tower overhung at all four edges, held up by more wooden beams, this time connecting the overhang to the walls. Darting towards the clock face, he reached the two hands of the clock itself and leapt from one greasy black steel pole to the other. Finally, he reached the overhanging wooden beams, and clung on tightly, his nails biting into the grainy surface.

He paused to catch his breath. All he needed now was to pull himself onto the roof and tackle the Deku Baba itself. Coiling all his strength into his arms, he prepared to jump and -

- flinched, startled, almost slipping as the cat appeared from nowhere, hissing its displeasure.

Link glared up at the small animal. "Go away," he snarled, his jaws clenched. "Shoo!" The cat looked back lazily. "By the authority of the Shadow Lord of Castleton, I order you to shoo!" Link felt certain that had the cat had any eyebrows that it would be raising one right about now.

Tiring of the game, Link reached up with one trembling hand, desperate to catch hold of the edge of the roof above. The cat, its back arching, bared its jaws and, lightening quick, flashed its paws, leaving three neat scratch marks on the Shadow Lord's hand.

Almost letting go from shock, Link's face crumpled, his anger rising. Holding on the beam once more, he dropped his other hand to the sword on his back, clumsily grasping for the hilt. This cat, he vowed, wasn't going to see the sunset to this day. His fingers curling around the hilt, Link felt a surge of anticipation flooding his veins, making him dizzy.

He looked down - and froze. The crowd, forgotten from his own mind, were all staring up, wearing anxious but hopeful expressions. Slowly Link let go of the sword, and turned back to the cat.

"I'll give you all the mice in Castleton if you would just go away," he whispered. "Shoo." His voice grew desperate. "Please?"

The beam snapped.

In a heartbeat, Link had his sword out and drove it straight into the tower, gouging it a deep scar, but instantly slowing his fall. Shaking his head to clear himself of the cloud of splinters and woodchips that had followed him down, the Shadow Lord came to a stop, bringing himself no harm. A cheer erupted from the people below. Link cursed under his breath.

Gulping in air as sweat stuck to his skin, the Shadow Lord reached down and pulled the Fairy Bottle from his belt. Link counted...one, two, three...then flung the bottle into the air. It spun as it flew, sparkling as it caught the sharp sunlight of the summer's day. Hitting the overhang, it shattered into shimmering shards.

Link pushed all his strength into his shoulder, then drove his whole body through the wooden wall, broken planks of wood cutting into his skin and bruising his flesh. Instantly, as was its nature despite how much it hated it, the fairy followed him in, then spun around him in sparkling circles, revitalising his body and healing his wounds.

"Thank you," Link said, brushing himself down.

"I hate you!" the fairy spat before flying away.

Picking his sword up from the floor, the Shadow Lord bounded up the stairs and onto the roof. The Deku Baba turned towards him, saliva hanging from its mouth, its jaws snapping and hissing.

Link leapt, the swirling air tugging gently at his hat and tunic, and spun and slashed with his blade, splitting the vine that held the girl from the root. Landing deftly, the Shadow Lord glanced up as the Deku Baba howled with pain.

The corner of Link's mouth twisted upward. This was too easy.

Three slices of a sword, one mist of green blood and a hasty rescue of a little girl later, and it was all over.

Striking as much as a dramatic pose as he was able, Link took the child downstairs, then entered the street to be met by the adulation of the surging crowd.

"All in a day's work," he said, grinning as he waved.

One member of the crowd, small and hooded, did not share the people's joy, however. Angry green eyes blazing out from the shadow over her face, Princess Zelda spun on her heel and strode away, muttering under her breath three short, sharp words: "Bloody show off."