A.N: Another chapter down, just another fifty or so to go… or at least that's how it feels as my ideas seem to be expanding at an exponential rate. I just hope they can continue to entertain people. That's what really matters.
For those of you who might be missing Zelda after two chapters of notable absence, it is with great personal joy that I can announce her return in the next chapter. Anyway as always if you particularly liked it, wish to show support or give constructive feedback please feel free to leave a review. I appreciate it.
Chapter 10 – Of Mavericks, Maids and Moustaches
Link was annoyed… and thirst… and ferociously hungry.
His stomach growled like the wolf he had once been as he hurried over the bridge towards Hyrule Castle,
It had taken, probably, over an hour to patch up the mess Ashei had made with the horn, as he was sure he'd heard two sets of chimes of the new town bells. He would have likely been grumbling all the way to the castle had he not already been given the chance to vent.
Faced with a small army of merchants ready to skin her alive, Ashei had made her best attempt at diplomacy, with less than ideal results. To save his friend, Link nobly stepped into the breach and tried his own brand of negotiating. It may not have been Zelda level eloquence but he'd got his point across, partly by showing the damage was actually far less dramatic than It initially appear and partly by giving Ashei a tongue lashing to empathise with the aggrieved stall owners. The excessively forthright swordmaiden, to her credit, took it on the chin and accepted, not only responsibility for the incident, but the necessity of the hero's scolding to save her hide. With his help to restore the stalls to some semblance of order and by contributing some of the meagre remainder of his wealth gathered from his adventures, he had managed to placate the merchant mob.
With that crisis averted, they now had a new one. They were very late for his meeting with the princess. Would she be angry? Offended? Would she even want to see him? He knew she must be incredibly busy. Would she be able to, even if she did?
He was about to ask Ashei as much when he realised that the distinctive clanging of her armour was too distant for talking. He stopped and turned to see her finally crest the top of the grand steps up from castle town, even as he was halfway across the bridge. She endeavoured to close the gap, now mercifully back on even ground and able to jog.
As she approached, Link couldn't help but enquire as to the purpose of her absurd and impractical get-up, even as he resumed walking. "Ashei, why have you got such extravagant yet oversized armour, couldn't they make one that fits?"
She rattled up beside him slightly out of breath. "This is ceremonial armour. I decided, as I'd use it so little, that I'd just take one already made. It's really not too much bigger than required!"
"Are you serious! Ashei, with that armour on, you sound like an orchestra of kitchenware rolling down death mountain every time you move. How can you claim it's not oversized?!"
The swordmaiden bit her lip. "Weeelll, the thing is… the armour takes really long to put on properly, just as long to take off and I wanted as much time as possible with my sparring, yeah. Sooo when I put it on, to come pick you up, I simply didn't do up all the straps and chains and such."
"Wait, so you're saying the only reason you've been clanging around looking ridiculous and holding us up all this time is because you were too impatient to put it on properly!"
"It's not like if I'd done it properly, it would have looked remotely sensible or imposing. I mean, come on, look at this! Look at all this brightly coloured fabric! And these feathers! Whose bright idea was that?! It makes me feel like some preening peacock, just like most of the knights…" Her protest was ardent but Link couldn't help feeling she was leaving out something.
"So you chose to look like a clown instead?" he interjected drolly.
"Well… no… I mean, I probably would have taken more care to put it on… had I not already been running late…" So the truth comes out! Link rounded on her half way up the steps to the entrance and stood with his arms folded fixing her with a penetrating stare, waiting for the rest. The swordmaiden seemed embarrassed to elaborate but under his gaze she conceded. "I mean, what happened was… I was sparring, yeah and kicking most of the guys arses, when this real tall knight walks up and starts talking all hard. Well I wasn't gonna take it, 'specially not from a snotty noble like him, so I challenged him. I still had 5 minutes after all and I thought "he's probably all talk, probably doesn't even know the blade from the pommel". I was wrong. Turns out he wasn't all talk, unlike most of them, and… HE BEAT ME!" Her sudden aggrieved shriek at her proclaimed defeat sent Link jumping almost as high as her voice did. After that explosion, Ashei quickly collected herself, reasserting her normal husky twang albeit slightly less strident than usual.
"I certainly couldn't quit after that, run off with my tail between my legs. I knew his style now and so I challenged him again and we drew… again… and again… and again and, well, by the time I realised what time it was I was running late."
"Just how late are we talking?" The hero urged with frustration.
The swordmaiden bit her lip again before answering, somewhat hesitantly. "Um, about an hour… roughly."
"Faaannntastic" Link couldn't help but drawl sarcastically.
"Hey, that's an hour late to pick you up, not an hour late for the meeting" Ashei clarified defensively.
"So what time is the meeting supposed to be?"
"About one o'clock… I think."
"Great, so roughly half an hour ago!" moaned Link. "What if I've missed it?! I know she must be very busy. What if…"
In a very rare show of sensitivity, Ashei gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder and a smile. "Calm down Link, I can guarantee the princess will have time to see you, even if she has to make time. Come on, let's not keeping her waiting longer yeah."
Link nodded and the pair set off once more, emerging into Hyrule Castle courtyard. It was a place that had been seared into his memory, marking the beginning of the end, the final push. To his amazement he found it changed almost beyond recognition. A wide central pathway Leading to the main castle entrance was flanked by two columns of young berry trees of various varieties, clearly recently planted. Two other paths ran around the edges of the diamond shaped courtyard, hemmed in against the stone walls, by bountiful flowerbeds also newly introduced. Some among them had begun to bloom as spring was finally on its way and the result was a patchwork of green with splashes of colour, along with a riot of fragrances that unlike in town seemed to complement one another. These blooms brought the buzzing of bees and other insects, while various melodies of warblers and thrushes could be heard from the trees that were almost silent in the still air. As the early afternoon sun peeked over a bed of delicate white, it seemed the very picture of serenity, only broken by the clanging of Ashei's armour.
Something strongly compelled him to stop and observe, despite his already much delayed audience with the princess. He couldn't deny the display was beautiful, but that wasn't what made him pause. No, this beautiful garden acted as a stark reminder. A reminder that the rest of Hyrule had seemingly moved on.
This place that, to him, had held a grim finality that consumed everything with grey was now a vibrant haven of tranquillity that would only grow in the coming months and years. Rusl, who had always been more adventurous than he'd care to admit, had moved on from Ordon to the wider world of Hyrule. Ashei, though she may grumble, obviously enjoyed her new position, a change he could have never predicted. Then there was Telma who had cast aside her doomed romantic hopes with Renado only to find herself a, apparently, far better match and was busy racing towards a future together.
That just left him, static, still chained to the shadow of the Twilight Invasion, unable, or more disturbingly, unwilling, to cast them off.
"Link, Link!" Ashei's distant twang broke him from his ponderings. She was far ahead having only just noticed his stillness. "What you doing? Admiring the flowers? You've got a princess waiting for you, that mere moments ago you were panicking over. What are ya thinking?"
Link jogged to catch up with her. "I was not panicking, I was simply frustrated…" Another rumble came to remind him of his hunger, as if he needed it. "and as you asked, I actually stopped because I was thinking of picking some of those berries as, due to a certain clown deciding to wreck the market, I've yet to have anything to eat today. What's more, it's just occurred to me that with all that time we wasted fixing that mess, I could have had a slap-up meal at Telma's bar and still arrived earlier than we are now."
"Oh, quit moaning, you sound like a decrepit nobleman, I've already said I was sorry."
"Yeah I know. I'm just so damned hungry."
"Well, I'm sure you could try asking the princess. Who knows, she may even give you a chance to sample some royal cuisine, eh, now that'd be something special yeah. Anyway, I'm sure you wont waste away before then. Imagine that?! the Hero of twilight, brought low by an empty stomach." She gave a wry chuckle.
"I'm glad my suffering brings you so much amusement, your immeasurable sympathy continues to astonish me." He quipped drolly.
"As does your endless capacity for forgiveness." She shot back, with a roll of her eyes.
They reached the grand entrance flanked by two guards, who simply gave a nod before opening the colossal oak doors, the wood, and indeed the guards, creaking under the exertion. Link however picked up the additional sound of one of the guards sniggering in his helmet, likely at the sight of Ashei's disordered appearance. If she'd picked up on it, she certainly didn't comment on it.
The hall they entered was similarly alien to Link's recollection as the garden had been. He had little chance to marvel at the architecture of this cavernous space though, as a sandy haired maid swished daintily towards them holding her many layered dress, so as not to trip. She seemed a spirited young woman, roughly their age but even shorter, with hazel eyes that carried an irrepressible cheeriness, which was complimented in her beaming smile. Upon reaching them, she gave them a deep curtsey. "Greetings Captain Ashei, and this must be the great hero, Sir Link. my name is Neela, I'm one of Zelda's handmaidens. It's truly an honour to meet you" The maid chirped at the speed of summer lightning.
Not sure how to react Link settled for a slight bow and hiding his hungry irritation behind a smile. It would not do to needlessly upset or offend one of Zelda's handmaidens on arrival. "Indeed I am and, er, it's a pleasure to meet you." He rather clumsily replied.
"Ohhh, Zelda certainly wasn't lying about you being a real gentleman, she speaks so highly of you and I can already see why. Oh and that look and that hat! Just as I pictured it from her description, so dashing and…"
The maids verbal flash flood of flattery was temporarily abated as Ashei, with a impatient sigh, interrupted with a drawl "Neela, do you need me for anything or can I actually get back to doing something useful."
"No… wait… actually yes, the princess said something about needing to speak with you, while Link is being prepared for his audience…"
"Preparation?! Why did he need preparation?! It better not take too long" Link moaned internally. Ashei, meanwhile, turned slightly pale at the news of Zelda's wish to speak with her. "You wouldn't happen, by chance, to know what it is Her royal highness wishes to discuss, yeah?" she inquired apprehensively
"Not really, I just now she was prompted by news from the on-duty guard captain in Castle town. Not to speak out of turn but he's a rather grumpy man at the best of times, not that I see him much, but he seemed particularly mad today."
At this revelation the hero and the swordmaiden exchanged knowing glances. There's only one thing that could possibly be about. Resigned to whatever fate the princess had in store for her, Ashei squared her shoulders as though preparing for battle, gave Link a commiserative pat on the shoulder and wished him good luck to which he responded in kind. With that she clanged away in the direction of what Link could only assume was the Princesses location.
She'd barely set off though, when the spritely maid accosted her with a giggle. "Ashei, you can't seriously be considering meeting her dressed like that?! You look like my little brother trying on father's armour. Anyway, don't you think you should know where to go before you rush off."
"Well I would have thought she'd be in the thro…"
"No, no she's in her private dinning chamber. It is around Lunchtime after all, and its so much easier to talk on a full stomach, at least that's what I think but I'm sure the princess agrees, after all…"
At the mention of lunch, Link couldn't help blurt "Excuse me, might it be possible for ME to have some lunch? I know it may be against…" his gut finished the sentence before his mouth could, with its loudest protest yet, prompting another giggle from Neela and she whirled round and practically sang "My, my Sir Link, that sounds desperate. I hope though it's not too urgent to wait to dine with the princess."
"I'm dining with the princess?!" came his shocked exclamation. Ashei seemed equally surprised as her eyebrows shot up to hidden beneath the brim of her helmet.
"Of course, indeed the princess has held off her meal until you are ready to join her…" Guilt, however misplaced, filled Link's otherwise empty innards at the thought of spoiling the princess's meal due to his unavoidable tardiness. "… which is why we have no time to waste!"
Without even waiting for a reply, she grabbed Link's hand and dashed off towards one of the many branching corridors, dragging the baffled but unresisting hero and leaving the bemused swordmaiden speechless in the centre of the hall.
Just as they were about to disappear he vaguely heard her mumble after him "Have fun, certainly more than I'm gonna have."
Hurtling into a wide stone corridor, similar to the ones he remembered on his last "visit", Link tried to reassert some order on proceedings, tugging on the manic maid just enough to slow her to a more civilised pace. "Where are we going? I would have thought the royal area is in the direction Ashei is heading?" Link inquired, finally retrieving his hand from her grip.
"It is, but we're not going there yet, though the princess would probably prefer it if we did. The thing is, the only way the council would accept a meeting with the princess is if you are "made to be suitable" first, and if I know anything about anything, it's that the council are very picky about being suitable. Not that I think you're unsuitable. In fact I think the princess would agree with me in saying you're very suitable. Hehe" The maid chattered, clearly not slowing down her speech to match their pace, as they strode across familiar red carpets and past equally memorable suits of armour.
Link couldn't help but ponder what she meant by "made to be suitable". If they were thinking of giving him etiquette lessons then they'd have to wait until after the meeting because he wasn't in the mood for a lecture. Manners may maketh man, or however the saying went but if they were intent on teaching it, they weren't going to receive any. Indeed, as much as he may have appreciated his companion's cheeriness under different circumstances, with his current disposition he found it grating on his nerves.
He buried her final comment as just another teasing and unfounded insinuation about him and the princess, worthy of dismissing. After all, he was getting rather used to them today. Instead he simply hoped that that meeting the princess and the royal cuisine was worth the trouble and that whoever would oversee his "preparations" was a little less cheery than Neela.
Upon opening a door to reveal the man in question, Link immediately came to regret that wish. He found himself in a candlelight room, decked in ornate wooden panelling. At the other end stood a decidedly sullen individual. He bore the visage of a man for which even the sweetest of royal delicacies soured as it reached his lips, a man for who the birds never sang… a man for who Malo Mart never had a sale! In short, an individual of such intense dreariness and misery that milk would curdle in his proximity. A pair of round wire rimmed spectacles, reminiscent of those Shad wore, perched precariously on the tip of his nose, held up only by said nose's upward tilt. Link could only guess that it was to give the man an excuse to look down his nose at everyone. He also had a perfectly manicured moustache, just like Lord Halshaw, but unlike that "nobleman", he was skinny as a finely dressed rake.
Then the man spoke prompting a wince. "The gentleman will step forth and be measured." Oh goddesses, that voice! The man possessed an accent so plummy you could pickle it, while his diction was so sharp he could probably dice vegetables just by talking at them. "Wow, he was so hungry even his metaphors were all food related" Link couldn't help noting drolly to himself. Anyway, what did he say? "step forth and be measured" what does that even mean?!
He glanced slightly apprehensively at Neela, who gave him an encouraging nod and mouthed "good luck". If even such a sprightly girl was wishing him luck then he truly must be up the creek without a paddle.
Link stepped over the threshold and the door closed with an ominous thud behind him. The man's disposition combined with the relative gloom of the room that lacked any windows created an oppressive atmosphere. This was only heightened as the high echoing stone vaulting of the Hall and the corridor was replaced by a much lower dull wooden ceiling.
"Ahem, the gentleman will step into the centre of the room for inspection and measurement." The man instructed in a pompous, patronising tone. Link did as he was told, biting back a sarcastic retort to the man's snobbery.
"Stop!" the man bleated as Link reached the desired spot. He then began circling Link and examined him closely, muttering to himself as he did so. Link wasn't sure whether the man was oblivious to the fact he could hear every word or whether the pompous prat simply didn't care. He would bet all his rupees on the latter.
"Tsk tsk tsk, no, no unacceptable. No, wrong shade of green. Hmm clearly not been washed…" The man ran a finger along Link's shoulder as one would a piece of furniture, only to promptly pull out a handkerchief to wipe it. "… and that hat!" Without warning, Link's hat was yanked unceremoniously from his head, prompting him to round on the obnoxious man, though he stayed silent. "So vulgar and… wait… what's this?" The man pulled out a rolled-up piece of paper. Link had to resist panicking. He'd slipped Alfonzo's letter in his hat thinking guards would be less likely to search his hat than his pockets. He needed an answer fast!
"My lucky paper!" Link blurted, without even thinking. Once the words had escaped his lips though, he wished the ground would swallow him whole. Lucky paper! What kind of utterly braindead answer was that?!
The man blinked repeatedly, obviously dumbfounded by the idiocy of his alibi. It would only be seconds now before the paper was opened and its contents discovered. There's no way he would fall for…
"Most bizarre, it must be a tradition of the hoi polloi." The man shook his head incredulously, moustache quivering and then, to Link's utter astonishment, handed him back the now slightly crumpled letter. Wow, sometimes ignorance and conceit can have their upsides!
As the inspection of Link's peasantness resumed, the hero couldn't help but ponder a most important question. Is it the snob that makes the moustache or the moustache that makes the snob?
Finally, seemingly satisfied that he'd seen all that he had to, the man finally completed his orbit and stopped in front of the hero, hands neatly tucked behind his back. He eyed Link, as a sculptor would eye a blemished block of marble he'd been forced to work on, and finally introduced himself.
"I take it your name is Mr Link. I am Basil Dillingus Pontefrack, Court artist and loyal courtier to the royal family and the court for almost 20 YEARS…" At this he puffed out his chest with pride, bringing particular emphasis on his many years of service. Link, meanwhile, was trying to suppress another sarcastic comment ribbing on his name. "It has been part of my MANY IMPORTANT DUTIES during this time to ensure that all guests of the royal family are suitable in matters of presentation and etiquette. This duty can be challenging…" Basil cast another disapproving look at Link's appearance, before continuing "sometimes more challenging than others, however I will let it be known in my 20 years of service I have never meet a guest whom I failed to make, at the very least, de rigueur." His face contorted into a nauseatingly crooked smile.
"You may be the most challenging case I've had to work with in a while but I assure you, I WILL SUCCEED." He clicked his fingers and a servant miraculously appeared from a side door brandishing a long piece of striped string. Link was momentarily baffled until Basil told him to lift his arms.
Are they seriously measuring him for clothes right now? He was starving, he was parched and he was already late to see the princess. The last thing he needed was a bloody makeover! Link grit his teeth as the servant set to work and the pompous artist proceeded to lecture him on the proper etiquette and propriety when engaging with the princess. Link zoned out as the man droned on, only occasionally picking up the odd point of significance here or there, allowing his mind to wander.
Letting his thoughts run free of course led him to what seemed to have become his favourite pastime. Worrying! What would the princess think of him being late? Would she be mad at him? Would she even wish to see him? Would she just give up waiting and have her meal leaving him to starve? His rational side sought to quell his shameful neuroticism, however it was interrupted with an uncomfortable pinch in his armpit.
Link's irritation was growing at a steady pace as annoying tugs were followed provoking prods and pokes accompanied by a symphony of pomposity provided by Basils lecture. He'd began to wonder whether he'd even be sane enough to meet the princess after this ordeal or whether the combined forces of a arrogant ass and his own stomach could accomplish what even the Ganondorf and his armies failed to achieve. He could even feel one of his eyebrows begin to twitch erratically.
Mercifully the measuring was seemingly completed shortly after and the servant scurried off. Link had held onto the vain hope that this might bring these tiresome proceedings to an end and he would actually be able to partake in the very reason for his visit. Alas his hopes were crushed as Basil went on to explain the full extent of his torture.
"As you may be aware Mr Link…" Link bit back an acidic rebuke at being called Mr. It may be inaccurate address but he much preferred "Sir" over "Mr", he fumed. "…as you may have surmised, you have just been measured for a new set of attire, one far more suitable for an audience with the highest in the land and that doesn't smell of so much of..." He gave Link's hat a sniff and shuddered. "… something that moos."
"It smells of goats, not cows, and…" Link snapped, close to breaking point.
"An inconsequential distinction, after all they both moo!" came the courtier's dismissive response. The hero was about to correct his ignorance but the insufferable man had already moved on to his next point. "besides, what matters is that such a smell is not acceptable to a lady of such high esteem and such delicate sensibilities, so new attire is required regardless. We would normally desire to create a unique tailored outfit, however unfortunately that is not possible given our time constraints in this situation. I have however instructed my assistant to scour our extensive collection of raiment in search of appropriate garments for your audience. Given your rather… diminutive stature this could prove difficult but I'm certain we will be able to procure something suitable."
Link bristles at the slight, however he was beginning to suspect that at least some of the man's insults were borne out of snobbery combined with obliviousness, rather than a genuine desire to offend. That idea got him thinking though. He may not be able to win an argument with Basil but he may have a chance to play him, if for no other purpose than his own amusement to make the drudgery more bearable. Who knows. It could save his sanity.
Basil's sermon on style and decorum showed no signs of fatigue as he continued "While the correct outfit is paramount, in your case, given your upbringing there still much that will require adjustment." Another click of his fingers brought forth a trolley laden with an assortment of ostentatious cutlery of varying shapes and sizes. "As you are dining with her royal highness, it is a basic requirement that you know your soup spoon from your desert spoon, your fish Knife from your dinner knife, the correct manner of serving yourself and possibly, although I highly doubt she would request this of someone of your status, her royal highness. To make an error in such basic principles of etiquette would be considered a gross offence to her royal highness. Then, of course, there are matters of…"
As he droned on, Link's ire was overtaken by despondency and noticing a chair close by, he promptly slumped into it. This act sent Basil's eyebrows shooting up to the ceiling and he gave the look of a dog that's just had its bone stolen. "Stand up! A gentleman does not sit until invited to be the host!" he bellowed.
Link begrudgingly rose, grinding his teeth in frustration.
"The gentleman will now be seated." Basil placidly instructed, suddenly completely calm again… and completely oblivious to the red eyed monster before him.
The infuriated hero did as instructed, albeit with great strain as he fought to suppress the growing urge to strangle the pompous pretentious prick with the frilly cravat around the man's obnoxious throat.
Basil, blissfully unaware of his clients growing desire to throttle him, wheeled the trolley closer to the chair. As the trolley drew up in front of him, Link was suddenly aware of a second person approaching from behind and from the sound of it… sharpening a blade of some kind.
Was this a trap? Some kind of assassination attempt?!
He was about to jump up to his feet when Basil, in a rare moment of perception, registered his unease. "Do not concern yourself with Bernard, Mr Link, he will simply be working to subdue that… unfortunate untamed display on top of your head."
"What?!"
"your hair!"
Link glanced behind and glimpsed not a knife but a pair of scissors.
Over my dead body!