A.N: Hello my fantastic readers. Sorry about the delay on this chapter. I'd been away on holiday and when I came back it took a while to get back into writing. I hope everyone is doing well and that you are all continuing to enjoy the story. This chapter and the next chapter were originally planned to be one long chapter but it ended up feeling rather excessive so I've split it. Plus, I just really wanted to give you guys something.

As always, Feedback is very much appreciated. I often wonder whether I should respond to each review and say thanks, but I don't wish to be presumptuous, so I'll simply say it here. Thank you for your reviews and please keep them coming.

Now without further ado, let's get on with the reason you're really here. For the story!

Chapter 24 – An Uneasy Promotion (Part 1)

Hyrule Castle throne room – 275 days A.G

He'd never seen the throne room so packed, its cavernous dimensions doing little to diminish the stiflingly cramped atmosphere, exacerbated by the heat of an abnormally sweltering early autumn day. Sunlight poured through the tall cathedralesque windows, directly beneath which servants and maids bustled to and fro, vanishing or appearing through side doors, a frenetic circus of activity surrounding a raucous crowd, simmering with impatient excitement for the ceremony about to take place. It was clammy and exhausting. Oh, how he wished he could have been garbed in his normal green tunic, instead of the hefty, stuffy, constrictive ceremonial armour required for the occasion. If he'd known his promotion would come with this much pomp and discomfort he might have turned her down. Oh, what was he thinking? He could never turn Zelda down, particularly after she shown him the vulnerability that lay beneath her composed princessly persona.

At the thought of her, his gaze naturally wandered back to the princess for the tenth time in so many minutes. She was still elegantly yet regally reclined on her throne, deep in conversation with Neela, shad and a third man, whose description matched that of the real Samuel Fairclough. Despite her relaxed demeanour, his last meeting with her had led him to believe that she was almost as nervous as he was about the ceremony, though for entirely separate reasons, which he couldn't establish. Then again, he doubted the princess knew the true causes of his own apprehensions. He certainly hoped not.

He swivelled in his chair, much to the annoyance of his neighbours, and surveyed the hallowed chamber once more. Link sat at the edge of the second row of two legions of regimented seating - separated by a red-carpet river - stretching from the back of the chamber up to the first of two flights of stairs to the throne, above which the grand stone statues of the goddesses and the tri-force loomed over the buzzing crowd. The crowd weren't only here for his promotion, as he just was one of eight receiving various honours or knighthoods at this ceremony. Indeed, had it just been for him, he was pretty certain the noble seats - the front rows on the opposite side - would all be vacant, with the exception of Shad and possibly Lord Fairclough. To be fair though, it wasn't like he'd lament their absence. if anything, he was grateful to whoever organised the seats for placing them across the aisle.

He scanned all present and tried to match their faces to the names and descriptions Zelda had given him during their political lessons. Most of them would be his opponents, after all and it was always wise to scope them out. Also, after Halshaw's warning he couldn't rule out possible involvement with the masked man. He couldn't rule out anyone's involvement!

Closest in line and easily recognisable, even with his new slim profile, was Lord Halshaw, sporting an ornate red and gold gambeson, further ornamented with his surprisingly substantial medal collection. They hadn't had the chance to speak since their discovery of the writing on the wall, however his actions during the incident had done much to elevate Link's opinion of the man. Doubts may have persisted as to his trustworthiness but it was clear now that, at some point in his past, he had possessed the courage and valour to earn those medals and somewhere, deep inside, a sliver of those qualities remained. That at least deserved some respect. Whether he would be an opponent or ally remained to be seen.

Sensing he was being watched, Halshaw glanced round in search of the observer and upon meeting the hero's gaze, cocked his head questioningly. In response Link merely gave a cordial nod before letting his eyes move down the line. The noble frowned for a moment before returning the nod of greeting and turning back to whatever deliberations to which he'd been occupied prior to the interruption.

Next to him were two council members Link couldn't identify, possessing little by way of prominent distinguishing features, unlike the fourth noble who, with flame hued curly hair, an alarmingly pronounced nose, a chin to match and enough jewellery to rival the most ostentatious of noblewomen could only be Lord Brookleaf. According to Zelda, his strikingly unique appearance was to compensate for a chronic lack of independent thought. It seemed only fitting that next to him would sit Lord Greene, a man described by Zelda as "ambassador for the fine art of professional incompetence".

Shad and Lord Fairclough's empty chairs followed, the only two council members he considered above suspicion. Even if he hadn't met Fairclough personally, the noble had received sufficient praise from Zelda to convince him. That left three more he couldn't identify, another empty seat whose owner they were waiting on to start the ceremony and finally, last but by no means least, the duplicitous Lord Vanhorn and his arrogant ally, Lord Reefa, younger yet no less of a schemer. Despite their words being drowned out by other more boisterous voices, Link nevertheless scrutinized the duo in deep conversation for a couple of minutes. Were they up to something?

Was someone else? Goddesses, how long had it been since he'd last reconnoitred the rest of the crowd? He twisted further in his seat.

"Do you mind?!" Hissed the disgruntled knight next to him.

Link ignored the knight and scoured the chamber for trouble. Behind the council were several rows holding the rest of the nobility; Councillors wives, sons and daughters and any other of noble blood who lacked a seat on the council. Of this group, there was only one he recognised, namely Sir "Cocksure", impossible to miss as his stature towered above his neighbours. While his father had earnt some level of respect, he had done nothing to raise his standing in Link's good books. Not that they'd had many run-ins since the stable's debacle.

Like his father, he noticed Link's hawkish gaze but unlike Halshaw senior he didn't dignify him with a greeting, instead proceeding to scratch his ear… with his middle finger. Halshaw's wife was notably absent, the chair clearly meant for her behind her husband, bare and untouched. She hadn't simply slipped away, impatient at the long delay in starting of the ceremony. She'd never even shown up and, given the nature of the event, even Link understood something of the faux pas the lady was committing. What would keep such an ambitious woman away?

With nothing else of suspicion among the gentry, Link turned his gaze to the majority of the crowd behind, a raucous assortment of soldiers, servants and townsfolk, crammed together on rickety wooden benches. He almost felt sorry for them, waiting all this time with nothing to cushion their likely aching buttocks. This seemed to do little to dampen the general mood of excitement among the hubbub of the hollering horde. Yet lurking among the exuberant masses there could be someone with less innocent intent, perhaps even the masked man himself… or it could even be a woman… though that seemed far less likely. They had successfully kicked him through a wooden banister!

His scowling ice blue gaze raked the chambers perimeter where servants and handmaidens milled back and forth, past guards lining the walls and flanking every entrance. These outliers possessed the greatest opportunity to act, by virtue of their positions and roles. They weren't hemmed in to crowded seating and their duties meant they could move with relative impunity from suspicion. Any of them could make it within twenty feet of Zelda before most would begin to question their intentions!

His stomach knotted again at the thought of anyone threatening or harming the princess. Then came a growl from deep in his belly. Damn it! Now was not the time for the beast to emerge. He could feel it, groggy yet restless, rumbling and rolling beneath his diaphragm, driving up his breathing and heartrate. Agitation and apprehension were building and he slammed his eyes shut in an effort to send the beast back into slumber. Unfortunately, the beast – once a narcoleptic – was now a notoriously light sleeper thanks to recurring bouts of paranoia which had dogged him in the wake of the masked man's appearance and the threat they'd left for Zelda.

It seemed that all his strongest emotions, without exception, really did revolve around Zelda, one way or another, be it the thrill at their private acquaintances, the worry over her safety… or the inexplicable calmness and comfort which often came simply from the sound of her voice. Seeking that calmness once more, he honed his ears in on her crisp dulcet consonants, the only part of her voice which cut clean through the din, and clung to it until it's soothing power began to take effect and the beasts influence receded into the blackness of his still sealed eyelids. He breathed deep as the constriction round his chest loosened. The beast was asleep once more… and yet something felt… off…

Lids flickering open, his eyes swept the crowds, harangued by a new apprehension that he was being observed by some otherworldly force or entity. It wasn't the first time he'd been struck by such a notion and he had a suspicion as to the source. He was sure he caught glimpses of it; the barest snatches of a form flitting through the back of a crowded room; the briefest blink in his peripheral vision.

He began scanning all the maids and servants flitting about, the only souls in the room possessing distinct individual shadows, the perfect hiding place.

A balding man hobbling towards the noble seats, a tray of wine glasses rocking precariously in his unsteady hands? No, nothing wrong with his shadow.

A comely maid conversing with some townsfolk near one of the back benches? Her shadow was clean.

There was a nobleman returning to his seat. What about him? No!

Then a young maid flashed across his vision heading for the back of the room and he saw it. The girl was slim, straight and fit, yet her shadow was not. The black silhouette extended as though she were a hunchback however a single tapered spike protruding from the black mass indicated something more than a mere trick of the light. All he needed was for the girl to turn in the right direction… or bend down… or something to expose it… or rather her.

Damn it! As she hurried along the back of the chamber he almost lost her, struggling to crane his neck round to follow her. He twisted again, ignoring the creaking of his chair and further grumblings from his neighbour. Still the maiden almost slipped from his sight.

"Come on. Somebody stopped her." he growled inaudibly through his teeth.

As if by divine intervention, a fashionably late nobleman - possibly the missing council member - slinked through the grand throne room doorway forcing the maid to halt and, more importantly, curtesy. From the corner of his eye, Link watched on tenterhooks as she dipped low, her shadow following the motion, with the exception of the spike and, coming into view as she descended, two long horn like protrusions, projecting upwards out of one shoulder.

It was the clearest glimpse he had caught of the phantom's features and yet, with the shadow's distorted form against the carved stone walls and the imperfections of his peripheral vision, it remained tantalisingly vague. He was all but certain he knew the real nature of the horns and the spike but he needed proof. His breath caught in his throat and a chill ran up his spine as more of the phantom's cover was stripped away. Another second and he might…

The noble passed across the shadow and the phantom vanished. Damn, damn, damn! He had been so close to proving it was, indeed, her… Midna… or whatever her doppelganger was. The two horns closely resembled those of her crown and the spike was reminiscent of her pointy ears, however it was still little more than supposition. Then again, he was so certain of it he sometimes questioned why he still required proof. Why couldn't he accept it?

The "ghost" of his erstwhile companion and friend had not engaged him since its miraculous rescue of his sanity in the castle catacombs – though truly, to say it saved his sanity was questionable. He still hadn't a clue as to its true nature or if it even existed outside the realms of his own tortured imagination.

She – or it – had gone into hiding and none of his many attempts to summon an appearance had met with anything approaching success. Where once the phantom had seemingly held no qualms with showing itself, under the guise he'd unwittingly provided, now it was sufficiently adamant in maintaining its concealment as to resort to inducing physical pain if he tried to force it into the light. And yet… every now and then he'd sense it… watching from the corner of his vision… skulking in the shadows. Why?

Not even the pile of books he'd amassed from the library, off the back of some discrete enquires to Shad, had turned up anything of use. Pawing over tens of thousands of words on every conceivable aspect of magic and the supernatural and yet nothing enlightened him to the identity, classification or constitution of the being which haunted him. What was worse than the hours of pointless reading was the fact that, despite his best discretion, he was sure Shad now suspected something was going on. This was his problem and no one else's! He wouldn't be a burden to anyone else! He couldn't!

Grrr! It must know he could sense it. Why continue this game of hide and seek? What was it? Why did… wait… he could sense… fear… and he wasn't the source?

Returning to reality from the depths of his deliberations, he suddenly registered his unconscious fiery glare, directed unrelentingly at the maid whose shadow he'd followed. She stared back at him with fright filled eyes, the look sending his heart plummeting to his boots. Fear was an emotion he would only ever wish to inspire in monsters and villains, yet in the wake of the his pursuit of the mysterious masked man, his mere presence seemingly struck terror into some among the castle's ranks. Where once he would be bombarded with greetings from every servant he passed, there were now some who actively tried to avoid him, even going so far as diverting down other corridors just to stay away. The halls and walls were alive with whispers. While much of it pertained to his hero title, it would seem word of his rabid, beast possessed rampage had spread and while many thankfully dismissed it, there were those who clearly believed he was somehow… "unbalanced". Perhaps they were right. He blinked and the instant contact was broken the maid picked up her skirts, turned tail and fled out the main door.

He wanted to do something, to set things right but all he could do was stare at the now empty doorway and attempt to quell his misplaced guilt. He knew it wasn't his fault, however that did little to sooth his conscience. Of all the people he knew there was only one other than himself with, he suspected, an equal penchant for unwarranted contrition. Probably one of the few things he could claim in common with her royal highness. He needed some of her calming influence to…

"Hey Link, have I missed anything" Ah! Ashei had finally arrived, slumping awkwardly into her chair in front of him.

He took in the swordmaiden's appearance before responding, restraining a wry remark at her ceremonial armour, which actually fitted pretty well… when she bothered to fasten it properly. "No, they weren't about to start without you, given your world-shaking knighthood, though they may be reconsidering it given your tardiness. Where in all the realms were you?! The ceremony was due to start almost what… forty minutes ago!"

"Oi! Don't blame me. One of the council members, Lord "Flacidpants", was so affronted by the mere notion of a girl being knighted that he challenged me to a duel. Well, I couldn't refuse. I'd never hear the end of it n' besides, he was in need of a good thrashing."

"He may have deserved it but your timing could have been better."

"It would have been… but it was delayed by captain duties!..." She let out a huff of flippant frustration, which failed to disguise her genuine trepidation. She leant over lowered her voice to a whisper. "Another poster was found, this one opposite Agitha's."

The news instantly set Link bristling, though he managed to conceal it with a monotonous rumble. "The same poster?"

Ashei nodded. "Pretty much. The words are different but all the same sentiment and, it looks like, the same hand that wrote it."

"Witnesses?"

"None we can find. A couple claimed they'd seen the culprit. Turned out they were just trying their luck for the reward money."

"So, no one legitimately coming forward?"

"No. Not a…"

All conversation was extinguished with the sudden striking of a gong and hundreds of heads turned expectantly to the throne, where the princess, now alone, rose elegantly and inspected the waiting audience. Link, ever attentive in his observations of her highness, noted her princess veil and poise flawlessly instated, unblemished by impatience or the weight of expectation and yet her hands, tucked demurely into her lap, were united with a little too much force. Her blue orbs paused briefly on reaching his, however the veil did not falter.

Her audience waited…

Her lips twitched almost imperceptibly but did not open…

Her gaze flicked back to Link, her eyes betraying no uncertainty or hesitation, yet she remained silent. He gave a subtle nod of reassurance and her lips twitched again, the ghost of a thankful smile.

She took a composing breath and began. "My Lords and Ladies, esteemed guests and loyal subjects. We are gathered here today for a most auspicious of occasions, the celebration and recognition of those who have demonstrated the highest virtues of courage, loyalty and honour in services of this great kingdom. To commend those who, through their actions, have proven not only immense skill but unwavering determination and integrity to the cause of defending this realm. This is… a happy day, however… it would be discourteous to forget it is one that has come after months of hardship, suffering and loss. we must acknowledge the many who demonstrated these prized virtues who were lost during those dark months. That Is why I ask you all to join with me in sharing a moment's silence to commemorate the lost."

There was a moment of silence… stunned silence from the townsfolk, sombre silence from the soldiers and speechless incredulity from the nobles. Then the buzzing started, growing slowly like a waking wasps' nest.

Then the princess's voice, commanding yet compassionate, cleaved through the gathering swarm and the buzzing ceased. "Will you not join me?... Will you not honour their memories?"

There was a pause and everyone waited, seemingly unsure how to respond to their sovereign addressing them so directly. Such a move, a sovereign asking, not demanding, her subjects participate in a mutual display of respect and mourning was unprecedented. Then, to the crowd's shock, their crown princess knelt and wordlessly assume a position of prayer in front of the throne; eyes closed, head bowed.

The chamber fell eerily silent, the audience seemingly frozen, breathless and amazed by what they were witnessing. After a spine-tingling moment of hallowed quiet, the stillness was broken by the creaking of wood which, in the sparse soundscape, echoed around the grand stone pillars and cavernous vaulted ceiling. Were people… leaving? Rejecting her compassion?

A glance back revealed how wrong he was. One by one the cramped congregation dispensed with their own comfort and assumed their own positions of prayer or reflection. The motion soon formed a wave which swept up the room as shopkeepers, stable hands, servants and soldiers all bowed in reverence. The wave, however, met resistance when it reached the stubborn rocks of nobility. Some submitted willingly, including Shad, Fairclough and, most surprisingly, Lord Halshaw. Others relented begrudgingly to the water around them, likely to save face and a few remained defiantly obstinate, most notably and insultingly Halshaw junior, who slouched, arms aggressively crossed as he scowled at the towering figures of the three goddesses above.

Link was determined to be more respectful yet he found it hard to close his eyes and commit himself. This act of unified remembrance may have offered some comfort for those who'd lost someone but, to him, it was a reminder of all those he failed to save. How many of those bowing right now lost someone to the twilight? He could only guess, but the fact there were any…

The words of nightmare Gannondorf echoed in the back of his head and he shivered. "Behold your failure." It was a nightmare he'd once thought banished, but now appeared more common than ever in the wake of his failure to apprehend the masked man. The silence, initially inspiring awe and relief, quickly formed an icy and oppressive prison, cast from the iron rods he regularly beat himself with for his inadequacies.

While others may have been offering speechless prays to the goddesses for the fates of lost spirits, the only prayer he found himself making was for a quick merciful end to the silence. Head bowed, his eyes remained open and fixed on the still form of the reverential princess. He knew she must hurt too, yet she bore it with humility and grace in the face of the watchful gaze of her subjects… unlike himself.

Please let this be over soon!

It would seem the goddesses were in a merciful mood as, just seconds later, the princess gracefully rose to her feet and, for the briefest moment, her eyes beheld deep grief. The veil quickly reinstated itself however and, as she addressed the crowd once more, her voice betrayed nothing but calm compassion. "May the Goddesses grant peace to those lost. I thank you all for joining me in remembrance. In our losses we should always remember that we are united and it is in unity that we can move forward to a time of peace and prosperity. Such peace and prosperity should not come at the expense of their memories however and that is why, to truly honour them, I decree the anniversary of the end of the twilight will henceforth be marked a national holiday, dedicated to the celebration of the heroes, both living and dead, who played their part in the fight for freedom and the memories of all who lost their lives in that national tragedy."

The crowd broke into applause with varied degrees of enthusiasm at the news, the most raucous coming, surprisingly, from the ranks of his comrades. Given how much he'd already pissed off his neighbour, he didn't risk glancing back, but just from his hearing it would seem the townsfolk were divided on this news, while the nobles, by and large, didn't rise above a polite patter in response.

Zelda raised her hand to bring the audience to order. "And now we move on to the purpose of today's ceremony, to recognise and celebrate the contributions and virtues of the many esteemed men and women…" the mention of women prompted a couple of derisive snorts from among the ranks of the nobility, but the princess ignored them. "… who have and will continue to dedicate themselves to the defence of the kingdom. The first to be recognised for their courage, however, is not currently officially in that esteemed service. Nevertheless, as a retired general and former knight, he has proven his valour in the past, serving his majesty, my father, King Daphnes Mograson Hyrule…" Wait a second, was she talking about Lord Halshaw? "… becoming one of the most decorated knights in Hyrule's history, and, in a recent incident, he demonstrated that courage can remain long after one's duties have ended…"

Even as the Zelda's speech continued, murmurs began to spread amongst the ranks of the soldiers and the nobles as truth dawned on them who the princess was referring to. Yet again a broth of equal parts bemusement and incredulity seemed to be boiling to the surface at yet another unexpected turn. Both the soldiers and nobles had been briefed on the proposed itinerary for the ceremony and none of the events so far had been on the agenda. Few showed more shock than Lord Halshaw himself, who, it seemed, had frozen in gaping, wide eyed, disbelief.

"Ahem, I trust you all will not continue such displays of disrespect for the duration of the ceremony or we may all still be here at sundown." Zelda snapped, maintaining regality even with an undercurrent of annoyance.

The muttering ceased instantly.

"Lord Halshaw, please step forward."

The Lord, still dumbfounded, obeyed her command, though his legs were so shaky he almost tripped on the steps. At the end of the first flight he stopped and knelt as all were instructed and the princess descended to meet him, followed by a servant baring a medal on a cushion. Zelda lifted the medal and the servant bowed and departed. "Lord Julius Halshaw, son of Lord Bolson Halshaw… in recognition of your actions and commendable composure in the face of danger, saving the life of one Carock Goswin, I hereby present to you the Dalbanon Star, the highest award for bravery to those not currently in the service of the military. May it serve as a mark of your esteem and as inspiration to all."

"I.I.I.I am honoured your highness." Halshaw stammered, barely keeping his balance as he bowed so deeply he almost performed an impromptu handstand.

The crowd broke into another riotous if somewhat confused round of applause, the townsfolk leading the way in enthusiasm with the soldiers following surprisingly close behind, given how much they'd despised the man as general. He guessed saving a comrade's life, while not enough to gain their appreciation or entirely absolve him of his past discretions, was enough to earn some modicum of respect. The nobles were divided but the majority barely rose above sedate.

Regardless of the lack of support from his peers, Lord Halshaw seemed oblivious as he stumbled down the steps, entirely absorbed in the shining gold star, pinned symbolically over his heart. By the time he reached his seat he was blinking rapidly and breathing deeply. Was that a tear? He couldn't tell but if so it would be the first he'd ever witnessed from the embittered ex-knight. The more he saw of the man, the harder it was to reconcile with the blustering, repugnant slimeball who'd accused him of sleeping with her highness. The blinking stopped quickly and, seemingly lost in his own little world he unpinned the medal from his chest, cradled into in his hands and just stared at it.

Wait a second? Suspicion had been aroused by something… not Lord Halshaw, just something in the background. Was it shadow Midna again? No, just a couple of servants; the balding man with the limp and another he hadn't seen before. So why…

"Sir Alfonzo Codgins Demerara…" The announcement dragged his attention from the unidentifiable suspicion and signalled that the ceremony was finally moving into more familiar and predictable territory. Predictable but nonetheless opposed by a number among the nobility, chief among them, the man responsible for Alfonzo's past dismissal, Lord Vanhorn, who wore a pasted smile, sickly and stiff, which didn't reach his silver dagger gaze.

Alfonzo, practically unrecognisable from the shabby yet jovial greybeard he'd met at Telma's all those months prior, was unphased by such negative attentions and strode with cool, affirmed steps up to the princess. Now regaled, not in the rags of undeserved ignominy, but a red and gold gambeson of his own, with his once bushy beard trimmed and sculpted to a noble's standard, he certainly looked the part for his much-delayed promotion to grand general. The question was… could he sound the part? Could he inspire the men? Would they respect him? From his many secret meetings with the princess, he was well aware just how hard she had pushed for his instatement, against considerable opposition, and if it didn't work out, it would become a boon for her rivals.

Fortunately, sans alcohol, it seemed the old guard's manner could almost match his spruced-up appearance, still dropping the occasional letter but making up for it with a startling amount of charisma. Despite the formality of taking his oath to the kingdom and the princess, Link could feel the warmth the two shared and that he truly would "defend Hyrule and her royal highness to his last breath." Zelda had gained a new ally, one of a precious few who couldn't be bought, blackmailed or broken. Such friends and confidantes were precious and rare enough for anyone but particularly for the princess. He should be basking in a wave of relief and happiness for her, yet his nagging paranoia stifled any vestiges of such a luxury. The feeling of suspicion continued to hound him, though he couldn't pinpoint the cause even as he shot more furtive glances across the aisle.

Suddenly more applause broke out and, realising Alfonzo's speech had ended, Link hastily attempted to summon a smile and join the crowd. He just hoped the new grand general wasn't paying attention to his acclamations which were about as convincing as Lord Vanhorn's, albeit for different reasons, his being undermined by tension rather than the simmering contempt he was sure was festering behind the Noble's silver snake eyes. Another glance to the noble seats caught the former grand general, now recovered from his trance, exchanging a subtle cordial nod with his replacement, lending further credence to his claim of their acquaintance and respect.

Yet again however, the glance only served to further compound his nerves as some unidentified anomaly sought to rattle the cage of the beast within. Faced with the prospect of it waking and breaking free, he diverted all his attention to find the object of his apprehension. Even as Ashei's name was called, accompanied by another round of applause, Link only spared the most thoughtless and lacklustre of claps in celebration of his friend's landmark achievement, while his eyes scoured the noble seats and surroundings for the "culprit".

Zelda was speaking again and he used her voice as a lullaby for the beast, while his brain scrambled through the cacophony of information bombarding him as all his senses strained to absorb every face, every smell, every sound and every motion in the room. Through methodical elimination the focus of his examinations slowly closed in on the likely suspects at the far side of the chamber. There was the balding, limping servant and a guard who appeared so bored he was struggling to stay awake. Why would his brain raise alarm at either of them?

With Ashei's knighting clearly drawing to a close and the suspects identified, he felt safe dedicating a moment to genuinely celebrating and basking in the glow of her success as she turned and took a bow to the loudest applause yet. It was, literally, the least he could do - and far less than Ashei rightfully deserved - as the instant the applause began to die, his focus and his gaze immediately turned back to the question of the two suspects.

Neither of them posed any obvious threat. Neither of them appeared to be acting in a remotely dubious… fashion… It was as he watched the balding servant hobbling back towards the refreshment table in the corner, the tray of wine glasses shaking precariously in his grip, that the answer finally clicked. While his balding head and grizzled features gave a deceptive impression of old age and infirmity, the man couldn't have been older than forty. Far more suspicious however, was the limp, which appeared more a charade with every step. The inevitable follow up thought to this realisation was to ask "Why?".

The common reason to fake an injury was to shirk work but that didn't fit because he was currently working. If that was the reason he was either; overzealous with his dedication to the role, playing for sympathy - though from who he couldn't possibly imagine, given he was serving nobles – or lacking the marbles required to comprehend his error in maintaining the facade.

There was only one other reason which sprung to mind as to why someone would feign infirmity: to conceal the threat they pose! Link continued his surveillance across the room, nerves rising once more as the distance between them came with a stark realisation. If the limping man actually possessed significant speed, it was possible he could reach the princess before her sworn protector could rise and intercept.

Nightmare Gannondorf was in the back of his mind again and a rumble from his belly warned him the beast may be joining the fray. If he didn't do something to placate it… If he didn't act then… He shuddered at the two horrifying outcomes; the beast running amok or Zelda being attacked.

But what could he do? It wasn't like he could just go up and arrest the man. No crime had yet been committed and he wasn't even meant to be on duty. He shuffled restlessly in his seat, gaze switching between Zelda and the "limping" man, wrestling with what little options were available. He could stay here and just hope his suspicions were unwarranted, while having to restrain an increasing urge to growl, howl and claw at his neighbours or he could arm himself and move to a closer striking distance, possible adding another bruise to his reputation, committing an illegal act and potentially alerting the target to his suspicion.

His eyes flicked back to Zelda, briefly meeting her beautiful sapphire orbs. She was… his princess and he would stop at nothing to protect her! Nothing! His reputation could be ruined. He may even be arrested for what he was about to do. It didn't matter.

Link slid out of his seat and hastily made for the main doorway, ignoring the number bemused eyes following his exit. Time was of the essence and out this way they might think he simply needed the latrine, rather than taking it as a deliberate slight to whomever was currently receiving their honours.

His sudden departure may have been perceived as an insult but it crossed into criminal territory as he slipped into a deserted alcove just outside and rummaged through his small satchel. First out was his invitation to the ceremony, followed by a rolled-up scroll containing all his notes, suppositions and possible theories on the masked man, including a map of his movements that night, as far as Link could fathom. Then a single sheet of parchment he'd scrawled on possessions, curses, hauntings etc. – anything which could explain the beast or phantom Midna. The contents and questions of these notes may have occupied much of his waking thoughts since that fateful night but they were not what he sought now and not what turned his actions from irresponsible to illegal.

The object in question was a small jewel encrusted metal cylinder, a seemingly ordinary if ostentatious ignis tube, concealing a lethally sharp surprise: Halshaw's last "gift" to him. he took it and stuffed it into the inside straps of his right-hand steel gauntlet, a hiding place he'd already rehearsed the use of more times than he'd care to admit. Practically undetectable, it was the perfect concealment, safely harnessed in the straps for normal movement but…

He gave his wrist a vigorous flick and caught the falling tube in his other hand. A swift swipe of his thumb across the diamond catch and the blade sprang forth with a subtle click. Discrete, quick and quiet, just as he'd practiced. He'd need all those things if he was considering using it. His pulse was subtly accelerating.

It was illegal for anyone other than the guards to carry weapons at the ceremony and he was already technically guilty as he'd sat with it stashed in his satchel. The difference was the chance of being caught with a weapon was infinitely higher when you had it out and ready to use. If his nerves got the best of him… If he drew at a false alarm…

Screw it! He retracted the blade… and strapped the metal cylinder into his gauntlet again. If something did happen, he couldn't afford wasting valuable seconds. He slipped silently back into the throne room, fortunately garnering next to no attention as everyone was to engrossed in the ceremony or their own whispered conversations to notice him sliding round the back of the room towards the wine table, twenty to thirty feet from the back of his target, who appeared just as engrossed as the rest.

His hope of using the pretence of grabbing a glass of wine as a cover for his detour from his seat immediately evaporated at reading the sign "nobles only". Damn it! He nevertheless halted in front of the table in a moment of tense frustration as he considered his options. This proved a poor move.

"I'm sorry Link, this is for nobles only. You'll find your refreshments across the other side, but you really should return to your seat while the ceremony is taking place." The maid by the table addressed him in hushed tones, yet still drew many eyes… including those of the target.

Shit!

"I'd rather stretch my legs" Link growled through gritted teeth, shooting a glare at the maid, who paled and shrank away instantly. Had she glimpsed the beast in his icy blue slits?

The limping servant continued to watch him. Had he been found out? He waited but the man's attention refused to leave him be, even as he tried his best to ignore it, staring blankly at table.

Finally, with the man's attentions still unwavering, Link rounded on him. "Problem?" he rumbled.

The man met his eyes briefly before flicking down to his hands and back again.

His wrist twitched.

The man answered with a shake of the head and turned back to the ceremony. Had he somehow spotted the concealed ignis tube? It took several seconds to register what actually drew the targets attention as the clenched fists the hero had been unwittingly holding gradually loosened. While his gauntlet hands had relaxed, the same could not be said for his heartrate.

Attempting an air of nonchalance, he propped himself against the wall, feigning interest in the ceremony as he shot sly sideways glances at the target. The ceremony dragged on with two more soldiers stepping forth to receive promotions but, beyond his fake limp, nothing about the balding servant gave any hint of mal-intent. He simply hobbled between the table and the noble seats and back again… with the same four glasses on a tray…

Ok, that was certainly odd. He watched from the corner of his eye as Lord Reefa waved the man over. When he approached, the noble gestured and the servant leant down, betraying for a moment the truth of his perfectly adequate balance. Link trained his ears in to try and catch Reefa's whisper and was rewarded with two utterly ambiguous yet ominous phrases "It is almost time. You know your cue."

His pulse spiked and his wrist twitched again. Hold steady, he couldn't draw yet. Hold your nerve and see what he does.

The target was heading back his way seemingly milking the limping act for all it was worth. But why? What purpose could pretending to be infirm and unbalanced truly serve? What was the goal?

Stopping a few feet from Link, the man turned back to watching the princess, currently concluding another soldier's commendation. It couldn't be many more before the call came for the hero of Hyrule himself. How much time did he have left? Damn it, he would have known had he paid a little more attention to the names.

As the soldier turned to face the crowd's applause, Link's gaze switched back to the servant, who thoughtlessly laid the falseness of his infirmity bare, by suddenly and expertly propping the tray, complete with glasses, on one hand while the other rooted through his pocket. His face was only visible in profile but the slight upward curl of the man's lips gave away a smirk. Why? A glanced down revealed a sharp point pressing through the fabric. A knife?

The hero almost flinched at the sight, barely avoiding an instinctual jerk of his wrist, guaranteed to dislodge his own concealed blade. He held his nerve for a few more seconds, his target suddenly fixated on the ceremony. Was he waiting for his que?

Then, the instant the latest honoured soldier began to descend the steps, heading back to his seat, the dubious servant started shuffling, still maintaining his limping façade, towards the noble seats again. There was, however, a purpose in his gait, previously lacking, which gave it away. Something was afoot and he had to stop it.

pressing off the cold stone wall, Link stalked after the target, cautious not to arouse the man's attention as he slowly closed the gap, applause from the crowd drowning out any possible trace of their footsteps. With each inch closed his heart accelerated and his tensed wrist threatened to draw the weapon prematurely.

The target, where before had stopped at the front row of the nobles, crossed the invisible line to the no man's land leading to the steps, a move which should have roused the nearby guard from his near catatonic stupor. The guard didn't react. was it apathy or was it… was he drugged? Wait, the wine?! What if the wine was poisoned? How could the possibility have slipped his mind? Shit now wasn't the time to contemplate, now was the time to act!

Link quickened his pace, the servant now mere feet from the stairs. If he crossed that threshold…

His heartbeat pounded in his ears…

He primed his wrist to draw…

The servant paused…

The distance closed…

The Servant turned…

Wait, his shadow!

No, it couldn't be?!

His breath caught…

He hesitated…

then…

"Sir Link!"

Of all the times she could have picked!