The unforgiving light of the sun slipped through the tree foliage onto Link's eyes and awoke him to the bruised rib from the prior night. Grumbling, he rolled over onto his side and winced in pain as he congratulated himself for keeping his promise for another day. His oversized, green tunic would have helped hide him against the tiny patch of greenery tucked away in the city, had his clothing not been stained with blood. It was one of his hundreds of known safe spots for him to sleep off any injuries after working.

The child had chosen to utilize the west side of a building to shield himself from the morning sun and give himself some time to sleep, and it was one of the few patches of soil in the gigantic city that could actually sustain life. A night's rest on a bed of grass could restore Link's broken bones before the sun would rise. It had to have been a year ago that Link discovered this, or was it two years ago?

Reminiscing about the past was feeble for the poor boy with little memory. He knew many things about the wretched city he lived in, but he knew nothing about himself. Not even his own age. The most important numeral people counted to see how many times they could live through the twenty four hour day, the ten day tendo, the nine tendo season, and the four season year, and Link couldn't even remember his own age. He had been a young child as far as he could remember, but he had no idea for how long. Given that he needed to grow up and look like an adult soon so that he could qualify for an apprenticeship somewhere, it would definitely have helped to remember his birth date and his birth parents.

Link could not draw an adult face to a male or female in his mind when he tried to picture his parentage, but he could feel an energy whenever he laid on the dirt calling home far, far away. And whenever he did lay on the dirt, he had the same dreams over again. Dreams of him playing in a forest with other children. Dreams of him wearing a green shirt and a green tunic. Dreams of his best friend long ago…

Blood rushed through his system as his eyes darted to his bandaged left hand. Observing nothing different from the sweat stained fabric, Link sighed a breath of relief. His mind then flashed back to an ancient memory of the friend who gave him that scar…

You promised me, she whispered into his mind.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he grumbled back at his past. His empty stomach churned, encouraging the boy to start his day with scorn on his face. Link twisted and stretched against the building as he yawned. Each bone in his hip and back reminded him of the pain from the previous night. But, he woke up, as much as he did not want to, and at least kept his promise to his old friend for another day.

Surviving another day would bring him another day closer to adulthood. Once that day finally came, he could ask a tradesman to train him and welcome him into the guild, and then he could finally forgo the life of a killer. Though hunting bounties was not an ideal vocation for a boy who had yet to grow facial hair, it was the only job where nobody asked questions.

Link oriented himself to his new surroundings before figuring where he had to go to reach the bounty collections agency. He had no head to return for money, but he could at least get a new job. Seeking a shortcut, Link squeezed between two buildings and ran through the Western Bowels, where the air's stench came from infested carcasses hidden within dung and rubbish.

His sensitive ears picked up hostility off in the distance, sending Link scurrying like a rat for a place to hide. The chant of an angry mob barrelled down the alleyway across from him, "Death to the witch!"

Peeking around an abandoned cityhouse, he spotted the angry crowd of peasants crossing and dragging a mere girl down the street. Times were tough, to say the least, tough enough to drive thousands of peasants to blame anyone not Hylian for all their problems, and they liked to make a show of the vulnerable, such as the many urchins drifting through the alleyways. Blamed for being age-less, most, if not all, of the children were no more than kids born without a family like Link. The only difference between Link and her was that Link was safely hidden away.

The unlucky girl was about to stand trial before the Goddesses. If she was lucky, the zealous mob would hang her; if she was not, they would burn her alive. There had to have been at least a hundred people marching past him, just to murder a little girl. She had to have been no older than six years old, who still had a life to live; she had committed no evil.

While Link did not make a habit of intervening other people's affairs, this was just plain wrong. After all, his best friend long ago would have done so, even if she didn't know how.

To get a better perspective on the whole situation, Link climbed up to the second story of an abandoned city house, part of a whole decaying block of deserted living quarters built as one structure. From up there, he could identify the leader of the mob carrying a torch in one hand and a Book of Legend in the other, signature items of a Loborn preacher.

As he ran across the building in the direction of the crowd, Link surveyed his surroundings, but could not find where their end destination would be. Instead, he spotted two young faces poking out from the ruins of the cityhouse across and then one more hiding underneath a wooden support for a house. He found more the more he looked, until finally, Link felt a tingling in his back.

He quickly turned around and went for the knife he had always hidden in his back trousers, and found nothing there. Dung! He had forgotten he had lost it last night, but he kept his hand behind his back to at least look like he was ready to strike.

In front of Link, a young girl, also unarmed after a first glance, held up her hands to bear non-aggressive intentions. "Oy..." she tried to diffuse the situation. Then she nodded over to the crowd, "What's your deal with them?"

Link glowered his eyes back, "What's it to you?"

"That's my sister that's what!" the short haired girl whispered back harshly. "Now, I'm gonna ask you again, this time plainly! What's it to you?"

Link raised his hand from behind his back in tandem with the other, "Because Links never forget…"

She nodded and put her hands down, "All right then, I came to you cuz you look like someone who can handle your business 'round here."

Link shrugged, wondering how he was going to fit into her scheme, "What you got?"

"Me and my boys got a plan to get her free. I just need you to grab their attention while we work."

Easy enough. Link just had to stand in their way and not die. Without divulging any plans from her end of the deal, she nodded and peeled away into the ruins to spread the word, while Link hustled to the street level to await their preparations. Once the crowd was within earshot distance, Link yelled into the open air, "Where is my sacrifice?"

The individuals of the mob looked around each other in confusion.

It was time for Link to step forth into the middle of the path and create a clear obstruction. "You!" he pointed his finger at the priest. "The spirits of Ganondorf," Link came up with the name to scare the crowd, "are displeased! You have been late with your tributes, and they have become less frequent!" He proudly displayed his scarred face to the head of the mob, no more than a balding, middle aged fool.

The priest waved his torch earnestly, "Stay back you heathen!" He then raised the Book of Legend in his other hand, "I am protected by the Goddesses of the Triforce!"

Walking forward with a finger raised, Link raised his voice, "You dare lie to the witches who gave you your magic?"

Though untrue, Link's convincing tone forced some heads to turn and some mumbles to surface. "No way!" one from the crowd stepped forth, a frail peasant with a beard strewn across his face unkempt. He stepped forth to defend the priest, "Father Reylyke has long been a defender of the faith! You're just a son of a witch spreading Ganondorf's lies!"

"Me? I'm just a Link, just like the lot of you!" said Link, hoping his ragtag clothes could convince the group of their similarities, "It's the preacher here who hides his true faith from the lot of you!"

Gasps flew from the crowd. "N-no," the man was unsure already, "h-he was there for the birth of my child! He named my son!"

"But did he give your child papers?" retorted Link, referring to the legal documents necessary to for any person to be considered a citizen within the realm. Without them, there were no protections from the law, and there was no pathway to an apprenticeship, the gateway between the lowest of classes and the next.

"N-no?" responded the peasant, unsure of where this conversation was headed. Of course the preacher didn't, he didn't have the legal authority; he was just another Loborn.

"So while he blesses your babies in the morning, he dooms your children at night by snatching them up and tributing them to Ganondorf!" Link didn't know if this was actually true or not, but it created some more shocked expressions.

"Lies!" interjected the preacher. "I have been faithful to the Goddesses!" he cried fervently, "I've spent all my time praying for our kingdom's salvation from Ganondorf's return!"

"Then why burn children? Why break the First Golden Commandment?" challenged Link, hoping to expose the hypocrisy of their actions against their faith, which had commanded them to honor all life as if it were their own.

Raising both hands into the air as well as the crowd's spirits, the priest unhesitantly responded, "We reject the unholy evils of Ganondorf's creations! We crush evil before it has a chance to corrupt our holy kingdom!" Having reminded them of why they were here in the first place, he stabbed his finger at Link, "Now seize this son of a witch!"

"YEAH!" they roared together. The bearded man went on the offensive. Marching forth alone with a torch in his hand, he reached out to grab Link, completely unaware of what he was going up against. All it took to defend against his poorly planned ploy was for the boy to sidestep the adult Hylian and parry his extended arm out of the way. Grabbing the wrist and the forearm, Link pulled the man, unbalancing him enough to trip him onto the ground, and wasted no time picking up the man's torch and stepping on his face to keep him pinned down.

The big man resisted, but the moment he raised his arms to grab a hold onto Link, the boy lowered the torch until it was just palm's length away from the man's chest, "You sure you wanna play this game with me?" Suddenly, the man went from aggressive ardor to trembling fearfulness in his eyes, for if Link could feel the intense heat of the fire from his hand, then surely the man could feel the looming of being burned to death.

The crowd advanced forward one step to come to his defense, but Link gave them a glaring look, "Are you sure you don't care for this man's life?" They looked at each other and stayed planted.

Good. All Link needed to do was to keep their attention turned toward him, long enough for the other Links to free the girl from the distracted group. Even the preacher's reminders that their miserable, worthless lives were worth sacrificing for the greater only produced murmured dissent. Self-preservation was not only worth more than their silly beliefs, it also motivated them to believe what they did.

Suddenly, a yelp erupted from the back of the crowd. Link knew that the other children had begun their rescue. Link looked up and saw a glance from the victim's sister. He gave her the nod, and she gave him a nod back. He threw the torch at the crowd to add more chaos to the scene, and as the crowd scattered to avoid the blazing touch of the fire, he scampered off into the crevice-strewn underbelly of the city.

Though the boy had strayed quite a bit from his original destination, he eventually reached the bounty collections agency, which was hidden neatly between two residences in the north district. Normally, any bounty hunter entered through the front door, but Link was looking for his personal handler, whose own chancery was located on the other side of the front entrance by the courtyard.

The droopy, wrinkly flaps on the bald man's chubby cheeks moved slightly when looked up abruptly from his paperwork, but he did not have to see the child crouched on his window to be aware of his presence. The early night's breeze ominously waltzed through the window, into the cavity between the child's bloodstained, cotton tunic and his scarred body, and blew out the only candle in the room.

The older gentleman searched in the dark for the fire starter and asked, "So, how did it go?"

Link hesitated before breaking the bad news. "He uh," he sighed, "He escaped the city."

"Hmph. Then let the bandits decide his fate. It saves the Crown from paying failures." Oscar's cutting remark bounced off Link's heavily scarred skin. Scratching of iron upon flint spewed sparks onto the wick. Once one of the flying sparks caught onto the wick, light returned to the room, and when it did, Oscar's weary brown eyes were deadlocked with Link's.

After two years of working for the bounty handler, there was still no way to read the scheming thoughts festering and colluding behind the stoic, passive face he was wearing. His tailored robe was made from a modest brown fabric, a cheap color to match a low ranking administrator's wealth. He wore no gaudy jewelry, just a slightly rusted iron chain.

Link avoided Oscar's piercing glare by looking at anything that did not resemble a pair of eyes, which was damn near impossible given all the profile drawings on the bounties plastered all over the walls. The organized arrangement of bounties upon the wall was characteristic of any good bureaucrat, but the way Oscar organized the wanted by gang affiliation showed that he knew more than most paper pushers like him normally did.

The intense glare was too much for Link to bear, so he broke the silence, "I um, I don't suppose you have another bounty ready for me?"

But all Link got was a delayed response. The administrator broke the staring contest and shifted through some unorganized piles of paperwork, "Unfortunately not at the moment."

Had Link not spent the last few years studying the art of reading subtleties, he would have missed the sly smirk creeping on Oscar's wrinkled face. But… Link wanted to say out loud in anticipation.

"But," Oscar paused to rummage through his messy mound of papers. Turning page after page, the handler finally retrieved a small envelope and walked to the window with the candle in his other hand, "The Judge personally requested me to find someone in the area to, discreetly, take care of an errand."

Subterfuge: something Link was good at but avoided altogether. Being on the wrong side of the law had far more risks, but if the request came from the law itself, maybe it would not be so complicated. "The old man delivered the request?" asked Link, making sure that the covert errand was indeed an errand from the Crown.

Oscar smiled reassuringly, "From Sir Mawar himself." Oscar's curled lips may have been hard to read, but at least he was an honest administrator.

If an old, retired Royal Guard, who currently sat at the highest seat in the Goddesses' court, personally wanted someone quietly killed, the bounty handler was the best man to approach. The sponsorship was all Link needed. "What's the pay?" he asked.

The administrator held out the envelope, "It's sealed. The condition is that unsealing it means you accept the task."

Link's heart sank. It was a job for the desperate, most likely an assassination, a bounty beneath the law. It must be. No other kind of assignment could be so important that the Judicial Maestro could not trust someone from his own branch with the details. No matter who or what branch of the Crown sponsored the bounty, this job was going to have serious repercussions. No matter how trivial the target was, these kinds of jobs were always full of complications.

After feeling the painful twist in his empty belly, Link grabbed the envelope. The light from the candle outlined the Royal crest firmly stamped onto the seal. It was as good as Sir Mawar's signature. He released the deep breath he had been holding in and then broke the seal open with his finger.

He pulled out a small parchment from the envelope.

Sabotage
302 Nayru Lane

"Wait, what's the pay?" Link asked, but before his eyes could search through the four written words and the blank space for the missing answer to his question, Oscar moved the candlelight forward and held it underneath the parchment. After one lick from the flame and an ill timed breeze, the very flammable instructions burst into flames.

The fire climbed up the dry parchment much more quickly than Link anticipated, but by the time he dropped it, he realized that the fire was transforming the burning parchment into an orange colored smoke that violently flew upwards into Link's face. Once he recognized the color and the distinct, herbal fragrance, there was no use covering his face by that point. Link's face instead frowned into a deathly glare into the bureaucrat's eyes as the orange wisps gently brushed against his cheeks and nostrils.

After the marking smoke had cleared, there was a long silence between Link and Oscar before Link finally punctuated his fury, "You. Bastard. Sonuva. Whore." Normally used as punishment for bounty hunters who killed a wanted-live target or innocent people unrelated to the target, marking smoke stayed in the lungs for many years and could be easily sniffed out by any one of the dogs in the bounty collections agencies.

Oscar returned to his seat, "'Tis but a temporary safeguard. To make sure you follow through."

"And what happens if I don't stay quiet?"

The threat did not waver Oscar at all, "Then I hope you can find a different career."

"HA!" Link forced laughter at the jokingly optimistic sentiment that assumed he would survive the immediate, subsequent attempts by the Crown to permanently silence him. Moreover, Sir Mawar's network of eyes reached every corner in every basement and even the sewers underneath. He knew everything.

Even though Oscar had no idea what the dirty deed was, the old man would know within the heartbeat when a building was put out of commission, so Link had no choice but to comply. The old man's official title, Nayru's Judge, meant that the sabotage was also part of a grander political scheme. Link cared not for the politics that transacted in rich people land because he just wanted to eat. It was hard enough getting food already. At the end of the day, bounty hunting was his profession. It was the only job that allowed him to work anonymously yet legally. The relationship between the bounty hunter and the Crown's bounty handler was simple: if one worked, one got paid, and there were almost no exceptions to that rule.

Well, Link just found one. Though it was not the first time he had gotten trapped into committing a crime unwillingly, this was the first time the law itself had made the arrangements. Curse his gullibility! Not once had the dozens of experiences of being tricked ever crossed his mind when the current scenario required caution. Sometimes his empty stomach hurt too much for his mind to work rationally.

There was nothing more Oscar needed to say to Link: the task was given, the old man knew not what the instructions were, and he would be notified by Sir Mawar once said task was done. Only then would Link's mark be cured.

The child growled lowly and plotted a thousand different revenges as he disappeared from the second story window and dropped down onto a ledge, climbing horizontally along the wall until his back was facing a tree. Swiftly like a monkey, he planted his feet and hopped off the wall, turned, and caught the branch, and then he climbed down and rejoined the rest of society.