As Miro Miro briskly followed Rowark down the winding tunnels and paths, he explained to her what was going on and the difference between a regular deployment and an emergency deployment. However, the only information she could digest from all the garbled technical jargon was that nobody, not even Rowark, knew what the emergency was until after they had convened in the foyer.
With the turn of a corner, she saw a crowd of soldiers chaotically entering a wide door wearing uniform fatigues and exiting wearing golden armor. Before Miro Miro could ask another one of her hundreds of questions about what was going on, Rowark told her, "Wait here!" and plunged into the crowd.
Miro Miro then looked for Rowark in the emerging crowd. When he did, her wings skipped a beat. Looking like a professional soldier, Rowark stepped out of the crowd wearing a golden breastplate engraved with the familiar Hylian crest, golden pauldrons that covered the shoulder and upper arms, a short, golden gauntlet that extended up to his right wrist, a longer, reinforced gauntlet that extended up his left forearm, a gold plated skirt that stretched down to just above his knee, and sturdy leather boots that looked ready to withstand any kind of weather. He carried his conic helmet at his side, right by the leather belt and the sheathed long knife (or a short sword depending on perspective) resting at his side.
Once they made eye contact, he beckoned her to follow him.
But a lanky authority figure dressed in heavy mail stared straight into Rowark's eyes. "Oh no… No no no. Absolutely not," said the bony man wearing a full suit of plate mail that seemed too large for his skinny frame. Wavy, golden hair flowed down the dull metal plates to his upper back, and stern, lake blue eyes showed a great displeasure upon seeing Rowark suited up in his watchman armor. Though Rowark's plates shined with a new luster of gold, it was nowhere nearly as protective, as thick, nor as layered as the knight's steel armor.
"People need my help, Triss!" Rowark clasped his hands together to beg, "Please!"
"That's Sir Triss to you! And I said no!" was the knight's immediate, high-pitched response. "Why? You just got back, and now you want to risk your life again?" Only then did it dawn upon Miro Miro what Rowark was getting himself into. "Listen, you're an excellent volunteer. One of the best in city for sure. But this emergency is dangerous, and there's no need for you to risk getting hurt. I have more than enough volunteers to get the job done. Get a good night of sleep. You deserve it. Please, I can't risk your life, not after Alexa and I both thought you were dead for a damned season!"
Rowark shrugged off the prospect of death, "It's my job. I'm coming along, and you can't court martial a volunteer for volunteering." He concluded with a boyishly cheesy smile that quickly melted Sir Triss's mature, cold expression.
The knight face palmed in frustration, "Fine! I know you'd just show up anyway." After a deep pause, a friendly grin crept onto Sir Triss's lips, "But I'm making you swear to Hylia after this to take a serious tendo of leave. Are we agreed?"
Rowark hopped giddly and happily answered, "With Nayru as my witness!"
Only the most hesitant groan could follow Rowark's enthusiasm, "Alright, fall in then."
Rowark put on his golden helmet and walked up to the crowd of other volunteers while Sir Triss walked up to the small dais in the center of the spacious foyer. Meanwhile, several other soldiers not wearing armor were quickly running back and forth, carrying buckets and stacking them behind the majestic knight.
"Listen up men, I'm your commanding knight for this urgent sortie. Thank you for volunteering on such short notice. We're on fire fighting duty tonight, so we cannot afford to waste any time. No weaponry will be needed. Your orders are to grab an empty bucket and congregate with the fire brigade at the intersection of Nayru and Bilbury!" So many technical terms spat out made Miro Miro's head spin. "Move out!"
Those two words cued all the golden soldiers to frantically scuttle past the golden haired iron sentinel and pluck a wooden pail from the many stacked in neat piles. Once Rowark yanked one out, he hurried to follow his fellow volunteers out the door, and Miro Miro darted after him just as hurriedly.
It felt like Rowark was following a trail of soldiers, each one trusting the one in front to get to the destination. Following the paths on the street level made Miro Miro realize how uneven the ground was, as if the entire city was built on a gigantic rolling hill. And if the barracks' hallways weren't dizzying enough, the streets cutting through the city blocks were dense, monstrous forests of Hylian-made townhouses. The paving stones and sizes of the roads traversed were as varied as the architecture of each building. After what felt like hours, Miro Miro and Rowark began to smell the smoke before seeing it.
By the time Rowark and the rest of the golden troop had arrived at the fire, half the block was filled with bystanders watching the theater of events unfold. The massive flames illuminated the entire intersection and was spread out across three different buildings across the city block. Between the bystanders and the fire were the brave men and women chucking water from their buckets into the inferno.
The first watchman to reach the scene yelled out to the rest of the group, "We got two unconscious here! Let's get them out of here!" Three volunteers descended from the sea of gold to drag the two men lying on the ground away from the fire. Miro Miro could not help but notice the difference between Rowark's armor and the unconscious ones', which had small metal links, hundreds of them, chained together to make something resembling a long shirt and a sleeveless black and blue coat with an insignia of a spear facing northeast. Their bodies were finally left by the bystanders.
Finally, one of the fire fighters, a portly man wearing a red uniform and a bushy mustache, approached the leaderless group of soldiers. "Which one of you is in charge?"
Each soldier turned towards one another with no answer for the man. "I am," rang out a voice in back. The soldiers parted a way for their commanding officer to address the fire fighter, "Sir Triss, commanding knight of the fifth volunteer battalion."
"Tomas Mason, brigadier of this lot, but I guess you're the authority in charge now. The nearest water tower is three blocks north west of here and the nearest well is two blocks south. Direct us wherever you need us."
"We must stop the fire from spreading at all costs. Assemble your men by the nearest water sources and keep my men supplied. We'll take care of the rest," replied the knight. Once the brigadier left, Sir Triss faced his own men and began barking out his orders, "We will divide our forces in two and focus our efforts at either end of the fire. Sonja, you take the half on the left and stop the fire from spreading further east. Nooth, you lead the other half and head south! You five," his gauntlet pointing far away from Rowark, "you're on me. We're going to focus on the front and mount a rescue."
The soldiers broke into their groups, Rowark joining the group that headed south. The golden soldiers briskly jogged past the red fire fighters, and soon supply chains were established all throughout the streets. The fire fighters drew water from the well and the water tower and then passed the buckets down the line before dropping them off in front of the burning street corner. Then the soldiers picked up the full buckets from the communal source and dumped the contents into the flames before delivering the empty ones back to the water source.
The first few attempts were met with futility. The fire hissed at the feeble attempts to quell its ravishing hunger, but after several more bucket-fulls of water, it seemed like their efforts were finally paying off. Little by little, the flames and the heat retreated back into the smoldering store front. The lessening of the heat felt relieving to all.
"Stop what you're doing!"
All eyes turned to see a bald knight wearing a darker shade of steel armor followed by two shorter but equally well armed knights behind him, followed by an enormous bevy of soldiers behind them. Their numbers, and the forest of spears held by an enemy armed to the teeth, ready for a fight, heavily outnumbered the thirty or so unarmed watchmen.
Sir Baldy, Miro Miro dubbed him, had a scar on his right cheek running down to his neck, a gap in between his two front teeth, and an angry expression on his face that frightened her. She couldn't tell whether this situation necessitated the violent look on his face or he was always seriously scowling; the scars all over his face and especially the giant one running along his neck only intensified his demeanor. Judging from the heavy wrinkles all over his face, she guessed this man was around forty years old. Sir Triss looked majestic and noble with his shiny armor, but Sir Baldy, standing tall above everybody else, just looked mean.
"The situation is under control. My men are cooperating with the fire brigade and handling it," said Sir Triss as calmly as he could, clearly not trying to provoke the company in front of him.
But his words of calm did little to change Sir Baldy's expression. Maybe he was born with a permanent scowl on his face. His deep voice had a roughness that matched that of his facial expression, "This is Mister Praetonmore's estate, and therefore not under your jurisdiction."
"This fire threatens the safety of the public. I am fully authorized by the Crown to act accordingly," Sir Triss fired back ferociously like a possessive animal protecting his territory.
"And I am fully authorized to protect my liege's interests. Any interference with our work will be considered an act of aggression against Mister Praetonmore and his allies, and if it comes to that we will be fully authorized by the ruling party to dispatch with you and your men as we please." He glared threateningly at Sir Triss, "Is that understood, sergeant?"
The word "sarjent" clearly hit a nerve for Sir Triss stepped closer defensively, "We are representatives of the Queen! An assault on us is an assault on Her! Are you truly foolish enough to threaten Her Majesty's soldiers?"
The bald knight leaned in to sneer with the might of a small army behind him, "I am certainly not so foolish as to arm my men with pails."
"What is foolish is treating the streets for common folk as a battlefield!"
"And that's why I'm a real knight, and you're just a sergeant of the Throne." Sir Baldy was so tall that the tip of his bald head was still higher than the tip of any helmet. Leaning over Sir Triss aggressively, he mumbled softly, "Think about your men before you try anything stupid."
Confident that he would encounter no more resistance, it was Sir Baldy's time to issue new orders, "All right men, grab these pails and focus water on the blacksmith! You three, assist with water transport!" Their chainmail shirts rattled and rang in tempo as the men carried out their orders. "Oh, and sergeant? Thank you for supplying the pails," Sir Baldy looked like the type of man to add insult to injury.
"Are you out of your mind!?" snapped the unrelenting Sir Triss, even if his urgency and violent hand expressions fell upon deaf ears, "If the fire is not contained at either end, it's going to spread!"
"My liege paid a lot of money to set up this residence, and it is my duty to protect my liege's interests."
"You're going to prioritize the wellbeing of your liege's estate over the wellbeing of the public?"
"The public be damned!" Sir Baldy blared loudly to Sir Triss a fire brigade that was watching the debate unfold, "What are you waiting for? Get back to work!"
Tomas stepped forth, "Sorry Sir, but you're not a part of the chain of command. The fire brigade is a public department, paid for by the Crown."
"Listen here!" Sir Baldy roared in return and met the equally masculine man with a firm, metal grip on the collar, "I'll have you gutted for your insolence you hear me? You are nothing but a-" The rest of the words were too unpleasant for Miro Miro to listen to, so she tuned out the rough and gruff voice out as much as possible. Still, it was hard to watch the poor fire man stoically react to a frightening knight go on about his low birth status, low quality of character, and low prospects for his family with the frequent death threat thrown in there as well.
Only one man was finally able to step up and stop the madness. "That's enough!" Rowark's voice rang out from the silent crowd. All heads turned towards him, and Miro Miro indirectly felt all their stares at him. But the most intimidating gaze came from Sir Baldy. Rowark was suddenly scared silent, now that the spotlight was on him.
The teeth in the ugly leader's mouth gritted in anger, "What did you just say?"
Rowark took a deep breath to keep himself together. "Fire brigadier," Rowark's composure stayed true in the face of Sir Baldy, "Drop off the water from the tower on the intersection of Nayru and Saria! Drop off the water from the well over here by the armorer!"
Sir Baldy fired back, "Who do you think you are you runt?"
But as soon as the knight let go of the fire brigadier, the short man stood as straight and tall as possible and gave him the military salute, "Yes Sir!" before his thick legs carried him as fast they could north.
An incredibly large silhouetted person move inside the blazing blacksmith. A loud and thundering groan boomed from within, and the sound continued echoing down the street. What could possibly make such noise? To answer her question, a large hand emerged from the door and gripped the side of the doorway, pulling forth a towering Goron, a being which was almost half a head taller than Sir Baldy. His other arm covered his cone shaped head as he walked forth into the outside and coughed the smoky air out from his lungs.
Gorons were the stuff of legends and stories in the forest. These people lived far away in the mountains and were said to be famous craftsmen. The stories and tales were enough to identify the Goron as such, but even with all the tales and bonfire stories she had heard over the years, seeing the large creature step forth left her awestruck. He had small, beady black eyes, light brown skin and muscles that looked like a combination of flesh and rock, white stone-like hair that grew from his the top of his head down his back, a healthy looking belly, and peculiarly short and skinny legs to support all that weight.
A second Goron stepped forth from the fiery blaze, unscathed by the flames like the other, coughing heavily. He looked almost identical to the first one, save for the style of hair. "Brother, are you okay?" said the one dragging behind as he placed his hand on his brother's shoulder.
"Yes, I am. Are you?" replied the other. They turned around and watched the blazing inferno engulf their home.
"No." His deep, solemn voice quietly vibrated in everyone's hearts. "No! Noo! NOOO!" he shrieked with helpless fury into the starry, summer night. The anguished cry resonated throughout the market in all the bystanders' eardrums. "When will we finally be safe!?"
"Brother, it's okay," stony arms wrapped around the weeping Goron, who even had water tears trickle from his rocky eyes. "We are Gorons. Fire does not bend us or change who we are."
"I don't give a damn about the fire! I am tired of running!" Every Hylian man and woman steered very clear of the powerful Goron's wrath, "I am tired of fearing for my life! I am tired of believing in their silly Goddesses!"
His brother embraced him once again, "We believed in their Goddesses so we could have a new identity and start a new life."
Furiously, the enraged Goron turned around, and his eyes fixated on Sir Baldy. "You!" the Goron found his outlet for his anger as his voice shifted from powerless anguish to hateful blame, "Your Mister guaranteed us safety and security! Is this what his promises look like?"
"Turek-Zawk, this is all most unfortunate and unforgivable! A-a-and," Sir Baldy's uncharacteristic stutter caught her off guard, "I assure you Mister Praetonmore will take care of everything for you." The viciousness Sir Baldy once had when speaking to the Rowark's commander disappeared without subtly as soon as he began talking to the Gorons. Miro Miro guessed it was because Turek-Zawk made him, and everyone else for that matter, look like a cucco, but as Miro Miro had learned, there was always more to the story in Hyrule Castle City. Sir Baldy continued pampering, "We will find out who did this, bring him to justice, and rebuild your esteemed brand. I promise."
Something about Sir Baldy's tone of voice bothered her; the words spoken felt like empty air coming out of his mouth. It reminded of the way the shopkeeper who tried to kidnap her earlier said, "I'm not gonna 'urt ya." Kokiri would frequently fib, but they were normally pretty terrible fibbers due to their innocent nature. "Psh, he doesn't care," Rowark remarked quietly, as if reading Miro Miro's mind. "None of this is his problem."
"Somebody help us!" From the third floor of the tailor side of the building, a man stuck his head out the only only window and waved his whole arm. All eyes were drawn to him, and then they fell onto the fire burning door that was the only entrance, hitting the second story on its ascent.
A knight with red armor standing next to Sir Baldy turned to him, "Should we send someone up there to rescue him?"
"All efforts are to be focused on putting out the blacksmith fire." He turned around to give the knight an icy glare, the type of glare that silenced any further protests against his orders.
Miro Miro, Rowark, and the rest of his company watched in disbelief as Sir Baldy's soldiers, ignoring the cries for help, continued dumping water into the forge. The only ones satisfied with the decision were Sir Baldy and the Gorons, who only seemed to be concerned with their forge. From the furrowed look on his face, Sir Triss debated intervention intensely yet silently, while his men were quietly discussing amongst themselves whether they should help or not. Miro Miro looked down and saw Rowark clenching his fists.
"Farore, grant me courage," he quietly whispered before he bolted towards the tailor.
"What are you doing?" Miro Miro screamed as she followed him.
The first kick did not move the fiery door, but the second kick sent the thick obstacle crashing down. Rowark turned toward Miro Miro, "Someone has to rescue him! Don't follow me!"
It was then Sir Triss realized what Rowark was attempting to do, "Wait! STOP! ROWAAARRK!"
Against Rowark's wishes, Miro Miro bravely plunged into the raging flames to follow him. Thanks to firefighting efforts, much of the fires on the first floor were reduced to various small embers burning small patches on the floor. However, that left a lot of smoke, and Rowark's lungs and eyes immediately began to feel the effects. He reached around for his cape to cover his mouth and nose, but the black smoke stung his eyes. Fire normally did not produce black smoke, she thought. Since her eyes had been exposed to many new things within Castle Town, she thought little of the odd color.
She had bigger things to worry about. Seeing Rowark blindly search for the stairs, she flew to the stairs leading to the floor up. "Rowark! Follow my voice to the stairs! Hurry!" she called out to him. Rowark looked up and started stumbling in her direction. Grabbing a hold of the handrail, he quickly launched himself up the steps onto the second floor.
The fire consuming the staircase up to the third floor prevented him from climbing up any further. "Help! We're up here!" Rowark's eyes darted for the source of the man's voice and found a weasel sized hole in the ceiling, with no way up. When he looked through, he saw a frail father, his wife, and their auburn haired young daughter looking back down at him.
Rowark called out to them, "I'll catch you on your way down!"
"Go ahead," said the father.
"Daddy, I'm scared," replied his daughter in the midst of her crying, understandably so since she was beset by danger everywhere.
"It's okay, Daddy and Mommy will be right behind you. Okay, she's coming down!" The girl, wearing a long, white nightgown, hesitantly planted her feet on the edge of the hole and crouched down.
Despite the direness of the situation everybody was in, the girl could not bring herself to remove her feet from the edge and simply dropping down, making the process all the more painstakingly slow. A loud creak coming from the top floor stopped everyone's breathing for a second. Then the crashing sound came. The force of the roof's collapse caused the girl to lose her grip and fall forward, "EEEEk!"
Into a ready Rowark, who outstretched his arms and caught her, "I gotcha!"
The girl, Miro Miro, and Rowark looked back up at the hole and saw nothing but the burning remains of the roof covering the hole in the ceiling. "Mommy! Daddy! Nooo!" the girl screamed in grief, extending her hands upwards as if trying to grasping the remains of her parents with futility. A part of the ceiling collapsed underneath the weight of the roof; there was no time to waste. "Nooo! Go baaack!"
Throwing the sobbing girl over his shoulders, Rowark started for his way back to the stairs. He did not set her back down until they reached outside. He kneeled in front of the girl and brushed her long, chestnut colored hair, "Hey, are you okay?"
Of course, it was a silly question to ask a young girl, probably no older than thirteen, who had just lost her parents. The girl wrapped her arms around Rowark and embraced him tightly while crying uncontrollably into his shoulder pauldron, speechless to what she witnessed. Rowark's face bore guilt. But if the girl was not there, Miro Miro would have told him that he did all he could. She would have praised him for being the first person to be brave enough to do the right thing. She would have commended him for having a moral code that was above all the petty politics. However, she could not bring herself to say these things in front of an orphan grieving for her lost parents. Telling Rowark that he did all he could do meant the girl would hear that his best efforts meant the death of her parents, that he was the only one who cared enough to save her and her parents, that she was standing amidst a crowd of bystanders and cowards.
"I'm gonna find the person who did this," he whispered into her ear. His whisper was quiet but full of conviction, "I promise I will get justice for you."
A rescue party emerged from the armorer carrying two unconscious men. All of the town guards ran to their aid, while all the soldiers continued throwing water into the inferno. The speedy and efficient movement of water meant constant supply to the front line and throwing water at any flame that dared to encroach upon the fire fighters.
She noticed that Sir Baldy was absent from all the firefighting. Instead, he was hunched over, talking in a hushed voice to one of the guards sitting against the wall. Out of curiosity, she slowly flew closer to eavesdrop on their conversation.
"It was kid, eh?" Sir Baldy nodded. His hand reached around and grabbed onto the hilt of a weapon sitting on his lower back, "What did he look like?"
She could barely hear the guard whisper back, "He had scars."
"Where?"
"Lots on his face. A wicked one… on his cheek."
"Thankee." Quicker than a cat pouncing on a mouse, Sir Baldy drew a knife from its hilt. The sickening sound of steel entering flesh froze Miro Miro's blood, almost as effectively as the flashing Deku nut did. "For your service," said Sir Baldy. Watching a goat die was one matter. Watching the man die with a shocked and painful expression was unbearable. Right before she turned away, she saw his eyes opened wide as he fought to cling to life, and when she turned back around, she saw the same expression, except without life, drained from his body in a matter of heartbeats.
"No, please Sir Rhychester, spare me," pleaded the other soldier as he crawled away from the heartless knight and the fresh new corpse. With tears streaming down his face, he crawled toward Sir Triss, "Please sir, save me, I got a boy, he needs a father. I don't wanna die!"
Sir Triss stayed silent. Sir Baldy stood up and drew his sword. The soldier looked up to Sir Triss, even wrapped his arms around his leg, hoping this man would be his salvation and savior from the wrath of Sir Baldy. Miro Miro saw in Sir Triss' face that he wanted to be that savior. He locked his eyes with the evil knight as if trying to fight him back with his glare. But he took too long to decide.
Sir Baldy raised his blade and then plunged the tip into his own soldier's back, without breaking his glare at Sir Triss. Then for good measure, he twisted the blade and made a sound that almost made Miro Miro faint right then and there.
Instead, she buried herself in Rowark's armor and cried privately to herself. "Make it stop Rowark, please. No more. I don't want to see any more people die. Please, Rowark."
"Throw these two into the fire," said the evil brute. Watching this man end the story of two perfectly sentient beings had changed Miro Miro's entire perspective of him. When she peeked over his shoulder pauldrons, all of Sir Baldy's men quietly looked at the dead bodies. "When I say protect this property with your life!" Sir Baldy sheathed his bloodied sword, "THIS is what I mean! Now get back to work!" Dutifully, the other two knights stripped the carcasses down to the naked skin before carrying each by the wrists and ankles and throwing them into the raging inferno inside the armorer.
Sir Triss had a less than pleasant look on his face when he finally confronted his own soldier. "You! IMBECILE!"
"I wasn't going to stand by and do nothing! I had to!"
"Shut up I know! Just- Gah, you reckless fool!" Sir Triss seemed to have been at a loss for words all night but he extended his finger straight down the road, "Leave the girl with me, and go home. You're dismissed." Wow, so that was the thanks that Rowark got for saving a girl's life.
With a sigh, Rowark took one last good look at the blazing fire, which was still growing towards the south. From afar, the soldiers on different sides all looked like they were working together. Miro Miro knew better now. Rowark then turned around and began the long, quiet walk home.