Relief washed over Rowark once he finished the tale of the pivotal moment in his life, followed by a powerful wave of sleep. "I still don't think you're cursed," said Miro Miro just before his consciousness was swept away into a comforting slumber. After sharing his long held secret with his new best friend, all anxiety he had throughout the day had melted away, leaving only the ravaging thirst for sleep. And when the morning sun's late morning light hit Sasha's carpet, he awoke and stretched feeling anew. Feeling even more refreshed than his body did was his conscience.
Miro Miro hovered over him and greeted, "Good morning Rowark!"
But before Rowark had a chance to wish Miro Miro a good morning, the songs of jovial men softly filtered through the thick, wooden door. "For he's the jolly good hero, for he's the jolly good hero. For he's the jolly good heroooooo…" Before they finished their song, the fairy was already hidden underneath the covers.
The door bursted wide open as Rowark's four friends made their grand entrance, "Who got us all laid last niiiight! Aaaay!" With a great cheer, they patted Rowark graciously all over his body, except for Tenny, brooding enviously.
Boom's bearded lips popped over Lemon's shoulder and beamed with giddiness, "I recognize that look on any man's face!"
Lemon, Garreth, and Tenny cooed in unison. "Didja, didja finally do it?"
Silence hung in Sasha's bed chamber, as if the next words out of Rowark's mouth would determine the fate of the realm. His four best friends in the army giggled like schoolgirls as they anticipated only one possible answer that could come out of his mouth. Rowark smiled at first, and then nodded, and then sighed at with as much guilt on his mind, "Yes, finally," in just that order to commit to his lie to his brothers-in-arms, "I did it."
"Aaaayy!" they cheered, but Rowark could only force a weak smile upon his lying, burdened heart. This was not like lying about his fascination with his own gender as he had done countless times thus far. Today, he had jumped further down his rabbit hole of lies. And all they had to do was ask any one Gerudo.
Garreth patted Rowark on the leg, "Congratulations hero boy!"
"Aha! I told you my boy ain't Queer!" declared Boom proudly out to their circle of friends.
That stung Rowark worse than any insult he had endured in his entire life. It brought him face to face with his reality: his four brothers-in-arms could never know the truth. Why did it have to be a sin to be honest? And why did it have to be a sin just to live? His faith in the Goddesses had saved his life once before, so his faith was strong, but why did he, the faithful, have to make such a hard choice between serving Nayru's laws or serving the Queen? Was knighthood truly worth this dishonest life?
Tenny shoved his pudgy elbow into Lemon's rib, "Pay up, big fella!"
"Aww come on, mate. Let it slide this time, all right? I picked up your tab the last time!" his reply shocked Rowark… Lemon thought he was, Queer? Did he ever see Rowark as a lesser person because of it? If Rowark came out to him, what would Lemon's reaction be? Perhaps pressing his luck with a man who only gambled upon Rowark's mate preference would not be the best idea.
"So?" asked Garreth eagerly, "How was it?"
Oh dung, Rowark froze at the sudden question. Feeling his face flush with blood, he desperately searched for words that he had heard before to descriptively create a believable experience.
Lemon chimed in with drawed enthusiasm, "I've always dreamed about purchasing me a good night that woman!"
"No," retorted Tenny, "You just dream you were important enough to purchase a night with that woman!"
As Lemon and Tenny bickered like an old married couple, blood flushed into Rowark's face while he repeatedly interrupted his own train of thought to craft a lie for Garreth's question. But so long as "Lenny" were fighting as usual, Rowark felt no obligation to answer anyone.
"Was she soft in all the right places?" asked Tenny suddenly.
"Did ya weep on your first time like I did?" Garreth's emasculating question triggered a deadly glare from everyone in the group. Awkwardly, he began to hang his head in embarrassment.
Then the three judges burst into laughter together as if only pulling his leg. "The only time 'tis ever acceptable for a man to cry," declared Boom, "is after a good sheathing. Am I right, men?"
"Aye!" cried the attentive audience.
"But! Those tears are between a man and a woman only, just as all deeds behind the doors of a bedchamber are," Boom shot his fist into the air to emphasize his point. "So no more questions about Rowark's adventures, okay?"
The other boys lamented, "Awww…"
Boom gave Rowark a wink, "Alright Rowark, we got until noon to report back in to base."
"Back to watch duty?" asked Rowark, knowing that that was what he was supposed to be doing too.
"Aye," Lemon disappointedly replied, "Goddesses only know what dunghole they're gonna stick us in today."
"Back to the same ol' for us, while you begin your new life in Valor Island," Tenny grumbled enviously, "I hate Sir Camelon."
"Eventually," corrected Rowark, "I still have to squire for a knight first. I find out more details tomorrow. Until then, I got another free day."
"Ooh!" Tenny leaned in and ribbed Rowark, "What will you do until then?"
Rowark nervously chuckled at Tenny's suggestion, "I dunno, I gotta pack my things, that's for sure. I also gotta pay a visit to Sir Berlon, let her know I'm still alive. I hope she doesn't blame herself for my disappearance. And I definitely want to see our own commander."
"Boo!" his comrades jeered disrespectfully at their despised commanding knight. "Really? After every time Sir Camelon singled you out?" Tenny exclaimed worriedly, and for good reason.
The black bearded commander of their company rode his twenty subordinates into the ground with work, but the way he treated Rowark in particular made everyone else feel blessed. There was no one who brought more attention to Rowark's frail frame than he, who had also burdened the teenager with more work than the rest. He had made Rowark the butt of every joke in the company and the scapegoat to his every failure. And so too did everyone else…
Except for Boom and his crew, but even they were not enough to stave off the petty names thrown at Rowark. To avoid any of that, Rowark took time off to volunteer, whether it was a job to calm a riot, arrest a high value target, or even be just an extra pair of eyes, anything was better than listening to his three roommates call him all different kinds of Queer.
Boom looked worried for Rowark, "You sure, laddy? With the way he drilled ya down tae the bone, I don't blame ya for wanting to volunteer so much just to get away from that rat's bastard. One year of that dung, and I'd be out the army if he did to me what he did to you."
"At least you can shove that nickname 'Queerdo' down his face!" remarked Tenny, drawing laughs. Rowark forced a smile as best as he could to go along with their joy.
Rowark added, "I wanna punch his stupid face in and get away with it for the first time!" His comrades laughed and cheered in support of his stupid wish.
Lemon groaned to break the up the good mood, "Well, you don't gotta deal with it no more. We gotta go back to polishing pricks and latrines!" The rest of the company hated these jobs, but because it was a lonesome task, Rowark enjoyed them since cleaning and polishing afforded him some valued peace and quiet.
"Gaah, don't remind me!" whined Garreth like he always did since he was a page.
Boom beckoned the boys to follow him, "Alright fellas, that's it for now. All good things must come to an end, don't wanna be late and miss roll call."
"Don't forget to come by every now and then!" said Garreth as he waved goodbye with his wedding ring fitted firmly on his finger.
"Good luck at Skyloft! And whatever you do, don't turn into our commander!" the command from Lemon, perhaps his last, drew a chuckle from Rowark.
"And let me know next time you're free so you can buy me an ale!" hailed Tenny on his way out. Rowark waved one more time as his old unit left the room, and Boom shut the door behind him. Being their technical superiors, the knight junior knew that his comrades would see him differently, and as for himself, he hoped he would never see his four brothers-in-arms any differently than he did before he got knighted. To him, they would always be the ones who had fought and bled by his side, who trusted their lives in his hands and vice versa.
But despite the camaraderie, the blood shed, and the victories shared them, there would always be a barrier that would prevent him from being fully honest with his comrades. Unlike his new companion, they would never know who Rowark truly was deep down, and perhaps it was better this way. When he rose from bed, Miro Miro flew out from underneath the pillow. "Ready to go?"
"Yep!" she joyfully followed him out the door. With his own fairy companion by his side, who trusted her life in his hands and vice versa, Rowark giddily trotted down the stairway to heaven.
The hour before noon seemed to be the time most of the patrons left their overnight stay. Following the golden rule of the stairway, no one spoke a word as they climbed step after step. The Desert Oasis was perhaps place that could peacefully house people from multiple layers of backgrounds. It was not hard to tell who held what status, but the surprising equality of everybody. Down the wooden steps they went, one after another, the deafening claps of soles against planks of wood sounded equally alike, no matter whom made them.
Once he touched the ground floor, the songs of conversation removed the awkward atmosphere that all men equitably shared. He had not even a chance to contemplate his next step before the call of Sasha whipped Rowark around, "Sir."
"Good morning," he greeted the fatigued director. Sleep was but a dream for the poor woman.
Yet she forcefully kept her facade with a weak but hospitable smile, "I trust your night was good?"
"Never slept better!" answered Rowark genuinely. He dared not ask about hers.
A hospitable relief was stretched upon her strained lips, "Excellent to hear." However, she then hung her head to release her exhaustion. Rowark's eyes politely slipped away from her face but instead locked onto the sword she was carrying in her right hand. Though the blade was covered by a scabbard, he instantly recognized the top half. The gilded crossguard with red and blue jewels adorned from tip to tip divided the covered blade from the charred handle. It was clear much polishing had been done to restore the luster of the crossguard, but nothing could be done about the grip, scorched beyond recognition.
Sasha lifted the sword as a tear fell from her eye. "It belonged to my niece. The one you, you know." That he fought was what she wanted to say in the public area, but couldn't due to last night's agreement.
Guilt weighed into his mindset as it absorbed the fact that he had just killed her immediate relative. "Oh, I am so terribly sorry. If I had known-"
She shook her head vehemently, "No stop. Never apologize for doing your duty. She was well on her way to Death Mountain's Hearth, there were people to save, and you did your duty and saved them." Sasha lifted her teary face and revealed a hurting deep down inside, "She, she chose this life. Kinja, and her sister Minja. They chose their fate. I know I should not grieve over people who killed for a living," she closed her eyes to fight more tears, but another stream flowed downward, "but somewhere in my heart I wonder what they would have become had they chosen a different path."
"May I ask," Rowark afraid of intruding into private matters where did not belong, "what life, did they choose?"
Sasha's face dropped and spoke with utter contempt, "Bounty hunting." A rapidly growing profession. Where the town watch and the royal court's justice failed to uphold, bounty hunters filled in the gaps. Operating outside of the law to aid the law, each hunter enjoyed the "don't ask" policy of the many collections agencies that were growing in tandem with the profession. It had then dawned on Rowark that the woman he fought yesterday was a warrior who dedicated her life to killing, and it made him appreciate his miracle of surviving even more. "It was a bounty that brought upon their downfall."
"How do you know?"
"Kinja's sister was found." Sasha reached into the lapel of her uniform top and unfolded a piece of paper with the signature WANTED title written at the top and the Hylian crest stamped in the corner, a sign of its legality. There was no picture, just a description of the culprit. "It was a bounty given out by that rat."
Shock coursed through his body suddenly, "Sir Mawar?" But his answer was as obvious as his question, it was officially the Judge's duty to authorize bounties. So the real question was, whom was the bounty after? And why did Sir Mawar resort to a bounty hunter instead of conventionally using a watchmen and a cunning bloodhound to conduct a manhunt?
"Yes, him," she seethed through her teeth. "Do not always trust everything that comes out of his mouth." Sasha's eyes fell to the weapon in her hand as she released a long, content sigh, "Anyways, this sword now belongs to you." Rowark's jaw dropped. "It is customary in Gerudo culture for the victor of a duel to inherit the spoils of the dead. We could not find a suitable scabbard to match the master craftsmanship of this blade, but it was the only one that could fit."
Rowark's heart could not stop pounding with happiness. "I can't be choosy over a gift this valuable!" he said as she handed the scimitar to him. "You are too kind!" He immediately wrapped the leather belt around his own waist and instantly felt more knightly, even if the sword he was wearing was not Hylian made.
Sasha wiped a tear from her eye, "I am just following tradition. Her mother and I want to be rid of this wretched reminder of our daughters' downfall." One woman's trash was another man's treasure Rowark supposed as he received his gift. "Take the bounty poster too. I don't want Sir Mawar to find it in my hands." Rowark retrieved the piece of paper along with Sasha's caution, don't let anyone see it, and tucked it into the pocket of his leave tunic.
Upon holding the scimitar, the first thing Rowark noticed was its much lighter weight, probably about half as much as any typical Hylian made sword. Even wearing the sword on his belt felt no different than carrying a knife half its length. After folding the paper bounty and tucking it into his trousers, Rowark then closed in for a hug.
"Thankee for the wonderful present and all the hospitality," he spoke softly into her ear.
"Thank you," she replied, "for preventing any more damage to our reputation." They broke the embrace, and Rowark walked for the exit, hearing Sasha's last words call from behind him, "Good luck in knighthood! You are always welcome back!"
The high noon sun shined with summer strength and was almost to bright for Rowark to handle after being stuck indoors for most of yesterday. He emerged from the brothel's doors to a square that had seemed back to normal. People and their goods worked their way around the outside of the square to their scattered destinations. Even the town crier standing on the dais trying to tell the very same story Sir Mawar said he would against the angry shouts of the skeptical audience, was nothing out of the ordinary.
The one thing that was not normal was the heightened watchmen presence. They're probably investigating the incident yesterday, he guessed with considerable doubt. The two watchmen on both ends of the spire seemed to hamper the harem's income of customers. Several watch were stationed in the interior of the square, each man being the only barrier between the horde of angry peasants and the town crier. Only a single commanding knight, able to assist any one man once needed, armed with an elongated staff was enough to keep the protests from becoming a catastrophe. Two spear points accompanied by a brass helmet gleaming in the sunlight poked out of the circular motion of traffic. Archers from multiple platoons perched atop the roofs and scanned the ground for… someone, or something.
We don't normally use this much manpower to conduct searches… Who could they possibly be looking for? It couldn't be that they're looking for the same person in the bounty? Rowark took the sheet of paper from his pocket and quickly glanced over it. Wanted: A child, Hylian, approximately twenty eight palms in height. Goes by many names: Lorello, Ivaaron, Cica, Piscetria… The list of names went on for almost a full paragraph.
"What do all those words mean?" asked Miro Miro.
"Come with me, I should not say them out loud here," said Rowark as he swiveled his head, heeding Sasha's caution before walking into the traffic and following it out south on a detour back to the barracks. Wading through traffic was more difficult without a watchman's uniform and a spear to warn people to steer clear, but once his immediate surroundings were nothing but unfamiliar faces, he began reading aloud to Miro Miro while pointing to each character on the sheet, "Wanted Alive: A child, Hylian, height: twenty eight palms, medium length, messy hair, scars in many parts of the face, notably across right cheek, left eye, lips, nose, and both ears-"
"They're looking for him, aren't they?" Miro Miro asked, silencing a stunned Rowark.
"Um… Who are you talking about?"
Miro Miro groaned as if trying to take back what she said and then she too looked around to make sure no one was paying close attention to the two, "I saw everything transpire yesterday."
"You mean…"
"Everything… I saw the lady turn all fiery, I saw her sister get killed, I met the person that killed her… I was, I was there when everything happened, while you were in that tower doing, whatever."
"Hold on, let me interrupt you," said Rowark politely as he tried to contain his shock, before finally expell it, "Start from the beginning."
"Well, there was this, boy, the exact same one that you were just describing, and I had been so hesitant on saying anything because…" another long hesitant pause, "he's a Kokiri."
"Wait, what!?" When Rowark had first heard about the children of witches, he did not believe the tales. When Miro Miro first described a Kokiri, he also had a hard time believing her as well. "You actually met one? But how did you know he wasn't just some child off the street?"
"Because he said something only a Kokiri would know about. He said he wanted to be Protector of the Forest, a title every boy in the village wanted."
Rowark trusted Miro Miro without question but, "No way… What was his name?"
"Link."
Her answer was met with a burst of laughter, "That's not a name!"
"What do you mean?"
"It's a name given to someone with no name."
"I don't understand how someone could have no name. Doesn't every parent name their child?"
"They do, but only names on paper are official, and a name can only be registered if the parents are lawfully wedded." When Rowark and Alexa had first arrived at the city, they had indeed faced this problem. In the interest of saving time, Alexa had neglected to snatch their paper certificates of birth, so when the two arrived to the city, they learned the hard way that there was only two lifestyles available for those without any kind of certificate: of a Link, or of a soldier.
"But… I don't… get it, ah whatever." Rowark could understand Miro Miro's confusion. Having been without a certificate, he too understood the injustice of the law. And yet he chose a profession that enforced that very law.
"Was he your very companion you were looking for?" he brought her back to her main point.
She sighed hesitantly before answering shamefully, "I… I don't know, because he did not give me his proper name as you said. But… so far, I wish he remains nameless."
"Why?" Rowark was astonished by her answer.
"He's… not a good person…"
"Oh." Many more questions were begging to be asked about this Link, but Rowark had a far greater interest in what had happened, "Um, so what happened next?"
"Then I followed him back to the same tower where you were in, but he climbed all the way up to the top floor where there was a scary Gerudo lady waiting at top. She said no fighting, but not long after, the sun had not even set yet, she brought her twin to capture him!"
"It makes sense then. It says here on the bounty that he's worth nothing dead."
"Does it say on there what he's wanted for?"
Rowark searched the document but did not find an answer until his eyes reached the end and when they did, the one word crime pulled him back to the fiery heat of two nights ago: arson.
"Help!" the cry of a child came barreling desperately out from an alleyway to Rowark's immediate left and persisted through the apathetic traffic to Rowark's keen ears, "Let go o' me!"
Perking up like dog, Rowark let his watchman instincts take over and then began chasing after the noise. Unable to disperse the crowd like he could when he was on duty, Rowark struggled to make his way toward the source of the faint noise over the hubbub.
There was a very valid chance that Rowark was walking straight into a trap, igniting his blood rush. There were too many horror stories of ambushes during patrols. If a watchman's body was not found stripped down to nudity, then it was never found at all. Since four out of every five attempts happened during the evening, a strict policy forbade venturing into the alleys, or the Bowels according to him and the watchmen, during the long night. As soon as the shadowy space came into view, a cold air slowly began to penetrate into his skin. He placed his hand on the sheath, which helped him calm his racing heart.
There was no one there, but the voice shouting, "Help!" into the cold domain helped guide Rowark into the darkness. The foul stench grew worse as he continued around bendy corners and walked on pungent mud, creating an icky squish with each step. "Somebody help me!"
Suddenly, he saw movement and then hid behind a corner next to a rubbish dump. A tall man-at-arms and a short one, each wearing metal maille underneath a crimson surcoat displaying Praetonmore's signature golden oak tree, were dragging a squirmy child with great difficulty. Long, moppy hair hung over the boy's bony face.
"Somebody help! Anybody!"
Wearing a shield on his back, each man also carried a longsword by his hip while holding a stick thin boy with long hair by the arms. This was certainly not a trap, but what could Rowark possibly do in this situation? Please don't be a hero, Sir Mawar's voice from last night barged its way into his mind. Just from equipment comparisons alone, Rowark had no chance of winning a fight against their armor, shields, and swords, and even if he did triumph, he would never find out where the men were bringing the child.
His best bet was to follow the men to the rest of the party, and then call for help once he was there. Sticking out like a sore thumb in his neat tunic, Rowark did his best to stay out of sight despite fighting every urge to intervene. But when the two men-at-arms finally reached their destination, Rowark saw a face that instantly brought regret upon his decision.
It was hard to miss Sir Rhychester's bald head sitting atop his massive figure and his fully plate of mail. The mercenary turned knight earned a bad reputation from the enjoyment he received from ending life. Surrounding him were about twenty men, each bearing a variety of weapons and armor but each wearing the same surcoat of Praetonmore. By himself,, Rowark had not even the slightest hope of winning.
So he ducked down behind a torn down wall and pleaded to his friend, "Miro Miro, I need you to get there out and get help for. Look for anyone wearing a blue cape and bring them here."
"Okay. How will I find you?"
He had to think about that for a minute, "Tell whoever you find that I am located right behind the burnt blacksmith."
"Okay, I should be able to remember that!"
"Yes! And then follow whoever you find back here!"
"Will you wait for help to arrive?"
"I will." Maybe.