"Promise me, Topah," said the Protector in his memories.
Topah spent the entire evening pondered upon his lost name. And his new fate as Topah. For the past ten years, Link believed anonymity was his savior and salvation, that waiting to grow into a respected trade like the other lucky Links did would solve all his problems. Now the question was not survival for a period of time, it was how to thrive in this time of chaos.
Indeed, the whole city was talking about the tolling bells early in the morning. Topah laid across a booth while enjoying the last of his Gerudo bread and listened to all the juicy gossip circulating the tavern. Inside the refugee district, a thin stretch of neighborhoods hugged the shadows of the city wall, where the architecture and organization of their hovels varied from people to people. Pubs and taverns littered the area but could be categorized into two types. Topah spent the mornings in the pubs owned by Hylians, larger and better kept comparatively, and took shelter underneath tables and benches to absorb conversation. However, a large tavern also meant nosy staff to kick him out for loitering.
So by noon, Topah ended up drifting in and out of refugee owned establishments. Other owners tended to care less about the type of people who walked in and out of their taverns, and with less business, it was easier to follow conversations, particularly the one transpiring at the bar between a Zora miller and a public servant.
"Heard it was the Princess that finally bit the dust," the public servant answered his friend's question.
"Awful. 'Eard she was competent too, at least more competent than the current witch on the throne."
"I'm still waiting for that do-nothing sheathe to die so that a real leader can take her place. I hear the Queen's abandoned her men down south to the Moblins."
"Sounds like something the witch would do."
"Who d'ya think's gonna get elected to be the new heir?"
"I dunno. None of 'em I hope."
"Haha. I heard Princess Nohansen has a real shot."
"Oh yeah? Who'd you hear that from, the Zellinks?" asked the miller sarcastically.
"You jest, but precisely. Guy I heard it from is a knave in service to House Praetenmore, and 'e also said lots o' the royalists secretly support Lord Nohansen."
"Interesting, I haven't heard that before. Why's that?"
"I heard from one man that the Lord's daughter has the mark of the Goddesses."
"Who don't got a mark these days? Groose down the street says 'is son got the mark. Turns out he inked it on 'is boy."
"Aye, and it was just one man's word. We also don't know anything about the 'Black Sheathe' except that she bleeds black during her tritendo."
"That's just gross. That's not really true is it?"
"It's either that or it's because she castrates men with her bare hands. Or both. Take your pick."
"Eesh. I think I'd rather sell my soul to Ganon than watch her become Queen."
Topah smirked at the miller's last remark. That seemed to be the general sentiment. Everyone was talking about the Princess of House Nohansen, Zelda Viskard Nohansen, the Princess of Red Lions, the Black Sheathe. However, it seemed like nobody knew anything about this princess given how wildly inconsistent the stories were. Link cared not for the politics of fancy lads and ladies. Topah, however, needed to pay attention to who was important, especially who owned what, if he was going to have a chance at surviving the impending chaos.
Though it was a time of uncertainty for every Hyborn, one thing was certain for Topah: there was going to be work. With the seat of heir to the throne vacant, political stability was at its minimum, and when stability was low, there would be schemes, and where there were schemes, there were hundreds of gangs willing to do the dirty work for a price. Once the politics was over, and the plots were concluded, the bounty hunters would swoop in and clean up the mess in the name of justice. Now on the opposite side of the law and armed with nothing more than his wits, Topah ready to trade in his skill set for the most important favors. The Ale Domain, in particular, was the perfect spot to advertise one's availability for work under a tavern's roof.
"He's getting up. He's headed your way," Shoe alerted the boy so he did not have to abandon his reclined position to see the deep purple Zora approaching. Shoe had described him as tall, noble with a long tail fin extending from the back of his head, a sign of status and power within their culture, and a pair of beige breeches and a fancy velvet doublet flaunted his personal wealth
The signal was that one was looking for a job from the Zorka, the largest Zora-run gang in the south side of the city, was any kind of weapon laying on the last booth next to the wall. Since he did not have a sword readily available nor wanted to display to the whole refugee underworld his most valuable possession, he placed his black home bag with his ropeshot and boomerang inside to symbolize his weapon.
The Zorka associate entered the booth behind Topah, and when he rested his entire weight onto the bench, the bench unleashed a loud creak, cuing Link to spark the negotiation, "Three hours. Really? You kept me waiting here so long I got hungry and had to finish the last of my rations."
The Zora responded with a deep, sophisticated voice, "My associates were wondering why you were seeking work with nothing more than a black bag." An excusable way to say the Zorkas were scrambling to discover Topah's inconsistent background.
"Your associates could have asked me themselves," teased Topah.
"My associates distrust the intentions of strangers," defended the Zora.
Topah smirked, "I'm no stranger. You and I may have never worked together, but your boss definitely has." It had been years since he had taken an oddjob from the Zorkas. So long that he had also forgotten who the boss was, although the lifespan of a leadership was about as generally as brief as a rat's fart, so who knows if the boss Link worked with then was the same boss today.
Unamused, the Zora casually sipped his drink, "My associates also avoid working with the law." Topah chose the Zorkas first because they were careful and controlled many of the local water sources, but most importantly, because he had never pursued a bounty after one of them.
Topah sat up, ready to talk business, "So you do know me."
"It depends. A Link has as many scars as he has names sometimes. Am I working with Cica today? Or Lorelli?"
"It's Topah from now on," lied Topah. Introducing himself to different people with different names was inevitable, but at least he had formed a solid identity within himself, an identity his late best friend had helped form.
"Hmph. Very well, Topah," he responded condescendingly, "how can I help you?"
"You have three things that I need: money, protection, and work."
Topah heard the bench creak. "A child should not concern himself with the affairs of adults." The Zora stood up and began to walk away. This was not good at all. The next gang Topah wanted to court definitely had a violent history with him. "If you had a weapon, I might have reconsidered."
Topah hopped off the bench as well before summoning his best language skills, "Anyone can swing a weapon." The Zorka paused in his tracks. "But can anybody infiltrate the smallest of spaces or speak ten different languages? That bag on the table," said Topah in the Zora's native tongue, "is my life. My everything. You hire me, you get all my knowledge and all my eyes." The tall Zora stopped in his tracks to reconsider. All Link had to do was deliver his final ultimatum, "If you won't hire me, I'll just find the next guy that will, and that won't be good for you eventually."
The Zora rubbed his pointy chin, "Very well." Fixing his doublet, he continued walking, "Stay right there. I shall return shortly."
As the Zora walked behind the bar and entered a door into the back, Topah returned to his reclined position on the bench. At this point, all he could do was wait… and listen.
Kebas and Siklayvin were tasked with tailing the Zorka member and transmitting any conversation back towards Link. By simply receiving and imparting every word, syllable, and detail exactly as they heard, Shoe and the others could allow Topah to listen to any gang-related talk exactly as the eavesdropping fairies heard it, regardless of the language barrier. He had tested this out only a few times earlier in the day with success, but this was the real test. Listening to gossip inside a tavern was one thing. Planting a bug inside a criminal gang was another matter.
Shoe began to relay the first words. "Kurma ouften Lorelli jouten fila," the voice of the associate who greeted Topah resonated through Shoe exactly as he sounded. Scar the lawman pays us a visit, Topah translated.
"Who is this, Scar?" the question came from an older, grungier voice, one that Topah did not recognize.
"Infamous bounty hunter who has taken down many of our enemies. However, he seeks association with us."
"Hmm. How can you trust the lawman?"
"He is running from the law. I've seen the posters myself."
"I don't want watchmen and bounty hunters sniffing around our establishment because of an association with a criminal who isn't even one of ours!"
"I understand your concern, but he has developed a mighty reputation as an infiltrator and killer. One with a vast skill set such as his should not be loose on the street, where he could potentially act against our interests. I say we utilize his skills. Let him earn our trust. Zorka stands much to gain with the elimination of certain fellows."
"You make a sound argument. Have him dispose of Kooraaq. I'm tired of all his yammering at the pub, spilling our secrets every time he inhales a mug of ale. His big mouth will be the downfall of the Zorka!"
"We don't need a seasoned hunterto take out one of our own. Why not use him to eliminate some of the smaller leaders the Scoriachi brothers? Surely sending him to off one of them would send a strong message."
"Because I don't trust lawmen! He offs who I say, or he doesn't get the job! Kooraaq dies today, or I never want to hear word of this 'Scar' again!"
"Hmm…"
There was a long silence, followed by Shoe's voice, "He's coming back."
The tall Zorka gang member emerged from the door and approached the bench where Topah laid. Once he sat down, Topah got a good chance to see the the slight wrinkles down his fishy cheekbone. The Zora were naturally tall and proud specimens, which made every encounter with one feel a bit uneasy. His two beady eyes glared down at Topah as he studied him, falsely imprinting the illusion of rank.
The Zora clasped his webbed hands together with an intent to do business, "My associates and I have come to a decision for your initiation. Do this one favor for us, and you gain employment and our trust."
Topah nodded and smiled.
The Zora hesitantly cleared his throat. "We request," his eyes drifted to the bar, and Topah followed them to the two Zoras sitting there, "that you…"