Chapter 28: This Is Why You Should Explore More

…

Link, for the first time since falling beneath the haze, was grateful for his inability to tell time. He did not want to know how long he had been searching through books whose language threw him a tough word or two every paragraph. The main cause of this could only be hunger, but it appeared that food was not allowed in the Library. Even a bread crumb caught between the wooden slats that made up his bench would give him enough energy to make it through this session. Alas, all he could scratch up was dirt and a particularly gruesome-looking ball of black hair. He slowly became miserable, so he propped up a book and laid his head down on the table and stared at the same page as he tried to think of how he was going to get something to eat.

"How's it going?"

"Gyah!" Link sat upright with enough force that the bench underneath him tilted backwards. The legs of the bench then slapped to the stone floor as Link's weight shifted, and another lift dumped Link onto the floor.

Irleen jumped over the book. "Are you all right?" she asked in an amused tone.

Link gave a groan. "Yeah…"

"What were you doing? Sleeping?"

"No," Link replied as he picked himself up, "I was reading."

"What about?"

Link scrunched his face; he could not even remember what the general subject of the book was. "Okay, I was just staring at it."

"Uh huh."

Link gave a frustrated sigh. "Look, I'm hungry. I haven't eaten anything since this morning, and I just don't have the energy to do some serious research right now."

"Tha's too bad," Madame Seilon broke in as she emerged from the shelves to Link's right, arms full of books. "There's no eatin' in the Library."

"Can I at least go out for a snack?" Link asked, one arm indicating the door.

"Madame Seilon!"

Madame Seilon rolled her eyes and turned to the table on the other side of the room. "We're righ' 'ere, Cale."

"Oh, uh…" Cale stood up from the table, thought for a moment, and grabbed the book he had been perusing. "I think I may have found something."

"You said the same thing seven times since we started," Irleen said as he approached their table. "I'm still wondering where the development and subsequent failure of underwater steam trains ten years before fits in with people who supposedly lived over a hundred years ago."

Cale froze in place, book almost on the table. "Oh, um… well…" He contemplated the pages for a moment. "I-I suppose the development of the three-tone train whistle would not be of interest, then."

"'Ow old?" Madame Seilon asked.

"Uh… about fifty yeahs."

Link scratched his head. "Iiii don't know, Cale. If I was an Architect, I don't think my achievement would include something so… weird like a three-toned train whistle."

"Yeh can' deny i's no' a bad invention, though," Madame Seilon said with a shrug.

"It'd be like calling someone great for-for inventing the board," Irleen said. "Right, Link?"

"I-duh um…" Link scrunched his face. "Ah… maybe more along the lines of the hull plank… I guess. You know… not… uh… it's important, just… mundane."

"Nice work with the association," Irleen told him.

Link gave an exhausted sigh. "I think I'll quit similes for a while."

"Well, it would help had you given us some names…" Cale groaned.

"Maybe you guys are just trying too hard," Irleen said.

Madame Seilon dropped the books she was carrying onto the table. "Yeh care ta direc' workflow, Irleen?" she teased.

"It wouldn't do much good; I can't read Hylian."

"What kind of achievements would these Ahchitects have made?" Cale asked Link.

Link groaned as he took his seat again. "That's the thing. I really wish I knew. If I'd thought about it, I'd've asked that old man on the Number Twenty-Seven this morning. He seemed to know plenty about the Architects."

"He didn't disembahk heah?"

"We didn't see him anymore after Fishington," Irleen answered. "He probably got off there."

"We need a listin' o' the Royal Engineers through the years," Madame Seilon said, snapping her fingers. "Gotta be some yearbooks aroun' 'ere somewhere."

"Wait, wait," Irleen said, fluttering just in front of Madame Seilon's face as she turned back to the bookshelves. "How many Royal Engineers would've been operating in a single year?"

"I think the regulah figuah I found eahliah said about twenty five," Cale said. "And we don't precisely know what yeah to look foh, do we?"

Link nodded. "Add the fact that the Architects went into seclusion after the royal family left, and we would have to weed out which engineers died from the ones that just went into seclusion."

"The Library Town Couht Recohds could give us the death dates, but it would take a ludicrous amount of time. And that assumes all Royal Engineehs on recohd died in the realm."

Irleen growled. "It would be easier if someone could just tell us."

Link settled his chin on the table in front of him. "I don't mind doing the work, I'm just hungry right now."

Cale heaved a sigh. "I feel the same. Suahly, we might rest foh a moment, Madame?"

Madame Seilon smirked at Irleen. "Men an' their stomachs, right?"

Irleen gave a huff. "If Link had any kind of stamina, he could do without food. I haven't eaten since I woke up like this."

"You have not?" Cale asked.

"I don't even know if I have a mouth."

Link frowned at her. "Then… how have you been talking to us?"

Irleen's form froze in place, the gentle push of her wings softly dropping her to the table. "Uh… actually, I, uh…

"I don't kn—Hey! Listen! LetsgogetsomethingtoeatbecauseImstarvingandLinksstarvingandthefoodmustbegoodhere! Right?"

"I don't think I followed any of that…" Cale said.

"All righ', yeh bunch o' babies," Madame Seilon conceded. She motioned away with one hand. "Le's go ge' somethin' ta eat b'fore yeh drive me loony."

Cale and Link exchanges glances between each other and Madame Seilon as she ushered the two towards the door, Irleen fluttering along as if she was tethered to Link. "Go, le's go," she said every time they slowed to talk to her. "Don' star' goin' agains' it now; yeh've already determined ta ge' some dinner." The other library users were treated to the sight of the Madame pushing them through the main corridor (forcing them to bump into the tables in the middle of the floor) and out the front doors.

They stumbled into the grey evening thanks to Madame Seilon. Some of the locals were setting up torches in the library's garden. Further into the town, lights showed which of the buildings actually supported life. From Link's point of view, this meant that about half of the town was abandoned. The traffic from earlier in the day had dropped, giving Library Town an eerie feeling. Even the grounds around the Library looked deserted compared to the afternoon.

"Where is everyone?" Link asked.

"Home, I believe," Cale said.

"No' many people lookin' fer a fun time a' night," Madame Seilon added. "Now. Where should we eat at? Some place close, I 'ope."

"We're new in town," Link said, "so we don't know any places to eat."

"Cale?"

"Ah. Well… I suppose we might try the tavehn just inside the Eastehn Platfohms. It might be the closest."

"Lead the way, then," Madame Seilon said, smacking Cale on the back.

Cale gave an audible groan of discomfort, but he slowly trudged into the center of town with Link and Madame Seilon in tow. Irleen, remembering at the last moment that she was better off hidden, dove under Link's hat just as they stepped onto the town's cobblestone path. People continued to light torches along the road, their sparse placement reminding Link of how Whittleton looked in the evenings as each household set up a torch outside the house just far enough away to keep the flames from setting their homes alight. Meilont had asked him to set out the torch once or twice when he was feeling well enough, although lighting it turned out to be tougher than he had expected with just the striker pieces she gave him. She had made it look easy when she had done it herself after watching him for a few minutes.

As they continued, Link started to grow concerned for the small town again. Sure, the townsfolk were on alert in case the Bulblins tried to attack again. But would they be able to handle another attack out of the blue? And did they ever find all of the tunnels under the town?

Was Meilont all right? He thought about her standing on the end of the platform. Had she… really been fine with him leaving to find the Architects? He wanted to believe so, but… somehow, the thought of her wanting him to stay felt… well, he was not entirely sure. Would he have really stayed if she asked? Would she have even asked?

"Link? Where are yeh goin'?" Madame Seilon's voice interrupted his thoughts, causing him to jerk to a stop where he stood. He did not believe he had been daydreaming for too long, but they had already left the center of Library Town. He turned around, finding that they were just outside on the Eastern Platforms. Madame Seilon and Cale had already stopped in front of a door built into the thinner cliff side.

As Link approached, he read on the exterior sign "The Rusted Boiler". It struck him as odd; very few bars or taverns in the sky kingdom ever had such imaginative names, only ever being referred to as "bar" or "tavern" or whatever service they liked to offer. He was not even sure it was a tavern until his eyes fell upon a wood carving of a frothing mug hanging next to the door. Light danced about behind a pair of large, frosted windows. The sounds coming from inside reminded Link of the rowdy establishments he had had to enter just to retrieve drunken members of the Grand Sails' crew. That only drudged up the memory of being stuffed into an empty barrel and sent rolling down the road until colliding with a metal lamppost. Twice, and at the same bar.

"Well then," Madame Seilon said, tugging open the door.

All sound immediately stopped. Link and Cale stared in at over two dozen older men wearing blue uniforms glaring back at them. Most of them sat at tables distributed across the floor. Those at the bar on the far side were only just turning to see who came in. Even the bartender and the young girls wandering about in shirts and aprons paused.

"I' ya see yar smoke a-chokin' 'n yar spokes a-shiv'rin' 'n yar fo'ks a-holl'rin', ya feed or ya bleed?" one man lounging next to the front door asked. His address of the newcomers was curious, as he seemed to be partly asleep with a flattop cap over his face, chair leaned against the wall, and arms crossed. Confused looks passed between Link, Cale, and Madame Seilon. They understood it to be a question, but the man's dialect threw off their comprehension of what exactly the question was asking.

"Ya feed," came a voice from behind Link. "Cuz yar fire needs a-stokin' 'n yar fo'ks need a-goin'."

Link spun upon recognizing the voice, prompting a confused yelp from Irleen under his cap. "Luggard!" he cried in surprise.

"'Ow yah been, Link?" Luggard said with a pleasant grin on his face. "Didn' 'spect yah for a while yet, I 'ad." Link made to answer, but Luggard quickly held up a hand. "No time for intros now. Le's get ya fellas somethin' t' eat." As he ushered them in, he called across the tavern, "I vouch for these 'uns! And I'll pay 'em!"

"Nice ta know there's still some gentlemen in this world," Madame Seilon said with a smile.

"Ya might wanna wait t' eat b'fore ya thank me. 'Ere, ge' tha' table there, Link. Mel! Four o' them Boiler Soups o'er 'ere!" Luggard pushed them to a scarred, wooden table close to the bar, receiving a slap to the back of the head in the process due to his elbow meeting the left ear of an engineer he was trying to squeeze by. Link grabbed the chair facing the bar. Cale sat next to him while Madame Seilon took the chair across from Link. Luggard stepped to the bar and leaned against it, watching the man he had addressed as "Mel". Link craned his neck to see past Madame Seilon, finding that the bartender was filling out four bowls with liquid being kept in what looked like the cylindrical component of a steam locomotive. He passed these to Luggard on a tray, and Luggard took the empty seat next to Link.

Cale leaned forward and sniffed at the steam billowing from the bowl Luggard placed before him. "What is this?"

"Boiler Soup," Luggard said as Link glanced at the green liquid in his own bowl. "Mel puts it in 'is boiler 'n keeps it ready for the nex' engineer who wants some. Recipe's been with 'im since b'fore 'e retired, it 'as."

"It's… green," Cale said, watching Madame Seilon take up a spoon.

"Ya shoul've seen it yes'erday; it was blue." Cale visibly paled at the response.

"Yeh migh' as well eat it," Madame Seilon said. "Yeh both were so inten' on eatin', so go 'head."

"I recognize tha' accent," Luggard said, a finger pointing at Madame Seilon. "Whi'leton, right?"

"Yeh've been to Whittleton?"

"Hrk!" Link, Madame Seilon, and Luggard glanced over at Cale, who had just frozen in place with the spoon barely out of his mouth. His hand locked in position, the spoon slipped from his fingers and landed in his bowl. His face held a pained look. Then, without warning, he tilted to one side and made an audible thud against the hardwood floor after falling off his chair.

Link made to stand, but Luggard already had the shoulder of his tunic pinched between his fingers. "'E'll be fine," Luggard told him in an indifferent tone. "Needs t' ge' used t' it, tha's all."

Madame Seilon glanced down at her fallen student. "He's unconscious."

Luggard shrugged. "It 'appens."

Link picked up his own spoon and dipped it into the soup. He decided to sniff it before putting it in his mouth. As he had already figured, the soup had the faint traces of liquor hidden among the scent of boiled vegetables and some kind of meat broth, neither of which he could identify except as things Meilont might have fixed him at one point. After a sigh, Link put the spoon his his mouth. He frowned at the dull taste; even with the liquor in the mix, it barely tasted stronger than the grog he had to endure on his voyages with the Grand Sails. But he felt obliged to finish what Luggard had given him. At least it was something to eat.

The meal was slurped in silence. As the group ate, Link's eyes explored the tavern. The wall directly behind the bar looked like metal, and Link could see that someone actually had placed a steam locomotive there. The rest of the wall was cut out of the cliff and given wooden supports. Various forms of train memorabilia covered the rest of the wooden wall behind him, ranging from photographs to small train models to large pieces of locomotives; the largest Link saw appeared to be a v-shaped cattle guard he had not noticed was hanging above the front door. The ceiling sported a number of large, disk-shaped lanterns which cast a soft light over the floor. What struck him the most peculiar about this place was the lack of shenanigans. Sure, there appeared to be drinking and smoking; the air in the tavern swam in the thin cloud provided by the couple of tables of smokers, and the presence of alcohol in his soup served as proof of the other. But conversation did not rise above a shout unless it was in the bartender's direction. Everything kept to a dull drone with the exception of the occasional bubbling whenever Mel opened up the boiler to get another bowl of soup.

Madame Seilon was the first to finish, setting her spoon in her bowl with a gentle click. "So, when were yeh in Whittleton?" she asked.

Luggard, trying to drink out of his bowl, coughed and leaned over so he would not spill the bowl's contents across the table. "Agh… sorry," he croaked. After wiping his sleeve over his mouth, he continued, "There usually every ten days; I run the Ol' Seventeen."

"The Seventeen?" Madame Seilon ran a thumb across her jaw. "Las' I knew, it was the Number Three."

"Number Three 'ad t' switch tracks 'bou' four years back. She was built for 'orrible weather, so she wen' t' the Snow Realm. Only few trains can ge' through tha' mess now'days, wha' with the ol' runners breakin' down for one reason or 'nother."

Madame Seilon nodded her understanding. "Thin's jus' seem ta ge' worse an' worse."

"Are things really so bad here?" Link asked, setting his spoon into his half-finished bowl.

Luggard gave him a grim nod. "Ya migh've fallen ou' o' the sky a' a bad time, t' tell the truth. Jus' no' very stable down 'ere anymore. Weather's been the bigges' prob'm, it 'as."

"For how long?"

"No one remembers," Madame Seilon said. "Children like Meilont are born inna this world knowin' jus' like i' is now."

A groan sounded from the floor next to Madame Seilon, and she glanced over as one of Cale's hands grasped the edge of the table. "Still alive, is ya?" Luggard asked with a bemused grin.

Cale dragged himself back into the chair. Even with the dull light, Link could see the imprint of the floorboards on the left side of his face. "How—h-rup!" He paused with a fist over his mouth. When his ailment appeared to subside, he gave a sigh. "How long have I been… unconscious?"

"No' too lon', I imagine," Luggard said. "Don' worry; ya didn' miss much conversation. Ya can prob'ly ge' back t' tha' bowl, too."

Cale, however, used a hand to push the bowl away. "Can I just have something else?"

Luggard chuckled. "Oi, Mel," he called at the bar. "Solid meat o'er 'ere."

"On its way, Luggar'," Mel replied in a deep-throated voice.

Link became aware of movement across his scalp. "Okay, I'm coming out now," Irleen announced to the table, part of her light showing from underneath Link's cap.

"Yeah, it should be okay," Link replied.

Irleen's green form emerged from Link's head and settled down next to his bowl. "I was waiting for the signal to come out, Link."

Link blinked for a moment. "I… I was supposed to give a signal?"

"When it's okay for me to come out?"

"Don' 'ave nothin' t' worry 'bou', Miss Fairy," Luggard said. "We engineers 'appen t' think seein' fairies is good luck."

"Hmph. At least someone shows me some respect. And my name's Irleen."

"Luggard."

"But… you're not a fairy," Link pointed out.

"I'm small. I fly. I give off light. Can you really explain me otherwise, Link?"

"You did have to explain haah as a fahry to me," Cale said.

Link shrugged at him. "I was in a panic."

"It makes things easier anyway," Irleen said. "What's for dinner? I think I have both a mouth and a stomach; both are making noise."

Link picked up his spoon. "Is this safe for fairies?" he asked Luggard.

"Prob'ly no'," Luggard said with an uncertain shrug. "Never 'ad one try it, though."

Link decided to set the spoon on the table next to her anyway. "Try it. It can't hurt you that much."

He watched her approach the spoon until the glow of her body hid the soup. From his perspective, it looked like she was just standing there waiting. After a brief moment, she said, "Wow, this isn't too bad. It's just weird being this small and having a single drop of this stuff fit into my hands."

All four stared down at her unmoving form, having noticed that the tone of her voice lacked conviction. Finally, Link said, "You can't eat it, can you."

Irleen jumped back into the air. "I still don't know if I have a mouth!"

"Yeh migh' jus' have ta wai' an' see if yeh actually do ge' hungry," Madame Seilon said with a grin.

"I wanna be back in the sky! I wanna be full Sorian again! I haven't eaten in… uh… how long have we been—"

"Ten days," Link said with a groan as he stood.

"Ya goin' somewhere?" Luggard asked.

"Just to look." Link then wandered away from the table.

He could feel his depression surfacing again, spurred by Irleen's mindless rant against her predicament. But knowing that he was having depressing thoughts brought about irritation, irritation because he could hear Meilont's voice chastising him for even daring to think about his angst about being stranded on the surface. He took his cap off and furiously scratched his thick, blond scalp. He was not sure what to think, not sure how to just let the depression go. Repeating "forget it" to himself every time this had happened had not done anything for him in the past five days. The only time it never really bothered him was when he was busy doing something. And being under Meilont's care made that particularly difficult since she took every opportunity she could to keep him from doing anything. Except anything that had to do with fighting. Link's hand touched the hilt at his hip. Was that what he was turning into? Someone who had to fight just to keep from being depressed? Just what kind of therapy was that?

He sighed and glanced up. He had wandered to the wall next to the door, one which sported train models on a shelf near the ceiling and photographs closer to eye-level. Now that he stood closer to them, he found that many of them were engineers, each one standing in front of their train. Their pride. Like airship captains, they let the engines they commanded speak for them, standing with pride and joy as if… no, precisely because those very engines were family. Family which grew with them until they practically became a reflection of each other like children.

Well, maybe with the exception of one. The color photo Link examined closer was of a short steam engine with an amazingly uncoordinated color scheme of brown, blue, and gold. A young man, maybe the same age as Link if not a little younger, leaned out of the cabin and had a look of utter confusion at the photographer recorded for posterity. He could not help grinning at this dork, wearing a green tunic and a green, pointed hat… Okay, Link decided he might not be too much of a dork. But that expression was definitely stupid-looking.

Link's eyes passed to the next picture.

In seconds, he suddenly shouted over his shoulder, "Luggard!"

Activity in the tavern froze for a moment. The engineers around him gave him perplexed expressions. The man sleeping by the door gave a start and flopped onto the floor with a dull thud which no one noticed.

Luggard, in the middle of standing from his chair, peered around at the other engineers. Then he huffed and said with an exaggerated tone of admonishment, "Don' shou' like tha', Link. Ya only do tha' if yar in trouble or somethin'." He gave a chuckle to the other patrons. It appeared to do whatever Luggard had in mind because they returned to their usual buzz in the next minute. Luggard then stepped over to Link. "Wha' is it?"

Link tapped on the picture's glass with a finger. "That. Who is that?"

"Can' say," Luggard said as he removed the frame from the wall. He stared at the man in the picture, a husky gentleman with a black beard obscuring most of his face. He wore an older style of blue engineer's uniform, even featuring the red cap with a dove design on the front. "Royal Engineer, 'e 'as t' be; no one else wears tha' style o' cap."

"His name, though. What's his name?"

Luggard frowned at him. "Why is ya so interested?"

Link's hand indicated the background above the man's head.

"Because that's an airship behind him."

Luggard's eyebrow raised as he looked at the hull of a floating ship behind the man. He turned the picture around, revealing a name and date. "'Is name was Ryain. Picture 'as t' be 'bou' nine'y years ol', though. Yeah, 'bou' nine'y-two by now."

"He built that ship, right?"

Luggard's frown deepened for a moment. "Yeah, I s'pose."

Link grabbed the picture to look at the photo again. "If that's the case… Luggard, this man was an Architect!"

"A wha'?"

But Link was already across the bar. He reached their table and nearly slammed the picture on Cale's hand. "Cale. Did you find anything about a man named Ryain? This man here?"

Cale, only inches away from a bite of the steak in front of him, paused and glanced down. "I hadn't seen any pictuahs of him, but I remembeh the name. He was the one who invented the three-tone train whistle I mentioned eahliah."

"Was he an Architect?" Madame Seilon asked.

"We have to find out," Link said. "Come on!"

"Where are we going?" Irleen asked, following Link as he made his way to the door in an energetic step.

"C'mon, Cale," Madame Seilon said as she rose.

She slapped his shoulder as she stepped past him, making him stab his own cheek with cooked meat. "B-but… m-my dinneh…"

"Later," she called back to him. Cale gave the steak a fleeting look before following them out.

Luggard, in the excitement, had gone unnoticed at the side of the table. He watched Cale disappear out the door. Then he reached over and picked up the plate that Cale's steak had been left on.

"Luggar'!" Mel at the bar suddenly shouted at him. "I wan' all tha' stoff back!" Luggard turned, a bite of steak already in his mouth. He indicated the steak with the hand holding the fork. "Ea' the steak, jus' brin' back all the stoff yar'oll takin' from me, or I'll 'ave yar butt!"

Luggard raised a thumb at Mel and ran to find Cale before he lost them.