Note from 03.11.2020: hm, for some reason my chapter was deleted (I admit it is pretty long, but I don't think that's the problem). I have reuploaded it in two parts in case the size really does matter, hopefully it works now.

DR

Author's note: this chapter has been so much fun to write! And if you're wondering why DR suddenly managed to write a chapter in only two weeks when normally she takes half a year to update... I didn't. Most of this chapter had already been written because I am impatient and full of ideas that just HAD to be written at the time they struck me, ergo many months ago. Thus a vast collection of Resistance Group headquarter snippets was gathering dust on my laptop that I could then sew together with some filler paragraphs and the one or other adjustment to make this chapter. Convenient!

*I have one asterisk in here, and I'll just get it out of the way now: I am taking the events of the yet unpublished and (almost) finished chapter 6 of the rewrite into account. If Uli did something you don't know about, it'll be explained in the next rewrite installment that will hopefully be up very soon.

With that said, have fun and I hope you enjoy this new chapter as much as I did!

Stay healthy!

DR

Chapter 6

''… seen this a number of times. The main hand is occupied with blocking, and before you know it the dagger comes at you from below. He was lucky it missed the lower intestines, though I did find a small tear in the descending colon that was most likely the cause of the sepsis.''

''Ow!'' Link gasped and bolted upright. His hand tried to grab whoever was prodding him in his painful side, but the bespectacled man leaning over him evaded his grasp without even seeming hasty.

''Ah, here we are,'' he said, his minuscule lenses flashing in the light of the oil lamps. ''I'd say this is some delightful responsiveness. I was worried the blood loss might have caused brain damage.''

Blinking, Link looked at the three figures gathered around his bed. Rusl and Telma stood behind the old man, their faces practically shining with glee, and Sir Nahamani came striding through the heavy curtain at the room entrance a moment later with two wooden bowls on his arm. Link vaguely remembered the man with the glasses from the night of his surgery; those tiny spectacles were hard to forget.

''Good morning, Link,'' Rusl smiled, gently pushing the doctor aside. ''How are you feeling?''

''Not bad,'' Link answered, shifting on the firm mattress. ''How long did I sleep?''

''Two days,'' the doctor replied and dipped his fingers into a bowl filled with clear liquid sitting on the bedside table. ''The infection was quite advanced, and your body needed rest. But you have a rather astounding rehabilitation rate, young man, the cut is already nicely scabbed and firm. While I do recommend at least another day of rest, I would go as far as encouraging a short walk to encourage flexibility gain.''

''Were you the one who patched me up?''

The doctor began stowing his few tools into a black leather bag, glancing at him over the top of his glasses. ''Aye, I'm surprised you remember that. Doctor Lysh, at your service.''

With a smile Link shook the man's hand. ''Thank you so much, but I'm afraid I have no money to pay you.''

''Oh, there's no need for that,'' Lysh answered and pointed a thumb at the leader. ''I have an agreement with Sir Auru over there. Everything life-threatening is free of charge, and since you lot are dealing mostly with those kind of wounds, well… Let's just say I won't be making much profit as an associate of the Agency.''

At those words, Telma gave a quivering sigh and hurried to Link's other side. ''You're one tough nut, sweetheart,'' she chuckled and hugged him lightly. ''But that still doesn't excuse you driving such a fright into me. Don't do that again, you hear me?''

''I'll do my best not to,'' Link replied, smiling as she snatched one of Auru's bowls from his arms and urged Link to dig in. Link only realized how hungry he was when the earthy smell of the hot porridge rose into his nostrils. Eagerly he began shovelling spoonfuls into his mouth.

''I'll come again next week to remove the stitches,'' the doctor said and rose to his feet. ''And next time you fight a duel you better look out for the dagger. I seen it do some nasty gashes but Nayru knows I haven't had to treat a full penetration in years. You must really have nettled someone to drive 'em to that.''

His last bite of porridge slid to a painful halt in the wrong passage, and Link began coughing violently. Rusl came to his aid, but Link found himself staring at the doctor even as he forced the last of the oats down his throat.

''I – wasn't in a duel, it was – a bulblin who attacked me,'' he stammered, sweat breaking out on his brow. He could not recall giving any closer information to Rusl or Telma about his stab wound, so how had the doctor known? Had he talked about the fight with Zant in his sleep or during the surgery? The thought alone of having given away this knowledge without his awareness drove a shiver of terror down his spine.

The doctor seemed perplexed by Link's reaction and gave no reply. At once, Auru stepped closer and handed his porridge to Rusl. ''A bulblin attacked you with a dagger? From the front?'' The leader's voice sounded curious, fascinated even, and devoid of any doubt. His eyes fixed Link intently, waiting for a reply.

''Yes, it ambushed me while I was travelling. I couldn't get my sword out in time to block its weapon, and another one shoved me from behind. I practically fell on the blade.''

Link's cheeks glowed crimson with shame at the tale, but he was willing to accept their judgement of this poor display of self-defence as long as it hid the truth. Goddesses knew he was not ready yet to reveal the full scale of his failure.

''I see,'' Auru said thoughtfully. ''Ambushes like these seem to become more frequent, don't you think, Master Lysh?''

''Certainly,'' the doctor replied grimly. ''I stand corrected, clearly I haven't seen all manner of battle wounds yet. I assumed, what with the angle and the level of bruising, it looked quite similar to… Well, never mind. I'll see you next week.''

Link watched as the doctor shuffled out of the room, and instantly felt a pang of guilt. If it was this easy to identify the cause of such an injury, he made a mental note to be mindful of his wounds' appearance in the future.

''I do need to get back to the College, or my dear friend Kenelm will become suspicious,'' Auru broke the silence and scooted closer. ''Link, may I have a quick word?''

''Of course.''

''Telma already spoke to you about the Resistance when you were both at Kakariko. Am I correct in assuming that you came here to join our cause?''

Link nodded. ''I've come because I need your help, and I would offer mine as exchange.''

''In due time,'' Auru interrupted. ''Being a part of the Agency requires you to pronounce an oath of secrecy, for in order to achieve quick and significant results, secrecy is our key to independent action. However, you should know a little more about any institution before joining it, and so I invite you to attend our general meeting this evening at eight o'clock. You may pronounce your oath afterwards.''

Link was just about to agree when the Wolf answered with a sudden jolt of defiance. Before he knew it he had already spoken. ''What if I decide not to join? I already know of your secret back chambers.''

A glint went across Auru's eyes and turned his calm demeanour into a penetrating stare. ''At the meeting, you will learn a little of our extensive resources. And that means the Agency can silence you if you decide to jeopardise its concealment.''

''Which Link would never do,'' Rusl jumped in quickly and presented Link with his own piercing – albeit much less intimidating – stare. ''He is a responsible, trustworthy young man.''

''Absolutely, or I wouldn't have chosen him,'' Telma interjected.

If they try to bind me, I will break free somehow! the Wolf growled.

Shut up! Link thought and pushed against the Wolf's influence. To the people in the infirmary, he quickly put on a pacifying countenance before his inner struggle became noticeable. ''Forgive me, I was just curious. I will of course agree to any conditions you have for my acceptance.''

Auru leaned back with a kind smile. ''No need to apologize, I am the last person who would begrudge you for being curious. Now, you are more than welcome to walk the perimeter of the tavern, but in case you wish to enter the back chambers from the outside, please use the fourth room on the upstairs. You can easily discern which room is currently unlocked by the number of candles lit on the counter. Telma will give you the key to the room and explain to you how it works. If you have any further questions, she and your father will surely fill you in on the rest. Now I really must go. I'll see you all tonight at eight o'clock.''

''Don't let that old coot Kenelm bother you,'' Telma said and gave him a wink, which Auru reciprocated with a friendly tap on her back.

''Oh no, I consider it personal recreation to tease the nobility. Ah, and before I forget, be sure to bring Shad the lye for his hair. I'm afraid I went a little overboard with the scarlet.''

They snorted and giggled like schoolchildren as they exited the infirmary, leaving Link and Rusl alone.

''I must have missed quite a bit while I was out,'' Link said.

Rusl heaved a sigh. ''You have no idea.''

0

''And now I'm going to show you one of my own creations, which I am quite proud of. Watch, and be amazed.''

Grinning from ear to ear, Rusl of Ordon approached the end of the wall at the beginning of the vestibule corridor where a large shelf with squared compartments had been set up. A second, identical shelf stood about half a yard to the right, closer to the secret pantry door. In it, rolls of parchment – sealed with different wax colours and seals – lay waiting.

''Why are those in there?'' Link asked. He approached the second shelf and gingerly took up one of the scrolls. The seal showed the shape of three leaves attached to one stalk. Boxelder leaves, he thought.

''I'll tell you in a minute. Link? Look?''

Rusl tapped a handle set into the wall and waited impatiently for Link to set the scroll back in its place. Once he had the Hylian's attention, he pulled the handle downward and triggered a mechanical clink. Giving the shelf a pull, he revealed a door-sized passage leading into a large room. By the many armour stands, work benches, metal plates, and crates upon crates filled to the brim with tiny rings scattered around it, this was undoubtedly the realm of an armourer.

''See? The passage will only open when the main door to the workshop is closed.'' Rusl pointed at the door frame to the right of the shelf opening that was attached to a metal wire. Link deduced that when the door was open, the wire was – through a complicated array of pulleys and knobs he could not quite wrap his head around – disconnected from the wall, thus preventing the shelf from moving. An important feature since the smithy on the other side of the wall was open to the plaza, and anyone could catch a glimpse of the shelf suddenly turning inwards to reveal the most secret back chambers of the Agency headquarters.

Link nodded his consent, drawing disappointment from his father figure.

''Aren't you impressed?''

''I am. It's very clever,'' Link hastened to add and presented Rusl with a broad smile. That seemed to brighten the blacksmith's spirits once again.

''I'm glad you like it. I built this mechanism when I was a new member nearly twenty years ago. It earned me my place in the Agency.''

Chuckling, Link shook his head in wonder. ''I still can't believe you kept this from us.''

''Remember, I had an oath to keep,'' Rusl replied, a sly smile lighting up his face. ''I was tempted to tell Colin, and I'm sure he would have been just as baffled. Back then I was helping the Agency fight crime in the kingdom, catch kidnappers, destroy spy networks, uncover fraud and counterfeiting, and even prevented a few assassinations. The king himself gave me a badge of honour after we successfully arrested an arsonist.''

He paused, his look turning sombre. ''Sadly the Agency was dissolved after we suffered a major defeat that put half the nobility on a warpath against us. We were all sent home or into exile in some cases, to continue with our lives normally. I had just turned twenty at the time and easily fit back into life in Ordon. One year later Uli and I got engaged, and in that same autumn I found you.''

They shared a fond smile, and Link felt his cheeks glow warmer.

''Why have you decided to come back?'' he asked.

Rusl did not answer immediately, a reaction that partly answered Link's suspicions that he himself had something to do with it.

''After you left us so suddenly, I felt utterly powerless. I couldn't follow you because I was wounded, and Uli wouldn't have let me out of the house anyway. When I was finally fit to travel and wanted to leave to look for you, she and I had an argument. One or our more intense ones. When you're married for this long, you get to know your spouse in nearly every aspect, and I could see something was not quite right. She seemed almost remorseful, as if you leaving us was somehow her fault. It was only after I pried long enough that she finally told me what truly happened.''

Link's mouth went dry, his eyes quickly moving to his interlaced hands. But the angry scolding he was expecting did not come. When he looked back up, Rusl was silent and thoughtful.

''In that moment I knew she had done the one thing I had been incapable of; she let you go*. I came to realize just how much bravery and determination you had shown setting out all by yourself to search for your little brother, traits I had been too blind to see in you. And I knew then that, once I caught up with you, I would not try to drag you back home. I would join you in your search and find the kidnapped children together, as father and son. That thought kept me going until… well.''

''Until you found out I was probably dead,'' Link finished, wincing as he said it.

But there was nothing that could change the past, no words or actions that could reverse the paralysing, unbelieving fear Rusl had felt the moment he realized his sixteen-year-old adoptive son might have died. He did not know the true reason why Link had left on his own, and although he might have felt the need to try and explain to him, now all he felt was relief that Rusl had not believed him the first time. He held on to his decision; it would be much easier for him to fulfil his role in the war if he kept his true identity a secret.

''I'm sorry I frightened you,'' he added instead, hoping it would bring the issue to a close. ''I did not mean to hurt you.''

''It's all behind us now,'' Rusl answered. ''Here, let me show you how the other shelf works. The scrolls in there are meant to be delivered to various people across Castle Town, to traders and craftsmen or to some of our associates like Master Lysh.''

They moved back through the opening into the vestibule, and Rusl reached into one of the shelf compartments and took the scroll with the triple leaf wax seal. A piece of birch bark had been attached to the ribbon holding it closed that he removed from its loop and unrolled.

''Ah yes. That's Auru's message to Camryn Fletcher. She is another of our associates and has yet to be informed of our definite assembly. Though not directly a member of the Agency, she has agreed to provide us with wares from her workshop at a reduced price.''

He reached into the compartment and slid the back wall aside to reveal a small niche just wide enough to hold a standard sized scroll. After having pushed the message inside, he closed it once more and rounded the shelf to stand in front of a wooden chart riddled with holes into which long wooden pins had been stuck.

''Depending on the importance of the message, we take pins with different colourations to match the seal wax. The order is green for lesser messages, then blue, yellow, red, and purple for more important messages. And when we use the orange pin, we have a true winner on the importance scale.''

''You use rupee colours to indicate the importance?'' Link asked.

''That's right. It's easier to remember that way,'' Rusl said and took a pin from the board that had been dipped into red ink. Dye first, he stuck it into the back wall of the shelf compartment.

''We have a boy running messages each morning from the smithy. This way, he can see that there is a message with a red importance in this compartment. He has to pull the pin out in order to open the other sliding wall, and thus we on this side know it has been taken out and probably delivered. Likewise, our associates who come to the workshop have the possibility to leave messages for the Agency there. Apart from Master Lysh, they don't know that it is right there, behind the smithy walls.''

''And it should remain so, dear friend,'' a voice suddenly rang out from behind them.

Link and Rusl turned to see a young man approach them from the corridor. He wore a pair of large, rounded spectacles, and his head was topped with hair so alarmingly red it looked like a bucket of paint had been dropped on him. In his hand he was holding another sealed scroll that, judging by the dark stains on his fingers, he had just written. Tapping the parchment roll against the rim of his glasses, he flashed a friendly grin at them. As he did, his Hylian ears perked up.

''It is important that the people know we are there, and even more important that our location remains hidden,'' he said. ''We are in the service of the people, and thus we work for the people, with the people, among the people, from the shadows where we cannot be touched by those who wish to thwart us, who may very well be among the people also.''

''Up and about already, are you?'' Rusl said and shook the newcomer's hand. ''I was just showing my son around.''

The red-head turned to Link in surprise. ''Father and son, eh? How nice! Back in the day, my own father was advisor to the Hyrulean Agency and scribe to the royal family. Retired now, and happily so. He had the idiosyncratic idea to bless his only son with the name Shadrach, which I have shortened to Shad. Happy to meet you!''

Link nodded and took Shad's extended palm. It felt as if he shook the hand of a corpse wearing silken gloves. A quick glance at those peachy limbs confirmed his assumption that the young scholar had probably never done a day of manual labour in his life.

''How's that paint job working out for you?'' Rusl asked, his lips quivering with a desperately withheld smirk.

Shad flashed him another polite smile and walked to the message shelf where he placed his scroll. Its seal bore the blue wax image of a portrait. Quickly he had hidden it behind the sliding wall in the same fashion as Rusl had, and a blue pin showed the importance of his message to the other side.

''I had hoped it would turn out a tad less conspicuous,'' he answered. ''But Master Auru said if I wash it with lye thrice a day it'll turn ginger, as it was intended. Did you know it is particularly difficult to obtain this intense shade of vermilion? I am quite an attraction around here, Leena almost cut off a strand to show to her mother. Too bad I am confined to the headquarters until the hair starts to fade.''

''Well, I'm sure you can fill in that time with your scholarly work,'' Rusl replied and turned to Link. ''Shad is our scribe and researcher. Whatever needs looking into, he's on it.''

Shad inclined his head at Link. ''Yes, see, from what I heard about you, you're quite formidable, Master Link, what with the rescue of the very prince of the Zoras and all. Truly formidable. I'm rather not, I'm afraid, unless book reading and sketching count among yet undisclosed martial arts. My cup of tea especially are the history and legends of Hyrule, and everything in between.''

Link felt his cheeks grow warm. ''I am actually quite interested in them myself.''

''As should anyone with a grain of common sense,'' Shad beamed. ''Our legends hold wonders and lessons that would benefit every age group. They tell of ancient heroes and magical instruments and even races that are said to live in the sky. I'd be more than happy to show you a few works I've been studying.''

He gave them a salute with his ink-stained fingers and walked back down the corridor. Before he rounded the corner, however, he turned back and called to Rusl. ''Almost forgot! I am to tell you that Captain Amauger is looking for you.''

''Has she already begun with the training?'' the smith asked in surprise.

''Are you mad? Me and Mistress Gobinet are the only ones working around here. She said she wanted a rematch for yesterday. I'm certain you can fill in the blanks.''

''So Millie is in the workshop, then.''

''Yes. Watch out for Miss Telma, I hear she is rather furious with us.''

''Why?''

Shad leaned back and laughed heartily. ''We are working on a holiday, that's why.''

Rusl turned to Link and chuckled. ''Come, Link, I'll introduce you to Millie. You will like her, I'm sure of it.''

The smithy had changed much since Link's last visit, as he saw upon stepping into it from the armourer's workshop. The walls had been freshly white-washed and the floor swept of dust to reveal the smooth, trodden dirt floor underneath. The two narrow booths for horse shoeing had also undergone some changes, with the cracks in the low walls repaired and the troughs flushed. Crates and burlap sacks of various sizes were piled up near the forge, few opened and emptied, most of them still revealing the many tools they carried. And before the smith's hearth stood two anvils. The first was a shrunken version of the blacksmith's tool nailed to a short stump that had been riddled with grooves and cutting marks. Furthermore, two stakes commonly used by silversmiths had been fastened to the stump, while iron loops wrapped around the wood and held various tongs and hammers.

The second anvil, however, was a standard sized tool of about two hundred pounds. Where it should have rested on another stately-sized stump, it was merely supported by a thin sliver of wood. Had Link gone up to and stood before it, its top would have barely reached to the middle of his thighs.

''This is where I will be working most days, when I am not training at the barracks or on a mission,'' Rusl told him and walked towards the large barn doors that stood open to let in the light of the summer morning. ''I will have to tell Millie though that I'll be needing a higher anvil.''

''Longueur inutile!'' came a call from outside.

''What do you mean, unnecessary length? Are you expecting me to work on my knees?'' Rusl called back and poked his head around the door. After a moment of confusion, his look went up and stayed rooted in place. ''What are you doing up there?''

Link couldn't hold back a grin as he joined Rusl below the smithy's overhanging roof and caught sight of the woman suspended in the rafters. She had a paint brush in her hand and a bucket between her knees filled with a glossy black substance that she was in the process of smearing onto the wooden beams. She sat on what could only be described as a swing set; the thick rope that kept her aloft ran over the highest beam before ending in a tight knot around an iron loop set into the stone wall close to her.

''Are you going to chastise me too, Rusl of Ordon?'' she asked amiably and in a voice that was deeper than Link would have imagined from such a small woman. ''Telma does not understand the terrible ailment we craftspeople suffer on days such as these. Those who rest shall rust. That is the saying, is it not?''

''Quite so, Millie,'' Rusl answered with a smile. ''And I will only keep you from your work as long as it takes to introduce you to my son.''

At his words, the woman finally looked down at them, and Link saw that she was far older than he had assumed. Wrinkles and creases – deep but in no way unattractive – on her thin face showed she was in her sixties, yet it was her wavy, snow white hair partly fastened in the back of her nape that truly betrayed her age. Where Shad's eyes had been a deep blue, hers were of a radiant green. In the lobes of her pointy Hylian ears, two black gemstones fitted in gold jingled as she bent over.

She cast him a bright grin, one that was both joyful and slightly unsettling. Link could not quite figure out why it made him uneasy.

She placed her paint brush into the bucket between her legs, then bent over to reach for the rope in the loop and gave the lower end a quick pull. The knot came undone in a flash, and with the strong arms of an aged blacksmith she lowered her own weight until her feet touched the ground. As she straightened and carried the paint bucket over to them, Link could now associate the height of the anvil with the woman's size. She barely reached higher than Colin.

''I heard you had arrived here rather damaged, but I'm glad to hear you're doing better,'' she said and nodded at the thick bandage visible at the hem of Link's shirt. ''You missed just about the entire carnival, you poor thing.''

''Link, meet Mélisande Gobinet,'' Rusl said and wrapped a friendly arm around the woman's shoulders, stooping crookedly in the process. ''Makes the tightest padlocks in the country and will shoot you from a hundred yards away if you neglect to pay your bills.''

''A hundred yards?'' Link asked with curious surprise.

''Two hundred when the weather is clear,'' Millie replied and laughed. ''I have perfected my devices to work in nearly all conditions.''

''Millie is a sharpshooter,'' Rusl explained. ''She has, over decades, revolutionized crossbow designs and achieved incredible levels of accuracy and distance.''

''Oh, now you're exaggerating, Rusl dear,'' the female smith chided. ''Also you would do well to remember that I am merely here for the work and the service. My sharpshooting skills were not part of my contract with Auru.''

A sigh from Rusl caused Link to frown. The unspoken tension that had suddenly built up between them was more than palpable, making him debate with himself whether it was appropriate to ask where it came from.

Millie folded her arms and cleared her throat. ''I have, however, agreed to use them if a mission strongly demands it.''

That seemed to raise Rusl's spirits. Grinning, he gave her a quick squeeze. ''I would indeed feel much safer knowing you have my back, and my enemies in your scope.''

Millie gave a quick nod as answer and now turned her full attention on the Hylian. ''Link, was it? An unusual name.'' Her gaze move to his Hylian ears. If she made the connection – or lack thereof – with Rusl's plain round ones, she gave no such comment. Instead she flashed him another cheeky grin and turned on her heels to walk into the smithy. A nonchalant gesture prompted them to follow.

''As Rusl already said, I am a locksmith at heart. Locks fetch a high price among lords but can also be cheaper if the security requirements are more lax. I am hoping to attract customers in all social ranks. We will most certainly need the money.''

She walked to the large shelf by the horse booths and placed her bucket into it. With a rag she fetched from a nearby crate, she began to clean her paint brush. ''I presume you are one of Auru's new recruits then? What vocation have you brought along, if I may ask?''

Frowning, Link crossed looks with Rusl. ''What do you mean?''

Millie cocked her head. ''Well, what service are you providing for the Agency? After you are fully healed, of course.''

Rusl cleared his throat, now looking mildly flustered. ''Every member has more than one purpose, Link. While we are all warriors in different areas of weaponry, we are also craftspeople, scholars, or mercenaries.''

''The Agency is self-sustaining,'' Millie added. ''Under normal circumstances we would be funded by the king, but as far as we know, the royal family has been compromised. This is where our vocations come into play to bring in money by selling wares and providing services to the people.''

She stretched out a hand to show her many tools. ''I will be working most mornings in the forge while Rusl is training at the barracks or otherwise occupied. My own training will be held in the afternoon, and Rusl will take my place in the workshop.''

Link nodded in understanding but lowered his head, his ears losing strength. ''I never learned a craft other than goat herding. And I don't think you'll have much use for a wrangler.''

''We will find something for you to do,'' Rusl quickly cut in. ''I won't let Auru throw you out just because you are no craftsman.''

Millie's cheeky grin returned to her aged face. ''There are many uses for a strong young man around here. You are always welcome to help me out in the forge, I might even be able to teach you one or two things. And if that isn't enough you'll always find work in the tavern.''

She raised a finger and approached him. ''Do your part, and you won't have any trouble with Auru.''

''You will have trouble with me though, Rusl of Ordon. I've been looking all over for you!''

The double-doored entryway was darkened by the newcomer who stood feet apart in the opening. The light shining in from behind obscured the figure so that Link could only make out the silhouette of a tall woman wearing a leather doublet and a long rapier at her waist.

''Can't a man show his son around in peace?'' Rusl sighed.

The woman warrior approached at a brisk pace and set her narrowed, dark brown eyes upon Link. After a moment she pointed at him and addressed Rusl confusedly. ''Is that your son Colin? Wasn't he born, like, ten years ago?''

Millie tapped her thigh and snorted with laughter behind them.

''This is my eldest son, Link,'' the blacksmith said, irritated. ''Haven't I mentioned him enough times last night, during our many, many games?''

''And why is he a Hylian?''

''I was adopted,'' Link cut in coolly and stretched out his hand in greeting. ''Rusl and Uli took me in as a child. Nice to meet you.''

''Pleasure,'' the warrior answered, her manner stiff and unsmiling. ''Captain Ashei Amauger, second in command of the Agency. And don't expect me to treat you with any favours just because you're Rusl's protégé.''

''You would disappoint me if you did.''

She broke a satisfied grin at his answer. ''Well, in that case I believe we'll get along nicely. Now pray excuse me, I have to borrow Daddy here for the afternoon. He still owes me a rematch of Monarchs. I am not losing to a commoner from faraway Ordon, so help me Din.''

''Din didn't help you last night, and She won't do so today either,'' Rusl sneered, turning back to Link. ''Since she's already here, might as well fill you in on our rather… let's say troublesome past–''

''Lord Amauger, my late father, taught Rusl all about sword fighting,'' Ashei cut in, casually fiddling with the polished handle of her rapier. ''Your father was tutored along with me, and to help us train, my old man would always pit us against each other. Since that time, whenever I see that deplorable smirk of his…''

''I better turn and run the other way,'' Rusl finished, flashing her his characteristic smirk and ducking under as Ashei's blade rang from its scabbard and made a sudden swing at him. His own sword was out of its sheath in a second, and Link sprinted out of the way just in time to evade one of Ashei's downward slashes.

''Not in the holy of holies, you brats!'' Millie approached from the back with her smithy's hammer raised. ''I have two pairs of handcuffs and I will use them.''

Fleeing from Millie's own swings, the two contestants emerged in the courtyard that rang with the melodic clanging of their clashing weapons. Link hurried after them and followed the match with awed excitement. Each one of their strides moved in accordance to their arms, counterbalancing swings, strengthening downward blows, creating a duel akin to a choreographed dance. Link had never seen Rusl move with such poise and agility before, and although his stances seemed stiff and unpractised compared to Ashei's, he held his ground without trouble. His broadsword met her rapier at every turn as if he had memorised each of her strikes. Meanwhile, Ashei was the image of feminine grace itself, ducking and sidestepping with the elegance of a cat. Her sabre soared through the air at the speed of lightning, each passage cutting dangerously close to Rusl's head yet never near enough to harm him.

The sight of the two fighters humbled Link; he realized there was still much for him to learn when it came to swordplay.

''They at it again, sister?''

With a gasp, Link whirled around and stared up at the massive creature that had materialized behind him. The Goron gazed back, his deep amethyst eyes glistening with curiosity.

''Rivals always be rivals,'' Millie sighed, casually stepping beside the Goron who promptly picked her up and placed her securely onto his shoulder.

This Goron seemed different to the ones Link had seen at the mines. His burly legs were each of a different thickness and length, giving the rockman a crooked, asymmetrical stance. On his left shoulder sat a bumpy protrusion of grey rock, attached to him yet clearly misplaced.

''Hello, little Hylian, what is your name?'' the Goron asked, extending a three-jointed finger for Link to shake.

''Link, I'm Rusl's adoptive son. Who are you?''

''Gorgoborridodongoro,'' the Goron answered, and looked up confusedly as Millie cackled with laughter at Link's horror-stricken face. At once it seemed to dawn on him, for the rockman grinned widely. ''I know why you are surprised. I was shaped by the great patriarch Ebizo shortly before he became Elder. He was not a very good shaper, though, and because of his eyesight becoming worse he needed four attempts to create me properly. Which is why he gave me the names of all four attempts to remember the Gorons who could have been had he been more skilled. I have chosen the name Borri to be the one intended for me. So you can call me Borri, little Hylian.''

Link hid his bewilderment behind a quick smile, trying not to stare at the six fingers on Borri's extended hand.

''Are you also part of the Group?'' Link began, but a sudden wave from Millie silenced him. With a start he realized they were no longer among themselves; the noise of the swordfight had caught the attention of a few neighbours who looked out of their bedroom windows to see what all the ruckus was about.

''Aye, I'm the new armourer in Reliance Alley,'' Borri replied casually. ''After all, every worker's guild needs one.''

''Ha!'' Ashei's cry echoed across the alley; she had her sabre poised an inch away from Rusl's neck. The onlookers began to clap politely. Rusl let the tip of his broadsword drop and wiped the sweat from his brow.

''Let's just play Monarchs next time we have a debt to settle,'' he huffed and leaned heavily on the hilt.

''Admit it, Rus', you've become delinquent. You've forgotten just about half of the moves we learned.''

''Well, wolves and bokoblins don't challenge you to a duel like some hoity-toity upper cruster. A good blow to the head tends to suffice to make your point.''

''Tsk, barbarism,'' Ashei muttered, and her sabre flashed brightly as she slid it back into its sheath. ''Still up for a game?''

Rusl turned to Link and gave him a pleading look that practically begged him to step in. But Link was having too much fun seeing his proud father grovelling before the whims of the black-haired woman warrior.

''I am getting rather tired,'' he replied and theatrically leaned on his good side. ''I think that's enough touring for me.''

''Marvellous!'' Ashei called and dragged Rusl towards the washroom door. ''I've had the board set up and ready an hour ago.''

''I think I'll also head inside, I need a nap,'' Millie sighed, draping her arms over Borri's large head. ''Mind carrying me there, noble rock steed?''

''With pleasure, sister,'' the Goron replied, ducking into the smithy.

Link took this as his cue and entered the tavern through the washroom door like Auru had told him to do. Telma had given him the key to his assigned room after being discharged from the infirmary. But the walk had forced his body to enter a relieving posture that put most of his weight on his right leg. It was already sore from the extensive use. He was looking forward to a rest. And he wanted to see Midna again.

On the kitchen counter lay a platter with freshly baked buns, and after making sure no one was there to witness the theft, he plucked one up. Noticing the other two vacant spots on the metal platter, he saw Ashei and Rusl had clearly succumbed to the same temptation.

But Link did not have the fortune of getting away with it. Halfway across the kitchen he heard rustling feet from the back corner, and a moment later the bun was snatched from his hand.

''Hey!'' he called, turning to see the pilferer grinning widely up at him.

''Don't you hey me, pal, you have just as little right to that bun as I have.''

The boy's face was round and dirty and sprinkled with freckles. His blond hair stood out like the spikes of a porcupine, wide eyes bright and glistening with brazenness. By the dilapidated state of his breeches and shirt, he was undoubtedly part of the beggars Link had seen clustered at the entrance to Reliance Alley. A rather pungent smell of horse dung and smoke wafted from him that made Link's canine senses prickle.

''Oh?'' he replied and folded his arms, feeling a twinge of defiance emerge from within the Wolf's confines. ''How shall we determine then who gets the bun?''

The boy at once spun around and sprinted off. ''How about speed?''

Within a second, Link had grabbed the thief by the middle and easily lifted him off his feet. ''Or strength?''

At once he gasped with pain as the boy landed a wicket backwards kick to his middle, and found himself doubled over with his hand on his stab wound.

''Playing dirty's my favourite…'' The boy's words trailed off as he saw Link coughing for breath. ''Hey, you okay?''

Chuckling, Link lifted a placating hand. ''No big deal, but you hit my weak spot. I guess that bun's yours now.''

It was clear the boy would not be so easily shaken off. Munching happily on his trophy, he trailed after Link into the main tavern. ''How did you get hurt? What's your name? I'm Peet, by the way. How old are you? I'm twelve. Do you live here too? I do, well, down by the tanners mostly, or the forges when it's cold and they let me stay.''

At the stairs Link turned around, a frown creasing his brow. ''You mean you don't have a home?''

Peet extended his arms and grinned widely, moist curls of batter dripping from his teeth. ''The whole city is my home! I mean, Master Auru gave me a place to stay, but some places are nicer than others, you know? I like to be free to choose where I spend the night. So how did you get hurt?''

''A bulblin caught me by surprise.''

Peet's eyes immediately went wide. ''Woah, you actually took on one of those things? Did you kill it?''

''PEET!''

The call thundered out of the kitchen across the tavern, and Peet instinctively ducked behind a table. ''I'm not here,'' he whispered. ''She's already out to get me for dipping her cat's tail into Miss Gobinet's paint bucket. If she catches me with the bun, I'm toast!''

From the corner of his eye, Link saw Telma plod into the main hall. The few midday residents of the inn turned to them in wonder, and at the bar counter Rusl and Ashei looked up from their game of Monarchs.

''Of all the people you could have antagonized, you chose the one most likely to crush you alive,'' Link mused. ''And what did that poor cat do to deserve that?''

''It's a street cat!'' Peet hissed. ''It ought to look the part! Can you hide me in your room please?''

''No, mate, you're on your own,'' Link chuckled and began limping up the stairs. Already the barmaid had caught sight of him and approached with a soup spoon raised like a club.

''Hey, Love, have you seen a street urchin lurking somewhere around here?'' Telma's voice sounded pressed with withheld fury.

''Sure, went out the main door a few seconds ago,'' Link answered, pointing at the front of the tavern. ''He had a bun in his hand, I think, and he seemed in a hurry.''

''Oh, that holy terror, I'll get him one day,'' the innkeeper seethed, stomping back the way she had come. From beneath the table, Peet cast Link a beaming grin that the Hylian answered with a wink.

No wonder Peet spent his nights at the forges or the tanners, Link thought with a smile.

000