The Legend of the Twilight Princess - Book 2

by DragonRing

They are the best in their field; spies, archers, warriors, united behind a leader of noble principles. Concealed among the commoners as craftsmen and performers, they strive to make a difference. For the people of Castle Town, they will work. For the protection of the weak, they will stand. For the support of those in need, they will fight.

8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

It was evening of the following day, and Link's ears perked up as he saw Sir Nahamani enter through the tavern's main door. Next to him, Kyra gave him a nudge and an encouraging smile. ''You go on ahead, I'll send him out back for you.''

''Thanks,'' Link replied and smiled, hanging his kitchen towel on a counter hook before reaching for the empty bread basket in the shelf behind him and elbowing his way into the kitchen. Agus turned from his cauldron to watch him, his grey hair streaky with cooking fat. Link gave him a silent nod before disappearing in the pantry.

He had come to realize that Auru was a hard man to track down. Being a knight of the royal guard and an instructor at the College of Hyrulean Culture, Sir Nahamani was forced to stick to his daily routine and could not spend nearly as much time at the Resistance headquarters as he would have liked. His free time started when the sun touched the horizon, and he spent it at Telma's bar under the pretext of conducting – according to Kyra – questionable business with the innkeeper in her tucked-away bedroom. In truth, Auru was as respectable with women as he was skilled with the blade, which Kyra claimed to be artfully deadly, and the ruse was solely to create rumours of outrage. Anything to spark disgust within meddlers and keep them from interfering.

Link had thus spent the day making himself useful behind the counter, rinsing dishes while Kyra served food and drinks to lazy guards and overnight residents. He refrained from too much movement to hide his pronounced limp but still felt guilty for letting Kyra do all the walking. The young Hylian barmaid brushed off his apologies and instead riddled him with questions about his own life whenever she had a free minute. All the while she inched closer and closer until their arms nearly touched and he could smell the lye in her wavy brown hair, which seemed to be particularly glittery in the light of the fireplace. By the time Auru finally arrived, Link had retreated as far as the edge of the counter in an unconscious attempt to regain his vital space.

It took not long for the leader to emerge in the pantry door, and Link stepped into the lamplight with his bread basked now filled. ''Sir, may I have a word?''

The plate armour on Auru's shoulders gleamed in the flickering flame. ''Ah, Link, surprising to see you up and about. How's the side doing?''

''Much better, thank you. I promise I won't take up much of your time.''

''I hope not, I have a lot of work to do and only so much time before I'm expected at home. Very well then, follow me.''

Swallowing nervously, Link left his basket by the provision shelves and limped after Auru into the vestibule behind the secret doorway. The leader ushered him through the second door in the corridor between the meeting hall and the infirmary; Link had not seen this room yet as it seemed to be off limits. Upon entering he saw a large desk with Auru's plush chair from the meeting hall resting behind it. Tall bookshelves surrounded them as well as cabinets and closets, some of their doors open to reveal stacks of paper and parchment, bottles of ink, and the large chess board with its intricately whittled pieces.

''Have a seat,'' Auru said and pointed at the second, much plainer chair before his desk. Plummeting heavily into his own seat, he began unbuckling his plate armour.

Link's mouth was dry as he sat before the imposing desk feeling very much like a convict at a trial. But his meticulously prepared words soon returned to him.

''I would like to volunteer for your mission into the Gerudo desert,'' he said, speaking slowly to avoid stuttering. ''I left Ordon a few months ago to find the kidnapped children, and when you mentioned the Moblin stronghold in the desert I could not help but wonder if they might have been brought there.''

Auru set a scratched epaulette onto the desk and shook his head. ''Highly unlikely. As much as Rusl seems to cling to this notion, Moblins are not non-sentient. They possess enough wit to realize a trek through that treacherous region would… incapacitate any child within a few days no matter how well prepared. They would not risk being caught in a sandstorm just to bring their precious cargo to their stronghold. It is much more likely the children are being held somewhere within Hyrule.''

The leader's words disheartened Link, making his carefully constructed line of words muddle to an incoherent mess. At that moment he would rather have faced a rogue Goron than this man with his piercing gaze and his equally impenetrable logic. He looked at his shadow, half-hoping Midna to emerge and start berating Auru, but he knew she was currently in the College library sneaking books from its shelves to search through them in a hidden corner.

A sigh from the leader drew his eyes back up. ''I apologize for sounding abrupt, naturally I am grateful for your offer to volunteer. However I have already chosen Captain Amauger and Sir Garril as my companions for this mission. And there is your wound to consider, too. I would not ingratiate myself with Rusl if I took his eldest son with a piercing trauma still in need of healing into the desert with me. But I promise that as soon as any word about the children reaches us, you'll be the first I inform.''

He smiled widely at Link, undoubtedly a pacifying gesture, but Link saw only the silent command to leave within it. Deep within his mind he could feel the Wolf's low growl as a rumble within his chest, and he had to hold his breath just to make sure the sound did not rise to his own throat. What would he have given to hear Midna's counsel at that moment? But all he could draw upon was the primitive beast throwing a temper tantrum at the unfairness of Auru's dismissal.

His disappointment must have been visible, for Auru scratched his head with another sigh. ''I know this decision was made rather suddenly, but my mission has risen on our priority list not only because of the number of votes it received. The line of command – of which your father is a part of, I'm sure he told you – thinks it imperative to stop the influx of enemy forces into Hyrule. That is why we pushed it to the end of next week.''

Next week, huh? More than enough time to get ready. More than enough.

The Wolf's thoughts filled Link's mind like a chant, strengthening his resolve. If his Hylian self could not convince Auru, perhaps the Wolf could? Having nothing more to lose, he decided to give it some ground, carefully allowing it more access to his thoughts and feelings. With the Wolf's consciousness complementing his own, confidence swelled within him like a deep breath of cool air, making him sit taller on the hard wooden chair.

''If I may be so bold , Sir, I beg to differ. My wound is healing nicely, and I feel stronger with each day. Come next week I am sure Doctor Lysh will pronounce me fit to travel.'' Remembering Auru's partners, he was struck by a bolt of inspiration. ''As for your choice of companions, I am not as skilled in combat as either of them, but my assistance could relieve one of them to be free to pursue another important mission instead. I am sure their work is much more valuable to you than what little help I can give in Telma's kitchen.''

He relapsed to silence, watching Auru with bated breath. The leader had raised an eyebrow at Link's speech, regarding the youth with something akin to amused indignation. After a moment of consideration, he leaned back and left the rest of his armour pieces attached, his full attention finally centred on Link.

''I must admit I had not expected such an answer. Right now you very much remind me of Rusl when he came to us as a young adult. He too did not quite know how to discern a polite dismissal when it was given.'' Auru's words were courteous but firm, and a slight rise in inflection betrayed his displeasure.

''I have discerned your dismissal, Sir, and chosen to ignore it.''

Link felt an icy shiver slide down his spine as those words escaped him before he could stop them. Forcefully he pushed the Wolf back and thought quickly on how to salvage the situation. ''I do not wish to be disrespectful, but I would ask you to give me a chance. Even if the children are not in that Moblin stronghold, I have come to join this Group to make a difference, to help those in need. And right now I feel more like a burden than anything else. If you will let me, I will prove to you that I am worthy of being a part of this Group and your mission.''

''An excellent idea!'' Auru suddenly exclaimed, clapping his hands together. While his voice took on a joyful tone, his eyes continued to flicker with anger. ''In that case I will await you in a week's time at the east barracks in town for an evaluation of your combat skills. If you prove to me you are capable not only of defending yourself but mount a successful offensive, I shall consider swapping Sir Garril with you. Is this proposition acceptable to you?''

Link did not need the Wolf's growl of contempt to realize he was in trouble. Auru's former demeanour of calm wickedness had already done plenty to prove his authority, but his broiling look of sharp – almost savage – fury coupled with his calm outside made him just plain terrifying.

''It is, Sir,'' Link murmured, withering under that thundering gaze.

''Is that all then? May I go back to work?''

Link thought of adding something – anything – to defuse the situation, but he could feel he was no longer welcome. With a sharp nod he stood and turned to the door.

''Ah, and since work at the tavern makes you feel worthless, you are welcome to help Millie in her shop. That is, if assisting an old woman falls under your definition of helping those in need.''

Turning back to the leader, Link saw how Auru's smile had finally vanished to be replaced by a deep scowl. Somehow, his anger being openly displayed made Link stand a little easier; at least now he knew what he was dealing with.

''Thank you, Sir, I will,'' he replied.

It was only outside the leader's office that he realized his hands were shaking.

0

The week after the carnival officially kick-started the Agency's establishment in Castle Town, disguised as a newly formed worker's guild of different crafts within the large building next to the tavern. Sir Mezer settled into his old carpentry opposite the smithy and could be seen whittling away on rocking chairs and table legs inside a small roofed courtyard. Borri remained mostly within his own workshop at the back of the forge, his asymmetrical fingers deftly knitting chain mail in a cumbersome if not fascinating manner. The town screamer passed on the news of the guild's inauguration, and as the beggars at the street entrance gradually dispersed, more and more passer-bys ventured closer.

Link was glad for an opportunity to make himself useful – and escape the tight closeness of the Resistance headquarters at the same time. But he soon came to realize that working with Mélisande was as quaint an experience as was her personality.

Millie's work days began by brewing a whole pot of strong black café over the small fire she started in her forge to get it going. The entire workshop was soon filled with that acrid smell of ground black beans and each day made Link think twice about entering. She told him the smell was the soul of the western steppes contained in one pot, and the citizens of Castle Town would be drawn to it and its exoticism despite the noxious smell. Link had trouble believing that, until the yard slowly filled with hesitant amblers ogling with faked interest the knives, locks, daggers, candle holders, oil burners, and herb sickles he was meticulously setting on the smithy's stall table for display.

Millie usually joined him by then, the steaming pot held with a Crimsonine glove that she placed upon a tin plate on the table.

The female smith turned out to be a born trader with social skills Link could only dream of. While he remained politely in the background, she drew in the few customers who had not fled from the café poisoning the courtyard, offered them a cup seasoned with spices and foamed with cream – a rare pleasure even among the wealthier folks – and elaborated on the intricacies of her folded steel knives and brass locks or the sturdiness of Borri's plate work.

Though she did not sell much, she seemed more pleased with every day that went by. It was only after three days of carefully showcasing her few wares – and making a beggar's wage of money – that Link realized she was not aiming to sell anything at all. Her merchandise was only a display of her skills for potential customers. On the fourth day she positioned Link not at the stall but in the forge and made him write down a list of materials that she dictated from a large leather-bound ledger. He had seen her scribble and sketch away all week in that book – made of expensive paper pages instead of parchment – and as the fifth morning dawned, he helped her pull a medium-sized hand cart from the adjacent shed and pushed it into town with her – and her ledger – strolling beside him as merry as a sparrow.

''We'll need about two ounces worth of gems of varying value, four or five silver bars, one of gold, and two barrels of iron ore. Remind me also to get quicksilver, a couple bars, as well as plenty of tin, copper, and nickel.''

By the time they had concluded their purchases, Link had rid himself of his shirt as he and Millie dragged the heaped cart back to the forge.

It was then that Link made the acquaintance of Millie's long-term companion.

''I call him Berner. He's a downright jolly one when food is on the way, but beware of the head and tail. Never stand in front or behind a Dodongo, because neither which comes our both ends is particularly healthy.''

Berner had the body of a lizard and the head of a fish, was double Epona's length and as tall as her withers. For the first couple days he had been kept in the sewers and surrounded by coal fires to keep him dry until a more fireproof pen could be arranged. He now stayed in the street-level wine cellar between the forge and the carpentry and in the mornings was allowed to stretch his massive horned head out the door into the street.

After Berner had been accommodated, Millie's second step in her morning ritual changed from offering her café to customers to sticking a shovel full of coals into Berner's mouth, keeping it in there for twenty-two seconds exactly, then retrieving a ready-made forge fire which she transferred to the hearth.

But Berner's main line of work became apparent after Link and Millie had made their purchases for the client orders. The first item in Millie's ledger was a knob-headed dagger made of reinforced bronze and ornamented with brass. It was nothing more than a parade weapon, but the alloys still had to be made. Thus, Berner's first meal of that day consisted of unrefined tin and copper ore, with a side dish of charcoal and a few sprinkles of spark power to help with digestion.

Link watched with fascination as Millie made the mixture in a portable iron trough, helped her set it down in front of Berner's snout, and stood pat with a bucket of water while Berner breathed fire onto his meal before gobbling it up. A few sparks ignited the summer-dried weeds between the cobblestones that Millie extinguished, and scratching Berner's chin with her Crimsonine glove she pointed at the rafters of the front roof overhanging the courtyard. ''Reason I painted that roof with black chu-chu jelly to make it fire-proof. Berner's a real fire hazard and I can't afford rebuilding Auru's workshop now that all my money is being locked in our common repository.''

After about three hours of digestion it was time to collect Berner's discharges, which could be found near the back of the cellar as a heap of molten metal and dried crust. Millie gathered them up and stacked them in a large crucible in her forge to remelt. Link asked her why she fed the alloy ingredients to Berner instead of melting them in her crucible in the first place. Millie was delighted at his curiosity and delved into an elaborate explanation of how the Dodongo's gastric fluids – and constant near-perfect melting heat inside his stomach – produced an alloy of the highest quality that was not only thoroughly combined but also stronger due to less impurities.

''That only, though, if Berner actually has no other substances in his belly, otherwise I'd have to subject him to a cleansing fast of two days. We will use this bronze for the dagger and give him the rest of the tin and copper to make reserve ingots. To save time, we will cast those immediately as soon as they come out of him.''

Luckily, the task of waiting in the broiling hot wine cellar with an ingot cast near Berner's rear end fell to Borri's new squire Romu; Link recalled seeing him at the general meeting milking the wine barrel in the corner. Being a young Goron pebble he was not bothered by the heat and sweated more from fear of Berner's spear-shaped teeth. As Link learned after making the pebble's acquaintance, Dodongos and Gorons had for centuries shared the eastern mountain ranges, but their relations had not always been cordial.

''Berner's very well-behaved, thank Din, but I won't press my luck,'' Romu told him while holding a freshly filled, glowing mould with his bare hands to place on a stone table to cool. ''Dodongos often mutate when breeding in highly mineralized caves, and their aggression levels tend to go up along with their height. If it weren't for Mistress Gobinet's training, he'd have turned me into Goron roast by now.''

Once afternoon came along, Millie left her workshop to Rusl so she could train at the barracks. To avoid suspicion from the town guards who, as Link had come to realize, had kept a close eye on the new guild grounds, she descended a shaft next to the smithy's trip hammer that lead to the sewers it was connected to. It was Auru's last resort when it came to travelling unseen across the city, and Millie made good use of it since she clearly had no business venturing to the barracks.

The time Link had with his surrogate father was not as happy as he might have thought. He knew little about forging and was thus left standing by Rusl's side feeling useless. Rusl seemed to enjoy the time much more than Link did and struck up conversations about anything and everything that crossed his mind. He was especially interested in Link's travels before their reunion and absorbed the smallest details Link gave him. It was a difficult balance of half-truths and skirted facts, keeping close to a fictional itinerary born from Link's actual journey across Hyrule.

When the clock tower struck six, the members were allowed some free time. On his first work day, Link missed the opportunity to slip away in time and found himself limping through the city streets after Rusl, who continued their previous discussions all while showing Link some of the unique places Castle Town had to offer. They visited the Town Hall and walked through the wealthy quarters, marvelling at the beauty of the house carvings.

Link learned of a completely new way to store rupees in what Rusl called a bank, which could be found in Castle Town's administration district. In that large stone monument the rupees could be deposited in ceramic pots and locked into vaults – pots were the only other storage medium that rupees enjoyed.

They visited the playhouse and the instrument makers, the confectioneries and animal breeders. There was even a bathhouse at the edge of a plaza that Link felt rather tempted to visit, until Rusl quietly informed him of the bath's open pools and unrestricted policy of attire.

''You'd be surrounded by naked nobles and commoners alike all steeping in the same water basin. And the worst part is that men and women are separate. Heh, that reminds me of my first visit to the bathhouse where I'd tried to sneak into the women's section…''

Smiling, Link let Rusl talk, stifling his desires to get out of the crowd and somewhere more recluse. He reminded himself that he owed this to Rusl, that his surrogate father needed the time with his oldest son to recuperate from weeks spent in misery. And the effect it had on Rusl already began to show after the first day; he stood taller, walked briskly while his hands waved about pinpointing buildings and districts, his freshly shaved cheeks nearly over-stretching with the widest of grins. And each time his green eyes met Link's, they positively glimmered. For that alone Link gladly gave up his free time if it meant Rusl could begin to heal.

But his outward cheerfulness did not reach Link's core no matter how hard he tried. The grand capital of his people had lost it's lustre with all the misery he saw within its corners and crevices. There was squalor, poverty, neglect that spoiled his childhood fascination for the metropolis, made his discoveries bittersweet and dull.

I guess nothing really looks incredible up close, he thought.

To top it all, the castle's golden barrier that towered above the rooftops like a watchful giant ever drew his eyes skyward. And each time he looked at it, he was reminded of his irrefutable involvement in its formation. Somewhere within that titanic prison, Princess Zelda battled to keep Zant's god in check while Link wasted time walking free and unhindered through the very city she could not escape from. And because of his acceptance into the Resistance, he was stuck in place until he could convince Auru to take him into the desert.

Were it not for Midna's vehement insistence that he try to follow the Agency's requirements, he would have saddled Epona and travelled to the desert the very next morning of his talk with Auru. She had called it a strategic alliance with benefits he could not do without – Doctor Lysh's care being the most important one – but it had taken considerable effort on her part to convince him to stay. For what would it look like to the Group if he suddenly up and left without a word's warning? Auru would think he had been betrayed and would track Link down, and that could have repercussions on their efforts to search for the missing children. Even if Link asked for permission to leave, Auru would insist on a good reason for his departure. More lies, more woven tales, and Link was almost certain the cunning leader could detect a liar with only one look. There just was no other option for him but to stay put and go with Auru's demands, and that certainty of being fettered – and made to conform to the Group's many rules and ruses – was maddening.

While Link eventually made his peace with the Agency's demands, the Wolf became more restless by the day. After the second day of work in the forge and another afternoon spent ambling in the city, his canine counterpart squirmed with resentment towards both its own mental shackles, and Link's circumstantial ones.

The closest thing to a compromise Link could offer the Wolf was preparation. And so it was that he began spending his free evening hours outside the city walls in a small forested area getting used to swinging a sword again. It proved much more difficult to get back into it than he expected. His moves had grown sluggish and clumsy, hardly the material Auru would be looking for. The thought of asking Rusl for advice crossed his mind many times, but each opportunity he was presented caused him to hesitate. So far all members treated Link normally, a fact that reinforced his belief that Auru had not revealed their rather peculiar talk on the evening after the meeting. He was sure that, if Rusl heard Link had volunteered for Auru's mission, he would do everything to stop him. Or worse yet, join him. Link could not let that happen.

All he had were the afternoon hours with Rusl wherein he would carefully direct their conversations towards Auru's sword skills in the hopes of gleaning some ideas of how to impress the leader. But after one too many questions, what he had feared became reality; Rusl inevitably grew suspicious.

''You're not planning on doing any fighting in your condition, are you?'' he asked that day, his hammer poised in mid-air. ''Auru promised me he would not take you on any missions until you were fully healed.''

''I am doing much better, Rusl, really.''

''Link, you were stabbed! Even Doctor Lysh was concerned about you pulling through, and he's a retired field surgeon. Please, Link, you must promise me to stay put, and not do anything out of your league. I just got you back, I couldn't bear the thought of something happening to you again.''

Thus Link banished all hopes of getting help from his surrogate father once and for all and did his best with what he could on his own by dodging tree-trunks and scoring their bark with sword strikes. And as the week passed by and the day of his evaluation grew ever nearer, the mediocrity of his rusted sword skills caused his mood to sour and the Wolf to squirm.

Within the cluster of trees by the city gates, his training sessions grew increasingly violent with frustration and despair.

Link managed to redirect Rusl's subtle inquiries about the battle of Kakariko until the day before his scheduled evaluation. He was itching to get out of the hot forge to squeeze in a few more hours of training before going to bed, but it soon became clear to him that his foster father had plans to finally inaugurate his eldest son in the smithing art. After Rusl had closed the hatch over Millie's head and beckoned in Borri to lift the anvil so he could push a larger stump under it, he spent the next hours showing Link how to make a steel grate.

''Sweet Din, Ashei got angry today,'' Rusl chuckled while he stuck a few metal rods into the fire for the third – and last – grate of the day. ''She and Sir Garril had a fallout. Seriously, that boy ought to watch his manners.''

Link's ears perked up as the tower bell in Fountain Square chimed six o'clock. But he suspected Rusl had intoned this conversation on purpose. There was no choice but to play along until Link could find a good moment to slip away without seeming rude.

''If nobody likes him, why is he even here?'' he replied.

''He's Sir Mezer's nephew and very well connected within the army's spy network. Furthermore, he's a performer, a star of the crowd. He can make anybody like him and spill their darkest secrets as long as he keeps entertaining them.''

Link scoffed. ''Didn't work on me.''

''That's because he hasn't seen any use to befriending you yet. I'm curious, what would it take that upper-class pompadour to get on your good side?''

''Less acting and more caring,'' Link grunted. ''He's not on friendly terms with Auru or Millie, and I'm not sure about Shad. If he's also managed to antagonize Ashei, it looks like his support is thinning out.''

''You pegged it. But Auru can't do without him. Garril is his doorway into the nobility, and Nayru knows how much drama they're concocting about the royal family now that that barrier has appeared. Garril's current job is to plant false rumours and intrigue among the wealthy families to direct the mayor's attention elsewhere. As much as he hates it, Auru is dependent on him.''

''And that gives Garril the right to insult the second in command? What did he say to Ashei?''

Rusl scratched the back of his head and checked the rods. ''It wasn't so much words than actions. Garril is a romantic. Pairing that with high skills in fencing and self-esteem to reach the clouds makes for a pretty nerve-racking adversary. While they both held a demonstrative duel Garril made certain… approaches, if you will. Ashei was not impressed. Suffice to say, next to swords there were two strong minds colliding in there. I seriously thought they were going to murder each other.''

At a gesture from Rusl, Link grabbed the lever of the right bellow and began pulling on it while Rusl operated the left one. A powerful stream of air was blown into the forge fire and made it flare white with heat. Soon Link felt sweat drip anew from his temples.

''Auru came to me today and spoke about you," Rusl said, and Link missed a beat in his bellowing rhythm. Nervously he watched Rusl retrieve the glowing rod from the fire and begin pounding on it. His blows, Link noticed, seemed to carry more force than usual.

"What did he say?" he finally asked as Rusl made no attempt to continue the conversation.

"That you will be evaluated tomorrow. You're to show your battle skills to him. Why is that?" He glanced up expectantly, his look hard.

"Because I'm also a swordsman, Rusl, not just… whatever it is I'm doing here."

"You're still hurt. What if the stitching rips again? You were stabbed, for Din's sake."

"Doctor Lysh came in this morning to remove the stitching and said I'm good as new."

"He's a retired army surgeon whose job was to get soldiers fighting again. But you're not–''

Not a soldier? the Wolf growled. Link lifted a brow at his foster father, and Rusl looked as if the Wolf had directly spoken to him.

''You're not ready yet,'' he finished meekly. ''There is no need for you to rush back into battle, why is it so hard for you to stay put?"

Do I have to yell it for him to understand? the Wolf growled within him. Link almost agreed.

"I want to get out there and look for the missing children. This is what I came here for, and it's not like I'm helpless, Rusl. I survived on my own for Nayru knows how many months."

Rusl said nothing while he flattened the tip of the rod. Link watched him work glumly, not the least bit interested in what his father was making. It could have been a filler rod, a hinge, or a fly swat for all he cared. He wanted nothing more than to get out of the forge, find a quiet spot in the woods or the fields to train, out of sight of anyone wishing to talk to him.

''I know you've been avoiding it, Link.''

''Avoiding what?''

''The battle at Kakariko. I've been meaning to talk to you about it–''

Link clenched his teeth and gripped the bellow lever tighter. ''Why?'' he muttered.

Rusl stuck the flattened rod back into the fire. As Link began pumping the bellows again, the smith reached out and placed a firm hand on Link's arm to stop him.

''Because I was told it had been difficult for you. It was a full-on battle, and you found yourself in the middle of it, having to make difficult choices, witnessing bloodshed and traumas. I've been in battles before, Link, at a similar age than you. Maybe I can help you if we talked about it.''

The rational part of Link's mind saw the intention behind Rusl's words; perhaps, even, felt grateful for the given opportunity to wipe the slate clean. Rusl could have presented all kinds of disdain towards Link, and instead he chose to stick to his role as father figure, offering a listening ear, a comforting embrace, maybe some insights of his own experiences that could somehow relate to what Link had lived.

But the Wolf easily saw through that facade of deceitful concern. Did Rusl truly want to help him? Or was he really looking for more material to confirm his former suspicions that his adoptive son was the cause of Colin's injuries? That Link had thrown aside all care for the other captured children just to save his little brother? That something in his mind had snapped which had caused him to mutilate that Moblin king like a savage beast?

Was this the reason he did not want Link to go on a mission?

Had he been in a more composed state of mind, Link's rational logic would have seen the mistake in antagonizing Rusl, would have drowned out the Wolf's belligerent suspicions and pushed them to a far corner where they could do no harm. Now, it seemed much easier – much more satisfying – to counterattack.

What does he want, a confession? Will I snivel at his feet begging for forgiveness, for his permission just so I can do what I believe is right? Is he that preposterous?

As the Wolf's thoughts – his thoughts – coursed through him, he finally saw Rusl for what he truly was – a sanctimonious manipulator. And all Link felt for him then was hatred.

If he truly wants details, I'll give them to him.

''What would you like to talk about then?'' he growled, his hands balled to fists. ''About how I attacked an ally after he threatened to separate me from Colin? How I left four wounded children lying in the grass after I saw none of them were my brother? How I hacked his kidnapper to pieces instead of helping Colin who had a broken arm and a concussion and needed me to be there for him? How I felt so much guilt about what I had done that I nearly drowned myself in a pond in the mountains only to be rescued by the wounded Zora prince I was supposed to help?''

Hearing his own words, and the sharp memories they brought along, made his throat tighten and his eyes sting. Rusl's expression had turned aghast, his look of disbelief briefly driving the hostility from Link's mind to be replaced by piercing shame.

He had to get away, out of these enclosing walls, now more than ever. The Wolf's pushes brought him to the door, but Rusl's hand wrapping around his arm stopped him.

''Please, Link, let me help you.''

''You want to talk about that, Rusl? Because I don't. All I want is to forget it ever happened. Or better yet, I want to make up for it by joining Auru's mission. That is why I am being evaluated tomorrow. Now you know. Are you happy?''

''I was never going to force you to anything–''

''Then let go of my arm and leave me alone!'' Link spat, freeing himself with a sharp pull before emerging in the courtyard. His sword lay by the closed stall, out of sight. He picked it up and swung it over his shoulder, not even bothering to hide it from Rusl. To his relief, his foster father did not follow him down the street, did not even call him back. All Link heard from him before he rounded the corner of a house was a hissed curse.

0

Link retreated early that night, not feeling like sharing the Group's evening meal within the meeting hall like he had done previously. That had been more a push of his own accord to integrate himself and make a good impression, but thankfully it was not mandatory; Ashei and Shad both preferred to eat their meals in their rooms, and Millie only joined the table when she was sure Sir Garril was out in the tavern performing.

''I think I finally know what we're looking for,'' Midna said after having swallowed a mouthful of stew. She eagerly took another spoonful from the second bowl Link had sneaked out of the kitchen earlier. A dusty volume from the College library lay open before her.

Link grunted, picking at his own meal while listening to the laughs and calls drifting through the wall; Garril was laying it on thick out there.

''These records are as old as the first civil war. They tell of a large temple built by Gerudos that the Hylians took over and converted to a high-security prison. It's right here, about fifty miles north of a city called Ashinon. There is almost nothing written about it since it was supposed to be secret and hard to find. And it is, it's in the middle of a canyon range that looks like a maze.''

''And how do you know the Mirror is there?''

''Well, it doesn't quite say it is, but this report speaks of an ancient relic slumbering there, a relic left by the goddesses. The Mirror was created by the goddesses, at least that's what we've been taught in my home world. It has to be there.''

Shrugging, Link pushed his bowl of stew aside and curled up on the bed with his back to her. ''I'll trust your judgement on this.''

A moment passed in silence wherein he listened to Midna's movements on the firm mattress as she flipped the book closed and finished her stew.

''You know what this means, right?'' she said. ''Once we get to the Mirror, we will have to face Zant again.''

''Yes, Midna, I know. I can hardly think of anything else.''

His gruff reply made her pause, and Link practically felt her lingering gaze on the back of his neck.

''You've been awfully snappish tonight. Something happened while I was gone?''

He frowned and bit at his lower lip. ''I'm fine.''

''You want me to start making threats again?''

She sounded only mildly amused. When he didn't reply, her dainty hands grabbed his side and pulled him on his back until he was forced to look at her. The touch startled him; he still hadn't quite gotten used to her material form yet.

''I had a disagreement with Rusl in the forge today, that's all.''

''Let me guess: he was trying to help and you rejected him.''

''Only he wasn't helping, he was just being pushy and demanding.''

She plopped to a seat that made the mattress wobble. ''Link, this has been going on for days. You're constantly in a bad mood, you're distrustful of everyone around you, and whenever someone wants to talk to you, you instantly see them as a threat or an annoyance. You're in a group now, and that means you need to cooperate with people.''

Link sat up with a huff. ''These people do nothing but hold me back. I could be at the Mirror right now if it weren't for this stupid evaluation tomorrow. And as for my supposed battle skills, they won't nearly be enough to impress Auru. I'm a survivor, not a sword dancer. If I've been able to deduce one thing from my talks with Rusl, it's that Auru is a duellist schooled in fencing. That means sabres, rules, stances, flashy twirls. None of which kill bulblins, Midna. They're just meant to look good, and that is not what I've been taught. Bublins don't fight like people–''

''But Zant does,'' she cut in, causing him to pause. ''You've been beaten by a duellist, Link, not a bulblin. Auru can teach you how to fight duellists, if only you'd let him.''

''He doesn't trust me,'' Link grunted.

''Then give him reason to. Show him that you're willing to learn and to conform to his demands. Suck up to him if you have to, but you need to stop being so distrustful. Rusl surely just wanted to help you today, and you blew him off.''

''The Wolf helped me figure out what he was truly after.''

''The Wolf?''

''I'd never have been able to decode that look on his face if it weren't for the Wolf's help.''

''Decode his look? What does that even mean?''

''He was looking for proof that I wanted to harm the other children deliberately only to get to Colin. That I am unstable and untrustworthy.''

''You haven't really given him any proof that you're not.''

Is she implying that it was my wish to do them harm? the Wolf hissed.

Growling, Link turned away from her. ''Why are we even having this conversation, Midna? If I want more abuse from you, I'll ask for it.''

Her jaw slackened with bafflement. ''I am not abusing you, Link. Just like Rusl, I'm trying to help you.''

You're just making it worse!

''You can't help me with this. No one can. I just have to accept the fact that I am alone in this. Without your Fused Shadows you are powerless. You can't fight that evaluation for me, you can't take me through the desert, you can't even help me talk to these people. Clearly you're much better at being diplomatic than me, but no matter what I do, I just feel threatened and closed in by everyone around me. I'm no good at being a group member. I feel like the Wolf is the only one who truly understands how I feel.''

''Because it is you, and that's why it's no good,'' Midna said, her tone quivering with frustration. ''You need to get a hold of it. Don't you see what's happening? You are being controlled by it. That crystal has turned your Wolf part into a manipulative parasite!''

Traitor!

''You have no idea what you're saying! Why can't you just leave me alone?''

Link finally realized he had been shouting at her, and his eyes flew towards the closed door and the candlelight shining in from under it. Midna, too, cast a fearful glance at the front of the room, her thin arms wrapped tightly around her middle. Thankfully there were no footsteps resounding within the corridor outside, but that was no guarantee they had not been heard. Pressing his eyes shut, Link forced himself to calm down.

After a long while Midna broke the silence, her mutter barely reaching over the noise of the tavern. ''Maybe it's best if I sleep elsewhere tonight.''

The pain in her voice made his heart ache, but he couldn't bring himself to care. ''Maybe it is.''

He had barely uttered his reply that her body merged with the darkness of the room. After a short while, the quiet hum of the Master Sword in her care grew silent. With its absence, he felt his loneliness creep up on him like a creature ready to strike. But the Wolf pushed aside his rising unhappiness and drowned it in grim acceptance.

Midna, Rusl, Auru… They can't help me with this. If no one truly understands how I feel, perhaps I am better off on my own.

With a sharp breath he blew out the candle, dipping the room into darkness, and pulled the blanket around himself.

0

The training hall was vast and the ceiling high; behind the upper beams that formed an array of frames, the grey sky was visible past the overreaching roof. Loaded with humidity, the summer air was heavy, suffocating. As the wind outside eventually picked up and sent a warm breeze through the open frames, the occupants of the hall breathed easier.

Link sat at the edge of the sand-covered arena near a closed barrel and a weapon rack, trying to blend with the background. He had Rusl's royal commission within his baldric by his side, half-hidden between his body and the stone wall. His eyes occasionally scanned his shadow for traces of his imp companion, but she remained absent.

Sir Nahamani had not arrived yet, so he was left with watching the curious spectacle that Ashei and Shad were putting up near the hall's back wall. Peet and Borri were busy pushing crates and sacks around, presumably building some sort of obstacle course. But the orphan was much more interested in Shad's visible distress as Ashei made him hack away at a pivoting training dummy with a wooden dagger, her face stuck in a permanent grimace of internal conflict.

"No, Shad, when you strike with the right hand, put your right foot forward, not the left one. And watch out for the–"

"Hungh!" Shad howled as the spinning dummy's right arm struck him in the cheek. Behind them, Peet burst into braying laughter.

Run! Run! Run away!

Grunting quietly, Link drove the Wolf back into its pen. It was becoming hard to endure its ceaseless pushes.

"Don't mock the bookman, little Peet," Borri chastised mildly, his reasoning tone having no effect whatsoever.

"Did you see how it hit him? Square in the face!"

"I'll hit you square in the face if you don't watch it!" Ashei thundered back. "Have you brought in the straw target from the courtyard yet?''

Peet relapsed to silence and shuffled his feet. ''No, Captain.''

''That's what I thought. What are you waiting for? Sir Nahamani will be here any minute.''

Peet scampered off, but he slowed down as he caught sight of Link. With a wide move he pretended to slap his own face then collapsed to his knees to pick up imaginative glasses, grimacing theatrically all the while. Link smiled weakly, hoping the child would not see his inner struggle.

A low humming began to radiate from his shadow, startling him like a flush of cold water. He leaned forward to place his palm on the sandy ground behind his foot; after a few seconds, Midna's black hand reached out of his shadow and gave his fingers a light squeeze.

He gave a quiet sigh of relief; he had fully expected her to abandon him and leave him to face his public shaming alone. Now that she was there – and the Master Sword secure within her hold – he breathed a little easier. Something about that gentle hum emanating from the sword calmed and composed him enough so he could more easily ignore the Wolf's incessant squirming.

''Thank you for coming,'' he whispered.

''Had to keep up old habits, didn't I?'' she whispered back. ''I'll never miss an opportunity to prove you wrong.''

''How so?''

''That you're not alone.''

She still can't help me. She's nothing but a burden.

Gently squeezing her fingers, Link ignored the Wolf's grumbling. ''I'm glad you're here. And I'm sorry about last night.''

''Let's talk about that when you've won Auru over, shall we? You need to focus,'' she answered.

''I don't think focus is going to be enough,'' he mumbled, looking up as voices began to rise from the hall's small entrance door.

He straightened to see the group leader walk in accompanied by Sir Garril, Sir Mezer, and Rusl. Behind them, Peet hopped in carrying a circular straw target, the middle painted with a prominent red dot. The boy visibly struggled with the weight until Borri came to his aid. They set up the target near the back wall.

Link stood up clutching the sword, feeling a hollow pit forming in his stomach; he had not expected half the Resistance to come, and a brief glance at his foster father showed he was not pleased.

''Rusl, I gave your boy my word he would get a chance to show what he can do,'' Auru said upon entering. ''And the doctor confirmed his well-being yesterday.''

''That doesn't mean he is fit for sword fighting, Auru. And a mission into the desert so shortly after recovery?''

''We'll see about that,'' Sir Garril cut in coolly, his dark brown eyes scrutinizing Link.

''Why don't we all just settle down and let him decide, hm?'' Auru said, stepping in the men's way. ''Feeling ready for some sparring, Link?''

Swallowing hard, Link nodded.

"Very well then. Sir Garril will be your opponent today. He will put you into different combat situations, and you will have to fight as if for your life. Each strike must be tempered in force to prevent injury, but if I see either of you potentially endangering the other, I will put an end to it."

Link looked at the young man before him, feeling something inside him wither. Garril stood tall and confident with a calm, content smile on his face. He had his slender rapier upright like a cane before him, its surface polished but clearly used.

Compared to that filigree sabre, Link's onehander seemed like clunky hardwood branch.

To his relief, they were both asked to take up a weapon from the rack set up near the wall where Link had sought solitude. There were many types of weapons to choose, from thin practice sabres and florets to wooden onehanders, twohanders, daggers, and halberts. Link took a onehander that felt similar in weight and balance to Rusl's sword. Garril retrieved a wooden sabre and dagger which he calmly strapped to his waist. All the while, that faint smirk danced around the noble's lips. Link did not quite know what to make of it.

''Borri and Peet have set up a couple obstacles,'' Auru continued. ''They're there to simulate combat in obstructed places and also to see how you do in tight surroundings. If you have no more questions, you may begin at your leisure.''

With this, Auru stepped back and joined the other members at the sandpit's edge.

''Shall we?'' Sir Garril asked.

Link nodded grimly, holding his sword at the ready. Garril's eyes flickered in amusement at Link's stance, his smile widening. At once he surged forward, holding his sabre low.

Link deflected the blows with difficulty, and before he could even begin to plan a counter-attack, Garril's edge lightly struck his side.

''First point for Sir Garril,'' Ashei announced.

''Come on, Link, you can do this!'' Rusl called.

''Kick his butt, pal!'' Peet squealed before being silenced by Auru.

Garril sneered and took a provocative step forward. ''Got yourself a little fan club,'' he said. Link felt a low growl rumble in his throat.

He glanced around quickly to assess his surroundings when Garril suddenly charged him again. Link parried and moved backwards, bumping against a crate and almost losing his footing. Garril tutted with a wag of his finger.

''Never lower your guard, Link, don't you know that?''

Anger welled up from within the Wolf's compound, briefly dousing Link in blind rage he barely managed to keep in check.

''That's enough chatter from you, Sir Garril!'' Auru called angrily, but Garril' grin only widened.

Grunting, Link pushed off of the crate and launched a counter, feigning at Garril's left temple then swinging right. The blow almost hit home, and Garril took a step back with his brows lifted in surprise.

''Now we're talking,'' he chuckled before charging once again.

Strike, parry, strike again. Garril seemed to falter, losing ground as Link pelted him with blows. His onehander flew high to soar down at Garril's head, and Link remembered just in time to reduce force.

Garril lifted his arms to parry Link's downward slash, and Link's blood suddenly grew cold; his body remembered this stance. The dagger had moved up with the sabre, Link's wooden blade now caught in the cross. As if in slow motion he watched Garril's main weapon slip out of the lock, and found himself frozen in place. The moment the sabre point struck the delicate new skin of the stab wound, Link knew he had failed once again. With a gasp he staggered backwards, the onehander clenched tightly in his hand while he instinctively pressed the other to his lower side.

''Well well, isn't that interesting?'' Garril said calmly, turning towards his audience. ''Sir Nahamani, you might want to take note of this.''

From the corner of his eye, Link saw how Rusl lurched in his direction. No! Don't make it worse! To his relief, Auru stretched out a hand and held the smith back.

''Take note of what, Sir Garril?'' he then asked, his tone exasperated.

''That we know now how Link's battle injury truly came to be. In other words, that he is a liar. He was never in a bulblin ambush, but in a duel just as Doctor Lysh deduced. And most duellists are nobles like I am. He could not parry this blow because he has never learned how, because he is a commoner. I believe Link owes us an explanation and a confession as to whom he fought and lost to. Did he make an enemy of one of the nobles? If that is the case, the whole Agency could be at risk.''

Panting, Link felt his muscles burn; from within his bones, a powerful pressure began to make his limbs quake. The Wolf howled and squirmed angrily, fuelling Link with strength.

I was beaten by a god's puppet, it growled. I will not be beaten by a speck of dirt like him.

''That's absurd!'' Rusl called back. ''What does it matter how he got his wound? This is supposed to be an evaluation, not a court martial. And that strike was out of line.''

''I agree,'' Auru grunted. ''Sir Garril, you made your point, now would you please do your job as evaluator?''

Too many people watching! Can't trust them! Run! Run away!

The pressure grew so strong that Link's legs shook. Cold sweat broke out on his brow, the Wolf's flight instinct like a spring in his legs readying itself to fling him into the air. He leaned heavily with his hands on his thighs, hoping his struggle with the Wolf did not show.

You know how to do this.

He paused, caught off-guard. That had not been the Wolf's voice.

The light coming from the walls seemed to brighten and fill the entire hall until the sand appeared almost yellow. Colours contrasted, the air clarified like water brought to a standstill until he could see each speck of dust adrift around him. The sounds of the muttering onlookers and the arguing adults dimmed to almost perfect silence.

You've done this before. All you need to do is remember. It was the voice of the skeleton from the woods that echoed in his ears. Its tone blended seamlessly with the Master Sword's humming, feeding him strength.

He could feel his pulse within his fingers vibrate through the blunt training blade until the very tip shook in time with his heartbeat. It became a part of him, as if he had been born with it attached to his hand. He knew how to swing it to make it strike, disarm, kill.

Find your counterpart's strength. Tap into its might. Use it instead of fighting it. You have done it all before.

Link reached a mental hand into the Wolf's compound, felt its raw power suffuse his skin until it tingled.

''I have given Link a chance to show his skill in battle, and he deserves an honest evaluation,'' Auru continued in the background.

Fight for your life!

Sir Garril only scoffed and leaned on his wooden sabre. ''He is a commoner with barely any training. What skill are you referring to?''

That skill, the Wolf growled, and Link charged forward. Garril spun around in fright and parried Link's blow just in time. Link paused, taking a step backwards, the sword held provocatively low. ''Never lower your guard, Sir,'' he said, his eyes glinting. At once, Garril gave a roar and charged forward.

Something within Link's mind told him exactly what moves his opponent would perform. Blade twirling he danced around Garril, sidestepping the latter's slashes with ridiculous ease. A strange springiness in his legs made jumping suddenly incredibly easy. He evaded Garril's downward strikes with bounces to the right or left, and a horizontal slice instinctively made him jump backwards so high he somersaulted once and landed securely on his feet a distance away.

''Link, what the–'' Rusl called. ''Stop it, both of you!''

''No, wait!'' Auru said, grabbing the blacksmith by the arm.

Remember our lost art, Link. You knew it once, centuries ago. Let your body recall what your mind forgot.

Link was as if in a trance. Strikes and parries he had never once performed met Garril's blade at every turn accompanied by rapid, nimble steps in all the right directions. And all the while, the voice of the armoured skeleton drove him onwards, sparked memories of more powerful, more daring moves.

End your downed enemies' breath before they jump back into action.

He drove Garril backwards until the latter stumbled over a potato sack and landed on his buttocks. Grunting, Link leaped onto a crate before jumping towards his opponent with his sword held firmly in both hands. The tip of the training weapon buried itself in the sand between Garril's chest and upper arm and swirled up a cloud of dust upon impact. When Garril recovered from the fright, Link had already moved out of the way.

''One point for Link,'' Ashei called, her voice high with surprise.

Many armoured enemies often leave their rear unprotected, the skeleton whispered into Link's ear.

Garril appeared from the cloud of dust and stood at the ready, his face contorted into a furious grin. As he stepped forward for an attack, Link let himself fall to the ground and rolled around his opponent, coming up behind him. With a quick thrust he nicked Garril in the back.

''Two points for Link!''

Stepping backwards, Link swung the sword over his back as if to sheathe it. Garril cocked his head at the move, still in a daze from Link's last attack, and made a swing at Link's now fully unprotected head.

Use deceit to your advantage. The mortal draw deals death. There is no defence for it.

Pirouetting like a dancer, Link slung the sword back over his shoulder, sidestepping the downward blow while the flat side of his blade smashed against Garril's upper arm with a loud twack.

''What in the name of Din…?'' came Ashei's mutter from the back.

His face red with unchecked fury, Garril came charging at Link with a roar. Link weaved through the crates towards the weapon rack, keeping himself just short of Garril's blade.

''Stop it, that's enough!'' Rusl called from behind, but neither fighters took notice of him as they crashed through the throng of onlookers and made them scatter.

Link rounded the weapon rack and snatched up the lid of the barrel that stood by the edge. Holding it before him like a shield he whirled around just as Garril came soaring past the rack, and drove the pot lid right into Garril's chest. The noble staggered backwards with his eyes as wide as dinner plates, a look of pure rage twisting his pristine featured. With a roar he threw himself forward only to be driven back by another thrust into the middle.

Leap over the enemy's head and greet them with your blade striking from behind.

Link kicked off of the raised rack base and flipped head over heel right over Garril's head, knocking his sword against the sabre in one fluid motion that was further powered by his spin. The sabre was knocked out of Garril's hand, and as Link landed behind him he extended his arm until his wooden blade touched Garril's neck. His eyes reflected the Wolf's proud contentment.

You're dead.

Garril was beyond rage. With a savage scream be turned around and stormed towards Link with his hands formed to claws.

''Enough!'' Auru suddenly roared from behind them, and a moment later the leader's steel sabre came down like a flashing barrier between them. The intrusion knocked Link out of his daze and caused the Wolf to instinctively pounce for an attack. With a gasp he staggered backwards, the blade tumbling from his hand. Through the red veil of the Wolf's rage he could barely see Auru and the young noble facing each other.

''But Sir!'' Garril yelled. ''He attacked–''

''I've just about had it!'' Auru interrupted. His eyes practically glowed with rage. ''This is the last time anyone under my watch acts out and gets away with it. Our Group must stand as one, and petty feuds between the members only distract from the real problem. You're dismissed, all of you! Go by your business! Not you, Link, wait for me by the exit. And you, Master Garril, you and I are going to have a little chat with your uncle about the usefulness of your presence in this group.''

It took Link a moment to realize where he was, and even longer to piece together what had happened. He stared at the pot lid still clasped in his hand, then at the sword rooted to his palm. Only with difficulty could he pry it out, and a sudden slam from the Wolf knocked him towards the door with another gasp.

''Link, are you okay?'' Rusl was upon him in a heartbeat, clutching his shoulder painfully. ''He hit your wound, is it bleeding?''

No, get away from me!

Dropping the lid, Link staggered out of the smith's grip and stumbled towards the door. He was faintly aware of the other members watching him from afar, their eyes alight with surprise, curiosity, bewilderment, and even shock.

I have to flee, get out! The Wolf screamed.

Something within Link's joints cracked, and he drew in a sharp breath of pain.

No, not now! Please! he thought desperately.

''Link!'' Rusl called, but Link did not hear him. Out the door he ran until he was in the courtyard, gasping for breath, feeling his bones creak and bend under the Wolf's desperate pushes.

Let me out! Got to flee! Let me out!

''Midna! T-the crystal, quick!'' he panted, backing away just in time to hide behind a stack of crates as a guard passed by.

When he collapsed to his hands and knees, he felt Midna's fingers reach out of his shadow. ''Are you out of your mind?! You can't transform here! People will see you!''

At once he grabbed her hands and squeezed so hard she cried out. ''Give it to me, please! I can't–''

Pain exploded from within his spine, travelling like a lit fuse from the pelvis to his jaw; he could almost feel his canines corkscrew out of their sockets as they grew and expanded. Only with great effort could he hold back a scream of agony.

Midna's body popped up before him, her hands still firmly connected to his own. At once she pulled him with her along the building's wall towards a closed tool shed a few yards away; he only registered their surroundings when she kicked the door open and ushered him inside.

''Please be careful,'' she whimpered, the crystal held firmly in her hand. ''Get out of the city as fast as you can.''

Link barely heard her; the crystal found its mark beneath his collarbone, burying itself within his flesh before he had even made up his mind. A rush of smoke enclosed him and made the tools on the wall clang and scatter. Out of the door sprang the Wolf, its teeth bared in savage ecstasy as it clambered up the stack of crates and landed on the training hall roof. Calls erupted from below, arrows were fired that the predator evaded with unnatural speed.

When Auru and his Group members emerged from the hall, all they saw was a grey shadow fleeing over the thousand rooftops of Castle Town.

0

''… and with a heavy heart I offer my most sincere condolences…'' No, he's only ten years old. ''As a friend I offer my help, my support, and my advice.'' No, not advice. ''My wisdom.'' Goddesses, give a Zora wisdom? Have you met your match, Auru? Are you lost for words?

Leaning back on his armchair, Auru Nahamani brought his hands to his mouth as if to pray, inspecting the sheet of oiled parchment before him. The lamp on the desk wagged a playful finger at him as he let out a long exhale. Outside his office door, the tavern walls creaked gently in the strong gusts of wind that pelted the city from the southern fields. It was long past his bedtime, but he had not found it within himself to rest just yet.

''I was this afternoon,'' he mumbled at the flame. ''Lost for words.''

He had been aware of Sir Garril's profound tactlessness and perhaps the farther reaches of his immaturity, but the lengths to which the nobleman had gone to lay bare young Link's deceit had shocked Auru. It had been high time to put him in his place, and Sir Garril would now be looking forward to running errands and gathering intelligence with Batreaux in Eldin.

But what had rendered him completely speechless was the way Link had retaliated; perhaps not the most diplomatic response to being called a liar and a potential danger to the Group's integrity, but clearly the most spectacular.

During the week, Rusl's adopted son had seemed as if he did not feel quite comfortable in his new position; he had seemed restless, his politeness forced and his helpfulness insincere. After his request to be a part of the desert mission, Auru had become wary of Link's quiet, reserved but determined nature. Lack of respect was a behaviour he reacted strongly towards, and in hindsight he could have handled Link's minor act of insolence with a little more understanding; the boy was sixteen and had been roaming the wild for months looking for his kidnapped friends.

But their paths had rarely crossed during the rest of the week, giving Auru little opportunity to break the ice.

What had happened that afternoon, however, had exceeded all his expectations. In his many years as a swordsman he has rarely seen anyone move with that kind of nimbleness. With his mouth agape he had stood between Rusl and Ashei, following the near inhuman jumps and evasions that Link performed with bated breath. The forms themselves could not be associated with any fencing stances he knew; they were too brusque and crude for that. But seeing Link with his wooden onehander outsmart a well-trained fencer at each turn, landing blows too unpredictable and too precise to dodge, and all the while carrying with him the surety and grace only a veteran in combat would display, had put Auru in the rare position of being completely and utterly stunned. It had taken every ounce of discipline he possessed to step in as Sir Garril decided to get physical, though he doubted it had been necessary; with that kind of skill, Link would have made firewood out of the young nobleman before the latter's fists ever hit home.

But as surprisingly skilled as Link was, Auru had seen the look in his eyes – the subdued, slanted posture of a criminal being convicted – as the leader had put an end to the fighting. The look of a boy, not a veteran.

''He thought I was going to punish him,'' he muttered, rubbing a hand over his chin. ''And he was terrified of it.''

There was much about that young Hylian he did not know yet. Part of him wondered if he wanted to; who knew what atrocities Link had lived on his journey through overrun Hyrule? He had become a victim of the complicated circumstances just like many other youths of the kingdom, a victim who had decided long ago to take up arms and fight for his own survival and that of others.

Frowning, Auru looked at the door. Nobody knew where Link had gone to after practically fleeing from the training hall that afternoon. Rusl was beside himself with worry, but even after a haphazard search through the city the smith had returned to the tavern alone. Auru was certain Link would turn up eventually, and he knew that, once the lad returned, he would have to put aside his initial irritation about the youth's insubordination and make an effort to listen. Under normal circumstances Link would have been subjected to an unpleasant reprimand and kitchen-duty for the next week. Auru had a feeling that treatment would have the opposite effect desired.

What he saw in Link was a young man in need of guidance, of trust, both of which he had been somehow unable to receive from his own father. Only Link would know why; Auru was sure his former apprentice had done his very best to be supportive.

He was distracted by a shadow passing across the closed door, heading for the chambers. The nightly straggler moved so quietly that Auru would not have noticed them had he not been looking directly at his door, lost in thoughts. First he was perplexed to find another soul awake at this ungodly hour, but then his mind made the connection; perhaps it was Link returning?

Quickly he tiptoed around his desk and opened the door a crack. The hallway was silent but for the soft whispering of the oil lamps on the walls. Link's private room was just within his line of sight, but he did not see or hear the door move. If it had been Link, he would surely have caught him sneaking back into his room in time.

He dismissed it as none of his business; surely just one of the older members forced from their sleep to answer a call of nature and returning to bed down the second hallway. He went back to his cushioned seat and directed his attention to the parchment in front of him. Condolence letters were never easy to write, especially when the bereaved was the ten-year-old prince of the Zoras who had lost his mother and was now faced with the fate of his entire people as its sole, much too young ruler.

A moment went by when he perceived an unexpected sound that made his Hylian ears perk up. He sat still, listening, until the chink of glass sounded again through the wall of his office.

Someone was going through the bottle stack in the infirmary.

Grunting, he parked his quill in the half-empty ink pot before shuffling back towards the door. A glance at his wine barrel in the corner made him consider the benefits of a quick midnight drink to rouse him for the task, but he shook off the allure and decided to just get it over with. Whoever had broken into the infirmary either needed something for stomach cramps or had come to the conclusion that ethanol was just a stronger form of alcohol and likely to give the drinker a nice boost of silliness. If they had come from the courtyard or the tavern, he was already suspecting one of the girls, as angelic as they both were. Peet was too young, Link was more responsible than that – the lad had politely refused anything stronger than Telma's apple cider no matter how hard the barmaid tried to man him up – Romu had no use for alcohol with his rock liver, and Garril had all the strong liquor he could possibly wish for in his homestead by the castle.

The door was open a crack, and from inside he could hear the stretcher creaking. One of the oil lamps was lit and poured its weak light out of the separated surgery room. When he peeked through the door, he felt a cold shiver run down his spine.

It was Link, holding the bottle of ethanol in a trembling hand that he tried to steady as he poured some of the disinfectant onto a worn cloth. He looked dishevelled, his sand coloured hair frizzled and dirty. The bandage around his bare chest hung in strips of torn gauze around his lower torso, still knotted and useless, while the freshly scarred stab wound stood out as a pink dot on his fair skin. Auru could see a thin trickle of red ooze from it.

''Link?'' he called and startled the youth so much that the bottle fell from his hand and shattered on the stone tiles. The noise drove them both into complete silence.

With widened eyes Link stared at Auru, whose gaze fell again upon the wound while his tired mind registered the meaning of the blood trickle.

''What are you…? Are you okay? Wait, did Garril do that?!'' he called, his voice hitching with anger.

''No, Sir! It… it was me, I swear!'' Link stammered, the cloth falling from his fingers as he stretched out both hands. ''I'm sorry, I was clumsy and I tripped and tore the bandage. I was just trying to stop the bleeding. Forgive me, Sir, I… I should have asked for permission–''

''Nonsense,'' Auru grunted and took a step into the room. ''Have I truly given you the impression that you need my permission to treat your own wounds in our infirmary? That's what it's there for, after all.''

He looked at the few tools the boy had gathered for his treatment – a straight stitching needle and some old rags among them. He sighed and gave the youth a warm smile instead, picking up a clean cloth from a nearby shelf while sidestepping the shattered bottle.

''Here, let me. It looks like it's just a small tear in the scar tissue, nothing harmful. We might not even have to stitch anything.''

He motioned for Link to lie down on the stretcher, and was pleased to see the youth gladly comply.

''I'm sorry about the bottle, Sir,'' Link murmured.

''Don't worry about it. And stop apologizing.''

''But it's my fault it broke. Rusl told me glass is expensive.''

''I'm sure our funds will survive the acquisition of a new one.''

Auru noticed the look of deep embarrassment on Link's face as he dabbed away the blood and dirt that had collected in the wound. ''What's wrong?'' he asked.

''Well, I'm very grateful for your help, Sir, but I could have done this myself.''

At the youth's reply, Auru couldn't help a chuckle. ''You might not have made your peace with it just yet, Link, but you're in a group now,'' he said kindly. ''And that means you no longer have to do everything by yourself. We take care of one another around here. Sure, there are ranks and rules and procedures we all have to follow, but they are not there to inhibit our freedom, but to ensure our safety. You'll get used to it, I promise.''

Recalling the incident at the training hall, he shifted on his seat and cleared his throat. ''As for Garril's behaviour today, I was neither aware of his intentions nor would I have agreed to them, and he has been adequately punished for his insolence. As a matter of fact, I was rather glad for the opportunity to take him down a notch or two. He was getting full of himself, and I tired of it.''

''But he was right,'' Link murmured. ''I didn't get this wound in a bulblin ambush.''

''Of course you didn't, I knew that the moment I saw it. The wound looked too familiar to be anything else.''

Link's eyes locked with Auru's in surprise. ''But… Then you knew I lied to you, Sir.''

Auru's lips pursed with a frown. ''Yes, I did. And I would ask you to refrain from lying in the future. As I've already told you, this group is built on trust, on truthful information. It cannot function if there is no trust in one another's statements. And Garril did have a point when he said your involvement with one of the noble families from Castle Town could jeopardise our group's effectiveness; we would have to hide you to prevent someone from recognizing you and becoming interested in your whereabouts. However, what Garril doesn't know is that I have eyes and ears among the nobility just as much as he does, and so far I haven't heard of a duel between two Hylians that involved stabbing, neither in Castle Town nor in any of the other major cities in Lanayru. And believe me, these people can't help but brag about anything that involves a blade. So either you were in a duel but not with a nobleman from around here, or we were all deceived by a bulblin with a thin knife and lots of bad luck on your part. And either possibility was unimportant enough for me to dismiss it. That leaves nothing but my own curiosity: who was it that really gave you that wound?''

Cocking his head, Auru watched Link's face turn pale.

''I… I can't tell you, Sir. I'm sorry.''

''Why can't you tell me?''

''Because I am very ashamed of it.''

''Is it a noble we would know? Someone who could, as Garril put it, endanger the Agency if they recognized you?''

''No, Sir. It wasn't even a noble. You wouldn't know them even if I told you.''

If anything, it only intensified Auru's burning curiosity, but he could see the confession pained Link. With a sigh he decided to give in. ''Very well. How about we put it all behind us and make sure you heal properly? After all, the desert is a dangerous place, and you need to be at your best if you want to cross it unscathed.''

Link's ears perked up at that. ''The desert? You're taking me with you? But what about Sir Garril?''

''You… beat Garril,'' Auru chuckled, enunciating each word with a nod of his head while he looked intently into Link's wide eyes. ''You were the better swordsman. The way you carried yourself today, the figures and stances you performed… I had no idea you were this skilled with the blade. Where did you learn to fight like this? Did Rusl…?''

But that was ridiculous. As much as Auru adored his former apprentice, Rusl was a craftsman at heart and a swordsman by necessity. He would not even dream of performing half the stances Link had showcased that afternoon. They had sparked just as much surprise in Rusl as they had in everyone else present.

Link's answer, however, confused him more than Rusl's possible involvement would have. ''I… learned it in the wild, Sir. I had to fend for my life during my time on the road, and I began using my surroundings to gain the upper hand, as I did with the crates and the tool rack earlier today.''

''And this incredible nimbleness couldn't stop you from getting stabbed by a pair of daredevil bulblins?''

Link remained silent at that, and Auru saw his jaw tighten. He sensed another lie somewhere in the youth's words, and the frustration of once more being deceived gnawed at his patience. Why couldn't the young lad just stick to the truth? What made him weave this net of lies that ensnared him more than it freed him? Auru did not believe it to be shame or guilt – if Link was this skilled with a sword, he'd be more liable to brag rather than see it as an embarrassment. But no matter how hard he tried, he could not see past that enclosed, reluctant young face before him.

''Well, you've been holding out on me,'' he said, swallowing his irritation. It was much too late for more interrogations; he needed a cup of wine and his bed. ''And I can't wait to see what you can do once you're fully healed. We'll depart two days from now to give you some more time to recover.''

Link jerked at that. ''Are you delaying it for my sake?''

''No, of course not,'' Auru lied; two could play at that game. ''I'm waiting for my shipment of black powder from Kakariko. As much as I appreciate what Gorons do with bomb flowers, Barnes' formula has so far yielded the best results with my pyrotechnics. I can't do without it. You having more time to heal is just a happy by-product.''

He tucked the bandage tight around Link's waist and secured it with a safety pin. ''I'd suggest you return to your room before I start probing you on why you left so urgently when I had specifically told you to wait and what you did to make your bandage look like it's been chewed on by a wild animal. I can only hope it was not on purpose.''

His piercing look made Link wither before him. ''No, Sir, I swear. I left the training hall because I thought I had once again angered you with my lack of respect, and I needed solitude and time to think about it. The bandage got shredded because… I tripped on a root–''

''No lies, Link. I mean it. If you can't be truthful, I'd rather know you're withholding information by choice than be served a made-up story.''

A moment of indecision made Link pause and reconsider. ''I really wish I could tell you, Sir, but… It's complicated.''

Auru leaned forward, his countenance softening with concern. ''You have nothing to fear here, Link, I hope you know that. If your lack of respect towards me triggered this panic within you, then I sincerely apologize for having been the cause of it.''

He turned to reach for Link's shirt which the lad had discarded on a table nearby. ''I don't know what you lived prior to coming here, but I can't imagine it was all too pleasant,'' he said, helping Link into it. ''I just want you to know that, if there is anything you wish to talk about, I will listen to you and offer you advice, if I can.''

He locked eyes with the young Hylian, and noticed a wet shimmer within them that made his heart melt. ''And forgive me for my anger on your first day. It was unfunded and preposterous on my part, and I should have known better than to take your forwardness as an insult. I reckon my behaviour did not really help in building up trust in me. I wish to change that in the future. Do you accept my apology?''

''I do, Sir,'' Link breathed, a faint smile tugging at his lips. ''Thank you.''

''No worries. Do you need help standing up?''

''I can manage.''

Auru frowned as the youth slid from the stretcher and winced when his feet made contact with the floor. His hands, too, were raw and red with blisters, a detail the older Hylian had not properly registered during the treatment. He passed a hand over his face and gave a quiet sigh; this was getting more peculiar by the minute.

''What happened to your hands?''

Link paused, looking at the puffy blisters. ''As I said, Sir, it's complicated. But you don't have to worry about it, I have it under control. This won't prevent me from doing my best on the mission.''

''Have what under control?'' Auru started, relapsing to silence as he saw the weary look on Link's face. He knew he couldn't let it drop that easily, but he doubted he would get any more confessions out of Link tonight; the lad looked ready to pass out.

''Never mind then. I won't be in tomorrow until later in the afternoon, but I'll leave a message for Millie to inform her I gave you the day off. You should use that time to treat those blisters too. They can easily get infected.''

Link nodded mutely and turned to leave, his gait more a shuffle than a walk.

''Ah, and Link?'' Auru called, remembering another conversation he had held that day. ''Be nice to your father. He loves you very much.''

Link looked back into the leader's eyes and seemed to discern the reprimand within them, for his ears drew back ever so slightly. The nod he gave him was subdued, but Auru saw a faint trace of defiance within the youth's gaze, a countenance he remembered from their first face-to-face in his office.

Now there is a young man I'll have trouble figuring out. It almost feels like there are two personalities within him.

Auru Nahamani got the feeling that his work with Link would be quite the experience.

000

Author's note: merry Christmas everyone, and hopefully 2021 will be better than 2020. To wrap up this turbulent year, I have a turbulent chapter full of emotions and conflict. Not too much happens story-wise, but I had some issues I wanted to get out of the way to prepare for Link's and Auru's trip into the desert. So far it's been really fun working with the Resistance Group, and Auru remains one of my favourite POVs to write in. I can't wait to get to the Arbiter's Grounds and the Arbiter himself, who is perhaps my most beloved boss in the entirety of TP. Prepare for lots of lore and background history.

If everything goes right, I'll see you all next year! Stay healthy, stay safe!

DR