Valdr wished he had a pair of boots. He had considered taking away the pair that the shadow beast he had killed was wearing, but the soles had burst apart when the soldier had been transformed and they were all but useless. Even so, having ruined boots would have been better than nothing at all, he thought as he trudged barefoot through several inches of foul-smelling and stagnant water that sat in the basin of the waterway. His companion sat comfortably on his shoulder, watching as he picked his way through the mounds of refuse.

The waterways were old, resting beneath the deepest foundations of the castle proper and spiderwebbing out beneath all of Castle Town, at least if his impish friend was to be believed. She had said that somewhere around here was a pipe that would connect back to the Lanayru River. They could use that to make their way back to the surface and escape the city. The issue now was just finding his way through this place.

Something soft squashed beneath his bare foot and Valdr wished again that he had a set of boots to wear.

"We have to be getting close," the imp assured him, "there's only so many places it could be, right?"

"You can float," Valdr pointed out, "Would it not be faster for you to search for this pipeline?"

She scoffed, "Which of us is the servant and which is the mistress, Oaf?"

Valdr frowned but decided against arguing the point. His hatchet remained in his hand, just in case another shadow beast or something worse came upon them down here. It was darker than pitch down here, with nothing to illuminate the way, and Valdr was certain that if he had ventured down here without the foresight to take one of the torches from its sconce on the wall that he would never have found his way out.

The imp, Valdr still hadn't asked for her name, had disdained his decision to bring a torch, remarking that she could have simply used magic to illuminate the passage around them, but she had proven herself to be an unreliable resource by now. Dry disdain or amusement seemed to be the only way that she reacted to anything that he did, and while they had only been acquainted a few hours ago by now, Valdr was already getting used to her peculiar ideas about camaraderie. She rarely motioned to assist him in anything save if it benefited her as well, and even then, only if the contribution he asked of her was minimal. Valdr was no expert on the subject of magic; priests and shamans in his homeland had practiced their own variation of it, but those rituals had never yielded tangible results like these, being more a test of faith than anything else. That said, while his knowledge was limited, Valdr wasn't certain if magic was a tangible resource that could run dry, much as his companion seemed to act like it was. He had given her the benefit of the doubt for the time being, but if she had deigned to assist him they might have found the right passage some time ago and been out of here by now. For all her insistence that time was of the essence, she seemed suspiciously nonchalant about the prospect of being stuck down in these tunnels.

Valdr tripped over something hidden beneath the murky water and nearly lost his footing, clumsily splashing about as he stumbled. The torch dipped, its smoldering head nearly dousing itself in the gunk around his ankles, but Valdr was able to regain his footing before things could get any worse.

"Very graceful," his companion mocked as she hovered just above him. "Catlike, really. Would it kill you to exercise a little caution, we don't actually know if we're alone down here."

Valdr didn't bother to point out that she was making no effort to lower her voice, instead nursing his throbbing toes and cursing himself for ever making the journey to Hyrule in the first place. The flame of the torch wavered, and he knew that it would only be a few minutes more before it finally just burned out.

"If anything comes after us, I'll kill it," he finally replied to the imp, brandishing the hatchet.

"Oh you silly little light dweller, that is just adorable. You're really proud of yourself about killing that shadow beast, aren't you?" she doubled over laughing, her little belly shaking with mirth. Valdr's frown deepened, and he watched in silence as she took a few seconds to compose herself.

"Sorry to break the news to you, but the thing you killed was a lesser shadow beast, not one of the ones who slaughtered Hyrule's soldiers and led the attack. If we encountered one of those down here it would be sorting your innards into little organized piles before you could get a swing off with that meagre weapon!"

"If it did you would be without a servant," Valdr reminded her, "and besides which why would your enemies feel the need to send anyone or anything this far below the castle?"

"Well for one thing someone is bound to notice that the beast you killed never reported back to whoever sent it down into the dungeons. To my knowledge Zant is no longer in the castle, but his sorcerers are, and any one of them could invert your orifices with about as much effort as scratching their nose."

"Hm," Valdr had given up on conversing with her, it was an exercise in futility, and had gone back to searching for their path while the imp yammered on.

"No way would one of Zant's sorcerers waste his time on a small fry like you, they'd probably send a greater shadow beast to get rid of you, and bring back to them whatever's left. You want to know what a greater shadow beast is like?"

"I do not," Valdr told her, "But I am certain you plan to tell me anyways."

"Shadow beasts grow stronger and smarter with age and experience. The one you slew was still in its infancy, only just transformed a few hours ago, you essentially managed to kill a very large and angry baby, so don't get too proud of yourself. That little sliding trick you pulled off wouldn't work on a greater shadow beast."

"What would?" Valdr thought he heard the rushing of water down one of the passages, and struck out down it as the torch burned weaker and weaker.

"Magic, obviously," the imp scoffed, "but that's not really an option for you, is it, Oaf?"

"And the treasures you hope for me to fetch, they are guarded by these greater shadow beasts?"

The imp laughed again, a short bark of mirth. "Ha! No, what we're looking for is guarded by things much much worse."

"… I fail to see your reasons for bringing me with you," Valdr admitted.

"You'll make a very nice meat shield for me," she said sweetly, patting him on the head like a dog, and Valdr bristled. The sound of rushing water was getting closer, even over the sloshing of his own steps, and Valdr hoped that they were getting close. He still had not made up his mind on if he would remain by this imp's side once they left the waterways and made their way to the surface safely, but the more she talked the more he began to think that to remain with her would be a poor decision.

"Ah, I think this is the right way," the imp exclaimed, leaping off his shoulder. "Well done finding it! You could have done it a lot faster, we've been down here for hours, but I suppose baby steps to competence are all that I can ask of you, hm?"

Valdr waded further, noting that the sewage in this passage had risen from his ankles to his knees, and that the water was beginning to flow with more force. The slimy bed of the aqueduct beneath his feet had begun to slope downwards and he had to be careful not to slip and lose his footing.

"Come on, come on!" the imp urged him, floating off ahead into the darkness, but he could barely hear her at all now as the sound of rushing water grew ever louder. It sounded as if they were approaching a fast-moving river…

Valdr's foot at that very moment struck something slick and smooth beneath the surface. His leg shot out from under him and he flung out an arm to steady himself as his balance failed. The torch was flung from his outstretched hand, but and suddenly he was plunged into darkness.

"This way!" echoed back the voice of his companion, and Valdr found himself alone in the dark, perched precariously on three limbs and his flimsy prison clothes soaked through with foul waste. The hatchet was still in his hand, thankfully, and Valdr held it tighter as the water rushed around him. Regaining his footing from here would be difficult; any motion could topple his precarious balance and send him careening into whatever lay ahead without warning. He tried to rise back up, just a few quick shifts of his weight in the right places, but felt his hand and feet slipping with the motion and realized that he was stuck.

"What is taking so lo…" the imp's voice came floating back up the passage, and with it Valdr could make out a little light, like a star caught in a bottle, that she held suspended over her palm as she returned to him. "Oh."

Valdr felt his cheeks flush as she regarded his predicament. As a man who more often then not preferred to get by on his own merits, it was a blow to his ego to be seen like this by someone who he knew would never let him live it down. His fingers were beginning to ache from gripping his hatchet so tightly, and Valdr made the decision in that moment that the imp would be seeing the last of him once they emerged from this dismal place. All reason pointed him away from her, and the mockery that he was certain would be heading his way in mere moments put the final nail in the coffin of their partnership. True to his expectations, the imp wasted no time in deriding him.

"Poor little servant," her voice dripped with mock sweetness as she floated nearer to him and inspected his awkward stance. Valdr was certain that he resembled nothing more than a large and very nervous spider clinging to the floor of the aqueduct with three limbs, while the hatchet raised up from the flowing waters. "Did you take a fall, little light dweller? Poor light dweller!"

"Enough," Valdr said through gritted teeth.

"Oh, does servant need mistress to help him up? Can servant not get back up on his own?"

"I am not amused, imp."

"I promise this is funnier from my side of things," she snickered. "While you're just hanging here, I should tell you that I took a look ahead and we're definitely on the right track."

"Is it safe?"

"…For a given definition of safe. I can tell you that if you drown it will be entirely your own fault."

Valdr made another attempt to regain his footing on the slope, wobbled and nearly lost his balance again. "Perhaps we should find another way."

"Oh, I think this way will serve my purposes nicely," the imp floated closer to him, and Valdr saw the little plait of hair arc up over her head as if it possessed a mind of its own. Orange locks twisted into a shape not unlike a hand, and realized too late what she intended.

"Wait…" he began.

"Already doing it," she giggled, and gave his shoulder a sharp shove. Valdr toppled over himself into the waters and was swept away before he could even cry out. Sewage buffeted him into the floor of the aqueduct, and he tasted a mouthful of foul gunk before managing to push his head above the surface, gasping for a breath. All around him was dark, impossibly so, and the imp was nowhere to be seen. Up and down were impossible to distinguish, and before he could even try to reorient himself, Valdr felt the floor beneath him disappear. The ramp to the main waterway had ended, and he was going over the side.

There was a brief moment of freefall, a moment that seemed to stretch for infinity, but even as he let out a shout of surprise the water rushed up to meet him, and the air was punched from his chest. Frigid river water mixed with murky refuse in a rushing tide that drove him deep under the surface in great force. Water and other things too unpleasant to think about filled his mouth and nose and eyes, and Valdr thrashed like mad to try and reach air.

Through it all, out of some animal desperation not to lose his only defense, the hatchet remained clutched tight in his right hand, a grip that only death would release. The flow of the underground river seemed to shift and change even as he tried to orient himself, and Valdr's head broke the surface only for a moment before he was dunked beneath the grim tide once more. His feet finally found the floor of the waterway again, stones worn smooth from decades of water passing over the, and Valdr kicked with desperate strength to reach the surface again.

It felt as if minutes had passed, his lungs burned for air, and finally Valdr's head burst out from the froth. He gasped furiously for air, arms windmilling in the water to try and keep himself from going under again. Somewhere nearby, though his ears were filled with water and garbage, Valdr heard the imp's voice.

"You're doing wonderfully, just keep kicking and try to make sure you're only breathing air, okay?"

Valdr could not answer, spluttering in a panic, and his head whipped this way and that to try and find some hint of what was around him. The darkness was far too enveloping, too dense for his eyes to pierce, and he went under again.

When he broke the surface again, the imp was still nearby; she seemed to have no trouble keeping pace with him while he hurtled along, and he guessed that she was floating as she always did just above where he was struggling not to drown.

"Very good, Oaf, you've finally figured out how breathing works!" she called. "Oh, brace yourself."

"WHY!?" Valdr managed to wheeze.

"We're about to turn righ…" her words were cut off as Valdr's body slammed hard against the stones of the wall. His head seemed to wobble on his shoulders and Valdr tasted coppery blood in his mouth for just a moment before the river took him again. The impact send him careening across the riptide like a leaf caught in a stream, and for the next few minutes all he knew was foaming spray and the weight of his sodden clothes threatening to haul him beneath the surface. His limbs churned in the water, and eventually he managed to right himself and draw in a few more shaky breaths.

"How far does this go?"" he shouted, hoping that his companion hadn't lost track of him in the dark.

"Not much further, though I hope you have a strong grip," came her answer.

"A strong grip? Why?!" Valdr shouted over the rushing of the current in his ears, but he got his answer only a moment later. The pitch dark was lessening; a source of light was nearby. As he treaded water and fought off the river, the light grew paler and wanner, just like the torches in the dungeon. Wherever they were, it was still under the veil of Twilight.

"Get a good hold once you go over, at this point losing you would cost me more in the long run," the imp called, but Valdr could only really catch he words "go over" before the world fell away once again. Above him, seeming far away, a circle of that pallid glow grew smaller and smaller, and he realized that he was falling to his death.

All around, rattling in the flow from the river, old and rusted chains hung like the whispers of some enormous old man. Valdr's fingers closed around one of them before he could fall any further, and his whole sodden body jerked as his fall came to an abrupt halt. His wet fingers slipped over the chain links and Valdr realized that he hadn't even felt himself abandon his hatchet on the rush to grab the chain before he fell even further. Around him, similar chains tinkled and clanked as sewage cascaded over them. He was fortunate that the flow of water had mostly been diverted and fallen away, leaving him just clear of the thundering waterfall.

"See? I knew you'd survive," the imp's voice came from just over his shoulder again. Valdr was too exhausted to speak, his arms burning already from the strain of holding himself on the chain. With some difficulty, knowing that there was no alternative, he began the laborious process of ascending the chain. His muscles burned with the effort, lungs seemed unable to accommodate the air he wanted to fill them with as he gulped down air. It was unpleasant-smelling and wet with the stench of refuse, but it was breathable, and that was more than he could say about the last few minutes.

The imp watched him climb in silence, to Valdr's immense gratitude, and as he reached the circle of dull light he realized that he was climbing out of what seemed to be a privy. What purpose the chains held he could not guess, but without them he certainly would have perished in the fall down to wherever the sewage in this accursed city went to.

With a final groan of immense effort, Valdr hauled himself over the seat of the privy and rolled over the side to collapse with a wet squelching sound onto the floor of the room. His breath came in ragged gasps, each one sending a sharp pain shooting through his side from the effort, but he was alive.

"You know I must say I'm impressed. Part of me actually thought you were going to drown back there," the imp remarked as she floated out from the privy hole behind him. Valdr did not reply, shutting his eyes and wishing for nothing more than a hot bath, a cold drink and a soft bed to go to sleep in. Not for the last time he wished that he had never stumbled upon the kingdom blessed by the gods. With a quiet thunk, something fell down beside his head, and he opened his eyes to see his hatchet resting on the floor beside him.

"I saw you drop it, figured you would be mopey if I let you lose it," the imp shrugged her little shoulders. "There I go sticking out my neck for you again. If you thought you didn't still owe me after breaking you out from prison, think again."

Valdr was too exhausted to bother reminding her that he had broken himself out of his cell, but now was hardly the time for sleep. He was still in a strange place, and the potential for danger was everywhere. With great difficulty he rolled back over onto his stomach and pushed his body up to his hands and knees.

"Where are we?" he coughed out.

"You're welcome about the axe. And we're at a friend's house. She's been helping me since I was exiled from the Twilight. She's the one who has been helping me locate the things I'll need to reclaim my throne."

At that moment the door to the privy opened, and Valdr looked up to see one of those little stars that seemed to denote a light dweller like himself in this deathly darkness. If he squinted, he could make out the vague outline of a young woman around the flame, though the details were fuzzy. He knew he must look a sight, a bedraggled and unkempt stranger in prison clothes and covered in shit and other unmentionable fluids that had seemingly just clambered out of her toilet.

"Greetings," he managed to cough out, before the woman let out a little whimper and ran off, shutting the door behind her.

"Let Impa know we're here!" his little friend called out after the girl, and Valdr let his head drop to the tiled floor, wishing for sleep.