Why we failed one-hundred years ago
pt.6
The knight's Dilemma
"You there! Yeah, you, the one with his head in the clouds. I'm talking to you, who else!?" A lower officer barked at me from the yard. He'd been directing traffic of servants and soldiers alike. "Today's the big day and you're in the way!"
He was a broad-shouldered man wearing a half helm emblazoned with the royal crest. My head was in the clouds alright. What just happened? Did I really spend the entire morning with the princess, or had I dreamt the whole thing?
"Are you deaf?! These wine casts aren't going to transport themselves to the Queen's meadow; and from what I hear, those plump little lords are thirsty and can gulp it down faster than we can pour it. So, if you don't mind, we'd like to be on our way!"
I blinked at his words, still unfocused and reminiscing what had just transpired between me and her. The echoes of serving men shouting small commands to one another, the creaks of wagon's being loaded, and the whining of horses rang in my ear.
"Are you testing me? You're hindering their path! Can't you see there's a line behind you? If I have to thump your skull to get that beast of yours a move one, so help me—"
I finally shook my head; and pinched my cheek. Yup, I was still alive and was not dreaming nor dead and gone to Hall of Nayru. Instead, I found myself still sitting idly by in the carriage that I had rode in with the princess on our way back to the bailey where I left her. How long have I been sitting here stewing? "Um, right, sorry m 'lord—" I managed to get out before he could stomp over toward me.
"On second thought, what are you even doing here?" he interrogated. "I don't recall ever seeing your face around here before."
Oh shit, he might recognize that I'm an initiate and not a soldier yet. Act casual. After all, it's a terrible crime to impersonate a man of the Royal Guard. The man rubbed his chin, squinting in the afternoon sun as he marched over to where I sat, scanning me up and down. "You must be one of Lark's men. Aren't you? Aren't you!?" he barked again.
Lark? Who the hell is Lark?
"Goddess, damn him, always leaving me his leftovers." He shook his head in disapproval. "Notoriously, Lazy! All of ya!" he raised his hand above his head and waved furiously in the breeze, ushering to where others were working in the loading bay. "Well, move that carriage and have a hop off, I'll find you some real work to do. You can loaf around and daydream on your own time!"
The castle courtyard was like a witch's cauldron, brimming with activity. Soldiers and servants alike hustled, carrying loads atop wagons for transport to the tourney grounds and party pavilions. From crates hauling livestock to be butchered and cooked for the feast, to barrels brimming with brew and everything in between, all would be taken down to the festival grounds. Nearby, the Seneschal shouted even louder his instructions to others under the command of the Master of Works, Lord Mason, who were busy gathering construction materials for the spectator stands that were still being built for the esteemed guests at the Queen's Meadow.
Nobility would have their own raised platforms and benches surrounding the King and the princess, whereas low bloods like me, outsiders and everyone else would have to make do with standing while watching the trials and games unfold. Only during the great feast will all be equal under the tent of the Royal Family. Many pavilions will be raised dotting the lush green hills of the meadow but at the center would lie the Trinity's tent. That is where the Royal Family would dine. And if all goes well during the trials, I'll be welcomed under it, even if it is only under the guise of a Guardsman.
As I prepared to dismount, another voice roared through the uproar, stopping the insistent officer who was questioning me in his tracks. "He is on my orders and performing crucial castle duties. If you need more help, then I suggest you go and talk to the steward. This lad's services are needed elsewhere today." It was Captain Finn, looking weary and in a rush. In a blur he hopped to sit beside me, cape flapping elegantly behind him, gesturing for me to take the reins. "Let's go, we're finished here. And be quick about it," he whispered frantically to where only I could hear.
"My pardons sir, I didn't know he was one of yours." The petty officer said, easily recognizing him. Master Finn was a hard one to miss and had a dead-eyed stare that could make the bravest of men flinch. Especially, when the searing pain to his leg flared up.
The short officer gulped with a bow. "Very well, then, I shall find another. Good day to you both." The man returned to the frenzied activity of the others, disregarding our intrusion. I kept silent, watching Finn. His face tightened in suppressed annoyance. Something was amiss, but what could it be? I half expected to be reprimanded for my late return to the castle, but he seemed more anxious to depart than I was. It seemed like he didn't even care at all where I've been and that something far more pressing was on his mind. But, I didn't want to question it and seeing it is that I was in enough trouble I slapped the reins and we were off.
I swallowed as our mare led us through the portcullis of the first gatehouse. We were nearing the curtain wall now, which battlements were surprisingly sparse of defenders. Usually, the crenellations atop the ramparts would be manned by halberd-men standing a spear length apart. But, today, I was lucky if I could spy just a single polearm standing vigil on the wall as we rode past. I've never seen the defenses so deserted. They must've been pulled back and placed elsewhere in light of today's ceremony. After all, the king and the princess would be safely ensconced in their pavilion today and I suppose the brunt force of those guarding the castle would be better served shielding them.
As we trotted on, I couldn't help but notice the shake to Finn's hand as he wrestled in his seat. A slick of sweat trailed his brow, and he winced over every rough stone our wheels creaked over. I knew his leg bothered him something awful, but this was different. This was something more.
Trying to conceal himself from my attention, he reached for a rusty, pewter flask tucked in secret pouch he had wrapped around his breastplate. Glancing over both shoulders he drained its contents and wiped the purple drip from his chin before taking in a heaving sigh to about to address me.
"Don't bother." He grumbled at me as I flinched back to look away. "You wouldn't even understand even if I told you. There're other matters you should be concerned with." He groaned again as we rode over another ill-gotten stone poking from the street. That time I swore he gripped his knee so tight I thought he was going to unsheathe his sword and cut me down there and then.
This was it, I just knew it, the scolding I was due for returning to the castle so late. I spoke in my defense before he could chastise me. "I apologize m 'lord captain, it was wrong of me to take the princess out into the city, but I was merely obeying her wishes—"
"—You think I give a Zora dam about any of that, boy?" he snapped, wincing again at some mysterious ailment other than his leg. He gritted his teeth together so loudly I thought they were going to shatter. "What I want to know is, has anyone inquired about me since we last seen each other?"
His question caught me off guard. Why would anyone question his whereabouts? As the third highest-ranking officer of the royal guard, he was typically the one hollering out orders, not taking them. "Anyone at all? C'mon, boy, think hard!"
"Uh, no m 'lord captain, sorry. Not that I can recall…." I replied, bewildered.
"Good, let's keep it that way," he said, eyes wandering over me skeptical whether I was one to run my mouth or not. "For that, your little escapade will remain a secret between us. As well as my business at the castle," he said turning in his seat to narrow his eyes on me as I drove us over the drawbridge that led back into the city.
For a moment there was an uneasy silence. So, instead, I chose to focus on the sound of lapping of water in the moat, the quacking of ducks, the rhythmic clip-clop of our horse's hooves on the wooden planks beneath us and the creaking of our spoked wheels alongside the distant echoes of laboring men. And suddenly, breaking the silence, bells tolled again high in the steeples scattered across the city, heralding the incoming pilgrims rushing through the main gates, eager for the festivities. "Do we have an understanding?" He asked, his icy tone cutting through the cheerful chimes in the air like a Hebra frost.
"Yes sir, of course." I assured with a nod.
"Good. In that case, how about we make haste from this place and get our asses back to Romani's." Then something most peculiar of all happened. His stone stare then melted away into a pleased grin as an assortment of trumpets blared to match the melodic chiming of the bells. He then scratched the scruff of afternoon shadow on his neck before glaring at me again.
With his stare fixed, the realization came to me that Hylians were typically bereft of facial hair, unlike other races. A beard often indicated mixed blood, perhaps with Sheikah or other foreigners. There were, of course, a few exceptions to this rule. The king, for instance, boasted a proud beard, even with his pure Hylian lineage tracing back as far as anyone can remember in the kingdom. Other nobility also shared this uncommon trait. In fact, it was seen as a sign of high esteem in the bloodlines. However, for the majority of Hylian men who weren't of noble blood, chins were usually clean of any hair. At most, amidst a gathering of common men, you might be lucky enough to spy a neatly trimmed mustache or a sparse goatee.
He suddenly spoke. "I'm sure that old goat Athelon will be wondering where we've got to," He chortled a painful laugh, before slapping my back in assurance. "The festival is to begin any minute now. We best get you there on time or there will be hell to pay from your father."
"Make way! Clear the road! All of ya's!" Hollered a foreign soldier clad in darkened plate atop an armored horse. "Make way for Chancellor Danarus's son, commander of the northern hosts of his Majesty, Lord Arasmus! Make way!"
Small folk and nobles alike were clearing a path up the narrow cobblestone roads that headed up to the castle from the inner city. The Hylian northerners received a warm welcomed. And I saw many maids eagerly offer tiny bouquets to decorate the armor of their shining knights as they clopped by. The older folks would beckon them and their retainers with shouts of joyous praises from streets and windows. But, even with all the smiles among the sea of faces I could still spy a few in the crowd who had less than favorable opinions of the incoming invaders. Those folks would stand silently and glare. Naturally, I could care either way. All I knew is that I had to hurry the hell out of the way of the oncoming procession and set our small carriage aside, or risk being stomped over by their cavalry.
Captain Finn clenched his fists. "Who the hell do these bastards think they are? Coming into our city and making demands like if they are royalty. Can't they see we have a schedule to keep!?"
"It's alright m 'lord Captain, I can move aside. It's no bother. We'll still make it in time—" I offered generously.
"You shouldn't have to lad, not for the likes of these, vermin. Stone Crows they are," he said with a huff falling back into the seat. There he stewed and folded his arms in disapproval, not before leaning over to spit onto the side of the road. "And that's not even the worst of them. You see that emblem draping over the surcoats of those ones standing there?"
"You mean the men at arms wearing the fiery eyed raven that's chiseled from onyx?"
"No, not them. Those men you speak of are the Stone Crows. Nothing more than brigands and peasant soldiers. Poor bastards are forced to wield blades made from polluted steel-and their pikes are little more than sticks with sharpened rocks at the end. I have my quarrels with them to be sure, but I'm talking about the other ones there, being led in tight formation by their commanding knights, the more disciplined soldiers marching under their liege's standard. They share the same sigil as their lord, you see them now?"
I loosened my hold on the reins and stood up from where I sat and peeked at the end of the procession where an opulent wheelhouse was rolling in. There a dozen men swarmed around their lord's carriage. Six soldiers to a side, marching two abreast in perfect lockstep. There were far less of them than the Stone Crows.
"Those my lad are—"
"-Dagger Dragoons." I finished his sentence solemnly. Just mentioning their name made my tongue sour.
"Oh, so you do know who they are?" he reiterated. "Interesting."
"No, not really." I lied.
My eyes squinted on them. Oh, I know them alright. Too well, in fact. How could I forget? I had an introduction with the likes of them last night. Not that I would let Finn know that though. I was already in enough trouble as it was for being late.
He continued his speech as I pulled on the reins and the mare slid her hooves to a halt on the cobblestones. "They're a far cry from their Crow brothers to be sure but they are the pride of Draene. The personal guard of their liege. Look at their armor, it's unlike anything else you'd find here. A perfect marriage of boiled leather, mail and plate. Their weapons are true castle forged steel and worth a pretty gem too. Not like those pissant common swords you see many others dancing around with. You see that dark alloy that adorns them?" he said, tapping my shoulder before pointing for me to have a look. "You see that subtle discoloration in the metal work that gleams back strange shadows in the sunlight? Their damn armor practically swallows up the light, shielding them from enemy eyes at night. That is what they are known for, you know? They are prized for their secret ore that could only be found in the Stonelands."
I nodded, intrigued as to how come I was never told about this before.
"Their armor is blackened plate made from a combination of secret minerals smelted into steel. Strong enough to blunt a blade but light enough to allow them to move as graceful as a Hytopian dancer. And if you have a real keen eye, you can just make out a layer of dark mail woven tightly underneath, like a shadow wrapped around them. And atop their shoulders is dyed, boiled leather."
"Why boiled? What's wrong with plain leather?"
He gave me a disappointed look. "Boiling leather hardens it and makes it thrice as strong as regular leather. I thought you initiates knew that?"
I cautiously shook my head, feeling rather stupid for not knowing. Then another thought dawned on me, and I blurted before I could catch myself from speaking. "But wouldn't that cause too much noise? The mail and plate, I mean. You said they are silent killers."
"Yes, it would, if it were anyone else, I'd say you would be right, but not them. Their armor is different to yours and mine. It's crafted by a bygone secret art, some say sorcery, known only to their smiths how to work the onyx ore. After all, Draenarian foragemasters descend from a mixed line of Dwarven men who wedded Hylian maids ages ago. Or so the story goes. The very same ancient metalworkers who forged the weapons of Hylia's Heroes that battled the first Calamity. If you believe that sort of silly tale." He then let out a longwinded sigh as if recollecting the events of the battlefield against the Calamity as if he were there himself. "And with that, they left their heirs only a remnant knowledge of the ancient arts on how to craft such finery. One such art was their ability to weave spells into the fabric of their tunics and mail, so that their movements are as silent as a shadow."
"And what happened to the Dwarves?" I asked. The story intrigued me.
He blinked. "Pardon, what, say again?"
"I said the dwarven smiths. Why aren't there any now? Where did they disappear to?"
"Who's to say they vanished?" he said, sighing with a shrug. "I've never navigated the abandoned mines hidden down in the depths of the Dying mountains, have you? From what I'm told they built tunnels and cities so vast that, during their day they were as busy as an anthill. All for their fabled Crystalline ore too. A rare metallic stone that the whole world was envious of, and a blessed mineral left to us by her holiness herself.
"Magic steel they called it, as rare as any and had no rival on the battlefield." He sighed wistfully as if he wanted a sword forged from the mythical metal himself. "But, that was a very long time ago and there's only a handful of blades and shields left in all the world that are crafted from it. My goddess, with just a mere dagger made from Crystalline a man could buy half the southern fields of Bountiful with it." He shook his head for final remembrance and sighed even deeper than before. "But alas, those old mines are all abandoned now and for good reason too. They say none who dare venture into their deep chasms ever return."
The horse neighed and snorted as if to confirm his story. Finn let out a cough before landing another perfectly placed wad of spit to the side of the road. "But, to answer your question, I guess the truth of it is that I suppose they died out it would seem. Nobody knows entirely why they did, but it probably had to do with the dilution of their bloodline when mixing with Hylians…and with no longer having women of their own, the dilution continued." He said with a shrug yet again not before shaking his head of all of it with a bah. "But who knows really, this was ages and ages ago. Maybe they didn't exist at all and Draenarians just need an excuse to explain their shorter stature compared to us." He smiled, then remembered to take a gander at me from helm to boot before chuckling and slapping his knee. "Say, if I didn't know better, I'd say you might have a little dwarven blood yourself," he said poking fun, taking notice of my height compared to his. I was only a few inches shorter than he was, but I guess that was enough to jest. I'll let him savoir this victory, the sooner we get back to Romani's and the others, the better.
As we were about trek on, the retinue of retainers, men at arms, landed knights and Draene elites took a stiff halt at the entrance of the square, barring the way. The Dragoons then took formation to the front of the procession and guarded their liege's coach. In doing so they lined up and flared out their round, robust shields in a show of strength.
Finn's eyes flicked about, studying the small army now before him. "And take hard look at those shields while you're at it. They may look small, but don't let their size deceive you of their lethalness. In Draene, they perform the art of war differently than you boys trained down here at the capital. The Dragoons prefer bucklers, you see. And they're not just for defense either. They're cleverly lined with a sharpened edge, used as a weapon in close combat. So, if by some dumb luck their dirk doesn't get the chance to carve you up a red smile from ear to ear, their shields will surely finish the job. Only when it's too late, up close and personal does the poor fellow who is up against them discovers the bloody details of their demise. That's what they're known for, you know? Fighting up close and taking out their enemies without so much a sound in the pitch of night."
"After all, their whole armor, it's not just made for battle; it's made for stealth, for assassination. Some say they even do it better than the Yiga outlaws." He then let out a grunted laugh of disdain and disgust. "I suppose that would make sense for their ilk. After all, what better way is there to hunt ruthless killers than to delve into their sick twisted minds yourself. Of all the soldiers of the Stonelands, Dragoons bare the same standard as their liege who leads them and are his personal guard."
Stewing on his words, I glanced at their sun kissed banner streaming proudly in the breeze, watched as it flapped and whipped against the backdrop of the bright blue sky. A burning black serpent guarding a golden, triangular stone.
Finn grunted at the sight, almost disgusted. "Goddesses, I can't stand them. They are nothing but a show boating lot that is always looking to cause trouble. Especially with us Royals. You best steer clear from them while they are in the city."
My tongue suddenly tied and went sour remembering the scrap I got into the night before defending Sven and Orin. So, more Dragoons were coming tonight, great, just what I needed now.
Finn scoured the sky above with a hand over his brow, noticing the sun beyond a thin veil of soft, white tufts, hinting at the hour and discerned its position as easily as one might read an hourglass. "Well, damn, we'll never make it back to Romani's moving at this snail's pace. Better for it if we tie of this old girl to a post and move on foot. Besides, I'd like to avoid this rift raft if we can. Eagles make poor bed fellows with snakes. Best we hurry out of here before we're seen."
Acknowledging his concerns, I replied, "Yes, m 'lord." Urging the mare forward with a quick flick of the reins, we moved towards a bustling rotunda. The area was teeming with townsfolk, foreigners and an assortment of their hitched transports: wagons, carts, horses, mules, and even dunemadarys. While I had never personally ridden one, I had long harbored a desire to try. My father often spoke of the dunemadarys, recounting tales from nomadic copper-skinned traders he'd met years back along the treacherous roads of the Ivory Pass during the war.
It is said that they are the only mounts suitable for the arid wastes and highlands of the far east. Unlike the Western Wastes beyond the Gerudo highlands near Holodrum who ride mammoderms, these outsiders relied solely on dunemadarys. Father said the days and nights where these wanderers hail from are the most unforgiving in all the world. Daily they are forced to brave raging thunderclaps which could scorch a man alive and defend against wind swept sands that blistered the skin. You'd be lucky if your horse didn't keel over dead within three days riding there he always said. However, a dunemadary, with its tough hide and ragged fur can fend off such harsh conditions. Not to mention their significant humps – which also served as saddles – could withstand the intense drought and whatever the Dead Wastes threw at them. Their humps were their lifeline, their secret to surviving days without water in the broiling desert sun.
We disembarked and wouldn't you know it, the square was so crowded it was nearly impossible to find a spare post to tether our horse to. I guess everyone else got the hint before we did that they should clear the way for the influx of lordly guests and their bannerman who were now flooding the capital.
"Looks like we'll have to find another way. If we stay here, we're likely to miss the whole ceremony and feast." Finn motioned with a stiff lean, or was it his gait that bothered him when he walked? Hard to be certain. He guided us toward a nearly concealed path that snaked behind a series of buildings. Once we rounded the corner though, the recognition of where we were hit me. I nearly forgot this place existed. Why do we have to go through here?
"Let's move our feet quickly, I don't want to be seen here anymore than you do." Finn added with a command, clasping the gold brooch of his crimson cloak that fastened to his pauldron.
Finn and I navigated a narrow detour that led us through a less than reputable part of town. A shadowy lane notorious for its nocturnal activities and dubious pursuits to put it mildly. Here, in the hidden recesses overshadowed by towering edifices and far from prying eyes of those who take the main roads, lay an alley rife for nighttime escapades.
The hidden road was shielded from the vigilant watch of the guards as they often turned a blind eye to the dealings going on here and it was too far away from the scornful gaze of the nobility for them to care either. Although mostly out of sight and mind of us townsfolk, everybody still knew what went on there. And that is how it earned its affectionate name from the people: Alur Allure, or commonly known as, Allure Alley.
Navigating through Allure Alley was like threading a seemingly unending, winding labyrinth. While not particularly confined, the distance from end to end of this its path was almost legendary. The length nearly spanning the entire breadth of the city from one curtain wall to the other. Every few steps, there lay another establishment, each with its own dubious reputation. Their storefronts, though often dimly lit at night or discreetly marked during the day, hinted at the illicit trades they peddled behind those draped curtains and closed doors. It wasn't until halfway through this slump we were met by the most unsavory business of them all, the notorious Red Inn. A place where the promise of rest was often a mere pretense.
As we made our way past it was hard to miss the trio of maids out front, draped in delicate silk and satin gowns that left little to the imagination. They lazily lounged, casting seductive glances at what few passersby there were in hopes of luring patrons into their dwelling. Finn chortled, catching me stare as we marched closer and closer. "It's okay to look lad."
"Beg your pardon sir?" I cleared my throat, following him in formation.
"You heard me. It's quite alright. You wouldn't be the first prospect who got weak in the knees at the sight of a fair maid, especially at your age."
He can't be serious that I would ever? Is he? I swallowed and spoke up. "It's…It's not that m 'lord captain, it's just that I—"
"Aye yes, we all swear an oath to never bed maidens outside the bonds of marriage, tis true. But—"
He then waved his hand outstretched across my chest before I could reply, and bellowed out a full belly laugh, halting our stride. "-Good goddess, if we gave up every good man to the Weeper who broke his holy vows, the royal family would be guarded by poes not guardsmen." He smiled again and leaned to whisper in my ear. "Just don't make it a habit and have the decency to keep it out of the eyes and ears of the noble folk and you'll be fine."
"No, I would never sir." I protested modestly.
"Ah? What then? You're not one for the ladies?"
"No, what I mean, sorry m'lord captain, what I mean to say is—"
Before I could elaborate, Finn paused and took a moment to size me up, as if seeing me for the first time. The realization dawned on him. "Ah, I see…the princess." He smirked mischievously. "You've set your sights high, haven't you?" he shook his head wearing that same grin. His laughter, genuine and hearty, filled the alleyway. "Well, you can forget all about that dream, boy. You might as well wish to sprout wings and soar the heavens to meet her there than the likes of that ever happening. Mayhaps, if you can't shake the dream, guard her heart from a distance, for some hopes are best left unattained."
"No, it's not that, it's just…" I tried to explain but the words wouldn't form no matter how much I tried to fumble them out.
"Ah, so honor compels you, then? I see….You can tell yourself that all you want but the shake in your boots at the mention of her gave you all away." He shrugged a laugh. "For your sake I hope in battle you're not so easy to read or your enemies will be the death of you."
I frowned under my helm, stepped cautiously to contest but he waved his hand for me to silence instead. "But, don't worry, your secret is safe with me, lad. Nobody needs know, especially not the princess. Now, let's get a move on."
As we pressed on through Allure Alley, the distinct features of the trio from the Red Inn began to stand out as we got closer: the first girl possessed a fuller, more voluptuous frame, while another was slender as the rail she sat on. Each girl beautiful in their own right and would appeal to many a man but the youngest of the three who stood behind them had a harmonious blend of the two and was just right by my taste. If I had to have an opinion that is. Not that I did, of course. It was just an observation.
Daylight seemed to mark a slower tempo for business in the alley, which made sense. The secrets of this corner of the city were best kept under the veil of night and whatever deeds done here would be off better suited during the hour of the poe than risk the judging eyes of the sun….and naturally, with us being the only souls alive within a league of the alley, the trio immediately swayed their hips toward us and wouldn't you guess it, just my luck, one of the three girl's gazes locked on me. The youngest one. I could feel her hundred-yard stare burn right through my armor like parchment.
The girl wasn't uncomely by no means, quite the contrary in fact, was rather beautiful. She had strawberry blonde hair that braided all the way to her waist and was blessed by a faint mist of freckles that sprayed across her cheeks. She may have been younger than the other two, but she was at least a couple seasons older than me, but not by much. The sudden realization of that made me sort of sad as I reflected on the reality of her world.
Not everyone was lucky enough to dance in the glow of the city's grandeur. And not all was well in this city as the nobility would like us all to think. Some danced on its edges, trying to survive. I would have offered her a free rupee if I had any, but I was a peasant boy myself. She had an innocent look in her eyes. Pretty hazel eyes and if I didn't know better or saw her anywhere else, would have figured to be a maiden for sure. Though I knew otherwise.
Were I richer, I would have gladly given her a rupee, not for her services but to offer her respite from having to cater to the desires of distasteful men, even if it only spared her just an hour. Hell, if I could, I'd free her from her work. But those were dreams and I knew better.
She smiled at me again and walked toward us, eyes fixed on me, and I suddenly remembered my father once telling me that some ladies fancied this avenue of work, believe it or not. So, who was I to judge what was in her favor or not. So, I thought it best to keep my feelings to myself and try to follow my captain's lead.
Though as much as I didn't want to participate in her advances, I could hardly blame her for want of trying. And boy, did she approach me with much determination. Thrice I had to gently loosen her hold around me when she tried to pull me closer as I walked by. I could feel Finn's sidelong glances and smirking amusement, which only intensified my unease. Was he enjoying me struggle? Was this some sort of game?
And if I had been any other man, her smile may have won me over. But, even still, I was shy as could be when her fingers traced the lines of my armor. What courage I had as helmsworth earlier melted away and suddenly I was a timid boy in training again. I found myself trembling like an autumn leaf, though I fought hard not to show it.
I've never even kissed a girl before, let alone had to entertain the thought of bedding love to one. Never in all my life had such notions crossed my mind, yet her enticing gestures and soft whispers of seduction brought them forth more swiftly than I could fend them off. But, when these fleeting daydreams of fantasy emerged, it wasn't her face I saw between blinking eyes. It was another girl. A sudden, hot blush scorched my cheeks, urging me to dismiss the unchivalrous thoughts unbecoming of a knight.
But what struck me most of all was the aroma of her perfume – not overly potent but enough to draw one in. If I'd known better, I'd say it was brewed by a spell to entice the senses of those she'd lure to her abode. It was an intricate dance of roses and wildflowers, an unexpected fragrance amidst the musk of the alleyway. Luckily, for me though, I was already under the spell of another. And her magic was much stronger. So, I did what any true knight would do and politely made my intentions known to not pursue her.
This girl was persistent though, I give her credit for that. And why wouldn't she be? It wasn't uncommon for lonely soldiers to pay a visit at such a place after dark in search of comfort or to relieve their worries from a long day's work fulfilling drills, patrols or goddess forbid, combat. Why else would the pair of us be marching through here? I couldn't judge her for thinking otherwise. Even I knew that.
Finally, Finn had enough of the farse and all their approaches. "Bugger off you. This lad has no need for your kind of company, pillow maid. Go find another drunken bloke to lose your chemise to. Can't you see this one is busy?" She paid him no mind and was waiting for me to say otherwise. The words were at the tip of my tongue when Finn's temper rose to his temples and in a reddened fluster he growled like a wolf. "Are you listening to me? He is a soldier of the Royal Guard! Now stand aside before I shut down your shop for good." That did the trick. Her freckled cheeks turned to milk and the fright in her eyes said it all. With that she and her fellow ladies scurried back to the porch of their establishment.
"There we are Link, see, nothing to it. All these girls needed was a firm direction and told when to say no. But let us hurry, because come sundown this place will be awash with drunkards, would be sell-swords and ne'er-do-wells all looking to scratch an itch. The path will be thick as a swamp too and we'll never make it in time to the others. Now, let us be—"
"—So, what's your problem!?" Came the sudden remark of a disheveled man sauntering out from the Red Inn.
"See what I mean?" Finn stated about to slowly turn to the voice.
The man that staggered out wore a leather jerkin over a threadbare doublet, some trousers, soldier's boots and had scraggly hair across his face like he just climbed out of bed. "What's the matter? You don't like girls?" He said, now shoving past the pillow maid who approached me earlier, nearly causing her to stumble over the deck. The poor girl frantically covered her cleavage in the confrontation, her cheeks going rosy again as a hydromelon by the slip. It was then I realized that this man was speaking to me, not Finn. I slowly turned. Finn took notice of him first and already beat me to it.
The man was now standing in the middle of the alleyway, arms crossed and wearing a sneaky grin as if he had all the secrets of the world tucked up his sleeve. He then lifted his head to face the plump, brunette girl who was older and barked a command. "My surcoat and armor please. I think I had my fill of you for today." He laughed and then blew a sloppy kiss to one of the other more, timid girls standing in the doorway of the pillow house. "I know she had her fill of me, ain't that right, sweetling?" he snarked, chortling to himself while rubbing the bridge of his bent nose before hollering back to me again. The girl backed away inside and covered herself with some drapes. "So, you deaf or what? I said, do you like girls?"
I didn't say a word, and couldn't help but glare from behind my helm, trying to hold my composure, waiting for what Master Finn would do first. After all, it wasn't my place to cause problems with these sorts of rift raft.
"Well, are you going to answer him or what?" called out another man. Unlike his friend, this one was garbed in a black surcoat that covered his leather armor underneath, springing to his feet from a wall he'd been leaning against in the shadows behind us. His tone thick and laced with confrontation.
After chancing a glance at both our armor, he soon realized who we were. "My, oh my, Port, you just know how to pick em, don't you?" he questioned his companion. Next thing I knew, others slithered out from the shadows of buildings and into the afternoon sun of the alley road. Where did they come from?
"You know me captain, nothing but the best."
"Yeah, I can tell." He took a small stroll closer, his eyes sizing up the both of us. "And what do we have here, eh? And of all places too. I'm starting to like this city more by the minute it would seem." He said to himself, inching toward us."
"Looks like a flock of eagles found themselves in the wrong part of town, m'lord," another chimed in, rounding the side of the first. This one's voice had a peculiar timbre to it, like a beaver gnawing on wood, holding a whimsical note akin to a whistle.
They now blocked our path on all sides. "Maybe they're lost?"
"And such a small flock at that," the leader retorted, his grin uglier than the scar marring his cheek. His shoulder-length black hair hung in untidy, oily strands. "I wouldn't have pegged your kind to frequent this charming corner of town," he said as a quiet laugh escaped his grin. "You boys are just full of surprises."
"Eagles don't fly in flocks," I found myself responding, my words taking flight as I fixed a hard gaze on the gang's ringmaster.
Master Finn straightened, adjusting his surcoat while smoothly fixing his cloak over his shoulder to be in a more defensive position, so it wouldn't get in the way. He'd been limping earlier but now concealed it as the unsavory group closed in. Seven of them now were circling us like vultures.
"It's alright lad, no need to worry yourself about this lot," Finn assured me, his gaze dancing between each grimy man before finally resting on their leader. "But the lad is right, you know." He said to the pack of troublemakers. "Eagles don't fly in flocks. They don't need to." He cocked his head slightly, his stare intensifying. "They're dangerous enough alone."
""Is that right, old bird?" The leader scoffed, spitting a glob of snot onto Finn's boot. "Why don't you prove it—"
A moment of silenced passed and Finn's eyes dropped to his boot to observe the slimy gloss of spit that swirled with a myriad of colors in the light. His gaze slowly traveled back to the ringleader, a smile playing on his lips. The others were subtly closing in. One man behind their commander toyed with the hilt of his sheathed blade, while another who had previously lounged against a wooden fence assumed a more aggressive stance. He tightened his gloves which had finger slits for grip and leveled a penetrating gaze at me. Things were escalating rapidly.
Sweat trickled down my forehead, yet, to my surprise, Finn remained composed amidst the taunts. "Look, we have no quarrel with you and if you just stand aside, we'll be on our way."
"And what way is that I wonder?" Another interjected from behind us. I repositioned myself, ensuring we weren't vulnerable from any direction, though I refrained from escalating the situation further by drawing my blade or assuming a fighting posture. Despite the day's warmth, a chill without wind shivered through the alley.
"That is of no concern to yours." I answered back before Finn could chide me. "Quiet boy, I'll handle this." Returning his gaze back up to their leader, it was now apparent that these were off duty soldiers, but they weren't from around here. Though they displayed no sigil, it was nigh apparent who they were and where they were from. Draenarian Storm crows. They had to be. Who else could be so vile?
The leader perked up and spoke again. "Now that I think of it, don't you two Royals have somewhere you need to be?" He devilishly smiled and scratched his chin as if he were to about to jape. "That's right….the Queen's Meadow. I remember now. Must have slipped my mind."
"Must have." Answered back Finn sternly, never losing his gaze on his movements as the leader paced slowly in a circle around us. "Though that isn't hard to believe."
A subordinate bristled at Finn's tone "What's that you say? You dare mocking my lord?"
With a dismissive wave, the leader signaled his men to ease off. "It's alright. Let the old man bark. Seeing it is he has no bite."
The first man from the Inn spoke up again to his commander. "So, what do you think m 'lord? Should we let them go?"
"I don't know, Port, should we?" The leader's eyes, sharp and calculating, didn't waver from ours. "What do you think Rockwell?" he said turning to ask another. "Should we let them go?"
All the while a fourth goon who seemed to relish the idea of unsheathing his dirk, flashed a sinister smile. "I say we teach them a lesson on manners. Teach them what happens when they cross the likes of us."
I scowled under my helm and Finn's eyes continuously darted around, keeping track of each of their movements as they tip toed closer and closer. "Go ahead". Finn flexed. "Go ahead and skin it. Whisper that blade from its sheath and see what happens." Finn growled again. "You'll be choking on that knife."
Rockwell cackled from behind. "Are you blind old man, can't you count? You are two and we are seven."
Finn's retort was swift and biting. "Don't think there's safety in numbers here. I can take on ten of you, even without the boy." With that, he braced himself, kicking up dust in the alley.
Port shook his head wearing that same slimy grin. "Yeah, maybe fifteen years ago you might have stood a chance, but now?" he bellowed out a laugh and continued. "You can hardly stand. Face it, you're living in the shadow of a man you once were. That warrior you remember is long gone. All is left is a sad, dried-up old man who can hardly walk straight." His jests were met with guffaws from his comrades, who exaggeratedly mimicked the uneven stride they'd observed in Finn's walk earlier.
Finn snapped back, unfazed by their taunts. "Well, if you're so sure and feeling lucky, why don't you give it a try and see for yourself. I dare you." I tightened my grip on my weapon, readying myself to guard his flank.
Just as the tension threatened to erupt into violence, the leader motioned his men to silence. He shook his head. "You royals, you think you're so much better than everyone else because you lift the princess's skirts and carry the king's shit all day. What do you know of combat? When's the last time you drew blood old man? How long has it been?"
Rockwell then spoke up sarcastically after getting a better look of Finn's dead eyed stare. "I don't know m 'lord, maybe we ought to leave this old man be. After all, If I remember right, he's their great war hero, didn't you know? He fought against the rebellion."
"Really now? Is that right?" The young commander's eyes widened with sarcastic surprise. "Rockwell tells me you're a great hero of a bygone era?" he said mockingly. "What was it again?" He questioned aloud, scratching the side of his head. A moment came and went, and he suddenly snapped his fingers and pointed toward Finn in recollection. "Oh, I remember now, the Battle of Burntwood…. Or was it the Massacre of Burntwood? Funny, I always seem to mix them up. "He finished wearing a slimy grin.
Finn's reaction was visceral. He visibly recoiled, teeth grinding in audible fury.
"Easy, old fella, I wouldn't want you to break a blood vessel now." He taunted, desperately trying to hold in the laughs.
The mention clearly struck a nerve, and I noticed his fists clenching hard enough for knuckles to whiten. What was this Battle of Burntwood? What could have happened back then to stir such a tempest inside of him?
And just as I braced myself for the inevitable clash of ringing steel, master Finn relaxed his posture. "Look, I don't have time to shoo away crows," he said, and a breath of calm passed over him. "We have somewhere we need to be like you said, so if it is no trouble to you, we'd like to be on our way and continue this another day."
"Well, you got trouble old bird." Said one of the goons behind his leader. "Too late for that."
Their leader also shook his head in disbelief that Master Finn could think he could walk away. "I'm sorry, but did I just hear you right? Crows, was it?" The man let out a scornful chuckle and raised his eyes to meet my lord's again. "You must be going blind in your old age and mistaken us for somebody else. My apologies, let me clarify for you." He stepped even closer and they were just a longswords length apart now.
"We aren't some low-level gargoyles that waste their days atop mountain peaks, chasing wind and shadows. If you want trouble with that sort, you'll have to look for Stone Crows. No, Sir, we are Draene's finest. Perhaps, you may have heard of us," he boasted, puffing out his chest. With deliberate flair, he used both hands to loosen the top of his surcoat to reveal the crest emblazoned on the leather jerkin beneath. A warning to all who'd dare come against them.
"We are the fiery serpents of the north and the shining flame that guards the realm." He said proudly.
"All that, eh?" Finn retorted. "The esteemed reputation of you and your brothers grandeur might've eluded me. Forgive me." he said with a smirk of his own to match the smug grin their leader had.
The leader's face soured into a frown. "Then how about I jog your memory—"
But before knives could be drawn one of their own spoke up first. "M 'lord, wait! Perhaps we should let the old man go."
The leader took a step back and glanced partially over his shoulder to consider.
"He did serve the crown faithfully, after all. Even I can respect the deeds of old men from time to time." The others laughed in unison at his sarcastic suggestion.
"Alright then, a parlay it is." The leader conceded, stepping back. "Okay sir, it seems my good man Rockwell suggests I should grant you leave to go. Very well, fine, you may go your way. But, know this, if you disrespect us again, you won't be so lucky. It'll take hell of a lot more than my men to hold me back."
"I'll try and remember that for next time." Finn shrugged uncaringly.
"Make sure you do."
And with that we were just about to step away before being barred to stop again. This time it was Port who stood in my way, his arm separating me from Finn. Finn was already several paces ahead before realizing to turn back around to see what the holdup was.
"And just where in Demise's hell you think you're running off to? Hmm?"
I stood back confused. What is with these guys?
Port asked again ever louder this time. "Your master may have forgotten who we are, so he is excused to go, but you on the other hand know exactly who we are. Ain't that right?"
I didn't say a word, unsure what I should say. Finn also remained silent.
"We heard tall tales of a lad that jumped and attacked one of our own last night who was off duty, minding his business down at the Dragon's Flagon. He and a couple other cowards. You wouldn't know anything about that would you?"
I didn't say anything.
He screwed up his face. "In fact, come to think of it, he matches your exact description. What are the odds of that, I wonder?"
"Slim to none I'd wager." Concurred the leader. All eyes were targeting me now. I could feel their penetrating stares melt my armor away.
At that moment, I realized what this confrontation was truly about. However, I held my tongue. While I wasn't afraid of these thugs, I didn't want to act hasty, even worse, risk upsetting Finn.
Port's temper flared. "Don't you dare and deny it. We know it was you!"
"I don't know Port." Rockwell teased, stepping up beside him. "He seems mighty dangerous if you ask me. Maybe we ought to let him go too."
Port sneered at the idea, but the leader played into the jest. "Yeah, you better watch out. He might transform again and go all wild lynel on us like he did to Farga and the others."
The gang erupted into a chorus of laughter and I remained on guard.
Port leaned over to size me up. "Link was it? Ah, yes, I remember now. That's definitely what they said his name was. That's you, right?"
I stayed silent, but the dead lingering air only confirmed his suspicions.
"They said you might've been brave enough to think you can wander off alone with only just a fellow guardsman to have your back, but I didn't think you were actually stupid enough to do it."
"That's enough" commanded Finn during the confrontation. "Your game ends here."
"Who said anything about this being a game? He spilt blood of one of our own, so we've come to return the favor. Blood for blood. That's only fair. So, stand aside old man and let justice be done or may the depths of hell rise."
One of the girls from the pillow house came out to the alleyway to intervene as things reached a fever pitch. "Please, no bloodshed here! We don't want any trouble-"
That did it. The leader wasn't about to be told what to do and most certainly wasn't about to take lip from some woman. In a flash of fury, he reached out to the girls face mid-sentence to shut her up and tossed her on her backside in the middle of the road.
Finn flinched and growled curses at him. "You swine of a serpent!" That pissed me off too but I also didn't want to escalate matters worse.
The other ladies rushed to help their distraught friend on the ground and led her back inside. And just as I thought Finn hade enough, out of nowhere, a deafening thunderclap echoed above, and a dark grey cloud split and dumped a cold drizzle upon us. Everyone was taken aback, especially the other girls on the sidelines watching the confrontation unfold. Their nail-biting gazes turned to frantic scurrying as they dashed into the inn to avoid the downpour.
Finn glanced to his fists as if nothing mattered in all the world and as the skyfall drenched his cloak and armor he glanced back up and whispered. He had enough, I could tell. Speaking so faintly, I could barely hear what he said. Almost in slow motion I watched the water drip down his dark hair, bounce off his pristine cloak to form puddles on the cobblestones.
"I love the smell of wet air." He said, stiffening ever so slightly. "Reminds me of home….of old times….smells like a good fight."
Oh, goddess no!
And with that he lunged forward, sword drawn and ready to kill but before he could land his strike, he suddenly fell crashing to one knee. He screamed so loud I thought it was another lightning bolt. What could have only been a searing pain surged through him, causing his sword to slip from his fingers and clang onto the ground. All the others drew their blades, ready to attack but pulled back the moment he fell. Immediately I rushed to Finn's aid.
"No, It's his leg! It flared up again!"
"Look lads, the blind, limping eagle sprained his wing! His baby chick in now defending him." Rockwell scoffed, adding to the amusement of the others.
They all mocked in unison, their laughs surrounding us as I tried to help Finn back up from the agony that had him face first, paralyzed, and useless on the muddy alleyway.
"So, much for the great war hero. I've seen more useful stable boys." Port snorted. "I'd almost feel sorry for him if he wasn't so pathetic."
Rockwell didn't let up, matching his taunts. "Look at him, he can't even hold his sword. The hero knight of Meadowbrook, they said. The smasher they once called him! The man of iron himself…." He shook his head, grinning. "A man of mud if you ask me."
Port howled. "Hey, I know! Mud knight! Yeah, that's what we should call him! How does that sound? Hence forth you will be dubbed as Mud Knight! It has a great ring to it too! Almost legendary if you ask me!" the others guffawed again at his ill jest.
"Well, do you like that, Mud Knight?" Rockwell asked mockingly.
Ignoring them all, I reached over to help him. "M'lord Captain, are you alright—"
"Get your damn hands off of me!" he said, using all the force he could muster to rise back to one knee to shove me away. His only good knee. "I don't need your pity. Save your sympathy for someone who wants it!"
"But m' lord captain—"
"I said, back off!" I had no choice but to pull away. The anger in his face said it all. I quickly realized, it wasn't the pain of his leg that cause him so much distress, it was the pain inflicted on his pride. To be such a noble knight back in his day only to be brought low was almost all he could bare. But, nevertheless he managed to rise back up to his feet.
Their leader shouted to us. "I've seen enough. Get out of here! Both of you! I don't have the stomach for it anymore. There's no honor in beating cripples." Turning to face his men, he spoke a command. "Let's go. Our liege will be wanting us at the meadow too. We can see more of this sad show play out there for all to see."
"Yeah, and at least there we can watch with drinks in our hands." Another chimed merrily.
And with that they all turned away except for one. Me and Finn also began to make our way away from them before Rockwell shouted a final say of his own. "Aren't you forgetting something?" the man boasted, kicking Finn's sword that lay in the alley. The blade skidded and rattled disrespectfully as it slid over to our feet where we stood. Rockwell menacingly smirked as I grabbed it for Finn. I'll never forget that ugly, crooked, satisfied smile.
"Thanks lad," Finn said, taking the sword from me. He wiped it on his cloak and sheathed it before pulling me away from staring at the unsavory group walk away in the other direction. "Let's get the hell out of here. We wasted enough time."
I barely heard what he was saying, I was so enraged by those jerks blatant dishonor.
"Hey, are you listening to me boy? Romani's, now, we have to go!"
I nodded and faced him, allowing him to lead the way.
Back at Romani's we saw Athelon lining up the lads in tight formation out front. They were just about to march to head to the festival grounds when the sight of us trudging over the hill caught Athelon's eye.
The gruffy commander had them stand at attention in the rain and shouted over to us. "About damn time you made it. I was thinking you both deserted and were half-way to the siren shores of the ousted Isles by now."
"What's at the Ousted Isles?" I whispered to Finn as Athelon continued his berating.
"Pirates. And lot's of them" Finn whispered back watching Athelon march back and forth continuing his speech that neither of us were listening to.
"Why would we want to see pirates?" I asked curiously, stiff at attention.
"Because most of them are women."
"But we have women here. Why would I have to—"
"-One day when you're a man and your handsome looks escape you, you'll understand to take what you can get." Finn said before cutting off Athelon with a cough. "Are you done, you old goat?"
Athelon blinked and spun to face him. "I may be done, but his father will only be getting started. The princess will be expecting—"
At the sudden mention of her, I suddenly remembered an urgent matter. "Commander," I said, taking a knee and cutting him off. His face tightened, in shock that I would be so bold to interrupt as superior officer. "My apologies, m'lord, but there's a matter of the upmost importance that I must take care of before I can step foot on the Queen's meadow. I promise once it is done, I'll meet you all at the warrior grounds."
The brow to his only good eye raised but I continued before he could chastise me. "I made a promise to her majesty, and I humbly ask you for your leave to fulfill it."
"Then what the hell are you still kneeling in the mud for? Get a move on!" he shouted; his patience wearing thin as a veil. Wasting no time, I rose and made haste away from them, back to union bridge where I needed to be. How could I have forgotten!? I chided myself. I only knew her for one day and already I was screwing up. She asked me to fetch the boy and bring him along with me. At this point all I could do was pray that he was there waiting for me still. Ugh, the crowds, how will I ever beat the crowds to make it in time. So much was happening and there's so little time. And to think, in just a couple hours I'll be fighting for my life in the lists. I wonder, will she root for me after she finds out the truth of who I am? No, I mustn't let her know yet. I have to keep it a secret, until I can figure out how to tell her. Oh, but how? That was a lot easier said than done. Ugh, why me? Time was running out and so was I.
Authors Notes: Hello everyone, I hope you enjoyed this chapter as we see a bit of insight into the dynamics of soldier life in Hyrule. On the next one the stakes rise sky high and Zelda and Link are once again reunited. But, will everything turn out as we all hope? Find out next time! But, in the meantime, since it's my birthday today, what would be an awesome present to me, which doesn't take much from you but means the world to me is if you can leave a comment on the story. It helps me a bunch! Thanks, and stay well wherever you are in Hyrule friends.