Chapter
Why we failed part 12
A lay of Lances
Along the fences of the arena where the commons spectated, Athelon was in an uproar preparing his initiates for the upcoming trials that would proceed after the contests. His mood more sour than usual. The lads were shoulder to shoulder at attention in formation awaiting orders.
Athelon's spit mingled in a muddy puddle on the ground as he faced the would-be guardsmen. "Has anyone have an idea where Link is? We have some last-minute preparations to go over and soon this whole circus behind me will be over. And that means the princess will be making her debut any moment now," he asked, his one good eye surveying the young men, as if to peer into their souls for the truth. "Then it will be your turn to prove yourselves. But until then, we have until this mummer's farce is over. They say I must accept three champions, one from each contest to join you lot. So, I'll ask one more time, where in Demise's hell is Link!?"
Sven, Link's loyal friend, felt a knot in his stomach, aware of that truth Athelon sought. None of the cadets moved a muscle.
The strong, bearded veteran barked again while flexing fists at his sides. "Well!?"
Sven broke, like a twig facing a storm's fury and stumbled forward hesitantly, his voice a mumble, "I…uh, I think—"
Like a lion, Athelon seized on the shivering lad like prey. The old man's war-ravaged eye locking on Sven with its terrifying cloudy haze. "What? What is it you think? C'mon, out with it boy, we haven't got all evening!"
Sven stammered, mustering courage, "He is uh, well what I mean to say is, he was with his father just before these tourneys began. I saw him, that is."
"And where is he now? He does understand what's at stake, doesn't he?" Athelon's voice boomed.
Another voice piped up from the crowd, tinged with mockery to the cackling delight of his friends standing behind him. "Perhaps he cucco'ed out. Maybe he's afraid his little tricks won't cut it when the real trials start."
"I don't remember asking you!" Athelon whirled around, growling through clenched teeth. "You best stay silent if you know what's good for you Cocksure! Don't think your family name can protect you here. I don't a give a moblin's fang whose blood you're related to. The sweet goddess from heaven above wearing nothing but a chemise can come down to tell me herself, and I still wouldn't give a damn. You got me? You're all clay in my eyes. So until the festival ends, you're mine."
The mocking boy stiffened, falling back into formation, while Athelon stormed over to return his fiery gaze on Sven, standing barely an inch away. "So, lad, I believe I asked you a question, where is Link?"
Sven gasped, his words tumbling out in a rush. "I don't know. I only spoke my mind because, I know he wants to be here. He told me that much. It's just he had some business with his father, that's the Hylia, honest truth, I swear. I'm sorry," the boy finished, now visibly shaking in his Royal Cadet armor.
Athelon stepped back, his expression shifting into a contemplative scowl. "Well, then I guess, I'll just have to have a word with the commander about that. But, if you're saying he was granted permission, then there's nothing left to it but to start our final drills without him. Though he will have a much harder time than the rest of you when the first Trial of the Flame commences." His eyes glinted mischievously at Sven. "And since you're so keen on covering for your friend, then perhaps you can be the one to help him along when the real trials begin. Apparently, he is beyond heeding my instructions and help."
"It's not like that sir—"
"—Silence! I'm the one speaking here!" Athelon's voice thundered.
At that moment, a tumultuous roar erupted from the arena, drawing Athelon's gaze. The contestants to his backside just finished their onslaught of arrows and the crowd among the stands unanimously roared in cheers, whistles and howling jeers.
Athelon blinked, distracted by all the commotion flanking his company of cadets. The commoners along the picket fences nearby were more in a frenzy – some jubilant, others disgruntled, and a few even resorting to brawls over disputed bets, spilling platters, drinks and knocking over tables. Athelon, his focus momentarily diverted, signaled a nearby guard to take several men to intervene and restore order, a stern look etched on his weathered face.
And then that's when he heard the herald speak, addressing the audience.
Revali stood frozen, his feathers slightly ruffled, betraying his surprise. The usual confident air about him had faltered, his beak agape in disbelief. The thought that someone could match - no, surpass - his skill in archery was inconceivable. Yet here he was, witnessing an accomplishment he had deemed impossible. "No one can be this good," he muttered under his breath, disbelief clouding his mind. How could anyone strike all four targets? And with perfect bullseyes too!? It's impossible. Nobody is as good as me. Nobody!
Link, meanwhile, was gradually coming back to reality from his intense warrior's trance. The jubilant shouts and clapping felt distant at first, but as he became more aware of his surroundings, he found Jun by his side, his youthful face split by an ear-to-ear grin. "You did it! You did it, sir! I knew you would win," Jun exclaimed, his voice carrying over the crowd's roar.
Link bent his head down to face the boy. Still unable to form words, the lad continued his praises. "You'll be happy to know that while you were preparing during the last intermission, I managed to find someone to swap our mule for a trusty steed. And for a fair price too!"
Link blinked from under his helm, still unable to digest what just happened. Did I really just win the first contest? How? Clearing his throat, he mumbled back to his squire. "Uh, is that so? What fair price?—"
"—Oh, it isn't much, it's just that well…." Jun poked the sand with the toe of his boot. "Well…"
"Jun, what did you do?" Link pressed, unsure if he wanted to hear the answer.
The boy stepped back with a gulp and scratched the scraggly hair underneath the back of his hat but before he could reply, the grand herald took to the stage and bellowed a proclamation to the rambunctious audience. "My Lords and ladies, what a wonderful and unforeseen turn of events this evening! We might have ourselves a champion in the making! A new master of the archery contest!" the port belly man declared joyfully. He then gave a wave of his hand to point out Link among the other contenders who survived the match, catching him off guard as he was dealing with his squire. "Come noble warrior, join me here so that the people may delight in your victory! I'm sure our King and princess would want to have a better look at you!"
As he singled out Link, all the other men simultaneously sidestepped away, including Jun, leaving Link before he could react in an isolated empty circle of space for all to see. The feeling of a thousand eyes burned his back that even the pitter patter of rain couldn't extinguish.
"Gee, thanks, so much for being in this together," Link muttered, a mix of nerves and frustration.
Jun grinned back once he got at a safe distance from the attention, rubbing the back of his head. "Don't worry, sir, you got this. No problem!" He hollered encouragingly.
Meanwhile, Revali collected his composure and flapped atop the stage, his blue feathers now neatly preened. "I think I can take it from here, Grand Herald, Tisus, thanks," he said, dismissing the man, a touch of forced cheer in his voice, masking his inner turmoil. "Well, you heard him," he said, speaking to Link impatiently. "Make your way to the stage. I'm sure the people are dying to meet the man under the helm."
Link stiffened, the weight of the moment sinking in. He was suddenly very aware of the countless eyes on him, including those of the King and Princess Zelda. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward, each step feeling heavier than the last. His mind raced with thoughts of discovery and the repercussions it might bring. What do I do now, only my father knows I enlisted in the preliminaries, he wondered, a sense of urgency building within him. I also haven't told her who I really am.
In the royal booth, the atmosphere was thick with intrigue and astonishment. The tournament had just witnessed an unexpected victor.
Lord Arasmus, his tone laced with a blend of surprise and skepticism, leaned in toward the others. "Well, that's a first," he remarked, his eyes fixed on Helmsworth in the arena.
The seneschal, intrigued by Lord Arasmus's observation, inquired, "What's that?" he said, in a flowery tone that matched the perfume of his breath. A mingle of sweet mead and lilacs. "Did you say something?"
Lord Arasmus gestured towards the victor; his voice tinged with disbelief. "I've never seen a man win and not gloat about it. I mean, look at him. So much hesitation. You'd think he doesn't even want to be here."
"What do you mean?"
"What I mean is that he still hasn't even taken off that ridiculous helm of his. Surely, he'd want the praise at least, or the admiration of maidens watching. Not so much as even a bow or flourish. He's just standing there like a stone talus."
Princess Zelda, who had been watching the scene unfold with a thoughtful gaze, interjected softly, yet firmly, "Not everyone craves fame, My Lord. Some men do things for honor's sake. I believe Helmsworth's intentions are to be a true knight."
"You believe?" Questioned the Seneschal, amused.
"I Know," Zelda said with heartfelt conviction.
The seneschal, nodding in agreement with the princess, added philosophically, "Tis true, My Lord," he said, turning to face Arasmus with another whisper in his ear. "Sometimes a young heart stirs for the sake of the flame and not the heat that it brings. As it may be the case here with our young mystery knight that has so kindled the curiosity and allure of our Princess."
Lord Arasmus, however, remained unconvinced, his words dripping with cynicism. "Spare me, Lord Seneschal. Every man has ambition, whether big or small, and every man desires glory. Trust me, once he has a taste of it, it will be all he ever seeks. Mark my words, this would-be champion of yours, My Sundelion, will be just like all the rest before the week is out. You'll see. That is, if he can keep up that luck of his."
Zelda's uncle Arcturus spoke overhearing, "Well, one thing I know for sure is that the people do love a good mystery knight. Always seems to spice things up if there's ever a dull affair. Mayhaps, he is just trying to keep things interesting?" he said with a light chortle to lighten the mood, not before leaning to the ear of the princess to where only she could hear. "Or, perchance, keep a particular somebody interested?" He finished with a smile and toast of his goblet to all the rest, who followed him with pleased mutual sips.
Athelon turned all his attention to the man being summoned atop the stage in the grand arena. "Did he really just achieve a perfect tally?" Even that sort of praise and cheers caught his attention. His one good eye scowled while his scarred one zeroed in on the mysterious warrior clad in pristine, castle forged steel. "Hmm, I wonder…But, it can't be. Could it?" Athelon muttered to himself. He then shook his head and returned focus back on the lads preparing in front of him, all the while the tantalizing mystery chewing at his thoughts. I wonder…
Link reluctantly moved towards the stage; each step felt like a march towards an uncertain fate. It was as if he had been summoned to meet The Weepers ax instead of a commendation. The deafening cheers of the crowd faded into a distant hum as his mind raced with thoughts of discovery and consequence. The other contestants parted, creating a pathway, their faces a mix of awe and envy. As he ascended the steps, the rhythmic thud of his boots matched his labored breathing in heavy armor. The first stair made his gut drop as if he missed, the split-second feeling of free-falling through empty air, almost caused him to stumble. But, he swiftly corrected as he climbed and found his footing.
Revali, with a barely concealed impatience, glowered at Link. The Rito Master's feathers bristled slightly as he turned to address the audience, their attention fixed on the mysterious victor. "Behold, our archery contest champion," Revali announced, his voice echoing across the stadium. Turning to Link, his whisper was sharp, a contrast to his public tone. "Well, what's your name, then?"
Link's swallowed, trying to find the words to say but his mouth went dry. "Um, it's, Helmsworth," he managed to utter, his voice muffled under the helm.
Revali's beak twitched in annoyance. "Speak up, can't hear you," he hissed. The proud Rito rolled his eyes impatiently. "Maybe remove that mangy mutt covering your face so we can actually understand you. They want to meet you!"
Link's heart drummed at the realization of anyone spotting him among the crowd. Not to mention, word would most certainly reach her, and he would have a world of explaining to do about why he misled her. Seeing no way out of revealing himself, he realized there was no use delaying the inevitable and so, he instinctively took a humbled knee before Revali and the herald. And as he unlatched the chin of his helm, a loud disturbance diverted everyone's attention.
A terrible explosion, followed by a brilliant flash, erupted from the direction of the pavilions. The crowd's gasps and murmurs swelled into a wave of confusion and concern. High born maidens arose from their plush seats in worry as men nearby also awoke from their merrymaking, knocking drinks to reach for sheathed blades in anticipation.
The herald, caught off guard, struggled to maintain calm. "No cause for alarm," he announced, "We're looking into it. Not to worry!" As soon as he spoke, soldiers on duty among the crowd rushed toward the exits to investigate.
Taking no chances in the royal booth, Captain Tye, Link's father, leapt into action and issued swift orders to Finn and Grinn, his most trusted men. "Grinn, take who you need and go check it out. Finn, you're with me. We must protect the King and Princess."
"Sir." Finn's temple flared as he let out a small grunt in protest at his captain's initial command. He then leaned to whisper in the ear of Tye. "Let me go and have a look about instead."
Tye, eyeing Finn's limp with concern, questioned his readiness. "But what of your leg? Will you be alright?"
"I'm fine. I can do this."
"Are you sure? Because Grinn is more than capable enough to—"
"—I'm the one who beat back the Dregs at Skorin River Pass and turned the tide of the war, aren't I? Or, has everyone forgot? I think I can handle one small ruckus such as this," Finn said annoyed, now squeezing a fist at his side drawing white knuckles.
"But—"
"—I said, I'm fine, Sir. Trust me. Besides, Grinn is my underwing, and I would rather him stay by your side while I handle it. This is where protection is needed most."
"Very well, if you insist, go," Tye said. Torn between concern and trust he finally nodded in agreement. "Take the lead then. Grinn and I will ensure the safety of the royal family here."
King Rhoam, observing the exchange, stood from his seat, his hand instinctively moving from his goblet to the glistening jeweled hilt of his sword. A reflex from years past during his warrior days; long before he was King and had a last name nearly forgotten to call his own. "Then, commander, do you suggest we postpone the rest of the games til the morrow or—?" he queried, his voice laced with concern.
Commander Tye responded confidently, "No need, Your Highness. It's likely an accident. Probably those new glitter rockets that the Sheikah pyromancers have been using running amok," he said, making up a likely story to calm the nerves of those present. "There's been a lot of cargo these past few days and I'm amazed an accident hasn't happen sooner. Rest assured, My King, if there's something going on, my men will get to the bottom of it."
Lord Danarus, father to Arasmus, seated beside the King was not to be outdone and beckoned his son to command a soldier of their own as well. "My son, I think it would be prudent for you to send one of your Dragoons to go along as well. What do you think?"
Arasmus awoke in his seat. "Sure, thing father," he said, shooting a glance at one of his men to come to his side to have a listen. "Well, you heard my father. Take all you need to assist and get to the bottom of this," he said to the soldier who was leaning to hear his order. "We can't be too cautious, especially on such an important evening as this." And before the soldier darted off, he yanked him back, this time with a whisper to only he could hear. "Take an extra look about as well and keep an eye on that Guardsman. Something seems off. I don't trust their type."
The soldier understood with a nod and Arasmsus' father spoke again to the conclusion of the matter. "Very well, then, all seems to be taken care of now, back to our festivities in the meantime while we wait," he announced with authoritative gravitas, nodding firmly a silent understanding with his son. The soldier, clad in the resplendent, blackened armor of House Draene saluted them both, then hastened after Finn, disappearing down the stairs in swift pursuit.
Startled in her seat by the disturbance happening at the pavilions, Zelda instantly felt a man's hand glide over hers on the table. "Not to worry, your highness," Arasmus declared confidently. "That Guardsman has the right of it, you'll see. Probably just a loose cannon went off. The likely culprit an ill-versed Sheikah magician making a fool of themselves. Their obsession with archaic sorcery is bound to lead to accidents. Those dolts don't get that if you continue to dabble with powers you don't understand, something most certainly is going to go awry. Let's just hope it's nothing more than a scare and that no one was harmed, or worse, killed due to their ignorance."
On the deck below, a noble and young maiden with long, dark hair cascading over her fair shoulders, turned to face them, her face etched with exaggerated distress. "You don't think someone could have actually died, do you?" she inquired, her voice laced with a blend of worry and fascination. Her tone sought reassurance like that of a damsel who needed protection. Much to Zelda's hushed, yet mild annoyance she could tell she only wanted an excuse to hear the sound of Lord Arasmus' voice.
Arasmus sat up in his seat and gestured for one of his Dragoons to lend his ear to him. "Perhaps, out an abundant of caution, maybe I should have Stonebreaker fetched to me, so the ladies here can feel more at ease. Why don't you go and bring her to me. After all, like they say, I am the best sword in all of Hyrule."
"Yes, my lord," replied the soldier, before scurrying off away after the others who went to investigate.
"Oh? Stonebreaker, what's that?" Asked the ditzy lady sat below them.
"Only the greatest, great sword this side of Death Mountain."
"Oooh," the girl replied, unable to conceal her blush as Arasmus sat back proudly with his arms flexed behind his head.
"We are at fine," Zelda grumbled. "There's no need, My Lord."
Arasmus ignored her, still trying to court and win the approval of the other ladies present with his self-grandiosity.
Urbosa taking Zelda's lead continued with a verbal joust of her own. "That's right," she said with a light chuckle. "We wouldn't want you to spoil yourself, now would we, My lord? Or—reveal too much of that strength and courage you mentioned earlier. Think of the poor maidens having to witness such acts of a true hero. I mean, after all, it could be dangerous in itself to unleash such a terrific power rumor mentioned on display. I mean, compared to your talents, this lot wouldn't stand a chance against you," she said, pointing to the men down in the arena.
"We don't want these poor ladies to fall and stumble over one another for you now. And on these stands too, they are so high up, and they could have quite the tumble below. That would be the real tragedy here and such a needless loss." Urbosa finished.
"Indeed," Purah rolled her eyes, to the soft chortle of Mipha who had been listening.
Zelda couldn't help but suppress a giggle as well to Arasmus' quiet annoyance, but he played it off and ignored Urbosa. He continued to answer the question posed by the lady and her friends sat below them on the deck, who were still infatuated with him, despite Urbosa's effort. "Well, these Sheikah have been known to harbor dangerous magic before. Dolts the lot of them," Arasmus said, seizing the moment, speculated with a thoughtful stroke of his clean-shaven chin. "And let us not forget who their kindhave blood ties with. Yiga."
The princess blinked, taken aback at his nonchalant attitude and obvious contempt for Sheikah people.
Purah's brows bent into a fury and just as she was about to rise and rage in protest, Zelda calmed her with a well-placed hand on her shoulder to intervene. "Well, in any case, accident or not, these Pyromancers are not magicians, they are trained scientists, and they are not dolts as you say—Nor are they to blame for, Hylia forbid, an accident. How can you say something so callous?"
"Forgive me, My Sundelion, I forget my place," Arasmus said, suddenly remembering why he was there while forgetting half the company he was in. He swiftly tilted his head toward Zelda. "You are right. And I offer my apologies to you ladies as well if I offended any of you." His gaze flickered with a hint of regret as he offered a genuine conciliatory look to Impa, Purah, and another Sheikah maiden at their side. "Pardon my outburst. It's just that I simply lament the missed opportunity to unveil your mysterious Helmsworth below. Or haven't you noticed he absconded away in the commotion?"
Zelda blinked again but this time her gaze searching the arena below. She and everyone had been so preoccupied with the startling disturbance that she hasn't given it a second thought to see Helmsworth reveal himself to the audience. Sure enough, Arasmus was right, he was nowhere to be seen among the other contenders and it seemed the herald, wanted to proceed with the contests to make up for lost time.
A stream of royal guardsmen marched fervently towards the stage, parting through the throng of contestants like a ship cleaving through ocean waves. The lead guard exchanged a meaningful glance with the Herald who stood atop the deck, looking confused as to what is happening as anyone. When his gaze met the cold stare coming back from the lead guardsman, a silent conversation shared between them that spoke volumes in the hush of the arena. Suddenly, as if relaying all he needed to say with just a glance, the commanding soldier turned away and nodded a command for his men to fallback and return to the stands of onlookers.
The Herald, momentarily befuddled, quickly composed himself under the weight of countless expectant gazes. His voice, slightly tremulous yet striving for confidence, reassured the audience, "It appears, all is in order," he said, shuffling and fidgeting with the trim of his robes. "See, everyone, like I said, not to worry. I have been just informed that—"
His assurance was abruptly cut short by the arrival of a slender man rushing in colorful, formal robes, that of someone in service to the higher nobility. Darting through the competitors with an urgency, he leaned close to the Herald, murmuring words that caused the latter's eyes to flicker with apprehension and contemplation.
The crowd, sensing the strangeness, grew tense and restless, to the point their murmurs swelled into a storm of speculation and concern. The Herald, now armed with new information, cleared his throat authoritatively, regaining control of the situation. "As I was saying, I have been informed that all is well, and things are under control. Just a slight hiccup with the magicians it would seem. N—nothing more," he said, dabbing the shiny sweat from his bald forehead with a handkerchief.
He then coughed, cleared the croak in his throat as best he could and continued to pontificate with a booming voice. "Percy here assures me that a small fire has been put out due to a minor, miniscule, mishap and that the games should commence immediately without delay!" he assured, downplaying the severity of the interruption. "But first," he proposed, a fresh idea coming to mind. "To add to the excitement, we must match spectacle for spectacle, that's what I say!" he said to the roaring approval of the audience. "So, Let us enjoy a slight intermission while we prepare the next contest!"
With these words, he gestured desperately to a bunch of musicians twiddling their thumbs on the sidelines and waved for stage performers too; beckoning them to fill the air with melodies and distractions, as the preparations for the next contest were hastily set in motion. Jugglers, mummers, and even fire breathers took to the edge of the arena to dazzle those watching.
Meanwhile, Revali, standing and looking perplexed at what just happened coughed beside the man as the audience's attention fell back into the theatrics being performed by the entertainment. "And what about our champion here?" he said, waving his feathers toward Link, or rather, where Link was standing seconds ago.
"Who?" Asked the Herald, gesturing to Revali to turn around and have a look himself; and that if he did, he would see that their champion had performed a magician's trick of his own and vanished. Where Link was earlier now stood several anxious lords clad in fine armor, ready for the next bout to begin.
"What the? Where did he? How could he?" Revali murmured to himself.
The proud Rito's temper flare just as he felt a nudge on his wing from behind. Lo and behold to his side stood the short squire named Jun. "Hello sir, or master, or whoever you are—Sorry for my manners, but my Sir had some urgent business to do when he heard that an intermission was called. He offers his apologies and hopes you don't mind but he will be returning when the next game begins."
Through a clenched beak of frustration Revali grumbled. "Oh, did he now? Isn't he aware that it is tradition for the victor of the archery contests to partake in the first round of jousts? Not to mention, her Royal Highness was expecting a formal introduction," he said, glowering at the lad.
Jun only smiled nonchalantly, "Nope. I reckoned he didn't, sir or master, or whoever you are—"
"—I'm Revali, or better yet, Archmaster Revali to you."
"Well, sorry Archmaster Revali, but he said he will be back shortly. Oh, and he told me to tell you his name is Sir Helmsworth. Since you were all asking earlier and that's what you wanted. Now you won't be needing him until the games are finished. Well, anyways, I must be going now to help him. Goodbye!" and before the boy could be stopped, he scurried off down the wooden planks of steps and back through the crowd of contenders to the pits where men prepared for the next challenge.
Revali had half a mind to apprehend the lad when the Herald interrupted him. "Let him go. Better for us anyway. It appears the Royals above forgot anyway, and we really must be getting this show underway. Now, what about those results?"
"Huh?" Revali blinked back, still agitated and half listening.
"The results of the contest." The Herald prodded to where only he could hear. "The Flight of the golden arrow or whatever you called this circus you had on earlier. Do we know who will be advancing forth?"
Revali shook his head. "Um, yeah, sorry. Where's my tally!?" he snapped at a stagehand. One of the men who were tasked with running the tourney.
"Here you are, m'Lord," bowed a hylian man who held a scribbled list scratched on a parchment, handing it to the proud Rito. Revali's pupils frantically shifted side to side over the list, studying the scores as he read it thoroughly as an eagle would judge its prey from afar. Taking only several minutes to evaluate the results he raised his wing for all to hear him.
"Hey, hold on just a second, calm your cuccos, m'lord," said the Herald, rushing to stop Revali. "I told the people they would have a slight intermission first. And besides, between you and me, we need a moment to breathe and give the lads time to set up the lists and clear the tiltyard. Just ten minutes is all we need."
"Oh, very well, then," Revali huffed, folding his wings, the parchment flapping while still gripped at his side.
The rain eased into a gentle drizzle as Jun located Link leaning against the dimly lit corridor's wall, separating the contenders' yard from the arena.
"There you are!" Hollered Jun, only to meet a stiff a finger from Link to hush. He didn't want to be noticed just yet.
"Oh, sorry, I mean, there you are." Jun whispered. "I went looking for you by the stables and they said you haven't come by yet. But don't worry, I'll take care of that."
Link, now leaning on a barrel, helm in hand, sighed deeply. "Well, now you found me," he acknowledged, his tone weary. He studied his helmet, tracing its steel engravings while musing aloud. "Look, I don't know Jun. Maybe I should forfeit before things go too far. What if I'm caught before I can explain myself to her?"
"You won't be!" Assured the bright-eyed squire.
"Look, I don't even know how I managed to win that last round. It's hard to explain…but during the match, it felt like…like I was someone else. You know what I mean?"
"No, I don't know what you mean," Jun admitted. "I'm always just me."
Link attempted to suppress a sighing laugh that escaped his lips. "Yeah, I suppose not. Of course, you wouldn't know. How can anyone? Forget it." Link pondered a moment leaving Jun in awkward silence. I haven't felt this way in ages. Could that sort of power really exist within me? Is it even mine? I could've sworn I hid those feelings as I was told to do so. For so long they've been gone I almost believed they were nothing but a distant dream. But they're not, they're real. Or at least, I think.
Jun gave him a funny look of concern and curiosity like if he just lost his sanity. Link continued, ignoring Sven's stare, lost in his thoughts, but this time speaking aloud. "I mean, of course I was me. It's just that during the heat of the moment, when time felt like it was slipping through my fingers, I lost myself and froze. And just as I was about to give up, a rush came over me out of my control and I let go for a fleeting moment. A feeling that I haven't felt since before I was your age, in fact. A feeling I could've sworn I've forgotten and just as quickly as it came, it faded again like it was never there at all. I just—"
"—Will you stop whining already? Sheesh. Snap out of it! You make having special powers sound like a bad thing."
A hint of a smile flickered across Link's face, though his brows quickly bent to maintain a stern expression. Jun had the right of it though. Maybe he was overthinking things, but in his defense he retorted. "It's not about having special powers. I don't have—"
"—Well, whatever you want to call them!" Jun continued, eager as ever to still prove their mettle. "Look, Sir, you won, that's all that matters! I thought you were brilliant! And so did the crowd. Especially her, or didn't you notice?"
"Sorry, but I was a little busy at the moment, or didn't you notice?" Link said, recollecting the strenuous match.
The boy cupped his chin, remembering as well. He waved his hands dismissively. "Um, right…Well, never mind that. Anyway, besides, she is expecting you to make it to the end! And—I'm expecting you to win that prize mone—I mean, think about what she would think if you just up and left? Huh? C'mon sir, you can't let her down now. There ain't no getting off this horse we're on now."
"We're?" Link echoed, a genuine smile now playing on his lips, thanks to Jun's uplifting pep talk.
"Yeah, and speaking of which, we have to go fetch your steed, or rather, I do. You wait here. They said they will be beginning the jousts soon. Mayhaps, you might want to wait here or actually, better yet, stand with the others. Don't worry, they're not looking to find out who you are anymore. I saw and end to that. Now, you better hurry or you'll miss your chance. I gotta run now!"
"Hey, uh, Jun—" Link called out, a note of gratitude in his voice.
Jun paused mid-run, looking back expectantly. "Sir?"
"Thanks...," Link said sincerely.
"Right," he said with a boyish nod of adventure. "I'll be back faster than you can say 'mighty banana'!"
Link watched him dash off, slightly baffled by Jun's peculiar choice of words. Mighty banana? He had never heard that expression before. With little time to dwell on such musings, he donned his helm firmly and had barely started down the alleyway when a commotion around the bend snagged his attention.
Raised voices and the sound of an argument drifted to his ears. Curiosity piqued, he edged closer, his steps cautious yet determined. The scene that unfolded before him was an argument between two men: a towering figure, his voice deep and rough like that of a moblin and a smaller, wiry man, clad in a tough, leather apron indicative of a blacksmith. The disparity in their sizes was stark, the larger man's stature imposing and threatening as he loomed over the smaller one.
The large man, with a stiff poke of his fingers, shoved the defiant worker in the chest and growled. "Look, I don't care what rules you have to bend or break, this needs to be done, got it? You got your rupees. That was deal."
"Well, the deal has changed. I'm under scrutiny now since that damn fire went ablaze," he retorted, a hint of fear now creeping into his voice as the threat of violence escalated. "What was that anyway?"
"I don't care!" snapped the large man.
"Well, I do! There's guardsman buzzing like bees everywhere now, looking for would-be culprits. Everyone is being watched. I just, I just can't, I change my mind. The deal is off. If I get caught I'll be—"
The tension escalated, the conversation veering towards a darker path. "—You'll be dead if you don't, so do it! A deal is a deal, and we had a bargain. If you don't, my lord will hear about this, and you know what happens when my lord hears things he doesn't like."
"Your lord may be worrisome, true, but I fear the wrath of the king more. And besides, does his lordship's father know what you're up to? Why are you so keen on hurting this young soldier anyway? Why is he worth so much to blunder?"
"That business is my own. Now, do the damn job you were paid to do and beat those pigments into the metal of the blades so they match the color—And don't forget to swap the coronel of my lance with one of those new ones. There can be no mistakes."
Neither were willing to back down and as Link inched closer, unseen, the two men fell silent, sensing an intruder. The large man turned, his gaze narrowing on Link. Immediately they hushed their quarrel.
Recognition flickered in his eyes and Link knew. It had been the same burly, mean looking Dragoon who lent him the four arrows earlier during the contest. Why was he threatening this other fellow? Instinctively, Link made it his business. He didn't like bullies. And besides he had to repay him for his kindness earlier for lending the handful of arrows. "Is something the matter?"
"Oh, sweet Hylia, that's him—Speak of demise! What odds?" The smithy said, but before Link could hear, the burly man shoved him hard in the chest again to quiet so he can speak.
"This is a private party, and I don't like being snuck up on. So, if you know what is wise, you'll walk away and forget anything you think you may have heard, Sir—?" The brute asked, cracking his knuckles, wearing a grimace. "Sir—who are you now?"
"Between us, Link, but right now I'm Helmsworth, if you must know," Link said confidently, arms folded.
"Well, L—or, Helms—whoever you are, get lost," said the brute, who seemed to have trouble remembering basic names or difficulty listening. Clearly he had two helpings of brawn and half a helping of brain, Link surmised. And with that the man sneered, dismissing Link's inquiry with a wave of his hand. "Like I said, this is a private party, so git!"
Link, his sense of justice piqued, couldn't walk away. "Yeah, and I seem to have lost my invite. Pity, the post is so unreliable these days, now with the festival going on about."
"What did you say?" the man shook his head, unsure if he heard what he thought he heard and spoke again, taking a stomp towards Link. "Did you hear me? This is none of your business! Now, get out of here before you get yourself hurt."
"But I already am hurt you see." A cool smile began to crease on Link's face, yet he folded it back into a stern look. "My feelings that is. I missed my party invite. So, you see, there's really nothing else more you can do to me now."
"Pfft, I'd squash you! Like a puny bugger!"
"That would require you to catch me first," Link retorted, a smirk now really begging to tug at his lips.
"Look, just because you think you're some champion because you managed to score in the match, doesn't make you a hero. Because this is real life and isn't a game. There are no such things as heroes! Luck won't save you like it did earlier. Now stay out of my way or you will live to regret it!"
"Ah, so I will live, then? Can't be that bad if I'll live."
"Why you little pissant!" The man raged, and reflexes reached for a dirk atop an anvil that that the smith had been working on and bared it, ready to slash. Link braced himself for a skirmish, thinking of options to evade and counter. He was disarmed himself, having left his arsenal back in the arena.
In a panic the smithy squealed and dodged out of the way back under the canopy of his makeshift shop, crashing over his work bench. The brute began to charge headstrong towards Link, but a young and snappy voice shouted to them from back in the alley of the challenger's pit that led to the shops and rotundas. Jun returned, or had he ever really left? Link couldn't be sure.
"Hey, don't you know it's illegal to assault fellow contestants outside the arena?" Jun hollered. "He's unarmed and you have a blade! What sort of coward strikes a defenseless man?"
What? I'm not defenseless, Link winced at his words that nibbled at his pride. It was true he didn't have his weapons, but that has never stopped him before.
The man shrugged and roared at the boy over his shoulder, still braced to charge after Link. "This don't concern you or your little pony!" he said, noticing the horse Jun had been leading by the nose. "Now run along or I might change my mind!"
Link felt a shudder of worry on Jun's behalf and didn't want him involved. The man was closer to him now than he was. Jun, just get back to the arena, I'll catch up later. Just go before you get hurt. His heart began to thump louder than his thoughts.
"Oh, yeah? Just try, I dare you. I ain't afraid of you." The boy taunted. "Besides, how are you gonna' catch me? Or haven't you noticed I have a horse. So, unless you can outrun horses, I'd suggest you back off before I tell what is going on down here to those hosting the tournament. I bet they would be very interested to see what sort of happenings are happening here."
The Dragoon mulled and chewed over the boy's words and just as he was about to make up his mind and square off against Link regardless of the consequences, heralding trumpets blared again, summoning all challengers back to the arena. The intermission ended.
Both aspiring knight and dark soldier of Draene were locked in their stances and listened for the heralding songs of gallantry and jubilee to end. When they ceased the brute decided not to face off against Link. Besides, if all went well and fortune favored him, he'd have his turn anyway. "Hmph! You're lucky," the man said, lifting the sharp and jagged visor of his helm, to bare a crooked smirk. "…For now. Because next time it's going to take a lot more than a boy and some bards tooting horns to save you. In the melee, you're mine!" he added, flinging the knife into the sand at the foot of the Smithy who returned from his shop.
"Fine by me. I'll be looking for you!" Retorted Link, undeterred. "And in the jousts!"
The man kicked the sand clung atop his boots and turned to face the smithy. "And you," he scowled, an entire conversation flowing from his cold stare to the man as he brushed past, back to the arena. "Be ready with what you promised," he finished cryptically as he sauntered off.
Jun pulled the modest horse closer to where Link watched the man trail off back to the colosseum. The mount was a tad on the smaller side as horses went but no less a pretty animal; looked to be healthy and unblemished too. A chestnut-colored mare with a white mane and tail, and strong hooves to match.
Jun smiled before making a proud declaration. "Meet—Shywind. Or was it Shystride?" Jun thumbed his chin in quick recollection, glancing to meet the gaze of the dainty horse who snorted back. "Yeah, she's definitely a Shywind."
He cleared his throat and began again. "Pardon me missy for ever doubting." Jun said, bowing modestly with a wave of his cap to the horse. Who in turn fluttered her white tail in approval. He then returned to face Link. "Well, whatever the case, she's yours now, so you can actually name her what you wish to be honest. But, fair warning, I've always been told it's awful bad luck to rename a trusty steed—"
Link cut him off to state the obvious. "—Jun isn't she, a, well—"
"—Not a pony if you're wondering. I made sure this time. She's just young is all. The stablemaster who traded Joe for her said so—"
"—Hold on a moment? Joe? Who's Joe?" Link asked curiously.
"Why, he was your mule, of course," Jun said matter-of-factly. "Though, sadly he didn't have the honor of making your acquaintance. I had to make a swap before you could've met him. Not to mention offer up some other of your useless valuables for payment. But don't you fret, were all square now. A shame because he was a good boy too."
"Jun, wait, what? What useless valuables?" Link asked, not before immediately shaking his head, dismissing the question, realizing he couldn't dwell on such things. He had more important matters to focus on right now. "Uh, never mind, it's fine. Anyways, why the mare though?"
"Well, she was all the stable master had left for offer. All the other mounts were either declared for or already sold. He assures me though that she is a loyal young lady and can be trusted. And, don't let her looks fool you, he told me. She is not only strong for her size but also smart. Smarter than most men he said in fact."
"Jun you do know how jousting works, right?"
Yeah, sorta. I think so," Jun said, rubbing the back of his head.
"You think so?" Link asked, a nervous rumble now beginning to bubble in his belly. Maybe they bit off more than they could chew.
"Yeah, it can't be too hard. You just gotta stick the pointy end of your stick into the other man before he sticks you with his. Simple."
"You make it sound so easy."
"I know, right? That's because it is easy!"
Link scratched the back of his head. "Well, you're not entirely wrong, but there's more to it than just that. There's rules and points to score. It's not just 'sticking the pointy end of your stick' before he does. Lances break and one must maintain his lance if he is to succeed on a go around. That is if the other man isn't unhorsed. It's about precision aiming too. Not to mention, there's a shield to contend with."
Link paused and took a step back to evaluate Jun alongside his new friend with a sigh. "And lastly, and most importantly, a man's horse must be swift and strong," he said, looking at Skywind with a skeptical glance. "You know, like a strong Destrier or swift Courser. Hell, even a good Charger would serve in a jousting like this one. You know, strong and swift."
Jun piped up. "Well, good news for you then, this little lady is strong, swift and smart! So what do you have to say to that?"
"Exactly my point. Little."
"Well, that's because she's a Rouncey if you must know. So there! A three for one special! Strong, swift and smart! Ain't that right, Shywind?" The horse neighed in delight at his compliment, clopping closer to have the boy soothe her mane with his fingers as a bonus.
Link spoke, interrupting their quaint bonding time. "Um, Jun, I'm not sure if you know but Rounceys don't typically excel in any one quality."
"Hmm? But the stable master said—"
"—That they can do everything. Yes, that's true, but they are more like a jack of all trades but a master of none."
"Well, she's special! She's going to prove them all wrong, just like we will!"
"I don't know Jun, I'm not sure about this," Link said, rubbing his neck in concern, debating the notion aloud.
Shywind on the other hand wasn't having the doubts and reared up on her hind legs in protest.
Cautiously, Link took a step back. Jun remarked. "Umm, Sir, I don't think she likes what you said. I think you may have hurt her feelings."
"Oh yeah, you think so? I wonder what makes you say that. I couldn't tell," Link said sarcastically, putting some more distance between him and the grumpy horse. "Look, I didn't mean to say those things that way, it's just the truth though—" The mare thrashed and pulled back again, pulling the reigns from Jun's grip and neighed, this time more agitated. "Alright, okay, I'll give you a shot. Sorry I ever doubted you," Link said, his hands up trying to calm the mare as he stepped to take over.
Link chuckled thankfully as she began to settle down with his taming touch. "Seems only fair, I suppose. I mean, they gave me a shot, so why can't you have one. I mean, to be honest, between you and me, I'm more worried if Jun's knows exactly what he's doing, than you. You seem…capable," Link said, whispering to her as he leaned closer to apologize with a head rub.
"You're darn right!" Jun declared, standing back to give them space.
"Jun, that's not what I said—"
"—C'mon, let's go before we get disqualified!" Jun said, bolting toward the arena, leaving Link and their new companion in his wake.
"Jun! Jun!" Link hollered after the boy, but it was no use. He had already darted off to no doubt enlist them in the jousting roll call and ready their position. Link sighed. "Ugh, I don't think he heard me right." He then turned to meet the horses twinkling eye staring back at him and spoke a final word on the matter. "Well, my lady, there's nothing for it but to show them what we got, right? Onward to the tournament and to Jun!" he said, leading her by the reigns. This time she perked up and snorted joyfully, eager for the coming contest. And with that they made their way to the arena.
Back on stage the Herald called for everyone to hush once more. "And now I give you all, the Archmaster yet again, Lord Revali of the Rito!"
The crowd awoke again in a cheer, forgetting the delay moments earlier but soon calmed themselves as the Herald ushered them with his hands for them to listen.
Revali's gaze flowed over the audience and met to face the Royal enclosure. "It is done. I have your tally. The contestants who will be advancing to the next round, the Jousts, will be a total of thirty-four. Join me in congratulating them all for this well-earned victory in rising to the next challenge!"
Those who lost the match were ushered off the field of sand in agitated disappointment leaving only the triumphant to remain. Some took courtly bows with a grand flourish whereas others stood proud and knightly. Link, however, was nowhere to be found, neither his squire.
Finn returned surprisingly quickly to the royal box with a brisk stride, despite the gait in his step and his armor clinking. The crowd's murmur softened as they noticed the guardsman's return, signaling that news was about to be delivered.
Clearing his throat, Finn addressed Commander Tye first, his voice carrying clearly. "Captain, you would be happy to know that the disturbance at the pavilions were a false alarm. Everything has been thoroughly checked, and there's no threat to the games or the spectators. We can proceed without delay. My apologies your grace, it took me this long to report back," the veteran said, head hung low in a bow toward the King.
King Rhoam, who had been listening earnestly, leaned forward. "Thank you, Guardsman. It prides me to know that men capable such as yourself are here to keep us and my daughter safe. Your diligence ensures that we can all enjoy these games in peace. Please extend my gratitude to all those who helped you. And now, back to the tournament!" he said, lifting his cup for all to cheer.
Zelda, who had been tense with concern, finally relaxed beside her friends, her expression brightening. "Well, that's a relief." she said, her voice tinged with genuine relief. Purah then whispered in her ear a distracting joke of some kind, because she immediately burst in a bout of giggles that she desperately tried to suppress.
During this time, Finn, the royal guardsman, took that as his moment to slip away from attention to approach Lord Arasmus. He found the lord unamused and sitting with a stern expression, waiting for his 'Sundelion' to be finished with her friends.
Finn spoke low but clear to where only he could hear. "May I have a word with you, my lord?"
Arasmus, slightly taken aback by the interruption, nodded, turning in his seat for a private discussion with him. "Yes, what's the matter?"
Finn's tone was laced with annoyance. "Look, next time you try to have me followed, send more than one of your dogs to spy on me. You're gonna need it."
The remark caught Arasmus off-guard, his face a mask of poorly disguised irritation. "I'm not sure what you mean, Guardsman," he replied coolly, attempting to maintain his composure so that the others in attendance wouldn't notice.
"He was hardly conspicuous."
Arasmus furrowed his brow in confusion. "What do you mean? Where is he?"
"He said for me to tell you, that he won't be watching the rest of the games tonight, in fact, he might not be available for the rest of the week."
Arasmus started to interject, "If you—"
But Finn cut him off, his tone firm yet composed. "Not to fret, My Lord, he is fine. Well, if you consider waking up feeling like a Goron smashed your head with a rock as 'fine,' then yeah, he's fine. Your man will live. But next time, there won't be a next time."
"Is that a threat? I could have your—" Arasmus bristled.
"—It's a promise." Finn met his gaze unflinchingly. "I'm going to say this as respectfully as I can, my lord, keep your goons away and out of Royal Guardsman affairs, or there will be trouble."
Arasmus scoffed dismissively. "Pfft, you guardsmen think you have it all figured out."
Without another word, Finn turned and walked off coolly to stand guard beside his commander, leaving Arasmus to stew in his own thoughts as the noise of the tournament filled the background.
Unbeknownst to either of them, Zelda had become quite adept at eavesdropping. After all, she had been sitting right next to Arasmus the entire time. All the while as she was entertaining polite conversation with Purah and the other maidens, her other ear perked up to listen to what they were discussing, albeit, all it did was confuse her more. Whatever it was, if she had to bet her rupees on it, Arasmus was up to something. And she needed to get to the bottom of it.
But, before she could, Mipha spoke, concern tinting her voice. "Oh my, Princess," she said, drawing Zelda's attention.
Zelda turned to face her instead of dwelling on Arasmus. She will just have to deal with him later. "Hmm, what is it Mipha?"
"Sorry to bother, but your champion, I don't see him. He still hasn't returned. And the hour grows late. They will be starting the next contest any minute now."
Zelda responded, her voice tinged with worry, "Oh dear, you're right. I thought he'd be here by now. I wonder where he's gone to?" The princess gazed at all the contestants now forming lines and her mystery champion had not appeared yet.
Arasmus, overhearing the conversation, chimed in with a slight sneer. "Perhaps, he decided to forfeit and save himself any further chance of embarrassment."
Zelda's eyes narrowed slightly. "What embarrassment? He won the last round or didn't you notice—"
Arasmus explained, adopting a more serious demeanor, "—What I mean to say, my dear princess, is that he has so much weighing on his shoulders with this tourney. I mean, with now bearing your own banner and all for all to witness. It's no small wonder why any man would flee if given the chance. Who would dare risk failure if they were already ahead? It would be smart to get out now and remain a champion, then to continue for everyone to see the fall."
Zelda shook her head firmly, her voice filled with conviction, "No, I don't believe that. He's doing just fine. He wouldn't lose if given the opportunity. And besides, even if he did, he gave it his all and that is all that matters. There is no shame in that."
Arasmus shrugged, his tone slightly mocking, "Tell that to a man's pride, my Sweet Sundelion."
The seneschal placed his goblet of mead back on the table, casting a thoughtful glance towards the princess. "I fear my princess that your Lord Arasmus may have the right of it. A spark was lit in this lad's heart to impress you and well, he achieved that and then some I would say."
Zelda's eyes glistened and flickered with light from the candles as she listened. The Seneschal continued; his tone as flowery, yet serious as ever. "So now I ask, dear princess, why would one spoil sweet wine with sour grapes and risk vinegar when their cup already overflows with the bounty of a summer's harvest?" he said, followed with a wistful sigh.
She stewed on his words, but for only a second before deciding to ignore his usual philosophical prattling. Instead, she found support from Mipha, who added optimistically, "I for one agree with the princess. I mean, surely, there must be a reason for his absence, right? We just don't know it yet, that's all."
Zelda faced her and returned her kindness with a warm smile that could compete with a brazier nearby. Just then, Urbosa leaned forward in her seat, joyfully pointing a finger at the arena of sand. "There! I see him! He returns! And just in time too!"
Zelda awoke where she sat, eyes widened as she searched the arena below, but there were so many. "Are you sure? Where is he, I don—"
"—He's right there, Little Bird! He found himself a mount it would seem too! That's why we didn't recognize him among the rest. But make no mistake, that wolfen armor he is wearing is quite the eye catch. We just weren't looking for a young man on a horse, is all."
Zelda could have facepalmed herself but didn't. "Of course! How can I be so silly? The next venture is the jousts. Of course, he would be saddling up." She then turned to Arasmus, her eyebrow arching skeptically, hoping to hear a concession when she knew there would be none. "What was that you were saying, My Lord?"
This gentle rebuke left Arasmus momentarily at a loss, as the crowd's focus shifted back to the preparations for the next event, their spirits lifted by the unexpected turn of events. Ignoring her, he leaned to whisper a secret into the seneschal's ear as he was guzzling more mead. "Sorry to interrupt your festive spirit, but perhaps, you'd like to tell that bumbling oaf of a brother of yours that we need to get this show on the road. And that a change is in order."
"Oh?" The man's eyes lifted with intrigue, a bit of drink spilling from his chin onto his robes.
"Yes, we need to expedite things," Arasmus said, conspiratorially. "After all, the princess can no longer wait."
"So, you're really going through with your plans then?"
A light laugh escaped the side of Arasmus' lips. "Of course, I wouldn't expect anything less but the best for my 'soon to be betrothed'." And with that, the Seneschal obeyed and scooted out from his chair to make his way down to where attendants stood hand and foot awaiting orders below deck.
In the bustling atmosphere of the tournament arena, Link and Jun arrived just in time to see the other contenders preparing for the joust. The air resonated with the symphony of metal clanking and the rhythmic thudding of horses' hooves against coarse sand. More steeds were led in for the awaiting contenders to mount them. They paused, eyes wide with awe, as a small procession of gallant destriers paraded by, each adorned with trappings that shimmered in gold and silver, reflecting their esteemed lineage and the wealth of their masters.
These majestic beasts wore elaborately decorated caparisons, cascading over their flanks in rich folds, boasting the colors and emblems of the noble houses they represented. Armor plates, polished to a mirror-like sheen, encased their bodies, echoing the armored splendor of the riders they bore. Amidst these paragons of chivalry, more contenders' mounts were arrayed in simpler attire, their decorations modest but dignified.
Link's own steed, standing in stark contrast, was notably unadorned, its harness devoid of any ostentation—a humble yet proud reflection of its rider's unpretentious origins. As they absorbed the scene, Jun's gaze lingered on the splendid parade, while Link adjusted his grip on the reins, feeling an odd kinship with his plainly caparisoned mount amidst the spectacle of grandeur.
"Looks like you're all set to join the rest, Sir," Jun said jovially, watching all the others from low borne men at arms to knights of high esteem clop by. "Too bad we missed the rules. Looks like the herald just got done announcing them."
Link, already astride his humble horse, responded with a confident nod, "It's alright, I'm sure I can figure it out. Jousting's not entirely new to me. Should be like others I've seen, I suppose."
Jun grinned back, his youthful face brimming with enthusiasm. "Well, I for one am glad you have it all sorted, saves me the trouble."
Link's expression turned serious as he glanced down at his squire. "Wait a minute, Jun. You have a very important role to play."
Jun's eyes widened slightly, a mix of excitement and surprise flickering across his features. "I do?"
Link felt a knot tighten in his stomach but managed to maintain a composed demeanor.
Jun swiftly corrected. "I mean, of course I do. No problem. I got you."
Link clopped closer atop Shywind, lowering his voice despite the chaos around them. "Jun, you're going to have to be ready to heed commands, especially if I were to become unhorsed. Not to mention, fetch me fresh lances when they splinter. Understood?"
Jun's expression shifted to one of determination as he nodded vigorously. "But you won't be unhorsed, I just know it."
Link gave him a small smile, touched by his squire's faith but underscored with the gravity of reality. "Well, even still, one must always be at the ready, okay?"
Jun saluted, a mock-serious expression on his face. "Absolutely, Sir. Ready for anything!" His tone was playful yet underscored with a newfound sense of responsibility as they both turned their attention to the field, preparing for the joust to begin.
Jun's eyes suddenly flickered with excitement. "Oh, wait a minute, Sir, it looks like the herald is back and he's with that bird fellow again. They look to be arguing who's to speak first."
"Shh, I want to hear," Link said back.
Atop the stage Revali had been quarreling with the Herald about the minute details and just as they were at a fever pitch, Percy, one of the resplendent tourney attendants returned to interrupt them with a whisper into the herald's ear. The man's eyes darted around as he listened, digesting every word. "Oh, I see." He said with a bumbling laugh. "Oh, very good, very good! Very well, then, I will give the command."
The herald then pushed away from Revali and Percy and stepped lightly onto the stage to address the eager crowd once more. "May I have your attention, my Lords and Fair Ladies," he said with a flourish. "It has come to my attention that there has been a slight shift in the rules and the games."
The crowd answered back in a mix of disquieted murmurs and excitement. He quickly raised his arms for them to listen. "In the spirit of brevity and to accommodate her grace's wishes, the next two challenges will become one!"
Zelda nearly rose from her seat, "I never gave a command to—"
But the sudden sensation of a hand glided over hers and pulled her back. It was Arasmus. "All will be well, My Sundelion, you'll see. Try and enjoy the festivities," he said quietly in a sneaky tone.
The princess shuttered at his cold touch and pulled away, though careful not to disturb the others still watching. "You can't just change—"
"—Actually, I can, my dear princess. You see, I'm doing this for you. For love as you call it. And incase you wanted to protest, I already have your father's approval to go forward with this."
"But, don't I, don't I have a say—?"
"Trust me, you will get what you want, I think….And, I'll have what I want," he said, a tinge of sarcasm in his voice.
"That's the thing," she hissed with a whisper, "I don't trust you."
"Well, then, I suppose that is your loss. Sooner or later, you will. Now, whenever you decide to stop fighting fate and figure that out, is your own affair, but, for now, let's not startle our guests and celebrate the things to come. For they are already in motion."
Zelda's heart lept into her throat. What was he planning, why change the contests abruptly? What scheme was he devising? Surely, whatever plans he shared with my father was a half-lie at best. He would never have agreed, would he? But in the end, she decided to wait it out. What could she do anyway? Her father already went along with this man's plans.
Link leaned back on his horse, while his squire spoke beside him. "What do you suppose this means?"
"I don't know," Link replied, perplexed. "But whatever it is, seems quite bizarre to change the rules now."
The herald's voice echoed over the stadium again as people listened. "The rule changes are as follows—There will be point system made. That being said, if six points strike against you, you will be removed from the contest. And though this will be a team effort, a single victor will come out of this on top. The single challenger with the most points wins. Those on his team who follow him in points, come in second and third place—and then so on and so forth.
"To gain a point you must unhorse your opponent. The same is true in the reverse if you fall off your mount. Now, you can receive another point if you contact your weapon beyond their defenses. Sheild parries and blocks do not count. There will be many appointed judges watching the bouts. And a totality of two points will be awarded to you for every opponent that submits and forfeits on the ground to you. The last man standing with the most points on either team wins the tournament outright."
The crowd roared in approval and the herald raised his hands for a final say on the matter. His voice croaked. "There will be two teams going head-to-head. They will be divided evenly. They will start off in a direct jousting charge against one another. Multiple undivided lines will be formed. This will be a non-picketed joust, but an open one.
"So that would be seventeen contenders facing off each other in an epic bout. Once off your steed, you must remain on the field. There will be no remounts. It goes without saying, those who unfortunately become incapacitated during the fray will be rushed off the field and disqualified. Your teams will be identified by a colored sash. There will be a red team and a blue team. Attendants, give these brave souls their colors," he finished with a decree for helpers to assign sashes.
Suddenly, a man called out to Link and Jun who stood by. "You there, there has been a change to the order of jousts." It was another tourney stagehand. "I'm here to tell you that you will be competing with—that fellow over there in your lists before the melee," the man pointed in the direction of another. Link couldn't believe who it was, or actually, maybe he could. It seemed his luck always ran that way more often than not. "And here is your color, blue!"
"Look sir," Jun said while the man walked away. Everything was happening so fast, link had hardly any time to process the moment. "It's the man from the alley."
"I know," Link mumbled quietly to himself.
The brute caught a glimpse of them staring and hollered at them. "Don't you know it's rude to point at people, kid?" he said, looking down on Jun like bug that needed squashing.
"Don't you know its rude to smile so ugly?" Jun retorted. The man grimaced but instead decided to relish in a laugh at Link's steed.
"Don't tell me you'll be riding that? You don't stand a chance!" he and his two men serving him swelled into laughter mocking Link's humble mount. It was true, her adornments were less than desired. In fact, it could hardly even be called armor if one were honest. Her gear was nearly all made of leather, but it was all he could afford, even with Jun's help.
Link ignored their taunts in stark contrast to Jun who looked like he was about to pounce and stab their faces with that sheathed blade he carried. Link shook his head, "They're not worth it."
"But, Sir? They said—"
"I don't care, it's fine. Let's get ready."
"But, Sir!" Jun insisted.
"I said it's alright, jun. I'll let my lance do the talking," he said while the lad listened. The squire soon realized he was right with a nod. "You just be ready to help out when I call you onto the field."
The boy nodded again, this time wearing an eager smile.
As Link and Jun prepared to depart from the clamorous scene, a sudden confrontation halted their steps. The same attendant who had earlier assisted Link was now vehemently arguing with a burly dragoon. Link's ears perked up as the attendant's voice carried over the din.
"Hylia heavens, no, you can't use a coronel like that for this!" the attendant exclaimed, his voice laced with urgency. "You need a tourney lance!" He gestured emphatically to a nearby helper, beckoning for the correct equipment. "This is a tournament, not a war, after all. You'd kill someone with something like that," he continued, his tone firm and insistent as he returned to address the towering dragoon.
The dragoon muttered a gruff protest, his annoyance palpable even from a distance. Undeterred, the attendant pressed on, determined to prevent any tragic accidents. "Here, let me have one of my own men swap it with your squires, so there can be no mistakes," he insisted, orchestrating the exchange of the lethal bronze-tipped lance for a safer, traditional tourney lance, longer and made of wood.
"No maiming's today, not on my watch. And certainly not something that Her Young Royal Majesty should ever have to witness," he concluded, his voice a mix of command and concern as he handed the safer lance to the dragoon.
Around them, the murmurs of other men swelled into a buzzing hubbub, drowning out the latter part of the conversation. Link glanced over the scene once more, noting the heightened tensions but decided it was best to continue with their own preparations, leaving the attendant to manage the situation.
As the attendant turned to leave, the dragoon's voice halted him in his tracks. "Hold it just a minute," he demanded, lifting his visor to reveal a smirk tainted by yellow-stained teeth that spread across his scruffy face.
The attendant paused and faced him, apprehension flickering in his eyes. "As for my weapons, they will remain untouched, I hope?" the dragoon probed, his tone thick with barely concealed threat.
The attendant took a moment to survey the two mean figures standing beside the mounted dragoon. Initially mistaking them for squires, he now saw the truth in their stature and the military precision with which they held their Sir's weapons—a sword, shield, and mace, each glinting with a reddish gold sheen indicative of the proper bronze alloy. Satisfied, he nodded in assent. "Everything looks to be in order. They can remain. And you can retrieve your property after the match. Good luck to you, sir. I bid thee farewell," he said, making a hasty retreat.
As the attendant departed, one of the dragoon's men-at-arms leaned in, confusion lining his face. "What are we going to do? The plan was—"
The dragoon cut him off, his confidence unshaken. "It's fine, I don't need my lance so long as I have my other trusted weapons. I have it under control. We'll just have to make do with what we got. Besides, plans are already in motion. I've been assured that I'll be run up against that kid in the bout. So, we have that in our favor. Once it begins, I'll make him rue the day he ever thought to give a smug smile," he plotted with a sinister tone.
"Yeah, that is, if he survives," another man-at-arms chimed in, chuckling darkly as he helped the dragoon saddle up.
"Right. Now let's be off," the dragoon commanded, steering his horse away to rejoin the fray, his mind set on the confrontation ahead.
The grand Herald, with a flourish of his arm, reinvigorated the crowd's fervor. "I present to you, your noble challengers!" he proclaimed, gesturing grandly across the arena where two lines of knights on horseback faced each other in readiness. Among them stood Link, his figure poised and determined, while his faithful squire Jun mingled on the sidelines, his cheers merging with those of others, each rallying their champions with spirited shouts.
"At the sound of the bell, advance and engage as if upon the field of battle! Make our princess proud and may the goddess's blessings be upon you all!" the Herald continued, his voice booming across the field.
As the last echo of his words faded, a rocket burst into the sky, splitting the clouded dusk with red and yellow fire. Its explosive ascent was the signal for the bellman, who rang his bell with a resonant clang that swept over the crowd like a wave.
"Let the finale begin!" the Herald called out, unleashing the thunderous applause of the spectators.
Link leaned close to whisper into Shywind's ear as they prepared to charge. "Fly, Shy, I believe in you!" He imbued his steed with confidence, and together they surged forward, their advance a blend of might and grace against the uproar of the crowd.
Zelda and Jun watched with bated breath from their respective vantage points. Zelda, her hands clenched tightly on the royal balcony's balustrade, could barely stand to watch the inevitable clash. The ground thundered under the hooves of charging steeds, the air filled with shouts of combat and the fierce cries of battle. The crowd's cheers crescendoed around her, drowning in the sound of her own heartbeat drumming in her ears.
Any moment now, Link's lance would collide against his formidable opponent and her heart would either sing or cry. But, despite the odds in favor of the brute, who rode a destrier with fine bardings worthy of royalty, Link and his trusty Shywind had hope and undying courage on their side.
The royal enclosure resounded with Jun's encouraging shout, "You got him, Sir!" bolstering Link's resolve amidst the tumult of the joust. In the stands, Zelda, flanked by her companions, stood, her hands clenched in anxious anticipation, her voice merging with others in a chorus of support. Arasmus on the other hand enjoyed the spectacle from a different point of view.
Link sucked in a breath, his focus narrowing as he and his adversary charged toward each other. Through his helmet's visor, the only thing visible was the raw animosity etched on his foe's face—a face not just of an opponent, but of an enemy. The rain hammered relentlessly in the rushing wind, the droplets pelting his armor and blurring his vision, adding a ghostly haze to the already frenetic battlefield. Yet, guided by a code of honor, Link targeted the man's chest, aiming beyond the shield with the precision taught by his mentors.
However, his opponent, a Dragoon who learned from another teacher, one of cunning rather than honor, shifted his spear unexpectedly. The arena erupted into chaos; the clash of steel, wood and the thunder of hooves filled the air as combatants collided in a maelstrom of mud and fury. Screams of the fallen and the shattering of lances against armor echoed through the stormy evening, mirroring the turmoil in the stands.
In a heart-stopping moment, as Link's lance struck true, piercing his opponent's defenses, the Dragoon's own weapon veered off to its intended target. With a vicious twist, the spear found its mark not on the shield or chest, but directly at Link's helm. The impact was a devastating death blow. Shywind, sensing her rider's peril, turned in panic as Link was hurled like a doll from his saddle, his body crashing into the wet sand with a sickening thud.
A collective gasp swept through the crowd. Zelda's hollow cry pierced the air, swallowed up and dampened by the excited roar of the crowd, her tears catching the light as her close companions rushed to calm her. Down on the field, Jun's expression morphed from shock and disbelief to determination. Without regard for his own safety, he was about to dash across the field, in an effort to dodge disoriented horses and dazed warriors to reach his fallen Sir and come to his aid. But before he could step a single foot forward, a stranger pulled him back. It was Athelon.
Everything for Link went dark.
AUTHORS NOTE: Sorry it took so long. Next one will be out sooner, I hope. Also, I think I may be writing too much for each scene. I will try and condense my outline I had written so the pacing can pick up and move faster to the next plot. Or if you like things the way they are with all the character interactions and dialogue, let me know. I want to craft the best story I can. Thanks again for reading and let me know your thoughts.