For the most part, Anemos seemed unfazed by Alex’s spontaneous entry: Although it was certainly theatrical, a life in the circus had thoroughly desensitised him in regards to flashy, sudden arrivals.
All he really offered her was the momentary arching of his brow, a mild confusion which soon settled itself.
“Street performer, huh?”, he asked, although it was clear by his distant tone that his true attention was still on his own thoughts, “Is that what they’re calling it these days?”
He turned his eyes forwards for a moment, and drew his bo staff in a largo movement, before pressing it to the ground, and getting to his feet again.

Slowly, his sense returned to him, and he eyed her curiously, scrutinising her, almost.
He’d never seen a street performer move that way: Just as she’d identified Anemos for his finesse, he’d recognised her for her lack of it.
“When I was younger, we called it theft,” he remarked, drumming his fingers against his staff again, producing that same habitual thrum he always seemed to.
Then, oddly, he smiled at her: Some faint, albeit friendly, thing.
He had no interest in fighting her, at least not today.
Anemos wasn’t interested in the dealings of some petty thief, he’d come to Clock Town in search of a killer, and so that was the confrontation that Orca craved.

“I must admit, though, I’ve never met a thief who simply asked for my money,” he jested, patting absentmindedly at his satchel, “But I’m afraid I promised somebody that I’d pay them a visit, most likely in both senses of the word ‘pay’.”
He moved his head Eastward, “Circuses are a pricey ordeal, after all.”
Following this, Anemos took a moment to ensure that his rupees were all still present- and Orca made a mental note to strike this newcomer down the moment she showed an inclination towards taking them- before he extended his gloved hand towards her, “But, where are my manners? Anemos Seuhans, a pleasure.”

Normally Alex kept her distance from Circus Performers for this exact reason. Just as she'd known he was not of her profession because of the flamboyant and public way in which he traveled the roofs he knew that she was no Street Performer because while her entrance had been graceful it lacked a certain flare that all performers carried with them. Alex didn't perform she took action, her shows were never meant to be seen.

Alas the damage was done and it seemed that the man as long as he left with his wallet intact did not care to turn her into the Clock Town Guard. "I prefer procurement specialist but if you insist then don't go sayin' it like it's something cheap." As she spoke the man drew a great bo staff in a sweeping motion that had Alex worried he might attack. She took a step back place a hand on the scimitar tied to her back as well as the knife at her side.

To her relief he merely used it to heave himself to his feet. She relaxed her grip on her weapons but did not remove them. Even if he was using it as a walking stick a Bo Staff was still a weapon that he could use at any time. "In all honesty I was looking for an opinion on the Prince's speech but if you'd rather I cut your purse strings I'd be happy to oblige."

She knew for his power she could outrun him, she'd been doing it her whole life. As he introduced himself Alex felt no need to do the same, "I'd tell ya my name but it ain't like you'd believe it was my real one anyways."

She paused deciding that he might as well have something to call her. She gave a sweeping bow with both hands extended and one leg pushed back like the fools of the richer district did. "You can call me Alysha."

"Troublesome. Very troublesome indeed," sighed Mr. Teko, although Teruk gathered the impression that the elderly scrub was only half-listening. Normally one would find such a thing rude, but given how worried the old man seemed it was hard to blame him. The two scrubs, having finally made it into the park, now found themselves weaving through waves of pesky picnickers, half of whom seemed to be anxiously discussing the recent news while the other half sipped wine and ate cheese, blissfully unaware but nonetheless concerned about all the ruckus. "I would bet that a handful of our flock are already on their way back to the swamp to warn the king, so it's only a matter of time before I get word to uproot our group and head back home."

Apparently Mr. Teko had been listening, and had the presence of mind to make a clever (if likely unintentional) pun about the situation.

"If there is one thing that I like about our king, though, it's that he does not make a fool of himself in public. He prefers to do so in the privacy of his own court. Unlike the Zoras or the Gorons I doubt he will begin to demand answers or point fingers; His Majesty makes up his mind swiftly, and with little regard to the opinions of the other kingdoms. If you don't believe me, ask the monkeys. If you can find any, that is," smirked the elder scrub, making sure to avoid stepping in front of a heated game of croquet. Finally the two made it back to the familiar row of flowers that was the business scrub encampment. It seemed a bit emptier than before; just as Mr. Teko had predicted, about ten scrubs had already pulled out their flowers and left town, leaving only barren earth behind.

"Oh Teruk, thank goodness you're here!" cried Mrs. Teko, who, for those of you following along at home, was Mr. Teko's wife. The grandmother scrub waved Teruk over to a shady spot underneath a tree where Treka had been moved. Fortunately she seemed to have regained consciousness since Mr. Teko had left, but she still seemed rather shaken up. "She woke up about ten minutes after you left, I'd say. She's having trouble walking on her own but she seems stable to me. Is there something you could make to give her some strength back?" asked the old woman, still worried but obviously relieved now that Teruk was here. As the only person with any kind of talent for healing in their flock, he would be invaluable here. After all, it was unlikely that there were many doctors here in Clock Town that knew how to treat scrubfolk.

"What happened, Treka? Do you remember who attacked you?" asked Mr. Teko, kneeling down beside the young girl. Treka hesitated to answer, a look of confusion and nervousness on her face. "It's alright if you don't want to say yet, you can rest a while. I just want to make sure we let the guards know what happened so they can start their investigation."

"Well, it was very... strange," Treka began, sheepishly. She was never a very articulate person to begin with, and adding a nauseous haze on top of that didn't seem to be helping much. "He was an old man in a cloak with a really big nose. Very short, too. He came up to me and he asked me if I'd seen a swordsman wearing scalemail, a blue cape, and a bandanna on his head. I told him I hadn't seen anyone like that, but he kept saying that he came in through the park so I must have seen him. I kept telling him... that I didn't know this guy... but he started to get angry. I think he really wanted to find this guy," she explained. "He offered me a Canyon Title Deed. For Ikana."

"That's just not possible," interjected Mr. Teko, rather shocked by this news. "All the canyon title deeds were voided decades ago when the borders closed. A valid canyon title deed would be worth millions of rupees today. I know merchants who would literally kill to get one," he continued. "Did he show it to you?"

"He did. I was shocked too... my mother spent so much time just applying to get a deed for the carnival this year. It looked genuine too, not a forgery. It had the Ikana seal and it was dated... I think maybe... two months ago. I kept telling him I didn't know. Then he started threatening me, and I tried to call for help but no one was around and the guards were away at the speech. I'm not sure... I'm not really sure what happened after that. I woke up and Mrs. Teko was wailing and crying so hard. Sorry to be such a burden," she sighed. All this attention seemed to be taking its toll on the poor girl, who had never really stuck out all that much before. Now a crowd of scrubs were peering over at the commotion, whispering amongst themselves as prepared to set up shop again.

The procession of Ikana Soldiers was an impressive one, to say the least. Dillan had never seen anything like it. These knights were truly impressive, far more so than the Clock Soldiers that he was used to seeing. Usually not in large numbers, though. Seeing this many Ikana Soldiers in one place was somewhat worrisome to him, even if they were here as honored guests and friends. No one on this side of the closed border knew why that border had been closed. For all anyone knew, the Ikana Soldiers might be here as part of some invasion force, to take Clock Town under their control. Coming in under a banner of peace was a good way to get inside the walls, whether you were truly a friend or secretly a foe.

It seemed that his fears were groundless once the prince had started to give his speech, which Dillan had relocated to East Clock Town to hear. The prince's charisma was oddly refreshing. Dillan wasn't used to seeing people like that. The mayor of Clock Town was old and frail, and the people he usually saw back on the mountain had about as much personality as the rocks the Gorons ate. They were about as attractive as those rocks too, now that he was thinking about it...

He was pulled from his thoughts when the reason behind the closed border was stated openly for all to hear. Oh wow. A broken seal that resulted in a plague of undead? That sounded horrifying. Good on them for closing their borders to keep those monsters inside, then. That was surprisingly altruistic of them, keeping the problems for themselves instead of letting others possibly help. No wonder they only had under a hundred warriors left by the end of that mess. They didn't allow for reinforcements to come. Surely someone would have helped. The Gorons were more than capable warriors, brick-headed though they may be, and the Clock Soldiers could have leant some aid. Maybe.

Once again, his thoughts were interrupted by another interesting fact coming up. This one, however, had him laughing. A Goddess from the Sky? Had their king had some altitude sickness or something? Hallucinating voices? There was no way a Goddess had actually spoken to him. There were no such deities in this world. The Giants were as close as this place had to such beings. To waste so much time and so many resources building up a tower under the command of a nonexistent Goddess was downright crazy.

"Was the king fighting drunk or something?" he commented loudly enough for the people around him to hear. "I mean, seriously? A Goddess?"

The supposed warning from the Goddess--pfft--wasn't met with much concern from Dillan. If the Ikana could handle the undead issue and bounce back as much as they clearly had, then they could probably handle whatever threat this "Goddess" foretold. It wasn't his business, anyway. He made weapons and trinkets. Sure he knew how to protect himself if necessary, and he doubted he had much to worry about besides the occasional wolfos or bubble in his travels between Clock Town and the Mountain Village. He'd eat a shoe if some disaster actually happened.

Still, it never did hurt to be careful. The Ikana clearly were doing just that, by opening their borders again and reestablishing their ties with the outside world. Good for them. It at least meant that Dillan could go there to sell weapons and such. Heck, maybe he'd rub it into their faces that some kind of disaster was coming so they should buy more blades? That was advertising done right.

Once the prince was done with his speech, Dillan left the crowds behind and hurried off to actually take his lunch break before returning to his stall in West Clock Town. He didn't want to continue selling his wares on an empty stomach, and he'd definitely start using the disaster line today. Maybe he'd get it all sold by nightfall!

"You'd be very welcomed to try," Anemos offered, albeit in quite clear jest, "But I warn you, I'm an expert with my tool of choice," he apprised her, tapping his staff against the cobbled ground for good measure, "Speed will do precious good when I've got a reach extending an extra six feet," he chuckled lightly, jovially.
His smile remained, all banter aside, although his eyes were quick to scan his compatriot in search of a threat. They rested, fleetingly, on her hands... but he deemed her harmless looking enough.
If his youth of training- and a decade of vigilantism- hadn't prepared him for a scuffle with a mere thief, then surely he'd wasted a vast portion of his life.

Anemos returned her bow, although with a slither more decorum, placing a hand on his abdomen and leaning forwards very slightly.
When he straightened up again, he immediately took the liberty of re-seating himself, although he still kept his staff at hand, so he had something to fidget with, "So, you want my opinion on the Prince's speech, do you?"
He glanced briefly in the direction from which he'd come, and then returned his gaze to Alex, "Doubtful," he concluded, having finally settled his nerves about the affair.
"Perhaps what he says of Ikana is true, but... I find I doubt his words, given some thought. To have people heed you after two decades of silence is a terrible favour to ask," he explained, his smile slowly sinking, "Monarchs, they aren't benevolent souls... it's as my mother always said, when she told me stories about the past. Put not your faith in Princes," he shook his head, "There's always some ulterior motive, behind every word they say... and I find the idea that a Goddess contacted the ruler of some secluded kingdom, as opposed to a more active public voice, to warn him of cataclysm to be quite... dubious."
He meditated on this parting thought for a few moments, before nodding to himself, "Yes... dubious is a good word to describe it. How about you? What's your take on it?"

Griga frowned. It was quite obvious that he'd startled the girl, which was never a good first impression(except in cases of hostile people, but that's beside the point).

"No need to be sorry," Griga said, "If anything, I should apologize, I shouldn't have surprised you like that... I didn't startle you too badly, did I?"

Assuming his attempt at salvaging the conversation succeeded and Rissie hadn't retreated, the Zora's offered his hand to shake. "My name is Griga, pleased to meet you."

Alex smiled, he might not have belonged to any of her circle but Anemos Seuhans had the wit of a thief. "Oh I don't steal head on at sword point, I'm not a highwayman. Besides," She said nodding at his staff which despite her cool exterior did worry her a little. It was not a question of whither she could get away. That was a simple answer. He had not the speed to follow her. The problem she faced was exactly how battered and bruised she would be after her escape.

"Speed is more than just running, it is grace and balance and when you truly have it you feel as though you could ride the wind's breath. I may not be able to beat you in a fight, that would have to be seen but I ain't foolish enough to get put down by a circus performer neither." If she could be taken down by any roof jumper with a stick then she had not business practicing her trade. "I'd not have earned my wanted poster and my stage name if I was bein' that easy to catch." She paused not wanted this man to think what she'd said as a challenge. "Though as I say, I did not come for a fight... at the moment." Just so he knew she was ready should he make a move.

Anemos bowed respectfully if she considered a little mocking and re seated himself on the crates. The performer continued to hold his staff perhaps as merely something to fidget with but she suspected also in case she made any sudden moves. "That some good advice your mama gave ya but ain't you gotta know that it don't just apply to Princes. Everyone's in that boat always looking for there own slice ah heaven at others expense. Ya just notice it more in Princes cause they always makin' a bigger splash."

Alex glanced up into the sun thinking. "If there was a Goddess maybe near the Stone Towers the only place she can send messages from if she's like a minor one or somethin' but If ya want my thoughts I'd say jolly old Igos lost it long time ago. Come on Sky Goddess please, unless Igos is using some of Ikanan narcotics then he's just making the whole thing up. Rally Termina to his side. It always comes down to one thing with Monarchs, power. He ain't happy with just Ikana anymore so he's doing a slow take over. First Clock Town, then the mountians. Hell he might get all the way down into the Landin' if he's greedy enough."

The way Alex thought of it there were two options, either Igos had gone stark raving mad, not exactly unusual given his position and the Kingdom's isolation or he was looking to take over more lands for himself. It was also possible that he was telling the truth but then again if it were true why not share the broken seal problem with the rest of Termina. The goron's got mighty good warriors so did the Zoras, maybe the Pirates might even have helped out if it came right down to it.

Teruk didn’t need to be reminded of the long-term effect of the King’s decisive nature, even if the end result was a lot of people getting killed. Teruk himself made quite a decent living off of the King’s declaration of extermination of the monkeys, the leather works he had crafted and the bone carvings were a grim reminder of that. It was oddly reassuring having a King who made his mind up swiftly and without hesitation. If anyone would see the Deku people through a looming crisis, it would be the King. He may have been a very severe man, but if Termina was facing an impending peril, it was hard to imagine someone better suited for leading his people through it.

When Teruk and Mr. Teko reached the park, Teruk found it slightly disheartening but totally understandable that more than a handful of his people had already taken flight back to the swamps. It was hardly a reassuring sign of unity he would have preferred to see. He didn’t have time to fully grasp the situation when Mrs. Teko approached, pleading with him to help Treka. The fact the girl was conscious was good; he could certainly work with that. He said as much. “Sure, just let me get at my supplies; I have a few potions and salves crafted already that should be ample.” He looked at Treka before hurrying off to his aunt and uncle’s locked off supplies to get at his own. Using his own set of keys, he quickly had access to the chest with his healing crafts and soon was returning to the injured girl with a bottle with the familiar red healing colour and a separate jar with a yellowish translucent jelly. Kneeling beside the girl, he removed the cork from the red potion and handed it to her. “Drink this. I try to sweeten these things, but it still might taste a bit unpleasant. It will help your body recover faster, but don’t go running around for the rest of the night.” He said, taking the lid off of the second jar and a sponge, dipping it into the jelly and preparing to coat the area where she was struck. “This might sting a bit, but it’ll help ease the pain and close off your wound. Hold still, this will be over soon…” he said, beginning his work as he listened to the others talk excitedly amongst themselves about what happened. It was not at all what he would have expected.

“I’m not exactly an expert in the fine points of trade negotiations, but there’s no way that man could have had a Title Deed, in such a short time… and why would he have one, of all people? They usually only concern Deku, don’t they?” he asked.

Teruk gave Treka a reassuring squeeze of the shoulder. “You did the best you could; nobody’s blaming you for what happened. Nobody could have known that somebody would have attacked you, it’s been so long since any of us got hurt, especially in Clocktown. I’m just glad you’re okay!” Teruk said, trying to sound cheerful for the girl’s benefit. “Besides, we all support one another, so don’t you worry about this. It’s much nicer to see you a little bit banged up instead of seriously hurt, so this really is no trouble at all.”

He turned to the others. “Do you think it’s possible that blue caped swordsman is in town? I think that if we want to find out who did this, we need to find who he’s looking for and get some answers. I would think someone like that would stick out, how many people can possibly fit that description?” Teruk asked. “At the very least, with the guards all distracted by this Ikana nonsense, it probably wouldn’t be a bad idea to try to find the guy to warn him. I think he might be in trouble.”

"Well, hmmm," wondered Mr. Teko, obviously pondering Teruk's question about the title deed. "It has been a while since I've brushed up on my mercantile law, but there are two conditions under which a merchant must hold a title deed. The first is when operating on the premises of another business, in which case the deed must be endorsed by both the local authority and the owner of the aforementioned other business. The second, more common situation is when operating in a region in which you don't claim residency. Because you don't pay taxes or duties to these foreign kingdoms while operating there, you are required to hold an official title deed to conduct business in order to limit the number of un-taxed merchants affecting the local economy," explained Mr. Teko, wearily taking a seat. Treka, still a bit woozy, rolled over and closed her eyes, obviously in need of some rest.

"Because we scrubs so frequently leave the swamp to peddle our wares, it is a common misconception that only we need title deeds. However, technically any merchant needs a deed to operate outside of their native region, with the exception of the Carnival season, when the mayor's office distributes temporary permits to qualified merchants. Some of us scrubs have permits, while others, like Treka, who will be staying here for a while longer, hold title deeds. Unfortunately, because our people have a reputation for being... 'enthusiastic' salesmen, regional authorities have a tendency to be more thorough in checking our credentials than those of merchants of others races," he added, with a weary sigh.

"However, a canyon title deed shouldn't exist at this point. After all, because no one is allowed to leave Ikana, all merchants who operate there must claim residency, thus eliminating the need for a title deed in the first place. A valid title deed would allow a merchant to enter and leave Ikana as he pleased, something that hasn't been possible for 25 years. Whoever this old man, he has a very special privilege indeed. A deed like that would be worth a lot of money to certain people," continued the elder scrub, stroking his non-existent beard.

"I agree. It would be most wise to warn this swordsman as soon as possible. I would very much like to know what he did to attract this unwanted attention," advised Mr. Teko, still worried. "I will stay here with Treka in case the old man comes back again. Perhaps you could seek out the scrubs in other districts and tell them to keep an eye out for this strange hooded man and our blue-caped swordsman?" he asked. Mr. Teko seemed more troubled than he'd been in a long time.

“Ah… the aged, crazed King of Ikana… that was my dad’s conclusion, too,” he commented, with a small nod- as if the idea made enough sense to him- “I suppose twenty five years of static silence from the rest of the world could certainly do that…”
Anemos’ fingers stilled, as he fell momentarily into a deeper pondering, dredging up decades old memories in the hopes of recalling any mention whatsoever of Igos’ delirium in his youth…
But, although he recalled his time in Ikana fairly vividly, it seemed he hadn’t retained any information of that sort.
“Hrm…”, he pressed his finger to his chin, his brow steadily becoming more thorough, “Curious…”

This state of contemplation was short-lived, at least, and dissipated the moment Anemos realised his companion had continued speaking despite him.
Her second point, he thought, seemed more rational: He followed her gaze, staring up at the sky above them, as she spoke.
“Expansion… well, that certainly would be a monarch’s modus operandi, wouldn’t it? Ikana was once an empire, I’m sure there’s not a soul there that wouldn’t want the same again.”
He paused, and frowned at the thought, “Hell, after all those years, I’m sure I’d want more, too.”

He closed his eyes for a few seconds, savouring the sun against his skin: It brought him a moment’s peace, before he opened them again, and caught sight of the sun’s position.
He might’ve been spared practice, but there was still physical labour to be done at The Spectacle Rock Circus if it was to be prepared for tomorrow evening, and he’d need to get his share done quickly if he truly intended on attending his “rivals’” show.
Quickly, he got out of his seat, before throwing an apologetic smile to ’Alysha’.
“My apologies, but it looks as though my free time is up! Still, it was a pleasure,” he bowed again, hurriedly but with a bit more sincerity this time, “I’ll be sure to greet you when next I see you!”, he assured her, a playfulness overtaking his features, “Well, dependent on how many guards there are on your heel.”

With that, he turned to leave, before freezing mid-step- the heel of his back foot still arched- and glancing over his shoulder.
“Oh, and… what you said earlier about ‘riding the wind’s breath’,” he began, placing his staff once again against his back, “I liked that. Very accurate.”
He turned away from her again, and splayed his fingers out at each of his sides, inhaling deeply as he did so.
Then- as if summoned from the ether, which, arguably, it was- a sharp, sudden blast of air erupted from his palms, rushing downwards in a short-lived jet.
At this point, Anemos propped his foot on the crate he’d been sitting on, before kicking off of it, and- with the sort of grace one should have expected from a circus performer- rising into the air, then gliding down onto an adjacent rooftop, his cape billowing behind him.
Upon landing, he nodded softly to Alex, before sprinting off in search of his tent.

"Ah, no, it's fine." She had, of course, been "badly" startled, but it would be rude for Rissie to insist upon that, and it certainly didn't matter. He'd apologized, too, so obviously he was trying to be nice about the whole thing.

But even with the person who'd surprised her right there, that feeling was still stuck with her. It didn't seem to be because of this individual, though; it still felt like Smile was nearby, out to get her. It felt so much like that that she wasn't even surprised to see that horrible man watching her from across the square when she glanced (rudely) around the other Zora.

Oh dear, whoever that was wasn't as bad at tailing her as she'd hoped. Whatever hope she'd had of losing him in the crowd had obviously been false: even she, now that she was cognizant of the difference, had noticed that there were no other green Zora around at all; of course she was easy to pick out of a crowd. But she still wasn't ready to go back to her grandparents, especially not with that horrible slimey-looking man. He looked like the type who was about as likely to murder her than actually give her over unharmed (a silly idea, probably, since her grandparents probably wouldn't pay for her dead body, and the man probably wanted the pay more than anything else).

Hiding in the crowd hadn't worked. He probably knew the streets better than she did, too, so trying to run and hide wouldn't work. The only way... well, he'd stayed away so far. Was he scared to come collect her when she was surrounded by people? If so... Rissie glanced up at this convenient Zora. Could she use him as a bodyguard? Yes, that would have to work, she just had to make it look natural. Maybe pretend that he was the older brother she'd never had! Yes, that was it, she could do that.

And so, when he stuck out his hand to shake, she didn't shake it, as obviously that would be a thing for strangers to do, but she grabbed it instead and started pulling on the fellow whom she'd just decided to conscript for the temporary preservation of her newfound freedom. Pulling him directly away from Smile, of course, she smiled back at him in what she hoped was a familiar and carefree manner. "Come on, brother, let's go get something to eat!" she squealed in mock excitement, loud enough that everyone could definitely hear it. Quieter, before he could object or pull away, she said "Play along, there's an evil man chasing after me!" without changing her expression.

Chanda & Baklava Collab Pt. 2

"Oh, a performer? What kind of performance? If I had to guess, you look like a juggler. Perhaps a puppeteer?" he wondered. Oliver couldn't help but smirk; this girl was really something else. She really needed some sort of ego check, and soon. Any performer who's actually famous doesn't go around handing out flyers for their own show, so these "many fans" probably weren't that many, but judging by the sort of show she put on he didn't doubt that what fans she did have were most certainly unpleasant. He was interested to see how she'd react to being figured for a lowly juggler.

“Erm,” Lynnette smiled, cocking her head to the side as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, “Not exactly.”

Wrong. So WRONG. In fact, she felt a little physically sick. Her? A juggler? A p-...puppeteer??? Of all the….

They’d been locked away for a few decades. No doubt they were quite out of touch when it came to the arts… right? For this reason, and the fact that she wanted very much to be on Ikana’s good side, she decided to let it slide… just this once. She let loose a quick and subtle sigh between her teeth before continuing.

“Very good guess, though, sir,” she nodded with a well-rehearsed chuckle, “I have a few different titles, but I’m primarily a singer, dancer, and acrobat. I also use water and shadow magic in all of my contemporary performances.” She seemed to forget all about the knight’s mistake whilst she proudly listed her repertoire of skills, certain that the knights would be impressed.

"Mmm, rather troublesome. Never in Ikana would we allow the arcane arts to be perverted by mere minstrelsy. Well, in Ikana we never much cared for magic at all. Perhaps the rest of Termina has become softer in our absence. Troubling, yes, troubling," muttered the knight, shaking his head. There almost seemed to be a physical droop to Lynette’s perfectly curled bangs and ponytail—the corners of her lips leveling out into perplexed frown.

Oliver sincerely hoped the rest of the Ikana knights weren't this condescending, otherwise his interest in becoming one would likely wane with time. "Oh, but where are my manners? Then again I suppose you Clock Town folk are accustomed to impertinence, but this is beside the point. I am Sir Richter Flass, but I was given the title of Grimblade as my honorbrand. You are welcome to address me as either," he continued, with a polite bow in Lynette's direction. She curtsied in return as best she could with her cloak. She seemed to perk up a bit at the opportunity to use her well-practiced but rarely ever used etiquettes. After all, there weren’t many worth curtsying to in Termina.

"Sir Oliver Pike, was it?" he asked, turning to Oliver for the first time. Oliver nodded, with a bit of pronounced apathy in his expression; he didn't much care for the way Grimblade had said "sir" so mockingly. "Well, Sir Oliver, I must say I am puzzled as to how you managed to come across that dashing blue cape of yours. That sigil is printed in a similar way to an Ikana noble family but I do not recognize this particular bloodline. Who is your father? A deserter from Ikana, perhaps? A tailor with a penchant for obscure forgeries?" queried Sir Flass. Oliver had cooled down the point where the insults just rolled off his back at this point; there was nothing to gain from squabbling from this man.

"Well, Sir Richter Flass, my father was Sir Cecil Pike II, fifthson of Oliver Pike III, master of the demon-forged blade Flametongue and slayer of the King of White Wolfos. He rode under the banner of Sir Daniel Fortesque to tame the wild of Termina Field. You may know him better as Swiftblade," explained Oliver, rather nonchalantly. This was obviously not the first time he'd introduced himself as Swiftblade's son, as one could tell from how rehearsed that little speech was. Instead of the shocked response that Oliver expected from Sir Flass, Grimblade returned only a flat, cold stare. If Oliver had to sum it up in one word, he'd say the knight was clearly nonplussed.

"I see that jokes in the rest of Termina lean more towards absurdity than substance these days," noted Grimblade, with a sigh. He'd only spoken to Oliver for a brief moment and his patience already appeared to be wearing thin.

"Does Swiftblade still serve the King? Or did he perish at the hands of the undead scourge? I must know this, Sir Flass, and then I will trouble you no more," insisted Oliver. He'd nearly given up hope that Grimblade would be of any service at all, but he figured one more shot wouldn't hurt. Grimblade responded with a scoff, and then opened his mouth as if about to speak. Then, suddenly, as if coming to some sort of realization, he stopped, and a wide, almost sadistic grin spread across his grizzled face.

"I'm afraid that I'm not authorized to speak on such matters, unfortunately," he smirked, obviously withholding the information on purpose simply to spite Oliver. The young swordsman clenched his fists so hard he could almost feel his fingertips going numb. After a moment of tense silence, Oliver took a deep breath in an effort to calm himself down, something that seemed to work for the time being. Grimblade seemed almost disappointed that he hadn't managed to get a rise out of Oliver.

Lynnette keenly watched Oliver and Sir Flass’ subtly heated exchange. Was Oliver making a joke or not? His father wasn’t really an Ikana Knight… was he? Either way, watching the way the Knight seemed to take so much pleasure in depriving someone of knowing whether or not his only known relative was alive or dead... she couldn’t help but feel bad for Oliver. Not to mention, in depriving Oliver of his answers with such an excuse, he was also depriving Lynnette of hers-- and she couldn't have that.

“Sir Flass?” Lynnette stepped forward with a disconcerted frown, placing a hand on Oliver’s shoulder, “Please don’t think me rude, but… surely there must be something you can tell him about Swiftblade? Anything at all? I also have family members who were knights and I’d very much like to know if they’re alright… if it isn’t too much trouble, Sir Flass.” She lowered her chin, timidly biting her lip and gazing up at him with concern etched between her eyebrows—blinking twice just for good measure. She had yet to meet a man who could refuse a request from her when she used this technique.

Grimblade was taken aback for a moment; at least he appeared to be, as far as Oliver could gather. "Well, I suppose I could part with a few choice details. After all, how could I refuse an enchanting young girl like yourself?" he asked. Oliver heaved a sigh of relief. Although he himself was a little weirded out by Lynette's sudden show of coquettishness, he made a mental note to thank her later. Although, he had no idea if there would be a later; after all that had happened between the two, he doubted he could just show up to one of her shows now. However, just as Grimblade once again seemed like he was about to to spill some secrets, he stopped himself and resumed grinning.

"Oh wait, I remember how. Like this," he smirked, before promptly turning around and walking away, chuckling to himself while doing so.

Lynnette’s jaw dropped. She clenched her fists so tightly her knuckles turned white and she could feel her nails digging into the palms of her hands. She grit her teeth and exhaled sharply, wanting so badly to whip the water out of her canteen and send it hurtling towards the back of his big dumb shiny head… but she wouldn’t dream of stooping to his level of immaturity. Well… not out in the open like this anyway.

Oliver gave a slight sigh of disgust as he watched Sir Flass leave, his crisp red cape flowing behind him as he walked. Apparently he was dead set on being absolutely no help whatsoever, although by this point such an attitude hardly surprised Oliver. Eager to forget about the whole encounter and seek other leads, Oliver pushed such thoughts from his mind, deciding he would try to smooth things over with Lynette first.

"At least we know for sure that chivalry is dead in Ikana. Hopefully not all the knights are like him, otherwise I may not be so keen on meeting my father," joked Oliver, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. Lynnette sighed, dropping her arms to her side. The very thought of chivalry being dead in a place she’d always thought would have it pouring out the wazoo really put a damper on her dreams.

“Yeah…,” she nodded with another sharp sigh of contempt as she glanced after Sir Flass. If she was to retain any sort of optimism she would just have to convince herself that not all knights were that horrifically pompous and rude.

"I appreciate you trying to help me out. I'm sure when the mayor is done with his negotiations the borders will open back up and we'll be able to find out ourselves," said Oliver, thinking aloud.

“I sure hope so,” Lynnette chewed her lip, her voice trailing off as she stared blankly at the Mayor’s office door, lost in thought. Suddenly clearing her throat, she shook her head as if casting away something troublesome, “Well, I better get going. I’ve got a lot to get done before my show, so… good luck to you, I guess.” She shrugged before heading off towards the park, seeing no reason to bring up Oliver’s disinterest in seeing her performance. Not after all that at least.

The younger Deku mage nodded as Mr. Teko explained the nuisances of title deeds, finding it somewhat surprising it both surprising and informative it wasn’t just a Deku arrangement with foreign towns and kingdoms. The mystery surrounding this so-called Canyon Title Deed was growing even more urgent, and if the strange man who attacked Treka went after someone else in search of his quarry, they might not be so lucky as the poor injured girl. Today was turning out to be all sorts of eventful, and not necessarily in a good way.

Teruk nodded, accepting his task. “I’ll leave at once, the more of us who are aware of what’s going on, the better.” He glanced at Treka, who appeared to have nodded off. “We can’t let others get hurt if we can help it. I have a feeling Treka was lucky, considering how much worse it could have been. I’ll go get my things and leave at once.” He said, turning to gather his short spear, some potions, and the rest of his travel gear was gathered. He had no idea how long he’d be away from the park district, but he wasn’t one to go about being unprepared. He resolved to do everything in his power to find the crazy old man and the mysterious blue-cloaked swordsman, as it was something that posed a threat to innocent Deku. This was supposed to be a peaceful festival, and years had passed without serious incident. What was happening was almost unthinkable.
For the next several hours, Teruk scoured Clocktown, tracking down the various pockets of Deku that had set up outside of the primarily congestion. Most reacted with the predictable surprise, and seemed to take Teruk’s word for it, and almost none had any idea about a blue cloaked swordsman, which wasn’t surprising. Others remained quite skeptical, either having never witnessed violence against Deku before or wanting to believe that some old man had an Ikana Title Deed, much less would offer it to a young, inexperienced girl like Treka. Teruk didn’t begrudge them overly much; he himself would have likely been quite skeptical himself. He still didn’t quite believe the old bastard had the deed he claimed, but there was no denying the danger he posed.

While it was good he was getting the word out for his kin to be careful, Teruk found himself somewhat discouraged that his search was turning up no leads. It was as if both of his quarry had simply ceased to be. That is, until he met with two brothers from his neighbourhood, Jor and Dury. Teruk quickly explained the situation to them, and instead of the usual excited chatter between them like he had witnessed several times that night, Jor and Dury stared at each other for a few long seconds. “Didn’t we see someone like that, blue cape and all, a couple hours ago?”

Jor nodded. “Yeah, it might not be the guy you’re looking for, but there was a youngish looking guy, human or Hylian, couldn’t tell with the hood. No creepy old guy, but thanks for letting us know.”

“It would have been tempting to say yes to whatever he was offering, I mean an Ikanan Canyon Title Deed?” Dury said, somewhat awestruck.
Teruk interrupted impatiently. “Blue Cloak, where did he go?”

“That way, last we saw of him.” Dury replied, pointing towards the center of town, towards the clock tower. “Not sure if it had anything to do with the Ikanan parade or that announcement, but it’s worth looking into.”

Teruk thanked the two brothers and took off down the street, forcing his way through the busy crowds after his one and only lead. It was anyone’s guess if it would pay off, and he sincerely hoped he wasn’t chasing after a fable. With everything going on at the moment, it was starting to seem like a fool’s errand, and Teruk sincerely hoped he was wrong this one time. Still, the thought of the old man attacking Treka drove him. Whoever he was, he’d be brought to pay for what he’d done.
He just had to be found first.

Good, his attempt to make conversation had not been too hard on the child. Griga was relieved. Nevertheless, it would perhaps be wise to keep his friendliness in the adult realm. He supposed that many children in the city might be a little suspicious of friendly strangers. It was a sad, but understandable, fact of life.

Griga was about to speak, when the nervous hybrid started looking around him. Griga turned to see what the kid was looking for, only to see a large mass of people that, while probably perfectly interesting individuals, seemed like nothing more than a generic crowd... Maybe the girl was just looking for her family...

...And now the girl was pulling him away, calling him brother? Griga was confused by this, what in the world was she-

The Zora's thoughts were interrupted when Rissie whispered. "There's an evil man chasing me," she had said. Quickly, Griga tried to mask his confusion with a look of good natured annoyance.

"Fine, fine!" He said loudly, "Might as well try some human cuisine while we're here!"

Well, this wasn't good, but at least he had stumbled into the situation. It was not often that Griga would be willing to fight a Terminean outside of friendly competition, but child predators most certainly were an exception. "Smile" would be wise not to follow.