Though Cain and Lethe had only been a few moments in each others' presence, he had already grown tired of her attitude. Back in the Palace of Twilight the position of Royal Spymaster had been a dubious one, but the other officials had never treated him with anything other than courtesy. On the job, if he interacted with anyone at all, the result was inevitably fear. Even among Twili, his prowess with dark magic and his bladed gauntlets was remarkable. This fairy, however, treated him with infuriating disdain. His trek through both worlds in search of his monarch had been long, arduous, and hopeless; he didn't need some pixie flippantly dismissing them like some wild chirri chase. And how dare this impudent sprite denigrate the Princess! More appalling, however, was her knowledge of his most guarded secret. Any other being would have erupted in rage, but the Royal Spymaster forced himself to remain calm. The price of humility was just as hurtful as the price of pride, sometimes.

“You've got an ego far too large for your head,” Cain commented brusquely as strands of hair snaked out from the back of his cowl. Their tips adopted a slight orange glow, somewhat solidifying themselves. “And you have stolen secrets in there, too.” A shapeshifter's ring could prove to be a valuable tool, but as Lethe so kindly pointed out, it would be useless for he and Frore to try using it on their own. Cain knew he would need to get this fairy's trust. “Perhaps...they are faults we share. Our chances against Halbert and his men are better than you might expect, but unnecessary bloodshed is never an inviting prospect. We will help you find these...'others'. No one else is better equipped for seeking. But who is it we seek?” They gingerly wrapped around the outstretched ring, grabbing it, before tossing to back for Frore to catch. Naturally, Frore's reaction time was less than perfect, and the jewelry merely bounced off his cloak. He did stoop to pick it up, bony fingers closing over the tiny ring.

At that moment, however, a girl burst out of a cleft in a cliff nearby. Instantly, Cain was on alert. Hoping to preserve at least some semblance of anonymity, the Twili instinctively vanished into Frore's shadow. Frore reacted accordingly, having performed this maneuver several times in the past, and began to arm himself. Those times, however, the sudden danger had been far more dire; this unexpected visitor, both bashful and young, seemed little more than a lost villager. Cain did identify, however, that she appeared to be another race entirely, different from anyone else in Kakariko. While the girl dusted herself off, a sharp of ice in the Chilfos's hand expanded in both directions until it was a deadly spear as tall as himself. In his off hand he clutched the ring.

“Hello, little one,” Cain greeted, attempting to pass himself off as merely the voice of Frore, as he had done for ages. “Looks like you're not afraid of the unusual. Could you be someone we are looking for?”

Worries for Linda and her shaken demeanor more or less put to rest, Felicia warned them what to do in case the masked bobblehead salesman returned and waved them goodbye. Normally it was her way to remain at her stall during the entirety of the festival, but she had a feeling that when the whispering voice told her to go to the festival—it meant to actually go to the festival.

A distraught growl from her gut provided her further cause to join the wave of people perusing the revelries. Her nerves quite often prevented her from eating—as they had that very morning—and although she still had much to be nervous about, Felicia forced herself to temporarily swallow her anxieties in order to stay her mouth from watering at all the delicious smells wafting through the air. While she made her way down the street, a flash of gold armor caught her eye. Her breath caught in her throat and she nearly turned around to head back to her stall right there.

Sir Halbert blinked down at her in surprise, “Mrs. Wolfsfeld?”

“Sir Halbert…,” she nodded, forgoing the notion of attempting a smile. A dark memory better left forgotten began to boil towards the surface of her mind. She felt herself mentally recoil from it and she winced, looking away.
“It’s… good to see you out and about,” he smiled cautiously, “How have you been?”
“Well enough,” she answered quietly.
“That’s good,” he sighed, sounding somewhat relieved, “Well… anyways, I must get back to work. I’ll see you around I’m sure.”

Felicia barely managed a “goodbye” as Sir Halbert passed her to continue on his way. It had been a fair number of years since she last spoke to him… not much had changed, it seemed. It felt like it was only yesterday that he was over for dinner and everyone was laughing and having a good time… and that was the problem.

Shaking her head free of her retentions, Felicia attempted to continue her search for food, skirting around the odd salesman’s dance circle and making her way towards the stalls that sold cooked things rather than ingredients. Candy corn, sweet bread, funnel cakes, several things on sticks… Felicia stared broodingly at one particular stand vending candied apples.

---

Lethe pursed her lips at Cain’s mentioning of Sir Halbert. He and the Cold One were either extremely skilled or extremely overconfident. Either way, if they were indeed as capable as the Misplaced One seemed to allude, they could prove to be more of a help rather than a hindrance-- which would be a nice surprise and a relief considering Lethe was already quite troubled over how carelessly they’d stirred things up back in town.

She frowned slightly as she watched the exchange of her ring between Cain and Frore. Perhaps she’d made a fatal mistake in trusting these two with her second most prized possession. It was at this moment, whilst she awkwardly stared at the poor oaf of a Chilfos attempting to pick up the small indigo ring, that what appeared to be a young child came shooting out of Kakariko Graveyard’s hidden tunnel. Instictually, the once seemingly fearless fairy gulped down a mouthful of air and darted behind Frore for protection.

She peeked out shrewdly from behind Frore’s cloaked shoulder. A shiekah child? No… a gerudo child? She floated out a small ways from behind Frore, wary to stay close to him should the child become enthralled by the sight of a fairy and happen to be wielding an empty bottle... not an uncommon occurrence for her.

“Hello, little one,” Cain greeted, “Looks like you're not afraid of the unusual. Could you be someone we are looking for?”

Lethe furrowed her brow, staring fixedly at the girl as she hovered. She didn't seem like the hyperactive fairy snatching type, but she did seem familiar. “Wait a tick…,” Lethe muttered, floating nearer to the girl, but still keeping a cautious distance.

“Huh!’ she scoffed, “Actually, I think you may be right, M.O. Although, I must say, Sly One, this isn’t at all how I imagined I would find you… you weren’t really trying to sneak up on us, were you?”

After finishing taking a moment to collect herself, leaning down to rest her hands on her knees and take a few deep breaths, she straightened herself up and answered. "I only sneak up on marks, targets, or macho types who you need to beat at something in order to get respect from." She held her right palm open, tapping her left index finger on her palm thrice to punctuate each points, almost as if she was trying to remember a list.

"Soooo... You tell me, should I sneak up on you?" She asked, cocking her head to the side slightly. She looked Lethe straight in the eyes, which was a bit odd for most people considering how small the eyes of fairies were. "Cause.. Just from the sounds of it, seems you're hiring for a job. Planning to raid a temple or something? I don't rob normal folks, if that's what your after." Her eyes darkened, accusatory. This group, to pardon the racism, just looked shady. And they acted like it too.

She didn't react to the name of sly one. She had no idea it was some special term for her, given that she'd been called sly plenty of times and worse, around town in her younger years. Well, to be perfectly honest, most people didn't know she'd reformed, mostly.

The little girl's dainty hand shook the mysterious stranger's slim one vigorously. Her face fell as she did so. His glove had been hiding a palm of bony fingers, as slim as sticks. Enchantment was not a widely practiced art, adding to his mystery, and even more so that he could not afford a measly thirty-five Rupees. Well... sixty-five Rupees with the bottle, but semantics. This dark, strange man had wandered into the Hero of Time Festival with nary a Rupee, offering trade, and speaking of ne'erdowells that would seek to harm him. How could she not see this before? It was clearly spelled out right in front of her!
"Mister! You're all skin and bone!" she worriedly exclaimed, "You need to put some meat on your bones or you'll collapse in the street!"
Of course that was it! The man was a wandering mage, begging and crafting spells to pay for his next bowl of soup. The poor unfortunate soul must have come to the festival to panhandle and trade for a hot meal, but wanted to protect his twiggy body from the Moblins and Stalfos and Keese that would see themselves using his slender fingers as a toothpick. She began to write a story for him in her head as she rifled through her pack, conveniently still lying on the counter of her stall. He must have been a renowned magician at some point in his life, traveling the world much as she did in order to expand his knowledge of the arcane. But adventure takes its toll on the wallet and the body, and he soon resorted to the mercy of others and his wizard's tricks to get by. Unphased and humbled by poverty, the man kept on his grand quest, one that would bring him to the crux of all cultures in this tiny village today in order to learn more of the unknown! Wordlessly, Mila plopped her half loaf of bread on the wood before her and hopped behind her stall, sweeping the ivy across the enclosure much like makeshift curtains.

A dim, golden glow swirled ethereally around the shaded stall as Mila dug through her pack for her tools and equipment. She'd have to be extra super careful now that her goggles were being worked on, but everything would be fine! With her sack of potion ingredients, scales, beakers, and other such devices laid out on the ground neat and orderly, she pulled free her leather tarp. T'would be unwise to dedicate an entire cauldron to Kaboom Potion, and a pain in the neck to clean afterwards. Not to mention the opportunity for flying shrapnel and the very real possibility of leveling anything within a hundred meters of her booth. She counted out her ingredients in her head, her efficient numerical memory allowing numbers to dance before her eyes like an abacus. Dollop of Green ChuChu jelly scaled to the amount of potion, dribble of Deku Nut extract equivalent to almost an ounce, tablespoon of Biri toxin, no Dodongo pancreas but Dodongo blood could be used in a pinch, a dash of potassium nitrate, handful of rusty iron shavings, iodized copper for pretty green smoke, gunpowder... gunpowder... Hmm. No gunpowder.
"Oh, uh, I dunno," she answered the skinny gentleman. She didn't think that many of the villagers would let a street rat into their homes with welcoming arms, nor would there be an empty booth to hole oneself up in. The shade of the tree and surrounding buildings were occupied for the most part with chatty tourists, and she would ill advise him to seek solitude in the graveyard. There were Poes in the graveyard. Mean ones. She entertained the thought of creating some cloud cover with one of her magical sonatas, but didn't want to literally rain on anyone else's parade and get the ground all mucky and gross.
"Maybe the stables are free? I'm not from around her, Mister, I'm sorry I can't help you. Why don't you go enjoy the festival while you wait on your potion?" she repeated herself, focusing on combing her less dangerous dry ingredients to make the brewing process faster and more effective.
"Are you sure this is a good idea, Mila?" her tiny golden sprite question, "For all you know he could filch your goggles from under your nose and never return."
"I trust him enough, Shila. Even if he's a little creepy. Judge not lest ye be judged," she confidently sounded.
"Mila, did we learn anything from the Gerudo Wastes?"
"Oh! I remember this one! 'Don't let Gerudo strangers watch your things or they'll rob you blind,' right?"
"Don't let [u]any strangers watch your things, Mila. People take advantage of generosity, don't make yourself a victim."[/i]
"Meekness is not weakness, Shila. Did you see how malnourished that man was? His fingers could've snapped in my hands like twigs! If he decides to steal my goggles, he can go ahead and steal them. He needs the money more than I do." Shila sighed, drifting to settle on the rusty-haired child's head.
"Do you even listen to yourself sometimes? You're not going to make any Rupees if you keep giving away all your things..."
"Not all the time. I just kinda talk and my brain gets distracted," Mila replied simply and honestly, "And it's all worth it as long as we do good in the world, right? I just hope he gets some food in him... maybe I can make him some onion stew? Oh, or cinnamon oatmeal! Or grilled cheese mushroom sandwiches! Or-"
"Mila," her fairy interrupted, "Were you not doing something right now?"
"Oh, that's right!" she shifted back to reality, "I need a bomb, some water, and more food for the road!"

The Kokiri girl shouldered her pack and shuffled out of her little grass hut, becoming partially entwined in ivy on her way out, and left most of her brewing tools behind. They'd be fine for just a few minutes, she shant be gone long.
"I'll be right back~!" she sang, skipping down the crowded thoroughfare with her leather tarp folded in her arms in the direction of the tiny village's well.

As the little girl started to enter some kind of mother hen mode due to noticing how thin and bone like his hand was, Magus did something that he was starting to suspect anyone who claimed to be her friend started to do sooner or later; tone her out completely. Ignoring the child like being for the time being as he considered the task in front of him, the researcher in him would have narrowed his brow in thought. What he needed was somewhere that was dark enough for his purposes for a daylight hours since once the sun set location wouldn't be such an issue...

The graveyard came to mind for a moment but the idea was discarded quickly; While a tomb would be more than dark enough for his purposes, breaking into one would be problematic and considering how the dead tended to respond to trespass in their final resting places quite dangerous. Slowly, the hooded figure moved his head in order to shift his gaze over the town around him, trying to find what he was looking for...

His searching gaze paused as it found the windmill. It appeared in good enough condition to not let the sun in, it was a somewhat public building so no one would complain to loudly about him not belonging there if discovered and no one would be using it since there was a festival going on...

Turning back to the fairy girl before she departed, the hooded man simply said "If I do not return by the end of the day, I will meet you here tomorrow morning." before departing into the crowd himself, ignoring the bread that had been placed on the stall and the fact that the light dwellers were getting out of his way to let him pass.

At long last, the masked mans dance came to an end. Everyone had paid and he carefully counted every rupee as he sat beneath the shade of a nearby house.

Let's see... that was ten rupees a minute... plus the sales he made with the hero of time paraphernilia...
It'd been a little over an hour, an hour and 13 minutes exactly since he started the dance with the villagers, and there had been 23 villagers dancing.
That would be...

73 minutes multiplied by 10 equaled 730 rupees a person.
730 multiplied by 23 people in total made...

Jira squinted under his mask, lost in his math. He wasn't the best mathematician in the world, but as a merchant he could push the numbers easier than the average hylian.

16790 rupees he had made from those simple dance lessons. And that wasn't even counting for his wares. He'd sold 14 Bobbleheads which amounted to not including the one he had given to his cherie, 210 rupees, 3 mugs, 60 rupees, and one 'Ocarina,' 70 rupees. Totaling their set prices to his dance lessons, all in all he had made 17,130 rupees.

Slowly, he relaxed and smiled. He had done good today. He wiped off the sweat from his brows and added the sharp gems to his rupee pouch. It had come just in time too, he'd been running low. Perhaps he should look into dancing more often. He would have plenty to buy more stock and travel more frequently. 687 Rupees isn't much when you're a travelling merchant. Thankfully, with his new fortune, in his possession were 17,817 glistening rocks. Perhaps it was time to traverse the village and seek out new treasures of his own.

Izzaz soon began to grow bored of the hammer of the meat, looking around the place for something else he could waste his time on, perhaps a lady to court would tickle his fancy, and perhaps the inn would be more than nice to give him the privacy he needed. The only thing wrong would be the matter of convincing a petty lady of fine taste, but he was quite the scoundrel in having married women in his bed at times, as the immorality of such actions did not bother him.

Backtracking to where he was before, he came back to the other stalls. There was the fish woman of good looks, red hair, and good complexion, but he preferred not to get close, as the stench of reekfish drove him away, knowing that it would drive the women he would want far from him. Another candidate was a wealthy jewelry dealer, of blond locks and purple eyes, fair skin and complexion. Perhaps he would go after her if it not for the lowly peon than willingly used himself as her footrest. In addition, she was the one that would mistake herself as nobility, as she was hiding the fact that she was in fact a plebian. Izzaz did not bother to tickle the fancy of such frauds, such of the oaf that had made a fortune in giving ‘dance lessons’.

Sneaking behind him, he quietly drew his blade and slashed the wallets that horded the precious gems, watching as they spilled beneath his feet. He laughed behind him as he dashed his free hand and grabbed whatever could fill his hand, while Festival interlopers dashed against the rupees against the masked man’s feet. It was then he made his escape laughing within the crowds as it would be too late to notice him by then.

A short time passed as he whistled the Nocturne of Shadow out of boredom, inspecting the women to court as he began walk around, past where the Chilfos had vanished and kept walking, continuing to whistle as he paused waiting to hear any reply that might gather his attention, wondering if he could locate anyone from his fellow tribe that might attract to him.
He leaned back by the towering pillar that anyone on top of it would gather a good view of the village, but to his surprise, he watched as the familiar guard, the ‘Ranger’ passed him by, only to cross his arms and look back at him in contempt.

“Still hounding me like an animal, Wolf-rider?” asked Kaiver as he turned to him and glared back at him.

“Perhaps if I was a tick, hungry for blood I might. But no, it is you who hounds me like my wolves hunting prey.” Izzaz retorted. He leaned back and whistled the Nocturne of Shadow again as he glared against him.

“You are a strange one, Wolf-Rider. Make yourself back into the shadows of the crowd, or leave the Festival so you do not force my hand against you.” Kaiver drew closer and cornered him into the pole as he slammed his arm to prevent his escape.

Izzaz chuckled at the Ranger. “Oh, you are quite a fool, whelp. Learn to keep your knives within your shoes, so that a thug might not be hesitant to gut you like a fish the next time you corner your enemy!” Izzaz said as he pickpocketed Kaiver’s hunting knife out of his carry, opening it and then grabbed him as he put the knife in his face. “Consider this a warning, worm.”

Kaiver watched as he put the knife in his face and grabbed onto him. Big mistake, he thought as he immediately punched him and made Izzaz drop the knife, and twisted his right arm and forced it behind him, forcing him down and kneeled on him so the Shiekah would not move. “It is a mistake on your part to assault a servant of the Royal Guard. Maybe your sentence will be light since you’re one of the Shadow Folk. I know they discipline their own quite well.”

“Uhgg… You are mistaken. The Shadows are loyal only to the Royal Family and their own kind. Release me, and I will not make a vendetta against you!”

“You threaten me? I’ll have you know that the Shadow Folk are bound to the same laws of Hyrule as you are.”

“We shall see...” Izzaz grunted as he whistled out the Nocturne of Shadow as loud as he can whistle, trying to draw a fellow Sheikah to him if he could.

_-_-_

It took only a short while for Elder Lyontus to walk back where he was before at Mila’s stand, carrying the toad he had carried from Kaiver’s house, as he took a second look at it double-checking to see that is was the one he would show. It croaked at him as they made brief eye contact and hopped around hoping to get out, despite being futile. Still, it was a fascinating gesture on part of the toad’s actions. The cloaked man and Mila were still at the stall as he came back to see what she was up to.

To his surprise, she seemed to be crafting a rather dangerous explosive. The Kaboom Potion in which he remembered a fellow Doctor Morrell in his quest to create a medicine to help those with a weak heartbeat. Although he succeeded in contributing to those who were with weak hearts, his outcome was twofold in that his invention if used in large quantities made a very unstable, yet effective explosive that the man lost his toes in his first batch. The poor man didn’t wish to see his invention used in dangerous mining operations and possibly used in warfare. In response, he retired from his position and became a doctor and a recluse in Ordon Village, making visits to Castle Town from time to time. Still, he watched her as she made the mixture as he set down the toad jar.

“Fairies are benevolent creatures,” Lethe murmured indignantly, “I would never concern myself with petty theft! I require your help just as much as I require the help of these two.”

She motioned toward the Chilfos with little regard as to whether or not the girl could see Cain… or whether or not Cain wanted to be seen. “You’re help may be even more valuable, actually,” she said, as if talking to herself, “Considering neither of them are even human…. Well, it doesn’t matter. Either way, as an inhabitant of Hyrule, I should think you’ll be rather keen on lending an ear when I say life as we know it is at risk of coming to a terrible end.”

She circled the girl, observing, or rather, judging her, looking quite obviously perplexed by her choice of clothing as a Gerudo. Now wasn’t the time to talk of such things, however. So she continued, “I’m searching for some other people that are kind of like you…. Well… not exactly like you. You may share some things in common with them, but other than that….

She stopped circling Vei and floated in front of her face, small dainty hands on small dainty hips, “Whatever. Are you in or not, kid? That’s all I need to know.”

---

Cutting someone’s bulging wallet full of rupees was hardly subtle. Indeed, several people attempted to snatch their share as the rupees scattered across the crowded festival street. A young man with bright orange-red hair and a large forest green poncho began yanking people away from the fallen stash in an effort to help.

“Get out of here! What’s wrong with y’all?! Ain’t you got any sense?! Get!”

The ranch hand easily launched several greedy juveniles several feet away until the rest of the opportunistic nicks got the picture and scattered. The damage had unfortunately been done and a whopping 8,454 rupees were now scattered amongst the crowd in various different pockets.

“I saw it all happen from over at ma’ booth,” the young man said, gesturing to a large, extravagant booth with the words ‘Lon Lon Ranch’ engraved upon the sign in large gold lettering,

“Sorry for yer loss,” he said, helping Jira pick up the remaining rupees, “I saw yer dancin’ gig-- pretty funny stuff! I’m impressed you were able to convince so many people to do it! Even ma’ lil’ sis was beggin’ me to take her out there.”

A small red-headed girl barely four feet high sat on a tall stool behind the booth, hiding half of her face in what at first glance seemed to be a stuffed animal, but was really a Cuccoo. She watched Jira timidly; further burying her face in the body of her Cuccoo the more he looked her way.

“Hope you didn’t lose too much. What a slimeball that guy was! I got a good look at’im though. Shady lookin’ cloaked feller with red eyes. He looked kinda like one o’ them Shiekah, but they’re supposed to be law abidin’ folk so maybe he was somethin’ else… I dunno… oh! Name’s Matt, by the way.”

The talkative ginger extended his hand for a hand shake.

---

A fellow Shiekah Izzaz did indeed call… although perhaps not ones he wished to see.



A loud snap and a flash of light exploded between the two squabbling men, driving them both backwards and away from each other as two young spindly persons, a man and a woman, stood between them, each with a single index finger pressed lightly upon each man’s chest.

“Whooo is that I hear? Whistling the Shiekah’s sacred tune so carelessly?” the young man hissed jauntily, facing Kaiver with a laughing smile.

“Why! I do believe it’s our very old friend Izzaz… the deserter,” the young woman cooed back, facing Izzaz with a cold dead-eyed stare that seemed to starkly contrast her vivacious voice.

The Rova Twins.

Emesta Rova, the eldest, possessed the same long, lithe frame as her brother, with the smallest exception of a slightly more feminine curve and bust. Her stark white hair was long and tied with gold and black ribbon into two separate parts at the ends, falling just between her shoulder blades with thick bangs shading her bright red eyes and framing her very pale face.

Edwyn Rova, the youngest, looked much the same. His stark white hair was long and tied with gold ribbon into a single part at the end with a thick gold and black bandana shading his bright red eyes and white painted marking framing his pale face.

The two were rarely seen out of sync when it came to their movements and especially their outfits. Both wore long black leggings with shining black greaves and boots. Up top, each wore a black tunic with a mandarin neckline, tied with a gold rope just above the naval and with long bell sleeves, intricately embroidered with gold thread at the ends. A gold symbol of the Eye of Truth was engraved upon each of their greaves as well as the back of their black gloves.

19 year old Shiekah prodigies—and children of Marie Rova, a revered instructor of the Shiekah arts as well as a prudish zealot… or devoted saint, to whomever it may concern. In Izzaz’s case… she was a distant cousin. The old woman, pushing 50 now, much like Izzaz, was as strict as they come and had little patience for Shiekah who didn’t fall in line… a trait she passed on to her children, who seemed to derive much pleasure from mocking those who don’t do as they supposedly ought to.

“What brings you back to town, Uncle?” Emesta queried, lowering her hand.

“Yes, uncle,” Edwyn smiled over his shoulder, ignoring the Ranger and turning o face him, “Why are you fighting amongst the very Hylians we are meant to protect?”

"And cutting open their purses?" Emesta tutted, shaking her head.

"Oh, Uncle!" Edwyn grinned with a condescending chuckle.

Throughout the brief exchange between the Gerudo and the fairy, Frore had remained as motionless as an ice sculpture and Cain as silent as death. Working covertly for so long had taught Cain the value of quiet, particularly when someone with greater power was considered to be his employer--even if this 'greater power' was only perceived. The Twili had been mentally picturing how Lethe would react if he swatted her down with his trichomancy before she had darted behind Frore for protection, after which he had been snickering at the irony of it. The impudent little fairy turned tail and hid behind the candid Chilfos when threatened, not unlike him. The knowledge that Lethe put up a convincing, bold facade but did in fact share the flightiness of her kind would be useful in the future. Now, however, she wasn't the target of his attention; that belonged to the Gerudo. He set his analytic eye to the task.

It seemed that this girl was as brazen, if not more so, than Lethe. Just six years old by his estimation and already apparently a master thief and a paragon of righteousness. Not robbing normal folks? Beating down 'macho types' to make them respect her? Either this girl hosted a vast, hidden power or she was a charlatan. Perhaps both. Whichever it was, he resolved to get to the bottom of it. After noting that the girl didn't react when openly called 'sly', indicating that she was used to name-calling to a degree (or had self-esteem so low that no jibe could do more damage, but the former seemed more likely given her assertiveness) he waited until Lethe made her final question before sweeping in to see how clever this little bandit was. "Oh, I wouldn't bother with that one," he addressed Lethe breezily, as if Veitaru couldn't hear. "I've seen her type before. All talk, no game. Couldn't rob us if she tried. Justifies her life of crime by self-imposed limitations. What does she care about greater purpose, saving the world and life as we know it?" If she was contrary, she might decide to tag along simply to spite him. If she was proud, he might set her to thinking that he was one of those 'macho types' and goad her into showing off her abilities. Even if she just left in a huff, he could simply rise from her shadow and pretend to attack her.

"Besides, with your magical talents behind us, I can take the form of any of Hyrule's people and go anywhere without being detected or judged. What use do we really have for a snippy, hypocritical little girl?" Frore, somewhat in sync with the being within his shadow, gestured dismissively with his off hand while thoughtfully keeping the ring held tight.. This, hopefully, added to the impression that it was the Chilfos speaking.

The walk towards the windmill wasn't a long one for someone who people wanted to avoid, but even still the hooded man took a few twists and turns through the fair in order to prevent any one being from guessing where he had started to where he was going. His business was his own and he didn't need tailgaters.

The goggles still tightly held in his gloved hand, Magus opened the windmill door with the other, his eyes narrowing as he gazed into the gloom of the currently disused windmill, the natural light that was slipping in just enough to light up the building so that something like a naked flame would not be required for safety reasons... and rendering the building worthless for his objective. Slamming the door closed and looking around again, the hooded man tried to think of where he could set up for the process in front of him.

He could try to get a rent a room for the night, but between his limited budget and the fact that the town seemed to have drawn a large number of people due to the festival that seemed like a plan that was doomed to fail. Admitting that he would have to wait until early afternoon, if not nightfall before he could begin, Magus slipped the goggles away into a pocket under his cloak for later. This now left him with time to kill...

Deciding that he didn't wish to walk through the festival again and in fact wanted to avoid people in general, the hooded figure started towards the one place he could trust that the living would avoid... the company of those long dead.

The little girl in green disappeared among the crowd, blending seamlessly into the fellow festival-goers also clad in green tunics. Her emerald eyes were transfixed forward, tiny legs charting herself a clear and direct path through the crowd, much unlike the other children content to run in circles playing tag and dueling with wooden swords. Her golden fairy flitted about her head closely before finally nestling into her ponytail, becoming fed up with keeping her eyes on one child dressed as a Kokiri among scores of children dressed as Kokiri. Mila wore a contented smile. She liked blending in for once. She wasn't very welcome among the other Kokiri because she was a Tumbleweed except among her sisters, and Sola was mean and Efa was bossy anyways. And she often attracted the eyes of strangers when she was traveling on the road. A Kokiri outside of the forest was quite rare, but not unheard of, but there was stigma in being a Tumbleweed, even to the Hylians. Some of them were ignorant and wanted to treat her like a child, others were fearful of her, believing her to be a practitioner of powerful witch's magic. A few of them didn't even know what a Kokiri was, which was all well and good, but most didn't believe her when she told them. She felt like she belonged in the crowd of other people of every race and creed, dressed from head to toe in knock-off Kokiri garments.

The ebb and flow of the crowd grew slightly more intense, and the Kokiri girl began to bump into the others as they rushed past her.
"Excuse me. Sorry. Excuse me," she announced as she slipped through the people pushing and shoving to get by, scrambling in the opposite direction she was heading. The little rusty-haired girl stumbled through everyone as best she could, but a harsh glint caught her eye. She cast her gaze downward toward the slight green glow, finding a single Rupee. She snatched it off the ground quickly, grinning at her luck as she inspected the gem in the light. And just as quickly her luck left her. A hand reached out and stole the Rupee straight from her grasp.
"Hey!" she called out, but the mob began to swarm around her, and the little girl was thrown about like the waves in a maelstrom. As she jerked this way and that, mercilessly being tossed around by the frenzied people, she felt another evil hand drive itself inside her pack.
"Hey! Stop it!" she shouted at what happened to be a bearded middle-aged man as she tugged on his arm, his enclosed fist trapping itself inside her traveler's pack. As he moved he drug her with him, and Mila fearfully turned her head around and clamped her teeth down on his arm. He screamed, more in surprise than in pain, and let go of her, wrenching his arm back empty-handed. The forest child ducked and darted beneath the waists of the adults, tripping and stumbling them for once as they carelessly charged forward in their haste. The Kokiri child dusted herself off after escaping the throng of agitated festival-goers, peering over her shoulder at them.
"Now what was that all about?" she mused aloud. Toddling herself over to the protection of an adjacent booth, she slipped her pack off her back and rummaged around inside to make sure everything was still there. Bottles, check. Slingshot, check. Dagger, check. Wallet- Mila crinkled her nose. 35 Rupees. Ten of them had gone missing. She scowled at the crowd to her back, watching them in their greedy frenzy. It was super hard to believe in the good of the world when she was getting robbed. Perhaps Shila was right after all. Like always. Before Mila placed her pack upon her back once more, she pulled her dagger free and affixed the sheath to her belt. The next rogue to try to steal from her would be receiving something nastier than a bite. Her good mood soured, Mila trudged herself to the well and plunged her leather tarp in, sloshing it around to get it nice and wet.

---

Mila and her fairy companion shuffled up the street, now with a full pack and some shaved ice the little girl was jovially slurping, leaving her mouth and tongue purple. The remainder of her Rupees were gone now, having bought a batch of five bombs with twenty-five of them (Yangoro originally wanted thirty for the five, but she knocked him down a little) and the rest going toward her shaved ice and rations for the days to come, and with the deals she brokered she could hold a feast for a small group with the provisions she had acquired. Her spirits were lifted after a short while, but she still warily watched the crowd for signs of thieves, her fairy similarly watching her blind spots. The little girl walked behind her stall, letting the ivy flutter behind her like a natural curtain. Her equipment was still there, just as she had assumed it would be. It would be very silly to attempt to steal a hot cauldron, and the rest of her inventory was nothing but odds and ends only useful to an alchemist such as herself. Why would someone run off with a sack full of vials of blood, powders, and metal shavings? She let her hefty pack fall to the dirt, taking her damp tarp and stringing it up next to her cauldron. A wet tarp wouldn't burn, and it would help to heat the potion more evenly. Kaboom Potion couldn't be brought to a boil if the brewer wanted to keep their eyebrows... and the rest of their face, so it was important that the temperature was raised slowly. Mila scooped her dry ingredients into a bowl, careful not to do so carelessly, and began to fill the tarp/cauldron with Green ChuChu jelly. And a little Yellow ChuChu jelly because she was feeling exotic. Most of the potion was ChuChu jelly just because the thicker and more gelled the potion was, the less chance there was of it to detonate in transit.
"I'm not certain why you are crafting that potion anymore, Mila. It was clear to me that you were swindled. He will not return with your goggles," harped Shila in her I-told-you-so tone of voice.
"Just in case he does come back..." Mila responded flatly, focused on her task of brewing the potion and keeping the both of them intact, disassembling one of her bombs and dumping the contents into the tincture. "He gave me an idea anyways. This is a mining town, and the locals will go wild over anything that can make their lives easier. Bombs are selling well, so why not offer something a little more powerful than a bomb? If it's successful, I can make up the loss on markup."

As she was very cautiously adding the Deku Nut extract, one of the few ingredients capable of blowing her booth sky high, to her magical concoction, there was a small noise at the counter. Shila twinkled over to see the old man who they had conversed with earlier that morning.
"I'm sorry, Mila happens to be a little busy, could you wait a moment or two?" she asked. "Milaaa! It's Elder Lyontus!" the fairy called back.
"Just... a... momeeeeeent..." the Kokiri girl mumbled, dribbling the yellow liquid into the brew. Upon the change in color of the potion and some extremely careful mixing with her spoon, Mila skipped to the counter to meet her friend.
"Hi old man!" she greeted childishly. Upon the reception of a croak, her eyes flitted over to the toad in the jar. A look of wonder overcame her face as she hefted the jar up to examine it.
"Ooooh... Is this the frog you wanted to show me?" she asked, her eyes combing over the specimen. It was an ordinary forest toad, nothing special, but not inherently useless for alchemy. She didn't think it was poisonous, but its sweat, legs, warts, and eyeballs could be harvested for ingredients.
"I recognize this one!" she announced, "It's a simple forest toad. But you can still use it for polymorph potions and cure-alls and potions of leaping and scar removal and-" Mila began to prattle on endlessly, attempting to state every potion and mixture one could effectively use a forest toad in. Which, of course, were numerous, and it was impressive just how many she could cite from memory.

"Yes... And?" The gerudo child, crossed her arms, impatiently tapping her left elbow while keeping them crossed, her tone trying to conceal her interest. While Veitaru did a better job than most small children at that, it was still apparent. "Do you have anything more to add or is that all you were able to figure out?" She raised her fist to just under her chin, arms still otherwise crossed, obviously a little tense. Veitaru's mouth twitched slightly, and she gave out a slight, "Tch", a tick as she realized her own unease.

She moved her hands behind her back and tightened her stance. This motion was more practiced than the idle tapping and almost constant motion that Veitaru seemed to be in before. To the keen eye that recognized it, it was a disciplined, military-style stance that overrode her natural inclinations. It wasn't military in the sense of it was some exact military pose, but it had the same spirit of enforcing conformity to a greater goal, of overriding one's natural inclinations. The physical specifics of such a stance were almost irrelevant compared to the training techniques that taught the stance in the first place, and solidified the stance in one's mind as a ritual of discipline. When you adopted such a stance, you were a soldier ready to receive any order, you were a monk ready to meditate without end, you were an artist about to perform without fail. Of course, what this little girl was trained to be was yet to be seen. The easy guess was thief, but where was one trained to be a thief? "If you have a lead, I'm all in." She said, her composure asserted once more.

"I'm wiling to face Ganondorf himself if you've got a lead." She grinned. Her training seemed to deaden some of her weaknesses as a child, but her Gerudo eagerness for a challenge seemed to shine through her discipline with ease. "But, if the mere knowledge that something is going down is all you've got to offer, I'm afraid you're preaching to the choir." She was somewhat dismissive about what the fairy had said so far. ~There was a threat to all life in Hyrule? Really? Just now figuring that out? Still, at least that was worth responding to, unlike the endless prattle from the other one.~

Jira froze, the color draining from his face behind his mask as everyone ran off with his beloved rupees. Then the ginger headed farmer stepped in during Jira's frozen state, shooing away those in the crowd. He got down to pick up the rest of his rupees with the boy, listening to him speak as he went on... Even looking at his sister when he brought her up. She was a little cutie, and he was tempted to give her a little bobblehead... but with nearly half his fortune gone in one day, perhaps it was best to keep his things to himself. He looked at Matt's outstretched hand and hesitated a moment. He just kinda wanted to thank the kid and move on somewhere where he wouldn't feel the shame of his loss from everyone around him. But alas, the curse.... so Jira took a deep breath.

"Ayoooooo~!!!"

He leaped up. He struck a pose that would make the members of Dragon Ball Z's Ginyu force pale in comparison. (*insert sound of fourth wall shattering*)

"The name is Spider,
The Spider of Rain
Ain't heard of me
'Cause I ain't a chain
I can't be
Replicated
Nor
Duplicated
And I'm wiki-wiki-WOW when I'm applicated!
You see,
The ladies they swoon and sway
But they ain't afraid
'Cause I'm here to stay
So sit back y'all
Don't lose your fringe
Just busta' move
It's Jira Hinj."

His body relaxed and he held out his hand to shake Matt's outstretched one.

Izzaz’s chuckle had died down to groans and sighs. If there was one thing that he would rather be, and that was beside a Gerudo brothel, it was between a pair of zealous relatives that took pleasure in openly mocking him of his desertion. To make matters worse, he loathed the fact that he was related to The Rova Twins in front of the ranger and flaunted their perceived moral superiority against him.

“I come here to enjoy the festivities and that is all you will get out of me. But if you insist, I am on business on letting these loose oafs and shysters back in their place, while this whelp is licking the boots of the King. I suggest you back off and let me deal with this worm.” He taunted them with cynicism and with braggart, attempting to mock them and justify his actions.

But he could tell that he was not going to get away from this easily. No… most of the time, they would simply steal back the money from him and throw it to the beggars to humiliate Izzaz, in addition they would remind him that he would have gotten flogged from the elders when he was a youth.

“Stealing from thieves makes you a thief also. Or maybe the irony is lost on you?” Kaiver retorted.

“That is none of your concern. I prefer to look after my own hide, and you should do the same.”

Kaiver head what Izzaz had done and started to grow sick of his presence. Riding in and terrorizing the guards with his beast was one thing. But thievery, threating to wound him just out of spite, and disrespecting his king and his wife, he felt that he had enough of this rouge for one day, especially as he threatened whatever honor he had left within the guard.

“I’ve had enough of you this day, Wolf-rider… Whatever honor you have left, I suggest you leave by noon or otherwise I shall have the guards and Sir Halbert deal with you. I refuse to be put into trouble by your actions!” Kaiver shouted at Izzaz with a livid tone, annoyed at his actions. “Do I make myself clear?”

Izzaz grunted and walked away from the three of them, making his way towards the windmill. “Indeed… Oh… and by the way. Before I make off, I shall pay my respects to Master Izark before I leave. Otherwise, if I am denied my final respects, I will not hesitate to make you suffer.” Izzaz said with a cold and serious tone.

As the Shiekah made his way from them, Kaiver looked at the twins and cleared his throat, making his request known to them. “If he does anything that will endanger the lives of anyone, be sure to tell Sir Halbert or any of the guards as soon as you can. Understood?”

_-_-_

Naklov looked at the toad for a bit and nodded, but he really didn’t need it as he might save it for later. He knew he could use it for his potions, but it wasn’t that necessary. He set the jar on the counter, watching as the thing jump around and croak. “I can see, but this is a mischievous little bugger that is eager to get out. A wild one, isn’t it? Other than that, I’m quite curious why are you making such dangerous explosives right now? I mean, I care about your safety and don’t wish to see you arrested.”

Ganondorf…. Lethe frowned at the mentioning of the name-- a name that wasn’t heard very often and was very rarely spoken of well. Even among the many festivities celebrating his defeat that day, most simply referred to him as the Evil Gerudo King or something of that denomination. But why was this child bringing him up? Was it merely to get her point across or did she know something Lethe did not?

Lethe decided not to dwell on it too much. Cain seemed to have done a good job coaxing the young girl to help and Lethe didn’t want to derail the conversation by discussing a villain that was long gone. Besides, she didn’t much like how the Sly One was speaking to her.

“My orders come directly from the Goddess Farore herself,” Lethe declared, floating a little higher with her chin held high, “Must I really explain myself, child? We fairy folk do not mingle with the likes of you unless we have a good reason to. A very good reason. Like Navi of old I am here to do Farore’s bidding—and I intend to do the best I can.”

With an indignant snort she flitted over to Frore and took the ring from his clumsy ice fingers. “Now,” she started to explain whilst she carefully tied the ring around one of his fingers, “The first thing I’m going to need is a suitable disguise for Cold One here. This ring will turn Cold One into a Hylian, but he won’t blend in very well unless he has suitable clothes… and by that I mean he can’t just go trouncing around in a black cloak…. “

“Sly One,” Lethe called to the girl, finishing the knot and spinning around to face her, “I’m going to need you to get him something to wear….”

Sucking her teeth, Lethe hummed fretfully to herself, realizing how contradicting such a command was after her prior statement, “Just to be clear… it isn’t petty theft. It’s borrowing. We’ll return it once we’ve finished using it… and it’s for a good cause. A very good cause. I would change him into a Zora or Goron or something without clothes but…. The Zora procession has yet to arrive, so he would stick out….

“And the Gorons are super close knit so they’d probably be all like…,” Lethe’s voice went as deep as she could possibly make it go in order to imitate that of a burly Goron, “Yo, Brother! Who the Chasupa are you?”

She sighed heavily, “Whatever. You get the idea…. M.O., are you capable of… picking things up? Or anything? Other than being a big looming shadow that can talk? He’s going to need shoes as well.”

---

“Eh heh heh,“ Matt shook Jira’s hand, laughing nervously as any sane person likely would in such a predicament. Nonetheless, he seemed relatively impressed, “Did you come up with that? You sure got a way with words and rhymes."

The young girl sitting behind the Lon Lon Ranch booth had long since lowered her Cuccoo-- staring at Jira as if transfixed. Suddenly, she nimbly jumped down from her stool, nestled her calm little pet Cucco under one arm, and ran over. She grabbed the side of Matt’s pants and her face flushed red as she stammered, partially hiding behind his leg.

“Can… uhm… can you do one for me? C-can you do a song for me?" she asked coyly.

"Heh," Matt smiled apologetically, lightly ruffling her hair, "Romani, you can't ask him to write you a free song. Sorry, honey." He glanced back up at Jira, "You don't have to if you don' want to. She knows that." Romani frowned, looking even more embarrassed for having asked.

Before now Cain's opinion had been no more than dislike, a somewhat shallow, inhospitable conclusion reached out of first impression and hearsay. As the fairy proudly declared that she served one of the Goddesses, however, the mere dislike deepened into a pit of hate. He had suspected that her kind were close to the deities of light, but to hear her confirm it still somehow surprised him. His ancestors were the victims of those Goddesses, attacked and banished because they were different. They had been denied the blessing of the Triforce's golden glory while the other races were permitted to thrive in it, and as such were made to live in a separate, dark world. Now the Realm of Twilight was home, but the force of the legends compelled Cain to despise this emissary of Farore. He would be only too glad to take revenge on this pint-sized, uppity bully for the wrongs committed against of his ancestors.

However, it was also likely that Lethe carried with her some fragment of light magic that could easily spell his doom. He would have to be patient. If Lethe believed that he was on her side, there would be opportunity for treachery later. Being too kind would give away the game, though, so it would be his pleasure to allow some disdain to seep through. "As you just saw," he began, enunciating the words to give them a slight mocking undertone, "I can manipulate my hair to become solid. Once the strands glow orange, they can come in contact with things normally." He paused a moment before lying, "Other than that, I cannot assume any more of a corporeal form. Anyway, I don't think that running around and filching clothes is necessary at all. Didn't you mention that the ring causes clothes to change as well? Even if not, we could always make him into something else. Kokiri, maybe?"

He noticed that Frore was still looking at Veitaru, and followed his gaze. "Oh, you must be somewhat confused, little one. Since it seems we're working together, I might as well reveal my little secret." Once more, the Chilfos's shadow twisted, and from it Cain rose into his half-bodied form. He made a slight bow. "It is my pleasure to introduce Frore, icy warrior from the north." At this, Frore crackled loudly. "As well as myself, Cain, attendant of the Shadow Court." This ceremonial display served another purpose aside from breaking the ice; hopefully, the accursed pixie would stop calling him Emmo. He noted mentally that he would have to be careful not to be too free with his lies--Lethe knew all about his origin and the Princess, so the idea that she would know much about him wasn't very farfetched.

Veitaru let out a slow exhale. Likely to make sure she didn't snap in irritation. She addressed Lethe, "You seem to believe I am disrespecting you because of who you are. I really don't care who you are or who sent you. We can work together as long as one condition is met, and then I will follow your orders to two steps past reason. I have established this condition. And you continue to ignore it, believing that I care more about who you are or who sent you."

Her next words were slow, and heavily enunciated, and with big spaces between them, as if trying to teach someone or communicate with someone in another language. "DO. YOU. HAVE. A. LEAD?" She waited a moment, "If you don't, that's ok, does the person sending you have a lead?"

At one particular line in Lethe's statements however, Vei's discipline was overcome, and a hand slipped up for the ever shameful facepalm. "Seriously? You're giving me the borrowing argument. Gee, never heard that one before."

She strode over to a corner in the cliff next to an unusual coloration pattern in the dirt, and began chipping away at the dirt with her dagger, eventually revealing something wooden. Pulling it out, Veitaru had quite some difficult with the feat, often making an inch or two of progress before stopping to catch her breath after a long series of tugs and pulls. Finally, she set both feet up against the cliff and yanked, an acrobatic move that finally pulled out the box but also resulted in Veitaru crashing to the ground with it on top of her with a "GAH!" Physical strength was not her forte.

Opening the box, it unveiled two sets of clothes, one resembling what Vei was wearing, but in a larger size, and one fairly normal set of clothing. Additionally, there was a dagger, more sized for an adult than Vei's, and a handful of deku nuts.

"If your magical ring can transform him into anything, I don't see why you wouldn't just pick a horse or something and just escort him out, but if you absolutely need clothes, this is one of my father's supply caches. if we don't need it, let's leave it as it was." Unlike Sheikah that roamed around all the time, Veitaru's father was based in Kakariko and, as such, maintained such average spy practices as safehouses and supply drops. Veitaru had started shadowing him, but then her Father started moving some of his drops into the Shadow temple or deeper in the graveyard, where Vei didn't dare follow him. But he did leave a few out here where she knew where they were. She figured that was silent permission to use them if she ever needed to.

As Frore and Cain did their song and dance number, Veitaru glanced to the side and gave them an, "Ok." She didn't seem terribly interested in the pair after writing them off as childish bullies from their earlier attempts at social manipulation.

It wasn't a long walk from the windmill to the path leading towards the graveyard.

The path itself wasn't that bad; While it wasn't exactly one that was traveled often on a day to day basis, it had been walked for generation after generation since the village began... to let such an important path like this be poorly kept must have been unthinkable. Magus took a moment to consider the fact that despite the best efforts of the villagers themselves to appease those long dead, there were still plenty of warnings to stay clear of the place come nightfall due to undead activity...

At his own creak riddled pace, the hooded Magus crossed the threshold into a place where those no longer living had their mortal remains stored until it got bored and decided to walk around for a bit; Twili burned their dead to ashes avoid such a problem since they already had plenty of hardships to worry about without adding the reanimated corpse of ones dearly loved Grandpa trying to rip out their throat with his false teeth. True, the odd poe or ghost showed up but they tended to be isolated cases rather than the norm. By comparison, the world of light was absolutely infested with the damn things. A fact that he had already taken the time to consider...

Pausing his line of thought as he started to hear talking while wandering the otherwise silent graves, Magus's attention was brought to a rather... varied group. Some sort of humanoid ice creature, a fairy, a human girl who appeared somewhat different from those that he had seen so far and a Twili of all things were standing around in a graveyard, having a conversation.

Silently taking a moment to look from one being in the group to the next, Magus finally managed to bring himself to say "This is either the build up to the greatest joke that has ever been told, or the punchline is going to be so complicated that no one understands it."

The Rova Twins watched in idle amusement as Kaiver and Izzaz went at it-- Emesta with her usual placidity and Edwyn with his usual cheeky grin. As Izzaz turned his back on them and made his deliciously grumpy way towards the wind mill, the twins continued to remain silent and still. It wasn’t until after he had shot back his threat that the two looked at each other… and then promptly started to laugh.

“I’m so scared~” Edwyn mocked.

“What’s an old deserter like him going to do to us?” Emesta scoffed to her brother.

The two calmed their giddy laughter as Kaiver posed his question.

“We may inform them,” Edwyn said, his face growing a bit more serious.

“But most likely we will tell Impa,” Emesta finished, “We Shiekah have our own laws when it comes to law-breaking dissenters.”

“You needn’t worry about it, Ranger,” Edwyn smiled again, “We’ll keep an eye on him. I love following Uncle around whenever he’s in town.”

“It’s great fun,” Emesta agreed, unsmiling.

---

“Hmm,” Lethe stared at Cain-- less than pleased with his guff. She flitted around the Chilfos, examining the cloak, “The ring has an effect on clothing, yes, but a cloak will still be a cloak, Misplaced One. Just as… Frore… will still be Frore.

“As for your weird hair, I wanted to be sure you were capable of handling items for longer than a few short seconds. Considering how carelessly you dropped my priceless artifact on the ground,” Lethe shot him an icy glare that was lost within her vibrant fairy light, but nonetheless evident in her tone of voice. Evidently, she’d been setting up her chance to point that out—no stranger to cutting remarks.

"You seem to believe I am disrespecting you because of who you are,” Veitaru said, “I really don't care who you are or who sent you. We can work together as long as one condition is met, and then I will follow your orders to two steps past reason. I have established this condition. And you continue to ignore it, believing that I care more about who you are or who sent you-- DO. YOU. HAVE. A. LEAD? If you don't, that's ok, does the person sending you have a lead?

“And seriously? You’re giving me the borrowing argument. Gee, never he—“

Before Veitaru had a chance to finish her sentence, the fairy, who had, up until then, been silent and still, made an instantaneous beeline for the girl’s face. Blue flames surrounded her tiny body. She almost appeared to be a small fireball hurtling towards Vei as she flew, stopping mere inches from her nose—just close enough for the heat of searing blue flames to warm her skin.

“You wish for a better explanation, Sly One?” Lethe seethed, the flames beginning to fade, “Well. Allow me to educate you, then.

“Firstly, Farore is not a person. She is a Goddess. Creator of the air you breath and earth you stand on. Secondly, she has sent me to gather a very specific group of individuals. Why that isn’t enough for you, I really don’t know. If the Hero of Time had been half as rude as you I wonder if the legendary fairy Navi would have just left after waking him from his bed and quelling him to go to the Deku Tree without further explanation.

“Ugh,” Lethe shook her head, performing a facepalm of her own, “Can the fate of Hyrule really depend on such a miserly girl…?

My first task from the Goddess is to gather you all together and I’m on a tight schedule. I don’t have time to give you all the full spiel before I can tell you all what must be done. Help me find those who I am looking for and then I will tell you all you wish to know. If that deal does not satisfy your terms, then feel free to walk away."

She continued floating in front of Veitaru’s face—small bits of blue flame still pulsating around her—residue from her flared temper as she tried to calm herself, arms folded and eye brows knit together in frustration. It seemed she would not budge on her final offer and Vei's remarks had upset her immensely.

“This is either the build up to the greatest joke that has ever been told, or the punchline is going to be so complicated that no one understands it," a voice then came to intrude yet again.

Lethe would find the dramatic power of her tirade somewhat hindered by the fact that it was directed at a little girl nearly crying going "OW OW OW OW!"

The sudden appearance of fire, and not normal fire, but witchy-blue fire that reminded her of the catacombs and shadow temple and and and generally, things associated with Veitaru's deepest fears, inches from her face caused "The Sly One" to give a girly scream of "AAAAAAAIIIEEE", stumble/jump backwards and trip over a rock, and thus send the back of her head careening into the side of a stone tombstone.

This left the small child rolling on the ground clutching the back of her head, crying "OW OW OW OW!" over and over. This course of events meant that when she would have gotten Frore the clothes he needed, that did not actually ever happen because she had been frightened and hurt herself before that happened.

"How am I supposed to know who some Goddess is! I'm not called Sly one or whatever for going to church." She whined as she started to get over the shock of the immediate pain, but still hadn't gotten up from the ground, holding the ouch.

She leaned up, still holding the her head with one hand, "Ok ok, I'll get you clothes. But I'm not stealing." Her eyes hardened slightly. Or, well, she still looked scared of the fairy, but she TRIED to look tough.

Pulling her hand off the ouch point she examined the slight bit of blood in her palm, and with a quick self conscious look to the others, quickly lapped it up with her tongue, looking slightly happier about the situation, though self consciously glancing at them. Apparently Vei enjoyed the taste of her own blood?

As the final member of the Graveyard Quintet showed up, Veitaru turned her head, tongue still at her palm, "Uuhh?"