The blacksmith appeared to be uncomfortable as he mulled his options over and Maryev’s stare was unwavering. It was something his father had instilled in him from a very young age to never back down from a challenge and own up to your convictions. Hesitation and meekness would win you no favours in life, and others would exploit it ruthlessly. A leader was decisive, a warrior was unflinching in the face of adversity, and a lord was absolutely resolute. For a lifetime, they were the tenants that Maryev strove to meet. 

Although, at this particular instance, they were being outrageously utilized for something that was frankly more obnoxious than a serious challenge to his resolve. Being forced to attempt to slice a hock of lamb’s leg several weeks back with his greatsword due to his lack of food preparation equipment immediately came to mind. It was more awkward in execution than it was rewarding. His stomach growled.

Maryev did not want to come to blows with this stranger, despite the Hylian’s challenge. He came to this festival for a reason, of which eluded him entirely at that time, and he intended to leave it without more confrontation than need be. Fortunately, the Darknut’s hunch about Ox’s nature proved to be correct and the man moved to disengage, letting Maryev “off” with little more than a stern warning. “Very well. Just know that rallying against me is… unwise. Pick your adversaries with care, Blacksmith, because you do not know what they will cost you.” He finally broke his stare and looked over at the Blacksmith’s forge, in which a curiously red garbed child in a Keeton mask was gazing back at him. At least [I]it[/I] wasn’t wearing a green tunic like the aspiring child army that milled around the village with all of the precision and order of actual Hyrulian soldiers. “Yours, I presume.” He said to Ox. “Keep [I]it[/I] in mind the next time you decide to accost me for trivial rubbish. I do not think [I]it[/I] is ready to take up your business.” He said before giving the man one final hard stare before stepping away and turning towards the alluring meat stand further down the street. 

[URL=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C1Ose7A8P94]Cue Music![/URL]
Maryev, having successfully obtained victory in the great ambush of the Kakariko Village Smithy, towered over the stand to collect his spoils of the skirmish, which somehow meant he had to pay for it. His eyes lingered on the tantalizing slab of mutton shoulder, steam rising off of its perfectly cooked flesh not unlike the surface of a hot spring. The Darknut pointed to it with authority. 

“This. How much?” he boomed far too loudly, a sure sign of his excitement. 

The butcher recoiled slightly, already slightly on edge at the towering armoured behemoth casting a shadow over his ever paling expression. “It’s… uh… Seven Rupees?” he said uncertainly.

Without a further word, Maryev reached into his armour, pulling out a deer-skin wallet and produced a blue and two green rupees. He pulled the butcher’s hand forward and slapped the payment into the exposed palm. Maryev impatiently waited for the man to remove the hock from its hook and the man tenderly handed it over after wrapping it in a wax paper. Maryev received the slab of meat like an offering of tribute; a triumph. A deep throaty chuckle of anticipation emitted from Maryev’s helm like the throat of darkness itself. He would eat like a High Lord today, he thought, seemingly forgetting that no noble would dare eat a large slab of meat without carving it. What Maryev prepared to do would be considered quite savage across the many fiefdoms across the lands of Hyrule, to be sure.

[B]Maryev lost 7 Rupees![/B]

The Darknut lumbered off, mindfully avoiding another one of the damned green children, recalling Ox’s warning. It was not fear of retaliation that gripped him, but an interruption of his meal. He was mindful to find a dark corner largely out of sight, finding his perch near the grave yard gates, where nobody seemed to be frequenting as very few self-respecting people preferred to frolic amongst the monuments of the dead. He sat with an audible thump as his mass, combined with his armour, impacting the ground. His visor was only raised now, in this moment of triumph, as much of the wrapping was removed and the large slab of meat was brought up to his eager maw.

At that point, Maryev was convinced this was perhaps the finest day of his life. Perhaps he would seek a book shop to find some clues as to exactly what so was so special about the festering hole he was currently visiting and perhaps find a clue as to what drove him here. His rupees were still on mental illness brought upon by contact with the filthy peasants that occupied these lands in barely contained broods. 

He at least had to acknowledge they knew how to prepare a meal fit for a King.