Having the opportunity to sell just three pieces of her magically crafted pottery was laughably easy, especially after an austere looking woman magnificently approached their table, a timid foot servant following in her shadow and practically falling over himself to answer to any of her demands. She inspected the remaining dishes with a severe grey stare, giving Zanya the impression of a bird of prey sizing up it's next meal, before she demanded to be the owner of such fine workmanship in a reedy nasal voice. By the time the woman had left, haughty nose pointed up and servant stumbling under the combined weight of the remainder of the plates, bowls, and vases, the Zora was almost positive that the lady had been quite delusional... Or obnoxiously full of herself and her riches. She almost wished a thief upon her money pouch before she bit back the unkind thought and simply sighed with relief at her absence, turning back just as her brother locked away the rupees they had just earned into a metal chest of his own making

"I'll lock up the rest o'the wares myself." Beorn rumbled with a broad smile, patting the top of the supply box with a massive hand. "You best be scootin'if you plan on doing anything fun before the prints arrives." He chuckled as this provoked a brilliant smile on to his sister's face.

"I shall gladly repay you! Thank you Beorn!" Zanya trilled delightedly, stepping forward to give her Goron brother one last squeeze before she pivoted and integrated herself within the throng, losing herself among the masses as she filled her senses with all there was to be offered.

When she had first arrived in Clock Town, Zanya could make out no more than a forest of torsos and the momentary glimpses of buildings through a break in the crowd. This time around the streets, she was able to glean little more than the same, but with a few well-placed elbows, a carful pivot or two, she was able to observe so much more than she had before. Happily wandering through the variety of stalls and performances, the time bled away at a steady pace. Before she knew it, the clock had almost reached the noon day hour and the crowds predictably began to flow in the direction of the South gate, the excitement creating a tangible electricity in the air. Allowing herself to be swept along with the concourses of humans and sprinkling of other races, Zanya quickly found herself standing among a crowd that had pressed in close against the invisible boundaries of the road.

"this won't do.... I'm too short to see over most of these people." She grumbled quietly, arching up onto tiptoes, twisting this way and that, but succeeded in improving her view no more than an inch or two at any given time, the space quickly swallowed up by shoulders in a heartbeat. Frowning gently, she swiveled on the spot, gaze scanning the surrounding buildings for promising looking ledges. Spying an open space close to the base of the clock tower, she ducked and weaved through flailing limbs at a steady trot, reaching the space with only seconds to spare before the clock let out a boom to announce the hour. Momentarily glancing towards a couple of men that had chosen the same location, Zanya lowered her hands from where they had been covering her ear holes to block out the deafening sound and eagerly focused her attention in the direction of the gate, heart leaping with excitement as the trumpet sounded.

Someone grabbed her suddenly from behind, lifting her into the air. The screen that had begun to build in her throat left in a huff only a moment later however as she was carefully placed onto a familiar shoulder, her brother offering her a cheeky grin that she returned, adding an additional smack on the top of his head. It didn't do much beyond making her own hand smart, but it was worth it to feel the rumble of a chuckle from beneath her legs.

Movement promptly caught her attention away from her convenient perch, dark gaze focusing on the steadily marching collection of knights that were making their way down the street, dazzled by the gleaming array of gold , silver, Scarlets, and silks. They were fascinating and strange, displaying the years of accrued wealth literally on their sleeves, as much different from the humans that surrounded them as the Goron's of the mountains. They carried a disconcerting aura about them, enhanced by the strange bone ornaments that they displayed, and something about the whole thing made Zanya uneasy. But the feeling was quickly shoved to the back of her mind, her hands clapping together along with the multitude, admiring the Prince's handsome smile and the graceful arch of his steed's neck. Perhaps the feeling was only kindled because of the years of absence of the race before them, or in the dark contrasts of the eyesockets in the skulls that they wore as helmets, but whatever the reason, she did her best to simply enjoy the excitement of such an arrival.

“Move out of the way! I’m having a hard enough time trying to see as it is!” Lynnette placed a freezing hand on Marcus’ neck to push him out of her line of vision. He jolted away from her touch, sucking in air sharply between his teeth.

“Ah! Lyn!" he whined, "Cold!”

“Sorry,” she muttered rather insincerely, crossing her arms as she craned her neck and balanced on her toes, trying to get a better look at where the prince would be entering as the crowd waited in anticipation. She wasn’t particularly short by most womanly standards, but she was also by no means considered all that tall-- standing at a mere 5’9”….

“I told you I don’t mind if you want to sit on my shoulders…,” Marcus said with a lewd smirk as he glanced down at her over his shoulder, motioning with his head at a nearby couple that had obviously decided to do just that.

“In your dreams,” she scoffed, wrinkling her nose. As the midday chiming of the Clock Tower bells sounded, followed by a distant trumpet, more and more people started converting restless children to their shoulders and stretching themselves as high as they could, eager to catch a glimpse of Prince Davos Du Ikana. “Ugh… really?” Lynnette groaned to herself, grabbing Marcus’ vest to try and lift herself higher as a particularly tall man pulled his big fat child onto his abnormally broad shoulders.

“We would have gotten a better spot if you hadn’t spent such a long time looking at shoes, you know,” Marcus griped.

“Shhh, shut up shut up,” Lynnette furrowed her brow in frustration, barely listening to Marcus’ bellyaching.

She had to get a better spot.

Pushing through the crowd that had flanked Marcus and Lyn on either sides, she struggled to make her way towards a stack of crates. completely leaving Marcus behind. Before the Prince had arrived there had been some Carnival Committee members shooing people away from them, but now that the precession had begun there wasn’t a committee members in sight that wasn’t obviously completely absorbed in the prince’s grand arrival. “Excuse me, please” Lynnette muttered to each disgruntled crowd member she slipped by. There was no use worrying about anyone recognizing her—they were all far too interested in what was going on.

Nimbly climbing up onto the highest crate where two or three other people had apparently also nested, Lynette sat down, crossed her ankles and pressed her hands together in front of her lips in utter wonder as the crowd erupted into cheers. The precession was truly a sight to behold… as was the face of Prince Davos Du Ikana. Everything about him and his soldiers was glamorous beyond belief.

And this was only a sliver of it all…. The prince alone looked so regal and prestigious, she could hardly imagine what the King himself looked like… let alone his palace. She gave little thought to how a kingdom that had seemed so dormant for roughly 30 years could have possibly done so well on their own-- entranced by all the grandeur. You couldn’t possibly hope to see anything even remotely as classy in Dawn Heights. And if there was a prince... then there was surely a queen as well… by the goddesses, she wished she could see what a true Ikana noble lady dressed like if this was what their warriors wore….

A nasty sounding cough brought her spiraling back to reality as one of her fellow crate-sitting rule breakers seemed to be on the brink of hacking up a hairball over his shoulder and almost right into Lynnette’s face. She tried to hide her disgust, holding up her gloved hand to seemingly tuck a strand of hair behind her ear whilst also protecting her face from the spittles that were now raining down upon her. She subtly scooted over a few inches, also leaning forward and out of the line of fire as tried to focus on the prince again….

They were looking for her. Rissie had no idea how her grandparents had found out about her escape so soon, but from her discussion with Mary, she knew that there simply couldn't be any other green Zora that the man was talking about. Would her face be on wanted posters? Would everyone here know to look for her? It seemed ludicrous that either could be true, but as she climbed down (after making sure that the man who'd told Mary had left), she couldn't help but feel as if everyone was appraising her. Suddenly, this area with all this music and dancing and fun seemed too public. Sure, she could blend into a crowd, but then anyone could grab her; any of the people she'd be swimming through could want to turn her in for a bounty. No, it would be safer to find some place open so that she could be more aware of her surroundings.

The only problem with that was finding such a place. It seemed as if the city were full to overflowing; everywhere she looked was a crowd. It wasn't until she'd aimlessly wandered about for a couple hours before the crowds seemed to thin. She was now passing closed shops, and everyone was, more-or-less rushing in the same direction, leaving the streets relatively empty.

It took her a few moments to realize that she'd made a full circuit. Right there was the balcony she climbed to, right across the way from the milk bar. Now, though, the place was like a ghost town; the performers were gone, as was their music. Instead, a lonely toll, followed by an eerie muffled cheer slowly bounced up the road. The only other noise was of a door opening and then creaking shut. Someone had just exited the milk bar.

Rissie turned and glanced at him, and, more than she had before when surrounded by so many people, suddenly felt a jolt of fear. He was looking right at her, squinting, cataloging the oddities that made her unique. And then he smiled, and started to approach her. Rissie turned to make sure that there was nothing of interest behind her, since if there were, he could have been going for that, but there was nothing but that easy-to-climb wall. She glanced back at him as he got closer, that disconcerting smile on his face.

"Hey there girly, why aren't you at the parade?" Something seemed to drip in his voice, though it was possible that he was trying to sound non-threatening. That was enough to convince Rissie: this was not a good place to be. In fact, she had undoubtedly been safer when surrounded by all those people! And so, without saying anything back, she dashed up the road in the direction everyone else had been going, leaving the man (hopefully) behind.

She didn't bother to check if he were chasing her. Rissie had read enough stories where the hapless princesses had almost gotten away, except that they turned to look back and then tripped and were caught. She wasn't going to make the same mistake. Thankfully the way to the crowds wasn't difficult to find, and once she was there amongst the cheering and the gasps of awe, she barged right in and began struggling her way through. The more people she put between her and her would-be captor, the better.

And so it was, much to the disgruntlement of the many people whom she jabbed and kicked and ran into on her way through the sea of bodies, that Rissie was suddenly out, and slammed right into a wooden palisade. Thankfully she hadn't been going too fast, so she could scramble up quickly without too much pain, the people next to her startled that anyone had managed to squeeze between them (squished as they themselves were in such prime spots). And as she stood, rubbing the hurt out of her forehead and knee, she saw them. A whole army of men, it seemed, on magnificent horses. These creatures put her grandparent's wonderful steeds to shame; they were large and regal, with perfect coats, and from here she could see the firey passion in their eyes. "Wow," she muttered, momentarily stunned (and not by having just slammed into a wall). She would have to ask her grandparents for such a horse when she got back.

When the time of the parade approached, West Clock Town's various merchant stalls seemed to be steadily losing customers in favor of gathering along the parade route. That suited Dillan just fine, since he had no intention of missing the parade. He wanted to see history in the making, his job be damned. He wasn't just at the carnival to sell things, even if his bosses insisted otherwise.

"All right, you lot," he addressed the group still at his stand. "I'm closing up shop for lunch. Go see the Ikana soldiers on parade! History and all that!" He paused awkwardly, then added, "Shoo!" The crowd dispersed, and he quickly packed up the weapons and trinkets that remained. The stand would be there when he got back, since it was reserved. He intended to do a little wandering after the parade ended, though. It wasn't going to call him back quite so soon.

He stuck a sign on the top of the counter that read "Food is good. You should get some." with a badly-drawn cartoon face with its tongue sticking out below the words. He emerged from behind the stand and hurried to South Clock Town, trying to find a spot where he could see the parade route.

The sea of heads was making line of sight really difficult to obtain. He'd need to get some higher ground, which had him digging in his satchel for one of his metal gauntlets. He attached the climbing claw to the gauntlet and to one of his boots, then ran a few quick steps up the side of a wooden wall. Right when he could no longer defy gravity, he slammed the claw into the wooden surface, sticking it in there so he could dangle. He dug the boot-claw into a spot lower down for added stability, perfectly content to watch the parade from there.

After his business with Teruk had come to a close, Griga had moved on to other parts of Clock Town, and continued to have quite a good time. He had meandered through West Clock Town for a while, talking to salesmen and failing to buy things in much the same way as he had in North Clock Town. The Zora had then attempted similar behavior in Tent City, but soon found himself uncomfortable with the way some of the more heavily armed merchants were looking at him, and returned to the actual city.

After that, Griga made his way to East Clock Town, and busied himself with absorbing the sites and sounds of the entertainment district. He played a few games, people-watched for a while(the most interesting of which was a little green girl who appeared to be from a species Griga had never seen before), and listened to a couple of musicians attempting to sing some sort of tragic ballad while a loud man bellowed at the top of his lungs about some sort of carnival game at the tent next to them.

Griga eventually made his way to South Clock Town, and when he did, he immediately began his search for the perfect spot to view the prince's procession. He had been quite young when the kingdom had closed its borders, and as a result Ikana was one of the few regions he had not had the pleasure of exploring. For this reason, Griga was particularly excited to view the parading prince, who's appearance would serve as the Zora's first(and hopefully not last) preview into the kingdom's culture.

After a few moments of searching, he eventually settled on a roof and, after a moment of preparation, leapt into the air, his magic assisting him in landing on top of some business. A few more leaps, and Griga could see much of the procession with ease.

Now settled down, Griga watched, as a trumpet played and the extravagant march began. It was certainly interesting.

Somebody had once told Anemos that humans were the most complicated of creatures, prone to sporadic lies and deception whenever it best suited them: And, in his opinion, nobody authenticated this belief with more pinpoint accuracy than his father, Arichias.
All his life he’d told people he was human, but- quite clearly- he was actually some form of miraculous man-spider.
Because, when Anemos had finally waded his way out of the crowd, and reached the point at which his dad had finally stopped his sudden and unprecedented distancing between himself and the prince’s cavalcade, he hadn’t found the older man standing still, not at all: He was climbing.
Quickly.
With fluid, articulate movements, and a surprisingly lively and versatile set of techniques, he’d begun an on-spot ascension of the closest set of scaffolding to him, a wooden tower which clung tightly to the stone of an aged building, and- despite its apparent stability- had clearly not been constructed with spontaneous scaling in mind, based on the distance between the bars.

Despite his age, however, he looked to be spry and full of gusto: He’d managed to conquer it in a matter of minutes, seemingly without too much effort, and perched himself quite comfortably at its top as he stared down at the Prince’s procession.
Anemos sighed, his hands impatiently pressed against the sides of his hips as he glared up after him.
He shouldn’t have been surprised, really: Arichias had borne the title of Gales long before he had, and had only passed it on so early because an unfortunate fall during one particularly heavy training session had rendered his left shoulder broken in such a way that it would never fully recover.
Still, having watched his climb, one might have dared to think the injury hadn’t been so detrimental: Indeed, it only flared up in times of intense movement.
It was a shame that most of Gales’ acrobatic repertoire was made up of dynamic movements, then.

“Dad!”, he called, glare unwavering, “Hey, Dad!”
Arichias dropped his gaze southwards, and waved down to his son as though what he’d just done had been the most natural thing in the world.
“Dad, how old’re you?”
He thought for a moment, and then shrugged, “Much older than I think I am, judging by your tone.”
“That was really dangerous. Why did you wander off?”
“No reason.”
“Dad.”
“Adventure?”
“Dad.”
“The view’s better up here, is all! I didn’t wait all these years to get a glimpse of the prince, son. Imagine! Two decades, and I can’t even see him through people carrying their children on their shoulders!”
That brought a smile to Anemos’ face, at least: It was an innocent reason, and he could appreciate it.
He smiled fondly, “You know, you used to put me on your shoulders.”
His father paused, and gestured to himself in surprise, “Did I?”
Anemos nodded, and Arichias chuckled, “How insufferable we must’ve been.”

His countenance brightening slightly, Anemos threw a glance back to the crowds- which were growing, and indeed, obscuring the view- before turning again to his father.
“Hey, dad, clear a seat! I’m coming up!”
With a slight bouncing in his heel, Anemos grasped the scaffolding’s framework with both hands, and began to scale the structure himself: The bars were quite inconveniently spaced, with some being very close together, and the others being at nearly a full arms’ length away from its predecessors and successor, and as he climbed it became all the more clear to Anemos that it’d been constructed hurriedly, no doubt in anticipation of the approaching carnival.
Still, though, it was of little detriment in the end: If Arichias had been able to scale it, Anemos certainly could, and did.
When he reached the top, he found that it was actually quite a firm and sturdy wooden platform, and sat himself down beside his father as he glanced down at the distance he’d covered.
It was, at most, about twenty feet, and more than enough to allow a clear view of the ceremony.

He leaned back on his palms, as he stared down at the armoured celebrities that Clock Town now celebrated as if they were their own.
His father’s tutting caught his attention moments later, however.
“Tsk, tsk…”
“What?”
“That was very dangerous, Anemos. Climbing that scaffolding like that.”
Anemos creased his brow in genuine confusion, before Arichias rolled his eyes sportively, and jabbed his son playfully in the shoulder, “That’s my boy.”
“Shut up, dad,” he retorted, albeit in good humour.
“There’s your mother again.”

It would appear that Oliver's effort to find a higher vantage point had inspired several imitators. Zunari's attention seemed far more focused on the various ledges, crates, rooftops, alcove, and even weather vanes that excited onlookers were climbing on top of in hopes of getting a better view, even dropping a slight chuckle when a rather portly young child fell right through the cloth awning he'd tried to walk on top of. To be frank, Zunari had never been particularly mystified by the Ikana; as a former (partially retired?) thief, the five year period during which the Ikana patrolled Termina Field was fraught with light wallets and empty stomachs for the caravan owner and his flock. Nevertheless, he was there to support Oliver, and as such made sure to not let the young swordsman see his gaze wander from the parade too long.

Oliver mumbled to himself quietly as he scanned the rows of soldiers, suddenly raising his voice at moments when he thought he spotted Swiftblade's sigil and then uttering a quick "nevermind" as he continued to search in vain. After five very thorough surveys of the parade block, Oliver desperately attempted a sixth, but his hopes were dashed when the procession made a sharp right turn into North Clock Town's park and out of Oliver's line of sight. Appearing defeated, Oliver heaved a rather tired and frustrated sigh, leaning back and fiddling with the knot held his head-wrap bandanna in place, a little habit he'd developed that clearly indicated something was most certainly bothering him. Zunari immediately picked up on this, screwing the cap back on his flask and rising from his seat on the edge of the platform.

"Come on, maybe we can hurry to the east district and try to get a good spot so we can hear the Prince's speech. If the crowd follows the parade through the park we should be able to make it to the Mayor's Residence before all the onlookers catch up. Who knows, maybe Swiftblade will be easier to spot when he's standing still?" suggested Zunari. Oliver, perhaps still a bit in denial, seemed to perk up at such a thought. Even if they couldn't spot Swiftblade, it would still be interesting to be so close to the Prince of Ikana himself. Maybe one of the knights would recognize Swiftblade's cape and say something about it. Somewhat revitalized, Oliver sprang up and breezed past Zunari before the stocky ex-thief could climb down from the ledge, nearly knocking him off of the platform in the process. Before Zunari could respond with a flurry of rather unsavory curses directed at his careless friend, Oliver turned and shouted over the roar of the crowd.

"Let's go, Zuzu! You're the one who said we had to hurry!" he yelled, with a slight smirk as he turned and began to muscle his way through the horde of people trying to follow the parade.

"I swear, the things I do for that shithead. I hope he finds his dad so 'ol Swiftblade can beat some sense into him," muttered Zunari, under his breath. "And if he calls me Zuzu one more time, he's fired."

The parade path through the park was narrower than before, but the Ikana quickly and silently condensed its marching block into a more compact shape, all without skipping a beat or a single misstep. The knights were undoubtedly thoroughly drilled; even with their borders closed and no other kingdom posing any visible threat to them, the Ikana appeared to have continued their rigorous military training over the last few decades. The mayor, known for his forethought in such matters, had made the decision to assign a whole detachment of Clock Soldiers specifically the block the congregation of Business Scrubs from getting close to the procession, and wisely so. Trying their hardest to get the Prince's attention, the scrubs were practically screaming at the Ikana to set up a trade agreement with the Deku Kingdom instead or to honor their previously issued land title deeds authorizing certain merchants to operate within Ikana. Tensions came to a head when a stray Deku Nut was launched at the parade block, but the potential disaster was fortunately averted when the nut sailed clean over the knights and landed in a crowded clump of picnickers.

Finally the procession exited the park and arrived in front of the mayor's office, where a small makeshift stage had been set up. Mayor Dotour, normally bound to a wheelchair in his advanced age, had made the rare and uncharacteristic decision to stand to honor the Prince's arrival, although he was hunched over and leaning rather heavily on a solid wood cane. These days it was rare for Dotour to be seen outside at all, and to be quite honest the old man seemed likely to collapse right there on the stage. His once bright purple hair had now almost entirely grayed, with the few remaining faint purple patches here and there now looking like a soft lavender more than anything else. Captain Viscen, the mayor's trusted associate and personal bodyguard since stepping down as head of the Clock Soldiers, stood directly to his right, watching the mayor carefully with an obvious amount of concern on his face in case Dotour should fall. Eustace Gorman, eldest of the famous Gorman Brothers and current head of the Carnival Committee, stood to his left, with something resembling a mean smirk on his face as he observed Dotour's invalid state; no doubt he was internally estimating just how many days the old man had left before he keeled over and his office was finally open for reelection.

Perhaps this was simply Oliver's interpretation of things, but then again he didn't have much of anything nice to say about Gorman, so it would be best to not take his presumptions at face value. It was equally as possible that Gorman had just remembered a silly joke about crusty jugglers he'd heard the day before, which would have produced the aforementioned smirk. The world may never know. The drummers played a short cadence to signal the end of the march, and all of the knights simultaneously halted and stood at attention, remaining so still Oliver was certain they'd all been transformed into wax figures in the blink of an eye. The Prince, atop his brilliant white stallion, rode up to the steps leading to the stage and swiftly yet gracefully dismounted, handing the reigns of his horse to a nearby bannerman. The crowd gave another round of applause as the Prince came on stage, making his way over to the mayor, who did his best to give a polite bow to the Prince, who humbly returned the mayor's kindness with a bow of his own. After shaking both Viscen and Gorman's hands, the Prince approached the ornate wooden podium at the center of the stage, setting his skeletal helmet down on it as he prepared to give his highly anticipated speech. For the first time since the Ikana had arrived, the crowd grew quiet.

"Citizens of Clock Town," he began, rather predictably, because sometimes it can be hard to write the beginnings of speeches. The Prince's voice was not at all prissy or flowery, like one would expect a stereotypical royal to sound. Rather, it was deep and commanding, yet at the same time articulate. Prince Davos Du Ikana sounded like the kind of man you would want riding out ahead of you, leading the charge into a grand, glorious battle. "For twenty five years, my father's kingdom has remained closed to the outside world. Ikana, once the sword and shield of Termina, retreated into solitude suddenly and without warning. This change likely came as a shock to many of you. I'm aware that some may have been cut off from friends and family during the border closing, and for that, my father would like to extend his deepest, most profound apologies."

"For twenty five years we have turned away all travelers from Ikana, by force if necessary. But why, you may wonder? Why isolate ourselves from Termina, who committed no trespass against us and has been our ally for centuries? And, further, why keep the reason for our exile a secret? Why hold our silence for nearly three decades? The answer is shameful, I admit, and even attempting to articulate it now is painful for me. 25 years ago, the seal that Dampe, the Oathkeeper of the Canyon, placed upon the Stone Tower was weakened by some manner of dark magic, and once again the curse that brought our kingdom to ruin all those years ago seemed likely to ravage us again, just after we'd managed to return the great nation of Ikana back to normal," explained the Prince. Murmurs swept through the crowd quickly, but they were quickly silenced when the Prince continued speaking.

"The seal broke not soon after, and we were beset on all sides by legions of the undead. We closed our gates not to keep Termina out, but to prevent these skeleton warriors from escaping into the field that we'd work so hard to protect. It was our burden to bear, not yours, but at the same time we had to be wary and cautious of outsiders. The magic used to sabotage Dampe's seal was not any we recognized as our own. That is why we closed our borders and protected our gates, even after we managed to vanquish the brunt of our undead foes. My father, Igos Du Ikana, laid siege to the Stone Tower with all that remained of Ikana's military might at his back, and managed to reseal the curse of the Stone Tower, although not without great cost. Less than a hundred Ikana Knights remained in all," he continued, rather gravely.

"However, it was there, atop the Stone Tower, that my father heard the voice of a Goddess calling down to him from the heavens, but it was just a faint whisper. It commanded him to build the Stone Tower even higher so as to better heard the word of the heavens. Despite a lack of resources and men, my father decided to follow the commands of this Goddess from the sky, and so construction began and the Stone Tower. No doubt you have noticed that it now stands far taller than it ever has before," he added, motioning to aforementioned tower that loomed far in the distance, which was in fact so tall that it seemed to disappear into the clouds. Some stray shouts came from the crowd, demanding answers to the questions this sudden strange revelation had raised. What was this talk of a sky Goddess? The giants were generally considered to be the sole protectors of Termina. The Prince raised both of his hands once he realized there was dissent brewing within the crowd; apparently his presence was commanding enough to silence the chattering at will.

"My father's conquest of the Stone Tower was achieved roughly seven months after our gates first closed. For the last twenty five years we have been working tirelessly to not only continue construction of the tower, but also to return Ikana to its former military might. Much had been lost during the second coming of the undead, and we needed time to recover. But no longer, Termina! My father has heard the word of the Goddess in the sky once again, and she has commanded us to open our gates and reach out to you, the people of Termina. I wish I could say that our sudden alliance came from more pleasant circumstances, but alas, in these dark times such things are rarely true. Our sky Goddess believes a great tragedy is about to befall Termina, and that we Ikana alone cannot prevent it," explained Davos, with the utmost sincerity. Murmurs once again rippled through the crowd, but Davos seemed to be wrapping up anyway.

"Tonight I will begin negotiations with Mayor Dotour to work out some of the details of the reopening of Ikana's borders, but we will also discuss this ill-fated prophecy as well and try to determine the right course of action to take from there. Please be patient with these negotiations, and do not attempt to interfere. Thank you for your time, and may the Goddess of Time watch over you," he finished, with a respectful bow. Instead of ecstatic applause, the crowd only responded with confusion and anxiety at this news. Dotour, Viscen, and Gorman all appeared equally shocked; apparently they hadn't been informed that the Prince's news would be so... dramatic. Nevertheless, the Prince personally escorted Dotour through the door to the mayor's residence, after which three of the elite knights from the Prince's escort moved to guard the entrance, making the Clock Soldiers look puny by comparison.

Viscen, trying to put some kind of closure on the rather worrying end to the speech, approached the podium.

"Uhhh... Thanks for showing the Ikana your respect today, um, everyone. Please disperse in an orderly fashion, and remember that anyone caught attempting to interfere with the mayor's negotiations will be severely punished for it. Have a nice day," he choked out, obviously rather unprepared for such an announcement. Slowly but surely, the crowd seemed to be thinning out, but East Clock Town was certainly abuzz with a great deal of worry and confusion after that strange revelation. Who was this sky Goddess, and what could her ill-fated prophecy entail?

Before the crowd began to migrate as the procession started to disappear into North Clock town, Lynette was already hopping down from the crates and quickly dashing through the much less crowded East Clock town. She shot a backwards glance at Marcus, who’s head was on it’s familiar swivel as he frantically tried to locate her. In spite of the fact that she loathed Marcus and his never ending advances, she felt a little bad leaving him out to dry like that. He’d have to forgive her for the heart attack later, though. Lynnette didn’t want to be bothered to wait up for him, but she supposed the least she could do was put on her cloak… just to be safe.

Throwing the fabric over her shoulders and fastening it just beneath her neck as she ran, she mulled over what she thought the Prince might say. She’d glossed over a few of her own theories as to why Ikana might have closed its gates, but she’d never much bothered to research the matter-- not until she first caught word about the Prince’s arrival, anyway… and even then, all she did was ask a few of her fellow troupe members-- some of whom had opinions that were almost as eccentric as they were themselves. She’d heard everything from “the Mayor's long lost son was caught rolling in the hay with an Ikana princess” to "Twinmold's twin had risen from the canyon's depths”.

There were plenty of theories, each more outrageous than the next, but she had yet to form any solid opinions. She didn’t much care for the “why” anyway. What Lynnette was most curious about was whether or not she’d be able to meet her grandparents. They were nothing but a colorless pictograph of sophistication and refinement in her mind… well… that and, according to her mother, "fun-sucking aristocrats" that hated smiles, rainbows, and happiness, but Lynnette was far past taking everything her mother said at face value (especially about her grandparents). Her mother wouldn’t know class if bit her on the nose….

Lynnette managed to find a decent spot somewhat near the front of the crowd as the knights poured into North East Clock Town in front of the makeshift stage where Mayor Dotour, Captain Viscen, and Eustace Gorman each stood expectantly. Lynnette felt her face flush a little as the Prince removed his helmet—and it certainly didn’t let up as he began his speech. It would soon, however, prove to be no such time for girlish fantasies. Getting into the depth of his speech, Lynnette joined the crowd in it’s shock. She even found herself among the few shouting out questions.

“What about the traders?!” she called out. They wouldn’t have been made to fight, would they? Had the merchants and businessmen and their families been kept safe? She felt a sinking feeling, like a heavy stone, settle in the pit of her stomach when she thought of what might have come of her Uncle Quin and Uncle Sloan. She stared after the Prince as he disappeared into Mayor Dotour’s office, lost in thought.

Well, that put a damper on things. Teruk and his family, along with the several onlookers who shared their perch on the rooftop sat in momentarily stunned silence. An Oathkeeper’s seal damaged? The undead blight that had cursed Ikana returned? It was almost too much to take in. Teruk shifted uncomfortably at the thought that the Prince, the young, handsome human in the expensive, exotic armour, had spent most, if not all of his life, witnessing the impending collapse of his civilization, if not Termina’s. How many of the other men who came with the Prince were likewise experienced veterans, men who have grown anticipating a war with the highest of costs? Suddenly, the curious and somewhat silly appearance of the knights took on a whole new and somewhat terrifying luster. The Deku wasn’t so certain about putting his faith in a man who claimed to have been told by the Goddesses to do their bidding directly, but the sudden revelation that Termina was suddenly under threat from something that had scared the Ikanans, something bad enough that after 25 years of self-imposed exile they saw fit to warn the rest of the kingdoms about it.

A chilling thought crossed Teruk’s mind; if Dampe’s seal, one in a very well-fortified and martial society such as Ikana, was damaged, what was protecting the rest of them? What kind of horrors would leech into Woodfall, poison water once more?

Or worse.

“Looks like the festival’s being cut a bit short.” Uncle Jera said, as if it were being rained out instead of the entirety of the audience being warned of an impending doom. “Come on, Loni, Teruk. We should get back to camp. I imagine a good amount of our procession is heading back to warn the King and avoid getting pulled into something risky and stupid involving the other races. I’d rather not find our belongings went with them.” He said, rising up to his feet.

“Aren’t you the least bit concerned about this?” Teruk said, alarmed. “I mean, if it’s as bad as the Prince is saying, shouldn’t we do something?”

“Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t.” Jera said impassively. “Take my advice, nephew, and try not to get worked up over things until you know all the facts. A public announcement in front of hundreds of overly excitable people? Not the best place to relay something important. Besides, we’re subjects of our King. Best to follow his lead, for now.”
“Unless he’s willfully ignoring what needs to be done.” Loni added.

“That’s good and all, but I want to find out more.” Teruk said, rising to his feet. “I’ll meet up with you guys in a little while, I just don’t want to risk missing out on something important.” He pointed towards where a throng of people were shouting at the Mayor’s house, demanding answers. “They aren’t wrong, but maybe going about it wrong.”
A part of Teruk knew he should head back with his Aunt and Uncle, but a part of him felt a tinge of excitement mingling with the creeping alarm. This must have been how it felt when Majora’s Moon threatened Termina, only to be thwarted by the Oathkeepers, the paragons of all people. Maybe something similar was about to occur? It was terrifying, but the thought of witnessing real history in the making was exciting beyond words.

“I need to see how this plays out.” He said.

Other than the nice horses, though, there really wasn't anything in the procession for Rissie. It was just a bunch of people riding around in armor! Was this like some sort of entertainment that happened at this festival? Would they break into mock combat and give them a show?

Sadly, that didn't happen, and soon they were around the bend in the road and Rissie could no longer see them. Everyone around her, though, wasn't as done with this whole thing as she. They pushed her along after the procession, and, remembering the reason that she'd run into the throngs in the first place, she stuck as best she could to her position. No one had tried to grab her when she'd been just standing there earlier, so these were probably good people: was better to have them around her than try to fight her way back out the way she came, especially with the added trouble of the crowd's movements. Besides, from what she could see no one else was breaking out of the crowds to go back to manning shops or entertaining random people, so there would be nothing to do even if she could make her mistake. And so she followed the crowds to whatever the next main attraction would be, dampened as her spirits were by the letdown of this latest one.

The nice thing about having broken into the crowds at about the middle of the path that the knights took was that she ended up about in the middle of the crowd where they waited for the speech to be delivered. Not that she could see anything due to the taller people in front of her (and no, as much as she thought that those around her were probably nice people, she still didn't want to bring attention to herself by asking them to move or maybe lift her so that she could see), but at least she would be close enough to easily hear. It took her a few sentences into the speech to finally understand what all the hubbub was about that parade: so those had been Ikana knights she'd witnessed! No wonder people had been so excited about something so dull.

Now, like any well-learned student, Rissie knew "Everything You Need to Know about the Oathkeepers" (yes, there was a book titled that; yes, she had read it). The importance of what this prince said did not escape her, and so she was among those who gasped at the announcement that one of the seals had broken. Also like any other well-learned student, Rissie knew about the Four Giants and that they were really the only gods that Termina could ever need, and so it did not escape her that these mentions of a new goddess were strange and heretical. Not that her grandparents had instilled in her any sort of religious zeal, she'd just never heard that there was any other sort of divine being.

Perhaps, though, the import of his warning, carried to them from the goddess, did go over her head. Sure, breaking seals was bad, and new goddesses was weird, but whatever sort of horrors might brew in the outside world, Clock Town would be safe. It wasn't like anyone would try smashing them with a moon again; that didn't work last time and, perhaps unfairly, she figured that their enemy, whoever he might be, would be smart enough not to repeat the mistakes of his predecessor. And so she had no trouble following the orders to disperse calmly, and she certainly wasn't going to go interfering with any sort of diplomatic talks.

Or rather, she would have had no trouble were it not for the fact that she was stuck pretty much smack-dab in the middle of the crowd. It would be a good while before she'd be able to untangle helrself from that mass of bodies and make her way... wherever she happened to decide to go next. This Carnival needed a bulletin; how was Rissie supposed to even know what was going on?

Before Teruk could mingle with the angry crowd for too long, his attention was drawn to a fellow merchant sprout hobbling towards him from the direction of the park. It was none other than Mr. Teko, a kind old peddler from Southern Swamp who used to sell magic beans before retiring. Now he occupied something of a leadership role among the traveling scrub merchants, settling disputes among the business scrubs and also working with the Mayor's office to ensure the business scrubs were kept in line, but also had a fair chance to peddle their wares in Clock Town. Although Mr. Teko didn't hold any actual power among the scrubs (as they were all either independent businessmen or in the employ of the Deku Royal Family), most of the fellow scrubs looked to him for advice and offered him at least a certain amount of respect.

The unique title of "Mr." Teko was something afforded only to him out of all the Deku; Teko was not his surname, obviously, as the Deku race lacked such trivialities, but he was referred to as Mister for as long as anyone could remember, most likely because of his role as the "team dad" of this particular group of traveling merchants. He was an old and withering scrub whose head-leafs had long since changed to a grayer, browner hue as opposed to the yellow-green shade of his younger colleagues. He walked with a hobble, a short oak walking stick bearing the brunt of his hunched, frail wooden body. He almost seemed out of breath when he finally came within earshot of Teruk.

"Teruk! Thank heavens! You must come quickly, Treka was attacked back at the park! Come, come, I'll explain on the way!" he implored, pulling Teruk away from the crowd urgently. Treka was the youngest scrub of Mr. Teko's flock permitted to come along for the trip to Clock Town, something that was usually reserved for only the older, more seasoned merchants due to the long period away from home and the competition from other salesmen being far too much for the young ones to handle. Treka's family specialized in selling (rather pungent and unpleasant) perfumes made from a special strain of flowers found only in certain parts of Woodfall. Her mother was supposed to be representing the family business at the carnival, but fell ill the morning of their departure and was forced to stay home. All in all Treka was a quiet girl who preferred to keep to herself, making it seem especially odd that someone would have reason to attack her at all.

"I can't believe I let this happen. When all of you left to watch the speech, only a few of us stayed back in the park to keep watch over our wares and our flowers. Things were really quiet with the park so empty, so I decided it would be a good time to take a nap while I had the chance. When I woke up, poor Treka was on the ground unconscious and your aunt and uncle were trying their hardest to wake her up. I came to get you as soon as I could. Hopefully she's awake by now," explained Mr. Teko, frantically. The two scrubs tried their very hardest to muscle through the crowd, but the waves of people leaving East Clock Town made such a task rather difficult, especially with Mr. Teko's already slow gait.

"Oh, but what of the Prince's speech, Teruk? I see a lot of confused and worried faces in this crowd. I take it the news was more than a little unsettling?" queried the old scrub, between grunts of frustration as he bumped into stray elbows making his way through the crowd.

~

Oliver Clementine Pike's attempts to find his father in the procession of Ikana Knights ended up being rather fruitless, unfortunately. Even with a spot fairly close to the stage he couldn't pick out any knights wearing Swiftblade's sigil. He tried to tell himself that it was possible that Swiftblade had changed sigils recently or that he wasn't wearing a cape at all, but the rational side of him quieted these slim possibilities rather quickly. He'd gone his whole life without meeting his father, after all, and as far as he was concerned he could continue to live his life without him if need be. Even so, if the Prince came through on his promise to open up Ikana's borders once more, then Oliver would surely get a chance to meet him in the near future.

Getting a close up view of Davos Du Ikana himself was certainly something that Oliver wouldn't be forgetting anytime soon. He would be proud to serve under such a man one day, and he would jump at the opportunity to do so if it was ever offered to him. Although he would never in a million years admit it, Oliver internally swooned just the slightest bit upon hearing the prince's voice for the first time. His soothing baritone of sent shivers down the young swordsman's spine, surely, but once again this was a secret he would take to his grave. He feigned a stoic but earnest interest in the speech to save face in front of Zunari, but he made no effort to hide his concern as the prince went on to explain the dire circumstances surrounding Ikana's isolation. What if Swiftblade wasn't here because he was killed by the undead scourge? What if he died during the siege of the Stone Tower? Could that be why they never heard from him?

As soon as the crowd dispersed, Oliver made a beeline for the small group gathering outside of the mayor's office, bidding Zunari farewell -- while he did appreciate Zunari's company, he simply wasn't in the mood to hear anything from him at the moment. This pack of dissenters, refusing to disperse, continued to shout their own questions at the mayor's office, but Dotour didn't look like he was going to be coming out anytime soon. Some of the rioters reluctantly gave up and shuffled away (including two very concerned looking Deku scrubs), but Oliver refused, shoving his way to the front of the now thinning crowd to say his piece.

"Please, you must tell me if my father is alive! He's the only family I have left! I must know!" he demanded, unsure of why he was shouting at a closed door but ultimately too flustered to care. After a moment of thought and a quick look around, he discovered that not only was he standing next to that circus girl from before, but that she was also one of the people he had rather rudely shoved aside to get to the front of the pack. Oliver slowly realized that his elaborate web of lies from before had also just imploded spectacularly with that one outburst, as it revealed that he did not, in fact, have a little sister like he'd previously claimed in order to wiggle his way out of having to see one of her weird dance shows for pervy old men. He knew he'd have to choose his next words very carefully to avoid looking like a complete tool.

"Oh, gosh, hey, uh..." he stumbled, rather sheepishly. It was at this point that he realized he'd completely forgotten Lorelei's name. He had in inkling that it started with an L, but he wasn't about to take a wild swing at a girl's L name and risk digging his hole of social ineptitude even deeper. However, he'd unfortunately begun this sentence with the intention of using her name, as one could obviously discern from his inflection in doing so, but as he currently lacked the information necessary to make such a feat possible, he was left staring at her blankly with a heavy, awkward pause right in the middle of things. His cover-up plan was not going particularly well.

"...you! Hey, you! Sorry to shove you and all, but, uhhh, hey, some speech right? Crazy, heh, hehhh..." he choked out, full on panic-mode now. Apparently his loud outburst had attracted the attention of some of the Ikana knights, who stopped talking among themselves to peer over at Oliver and the angry people behind him, some of whom he'd even accidentally pushed to the ground in his hurry to get to the front.

As The Prince’s procession began its progression steadily through Clock Town and towards the mayoral offices, Anemos and his patriarch pursued them from above, stalking across the scaffoldings and rooftops almost absentmindedly as the two exchanged banter and raillery, both betwixt themselves and in regards to the ostentatious ceremony that surged through the streets before them.
“It takes a lot to make a circus look modest,” jested Arichias, as the pair sprung across the width of an alleyway.
“Don’t tell Grout that: He’ll take it as a challenge!” Anemos playfully replied.

And that was very much the theme for their short journey’s entirety. Their fluid, trained movements went unhindered by their distraction- it had become instinctive, a muscle memory- and soon they slowed to a stop on a platform overlooking the mayor’s piazza, chortling to themselves as they perched themselves on its edge.
However, when The Prince began his address, both fell silent, and neither’s eyes wavered.

But, slowly, their miens began to juxtapose one another: As The Prince spoke, Arichias- the supposed wiser of the two- began to grow all the more jovial.
At first, one might have mistaken him for being thoroughly enthralled as Davos regaled the crowd: But it soon became quite obvious that, much like his son before him, he found the whole affair quite funny to watch from afar.

Anemos, however, looked to have moved to the opposite side of the gamut: His expression had grown solemn and pensive, as if suspended in deep meditation.
From the first utterance of this ‘ill-fated prophecy’, of the tragedy that was to engulf this land, his eyes had become contemplative: Glazed over and fogged, as though clouded by slow-falling smoke.
His fingers- which had drummed against his knee absentmindedly beforehand- now clutched at his jerkin, and for the second time this day, he could feel the burdensome weight of the mask that flanked his belt.
“Would they ask for help?”, he pondered, as Arichias made jest and jibe mutedly to his right, inaudible, “Would I answer?”

“… because ‘God told me to do it’ has never been the motivation for anything senseless, has it son?” Arichias’ voice finally broke through.
Anemos stirred suddenly from his stupor, as if Arichias had become a wave where once there was a tranquil stream, “Hrm? What?”
His father glanced to him, brow arched concernedly, “What?”
“Oh, uh… nothing. Yeah, haha, crazy, right?”
“Anemos, are you feeling okay?”
“Sure, I’m fine. Why?”
“You’re looking sort of… pale.”
“Huh, really? Well, uh… it’s… you know.”
“Do I?”
The two stared at one another in silence for a few excruciatingly long moments, before Anemos averted his gaze, and turned instead to face the clock tower from which Clock Town had gotten its name.

“Oh, is it that late already? I should get to training!”
“Anemos, if there’s something wrong-”
“There’s nothing wrong, why do you think something is wrong?”, the younger man inquired, as he drew his bo staff, and anchored it into the roof beneath him so that he might stand.
“Something just seems… off. Davos doesn’t have you spooked, does he?”
“No, of course not!”
“Anemos.”
“A little bit?”
“Anemos.”
“Yes.”

Sighing softly, Arichias patted the space beside him, “C’mere.”
“Sorry, dad, I’m sort of in a hurry-”
“Then just listen to me.”
Anemos opened his mouth to protect, but then found himself simply sighing, and nodding.
“I’m not sure if you’ve realised this or not, but I’m not exactly a young man-”
“I did.”
“-Shut up. Anyway, my point is, if Termina came to an end every time somebody who’d spoken to ‘The Goddess’ said it would, you wouldn’t have even been born.”
“It happens that often?”
“Crazy people are as crazy people do.”
“Huh…”
“Feel a little better?”
“Actually I’m sort of afraid Termina is filled with lunatics, now.”
“Glad to hear it, now get to practice.”
“I’m glad you’re in a circus, dad.”
“Because I’m a real showman?”
“Because your pep talks are a joke.”
“Scram.”

Grinning- as Anemos always seemed to be when he parted with his father- the acrobat began backing away, before turning on his heel and bouncing across to an adjacent rooftop.
By the time he was out of sight, however, that grin had faded, usurped by a reflective frown.
He wasn’t going to practice: He’d missed a great deal of it watching The Prince’s march throughout the city…
And he needed to meditate on what he’d learned before he could even hope to dedicate the necessary focus to aerial stunts.

Soon enough, he dropped back onto the cobbled streets of Clock Town, and took a seat at the edge of some hollowed crate.
Sighing softly, he reclined back onto his elbows, and peered up at the sky, before muttering to himself “Put not your faith in Princes.”

“Oof,” Lynnette turned partially as someone roughly bumped into the back of her shoulder-- the man staggered with his back to her as if he had just been pushed. She scarcely had time to look past him to see what the commotion was all about before the arm of a somewhat familiar individual was sent slamming into her collar bone-- quite nearly sweeping her off her feet (and not in a good way).

She staggered back, her eyes wide in surprise; partially at being so roughly and rudely brushed aside and partially at what he was saying—not because she was upset that he had lied to her (she’d expected as much), but rather because he also seemed to have family who had joined with the Ikana Knights all those years ago.

“Sir Pike,” she blinked, confused. Her stupor quickly wore off, however, as she remembered how he had just shoved her aside. She pursed her lips and looked him up and down.

“Well at least you apologized,” she sighed reluctantly. She didn’t quite have it in her to make a huge fuss after just having found out (in an awkward sort of way) that the man was motherless and, now, most likely fatherless. This was about the time she would usually say something like, ‘didn’t your mother ever teach you any manners?’ but that quip would obviously be in bad taste here. She wasn’t really one to talk anyway—her own mother hadn’t taught her much when it came to manners. But either way, she was pretty sure any bum on the street would agree that barreling through people was extremely rude.

“I don’t see why you’re in such a rush to speak with a closed door,” she glanced up at Mayor Dotour’s office, careful to keep her head down and her hood up—even giving it a reassuring tug forward just to be sure, “I doubt they’re going to have a community forum any time soon… as in ever.

“In fact, this crowd looks pretty on edge. I think I might just leave before things get ugly.” He’d drawn a lot of attention and she didn’t really want to go down as the woman who was with the crazy guy trying to find his father—especially to the Ikana Knights, who were looking their way. She was silent for a moment, subtly staring at the knights with her face turned away.

“You should probably leave, too, you know,” she suggested, turning her gaze back on him. It was honestly quite sad to think his only known family was very likely dead. At least she still had her mother. Feeling sympathetic in spite of his obvious disinterest in her show, she figured it was probably best not stay there if he was still distraught. Not to mention he’d just upset quite a few people and tensions were high enough as it were....

Oliver tuned out the angry grumbling from the crowd behind him as he tried his best to salvage some sort of graceful ending to the fiasco that was his interactions with Lorelei the Siren. He returned a puzzled look at she called him Sir Pike. Oliver wasn't a knight, and he never introduced himself as such. Perhaps it was a misapplied title as a sign of respect? What a strange girl. Or perhaps he just gave off an air of knightly-ness that caused people to assume otherwise. He was fairly certain, however, standing in the presence of actual knights, that such a title would attract their attention; after all, no governing body in Termina bestowed knighthood save for the Ikana Royal Family, making such an honor seem rather out of place.

"Yes, I suppose doors have never been that talkative, have they? A bit knob-headed of me to think otherwise," he chuckled, rather uncomfortably resorting to a fairly lame pun. He now felt downright guilty about forgetting her name knowing that she remembered his. He sheepishly turned to the crowd he just barged through and offered his meek apologies, although they weren't in a very forgiving mood and most just ignored him or shot him a quick dirty look before heading off. Others seemed more intent on getting their answers, and little by little the crowd seemed to be inching closer to the guards posted at the entrance to the mayor's office. Despite desperately wanting to know of Swiftblade's fate, Oliver had to agree with Lorelei; the crowd didn't seem likely to disperse anytime soon, and he didn't particularly wish to be around when the guards inevitably broke things up by force.

"Yeah, I don't think this is going to end particularly well. I've had my little outburst, I suppose, so I think I'd better split. Hopefully the Prince will be making another speech soon enough, with more answers than loose ends this time," mused Oliver, trying his best to seem level-headed despite the tempest of shame, embarrassment, anger, and anxiety brewing within him at the moment. He'd spent so long wondering if he'd ever see his mother again, and now all of the same familiar feelings were returning again with this latest news. He really needed to lie down for a bit... maybe have a drink...?

Oliver's mental shitstorm was quelled for a bit when a man broke off from the crowd, angrily storming towards the door to the mayor's office.

"I want answers! My wife and son were trapped on the other side and I most know if they're okay! I'll break down this door if I have to!" he threatened, rolling up his shirt sleeves. Captain Viscen, obviously concerned, stepped in front of the man before the guards at the door could reach for their weapons.

"Sir, please," implored the retired captain. "The Prince and the mayor are discussing some very important matters at the moment, and they don't need any interruptions-"

"Important? You're going to talk to me about importance when I finally have a chance to find out what happened to my family?" yelled the man, shoving Viscen aside roughly and continuing towards the door. Before he could take another step, however, one of the elite knights moved in front of him, his huge muscular frame serving as more than a slight obstacle. The knight stared down at the man with a look of disdain and condescension in his eyes, drawing his ornate sword very slowly.

"If you continue towards that door, I will cut you down and you'll never get to see your family either way. Is that understood?" he asked, his voice low and gravelly. He didn't seem nearly as understanding or polite as Viscen, to be sure. Oliver's hand nervously floated to the hilt of his sword, as it often did when he felt a fight brewing. Luckily for everyone involved, another man from the crowd came forward and pulled his friend away, although the angry dissenter didn't seem too keen on challenging this imposing swordsman anyway.

"All of you, disperse! Now! I tire of these trifles," barked the knight, sheathing his sword. Reluctantly, the rioters finally seemed compelled to leave. Oliver turned to go, bidding Lorelei farewell with an embarrassed wave. Before he could turn and leave, however, the knight spoke again.

"Wait a moment! You two stay," he requested (referring to Oliver and Lynette), although it seemed like more of an order. Oliver wasn't about to refuse, though. Perhaps he'd attracted a little too much attention? "You there, the girl. What was it that you called him? Sir Pike?" he asked, gruffly. "I wasn't aware they were just giving away knighthood to any whelp these days. In fact, I wasn't aware that Clock Town had knights at all," he continued, obviously suspicious of something.

As the procession of the long lost Ikanan knights finished weaving its way past where Alex and Mathias sat Alex stood up. "Uncle Matt I'm gonna go 'head take a look see at the Prince's speech. I'd take you but ya ain't as nimble ya used to be. Sorry, I'll leave the rope so ya can get ta the ground."

Alex reached into her bag and pulled out the purple bandanna that she wore during heist. If she was going roof hopping in the daylight it was best that her face was covered. There was no one to see her put it on. The Deku family and children had moved on with the parade. Alex didn't wait for Mathias' response. She started to run quick footed and graceful, she leapt from one room to the next keeping low as she could and darting between the chimneys to avoid being seen. When she finally got to the stage that had been set up for the Prince's speech. The best rooftop stop had been taken by a family whom Alex vaguely wondered how they'd gotten up there but she paid it little mind. Alex dropped off the edge of a building and slid down the wall landing on the terrace bellow without a scratch or a sound. This balcony belonged to a shop which was unlikely to be open so she should be fine.

Alex waited as the Prince ascended the steps and removed his helmet. He was well built and attractive but Alex found him too heavy set. He'd clearly trained with a sword for years and built up a lot of muscles. Alex preferred her men to be fast and flexible. His voice however was something that caught her attention. She had of course been expecting the voice of a commander but there was something in his voice that lent itself to sincerity and compassion as well. He was clearly a skilled politician. As the speech went on Alex found herself starting to worry. The seal of the stone tower had been shattered, perhaps another artifact like the Majora's Mask was behind it. What really scared her however was that the King had heard a "Goddess" from atop the Stone Tower and that he listened to it.

Mathias had told her a thousand stories of the Stone Tower, its purpose changed a lot of the time but the one she's always taken to be accurate spoke of a tear between the realm of the living and dead that the Stone Tower contained. It was built to contain and control that tear. The doors of the tower were sealed to prevent it being flooded with the dead returned to life. That was the popular legend but it was also said that the Tower was what created the tear in the first place. It was a piece of evil magic and any one who thought it should be built higher was clearly crazed or possessed. The really worrying thing was that the crazed one in this case was someone with an immense amount of power and sway. As the Prince and Mayor retired Alex found herself wishing Mathias was still here so she could ask more about Ikana. She only knew the basic myth surrounding the undead kingdom.

Alex was shaken from her revery by a sound in the shop behind her. Clearly whoever owned the place had returned after the end of the speech. Alex quickly and quietly planted her feet on the terrace rail and pushed off grabbing the edge of the roof. This was too public she needed to move fast. Alex swung back and forth several times building up the momentum to swing herself up and onto the roof. Not as sooth as normal and surely Mathias would had chastised her if he'd seen but she had been rushed.

Alex started to run again aiming to return to the Milk Bar. She need a job to get her mind off the speech and Mathias would surely have one. As she leapt between roof tops and padded quickly over tiles something caught her eye. It was a man of large stature. He was running over the roofs with a decent amount of skill. She might have said he was a thief but there was a way to his movement that made her doubt it. He was too... showy with his movements. No thief would ever be that open especially on the rooftops.

Alex changed direction and followed after him. It wasn't long before he dropped down to the street below. She hung back above him for a moment and listen to him mutter to himself. “Put not your faith in Princes.” He said. He was clearly trying to reassure himself about the Ikanan speech. Perhaps it had rattled him.

Alex turned her back on the alley and in one swift motion she back flipped landing with grace on the box next to the man. She bent back setting one hand on the ground and bringing her legs up so that she was balancing on one hand for several second before she shifted her weight to one side doing a half cartwheel to come to a standing position in from of the roofhopper. "I find it's best not to put ya faith in nothing but yar own wits lest they take ya down a dark path." She said smiling. "Spare a few rupees for a street performer?" She could probobly make a living doing acrobatic performances but if she was being honest theft was more fun.

Had it been most anyone else, it would have been very likely that Teruk would have not caught sight of the elderly (some say ancient) Mr. Teko hobbling towards him, deceptively spry considering his age and his foliage, the colour of autumn the weeks before winter. It was a wonder how the crop of dead-brown foliage didn’t simply crumple and fly away with the winds to return to the earth from which he came. Teruk halted his progress and made Mr. Teko’s walk slightly easier by changing course to meet him. He had the utmost respect for the man; all of the merchant-class considered him a father figure, his experience and expertise legendary. It was very much due to Mr. Teko’s efforts and expert negotiations that had ensured that the Deku presence in Clock Town was well-represented. While the King may have ruled Woodfall from afar, the elderly business scrub was in many was the de facto leader for the Deku in lands far from the Southern Swamps. Much of what they did simply would not be possible without his influence.

Upon meeting up, Teruk offered a deep bow of his head as a sign of deference to the man. He certainly was not expecting the alarm in the man’s voice, an urgency that typically only came when one of their own was hurt. The Deku merchants were fiercely independent and competitive with one another, but you would be hard-pressed to find a more concerned community when it came to physical well-being. After all, they were far from home and far weaker than most races. It was everyone’s concern if one of their number had befallen ill fate. “Treka…” Teruk said so faintly he could scarcely be heard above the din of the crowd. He ran his head through his foliage, a creeping dread and stress starting to fill his heart. Mr. Teko’s alarm was more than justifiable; Treka was grown from the same root and stem as Mr. Treko; family. Teruk knew her fairly well; she was several years younger than he was, but their paths had crossed often. She was reserved, kind, and hardly pushy like many of the boys who would grow up to be the merchants that would be the bane of many a Clocktown resident’s stroll through the park, a constant din and source of harassment. She, of all people, should have been the one that shouldn’t have drawn malicious attention. Teruk was still processing the news when Mr. Teko grabbed his arm and began to pull him back towards the park. The younger scrub went willingly, weaving around the much larger people gathered downtown.

“I… may have a potion that can mend her wounds, if she has any, but wake her up from unconsciousness…” Teruk’s voice trailed off, suddenly feeling very helpless and under-educated. He should have known some kind of poultice that could help, something that would fix the poor injured girl, but his mind drew blanks. He could revitalize the body, but not the mind. What could he do for her? I don’t know… but I have to try. he thought, steeling his nerve. Mr. Teko sounded hopeful she would be awake when they returned, and Teruk hoped he was right. This festival was starting to turn into something of a nightmare.

When prompted about the Ikanan Prince’s speech, Teruk’s mind was suddenly brought into focus. “It’s… not good, Mr. Teko.” Teruk admitted, the dark-skinned man’s warnings suddenly having weight. “Unsettling would be selling it quite short. The reason Ikana opened her gates to the rest of Termina again seems to be out of desperation, something about some dark, ill-fated prophesy that threatens all of the kingdoms. He says that we may all be called upon to fight. Right now, he’s negotiating with the Mayor, and I tried to get close to the crowd when you found me to try to find out some answers. People are scared… terrified, even. People wanted some answers about what Ikana was doing for those 25 years, and got way more than they asked for. Apparently Dampe, the Oathkeeper’s, seal was damaged by unknown forces and the forces of the Dead rose up and almost overran the kingdom. That’s why they sealed the gates and refused to open them, to spare the rest of Termina that blight. Evidently, they won, but the Prince is claiming some Sky Goddess told him to make that Tower of theirs bigger and bigger, and apparently said Goddess is who commanded them to open the gates and rekindle alliances with the rest of us. Basically, they’ve been building their army and decided they don’t have enough so they’re asking the rest of us for help. So much for Giants saving the world, huh?” he hastily explained, still not quite believing the words coming out of his mouth. What if he was ordered to fight? What the hell could he do, hide and stab somebody in the ass with a spear? It was about the right height, but killing monkeys was one thing, a human soldier or something altogether worse was another matter entirely.

“The King’s not going to like this. As if we thought he couldn’t get any angrier….” Teruk muttered.

Griga was taken aback by the prince's speech. He had always imagined that the opening of Ikana's borders would lead to new opportunities for traveling and training, but if the prince's grave proclamation was true, then traveling plans would have to be put on pause. The time for his training to truly be put to the test could be drawing near.

Even so, the speech had also heightened the Zora's interest in the walled kingdom. Who knows what sort of wind magic a Sky Goddess might know!

With Viscen's anticlimactic dismissal, the crowd slowly moved away, and Griga moved along with it. There may be danger in the future, but there was no point in worrying about it now, and the knights didn't really seem open to conversation at the moment.

As Griga meandered through the crowd, wondering what he might do next, he noticed the little green girl he had seen in East Clock Town. With nothing of particular note planned for the immediate future, the Zora maneuvered through the crowd until he was beside Rissie.

"Quite the speech, eh?" Griga said, smiling as he matched Rissie's speed, "It was almost as impressive as their horses!"

Finally things were easing up enough that Rissie could get a move through the crowd, but as she did so, she was suddenly overcome by an uneasy feeling. No longer was she surrounded by tried-and-true kind strangers, once more was she in danger. She half expected to see that horrible smiling man from the milk bar coming for her from one of the clusters of people she was starting to squeeze past. Anyone could just reach out and grab her, and...

She missed the Zora until he was right up beside her, and as she spoke she spun about and startled away from him, bumping into one of those groups and quickly apologizing to the stout man who stopped her momentum dead in its tracks without really noticing that he had done so, since apparently anything one quarter of his mass wasn't annoying enough to bother considering. He continued his conversation uninterrupted, and she stared wide-eyed at the Zora for a few moments.

Something about horses. He was just making conversation? Was it part of a trap? He was smiling, and like all smiles, there was a predatory "I'm showing my teeth" feeling to it, but it didn't seem like he had ill intent. And it was obviously very rude of her to react like that to him if he were only trying to make pleasant conversation. She searched about for something to say in response, but she was drawing a blank. She hadn't even really heard what he said! How was she supposed to respond?

But, it was rude for her to keep him waiting while she tried to recall what he'd just said to her, so she settled for the polite way out of most such blunders. "I'm sorry," she muttered, bowing her head quickly.

Chanda & Baklava Collab Pt. 1

Although the knight’s threatening commands were more than a little unsettling, Lynnette breathed a sigh of relief as the crowd began to disperse. A bunch of confused and angry people trying to bust the mayor’s door down certainly wasn't going to make the Ikana Knights open their gates any faster. Just as she started to turn away, the knight’s voice shot through her like a bolt of lightning.

“Uhm…,” she blinked, her eyes wide-- silently panicking under the knight’s imposing stare. The question confused her. “I… I don’t know what you mean, sir,” she admitted, “He’s... he’s not a knight.”

Oliver was doing his own fair share of panicking too, but he did little to hide his frown when the knight indirectly insulted him. Oliver could totally be a knight... right? So what, he wasn't a 200 pound hulking hambeast with a coarse voice and a headdress made from but that probably wasn't a requirement, at least as far as Oliver knew. He was still the fastest thing alive, after all, as well as the best swordsman in all of Termina; that coupled with his noble birth and dashing good looks should make him a shoe in.

"Makes sense. This string bean wouldn't last a day in Ikana," scoffed the knight. "Although, that surname, Pike. That's familiar. I can't put my finger on it," wondered the very imposing man, stroking his chin pensively. Oliver seethed internally after yet another cheap shot, but if this guy had any information about his dad he wanted to hear it.

"My fa-"

"I don't believe I ever addressed you, boy," spat the man, raising his voice as he rudely interrupted Oliver. "So I'm curious as to why you thought it would be appropriate to say something. I don't think it will be necessary for you to speak again while I'm here," he sighed. Oliver was about to ready to reel off and hit this guy, but even his vivid imagination couldn't conceive of any universe where that would be a good idea.

"Might I ask why you're wearing that hood? It seems a bit strange to want to hide your face when you're shouting along with a crowd of rioters. Isn't subtlety a bit out of the picture at that point? Pardon my curiosity, it's my job to be suspicious," asked the swordsman, with a strange amount of politeness considering how crudely he'd just put down Oliver.

Lynnette found herself holding her breath as he responded, shooting glances between the knight and Oliver. She felt a pang of sympathy as the knight brusquely shot down Oliver’s attempt to speak. She would have attempted to speak on his behalf were it not for the knight's question. She shot him a wincing look that seemed to say 'Sorry.'

“Oh,” she pulled down her hood. Most of the crowd had dispersed, so she saw no reason to keep it up. She wanted very much for the knights to get a good look at her face anyway. Perhaps this was her chance to get some publicity with the Ikana Knights? She even opted to use her real name— something she had future plans to eventually do if she ever managed to break free of the Black Marsh Circus. Not to mention, she hoped that using her last name would perhaps incite something about her family members as Oliver’s surname had.

“My name is Lynnette Delacour and I’m a performer. I have many fans here at the festival and some are a bit on the… unpleasant side. When I’m not accompanied by my bodyguard, I try to keep a low profile so as not to draw unnecessary attention to myself.” She pulled the fabric of her cloak together, lowering her eyes, “I apologize for the shouting. I became impassioned over the well being of my grandparents and uncles. I’m very worried about them.” Lynnette looked back up at the knight with a troubled frown and an ever so slight (but very intentional) pout.