The man set down the wooden crate with a last heave, hands slipping reflexively to his knees as he regained his breath. He wiped the sweat away from his forehead, glad that this was the last of the day’s work. His muscles ached, and it was obvious that he wasn’t quite used to this manner of hard labor. Indeed, his first few days, working at Lon Lon, had been filled with painful, oozing blisters. He looked down at his hands, fingering the callouses that had formed in just the past month. The work had gotten easier, on account of his body becoming accustomed to it, so he no longer spent his nights tossing and turning with aching muscles. No, other things kept him up at night. It was the questions, mostly. He’d woken up nearby, at the edge of the Lost Woods, and had slowly made his way to Lon Lon Ranch. That had been a difficult journey, and he might not have made it if it weren’t for some kind travelers on the road, on their way back from the Deku Palace. The trouble wasn’t because his body had been damaged, though violent signs had certainly been present, but was more because he no longer had any memories. Of most things, anyways. He remembered how to speak, read and write, at least in Hylian. And he remembered his geography, and the races that inhabited Hyrule. How frustrating, that he remembered the names of those things, but could not even remember his own, nor how he’d even found himself outside of that forest. He brought a single digit to his chest uneasily, tracing around the ugly, corded scar that was at its center. It still hurt, especially at night. He couldn’t help but feel it had something to do with his missing memories. Perhaps he had been punished? But what sin could possibly be so egregious…? He clutched at his sweat-stained tunic now, knuckles turning white. He had the unsettling feeling that there was something wrong with him, that whatever he’d done had apparently warranted so great a punishment. At least, that was what one of the whispers told him at night. Others spoke of other things, but they buzzed at the edge of his consciousness. Most days they let him be, but there were times… A hand clapped loudly on his back, though the gesture was friendly. “Good job today, Lyon!” A woman’s voice peeled out from behind him. His hands dropped back to his side as he stood up straight, and turned to address his employer. “Thanks.” He returned quietly, still unsure of how to handle himself around her. Of course, she hadn’t really employed him: that was her parents, who owned the small farm. But, the woman before him was their only child: the old couple had tried, but the goddesses had seen fit to only gift them with one. The two were beginning to grow old, and so more help was required, so they’d taken him in. That puzzled him still, their kindness. Of course, he tried not to question it too much, as he felt nothing but gratitude for them, but still. Had he found himself in a similar situation, he wondered if he might have done the same. The truth was, he was not an attractive man, and his appearance even put himself ill at ease: his burnished gold skin, his bone-gray hair, and his too blue eyes gave him an appearance almost alien. In fact, when he’d arrived, he’d been armed with both sword and dagger, though the former appeared more ceremonial. Though, his hand did have other callouses…. Perhaps from wielding that blade. A fist punched his shoulder, snapping him out of his thought. “Ugh, stop thinking Lyon. I doubt you even heard what I just said.” Anise pouted in mock anger. He smiled weakly. “Sorry, you’re right, I wasn’t paying attention. What did you say?” “I said, mother and father wanted to eat dinner early. Seems they want to thank you for your hard work. Though, that first week was tough. I still swear that you had never seen an honest day of work in your life, before you came here.” She rolled her eyes. Crimson rose up in his cheeks briefly, though not out of embarrassment at his apparent lack of experience. Rather, it was embarrassing that they’d wanted to thank him. Nayru knew that he’d only been a nuisance for that first week: Anise had undersold that. And, it was only until recently that he’d actually begun to be a help, though he was still slow at whatever he was doing. He found it highly likely that Anise was still able to lift more than he, and she stood a good number of inches shorter than he. “Oh, uhm. Shouldn’t I be the one thanking the three of you…?” In fact, they were paying him, on top of giving him room and board. He’d saved the gems, not having much use for them. Though, now it seemed he should buy his benefactors a gift, at least something for their troubles. “Ach, stop being so stiff. C’mon, food’ll get cold. And Mom really went all out, so we can’t keep them waiting.” She boldly grabbed his hands, and though hers was rough from the labors of living on a farm, it was warm and comforting, too. But something about that scared him, too. Those damnable voices again. He had little time to think, though, as she immediately dragged him off towards their home. Heat, and the smell of freshly prepared food swam around him, teasing him like a playful zephyr. A fire flickered in the hearth, lighting the main room with a soft, orange glow. Somewhere, deep in his heart, this place felt right, like this was where he was meant to be. Though he had no memory of his past life, it seemed to him that he was happy now, more now than he’d ever been. The older couple, Mirriam and Wayne, had greeted him cheerfully and had asked that he sit as the last of the food finished preparation. He smiled, watching them move about the house busily, laughing as Wayne pretended to scold Anise for tardiness. You know this can’t last, don’t you? His heart dropped into his stomach. It was one of the voices again, one he’d begun to associate with avarice and jealousy. He looked down at the table, eyes watering slightly. If this were to end, all of this, he knew it would be at his own hands. Please, let this last just a little longer. He offered a silent prayer to the Goddesses, and this seemed to quiet the voice, if only for the moment. “Thank you, Mirriam, Wayne. The two of you didn’t have to go so out of your way. This is too nice, for just a farmhand…” He shook his head, as his three hosts sat in their seats. “Nonsense, Lyon. You’ve been a great help to our old bones. Good help isn’t easy to find, out here on the outskirts of Lon Lon. Our community is small, and most people are busy tending their own crops, so we were pretty strapped, until you stumbled along.” Wayne chuckled. The elderly Hylian smiled, and spoke again. “But really, don’t worry about it and just enjoy the meal.” He held out a weathered hand for Lyon to take, which he accepted, as all four joined hands. They offered a quick prayer to the Goddesses, before beginning their humble feast. The night passed with laughter, and as he looked at the dying, red coals from his furs in front of the hearth, the man drifted off into deep slumber. For once, he slept peacefully.
Lyon woke with a yawn, shivering briefly in the cool morning air. Sleepily, he restoked the fire, poking away at the hot coals buried underneath ash and soot. It wasn’t long before he had a nice blaze going again, lighting up the dim room. With a glance out a window, he saw that dawn hadn’t yet come, the sky still a deep blue. The others would be awhile yet in waking up, but he had work to do. If he got done early, maybe he could go to the market for some gifts, and still be back in time for dinner… Patting at a small pouch full of his saved earnings, double checking the knot around his belt to make sure it was secure, he strode out from the cozy home, quietly shutting the door behind him. The sun would be rising soon, so he had little time to waste. With a quick splash of water from the barrel just outside, he began his day’s work… Short of breath from the strenuous work of rolling bales of hay, the man grabbed at the cloth tied around his head, unfurling it from his wet brow. With a twist, the sweat-soaked rag yielded its load, splashing softly against the dry dirt below, throwing up tiny wisps of dust. And, suddenly, he was a foot into the air, an all-to-high yelp escaping from his lips as pieces of straw jumped out of his hair. “Anise!” he yelled out angrily, the sting of her shoulder slap still lingering. The woman snorted, then laughed. “I’ll never get tired of that. You’re as easy to spook as a rabbit. Hell, I thought you might bolt on me, and run off into the distance!” Her eyes glimmered at her jest. “How many times do I have to tell you,” Lyon grabbed a fistful from the bale next to him, “not to scare me like that!” He threw the wad at her, which exploded harmlessly, but Anise flinched in mock fear anyways, laughing again. Truth be told, he didn’t mind: the first time she’d done it, he’d nearly pulled the dagger strapped to the small of his back out of reflex, which had frightened him at the time. Now, well, his reaction was just to leap into the air like a damn frog. She ran, as he tried to throw another of the fistfuls at her, chasing her menacingly. It wasn’t long until he was out of breath, though, his sore muscles refusing to do too much more. “Hah. Already tired, just from moving some hay? Such a pansy.” She stuck her tongue out teasingly, walking up next to him to offer him a drink from a waterskin. He took a swig from it appreciatively, huffing. “No, not just the hay. I’ll have you know that, while you were lounging about the house this morning, I took care of most of everything for today.” He wiped the excess liquid from his face with the back of his hand, handing her back the skin. Anise’s eyes widened in actual surprise at that. “Wow, it’s just past noon, too! You’ve gotten better at this. Well, I suppose there isn’t anything left to do for the rest of the day…” Anise played with the hem of her blouse. “Actually, I was hoping to get your help with something. I want to go to the market, to buy some things, if you don’t mind helping with that.” Lyon nodded, not really wanting to spoil the surprise. Hopefully he’d be able to pick something out for her, too, without being too conspicuous about it. Her cheeks flushed a little, though Lyon was too distracted to notice. “Sure, yeah. I can help, no problem.” She stammered out a little, re-hooking the waterskin to her belt. “We should probably leave soon, then, if we mean to get back for dinner without getting scolded.” She turned away quickly, just as he looked up to her face. Without another word, she trounced off with a spring in her step. The two were quiet in their walk, so it was no surprise that a couple of approaching figures on the road became a piece for conversation. Anise squinted her eyes, trying to identify the faces. “Don’t think I’ve seen them around, before…” She said quietly, looking over to Lyon, though he wouldn’t know any better. “Maybe some mercenaries passing through? I’ve heard some rumors of a disturbance in Moruge, so maybe they’re headed there for work?” His eyes easily picked out the sword tied to the belt of one man, and the spear slung to the back of the other. The way they walked, the confidence in their gait, told him that these were men used to seeing violence. Lyon glanced Anise’s way, realizing that the same recognition hadn’t yet dawned in her eyes, having seen relatively few people outside of her small community. But why could he smell the danger, then? He grasped her hand brusquely, pulling her close. “We should leave them be. They could be dangerous.” Anise privately thought to herself that in any other situation she might be happy by his forwardness, as the man was oft too shy and reserved, but the urgency in his eyes kept her sober. She nodded curtly. A few moments later, and Lyon was able to make out the whites of their eyes. Alert, and searching their surroundings. His gut feeling had been right. But his stomach quickly twisted, as it became apparent that the men were now approaching them. “What do we have here? Two love birds?” One of the grizzly men cackled. “My, but I think the girl might just be taking pity on you. I’ve seen Lizalfos that are better looking.” The other snickered at that. “Hell, with your gold skin, I wouldn’t be surprised if you have scales someplace.” The other, with the spear, chimed in. “Ah, well, maybe she likes them scaly? Damn hicks.” The swordsman shook his head in mock pity. By now, Lyon could see the blood rising through Anise’s tensed neck, rising up to her forehead. Heat radiated from her, like a kettle ready to burst with steam. He gripped her hand painfully, knowing full well that the two were trying to get a rise out of them. She shot him an angry look, but held her tongue. After a few moments of the two standing there, being heckled by the rough men, the mercenaries grew bored. “Ugh. So boring. Wanted to test my sword, too.” The swordsman complained, as the two went on their way, leaving Lyon and Anise in peace. Anise angrily withdrew her fingers from Lyon’s, who shrunk back unhappily for a moment. She stormed off towards the market, clearly angry with him, but he kept pace, meekly following after her. That could have gone a lot worse. He kept reminding himself. Before they reached the market’s edge, she wheeled around, her unhappiness evident in her glistening eyes. “Why didn’t you say anything, Lyon?! Those men had no right treating us like that. I’d have shown them what for, if you hadn’t held me back, you fucking chicken.” She just about screamed at him. Lyon returned the intensity of her gaze, shaking his head calmly. “They wanted us to pick a fight. With everything going on, there’s little law to be had, and out here, effectively none but our own. No, they didn’t look so strong, but what are two farmers to do with their fists, against two armed mercenaries? They’d have likely seen us beaten and bloodied, and might have very well killed me. To you… they might have done worse.” Flashes of the might have been appeared unbidden in his mind, giving rise to his own anger. But he kept it in check, just as he did a few moments earlier. “If I had died, that would have been one thing, since there’s few to mourn me. But you?” he shook his head. “Your parents need your help on the farm, more than ever.” Her eyes began to water at that. She slugged him across the jaw, and stars swam in his eyes as he heard her knuckles and his jaw pop. Groaning, he looked back up at her, eyes big, worried that a second might be headed his way. Damn him, if they actually might have been able to take them down with their fists. Instead, Anise just sniffled. “You’re a real moron, you know that? My parents need you, too.” She bit her lower lip, cutting her sentence short. He jumped out of the way, avoiding a swift kick at his side. People were beginning to stare, but he was too busy nursing his jaw to care quite yet. Lyon sighed. “You’re right… Let’s get going, before we’re mistaken for street performers.” He gave the onlookers the fisheye, before continuing into the market. He grabbed her hand again, and she followed, having mellowed a bit. A good thing, too, as they pressed through the crowds. Lon Lon was well known for its produce, not just its milk, so it wasn’t strange to see such a large number of people here at market. Even those in finery that marked them as being from Castle Town could be spotted. The large crowds also attracted a myriad of craftsman and hobbyists, which were his goal for today. Their time shopping passed uneventfully, for which Lyon was greatly thankful, and seemed to make up for the earlier troubles with plenty of laughter and smiles. For Wayne, he’d managed to pick up a well-crafted lute: the man’s had broken some time ago, and when Lyon had asked about it, Wayne had simply said he hadn’t had the time to replace it. After some examination, and valuable input from Anise, he’d also picked out a small porcelain figurine for Mirriam. Unfortunately, he’d been caught while trying to buy Anise her gift, so rather try to make an excuse, he presented it to her then. The pendant hung at her neck, a small token that was intricately carved from a dark, red wood. It was not expensive, and despite what the salesman said, it was definitely not made from wood of the Deku Tree, but she nevertheless beamed happily with her prize. As compensation for being overcharged, Lyon had left a tiny black Rupoor mixed in with the rupees he’d paid the man with. That would settle the score. Shopping done, the two meandered for a bit longer, but began to walk back towards their home when the sun started its descent. “I…” Lyon paused a moment, “Thank you for coming with me, today. I only wish I could have gotten the three of you something nicer. You’ve done so much for me, a complete stranger who just showed up on your doorstep one day.” Anise shook her head vehemently, red curls bouncing. “No, it’s nice enough you even thought to get us anything. That’s something a member of our community might do, not a stranger. So, I guess you can’t really be a stranger anymore, right?” She smiled softly, Lyon’s breath catching in his throat for a brief moment. Goddesses, is she beautiful. He allowed himself a brief moment of indulgence: up until now, he’d been ignoring the tug on his heart he’d been feeling for some time, now. The moment passed, and he pressed those feelings back into their tiny box. Perhaps there would be time for that later, once he was sure there were no ugly blemishes on his past that might catch up to him. Lyon chuckled half-heartedly. “No, I guess you’re right. I think I rather like the sound of that, actually.” They would soon arrive back at home, and just in time for dinner, if the fully setting sun was indication of anything. His mouth opened, then closed, his thoughts interrupted by something tickling his nose. “Do you smell that?” He sniffed again, suddenly alert. He ran up to the crest of the hill. He understood why, as his eyes fell upon their farm. There, just ahead, a fire was blazing, and four figures were outlined by the bright light. Eyes wide, he looked back at Anise. “Fire. I think the mercenaries from before. Stay here!” He barked out, before running towards the flames at a dead sprint. If Wayne and Mirriam were hurt… Lyon skid to a halt as he came within speaking distance of the four. As he’d guessed, two were the old farmers, and the other two were the mercenaries they’d met on the road. No, not mercenaries. Probably bandits. He amended his previous hypothesis. A bad mistake, one he hoped others wouldn’t have to pay for. “Hah, who would have guessed that lizard-boy is the hired help around here? You sure he isn’t eating your chickens while you sleep?” There went that cackling voice again, the shorter swordsman crudely running a whetstone against his blade. Lyon grit his teeth, less at the insult, and more at Wayne and Mirriam’s condition. It was clear they’d given the old man a beating, and hadn’t held back with Mirriam either. The two were conscious, which was a good sign at least. The one with the spear was standing guard over the two, while the other swaggered up to Lyon. His balled fist collided with his stomach, nearly forcing his sparse lunch back up. Lyon staggered back, gasping for breath. “You get the picture here, yeah? Those two, well, they haven’t exactly been forth coming about where they keep their roop. But you, you’re new here. I’m thinking you might be a lot more loose with your tongue. You tell me, and I’ll send you on your way, yeah?” Lyon had fallen on all forces, and the bandit had grasped the crown of his hair, pulling Lyon’s eyes up to meet his own. Lyon could only nod weakly. He’d seen the small strongbox that the two kept. It was in the cellar, hidden behind some barrels. Maybe if he could lure the one down there, he might stand a chance if he caught him off guard… The bandit hoisted him to his feet, allowing him to take the lead. He felt the tip of the sword press against his spine, wincing as it pricked at his skin. Slowly, Lyon began making his way towards the house, a motion that was brought to a swift halt, by the sounds of kicking and screaming. Oh Din, that was Anise’s voice. “Oh, shut her up, will you?” the bandit behind him yelled out. “Already working on it.” The other backhanded Anise hard across the face, the cracking of bone hitting bone audible even to Lyon. His intentions were clear, lustful eyes already ravaging Anise, who had staggered back from the blow and fallen to the ground. Wayne groaned, and Mirriam screamed out in horror. For Lyon, time froze. Release me. I can save them. Avarice again. Lyon knew what he had to do, painfully aware of the Main Gauche resting on the back of his hip. And yet, he hesitated. Once he pulled that dagger, there would be no going back. He’d be forever changed by it: where once there was a chance he might fully slough off his old life, no such hope would exist any longer. He would no longer be able to return to his quiet, peaceful life on the farm, of that he was certain. The timeless second was shattered with a second scream, this time from Anise, as a brutish hand tore open her blouse. Her legs lashed out, taking the man off guard for a brief moment, and clipping his face painfully. “You little bitch!” the bandit raised his spear. The choice was made. With a snick! the parrying dagger appeared in his right hand. His left hand darted out as he whirled around, throwing a fistful of dirt into the distracted bandit’s eyes, who recoiled reflexively. The man yelped as the rock and sand dug deep into his retinas, staggering back. The alarmed sound quickly drew the attention of the spearman, who turned to help his comrade. Sethra took a few hops back, eyes darting left to right, his skin appearing to glitter even more like gold in the flickering light of the burning fires. “You’re going to pay dearly for this.” He hissed out angrily. This was his place, and he’d be damned if he was going to let some bandits ruin it for him. The swordsman lunged at him blindly. Like a snake he twisted to the side, parrying dagger catching the longer weapon as the bandit turned his thrust into a horizontal slice. The weapons howled as metal teeth were bared against each other, sparks lighting the air like firebugs as Sethra pressed forward. With a shove of his shoulder, he pushed the sword off from his parrying dagger, sending the bandit staggering to the side. His left fist clapped down hard against his opponent’s ear, throwing him to the ground. Before he could finish that first bandit, though, the second stepped in with a deadly thrust, the deliberation of which betrayed his experience with the weapon. Sethra barely guarded in time, throwing the tip to the side as he hopped backwards a few paces, growling with discontent. They weren’t going to go down easily, especially now that the first was rising back to his feet. The lute still hung upon his upper back, having been strapped there by some cloth, which would make maneuvering difficult… The two bandits approached cautiously now, having seen the experience of the man before them. In practiced formation, the swordsman took point, approaching with his blade ready to strike, while the other stood behind him, ready to take advantage of any openings his partner might create. Sethra had faced worse situations before, but not many. He’d make the star-crossed boy start to carry his sword with him, after this. He loosed the knot tied on his chest, the lute coming a bit loose, but the two took that as a moment of weakness, lunging in unison. He and the swordsman crossed blades, those constant collisions a hastening fugue to Sethra’s ears. It was clear that the bandit was attempting to make an opening, though Sethra would have none of it. He focused purely on defending himself, for an opening would only come if he went on the offensive. Still, in the darkness, his toes inched ever closer to the swordsman, the movement going unseen in the relatively dim light. The time to strike had arrived. Throwing the swordsman wide with his own weapon, he moved to thrust in with the short blade. The bandit smiled, knowing full well that the spearman’s weapon was humming through the air, moving to pierce Sethra’s side before his blade so much as touched the bandit’s armor. Sethra pulled up hard against that strap, hanging the loot down from his shoulder, and up under his arm. The spear cracked against the hard wood, piercing through and shattering it to splinters. The next few moments were a blur, as the spear scraped against Sethra’s side, largely deflected away from his body. He completed his thrust, dagger easily piercing through the man’s throat, severing his brain at its base towards the back of his head. With a swift kick, he sent the already dead man flying back towards his former comrade, the heavy weight crashing against the spearman’s shoulder. He spun out of control, still amidst his lunge that was meant to kill, thrown to the ground by collision. Sethra was upon him before he could react, dagger stabbed straight through the eye. He blinked once, then twice. He was greeted with the visage of a dead man, the horror of impending death frozen upon his face. Screaming, he fell back in fright, looking down at his hands covered in blood. He clawed at his face, feeling the wet blood spray that covered him. What had he done? A name was called out to him, Lyon, his eyes darting up to his assailants. He shivered. “That… is not… my name…” He stammered out, his eyes showing their whites, and his body draping itself across the ground.
Lyon bolted upright and immediately regretted it, sucking in a pained breath as warmth blossomed at his side. Where…? He looked around in the darkness, realizing he wasn’t where he’d last been conscious. What happened? His head pounded, as if a Goron had seen fit to clout him upside the head. He pressed at his temples with a hand, momentarily alleviating the pressure, but the pain was soon returned, leaving him gasping for breath. “Lyon…?” Anise’s voice, and he turned to face the woman, finding her seated on a wooden chair, groggily coming to wakefulness. He was inside the house, sprawled on the furs, as if he’d done no more than fall asleep there himself. But no, that wasn’t right. Painful images returned to him, his vision shaking as if he were caught in an earthquake. He’d fallen unconscious, just after having killed two me---bile rose up from his stomach, and he nearly heaved the previous days’ meals. He clutched at his face and stomach, trying to think of other things, besides the brutal efficiency with which he’d butchered those men. Lyon groaned as a body collided with his back, jarring his wound painfully. Anise pressed close, hugging him tightly. “You’ve been out for a whole day. I was starting to worry.” She pulled him closer. She could belong to you, you know. It would be easy, if you wanted her. Avarice, no, Sethra’s voice hit him hard, his headache flaring up to new heights. “I was…?” Lyon managed to squeeze out, his breaths coming short. You know it to be true. I’ve seen the way she looks at you, and I know you, too. That sinister, hissing voice boomed in his ears, and Lyon tensed, gritting his teeth. Anise, noticing something was amiss, immediately let him out of her painful squeeze. “Sorry, did I hurt you?” She said worriedly. “No, it’s not you, the wound just aches… But, I don’t understand. I just killed two people, without batting an eye. Clearly, I’m dangerous, and yet you’d keep me under your roof?” Lyon ignored the annoying buzzing of that other voice. She’s not a possession, Sethra. She’s a person. And we… might be something else. He shot back, still unsure of his own mental state. It was true that he’d heard the voices ever since he’d woken up, back at the forest’s edge, but they had never been quite like this. Before, he’d been able to discount them as merely the dark thoughts held in his heart surfacing, trying to seduce him. Now, one of those voices had its own distinct personae, and he spoke with it as easily as he might another person in the same room. Anise was silent for a moment. “I won’t lie, that scared all of us. We may not know much of war, but you… you took down men that were both larger and stronger than you, and whom were better armed.” She shook her head, the corners of her eyes wetting at the memory. “I’ve seen my share of brawls, but it’s was clear as day that this was something else. You are a trained killer, and even if you don’t remember it, your body does.” She fell silent again. Lyon was barely able to contain himself, dreading that she might not continue. His fears were set aside, though, as she spoke again, a relieved sigh escaping his breath. “But we already knew that might be the case.” She shook her head. “If you hadn’t been there, there’s no telling what could have happened to us.” She pulled her arms close to her chest, clutching at her new shirt. “To me…” She whispered out. Lyon turned to her, ignoring the throbbing at his side, to embrace her fully in his arms. Sethra quieted, thankfully. They sat there for a moment, in the quiet dark, trying to banish the dark thoughts of the night. Several minutes passed before they released each other, Anise sniffling slightly, and wiping away at the sparse tears on her cheek. He offered her a weak smile. It would be a long time before these scars healed. “… Does that mean I can stay?” He asked hesitantly. Lyon knew, of course, that doing so put the others at risk… But he wasn’t yet ready to give up this life just yet. At that, Anise laughed quietly. “You really have to ask? You’re such a dope. Yes, mother and father want nothing more than keep you around.” He shrugged at the name calling, snickering with her, but secretly quite relieved to hear her words. “Well, I better let you rest.” She stood up, brushing the dust off from her knees, before quietly tip-toeing towards her room. “Goodnight, Lyon.” “Goodnight, Anise.” He laid back down into the furs as her door shut, staring up into the dark ceiling. Perhaps he would be able to enjoy this new name a bit longer than he’d thought. He drifted off into sleep, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
