True to his word, Link rose at first light. His normally clear blue eyes felt gritty and itchy, but he had not been tempted to steal another hour or two of sleep. The face of the widow, so convinced by his desire to help those at Hateno Village, had haunted his dreams. She was giving him what little remained her to see the deed through. He would not let that gesture be made in vain.

Though he looked even more fatigued than Link felt, Brigo was also up at dawn. Both of them took the short walk to the Squabble to rinse away the signs of travel and sleep from their faces. A wide footbridge allowed the road, which turned sharply north upon exiting the canyon, to cross the river it had previously paralleled. When the two friends were finished, they returned to the stable to purchase supplies for their journey, forcing Link to realize a very fundamental hole of his memory.

“How… what do you use to purchase goods, Brig?” Link asked in a voice low enough to avoid being overheard by the beady-eyed trader with whom they were dealing.

“Blessed Hylia’s wings, ‘ave yeh forgotten that much?” Brigo exclaimed with nary a concern for Link’s wariness. “Rupees, lad! Rupees are the currency of the realm, even if there isn’t much of the realm left. Trade’ll do just as well in a pinch, but enough o’ these still circulate atwixt us an’ the other races.”

He had held out an open hand to show Link the diminutive gemstones, which were perfectly cut into elongated hexagons. The trader licked his lips in anticipation before the patrolman frowned and stowed the bulk of his wealth back in his moneysack.

“Different colors are for different values, aren’t they?” Brigo explained as he pointedly counted out just enough for a cluster of mushrooms and assortment of other vegetables. “Green is worth one rupee. Blue is five. Red is 20. An’ if yeh ever get ahold of purple or silver, yeh’d best be sharin’ wi’ me!”

Link nodded, glad to have learned something so basic, but still wrestling with a seed of guilt as Brigo paid for the food in full.

“I… I have nothing to help you pay for the supplies, friend,” Link admitted.

As was fast becoming habit, Brigo waived off Link’s concern. His nonchalance contrasted spectacularly with his warning look to the eager-looking trader, who grumbled under his breath before trudging off to seek more business elsewhere.

“Ye’ll pay me back what yeh can, when yeh can,” the patrolman shrugged. “Do no worry, lad. If yeh wind up playin’ the ruddy hero at Hateno, yeh may just find yerself wi’ more than a few rupees to call yer own.”

Link was not comfortable with the thought of being paid for help that should be freely given, but he said nothing in reply. Instead, he let his friend get on with refilling his pack while he walked to the south side of the stable. Rensa was already up and waiting with two horses. One was a large dapple gray, and it appeared to have plenty of staying power. The other was a young female chestnut, its reddish coat contrasting well with its white points. The mare tossed its mane a bit. Clearly the steed was ready to be off after two days in the stable.

I know horses, Link realized. The fact should not have been surprising in and of itself, he thought. He had, after all, been a knight. Recent events had not required that knowledge, however, leaving it unremembered until now. Link tucked this revelation away with a happy heart, glad to have discovered another small piece of who he was.

Rensa finished securing the chestnut’s saddle before turning to greet Link with a nod.

“The steeds are yours, Master Link,” the Equirrey informed him. “Tasseren has recorded the transaction so there will be no dispute of this. Not,” he added with a nod toward the main tent entrance, “that I expect Sagessa to protest at this point.”

Link turned to see the young widow standing just outside the tent flap despite the cool morning air. Her children were nowhere to be seen. Perhaps they were still sleeping. He met Sagessa’s gaze, which lingered a moment before she gave an abrupt nod of approval. Then she went back inside to what remained of her family.

Link was about to look for Brigo when Rensa’s hand gently grabbed his elbow.

“Hear me, Link,” the equerry said intently. “As many of us that can be spared will ride in two days for Hateno. We will wait no longer than that for the other patrolmen return before coming to their aid.”

“I hope your wait does not prove costly,” Link answered coolly, to which Rensa’s eyes hardened considerably.

“Do not misunderstand or assume my intentions,” Rensa said with tightly controlled anger. “I am as eager as you to see that Hateno survives. I must also — and perhaps firstly — make sure this stable survives as well. There are few enough havens for men in the world today. If I divide myself too evenly between two of them, I may lose both. Frankly, I am surprised one such as you does not know or respect at least that much.

Link met the equerry’s piercing gaze and even sharper, unspoken question unflinchingly. “I am not bound to your duty, but to another’s,” he answered firmly. “It is that which compels me to act with haste. Nothing more.”

Rensa again eyed him suspiciously, his dark eyes hoping to unearth the meaning behind Link’s words. Finding nothing, the equerry finally exhaled, as though having decided to relinquish his hold on something he had been tempted not to divulge.

“Listen well, Link,” Rensa said carefully. “I do not know the nature of your journey to Kakariko. I do know this much, which may or may not be helpful to you: nothing is simple with the Sheikah. Tradesman must perform their business under strict adherence to the laws which secure their privacy. No one I know has seen the full village. That, or they are bound to keep what they have witnessed to themselves. That being said, it appears you have a legitimate reason to seek their counsel.”

Link did not miss Rensa’s glance toward the slate on his hip, but the equerry was already continuing his own counsel before he could respond.

“I say this because you are determined to make your visit brief so as to help those at Hateno.” Rensa’s tone seemed to indicate Link’s plan nothing less than a full-fledged promise he expected to be kept. “Just know that the Sheikah’s plans may not align with your own. They have always followed their own designs, no matter how inconvenient for others they might be.”

This last piqued Link’s curiosity. What kind of experience did Rensa have with the Sheikah that made him speak so? The equerry, however, was no more forthcoming about his past than Link, so he simply gave a thoughtful nod. There was no love lost between the two, but Rensa had not been obligated to provide even this cryptic warning.

“I will remember what you have said, Rensa,” Link finally said with a proffered arm of farewell. “I thank you for the kindness you have shown me.”

The conversation officially ended with Rensa’s returning clasp of forearms, which was accompanied by Brigo’s arrival. The patrolman’s bag was bulging even more than usual, making Link especially grateful for the horses. Brigo was followed by Giro, who looked especially surly this morning. The reason why became apparent as they drew closer.

“I haven’t even had a proper breakfast, yet!” the squat patrolman protested. “How am I supposed to have my wits about me if they’re thinking about a plate of eggs, ham, cheese, bread…”

“Argh, quit yer belly-achin’, yeh great stomach sack!” Brigo interrupted with no small measure of irritation. “Yeh’ve only got to patrol the forest east o’ here. Yeh’ll be back stuffin’ yer gob before dinner bell has sounded!”

This did not fully satisfy Giro’s anxiety, but seeing Rensa did. Eyes wide with embarrassment in front of his equerry, he pivoted quickly and began walking east toward the not-so-distant forest.

Brigo halted in front of the horses, unshouldered his bag and looked at Link.

“Yeh mind if I take the dapple?” he asked. “‘E looks a bit more able to carry meh pack.”

“I was eying the mare, anyway,” Link replied with a grin. Something about the chestnut seemed comfortingly familiar, though he couldn’t say why.

Rensa was looking on with a slight frown. Finally, he spoke to his patrolman.

“You are not wrong that your eyes will be a welcome addition on the road, Brigo,” the equerry said slowly. “I only wish that it did not serve so convenient an excuse to accompany your friend. Again, I mean no offense, Link, but I prefer patrolman be single-minded whilst on their duties.”

Link held up a hand to show there were no hard feelings before securing his own belongings onto his mount, but Brigo merely chuckled.

“Ah, yeh great worry wart, I’ll ‘ave both eyes open and focused on the job at hand. I don’t know if yeh noticed, but Link is nothin’ special to look at!”

Link swung up onto the mare as easily as he could walk, the forgotten sensation sending small waves of joy through him. He truly felt at home in the saddle. Settling the eager chestnut -- who was especially ready to be off now that she was mounted — was but the work of a moment.

Pleased with himself, Link turned to find Rensa observing him with an upraised eyebrow. Brigo was keeping his expression decidedly neutral.

“No,” Rensa agreed pensively. “Nothing special.”

Link realized his natural horsemanship had not gone unnoticed, and he made a show of double-checking his supplies to deflect the pause it had created. Brigo did the same, while Rensa said nothing until the half-pretended task was done.

“I wish you well on your journey, Link,” the equerry said with an upraised hand of farewell. “Hylia willing, we will see both of you in Hateno Village.”

Link and Brigo returned the well wishes, then turned their mounts north and set out on the path to Kakariko Village at a swift trot. Once they were well away and out of earshot, the patrolman incredulously berated his companion.

“Did yeh have to announce to a bloody equerry that yeh were all but born in a saddle?” Brigo moaned. “I doubt Tasseren himself looks as natural on a horse’s back!”

Link felt his friend was being slightly overprotective.

“This is my first time in a saddle since waking up, Brig,” he answered defensively while unconsciously guiding the chestnut closer to his friend. “Besides, what’s the harm in my knowing how to ride?”

Brigo shook his head. “Yeh napped awa’ a century, so I suppose there’s no expectin’ yeh to know. Lad, Rensa already knows yeh can handle yerself against a brace o’ pigspawn. Yer obviously not a trader. That’s all well and good. But if a man or woman can fight an’ ride like that in this day and age, it’s because ‘e’s worked at a stable as a ruddy patrolman! Knights do no exist anymore, an’ the only Hylian villages left are right here under Rensa’s ruddy nose. ‘E’s probably wondering if yeh deserted a different stable, and it’s his duty to arrest someone like tha’!”

Link now understood Brigo’s distress at his ill-timed show of experience in the saddle.

“I’m sorry, Brig,” he said with a frown. “I didn’t mean to make it look as though you were helping someone like that.”

“Rensa’ll realize yer no deserter when he does no get a message from any o’ the other stables sayin’ otherwise,” Brigo grumpily reassured him. Link was grateful for this until the patrolman continued. “Once ‘e realizes yeh aren’t, though, he’ll be at wit’s end wonderin’ who yeh are and where yeh came from. Swine-slayin’, horse-ridin’, village-savin’ knights don’t grow on trees, lad.”

Link nodded in silent assent. Nothing had changed, really. He would explain himself only when he must. He might have, however, drawn that moment closer than need be.

The sky was still overcast, blunting the sun’s light as it rose above the slope of a large mountain to the East. Link was startled to see an orange-glowing Sheikah Tower in that direction as well. The Dueling Peaks, it seemed, had kept it hidden from his view until they had reached their eastern side.

“Hateno Village lies near that tower?” Link asked with a nod toward the structure.

Brigo turned and frowned in that direction.

“Farther than that, lad,” he responded. “Hard to tell, but it looks like that there tower sits on Marblod Plain. The east road splits an’ part of it circles south around thereabouts. I’m assumin’ yer bonnie map does no have that area charted yet.”

Link realized he had yet to consult the Sheikah Slate since their frantic escape the day before. Removing it from its belt hooks, he pressed the smooth, black surface and saw the map glow to life. A larger portion to the east of the Great Plateau was now filled in and labeled with names, as well as a blue-glowing symbol that marked the tower next to Dueling Peaks.

The yellow arrow, Link, realized, was moving along a clearly marked path that forked just before meeting an oblong body of water. Looking up from the slate, he was able to confirm the map’s contents as he saw the road split up ahead. The left side of the fork continued north, while the right broke east behind a large stone outcropping.

Returning his attention back to the slate, Link traced the northern path. It crossed the fast-approaching lake (Siela, the slate dubbed it) before circling east around a series of narrow, raised hills called the Pillars of Levia. More hills rose to the road’s east side, and their name caused Link to look up and ask his companion yet another question.

“What is Bonooru’s Stand, Brig?”

The tall patrolman chuckled. “Sounds gran’, don’t it? First time I heard the name, I thought it meant some great general met his brave fate on those hills. Turns out not even the stable books know why they got the name. Didn’t stop some balmy pumpkin farmer in the village from callin’ his scarecrow Bonooru, though.”

“You know some of the Sheikah?” Link asked, surprised. “Rensa told me they were very strict with outsiders in their village.”

“Oh, aye, privacy’s a grand thing in Kakariko,” Brigo agreed. “I’ve only ever seen the first couple o’ houses beyond the village gate. Escorted a few traders, didn’ I? Still, that do no stop the Sheikah that are doin’ the tradin’ from talkin’ to meh a bit, now, do it?”

Link nodded as they crossed the river on a man-made bridge of stone that had clearly seen better days. Moss and leafy vines clung to sides of pitted and cracked concrete. An enormous boulder — no doubted carried by the waterfall-fed current at the east end of the lake — had slammed into the middle of the structure, causing a large portion of the rail to buckle and fall away completely. Chunks of masonry lay scattered along the bridge’s length.

“Why doesn’t anyone repair the bridge, Brig?” Link asked critically.

“We’ve no masons at the stable,” Brigo shrugged, “an’ what few there may be at Hateno will no brave the journey nor the time to be out in the open long enough to finish the job. May’ap their tone changes when the bridge falls and trade to Kakariko is cut off.”

Ganon, Link thought. It all comes back to Ganon. This bridge would be fixed in a month if they weren’t rooted by the fear he has sewn.

Link continued in this dark vein of thought as the path rose with the land. The left side was guarded by a steep cliff face from which the massive Pillars of Levia rose even higher. The right side featured a sheer drop-off into the narrow beginnings of the lake until the path turned north once again. From there, it was walled in on both sides by the pillars and Bonooru’s Stand, though still plenty wide enough for two large parties traveling in both directions, never mind one pair of travelers.

Still dwelling on the consequences of the Calamity’s backblast, Link was startled by Brigo’s voice, which echoed eerily off the cliff walls.

“Nearly there, lad,” the patrolman said quietly. “Do no have yer blade or bow out. Likely they already know we’re here.”

Link did as he was told, though Brigo’s warning had set off a maddening itch for him to unsheathe his sword. The chestnut whickered uneasily. Link’s eyes darted about, searching for any sign of a Sheikah scout. The path was nearly devoid of trees, leaving only the edges of the enclosing plateaus as plausible points of observation. Link thought he might have seen something ahead at the top of the left cliff wall, but it was gone before he could truly register what it might have been.

The path gave one last twist, forcing the travelers to round a broad corner of the left rock wall. Upon doing so, Link had to restrain himself anew from drawing his blade.

Half a dozen oddly garbed persons stood waiting in front of a large wooden gate post. Tight-fitting leggings and long-sleeved tunics of dark blue fit like each of them like a second skin. Their tunics were adorned with a large, white depiction of the same Sheikah insignia found on the back of Link’s slate. It was clear that two of them were women. Their mouths and noses were covered by cloths of dark blue as well, leaving only their eyes exposed. All of them, Link saw, sported hair as white as snow, held up in buns of varying styles. Five of them had bows knocked and drawn, while a sixth stood a shade behind. A messenger, Link knew instinctively, meant to deliver news of whether the meeting had gone well or ill.

The air was as taut as a bowstring, and Link was grateful to hear Brigo voice what he was already assuming.

“Somethin’ ain’t right, lad,” the patrolman murmured as quietly as he could while still being heard. “This many standin’ guard ready and willin’ to draw shaft an’ loose… we may not be welcome after all.”

The pair had slowed their horses to a slow walk upon seeing this reception, but Link did not stop nor turn around.

“I’ve a feeling they’ll see me, Brig,” he said quietly without taking his eyes off the welcoming committee. He heard his friend sigh wearily in response.

“Be it on yer ‘ead, then,” Brigo said resignedly. Then he raised his voice to be clearly heard by the waiting Sheikah. “Ahoy, lads and ladies! We’re here on a matter o’ some importance! Some of yeh no doubt remember meh. I’m Brigo o’ the Dueling Peaks Stable, an’ this ‘ere is —“

“We know who you appear and claim to be,” one of the Sheikah replied loudly, though Link had trouble identifying who given that all their mouths were covered. “That does not make it truth. Turn around and leave, or we will have no choice but to kill you where you stand.”

Brigo pulled up his horse at this, but Link did not. Unafraid, he continued his mount’s slow march toward them, ignoring his friend’s warning hiss from behind. The same Sheikah voice sounded out once more.

“This is your last warning,” it said flatly. “These arrows will fly if you take one more —“

The voice cut itself off as Link removed and raised the Sheikah Slate from his belt. He held it so that the sigil-adorned side was facing toward them, the eye symbol of the Sheikah clearly visible. As one, all five bows relaxed and lowered, while the sixth Sheikah took off like a dart for the village ahead.

One of the male Sheikah stepped forward and lowered his mask, his voice announcing him as the one who had warned them earlier.

“We welcome you, slate-bearer,” he said with a bow that carried forward until his upper body was perfectly parallel to the ground. “I am Cado. The Lady Impa is expecting you.”