They left the inn in the deep, starless dark before the dawn, slipping out like thieves. The common room was filled with the snores of sleeping travelers, but Link could feel the eyes of the two brutish men following them as they passed the window. He did not look back. The vibrating of the Sheikah token only ceased when they were a mile down the road, a clear, open expanse of field between them and the simmering violence of the inn.
They walked in silence for a long time, the tension of the encounter still a palpable thing between them. Elwin was the first to speak, his voice a low rumble in the quiet of the morning.
"That was a close thing, Link. A very close thing." He shook his head. "The rot runs deeper than I thought. It's not just the monsters. The people… the fear is making them ugly. Making them wolves."
Link nodded, but he knew it was more than that. The hum from the Sheikah token had been too strong. Those men were not just opportunistic scavengers driven by fear. They were a part of the same sickness that had created the red-eyed Bokoblins.
They made camp early that day, finding a well-hidden spot in a small, ancient ruin, the crumbling stone walls offering good cover. While Elwin rested his leg, his face etched with a weary concern, Link felt a familiar, insistent pull. The vision of the merchant Kael, the memory of the Sheikah token's vibration—it was all connected. He needed to see more.
He waited until Elwin was asleep. He took out the Keaton Mask, its sly, carved face seeming to watch him with a knowing intelligence. He had not used it since the grotto of the lost children. He had been afraid of what it might show him. But now, the not-knowing was the greater fear.
He put on the mask.
The world did not go grey this time. Instead, the edges of his vision softened, and the sounds of the camp faded away, replaced by a low, rushing whisper, like the wind through a thousand dry leaves. He focused his mind, not on the mask itself, but on the memory of the two men in the inn, on the feeling of their greedy, predatory intent.
An image bloomed in the darkness behind his eyes, clearer than the vision of Kael had been. He saw the two men, their faces illuminated by a flickering torch. They were standing in a muddy, rain-swept courtyard before a makeshift command tent, the kind used by the Royal Guard on patrol. A man in the armor of a Hyrulean Guard Captain stepped out of the tent. His armor was well-kept, but his face was sallow, and his eyes held a cruel, impatient look.
"Anything to report?" the Captain asked, his voice sharp.
"A few merchants, jumpy as rabbits," one of the men from the inn reported, his tone now servile, not mocking. "But there was a strange pair. An old man with a game leg, and a boy. A silent little whelp. But he was carrying a fine-looking sword. And a shield… an odd, wooden thing. It had a strange feel to it."
The Captain's interest was piqued. "A boy with a hero's sword? How quaint. Where are they headed?"
"The old man was blustering about a cousin at the Hylia Bridge garrison. Trying to scare us off."
The Captain laughed, a short, ugly sound. "Is he now? The Hylia Bridge, you say?" He reached into a pouch and tossed a small, heavy purse of coins to the man. "Good work. Send a rider ahead to my lieutenant at the bridge. Tell him to be on the lookout for a boy and a cripple. Detain them for 'questioning.' I want that shield. And I want to know what a child is doing carrying a blade on the King's roads."
The vision dissolved, the whispers faded, and Link was left kneeling in the dirt, the Keaton Mask cold against his face. He took it off, his hands trembling slightly.
The truth was a shard of ice in his gut. The King's fears were real. The shadow had not just infiltrated the kingdom; it had infested the very institution meant to protect it. The Royal Guard, the symbol of order and safety, was compromised. Those men weren't just bandits; they were informants, the eyes and ears of a corrupt official who was using his power to prey on the very people he had sworn to protect.
Their path ahead, the road to the Hylia Bridge, was not a road to safety. It was a trap.
Elwin was still sleeping peacefully, his face, for the first time in days, free from worry. Link looked at his friend, his protector. Elwin was guiding them with his maps, his knowledge of the world as it should be. But the mask had shown Link the world as it is: a place of lies, where the uniforms of heroes could be worn by monsters.
He was just a boy. A messenger. But in that moment, he felt the full weight of his responsibility. He was the one who could see the truth. And he now knew that their journey was far more dangerous than even Elwin suspected. They were not just avoiding monsters. They were now fugitives from the law itself.