Hyrule Noir II: Chapter 5

The Legend of Zelda
Hyrule Noir II
by Dennis Davies, 2012

Chapter 5

Friday, 09:46.  Castle Town District, Hyrule Central Station.

I hate trains.  I hate the way the tracks cut through Hyrule like ugly, steel stitches.  I hate the way that once you're inside, you're no longer in control.  I curse the day some idiot in charge decided to bring the rail tracks to this city.  They have no place in Hyrule.  But here I am, at the mercy of the trains.  It's either a three day hike to Termina or an hour's journey by this glorified speeding tin can, and time is against me.

The 09:30 express to Termina had been delayed for about twenty minutes so I'd decided to kill time in the station book store.  It was full of the usual stuff - women's fashion and celebrity gossip magazines, men's mags with the typical busty bimbo on the cover.  But something caught my eye in the bargain bin; a slightly worn copy of "Myths and Legends of Hyrule and Beyond."  I thought back to the case with Zelda and Ganondorf and all their talk of legends.  It drove me crazy at the time but seeing the book lying there, unloved and unsold, I saw it as a sign.

The station had a big screen which was showing the morning news.  There were grim images of Telma's Jazz Bar as well as news of another murder believed to have taken place a few hours before Telma was killed.  The killer had struck twice in one day.  A press statement from Commissioner Cole was full of the usual bullshit: Blame it on the Gorons.

Eventually the express farted and spluttered into the station.  I was one of only a few passengers to get on.

Friday, 10:34.  Somewhere near Great Bay, Termina Province.

Looking out of the slightly steamed-up windows of my own private box my spirits lifted a little.  The train line ran along the coast of the province of Termina after emerging from the nearby Faron woods and the sea side cliffs were bathed in a cool orange glow in the low winter sun.  I wasn't too happy about coming to Termina.  Always felt uneasy coming here.   The people I'd met in Termina and its capital, Clock Town were a little off.  Unaware of their own existence somehow.  Like they're living the same few days over and over again.  The whole place gives me the creeps.  If any town deserves an insane asylum, it's Clock Town.  Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if the entire population had been in there at some point.  But at least my view helped ease the tension.  If only for a while.

My mind thought back to Midna and my stomach tightened.  When she walked out on me she was heading to Termina.  Didn't know where exactly.  Didn't want to know.  Definitely didn't want to see her.  Some part of me hoped she was OK.  Another part of me harbours nothing but resentment for walking out.

I try to snap out of it.  Focus on the case.  On Saria.  I pick up the book I bought back in Hyrule and thumb through to the index.  I flick to the chapter about Termina and the surrounding area to see if I could find anything of interest.  The majority of the Termina-based mythology was based around a popular story of the "Four Giants" and the violent and sordid history of the neighbouring Ikana Canyon.  Nothing that the Deku Seed Orphanage didn't teach us as children.  But there was one section that caught my eye - a few paragraphs about an ancient tribe.  It didn't say when or where the tribe were from in Termina but what it did say was that they were a particularly nasty pagan tribe devoted to a demon called Majora.  Apparently they practised all sorts of voodoo rituals - curses, hexes and sacrifices - and used a ceremonial mask which struck fear into the hearts of other tribes.

The story continued - one day, it was decided that their actions were driving the tribesmen insane and so they sealed away the power of the demon inside the mask before casting it away.  Nobody knows for sure what happened to the tribe after that, although stories usually spoke of mass suicide, exile or murder by the other tribes.  There were no pictures of the mask.  I was back in a sour mood.  The story had bought me right back to last night.  Seeing Saria so struck with fear.  It had an unfortunate parallel with the mask in the myth.

I continue the rest of my journey alone in my thoughts.

Friday, 10:57.  Clock Town Centre, Termina.

Clock Town was just as I remembered.  Dead.  As the westernmost point of the continent, Clock Town has for a long time been predominantly a tourist destination.  It had a small population for its size but that number usually doubled in the summer.  In winter it was a desolate place.  A ghost town.  The winter sun had been completely obscured by thick cloud and the entire town was immersed in shade.  A harsh, dry wind thundered through the quiet streets and a light rain had begun to patter down on the town most famous landmark - an enormous, art-nouveau style clock tower adorned with a giant, rotating clock face depicting the Sun and the Moon.

In front of the clock tower stood a sign post with various attractions being marked at all directions.  Most of them would be closed for the off-season.  A single sign pointing directly east was scratched out but the words were still legible - "Astral Observatory" 3 miles.  My destination.

Friday, 11:16.  Clock Town Institute for the Criminally Insane, Clock Town Outskirts.

It was a short cab ride that took me out of the city walls.  The sight of the large, grey concrete building had loomed over the hillside long before the taxi had made its way to the wrought iron gates surrounding the former observatory.  The old space telescope was still visible jutting out of the domed rooftop but even from below anyone could see it was covered in moss and rust.  The intimidating gothic stone architecture built around it made the dome look even more out of place while the barred windows were grimy and offered no clue as to what might be lurking inside.

The cab driver had refused to go right up to the gates, and I must have offered the guard at the security hut an odd sight as my solitary figure battled up the rest of the hill against the now heavy rain.  He looked lazily at my Private Investigator license and buzzed me through.  The tall iron gates clanked open just wide enough for me to pass through and I shuffle my way up the gravel driveway to the asylum building entrance.

Friday, 11:30.  Clock Town Institute for the Criminally Insane, Solitary Confinement Wing.

The rotund security guard escorts me along a narrow hallway towards the furthest cell.  The cracked and peeled whitewashed walls echoed with lamentable screams from the other inmates as I wonder whether I could get away with getting that pervert Tingle admitted here.  I'd been lucky so far.  Despite being advertised as a maximum security prison, the wardens and doctors seemed quite content with allowing some of the "less dangerous" inmates to wander around the communal areas as they pleased.  I wasn't scared.  By the look on most of their faces, they were so doped-up they'd have trouble picking up their own faeces, let alone a weapon.  The doctor supervising the solitary wing wasn't very helpful in allowing me to see the person I needed to see, but a few silver rupees slipped to him with a handshake changed his mind.

And so here I was.  At the very end of the hallway the guard unlocked the cell door with a dull clunk and went in on his own.  I hear him mutter to the inmate and with a light clink he reappeared.
"The prisoner is secure Sir, handcuffed for your safety.  And his.  Would you like me to stay here, just outside the cell?"
"No, thank you.  I'll be fine."
"As you wish, Sir.  Careful with this one though, something not right about him.  Even the other loonies here stay away from him.  I'll be back in ten minutes to collect you."
"Make it twenty," I said, slipping a few rupees into his shirt pocket.
"Ahem," he coughed, looking over his shoulder, before marching back down the hallway.  "As I said, I'll be back in twenty minutes to collect you."

Friday, 11:40.  Solitary Confinement Wing, Cell 52.

As I step into the cell and sit down on the small wooden chair the man didn't acknowledge me.  He was a curious sight.  Despite being sat on the side of the prison issue bed frame he looked of average height.  Fairly thin.  Large, bulbous head that came to a point at his chin that made it look like a balloon attached to his neck.  Pudding bowl hair cut.  Narrow, squinty little eyes in a fixed thousand yard stare and a toothy grin which gives me the creeps.  There was nothing pleasant about the way he looked and it's not difficult to see why other people were nervous around him.  He was unnerving.  I don't mind admitting I'm a little uneasy alone in the cell with him.  He says nothing.  Just sits there, smiling.  I decide to start the conversation.

"You've met with a terrible fate, haven't you?"

His beady little eyes slowly roll toward me.  He sits up perfectly straight.  Unnaturally rigid.  The smile doesn't leave his face.

"So it would seem."
"What is your name?"
"I'm the Happy Mask Salesman!" he said with some enthusiasm.
"No, that's what you were before.  What's your real name?"

His face was still fixed with the same smile.  His expression hadn't altered one bit the entire time.

"Oh, I don't remember that.  I've been the Happy Mask Salesman for as long as I've known."
"Well I guess you must know an awful lot about masks then?"

He giggled dreamily.

"Yes!  I know everything there is to know about masks!  I'm something of an expert."

I studied the man momentarily.  He sat there with his hands clasped together, grinning away expectantly.  Politely waiting for me to continue.

"Alright.  Good.  Then what can you tell me about a particular mask I've seen?  It is heart-shaped, with spikes on top and along the bottom, purple with a tribal sort of pattern.  Oh yeah, and big, yellow eyes."

It was like flipping a switch.  The Salesman's smile instantly turned upside down.  His brows furrowed and he scowled at me maliciously.

"I see that has piqued your interest," I tried.  "Let me explain, this mask is connected to some cases I've been working.  I'm a private investigator in Hyrule City.  The cases are so far following a pattern.  A pattern that appeared in this town two years ago.  Ending with a series of murders.  Murders that you committed."
"Allegedly," he grimaced.
"Murders that you allegedly committed and have always denied.  Thing is, it seems they're happening again.  Now, either there's a copycat on the loose, or, you're not the person the Termina courts would have us believe.  I'm trying to catch this person.  It might even exonerate you for these crimes.  So, I'll ask again.  What's the deal with the fucked-up mask?"

The Salesman paused for a moment, still scowling.  Finally he mustered up the will to speak again.

"Majora," he growled.

"I've read the myth.  Are you saying someone is going around pretending to be some demon in a spook mask?"
"It's no myth."
"Then tell me what happened here two years ago."

He sighed.  His mood switch flipped to a neutral position and he stared away blankly.

"It all started when I came to this place."
"Clock Town?"
"Yes.  I used to live in Hyrule and had done for many years.  I was, as my name suggests, a mask salesman.  I would travel door to door and at market stalls and bazaars selling my wares.  Business was fair.  Children mostly, they would be so excited after buying one of my masks.  It would bring me such joy to see their little faces as they ran off to play as soldiers or knights and be whatever the masks portrayed.  But it didn't last.  Children grow up and so does the technology around them.  Nobody wants to buy a silly mask when there are computers and games to be distracted by."
"So you left Hyrule."
"Well, I found out about Clock Town.  People all much simpler here.  And the tourists!  Tourists love to buy curious things like my masks.  Then there's the festival.  Do you know that every year, Clock Town has a three day long festival to celebrate the Sun and the Moon and the passage of time?  It should have been a magical event, masks are a big part of the festival.  So I thought I'd try my luck in Clock Town."
"So how does Majora's Mask come into it?"

His face flicked back to that menacing scowl.  The mere mention of Majora sent him crazy."

"The Mask of Majora is my most prized possession.  WAS my most prized possession.  Until HE stole it from me."
"I don't follow you."
"Are you familiar with the legend of Majora?"
"As it happens, I am a little.  The Ancient Tribe, right?"
"Yes.  The powerful ceremonial mask of Majora.  The seal for all the wicked things the tribe did.  For all of Majora's dark power.  Cast away for centuries.  Never to be found again.  Only it was found."
"And you found it?"
"Not quite.  Years ago in Hyrule, a troubled young man - he looked similar to you actually - came to see me about a mask he had found.  As you might guess, that was Majora's Mask.  He wouldn't tell me how he came to be the owner of it, if one can OWN such a thing.  He told me his name was BEN.  Ben claimed he had been driven insane by the mask and - poor soul - was a shadow of a boy by the time he found me.  At first I thought he wanted to sell it.  Believe me, I knew what it was; I would have paid handsomely for it."
"But he just wanted to get rid of it?"
"Yes.  That's right.  I promised to keep it safe and make sure nobody is allowed to ever use it."
"Something went wrong didn't it?"
"I had back luck ever since I was given it.  Terrible luck.  It was another reason I wanted to escape to Termina to make a fresh start.  So I packed up and left Hyrule.  Put my entire life in my rucksack and hiked towards Clock Town.  I should have known the curse of Majora would follow with me."
"What happened?"
"I had been going through the Faron woods.  I had underestimated how thick and deep the woods were and I managed to get lost just beyond the borders of Termina province.  But I wasn't alone.  I found a man.  He was a lost soul and had been living in the forest for years."
"A Skull Kid?"
"I believe that is the colloquialism for the homeless in Hyrule, yes.  He offered to help me find the track towards Clock Town.  Being lost and exhausted, naturally I accepted.  That very same night, after night fall, the man attacked me like a wild animal.  He beat me and threw my bag and everything in it all over the dusty road.  But a box caught his eye.  He took the key from me, opened the box and stood there for what seemed like forever, mesmerised by that mask.  When he put the mask on, the last thing I remember was a hideous cackle before he disappeared into the woods."
"What did the man look like?"
"He looked like a wraith.  He was dressed in rags, a typical Skull Kid.  He was very tall and frighteningly thin.  He wore a large hat that made him look like a scarecrow.  I don't remember his face much as it was mostly covered in shadow from the hat.  But I think he had some sort of facial disfigurement."

Beyond the face part, it sounded like the same person I'd seen on the CCTV monitor at Malon's Milkshakes.  Like the same person Saria had described.  I had no doubt that it was the same man.

"What did you do after that?"
"Well, eventually I woke up after passing out.  I was at least on the trail to Clock Town - the man had kept his word on that.  I collected my masks, for he hadn't taken anything else, and went on my way.  Things picked up a little in Clock Town.  The masks were selling well and the festival went underway.  But from the dawn of the first day people started turning up dead.  Business owners or young girls, mostly.  Police had received reports of a masked intruder from some of the victims prior to their deaths.  Of course, as a stranger in town, the finger of suspicion was pointed at me.  The fact that I was selling masks made it even harder to convince them of my innocence."
"And the fact that you're a little bit... odd," I added.

The Salesman switched his expression back to the creepy smile again.

"I dare say that did not help.  I am rather eccentric, I must admit.  When you sell something as strange and wonderful as a mask, you can't help but become strange and wonderful yourself."

I was just about to ask him more about the Skull Kid when the security guard poked his head through the cell.  He clanked his baton twice on the steel.  "Time's up, Sir."  The Mask Salesman giggled once more before returning to his own little world.  The guard escorted me back to the gate and the receptionist called me a cab back to Clock Town.

Friday, 13:56.  Hyrule Central, Hyrule City Council House.

"Miss Fitzgerald, there's a man here insisting to talk to you.  He doesn't have an appointment."
"Tell him that public questions are on the third Tuesday of each month."
"Very well, Miss," the assistant said before taking her finger off the intercom buzzer.  "I'm sorry Sir, but you cannot see Governess Zelda at this time."
"ZELDA!  IT'S ME, LINK!  IT'S REALLY IMPORTANT!" I shouted over the assistant, hoping she'd hear me from behind the office doors.  The intercom crackled to life immediately.
"Impa, it's alright my dear, let him through.  We're friends."
"As you wish Miss Fitzgerald," Impa sighed as she waved me past the desk and through the solid oak double doors to Zelda's office.

Zelda got up from her plush, leather swivel chair and greeted me with a hug.  I hadn't seen her for some time, not since she got elected as Governess.  She hadn't changed a bit.  Her otherworldly beauty and authority completely unaffected by the time passed since we last met.  She offered me a seat and sat back down herself.

"It's so good to see you, Link.  I cannot thank you enough for what you did for me those few years ago."
"Likewise, Zelda.  You've really made a change for the better in Hyrule.  Things are much better than when Ganondorf was in power."
"Thanks.  I'm just trying to keep things running smoothly really," she blushed.  "So what can I do for you?  I don't let just anyone up here without an appointment you know."
"Well, let me get right to it.  There's some sort of cover-up going on within the Hyrule City Police Department.  This time I might need your help; all these murders and attacks the past few weeks?  The ones being blamed on the Gorons?  It's all bullsh-um- it's all lies."

I felt bad about cursing in front of Zelda.

"I may have evidence for some recent cases that proves that no Goron people were involved.  I've got an eyewitness and video footage.  And I reckon I'm on the right track to find the person  behind it all.  All I need you to do is keep the Police at bay a little.  Stop blaming it on the Gorons.  It's making things worse.  Surely you've noticed there's a lot of racial tension stirring up since this whole thing started?  There's only so much the Gorons will take."
"Yes, I have, but..."
"So I was thinking if you could use your authority to get the HCPD to retract their stance on "The Goron Problem" it would give me a chance to find the real killer.  It's the same guy who..."
"Link, stop right there.  I know exactly how you feel but the truth is, I can't help you.  I don't have as much authority as you might think.  I get the chance to approve some things but the police are handled by delegates in my party.  The minister for the HCPD is Lord Ghirahim; he was the one who appointed that weasel, Police Commissioner Cole."
"Ghirahim?  I thought he was in City Planning and Zoning?"
"That too.  He's a bit unorthodox, and honestly, I don't like or trust him very much, but the problem is that he has a lot of support among the other councillors and members of parliament, even from the voters.  I can't even get support from my own party for new policies because of him.  He's an excellent politician, for better or worse.  You would have to speak with him."
"Where can I find him?"
"Usually, here in the Council House.  But today he's inspecting a construction site near the north of town.   Cheapside."
"Cheapside.  You mean the Goron Quarter, right?  The ghetto?"

Zelda sighed.  Clearly she hated the thought of a ghetto in her city.

"I'm afraid so.  Anyway, he's there until five.  If you go now, you should still catch him.  You'll need this," she said as she pulled an official-looking piece of paper from a drawer.  She signed it and handed it to me.  "That'll grant you permission to get onto the site."

"Thanks Zelda.  I'll see you soon."
"Good luck, Link.  Be careful."