Captain Malkir was one of the few remaining soldiers who had fought in the Hyrulean Civil War. The five worst years of his life, by any reckoning. He had held a besieged outpost for six months, almost single-handedly. He'd suffered ambushes by Gerudo, wrestled Gorons, and been injured more times than he cared to remember.
Staring at Impa's perfectly impassive face, he almost wished he were back. Almost.
He stood stiffly at attention, sweating from the combined pressure of his plate mail, the stuffy, humid room, and the entire situation. His only solace was that he was not the poor guardsman sitting in front of Impa's desk, looking for all the world like he was about to melt into a puddle of pink, idiotic, goo.
The moron deserved it.
Impa unfolded her arms and leaned over her desk, staring down the unfortunate soldier.
"Mr. Gaspar, you were charged with protecting our princess, were you not? In fact, I think I have it on record." She snatched a battered parchment from a stack on her desk. "Right here. Dated 26 September 974, I, Pere Gaspar, recognizing the duty appointed to me and the responsibilities therein, and so forth. Sound familiar? Is this not your mark?" She thrust it out in front of her. Malkir winced at the scribbled 'X' that passed for the man's signature. If this were any other—literally any other situation—he would be giggling at the man's ignorance.
"M'lady, I… Yes! It is! I am! Was!" Gaspar stammered.
Impa closed her eyes, the closest Malkir had seen to her ever expressing an emotion.
"So please explain to me how… today's incident could possibly be considered a good idea."
"Well, we was inve-, invic-, counting the bombs, y'see, and-"
"Right outside the courtyard?" Impa said flatly
"I couldn't very well count the bomb an' protect the princess if the bombs were somewhere else!"
Impa shot Malkir a level stare that almost brought him to his knees. Immediately after this inquisition, he knew, it would be his turn to explain why stupid Gaspar was allowed to do any thinking at all, how the bombs had even been transported from their store room without his knowledge, and doubtless countless other faults that Impa was soon to expose. His career was officially dead. Dead as a Zora in the Gerudo Wasteland.
"So we counted us up an extra bomb, an' I didn't know what to do with it-"
Malkir clapped a hand to his forehead and let out a pathetic whimper. He could not bring himself to care about etiquette any longer. This could not possibly get any worse.
"Captain, if the army is not to your taste, I am sure we can find you a spot in a kennel," Impa said, not taking her eyes from Gaspar. "Continue."
"So when the kid shot the seed through the window, I sorta panicked, and I didn't know what else to do with the bomb, and-"
Impa raised a hand. Gaspar instantly fell silent.
"Let me see if I understand. You stole ordnance from the bunker to make your job easier, then while you were trying to decide how best to hide your mismanagement of Hylian property, a small child nobody seems to know—whom you must have allowed to slip past you into the courtyard—fired his slingshot at you. This startled you so greatly that you lit the bomb's fuse and threw it into the room containing the one person you are supposed to keep safe. Did I understand that correctly?"
Malkir could see Gaspar shaking all the way from the doorway. If Malkir's career wasn't on the line, too, he would feel sorry for the man.
"I see that I did," Impa said. She pulled out a blank sheet of parchment and began writing on it. Malkir forced himself to remain silent through it all. The last thing he needed was more attention drawn to himself.
Ever so slowly, she placed it in an envelope and sealed it.
"Go find the stablemaster," she said. "Give this to him. Tell him that you are incapable of basic thought."
The man staggered out of his chair and reached for the letter. As he did so, Impa's other hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, keeping him frozen.
"Gaspar, understand that the normal punishment for such incompetence involves a good number of lashings. I would see that you were unable to move without pain for a month. It is only our pending need that keeps your skin intact. Hyrule cannot spare any soldiers, not even ones such as you."
She released him, and he stumbled backward, then turned and fled from the room. Now Malkir and Impa were alone. She turned to him.
"Sit down, Captain. We have much to discuss."
It was just like the Charge of Death Mountain, he told himself. He had not hesitated then, though he had every disadvantage, and every chance of death, and he would not hesitate now. He squared his soldiers and strode proudly to his doom.