Hyrule, the Western Kingdom
The midday sun blazed over the land. The sky was clear, and no winds blew to salve the skins of the people. The rolling grasslands were lined with fields of wheat and oats. Farmers tended to their fields, keeping the weeds and pestilent animals out of their crops. The villages and their people went about their daily routines as they had done for many years.
But there was an air of hush over the land. The people knew of the fate of Kasuto and kept their wits about them. Mothers kept their children close to home. Caravans along the highways traveled in larger groups, hired men keeping an eye on the horizon. The temples and churches had a higher attendance as the preachers prayed to the heavens for protection.
On the southern border of the Western Kingdom laid the Oren River, running from the mountains down to the sea. The town of Saria straddled the river, a lone bridge linking the King's Highway to the only road leading to the Old Kingdom, beyond the Death Mountain Alpines. Few ever had reason to traverse those treacherous mountains. Little trade ever went south to that ancient land, and the passes were often blocked by landslides and snow.
A single company of soldiers kept watch on that bridge. They typically passed their time not as soldiers in the service of their Kurfürsten or the king, but as farmers and fishermen. The guard shack was usually empty, the captain choosing to spend his hours in a local tavern.
No one was there when the Lynels came down the mountains. These constructs, with the body of an ox and man and the head of a lion, came in great numbers. They wielded great swords, one in each hand, enchanted to breathe fire. Each had thick leather armored strapped to its chest, muscles bulging underneath.
The Lynels swept into Saria and slaughtered the people on sight. As in Kasuto, no difference was made between young or old, man or woman. The town burned, and the streets ran with blood. And the Lynels did not stop there. They spread out into the Western Kingdom, and each town or village they crossed met the same fate as Saria.
The soldiers of the Royal Hyrulean Army marched down the road. In front were the pikemen and musketeer regiments. Behind came the archer regiments, proud of their skill at the longbow, but their numbers far fewer than they had been in the past. On the flanks were the cuirassiers, their banners flying high. And far behind was the wagon trail, stretching for miles back up the King's Highway.
Kurfürsten Sebastian Wimmer rode at the front of the army. It was his army. It was his task, his responsibility, to lead them to against the horde that was pouring north from the Death Mountain Alpines. And it was not just Lynels anymore. His scouts brought back reports of Moblins and Goriyas on the march, stepping into the void that the Lynels burned into Hyrule.
Let them come. Those constructs, unnatural life brought forth by dark magic, would meet their end at the hands of his army. He would meet them at the hills south of the Gully Forest. From there, Sebastian could dominate any battle those beasts would bring to him. And, he noted with satisfaction, he would not need any Eastern Kingdom trash to steal his glory.
After many days of marching, his army arrived at the Gully Forest. But the enemy had beaten him there. And instead of a mindless mass of constructs, they were formed in lines for battle, with pikemen formed in ranks ahead of archers on the slope of the hill. Scattered about were regimental flags.
Sebastian wasted no time deploying his men into battle formations. His confidence wavered, but held. He still had his musketeers; so long as he could goad the enemy into attacking, he would win. In the meanwhile, he gathered his guards and went forward of his lines under the white flag of parlay.
Stopping within fifty paces of the Moblin lines, Sebastian took another look. The Moblins were the footmen, part armed with pikes that gleamed with a dark light, the other part wielding longbows. The Goriyas took the position of the officers and sergeants, walking back and forth enforcing discipline with harsh words and harsher hands. In the rear were the Lynels, acting as the cuirassiers.
Gently urging his horse forward a few steps, Sebastian called out, "By the authority of His Royal Majesty, King Robin Wilheim Hyrule, I demand to speak to your lord!"
And he waited. Sebastian glanced back to see his forces still moving into position, at the double-pace. His lieutenant was doing his job.
In a short time, a great mass of Moblins came forward, a score of them carrying a great throne on their backs, the poles held tight in their hands. Sebastian looked at the banner the single Goriya carried. At once, the breath in his lungs caught fast while his blood froze in his veins.
It was a black flag with a large, golden insignia at its heart. It resembled a diamond with rounded edges. Splitting it horizontally were two cup-like pictures joined at the base. Held in each cup was a single roundel. Sebastian knew this standard from Hyrulean history, but never, in his darkest nightmares, did he think he would see it in his waking hours. All it took was the drawing of the curtains on the throne to confirm his fears.
He was hunched over, his armor seemingly hanging off his frame. His bony hands were clasped together, the skin pulled tight over them. Though his cheeks were sunken and his hair thin, the gleaming in his eyes was unmistakable.
Ganondorf, the King of Evil, had returned.
"And who," Ganondorf demanded, "are you to speak on the behalf of royalty?" Sebastian swallowed hard, gathering his courage.
"Kurfürsten Sebastian Wimmer, Captain General of the Royal Hyrulean Army," Sebastian said. Ganondorf leaned forward, ever so slightly, the daylight only enhancing his dark features.
"So, general, what have you come to discuss?" Ganondorf asked. Sebastian struggled to understand the dark lord; his accent was thick, and his choice of words was closer to Hylian, rather than Hyrulean.
"You are to disband your army and submit to the king of Hyrule," Sebastian said. For the life of him and the sanctity of his soul, he wished he could be more eloquent and bold. As the sweat beaded on his brow, the stories that his nana told him as a child to scare him into obedience ran fresh through his mind. Ganondorf remained still.
"And if I refuse?" he asked.
"Then I will send you back to the Dark Realm through force of arms," Sebastian replied. Ganondorf glanced up at Sebastian's army. Sebastian did not dare to look away. When he looked back, Sebastian could feel Ganondorf's amber eyes stare into the core of his very being. And the Hyrulean prince felt very small.
"Hyrule has grown fat and diseased," Ganondorf said. "Its bloated body wallows on this land while it vomits its refuse onto another. Men eye their neighbors and plot to steal his wife and land. A distant king rules only as far as his eyes can see. Go back to him. Tell him that Hyrule's lord has returned, and he will burn the shrubs choking this land to the ground."
Ganondorf leaned back into his throne. The curtain closed and his entourage retreated back behind the lines, Moblin pikemen closing ranks as their lord passed.
Sebastian took his guard and sped back to his army. Had he glanced, he would see that barely half of his men were in place. But the only care on his mind was to get as far away from the King of Evil as he could.
When he returned to his lines, Sebastian gathered his wits and his breath. At once, he dispatched his fastest riders to North Castle; His Majesty must be warned. From there, he turned his attention to the coming battle.
Safe behind his lines, Ganondorf watched the Hyrulean army. He did not expect them to disperse or surrender; Hyrule, even as far as it had fallen since his last sojourn, was far too proud to simply bow to another. If it would, he would not need an army to conquer it. A simple march on the castle and the kingdom – and more importantly, the Triforce – would be his.
He watched, idly curious, at the new soldiers that took their place on the front lines. Instead of all pikes, over half of them carried some sort of hand cannon on their shoulders which they balanced on a stick. Even more curious, the famous Hyrulean archers had all but disappeared from the battlefield. And there was a curious absence of sorcerers.
A surge of pain and anger blinded Ganondorf. In his mind's eye, he could see the Triforce of Power beckoning to him. His right hand yearned to feel its presence once more. He wanted to feel the power of the gods coursing through his being again, granting him magic beyond mortal comprehension. But these blasted men, walking corpses them all, stood in his way.
Ganondorf felt a hand on his arm. He looked down, ready to unleash his wrath on the knave who dared touch him. His temper halted, then waned, when he saw the heavily robed figure standing next to him, a wide-brimmed hat hiding his features from the world.
"Patience, my lord," his advisor said, released his grip upon Ganondorf's arm. "The Triforce will be yours once again."
Yes, the Triforce. That's what Ganondorf wanted. And he would get what he wanted. He always did. Ganondorf took a deep breath, and relaxed.
"Those men with the iron cannons, what is their purpose?" Ganondorf asked.
"They are called musketeers. The weapon they carry shoots metal balls. Alone, they are nothing. The musket does not have the range of a bow. But together, they will devastate any attack," the advisor explained.
Ganondorf looked at the musketeers. Their ranged weapons would explain the lack of archers. And if they were just as important . . .
"How do they shoot their metal balls?" he asked.
"A powder, made from ground bomb flowers, lit by a match," the advisor said.
The corner of Ganondorf's lip drew back.
Sebastian watched as his men finished forming into lines. Now that he had time to think, he decided on a plan. His methods of maneuver were limited by the forest and hills. He would send several regiments forward to draw the enemy into attacking where his musketeers would be able to decimate their ranks. On the while, he would divide his cuirassiers, a portion supporting the advancing troops while the other would stay with the main force, ready to give pursuit or exploit gaps that may form.
As he briefed his fellow lords, Sebastian felt a strong wind coming at him, sending several of his maps aloft. At first, he thanked the gods, as gusts would send the enemy's arrows off their mark. But then he realized that the wind was coming from the south. That wasn't right; the wind here came from the north or west.
Then there came the rain; a hard rain that pierced wool and skin. Sebastian looked up to see the clouds forming over his army, but not a single place else. All around, he could hear hurried cries as soldiers struggled to keep their supplies dry under tents that the wind tore away. With bleeding hands shielding his eyes, he looked towards the front lines.
The pikemen continued to form their lines unimpeded by the maelstrom. His musketeers, however, were faltering. Sebastian squinted his eyes, struggling to see what was happening. His closest musketeer soldiers were clutching at the bags they carried. A gust of wind caught one and tore it away, sending a spray of gray powder everywhere.
Powder. Sebastian looked to his supply lines and saw the barrels of gunpowder were cracking open, spilling their contents on the ground. One of his lords tapped his shoulder, pointing at Ganondorf's lines. On the ridge, where they could see Sebastian's entire army, were a score of men in heavy robes and brimmed hats.
"They have Wizzrobes . . ." Sebastian uttered in a small whisper. He looked back at his lords.
"They have Wizzrobes," he said again, with greater urgency. "And they are ruining our powder." His men looked at each other, the same horrid expression on their faces. With the powder ruined by the rain, every single musketman – over half of the entire army – was unable to fight. That left only their pikemen and archers, with the cuirassiers limited to swords.
"What should we do?" one of the nobles asked. Sebastian looked at the table, the maps long gone. Every conceivable course of action led to defeat, and, if the old stories were right, Ganondorf never accepted surrender.
"It seems our choices are defeat for all or for some," Sebastian said, his throat suddenly parched, his voice cracking. He looked up at his men.
"Our musketeer regiments and supply trains will retreat east, to the Twin Peaks. Hopefully, the journey and warm ocean breeze will dry the powder. The rest of us will stay here to cover their march," Sebastian said. Slowly, he looked into the eyes of every man in his tent.
"When we departed, I imagined that we would all meet in the halls of His Majesty to drink and feast while the bards sing of our victory," Sebastian quietly said. "I still have that dream, though it appears that we will meet in the halls of the Sacred Realm instead of our king."
Sebastian stood straight and fixed his uniform. "Return to your regiments. I want each man to understand what is going to happen." The nobles all nodded grimly before mounting their horses. Sebastian looked at his lieutenant.
"I want you to lead the men heading east," Sebastian said. "Ganondorf doesn't seem to have any siege engines or engineers, so North Castle should be safe. Mido must not fall into enemy hands; reinforcements from the Eastern Kingdom need to land there and the Twin Peaks are the best place to defend the city."
Sebastian turned away and walked to his horse. The beast was frightened by the unnatural weather, and giving his caretaker a difficult time. It could sense the coming battle, and the bloodshed that would come with it. It knew that this field, far from the cool grasses of northern Hyrule, would be its final resting place.
With a firm hand, Sebastian reached out and helped his aide in reigning in his horse. The animal continued to buck and thrash, determined to make a break for the open fields. If his own horse was giving him this much trouble, Sebastian thought, he wondered what the cuirassiers' horses were doing.
Finally, after nearly being thrown several times, Sebastian and his aide got the horse under control. Mounting it and sending the boy to retreat, the general rode to join his army on the lines.
The weather and subsequent order of retreat had caused merry chaos upon his forces. The road and grass had all turned to mud from the weather, making the retreat all the more difficult. The muskets weighed the men down, slowing their pace as they struggled to reform into marching columns. The archers and pikemen were forced to delay their movements until the musketmen had gotten underway.
Against any other foe, Sebastian would be riding along the lines, swearing at the men to get in formation and start moving. But they were facing Ganondorf; Sebastian could not make them move faster than they already were. He saw it in their faces. That look of dread and terror as ones nightmares came to life before his eyes. They had all grown up hearing the legends from days long gone. Tales of the demon king and the terror he wrought on the world.
Yet, fear did not rule the men. His army remained disciplined and intact. They did not drop their arms and flee into the woods. Despite the certainty of death, they were willing to stand and fight. The same stories of the demon king and all his wicked deeds were filled with hope. Hope with those who had defied his reign. Hope from the ones who provided the afflicted comfort.
And the courage of a young man wielding a sacred sword.
But this was the now, Sebastian reminded himself. He could not count on legends to save the lives of his men and himself. All he could do was kill enough of Ganondorf's constructs to buy others time.
Sebastian kept a close eye on Ganondorf's army. Proper tradition in war called for giving each side enough time to form lines before beginning the battle. He did not trust Ganondorf to abide by tradition.
Yet, the evil king appeared to be doing exactly that. The constructs remained in place while the Hyruleans made their movements. Why Ganondorf was being so generous, Sebastian could not say. He merely counted his blessings and waited.
The Hyrulean army was at last assembled for battle while the last of the musketeers began the long march east. On his signal, Sebastian marched his forces forward. His plan remained largely unaltered, though he would have to risk his entire army instead of a few regiments to bait the enemy.
Sebastian watched Ganondorf's army intently, waiting for their reaction, hoping that they would bite. To his delight, the Moblin ranks advanced to meet his own, though their archers remained rooted to their spot on the slope of the hill.
As their forces drew closer, Sebastian watched his archers. How he wished that he had even double their numbers now that his musketeers were gone. He might have had the chance for a victory. Now, everything rested on his bowmen and their arrows to take as many of the enemy with them as they could.
Sebastian had his bugler sound halt and for his archers to prepare to fire. The bugle blasts sounded and his forces came to a stop. The archers rooted their shields and readied their arrows, sticking their spares into the ground under them.
The Moblins continued their march forward, either unaware or uncaring of the Hyruleans' actions. Sebastian kept his eyes fixed on the enemy. His mind tried to decipher their actions. Ganondorf was far from stupid. There had to be a reason why he had not ordered his forces to halt.
But, if he was making a mistake, Sebastian was fully intent on letting Ganondorf make it. He gave the order for his archers to start their volley. Over a thousand men set their arrows and aimed for the enemy. It was at the moment they loosed their deadly rain that Ganondorf's next move was revealed.
A strong wind came up from the west, blowing directly into the face of the arrows. Every single last one was sent tumbling to the earth, landing harmlessly in the grass and weeds. At the same time, Ganondorf's own archers sent their own arrows skyward. Bolstered by the wind, the arrows went far, piercing the armor of the Hyrulean soldiers.
Sebastian swore out loud and had his general of the cuirassiers called up. A third volley by the Moblins had landed by the time he had arrived. Sebastian's underling and fellow Kurfürsten rode up, raising the visor on his helmet.
"Yes, -" the man started to say.
"Take your men and kill those damn Wizzrobes!" Sebastian said, cutting him off. "I don't care what you have to do or how many men you lose! Just kill those sorcerers!" The man scowled.
"Those are my dukes and counts, the finest of Hyrule's nobility," he said, his jowls and gray beard wobbling with every word. "I will not send them off to be slain by monster trash."
"Your nobles?" Sebastian shouted. His hand shot forward and grabbed the man's helmet, nearly yanking him off his horse.
"I don't care about your nobles! They have sons to replace them! Now you go and do your duty or else I will have my last messenger inform His Majesty of your cowardice in the face of the enemy!"
Sebastian released the man's helmet. He hurriedly turned his horse and made his way back. There was a reason why the king made Sebastian the captain general and him merely a brigadier. He turned his attention back to front. His archers had failed. Now, it would be on the pikemen, the infantry, to decide the battle.
The Moblins lowered their pikes as they started to run forward. Sebastian's men lowered their own pikes in response. Even at his distance, Sebastian could hear the roars of the Moblins, savage, dog-like growls, as they charged headlong into the Hyrulean ranks. Here, his musketeers would have devastated the charge. Instead all he had to rely on was the mass of iron-tipped spears.
The clash of man and beast was thunderous. The Moblins' pikes pierced right through the armor of the men on the front ranks. Many of the men fell where they stood. Many also found the strength of hold, avenging the deaths of their comrades with a thrust of the pike of their own.
As did the front ranks fight, so did the second, and the third. The Hyrulean army would not yield a single foot of ground, not while they still had breath. Under a hailstorm of arrows and pike, the Hyruleans pressed forward. Pikes were discarded as the men drew their swords and attacked.
The men lunged forward, blades aimed for the hearts of the Moblins. The beasts fought back, grabbing men and drawing them close. The Moblins' massive jaws came down on the throats of the Hyruleans like a vise, ripping and tearing the flesh. Still the soldiers of Hyrule pressed on.
Sebastian watched from a distance while his guards formed ranks to protect against any enemy breakthroughs. The enemy archers continued to launch their volleys, uncaring about their own forces that they struck. He glanced at the enemy rear, waiting for his cuirassiers to attack.
The cuirassiers appeared, swords drawn, charging straight for the enemy. But instead of the rear, they aimed at the flank of the attacking Moblins. Sebastian shouted every curse he knew on the head of his general. The damn fool, thinking more of his pride, believed he could turn the battle by attacking the front lines.
The horsemen crushed the Moblins before them, the riders slashing and stabbing at every one they came across. They washed over the enemy like a tide over the sand. Some of the Moblins panicked, dropping their weapons and running for the Gulley Forest to the north.
As the charge ended and the cuirassiers began to reform their lines, Ganondorf changed his battle of meet this new threat. His left wing, having stayed in place, began to move forward in a wheel movement, aiming to contain the cuirassiers and force them back.
The brigadier general, his head full of dying in the glory of battle, urged his men to charge the enemy wing head on. His nobles, just as prideful, obliged their lord and charged the Moblin wing.
The Moblins halted and lowered their pikes. The cuirassiers rode straight into the pikes. Neither rider nor horse escaped, each one meeting their end on the iron tip of the spears. Their bodies fell onto the enemy, crushing a few, but sparing most. The general was among the first to die, his head torn from his neck.
Sebastian watched, helplessly, as his only hope of ending the merciless winds died in vain. Cursing once more, he looked back at the front line. His men were still fighting, but they were losing. One by one, they fell to the ground. Their strength began to waver; some were dropping their weapons and running east. Gaps were opening in the line, with no one to plug them.
Drawing his sword, Sebastian looked at his guard.
"Men! Today is the day when you fulfill your life's purpose! The King of Evil believes that we are mere beasts to be herded to a slaughter! Hold tight to each other and march forward! Show them a brotherhood in arms that no monster could ever know!"
The guard roared in reply and marched forward. Heavy plate and mail clanked with their steps. In Hyrulean tradition, they carried great swords, long blades that needed both hands. Sebastian rode behind them, his sword at the ready. As they approached the enemy troops, Sebastian made his peace with heaven.
The Moblins had broken up as they broke through the Hyrulean lines, attacking at random. When Sebastian and his guard arrived, they picked off the stragglers. When the great swords came down, the Moblins had their skull cleaved in two. Alone or in groups, the Moblins were pushed back through the gap. The Hyrulean army gained a new breath of life as they saw their lord fighting alongside them.
It was then that the Lynels appeared, charging straight to where the gap had been. The guard steeled themselves against the constructs. The men in the front rank thrust their swords towards the bellies of the ox-bodied monsters. The men in the rear pressed forward, taking the place of the ones who fell.
Sebastian saw his men fight bravely, worthy of remembrance in song and poem. But they fought without hope of victory. Even with their heavy armor and weapons, they were no match for the Lynels. Their twin blades, enchanted, cut through the plate without effort. The men in the rear were killed as easily in the front, the Lynels' great swords breathing flame that no armor could stop.
Shouting out for the glory of Hyrule, Sebastian charged the enemy, his horse leaping over the bodies of the dead. He had only to land when a Lynel swung its great swords at him, cutting him along the belly. His legs stayed with the horse. The rest of him was sent to ground to join the rest of his men in death.
The battle lasted only a few hours. True to the stories, Ganondorf left no survivors. A lucky few managed to hide in the Gully Forest. There they stayed, left to live with their cowardice as they saw their brothers in arms die defending home and family against Ganondorf.
With the path now clear, Ganondorf resumed his march on North Castle. The Triforce would soon be within his grasp once again.
