Chapter 4- Nocturnal Sights
"Dead?" Link whispered hoarsely. "But that's not…how? Why?"
"I wouldn't know!" Malus snapped. "Just follow me."
The two men descended the stairway once again, turning down a path parallel to the one taken by the body's escorts. This led them down to the main foyer, where dozens of servants and nobles alike had gathered in their nightgowns to see what the commotion was about. Malus, with the help of several other gentry explained what had happened, and soon the hall was filled with cries of despair.
A general had filed into the hall to speak with Malus privately. "Sir, I can only do what I can for tonight, but by tomorrow, half of Hyrule will know," the general said exasperatedly. "For tonight, we have to fortify the castle and keep panic to a minimum. The guards have searched the castle's every nook and cranny but we have found none to be guilty."
"Then…he has likely escaped into the night," Malus responded quickly. "Station yourselves outside the doors for the night watch. We will take care of everything else tomorrow morning. I shall meet you in the armory at dawn for orders."
"Very well, sir. One last thing; does the Princess know of her father?"
Malus shook his head. "No. She shall be notified in the morning."
The general bowed his head solemnly, casting a grave frown at Link, and then strode away toward the oak doors.
The hall was still chaotic and noisy. Most of the nobles had returned to bed, but the servants talked fearfully among themselves, wondering, praying that the killer was not still loose in the castle. When it had become too much, Malus raised his voice and shouted, "Enough! Back to your chambers, all of you!"
The ones closest to him flinched at the order, and scurried off in clusters in every direction. It took nearly ten minutes, but soon the hallway was completely devoid of activity.
The exception was a single Hyrulean guard jogging down the stairs, panting with each breath. He slid to a stop in front of the two young men, hunched over to catch his breath.
"Sir," he said between breaths. "…Sir…there's been a…another disturbance."
Malus looked like he would be sick. He swallowed hard, rubbing his temple with his thumb, and muttered, "What?"
"Apparently the killer did not stop with our lord," the guard stated, anger gleaming in his eyes. "The old master Archimago lies dead upstairs as well."
There was a moment of silence. Link glanced at both his brother and the guard, keeping himself mute for the time being. Malus stared blankly at the floor, his gaze hollow.
"Escort him away."
A deafening, gloomy chill pervaded the halls of Scutum's castle. Flurries of movement cut through the heaviness of the air as servants, guards, and keepers hurried to follow orders. It seemed, Link noticed, that the vassals followed a new voice of authority. As the deceased king's apprentice, Malus had, for the time being, taken control. It was he who commanded tighter security around the castle grounds, ordered round-the-clock watches at almost every door. He ordered for the king's chambers to be cleared out entirely. The body had long been moved, the blood sponged from the floor, though now the room was emptied of every piece off furniture, every painting removed from the wall, the royal blue drapes ripped from the window. Soon, the room housed nothing but newly revealed cracks in the walls.
Link was amazed the most by how easily the vassals answered to Malus. Malus, who as a boy never had the heart to stand up for himself, directed the men and women like a general would his soldiers, with the same air of command. Likewise, the humble vassals obeyed his words in a dignified manner, without questioning or second-guessing him. Their obedience appeared to be prompted by sheer awe of the young man. Or, perhaps even fear. The difference was not always clear.
Every servant in the castle was busy, but Link found that he was at a loss of what to do with himself. Before the king's death, he could usually catch up to Malus somewhere and play observer during normal routine activity. Now he barely saw his brother, since he was usually busy with mysterious tasks up in the highest reaches of the main tower, or overseeing the outdoor soldiers' training sessions. Even though Link understood the importance of Malus's job at the moment, he could not help but feel slightly resentful at the neglect. After all, three years had passed without his brother's company, and during that time they grew farther and farther apart until what they had became an acquaintanceship rather than a brotherhood.
For the first time since his arrival, Link fell victim to boredom. He paced up and down hallways, from upper to lower stories, watching people carry out their tasks. Once in a while, he wandered to the training grounds to the rear of the castle, watching the soldiers sword-train and practice drilling exercises. He only met up with Malus at mealtimes, and even then he usually ate alone in the dining hall. After about a week, it occurred to him that never, not since the lunch they shared upon his arrival, had he caught a glimpse of Princess Zelda.
Link finally found her one afternoon standing beside a window on the second floor. She leaned lightly on the pane, he hand barely grazing the glass. With her head tilted quizzically, she gazed out over the main courtyard. Her face was hazy, emotionless. Link looked sideways at her from where he stood at the other end of the hallway. He was curious about her; where did she retreat during the day? Was she even grieving? The Princess was so calm, so stoic all the time. If she felt any strong emotions, she was skilled at keeping them hidden.
The Princess jerked her hand back and strode away from the window, her eyes suddenly downcast and angry. Seemingly oblivious to everything else, she forcefully brushed past Link's shoulder.
"Oh," she stopped and turned toward Link. "I beg your pardon."
"It's all right…your Highness," said Link, bowing his head a few inches. "Err, Princess? May I ask you a question?"
"You may."
"Well, now that the king is gone, he will have to be succeeded. My brother seems to be unofficially taking that position for the time being. I figured since you're the princess, you would be next in line."
He wondered if his statement was too bold, and he immediately regretted saying it. However, he was surprised to see the Princess give him a wide smile. It was bright, yet somehow not genuine.
"As we royal family members know, the law states that a female heir to the throne must be married, if she so wishes to rule before her twentieth birthday. That day is two years from now, I'm afraid."
"Oh," was the only reply Link could think of. "And, you believe that Malus will succeed the king?"
Princess Zelda's fake smile widened a fraction. "That will be for the courts to decide. But since they are, as it seems, subordinate, then I have no doubt that Malus will take the throne."
My big brother…a king? The thought was mind-blowing. Link could think of nothing more to say at this, so he merely nodded his understanding. As the Princess turned to leave, Link spoke again. "Oh, and Princess?"
"Yes, Link?"
Startled by the informal reference, Link faltered. He cleared his throat, and said, "I am…very sorry for your loss. I hardly knew His Majesty well personally, but he was a great leader, from what I have heard."
The Princess's smile slowly faded. "The aftermath will pass, such as all things do," she said evenly. "Death is just another journey, although one would not know what lies ahead unless he plunges forward…sorry, but I really must go. Enjoy the day."
As Princess Zelda walked away, Link mentally chewed over what she said. The girl was quite wise for her tender age; anyone could see that. But Link was slightly baffled by her casual way of speaking to him. He supposed his prejudice to nobles gave him a vision of prim, stuffy aristocrats who looked down on commoners like piles of dirt.
Something Link's father told him echoed in his mind. "One can judge another's character not by how he treats his superiors, or his equals, but how they treat their inferiors. Virtue can be found in those who uplift their fellow man rather than spit in their faces."
Whether Link was truly inferior to anyone in that castle was something he would have to decide for himself.
The night sky was black, the stars blotted out by a rising column of smoke. The two boys stumbled out of the burning apocalypse that was once their house, coughing and covered with burns. The younger of the two tore himself from his sibling's arms as he raced back to the door, which fanned open and released a blinding wave of heat and smoke.
"Link, you idiot! Come back!" yelled the older brother. He ran back into the house after the younger boy shouting with rage and fear. Just then a tiny spherical object whirled through the air and landed softly in the haystack standing to the rear of the burning house. Within seconds, the haystack and everything else within several hundred feet was ablaze, a resonating explosion rocking the earth. The house was destroyed; the ceiling had caved in and there was little hope in restoring the walls.
Beneath all the rubble, a shard of the roof was lifted up and the two boys emerged from their temporary safety shelter, coated in soot but otherwise unharmed from the explosion. The younger boy crawled through the wreckage and called. "Mother? Where are you?"
The older boy limped after his brother. "Let's go back, Link…let's go to the lord's plot, he'll have a bucket brigade going…"
"Not without Mother!" the younger boy screamed. He climbed over smoldering piles of rubbish and he kept calling, "Mother? Mother!" only to be met with silence.
Link's eyes fluttered open sleepily. He turned over in the sheets, facing the window. There were still many hours to go before dawn…
General Grant rode his bay stallion through the bereaved Green River Village, shaking his head mournfully at the burned houses and destroyed crops. He halted his horse and paused in the middle of the road to stare at the discarded shell of a Bombling. It was the sole surviving remnant of the skirmish that had tragically been landed, unintentionally, within the walls of a once-protected village. Worse was how many the General knew died in this skirmish, both within the army and without…
Two young boys the General was familiar with came trotting up to him, stopping a polite distance from him and his horse. The older one saluted. The younger just stared.
"Good day, Malus. Link." The General inclined his head as a standard greeting. The two boys returned the gesture.
The older boy spoke first. "Sir, we don't know what to do. Father has not returned with the other soldiers…"
"Where is he?!" the younger boy demanded.
The General hesitated. He knew where the boys' father was, what had happened to him. He had witnessed the event himself, an event so tragic he had not the heart to explain it to the two boys. He had spent over twenty years in the army, and this was likely the hardest thing he ever had to do. It was usually the surgeons or the healers who told the soldiers' loved ones of the men's' fates.
"Your father," he began. "Won't be coming home."
The older boy gazed to the ground, face unreadable. The younger one buried his face with his hands, dissolving into uncontrollable sobs.
"It's even more sad," the older boy said suddenly, his voice breaking. "Because our mother died in the explosion the other night."
The General gazed pitifully at him. "I'm truly sorry, Malus," he said. "Do what you can for Link."
"Yes sir."
Link turned over uncomfortably in his sleep. He shivered slightly. Dawn would come soon, he hoped.
"Go away!" the young Link shouted angrily at his older brother, who stormed after him in a rage.
Malus did not yell, but his face was etched in a furious countenance as he grabbed his brother's arm to keep him from running away. "Listen, you brat; it wasn't MY fault how everything ended up!"
Link growled and yanked his arm away, trying to run. Malus reached for his arm again and held him back, being much stronger than the ten year old.
"Listen very carefully," Malus told him firmly. "If Father is indeed gone, then it is I who must look after you. And that means we have to tolerate each other for the next few years. Can you handle that?"
The younger boy refused to look at him, but tugged helplessly against his brother's iron-strong grip.
Malus did not let him go. "I said, can you handle that?"
"No!" Link shouted at him. "You can't raise me; you're sixteen!"
"Well, what other option do you have?" Malus shot back at him. "None, that's what! You're a little kid; you don't know anything."
He finally released the boy's arm, and Link leapt away. He disappeared into the halfway-rebuilt hallway and into the bedroom, and emerged several minutes later with a large burden hastily wrapped in brown paper.
Malus stepped forward and tore the paper off, revealing a spotless metal surface adorned with colored symbols.
The older boy frowned. "Is this Dad's shield?"
Link did not bother to cover his tracks. "Yes."
"The Hylian shield? His lucky piece of armor?"
"Yes."
"Why was it in our room?"
The boy was silent. He mumbled incoherently under his breath.
"What?!" Malus demanded.
"I didn't think Dad would leave without it," said Link. "It protected him well for so many years…he never got a bad wound when he had the shield."
"I know that; Dad told us that many times," Malus said irritably. "Why do you have it?"
Link looked down into the shield's shimmering face, gazing listlessly at his own hazy reflection.
Malus started. "You stole it," he said. "No wonder Dad couldn't find it that day. What were you thinking?"
"I thought…" Link began, but he squeezed his eyes shut as tears fought to emerge. "…I thought…he'd stay home and look for it…but he…he went anyway. Before I could give it back to him…"
The boy suddenly took the shield with both hands and hurled it to the side. The heavy metal object shattered the glass window and tumbled out of the decrepit house in a heap outside.
Malus frowned at him. "Nice one, little brother. The glass was just fixed."
"Who cares?" Link bellowed. He stormed back outside, skirting to the side to avoid the shards of glass on the ground, and headed in a direction where he wished to be solitary. Never again would he step foot back into that house, nor would he permit himself to looking at that stupid shield again.
After all, it served as a reminder of Link's role in the death of his father.
With a tired groan, Link sat up, resting his forehead on the palms of his hands. He felt short of breath, as if he had just been running, and his face was slightly damp. He brushed away droplets of sweat from his brow and sighed. He was not going to sleep peacefully.
He resigned to his insomnia and threw his blanket off, kneeling over the side of the bed to feel around for his boots in the darkness. The boots felt oddly coarse around his bare feet.
The window was as dark as the night sky; daybreak would come soon enough, in an hour or two. Link did not know what he would do to pass the time until dawn's light crept over the horizon.
Same thing as I do during the day, I suppose, he thought dully. Walk. He felt strange walking through the castle at nighttime, but he decided it was better than sitting in bed, waiting for restful sleep that would never come.
The shadowy room was brightened suddenly by a copper glow emanating from the nearby nightstand. Link spotted his bronze medal giving off the light, and cocked an eyebrow.
"Great, now what?" he muttered, and swept the medal into his hand. Surprisingly, it felt warm, hot even, and it glowed brighter than ever.
"I don't know what you are," he said aloud to the object. "Nor do I know why you light up in the dark. Is it some kind of magic?"
He stared at the engraved horse head, as if expecting it to give him an answer. When nothing happened, he shook his head.
"What's the use of a magical artifact if all it does is glow?" he lamented. "Isn't magic supposed to be some kind of supernatural power, a blessing to those who wield its strength? Shouldn't it be a means of destroying monsters, or liberating the enslaved? What is it you do, then?"
Link tightened his grip on the object, gazing fiercely into the brightened light. "The only reason I kept you for all these years," he said. "…Was my father. A gift from him wasn't a mere token, but something to be cherished." He huffed. "'Forged by the goddesses themselves,' he told me. Is that what's so special about you?" The bronze medal was as unresponsive as ever.
"The 'goddesses' must miss you," Link told the medal, his voice edged with anger. "Well, they can have you back, if they so wish. If my father was the price paid for me to possess you, then…" He exhaled deeply. "I want no part of you anymore." With that, he opened his fingers and let the medal drop gracefully to the floor.
As he headed for the door, he realized how dejected he felt now. The soliloquy had drained him of his last ounce of levity. Link could only think of the past now, and it filled him with a sense of misery and loneliness he had not felt so strongly in years.
He gazed back at the bronze medal that lay tossed aside on the floor. The glow had faltered a little; it was flickering.
If nothing else, he thought. It can light my way through the castle. With that, he picked the medal back up and left his room.
