Chapter Nineteen
It wasn't a Hylian ship, but at least it wasn't a Valentine vessel, and thank goodness it wasn't a Gerudo plane. Allowing the warm breeze of the ocean to brush pleasantly across his face, Link stood on the rear deck of the Gerudo destroyer Glorious, leaning forward against the railing as his eyes gazed upon their distant continent shrouded in darkness. A crescent moon hung in the sky as it was reflected by the Serenes Ocean, its visage turning into sparkles of light with the hull of the Glorious – running dark with no exterior light turned on, a phantom in the darkness – cutting through the water like a knife, waves rolling gently off and crashing as the vessel quietly made its way towards the nautical border that separated the southern Serenes Ocean from the Northern Aurora.
Link needed that peace of mind. He needed the gentle nocturnal lunar night, the splashes of the waves, the tranquil oceans, the gentle rocking of the ship that swung to and fro like a cradle. If only for a day, it was an opportunity for him to turn off his brain, find some inner peace, distract himself from the fact that things were spiraling down in ways that were beyond his control…and very possibly beyond the comprehension of a mere intelligence agent who did not have the full picture.
Link needed that peace of mind. It was probably what saved him from Anansi in the first place.
Despite clear reluctance and suspicion on part of himself and Durandara, Link had ultimately agreed with Emi's assessment that they needed to act now. That Emi was insanely prepared for his acceptance only fueled that paranoia; within three hours, Link – having changed back into his Valentine special forces fatigues – had been escorted to a waiting helicopter almost immediately afterwards, subjected to an in-flight briefing, landed at Samani Military Airbase to immediately be driven precisely two hundred meters across the runway to a waiting fixed-wing military transport aircraft that flew him and Epona to a civilian airport in the town of Nahwa that had fallen under military command, before they were put into another helicopter again that eventually took him to Naval Base Nahwa and the waiting Glorious. No sooner had Link and Epona set foot on the ship, the Glorious was setting sail and moving northwards towards the Aurora Ocean, preparing to insert him into Hyrule from the east coast, a move Emi had explained had the best chance of seeing him arriving in Hyrule safely.
When Link had given her a skeptical look, Emi reminded the Joint Intelligence agent that taking a plane to New Wagner had been Zelda's idea, not anyone on Gerudo's military staff; the crown princess was the one who wanted to sacrifice survivability for alacrity. "She had her reasons," Emi had said dispassionately, making it questionable as to whether she approved of Zelda's gutsiness or viewed her lack of military sense with contempt.
Approaching booted footsteps attracted Link's attention, and he turned just slightly to see a familiar figure, which developed into a familiar visage as she came closer and her face cleared in the darkness, assisted by a faint, nearby light. "The captain says the Glorious is traveling at maximum speed, and we'll reach the insertion point tomorrow evening," said the officer who had stopped politely at a respectful distance of a meter away from Link. "You should probably get some rest until then."
Link merely nodded nonchalantly, and did his best to suppress a sigh as he was forced to consider yet another element in all this wheels-within-wheels spiraling around him.
Major Jessica. Having disappeared four nights ago from Fort Garuda with only an explanation that MICO temporarily needed her elsewhere – with MICO filling that gap left in the Hylian delegation's security with one Captain Michaela – the young military intelligence officer had suddenly appeared before Link within minutes of his boarding the Glorious. Emi's doing, no doubt; it was then that Link saw a major piece of the "big picture" then, realizing why Jessica had been gone for four days straight. He wouldn't admit it, but the Joint Intelligence agent honestly felt a bit uncomfortable, as if his trust had somehow been betrayed, even if unwillingly.
Link sighed, shook his head to Jessica's quiet confusion. He couldn't think like that; it wasn't Jessica's fault. She was as much a pawn as Link was.
Although it seemed that it was an end that that exchange, Jessica continued to awkwardly stand there for a moment. Link wondered if the major wanted to apologize about how the Joint Intelligence agent was being sent to Hyrule under such circumstances – only six days ago had he been dispatched from Fort Garuda like this to destroy Anansi, yet here he was again, a lone Joint Intelligence agent being sent to do something about Jormungand – but knew she could not actually do so while dressed in the robes of MICO.
Emi had not specifically said so, and the in-flight briefing Link received from Fort Garuda to Samani Military Airbase avoided the word while using "liaison" instead, but Link knew that Jessica was being unofficially designated as his handler, for better or for worse. Emi was keeping as many tabs as she could on this operation.
The sound of waves drowned out the sound of Jessica sighing, and even Link found himself surprised as she joined him at the railing, staring too at an oceanic horizon that was barely visible this late at night. Despite his misgivings about the situation at hand, despite his realization that Jessica may be the piece that MICO had set against him, Link couldn't help but feel that her presence was welcome.
"Where is it you will return to when this is all over?" Jessica asked; Link couldn't help note that, purposefully or not, there was a slightly poetic, almost archaic way by which the MICO major formed her sentences. Maybe she was lapsing into her more professional persona again, something to cope with the stress from being used by her superiors.
That aside, however, the Joint Intelligence agent carefully considered the question. Logically, the first place he'd have to report back to after the war was over was Hyrule City, back to Joint Intelligence headquarters…no, back to Hyrule Palace, if he was still expected to serve as Crown Princess Zelda's interim bodyguard. But even that was a maybe. They'd have to win the war first. They'd have to find some order amongst all this chaos.
And so when Link gave a shrug of uncertainty, Jessica seemed genuinely confused. "Do you not have a family waiting?"
No, he didn't, and the faux Valentine special forces first lieutenant made that clear with an indifferent shake of his head. He had never been one to consider how fortunate children with parents were, nor had he ever really complained about his lot in life. He was raised in a well-to-do orphanage – that was enough of a blessing, given the alternatives – cared for by the Spencer Welfare Program, and eventually scouted, trained, and hired by Joint Intelligence. In a way, Link supposed Joint Intelligence was the closest thing he had to a family…but even he wasn't that naïve to believe that an intelligence organization dealing with lies and treachery really saw a sense of camaraderie with each other, never mind family ties.
And, as if realizing she may have stepped on some toes there, Jessica bowed her head, murmured, "I apologize."
Link's shrug plainly told he did not mind.
A navy seawoman – either taking a stroll or making a round across the ship's deck – passed by, saluting both Link and Jessica as she did so, continued on after the major saluted back.
Jessica leaned back against the railing, tilting her head back so her gaze was riveted upon the moon, a contrast to Link's leaning forward with her eyes settled on the dark, distant horizon. It was cool out here in the seas, a contrast to the searing climate in Gerudo; it would only get colder the further they traveled north. The Joint Intelligence agent spared a glance at Jessica if only to assess her current state of mind, found himself looking first at the major's thin, shapely waist and thighs, the modest robes of MICO doing nothing to hide the muted curves. A truly feminine form, tempered by what was likely the diminutive stature of her heritage, but complemented by the wholesomeness of her sex. Link found himself looking away almost immediately after, suppressing any expression from forming on his face, thankful that Durandara – who was undoubtedly watching the conversation in silence – could not read minds.
"Have you ever been to Azuri?" Jessica suddenly asked; her gaze at the moon remained unmoved.
Link shook his head and refrained from looking at Jessica again, but he knew of the place, if only by reputation. It was a Gerudo province, one of the richer administrative divisions of Gerudo that was also a popular tourist destination for Hylians due to its beautiful natural scenery, and classic native architecture and nature.
"I was born in Garuda," whispered Jessica gently, "but my family holds the province of Azuri, and I lived there for most of my childhood." She turned around, leaned forward on the railing as Link did, and the Joint Intelligence agent – tactful enough to understand the mood in conversation – looked towards the MICO major, her brown eyes probing Link's darkened sunglasses for any sign of the Hylian's blue ones. "One day, when this is all over, I will take you to there. There are…reasons why I would not wish to go back now, but, one day, I will take you there. The Righteous Tyrant called it in 'Gem of the Sands' in the seventh century when he conquered it for the Dvin Dynasty."
Link gave Jessica an amused look, almost smiled; his repertoire on ancient Gerudo history was not polished at all, but he somehow found that the words "righteous" and "tyrant" were generally not two words one found together in a single term, especially in historic retrospect by a democratic society.
That look did not go unnoticed, and Jessica – understanding the nuances in Interlingua well enough – managed a small, gentle smile herself. "It's a Gerudo title that has no perfect translation to Interlingua," she explained. "Translators chose to use the word 'tyrant' to convey a sense that he was not merely just the monarch of a country, but the undisputed, unchallenged, all-powerful leader of a great dynasty." The tone of the voice seemed to suggest that she was in awe, and that her sentiments were likely to be shared by many who considered the Righteous Tyrant a legendary historical figure. "By most accounts, he was a kind and chivalrous man. His hegemony across the desert did not directly create the Gerudo Union, but it indirectly led to it by establishing its foundations."
A founding father, then, if not the founding father. Given what Link knew about Gerudo culture and history, there were probably religious connotations behind it as well. But he found nothing wrong with that; the history of the continent – Gerudo, Hyrule, and Valent were all suspect – was shrouded in myth and legend. Link knew enough of Hylian history to understand that even its own citizens had tried to venerate their own forefathers as divine beings in the past.
"Azuri's a beautiful place," Jessica continued, her words somehow carrying the lofty, dreamlike quality of reminiscence, the quality of her voice almost songlike, "blessed with a natural network of oases with water so pure it glitters in the sun while you can see the bottom, small forests of rare blossom trees that draw oasis water from underground and shed beautiful pink petals that are carried through the air by gentle winds, the famous Sandsea with its shifting colored sands like waves moving to and from shore on a gentle night."
Link had heard of all this, if only through common tourist knowledge of what there was to see around the world. Hearing it come from someone who had lived there throughout most of her life, however – hearing it come from Jessica, however – made him feel as if he could visualize the scene, the imagery, as if he were just standing right there amidst the beauty.
Jessica smiled at her Hylian counterpart; it was a childlike, girlish smile, embarrassed and awkward in its innocence, but warm – Link could practically feel it flush against his face – in its kindness. "It may be little beyond a foolish pride for my homeland," she murmured, but her voice did not lose the strength of its conviction, "but it's just about all I can offer you: The beauty of a country at peace. My home when it is not at war."
Slowly, Link nodded, gently smiled back. For a pair of pawns at war, it was as good as any wish they could ask for.
With evident frustration, Major Steven of the 1st Special Investigative Unit sighed as he dropped into a nearby chair while there was still a chair to sit on. Valentine forces were retreating, and friendlies were beginning to pull everything out with military efficiency, soldiers, officers, wounded, weapons, vehicles, documents, computers, tents, and – indeed – chairs. Fort Regner was no longer a defensible position, and Valentine morale was sinking, obviously aware that they were now quietly slinking away with their tail between their legs while the remnants of local Hylian resistance were now harassing them from all sides and Gerudo forces were accumulating an offensive force to the south of the border.
They weren't military intelligence, but they weren't stupid. In the face of every soldier and every officer that marched and ran around him as they attended to the pullout, Steven could see that the muscle of the Valentine military – in the face of the news, the rumors, and suspicions of how the entire war was suddenly going for them – was beginning to learn just how much losing Anansi had cost them.
Steven wondered just exactly how much use the 1st Special Investigative Unit was to the war effort; even if they did manage to prevent the destruction of Jormungand or Quetzalcoatl – assuming that the enemy would even be brazen enough to make another attempt – it was debatable how much good it would do them all. In fact, even as he sighed at his absolute lack of progress in the investigation, his arrival here at Fort Regner another roadblock in his efforts, he wondered how much use he was to the 1st SIU. It had been four days since the formation of the 1st Special Investigative Unit, yet here he was. Alexandria had already submitted a revised set of protocols for special forces to ensure any infiltrators masquerading as one of them would have a difficult time, and Juno couldn't be reached, indicating she had gone deep. Four days, and his co-workers had done so much work, yet Steven had absolutely nothing to show for it.
He sighed; the major was tired. Flying around the continent, forgoing sleep, just as he was now, arriving in Fort Regner in the dead of night, only to realize there was nothing here for him to find anymore, and any investigative efforts cut short by the mass retreat. It wasn't that Steven regretted this – he knew what he signed up for and he was proud to serve his country, regardless of sacrifices to his own personal well-being – but the fact that he was making no progress bothered him to no end. There were more questions than answers, Majors Alexandria and Juno kept answering the important questions before Steven could even get to them, and evidence was now either disappearing or somehow being protected by an authority that he was getting a hard time to circumvent through the powers invested in him by the National Defense Committee.
Again, Steven sighed, swiveling his head and looking around, seeing the legions of soldiers filing to and fro, a once-proud outpost and salient being reduced to an abandoned Hylian ghost town. Sounds of distant gunfire filled the air as soldiers on the main line of resistance warded off sporadic Gerudo patrols from the south clearly sent to harass them, while anti-aircraft guns and missiles occasionally fired at aircraft that flew too close. Apparently, Gerudo had confirmed that there was no civilian population left in Fort Regner, and all forms of ordinance were being authorized. An air-to-ground missile had detonated no less than two city blocks away from where he had stepped out of a helicopter when he first landed in Fort Regner.
Turning back around and raising his arms in preparation to stretch, Steven froze in his seat as he laid his eyes upon an approaching familiar figure wearing an officer's uniform that was very much tainted with drying blood that was beginning to crest on the sleeves and chest
Quite a lot of blood, in fact; Steven wondered why the officer hadn't collapsed from anemia yet.
It was at that same moment that Major Alexandria, too, noticed Steven's presence – or, at the very least, recognized the officer who had been turning around in his seat as a colleague from the 1st Special Investigative Unit. They were of the same rank, but Steven somehow felt a compelling need to stand at attention, which he did. "Major Alexandria," he gave a quick, almost awkward nod of his head.
"Major Steven," Alexandria nodded back stoically, almost lazily. She didn't seem bothered at all by the fact that her uniform was stained with blood, moving instead to a nearby fold-up table that hadn't been dismantled yet, rifled through a cardboard box, and found – to her pleasure – a bottle of water which she immediately uncapped and drank from.
The fact that Alexandria seemed to have no strong reaction to all that blood unsettled Steven a bit. "Is that…" the male intelligence major ventured cautiously, "…your blood?"
Alexandria blinked, removed the bottle from her lips, looked down at her unfirom. That was actually a good question. Getting away from armed Hylian soldiers had definitely been more important at the time, but now that she was back on the Valentine side of the MLR, Alexandria swiftly checked her arms and wherever there was blood for injuries. For the most part, however, she found no cuts or holes that she had not been aware of during the adrenaline rush when she had taken out a Hylian squad, so the major surmised that the blood was likely from the throat of the soldier she had slit. "Apparently not," she replied blandly, giving a polite nod to Steven as a respectful sign in response to his apparent concern, although she was also swift to change the subject. "You're dangerously close to the MLR."
"We're pulling out, I know," Steven nodded. "I just needed to try and try to gather some intelligence from the local salvaging team, but…" His expression turned into one of almost awkward embarrassment.
Alexandria didn't need much elaboration on that point. "You ran into an A-17," she nodded, almost more to herself than to Steven, who nodded a bit reluctantly. After a moment of thought, she poured some of the water onto her hands, allowing her to wash off the blood that was already dried there, producing a handheld computer from her pockets afterwards. "Linking to your PDA."
Steven hurriedly produced his own handheld computer to accept a transmission request from Alexandria, showing his obvious surprise when what seemed to be a plethora of text and image files began to copy itself wireless into his own device.
After eighteen seconds of transfer, all performed in what Steven considered to be awkward silence, the download completed itself, and Alexandria slipped her handheld computer back into her pocket, explaining, "This is all the data I have so far."
"Oh." Now Steven was even more surprised, almost stunned. His impression of Alexandria had been something of a lone wolf incapable of team play; her generosity was unexpected, but certainly not unwelcome. "Um…thank you."
Alexandria merely nodded, took another gulp from the water bottle. "If you're going to look around here, be quick about it," she said after swallowing. "We're all pulling out."
"Where are you going, major?"
"To the helicopters. I don't think there's anything else here I can use."
Steven took the initiative; given how fast everyone in the unit seemed to move and how often they dropped out of contact, this could be his only rare chance to ask. "We could cooperate, Major Alexandria," he offered. "Coordinate investigations faster, brainstorm…"
But Alexandria regarded him with a look that was similar to that same look she had given him back at the Castle in Velvet when he first made that same suggestion in the elevator. "I work better alone," she repeated. "I said that back at the Castle."
Frustration got the better of him, and although Steven immediately regretted the words that came out of his mouth afterwards, he couldn't quite catch himself as he stated, "Major Juno said she's worked with you before."
Alexandria found three ways to interpret that sentence, decided she would not choose among them until Steven clarified what he meant. "She has," the major allowed coolly.
Alexandria's coolness and seemingly deliberate dispassion towards the issue did not go unnoticed by her colleague; Steven was inexperienced, not stupid. "Do the two of you have some kind of history?"
"Not really."
Steven wasn't really sure he believed that answer. "I'm getting the feeling that there might be some antagonistic…"
"Major Steven," Alexandria suddenly interrupted; she did not change either her expression, her posture, or her tone of voice, but for some ungodly reason, Steven felt as if the ambient temperature had suddenly dropped by several degrees, and he immediately fell silent. "Officers in military intelligence tend to live longer when they ask fewer questions."
He would've thought it was impossible, but Steven practically felt his throat click shut as he unsuccessfully fought a nervous gulp.
Calmly taking another drink of water, the female military intelligence major leisurely drained the bottle of its contents before – again changing neither expression, posture, or tone – concluded, "I'm joking."
It took Steven a full four seconds to chuckle awkwardly, uneasily; he really couldn't tell four seconds ago, and he really couldn't tell now.
"You're a military intelligence officer," Alexandria simply and dispassionately finished as she tossed the water bottle into a nearby box; she had no idea whether or not anyone would bother to actually throw those bottles away, but Valentine social etiquette of not littering was difficult to break even when on enemy territory in wartime. "I shouldn't be giving you preconceptions, and you shouldn't form them. Believe not what you hear, but what you see. Do what you need to get the job done. Do what others aren't doing, and do what only you can do. It's why you were put on the 1st SIU." With that, she gave Steven a curt nod, a mutter of "major" as a farewell, and strode over to the helicopters that were already beginning to spin their propellers in preparation for leaving Fort Regner.
Watching Alexandria's retreating back disappear into the bustle of military activity, Steven quietly contemplated exactly what the other major was suggesting, trying to piece together the tidbits that had both been said and left unsaid. It was only minutes after that Steven finally turned from where he had been standing and made his way to the helicopters leaving Fort Regner as well. He, too, needed to get a move on.
Despite the turbulence and the unsettling shaking of the aircraft, Zelda had been dozing off in her seat when the sound of approaching boots gently shook at her attention, a subconscious realization that someone was approaching and the deliberateness of that pace indicated it was possibly a message for her. Her eyelids slowly and lazily fluttering open, she tilted her head upwards just in time to see one of the members of the Gerudo aircrew – the name eluded the crown princess at the moment, but she spotted the insignia of a warrant officer – gently stopping beside her, bracing herself against the shaking aircraft hull as a hand reached out to grab at the back of the seat in front of Zelda.
"The Hylian air force has scrambled two fighters to escort us to New Wagner, your Highness," the warrant officer said just loudly enough to allow her voice to be heard over the engines. "If you keep an eye out the windows, you should see them pulling up in a few minutes."
"Thank you," murmured Zelda tiredly, rubbing her eyes after the warrant officer had returned to her station. Despite the inner excitement she had felt when solid contact with Hylian forces had finally been made two hours ago by the Gerudo aircrew, and Hylian forces confirmed an air corridor the Gerudo transport plane could fly through, fatigue had got the better of the crown princess, and Zelda had decided to close her eyes for a bit.
She ran the situation through her head swiftly: They were on a Gerudo military transport plane on Zelda's personal request, their destination New Wagner, the only confirmed Hylian military rally point she knew of. The subdued light of the sky through the window indicated it was morning; they had been flying for more than half a day already, having been forced to take several roundabout routes to avoid enemy forces and find a safe way to their destination. Seated on the right column of seats on the plane – the Gerudo transport plane was meant for ferrying large amounts of troops, and looked like a pragmatic, bare-bones version of a commercial airliner – Zelda found Impa and Leonore seated on the left columns right across the aisle.
"Good morning, your Highness," Impa greeted with a smile, which attracted Leonore's attention as she looked up from a stack of documents in her hand and over a pair of reading glasses.
"How long was I out?" Zelda asked, finally dropping her hands from her eyes and giving a rapid series of blinks to clear the blur from her vision.
"Just a bit more than an hour. How are you feeling?"
"In serious need of some coffee," groaned the crown princess, stretching in her seat and quite happy no one else was nearby to see her do so. The temptation to ask the aircrew if they actually stowed coffee on the plane like actual commercial aircraft lingered in her mind strongly, but Zelda suppressed that urge. Her vision finally clearing entirely, she stared at the two older women, frowned. "I never see the two of you sleep."
From the far left, Leonore smirked briskly. "Impa and I," declared the director of Hylian Joint Intelligence, "are getting close to the point in our very long lives where we'll have more time than we'll ever need to sleep." The grin from the sardonic joke turned into a kinder smile. "It can wait, your Highness."
A tight expression forming around Zelda's face hinted at some displeasure at Leonore's gallows humor, but no retort was given before the intercom of the plane came on, broadcasting the vaguely familiar voice of Gerudo air force Captain Kim from the cockpit. "Princess Zelda, radar is showing Hylian jets pulling up on both sides; if you look out the windows, you should see them in just a few seconds."
The princess quickly unbuckled the seatbelt to her aisle seat, slid over to the window seat and peered out the glass. Sure enough, a short moment later, a gray Hylian fighter jet – short nosed and just a bit fatter than the leaner designs of more modern fighter aircraft – appeared from behind and below, gaining enough altitude and speed to line up just a hundred meters off the transport plane's right wing before decelerating to match heading and velocity.
"Raptures," Zelda murmured, recognizing the plane model.
"Rapture, your Highness," Leonore corrected; again, a brisk smirk had crossed her lips, and she leaned back in her seat to give everyone else an unhindered view out the port window she sat beside. "There's a Nemesis on this side."
From her angle, Zelda couldn't see the other fighter jet through the small window on the other side, but Impa could, frowning as she did so. "That our escorts are a pair of incredibly outdated fighters does not bode well," she muttered worriedly; she was just old enough to recall that both models had been put into service more than three decades ago.
But the crown princess did not seem disheartened as she turned around to look out her own window once more, murmuring just loud enough for the other two to hear, "General Anders had remarked to me once how embarrassed he felt looking at our outdated third-generation jets still resting in military hangars because the Senate refused to increase the air force budget." Unseen to Impa and Leonore but understood through tone of voice, Zelda smiled, "Now, I can't express how glad I am to see them."
Impa and Leonore exchanged soft, wizened, understanding smiles.
The warrant officer returned from the rear, stopping just beside the Hylians in their seats. "We're beginning our landing now," she explained as she swiftly bent over and to ensure that everyone's seatbelts were securely fastened. Noting that she had unbuckled her seatbelt to get a better view at the Rapture fighter jet out her window, Zelda quickly rectified that. "Please remain in your seats until the aircraft safely comes to a stop."
It was a full twenty minutes later that the Gerudo airplane finally touched down on the tarmac and landed, thirty-five thousand kilograms of desert-weathered aircraft slowly coming to a stop as it turned down from the runway of what remained of New Wagner's civilian airport – now repurposed into a military one – to what looked very much like a rather small convoy of waiting Hylian soldiers beside a single humvee, standing smartly in line. It was only after the plane stopped beside that formation of Hylian soldiers that the Gerudo aircrew helped the Hylian delegation out of their seats, handling their baggage as well, leading them to the rear of the aircraft.
It was as the aircraft door hissed and popped open, a small metallic staircase extending out the transport plane's low body to the ground, that Zelda stepped out for the first time in almost two entire weeks onto Hylian soil, a sovereign returning to her own country. Immediately, the line of Hylian soldiers, a collection of what seemed to be army infantrymen and air force officers snapped to attention as soon as the crown princess – preceded only by a Gerudo aircrew member who had set up the exit in the first place, and followed immediately by Impa and Leonore – touched down on the ground, saluting smartly in unison against a backdrop of a smoking, bleeding Hylian metropolis in the background, hurting yet still defiantly standing in the face of overwhelming opposition.
Despite never having been one for military ceremony and protocol as a civilian leader, Zelda could think of no better gesture than to salute back for the first time in her tenure as national sovereign. It was a heartwarming moment…one that was surpassed only by the sight of a familiar face at the head of that line.
Or, more accurately – as Zelda realized with a sudden sinking feeling in her stomach – half a familiar face.
Major General Morgan, the young director of the Hylian Office of Long-Range Electronic Reconnaissance, dropped his salute and stood tiredly but proudly before Zelda as soon as she had stopped in front of him. "Your Highness," he gave a curt, military nod, and that motion alone seemed to emphasize what seemed to have happened to his head. Zelda tried to subdue her reaction, but elements of it still made it past her barriers of self-control, a look of concern crossing her face as she inadvertently reached out towards Morgan's face before checking that action. Her eyes laid upon the right side of the major general's head, which had been wrapped around with bandages, enough to obscure his right eye and cheek, as well as a significant portion of the back of his head. Bits of blood still crested the edge of the bandages; in fact, the blood – along with what looked very much like dust and mud – also dried on his military uniform, making him look as weary and battle-hardened as the enlisted who had been fighting on the field, not bad for a major general who had risen through the ranks solely in the technical department.
"General Morgan," whispered Zelda, worried, almost frightened. "Your face…"
"Minor burn wounds from overzealous Valentine airstrikes," Morgan waved it off, but gently scratched at the bandages a bit, then – perhaps remembering that the doctors or medics had warned him not to do so – dropped that hand back to his side. He did offer a bit of a terse, humorous grin, however. "Worry not, the doctors said it may heal properly with time, and I'm still prettier than the rest of the Joint Chiefs."
Although she didn't express it aloud, Zelda suddenly felt worried about Morgan's specific usage of the word "may".
Awkwardly, the major general gave a quick look around, as if punctuating that the airfield was devoid of an honor guard, lines of waiting soldiers, pomp. "I apologize that the reception does not befit a royal welcome."
"General." The crown princess had managed a light, patient smile.
Morgan sighed, but it wasn't unkindly. "My apologies, your Highness," he offered with a sheepish smile; the major general did feel a bit silly at poking fun at the fact that they had few men to spare for appearances. "I had to jest a bit; there's been little to laugh at for the past few days."
"Likewise," conceded Zelda. "All's forgiven?"
"If you say so, your Highness," Morgan agreed before the entourage noted that the rest of the Gerudo aircrew was filing out of the transport plane. Zelda gently took two steps aside to allow Captain Kim and the rest of her crew to stop before the group, provide a swift bow to Zelda – as befitted a sovereign – and then a salute to Morgan – as benefitted a highly superior officer of another armed force.
"Captain Kim," the Gerudo pilot stood smartly at attention, her crew mimicking their captain's actions in a neat line behind her. "Gerudo Third Volunteer Aviation Group."
Not having held a military post that had many foreign officers saluting to him, Morgan's slight awkwardness was noted by Zelda as he abruptly saluted back before officers stood at ease. "Major General Morgan, Office of Long-Range Electronic Reconnaissance," he returned the introductions. "I am deeply grateful to all of you for bringing her Highness over safely to New Wagner under such circumstances."
Kim gave a stern nod. "Gerudo looks after her allies, sir."
"I'm grateful to hear it," smiled the major general briskly; it was almost endearing to watch for Zelda, a major general feeling flustered in front of an air force captain. "Your accommodations are still being prepared, but I'm told they're almost ready." He spied the bags that the officers held, noted they looked nothing like military-issue equipment. "Are those her Highness' bags?"
"Yes, sir, and those of the royal chief of staff and director of Joint Intelligence."
Morgan gave a quick look to two soldiers standing behind him, and they quickly detached themselves from the line, moved forward to help take the bags from the Gerudo aircrew before loading them into the back of the waiting humvee. "Thank you," said Morgan. "Is there anything you need in the meantime?"
"No, sir; everything we need is on the plane."
"Very well. I'll send someone to see you to your accommodations as soon as they're ready."
"Thank you, sir." Kim stood straight once more, saluted, and turned to tend to her crew as soon as Morgan had returned that salute, leaving the Hylian entourage to its own.
With formalities taken care of, Morgan gave a small sigh, tugging at his unbuttoned uniform collar, gestured at the waiting humvee only a few meters away. "Shall we, your Highness?"
"Please," replied the crown princess, and, with that, she, the major general, the royal chief of staff, and the director of Joint Intelligence swiftly barked the waiting military vehicle, its driver saluting and opening the door for Zelda as she approached.
Moving to the other side of the humvee, Morgan opened the door for Leonore, maintaining eye contact with Zelda and Impa entering from the left side. "It's good to see you again, Impa, Leonore," he smiled.
"It feels forever since we've last met in that briefing," Impa wheezed tiredly, but there was clear relief in her voice to finally see another familiar Hylian face.
There was evident effort to stifle a grin as Morgan closed the door behind Leonore, jumped shotgun. "Feeling older yet?"
Impa managed to maintain a straight face as she turned serenely to the driver. "Sergeant," she called out in a polite, conversational voice, and the sergeant quickly turned around in his seat to face the royal chief of staff. "Could you please take the general behind the shed and shoot him?" Then, noting that the sergeant actually looked nervously hesitant and startled – utterly oblivious to the wide grin that his major general was wearing beside him – added soon after, "I'm kidding."
Noting the look of perplexed relief on the sergeant's face and what sounded very much like strained laughter, Morgan patted the sergeant on the shoulder, quipped, "I hope she is. Take us to Huntington Manor." He turned back to his passengers in the seats behind him as the sergeant ignited the engine and the car began to roll forward through the airfield and back towards New Wagner proper. "Cleanup of the west wing of Huntington Manor was completed just today, your Highness, and I think will serve well as a temporary place for you to recuperate. We've taken up a new headquarters in the east wing, so we won't be far away."
But Zelda did not miss the "just today" part of the sentence, and picked up the insinuations quickly. "You were waiting for me?" She sounded appropriately surprised.
"Recently, yes. The 107th Infantry Battalion linked up with us two days ago from Fort Regner. They told us that a passing Joint Intelligence agent masquerading as Valentine special forces on a deep cover mission had informed them of your Highness' whereabouts almost two weeks ago. We managed to put two and two together."
Zelda, Impa, and Leonore exchanged surprised looks before they turned into quiet, curious smiles. Somehow, a single agent from Joint Intelligence had become a pivotal factor in the entire war.
The Aurora Ocean was sometimes called the "working man's ocean" due to the number of trade sea lanes it had, as well as the cooler climate compared to the warmer waters and beautiful beaches of the Serenes Ocean to the south. As such, while many of Hyrule's southeastern seaside population centers were filled with vacation resorts frequented by women dressed scantily in bikinis and swimsuits, working docks lined the "concrete coast" of northeastern Hyrule, of which the port city of New Wagner formed a component of that "concrete coast". It was a significant commercial and trade hub as well, with a significant population before the war and many major business investments, but it was the ports – gray and morbid, but full of industry – that made the city prosper.
Of course, the war had ruined that as well.
The humvee drove off the airport runways, moved onto a freeway, a fact that was punctuated by the wheels running over a bump that sharply shifted the weight of the vehicle for a moment, almost throwing the occupants on the right side of the humvee out of their seats. Leonore, alarmed, braced herself by pressing her forearm against the vehicle's ceiling while Zelda reflexively clutched at Impa for a moment in surprise; Morgan gave a terse, incomplete profane uttering before readjusting himself in his seat.
"Sorry about that, your Highness," the sergeant quickly admonished himself. "Valentine shelling and missile attacks have blasted craters, potholes, and rubble all over the place, and we've been engaged in activities just a bit more important than cleaning up. Please try to hang on."
"Or drive more carefully," the major general suggested dryly.
"We won't be hit by another bombardment, will we?" Impa asked worriedly.
Morgan turned around to look at the royal chief of staff from his seat, shrugged helplessly. "If Valent wants to attack, they'll attack. If it's any comfort, though, most of the shelling and missile attacks have generally taken place throughout the night. I think it's psychological warfare to keep us awake and off-balance, but I don't have any psychological warfare experts on hand."
"It's a fair assumption," Leonore – the closest equivalent to an expert on psychological warfare in the humvee – allowed.
"That and the bombardments have eased a bit lately in frequency and amount of ordinance." And, as an afterthought, added quickly, "I'm told that's not necessarily a good thing. It could mean a scaling back to offensive operations, yes; it could also mean they're amassing resources to prepare for a full assault as opposed to harassing offensives, something I'm not certain we could hold if Valent throws its full weight into this."
Zelda leaned forward in her seat to give Morgan her undivided attention, and was swift to reassure him, "I don't want to edge too much into what I understand is a delicate military situation right now, and I'll leave things in your command. I do, however, want an update. I'm sure you've figured it out, but enemy ECM has been horrible, and I have little in terms of the big picture."
"Of course, your Highness. Where do you wish to start?"
"Let's start with the situation here. How are you holding up here in New Wagner?"
The director of OLRER had a remarkable talent for sounding almost nonchalant about issues of great consequence. "Poorly. In terms of manpower, we're barely three army divisions and barely two operational fleets. We do have more ships, but not enough crew to man them, and many those have been damaged beyond combat capacity. Air power is down to three squadrons."
"Please tell me you have more than Rapture and Nemesis fighters, general," cut in Impa worriedly as soon as air power was mentioned. The inflection of her voice – and her choice of making a statement about the air force first – indicated to Morgan the likelihood that the fears of Zelda and her entourage had been worse than the situation New Wagner faced. Pessimism was not an unwelcome trait in matters of military planning, the major general acknowledged, but he still privately wondered nonetheless as to whether or not the royal entourage truly understood the direness of their situation, and if he should do anything about that.
"We've sent our newer aircraft on sorties to harass Valentine forces and maintain local air superiority; it's the only way they've got a chance against enemy air power." Morgan looked as if he were wincing, although probably not for the same reasons as when he had received Zelda from Gerudo plane. "Forgive me if your escort was a bit…rusty, but if we're lucky, we can stall for time against possible Valentine offenses."
The pursing of the crown princess' lips indicated discomfort and worry. "Will they attack?"
"Frankly, your Highness," sighed Morgan, grimacing, "we don't know. The Valentine offensive has really faltered a bit, and no longer carries as much momentum. They know that most of our forces are now consolidated here and in Charlotte, and they know we've got our backs against the wall, so it's really a matter of how much they're willing to lose to bring the last major bastions of resistance down." He managed a tired smile. "We're doing our best to provide plenty of discouragement on that matter."
"But we're still being vastly outnumbered?"
Morgan couldn't quite stop himself from scratching the itch building up under his bandages anymore. "Actually, I think our worst problem may actually be supplies. We're short on everything. Ammunition, equipment…we've got teams scrounging up anything they can find in Hylian-held territories, but we're coming up empty. Neither New Wagner nor Charlotte had military bases, and they're pretty bad fallback points in general, but I don't think any of us had much of a choice in trying to figure out where to retreat towards." He looked out the windows of the humvee, waved to a saluting fireteam of Hylian soldiers that had established a roadblock with a wall of sandbags as the soldiers stepped aside to let the vehicle through. "Numbers are something I don't mind too much right now, as we're dug in rather deeply here, but we need something to fight back with. We've had to seriously conserve ammunition to the point where we're barely effective. At one point, we sent some of our men to infiltrate Valentine positions and take out the enemy with knives before stealing their weapons and ammo. This worked for about two days; Valent found out what we were doing and sent out hunt-and-kill teams from special forces." He scowled unpleasantly. "We didn't stand a chance."
Leonore made a face. "I'm not looking forward to special forces storming New Wagner," she said pointedly.
"Special forces movement and activity have slowed a bit in the last few days, actually," quipped Morgan, "especially starting yesterday. Not great news, but better than nothing."
She had expected news to be bad, but now Zelda herself in serious want of some good news, quick. "You mentioned Charlotte."
"Charlotte is the other major rally point for the majority of our forces, your Highness. Communications there haven't been fluid to the point where we can confidently exchange real-time strategic or tactical information, but we've got the general picture of things. They're a bit more than three army divisions – four army divisions, if you want to be generous with how you count the men – and three air force squadrons. I sent what ships I could spare to Charlotte to counter Valentine naval attacks from the northwest, so they have a total of four fleets, I think." He produced a controlled sigh. "They're not doing so well on the naval department."
The excitement that Zelda had built up for this journey up north was rapidly being deflated into a horrible sinking feeling in her stomach, the realization that she might've been too late, that she couldn't help make a difference. "There's no plus side coming out of this, is there?" she murmured.
Surprisingly, Morgan seemed fairly chipped on that regard. "Well, it depends on how you want to look at it. Numerically, we're in a very bad position: The initial Valentine blitzkrieg pretty much cut us off from our reserve forces, more than six hundred thousand strong we could've mobilized in a scenario like this. We haven't done a significantly accurate headcount of how many people we have in New Wagner and Charlotte combined, but we're looking at less than two hundred fifty thousand altogether, less than half of our entire armed forces in terms of active personnel, not counting reserves. Closer to a third, actually. Toe-to-toe, we're not going to stand up to the numbers Valent is fielding, especially since they have a much higher enlistment rate than us."
Zelda wasn't catching the silver lining as the weight of the humvee shifted forward, the vehicle driving down the ramp of the freeway and into the high-rise filled jungle of downtown New Wagner. The buildings around them were scarred, some with significant holes and craters in them, others still charred and burning. "And is there a side beyond numeric?" she asked.
"Realistically, Valentine operations throughout Hyrule are being bogged by sporadic elements of Hylian resistance all over the country, military units that have been unable to move from their smaller fortified positions or are maintaining stealth, but are continuing to hit Valentine operations across the nation whenever they're not looking, taking out targets of strategic value: Supplies, bases, high-ranking officers. We've been in very sporadic contact with them, and – quite honestly – I can't give you any good estimate on just how many people we've got out there. On the downside, it's pretty much impossible to coordinate on a strategic level, meaning everyone's on their own, but I suppose that pretty much means we're all fighting autonomously, which has its benefits, believe it or not. Any distraction we can provide against Valent's a plus in my book."
It wasn't great news, but Zelda agreed with Morgan on that last account. Now that she was caught up militarily, though, there was a significant point that she had wanted to discuss with her military about, something she had wanted to touch on ever since she first arrived in Fort Garuda and discussed it with Impa and Leonore. "Was there a point in the war where Valentine forces seemed remarkably familiar with Hylian military actions?"
The way Morgan narrowed his eyes carried an obvious "so you've found out too" vibe. "Since the war started," he hissed. "Valentine attacks had been very precise, very methodical, and far too perfect. It's impossible to know for sure, but for the first few days – especially the first day – it seemed to everyone that Valentine forces knew exactly where our forces were, how many there were, and how many of their forces would be necessary to take us out. They were practically winning before the war even started." His brow furrowed even deeper, drawing angry lines across his face that seemed strangely disturbing when creasing the tiny bits of raw skin close to his open eye that the bandages didn't completely cover. "Their intel was too good."
"Someone was leaking intelligence," Zelda agreed. The humvee made a little hop again as it drove over something – the princess didn't manage to catch sight of it – but it didn't pack as much surprise as the first time, and she remained riveted in her seat. "Most likely electronically, through a military server, to give the enemy real-time information as Hylian forces updated them. Have you looked that up?" And, almost immediately after, she regretted not bringing Durandara along; the AI probably would've analyzed Hylian military networks for any signs of such much faster.
The major general somehow managed the truly impressive feat of looking both guilty and defensive. "No, your Highness," he responded, twitching his mouth awkwardly to the side. "Systems at the Haven have been down, communications has been horrible, and infrastructure in general has taken a hit, not to mention we've been far too busy just trying to regroup and survive. At one point, we used a few civilian networks to transmit strategic data…"
Recalling the conversation at Fort Garuda when Durandara was activated for the very first time, Zelda smiled broadly. "The National Meteorological Agency databases," she specified for Morgan.
The director of OLRER – as well as everyone else in the humvee – was properly surprised. "How did you know?" he asked blankly.
"I had a little help," replied the crown princess vaguely with a teasing smile, but swiftly moved onto more pragmatic matters. "I take it you're just not bothering with uploading strategic data anymore."
"We're not. Frankly, we don't have the equipment or infrastructure to properly utilize high-level data management at this point, so the boys over at Charlotte and I are doing this the old fashioned way: Breaking out the radio suites."
That was an archaic method indeed, given the standards of Hylian military technology. "How has that worked out?" Zelda asked, her voice reflecting strong concern.
"Worse than I hoped, better than I feared. Frankly, there's a reason why high-level strategic military decisions were all handed digitally on computers the moment we could ditch the pen-and-paper and radio methods that have been around since before the Second Continental War. My command staff has been comparing the sharing of information with forces in Charlotte like their teenage daughters chatting with a friend over the phone. But it's better than nothing, really, and while I had actually been very worried that the command staff has forgotten how to use a radio after decades of using computerized systems…well, I was as pleasantly surprised as anyone could be under the circumstances." Then, realizing something in hindsight, his face turned hard. "I'm sorry, your Highness; you were talking about a possible traitor."
"Not necessarily a traitor," Leonore suddenly cut in, adding her own input, "but a mole. It could've been a Valentine spy inserted into our ranks instead of a Hylian officer selling us out. We don't know yet."
"We suspected Admiral Francis," Impa pointed out.
Morgan looked clearly surprised at the accusation. "Admiral Francis?" he echoed. "Why him?"
The quick explanation was given about the links between Admiral Francis, Allen-Rosencrantz Heavy Industries, and the Valentine-nationalized Rainer Conglomerate Industries.
It all seemed to be quite a bit for Morgan to take in, but apparently for different reasons. After a moment of contemplative silenced, the major general finally quietly asked, "Do you know that Admiral Francis is dead?"
Zelda showed genuine surprised; Impa and Leonore sported similar looks. "No, I didn't," admitted the crown princess.
"We've lost both him and Rear Admiral Chester. Chester went down with the Astraea and sent the entire chain of command into disarray after everyone was getting used to routing strategic data to his ship. It's why the navy hasn't been up in arms about having a major general command the defensive effort here in New Wagner." Again, Morgan scratched at the itch beneath his bandages before, in afterthought, he turned to the driver, ordered, "Sergeant, radio headquarters, tell them her Highness is incoming, and I want a security detail ready to escort her up to the master bedroom." As the driver reached for the radio, the major general turned back to Zelda, continued, "But Francis was apparently killed within the five days of hostilities. There's some conflicting reports regarding the details, but word is that he had barely managed to get to the Stalwart when it was hit in munitions storage that gutted the ship." His mouth twitched uncomfortably. "I think Valentine forces were still operating on good intel after that."
"Or they were making good use on the momentum given to them through previous intelligence after Francis served his uses," Leonore suggested.
"Possible," Morgan nodded in allowance. "But the Hylian situation has been crazy. We're moving everywhere at once, nothing's consistent, and communications has been horrible. I really don't know how Francis could've kept feeding them good intel beyond the first two days, maybe three. It's been two weeks…no, not yet. Thirteen days of the war so far, and the only things I have a good picture of are New Wagner and Charlotte."
The humvee quickly began to decelerate, a telltale sign that the vehicle had reached its destination, confirmed as the sergeant declared, "Your Highness, we're here."
Huntington Manor was a late fourteenth-century three-story mansion, and looked it with its elegantly shaped walls, terraces, balconies, and spire rooftops. One could've easily mistaken it as a bit of a small hotel. Although clearly not the most defensible structure in the area, even by Zelda's uninformed standards, it clearly looked to be a place where someone could set up army ops. More importantly, it was a fairly low building by downtown standards surrounded by taller high-rises that shielded or hid Huntington Manor from incoming enemy ordinance, but not so tall that raining debris would crush the mansion entirely should those improvised bulwarks fall. "Good choice for headquarters," Leonore, looking up at the building, seemed to concede with that as she slid out of the humvee's back seats, smoothing out the wrinkles in her clothes as she did so. Immediately, Morgan's security detail, a group of eight armed soldiers, had rushed down the front steps of Huntington Manor, stood at attention, and saluted.
"Huntington Manor came with its own backup generator," explained Morgan while he and the sergeant helped Impa and Zelda out of their seats before tending to their baggage, giving a nod for the soldiers to stand at ease and help the delegation with their bags and up to their rooms, "so it was a good place to set up army headquarters. Air force has a tougher time trying to keep enemy fighter-bombers away from their airfield by comparison, and most of the facilities are offline, so we're running only minimal control tower functions from a diesel generator hooked up to mobile radars. Current flagship of the navy is the Priestess, which I think…"
"No, sir," the sergeant suddenly interrupted glumly. "The Priestess was sunk two night ago. Flagship now is the Cradle." And, immediately, seemed to regret saying that in front of the princess as the atmosphere around turned frustrated, hopeless, and awkward.
"Right," Morgan heaved a deep sigh of frustration, seemed to just wanted to get his statement over with, slung one of the bags over his shoulder…which he was immediately relieved of by a junior officer who declared "let me get that, general". "Cradle. Whoever's still alive in the navy is either running naval operations from off that or the Trenton General Hospital."
A bewildered look of indignation and alarm crossed Zelda's face. "The navy has a headquarters set up in a hospital?" she exclaimed.
"It was the closest building to the docks that had its own independent generator powerful enough to run things, your Highness," Morgan sighed; he didn't look as if he was trying to defend the decision, but he also seemed very tired on the subject matter at hand. "They've put up no weapons installations, and civilian wounded aren't being treated there."
"But civilian wounded are being treated in the other hospitals?"
"Yes, your Highness."
"And what's to stop Valentine forces from distinguishing those hospitals from our current naval HQ?" Zelda demanded, her face tightly controlled and stiff. "And are there even enough functioning hospitals here to house all the wounded?"
Morgan looked ready to bury his face in his hands in fatigue and frustration; the last few days had taken far too much out of him. The only thing stopping him from doing so was probably royal protocol. "Your Highness," he managed to say plainly as opposed to sighing, and the effort in that was evident in his voice, "whether or not we have enough hospitals really doesn't matter right now. What's important is that we don't have enough doctors. Or enough people trained in basic first aid. What little medically-trained personnel we have on hand – military or civilian – are doing what they can right now, but whether we put them in a hospital or not is of little consequence if there's no one there to tend to them."
Pressing her lips into a pale, tight, thin line, Zelda quietly – and perhaps a bit standoffishly – considered that for a while before stating plainly, "I want to see the naval headquarters."
"Yes, your Highness," replied the major general, clearly in no mood to argue or deter the crown princess from doing so. "But may we first get you settled into Huntington Manor?" He quickly gestured into the building, allowing his soldiers to quickly take the bags inside, added before Zelda could get word in edgewise, "It'll make future security for your safety much easier for us to handle down the line."
The sovereign of Hyrule took a bit of time to consider that, but ultimately decided it was reasonable. "Very well."
On cue, one of the officers gently swept his arm towards the front door, offered, "This way please, your Highness."
"Thank you," Zelda nodded politely, and the entourage made its way up the steps of Huntington Manor, entering through the front door where nearby officers immediately saluted at the passing of their sovereign being guided up the stairs. Morgan himself, apparently in need of an extra breath of fresh air, brought up the rear, and was to follow at the very end of the security detail itself when he was intercepted just at the front steps of Huntington Manor.
"General," said Royal Chief of Staff Impa in a tired but quiet voice that almost immediately told Morgan that this was a sensitive matter that required hushed voices if further discussion on the matter was to continue. "May I pull you aside for a moment?"
"Of course," Morgan nodded, stepping a bit to the side of the street, a bit further away from the front doors of Huntington Manor. They were in open view of everyone up and down the street, which included several soldiers set up in defensive positions, but they weren't in danger of being eavesdropped upon unless someone had a directional microphone.
Stopping practically in the middle of the desolate street in front of Huntington Manor, Impa inhaled deeply before asking calmly but anxiously, "Has there been any word on King Robin so far?"
Morgan nodded, but his expression remained grim. "The last we heard of his Majesty was from the 4th Battalion. The armored platoon that had been escorting him had rendezvoused with the battalion about six kilometers east of West Arlington, but got bogged down by very serious fighting during the first night of the invasion. We had assumed the worst after we lost contact with them, but we managed to pick up sporadic transmissions from them three days later. We couldn't figure out where they were, nor do we know if his Majesty was still with them, but they said they were going to attempt to move into the Perrin Mountains. There's a late thirteenth-century bunker there that, although outdated, would make a defense easier. Our last transmission indicated that they were three kilometers away from the bunker and taking enemy fire, but that was four days ago."
A rough mental map of Hyrule formed in Impa's mind. "The Perrin Mountains are about…seven hundred, eight hundred kilometers away?"
"Eight hundred kilometers southwest," the major general confirmed.
"I don't suppose there's a way we could somehow check up on them, see if they're still alive?"
Morgan shook his head sadly. "Not in our current situation, no. We can barely take care of ourselves as is."
But Impa didn't show sign of sadness, just a bit of pragmatic regret – the acceptance of the fact and the immediate "getting over it" – before nodding, preparing to move into Huntington Manor and find the crown princess of Hyrule. "Thank you, Morgan."
"Impa," Morgan quickly said before Impa could walk away, and the chief of staff – who had been about to turn away at what she had considered to be the end of the conversation – turned back around to give the major general her undivided attention. Watching Impa's eyes settle back on him made Morgan feel more than a little nervous and on-the-spot, but he still managed to persist after a moment of hesitation and reluctance. "This may sound cruel and inconsiderate of me, but I don't think we should be concerning ourselves with whether or not his Majesty is alive anymore." Realizing that his words were almost bordering on treason, he swiftly added, "He is, of course, still officially the leader and sovereign of Hyrule, but he's in a coma with little chance of ever waking up. Even if the 4th managed to keep him safe, and even if we managed to bring him here, her Highness Princess Zelda would still be in command of the Hylian armed forces." He wetted his lips with the tip of his tongue; they were feeling remarkably dry. "It may not be my place to say this, but that's the most important thing right now."
If Morgan had been worried about Impa being angry at the insinuation, however, his fears had been misplaced; all the royal chief of staff showed was a tired, weathered sadness. "She knows that, general," murmured Impa. "Why do you think she didn't say a word about her father earlier?"
And, with those words, Morgan felt stupid, realized that he may have been underestimating the crown princess all this time. Hanging his head and sharing in Impa's understanding of Zelda's resolve and self-sacrifices – a king she loved, a father who she will likely never see again – Morgan could only hang his head uncomfortably with Impa as they both averted their gaze into whatever seemed like it would attract their attention most, murmured, "Of course."
Link counted it as a small blessing that a fog was rolling into Dover Beach. The Glorious remained quite a few nautical miles off the coast of Dover Beach as it rested in the dark of the Aurora Ocean; they had rightly surmised that getting any closer would risk an entire destroyer to detection, and ruining any chance of a stealth insertion. It was why the destroyer had deployed a rigid-hull inflatable out in the ocean, which swiftly carried Link, Jessica, and Epona on its way to Dover Beach, a landing spot that was supposed to be largely devoid of Valentine presence. The entire process took several hours of maneuvering the small inflatable boat through the waters, a stealth insertion that required endurance, attentiveness…and quite a bit of patience.
But if one had worried that a stealth insertion at night by inflatable boat was not quiet and invisible enough, the fog had begun to roll in was good. Link knew that the entire region – and perhaps the regions adjacent to it – was still being contested between Hylian and Valentine forces…and the latest word was that Valentine forces were winning. It meant that – with Link and Jessica actually being further northwest than New Wagner, where Zelda hopefully was at the moment – the two were sailing through an area that could possibly have a Valentine warship passing through at anytime.
When questioned about why the insertion zone was so close to the danger zone, Emi had merely explained that it was the safest place to land while considering the rendezvous point the zorans had proposed. Any closer and they may as well run their boat into a Valentine fleet; any further and they may as well just drive Link across the border by land.
You really can't win against that woman, Link thought – perhaps a bit more bitterly than was really necessary, something he was quite aware of – as the rigid-hulled inflatable boat finally began to decelerate for their landing on Dover Beach after hours of skipping across the Aurora Ocean with a single motor. Although they had done their best to keep dry, and although Jessica had kept the speed manageable to prevent their chances of being detected or the boat capsizing entirely, waves and mist had still kicked up across the trip, and neither Link nor Jessica were by any definition of the word "dry". Now relying on the waves and the inertia to carry the boat the rest of the way over to a beach landing, Jessica produced some towels from a waterproof backpack to Link's relief, but it didn't help that his special forces fatigues were still wet. Worse off, Hyrule was still in its winter months, and Link was going to be riding across the country again at high-speeds with Epona.
As Jessica passed a towel the Joint Intelligence agent, who quickly wiped down his face of all the drops of water that had accumulated there, he personally considered just how embarrassing it would be to die of hypothermia in this war.
The slight bump of the vessel came before its complete halt, indicating that they had fully landed on the shore of Dover Beach, which was actually more of a collection of pebbles more than it was an expanse of sand. Immediately, Link quickly pushed Epona off the boat and onto the beach while Jessica swiftly gathered the weapons and equipment she needed that had been stowed on the vessel. Activating Epona's computer systems, Link ran a quick diagnosis through Epona's systems, found to his satisfaction that the water had not damaged or disrupted Epona's components.
Slinging her equipment over her shoulder with a duffel bag, Jessica stepped out from the inflatable boat, having wiped herself down with her own towel as well, making landfall on the beach. "I will attempt to remain in contact with you when possible for updates on both sides, Agent Link," she gave her Hylian counterpart a curt nod. "In the meantime, I will also head for the designated rendezvous point and meet you there."
Link wasn't exactly in doubt of Jessica's abilities, but given that he was the one wearing enemy special forces fatigues, he wondered just how Jessica was going to manage to do that.
Managing a small smile, she said coolly, if not slightly suggestively, "MICO officers have their ways."
Swiftly, Link decided to leave the matter at that.
"Good luck to you, Link," Jessica murmured as the Joint Intelligence agent hit the ignition on Epona, the engine producing that satisfying, familiar purr. "See you on the other side."
Nodding his confirmation on that – he really did hope that they saw each other again at the rendezvous point alive – Link swiftly mounted Epona, hit the throttle as the motorcycle quietly took off from the pebbles of the beach and made his way further inland.
The ride across a Hylian winter was chilly, especially with his fatigues wet, and especially with the wind brushing against him on the road, so Link kept his speed manageable even as he rode through the abandoned freeways of Hyrule, headed southwest. The warmth of his engine radiated through gaps between Epona's armor, providing a bit of warmth even as Link struggled not to shiver and clatter his teeth. Again, there was a feeling of loneliness and desolation here; the northern regions of Hyrule were more sparsely populated, with citizens generally gathered in larger cities along the coast for the convenience of infrastructure. It helped that this was a region of Hyrule that occasionally received heavy snowfall; this year seemed to possess a tamer winter in general, but the chill was still settling in, and fields of snow were not at all uncommon even further northwest in the alpine regions of Hyrule. Thankfully, this was a more forested region of Hyrule, and the clusters of trees in the area helped break what would've otherwise been strong prevalent winds.
Three hours eventually passed; the sun had not rose beyond the horizon yet, but light filtered in even through the fog, giving the region a slightly ghostly ambient lighting. Although it was still cold, the time had allowed for his fatigues to dry, making everything else a bit more manageable. It was with the light that Link, having had Epona climb over a small hill on the Hylian freeway, managed to spot what looked very much like a manned military outpost half a kilometer away through the fog and trees. Swiftly maneuvering Epona into the trees for cover, Link eventually disembarked, remained in hiding even as he crept to the edge of the forest and looked closer at the outpost that had been set up along the freeway. In fact, "outpost" seemed to be a generous term to use, what with the installation being simply a temporary collection of tents, sandbags, and ammo dumps. It took Link several moments to confirm that the soldiers manning the camp were indeed wearing Valentine fatigues, confirmed by Durandara a moment later as she said, "Initial analysis shows this is a local resupply depot, most likely from company-scale operations. Keep in mind the amount of enemy manpower we may see here."
Good advice. Still, it was manageable; given that he knew nothing about enemy regional operations here – it was quite some distance from October City, after all – it would probably be a good idea to move into the depot under the guise of a special forces officer, gather intelligence on exactly what was happening in the area, plan after that. Still, it was a good idea not to attract too much attention, and riding in with a top-of-the-line military scout motorcycle was probably not a good idea. Putting Epona into standby mode in the woodlands, safely hidden away from casual glances towards the treeline, Link armed himself properly before making his way through the fog and towards the depot half a kilometer away.
More shapes began to form as solid silhouettes as he approached, and Link's eyes confirmed Durandara's hypothesis that this was probably manned by a company-sized unit; about two dozen tents of all sizes were erected along the freeway, and although the stations seemed sparsely manned by the standards of a dawn shift, those who remained awake seemed to take up their positions with vigor. The choice of location for the depot wasn't entirely horrible either; it was set up at a chokepoint of the freeway, surrounded by a bit of forest on both sides. This ultimately meant it was virtually invulnerable from armor attacks from any direction but from the freeway, which made assailants an open target. It did also mean that individual infantry had an easier time playing hide-and-go-seek in the forest, but…well, Link didn't worry about that too much. If all went well, the Joint Intelligence agent reasoned even as he closed the distance between himself and the perimeter of the outpost through the fog, he'd be in, gather intelligence, be out, plan accordingly, and then be on his merry way.
Unfortunately, as he reached the checkpoints – formed by a collection of sandbags and machine gun emplacements – he swiftly found out that it didn't seem as of things were going to go well after all.
Upon seeing the silhouette of a special forces first lieutenant emerging from the fog – Link's silhouette had earlier blended in with the landscape, making him hard to see in the mist – the soldiers at the checkpoint were suddenly shouting calls of "halt", with a more reasonable officer speaking "please remain where you are, sir" in a calmer but no less steely manner…despite the fact that everyone in sight whose attention had been attracted by the spectacle, nearly a dozen of these soldiers, were only enlisted men, not officers, and most certainly not special forces.
Link was in disguise, but he wasn't complacent or stupid. Something was wrong. The other soldiers tensed, trying too hard to hide that tension; hands were edging closer to their weapons. Someone spoke into a radio. Too many eyes were on him.
Then, from the corner of his eyes, appearing from behind a tent, Link saw them. Three of them. Green fatigues. Light body armor. Long berets. Gunswords.
Valentine special forces.
Exoria File #020
Valentine Special Forces
The Valentine special forces, known by no other official designation or moniker, are internationally recognized as the most well-trained, versatile, and lethal infantry group on the continent. The epitome of infantry training that rivals even the fame of their esteemed air force, they are categorized as an "extra-conventional light infantry outfit", their name alone inspiring awe, fear, and admiration wherever they go. Candidates cannot apply or volunteer, but can only be recommended by standing members of special forces; these recommended candidates must then pass through a grueling four-month training-and-evaluation regimen codenamed "ACEOPS" to test virtually every aspect of a candidate's ability to master conventional and unconventional warfare. Historically, thirty-five percent of all candidates never make it to the fourth month, while another twenty percent do not pass the final assessment at the end of the four-month period. Valentine special forces are known for the authority to execute autonomous actions, and can act or react to a situation as they see fit without waiting for commands or authorization from superiors unless otherwise ordered; they respond entirely and only to the special forces chain of command, and are only required to justify their actions through rational reasoning and results. Friction between themselves and the regular military exists due to the former's disdain towards conventional military discipline. Romantics would have everyone believe that Duchess Sieglinde of Rynwall informally founded the special forces in 1263 a.s.r. when she recruited her inner circle amongst minor or disgraced knights, those who could think out of the box and care little for protocol, which would eventually form the core of the army that defeated the Third Zoran Crusade at the Battle of Dendrite Falls in 1264 a.s.r. In reality, Sieglinde had little to do with the organization's formation, having only established the idea and foundations; it was two of her core officers, Sir Laguna and Sir Miranda, who eventually formed the Knight Order of Pentacost in 1281 a.s.r., which was eventually incorporated into the military as the Valentine special forces nearly two centuries later in 1467 a.s.r. Despite this, virtually every member of special forces recognizes Sieglinde as their outfit's patron saint, and the ability to wield a gunsword proficiently, even if it ends up not being their favored weapon of choice, is a traditional must.
Author's Note: I actually went quite a number of pages over my usual chapter quota this time; practically seven pages over, in fact. Hopefully, this makes up for quite a bit of time spent writing this chapter, although it probably almost means subsequent chapters will be shorter. This may or may not be problematic for me, given that narrative events will be picking up here as everyone seems to be spinning their own plans. I'll try to keep things as manageable and enjoyable as possible.
Not a lot I have to say here this time around, so I suppose it's time to get to the reviews.
Sandrilenefatoren2: Hi.
This is not so much a review of this chapter, as it is a review of a response to a review...
I was also disturbed by Lily's death, and felt that your explanation was heavy-handed. However, I also realize that the reason I was so averse to your explanation was that it implied that Lily HAD to die for literary reasons, not because it was a likely event under the circumstances.
If, instead of Lily flat-out dying and Buddy getting away clean, you had put in Buddy getting winged or somehow implied that his (admittedly douchey) hardscrabble, selfish personality and more mature body had allowed him to get through where a younger, more hesitant and innocent girl had failed, I might have understood it better.
A good example of how such a bastard can still be made logical without being too harsh OR sympathetic is Tokagerou from Shaman King. He's dedicated everything he has and is to surviving, whatever the cost to himself, others, or his own soul. He's a horrible, nasty person. BUT, it makes complete sense for him to survive things no one else would, simply because he is so selfish that he doesn't hesitate to abandon others when it serves him (At least at first. He develops more of a heart and integrity later).
So what I'm saying is yes, your presentation and explanation were a bit heavy-handed. They seemed to come across as cynical, and subverting idealism for the sake of subverting it. BUT, now that I know your intent, I feel a bit better about it. If you ever go back and edit up those chapters for errors, I'd suggest fine-tuning your explanation at the end to convey what you meant a bit better.
And while you say that your story is not meant to be cynical, it definitely comes across as such-and not QUITE in the way of Fullmetal Alchemist, which is so cynical it crosses over into idealism again.
I do love your worldbuilding. I'm a worldbuilder myself, though I rarely get deep enough into it to finish an epic like you're doing. I never really saw much atheism in your story, I have to say. More of the modern casualty of religion-compared to even a century ago, the number of people who are nominally religious instead of devout is huge. Simply put, it's not that your characters are atheistic or even agnostic, so much as it is that they don't make religion a central part of their lives in the way they might have done in the past.
I love your social commentary on how varying demographics affect each other. Polygamy IS practical for a society like the Gerudo, where men are so rare. Just as it's practical for monarchies prone to political assassination. The old Chinese emperors (not sure how it works nowadays) had lots of wives and tons of kids, because it was the best way to ensure a line to the throne being solid and steady, and increased political ties through ties of blood.
I'm rambling.
Anyway, I won't bother asking you about what's coming next (you never tell anyway), but I do have to wonder a bit about the naming themes. Or lack thereof. After all, you've got a Jessica in Gerudo, as well as more 'exotic' names like Emi, Manee, and Sira. And while Valentine names generally seem more Latin-based, again there isn't a real distinction. Some of this could be attributed to cultural drift, except that the cultures from which those names were derived do not EXIST in your world. Admittedly, it's extremely difficult to come up with tons of names off the top of your head that follow a particular cultural theme without jacking some of them from a real-world culture... but if you HAVE to do that, could it at least be consistent? Zelda is a real-world name, sure... but it's not a common one, nor is Impa. Malon, Talon, Ingo, Ruto, Saria... none of those names sound 'ordinary'. You might try sticking with real-world names that are very rare, so as to maintain that 'otherworldly' charm of the setting, and supplementing them with names that you make up. Because as it is, I find myself being thrown out of my willing suspension of disbelief every time I read a common name. It doesn't help that I know LOTS of Jessicas and Jennifers and Alexandrias...
And while I know you can't respond to EVERY review (not even the long ones) in your notes at the end of a story, I'd be flattered by a personal response or reply if you don't want to put this in your notes.
I admit I have a fascination for tragedy. I don't necessarily like it (I'm a pretty depressed individual as is, so there are far too many times where I go out of my way to avoid it), but influences from well-known writers such as Shakespeare have convinced me as a child that it is an effective narrative device, and – frankly – I like plucking at heartstrings. When you get your audience to sympathize, that's a small success as a writer. The way you word your review is a bit of a logical fallacy; as I am a writer, there are no reasons why I would keep anyone alive or dead because of literary reasons, ultimately because I'm the writer (I think this may just be splitting hairs over semantics, though). Ultimately, though, I think my point was twofold: To introduce elements of tragedy and heartbreak into the story, and to subvert the expectations of the reader. There definitely was the desire to subvert a norm – I won't deny that – but, again, this was my toying with elements of tragedy. Link had little to do with Buddy's successful escape aside from being released from his jail cell, honestly; Buddy simply got lucky, and didn't get hit by bullets. Some people get lucky. Some people get unlucky. And Lily, no matter how sweet and innocent she was, no matter if she offered Durandara a cookie or not, was unlucky, and sometimes, for that simple reason, people pay the ultimate price for it. It's unfortunate, and I'm certainly not going to dance over any graves, but it happens. Did I mean to kill Lily? Yes. Do I feel great about it? No. And chances are, my intention was for the audience not to feel great either. That's likely the point of tragedy.
I thank you, on the other hand, for understanding my approach with the religious dynamics of Exoria, and your understanding of the necessity of Gerudo polygamy (I had actually been rather worried that readers may see this as another inexcusable atrocity on part of the author). In general, I try to take Gerudo names – regardless for a person or a location – from a picture of Middle Eastern, South Asian, Southeast Asian, and Japanese cultures; a lot of the bases are named after actual locations in these very large regions, and Manee, for example, is actually a rather common Thai name (or so a Thai friend told me). I understand what you mean: There is absolutely no in-universe reason why I should use "common" real-world names in a Zelda fanfic when the games themselves rarely had such names (aside from, as you have mentioned, cultural drift, but then there's also no real reason why Hylian and Valentine names should be distinctly "Western"). I only have two real excuses for this: That English is my mother tongue and I therefore have a bit of a preference and/or familiarity for these names, and that I personally feel it is instinctively easier to have the impression that this is a modern-day fic with the inclusion of common names we see everyday.
…That, and – not being from any of the regions upon which I take names for Gerudo – I'm not particularly familiar with the languages from these regions.
(On a related note: I used Karachi as a name for a Gerudo population center back in Chapter Seven; while writing this chapter, I was a bit surprised to see the headlines that Karachi, Pakistan, had been attacked by terrorists. I did take the name from Karachi, Pakistan, very much knowingly, but I was quite surprised to actually see a Pakistani population center that people outside Pakistan have probably never heard of – the same one I'm using in Exoria – being mentioned on news headlines.)
Thank you very much for your review, and I hope you continue to enjoy Exoria.
The Pilot: Third review in one night! I'm on a roll! *pumps fist in the air* (Actually, I FINALLY found the time to be able to sit down and enjoy R & R-ing for a change. Graduate school, work, and personal stuff - I'm sure you can relate. *grin*)
Jeez, who is that girl with the boomerang? I had just thought of her as a minor spy, given her earlier activities, but her disposal of those two drunks was...shall we say...brutally efficient. I cannot help but wonder at her more important role in events to come, but for some reason, I'm thinking it may involve Link.
And now the motive of some of the intrigue! Quite an impressive operation that Emi came up with, preventing Link from checking with his superiors, forcing him to decide to take on Jormungand like that. But speaking of MICO, I wonder what Jessica's up to?
My opinion of the humor so far is that it's just right - not overdone, yet not scarce, either. I am really growing fond of Durandara; I cracked up when she told that joke to Link during his talk with Emi! Again, quality work as always. And as to the speed of updates, don't worry about rushing. I'd much prefer to wait longer, and have a high-quality work, than to have you rush something out.
Finally, don't sell yourself short when it comes to plotting. There are only about a few dozen authors in the Zelda section of ffdotnet whose works are truely worthy to be called "epic" (due to length, and quality); I consider your work to be included in that group. That's my call as one of the senior readers/reviewers on fan fiction dot net. (Yes, I am that old; I was on here reading and reviewing right after Xing Li started the site in 1998, though I didn't create my account for signed reviews until 2002. Boy, those were the days...2000-2002 was when the Zelda section of the site started to really take off, when Rose Zemlya, Fierce Deity, Arxane, Big Niz, Becky Tailweaver, and Kokiri7656, to name a few, were writing their fics. Heck, the over 100K words story category for zelda was one page back then! But my apologies, I went off on a tangient.)
I can related, indeed; I'm glad you've found time to get back to us, though. Let's give this a run-through.
Without giving too many spoilers, the girl with the boomerang will be fairly important. And, to fuel the speculation, there's a not-insignificant chance that – given that she's on the side of Valent (or Southern Gerudo, or just Stranger C.) – she'll do battle with Link at least once. Given that Juno's being using her and Stranger C. with Link as the prime suspect of sabotaging Anansi, I'm sure the 1st Special Investigative Unit will make things difficult.
I'm glad you're fine with the amount of humor in the story, and your faith in my writing abilities. And while I fear I'm not that old, and unfamiliar with the history of FFNet, I'm quite thankful to hear that you regard my work so highly. I will do what I can to not disappoint.
Oh, and in response to your previous two reviews: Danielle – and Manee and Sira, for that matter – survived the Battle of Nabil City, which resulted in a Gerudo victory (a costly one, but not necessarily a pyrrhic one). Given that reception towards Foxtrot Company of the Gerudo 2nd Airborne Battalion has been good so far, I'm trying to see if I can write about them again, and hopefully garner similarly positive reading experiences.
Ngandu the Croc: [If I actually put Ngandu the Croc's entire review down here, it'd probably take up a good third of the entire chapter, so I'll just let him know here that I'm replying to his review, and people interested in what he said can look for his really, really long review.]
My birthday was on May 27, which was the day I read this review. Easily the best birthday gift I received online this year, if not any year. Thank you very much for the very enjoyable read; I fear my reply won't be anywhere as long, but I will try.
The Jormungand arc will probably be the most narrative storyarc for the first half of the story (by contrast, the Quetzalcoatl arc will probably be more action-orientated), so – yes – I'm making Link work for his victory…and even then, I'm not guaranteeing that there's a real "victory" to be had at the end of the day. It's very much a grey area. Same goes with characters in general, really; I sometimes try to challenge accepted moral conventions, and while all characters have their own interpretations, I don't necessarily agree with what the characters of the story say about matters concerning, for example, morality and spirituality, nor do I believe they are right. I'm not going on an Author Filibuster here, and I strive to remain neutral about the morality and values of my characters. They're there, and it's for you to figure out what to make of them. It's why I'm not trying to shed any "good" or "bad" light on the issue regarding child soldiers, religious conflicts, spirituality, and some other stuff that has been mentioned in previous reviews.
Exoria File #017 explains this, but I'll try expanding on this explanation: There has historically been quite a bit of unrest between the more rural Southern Gerudo and the central government in the north (actually, Garuda is located near the middle of the nation, and Northern Gerudo actually slants a bit more to the northeast). There have been two Southern Gerudo Civil Wars, the first in 1396 a.s.r. and the second in 1456 a.s.r. The fighting had occurred for two different reasons, however; in 1396 a.s.r., the war was fought over Southern Gerudo's disagreements with the central government having what the traditionalists believed to be too much power. Southern Gerudo began to accumulate military strength in hopes of utilizing the threat of force as a deterrent for the progressives in the north from consolidating too much central power, or – if necessary – storm Fort Garuda to implement a new government. But the fighting accidentally broke out earlier than expected and before Southern Gerudo was ready (popular conspiracy theories say that Hyrule helped influence this to weaken Southern Gerudo). As a result, a military commanded from Fort Garuda cut through Southern Gerudo and pretty much stripped local governments and tribes of their power, thus breeding animosity between Northern and Southern Gerudo, the same animosity marking a shift of mentality for the southerners; before, they merely wanted more power with local governments instead of the central government, but afterwards, they wanted to secede from the Gerudo Union altogether. Naturally, religious conservatives took advantage of the situation and added the need for a "theocratic government", and things went downhill.
Eventually, in 1456 a.s.r., Southern Gerudo launched a bid for independence and attacked Northern Gerudo forces in an attempt to kill off the possibility of a retaliatory strike; the idea was that Northern Gerudo was too exhausted from the Second Continental War to stop Southern Gerudo from seceding. However, they did not expect Northern Gerudo forces to respond with such strength, nor did they anticipate international assistance from Hyrule and Valent, so Southern Gerudo lost that war too. Despite two failed civil wars, animosity still runs high in Southern Gerudo, which has now moreorless become the haven for religious conservatives and tribal leaders. The question of whether or not Gerudo had a "very major problem with violent extremists before the war" really depends on how you define "very major". I can say that, for starters, MICO does its job well, and things are actually generally not nearly as bad as things can get in Israel in real life (although one can argue that, given that Gerudo is much larger than Israel in landmass, the scale and saturation of events that actually happen in Gerudo are probably downplayed more than they are in Israel). MICO, however, is not infallible; remember that the reason why Emi speaks with a hoarse voice and wears and eyepatch is because her throat is damaged and one of her eyes is gone, and that happened because she managed to survive a car bombing. When the head of your country's primary military intelligence organization is pretty seriously wounded by a terrorist act, one begins to question whether they have the terrorism issue "under control".
Working with Durandara's a pretty thin line. I have to keep her plot-relevant, have to keep her spirited while I'm completely aware that quite a few reviewers think she's annoying and won't shut up, have to keep her powerful enough to be useful in hopes the previous aspect will be forgiven, have to keep her not-so-powerful as to singlehandedly solve everything in Exoria. Which is probably why – as you have keenly noted – that Exoria's humor comes in three distinct flavors: "Snark, reaction shots, and Durandara". And this leads me to the part I've been dreading in terms of replying to your review, the fact that you've dedicated many, many paragraphs to explaining your take on my humor (or lack of it) in Exoria, and the fact that I may not be able to scrounge up more than a paragraph in response. Those three aspects – snark, reaction shots, and Durandara – may moreorless be the only tidbits of humor that I'm able to achieve even without the weight of the plot. One could even believe that the reason why I go for such a serious, plot-heavy story is to distract you from the fact that my sense of humor is greatly impaired. A lot of the humor is not really intended so much as it's a natural outcome: Yes, Link has to go destroy Jormungand, and everyone familiar enough with the formula of The Legend of Zelda knows he has to, but even without intending to write humor, even without thinking about the possibility of hilarity and absurdity, how else are you – a mute (Link isn't really a mute, but that's not the point) – going to react to the director of a foreign military intelligence organization asking you to destroy Jormungand?
…Yeah, I thought so.
In any case, though, I don't intend to slow down the plot too much. Exoria is a very plot-driven story, which I worry quite often comes at the expense of toning down character-driven aspects…although, hopefully, this will change by the second half of Exoria – you'll see what I mean when we finally get there, something I'm really itching to get to. Sadly, there's also the chance that, for narrative reasons, the humor will actually tone down by the second half…but we'll see how that goes.
Closing comments: The "special relationship" between Hyrule and the zorans may not be what you believe it is. In fact, it's not entirely farfetched that the zorans are one of the many major reasons that – as you've so eloquently put it – "are going to give Link hell". And, yes, I've been doing my best to portray Alexandria as a badass. A little tidbit: It'll be mentioned in the Exoria Files at some point (possibly #022, but I give no guarantees), but Alexandria has a younger sister named Phoenicia, and parents by the name of Clyde and Celeste, all of whom are at certain levels of awesome as well.
P.S. Whenever I reply to a review made by a registered member, I send them a PM directly, usually immediately (or just within a few days) of reading the review, which saves them the trouble of waiting for the next chapter to come along to see what I've responded with in the author's notes. However, you've deactivated your PM system, so I can't do that with you; if you'd like to receive PM responses to your reviews, please do activate your PM system and give me a buzz. I don't make it a point to mention it to everyone, but you're one of my more frequent (and very comprehensive) reviewers, so I thought I should give that a mention. Please don't feel terribly compelled to turn it on if it is not your wish, though.