Disclaimer: The Legend of Zelda, its characters and locations are all property of Nintendo. Any and all OCs and original locations belong to me unless specifically stated to belong to someone else.


Soul Remnants
Chapter 52


Ironhill during the day was a stark contrast to itself at night. Where there had been wide and empty streets completely devoid of life during the dark, there were masses of people crowding so closely together that it was nigh impossible to move through them. Where there had been a few bored guards manning the stations, there were now dozens, all of them keeping close eyes on the people moving around them, occasionally catching pickpockets and cutpurses, swindlers and conmen, all trying to prey on the decent, hardworking folk of the city.

Jeryd chuckled at his own thoughts. He knew for a fact that very few of the people who were not employed in the manufacturing district were anything close to decent or hardworking. The residential district was, in essence, a miniature food chain, all of its members preying on those lower than themselves, and those unfortunates who found themselves on the bottom rung usually found a way to prey on those at the very top. The guild found itself on the bottom and the top, balancing precariously on the edge of wealthy and destitute, powerful and powerless. How the master had managed to control it all these years without succumbing to the pressure would always be a mystery to the guild members. One tipoff and it would all come crumbling down.

And that tipoff would most likely come from Jeryd. As he crossed the square in front of the clock tower, he reflected on this. He'd be doing Lumina a favour, really. The guild was as hated by the common folk as it was loved by the nobles, whose day-to-day boredom could only be alleviated by the good old tradition of hiring some assassins and attempting to topple the other families. It was probably most amusing to the elite, but it usually brought about turmoil for those who served them...and everyone else. Jeryd held the power to put an end to it all, leaving the nobles with no other option but to solve their disputes and find avenues of entertainment on their own.

But not now, he reminded himself. For now there was still some use the guild could be put to. The sabotage of the airships had to be prioritised, but after that... Jeryd had come to a decision in the early morning hours, having woken up a little while before the others. He was going to kill the master, and destroy the guild in Ironhill. Then he would do the same to the others. One by one, the guild halls would fall and their masters with them. The only question was how. Even in his old age, the master in Ironhill was a formidable opponent. The way he had disarmed and...demeaned Jeryd in his study the night before was tangible proof of that. His bottom still stung if he moved too fast. He'd have to find a way that would let him catch the master off-guard—like a true assassin would. Perhaps consulting Sheik and the others would yield a way to—

His train of thought was broken by the sight of Lor appearing from within a crowd that was swarming the market stalls. The boy was wearing simple clothes underneath a thick cloak to protect him from the winter cold. He looked surprisingly refreshed and alert, despite having worked so late the night before. Jeryd noticed that he was receiving glares from several shoppers and merchants, but he seemed to ignore them completely. He was putting something into the bag he had slung over one shoulder. He spotted Jeryd, and a broad smile erupted on his face and he began to run, soon reaching the other assassin.

"There you are," he said, panting slightly. "I've been waiting forever."

"Sorry, I got a bit lost. Again," Jeryd said apologetically. "Ironhill has really changed in the four years I've been gone." A group of shoppers passed them by, giving Lor the same looks the others had. Jeryd answered them with a fierce glare of his own.

"That it has," Lor agreed, noticing what Jeryd was doing. "Don't mind them. They know who I am and what I do, and it's...distasteful, apparently."

"Even if they'd enjoy a night at the Cock all the same," Jeryd said, still glaring at them even as they disappeared from view.

"Come on, this is supposed to be a nice day," Lor said, nudging Jeryd with his shoulder. "Let's take a walk like we used to do."

"All right."

It had been a tradition, of sorts. Every day after the gruelling training, Jeryd and Lor had gone out for dinner, neither of them enjoying the gruel the guild provided their recruits. They'd try something new almost every time, this having been around the time Ironhill had really begun to grow and attracting people from all over the kingdom. It was the only time the recruits really had to themselves. During the evening, Jeryd worked in the brothel while Lor and the younger novices were educated in the sciences.

It was one of the few things Jeryd missed about Ironhill. He had no idea how he and Lor had come to be friends, being so far apart in years, but he guessed the seed of their friendship had been planted when Jeryd had interceded during a training session when Lor had almost been killed by the over-eager instructor. It had only been solidified when he had discovered...well...

As they walked, Jeryd told Lor about what he had been up to in his time away from Ironhill. The boy was particularly interested in the war and the small part he had played in it so far, not to mention his friendship with Sheik and Link.

"You saved his life?" Lor asked with wonder.

"Well, I saved him from drowning in the river, at least," Jeryd said, laughing at Lor's expression. "Angen's medical training saved him from the blood poisoning he'd suffered from the attack."

"And his boyfriend?"

"Link was injured as well, but he never made it into the river. He was taken to Countess Marlotta's estates, where he was rescued by the Gerudo girl, Elenwe, and met up with Kafei, who later found the rebel camp."

"I see...are they close?"

"Who?"

"Sheik and Link, I mean...are they for real?"

Jeryd nearly paused with surprise. "Why are you asking that?"

"Just...it's nice to know that some people actually get to have something like that, that it's not just a fake bunch of bullshit from the stories."

Jeryd swallowed. That was...cynical, and quite surprising coming from Lor. "Yeah, they're for real. Probably the realest love I've ever seen." He was struck with a pang of guilt for trying to kiss Sheik...and pushing him later when he should have been apologising profusely. He did not mention this to Lor. Instead, he focused on studying the boy and the differences in his appearance since he'd seen him last. His face was more angled, his cheek bones and jaw prominent but still soft enough to lend him a somewhat feminine appearance. His eyes looked tired, the kind of which shouldn't have been on such a young boy's face. Jeryd knew he'd looked the same at his age, and hated every second of it. But the thing that offended him the most was the tattoo that ruined his cheek.

Lor sighed. "Go ahead, ask."

"Hm?"

"I know you're curious about the tattoo." He gave Jeryd a wry look. "You're still terrible at hiding your interest from me, Jer."

Blushing at having been caught staring, Jeryd cleared his throat. "The tattoo...what does it mean?"

"It means more than one thing," Lor teased, stroking the black lines with his fingers. "What do you think?"

"Guild ownership?"

"Yes."

"...that's all I can guess," Jeryd said, not wanting to add the more...distasteful ideas.

"It means that I will forever be stuck at the rank of novice and that my place is in the brothel," Lor said, his voice losing the cheerful tone. "For as long as I'm useful, I'll be forced to work in that place. When I'm no longer eligible...I suppose I will be used for an exam."

"That's...terrible," Jeryd said, still horrified even though he had already guessed it.

"It's the best life I can hope for in my position," Lor said as his voice softened a bit to show Jeryd that he had come to terms with it. "It's either this or death...and I don't think I'm ready to see what the great beyond looks like just yet."

"I see...but, you are not the first novice who has been put in this position," Jeryd continued. "And yet I have never seen such tattoos, which means that there's something else." The realisation struck him. "Did they...find out...?"

Lor looked at his feet and nodded. "Yes...they discovered my...gift. One year ago. Just before my exams. I suspect that's why I failed. They never wanted me to graduate."

"How?"

"I'd...rather not say," Lor said as his expression grew shameful, and Jeryd knew not to push. Instead he began to think of ways to cheer Lor up...

...which came, quite unpredictably, two minutes later in the form of a patch of ice, an unsuspecting Jeryd and a stall of mechanical trinkets.


It was around three in the afternoon when they returned to the Cock. Lor thanked Jeryd for the lovely time and disappeared to the back rooms to wash up, change and get back to work. Jeryd wanted to inquire about booking him for the rest of the day and take him back to Sheik and the others so he wouldn't have to service anyone, but the stern look he got from the matron, the woman in charge of the whores, told him all he needed to know.

He found Sheik and the others busy planning their actions for the night around the blueprints for the ships, with Lezal advising them on the best ways to approach the ships.

"We've decided to split up into two teams," Kafei explained in a neutral tone of voice. "You, Sheik and Lezal will deal with The Annihilator. You will neutralise the engineers test-running the engine and disable it by closing the valves and rupturing the boiler."

"And you will deal with The Reaper?" Jeryd asked, looking at him and Elenwe, who nodded.

"Correct. The Reaper will be more heavily guarded since weapons and ammunition are valuable and they don't trust the workers not to smuggle some of it out. It will be easier for just E and me to manoeuvre our way around, taking out the guards who are a problem and bring the gunpowder to the engine."

"I see," Jeryd said as he sat down at the low table, looking at the plans for the airships. "How are we coordinating it?"

"From the way Jedistern Tadian explained it, rupturing the boiler will make quite a loud noise. We will use that as a signal to light the fuse and detonate the explosives," Kafei explained further. "Hopefully, the explosion will draw away all attention and let us all escape without being seen."

"And if we are discovered?"

"Then we pray to the Goddesses that we'll be able to fight our way out," Elenwe said.

"Or kill ourselves if we risk being captured," Sheik added. "We all know too much about the rebel army to allow ourselves to divulge the information under torture."

Jeryd nodded. "I understand." An idea had formed in his head. "Might I come along to The Reaper?" he asked Kafei. "I think I can be of use—"

"No, I want you to go with Sheik," Kafei said simply. "I want two people I trust to go, and, frankly, I don't trust Lezal at all. No offense."

"None taken," Lezal said politely. "I wouldn't trust me either."

"Ah..." Jeryd had been so surprised by the revelation that, despite their disagreements, Kafei still trusted him enough to go with Sheik. Was it because he now knew what Jeryd had been through in his teenage years? He didn't miss the slight smile that crossed Sheik's face at Kafei's statement, which confused him even more. He was certain Sheik hated him. He ignored Jeryd's questioning look, however.

Half an hour later, there was a knock on the door which Lezal answered. A whispered conversation, and the visitor was gone. Lezal turned to face them.

"I've just been informed that the tunnel has been cleared and that all is ready for tonight's infiltration," he informed them. "The workers' shifts end at ten bells. We will go one hour later. Questions?"

There were none.

"Then I suggest we make our final preparations and get some rest before we go. Jeryd, can I talk to you?"

"In private, I presume?" Jeryd drawled.

"Unless you want everyone to hear about the time I took you up against the wall of the chu—"

"All right, all right," Jeryd said, blushing and practically dragging the older man out of the room. Out in the hall, he paused, glaring at Lezal. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he hissed. "They mistrust me enough as it is."

"All the more reason to have this conversation away from prying eyes and listening ears," Lezal said and led him a few junctions away. "I'm aware of what the master has asked of you," he said.

"I know," Jeryd said. "What about it?"

"I just wanted to know...are you going through with it?"

Jeryd sighed. "I don't really have much of a choice, do I? He threatened to kill us all if I didn't."

Lezal snorted. "He threatens everyone with that, and I never knew you to be someone who caved in to death threats."

"True," Jeryd said, nodding. "But I can't very well tell you whether or not I'm doing it, can I? You're still loyal to the guild, if I told you, for example, that I intended not to, then you'd have to inform the master and kill me for my betrayal, wouldn't you?"

"In theory, yes," Lezal said. "But in practice, I might act very differently."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. Or I might act according to the theory."

"So...your point is?"

"My point...there is no point," Lezal admitted, sighing. "I just wanted to be alone with you for a little while."

"Why?"

"You know why. I..."

The conversation died just then. Neither of the two former friends and...something closer than friends, knew what to say or even wanted to. They both knew that they could never be what they had once been or do what they had once done. And Lezal knew perfectly why, but damned if he wasn't going to admit it. He probably just wanted Jeryd to say it was his fault—like he always had. But not this time. Jeryd was done with it.

"I don't have time for this," Jeryd said, heading back the room. "Whatever you want to happen, it won't. I have a new life now, and I like it a lot more than my old one."

"Then you know what I'll be forced to do when this is over," Lezal warned.

"I know...and I'll be prepared for it," Jeryd said and went back inside, leaving Lezal to curse quietly to himself in the corridor.


Rehm stared at the burned-out remains of the once mighty Ise family estate. Bodies were still being dug and carried out by city guards who were covering their faces with cloth to keep the whirling ash and stench of burnt flesh out. The bodies were burned to the point of being unrecognisable.

"And you are sure these are Ise's people?" Rehm asked the guard in charge of the cleanup.

"Yes, sir," he replied, looking uncomfortable at the sight of the carnage. "Most of them, anyway."

"And the others?"

"We have no idea, sir. They carried no recognisable weapons or symbols. They were definitely not guild assassins, though."

"How do you know?" Rehm asked, glancing at him curiously.

The guard cleared his throat. "We, er, asked them, sir. They said that they had no people working in the city at this time."

"And you trusted them? Just like that?"

"Er, the city guard and the assassin's guild have reached somewhat of a practical understanding, sir. We do not meddle in their business, and they let us know what is going on and warn us about any operations of theirs."

"That's rather...worrying, considering the fact that you are employed to protect the good people of our fair city," Rehm said, not surprised at the guard's statement at all. He had actually overseen the meetings between the city guard officers and the assassins—in secret, of course. Not a thing happened in this city without him knowing it. Except...this, of course. He brushed off the guard's attempt at explaining himself and looked back at the mansion. Smoke still rose from the ruins. "Ise knew they were coming."

"It seems that way, sir," the guard answered, relieved at not being scrutinised anymore. "The guards reported a loud commotion and sounds of fighting, but by the time we had assembled a large enough force, it was already too late and the mansion was burning."

"And the councillor herself?"

"We do not know, sir. We have not been able to identify any of the bodies yet."

"I understand. Good show. Now, don't let me keep you from your duties," Rehm said, subtly shooing the man away.

"Yes, Councillor, of course."

As the man hurried off to directly oversee the cleanup, Rehm sighed. Ise wasn't dead. Of course she wasn't. She had expected his plot when he had disbanded the council and immediately fled the city, but not before alerting her house's guards, who had seen through the attackers' disguises immediately. In hindsight, he probably should have hired the assassins to do it. They wouldn't have been so easily defeated by mere guards. Oh well, at least the bloody woman wasn't in a position to challenge him anymore, and that was the important thing. Most likely, she had retreated to the walled city of Caldhaven. She was technically the mayor of the town now that the rest of her family was dead, but Rehm knew she had no military force to speak of. She could stay there and rot for all he cared.

The other councillors, like Ominter, LaMonde and Fonte, had not been as perceptive as their colleague. As they had headed back to their estates, the sell swords under Rehm's command had killed everyone inside and waited for the masters, killing them as soon as they entered. It was made to look like the rebels had attacked the ruling council, especially after Rehm had faked an attack on his own person. It was a tragedy, of course, but at least the council leader was still standing and not afraid of resuming his duties. A new council would not be elected until after the war was over, the King granting himself executive powers and personally taking the reins of the war effort.

Unfortunately, due to Victor's imprisonment deep underneath the castle, a fact to which very few people were privy, it fell to Rehm to guide Lumina to a brighter future. Or, at least until the Silver Guard were defeated and the Winter Palace taken.

Speaking of which, Marlotta was due for another report soon.

He got into the carriage that had taken him to the mansion and was soon on the way back to the castle.

He really should have picked someone with more military experience to go up against the Silver Guard. The countess was ruthless in her ambitions and desire for power, certainly, but she had no real experience with command or tactics. But she had, unfortunately, been the only option now that Agon was dead. But then again, based on his performance with a large army at his command and the support of The bloody Chimera, he doubted Agon would have fared better. The man had been outwitted by a bunch of ragtag exiles whose resources were probably limited to one boot per man and not much else. The battlefield had been a mess, and the general's fate was the only logical conclusion.

Arriving back at the castle, he was handed the newly arrived report by a servant and retreated to his office—the room that had once been the council chambers. He'd had the round table chopped up and burned. It wasn't as if it would ever come in handy again. Seated behind his desk, he opened the report and read it.

Major setback. Silver Guard infiltrated and sabotaged a bridge behind the army. Cut off and losing men fast. The Chimera would be the tie breaker needed to win.

Eagerly awaiting support,
Marlotta

It was only because Rehm had been expecting it that he did not feel any anger towards the countess. That, and the fact that no matter what way he looked at the situation, it was his own fault that this was occurring. He should have waited and sent someone else than her, someone who knew the Silver Guard and their fighting style. How on earth a besieged army could do so much damage from within the palace walls was beyond his knowledge.

Nevertheless, he could not commit any more forces to the Winter Palace just yet. The rebel army was growing more and more by the day, according to sporadic reports from a hidden mole, and he did not want to have them at his back while he was busy dealing with the Silver Guard. No, he had to crush Drena Riveth, Rial Vortan and the rest, and soon.

He wrote a quick reply to the countess where he denied her support from the airship and sent a servant to dispatch it by carrier pigeon.

The Reaper and The Annihilator would be complete soon, and then he'd have no less than three ships to maintain air superiority. Perhaps then he could send The Chimera to aid Marlotta while the warships dealt with Riveth's army. But not a moment before.

Another report was delivered to him about an hour later, this one from the mole. It always annoyed Rehm how he or she never gave up any real, useful information apart from the general whereabouts of the rebel army. They were always on the move, which resulted in The Chimera and the other search parties simply finding abandoned camp sites by the time they arrived. It was frustrating, but it was the only source of information Rehm had at his disposal. The report was longer this time.

Made contact and skirmished with small company of Royal Army soldiers two nights ago. Rebel army on the move again, heading south from original position.

That was already a lot more information than he usually received.

Infiltrators up to something in the city of Ironhill, details unknown.

That would have something to do with the disappearance of Jedistern Tadian, Rehm supposed. So the rebels knew about the new airships. That was...worrying, but...no, he was certain that the security based around them was more than sufficient to keep the rebel infiltrators out. Besides, the assassins had been instructed to keep an eye out for rebel spies anyway.

Rebel general deathly ill with rust lung. Survival of the winter unlikely. Rial Vortan has assumed full command of army. Far less predictable than Riveth.

The report ended there. No signature, but Rehm was fully aware of who the mole was, and would reward them handsomely should they survive their tenure. He leaned back in his chair. Drena Riveth was dying, huh? That was a spot of good news, at the very least, even if the location of the army was as vague as ever. And young captain Vortan suddenly in charge of a full army... It was all very interesting, though it made Rehm annoyed for not ensuring the captain's death during the massacre of the Royal Guard.

Nevertheless, he was also impressed by the young man's tenacity. Perhaps there would be some use for him later, when...no, he had to be made an example of, no matter what. A pity, really, but Rehm couldn't afford to go soft. Not now. He was so close...


The gate had been reinforced recently, that much was obvious from the looks of hastily bolted-on iron plating that covered it. It had probably been a menacing enough sight before, with its towering spires and imposing ramparts, on which flew the banner of Lumina. It was fully manned, their armour and polished helmets shining in the sunlight. Cannons lined the tiered walls, as if the rows upon rows of archers and crossbowmen weren't enough. This was the only way into Lumina large enough for an army to pass through.

And it was closed. It didn't look like it was about to open anytime soon.

Zelda frowned, shivering slightly in the frozen wind. Drawing her cloak tighter around her, she looked at General Mirn, who was looking at the gate through his spyglass. "What do you think?" she asked him.

"Gonna be difficult," Mirn said, his frown mirroring hers. "They've reinforced it since I passed through it seven months ago. There weren't any cannons, that's for sure."

"I've yet to see one in action," Zelda said. "Are they truly as devastating as the stories say?"

"Worse," Mirn said, his frown deepening. "A single, well-aimed shot can devastate an entire platoon and reduce it to bits of meat—if Your Highness will pardon an old soldier's unimaginative description."

"I object to the existence of such a weapon," the princess of Hyrule muttered, knowing she wasn't any better, having sanctioned the use of Vorpheus' magic during the war against Ganondorf. "Do we stand any chance?"

"We have numerical superiority," Mirn said. "Can't be more than a few hundred men manning the gate. Get close enough to the gate, out of the cannons' fields of fire, get at least two ladders to stay up...definitely doable. Will be lots of casualties, though, no matter how we do it."

"I was afraid of that," Zelda said. She had consulted with the Sages the night before and asked if they could lend their assistance should she meet heavy resistance at the gate into Lumina, but were too occupied with trying to scry into the land itself. Rauru hid behind the mandates left behind for them to follow by the Goddesses. It was said quite clearly that the Sages were not to interfere with mortal matters unless the fate of the world itself was at stake. Due to lack of evidence, Rauru was hesitant to get them involved. Zelda understood it—in principle. It still left her somewhat annoyed with the Goddesses' stewards. Why wouldn't they lift a finger to help Link and Sheik? And why couldn't she, the proclaimed Leader of the Sages, order them to do it? "When can we launch an attack?" she asked.

"Not yet," Mirn said. "We must parley first."

"Parley? Whatever for?"

"Oh, you know, general posturing and mud-flinging, boasting shouts, demands to be let into one's own country lest a horrible vengeance be wreaked upon the gatekeepers. Rules of war, all that."

"The rules of war demand what can only be considered drama?"

"The rules of war are nothing but drama, as I've learned," Mirn said, adding a wry grin to his limited range of facial expressions. "Even so, I know the man in charge of the gate, and I'd like to give him a chance to surrender peacefully and let us in. I hope you understand, Your Highness."

"Oh, of course, general, I did not mean to imply—"

"No apologies needed," Mirn said, waving her concerns away. "We both know the tolls that civil war exacts upon us. I will put together a party and ride for the gate. Would you like to accompany us?"

Zelda shook her head. "I must decline, general. This is a matter for the people of Lumina. I don't think it will look good for you to ride up to the gate with a monarch from a rival kingdom, after all. They will accuse you of having kneeled before me, and that will only hurt your cause."

"And the battalion of Hyrulian soldiers accompanying us?"

"My bodyguards," Zelda said, giving him a wry grin of her own. "I'm only here for my friends, after all." A surreptitious wink was added.

"Of course," Mirn said, winking back. "Then, if you will excuse me, I have some posturing to prepare for, colourful insults to compose, amusing puns to win the ones sitting on the fence over to my side to think up...who knew being a soldier involved so much lyric poetry?"

She chuckled at that and watched him leave before looking back at the gate. It was flanked on both sides by the tallest mountains she had ever seen. This was their only way in. The only way to Link and Sheik. She hadn't decided yet what to do after retrieving her unlucky brothers, but she had a strong feeling that the civil war would have a third side added. She only hoped that she would be able to remain neutral.

Knowing those two idiots, however, she highly doubted it.


Rial was walking behind the covered cart inside of which Riveth rested. He had insisted on as few soldiers as possible seeing her in her current state, for the sake of morale. Or so he'd claimed. Truthfully, he just wanted to preserve her dignity.

Her condition had worsened significantly since the battle two nights ago that had seemingly set off her disease. Her breathing was short and stilted, as if she was always running a marathon. It was difficult for her to speak, difficult to walk, even difficult to sleep. That was the worst part, she'd confided in Rial. She'd lie awake for hours, staring up at the roof of the cart, wondering if she'd stop breathing in the night and just pass away, peacefully and quietly. That's not how she wanted to go, she told him. She wanted to go down fighting, preferably taking some enemies with her.

At least the procedure hadn't traumatised her, and enabled travelling the day after. The surgery had been a surprisingly minor one, Agneta had revealed. The blood she'd been coughing up turned out to be a symptom of the rust lung, not the blow she'd taken to the chest from the enemy soldier. The wounds had only been superficial, if several bruised and broken ribs could be referred to as that. It limited her movements a lot, but as Agneta had pointed out, it was just a positive thing as excessive movement exacerbated her condition.

The flaps to the cart parted, and Ard's head poked out from inside the cart. He'd taken to staying by her side at all times, clearly worried about her. It was touching to see, really. But then Rial usually remembered that, as far as Ard was concerned, Riveth was the last family he had left. If she died, he'd be left all alone in a world of adults, half of whom despised him for his abilities. Sure, Riveth's men didn't mind the boy at all, but the rest...the rest eyed him with suspicion, as if expecting him to turn into another Enlightened One at the drop of a hat.

Ard motioned for Rial to come closer, murmuring quietly. "She wants to stop and take a break. The shaking hurts her chest."

Rial nodded. The cart was being pulled over very rough and untraveled terrain. Lying inside the cart must have been like trying to stand on a ship in the middle of a hurricane. Ard retreated back inside the cart as Rial walked quickly ahead of the convoy and ordered everyone to take a break.

They were once again inside the belt of Freyborough. It was the only way he'd dared to take after their army had grown so big—it'd be impossible to remain hidden in any other way now that they had such large numbers on their side. It was a blessing and a curse at the same time.

Small fires were lit to keep the soldiers warm, and Rial oversaw the army coming to a rest before climbing inside the cart. Riveth was lying on a cot, still short of breath, Ard by her side. Her eyes lit up on his entry, however, and she smiled, being helped into a reclining position by the warlock.

"Nephew...thank you...for stopping," she wheezed. "My ribs..."

"I understand," Rial said, nodding. He'd do anything to ease her pain. "We were due for a break anyway. We've made good progress."

"Where...are we?"

"We're a bit further south than we originally intended, close to Caldhaven."

"Ise's town," she said.

"Yes," Rial said, biting his lip. He wasn't too thrilled at the idea of getting so close to the city of a potential enemy (she had supposedly pledged her allegiance to the King, but had not sent any soldiers or supplies their way), but necessity had forced them to. Hopefully, she would just let them pass. Actually, he hoped for a full regiment of soldiers to add to their cause and a standing invitation to take their wounded into the city for help, but...it was a big chance to take.

"She claims...to be an ally," Riveth said, frowning. "But can we...trust her"?

"That's what we don't know," Rial replied. "It doesn't matter anyway, though. She's probably still in the capital, either aiding or fighting Rehm."

"I hope it's...the latter."

"As do I. Until we know for sure, we will steer clear of Caldhaven."

"Wise decision," Riveth agreed. "Should she be revealed as...an enemy, however...you could...take her city for your own..."

Rial shook his head. "The thought has struck me, but taking over Caldhaven and turning it into a fortress will attract the attention of Rehm, and that will bring the wrath of The Chimera back upon us. That's something I'd rather avoid, at least until we've taken it out."

"Speaking of which," Riveth wheezed, "how goes the plan?"

"Jedistern is nearly ready with the training," Rial replied. "As soon as he says so, we go for one of the refuelling sites."

"The best of luck with that."

"Thank you."

Neither of them talked for a few minutes, both listening to the sounds of the resting army outside the cart. Many complained of swollen feet and frostbite. Rial knew it was only a matter of time before people would begin to wonder if he knew what he was doing and whether or not he was worth following. He knew exactly what would remove those doubts—real food and warmth. Unfortunately, the former was difficult to provide since ingredients spoiled very easily and they had to rely on heavily salted items since they were on the move for so much of the time. The latter could be momentarily provided by campfires, but the cold would seep into one's bones eventually no matter what. No, they needed to get inside, out of the wind. Tents could only provide so much shelter before even they succumbed to the chilling temperatures of the Luminan winter. If it hadn't been for The Chimera, Rial wouldn't have hesitated to move into Caldhaven and take over, but as long as the airship was out of reach, they'd be at its mercy. Hopefully, it would be a problem only for a few more days. He shook his head to banish the thoughts and focused on the situation at hand.

"Why didn't you tell me you were sick?" he asked.

Riveth blinked and looked at him. "It's not obvious?" she asked.

"I can see why you wouldn't tell your men, those you aren't close with...but what about me? Or Ard, for that matter?"

Ard nodded in agreement, fixing her with an intense stare.

She knew there was no to avoid answering the question, so she just made a short sigh and sat up a bit more. "If you must know, it was because...I didn't want anyone to worry. You both have...so much on your...plates."

"I think we could have made room for this," Rial said. "We're family, and I thought that meant having no secrets from one another."

"Your father's words...through and through," Riveth said, grinning slightly. "Perhaps he's right...and I wasn't entirely truthful. I...was ashamed."

"Ashamed? Why?" Ard demanded.

"I am a warrior...a leader of warriors...I always thought I would...meet my end in combat, taking my killers with me to hell..." She coughed slightly, groaning at the pain it introduced to her system. "To be laid low by...something as invisible and clandestine...like this...it's embarrassing. Old age...passing away in one's sleep with one's...full dignity intact...I can do that...but this is going to...be an undignified way to go...I'm weak..."

"Ridiculous," the young warlock said.

Rial nodded in agreement. "There is nothing embarrassing about this, aunt. In fact, from what Agneta told me, it's a damn miracle you've been able to keep it at bay for this long. Only true strength would enable you to do so." He put a hand on her shoulder. "No matter what happens, I will always look up to you."

"Thank you...both of you," Riveth said, smiling softly. "But your kind words...do not ease my mind. But that is my problem. Please, I'd like to be alone for a little while before Agneta comes to do her check-up."

They both hesitated, but eventually complied with her wish. Riveth laid back down, staring up at the ceiling of the cart, panting from the exertion. This was no way to live, she decided. She could barely talk without becoming exhausted, much less move. Falling asleep was practically impossible, and she always woke up feeling like she was drowning—which she basically was, there just wasn't any water involved. She was tired of it already, and knowing she had—at best—at least a few more months of this to look forward to, made everything seem so bleak. She also knew she was now just a burden on everyone at this point. She was a distraction for Rial and Ard—they both worried so much about her that it was interfering with their duties. She was drain on Agneta's strength and time—both of which would have been better spent on the soldiers who had injuries that could actually be treated. She was a killer of morale for the rest of the army in general. Most of them had flocked to her because of her experience and reputation as a fierce warrior and commander. Now she could do neither, and the knowledge of her being in such a state couldn't possibly be encouraging in the slightest.

No, this is no way to live, she repeated to herself. And I refuse to let it go on much longer.


It was almost time for the infiltration. Jeryd was sitting on the porch of the Golden Cock and having a cigarette—his way of calming down before embarking on something big. He was wearing his old assassin's outfit underneath a long robe that kept the chill out. Lezal had "helpfully" kept it for him in case he came back. It was mostly grey, to make the wearer harder to spot in the darkness, and tight-fitting in order to present as little for opponents to grab as possible. Numerous pouches and pockets were sewn into the fabric, offering plenty of room for weapons and tools. He had only a pair of long daggers strapped to his thighs—those were the only weapons he needed.

Lor came outside to join him on his break. He wordlessly plucked the cigarette from Jeryd's mouth and took a single drag from it himself before dropping it on the floor and stomping it out. Upon noticing Jeryd's accusing stare, he simply shrugged.

"Not healthy for you," he said and sat on the bench, next to Jeryd.

"I'd take that message a lot closer to heart if you hadn't taken a drag yourself," Jeryd grumbled.

"I'm young, I'm allowed to be a hypocrite," Lor protested, grinning.

"And I'm old, am I?"

"Compared to me? Pretty much."

"You always were a little brat," Jeryd muttered, trying to hide a grin of his own but failing. "Can't believe you haven't been beaten for it yet."

Lor's smile faded slightly, his gaze falling to his hands resting in his lap. "Happens all the time, really."

Realising he had once again shoved his foot into his mouth, Jeryd also stared at his lap, hands fidgeting. "I...didn't know..." he offered weakly.

But he did know, didn't he? He'd seen the casual manner in which Lezal had slapped Lor the night before, and the way the boy had submissively taken it, almost like he agreed that he'd deserved it. He should've realised then, shouldn't he?

"It's okay," Lor said. "It's not like they didn't beat you when you worked here, right?"

"Right..." He didn't mention that while he had indeed been beaten, it hadn't happened nearly as often or severely as with the other novices. He'd been the favourite, after all.

"Really, Jer," Lor insisted, looking him in the eyes. "It's okay." He shivered slightly, and Jeryd noticed for the first time that he wasn't wearing any outside clothing, only the outfit for work.

"Gods, you must be freezing, here" he said and removed his robe, wrapping it around the boy before he could protest. He rubbed Lor's arms, trying to make sure he wasn't cold. He noticed Lor staring, and paused. "Is something wrong?"

"Nothing, it's just...it's been a while since I've seen you, and now that you're wearing that outfit...it's like you never left." He smiled again. "It's...nice."

"It won't last," Jeryd said, noticing the very well-hidden look of disappointment that crossed Lor's face when he said it. "If the operation is successful, I'm leaving with the others. There's still a war going on, after all."

"I see...will the master agree to that?"

"I highly doubt it," Jeryd said, shuddering slightly. "But then, I don't answer to him anymore. And he tries to get in our way...we'll simply have to kill him."

"Dangerous talk, considering where we are," Lor reminded him quietly.

"Assassins conspire against him every day, at least he expects it from me," Jeryd said. "Truth is, Jer, I don't think I ever truly believed in this life. I was grateful when I was first accepted as a novice, not that I had much choice, though, but later...after everything we have to go through...it's disillusioning. That's why I jumped at the chance to infiltrate the council in the capital—it would finally let me get away from this place. And after a year of living the simple life of Jeryd the Clerk, I finally knew that I would never truly belong in the guild. It's probably why I jumped at the chance to leave my post and help Sheik escape back then."

"Brave...but foolish," Lor said, leaning closer to Jeryd, practically cuddling up against him. It was for warmth, Jeryd told himself. "You had to know that you would be hunted, surely?"

"That's what I thought," Jeryd nodded. "But the first assassin I saw after the debacle was Lezal, and that wasn't until many months afterwards. It almost felt like the guild had forgotten about me."

"It hasn't," Lor reassured him. "The master has been angry for months. Left more than a few novices traumatised for life."

"You?"

"No...and I'm not a novice anymore, remember?"

"Ah...I'm sorry..."

"Stop saying that, Jer," Lor said, still smiling. "I'm comfortable enough with my situation."

"As a slave?"

"It beats being dead."

"I suppose..."

"Definitely," Lor said firmly, resting his head on Jeryd's shoulder. "It's lonely, though. Everyone knows what I am, and they shun me for it, even the novices I thought were my friends."

"When did they tattoo you?" Jeryd blurted out, having hoped to change the subject. In hindsight, he figured he'd only made things worse.

"Not longer after I was...discovered," Lor said, touching his cheek lightly, letting his fingers trail the delicate design. "It was either this or a brand."

"Did it hurt?" Jeryd asked, surprised when Lor grabbed his hand and made his fingers touch the tattoo as well.

"Very," Lor admitted. "It took several weeks to complete. They did it the old-fashioned way, with a single needle and individual drops of ink. Still not as bad—or ugly—as a brand, though, I think."

Jeryd found himself cursing the guild inwardly for daring to put such an ugly mark on his friend. Bending his head, he kissed Lor lightly on the cheek, to which the boy giggled slightly and returned the gesture. Blushing, Jeryd let his hand drop back into his lap.

"You're disappointed that I'm leaving after the job," he said.

"Yes. I didn't realise truly how lonely I was until you came back and we went for that walk earlier today."

Jeryd didn't quite know what to do with that information and remained silent. Lor noticed, but didn't say anything.

"I know you won't come back," the boy finally said. "I had a feeling you wouldn't when you left in the first place, but...when you win the war, maybe you could come visit? Or write me, or..."

"When we win the war, I'll come back...with the loyalist army at my back and we will tear this entire guild down," Jeryd said, voice firm. "And I'll put the master's head on a pike, just like we did with Agon's."

"I'll hold you to that," Lor said, frowning slightly.

Someone cleared their throat, and they found Sheik standing just outside the door, looking uncomfortable. He had covered his face with his cowl, probably not to attract attention. "Did I interrupt something?" he asked.

Noticing their intimate position, Jeryd cleared his throat and moved slightly away from Lor, who looked disappointed and rose from his seat, bowing slightly to Sheik.

"I'm sorry for taking up his time, Master She—"

"Just Sheik, please."

"...Sheik," Lor finished. "I must get back to my shift. Good luck with your operation." That said, he went back inside, leaving Sheik and Jeryd alone.

"Planning something big, are we?" Sheik said with amusement as he sat down next to Jeryd.

"Just something that I've been repressing for a while," Jeryd said. "The guild deserves to burn."

"Because of what they did to you or what they did to him?" Sheik said.

"Both," Jeryd replied. "...but mostly because of what they did to Lor."

Sheik nodded. "I see...how long have you been aware that he's a mage?"

Jeryd blinked. "You knew?" he asked.

"Sheikah can sense magic in a way humans cannot, it seems," Sheik said. "He suppresses it well, but now and then there are flares of energy that can only be attributed to an innate talent for magic. Ard does it as well, but not as much. I suspect it's because he's had training, unlike Lorasi."

"They don't appreciate magic in Lumina in general," Jeryd said. "It's even worse here in Ironhill, where industry and science reign supreme. There was a wandering magician from a neighbouring nation travelling through here once. He didn't use it offensively—probably wasn't strong enough—but merely produced light shows for the kids. They still came for him, beat him and cut his throat in public. Just because he was a mage. Every mage is another potential Enlightened One, it seems. It's probably why they don't allow Lor to become a full assassin, yet keep him around in case he becomes useful for something."

"Such as?"

"Hell if I know, but it can't be anything good."

"I see..."

Jeryd looked at him. "Why are you talking to me?"

"Pardon?"

"Twice now I've tried to make you cheat on Link, and yet you don't seem to despise me in the way you should."

Sheik nodded slowly. "I...guess I just wasn't as upset as you think I was. And I think I have made my point very clear at this point. What you want us to be can never happen. I'm with Link, and—"

"And I'm a terrible person for trying to steal you away, I know," Jeryd said, trying to look anywhere but at Sheik. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Jeryd," Sheik said, patting his shoulder. "For what it's worth, I do find you attractive, but..."

"It can never be." Jeryd blinked. His chest hurt, but not as bad as he had expected it to. There was no knife twisting in his heart, maybe because he had known that nothing would come of him and Sheik, and he'd been preparing himself for the final rejection ever since last night. Maybe he'd even come to terms with it?

"Besides, you have Lor, do you not?" Sheik said.

Confused, Jeryd looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"You seem pretty close, and you did kiss each other right now—"

"It was something we did when we were younger," Jeryd said dismissively. "It's purely platonic."

"Maybe for you, but it's not for him. It certainly doesn't look it, anyway." When Jeryd only continued to stare at him, he rolled his eyes. "You really didn't notice the way he crawled all over you just now?"

"I...guess I didn't," Jeryd admitted. "I thought he was just cold..."

Sheik chuckled. "And you claim to be observant?"

"Never did," Jeryd said. "But if what you say is true...I should probably tell him I don't feel the same way. It's...he's like a brother to me, and to do...things to him...no, it would feel too strange."

Sheik nodded. "The sooner you tell him, the better."

"I'll do it when we get back from the halls. He might take it badly, and it will affect me if he does and probably ruin the infiltration."

"Agreed," Sheik said, standing up. "Speaking of which, we are leaving in five minutes. Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," Jeryd replied and gestured at his outfit.

"I'll see you at the tunnel entrance, then," Sheik said and went for the door, pausing as he turned the knob. "Jeryd, I'm...sorry for everything you have had to go through. I'm honestly ashamed that the guild claims to be inspired by my people."

"It's over and done with, Sheik. I don't dwell on it, and neither should you."

"All right. I'll meet you downstairs." There was doubt in the Sheikah's tone, but he didn't press Jeryd on the matter.

Jeryd remained seated for another few minutes, wondering if the thing with Lor was new or something that had been there the entire time; only he'd been too dense to notice. Whichever it was, he felt bad for not noticing earlier and dealing with it. He owed Lor an apology, for sure. Oh well, he'd get it when they got back from the halls. He took a deep breath and shoved all other thoughts but those for the mission aside and went back into the brothel, ready for the mission.


They were an impressive sight, all of them dressed for infiltration and general sneaky business. Sheik, Kafei and Elenwe had been lent some clothes by the guild which were better than those they had brought along, most of it scrounged up from the army's limited stores. Kafei had his sword on his back and numerous smaller blades in various pouches and pockets. Elenwe had a pair of daggers, her crossbow and a small quiver containing bolts for the weapon. Her hair was pulled tightly back, which only made her face more attractive. Sheik had his new short swords on his back, just like Kafei's, and a set of throwing knives in the holster strapped to his thigh. Jeryd was very much interested in seeing if the sword modified for his crippled hand worked as well Kafei had claimed it would.

They were standing in the small room that contained the hatch that led down into the network of underground tunnels the guild had built. It was quite extensive, but many of the passages had fallen into disrepair, like the one they'd used to enter the city.

Lezal was the last to arrive, dressed identical to Sheik. He was carrying an ordinary crossbow and a full quiver of bolts. Jeryd remembered that Lezal had always preferred ranged combat and had excelled at it during training.

"Are you ready?" he asked, wasting no time as he opened the hatch.

"Let's get this over with," Elenwe said and immediately climbed down through the hatch, closely followed by Kafei and Sheik. Jeryd made to climb down, but Lezal's hand on his shoulder stopped him. "Something you should know," he whispered.

"What is it?" Jeryd hissed.

"Aina's here."

His blood ran cold. "Aina? Are you sure?"

"Pretty damn sure, since she all but beat one of the guards to death when they demanded to see proof of her identity. The master's not happy about it."

"I can imagine. Unpleasant as her presence is, why is it important for me to know?"

Lezal paused, looking down the hatch. "Apparently she has a score to settle with the Gerudo who crippled her. And she knows they're here."

"Who told her?"

"I've no idea, but you should keep it in mind."

"Hey, are you two coming, or what?" Kafei asked from below, his voice slightly metallic from bouncing off the iron walls of the tunnels.

"Right now," Jeryd announced back, giving Lezal a look. "Thanks for the warning," he said quietly and began climbing down. Lezal followed him, closing and sealing the hatch with the wheel.


Thus began an hour-long trek through the tunnels beneath the city. There were many twists and turns, and it was seldom they were headed straight for the machine halls. Lezal explained that they'd been forced to build them this way in order to mimic the sewer system as closely as possible should anyone start digging haphazardly through the ground. It would be a disaster if the network was discovered by the guards, after all.

"Here, we're entering the manufacturing district now," Lezal said, pointing out a drawing of a cogwheel that seemed to have been burned into the metal wall. "Not far now."

"What does the halls look like on the inside?" Kafei asked as they walked.

"Difficult to describe," Lezal answered. "Imagine the biggest workshop you've ever seen, and enlarge it by...a thousand. Standing inside them is like standing inside a great big cave. The ceiling is impossibly high, the darkness oppressive wherever a gaslight isn't there to provide illumination, and the noise...the noise of thousands of workers and craftsmen going about their jobs. Hammers, saws, drills...it's quite amazing."

"How many stories deep, would you say?" Elenwe said.

"At least thirty, perhaps as high as fifty. Five of them above ground, the rest below."

"That's enormous," Sheik said in awe.

"Indeed. Hopefully, the halls will be deserted. The shifts ended about an hour ago, and most of the guards will be mostly stationed around the checkpoints, which we are currently avoiding. The ships will be different, most likely. Plenty of guards, especially around the engine sections. If you have to kill, do it quickly and quietly, and make sure the bodies won't be found until after we've done what we came for."

"And if an alarm is sounded before we're done?" Jeryd asked.

"Then haul ass and get it done," Lezal said.

They reached the passage that led into the halls, which was far narrower than the rest of the network. They eventually had to crawl through it one by one as it turned into a pipe.

"Where does it this open?" Kafei asked at the very front.

"One of the lesser used storage rooms in hall number one," Lezal answered, voice strained. "Behind a cistern, fifteen floors above the factory floor."

"Got it," Kafei replied. "All right, I've found the hatch. Pushing it open."

The sound of grinding, rusty metal was heard, and the smell of stale air reached their nostrils. Kafei climbed out of the pipe, assisting the others as they reached him. The storage room was pitch black, but Sheik and Kafei helped the others find their footing and found the door to the halls proper. Emerging onto one of the many catwalks lining the machine hall walls, all of them gasped, even Lezal, who had probably never been inside.

Lezal's description of the halls did them no justice. They were enormous, massive and cavernous that seemed to stretch on forever into the distance, the only thing hinting at an end to the openness being the lights on the opposite wall. Fifteen floors below, they could see the shacks, workshop tables and tools littering the floor itself, hundreds of little lights shining like pinpricks in the dark. They looked infinitely small from up there. Above, they could not even see the ceiling, only a massive expanse of pure darkness. But the thing that had their jaws dropping was the pair of airships currently dry-docked.

They rested on massive cradles and were surrounded by scaffolding. The ships themselves were gigantic, far larger than their sister ship, The Chimera, and looked different. Where The Chimera simply looked like a normal, seafaring vessel that had been plucked out of the ocean, had a large balloon attached to it and let loose in the skies, The Annihilator and The Reaper looked like elongated metal hulks, little more than lumps of metal bristling with gunports. Massive pipes jutted out of the ships' stern sections, apparently the exhaust pipes of the steam engines. The upper decks were not visible from their position, but it was surely as impressive as the rest of the ships. One of the ships was decidedly less complete than the other, lacking much of the armour plating the other had.

"No sails," Elenwe noted, seemingly in awe of the vessels.

"With steam engines, they are not needed," Lezal said, just as awed. "The ones on The Chimera are supposedly just for decoration."

"I don't see the gas balloons."

"They're integrated into the hulls, according Jedistern's plans," Sheik said. "Instead of one large balloon, there are many smaller sections. Presents less of a target for enemy cannons, perhaps."

"How are we getting...on them?" Jeryd asked, keeping his voice as quiet as possible. There was an unnatural echo in the halls.

Kafei leaned on the rail of the catwalk, studying the ships in the half-gloom. What was invisible to Jeryd, Lezal and Elenwe was visible to him and Sheik. "Gangplanks have been raised," he said quietly. "Scaffolding isn't high enough."

"Up there," Sheik said, pointing upwards. "Cranes and suspended chains and ropes. We'll have to rappel down onto the decks."

"Dangerous," Jeryd said. "Easy to be spotted doing that."

"It's our best option for now," Kafei said. "I think we should split up here and get to it. We meet back here when we're done."

"Which ship is which?" Elenwe asked.

"That one is The Reaper," Sheik said, pointing at the one that looked most complete. "The other one is The Annihilator."

"How could you possibly know that?" she demanded.

"Because their names are painted on the hull," Sheik said in a deadpan, pointing at the stern of the nearest ship. The letters were quite large. Elenwe glared at him, to which Sheik only shook his head. "Not observant either, huh?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Sheik said innocently, winking at Jeryd, who also looked offended. "Shall we, gentlemen?"

"All right," Kafei said, nodding at them. "Sheik, Jeryd, Lezal...good luck."

"Same to you, Kafei, Elenwe," Sheik replied. They looked at each other for a few moments before the two teams separated and went different ways. Kafei and Elenwe began climbing the stairs next to them, already close enough to their target. Sheik and the others followed the catwalk until The Annihilator was fully in view and not obscured by her sister. There, they found another set of stairs and began to climb. They did not stop until they were, by Sheik's count, at least forty stories above the factory floor, on the level with the cranes that were built into the walls and mounted on rails. One of the cranes' loading pallet happened to be suspended just above the upper deck of the airship. Their jaws fell open once more upon seeing it.

It was littered with small towers, most of which looked more gun emplacements. Archer positions, protected from enemy fire by shields of steel lined the edge of the deck, giving no opportunity for enemies on a lower level to fire upon them. A slightly larger tower protruded from the very middle of the deck. The bridge, according to Jedistern's plans. Two levels of instruments and observation ports. And currently unimportant, as their price lay far below.

Guards were wandering aimlessly around on the deck, apparently confident that no one would be able to sneak past the checkpoints.

What fools they are, Sheik thought. Luckily for them, none of the wandering troops were close to the loading pallet.

"Let's not waste any time," he whispered to Jeryd and Lezal. "Climb."

All three quickly scaled the crane and shimmied over to the wire suspended from the crane. Sheik was the first to slide down to the pallet, quietly climb off and land rolling on the upper deck, quickly seeking cover behind one of the smaller gun towers. Jeryd was next, and Lezal last. Sheik noticed that the pallet had begun to swing back and forth a little due to their movement, but not too much to alert anyone.

"How do we get below deck?" Lezal whispered.

"One of the stairwells, like that one," Sheik whispered back and pointed at a tower on the opposite side of the deck. Light spilled out from the open door, and voices could be heard from within. "Should be one just opposite of it. Follow me."

They hurried from tower to tower, staying out of sight of the guards. As they moved, Sheik became aware of the fact that the deck beneath their feet was vibrating. It was almost unnoticeable.

Must be the engine running, he reasoned.

"Can you see Kafei and Elenwe?" Jeryd asked quietly.

Sheik looked in the direction of The Reaper, but could only see the faint lights from the portholes and open doors on the upper deck. "No," he answered. "They might be onboard already."

"Then let's not waste any time," Lezal said, moving the next tower, which happened to be one connected to a stairwell.

They carefully slipped inside, hoping their entry wasn't spotted by the guards. The stairwell was steep and narrow, and one wrong step would send them crashing to one of decks, surely inciting every guard on the ship. Gaslights provided illumination, a clever system that ran throughout the ship. The vibration was getting more noticeable now, and a quiet hum could be heard.

"Which deck holds the engine room?" Lezal asked.

"Three through five, but we want the fourth, where the boiler is located," Sheik replied. "And before you ask, we count from the bottom of the ship, so we've quite a ways to go."

"This ship is much bigger than The Chimera," Jeryd said. "How many crewmembers does it require?"

"Jedistern didn't say," Sheik said as they reached a small platform with a door that led into the main interior of the ship. "At least a few hundred, probably more. I've no idea how these things work and I definitely don't know how many hands are needed to keep it running."

Further down, the stairs turned into a ladder. Sheik was positive that they had found a maintenance passage rather than any of the main stairs, which suited him just fine. There was a much lesser chance of encountering any guards here. They climbed for what felt like forever, but they eventually reached the platform with a large number 4 painted beside its door. Small letters underneath it read:

Engine compartment
Crew quarters
Magazine 4-A

"Crew quarters on the same level as the engine?" Lezal asked with surprise. "How could anyone sleep?"

The vibration was strong enough to rattle the metal walls now, and the hum was loud enough to necessitate raising their voices. It only got worse when they opened the door and the roar of the test-firing engine grew in volume to the point where their eardrums began to hurt. Sheik signalled them to move ahead and into the narrow corridor beyond, hugging the walls to minimise the chance of being spotted.

The floor was carpeted, which did little to muffle the sounds of the engine, but at least it absorbed the shaking somewhat, leaving them a little more sure-footed. Lines painted in different colours seemed to be used as guides towards the different compartments on this deck. A helpful map mounted on the wall at a junction revealed that they were quite a distance away from the engine compartment. There were several routes they could choose to get there, but further inspection of the closest one revealed it to be patrolled by at least two guards.

"Let's split up," Jeryd said, loudly enough for his companions to hear over the din. "Less a chance of being spotted and we can learn a bit of the ship's layout at the same time."

"All right," Sheik agreed, knowing that having three people trying to sneak through the same cramped hallways would only lead to trouble. "We will meet up in the engine compartment. Do not make a move unless the other two have arrived. Who goes where?"

"I'll take this way," Jeryd said quickly, indicating a path that would take him past the magazine, through the crew quarters and to the east entrance to the engine compartment. Lezal picked one that ran parallel to Jeryd's, but on the other side of the ship, which left Sheik to take the middle path through another set of crew quarters. They nodded good luck to each other and separated wordlessly.

Sheik ensured that his companions were on their way before starting to move himself. Easing himself through the narrow doorway into the bunk area of the crew quarters, he realised that he had drastically underestimated the total number of crewmembers The Annihilator could hold. He counted seventy-five bunks alone in this room, and suspected that they were used in shifts, which meant that there was room for a hundred and fifty men just here, and he remembered that Jedistern's plans had showed at least eleven additional crew compartments like this one.

Over two thousand, he thought. The number alone was enough to make him dizzy, but when he began to wonder about the logistics of supporting such a ship. How much hydrogen gas was needed to keep it afloat, much less how wood and water it would take to work up enough steam to propel it forwards? And then there was the matter of feeding the crew and arming its weapons...

Sheik suddenly felt very small on this gargantuan ship, and with good reason. It didn't help that he knew that thousands of tons of steel rested both above him and below him, all of supported by a superstructure that hadn't looked particularly strong on the plans. One minor, bending girder and the entire thing would collapse in on itself, crushing everything and everyone within. It didn't help with his dizziness one bit, and combined with the vibration of the engine and the roar, it left him so uncomfortable he had to sit down for a bit, hiding behind one of the bunks. He was lucky the ship wasn't fully manned yet.

The seal began to smart at this time as well, further adding to his discomfort. Cold sweat began to bead on his forehead, and he felt certain he was about to vomit. Damn it, he had been underground before, why was this so different? He closed his eyes and breathed in deep, exhaling slowly and repeated it several times. It helped against the nausea, but the pain from the seal only increased in intensity, turning into a slightly burning sensation.

Damn it, what do you want? Sheik thought angrily, cursing once again the day he had ever encountered the shadow.

Just wanted to warn you that your friends are making good progress while you are not, Speil's voice suddenly said, as loud and clear as if he was sitting right next to Sheik, which made him jump with surprise.

You! How can you talk? You're sealed up!

Indeed I am, but your subconscious must have realised you needed someone to snap you out of this trance you're in, and finally let me speak to you directly, Speil answered, sounding almost amused. This is a new development for you, is it not? Usually, I've been the only one who could reduce you to this gibbering mess.

Shut up!

You know, I don't think I will. I have been left gagged and tied ever since that fiasco with the seal and this is my first chance to speak in weeks. So no, I won't shut up, pet. In fact, since this is such a dangerous mission and our survival rests on you being at your best so we can actually hope to escape this place with our lives, I intend to aid you.

What? How? Sheik wondered, suspicious.

Speil chuckled, further infuriating Sheik. It's working already, isn't it? You're distracting yourself from your troubles by being angry at me.

You are one of my troubles, Sheik thought, annoyed when he realised that Speil was actually right. The walls didn't feel as close and pressing as before, and his stomach had ceased being upset, leaving his head clear and able to focus on the task at hand.

Yes, but I'm the lesser of two evils at the moment, am I not?

You're rated on a different scale, Sheik replied nastily. Now shut up and let me work.

Very well, but I will have my say when I feel like it is necessary.

That surprised Sheik. Speil had never been one to take orders like that. In fact, he had a feeling the shadow would simply be contrarian and do the exact opposite of what he said every damn time. But now...perhaps he truly was serious about wanting them both to get out alive. He paused. Who was he kidding; of course Speil was concerned for his own existence, which apparently rested on Sheik being alive.

Annoyed that his tormentor was back, he scowled and moved ahead, wondering how Link would react to this.


Jeryd had been forced to dodge at least two patrols by the time he reached the magazine. Easily picking the lock with his tools, he slipped inside, closing the door behind him. It was as unguarded as most of the rest of the ship, it seemed. No one deemed infiltrators being much of a danger as long as the ship was dry-docked, apparently.

It suited him just fine. The gaslights cast their eerie glow upon the varieties of munitions contained within the magazine, which was much bigger than the largest barracks back in the rebel camp. Regular cannonballs were the most common type of ammunition, it seemed. There were also two balls attached to each other by a thick chain, which Jeryd shuddered to imagine what was for. Barrels containing grapeshot were next, the tiny balls of lead a sure danger for infantry. Then he found the shelves containing the weapons he was looking for.

They were smaller than the cannonballs, about twice as big as his fist, but surprisingly light, probably due to the fact that the outer shell was made of a special alloy developed by some engineers. A wick stuck out of their tops—fuses.

Jeryd grinned. He'd seen these in action before when the guild had raided a royal armoury back before he'd left for the capital. The bombs were so tightly packed with gunpowder that a single one would demolish an entire, medium-sized building.

"Perfect," he muttered and slipped a pair into the largest holsters on his outfit. They hardly weighed him down at all, which made him grin. Perhaps there was hope after all, then.

He quietly slipped out of the magazine and continued towards the engine compartment, hoping that he hadn't wasted too much time with locating the bombs. He'd hate to be the last one there, after all.


Kafei panted and withdrew his sword from the dead guard's torso. On the other side of the crew quarters, Elenwe was doing something similar. The walls and bunks were covered in blood sprays, an unfortunate consequence of fighting within such cramped quarters.

"You all right?" he asked his partner, who nodded wordlessly.

They had just reached the ship's magazine when a patrol of five men had come upon them. Kafei and Elenwe had managed to push them backwards with a ferocious storm of blades and into the crew quarters, where they had quickly been overwhelmed and taken down. Luckily, they'd been too busy trying to fend off the Sheikah and Gerudo to alert anyone else about their presence. Sealing the crew quarters behind them, they could only hope that no one would get curious about what was inside and find the carnage.

They resumed work on the magazine door, slipping inside as soon as it was open. They had staked out the way to the engine room already, which was left unguarded, surprisingly enough. Guarding the big guns that were still left on the upper deck was a bigger priority, apparently.

They found some barrels of gunpowder and bombs that would be perfect for destroying the engine and began to load up a small cart. The carpet would hopefully muffle the noise it made.

"I've been thinking," Elenwe said as the loaded.

"Never a good sign, but go ahead," Kafei said jokingly. They were both focused on the mission now, which left all the...uncomfortable emotional issues out of the equation, opening up for their usual banter. He had missed it.

"Since we're blowing shit up anyway..."

"Yes?"

"Why don't we, after taking out the engine, blow up this magazine as well? My estimates tell me that it'd blow a nice hole in the hull. That way, they'd have two boo-boos to fix."

"I like the idea," Kafei said. "But how would we do it? Once the engine goes up, every guard on the ship will be after us."

"Easy, we prepare it in advance. That way, we just have to retreat back here, light the fuse and keep running. Maybe a few guards will be caught in the blast, even. Hell, could prove the distraction we need to get the hell out, wouldn't it?"

Kafei found himself nodding. "Could work, could work," he said. "All right, as soon as we've loaded this one up, we set up this room. Where should we lead the fuse?"

"Back the maintenance shaft we come down, maybe? That's the way we're leaving, isn't it?"

"Right," Kafei said. "Let's just hope none of them snuffs the fuse out before it blows."

They finished filling the cart with enough explosives and began pouring gunpowder all over the magazine.

"You know, I've been thinking too," he said, uncorking a barrel and tipping it over.

"An even worse sign than me thinking," she said with a grin.

Kafei hesitated. He really had been thinking for the past few days. About what had been said about him and E. More specifically, what Sheik had said. He had brushed off his cousin's words back at the camp, but they had haunted him at night. Perhaps they were right, perhaps he was making mistake by clinging to Anju's memory like he had been doing over the years. He didn't want to ruin the good pace they'd been making on the mission, but it might be their last chance. He cleared his throat.

"I...want to apologise," he said.

"For what?" Elenwe asked, raising an eyebrow.

"For...not...considering your feelings about our...lack of a relationship and how I...rejected it..."

"You really want to discuss this now?" she asked, exasperated. "Hardly a fitting time, you know?"

"Possible the only time we have left," he said and lifted the barrel, spreading the deadly powder all over the floor, close to the other barrels. "And...I wanted to say that I've given it a lot of thought, and...you're right. I've been clinging to...her too much, and it hasn't been fair...and I do like you…"

She paused, eyes widening. "What are you saying?"

He avoided looking at her as he spoke, "I…want to be with you."

Her mouth fell open in surprise, but her eyes narrowed soon after. "What if I don't want to be with you anymore? What if I've moved on?" It was a badly executed joke, and she was unable to maintain her serious expression when she saw the look of pure disappointment on Kafei's face after she'd spoken. "Okay, this really isn't the time for it, but for now…I accept. We can discuss it further when we're out of this damn place. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Kafei said, smiling almost shyly at her. He looked around. "I deem this room properly booby-trapped, don't you?" She nodded. "Then I say we go and shove all this crap into the furnace."


The engine compartment was enormous, quite possibly the largest room on the ship next to the cargo hold, which was seemed vast on the plans. Catwalks crisscrossed over the open space, below which could be found the pistons and other mechanical objects that ensured the craft was propelled forward. At the very end, the furnace and boiler could be found.

The noise in here was the worst, and Sheik found himself needing to use a pair of earplugs he'd fashioned out of candle wax. All of the infiltrators carried them, and he hoped they all used them. Creeping along a catwalk, he looked below and saw that there were quite a few engineers overseeing the testing of the engine. They were looking at brass dials with arrows that spun both fast and slow, monitoring gauges that measured Goddesses knew what. The raised platform by the furnace and boiler was occupied by five people, two of whom seemed to be engineers and the rest guards. It seemed, from the angle from the floor, to be impossible for the people down there to see what was happening on it, and, apart from Sheik, those five men were the only ones on this level. That would make it easier to take them out without being seen—and the noise would mask any sounds of fighting.

He looked to his left and spotted Jeryd creeping along another catwalk. He acknowledged him with a nod, and then Lezal who came creeping into the compartment through the west entrance, close to the platform. He spotted them, nodded and retreated into the shadows provided by a complex-looking series of pipes that jutted out of the floor by the door.

Sheik and Jeryd were close to the platform now, but they would have to jump down on it from their positions. Sheik waited until both he and Jeryd were in position, ensuring that Lezal was ready, before giving a signal. As one, they pounced on the group on the platform.

There was no time to find a non-lethal way to go about it. They subdued and cut their throats, holding them down as their bodies' twitching seized, pulling them to the centre of the platform to ensure they were out of sight of the men downstairs.

Sheik saw that his two companions were also wearing the earplugs, and he had a feeling everyone was quite happy he'd come up with the idea, as even now their ears hurt because of the sound. Having to rely on hand signals, they began to study the panels and valves that covered the walls beside the furnace.

It seemed the engine was running on full steam, and the fire inside the furnace burned so hot that it almost melted the metal around it.

Remembering the drawings Jedistern had made for him, Sheik quickly located the valves they'd need to manipulate to rupture the boiler. He pointed them out to Jeryd and Lezal and motioned for them to start turning them all at the same time. They each took a set of valves and, after another signal from Sheik, began to turn.

Oh my, this will be interesting,chuckled Speil, his voice still clear to Sheik despite the background noise. He ignored the shadow and kept turning, noticing that several of the dials and gauges were beginning to turn wildly, a sign of internal pressure already building up within the boiler. He risked a look around and noticed that several of the men downstairs were beginning to look up at the platform, which only served to spur him on. They had to do it quickly, or they'd be discovered and have to abort the mission.

Heart beginning to beat wildly, he began on the next set of valves, noticing the vibration getting worse, and growing out of control.

Someone slapped his shoulder, and Jeryd came into view, tapping his wrist and jerking a thumb towards the nearest exit. The earplugs were useless now, the noise growing to deafening intensity. A spanner slammed into the wall next to him, soundlessly. He finally turned around and saw that the guards and engineers had caught on to what was happening and were climbing the stairs towards them.

Time to leave, Sheik thought and allowed himself to be pulled away by Jeryd. He looked back at the control panels before ducking through the door. I hope we did enough.

He got his answer a few minutes later when an ear-shattering explosion could be heard and the entire ship rocked back and forth in its cradle. Steam erupted from dozens of pipes that ran along the corridor, clouding their view and making the air swelteringly hot. The gaslights flickered, many of the pipes carrying their fuel also having ruptured during the explosion. Picking themselves up from the deck, they continued running. Lezal had come this way, so he took the job of guiding them back to the place they'd come in.

The ship had fallen almost completely silent after the explosion. The ruptured pipes hissed loudly, and voices could be heard in the distance as everyone onboard tried to figure out what had just happened. Sheik removed his ear plugs, fearing his eardrums had ruptured, but found no evidence of it happening.

"Come on, this way," Lezal shouted, taking them through winding corridors and past dark, empty compartments. "Not far!"

"Ah, shit, here they come," Jeryd shouted from behind them. "Right behind us!"

The shouting voices were growing louder, and not even the carpet could muffle the sound of their boots thundering along the corridors.

"Run faster!" Lezal shouted. "We're nearly there!"

They finally spotted the maintenance ladder they'd climbed down and piled into the small compartment. Lezal climbed first, followed by Sheik and then Jeryd, who made sure to seal the door behind them. Someone began hammering on it almost immediately, but Jeryd used one of his daggers to jam the wheel.

"It's not going to hold them forever!" he yelled. "Climb!"

They had just reached the end of the ladder and the beginning of the stairs when another roar could be heard, but this one coming from outside.

"Must be Kafei and Elenwe doing their bits," Sheik said. A shockwave seemed to hit The Annihilator, and it once again rocked back and forth in its cradle. This only made the saboteurs climb faster, and soon enough they were carefully opening the door to the upper deck. It was almost deserted, save for the few guards who had gathered on the opposite side to gaze in disbelief at the flames that were erupting from a massive hole in The Reaper's side, its hull ripped clean through. Smoke was pouring out of its ventilation openings as well, and the exhaust ports, proving that they had probably completely destroyed the engine.

What the hell did they do? Sheik wondered as he stared at the burning hole in its side.

Went above and beyond the call of duty? Speil's snarky voice suggested, which Sheik ignored completely.

"Hey, they're over here!"

One of the guards had spotted them, and he and his friends quickly drew their weapons and ran towards them.

"I just realised a fatal flaw in our plan," Jeryd said.

"Which is?" Sheik asked.

"How the hell are we getting off this thing?"

Sheik looked towards the loading pallet they'd climbed down. It had shifted, and now hung well below the upper deck. Close enough to the catwalks on the walls, it seemed...

His thoughts were interrupted by the guards reaching them. Lezal had taken down two with his crossbow and was working on his third, having stabbed him in the throat with a bolt. Jeryd quickly dispatched the two remaining ones with a fast series of swipes with his remaining dagger. For the first time Sheik noticed that two of his holsters were bulging, which he was fairly certain they hadn't before entering the machine halls.

He must have stolen something from the ship. I wonder what.

"The pallet's rope," he announced to the others. "We'll use it to swing over to the wall!"

"How?" Lezal asked.

"Cut the pallet off with a bolt, I'll handle the rest!"

"Might want to hurry, more of them are coming!" Jeryd said as several of the doors on the deck slammed open, revealing more guards.

Lezal didn't hesitate as he loaded his crossbow once more, ran over to the side of the deck and fired at the rope that held the loading pallet suspended. It snapped at once, dropping the heavy platform and allowing the rope to hang free. The assassin was about to ask what he just did it for when Sheik suddenly ran past him, scaled the rail and hurled himself at the rope. He managed to grab it, swinging himself towards the catwalks. He reached out with his left hand, managed to curl his remaining fingers around one of the railings, and clung on. Climbing over it, he swung the rope back, and Lezal did the same as Sheik, who helped him up. Jeryd was barely able to jump off the ship before the first guard reached him, their hands grabbing at the empty air the assassin had occupied moments before. The human slammed painfully into the railing, but Sheik and Lezal were ready to pull him over the side.

"Go, go, go!" Sheik shouted. "Back to the tunnel!"

As they ran for the exit, Sheik saw hundreds of guards were now pouring into the halls from the checkpoints, all of them confused about what had just happened. The air tasted of smoke and metal, the black clouds billowing out of the The Reaper beginning to build up underneath the ceiling. The place would turn into a death trap soon if the fires weren't put out.

Kafei and Elenwe were waiting for them by the door to the storage room, waving them over quicky.

"Where the hell were you?" Elenwe asked.

"We had to improvise our way off the ship!" Sheik explained. "Can we please leave?"

Soldiers had begun to climb the catwalks, having spotted them running, but they'd be far too late to reach them.

They squeezed into the pipe they had entered through, Lezal entering last and sealing the hatch from within.

A strange sort of mood settled over them as they crawled their way back towards the tunnel system again. The gravity of what they had just done dawned on them, and it was the oddest sensation Sheik had ever felt. For once, nothing had gone wrong, save for the slight cock-up about their escape route. My responsibility, that, he reminded himself.

That it was.

Shut up.

"Won't they find the tunnel eventually?" Kafei asked when they finally reached the main passage.

"Doubtful," Lezal said, brushing ash and dust off his clothes. "But just to be sure, we'll post some guards here to take care of any...unwelcome guests."

"I can't believe we just did that," Elenwe said, her voice quivering from excitement and adrenaline. "We just...blew them up!"

"What was with the fire?" Sheik asked Kafei, who shrugged.

"Cover for our escape," he said. "Bigger problem for the enemy to solve, too."

"Whatever it was, it was brilliant," Sheik said, grinning at his cousin, who grinned back.

"Not to be a stick in the mud, but I'd rather we got out of here," Jeryd said, interrupting the moment. "The farther away from the machine halls, the better."

"I agree," Lezal said. "Come on, there's food and drink waiting for us at the Cock. This is a story that'll be told in the guild in years to come!"


Their walk back to the guild was relaxed and leisurely; all of them deciding they'd earned a little calm to themselves. They traded stories of their infiltration and subsequent sabotage of the ships. They all agreed it had almost been too easy, but only because the guards had been so lax with security, believing there to be no other ways into the halls than through the checkpoints.

"...I got pretty worried when Kafei almost dropped a match into the furnace before we'd finished filling it with explosives," Elenwe said, cackling. "You should've seen the look on his face!"

"It wasn't even lit," Kafei protested. "Besides, when you failed to light your own match to blow up the magazine during the escape? That's when I got worried."

"Doesn't beat Sheik's look when he realised he'd forgotten about an escape route," Jeryd said, grinning from ear to ear. "It was the perfect look of disbelief with a tiny amount of shame mixed in with it."

"What did you expect when I'd forgotten something so vital to the mission?" Sheik said, feeling his cheeks burn with embarrassment.

"Well, cousin, you did well when you improvised, so no harm, no foul," Kafei said, which earned him a genuine smile from Sheik.

They were in good spirits when they reached the ladder that led back up to the guild headquarters. Lezal climbed up first, followed by Kafei, Elenwe and Sheik. Jeryd was last. As he climbed, he felt like he could taken on the world, that nothing would stand in his way as he executed his plan for the guild that—

The sounds of struggling and muffled shouting above snapped him out of it, and he raced up the ladder. His heart sank as he came upon a terrible sight. Sheik, Kafei and Elenwe were on the floor, the blades of multiple assassins at their throats, holding them down. Lezal was holding Kafei, who spat at him.

"What are you doing?" Jeryd demanded.

"Exactly what you told me to do, Jeryd," Lezal said innocently. "Subduing them."

"What? I..." The outrage he felt wouldn't even permit him to speak, so he went for his last dagger instead, but found the holster empty, to his horror. Then he saw it sticking out of Lezal's belt, and the truth dawned upon him. They'd all been set up. "You son of a bitch—"

"I'm sorry, but I came up first so I took the initiative, but it was a good plan," Lezal continued, watching as the ones on the floor had their hands and feet tied together and their mouths gagged. "Congratulations on capturing the master two genuine Sheikah, Jeryd," he said as he put his weapons away and straightening up. "That will certainly get you back into the guild."

Rushing forward to strike at Lezal's face, he found the tip of a blade digging into his back, courtesy of the assassin standing right behind him. The unvoiced threat was clear enough. One more step and he'd be dead. Sheik and the others were hauled to their feet and were taken out of the room. The look Sheik sent him was filled with so much anger and betrayal it made Jeryd choke on his breath. They hadn't been able to see that he was under the threat of death. Glaring at Lezal, he wished death upon the bastard.

"You knew this was coming, Jer," Lezal said, toying with Jeryd's dagger. "You knew what needed to be done. But I knew that you wouldn't have the guts, in the end, so I did it for you. Welcome back to the fold."

"Fuck you, I—"

An assassin slammed his fist into Jeryd's stomach, knocking the air out of his lungs. He felt his arms being seized and was dragged out of the room.

"Take him to his room and make sure he stays there until the master says otherwise," Lezal's voice called after them.

Gasping for breath, Jeryd tried to struggle, but the assassins held him in an iron grip, and all he was able to do was growl and bark at them. Tears of shame streaming down his face, he could only repeat one sentence again and again in his head.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry...

To be continued...


Ah, procrastination, my ever-faithful muse. This chapter turned out longer than I expected it to, but I suspect none of you actually mind that ;) Thanks for the reviews, everyone!

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