"It really is quite fascinating," the Princess said, not for the first time that day. "Robbie believes he has found a way to command the Guardians, without needing the slate as an interface. His theory is that they are able to...well… remember, for lack of a better word, a given pattern of orders that they will then act out. Of course, all of this is dependant on him being able to input these orders directly and without the slate. Purah is not entirely confident that we have progressed this far - "

Urbosa let the warm Autumn sun wash over her and the Princess' gentle prattle recede as they walked. The guardians, an asset as they were, did not awake the same curiosity in her as they did in the Princess nor did they inspire the type of awe and kinship as she had felt when first stepping onto to Vah Naboris. In all truthfulness this was a welcome respite from the morning's tension.

Rhoam, never one to delay once his decision had been made, had decided that the breakfast table would be the place inform his daughter that the Hero had been recalled. In return, Zelda, bleary eyed, hungry and deflated from hours of morning prayers that yielded the usual results, had nothing to offer but a firm suggestion that his talents would be much better employed anywhere but the Castle. This had only irritated the King, who had proceeded to lecture the Princess regarding her form of conduct in the presence of the Hero, which had been met with a sulky declaration that she would be as polite as she had always been but that certainly, her father could not expect her to be warm to someone who did not so much as bother to say a word in her presence. Incensed, yet unable to deny the Hero's silent nature, the King had informed her that he believed she had not been paying the proper due to her prayers and as such, her Little Bird's tour of Hyrule, to greet and officially nominate the champions, was under consideration and likely to be cancelled and replaced with a letter of invitation by the king himself. At that, the Princess had declared herself not hungry and excused herself.

Now, in the calm of the garden, surrounded by the smell of of soil and flowers, she could gain some needed perspective. While Rhoam had undoubtedly delivered that last piece of information in anger, the decision itself was likely a reaction to the previous day's events. Urbosa herself had concerns regarding her Little Bird's safety on the road, and even the Castle did not seem as safe as it had once been.

But Rhoam did his daughter a disservice in keeping her locked. Eventually, assuming they all survived the coming Calamity, whenever that may be, Zelda would be Queen. Clever as she was, her political skills could be...improved, to put it gently. The girl had no experience and her father, focused as he was on the power that was her birthright, continuously failed to prepare his daughter to rule. Later, when all was quieter, she would need to have a word with him.

For the moment, she was satisfied in keeping the Princess company as she went on about her Guardians, and watch the disappointment in her eyes be replaced with the spark of excitement as they approached the courtyard.

"- texts which suggest that other types of guardians -" the clink of metal brought the Princess to a stand still which such force that Urbosa was surprised to find its source nothing but three soldiers currently occupying the path and scurrying to kneel at the unexpected sight of the Princess.

"Oh," the princess said after a beat, "you're back already."

Curious, Urbosa focused on the seeming target of these words. One of the soldiers had stepped slightly forward and was know kneeling before the Princess. Although nothing seemed remarkable about the soldier in question – a fairly good looking young man with light brown hair and blue eyes – her Little Bird's tone left little of question of who it could be.

"Should I take it that is this the famed Hero of Hyrule?" the Gerudo Chief asked the Princess with a raised eyebrow and mischievous smile. The Princess, however, was not in a similar amused disposition. "Yes," she answered curtly, "Urbosa, this is Link. And this is Urbosa, Chief of the Gerudo."

This raised an eyebrow. Zelda, she knew, was not particularly fond of this Hero. She had her own suspicions as why, hard to confirm as they might be without ever having met him at all. But the way that her Little Bird said his name, almost as if swallowing bad medicine, was as different as it possibly could be from her usual gentle tone or even the tentative seriousness that formality brought out in her.

She would hate it to be so, but could there be more to the situation than Zelda's injured pride? She shifted her attention to the Hero but received not much in return but a polite nod and a neutral expression. If she had to guess, she would place her bets on this boy being used to being stared at. The boy stood straight, but not overly rigid, holding his helmet under his arm. His hair was perhaps a tad longer than expected from a knight, but kept tied, and his eyes showed intelligence but no overt curiosity. In short, the boy gave nothing obvious away in the way he looked or carried himself and she'd be a Molduga's lunch if that didn't seem intentional to her. She made a mental note to finding a place and time to engage him alone. That was likely to bear more fruit than trying to read him here, in the middle of a path, as a dense silence set over them and the other two soldiers exchanged uncomfortable glances.

"Well, you certainly must have important business to attend to. Don't let us hold you," the Princess' voice cut through her thoughts. The boy nodded, the soldiers began to rise and before they had so much as finished picking themselves off of their knees the Princess was already walking ahead, her back straight and fists curled at her side.

Despite this, Urbosa didn't rush her step. Zelda's temper would rise and subside in waves and she needed her space to settle whatever emotions this encounter had made flare. It was, she thought, quite a fascinating interaction. It must be hard on her Little Bird – to watch, day in and day out someone who had accomplished, who seemed to excel at the task they were fated for, when she had struggled for so long to find that same power which had come so easily to her old friend, only to wake up empty handed each day.

Of course, her dear friend was long departed and that made Zelda's training little but groping in dark. Whatever guidance her mother could provide the Princess had died with her. And whatever knowledge had awoken the power inside her had not been shared with Rhoam. Or herself. Urbosa had long suspected that there simply wasn't any knowledge to share. Likely, her dear friend had simply felt it. In her heart and in her soul, much like Urbosa felt the power of lightning surging through her. In that, the boy had the clear advantage, even if Zelda did not have the clarity to see it. His soul, she was inclined to believe, must be pure, or else we would have never gotten the sword. But in the wielding of it he had certainly benefited from the training the Royal Guard could provide.

In everything else, she remained as ignorant of the boy as before she had met him. Could he truly be indifferent to the Princess' harsh greeting or was he as well practised in disguising his thoughts as in wielding his weapon? Indeed, there was much she still wanted to know about this boy, especially for Zelda's sake. In her anger, she couldn't see it and she would barely admit it. But her Little Bird was a lonely soul, burdened by the fate of her kingdom. So was Rhoam, she knew, and so was she.

And although none desired to voice it, they all knew the truth: the champions, the Beasts, the guardians, all that gave them was a fighting chance. A true victory rested entirely in two people: the Princess and the Hero. It was too large a burden for her to carry alone. Too large a burden for two so young. It would be much to their benefit to learn to share it, especially if they must work in tandem.

The clinks and clanks of Sheikah working the machines were now close enough to hear and it brought a smile to her face to see Zelda's fists relaxing as it came within view. The girl did not slow, but shot back a look and a nod urging her to hurry, her previous anger forgotten at the sight of a large Guardian.

"Check it! Took you enough time to have that breakfast Princess. We were ready to start the testing 30 minutes ago. Now hand over that slate." Purah's voice cut through the clatter and she hopped from the observation deck where was perched and sauntered over to them with an extended hand.

"Hi Urbosa," she added as an afterthought. She liked this Sheikah, Urbosa thought. Although still a young woman, she seemed to understand her circle and command the utmost respect within it – the gathered scientists had immediately stopped their work at the sound of her voice, and only resumed once they were certain they were not her intended target. She could perhaps be a little...energetic, but even Zelda had nothing but praise to speak of Purah.

In this moment, however, Zelda seemed entirely undaunted by the Sheikah's demanding manner.

"I believed the idea was to not use the slate?" she said as she reached for the item on her hip.

"You are undeniably, unquestionably, most certainly correct," Robbie answered, raising his goggles to his head as he matched Purah's saunter on his way to the Princess.

"That said, we still need the slate to measure certain patterns and to ensure efficacy," with a quick swipe, he snatched the slate from Purah's extended hand and turned on his heel before she could protest. "Hi Urbosa," he too shot over his shoulder, ignoring Purah's crossed armed pout and a Princess making a sound that was very close to a snort.

"If we succeed," said Zelda as they walked behind the scientists, "it could mean a true chance at victory. Of course, I will continue my prayers to awaken my powers," she was quick to add, "but our defence would be greatly improved if each guardian could act independently."

They came to a halt in front of the machine and Zelda seemed to hesitate for a moment as the two sheikah walked past it and onto the observation deck.

"You go on," Urbosa told her, "I'm content to watch it from here."

"Are you certain? The calculations are somewhat involved but I am sure that I could -"

"Quite certain, Little Bird," Urbosa assured her, "I enjoy the activity down below and Purah seems to have her hands full with Robbie already. None of you needs further distractions."

The Princess let out something of a giggle half hidden behind her hand and with a mouthed "thank you" she was off to join the two scientists. For her part, Urbosa was satisfied to see her enjoying herself and had been sincere in her preference for the tinkering with the mechanical aspects.

She approached the towering Guardian and, setting a hand against its surface, ran a thumb over its texture. It was cool and somewhat like stone, but with grooves and markings that must certainly have been carved, despite the lack of tool marks. In that, it was much like Vah Naboris. She closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind of the noise of the experimenting Sheikah.

She slowed her breathing and attempted to reach for it in her mind, to feel its presence. But there was nothing. No awareness of its existence, no lengthy limbs that danced as if her own, no sense of another being that continued as if she herself had grown so much larger. If not for the hand still on Guardian, she would not know it was there. In that, it was entirely unlike Vah Naboris.

She removed her hand and stepped back at the faint sound of approaching footsteps. "Well?" asked a voice.

"Well what?" she shot back, perhaps a bit too forcefully. Truth be told, the nearly silent movement of the Sheikah unnerved her.

"What did you feel?" Robbie asked. "You were trying to feel for it, weren't you?"

Clever, that one, she thought as she observed him. Unorthodox, in his hair and his style, but more observant that she would have given him credit for, she supposed. She shook her head in reply.

"Shame. That would have really made our work much easier," he said with a shrug and walked back to where Purah and Zelda stood, both frowning at the slate.

She couldn't frankly see how that would make it easier, given that neither Robbie nor Purah had entirely been able to explain her connection to Vah Naboris, never mind replicate it, but perhaps that was why they were the scientists and she was not.

For a time, she watched as a handful of Sheikah swarmed the guardian, climbing it, banging and adjusting and she couldn't help but a pang of melancholy over the knowledge that had been lost. The Gerudo themselves had some gaps in their history, some she would dearly liked filled, but nothing like Sheikah. How sad it must feel to stand there and awe at how little you know of the marvels your own ancestors have created.

With a chill, she decided it was time to move into the sun and find distraction, least melancholy take her for the day. She did not particularly enjoy indulging in it, and now, with her Little Bird in better spirits and the certainty that her connection to this machines started and stopped with Vah Naboris, her purpose for being here was done and the morning threatened to drag on.

Voices caught her attention and she followed them, relieved at the distraction. Just off the courtyard a circle of guards seemed to have gathered and were enthusiastically shouting at something. She approached, curious, and was rewarded by the sight of the Hero, engaged in battle with three of his colleagues.

The corner of her mouth twitched involuntarily at this little pantomime of battle. She could not have engendered a better opportunity to analyse the hero's skills. She watched him, intently, as he stood his ground. To her eye, he was deft and nimble, smartly dodging his companions' blows, more intent on exhausting them than overtaking them. Prodding when opportunity arose, just enough to open room for mistakes and using them to his advantage. More amusingly, the watching companions seemed to have gotten the gist of his tactics, hollering and cheering at Link or his challengers in turn, as they wove in and out of the fighting circle in an attempt to exhaust the Hero themselves, and yet saw themselves fall to the same tactics they had just cleverly spotted.

Occasionally the Hero would let on a hint of a smile, when one of his adversaries had a particularly good play that either caught him unaware or was very well executed. This seem to be taken as great praise by the observers who would unfailingly chant for the for the one on the receiving end of Link's approval.

Soon enough, Urbosa was almost as taken by the displays as the guards participating in it, her expert eye trained not just on Hero, but on the challengers taking turn and their techniques as well, on the tips and suggestions the observers shouted at their companions and the spirit of camaraderie between these guards.

This morning, it seemed, would not be wasted. Here, in this moment, the Hero was far less mystical. She was struck by how very young he looked and yet how much admiration he commanded. Not because of the fabled sword which, oddly enough, remained in its scabbard as he wielded the same sort of weapon as his colleagues, by the force of skill and endurance. He was one of them, and they were as proud of the Hero's undefeated status, as they were of their companions willingness to take him on.

And yet, proficient as he seemed in his art, there must be more to a Hero than skill and deftness of foot. Urbosa had learned long ago that warriors come in all manners, and not all will wield a sword. If nothing else, her dear friend's strength of spirit had taught her that. An idea began to take form and for Urbosa, more alike Rhoam in that than she would like to admit, from idea to deed it was generally a small time indeed.

She stepped from her sheltering corner and approached the cheering circle of soldiers. Her presence as not easily ignored and look by look, whisper by whisper, the cheering tapered to a silence as the fighting came to a halt. She felt perhaps a tinge of guilt at so suddenly interrupting so much fun, but her first duty was to her Little Bird and the boy at the center had his destiny deeply intertwined with the Princess. She may not soon have such a good opportunity, and a lifetime of desert scarcity had taught her to make do with what she had now.

"My apologies for the interruption," she said at last to the watching eye of the crowd and one near perplexed Hero. "We met earlier today," she said to Link directly, "and I couldn't possibly let the opportunity to challenge the Hero pass me by."

She watched him, hand on her hip and a lopsided smile on her face. The boy's face was closed and the guards' as silent as him. They took her actions for what they were. A test. But she hoped the boy could understand her motives.

"The Princess, you see, is much dear to my heart," she added. The boy observed her for a moment and she saw the flicker of understanding go through his face. While his expression remained as closed as before, his eyes seemed to soften at the entreaty. Slowly, silently, the boy handed the sword in his hand to one of his companions and raised his hand to the pommel of his own weapon. He paused before grabbing, as if to question Urbosa if his understanding was correct and, at her nod, unsheathed his weapon.

And so the dance began. Laughter and cheer, along clinks and clangs of machinery melted away, to be replaced by the sound of breathing and the clashing of sacred sword upon revered scimitar. She became hyper-aware of the cobblestone below her feet, the blow of the wind, the beads of sweat upon her opponent's brow. The boy was excellent, she would give him that. Small, even for a Hylian, he fought as if his size made the advantage rather than a hindrance, and by the seven, his will made it so. His hand was steady and his blows surprisingly strong. At a moment he was a bull, charging at his target, the next flying from ground to wall as if a hummingbird kissing a patch of swift violets.

Urbosa held her ground, becoming aware that her breath was growing ragged and that her brow, as his, was covered in sweat. She laughed, open and freely, in that way that only a Gerudo will do in battle, at the skill of this child-hero. There was passion in him. This was the best challenge she had had in ages.

At this, the Hero paused, seemingly incredulous at the sound he was hearing, and she could swear she had seen that hint of a grin between a disarray of hair, but before she could be certain, he was flying again and she, with a turn and a swish of her skirt, was dodging his attack and following in pursuit. The boy was halfway up a castle wall before she could reach him and somersaulted to try and win the advantage from landing behind her, but she vaulted and gained the upper ground by taking to the railing that marked the flower beds. In turn, Link deflected her attack and soon they were both balancing on the railing, as she parried more blows than she put in.

And yet, fun as this was, something was leaving her uneasy. Some would call it intuition. Others might refer to it as the sense the experienced warrior has for battle. Between blows, her mind was moving as quick as her feet. The boy's movements made sense as a defence against her attacks and she would give him the attempts for trying to catch her off-guard. But there was something in his expression, in his movement that was far too deliberate. Winning a battle, she knew, was a much outsmarting your opponent as it was strength. The boy had a plan. She needed to devise it.

She took advantage of a slight opening in Link's stance to strike. Deftly, he swayed and took to the floor and although she attempted to use her high ground to strike, he blocked. Soon, she was again in pursuit and that was when it struck her. She was being led. Cleverly, subtly, but inexorably, the boy had been moving from where the guards had gathered. He may zigzag, he may go back before going forward, but his direction had been constant. The courtyard. What, however, may he gain from being here with the added obstacle of the Guardian and the Sheikah and—Zelda?

She did not, however, had enough of a breath to finish that thought before Link's shadow was upon her and she had to defend a surprisingly forceful blow. Heels ground against stone, knees buckled and even with all her force, she was being pushed back, her back arching as she put her might into Daybreaker and pushed against the gleaming sword.

"Duck!"

Beep. Beep. Beep.

It was a moment and an eternity. Her brain was later able to register all her eyes had seen. A flash, the sound of thunder, and the observation deck had disappeared in a pile of dust.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Zelda, she must find – Purah, running, a blur of yellow and blue behind. A mane of white hair and googles under what had been the observation deck. Red. Red on his forehead. And that goddess forsaken beeping. The tension in her arms came undone as Daybreaker left her hand and her fingers came together. It was all she could do before -

She never finished that thought. Her fingers never snapped. Red came first. A beam truer and straighter than any arrow could be and Robbie...Robbie still stood. In a manner of speaking. He laid under the boards, mouth gaping and eyes open wide at the figure standing before him. One single Hylian boy, in the armour of a soldier and her Daybreaker in his hands.

She lowered her hand, as Link lowered her shield, and both walked towards the wreckage of what had been a guardian. It smoked. It whirled and whizzed but even without Princess' deep knowledge of such machines, she knew the noises for the death throes they were. The boy kicked it for good measure. She couldn't fault him.

"My shield, if you please."

Link's head snapped to her as if he had just become aware of her presence. Sheepishly, he pushed it in her direction, foot kicking at the ground as he rubbed the back of his head. Her eyebrows raised in a silent question she would very much want answered, but the boy only shrugged – whatever his answer, he was not ready to give it yet.

"Later, then," she told him. He nodded and walked back, towards his waiting companions, even as the Sheikah began to dig out Robbie. She watched him go, certain now of what had set her ill at ease during their battle. That son of a yiga had been holding back on her!