Chapter 2: Snakes in the Garden
A small farmstead near the forest, with the river on one side from which vegetable gardens were irrigated, and a small four room house for the family that lived there. The gardens were large enough to feed the family of two, as well as have some to sell at market in the city each season. On the other side was the fenced area in front of the feed barn where three milk-cows were kept, and they were skittish, bawling loudly at the lone figure walking toward the farm.
There was something wrong, the lone man thought, looking at the ground. It was covered in footprints. At least a dozen men had been here earlier, and horses as well. There was no sign of a struggle, but if so many had come here, what had it been for.
He stopping, looking toward the barn, and saw the shadow there. A young man, about seventeen or so, hung from the rafters, a noose around his neck. And he knew the young man who hung there, as well as why he would have been here at the farm. Michael had been his name. But if he were hung like that…
The man quickened his pace, moving toward the house. The door wasn't locked, and he pushed it open, his hand falling toward his sword. The inside was a wreck. Here a clear fight had occurred. The dining table was smashed in half and dishes were scattered across the floor. No signs of fire or blade marks, however. The fight had been barehanded.
The only person here was Maria, the widow who lived alone with her daughter, Leselle. Young Michael, the one hanging in the barn, had been sweet on Leselle, and the girl was pregnant from that relationship, but there was no sign of Leselle now. Maria was lying on the floor, not moving, but there was no blood or visible injury on her.
"Maria," the man said, moving closer to her and putting one hand on her shoulder, "Can you hear me?"
She stirred, looking up at him, the streaks of dried tears across her face, and a dark eye from a blow to her face.
"They took her," she whispered.
"Leselle? Who took her?" the man asked.
"A group, all in white masks," she said, "I don't know who they were."
"And Michael? Did they do that to him?" the man asked.
"He chased after them," Maria said, "What did they do?"
"He's dead," the man said.
"Oh, gods..." Maria hung her head, "Why did they take her?"
"Why indeed..." the man said, rising back to his feet and looking around the room. He idly let one hand fall to the hilt of his sword, his thumb running across the blue pommel gem set above the black blade. "How long ago?"
"I don't know," Maria said, sitting up to her knees, "I think I blacked out. A few hours at least."
"Here, you'll need this," the man said, dropping a jingling coin purse on the floor in front of her, "Hire guards to stay here while I'm gone. I don't know how long this will be."
"Can you find them?" Maria asked.
"If I have to chase them to the end of the earth itself," he said, moving toward the door.
"Zero," Maria said, rising to her feet, causing him to stop and turn toward her.
There she could see it under his hood. The massive red eye on the left side of his face, nearly twice the size of his other eye, and surrounded by a scar of permanently blackened skin, a mark forever burned into him by the wielder of the Triforce of Wisdom decades ago.
"I don't care what you have to do, or how many of them you have to kill," Maria said, "Just bring my daughter back to me."
"If I have to kill every last one of them, I will," he said, and turned away, stepping out the door.
Maria sank to her knees again, sighing heavily and fighting against the urge to cry again. But she knew whomever found Zero on their trail would very quickly regret their actions. She'd first met Zero about seventeen years ago, before Leselle was born. He'd come into her life unexpectedly, and in fact saved her from a group of bandits that were intent on taking everything she had and burning the small farm to the ground. And Zero had killed them all to save her. And for some reason, he'd stayed.
He never told her why he'd stayed, or why he helped her in the first place, and yet, there was something in those mismatched eyes of his when she looked into them. She saw a monster that was trying to be a human being.
But these kidnappers would not see that. All they'd see is that monster coming for them.
Earlier on the day of the forum, at about dawn, a group of cloaked figures gathered in a low field to the west of the capital.
Hyrule's capital was an impressive sight from this distance, he had to admit. The castle towers rose high over the city's walls, silhouetted against the rising sun as it peaked over the summits of the mountains beyond.
A great day it would be when he stood atop those walls himself.
"Master."
He turned, knowing which one it was, even as she wore the hood and white mask over her face, her gray cloak the same as all the others gathered behind her.
"Preparations are nearly complete," the woman said, "With your permission, it is time for us to go to the castle."
"Yes," he said, his voice dry and graveled, like a man who had been far too long without water, "Do not strike until you certain of success. It has taken months to prepare this, and we will not have another chance."
With a bow, the woman and six of the others then turned and walked away toward their horses nearby.
The first figure turned back to toward the city. The weakness of his own voice reminded him that his time was limited, and he had more important matters to be concerned with than fantasies of when he would rule this land. With a shriveled hand, fingers more like dried twigs than flesh, he reached inside his cloak, and withdrew a green gemstone, about the size of a human fist.
With surprising strength for his shriveled appearance, he gripped the gem, and it crushed in his grasp. Light erupted form within his fingers, green motes of light exploding into the air, and then his flesh shifted, color returning to it and growing outward, and after a few seconds his hand appeared healthy, albeit with blue skin.
He cleared his throat, feeling as if all the grime that that had given him gravel in his voice was gone.
"I'm running out," he said, his voice much stronger, but reminding himself once again of his limited time remaining. He only had so many of the gemstones remaining, and no more could be found in this world.
Cursing his own mortality, he turned from the city, toward the circle in the clearing, where the members of the White Mask had arranged a circle of stones on his order and drawn a large magic circle in white sand.
He needed to be ready when their guests arrived.
"Who else was with you when you found this?" Zelda asking, looking up from the three masks on her desk toward Damien.
"Lance, and a few men from the city guard," he said.
"Is Lance here?" Zelda asked.
"He should be out in the hall."
Zelda motioned with one hand, and the black-clad ninja moved to the door, leaning out and saying a few words, and a moment later, Lance entered the room, the ninja shutting the door behind him. The small room was starting to get quite crowded, but Lance approached the desk, bowing his head to the queen where she was seated.
"Your majesty," he said in greeting, then looked up to Link and Kilishandra, "Father, Mother."
Kilishandra nodded, giving him a small smile, but was not going to interrupt.
So many times, Zelda almost had to look twice to actually see the difference. Lance looked so much like his father had thirty years ago, when Zelda and Link had first met during the Twilight Invasion.
Like his younger sister, Lance had inherited a fairer skin tone than Kilishandra's, and also had his father's piercing blue eyes. But unlike his sister, his hair was dark brown, like Link's had been when he was younger, instead of the red Ana had inherited from their mother.
Though the one most likely to draw eyes of strangers was Damien. The young knight was of Gerudo descent, with dark brown skin and bright red hair. He also stood nearly eight feet tall, towering over everyone else in the room.
His very existence could be said to be in defiance of the odds. Only a single Gerudo male was born each generation, making him unique even if he were among others of his kind. Their species was unique in a way, as whatever race a Gerudo had a child with, the child would always be pure-blood Gerudo. But the real defiance of odds was in who his parents were. Those gathered here knew him, but most did not, and would scoff at the very idea such a parentage was possible.
His mother was Sheila Anthress, an elf woman from a land far to the west, across the ocean, who came to Hyrule with the other survivors of a conflict that left the entire continent a barren waste, and here in Hyrule, she had found her true place. Upon the death of the previous holder of the position, she was chosen by powers greater than men to become the new Sage of Light, and watch over the world with the other Sages.
At the time she took the oath and became the sage, she had already been pregnant after a night she spent with Ganondorf Dragmire, the wizard villain who had long plagued Hyrule, and turned to aid the nation in the fight against the very same darkness that had reduced Sheila's homeland to a lifeless husk.
So it could be said that Damien was the son of both the Sage of Light and the King of Darkness, an unlikely combination at the very least.
As the Sage of Light, Sheila's responsibilities prevented her from being a proper mother to the boy, and even if Ganondorf could be trusted to be a father, he was dead, in perhaps the final twist of his story, giving his life to save the very world he had once tried to conquer.
As a result, Damien grew up in the castle. Far from a hard life, he was even playmates with the royal twins when they were younger. But he was one that the choice to serve in the military had surprised Zelda, as he'd shown little interest in the subject when younger. But he'd excelled at the physical training and the education, and was one of the youngest among the royal knights now.
But here he had stalled, for some reason. He showed little interest in rising higher in rank, and had a somewhat disconcerting habit of following orders to the letter.
While someone so loyal could be seen as a boon, Zelda had little use for knights that could not think for themselves in the heat of the moment. Times would come when the amount of time it would take to relay orders would be too long. Knights were intended to be the field commanders in times of war and they had to be able to make decisions on their own.
But whether it was caused by uncertainty or just a lack of ambition, she wasn't sure yet. The former could be trained out, while the latter would cripple his entire career.
That was why she'd paired him with Lance. The son of Link and Kilishandra, it wasn't just for looks that the boy reminded her of his father. While Lance did show proper respect to her as the queen, he had at least a bit of his father's disregard for authority.
Link had never once bowed to her, the queen, in the entire time she'd known him. So many saw this as a sign of disrespect, but she knew it was anything but. Link looked her in the eye when they spoke, something so few others would dare to do. Regardless of what task she gave him, he was someone she could trust to get the job done, no matter what it took or how long.
The fact he'd saved her nation more than once now, not to mention the world, she wouldn't care if he put his feet on her desk right now. He was someone she knew she could trust implicitly, even with secrets that could potentially start a war if they became public.
She did muse on the idea of telling him to prevent a war by tearing down the empire. A seemingly insurmountable task for one person, but she was certain he'd find a way.
But she feared becoming too reliant on him. Ultimately, he was just one man, and for all his accomplishments and becoming a legend in his own lifetime, he was still human and just as vulnerable as anyone to one unlucky slip that could cost his life.
And then there was Kilishandra. Link's wife, standing next to him, was the adopted daughter of Ganondorf. While not related by blood, she'd been raised by the wizard, though she had not inherited his ruthlessness. In fact, Zelda would say she had a surprisingly gentle nature, given the circumstances. Ganondorf had taught her to wield magic comparable to his own, and it was possible that she was even more powerful than he had been. Now that he was dead, she was very likely the most powerful spellcaster alive.
Another odd set of circumstances that she and Link were married, since Zelda remembered when the two had first met, they seemed like they couldn't stand each other. But maybe opposites really did attract. And having her with Link made Zelda feel better about the kind of work they did. While Kilishandra might have a gentle nature at heart, she really did love him with all her being. Her magic was powerful enough to level entire cities in moments. Anyone who tried to harm Link would have to deal with her as well. She was no goddess, but to the average thug or soldier, she might as well be.
But Link still had something Kilishandra didn't. Something that few others Zelda had met had. Something that wasn't immediately obvious until you'd known him and been around him for some time. Something that you had to see him in action to really understand. But once you knew what to look for, you could see it in his eyes. Lying in wait, deep inside, like a wild animal waiting to be turned loose.
He had a true killer instinct. Even after all these years, it was a sharp as ever. While others panicked under pressure, Link thrived there. He was the idea Zelda wanted from her knights, though none would likely ever compare.
Until now. When she looked Lance in the eye, she could see it there. He had the same killer instinct as his father. It was subdued, though, as if it were locked away. He'd never had to tap into it before, and in an ideal world, would never have to. But the world would not be ideal. This cult, and now the empire looking their direction would make sure it wasn't.
Just a generation or two of peace, would that be too much to ask for? Apparently so.
It made her feel terrible to look at this situation as an opportunity, both to break Damien out of his stall, and force Lance to learn how to tap into that instinct, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized she had to do so. In a way, it did mean possibly ruining their lives in the process, but as the queen, she had to think beyond the two of them.
That was the worst part of being a ruler. There were simply times she could not afford to look at her soldiers as people, but as resources and how best to apply them. If she could force them to grow beyond their current state, they would be more useful in the future.
Lance wasn't adding much to the current situation, as it was. She asked him what he had found at the farm, and all he had was a description of the barn, and the fact all the livestock had been slaughtered before the field was burned, and then the sacrificial murders in the house, which Damien confirmed.
But the two of them had seen more of these slaughters than any other single soldiers, and that alone did give them a bit of protection against future ones, that being the knowledge of what they would find. Someone who hadn't seen one was likely to lose their lunch at the sight, and if they were going into the heart of these cultists' stronghold, it would likely be far worse.
But it wasn't as though she intended to send them alone, either.
Link and Kilishandra operated independently from the main military forces. In fact, if her generals knew how much power they actually had, protests would surely occur. As such, their rank was unique as well. She called them Eyes of the Queen, as their job was to effectively be her eyes where she could not be. It was not spying, but they went into foreign nations frequently in their tasks, bearing no symbols of Hyrule to identify them, and with full knowledge that if they were found out, she would have to deny knowledge to prevent a war.
But their task was simple in a way: To seek out threats to the nation, or even to the world, and end them before they could grow into real problems. Usually what they did amounted to monster hunting, and the things they fought were never going to be capable of being a real threat, but sometimes their reports did come back with something she was glad they found first.
But they were still just two people, and while more units had been created for similar tasks, none had been given the freedom of these two. When the report was they had slain a Lynel that had come close to Kakariko, it was hardly earth-shaking, but it was still good that such a beast was prevented to reaching the town.
But then there were reports that were unsettling, such as the one where they had found an entire village under the control of a phantom warlock, who had been burned at the stake centuries ago, only to return as a Revenant and control the minds of the villagers, and the monster's influence slowly spreading across the local countryside. When the Revenant was slain, the villagers were freed of its control, but Link and Kilishandra weren't certain it would stay dead for good and had recommended the church send missionaries to bless the land and scatter holy water at the site the warlock had been burned. If it still came back, they'd need a wizard skilled in magical exorcisms to be rid of the creature for certain.
There was no magic that could truly bring back the dead. That was one of the first rules taught to would-be magicians by their teachers. No matter how skilled a magical healer was, they simply could not return life to a body which the soul had already fled. But angry, violent souls had a habit of lingering after their death.
So while Link and Kilishandra were used to working with just the two of them to deal with these kinds of matters, Zelda had it in her mind to expand their little squad.
As expected, Lance's retelling of the events revealed nothing new. As he finished, Zelda tapped her finger on her desk as she thought. The murders had been happening for months, but were spaced out. These weren't psychopaths looking for any kill they could get. Each was precise and efficient, and barring this most recent attack, left no real traces of the perpetrators.
"Question now is where do we start with this," Zelda said, "I'd rather not just wait for the next attack to hope it will give us better leads, but I also don't think combing the countryside will be worth the effort."
"If I may, your majesty," Damien said, waiting for her permission before going on, "We have enough men to do just that. Send the army and with enough squads, we could cover every inch of Hyrule in a matter of days."
"We don't know the exact number we're dealing with," Zelda said, "An army can't track a small group. They would vanish into the crowds of the city and villages and we'd never find them. We need to move subtly, but I do think a bit larger group would be a good idea."
"Kilishandra and I can move much faster with just the two of us than if we have to haul a lot of people with us," Link said, "All we need to find is a link to where the group has gone."
"I'm only thinking four more to go with you," Zelda said, "We'll start with these two here."
Link looked over at Lance and Damien, then back to Zelda. "Are you serious? They're way too young."
"They're about the same age you were when we first met," Zelda said, "And I remember you storming into the castle almost single-handed against a veritable army."
"That was different," Link said.
"You mean because it was you," Kilishandra said, "Lance, what do you think?"
Lance seemed just as surprised by the suggestion as being asked. "Oh, um, I don't know," he said, "I mean..."
What did he mean? He wasn't sure himself. He expected to be on crap patrols for at least a year or more before he got a chance at something real. And what was the queen thinking here? It could be she was giving him just enough rope to hang himself with if he screwed up.
"I think she means, can you take orders from your own parents?" Damien said.
"Look who's talking, little brother," Kilishandra said, but smiled at him.
"If it means I get a chance at these monsters, I'd salute a side of bacon," Damien said.
"Yeah," Lance said with a nod, "Same here. When do we leave?"
"I'll take that," Zelda said, looking back to Link, "Anything else you'd like to say."
Link shook his head, but then turned to Lance. "You better hold to that," he said, "When I or your mother tell you to do something, you don't ask why, you do it. Are we clear?"
"You are the superior officer," Lance said.
"I'm saying this as your father," Link said, "And I've been doing this for a long time."
"All right, then," Zelda said, "Just the matter of the other two."
"Other two?" Link asked, turning back to her.
"I'm going to give you a couple of scouts who, while also young, have rather strong service records for their age," Zelda said, and looked up at the ninja standing in the corner, "I need to send a message for Vargus. Send me Lilith and Natalya."
The ninja nodded and snapped his fingers. A second ninja stepped into the room and with a bow, turned and walked for the door.
It was a rule of thumb about the dark elves that made up the royal bodyguard. For each one you could see, there were ten that you couldn't. In fact, Link found himself looking around the room wondering where the hell that one had even been hiding. There was only one possible place, a corner near the door where the light of the brazier next to Zelda's desk didn't quite reach.
Though as skilled as the ninja were at staying out of sight, they still paled in comparison to one other he knew. A ranger named Silviana, who had taken the position of guardsman of the village of Ordon years ago. Link was convinced if she didn't want to be seen, she could be standing on your foot and you still wouldn't be able to find her. And as for Lilith and Natalya, those were the names of her twin daughters. While not the first women to be recruited by the formerly all-male force of the ninja, he expected their mother's teachings likely put them at the top of their training group.
In the castle courtyard, there was a small altar that had been constructed about ten years ago. It was one of the few areas freely open to the public, for any who were willing to test their hands on the sword that slept there. The tip of its blade embedded in a raised pedestal of stone, the Master Sword waited for its next wielder to grip the hilt and draw it from its stone prison.
In the past two decades, it had been wielded by both Link and Kilishandra, but the altar had been built only when Kilishandra felt it was time to put it to rest once again. While the stories of her time with the blade did not carry the same weight as Link's legendary feats with the weapon, once it was placed here, it refused to budge.
In the first few months once it was placed in the altar, men and women had come from all across the kingdom to attempt to draw it once more. Every knight and soldier in the Hylian army had attempted to draw the blade, but none were able to so much as shift it.
It was a blade that chose its wielder as much as the wielder chose it. While it had past hands numerous times in the past, it merely tolerated those that were not its wielder, but worthy enough to hold it. Once at rest, it would not shift for those lacking the strength to wield it.
And there it stayed, its silver blade gleaming in the sun beneath the blue guard and hilt. When the blade was awake, a yellow gem was visible in the guard, yet as it slept the gem had vanished, like an eye that had shut.
But after those first few months, when none were able to draw the blade from the stone, public interest died away, and the courtyard was empty most days except for the castle gardeners tending to the plants and bushes, and keeping ivy from growing over the altar.
"Only one with the strength to wield it can draw this blade," Anastasia whispered to herself as she approached it. She'd read that, she'd done the research, and how many times she'd come here to test it.
It had been about four months since her last attempt. And she'd gone all in on the training in that time. She undid the buttons of her jacket, slipping it off and dropping it on the stone beneath her. She was wearing a white, sleeveless vest underneath, and her physique was clear to any watching now.
She was still not the size of a man, but her arms practically bulged with the muscle she had spent years building, and if not for the vest, one would also see the rock-hard abdomen. She had to be strong enough now and this would be how she proved it.
She stepped up to the sword, as she had many times before, and gripped the hilt with both hands. She took a deep breath and pulled. The blade did not come free, and did not even shift. Gritting her teeth, Ana set her feet and pulled harder. She grunted and strained, but still the blade refused to move.
Then with a gasp for breath, she released her grip and stepped away.
"Damn it!" she cursed, and kicked the flat of the blade. If not for her good, strong boot, it would likely have broken a toe with that amount of force. But the blade did not even shake, standing resolute against her.
She'd heard all the stories, of course. She'd been raised on them. Her brother, Lance, was the same age their father had been when he first pulled the sword from the original altar in the Lost Woods. Yes, she was about five years younger. But ever since she said she wanted to be a knight, it felt too easy. Her instructors always took it easy on her. Whether because she was female or because of who her parents were, she didn't know. Fellow trainees her own age, men even, didn't want to fight her even in sparring. And when they did, they held back, as if they were afraid to hurt her.
She knew the stories of her father's exploits by heart, and was determined from a young age that she wouldn't disappoint him. She'd live up to his name. But she couldn't do that if people weren't going to push her, she knew that. And the tournament at the Summer Festival was the only place she could get that. But that was because she was fighting experienced men who weren't going to let themselves lose to a girl her age. She intended to win this year, but it wasn't a real fight. The question was how she would fare in true life or death situations.
"When it's a question of them or you, you don't think about old relationships, friendships that once were, or even whether it's truly right or wrong," Link had told her countless times, "When it's them or you, you make damn sure it's them."
But that was also why she kept coming back here, trying to pull the sword from its stone bed. It was one obstacle that no one made easy for her. It would stand resolute until she had the strength to draw it free.
But it wasn't just the past four months. She'd been building herself up for years, but no matter how much muscle she put on, the sword wouldn't budge.
"Only one with the strength to wield it can draw this blade," she repeated to herself. She'd seen the ceremony where her month had placed the weapon here. The stone block it rested in was only about four inches wide and a foot long, but was carved directly from the stone dais beneath it. When the blade had been placed here, the block had been solid, yet the tip of the blade had slid into the stone as easily as a hot knife into butter.
"Physical strength cannot draw it out, you know," came a voice from her side.
Ana turned, and there he was again.
"Prince Lucien," she said, noting the black clad bodyguard standing some ten feet back behind him, "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were stalking me."
"No, not this time, at least. Just getting some fresh air and I happened to see the vein about to pop out of your forehead," the prince replied, "Not exactly exactly a ladylike image."
"No one would ever mistake me for a lady," Ana said.
"But in any case, the legend does say the sword can only be drawn by one strong enough to wield it during times of great calamity," Lucien said, moving toward her, "This is hardly a time of calamity, after all. There hasn't even been a war since before we were born. And as for the strength..."
Ana eyed the prince. He was not exactly soft for one of such a life of luxury. He had received training with a blade, and was relatively fit, but certainly didn't compare to the career soldiers. In fact, looking at him now, dressed in his silver-white tunic and trousers, one would hardly think him a fighter at all. He wasn't carrying a blade on him, and his easy smile was one that could be taken as either complete ease, or complete disregard. He looked like he didn't have a care in the world.
Maybe he didn't, being the son of the queen and all, and the fact the Hyrule's succession was to the first-born daughter.
"And what about strength?" Ana asked as he came closer to stop a few paces away.
He looked down at the sword, then back at her, and with one finger, tapped his own chest over his heart. "It's strength of heart," he said, "That's what the stories always said. The sword was drawn by a true courageous knight who was strong at heart."
"And what does that actually mean?" Ana asked.
Lucien shrugged. "Hell if I know," he said, "But I don't think you're going to make much progress just standing here and pulling on it."
Ana shook her head. "Yeah, I guess so," she said, "I just want to do something, anything, that will make people take me seriously."
"Trust me, they already do," Lucien said, "Your entire training squad is terrified of you, and the instructors want to put you in the group ahead of you."
"I don't want handouts," Ana said, waving that off with one hand.
"It's not a handout if you've earned it, and I think you have," Lucien said.
It was pleasant to be able to talk to the prince like this, at least when it was just the two of them. Royals didn't typically make for casual conversation. The queen always had an unflappable air of authority wherever she went, and Ana didn't even dream of just being able to talk to her, and as for the princess, she was insecure and constantly nervous around soldiers, but that was because she was being groomed to be the next queen, and didn't have that air of authority yet.
And ever since she'd come to the castle two years ago to officially begin training to be a knight, the prince had been friendly to Ana ever since they met. He was an easy-going sort, and easy to talk to. Even so, a few months ago, he'd approached her with an offer to eat dinner with him, and it had come as a shock. She didn't consider herself the type to be courted by the classic handsome prince, and even less did she consider herself the type to fall for such a person, but the fact it had been a wonderful night, and then they'd had breakfast together the following morning as well.
Though even then, she'd expected that to be all of it, that he'd likely be the type to move on to other girls, but the invitation had been repeated several times since. She couldn't deny it was exhilarating, being the subject of the prince's affections, though she had told him she didn't want him to use his position to try to smooth her progression to knighthood. He'd simply smiled and said that they were just two people enjoying each other's company.
Ana's mother had been insistent she keep a supply of a Lothsanian tea leaves on hand at all times, as the tea brewed from them would prevent a woman from becoming pregnant if she drank it the morning after. At the time her mother had told her that, she'd thought it a rather silly concern, but becoming pregnant now, even with the prince's child, would not bode well for her future career.
So it came as no surprise, as she leaned down to pick up her jacket, the prince proposed such a meeting again. "By the way, I've got nothing else going on tonight," he said, "Would you like to come up and have dinner with me?"
Ana pulled on her jacket, adjusting it onto her shoulders and started to button it up. "What are we having?" she asked.
The Princess Zelda decided she needed some fresh air after the unexpected turn in the forum. Petty disputes she expected, but a foreign messenger was something she was not prepared for. Now she sat down on a marble bench in the royal garden. The gardens were close enough to the training field, on the other side of the inner walls, that she could hear the shouting and clashes of metal from here.
The empire…
Of course she knew who they were, and had heard about their civil war ever since she was a little girl. But they always seemed like something far off, so far it would never have any real effect on the people here. The messenger appearing was like the empire was suddenly much closer.
But her mother had taken control the situation as always. The princess found herself wondering what the message was truly about. Was it really better that she had not attended the meeting?
The stories had been coming across the border with traders and mercenaries. Of a young emperor, crowned at a mere age of fifteen, leading his men to victory over the rebel forces time and again, and the examples he made of the traitors. Each victory, his enemies were impaled on wooden spikes and left for all to see. Sometimes it was only a few, sometimes several dozen, but more and more kept telling these tales as years passed. He must have impaled hundreds of men and women by this point.
These exploits had become so well-known, he was known even by other nations as the infamous title of "Max the Impaler."
The queen was always taking steps to build Hyrule's defenses. So much so that her political enemies in court had no hesitation in calling her a warmonger, though exactly how installing immovable defenses on the city walls, such as the Goron canons, would cause war, even when she was younger the princess could not understand.
When she asked her mother about it, the queen had simply told her to follow, and led her to a memorial that had been built near the castle walls. A large, four-story stone building that had been constructed following the war of the Blighted Men. The princess had never been there herself, but she understood it was built to honor the fallen of that war.
But when she had gone inside, it was nothing like she had expected. She had assumed there would be a plaque, and empty drivel about never forgetting those who gave their lives, but instead there was something far more involved.
The walls and ceiling of the memorial were all constructed from obsidian, the black volcanic glass being very rare and hard to come by in Hyrule, meaning the construction itself had cost a fortune. And carved into the obsidian were names. Name after name after name, one after the next, each wall showing thousands of names, and more across the ceiling as well. Room after room, it was the same, until they came to an end in the final room, where the stairs to the second floor were also located.
"What is this?" she had asked, staring at the names on the wall before here.
"Inscribed here are the names of every soldier, whether man or woman, Hylian, Zora, or Goron, who has died in my service," the queen had said, "Every one. It is impossible to remember all their names myself, and that's why I had this built."
There were days when the queen would come here, and those days were closed to the public, but the queen would be here for hours at a time, and when she left, she would never speak to anyone of what she did there, so the princess was compelled to ask.
"I come here, and I think," her mother had said, "As a ruler, you will have to give orders that knowingly send good men and women to their deaths. You will have to let a hundred die in one place so that a thousand may be saved elsewhere. It is the cold, ruthless arithmetic of war. And the people dying, they are not doing it for themselves. They are doing it because they believe in me. They follow my orders because they follow me. And they follow me because they trust me.
"So I come here to think about them. About all the lives my orders have ended, and the lives that will still end because of me. They trusted me. And ask if I failed them. But in the end, I live for them, and for all the other people of Hyrule, and through me, they also lived for Hyrule. I have my days of doubt, when I wonder if it is all worth it. And that's what this place reminds me of. Because if I do give up on what I'm trying to build for the future, if I do cease seeking better ways to protect this nation, then all these lives will have ended for no reason. Then I will have failed them."
She had never known any of the names that were now carved into the wall before her, yet the princess had tears in her eyes as she walked, more names than she could count passing her vision. Every one of those names had been a real, living person at some point, and their life cut tragically short in the name of another.
"War is a terrible thing," was all she could think to say.
"Yes, it is," the queen said, stepping up beside her daughter and putting an arm around her shoulders, "But there will come times when you have no choice. There are people in the world who will not talk, they will not listen, and they will deprive you of that choice. Those for whom peace is an inconvenience. They will scream their hatred and bigotry over all reasonable arguments, and claim that you are the villain for not conforming to their beliefs. Keeping the people divided and angry is the means by which they keep power. They don't care about the common man, only in keeping their power over the common man. Hyrule and our races living in peace with one another is the antithesis to their very existence. And when they come, you must be ready to face them. Whether by sword, magic, or canon, when it is their people or yours, you must be ready to make your stand.
"There is no shame in fighting to protect yourself and your people. There is no shame in fighting to bring about peace. And these foes will not give in quietly. They will fight and scream to the bloody end. The more they realize they are losing and cornered, the more desperately they will scream their lies and hatreds to try to rally the weak-minded to their side. They are a cult, an infection on humanity. They will show you no mercy, no compassion, and no forgiveness. While the common folk may be saved if they are willing to have open minds, the monsters who push the hatreds will not. So just as they would show you no mercy, you must show them none.
"And then in times of peace, you must be ever vigilant, on the watch for such beings whom would sow chaos and hatred for their own gain. There is no shame in deterrence. Having a weapon is very different from actually using it. And using it is still different from using it abusively.
"It's a lesson that if I had learned sooner, the Twilight Invasion might have never reached the escalation it did."
The princess had thought about what her mother told her that day countless times. It was why she feared becoming queen herself. Could she live up to that? The cold arithmetic of war… It was such a terrifying thought, to think she would have to knowingly send soldiers to their deaths, even if it did mean saving more in the long run.
But what did it mean if the empire was now unified and looking this way? The mountains stood as a protective wall between their lands, but would not stop them if an invasion was impending. Was the messenger bringing a demand to surrender?
She was shaken by her thoughts by the gardeners coming closer, trimming the plants as they moved, and one moving behind her, carrying a watering can for the rose bushes a few feet from the bench she sat upon.
"Excuse me, could you come back in a few minutes?" she asked, "I'd like to be left alone for a bit longer."
"Don't worry, your highness," the woman's voice behind her said, "You'll be alone soon enough."
"What?" the princess said as she turned, and caught a glimpse of it. The gardener's hand, close to her, and on one finger was a band with a small needle visible to the naked eye.
She tried to move, but the gardener's hand clamped to the side of her throat and she felt the prick of the needle on her skin. She cried out, jumping up and moving away. There were shouts, and the sound of swords being drawn from their scabbards. The other gardeners had weapons and moved to surround her.
Each of them also quickly reached into their vests, drawing something forth and lifting it to their faces. In a matter of seconds, the princess was surrounded by identical white masks concealing the faces of her attackers.
"You lot keep them off us!" said the one who had grabbed the princess's neck, stepping over the bench, her own face now also concealed by a white mask.
The princess turned and saw her bodyguards coming. The black-clad ninja were appearing from around seemingly every bush and statue, swords drawn as the other attackers turned on them. The first ninja to reach one of the white-masked attackers had a result predictable for those who knew how the ninja fought. He evaded a relatively clumsy swing of the attacker's blade with a simple sidestep, and then the ninja's own sword whistled as it moved through the air and a streak of blood appeared on the nearby statue, the attacker's body already falling as their head finally rolled away from their shoulders.
But even before the body had hit the ground, the effect of the needle hit the princess, a throb in her head causing her vision to the blur, and the world around her to spin.
"Poison?" she whispered. Then she felt a strong grip on her arm, preventing her from falling.
"Just a sedative, my dear," the woman who had attacked her whispered from behind the mask, "He wants you alive."
"Get the princess!" one of the ninja shouted, and two of them broke away from the line of other masks, closing the distance to the princess in a single leap.
The woman with a grip on the princess leaped backwards, dragging the princess with her as they moved what seemed impossibly far for such a jump, over the bench and past the bushes behind it with the single leap.
"You've got nowhere to go!" one of the ninja said as the two split up, moving to come at her from both sides.
"That's where you're wrong," the woman said, and with her free hand produced a small blue crystal from a pocket of her clothes. An instant later, she crushed it in her hand, and a blinding flash of light filled the courtyard, forcing all present to look away.
Then the light faded, and the woman and the princess were both gone.
"Magic!" one of the ninja said, "Or a flash bomb!"
The fight was not going well for the masks, only two of them were still standing, the others either dead already or bleeding out on the grass.
"Take them alive!" one ninja said, "We need answers! You, run for the gates, inform the guards and order the castle locked down! Every second counts!"
On of the two ninja who had moved to help the princess broke away at a sprint. If the kidnapper was still inside the castle walls, they'd be found.
With effective moves, the remaining ninja were able to disarm the two surviving masks, and tackled them to the ground, quickly trying their hands.
"Send word to the queen," one of the ninja said, "She must know the princess has been taken."