Chapter 11: The Growing Storm
Princess Zelda looked up to see the dark storm clouds growing in the sky. Lightning jumped between them and the crack of thunder rolled across the land. From where she stood on the high mountains, she could see the spires of the capital to the northwest.
The walls of the city were covered with a black, oozing substance, a sign of the infection within. She didn't know what it was, but knew it was something terrible.
The storm clouds came lower and lower, as if seeking to consume the land itself, the lightning strikes coming faster and more frequent, and then they parted, revealing two red lights within, which looked downward like eyes, toward the great bridge east of the city.
Zelda's gaze was drawn down to the bridge. She didn't know how she could see so far, but she could see them clearly, two figures alone on the bridge, the rain pouring down upon them. A young, one-eyed wolf facing a larger and stronger boar with large tusks and fierce bristles. The two animals collided, engaged in vicious and deadly combat. Back and forth they struggled, their blood mixing on the stones of the bridge.
Finally, the wolf brought down the boar, clamping its teeth violently on the boar's throat and tearing it out in a shower of blood.
But then it came down from the sky. The two red eyes moved downward, and a great beast appeared from the clouds, with enormous tusks and pig-like snout. Its mouth opened wide, like a snake, and a piercing roar hurt her ears, and it came down on the bridge.
The enormous mouth smashed through the bridge itself, swallowing both the wolf and boar in a single bite. Then it turned, going for the city, and all the lives housed within.
The princess shivered in her sleep. The dreams seemed to be coming every night now, ever since that dark magical surge Bannon had sensed. It was a remarkable thing to see himself, he thought. The royal line of Hyrule had since time of legend supposedly had the power to see the future in their dreams. The first was the original Princess Zelda, over four thousand years ago, when she saw the coming of the King of Darkness.
And now, watching her shift uncomfortably, Bannon could see it on her hand. The glowing gold of the Triforce of Wisdom. He could see it, could feel its energy. It must have been dormant until that night, and now would not let her rest. It had become active in response to her emotions in that moment the dark surge had been felt so far away from its source.
It would be so easy, he thought, reaching for it with fingers like claws. She was weak now. She could become strong, as her ancestors had done, but right now he could easily rip it from her and take it as his own. His fingers inches from her hand, trembling in anticipation, he swallowed and licked his lips.
It would be so easy.
Zelda suddenly woke with a gasp, feeling the chill of cold sweat on her face. She gasped for breath, feeling her heart pounding in her chest. It was dark, and she was unaware of the gold glow that had now vanished from her hand. She looked to the mouth of the small cave they had found, where Bannon sat, keeping watch out into the jungle beyond.
She didn't know how he did it. They'd been traveling for several days now, and he refused to split the watch. He was always there, all night. As far as she could tell, he had not slept since that night they had been in the safehouse of his, with the boulder covering the entrance.
When she had asked, he had told her he could go three weeks without sleep. She'd then asked how anyone could do that and stay sane, and he had simply smiled in response.
But she'd had this same dream for four nights in a row now. Sometimes there were different details. She saw a dark, cloaked figure walking the blackened, destroyed streets of Hyrule's capital. She saw the statue of the three heroes in the square defaced, the heads shattered. Or she saw the crops of the surrounding farms rotting in the fields, withering into dust.
But she always saw the one-eyed wolf and boar fighting on the bridge, though sometimes the boar would win, but they were always devoured by the dark cloud.
Bannon looked over at her from where he sat. "It's still a long time until dawn," he said, "You can go back to sleep."
"Easy for you to say," Zelda muttered under her breath.
Of course, she also knew the stories, of the royal family members of old being able to see the future in their dreams. She'd even asked her mother about it when she was younger, only for the queen to confirm she had never had such an experience.
But was having the same dream so much a sign of it? She couldn't possible just say it was. Maybe it was the stress of the situation.
While she did feel safer with Bannon around, they were still traveling through the jungle, and those natives were out there somewhere. And it had now been nearly a week since she was taken from the castle and found herself here. Bannon didn't talk much, other than to give her directions or tell her to do something, and during the silence of the night she found herself alone with her thoughts.
She sighed, laying back and closing her eyes. But her thoughts went back to home. To the familiar faces she dearly missed now, that she had never dreamed would seem so far away and out of reach. It caused a pain deep in her chest, like someone was squeezing her heart, to think about.
But she had to stay strong. She felt a single silent tear fall down her cheek, and she wiped her eyes, refusing to cry again. Bannon had promised it was just a bit further to safe territory, and from there they could enter Imperial lands and possibly get horses to speed the journey west.
Bannon glanced back over at her as she lay back again, then with a sigh turned back to the mouth of the small cave, looking out into the jungle.
It was like a prickling in his skin. He looked down, raising his hand, fingers still twitching from the sensation.
It would be so easy…
Four days it had taken to get the Gerudo caravan to the city. It should have been the morning after the kidnapping, but one of the wagons had suffered a splintered axle due to a pothole in the road. Of course, the queen had known about it before the messenger from the caravan arrived, informed by the ninja she had watching them, but she felt it best to not let the Gerudo know she had invisible eyes on them just yet.
It had taken time to make an arrangement, between finding engineers, letting them go examine the damage, and then the materials and number of hands needed to unload the wagon, brace it up to replace the axle, and make the repairs. Zelda was convinced it shouldn't have taken so long, and suspected the engineer team of deliberately working slowly to have more time camping with the Gerudo women, but it wasn't something worth pressing them on.
It was a relief when she was informed the wagons had reached the city and the guard were escorting them to the castle. She was wearing one of her fine gowns a she entered the throne room, adjusting the weight of the crown one her forehead with one hand as she walked to the throne, the click of her heels echoing in the silent room. The footsteps of her bodyguard made no sound as he walked.
There were guards waiting who bowed their heads as Zelda passed them. She turned around, seating herself on the throne, deliberately sitting up straight as possible with her hands on each armrest, an attempt to make herself seem as large and imposing as possible. She knew all to well that appearances did matter in court.
"Stand and walk like you're twenty feet tall," her father had told her long ago, "Sooner or later the rest of the world will start to believe it."
A shame that it took her so much of her life before she really understood the value of such words. It was about confidence, plain and simple. But it took nearly losing her kingdom twice before she finally found that confidence.
Also a shame that no amount of confidence would do anything for the bags under her eyes. She still wasn't sleeping well, and she feel the weight of the cover-up hiding them.
Her ninja bodyguard moved past her, taking his place behind the throne to her left. The place he stood was no simple thing if one understood the adage "offer one hand but arm the other." The simple act of shaking hands was frequently forgotten to be a form of showing friendship, but leaving one's other hand available for a weapon. And it was typically the left hand that was so armed.
Of course, there were plenty more around, taking their places around the room, some simply behind the handing curtains along the walls, while some were up in the rafters near the ceiling. And the one behind her stood in the open to give a sense of presence, though for this meeting, he wore his hood and mask up, concealing his all of his face but his eyes and giving him an added air of threat for the sake of impressions.
A ruler may be kind, but they must also be clear of their dominance.
Shifting her weight to find a more comfortable position, Zelda took a deep breath, then nodded to the guards a the room entrance. "Send them in."
One of the guards pulled the great ring handle, the door opening with a groan, and he leaned out, saying something to those outside. The Gerudo were not waiting outside, of course. It was several minutes before the door opened again, and the guard waiting raised his voice, announcing the ambassadors of the Gerudo tribes.
Zelda remembered the ninja had informed her the full delegation was twenty-two, but only five entered the throne room. The first walked in front, the other four carrying two chests between them. Though Zelda had heard the descriptions from her people, it didn't quite prepare her for seen a Gerudo in person.
They really are that huge… she thought.
Ganondorf had been a monster, towering over everyone, at least nine feet tall. She'd always seen him as a giant among men, but seeing these women, for his race he had been decidedly average. Their features were also so similar, from the defined muscles on their arms and exposed abdomens to their long, sharp noses and large lips. All of them with dark skin and red hair, and they also wore bright makeup. Though most of this group wore different colors, only two both wore green, and the other three with red, blue, and yellow, and each painted their eyes and lips to match, the colors strong and standing out clearly from their natural skin tone.
The woman with the red makeup was walking in front. As they came closer to the throne, they stopped about fifteen feet away, and with a sweeping gesture with one arm the leader fell to one knee and bowed her head. The other four set the chests on the floor and bowed similarly.
"Your majesty, if I may, I am Gabora, chosen ambassador of Warchief Naveila," she said, "We come in peace, bearing gifts, in hope of opening relations between our people and yours."
"I welcome all who come in the name of friendship," Zelda said, "As such, I welcome you as my friends and guests. Please rise."
The women rose to their feet. Gabora stepped to one side as the other pushed the chests forward, facing them both toward Zelda.
"Warchief Naveila has empowered me to speak with her authority in this matter," she said, "As a sign of our intent, we bring these gifts, and more, for the queen of Hyrule."
The chests were opened. They were exactly what Zelda had expected, even as they pulled samples free to show them to her. Cloth, very fine silks, and crafts. In truth, they were nothing of exquisite value, but that was not the point. Perhaps some rulers would take offense that the gifts were not truly riches, but it was more a demonstration of intent and trust that mattered to Zelda.
Indeed, she was already thinking the merchant guild would have many members interested in trade opportunities for the goods. The silks especially. It was the potential future wealth that Zelda saw, not the immediate value in front of her. Hyrulean merchants would more than readily buy from the Gerudo. The problem was a certain biological need of the Gerudo that Zelda was certain would be part of the deal. But all that was to hammered out once the formalities were complete.
Thankfully, formalities didn't take long when greetings were the main thing being exchanged. It was just a matter of time before they were completed and Gabora's entourage was dismissed, and she joined Zelda in the queen's office to have the finer discussion in private. Or as private as it could be with Zelda's bodyguard standing quietly in the corner where he usually did.
But a pair of glasses and bottle of wine did much to help ease tension.
"So let's get this out of the way," Zelda said as Gabora took a deep drink of the wine, "We've thought the Gerudo extinct for nearly four thousand years. Where have your people been?"
"Out of sight out of mind, as they say," Gabora said, setting the glass down, "The desert is quite vast, an in the wake of war against the King of Darkness, our ancestors feared reprisal due to their supporting him, and decided to vanish into the desert."
"I cannot speak for my ancestors, but yours may have been right," Zelda said, "But that was four thousand years ago. I don't believe in the Sins of the Father."
"As we hoped," Gabora said, "The tribal chieftains met and discussed revealing ourselves at great length. Some were not in favor of it. The angry screaming could apparently be heard for leagues around."
"But this Warchief Naveila was?" Zelda asked.
"Warchief Naveila ultimately has authority when dealing with outside powers," Gabora said, "She was elected to the position by the other chieftains due to her patience and wisdom, and also her skill as a warrior herself. But she did not have to use her authority in the end, as the majority of the chieftains were in favor of this meeting."
"That's good to hear, even if there were a few against it still," Zelda said, "So how many of you are there? I mean, the tribes, not your group."
"Of course, we not have an exact population count," Gabora said, "But there are eight surviving tribes. A rough guess at total numbers puts us between three and four thousand."
Any other race would be hard pressed to rebuild their population from those numbers. In-breeding would be a definite danger. But the all-female Gerudo could still bounce back from that due to their unique circumstances. Which of course was her next question.
"I understand your race only has daughters, and always full-blooded Gerudo at that," Zelda said, "How have you maintained your numbers with that circumstance?"
"Truthfully, it was through selective kidnapping of men from other nations," Gabora said, "These were always careful to not leave a trail, or to select men would have likely fallen victim to other circumstances and disappeared, such as hunters or adventurers. Most, when they realized that no only not going to be killed, but allowed to have as many wives as they though they could handle, typically were happy to remain with our people."
"Be that as it may," Zelda said, "if we are to come to terms, the kidnappings will have to cease immediately. Your people will be welcome to enter Hyrule and find husbands by other means if they desire, but kidnappings are off the table."
"We expected this demand and are ready to accept it," Gabora said, "And for what it's worth, we also believe our people should not walk freely among yours. At least not yet. So many centuries of isolation has left us rather uneducated on the outside world and its cultures. Our group was educated extensively by our Hylian husbands for the kinds of behaviors we should expect, as well as teaching some of us your language.
"But most of our population have not received such an education and we'd like to avoid potential incidents that could result from the culture shock."
"Of course," Zelda said, "I can arrange for instructors to go to your people to teach the language as well as of our culture, and in turn learn of yours to bring the knowledge back here to educate our own people of yours. In the meantime, we can discuss the conditions that will result from your people becoming Hyrule's vassal."
"Your majesty, we are not here to discuss vassalage," Gabora said, "The final decision of the chieftains, barring the minority against, is to join Hyrule proper and completely, and integrate with your nation."
Zelda's brow furrowed. She had not expected that. "That would mean giving up much more of your autonomy," she said, "As well, because of the issues of culture shock, it may take some time before it can be implemented."
"I understand, but it is the goal our leaders chose," Gabora said, "It was a decision made to both garner your trust and to satisfy some of the voices among our own who have stated an interest in possibly joining your military and even becoming knights, though it may be born more of fantastical stories than knowledge."
"I see," Zelda said, thinking to herself. Yes, it was required that all military recruits be Hyrulean citizens. It was a precaution to keep foreign spies from infiltrating their ranks. That citizenship was not extended to vassals, who were expected to keep their own military in addition to any Hyrulean troops stationed in their borders.
Of course, that precaution would not prevent their own people from being turned, either with threats or bribes, but that was a different kind of security risk.
But integration presented its own challenges, which she was already reviewing in her head. It would take time. Years or even decades. But Hyrule was a land built through the unity of disparate peoples. The differences in their cultures would logically make it seem that Hylians, Gorons, and Zora would have a very difficult time maintaining the peace between their peoples. Yet they had grown to a such a strong unity, Zelda believed it truly would be impossible to drive a wedge between them all at this point. And if history was accurate, it was actually Ganondorf that was responsible for the unity. Nothing brings people together faster or more strongly than a common enemy.
The Gerudo themselves presented unique challenges as well. The Zora kept to their river domain, while the Gorons preferred the heights of Death Mountain to make their home. The Gerudo were nomadic tribes. City life, or even village life, would likely be hard for them to comprehend at first, to remain in one place for much of one's life. Much like the Zora and Gorons, Zelda doubted there would be many desiring to live in Hyrule as full residents as a result, and would likely keep to their desert.
Zelda had traveled that desert once, almost thirty years ago, with Link. He knew what he was doing, and they traveled during the morning, before it became too hot, then rested in the shade in the afternoon. Once the sun was down, they traveled further for half the night, then found a place to stay close and warm when the night became far too cold to keep going. It was a very hostile environment to those unprepared for it.
"I need to think on this," Zelda said, "Though we have much to discuss. In the meantime, I can arrange a guide to show you and your entourage around the city properly if you wish, and also answer any questions you may have."
"I'd appreciate that, your majesty," Gabora said, "I'm certain you have much that requires your attention."
If only you knew, Zelda thought, remembering her next stop was down to the interrogation rooms to check on the progress with the prisoners that had been part of the group that kidnapped her daughter.
Lance sat near the center of the camp, taking his turn at watch. Each day was walking through the jungle with little else, finding edible fruits or fishing for each meal, and then making sure their campsites were well hidden from outside eyes. It was monotonous, but that was most long journeys. It was something he learned to understand about those stories of heroes, including his own parents. They didn't live a life of fighting and heroics every day. Those stories left out the enormous amounts of time that were just walking, sleeping in the dirt, and near starvation.
And the mosquitoes. Gods, the mosquitoes, he thought as he slapped the back of his neck where he felt a prick. They were everywhere in this humid climate, and that was another problem itself. He felt drenched, every step of the way each day. As bad as he felt, though, it was nothing compared to Areil. The Gerudo woman was from a dry desert climate. She spent almost every waking moment looking like she'd emerged from a river and short of breath.
But she didn't complain. Maybe she just didn't have the energy to complain. Or maybe she wasn't that kind of person.
Lance glanced over to where she lay, sleeping with no blankets or even a pillow. Everyone else was just as bad off, though his mother did at least have his father's shoulder where they lay together. Damien also slept by himself, his head resting on a flat rock he'd found just to elevate his neck at least.
The dark elf twins were not asleep at the moment, they were sharing watching with him, seated behind him so they could watch all the possible angles of approach.
"You got a thing for giants now?" one of the twins asked, noticing him looking over at Areil.
Natalya, Lance realized. She always did like to push his buttons, ever since they were kids, and especially since the incident that had given Lilith the scar on her lip when they were kids.
"No, just feeling sympathetic," Lance said, "As much as I hate this humidity, it looks so much worse for her."
"Oh, yes, real sympathetic," Natalya said, "I'll bet you're just looking for the chance of her to fall into your arms."
"You know that's not true," Lance said.
"Yeah, Natty," Lilith said, "She's so huge, he'd have to fall into hers."
Lance sighed. Natalya was pretty much the one who always started it, but Lilith's sense of humor was almost identical. Of course, as much as they did frustrate him, he knew it was all good-natured. Their mother, Silviana, was one of the kindest people he'd ever met, but her sense of humor was almost as bad. She did love to tease, though she said herself that she only teased people she liked.
"Oh, I think we upset him," Natalya said, and Lance heard her shift behind him. A second later, he felt her hands on his arm as she leaned around, and came close, leaning her face around his shoulder and almost right against his.
"You're thinking about the princess, aren't you?" she whispered.
"I'm trying not to," Lance said, but now they'd brought her up, and he saw her face again.
As she lay on the stone slap, her eyes blank, whatever they'd drugged her with nearly blinding her. But then when she looked up and said his name, he knew she'd be okay. That was until the magic that froze him and the masked woman took her right off of his shoulders. He'd pushed so hard, trying to force his way free, trying with all his might to scream, to grab her, to swing his sword, only to be powerless in the face of this foe.
His father had taught him to fight since he was twelve. He'd learned more when he'd joined the military at sixteen. He'd fashioned a fighting style all his own, learning to combine the adaptive, reactionary style his father had taught him with the traditional stances and moves of the Hylian knights.
There had been issues with the nobles, both among the recruits and his trainers, though. Particularly the fact he refused to bow to any but the queen herself. Maybe it was just something he'd picked up from his father. Link had a notorious reputation among the nobles caused by the fact he never bowed even to the queen. Evidently he had for decades now been overheard even addressing her by name, no titles or anything. This was compounded by the fact the queen never chastised or punished him for it. The reason he got away with it was because he was a hero, of course. He'd saved the kingdom more than once.
But nobles were nobles. They hated him for it, and Lance felt some of that came down on him because he was his father's son. He understood the need for discipline in the military, but he felt a few too many cases of minor or even nonexistent events resulted in him cleaning the latrines or peeling potatoes too often. And that was when they wanted to keep him useful. He had done a lot of push-ups during the early days of training. So many, he felt he could still drop and do over a hundred without even straining now.
For a time he'd even thought of quitting. Link had actually been the one to stop him there. His father told him that was what these kind of people wanted to see. They wanted him to fail. The way to hurt them the most was to succeed. To rise above their childish crap and one day see them taking orders from him. So Lance persevered.
He quietly took the beatings, and at the end of the first year, rose from the recruits to his rank as squire with the fastest times on the challenge courses, the surest aim at archery, and the most skilled sword in the sparring ring. He was the best among his peers and had proven it. All eyes had been on him that day. It was the first day he'd met the queen in person, and also the first time he'd met the princess.
He almost couldn't believe they were related. The queen had an overpowering presence. Simply being near her seemed to force him to fall to his knee in reverence. It wasn't that she was unfriendly. In fact, the way she spoke to him and congratulated him, he'd say she was nothing but kind. Yet he felt his heart racing merely from being in her presence. In fact, in light of this, he had no idea how his father so easily looked her in the eye.
The princess, on the other hand, had seemed so small in comparison. She was shy when the queen introduced them. She couldn't be more different from her mother if she tried. She seemed terrified of being in the public eye. But this was six years ago now, and he admitted her confidence had grown with her knowledge of how to rule a nation. She still had a long way to go before she was ready to be queen.
Only five of the fifty in his group would be chosen to become knights that day, and he was the first. He was then squired to an experienced knight named Sir Edgar Wallace. An older warrior, Sir Edgar was going to be retiring in just five years, but he was a survivor of both the Twilight Invasion and the Blighted War, and he was still fit, fighting the constant battle with age trying to slow him down. For now, he was still in fighting shape, but his efforts to remain so were merely delaying the inevitable. Lance would now learn from him as well as take the duties of caring for the knight's horse, armor, and weapons.
At first such chores seemed little more than busywork, but Lance soon realized why such things were importantly. He became intimately familiar with the armor, studying how it fit together, how to properly care for it to prevent rusting as well as hammering out dents without damaging the metal.
He also road with Sir Edgar and his men on patrols and other tasks into the countryside. It was not merely walking safe roads, either. Highwaymen and other criminals were always looking for an opening to take what they wanted from those weaker than them. Sir Edgar frequently led his men off the roads to find and root out such villains, and Lance saw a fair amount of blood and fighting even back then.
One day after returning from such an encounter and safe again at Edgar's home in the city, Lance had set to cleaning the knight's armor of the blood and grime it had collected during the battle, and Edgar had come into the room. At first Lance thought he was there just to make sure it was being done right, but then Edgar had told him something that had stuck with him ever since.
Edgar had reminded him of the other knights and their groups returning from similar patrols, and told him to make note of which ones' armor was still clean and shiny as they returned to the city. The knights' whose armor was bloody, dirty, and dented, they were the ones getting things done. They were the ones that one wanted by their side in times of war. Those that remained so shiny were more concerned with appearances than actual deeds.
At the end of his of squire, five years later, Sir Edgar reached his retirement and wished Lance well on his future career. He'd said that the future of Hyrule was in good hands with knights like him.
Lance was a knight-errant now. Placed under Damien, the knight-captain, and would serve as his second in command for the next several years before he reached true knighthood and command of his own squad.
And during those five years, he'd been in and out of the castle frequently with Sir Edgar. He saw a lot more of both the queen and the princess during that time. Being around them that much, the queen no longer seemed such a colossal figure as when he first met her, though she still had a powerful presence that seemed to overwhelm all else.
But Sir Edgar was frequently in briefings that Lance was not permitted to attend at the time. It was pure chance that one of those time, the princess happened to be nearby. He didn't think anything of making small talk. One talk led to more on future visits, though, and after some time, the princess had confessed to him that the idea of being the queen terrified her. It was a responsibility put on her by her birth, not be choice, and that was why she was so afraid of it.
He became a friendly ear for her, someone she could share those fears with, and he never told anyone. In fact, it led to a trust and friendship between them. When he finally became a knight-errant, she was there to congratulate him, a smile on her face and a bottle of wine ready to celebrate.
And that night, he had not gone back to his own bed. Looking back on it now, he was certain it had been culmination of the trust they had developed over the years. Maybe a little bit of the wine had eased fears and personal restrictions. But the deed done, as he lay there in the princess's bed, Lance was certain he'd be losing his head as soon as the queen found out. In fact, with the reputation of the royal bodyguards, he was surprised they hadn't been stopped in advance.
Now she slept, her hair disheveled and hanging across her face as he watched her. She seemed so peaceful now, not the scared girl he'd first met five years earlier. She was the future queen, and he was a knight of the realm in all but name at this point. So, on that night, he whispered, vowing to her that he would stand by and protect her with his life.
But as he dressed and left the room, he's actually started to think no one was going to be the wiser when two curved katana blades crossed in front of him before he'd even stepped out of the door. Two of the dark elf ninja had been waiting for him in the hall. "Come with us," one said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Into the queen's office they took him, where she was awake and still working even at this time of night. As it had turned out, she'd known the instant Lance had entered the princess's bedroom. Her tone of voice as she spoke was harder, less emotional than he'd ever heard, and that overpowering presence seemed to have swollen to ten times its original size.
Yet she did not raise her voice. She did not curse him or yell, or even threaten him. Somehow that made it even more terrifying that all she did was ask questions of his relationship with her daughter. How they'd become so close and what had driven them together. He'd answered the truth, now fully believing the stories that the queen could see through any lie, even though he had no reason to lie in his situation.
But it had ended with the question that he himself had no idea how to answer.
"Do you love her?" the queen asked.
He understood the hierarchy. He had already taken the oath to live and fight in the name of Hyrule, to defend its people and its ruler with his very life if need be. To that, he could easily have answered yes. But love as she meant, the more he thought about it, the less certain he was. He'd never been in love before. He had no idea what it felt like. The most he knew was how his parents behaved with each other, especially when he was younger and they thought no one was watching. He didn't feel he could be as comfortable and as free with her as they were with each other. To say yes might be a lie, but he was uncertain, and to say no would also be a lie. So he said the only thing he could.
"I don't know," he said.
"Of course you don't," she had replied, "You're a child still in many ways, as is she. Both of you have made a severe error in judgment this night. But the reason I did not interrupt it is because if I did, I'd be the stereotypical tyrannical parent trying to ruin my child's happiness, which would only urge her to continue. At least this way you can both learn from it.
"Listen to me. This didn't happen. No one else knows, and no one else will. My daughter may one day have to marry for the sake of politics. There are protocols for that, one being that she must be a virgin. And as far as anyone knows, she still is. You two may still be friends, but this incident will not be repeated.
"I'm not sparing you because of who your parents are, if that's what you're thinking. I'm doing it to avoid a public embarrassment. I will speak to my daughter in the morning and make sure she understands as well. And this is the last we will hear of it. Understood?"
Now sitting in the jungle, watching for the night, Lance thought back to that. That had been the last time he'd heard anything. The princess never mentioned it, and she also seemed to avoid him whenever possible. No longer was he the friendly ear for her fears and venting.
"Tell me something," Lance said, turning to look toward Natalya as she released his shoulder, "They make you kill as part of your training to be a ninja, right?"
"That's right," she said.
"As a matter of fact, they pull a prisoner from the dungeon and release them into the countryside," Lilith said, shifting her seating to look more toward them, "The prisoner is told if they can reach the border of the country, there will be no further pursuit. And after they have about a two hour head start, then the trainee is released to hunt them down and kill them with no aid."
"They're bad ones that were going to lose their heads anyway," Natalya added, "So no, it's not bread thieves used for this. But we're not told the crimes in advance. It's a test of our tracking skills, and that we're able and willing to kill when ordered to do so."
"I've never actually killed someone myself, though I've seen it done plenty," Lance said, thinking back to hunting highwaymen with Sir Edgar, "But these people that took the princess… Especially that woman who took her right out of my grasp… I want them dead. I want to hurt them. I'm just wondering if that means I'm a bad person."
Natalya reached to Lance's hand, giving it a gentle reassuring squeeze. "Of course not. They've wronged us, and killed innocents. As far as I'm concerned, they've bought their own tickets to Hell."
"But we were nothing before that wizard," Lance whispered, lifting his free hand and seeing his fingers trembling, "They took her right out of my hands. I wasn't strong enough to protect her. Not strong enough to even fight them. There has to be a way..."
Lilith moved, sitting down on the other side of him from her sister. "And we'll find it," she said, taking his hand in her own, "Together."
The twins had been a part of his life as far back as Lance could remember. He could remember playing when them back in Ordon when they were all children. It was safe to say no one knew him as well as they did. There was no one he trusted more than them.
He had to become stronger. But his father said that true strength was not about raw muscle. Not about how hard would could hit. That it was about refusing to give in, refusing to stay down.
So, simple courage, then? Was that true strength? He didn't feel he lacked in that, yet courage had done nothing to break the spell that held him fast when the wizard cast it upon them.
He'd understand when it was time, his father said. When would that be?
He could feel a sense of premonition. Something much bigger and much worse than anything so far was approaching. Would he be strong enough when it arrived?
Queen Zelda made the journey to the castle dungeons, and then to the torture chamber. She always reminded herself that she hated this, but the two she was going to see the results of had killed several people in her garden and kidnapped her daughter. It was hard to feel sympathy in light of that when she entered the room and saw the two of them restrained, one flat on his back on a table, wrists and ankles bound to the table itself, and the other bound to a metal stand that held him upright.
They were both bleeding, with black eyes and fat lips, though she knew those were from the Hylian interrogators, not from the three now waiting nearby for her.
Vargus turned, bowing and greeting her as she entered. The other two had arrived about three days ago specifically for this purpose.
Saren and Lark were their names. Two dark elf men, dressed in the dark armor of the ninja, like all the others, but their purpose was very different. Saren was the taller of the two, and older. He was nearly as old as Vargus, approaching his ninth century and the end of his life, while Lark was about half his age and still appeared barely older than a teenager. To be specific, though they had worked together for longer than Zelda had been alive, Lark was till technically Saren's apprentice.
"Your majesty," Saren said, bowing his head in greeting, and Lark did the same while remaining silent.
Where they stood was the table where their tools were laid out. A true nightmare to see, implements of metal as small as needles to wicked curved blades nearly six inches long, and dozens of implements in-between. And compared to the cliché of torture implements being rusty and dull to cause more pain, these devices all shined as if polished in the torchlight, and sharp enough to split hairs with no pressure.
Perhaps what was most frightening about Saren and Lark is that their subjects never showed any outward injuries when they were finished. No bleeding, no bruises, not even scratches. They were true masters of the art, as it were, though Saren had told her before that torture was no art. Artists create something from their emotions to inspire others. Torture was a science, about testing theories and finding truth from fiction.
"Everyone has a pain threshold, some higher than others," Saren had told her years ago, "The science is in finding that threshold and holding the victim there as long as possible without going past it. Go too far and they'll break and confess to anything, true or not. I've spent my life learning to pull the truth from them, not to get confessions."
But this was no time to concern herself with semantics and morality.
"Did they tell you where my daughter was taken?" Zelda asked.
"Unfortunately these seem to be nothing more than grunts to our enemy," Saren said, looking over at the two of them, "They knew their orders, and the order to take the princess to the clearing, but it seems neither of them have actually been to a base of operations for the cult, much less know where to find it."
"Seems they keep their low-level operatives in the dark, much like any army," Lark added, "Need to know basis and all that."
"What we did get from them was a great deal of their beliefs and what they intend to come," Saren continued, "To give you the short version, it seems that a so-called prophet came to their home village, telling them that they're enslaved by those in power, even if they don't realize it, that they're being kept down by the royalty specifically to control them with lies of gods that do not exist because they do not interact with the world. Then the prophet touched their heads and showed them a vision of a new god that was coming to the world to punish the wicked and slavers, to free the world from hate and suffering and inequality, all that kind of crap."
"It's exactly like most cults," Lark said, "The weak-willed and cowardly are convinced someone else will come to save them, and they trade an honest life and job they now see as slavery for actual slavery to the one behind it all. These two genuinely believe it and when we pressure them for their own opinions, they just repeat what they've been told. The brainwashing is strong here."
"This prophet," Zelda said, "What did he look like?"
"They've never seen his face," Saren said, "He always wore the white mask, like the others, but they did mention he was small, barely over three feet in height, yet spoke with the voice of a man."
"The wizard," Zelda said, remembering the reports she'd received from the knights who interviewed the Gerudo who had been at the scene, "So he's masquerading as a prophet and turning my own people against me."
"If he's skilled at illusions, this vision of a god he gave them is likely also false," Vargus said.
Zelda looked over at the two unconscious forms strapped to the tables.
"Is there any hope of salvaging these men?" she asked.
"Hard to say," Saren said, "Brainwashing is a hell of a thing. It's not just about making someone believe something that isn't true, it's also about teaching them to resist all other ideas and opinions, even in the face of undeniable evidence. Denial of reality in its truest state. Without even thinking about it, they'll twist facts to suit their beliefs and change stances on the spot to conform new knowledge so it suits what they've been trained to believe."
"Kind of goes with that following the prophet because they think he'll save them," Lark added, "They don't want to think for themselves, they want to follow, and now that they have an ideology they're following, getting them to break from it will involve teaching them to think for themselves again. They're going to resist that hard."
It would be easier to simply execute them. If they broke free, they could hurt others in their efforts to escape and return to their master. But even then, she remembered the murders of the innocents on the farms and the reports she had read of the bodies, skinned alive and left there as the building burned.
These people who had fallen for this prophet's words were victims themselves, and yet they might all be too far gone to save if acts such as those did not awaken a sense of wrong in them.
"Do you think it's possible?" Zelda asked Vargus.
"Perhaps, if we are able to locate their families to help, and that those families are not themselves victims of the cult," Vargus said, "Breaking brainwashing will require reintroducing them to their loved ones from before, and reminding them of what they've lost, then facing them with the atrocities they've committed in light of that. It will hurt them, both emotionally and psychologically, but both are part of the recovery process.
"It would be easier away from here, up in our village," he added, "These poor fools have been trained to see the castle and the queen as symbols of oppression, not the unity they are meant to represent. At the same time, perhaps an example should be made to those who would threaten the nation."
"We have several dead from the fight in the garden already," Zelda said, "They will serve for that. And these two, if they can be saved, perhaps that alone will help bring others back around. Though if they can't..."
"In that case, perhaps we would be best off if they simply disappear," Vargus said, "Something else that will be much easier away from the capital."
"Agreed," Zelda said, "I'll leave it to your discretion, Vargus. You know more of these matters than I."
"As you command, your majesty," Vargus said, "After dark, we'll move these two out of the city."
The queen excused herself and Vargus followed her from the chamber, making their way back up toward ground level.
"Your meeting with Emperor Maximilian is approaching, is it not?" Vargus asked as they walked.
"I'm leaving tomorrow morning," Zelda said, "We're having it on Baron Ravenholdt's lands, so I'll be gone about six days, but I've already informed the pertinent officers to keep me in touch with the communication earrings. I fully expect this cult to try something while I'm away, so I want everyone on high alert while I'm gone. They might even find the balls to attack people in the capital."
"We can spare a few dozen more ninja to bolster our numbers here," Vargus said, "I'll have them come to the capital and set up more out-of-sight patrols. Maybe we can catch them first."
"Good idea," Zelda said, "I'll take no more than the normal ten with me as bodyguards for the trip. I doubt the emperor is going to try anything untoward in any case. He would not have suggested using my vassal's lands to meet if he was."
"I do agree," Vargus said, "Our spies believe he is more focused on the empire's old enemies on their east side in any case. A much bigger fish to fry, if you'll pardon the cliché."
"So long as you'll forgive mine," Zelda said, "All these problems had to pile up at once. It never rains but it pours."