At first, all Miro Miro could feel was a claustrophobic anxiety closing in all around her. Whenever she tumbled, she thought the leather interior was shrinking. Even worse than being closed in a pouch was sharing the space with all sorts of objects, like bottles of fluid, small scrolls of paper, and a ring of keys, jingling around with every step. In addition to avoiding injury, she also had a body that was giving off a pink light that could reveal her presence without looking too closely.

When she finally found the inside of a rolled up tube of paper, Miro Miro pushed against the bottom of the interior to drive her hiding spot underneath all the other small contents sharing the space. Only when she felt herself pushing against the flimsy material of the barrier did she feel safe enough to consider the predicament she had put herself in. Every bump from the metal keys or the bottle reminded her that she had put her fate in the hands of a complete stranger, one who seemed to care more about keeping the peace and less about justice.

What in the world was she thinking when she flew into Sir Mawar's pouch? At the time she believed that it was the safest thing to do, but when she had not even the faintest idea on what to do next, she realized how short sighted that plan was. The clapping of horse hooves and the chatter of people outside her own shaky environment meant that Sir Mawar was walking outside, and also that she could slip out of the pouch anytime she wanted. But then she hesitated each time she even fluttered her wings and then felt fear course through her as she thought about being alone in the city.

Before long, Miro Miro no longer heard horse hooves, and the chatter of people turned into echoed conversations inside an interior space, and her window of opportunity to escape her death trap closed ever further. Soon, she was beginning to debate against herself whether the opportunity to escape even existed or not, unaware that the longer she debated, the smaller that hypothetical window became.

When the man slowed to a stop, Miro Miro felt more alarm than relief when everything stopped moving. Suddenly, a hand unbuckled the pouch and then reached inside. The wrinkly fingers blindly searched around before they found the metal ring and pulled the set of keys out of the pouch. Once he unlocked the bolt, stepped through the door, and then locked the door behind him, Miro Miro knew that her window of opportunity had closed forever.

All Miro Miro could do at this point was stay hidden and pray to Father once more. It was all she did while Sir Mawar went about his business, until he entered a room filled with the coos of pigeons. "Greetings," Sir Mawar finally broke the silence, "Any news from beyond?"

A young boy with a country accent, similar to the way Rowark spoke, "Yes sire. Here are the latest letters."

"Thankee for your hard work." Sir Mawar placed each letter in his pouch one by one, pausing a few minutes between every time he put his rolled up messages into his pouch.

Sir Mawar walked around some more, and after an uncountable amount of time and an immeasurable amount of distance, a man's thick city accent interrupted the silence Miro Miro had wished for, "Here're your reports, sire."

This time, Miro Miro heard nothing but the transfer of papers to Sir Mawar. He walked off without conveying a single gesture of gratitude and did not say anything to anybody until he finally met the person he was scheduled to meet, "Your highness!"

Sir Mawar sped up his pace to catch up to an elderly woman, or Miro Miro assumed from the voice commanding him, "What news?" Miro Miro instantly recognized the familiar tone, but she could not identify without certainty exactly whose. The only female Hylians that Miro Miro have had the chance to know were Rowark's sister and… the Queen.

"Sir Rhychester and eighteen of Mister Praetenmore's men were killed." Sir Mawar reported remorselessly, "Their bodies have been cleaned up before the news could spread."

"Did you catch him, though?" The woman coldly skipped straight to the point of the matter, unsettling the innocent fairy, How could she not care about all those lives lost? The more Miro Miro pondered on the familiarity of the voice, the more certain she was the voice matched the Queen's. Nevertheless, surely the ruler over the great kingdom of Hyrule could not be so arbitrary that the capture of someone took priority over the death of a score of men?

"Nay, your highness." She could be any highness, reasoned Miro Miro. "I've already pulled all available veterans to catch him. I can pull reserves from the steward's corps if need be."

"No, our men are spread thinly as they are, and this affair must be handled discreetly. You are ordered to snatch any Link off the streets, any one that fits the description in the bounty, and then hang him in front of the Zawks."

"Yes my Queen." Though it was beyond any sliver of a doubt now, for only a Queen had the power to execute an innocent boy, there truly should have been no surprise by this point. A cruel and dangerous world existed underneath the Queen's rule, and she was responsible for all of it; it was the only rationale that could guide Miro Miro safely through her turbulent shock.

"But do continue your pursuit," said the evil Queen. Of Link? Miro Miro wanted to ask the Queen herself, She wants to capture THE Link?

"For what possible catastrophe would we need continued use of stretched manpower to hunt down a single, harmless Link?"

"We shall not discuss this matter further here," the woman urgently dismissed the question. They walked in tandem, sending echoes of their footsteps down the hallway. Whenever they passed anyone, Miro Miro could hear the whispers of the castle's servants repeatedly, "Your Grace." And the Queen continued the discussion without so much as acknowledging them, "Do tell me about where our manpower is stretched, though."

"Let me see here," Sir Mawar quickly shuffled through some papers, "We have about two thousand watchmen in the castle barracks, one thousand and five hundred guarding the eastern cliff, five hundred total garrisoned in ten different sectors, one thousand strong manning the walls, two hundred in the Gerudo Pass, six hundred stationed in the foothills, though their reinforcements shall swell their numbers back to one hundred hopefully before next season, five hundred at Mount Hylia, two hundred in the Hebra Fort, five hundred spread over four strongholds in Eldin, thirteen hundred garrisoned in the Akkalian citadel-"

"That number is much too absurd for a demesne so peaceful. Transfer three hundred men from the citadel to the Eldin forts, three hundred to the wetlands fort, and an additional two hundred to Lake Hylia, and order the garrison to double their patrols."

"Your wise decision will provide the people with a sense of security and boost the morale of the men in that stronghold. That would put our forts in the Dragon Roost, Biggoron, North, and South Highland mountains at two hundred men each, the number in the wetlands will increase from six hundred to nine hundred, and the Hylian bridge will swell from two hundred to four hundred. The last fort I have yet to mention is the Gerudo Canyon, which has five hundred occupants. The rest are on sortie, and we have about two hundred in the construction corps and another six hundred in the stewards corps should we need to pull any for reserves."

It was hard to fathom that the Queen had all those places under her control. What felt like mythical regions far beyond where anybody had explored turned out to be within the borders of the Hylian kingdom. The two walked into a large space where their words carried far into the distance. "Excellent." Tell the construction corps to begin building a new blacksmith in the barracks. I want this one to be thrice as large as the current one, and I want all blacksmiths, along with one hundred of the strongest, currently in the stewards corps to separate from their host to become a new corps. From henceforth, they shall be called the blacksmith corps, and they will take all orders directly from the head quartermaster. How many pages will be coming of age next season?"

"Hmm… About seventy one boys will turn thirteen before autumn's first chill arrives, your highness, assuming that all on campaign return in one piece."

"Transfer all of their duties to the blacksmith corps in preparation for the Zawks' arrival."

"Are you sure you do not wish to add any new reserves to the steward's corps? Or the construction corps?"

"Do not question me openly," the warning of the Queen echoed throughout the room and sent a chill through Sir Mawar's body that somehow Miro Miro could feel. "The new blacksmith corps will become a new source of reserves."

Once they crossed the threshold into a narrower hallspace, Sir Mawar pursued his inquiry, "And how are you so certain the Zawks will pledge their allegiance to you?"

"There are many things in this realm of which I am ignorant, but of these truths I am certain. The Zawks do not know who the culprit is, and a public hanging will quench their vengeance."

"Most insightful. Our quartermasters will be glad to have greater control over their unfulfilled repairs."

"Ha! With the Zawks leading the new blacksmith corps and serving our army directly, I mean to upgrade our entire forces! Spare no expense with the construction of the new smith. I want guildsmen hired for this job as well."

"Very well, your highness." Before the Queen got a chance to ask any more questions, a handmaiden interrupted them to ask the Queen about her meal. The woman then ordered the food as well as a flask of wine to be delivered to her private bed chambers.

"What is the latest treasury report?" asked the Queen once she was sure they were alone again.

Sir Mawar flipped through the next set of papers, "The treasury can expect a grand total of seven million rupees collected from-"

"I don't care about how much money we are making," said the Queen curtly, "tell me how much I can expect by the season's end."

"My apologies, your highness." Sir Mawar hesitantly paused before delivering the bad news, "Though our expenses once again exceed our tax revenue, a few royals bonds could easily give you the funds necessary to begin construction on the new smith."

The Queen growled, "How many bonds exactly?"

Another pause, "Only two." His answer echoed into a stairwell and spread throughout the tall chamber as the two walked up the steps.

"Sell one bond to Houses Tabantha, June, Springbock, Bosphoramus, and Zarbosa, and transfer every single rupee directly to the construction corps."

"Very well, your highness."

"What is the treasury's debt total?"

"With the five new bonds added, it will not push our debt past four million rupees. But because interest is accruing, we may hit the four million milestone sometime next year if our deficit is not addressed."

"That is a discussion reserved for the steward for a different time." The Queen waited until no echoes from footsteps climbing the stairs could be heard anymore before continuing her discussion, "What about our parliament numbers? Do we have enough in the House of Lords to outnumber the Zellinks?"

"I'm afraid not, my queen. Ingo, Viskard, and Quella stay loyal to Lord Nohansen, enough to hold a stalemate for every vote. While Springbock, June, and Tabantha are loyal to you, Lord Pilt continues to vote as randomly as the outcome of a dice roll."

"He cannot be helped. When I speak to the Chancellor tomorrow, we shall discuss potential marriages to strengthen the alliances of our supporters." Miro Miro spent a long time wrapping her head around a new concept. Back home, she only knew of marriages for love; why would anybody marry for an alliance (also a strange concept to her)?

"Have you considered adding House Bosphoramus to the House of Lords?" suggested the old man.

"Ambitious, but," Queen quickly dismissed, "such a lofty proposal will never pass through parliament."

"If we were to arrange a marriage between House Bosphoramus to House Viskard and then the Zellinks for support, then this proposal just might have a chance."

"And how will that be beneficial when House Bosphoramus becomes the deciding vote against me?"

"Perhaps a betrothal between the nine year old son of Mister Bosphoramus and Lord Springbock's young niece, Floria, could solidify their loyalty to our cause."

"Hmm, I shall bring your proposal to Lord Springbock. How fare the Tories in the House of Commons?"

"A solid half of the House still openly declare themselves Royalists, but there is a concerning number rallying around Praetenmore. However, with his forge out of commission, his debt may soon shake his house."

"Worrying nevertheless. How about our trade losses?"

"Merchants have claimed over six thousand rupees in total goods lost this over the past eight days, making this tendo the worst one we have ever recorded so far."

"Damn!" cursed the Queen, "May the reinforcements to the wetlands calm the bickering of the merchants."

"I have no doubt they will, but our forces are stretched thin as they are."

"Unfortunately. What loyal bannermen can we raise to improve security of trade?"

"The Storiksons are the first I can ask, since they own the masons that import their stone directly from the Nohansens and the Zoras. They have yet to send any of their houseguard to help protect the trade they dearly depend on. House Mistaclop, Bosphoramus, Wettinbire, and Barinine are dependent on the materials that come from the Viskards and the Junes, but their willingness to donate men to our mutual cause is questionable at best. Maybe Kakariko may heed our pleas for men now that a carpenter and a masonry guild have moved there."

"Send someone from the chancellor's office to Kakariko immediately. But don't ask them for men. This time, command them to supply at least five hundred levies to the Wetlands in my name."

"Right away, your highness."

The next few moments were filled with nothing but footsteps, which gave Miro Miro a chance to wrap her head around all these new terms. She knew what trade and a house were, but she had no idea what a treasury, fund, guild, bond, or debt was, or what trade and house meant in this context.

Many footsteps were walked in silence before Miro Miro heard the sound of a heavy door opening and closing behind them. "Leave us," the man left his instructions to two other men judging by the number of footsteps leaving the room.

"Does your desire to track down this Link have anything to do with the oracle?"

"First," the Queen spoke with anticipation on her lips, "did you confirm the mark?"

There was a hesitation, "Yes. His hand was bandaged just like the day before. I thought his hand had gotten injured during the fight against Kinja, but when I saw his hand again today, I could tell his bandages had not changed from the night before. And he did it to hide the golden triangle underneath."

"You saw it!" the Queen's voice jumped with excitement, at least to the extent that her stone cold personality allowed, "with your own eyes?"

"Yes, your highness. With my own eyes," confessed Sir Mawar. "It's true. The prophecy."

"Is he truly?" asked the Queen.

"I," Sir Mawar sighed hesitantly, "still have some doubts. But I cannot deny that… he has the mark of the Goddesses."

Miro Miro gasped out loud. Could Rowark truly be the new chosen Hero? Was her guess right all along?

"And the Link? You had your suspicions about his mark. Is he the child of malice?" Those three words resonated for some reason inside Miro Miro, chilling her down to her center.

"I've known the boy for two years now, and he has always had the same bandage around his left hand every time I saw him, but his hand never glowed, not like the squire did."

"Regardless, if he is no more than a Link, find him and hang him."

"Without a trial?"

"If the prophecy is true, we cannot take any chances. Moreover, if he truly is just a Link and not some nobleman's son, then his life is of no significance."

"We don't know if he truly is the child of malice; afterall, I was never able to confirm the mark on his hand. But if the tavern whispers are true, then the child of malice could very well be Lord Nohansen's bastard son instead."

"Hmm, why are you quick to defend his worthless life?"

"He has proven useful in many of our plots to secure support for the upcoming vote. He could continue to aid us in our efforts for diplomatic control."

"You want to employ a child who could be the downfall of our very kingdom?"

"Once again, there is no solid evidence that this Link in the bounty is indeed the very child of malice in the prophecy."

"If the Forester boy I knighted yesterday morning is new beholder of the Triforce of Courage, and the rumors about the Princess of Red Lions are true…"

"... That would make the boy the beholder of the Triforce of Power. But only if the rumors of the Princess are true," corrected Sir Mawar. "However, given that fate seems to place the squire at the center of every single major incident in the past three days, just because we are shown the signs does not mean we are interpreting them correctly."

The Queen pressed, "But does this incident affect your faith in the Sage?"

"Well, I believe the squire had the help of another. But even then," he released a skeptical breath, "I have a hard time believing that two people could have bested eighteen men and a tournament champion at once."

"Was the Hero not capable of doing so, a century ago?"

"Those were just stories, your highness. If you had told me a score of Mister Praetenmore's men had been slaughtered by Sir Rhychester, I might have believed you. But eighteen men, plus Sir Rhychester himself, by a watchman and a child? That still sounds preposterous to me!"

"And what is your alternative theory?"

The old man went silent. "There is none."

"Then, would you count this instance in favor of the Sage's prophecy?"

"And what, beyond their impeccable luck, are their other qualities that tie them to the Sheikah's words? If they can be trusted even."

"I know you doubt the words of the Sage, but the signs have never been clearer. She has predicted all of this over sixty years ago."

"The Sage," the old man hesitated for a heartbeat to search for the right words to speak, "also does not hold the key to resolving each contemporary crisis in the realm. What could one knight possibly do against the Moblin Horde? Or the Confederacy? Or even the Zellinks for Farore's sake?"

"The Legend of Zelda was not just about the trials of the Hero of Time. It was also about the unity that the Hero inspired across all the peoples of Hyrule. King after king had attempted to unite Hyrule under one House coat-of-arms, and the irony of it all was that it had never been accomplished until a bannerless boy in a green, forest tunic led all of Hyrule's people against the banner of Ganondorf the King of Thieves."

"But if that were true… then the rumors about the Princess… and the Bastard Prince…"

The long silence following that conclusion was filled with dread. "The veracity of the rumors is not a pleasant thought. Be that as it may, I think we must begin preparing for the worst and assume some truth in the rumors."

"Denying her mark serves us no good anymore, but confirming she is indeed Hylia reincarnate will certainly unite the majority of the Hyborns behind the Zellinks, which means she may one day personally lead their forces against you, my Queen."

"Hmph, that scenario seems inevitable. Very well, don't hang the Link, but make sure he ends up in the dungeons. You are not to use any of my forces, however."

"A wise decision, your grace. I shall increase his bounty and forward it to some of the guilds."

"Tell me of progress in our plots."

"No word yet from Dogmar or Charsel yet. They are due to report back tomorrow night, however," Sir Mawar dug into his back pouch and grasped two of the rolled up tubes of papers, "We've received word from the Waslan guild that they have accepted our payment. They are ready to commence rescue of Mister Remingford's daughter. I also have heard back from the Skulltula brothers. They are ready for the safe retrieval of Mister Walloby's son."

"Which son of Mister Walloby are we talking about?"

"Ralfon, the second heir to the Walloby title."

"Ah, yes. When can we expect him in our care?"

"The next time he visits the same brothel."

"Well done," the Queen sighed, "but will we have enough time to rally enough peers against the Nohansens before the first vote begins?"

"Most likely not. But should Princess Nohansen become the next heir, we can take advantage of her isolation from her family."

"Has the condition of our current heir worsened?"

"She…" Sir Mawar searched for the right words before releasing a saddened sigh, "she drew her last breath only half an hour ago."

The Queen took an equally deep breath and then released with nothing to say. After all the political jargon used back and forth, she sounded like she desperately wanted an end to the day, "Poor girl. Has her family been notified yet?"

"No, your highness."

"Good. Keep it that way until tomorrow's first light. Let us deal with the theatrics on the morrow," she said heartlessly.

"Then, I believe that concludes all our affairs for the day."

"One more thing. What do we know of Princess Nohansen?"

"Next to nothing, yet," Sir Mawar said disappointingly. "Planting a bug inside Castle Nohansen has proven fruitless until recently. Unfortunately, we still know next to nothing other than her daughter. The Duke of Eldin pays special attention to the loyalty of his courtiers, and moreover, the servants say the Princess spends most of her time in the castle dungeon, where no one but those handpicked by Lord Nohansen himself are allowed inside."

"Then I suppose we will learn nothing more until Lord Nohansen introduces her as a candidate."

"However," Sir Mawar reached back into his pouch for one of the tubes of paper. His fingers grasped multiple at once, and when he pulled the paper out the bag, the little fairy flew out the opening, into the great open of a large room. Miro Miro panicked as soon as she realized she was vulnerable, so she darted for the shadow behind Sir Mawar's chair. There she would wait until both had left the room. "Lord Nohansen is hosting a banquet to celebrate the twentieth birthday of his daughter, so this will be the first time our informant will get a chance to see her… and prove the rumors once and for all."

"Now, that concludes our affairs," the Queen drew a deep breath and exhaled in relief, "Thank the Goddesses. I thought the day would never end."

"Every day must come to an end," said Sir Mawar as he rose from his seat. Miro Miro was shaking in fear that he would walk around the chair and see her, but his footsteps carried him away from her and toward the Queen.

"The days are ending later as I grow old."

"Aye, and it may not get any better with the upcoming vote. Rest well tonight, for you may not get another chance." After the brief silence, Miro Miro heard the sound of lips meeting together. Are they? "Your grace?"

"I'm no longer your queen tonight."

"Of course, Zelda."

Miro Miro heard the unbuckling of a belt and then felt the pouch fall to the ground. Though she was scared to leave from her hiding spot, she began to hear sounds of kissing and suckling, and the poor fairy fought hard to reject the images her imagination was piecing together. If they were to be occupied with bump-bump, then she would focus on escaping the room. Putting her faith in Father to guide her safely, she darted across the open space toward the only open window in the room.

When she reached the great outdoors, she found herself overlooking the kingdom capital, nothing more than many speckles of night torches from her vantage all the way up at the top of the castle.