The Conqueror
Chapter III: The King
The deafening silence was broken only by the periodic rattling of chains, shouts, even pleas—though this last only came when the one making them had fallen into an occasional madness that he had come to embrace over the years, a madness that took him away from himself, away from what he knew he had become. He sat in the centre of a darkened room, bounded by scores of chains that were slung over him, around him, around his arms, hands, legs, body, neck—he was lashed soundly to the ground, and nothing short of a key would break these bindings.
"How the mighty have fallen," came a deep, chuckling voice.
"Come to torment me again?" hissed the chained man. "Come to suck all the satisfaction you can get out of my plight?"
A shadowed man stepped into the room—although 'shadowed' is not the best way to describe him, for in truth, he radiated light of a kind. It was an illumination to rival the sun, and at the same time, the hood covering his face cast shadows that seemed to extend beyond his own body, beyond what logic dictated would be possible.
He sauntered across the floor to a shadow that seemed more bulky than the rest in the room—and as he approached, the shadow receded to reveal a throne directly before the man in chains, a throne that seemed at once black and white; for in one instant, it would be an angular, dark design of blackest stone, of dark, polished ebony that all the gold in the world could not have purchased. In the next instant, though, it would seem to be a blindingly bright throne, constructed of what could only be human bones, burnished to a darkly brilliant lustre. The man took a seat in the throne and stared contemptuously at the chained man on the floor, who glared defiantly back.
At a slight gesture of the seated man's hand, the chains binding the other man ripped him to the stone floor. His head rebounded off of the floor, and for a moment, he did not move. The seated man was not worried, however; in a place like this, the chained man could not die. His bones could be torn from his flesh and discarded, and he would yet live.
"I have come," the seated man responded finally, "merely to entertain myself." He eyed the man on the floor appraisingly. "Do you know what I am, Link?"
"You are a liar," the man replied. The chains rattled as he sat up.
The man in the throne raised a silver eyebrow. "When have I lied to you, Link? No, I never lied. You donned that mask thinking that you could use my power and pay no price. You lied to yourself, Link. Nothing comes without a price."
Link spat on the floor. "Riend," he said, twisting his mouth around as if disgusted by the thought of the name passing through his lips. "A filthy name for a filthy creature."
Riend only smiled. "I was once much more," he mused. "Yes… Once, I was much more than what you see before you; I was more than your precious princess; I was more than you can know.
"I was the second of five sons, once."
"A plague on the beast that willingly inflicted you on the world," Link said. Riend twitched a finger, and Link was forced into prostration once more.
"You know nothing of the world," Riend growled. "All you know is the physical, and your precious three Goddesses. Do you think that they are the ultimate? They are nothing, compared to what lies beyond Sacré." He frowned. "But that is not for you to know," he said finally.
Link's head shot up. "You bind me here, you tell me nothing, and you come to torture me with meaningless words!" Link said. "Why can you not let me die?"
Reind smiled amiably. "Because," he said, "as long as the mind lives, the body will do as I wish. If either the mind or the body dies, the other will be crippled—or destroyed."
Link shook his head, lowered his eyes once more.
Riend's smile never faded. "Now, cease your meaningless interruptions, or I shall bind your tongue as well."
Link said nothing.
"Five sons," Riend muttered, "yes. The second of five sons of Twilight… But you needn't know what Twilight is. Not yet. Perhaps not ever, if everything goes as planned, but then, things never go as planned, do they?"
"Now you interrupt yourself," Link muttered.
Riend laughed. "So I do," he said. "So I do. Ah, my brothers. Shokan, the False Prophet; Sa'dyeth, the Usurper; Chardel, the Desroyer. And do you know who my only older brother was?" He paused, not expecting an answer. "His name was Majora." Link tensed, but didn't respond. "Ah, we were such adamant rivals back then—but I was always the better of the two of us. I was more powerful. I was luckier. And"—he laughed—"I was handsomer." His face darkened with memories of time long past, times that might have been happier times. "But Majora grew tired of his inferiority. He deceived my younger brothers, lied to them, turned them against me. Do you know what it is like, Link, to look into your brothers' eyes and see pure hatred?" He sighed and drummed his fingers against the arm of the throne.
Link scoffed. "I have never had a brother," he said dryly. His eyes gleamed in the darkness, and Riend could see the madness creeping into his heart, his mind, his voice. "Riend, must you speak so easily with me, a man in chains? Can you not give me—something? Some taste of freedom? Anything but this eternity fettered in chains? Anything?"
Riend only smiled. "Do not forget what transpires in the real world, Link," he said. "The Princess Zelda will be visiting soon, and you know how I fancy her, don't you, Link? Her long, flowing blonde hair, like the finest silk; her fair, smooth skin; her perfect body—"
"Enough!" Link cried. "I will be silent."
Riend smiled widely. "Thank you. Now, as I was saying. Majora and my brothers sealed me away into that mask you finally found. I was hidden away, but Shokan spoke to Twilight of what had happened." Riend smiled with the memory, but it was a bitter, vindictive smile. "Majora refused to reveal the location of my mask, my prison—so Twilight locked Majora and Chardel and Sa'dyeth away into their own masks, as punishment. Whereas Majora had hurled my mask into the farthest reaches of non-existence, what is known only as Enfer, Twilight scattered my three imprisoned brothers across your world, your universe—Sacré. Are you beginning to understand, Link?"
Link did not respond, his eyes on the floor. Riend laughed softly.
"Do you remember, Link, the legend of a time when a wizard came to Hyrule? His name was Agahnim, and he was a power-hungry fool who would stop at nothing to rule, not just Hyrule, but whatever he could get his greedy hands on. He broke an ancient seal, wrought havoc in Hyrule, and forced a Hylian hero, much like yourself, to pierce through the veil into what was, at the time, called the Dark World. Do you remember that legend, Link?"
Link inclined his head slightly. "…Yes."
"The Dark World is Enfer, Link, or at least a near enough shadow of it. I was imprisoned in the Dark World—and when that hero pierced the veil, when he and Agahnim pierced through the veil, they allowed me to come through to Sacré, to this world. It was still years before you, Link, actually found me—and tried to use me, as if I were some kind of tool." He smiled. "And here we are now. A beautiful story, yes?"
Link said nothing, but he stared at Riend with a hate that transcended words. Riend ignored the glare and continued.
"And now, do you know, my brother, Shokan, the one who stood up for me against my three traitorous brothers, has come to join me? I am the Conqueror, Link. I have conquered you, I have conquered Termina, and very soon, I will conquer all of Sacré. And then… Then, we shall see about conquering what lies beyond the veil."
Riend's words sank into a faint echo. He faded into the shadows as if he had melted into the throne itself, which was soon enveloped by shadows once more.
Link's screams echoed through the hallways and corridors of his own mind. Nobody heard him.
- - -
Riend was smiling widely before he ever opened his blue, blue eyes. Pushing the still-unfamiliar blonde hair out of his eyes, he got out of the lush, royal bed and stretched lazily. In seconds, a slave stood at his side, clean garb in hand. Riend took it without ever actually acknowledging the slave's presence. Any man who had witnessed Riend in his bedclothes would have been summarily executed, but of course, slaves weren't men. Riend dismissed the slave's offers to help him dress—after all, he was hardly an invalid—and proceeded to don the royal garb.
Admiring himself in the mirror, his only regret was that it was not his own body displayed in the clothing. The yellow hair, the blue eyes, the pale skin—it was not his. Still, the tunic was of an intense blue that could earn the ocean's envy, with an intricate silver trim. Beneath the tunic was an undertunic of a dull yellow which showed only at the neck and sleeves. His fitted trousers were blue, but a shade darker than his tunic. His boots were practical, but elegant, and would not be out of place on a King's feet—which was exactly where they were. As an afterthought, he shrugged into a deep red jacket just barely darker than the colour of blood. He buttoned it halfway, and let his tunic show at the chest.
"My Liege," came an uncertain voice from beyond the door to the corridor. "I am Tayrl. I have been told that my Liege has summoned me?"
Riend pondered, then remembered. The previous evening, Riend had ordered that the man be summoned as soon as he had awoken.
"Yes," he said. "The Audience Chamber, please."
"Certainly, my Liege."
Riend examined himself for a few more minutes, then made his way to the door.
The corridor was empty. Riend made his way to the room known as the Audience Chamber, a room far removed from his own bedchamber. The Audience Chamber was a massive room, with a throne at one end and a slew of seats at the other. Obviously, it was not originally intended for a two-person conversation.
"My Liege," came Tayrl's voice almost immediately upon Riend's entrance into the room. Riend looked toward the voice, and saw Tayrl scrambling to his feet.
"Tayrl," Riend said. "I am told that there are things that need seeing to. You know what these things are; I wish your assistance in ensuring that they are seen to. Now, walk with me as we talk." Riend turned toward the door without waiting to see if Tayrl followed.
"Certainly, King Link."
The name hit Riend as solidly as a blow to the chest, though he didn't show it. He'd been using name for years—nearly two decades, now—but it still seemed strange to go by a name other than his own. Majora was the Deceiver; perhaps he would fall into such a situation naturally. But for Riend, it was an alien thing.
"Do not speak my name," he said softly. Tayrl paled. Riend didn't stop walking, though, and Tayrl kept up beside him.
"O-of course, my Liege," Tayrl said quickly. Riend stared at Tayrl expectantly, until the man remembered what he was supposed to be doing. "Ah. Right. My apologies, my Liege. First, there is the small matter of the peasant uprising…"
"Can you not simply appease them? "
"They are demanding that some of my Liege's laws be changed."
Riend sighed. "I try to be generous with these people," he muttered. "Capture and execute the leaders of the uprising. If that doesn't quell it, I shall have to make a public appearance."
"Yes, my Liege." Tayrl made a note on a pad that he produced from his pocket. "And the Princess and her cortège? We have received word that they have arrived at the border and are awaiting my Liege's approval for entry."
Riend frowned. "Of course they are to be allowed into the country," he said, and offered nothing more. Tayrl hesitated, then made another note.
"Koholint," Riend said then.
"Ah, yes." Tayrl nodded. "The armies have been marshalled and are ready to set sail at a moment's notice. Precisely one-third of them, as my Liege ordered."
"Then send them out through the Great Bay, then north, to Koholint."
"Shall we send a messenger to Koholint, my Liege?"
Riend looked at Tayrl as if perplexed. "I mean to conquer Koholint, Tayrl, not to have tea with them."
Tayrl paled again. "Ah—yes, my Liege."
"And, Tayrl, has Arehlanen come to her senses yet?" The Gerudo woman, Arehlanen, had been the first of the Gerudo to pledge allegiance to Riend—and it had been a shock, too, that one of the Gerudo would pledge allegiance to anyone not of their blood. Arehlanen, however, was the leader of a group of Gerudo pirates that had their headquarters somewhere near the Great Bay. When Arehlanen had laid her arms bare before the King of Termina, all of the Gerudo beneath her had followed suit without question. He had more faith in those Gerudo, in fact, than he had in his own men.
"Koholint's defences are weak," he mused idly. "Perhaps the Gerudo alone will be enough."
"Koholint is weak, my Liege," Tayrl said, "but it is big nonetheless. No matter how powerful they are, a handful of Gerudo cannot take an island as large as Koholint."
Riend frowned, and nodded. "Still, it would be a waste to leave Termina with inadequate defences. Send the Gerudo as a first attack wave; they will likely wipe out anything in their path. Reduce the number of Termina troops to a fifth of the available forces, and send them. With the Gerudo."
Tayrl nodded and scribbled. "Yes, my Liege."
"And I want Arehlanen to command them."
Tayrl hesitated in his scribbling. "Arehlanen has little Terminian military rank, my Liege," he pointed out. Riend shrugged.
"She is a fleet admiral," Riend said.
"No, she isn—"
Riend cut Tayrl off with a surprised stare that had Tayrl trying to swallow nervously and clear his throat at the same time.
"Ah—yes—of course—if my Liege wishes," he said finally. "I shall relay the news of her promotion immediately."
Riend nodded. "Now, as I said: Fleet Admiral Arehlanen is to lead the assault on Koholint."
"Of course, my Liege."
They were in an obscure, east wing of the castle.
'Castle' was a loose way to describe the fortress in which they stood. Once, it had been known as Clock Town. Now, Riend scoffed at the idea that his fortress had once served as an entire town. He had had the entire thing redesigned after his takeover. The only thing he had not done was to demolish everything and rebuild an entire castle; nevertheless, it was hard to recognize any remnants of the town. Even the main plaza had been changed drastically—the stones had been pulled up, the ground beneath fertilized and sown with grass seed until it was now a vast courtyard.
Riend and Tayrl were nowhere near this courtyard, though—they were in an obscure east wing of the fortress, in a corridor that ran along an outside wall. Riend stopped at a window and gazed out. Tayrl stood beside him.
"Soon," Riend murmured as if to himself. "Soon, I will win. Soon."
Tayrl was silent as Riend stared out over the land, to the west, to the Great Bay, and further, to the land known as Hyrule. A land that held more memories for Riend than even Riend himself probably knew. A land that had endured from the beginning of time—the beginning of any time that mattered, at least—and would probably endure until the end.
A land that Riend would have. No matter what the cost.
El apunte de escritor
"Note of the writer!" (Dun dun dunnnnnnn, dramatic reverrrrrrb!)
Yo! This is The Great and Powerful Keski here. I actually wrote this chapter a looooooong time ago, and only just remembered to upload it. (Thankfully, my readers don't know where I live. Most of them, anyway. . ) I'm the guy that does all the REAL work around here. (Well... ahem) So, you probably have already heard this, but Bard does all of the plot-writing and outlines, as well as coming up with characters. I do the character names, mostly, and I do all of the actual writing when it comes to the narrative and dialogue itself. (Be grateful that I'M the one doing the narrative. Bard wanted Mera and Amrick to have sex in the second chapter. cough Anyway, if you have questions about plot, ask Bard, but it you have questions about writing technique, The Great and Powerful Keski is your man. (I do have an account here on with plenty of my own (unfinished) work uploaded.
Oh, by the way, Arehlanen was my creation. Bard had no part in creating her and I'm very proud of her so be nice to her:P
Very long author's note, but now I'm done. Later all. :) (Yes, I do like my emoticons. You wanna fight about it?)
The man behind the Story:
I DID NOT! Well, maybey a little... It's not like I was wanting a detailed report. Maybey a hint as Amryk undid her buttons...BUT NO FURTHER! Yay for plotlines! Honestly, he thinks he has it tough, but these story points are hard work. I have to build a whole skeletal structure from scratch, he just throws the meat on. If it it weren't for him, all you would have is an outline saying. Mera tests, gets wounded, makes love to Amrick. Not very exciting, is it? Yes, Keski makes this a great fanfic, but all that meat would just fall off if my plotlines were not in place! SO THERE!