The Conqueror

Chapter V: A Little More Than Kin, and Less Than Kind

The invasive shriek of a trumpet fanfare pulled Mera out of her thoughts as they approached the fortress. King Link obviously knew who they were; as if the Royal Family's banners flying throughout the cortège didn't make it obvious enough. But the cortège managed to fit its entire train into the fortress and collected in a massive courtyard, which, it seemed to Mera, must have taken most of the space of the fortress, as if the building itself was more like a ring around the courtyard.

The convocation faced the great tower in the center of the fortress, where King Link's own banner was flying high above the city: A helical sword that seemed to have two blades, which came together at the point and almost created the appearance of a sword in the shape of the symbol of infinity. Supposedly, it was a representation of the sword King Link wore on formal occasions – and fought with, when necessary. Not that he fought very often. He had people to do that for him. Lots of people.

Zelda stood at the fore of the group, preceded only by a number of Sheikah guards. A veritable phalanx of them surrounded her, while another column of warriors cut her off from the Clock Tower. Her eyes didn't seem to register them as people, though; she focused on the Clock Tower. Namely, she focused on the doorway through which it seemed obvious that King Link would emerge.

"Feeling okay? You don't need me to hold your hand, do you?"

Mera glared over at Amrick. "If I said yes, would you do it?" she said wryly.

He snorted. "Last time you said that, it was a lot more suggestive."

"Last time I said that, we were in bed together." She smirked. "Suggestive enough?"

"Not nearly. You know, I think we ought to try that aga—"

"Shh. I think it's beginning."

The door of the Clock Tower, contrary to everyone's expectations that it would swing outward, instead dropped abruptly downward, to reveal an identical door immediately behind it. Low murmurs rippled through those gathered. The second door lowered, stopping just before it went out of sight, revealing another identical door. The murmurs ceased as many of them understood what was happening. The next door lowered itself to stop slightly above the second; and another, and another, forming a staircase that led up into the Tower. Eventually, the staircase was completely opened, but when nothing happened, the murmurs began again.

Zelda's hand shot up abruptly, and she slowly turned to face her cortège.

"I will have silence," she said. Her voice was not deep or powerful, but it carried easily despite the size of the courtyard. "King Link has shown us great courtesy in allowing us this diplomatic visit. Just as a feast in Hyrule Castle does not begin until the monarch begins the meal, so will there be no words casually spoken here until King Link greets us. We are guests in this place. Do not forget that." Lowering her hand, she once more turned to the Clock Tower.

The courtyard fell silent as the seconds ticked by. The tension increased.

But just when Mera was sure someone would disobey the Princess's command and whisper something to a neighbor, a footstep, loud and crisp, sounded from within the Tower. A second footstep followed it, and then another, and then another. From the shadows within the Tower came a regally-clad man that could only be Link. His regalia glistened in the sunlight as he approached the edge of the balcony and looked down upon the collection of people, and he smiled slowly.

"I bid you welcome!" he bellowed jovially, and smiles broke out all across the courtyard. For his first words to the Hylians, King Link had chosen well. His eyes found Zelda easily among the practically-dressed guards; she was dressed in a manner appropriate to her office, and she was certainly more well-attended than any of the other nobles in the cortège.

"Take thy fair hour, Princess Zelda; time be thine, and thy best graces spend it at thy will! But now, please, let us greet one another happily, and rejoice at this meeting of two alien lands. Come, come, honored Princess, join me for a brief moment!"

He gestured at a path to the side which led up and onto the platform where he stood. Nodding, Zelda gestured for her guards to clear a path through the cortège. It wasn't necessary; as soon as Zelda gestured, a path opened as if people had actually disappeared to clear a space. The Princess crossed the distance and mounted the platform gracefully, stepping up beside King Link and eyeing him speculatively. Mera wondered what that expression meant, but in the next moment, Zelda turned back to her people.

She raised one hand, as she had done a few moments ago to berate; but this time, her words were more ambiguous. "Hyrule is a land of honor and virtue, and thus shall it always remain! This meeting of foreign lands is a great milestone in our nation's history, and thus it will always be, no matter what comes of it. The King Link and I will dine together this evening, as agreed, and we will each learn about our respective lands. I believe that today is the start of a bright future for both Hyrule and Termina." She lowered her hand and looked to Link, who nodded as if the speech had been scripted. Mera doubted it had been, though.

"I too believe that this day marks a great change in history. Our two great nations have come together, and it is the responsibility of the people to ensure that both nations take as much from this encounter as possible. The honored Princess and I will put forth our most sincere efforts in ensuring that outcome. I look forward to finding out what glorious beginnings this day has in store for all of us!"

As if a signal had been given, the onlookers began to applaud. Discomfited, Mera began to clap as well. Amrick, beside her, seemed to be getting much more into it. As the applause died down, King Link and Princess Zelda turned once more to face each other, and seemed to be communicating wordlessly. Then both simultaneously extended their right hands, clasped the other, and shook slowly, regally.

At a small gesture from the Princess, a number of Shiekah guards detached themselves from the crowd and moved quickly and efficiently up to the platform, entering the Clock Tower. Moments later, Zelda and King Link entered the tower side by side, ascending into the darkness within. Another small group of guards followed them in. The rest of the cortège was left in the courtyard. Mera frowned.

"What do we do now?"

Amrick shrugged. "Explore?"

Mera turned her stare on Amrick, and he shifted uncomfortably.

"How exciting!" came the voice of Sito Midas, who appeared as if from thin air between the two. "This bodes well for Hyrule, methinks, and imagine what we can offer this nation! I should like very much to see how this welcoming feast goes. Oh, I ido/i hope they allow me to attend."

"How could they not, Master Sito?"

Sito raised an eyebrow. "I suppose you have a point. Technically, I don't have much political standing. But how could they turn anyone away with such a beautiful face?" He grinned, and it would have been fetching, even on his aged countenance, if not for the slightly mad appearance—which Mera was almost certain he was doing on purpose. "But in any case, if I am to have any hope of taking part, I think I had best be moving. You two will also be expected somewhere."

"Us?" Mera said, ever-so-slightly dumbfounded. "What would we be needed for?"

Sito frowned at her reproachfully. "The fact that you are performing an active service does not excuse you from your continued training, Mera…"

She reddened instantly and inclined her head. "Ah – of course, Master Sito. I won't forget again."

He waved off the apology, laughing. "Why so serious? Just make sure you do what you need to do, Mera. Now, as I said, I must be off." He bowed deeply and almost aristocratically, and vanished into the crowd. Mera looked over to Amrick, who had gone back to staring up at the Clock Tower. Well, that explained his lack of participation in the conversation, but…

"Hello?" Mera prompted. "Is anyone there? We have work that still needs to be done, Amrick."

He blinked, turned his gaze back to her. "Of course," he said, nodding. With a glace back up at the Tower, he said, "Training, right? Where are we doing that?"

"I don't know, but we need to figure that out in twenty minutes, or we'll be late for it."

- - -

"I have, of course, ordered only the best fare Termina has to offer for tonight's feast," the King said pleasantly as he took his seat. Following his lead, the assorted nobles from both Termina and Hyrule took their places. It was a menagerie of color, with each noble—especially the Terminians—resplendently garbed in what seemed the most elaborate court dress imaginable. Except, of course, for King Link and Princess Zelda, who, sitting side by side at the head of the table, appeared to have coordinated their own clothing for the evening's meal. King Link wore a green tunic edged lightly with gold, the cut reminiscent of the Kokiri forest children of Hyrule. His breeches were the same fabric and color as the tunic, cutting off at the knee, and his boots were black, and appeared to be practical but elegant. Over the green tunic he had been wearing a luxurious robe of lush red velvet, which a courtier took before he sat. His head was bare except for a thin diadem consisting only of a golden circlet and a small pearl set directly in the center of his forehead.

Zelda, beside him, wore a variation of her usual court dress, slightly modified to compliment the Terminian King's clothing. The surcoat that extended down the front of her white dress was emerald green rather than its typical violet, though the Triforce was still displayed prominently in its embroidery, and her circlet contained an emerald rather than a ruby.

The King's blue eyes traveled over the entire table, and his smile never faltered. "Let the feast commence!" he said finally, and placed a single white grape between his lips to begin the meal.

The table was silent for a few minutes, until King Link, apparently recognizing that no one was going to do anything unless he did it first, glanced over at the Princess, who sat, dignified, cutting off a small piece of the filet mignon that was the main course. He noted that she ate with quiet dignity, not letting her eyes wander, and also being—apparently—very careful not to do anything crass. Then again, perhaps she always ate like this. He smiled as he watched her eat the tiny piece of meat as if she were afraid a larger piece might harm her delicate teeth.

"There's no need to stand on ceremony, nor call to impress anyone," he said with a grin, loud enough that she could hear him, but not loud enough to broadcast it to the entire table. He had no doubt, though, that the other end of the table would know his precise words within seconds. He could already see the whispering lips moving out of the corner of his eye. "You must be hungry. Try the wine." He gestured lightly at the smorgasbord laid out before them, then almost laughed as she obediently reached for her glass as soon as he made the suggestion. Shaking his head, he added, "And the apples, one of those next." He plucked one out of a nearby bowl and took a bite out of it, somehow managing to retain his regal bearing even while biting casually into the fruit. The Princess raised an eyebrow at him, but then gave a small smile.

"I see the King of Termina has a sense of humor," she said softly. "You cannot understand how much that heartens me. I had feared that such a powerful man might have lost such things as humor and kinship. But here you are, joking like any ordinary man. I'm happy to know you, King Link."

"I'm happy that you're happy!" he replied promptly. "It would be a poor host indeed who did not delight in his guest's pleasure. Incidentally, if there's anything you need or desire while you stay in Novus Aevum, my servants and slaves have been instructed to obey you as they obey me."

Zelda went very still for a brief moment, but she recovered so swiftly that no one but the King noticed the reaction. He laughed softly to himself before she could formulate a diplomatic response, and saved her the effort. "I assure you, Princess, it is only a technical term; my slaves have as many freedoms as any citizen of Termina."

The Princess relaxed to a degree, and began to cut off another piece of her filet.

This diplomatic and aristocratic middle ground was wearing on her nerves; she couldn't acknowledge their last meeting in front of all these nobles, not without creating a multitude of questions that simply couldn't be answered plausibly—even with the truth. He was playing the part of stranger equally well, but she knew he was hiding it for the sake of convenience, just as she was doing. As soon as they had a chance to speak alone, though, she would be able to efficiently learn just what was going on, what had happened in the intervening years since they'd known each other so briefly. But this… This was a sham, and every bone in her body knew it. Still, appearances had to be kept up… That was one aspect of government that Zelda disdained above all else, but which was as unavoidable as it was vital. Appearances must be kept up, for the sake of the general populace.

With that in mind, Zelda and the King turned their conversation to the more mundane aspects of government, and succeeded in keeping up appearances throughout the meal.

After some time had passed, a female Sheikah guard, young and dressed formally but without sacrificing the least bit of practicality, entered the hall and approached Sito Midas, who sat to Zelda's right, the first seat on the side of the table. The Sheikah knelt slightly, handed something to the old scholar, and left when Sito nodded. The wiry old Thane, probably the only Sheikah in the fortress not dressed practically for a battle-ready warrior, unfolded the object—a letter of some sort—read it, and then, after folding it, covered a yawn with his left hand, and blinked thrice rapidly, as if trying to dislodge some small object. Zelda didn't miss the hidden signal: It was a Sheikah sign that he needed to speak with her in private. It surprised her; not that he needed to speak with her in private, but that he'd used that gesture. After all, she hadn't agreed on any secret signs with him beforehand, and she hadn't been in close contact with Sheikah methods for decades. How did he even know she would recognize the symbol? But a moment later, Sito laughingly excused himself from the lady to his right, with whom he had been chatting about the wine, and absented himself. He murmured something about needing fresh air.

Zelda knew better than to follow him immediately. She didn't even acknowledge his leaving, except with a friendly nod as he left. She continued with the meal as if nothing was out of the ordinary, and paid only some of her attention to her conversation with Link—something about income taxes. The rest of her mind was focused on Sheikah methods that she might need to recall—what other secret signals might she have missed already? A handshake with the thumb on the wrong side—crossed over the other person's thumb—was a sign. Wasn't it? An inquiry of some sort. And eating with the left hand suggested that there were unwelcome listeners. In fact, doing anything casual with the left hand suggested that someone unsavory might be nearby. What else? She would have to be more alert; she'd only caught that gesture by chance, and that only because her attention had been diverted by the appearance of the messenger. Wearing certain types of flowers on one's person, she recalled of a sudden, could indicate opinions about one's surroundings. She could only remember a few flowers used for this kind of message, though. Azalea urged caution and self-preservation. Dahlia warned against overt violence. Bird's foot suggested that an assassination was intended to take place, and white Jasmine flowers suggested keeping the peace despite personal opinions and loyalties.

"Princess?"

Zelda blinked. She had stopped eating, and was staring thoughtfully at a decorative vase in the center of the table. Now she looked up.

"I'm terribly sorry," she said. "I must be tired from the long journey."

"Indubitably," the King said, nodding. "Perhaps you should go outside, and take in some fresh air? The meal is nearly over in any case. Please, remember that you are welcome to do as you please while you enjoy my hospitality."

Fresh air? It couldn't have been coincidence. He was blatantly—blatant to Zelda, at least—suggesting that she take this opportunity to go and speak with Sito. Well, she didn't understand fully, but it certainly suggested that he was more trustworthy than she might have expected, if more perceptive than she had realized.

"Yes," she said, smiling as if embarrassed. "Yes, I think some fresh air will do me some good. If you'll excuse me, my Lord, I will take your suggestion to heart." She rose from the table, inclined her head slightly to all the nobles who had turned to see why she had risen, and quietly absented herself from the hall.

Once in the corridor, she racked her memory for the sign she wanted. There would certainly be a Sheikah guard nearby, watching from the shadows. She could easily summon the Sheikah with a word… but she wanted them, as well, to know that she had not forgotten all of what she had learned from them. Ah, yes. She inhaled deeply, closed her eyes, and brushed her hair back with her right middle finger, hooking it behind her ear. Then she opened her eyes, exhaled, and briefly touched her lips with her right pointer finger, as if in thought.

That gesture would indicate to any nearby Shiekah that she required assistance; specifically, directions, or a guide or escort. As she'd hoped, a Shiekah appeared as if melting out of the shadows themselves. She noticed with mild surprise that it was the same guard who had brought Sito the letter during the meal.

"Princess," the girl said reverently and with more than a little surprise. So. She hadn't expected Zelda to know any such signals. At least she had responded. Zelda would have felt foolish if she'd garbled the sign. "In all things I serve." Ugh. Traditional words from a Hylian to his or her monarch; the words practically begged for an order to be given.

Zelda nodded slightly.

"You know where Thane Midas went?" she said, forgoing any pretense she might have given to another guard. "I need to speak with him. Please show me to him."

"Of course, Princess." The girl bowed once more and turned. The two made their silent way through the fortress corridors, passing nothing of note save bare stone walls until they came to a door which, from the light coming around the edges, led outside. The sun was only just setting. So, Zelda surmised, this was the west end of the fortress. She put a hand on the door, then said to the girl, "Thank you…?"

"Mera," the girl said, dumbfounded. She hadn't expected Zelda to be interested in her name.

"Just Mera?" Zelda prompted, but instead of giving a last name, the girl simply nodded.

"Yes, Princess," she said as if embarrassed. "Just Mera."

Odd. But not unheard of, especially among Sheikah. Zelda nodded. "Thank you, Mera. You may go now. I wish to speak with Thane Midas in private."

Nodding, the girl vanished in the corridors so quickly that Zelda blinked a few times before relegating the odd phenomenon of Sheikah stealth to all the other strange things that she did not quite understand and probably never would, and pushed the door open.

Outside Sito stood at the edge of a balcony—they were indeed on the outer western face of the fortress, looking toward the setting sun. As she went to stand beside him, Sito didn't react. He had probably been aware of Zelda's presence from the moment she'd arrived at the door, she realized.

"You wanted to speak with—"

Sito raised an easy hand, and Zelda marveled at his ability to silence her, the Sovereign of Hyrule, with such a casual gesture; and yet she didn't mind it at all. Somehow, she knew he would have some sort of lesson in store for her, or at least a moment's entertainment.

Along, of course, with whatever information had been given to him during the meal.

But she fell silent and waited, her eyes struggling to remain on the horizon but straying defiantly back over to the enigmatic Shiekah Thane.

After a long time, Sito's face broke into a smile and he laughed softly, though he kept his eyes on the sunset.

"You're more than half my age, and you still can't surmount your impatience," he laughed, and she wasn't sure if he was insulting her or simply making a comment. Perhaps both, knowing him.

"I have responsibilities," she said softly.

"As do we all," Sito said, sobering up a little. "But, my dear Princess, we can't fulfill our responsibilities if we run ourselves into the ground trying to do so." He looked over at her and smiled the way he always did when he needed to assure her that he was going somewhere with this, and not simply making fun of her.

Zelda nodded, though she was certain he had a more subtle message than the obvious, 'Lighten up.'

Sito just smiled. "Something we as people often fail to realize, Princess, is that many of our perceived responsibilities will take care of themselves if we simply stop trying to impose our own influence on them."

Zelda nodded again. So he was advising her not to stretch herself too thin.

"And Zelda," Sito said, his simple use of her name surprising her enough to grab her attention for the moment, "you must stop trying to find the hidden meaning in my words. I'm just an old man, not a puzzle to be solved."

Zelda smiled. "You're the Thane Midas," she said, laughing when he winced at the title, "and I'll not have anyone saying that you are less."

He sighed, rolled his eyes theatrically, and turned back to the sunset. With his left hand, he reached into his jacket and removed from a pocket a small white azalea flower. Zelda stiffened immediately, but Sito merely watched her stoically as he attached the flower to his lapel.

"I'm glad that the meaning of certain fashion is not lost on you, my Princess," he said very softly. "The Terminian King seems very keen on appearances." He smiled as if his words were funny. She supposed they might have been, to someone who wasn't hearing the underlying meaning. "I certainly hope you are able to keep up with these fashions while we're here. But I don't suppose that will be a problem, with such knowledgeable attendants." He was speaking, not of her personal attendants, but of the Sheikah. Yes, he was right; it would be wise to review what she knew of secret Sheikah signals. She might need a much more thorough understanding of them before this diplomatic visit came to its end.

The flower attached, Sito lowered his hand—his left hand, she noted with quiet alarm—and nodded. When he next spoke, his tone was such that Zelda knew he was no longer speaking in riddles and secret messages. This was now purely pleasantry. "As I said, Princess, it would not do to worry yourself overmuch, especially with such mundane issues as fashion. But we do not want this foreign King outshining you, now, do we? I have no doubt he will try. After all, it is human nature to reach for what can't be attained."

Zelda lost her careful composure in the unexpected compliment, and laughed. "Thank you, Sito. But I suppose I must be getting to sleep. There is an official diplomatic assembly tomorrow morning—which you, too, you sly old man, are supposed to attend. I, for one, require sleep periodically. I would suggest you do the same, but I know my suggestions don't influence your actions." She grinned as she spoke, giving lie to the stern words.

Sito laughed to himself, nodded, and turned fully away from the balcony, facing her bodily, and extended his right hand. She reached out to take it, and was only mildly surprised to feel him palm something—the letter, of course—up her sleeve.

"As always, my Princess, I serve you and Hyrule with love and loyalty." Now, those were words she didn't often hear from Sito. Just how serious was the situation? She nodded.

"As always," she said in an improvised but formal reply, "I serve the same motherland with the same love and loyalty. Good night, Sito, and thank you." With those words, she left the balcony, the letter itching in more ways than one.

She summoned another guard with the same gesture as before, but it was not the same girl. This was a man in his prime, and something in his eyes, while it made her wonder how many battles he'd been through, also told her that he was a trustworthy servant of the Crown.

"Sir," she said, and the man didn't react to the respectful term of address, "please show me to the apartments given to me by the King."

"As you wish, Princess," the man said with a short nod, and set out.

Again, their traversal of the sparsely-furnished corridors went without incident, and Zelda entered her apartment. She crossed the small antechamber and entered the bedchamber. She briefly looked around, considered trying the summoning gesture just to see if any of her guards were nearby, then decided she would rather not know. After all, it didn't matter if her guards knew that she had a secret letter. Regardless of the contents, they knew better than to gossip. And as to other issues of privacy…

Well. They knew better than to gossip, and that was all that needed to be said on the matter.

She removed the letter from her sleeve and unfolded it. It was written in a slow scrawl, not exactly neat but easily legible. It was not in Hylian, but a Sheikah script with which Zelda was not familiar. She sighed. Damn Sito and his jokes.

Or was it a joke? Was she meant to understand something from this incomprehensible letter?

Azalea… and his casual use of the left hand. Perhaps he had told her all she needed to know with those signals. After all, what specific details could be in the letter that might go beyond those simple warnings? If it was vital, she would be told. She trusted Sito. But…

She inhaled sharply as something else came back to her. You're more than half my age, and you still can't surmount your impatience. Surmount. The word 'surmount' was another secret Sheikah sign. How was it used? Damn Sito and his mysteries! Surmount. Surmount.

"Surmount," she murmured. "Surmount."

…surmount your impatience…

Could that be all? Could it be a suggestion to be patient and wait for events to unfold? But what kind of a man would give such advice to his Sovereign? Shouldn't she be as completely aware of her surroundings as possible? If there was something unsavory going on…

…many of our perceived responsibilities will take care of themselves…

She sighed and folded the letter back up. Sly old man and his lessons. She'd speak with him tomorrow, after the assembly, and she'd ferret out whatever secrets he was keeping from her, no matter how strongly Sito felt that she should remain ignorant. This situation was delicate enough as it was, and she didn't need court retainers deciding what she did and did not need to know.

Dropping the letter on the stand beside her bed, Zelda sat down on the side of the bed, undressed while trying very hard not to think about the possibility of unseen observers, and slowly but surely found her way into unconsciousness.

El apunte de escritor

"The Note of the Writer!" (Dun dun dunnnnnnnnn, dramatic reverrrrrrrb!)

My Gawd, I think we're actually doing it. You can probably tell I had a lot of fun with all the intrigue and 'secret signals' nonsense in this chapter. The bit about the flowers, by the way, is loosely based on actual symbolism. Not that I'm going to bore you with all this 'behind-the-scenes' crap. For the love of all that is good and holy, people, R&R! I'm not talking about rest and relaxation. I'm asking - no, begging - no, damn it, I'm ordering you to read and review! We're authors, a rare breed of nerd that subsists entirely on praise and advice. In other words, if you don't praise or criticize us, we wither and DIE. And then there is NO FANFICTION FOR YOU. Do you want that to happen? Do you want to be a murderer? Because if you don't read and review this story, you are a murderer. And that's what the Communists want.

Twilit Eye is gasping like a fish out of water in agreement with me. I'm here in the hospital with him, and I wish I could post pictures here, because I want you people to know what you're doing to him. He's hooked up to about sixty-eight life-support machines (he couldn't quite handle 69), and they have to feed him video game reviews through a tube. Through a tube. Give him some real sustenance, people. He needs you. He needs to know you care. So everybody stand up and say it with me: We care! We care! We care! That's right. Just remember: Communists don't care about reviewing fanfiction. You know why? Because you can't spell Communist without ni!

...The hell?...