Zelda rode alone across a barren landscape at a leisurely trot, her back held straight despite the growing fatigue festering in the shadows beneath her eyes. Grassless hills passed beneath the hooves of her warhorse. Light shone down from above, bringing false hope that foliage might someday find a way back to the land.
It was a clear day. A solitary cloud lingered beneath a mild orange sun, casting a glow across an otherwise gray sky.
Beneath the armor, Zelda's skin felt filthy, her hair grimy.
She smiled, leaning in her saddle as she tugged on the reins. Her mount increased his pace, moving instead at a brisk jog.
The Grand Keep of Duke Hyrule came into view many miles later, a rectangular fortress of terrifying magnitude built into the side of a mountain. A moat as large and as raging as a river separated it from the rest of the landscape. All across the battlements, crossbowmen monitored Zelda's approach, watching through narrow slits in the stone as she approached the raised drawbridge.
After several moments of waiting, during which Zelda knew she was being scrutinized in every possible way from every possible angle, the ground shifted. The great bridge of steel and wood lowered. At long last, one soldier signaled her from the battlements. Nodding, Zelda entered, maintaining no more than a child's pace as she did so.
The inside of the Grand Keep was no more alive than the world it isolated itself from. The earth still stunk of death. The plants still refused to grow. Only people gave it atmosphere. Along each side of the inner border, a trio of motionless soldiers watched with eagle eyes. Across the chest of their platemail was branded the symbol of Hyrule: a thunderbird. Zelda's gaze flickered to each group in turn, but as a whole, she paid them little mind.
As she dismounted, a stableboy with sandy blonde hair and poor clothes approached and offered to house her horse. With a flick of the hand, Zelda dismissed both boy and beast, taking fresh steps onto the dry land that was home base. She stretched, twisting and cracking all twenty digits while shifting her neck.
"Princess!" called a young woman rapidly approaching from the opposite side of the keep, having emerged from a side passage masked by an ill-placed shadow. Her dress was little better than that of the stableboy—but cleaner. Her brown hair was done up in a bun that revealed the tall points of her ears. Midstride, she tugged at the bodice of her work gown, doing her best to cover exposed cleavage.
When at last she met Zelda, she fell into a kneeling position before her. "Lady-Princess," she gasped, resting one hand on her knee, "forgive me, I did not know you would arrive so early. I only just received notice moments ago, and—"
Zelda began to walk away, toward the ironclad doors on the far wall that rested beneath a grand carving of three equilateral triangles.
The woman stood and rushed to keep pace with Zelda.
"Lady-Princess, I do not wish to sound impertinent, but your father demanded to see you the moment you arrived."
Zelda offered a lazy wave of the hand. "Then let him demand. I did not ride back so I could attend another of his suppers. There remains work for me to do."
"Lady-Princess, he—"
"Arielle." Zelda spoke calmly, without hostility of any sort. Coming to a sudden halt, she paused to face the woman opposite of her. "I do not have time for my father's antics. Interfere as he might with his suitors, he will not hinder my work." She continued onward.
Arielle remained back, one arm brought up across her chest, the other hanging limply at her side. "Princess, your father was insistent. He said I was to make sure you attend. Duke Pathos of Catalia and his son will be in attendance.
Zelda paused. She twisted her head to the side, glancing at Arielle out of the corner of her eye. "His son?"
"Yes, princess."
Zelda considered the invitation. "I will attend," she said after only a split-second's pause. "But I will do so when I feel is appropriate."
Zelda moved to leave. "Is there anything else?"
Arielle lowered her head and cast her gaze to the side. "Yes, princess," she said in a far softer tone. "I brought the inscription tool to your study and secured it, just as you asked."
Zelda continued her departure.
Arielle tagged close behind.
"Good," said Zelda. "Then the pieces fall into place." She lifted a hand as though to dismiss Arielle, then reconsidered. "Has a message arrived for me recently?"
"None that I know of, princess."
"Then you are dismissed."
Arielle bowered her head a second time and scurried away.
No longer detained, Zelda proceeded past the ironclad doors marked by three equilateral triangles carved into the stone above them. At the doors sides, guards pounded their chests in salute, but spoke no words. As Zelda passed through the doors, two more inside offered the same wordless tribute.
Inside, the air was musty. Zelda passed down an empty hallway isolated from the light of the outside world and illuminated by blue fire contained in glass cylinders and dangled from the ceiling. All around, the world grew blue and the shadows deep. Zelda wound through several such hallways, occasionally passing by servants who acknowledged her with a nod of the head and an uttered, "Princess," before hurrying along.
Zelda remained silent.
Her armor twisted and groaned, echoing even the slightest noise many yards ahead.
At last, Zelda arrived at her destination: a slight discoloration in the gray stone brick of the wall barely visible in keep's blue light, a great distance from any who would seek her out.
She pressed her thumb to the spot and spoke an archaic language of clicks and whistles. Immediately upon doing so, the wall shifted. Dust fell to the ground as a section the stone slid away several feet above the ground to reveal a hidden passageway, unlit and barely large enough to crawl through.
As Zelda pulled herself into the side-passage, the walled sealed itself behind her.
Darkness consumed her vision. She felt her way through a dank passage, her every movement matched by the scraping of stone against metal. It was a path retraced time enough that Zelda no longer required sight to navigate it. She traveled some distance, relying on touch alone, only her thoughts to keep her sane.
After many long minutes had passed, she met light.
Zelda cleared the tunnel and emerged in a dimly lit chamber, standing and breathing in stale air. It was crude, unrefined, but circular in some fashion. The diameter of the chamber was some twenty yards long and the circumference many more. All across its floor sat tables, benches, books, and half-finished experiments. Along the outer edge, bookshelves overflowing to such a point that they could no longer maintain stability without allowing some of the material to fall to the floor.
But placed at the exact opposite point of the room from which Zelda had emerged, was the centerpiece: a massive, circular mirror inscribed in a forgotten language, held above the ground by two angelic statues upon which the test of time was most evident. Fragments fell away from all sections of their figures, to the point where they alone could not support the mirror's mass. Metal supports assisted them by supporting the mirror from beneath.
All illuminated by a dozen gas powered lanterns, hung from various points around the chamber.
Zelda wiped the dust from her cheeks before working the leather straps that held her gauntlets to her hands. When they were at last undone, she allowed both gauntlets to fall to the floor. Though not the true burden of the armor she carried, the shed weight loosened her.
She approached one of the many tables, upon which rested a large optical microscope—a large, brass tube, beneath which rested a platform to hold specimens, even further beneath which was a smaller gas lamp with which to lighten them from beneath.
From the same table, Zelda selected a rectangular piece of transparent glass, upon which she prepared a single drop of the Link's blood from the tip of her syringe. When it was dyed and secured, she placed it on the stage of her microscope, lit the gas flame behind it, and peered through the single ocular lens.
The cells contained within the blood sample were still alive, despite being cut off from their natural environment and continued their cycle of reproduction unabated. Yet each cell flickered as it moved about, shifting in and out of existence several times a second. Each time, they returned imperfect—altered.
Zelda pulled away from the microscope and doused the gas flame. She pulled a leather-bound booklet and ink pen from across the table. Several pages in were a series of illegible markings most closely resembling tally marks. Zelda made several further marks, then closed the book and pushed it and the pen aside.
Among other things on her table, there sat a triangular package wrapping in brown paper and held shut by twine. Unwrapping the packaging revealed a jagged piece of black stone, seemingly innocuous in its appearance. Its tip was minute and thin, but held strong when Zelda pressed her hand against it. When held up to the light, runes appeared all across its surface; old Hylian, a language forgotten by all but a few.
Zelda approached the grand mirror, the jagged black stone in hand, and knelt before her, her palms sticky with grime and dirt.
She brought the tip the glass of the mirror and touched the black stone to the surface. A sliver of glass fell away without so much as a push. Following a slight twinge at the edges of her mouth, Zelda continued. She carved out characters of Old Hylian, taking minutes with each inscription, scratching out imperfections until no blemishes existed.
Hours passed, but so little seemed accomplished. She completed a single rotation of the letters before being interrupted by a timid, "Princess."
Zelda stood, looked over her handiwork, and, without looking, said, "Yes, Arielle, my father's supper nears. I'm well aware." She placed the inscription tool on one of the many tables scattered about the room before turning to Arielle, who hung her head in subservience. "Tell me: What prompted you to be so careless as to come here without my safeguard?"
Arielle's head hung further. Strands of short blonde hair fell over her eyes, slipping from the braid in which they were held. "…forgive me, princess. I only wished to ask if you truly planned to attend. Duke Pathos' son is… eager to speak to you."
"I know he is—" Zelda twisted her right hand. Roughened skin stretched across muscle and bone. "—and I will see him. But you should know better than to intrude here without my guidance."
"Yes, princess. Forgive me, I-I meant no harm."
"And yet harm often follows careless action."
Arielle fell to one knee.
"Take care when you enter again," said Zelda, working away at the clasps that held her steel cuirass to her chest, undoing restraints till the armor was open enough to lift off and over her head, before doing the same with her greaves and leggings. Zelda was left standing in a mixture of padding and clothes, both of which were flayed and wrinkled from having been worn for so long.
Arielle rose, lifting her head just enough to see Zelda through the roof of her vision. "…do you wish to bathe, princess?"
"Later."
"But… won't your father object, princess?"
"No, he won't."
Zelda entered the dining chamber in the same garb in which she had returned to the Grand Keep of Hyrule in: dark brown pants and a tan shirt dirtied from so many hours spent in armor and dirt. She entered with as much power as she cared to muster, pushing open both massive metal doors with trained strength.
The dining chamber was no more remarkable than the exterior, tending to a more practical purpose. Two windows built into the ceiling allowed sunlight to cascade in from above, both of which could be shuttered and reinforced at a moment's notice. Resting in direct path of both streams of sunlight was a table stretching some twenty feet in length, upon which there was prepared a feast of several roasted animals, fresh fruits, and vegetables.
At its head was the King of Hyrule. He dressed in long robes of black laced at its edges with a subtle gold embroidery. Standing, he towered above other men. Neatly trimmed red hair fell back in a mullet behind his neck, covering brown flesh.
At Zelda's entrance, he and the other men at the table stood. Both sat on his right, Duke Pathos and his son. The elder, though domineering in his appearance and greater in size than his son, was beginning to show his age through the paunch in his belly and the gray hairs in his brown beard. The son was the slighter of the two. His hair was a light brown and his face chiseled. Stubble crept around the chin of what would have otherwise been a cleanly shaven face. Both wore matching crimson jerkins.
Zelda approached the fourth chair, left for her across from Duke Pathos and his son, and directly to the left of the king. As she sat, the son of Duke Pathos offered a polite bow and said, "Princess Zelda, thank you for humbling my father and me with your presence."
The King smiled, but his eyes never ventured from the silver platter before him, filled with a politely exorbitant helping of meats—and little else. After a moment's consideration, he chose a fork and knife from either side of his plate, cut a portion of roast, and moved it to his mouth. All were silent as he did so.
The Duke Pathos shared a morbid glance with his son.
"My daughter joins us at last," said the King, not once looking to his daughter. Then, as an aside to the Duke Pathos: "There are days when I wonder if she'll emerge from her studies alive."
Both the Duke Pathos and his son offered a polite laugh.
The King's cheeks spread into a toothy grin, where the blood of rare meat left red all across the white of his teeth. "Tell me, daughter: what is it you do when you hide yourself away for hours at a time?"
Zelda began the process of moving food from the serving trays to her silver a plate—a process she completed as slowly as possible. "I see to it that the areas of this kingdom you choose to neglect remain lively, father."
The king's grin intensified, if that were possible. "Then I must work to neglect as little as possible." He cut away another portion of the roast, consumed it without chewing, and flickered his gaze to Duke Pathos. "Duke, you've met my daughter before, have you not."
The Duke Pathos bowed his head and lowering a portion of steamed broccoli to his plate. "Until today, I did not have the honor, Your Majesty." He bowed his head to Zelda. "You honor me with your presence, Princess Zelda. I wish the best of health upon you." He motioned to his son. "My son, Geoffrey, speaks sometimes of his intention to court you."
To this, his son—Geoffrey—did not respond. He continued poking at his meal, the blood gone from his face.
Again, the king Ganondorf smiled. "Your son is brave. My daughter has never accepted a man in bed, let alone in marriage."
Zelda said nothing, nor did Geoffrey, the Duke Pathos' son.
Duke Pathos himself maintained his composure in the face the King's crudity. "...my lord, Ganondorf, if our children were to wed, it might bring greater stability to Catalia. There has been... unrest among the lord of the east and western provinces. I fear they may be organizing some sort of rebellion."
Ganondorf smiled, but it did not reach his eyes as it had before. "A rebellion." He leaned back in his chair—the most elaborately carved of those seated around the table. "Amusing."
"My King, Ganondorf, the death toll would be catastrophic. Economies would collapse. Those of us who stand loyal to you cannot afford war." At this, the Duke Pathos became especially nervous. His hands began to quake, to a point where he could no longer maintain good hold of his dinnerware. "...but, My King, Ganondorf, with war such a possibility, I have... come together with the others who remain loyal to you to ask for a reduction in tariffs."
Sweat ran from the Duke Pathos' head, but he dared not wipe it away.
"What we save could be used to enforce the necessity of your rule and restore faith among the skeptics."
Ganondorf no longer smiled as he leaned back in his chair. With his hands at his chin, the sleeves of his robes fell away to reveal a gray undershirt that more defined the muscular build of his arms. "To war or not to war," he said at last. "It would be... exciting. A war could purge the kingdom of the few remaining who doubt my right to the throne."
The Duke Pathos swallowed, unable to object.
A twitch of a smile again crossed Ganondorf's face. "But you are correct, Duke. It would take years to recover from such a blow. Hylium depends on Catalia for the production of produce." There was a cruel emphasis on, "depend." Ganondorf then said, "Where would your loyalties lie, Duke—if such a war were to erupt?"
The Duke Pathos maintained stoicism as best he could, but the neck of his. Beneath the gaze of Ganondorf, his confidence crumbled. "I would stand with you, of course, My King, Ganondorf."
"And what of your province?"
"...if it came to war, My King, I would relocate myself and all members of my estate to Hylium—to might better serve you."
At this, Ganondorf seemed satisfied. In silence, all were allowed a chance at their plates. Zelda herself consumed little, preferring to sip from the wine glass at her left, into which had been poured a portion of one of her father's preferred vintages.
At last, the silence was interrupted by the Duke Pathos' son, who looked up from his meal and said, "Would you have me yet, Princess Zelda?"
Though the glass was close enough to her mouth that Zelda smelled the bitter mixture of berries that flavored it, she paused, narrowing her eyes. The subtle gesture caused the son some hesitation, but did not deter him entirely. But before he could continue, Zelda said, in a hard tone of voice, "Nothing has changed between us, Lord Geoffrey. You have nothing that interests me."
Her response seemed to encourage Geoffrey. Though his gaze moved to Ganondorf before flickering back to the Princess, he said, "I have lessened my ignorance, Princess Zelda. I have better familiarized myself with the old world—and I have bettered myself in the way of the sword."
Ganondorf observed the exchange, amused.
Zelda leered at him from across the rim of her wine glass. Her free hand rested against the stone of the table, and the index finger of that hand tapped three times—a nondescript act. "That does not increase my empathy for you, Lord Geoffrey. I do not care for you now, nor will I ever. The sooner you cease this pointless chase, the happier you will be."
A long silence permeated the room, disrupted only by the sound of nimble footsteps as servants clad in dark clothing scuffled out to replace the food consumed. Lord Geoffrey numbly ate, staring at his fork more than anything.
At last, the Duke Pathos said, "The meal is excellent, my king."
Ganondorf smiled and lifted his glass in salute of the statement. "I never accept any less from my staff."
The Duke Pathos nodded, still unable to steady either hand enough to further chip away at his meal. "My king, Ganondorf, it would… greatly please the other provinces if you would provide an… answer, regarding the reduction in tariffs. At this point, they are… debilitating, my king."
Ganondorf rested his chin on both hands. "The answer is no, Duke Pathos."
"…n-no?"
"I do not need war, but neither do I need to coddle. If the dukes of Catalia continue to promote unrest, I will see them replaced. If I see sign of rebellion, I will crush it. And if I hear further whispers of disloyalty, I will see cities burn."
Lord Geoffrey paused his nibbling, but neither elder took notice.
At last, Zelda stood. "Father, I am finished."
Ganondorf again smiled, but there was no laughter in it. Flames of the previous exchange welled up within his eyes. "And you ask my permission to leave?"
"I am telling you."
A smile—or a sneer. "Of course," said Ganondorf, and diverted his attentions from her.
Zelda departed in the same manner she entered: through the ironclad doors and into the barren courtyard. A pair of soldiers saluted her as she went. She offered them nothing in return. After a minute a lingering, she moved back to her corridor, winding through side-passages and servants till she found herself outside her chamber.
Zelda waited, counting down from one-hundred-and-twenty. When she reached zero, a figure moved through the blue light of the halls to accompany her.
Zelda nodded. "Lord Geoffrey."
Lord Geoffrey's breathing was bated. He nodded in acknowledgment of the greeting, but hesitated before returning it. "Princess. I'm sorry, your father—"
"The effect is similar on all his guests," said Zelda as she pressed her thumb to the discolored spot on the stone wall and muttered in a forgotten language. "You risk a great deal appearing before him. I should hope the risk was justified."
Geoffrey nodded, but offered nothing more till they were both inside the revealed tunnel, the wall closed behind them. Zelda led, Geoffrey followed along. Even in darkness, he navigated with the same ease as the princess.
The two emerged in Zelda's study, amidst books. The grand mirror remained the centerpiece, even incomplete. Lord Geoffrey's eyes moved to the mirror, his mouth half-open for several seconds before finding the ability to speak. "You've completed it?"
"No." Zelda slapped dust from her shoulder, though it did not help her present state of dress. "I began inscribing the necessary characters today. Within several days, I will be finished."
Geoffrey's eyes lingered on the glassy surface several moments longer.
"Lord Geoffrey," Zelda said.
The lord blinked, coming to his senses. "Yes—sorry. Duke Elmar of eastern Catalia has begun the stockpiling of arms, but he can't openly produce them. Even those who transport them don't know where they end up."
"The deception will save more lives than my father will take, as long as proof remains absent."
"And the list of names grows. Amassed together, our army will number in the ten-thousands, assuming the numbers put forth are reliable."
"Assume they are exaggerated."
Geoffrey glanced again at the mirror. "…yes, Princess."
"But neither of those is important enough reason to risk speaking with me directly." Zelda narrowed her eyes, though the manner was not hostile. "Why are you here?"
"A… discovery. It is related to your mirror." Geoffrey shuffled his feet for a moment, as though unsure how to continue. "Our historians believe it to be a temple of some sort in the west, near the coast, but we have been... unable to confirm their suspicions—and only you have the resources to make use of it."
At this, Zelda seemed intrigued. She began to pace the length of one of her tables. "Then your discovery may be useless. What sort of imagery was discovered? Carvings? Remains?"
Very slowly, Geoffrey shook his head. "I know nothing more than my father's workers—and even they haven't dared breach the temple's perimeter. They claim they're awaiting permission to dig further, but I believe it to be little more than superstition."
"And you wish me to examine what your father's workers are too incompetent to?"
"Not immediately," said Geoffrey. "I need to empty the worksite of anyone who might report to my father—or yours. I have arranged for transportation a four days from now. They'll meet you three miles north of Mount Pyre. You'll know the meeting place by—"
"I'll know it."
Geoffrey bowed his head, "Yes, Princess Zelda." The expression he wore was torn.
Zelda crossed her arms and lowered her gaze. "Your father remains ignorant to this?"
Geoffrey looked away. "I have taken... great care to keep him uninvolved. At this point, he believes you and me to be secret lovers. It has become my cover."
At this, Zelda smirked. "If your departure from the dinner table had the intended effect, my father now believes the same." She looked to her right, the smirk undying. "When you leave, respond to those who question you by acting both flustered and agitated—and ruffle your hair."
Geoffrey nodded.
"Then leave. This place cannot be perceived by any but those I have chosen. Your departure will prompt no investigations."
Geoffrey hesitated before departing.
Zelda at last returned to the mirror and began the arduous task of inscribing her grand mirror in a language forgotten by all.