Coin-Operated

16.0

The World is a Passerby

Sheik is a man of his word, especially when it comes to his mistress, the queen. Queen Zelda had requested that he keep an eye on her beau, so he has. When she was killed in battle, and de Hyrule took the throne, he never swore de Hyrule allegiance and maintained his vigilant eye on the green knight. The knight is lucky that Sheik has been keeping watchful eyes on him. The poor lad is not so lucky in that Sheik wasn't able to prevent his soul from being ripped from his body. After his skirmish with Malladus, Sheik had run with the Link the rag doll to the plains of Eldin and then traveled to the mountains to settle in the tiered farmlands.

The Sheikah looks out from the window to see rolling clouds that are weighted and dark. He frowns to himself. The house isn't large, but it isn't small either. It has a few separate rooms, so Sheik is allotted his own room and privacy, which he is thankful for. He shares it with one of the remaining Sheikah elders, a tiny woman whom is mentor, Impa, was named after. Impaz is frail in her old age, but her personality is as strong as ever. Sometimes Sheik dreads days like this when rain is about to come as being cooped up with the little woman could be difficult. Her hearing has been going for the past few years, though she blames their misunderstandings on Sheik rather than her poor hearing.

Sheik groans at the prospect of being in the house due to the coming storm. He hates the rain. He likes being able to be outdoors and enjoying the earth and the fresh mountain air; he really hates being wet.

Impaz is hunched over a pot. If there is one thing he does like about living with the little woman, it was that she knew how to cook. He'd been able to nab some rabbit meat from the market, and Impaz has it cooking in the stew over the fire. The salted, herbal scent of the stew wafts through the house, tempting his nose and stomach.

Sheik turns away from the window to address his elder. "Impaz," he calls, and she hums in acknowledgement. She takes a wooden spoon and dips it into the pot for a taste. Grumbling about it needing more salt, she stirs the pot. "I'm going to put Tael in and get Link before the rain comes." She mutters back, and Sheik isn't sure if she's speaking to herself or to him. He clears his throat and moves a little closer to her. "Impaz, did you hear me?"

She whaps him with the spoon, right over the knuckles on his raised hand. Before Sheik can blink, his elder is back bending over the stew. "I heard you!" she insists as he rubs his knuckles.

Sheik throws his hands up. "Well I wasn't sure!"

"Don't take that tone with me, boy."

When he groans again in exasperation, she smacks him again.

"Now get that poor boy inside before the storm comes."

Sheik troops out of the house, quietly cursing to himself. Tael isn't far off from the home and stables, much to the Sheikah's relief. Wind whips from the east, rippling the sparse vegetation on the mountainside and making Sheik shiver a little as he runs down the dirt path leading to the fields. He'd need to start bringing out the stored clothing for the coming winter, though he will probably put it off until Impaz begins to fuss at him over it. Tael, however, isn't bothered by the cold winds. Instead he lazily clops around, picking at little patches of grass within the fenced area. His ears perk a little when he hears his master approach, and the black gelding bucks his head and whinnies as Sheik throws himself over the fence. Sheik reaches out and rubs the horse's nose.

Sheik is mostly glad that the horse gives him little trouble when Sheik goes to stable him. He hands the content gelding an apple for a treat after making sure the gelding is secure in the stall. "I'll check up on you once the storm passes," Sheik promises Tael before leaving. He locks up the stables and hustles off to the crops where he'd last left Link.

"Link!" calls Sheik as he hops down from one terrace to the next. Link's movement is limited, but he shakes a little and turns his head back as much as he can. The straw inside him crinkles with the movement. When Sheik approaches him, the Sheikah goes round to face Link and places a hand on Link's chest. Sheik feels for Link's core. "How're the fields?" asks Sheik as he begins to feed his magic into Link's magical core.

"Same as always," says Link. "Although, I have seen some bokoblins on the horizon."

"Well, I'm going to take you inside before the rain starts. Alright?"

Sheik doesn't expect a response from Link. He stoops, grabbing hold of Link the scarecrow from the pole that's smashed into the ground. He struggles a little to pull Link loose from the soil, but eventually he gets his scarecrow friend free. He carries Link up the tiered terraces of crops back up to the house.

"Impaz is making rabbit stew," Sheik says conversationally.

Link hums.

Sheik feels a prickling of sympathy for the knight turned rag doll then scarecrow. Link enjoys being outdoors as much as Sheik does, but Sheik knows he can't enjoy the sweet smell of flowers in the spring, the salty air of summer, the spice of autumn or the crisp bite of snow in the winter. Link can't enjoy the rush of a run through the terraces. With Epona dead and his body no more, he can't feel the thundering of her hooves as she carries him through mountain passes.

He sighs as he reaches the house.

Impaz helps Sheik situate Link in his corner of the house's main room. Impaz fingers Link's clothing while Sheik begins spooning two bowls of the stew for himself and Impaz. "Your clothes are getting so ratty," she grumbles to Link. Impaz pats out the thinning vest on Link's chest. "I'll make you some new ones, dearie."

"It's not much of an issue," Link tells her.

"Hush yourself, child!" she snaps. "I won't have you looking all worn out."

"Impaz," Sheik says to catch her attention. She turns her sharp gaze on him and inspects his slouched posture.

"Sit up, boy," she instructs. "And get your elbows off the table." Sheik slides his arms off the table and straightens up. Sheik groans when she starts ranting. "Honestly! I know they taught you better manners than that at the castle. Did none of it get through your thick skull?"

"Impaz," he pleads.

"Sit straight!"

Sheik straightens out once more and sneers a little when he hears Link's soft laughter float from the corner. "I was thinking maybe I should take Link on a trip."

Impaz seats herself with a huff. "What kind of trip are you thinking? He can't go like that," she says. Her wrinkled hand waves out, gesturing to Link's scarecrow form.

The younger Sheikah rolls his eyes. "Well obviously, I wouldn't be toting around a scarecrow," he retorts. "I was thinking maybe I could build marionette over the winter. We can leave in the spring and seek out the light guardians."

"I can't promise you that they'll be able to do much for him," Impaz says, her stern tone fleeing from her voice. She softens some as she turns to Link. "If I thought there was anything they could do, I would have sent you to them a long time ago."

"It's worth a shot," Sheik insists. "Right Link?"

"Maybe…" he says with hesitation. "How are you even sure they exist?"

Impaz immediately fluffs back up. "Don't question me!"

"We can't leave him like this though," Sheik argues.

Impaz shakes her head. She sets her spoon down and bows her head with a heavy sigh. "You should start making plans for what to do with him when you and I are both gone."

…

Malladus paces his office. He stands at just over six feet with dark hair and crystal eyes. Long gone are his days as an angular blond with sharp cobalt eyes. The president's master had promised him immortality long ago, but Malladus is bitter with the knowledge of having received the short end of the stick on the deal. He has been given great magical ability, but it frustrats him to no end that he is in an almost constant search for new vessels for his soul.

He supposes he can masquerade as this man for another few decades before old age starts to get the better of him. Wrinkles. Grey hair. Fat. It disgusts him.

He chews the inside of his cheek as he paces. Ghirahim has allotted him a nice space in the castle for work and has given him a great deal of political power, but it doesn't exactly make up for his botched deal. Sure, it has a nice view, the furniture is of excellent quality and the job itself is cushy, but this isn't what he had envisioned when he made a plea for immortality.

He approaches his desk and plops himself down into the swivel chair. A radio crackles in one corner, but Malladus doesn't really listen to it much. His attention is on the paperwork sitting before him. Some new books are coming in from Calatia, and the desert people who had obtained copies are going wild for the texts. Texts in which magic is praised. They need to be eradicated. He toys with the idea of taking a leisure trip out the desert. It could easily be put off as him overseeing the book burning. He might even entertain the idea of bedding some desert bear cat.

It's all so terribly dull.

Malladus had originally envisioned himself as a beacon of power with his eternal life… not some government drone.

What irks him more than anything, however, is the way Ghirahim had some MITF reports thrown onto his desk. This certainly put a damper on Malladus' mood, even more so when he realized what they were dealing with. Malladus reaches over to one corner of his desk and flips open his humidor. He plucks a cigar out and shuts the lid and pulls up the copy he'd made of the report. He failed to give the president any knowledge he'd had on the incident, but Malladus knows exactly who he's looking at. It doesn't take an idiot to figure it out. He clips one end of the cigar and lights it. The savory smoke fills his mouth, and he pushes it back out in a jet of air.

The woman is a bit of a mystery, but the object she had with her, the so called man, is another thing. Malladus flips open a worn book. Holding his place in the book are the sketches of the man and woman. He sets aside the woman's drawing and focuses on the man. Of course there's no way this man could be Raven Coutts, a knight of the Harkinian Horos. However, Malladus can easily fit together the pieces.

Surprise, surprise.

So the wiry bastard has made it out all these years. How stupid. His teeth grind a little on the butt of his cigar. The sketch resembles the portrait of Sir Raven in the book, and the brothers looked very much a like in their later years. Malladus can only conclude that this object – man, rather – is actually Link Coutts.

Malladus is still bitter about that situation as well.

There was a Sheikah that tailed the knight the night Malladus challenged him. What Malladus didn't anticipate was that the knight had magic, and very large and powerful amount. The knight had held his own quite well, though his command of magic in combat was weak. Malladus had thought the man would be easily bested; he didn't count on having to fight his host for control once he wormed his way in.

What was it that Malladus threw him into?

A doll. A rag doll.

Well, well. Looks like the doll got a bit of an upgrade.

The cigar starts to leave a sour taste in Malladus' mouth. The Sheikah made sure the damage Malladus' spoils from the battle. He'd marred one side of Malladus' new face and gouged out the opposite eye, making sure that Malladus couldn't just easily assume the knight's identity. It made him noticeable in a way Malladus didn't appreciate, and he was forced to abandon the vessel in favor a new one in quick succession.

The knight isn't getting his body back, considering it's probably nothing but bones eaten up by the Ordonian woods at this point. Malladus clicks his tongue. He's been quiet for so long, biding his time, so why is this Link Coutts just now stirring up trouble?

Malladus leans back in his chair. He blows out another puff of smoke.

…

President Ghirahim sits enjoying his absolutely divine lunch spread. There's no reason he can't enjoy the perks of the simple things life has to offer while he makes progress on his work. There is much to do, and while he has all the time in the world, Ghirahim can't help the prickling feeling that his time is urgent.

The president raises a napkin to pat his mouth.

Two men of the Guard stand watch in the private hotel suite with him with another one on the way. He sits with anticipation as one of the guardsmen answers the suite's door. A few words are exchanged before a ranking officer in the Guard is let in. He approaches the dining table where the president sits at the head and gives a slight bow.

Ghirahim doesn't waste his precious time on pleasantries. "Have the sketches and descriptions been circulated?"

"Yes, sir."

"Very well." The president's lips curl. "And what of the men?"

"The Guard and the MITF are being put into position as we speak," says the man. Ghirahim picks up his glass of wine and rolls the liquid around in the glass. He gives the officer a nod. "We will be notified immediately if anything comes up."

"I think I'd like to go for a drive once I've finished lunch," the president says. "See to it that the arrangements are made."

Without another word, the officer bows and makes a hasty exit from the suite.

Ghirahim licks his lips. His tongue slides over the soft flesh as his eyes consider the wine in his hand.

There is a fleeting feeling in his stomach that his time is drawing nearer. That devil and his mistress from the Sky thwarted him once before, but he is better this time. Stronger. More conniving. And far less forgiving. He will make no mistakes this time around, that he must be sure of.

He'd found the shattered remains of Power out in the desert. With one third of the Golden Magic under his control, wrapping up the other two pieces is crucial. If the Triforce is completed once more, there is nothing stopped Ghirahim and his terrible designs from taking fruition. The pervious folly was that his master put his trust in an incarnation that was mortal to bring about the divine calamity upon this earth. The mortal broke the sacred power apart.

Ghirahim, however, will stop at nothing to obtain this power for his master.

He whips platinum hair from his face as he turns to the window looking out on Kakariko. Oh yes, it's the most perfect day to take the most perfect drive. It is to be fabulous, that's for sure.

President Ghirahim cannot wait for the heads to roll.

A real shorty today compared to my usual, I know, but take a breather. I really wanted to put a little something out at least just in case I ended up getting stuck along the way. My break's almost up, and I'll be back to cramming it up again. I start back on my work again Monday morning. Ugh. Sleeping in has been nice...

I wanted to mention it last chapter but forgot. Have you guys heard of Starbomb? It's a new band between Egoraptor and Ninja Sex Party, and they've written some pretty fantastic songs about video games; the album dropped last month. I'm at a three way tie between the Castlevania, Metroid and Final Fantasy songs for a favorite. The album's explicit, so be warned.

Anyway, next chapter should be back on Link and Zelda. I appreciate the comments, guys, and yes, if there's not a confrontation next chapter, you can go ahead lynch me. I'm kind of glad that while you guys think royal Zelda is awesome and all that jazz, you're rooting for our narrator. I'd say she's pretty reliable as a narrator, although Link has now proved himself to be otherwise, so I'm happy that hasn't caused your opinion of him to totally wane.

Drop a word, and I'll start on the action!

;3