Despite their plans, they remained in Castle Town for a few days more than either Valdr or Midna had expected, preparing for the long journey south and tempering their plans with wise advice from the old servant, Impa. Supplies she could procure for them, though not much, and nothing that Midna found even slightly palatable, though Valdr was far less concerned so long as he had strength for the march.
Midna had initially planned to hijack Zant's network of portals scattered throughout Hyrule in order to travel with utmost speed, but Impa had advised against it.
"Zant has many servants, and his eyes and ears are as keen as ever. He knows that you live, Midna, and knows, or perhaps guesses your aim. To risk capture from his magic-users would be unwise."
"The Nine? Pfah!" Midna had scoffed, "Their magic is as nothing to the power of my lineage… but you are right. In this form I am weakened, held back. If all of them worked together, I wouldn't stand a chance."
In the end, she had relented, and with Valdr shouldering their provisions, for Midna would not be convinced to carry a share of the load, they set off. The route from the city was a dark and a secret one, but not so dangerous as the one they had taken to Impa's house. The complex waterways beneath the city had been built by the cunning Sheikah in ages past, and there were many hidden passages and secret paths that had been constructed therein to aid that furtive race in escape or concealment, should the city fall.
There is not much to tell of their trek through the sewers, though this time Valdr was grateful to have a fresh set of clothes, a bit weather-stained, perhaps, and a sturdy pair of strong boots. As for weapons, Impa had owned none that she would lend them, but Valdr still carried his axe, and besides which he had not the time to familiarize himself with anything else.
His decision to remain by Midna's side surprised him, for Valdr had truly wanted nothing more than to leave this war that was not his behind. Impa's words had shaken him, certainly, as had the vision of the cruelly killed Princess Zelda, but still he had resolved himself to this course.
They spoke little as they went, both absorbed in their own thoughts, and Valdr wished now that at the very least they could emerge from beneath the curtain of twilight and breathe in fresh, cool air. Everything felt still and cloying under the unnatural gloom, and were it not for the dripping of the foul waters all around them, he would have thought that time itself had frozen. Midna, for her part, floated silently just behind him, letting Valdr lead the way. She had been pensive since they had departed, scheming or simply pondering her final words with Impa, Valdr did not know or care. This supposed princess of the Twili had spoken in private with the old woman before they had left, leaving him to wait in the sitting room with Marina, who would not meet his eye. He knew he must have been quite the fright to the girl when he had first appeared, coated in filth, unkempt and smelling even worse than he looked. Later on, though, even once Impa had gotten him bathed and looking somewhat presentable, the serving girl had only ever seemed terrified in his presence.
Now, walking through the tunnels, knee-deep in muck and things too unwholesome to describe, Valdr could not say he blamed the girl. In his younger years he might have been easier to look at, but these valley folk were unfamiliar with the perils and harshness of the northern ice. His face was not as soft or gentle as these Hylians, instead a rough, uncompromising hatchet of an appearance. The folk of the north did not till the fields or brown themselves in the hot sun of the south, but instead were whipped and buffeted by the frigid wind. A cruel and merciless wind, against which one would become cruel themselves or die. The skin of the northern folk was pale, blued and greyed by glacier and gale, until they were like the snow they lived in.
His hawklike nose was crooked, a point which Valdr still found vexing even after years of getting used to it, and his cheeks were gaunt from years of short commons. His wife used to tell him that his eyes were the best part of his face to look at, but any time Valdr saw his reflection, his own countenance looked drawn, hollow, like he was alive, but there was no real life behind his eyes. He wondered if a part of him had died with her, back when he was barely more than a pup.
The tunnels wound onwards, a criss-cross of passageways and dead ends that would have been impossible for Valdr to navigate alone. The smell was unbearably rank, and he was thankful to find that the sewage never grew so deep that he had to swim in it again. Hyrule Castle Town disposed of much, all manner of filth and unwanted things found their way here, the irony of which was not lost on Valdr. He knew little of Midna's origins, but from her and Impa's hushed conversation he had learned much.
Her people, long ago, had been cast out by the kingdom blessed by the gods, and this nightmare they lived through was considered vengeance, long overdue. The sentiment was not entirely without his sympathy; Hyrule had done little to earn his loyalty, but the vision of the beheaded princess sobered him. Impa's words stuck in his mind as he recalled the image: "this is not conquest, it is hate." Whether or not Hyrule deserved to face retribution for the sins of its fathers, that was not his place to say. Zant, the usurper who had wrought this misery, would not rule long. Of that Midna was convinced, and Valdr had half a mind to believe her. Somehow, though the odds were stacked against them, the little imp's confidence never wavered. She was wholly certain that she could overthrow Zant, and now Valdr was stuck with her, whether he liked it or not. His decision had been final.
"I have to say, I'm surprised, Oaf," Midna finally spoke, and if not for the long silence beforehand, Valdr would have thought that nothing at all weighed on her mind.
"Hm?"
"I half expected you to try and run away as soon as you had a clear way out of the city."
"You owe me a new jacket," he replied tersely, and the imp let out a short bark of laughter.
"Perhaps you won't make a such a terrible servant after all, that is if you can figure out how to stop trying to think and just follow my instructions."
Valdr couldn't be certain what Midna knew and what she didn't. If she truly had guessed at his initial intention to abandon her, she made no sign of it. Valdr himself remained perplexed as to the decision he had made; all reason told him that to leave Hyrule was his best course of action, the only way that he might find peace and have a chance to finally rest easy.
"You don't want to rest easy, do you?" said a small part of himself that Valdr did not often listen to. "You don't want to start anew. You want to die."
Valdr shuddered as the thought crossed his mind, but luckily Midna did not seem to notice. She was going on speaking, talking about their plans for the journey south and what perils they might encounter along the way, but he was only halfway listening to her. Was it true? What was it that he really wanted?
The question was a difficult one to answer; there were too many factors to consider, too many debts and wishes to honor. Some men in his position would want vengeance, recompense for what was taken from him, but from whom could he seek it? He thought of Ailee and their unborn children, thought of how bright the future had seemed way back in those days. Upon no one did the blame lay but himself. He could not avenge himself upon the crows and wolves that ate her carcass. The men who had struck the blows were themselves dead and rotting. The gods who had cursed him with such luck were far beyond his reach, and so the need for retribution burned hot but impotent in his breast.
"Stay alive," she had said to him when the fever gripped her tight, squeezed the last breaths from her sick-weathered frame. He had tried to nurse her back to health, begged for aid from every shaman and medicine man who would listen, but the wounds, though not severe, would not close. Sick crept under her skin through the rents, and Nothing he had done could undo the slow death. He thought about what had gone through his head years ago, when he cradled the frail, empty husk, and mourned the loss.
Ailee had wanted him to stay alive, but did Valdr himself wish it? Maybe he wanted to die himself, to see her again in whatever place came after death, but to take his own life would be to violate her last request of him, and disrespect her memory. Then there was his debt to Midna, to this whining, sarcastic little creature who claimed to be royalty. She had aided him when he was lost and alone under the curtain of twilight, and thus his debt to her remained unpaid. Was this mission, then, his best chance at peace after all?
"You want to kill yourself, but are too cowardly to strike the blow yourself," he thought to himself, recognizing the truth that he had never let himself speak aloud. "So rather than flee from this war and search for the rest you claimed to want so badly, you cling to the only thing you have ever been any good for; war. Hyrule means nothing to you, yet you will lay down your life for the chance to die in a way that makes you feel less like a coward."
The voice in the back of his head made perfect sense. It always did. It was his own fault that Ailee had died, his cowardice and unwillingness to fight. War had called, and he had thought to shirk his duties, to lay down the spear and take up the cradle. War had not liked to be spurned; she was his mistress, his red queen, and Ailee and her children had been a rival. War had followed him home, since he would not go to her, and she had taken away Valdr's reason to seek out peace.
This war, the battle for Hyrule, was not his, yet he would slaughter again for this cause, for any cause that would let him die as a proper warrior. Then Ailee's ghost could rest easy, for he had not taken his own life, but given it in support of a just goal. That was the real reason, the real reason that he had decided not to flee. The sight of Princess Zelda, humiliated and murdered, had convinced him better than words could that he stood on the right side of history now. This was a fight worthy of his death.
"Oaf? Hey, are you even listening?" Midna snapped at him, and Valdr realized that he had set his face far too grim at the thought of death.
"I was… thinking," he replied quietly, not meeting her gaze as that single orange eye seemed to bore straight into his thoughts.
"See? That's the whole problem with you, I just finished saying how you could be useful if you would stop trying to think. What little thoughts were so puzzling that they were more important than your mistress's plans?"
Valdr hesitated; the truth would not do in this situation. "I was navigating," he lied quickly, "The canals are treacherous; we may lose our way if we are not careful."
Midna scoffed, "You are stupid, aren't you? Impa told us exactly which way to go, or did you forget already?"
Actually Impa's instructions through the waterways had been given to Midna alone, but Valdr didn't bother reminding her of that. The imp scolded him for some time, seeming to derive some satisfaction from that, but eventually even she tired of her own voice and the pair journeyed in relative quiet to the sluice gate.
The way forward was not a hard one, as the sluice gate led out into the wider River Hylia, and Valdr was more than pleased to be on the cusp of clean water for a change. Midna would waste none of her magic lifting the gate portcullis, but luckily the bars were spaced far enough apart that Valdr could slip between them with a wriggle and a squeeze. Midna floated behind him, muttering to herself and shaking her head, but with that they had escaped Hyrule Castle Town.
The weather was not much more pleasant here than inside the city, to his dismay, but Valdr's spirits were still lifted as he waded through the shallow inlet from the sluice gate to the bank, and heard the gentle rushing of River Hylia following its diversion around the city walls. The pair found themselves in a wide field, open and without cover to hide in, but they were lucky enough to be in a blind spot between the southern and western gates. From here they would escape the notice of the city guards, so long as they made haste to escape swiftly, but Valdr took some time to fill his flask with fresh water from the river before they went on. There was little telling how long it would be before they found clean water again, and under the curtain of twilight even the fresh river water tasted flat and muted, the way stagnant water tastes when it has been left to sit for a few days at the bottom of a bottle.
Their way south would take them through the broad expanse of Hyrule's fields and plains, where deer and wild horses made their homes, and small copses dotted here and there would offer some cover from prying eyes. In one of these groves did they camp, and both companion's moods soured then; Impa's provisions were the source of Midna's foul mood, while for Valdr it was the recognition that there was no true night and day beneath the veil of twilight. Instead, the sky remained washed out and unsaturated, a sort of golden orange that might have been beautiful for the first few hours, but was now growing tiresome to look at. They ate a cheerless supper, and slept fitfully, each plagued by unhappy dreams.
Valdr woke the next day wondering if he had slept at all, for there was no sunrise in this timeless realm, and Midna complained already of being famished. Their supplies were meagre, and they would need to use them sparingly on the way south, but Valdr and Midna agreed that after the dismal beginning of their pilgrimage south, they needed something to improve their moods.
Breakfast helped get them on their feet again, and once more Valdr began the trek south wile Midna either floated on ahead or rested on his shoulder. They spoke some, though each had their own thoughts to contend with, and Valdr noted that Midna was much less talkative now than she had been when they had first met. He imagined that Impa's words and that ate of Castle Town, had sobered her. She acted with less levity and flippancy, though a less observant fellow might not have even noticed.
Long journeys were always more difficult when accompanied by someone who is not yet a friend, but not still a stranger either. Valdr spent the day marching dutifully, wondering what challenges and nightmarish foes awaited him in their future, and wondering how much of the venture he would even see before he died in the attempt. Midna seemed to think that it would not be much.