"You have chosen a dire time to visit Hyrule, Outlander," the old woman spoke quietly while Valdr sat beside the hearth, his hands clasped around a steaming mug of tea. He was lucky that the old woman, Impa was her name, had owned clothes that fit him; supposedly they had belonged to her son, and his old prison clothes had been far too filthy to even bother trying to salvage. After a hot bath and a shave he felt much more like himself, though unfortunately Impa had not owned a razor. His long beard had been trimmed down to a closer scruff, but reddish stubble still covered his cheeks and chin, which is companion had made no effort to hide her disgust for.
"You don't need to talk to him like he's people," the imp scoffed, hovering just above the mantlepiece and waving a hand dismissively. "He's just some meat I brought back up from the castle dungeons."
Valdr contained the urge to say something scathing in reply and took a sip from his tea without speaking.
"Nevertheless, Midna," the old woman continued, "Our situation has grown dire while you have been away. It will not be easy to harbor you any longer with the invaders here in our city."
Midna, Valdr finally knew her name, descended from her spot to stand just before Impa's chair. Her face had grown uncharacteristically solemn.
"I wouldn't ask you to risk yourselves for me any more than you have already. I don't intend to stay here long, but I wanted your advice before making my escape from the city."
"I would be honored to assist you further, in any way that I can. Marina and I can help you to navigate the canal and make your way past the city walls, but I am afraid my expertise ends there. Where do you plan to go?"
Midna stood, pensive, for a moment, before turning her back to Impa and gazing up at the tapestry hung on the far wall of the sitting room. It was a stylized piece displaying a map of the entire valley, each province outlined in stark black lines.
"Among my people there are legends of a divine beast, a Hero of the light dwellers who wields a blade capable of sealing away darkness. I would seek out this hero, ally myself with him."
"And this one?" Impa gestured to Valdr. Midna snorted derisively.
"My current steward, and a poor servant at best. But an ally nonetheless, and one able to resist the dampening of the spirits brought on by the Veil of Twilight. In all the city only yourselves and this one showed yourselves capable of resistance. That gives him some value."
Impa leaned back comfortably in her chair, regarding Valdr with something resembling pity in her face. Her young housekeeper, Marina, stood close at hand, with a look more akin to vague curiosity about the outlander.
"Do you know, boy, the danger you place yourself in by allying with our cause?"
Valdr met the old woman's gaze evenly and spoke. "I do. The imp guided me from prison; I have a debt to repay."
He was lying, of course, the moment that they were beyond the city limits he would flee from this place, but Impa did not need to know that. She scrutinized him, but seemed not to sense the lie.
"I know of this legend, Midna," the old woman continued as if her exchange with Valdr had not occurred. "In our own tales this Hero came from the far south, out of Faron Woods. If he himself returned there once his labors were done, perhaps he can be found there again."
"Then it is decided," Midna leapt back up into the air again, "Oaf, we will depart soon for Faron Woods, to find this lauded hero and the sword he carries."
"Before you leave, Midna, I would show your steward what has become of Hyrule."
"What for?"
"To fight alongside you requires that a man knows true conviction. A simple debt cannot motivate a warrior to stay stalwart in the face of overwhelming odds. Walk with me, Outlander, I would speak with you."
Valdr set his tea aside and stood, following Impa out of the room and to the front door. Midna and Marina remained in the sitting room by the hearth, the former muttering and scheming to herself while the latter stood by helplessly. Valdr felt some pity for the girl, but he was much more concerned with his own fate.
Impa made certain that no one was nearby when she and Valdr stepped out into the street, and Valdr could feel stronger than ever the weight of the Twilight pressing all around him. It was as if the air itself had grown more dense, and the world was without color or expression.
With the collar around his neck he could still see Impa more clearly as a person, but if he forgot to focus clearly on her, her form shimmered away and was replaced with that little flickering orb of light, like a flame without a candle.
Now the two of them walked together down the cobbled street, the city quiet and somber. At each corner a Hylian soldier stood watch, trembling, the crest of the royal family that had once adorned their surcoats replaced by the stylized eye symbol that Valdr had seen on the faceplate of the shadow beast he had killed. Each of them bore a helmet, made of the same living stone as Valdr's amulet, molded to his head, making them appear more solid and real than the ordinary citizens of Castle Town. Valdr understood quickly that these men had surrendered, given themselves over to the usurper and sworn their allegiance to him.
"Our city is vanquished," Impa told him as they walked, "Those men who stood with our princess have been slain to the last man, and darkness falls over the kingdom day by day. Zant, he who calls himself our new king, has brought only ruin to Hyrule."
Valdr did not speak, but took the time to take in all that he saw. Little flames that indicated the pitiful conquered Hylians were dotted here and there, and he could see how they shook in fear or trudged along consumed by sorrow. Human beings were not made to subsist under the cruel weight of this unnatural shadow.
"I know that you lie," Impa whispered to him, and Valdr stopped, startled.
"I don't…" he began, but was cut off as Impa hissed at him again.
"You are not of Hyrule, Outlander. Your home is a place far to the north of our valley. I have met with the men of your homeland before, barbarians all. You are a savage creature, with a nose for survival above all else. You would flee from Hyrule as you fled from the north, and you would be wise to do so."
Valdr hesitated, taken aback. She knew, then, that his intention was to abandon Midna, why had she not revealed it before? Valdr guessed that she planned to hold him hostage with this, to use her knowledge of his lie to force his hand. Everyone wanted something, and this old hag was no exception.
"I owe this kingdom nothing," he spoke firmly, soundly. It was true; Hyrule had done no right by him; what right did they have to ask him to lay down his life for them?
"And what of Midna and your debt to her?" Impa asked, "She owed you nothing either, yet still chose to assist in your escape."
"I did not need her help."
"I see. You believe that our invader will stop at Hyrule, yes? That perhaps you can run and hide someplace far away and that the darkness will never reach you? You are a fool, Outlander. Zant is fuelled by a hunger that will never be sated; no amount of land or subjects will satisfy his need to dominate. He will kill and enslave all that he can until someone or something puts an end to him."
"It is not my duty…" Valdr protested, but now the old woman whirled to face him, drawing a few glances from the surrounding people. Their conversation had been hushed; it was not wise to discuss deposing a tyrant while surrounded by his shoulders, but now Impa seemed prepared to make a scene.
"Your people are savages, Outlander, but never cowards! It is every man's duty to stand against tyranny, lest it prevail and liberty perish. Hyrule suffers now, but it will be you and yours who suffer more if you flee!"
Now she took his wrist and pulled him along after her, hurrying down the boulevard towards the center of the city. Above them, Valdr could see the spires of Hyrule Castle rising like silent monoliths, monoliths that he had been locked beneath only hours ago. It was not a comforting sight. He mulled over Impa's words as they walked; was it cowardly to shirk a duty that was not yours? To put aside a task that is insurmountable?
"What would you have me do?" he snarled, jerking his arm back from the old woman's frail hand and forcing her to turn and face him. "Would you have me perish against mages and monsters purely on the principle that someone must? Your friend seeks out a great hero in the south, I say let her! She has no need of me!"
Impa met his gaze, and Valdr felt his rage falter as he gazed into those eyes. This woman had seen terrible things, perhaps more terrible than the ones Valdr himself had witnessed in the frigid northlands, and she had lived to tell of them. Perhaps he was a fool after all…
"Look, Outlander," Impa told him, and pointed to where the street they walked merged into the very epicenter of Castle Town. There, before the gates of the castle, a marvelous fountain stood. He had seen the same fountain when first he had come to this city, and he recalled that it had been larger than any Valdr had seen. It was carved intricately and beautifully to resemble the statues of the three golden goddesses that Hylians worshiped, all intertwined around their holy symbol, the Triforce. From the mouth of one of the statues water flowed, from another it came from her outstretched hands, and from the third it flowed down between her breasts to sprinkle into the basin.
The fountain had been defaced, the heads of all three goddesses demolished and struck from their shoulders, while the water ceased to flow, leaving dead leaves and mud to collect in the basin. That stylized eye symbol had been scrawled garishly over the three goddesses, while among the mud and refuse were stacked the naked, smoldering corpses of Hylian knights and soldiers. Valdr guessed that these men were those whom had stood against the usurper, and that they now served as an example to those who would oppose him. He had seen similar displays in his homeland by murderous chieftains and warlords. But it was the structure built over the fountain that truly caught his eye, as well as the figure lashed to it.
A large wooden cross had been constructed hastily within the fountain' using the vandalized statues as a base, with a sign nailed over the headpiece that bore a message: "The fate of all traitors". The cross itself was encircled by rope and wire that held the arms and legs of the figure to it. Valdr saw how the body had been contorted by the ropes, arms and legs bent at unnatural angles to create a show of pathetic humiliation. The corpse was headless, but hung by a chain from her shoulders was a golden crown signifying exactly whose remains these were. The once-elegant gown was tattered and filthy now, stained with mud, filth and dried up blood. Princess Zelda, once the heir to Hyrule's throne, was dead and disgraced. This monument to Hyrule's defeat was now her only legacy. This, Valdr decided, was nothing like what he saw before.
In his homeland sickening displays of brutality were common, tradition even. To display the corpses of your slain foes was seen as a mark of dominance. But the chieftain of a defeated tribe was treated with respect in death, no matter how bitterly your rivalry ran… this act, to string up and defile the body of a ruler, a woman no less… it was the definition of depravity.
"You see now what he does to our people? To our princess? This is not conquest, Outlander, it is hate," Impa whispered fiercely to him. "Would you wait until it is your people? Your wives and sons?"
Valdr faltered, struggled to find words. "I am only a man. I cannot fight this."
Impa took his arm again, turned hiom around to look back the way they came at her house. "She can."
"Who is she?"
"Exactly who she claims to be. Our princess is slain, but the princess of the Twili lives on, though cursed and disgraced. Zant, usurper, villain and servant of evil, he rules by fear and by magic. His rule is not legitimate. Help her, help Midna to depose him, or all the world will share in the fate of Hyrule."
"I have no magic, no power. What use would I be to her?"
Impa met his gaze again, and now her look was softer, more pleading. Valdr recognized that this was not a demand, but a cry for aid from an old woman who had watched her country fall to darkness in a matter of days. He realized that one of the dead knights lying shamefully in the fountain basin was likely her son. He realized that everything he had fled from in the north was befalling this valley of peaceful folk, that all the heartbreak and pain would happen again and again, over and over so long as a madman sat the throne.
"She is alone and without allies. Be what she needs you to be," Impa let go of his arm, stepped back, and looked towards the ground again. "Or you can run. As I said, you would be right to do so. A fool, yes, but a fool who recognizes when a battle is already lost. Midna is our last hope, Outlander, I would ask that you be hers."
With that the old woman hobbled back down the road to her house, leaving Valdr standing alone in the city square. He digested what she had said, what he himself was feeling. Midna had told him that he was no use. She had made it known that she was looking for someone else to help her defeat her enemies. She didn't need him… did she?
He thought of home, of the raging seas and icy winds, of the snow and the howling of monsters just beneath the frigid waves. He had fled from war, from death, from the grasping clutches of hungry gods, only to find himself someplace facing a threat even worse. Was it cowardly to be seeking peace? To want to lay down your arms and rest? Was it wrong for him to leave this battle to those whom it concerned? Hyrule was not his home; they had imprisoned him, mocked him, ridiculed and persecuted him! What justice was there in helping them now?
He brought a hand up to caress the collar around his throat; the gift Midna had given him to help him navigate this darkness. She herself needed no such thing, this black fog was natural to her, but she had known that he could barely move in it, barely see. Could he run away and leave his debt to her unpaid? What honor was there in that? His other hand rested on the head of his hatchet tucked into his belt. It had tasted blood once, tasted it in defense of something that Valdr had held dear, and he had failed to defend it. Was this a suicide mission, or a second chance to succeed where once he had failed?
"No one would blame you for leaving," he said aloud, and he knew that it was true. The young woman, Marina, had looked at him with pity when Midna had stated their plans to oppose Zant. All of them knew that this task would be his death if he stayed; he had no grand destiny, no favor of the gods. He was not the hero of legends that Midna sought out. If he went with her, he would die, but perhaps die a warrior instead of a coward…
He made his decision.