It was not often the place of a king to mingle with the common folk, especially the common folk that one had just finished subjugating, but Zant was willing to make an exception. A few of his aides had suggested that he have the lady Impa arrested and brought before him in Hyrule Castle, but he had decided against this idea. Since the fall of Hyrule, Zant understood that his image among his new subjects was one of mystery and uncertainty. Few, if any, had ever even seen him, and a few may not have ever even heard of him, knowing only that their beloved city was occupied and that their garrison was defeated.
Now Zant walked the streets of Hyrule Castle Town in full regalia, his head held high and gaze impossible to follow beneath his helmet. He had not bothered to have a bugler or any entourage come to introduce him; his presence alone would be enough. For protection he had brought his elite guard of elder shadow beasts, but he now realized that he needn't have bothered. Unlike in the realm of twilight, none of the people here had any fight left in them. No assassins leapt forth from the crowds to plunge a dagger into his robes, no arrows were loosed from the rooftops, and the wispy little lights that showed where the light dwellers stood simply clustered together in fear as he passed by.
He sneered behind his mask, almost wishing that a few of them were willing to martyr themselves doing something needlessly brave and foolish so he could make an example of them. It appeared that his display in the center of their once-fair city had been enough to crush any dissent. Zelda's remains had lost any hint of their once-regal air, and she was beginning to smell and look more than ghastly. He considered having the display dismantled, but decided against it. Zelda had brought this on herself. Hyrule has brought this on itself. Let her rot there for all to see, it was about as much as this kingdom deserved.
He did not occupy himself with the city folk long, as there was another task to attend to, and as Zant made his way to the western district of Castle Town, he kept an eye out for the house that young Marina had described to him. The girl had been helpful, and Zant was not a king without an eye for justice. She has been rewarded kindly; a new job in Hyrule Castle as well as plenty to eat and a place to live. The servant staff had been reduced during the attack, and Zant wanted to be certain that his nobles would want for nothing when they eventually came to reside in the Castle. Marina would be a welcome addition to his staff.
The house stood before him, smaller than he would have expected, but with clear touches that demoted it's finery. The brass hinges and knob instead of iron, the glass-paned windows and surprisingly well-engineered gutter pipes, all attested to the fact that this house's owner was someone well-revered here in Castle Town. Zant smiled beneath his helm and gestured to his elite guards.
"Stay. Allow no one to enter."
The elder shadow beasts took up positions on either side of the door, leering menacingly at any townsfolk or guards that passed by too closely. Many curious sorts likely wanted to catch a glimpse of the King's business here, but Zant did not have time to deal with keeping up appearances anymore. Impa knew where Midna was, and that was all that mattered.
A spoken word saw the sturdy door splinter inwards and burst apart, and Zant strode into the house. Even as he entered he saw the old woman, a decrepit old crone, struggling to haul herself out of her chair to face him. Her eyes were wide in fear and astonishment and Zant's smile widened; it was a good feeling to catch a traitor and conspirator.
"Good morning," he drawled sardonically, standing just inside the doorway and waiting patiently for the old woman to compose herself.
"You!" She gasped, finally able to sit upright, though too weak to actually stand.
"It is a funny thing, Lady Impa, I just last evening heard a most fascinating story from a young friend of yours."
Impa's eyes narrowed and Zant let out a smug chuckle. "She told me that a certain someone here in town was harboring a dangerous fugitive. Can you imagine who might have done such a thing?"
"Fool girl," Impa snapped, "What have you done?"
"Marina did as she thought best, Impa, as I am certain you think what you are doing is best. But to conspire against your king…"
"You are no king," Impa let out a wheezing laugh and Zant's confidence faltered. If there was anything he hated most, it was being laughed at.
"Aren't I?" His voice lost its coy lilt and now was rimed with steel. "Hyrule is mine, and where are her knights that dared give battle to me? The Twilight is mine, this world will be mine!"
Impa laughed, long and hard, and Zant had to force himself not to feed her to his god where she sat. Divinity was boiling in his belly, and he knew his god would need to eat very soon. The pain was ruining his focus.
"You are a shallow and vain fool, Zant," Impa finally managed to control her laughter long enough to spit out at him. Zant stepped towards her, and gestured, barking out the harsh words of a spell. The old woman's body twisted and contorted, and her laughter turned into a howl of anguish that Zant was certain could be heard from the streets.
"A fool, am I?" he snarled, "Could a fool have overthrown your precious kingdom? Could a fool have destroyed your centuries-long dynasty? I impart the will of this world's new god, and you continue to cling to the old and impotent ones. So who is the real fool, hag?"
Impa's frame shuddered, a sharp gasp denoting her agony as Zant's spell forced her bones to splinter and twist. Zant smiled under his mask, clenching his teeth so tightly that he thought his gums would bleed. He could practically taste her pain, drink deep of it and quell the writhing in his belly.
"A… fool!" Impa wheezed, "...and a… coward! No true… king… would do as… you have done!"
Her continued defiance was annoying. Zant could see that her old body was nearing the limits of its endurance, and he gestured, releasing her from the grip of his magic.
"I can admire your persistence and tenacity in the face of defeat, old woman," Zant began to pace the room, struggling to put back on the persona of the benevolent ruler. "But the time of your royal family is ended. I am not without mercy. All I ask is that you reveal to me how you helped the fugitive, Midna, and where she is. Do this and you will have earned my lenience."
Impa looked up, shuddering, and met his gaze through the eye slits of his mask. Her lip curled derisively, and she spat on the fine rug. "I am not like you, a traitor and a coward. Zant, the Usurper, Zant the Betrayer. If any remember your 'rule' at all, they will call you as you are. I do not so easily forsake my loyalties!"
Zant was, for just a moment, speechless. "Kill her!" his god hissed in his ear, and Zant was sorely tempted to do just that. With magic he could unravel her mind and find what he sought without her cooperation, but it was a point of pride that he wanted to obtain this intelligence as a king, not as a sorcerer.
"I understand your frustration," he said, sinking down on one knee so that their faces were level. " You really do believe the things that you say, don;t you? You cannot see the good in what I have done, can you?"
Now Impa was speechless, and Zant marveled at the willful ignorance. "The good?!" the old woman gaped incredulously at him. "You invade our lands without provocation, you kill our princess and defile her remains in our city streets! You blaspheme against the gods and slaughter any who do not vow to serve you! Where is the good in that? Where is the good in the children whose fathers and brothers now stalk the streets as these monstrous brutes?! I see no good!"
Zant sighed and stood up again, shaking his head. "You cling to the gods as if they will protect you, as if their blessing holds any meaning anymore. Perhaps once they dwelt in this world, but no longer. Their powers did nothing for Zelda, that I assure you. Their blessing does nothing for this kingdom, nothing to stop me or mine from taking what was denied us centuries ago. I have liberated Hyrule from them. I have freed all of you from the shackles of gods who demand worship but give nothing in return. I have freed you from blind faith, and bring with me something new and wonderful!"
"Your new 'god' is a fraud," Impa muttered, "It is only right that you would worship it."
Zant waved a hand, as if to dispel her words. "We can debate theology another time, and perhaps one day you will come around to my point of view, but let us not forget the purpose of this little visit. Midna was here, as well as a prisoner from my dungeons, a northman whom she has recruited to her cause. I will know where she is now."
"And I will tell you as many times as I must; You will never bring me to betray her. If you wish to know so very badly, then force it out of me, you'll get it no other way."
"Even on pain of death?" Now Zant raised a hand, and a dim red light seemed to shine from his palm. Impa met his gaze steadily, and Zant saw no more fear in her eyes.
"I am old. What time was there left anyways?"
"As you wish," he replied. His god twisted and writhed in his belly happily in anticipation, and Zant recanted his prior goal. He prided himself as a good king, a beneficent king to those who served him, but this old nut was too tough for any words to crack. Despite himself, there was still a raw rush of pleasure as the words of the spell left his lips. Somewhere deep in his tattered soul, he loved to settle things with force, and it was a special pleasure that was brought to him from seeing an enemy destroyed.
The magic, fueled by his faith in his god, erupted from Zant's body, enveloping Impa both body and soul. Flesh frayed and hair ignited. The very essence of her being unraveled, and without even a scream to mark her suffering, the old woman was reduced to a coil of meat and soul, that flew into Zant like a serpent. Into his mouth through the gaps in his helmet, into his nostrils and even little tendrils creeping into the edges of his eyes crept the remains of Impa, and he felt his body jerk about like a puppet on dancing strings as his god glutted and grew fat and strong. Blood, bones, spirit, life, all of it devoured by the ever-present hunger that coiled and flexed within Zant's body, and while the sensation was far from pleasant, the aftermath was worth it.
His god ceased to gnaw at him any longer, contented with what it had eaten, and now all of Impa's memories and long life were at his disposal. It would, perhaps, take some time to sift through them to find where Midna was now and what her plans were, but time was on his side. Steadying himself on his feet, the king of the Twilight composed himself, and made for the door. This house would, he guessed, remain empty for some time.