The Citadel of Twilight was positively aglow with festivities, the streets filled with the sounds of joyful song. Zant's celebration of victory had been, as he had hoped, a resounding success. His people, banished to the Twilight realm for generations, were about to taste freedom again, and their victory over the kingdom that had oppressed them was one that no one could resist celebrating. There had been a parade down the main boulevard of the citadel, and Zant himself had sat tall and proud in his palanquin, borne on the shoulders of elder shadow beasts. A part of him, at the time, had feared that he would not be well enough to attend, with how ill he had been recently, but feeding Impa to his god had abated the frenzied gnawing inside him, and Zant felt restored, rejuvenated, even. His god, more importantly, was pleased, and Midna would soon be dealt with.
Now Zant sat at feast, while his people continued to sing songs and dance in the streets. His palace was packed with the Twilit nobility, those who had sworn their loyalty to him rather than the dead royals he had deposed. The choice to stand with Zant had been well rewarded now. Sumptuous delicacies from every corner of the realm had been brought to his table, paired with the finest wines his stewards could fetch from the palace cellars. This would be the last feast that they would take as prisoners of this world. The world that had been taken from them was reclaimed, and Zant had made the announcement earlier that day that a select few nobles would be permitted to journey through the Corridor of Shadows to see the world of light that they had reclaimed.
There remained much work to do, Zant knew, if his new empire was to continue expanding. Even now as he sipped quietly at his wine, he awaited news from the Nine and from Bulblin. The monstrous warlord had been given twofold tasks, and both were integral to ensuring that no one could stand between Zant and his ascension as emperor. It had been some time now since he had sent Bulblin south to complete his tasks, and he had heard nothing from the creature since. Zant was a patient man, as patient as one could be whose reign depended entirely on the success of so many operations, but if Bulblin did not report to him soon, he would be forced to confront his new vassal himself.
The creature's army had made itself useful in their chief's absence, accepting orders from both Zant and the Nine without question. While the beasts were clumsy and stupid compared to his Twili, they had enough wit to follow complex orders, and were disciplined enough to hold rank under the direst of circumstances. Zant could say that he was honestly impressed with them, though mostly because his expectations had been so low.
Now the army had properly fortified their camp around the base of the Arbiter's Grounds, and set a perimeter around the old prison that held the Mirror of Twilight. Each of the sallow-skinned, swarthy creatures had a cap of iron on his head, and thick scale-mail armor to protect him from harm. Bows of horn were slung over each soldier's shoulders and while some carried swords or clubs, all were equipped with a heavy broad-bladed spear. No horsemen among them, but the creatures had tamed and rode upon the backs of great boars from the western plains of Hyrule, whose sharp tusks could gut a man as easy as breathing.
They had erected anti-siege weapons along the parapets of the prison, ballistae and cannons that would ruin an infantry advance. Finally they had repurposed the old rubble and ruins along the base of the prison into a great gate of layered stones, laid dry but thick and heavy, which they had hauled into place with ropes and pulleys. The only way in or out of the prison besides using magic was via ropes and ladders that they used to clamber up over the gap between the new wall and the old doorway. Though no army yet remained that could possibly hope to lay siege and wrest control of the passage between worlds, it was always better to take precautions just in case. Bulbin's army had outdone themselves.
Four of the Nine were preoccupied keeping the guardians of the Mirror, Hyrule's Seven Sages, from taking action against him, and Zant trusted them to do their jobs well. The Nine were the only things that could ever rival him in power now, and four of them working together was more than enough to keep contained a group of weak old men who seemed to ply supposed wisdom more so than raw magical power. Six sages, Zant corrected himself. While the old tales had told of seven wise men who guarded the Mirror of Twilight, one of them appeared to have expired before Zant and his sorcerers had ever arrived, certainly a surprise, but a welcome one.
A great cheer rose up from the partygoers all around him; someone had called for a toast, and Zant shook off his thoughts. He put on a smile, a gracious and humble smile, he hoped, and rose to his feet, wine glass in one hand raised high.
"My friends," he began warmly, "It is my highest honor to host you here tonight, on our last night as a mere kingdom. Many of you, I know, have had your doubts about my rule, and I hope that those doubts have now been put to rest."
"Long live King Zant!" a particularly inebriated count hiccuped out, and a ripple of quiet chuckles echoed through the banquet hall.
Zant himself smiled wider. "Tomorrow, I invite you all to come with me into the world that we have reclaimed, and to partake of the fruits of our victory!"
Now delighted murmuring spread through the assembled lord and ladies, and Zant knew he had their curiosity piqued. Certainly the world of light would not be exactly how it was when he had first invaded; the curtain of Twilight lay over the land like a dense shroud, but the landscape was still something incredible to behold, and the souls trapped within the dark would grow accustomed to it over time. His people had, after all.
"For now, though, let us drink, eat, and make merry! To the Kingdom of the Twili, and to her people! Blessed be the New God!"
"Blessed be the New God!" the chant returned back to him, and Zant exulted in the feeling. He had done this; he had achieved what generations of Twili had only ever dreamed of. They were free.
Something caught his eye as the crowd of guests began to return to their meals, and the band struck up a dignified waltz. A few nobles had already had their fill and were beginning to dance, but now Zant saw that one of the Nine had returned. The figure, swathed completely in their customary robes, was awaiting him at the edge of the chamber, and Zant decided that his celebration was going to have to wait. There were matters of state to attend to.
He excused himself quietly from the table, advising to the duke on his left that if anyone called for him, he had stepped out for only a moment. Zant left the table without another word, and made his way along the edge of the dancing floor to where his chief servant awaited. Couples swayed and twirled here and there to the music, and butlers navigated precariously among the crowd, offering drinks or appetizers to his guests. Once upon a time these sorts of royal galas had been Zant's most peevish endeavor, as he had been a simple chief steward, and as such in charge of making certain that the nobles wanted for nothing. Now he was king, and the tasks that once he had slaved over laboriously, he was now able to enjoy… for the most part.
It was the Third that awaited him, and Zant was eager to hear of what they had to say.
"Is it done?" he asked quietly as they left the grand hall and shut the massive stone doors behind them, the gaudy party hangings fluttering as the doors swung shut. The Third hesitated, seemed unwilling to speak.
"I found her, my king, traveling to the south. Undoubtedly in search of the heir to the-"
"I asked that you bring me the Fused Shadow she carried. Yet you return without it."
The Third visibly flinched at his words, and Zant could already guess what had happened. He sighed. "She evaded you, didn;t she?"
The Third fell to their knees, bowing their head before him. "Forgive me, Lord, I beg you. The Princess was…"
Zant struck the Third across the hood, and the sorcerer reeled back in shock and surprise. Fury boiled within him, but he did his best to master it. His god began to coil around again, and as it did Zant could swear that it felt larger in his belly…
"Do not speak of her! Never speak of who she is, not here!" he hissed through his teeth. The Third sank down until the tip of their hood kissed the tiled floor.
"Your word is law, my lord, I hear and obey," the Third whispered feverishly. Zant collected himself as quickly as he could, forcing down the rage and affixing the mask of the beneficent ruler back over himself. He reached down,offering a conciliatory hand to the Third.
"Forgive me," he said emphatically, "the fault lies with me. I should have known better than to force this task on you alone. Our enemy is clever, she is powerful, and I underestimated her. We will overcome this obstacle together, as our new god wills it."
The Third accepted his hand and stood. "She eluded me, yes Lord, but in the time we clashed I weakened her. She will not be able to stave off another assault, once we find where she has fled to…"
Zant began to walk down the corridor; he was no longer in any mood to return to his celebration, knowing that Midna remained alive and at large in his kingdom.
"She fled using the Corridor of Shadows, tracing her will be easy," Zant replied back. "But I doubt we will be lucky enough for her to have remained nearby to the portal. She is too canny for that."
"Perhaps not, Lord," the Third walked just behind him, speaking over his shoulder, "I cannot know for certain, but I may have wounded her as she fled. If we strike now we could…"
"No," Zant interrupted. He had underestimated Midna, even in her weakened, cursed form. Even as just in an imp, with her magic diminished, she possessed one of the four Fused Shadows, a relic she had stolen from the Palace before she fled from him. Enfeebled though she may be, Midna was far from just some spoiled, witless snob of a royal. She was dangerously canny, and Zant knew that her goal was to reunite all four Fused Shadows, reassemble the Grotesquerie, and try to face him anew. He had known of that plan for some time, and he knew that he needed to reach the relics before her, but with the locations of them unknown to all but the Royal Family, his only hope was to let Midna lead him to them now, and try to ambush her before she could collect them. The difficulty lay in determining where she was going first, and how to track her down before she got her hands on the assets at her disposal.
Zant thought of the vision brought to him by his god. He thought of the blue-eyed beast wielding a blade of purest light. He could only hope that the intelligence he had gained from Impa's memories would serve him well, and that his message to Bulblin had been received. The hero's heir needed to be slain, the Sword the Seals the Darkness needed to be disposed of, and all of it needed to happen before Midna closed in on either one. He needed Bulblin to report.
"It was the creature with her that stopped me from landing the killing blow…" the Third muttered viciously, and Zant suddenly recalled.
"Ah yes, the northman. The old woman had memory of him. It appears our fugitive has herself a new servant."
"It distracted me, if it had not been there, I would have killed her."
"Indeed? And with what magicks did it take your attention from our quarry?"
At this the Third fell silent. Zant could guess what had happened without having to ask. "Arrogance will be our undoing," he advised, "you would do well not to underestimate Midna again, or those who choose to follow her. Midna would not waste her time with just any light-dweller who crossed her path. This one she stole out of Hyrule Castle's dungeons, and she did it after the curtain of Twilight descended. This one has the will to resist my authority."
"Then you would have me go after her once more? I swear to you, lord, I will not fail…"
Zant had reached the end of the hall and began the slow climb up the stairwell towards his personal chambers. There, at least, he could speak matters of war without being overheard. Always he was paranoid of Royalist spies that might be hiding somewhere among his staff, and he thought it best to only speak freely when he was certain to be surrounded with none but those whom he trusted implicitly.
"Finding Midna now is too vast a task for only one of us. It would take an army to comb the entirety of Faron Woods, if indeed that is even where she fled to. We will know soon enough. And if it is, we are fortunate enough to already have agents in the area."
The Third snorted derisively. "Bulblin?" they asked with incredulity. "That beast could never hope to kill her."
"Perhaps not," Zant conceded, "but we have only to find her. And when we do, you Nine will attack in full force. For now, I would have you relay my orders to Bulblin. Messages I have sent to him before remain unanswered. Go now, speak with him, and ensure that the tasks I set before him have been fulfilled. Upon your return, you will have a chance to redeem yourself for today's failures.
"Of course, Lord," the Third bowed deeply, "I will depart at once."
"Oh, and Third?"
The sorcerer stopped mid-turn. Zant felt an uncontrollable smile tugging at the corners of lips. They had reached his quarters, and Zant stood now with one hand upon the door knob.
"Send your fellows to see me on your way out. The Eight and the Fifth have just arrived through the Corridor of Shadows."
"Of course, lord, as you will it." The Third seemed to rush back the way they had come, and Zant toom a moment to watch them go. It had taken a tremendous amount of restraint not to punish them further for their failure to capture of kill Midna, but Zant was a wise enough king to recognize that the last thing he wanted was to lose a valuable asset like a member of the Nine. Failure could be mitigated and recovered from, and the resolve of his underlings strengthened, even, by the tantalizing offer of redemption. The Third would do anything in their power to return to Zant;s good graces now, he was certain of it.
Smiling, Zant opened the door to his suite of apartments, nestled comfortably in the south wing of the palace. Here, behind the throne room, he was most secure, and the recognition that these rooms had once been the old king's never failed to amaze him. Sometimes it all felt like a dream; far too wonderful to be real, and yet here he was, the ruler of the Twilight, the emperor of all realms, at least soon.
The suite was a lavish affair, a great stateroom and luxurious personal bathhouse, with a direct set of dumbwaiters to the kitchens and a pull rope for Zant to summon any servant to him at a whim. The great, curtained bed had once been shared by the king and queen, but now Zant slept there alone, when he was not sitting the throne or attending to matters in the realm of light. Perhaps one day he would take a queen to sit by his side, but not yet, not until he found a suitable candidate. Part of him still longed for Midna to be that queen, the Midna he had known, not the squat little creature he had cursed her into.
Zant fantasized about her as he disrobed and noted that the massive baths had already been filled to the brim with steaming hot water and lit with candles and spiced incense. The aire of the entire suite was one of relaxation and luxury, and after a long day of festivities among his people, Zant had recognized ahead of time that he would need this. It was lucky that the waters were still hot, else he would have had to heat them himself. The spell was a rudimentary one, but that wasn't really the point. A part of him wondered how the celebrations were getting on without him, but it didn't really matter. Midna was on his mind now.
He thought of the way she walked as he dipped first one naked leg and then another into the steaming waters, thought of the sway of her hips and the bounce of her long, silky orange hair. The way her amber eyes seemed to sparkle with an alluring hint of mischief and seduction whenever he had met her gaze, in a way that made him shiver with pleasure to think of. Many were the nights that he had dreamt in the stewards' quarters about pressing those soft, voluptuous lavender lips to his own, feeling her soft skin against his, tracing each rune tattoo along the curves of her body with his hands, and feeling her push against him…
Zant collected himself before he could sink too much into pleasant dreams. The sweet-smelling soap left trails of opaque suds in the eaters around him, and so he was not entirely immodest when the Fifth and the Eight entered his chambers. Both were, like the Third, covered head to toe in their customary robes, and Zant could only ever tell them apart by the distinct scent of their magic, and the medallions that hung around their hooded heads.
"My lord, Zant," the Eight began, raising a sleeve to their chest and nodding slightly. It was no deep bow, merely a slight inclination of their shadow-shrouded chin, but Zant would allow it. The Eight had always been too proud to grovel like so many of their kin.
"What news from the front?" he asked, lazily stirring the waters with one hand. "I expect glad tidings on the day of our great holiday."
The Eight straightened, and Zant could almost sense the smile in their words as they spoke. "Indeed, I come bearing tidings of victory, my king. Eldin province has been dominated, and Kakariko City breached. Our forces occupy the city, and the defenders are dead, captured, or surrendered."
Zant sat up, now very interested. Kakariko had been a particularly tough nut to crack, a thorn in his side ever since the campaign had begun. Unlike with castle Town, Zant had not carried the element of surprise; news of Hyrule's fall had traveled faster than his armies could, and reached the city in Eldin Province long before his full forces could be gathered there.
Though they were weakened beneath the veil of Twilight, the men of Kakariko were well-armed, organized, and cunning. Their city lay in a natural stronghold of rocky canyons leading to the Eldin Volcano that had made their fortune, now dormant. The men of Kakariko City had shored up their defenses, blocked off the avenues of attack, and dug in. Even outnumbered though they were, the greatest defense they had had at their disposal had simply been how inaccessible the city was. Zant had ordered that all supply lines and trade routes be guarded, and he had hoped to starve out the defenders, but often they and their allies had led unexpected raids on his own forces when their guard was lowered. He had lost far more shadow beasts and rudimentary wizards than he had expected taking the city.
"This is excellent news indeed, Eighth. With the city taken, the Eldin Volcano and her riches will work wonders in funding our expansion!"
The Eighth sighed quietly, "I am afraid we have not breached the mountain yet, sire," they explained apologetically. "The Stone-Men of Eldin prevent passage, and we do not have the might for another protracted siege."
Zant digested this; the Stone-Men of Eldin had been a formidable opponent, and not one he had expected to face when he had come to the realm of light. In the hundreds, or perhaps thousands of years since his people were banished, new breeds of Hylian had developed, and these were among the most troublesome. Gorons, they called themselves, beings whose flesh was melded with rock and earth, and who seemed all but impervious to all but the most potent magic.
"Tell me how this happened, I want a full report," he ordered, leaning back again and shutting his eyes to listen. The Fifth remained utterly silent, awaiting their turn to speak, while the Eighth explained in full.
"The Stone-Men of Eldin had been supporting the Hylians of Kakariko in their defense against us since the siege began. Their great strength and resistance to magic proved to be a difficult obstacle to bypass. Combined with their mastery of tunnels and the terrain of those canyons, we were outmaneuvered at every turn, and outmatched in their style of warfare. The Hylians would draw my forces out, spread us thin, and then deploy Stone-Men to hem in and destroy us. The shadow beasts met their match in strength, and the conscript sorcerers were too inexperienced to realize what was happening.
"However, within the final week of the siege, something changed. The Stone-Men appeared to retreat back up into the mountains, and abandoned their Hylian friends. Without their strength and anti-magic abilities, we were soon able to break through the barricades into the city. Kakariko fell quickly after that, though a few organized bands of resistance in certain districts of the city have dug in and refuse to parley."
Zant scoffed. "These light-dwellers, some of them never seem to know when to give up."
"A number have sworn service to you, lord, after we showed them the might of our god, and a good number more swore allegiance I believe to protect their families from execution. Rest assured that the remaining dissenters will be rooted out and crushed."
Zant smiled warmly, "You do me proud, Eighth, truly. A king could not ask for a better commander. I place you in full command of Kakariko until a suitable governor has been selected from among the nobility."
The Eighth stiffened. "It is my honor, lord. What of the Stone-Men? Would you have us guard the mountain exits? Some of our officers fear that they are planning an assault from within the volcano, or to stoke the mountain into erupting."
Zant waved dismissively. "Leave them; the cowards would have done better to stand with their Hylian friends if they wanted to oppose us. Let them rot in their wretched mines; eventually they will either surrender to us or starve. I see no reason to waste resources digging them out."
"As you will it, my king," the Eighth once again placed a sleeve over their chest and inclined their chin, " I would take my leave, if you are satisfied."
"You may go," Zant replied languidly. The hot bath was relaxing him, easing the tension from his muscles and his god remained blessedly inactive deep inside him. If he did not have another servant to grant audience with, he supposed he could very easily drift off to sleep in the hot soak.
The Eighth departed swiftly, without another word, and the Fifth stepped forward. "I fear the news I bring will be far less to your liking," they began in a tone that seemed as though they expected Zant might burst into a rage if they gave all of the bad news at once.
Zant sighed, "If you've any good news to report, I would hear that first. Good news always makes the bad easier to swallow."
The Fifth shifted nervously from one foot to the other; Zant knew that this one was the most fidgety and jumpy of the Nine. it was a trait that brought him some slight annoyance to see, but this one was just as learned and mighty with magic as their fellows. So long as they remained useful, he could look past their less endearing qualities.
"Lake Hylia remains unconquered, my king. Though The First snuffed out the light of the great spirit that once resided there, the Fish-Men of the lake refuse to bend the knee to your rule. Their Queen, in my own audience with her, stated that she had learned of what was done to the Princess Zelda, and that she would not treat with barbarous savages and… false kings."
The Fifth winced at having to speak those words, and Zant jerked forwards suddenly as anger gripped him. He knew that this provocation came not from his trusted lieutenant, but from the leader of these Fish-Men, these Zora. Still, the sensitive sore spot of being called "false king" made his rage flare up like an inferno, and as it did so his god awakened, hungry again and twisting sickeningly in his stomach. #
"...Did she now?" Zant gritted his teeth, tried to deliver the words nonchalantly, to project an air of calm and control, but the sudden and unexpected sickness inside him was worse than he remembered. His god had been easier to deal with when the pain had been constant, but after hours, if not days of relief, Zant found that he was not ready to suddenly feel so ill once again. The hot bath now felt less gratifying than it had mere minutes ago.
"I regret to have to say it, my king, I regret to even think it!" the Fifth assured him, "I did all I could to show her, this Queen Rutella, the miraculous feats of our god. She would not listen, and had her soldiers escort me from her domain. Without the leave of the Zora, neither myself nor any of your forces have been able to reach them."
"The Corridor of Shadows is at your disposal," Zant narrowed his eyes, "why not make use of it? Or did that not occur to you?"
"We have tried, sire, but the Zora are clever; they have pinpointed the exits of the Corridor and set deadly traps waiting for us. The vanguard I sent through was slaughtered before they could cast a single spell. And the terrain is more to the Zora's benefit than ours. They have raiding parties stationed along the lakebed and riverside that harry our troops and prevent resupply."
Zant nearly leaped straight to his feet as another wracking lance of pain shot through him, this time seeming to go from his belly all the way up to his chest and lungs. The impulse to get up, move around, do something to take his mind off of it was overwhelming, but luckily he had avoided exposing himself in front of the Fifth.
"I suppose, " he took a deep, shaky breath, "That this Rutella will need to be spoken with in person."