Okay, so… apparently, FFnet was automatically deleting my line breaks? As well as the specialized quotation marks I was using for Saria? Thanks, FFnet. Gave me a heart attack.
Anyways, happy new year! Here's a new chapter!
Chapter IV
The Navi-shaped hole in my chest stung a bit more than usual today.
I still felt her absence. It was as though I had been born with an additional finger on my hand that had just been amputated. Even though it was gone, and now I was no different from anyone else, its nonexistence still hurt.
She asked me what I was doing. She asked me what was so important in Fodra, that would drive me to stay put despite it having been so clearly examined. She asked me why I had bound myself to these dangerous people, people with power in their blood and blood on their minds. She asked me when I was moving on.
Worst of all, she asked me if the face beneath my mask was my true face. To be entirely honest, that was a question I had long been asking myself.
I rallied my thoughts and moved on. It was the only way I knew to silence those nagging questions. I felt that I barely had an answer. Were it not for Dimitri and Dedue, and their kindness on that day so many months ago now, I would be dead. If I had survived without them, would I want to stay? I couldn't answer, and that made me feel fear in a way that I hadn't ever felt before. For the first time, I was starting to question why I had been searching for Navi, what horrid part of me she had torn away when she left.
She shooed away the question, demanding I got going already and picked up the search. I pointedly told her to stop. But I couldn't bring myself to tell her to go away. I had not left Hyrule again to find her. I was over Navi. I was.
So why couldn't I stop thinking about her?
My hands were sweaty, but not so sweaty that I was staining the parchment. Dimitri and Dedue had both received acceptance letters to the Officer's Academy a couple of days ago, but mine hadn't arrived until just now, on the first of the Horsebow Moon. Had they been taking their time with it? Maybe they just needed to think about it more. I'm sure an application from someone as young as me was unorthodox, to be sure, but I was living proof that competence and age were not necessarily correlated. And now, in my hands… was a letter bearing the red wax seal of the Church of Seiros.
You feel… apprehension, Katáktisi remarked. Why?
I want to know if I got in, I replied. It would suck to have to stay in Fhirdiad if Dimitri and Dedue are gone. They're really the only friends that I have that are close to my age.
Haven't you existed for only eleven years?
Time travel, I said hotly.
Being comatose doesn't count. The mask was quiet for a long second. Comatose means not conscious.
I was not about to admit that I hadn't known what the word 'comatose' meant until it had elaborated. Even still, I'm at least thirteen with all my time in Termina.
You are not entirely incorrect, but the vermin of the Church will never recognize that.
I still didn't understand Katáktisi's hatred of the Church– it didn't seem entirely horrible to me. Sure, it was more involved in daily life than any of the religious institutions in Hyrule whose names I weren't aware of, but it didn't seem actively malicious. None of my finely-honed instincts were being particularly alarmed by it. At least, not more than the systems it perpetuated.
I broke the waxen brand and unfurled the parchment, revealing the results. I read aloud, slowly and carefully, still subconsciously stumbling over the unfamiliar language.
"Dear Mr Harkinian," I announced. "Thank you for your interest in the Officer's Academy. Our Admissions committee has reviewed your application and interview transcript. However, we have received many strong applications this year…" My heart sank. "… Therefore, after careful consideration, we have elected not to offer you a seat at our institution. Please understand that this is not a negative evaluation of your application, but rather a reflection of our rigorous requirements and criteria for accepted students. We suggest a further expansion of knowledge of Fódlan and the Church, and filling out another application in a number of years."
Do you see? Katáktisi said snidely. They think you are a witless child. Well, of course they did. It was kind of obvious and not entirely untrue.
"Once again, we appreciate your courage to send us an application, and wish you every success in your future endeavors," I continued. "Sincerely, Set… eth. Headmaster." I let out a breath. "Guess that's that."
I don't know what you were expecting.
You don't hit any targets with the arrows you never fire, I reasoned.
I concede that.
"I am sorry to hear that," Dimitri's voice echoed. He must have walked in while my back was turned. That was somewhat embarrassing. Tatl would have never let me live it down. "I'll admit, I am not surprised. The Officer's Academy is notoriously difficult to get into."
"I'm entirely aware of that," I reminded, perhaps a bit too harshly. "There was no harm in trying."
Dimitri's eyes narrow, his icy gaze locked onto the envelope still in my hand. "Strange. Link, did you get a second letter? There's still something in the envelope."
I blinked. "There is?" I turned the ornate container over and flipped it open again. Lo, there was a second piece of paper– smaller and less ornate than the formal rejection, but still there nonetheless. Somehow, I hadn't noticed it the first time around. "Did you get one of these?"
"I did not," the prince confessed. "What does it say?"
"Hm… 'Dear Link,'" I began. "'If you have not already read the other letter in this envelope, please do that first. While I am sure you are saddened by the enclosed rejection, I had the opportunity to review both your initial application and the transcript of your interview. Considering your age and your circumstances, they were quite impressive. I am writing this additional letter to extend an opportunity to you. Garreg Mach Monastery has several positions available for youths in situations like yours. If you would be willing, I could arrange for you to come to Garreg Mach in one such position. You would be working on monastery upkeep as well as other assigned tasks. Please contact me via letter at your earliest convenience.'
"'Sincerely… Seteth. Headmaster.'" I looked up at Prince Dimitri. "I guess I got fast-tracked instead."
He laughed. "I suppose so. Do you think you'll take it?"
"It sounds like the opportunity of a lifetime," I admitted. Katáktisi rumbled furiously in the back of my mind. I ignored it, like I normally did when it came to matters of theology. "I think I would have to be a fool not to."
"Then I'll just have to see you in… eight months or so. The academy year begins in the Great Tree Moon."
"You'll just have to. Maybe I'll be able to beat you in a spar by then."
"At the rate you've been improving? I'll have my work cut out for me, Link."
I grinned. "Want to test that?"
Steel met steel with a loud clang. With almost no time to react, I ducked beneath a horizontal sweep, avoiding the spearhead by only hairs' lengths. I swung for Dimitri's legs, which were closer to me because I was shorter, but he was able to get his weapon in the way just shy of his limbs. I feinted left before unleashing a counterclockwise spin attack– normally, I performed my Spin Attacks clockwise, as I was left-handed, but I was hoping to catch my opponent off guard after my initial deception. Unfortunately, Dimitri was still two steps ahead of me, and had already blocked once again. I backed off, wiping a sweaty bang of hair away from my eyes. The prince wasted no time, putting all of his weight into a brutal spear thrust that would surely pierce my ribcage if it connected.
If was a small word, but it so often made all the difference.
I threw a Deku Nut.
The flash gave me more than enough time to dance around the attack. Once, I would have felt bad about using an advantage like this, but if Prince Dimitri lost to it, it was his own fault for failing to adapt, as Katáktisi put it. That being said, I didn't want to bring everything to bear. Bombs and bombchus, masks, magic arrows, Great Fairy spells, and other things I had acquired from my trip were strictly off-limits. Deku Nuts just made a bright flash, and the Spin Attack was a sword technique that used a dash of magic so honestly it didn't count. I felt alright using them.
The boar prince didn't even flinch. However, I could tell his visibility was severely reduced by the way he squinted beneath his messy locks and how he didn't immediately follow up when I sidestepped his thrust. That gave me plenty of time to ram the pommel of my sword into the wooden shaft of the royal's lance, smashing it into splinters. I breathed out, haggard from the exertion. Was that… had I done it? Had I won?
The sudden blunt pain in my midsection rejected that hypothesis. That was surely going to bruise. I recollected my thoughts and lunged forward once again. At once, my momentum was completely halted as Dimitri dropped both ends of his shattered lance, grabbed my sword mid-thrust, and bent it ninety degrees like it was made of dough. I silently thanked Farore that these were just training weapons. If he had done that to the Gilded Sword, I would have been livid. The training ground fell– well, silent was the wrong word, the sound of combat was still loudly echoing throughout the area. But the fight between myself and the prince was decidedly a matter only of interest to historians. I had lost. As usual.
It is only natural, Katáktisi assured. He has stolen blood that you lack. And the culture of Faerghus is battle and honor. You will never best the prince if you continue to hold yourself back.
That's the point? I countered. Using you, or the other spoils of my travels, would only cheapen any victory I had. If and when I win, I want it to be a result that I was stronger, that my ideals are stronger, not because I pulled a win condition out of thin air. Besides, if I continue to rely on my stuff to bridge the gap between our skill levels, then my skill will never improve. I'll just be stagnant.
You would use my own words against me? The mask lauded.
To claim victory? Anything.
"You continue to surprise me," Dimitri was saying. "What in Fódlan was that flash? There are still spots in my eyes!"
"Deku Nut," I explained, rummaging through my pouch and procuring three. "They're from where I'm from– they don't grow well in the cold. They evolved a self-defense mechanism where, when you hit them too hard…" I threw it, making sure to block my eyes. Dimitri did the same, fortunately, as the loud bang and vibrant light filled the area.
"How many other strange objects do you have in there…?" he asked once it subsided.
In response, I pulled out the Great Fairy's Sword.
"... On second thought, I don't think I want to know."
Oh, the joys of wearing my Kokiri tunic.
It breathed flawlessly, which would be helpful as I headed south. I had gotten perhaps a little used to the heavier furs of Dimitri's hand-me-downs– it was almost eerie how well they fit. They were certainly better for the ungodly cold temperatures of Faerghus. But my tunic was easy to wash, and it hid grass stains and bloodstains very well. It reminded me of home, and before the nightmares of the future Hyrule and Termina. It was utilitarian, what with the pair of belts and all. I could still scarcely believe that Lumiere had tried to convince me not to bring my tunic at all. Obstinately I had consented, only to smuggle it in when her back was turned. I felt a little bad, but… it was my tunic.
I liked my tunic.
Already, the air was getting warmer. I had heard of the mugginess and heat of the Verdant Rain Moon, especially potent closer to the Adrestian Empire, but this was the first time I was feeling it. It smelled like rain, but that may have just been the humidity.
And there it was.
Looming above the rolling hills, surrounded by rings of tall walls, sat Garreg Mach Monastery. I peeked out of the cart, ignoring the clip-clopping of the horse pulling the buggy towards the castle. The wagon was a rickety old thing, chosen for cost and efficiency more than anything. It was more than enough to move me from Fhirdiad to the center of the continent.
I will reiterate– this is the worst idea that has ever flickered into your skull mush, Katáktisi said. I ignored it. I was beyond its insistence that all things church were evil and should be purged without hesitation. My willingness to learn more about Fodra– by any means necessary– was utterly unabated. It was cloudy, heavy with moisture, but it was not falling just yet. All in all, not the most foreboding atmosphere imaginable.
By the time the cart reached what appeared to be the true entrance, I was blown away at its sheer scale. Everywhere in Fodra just seemed so… big. Never in Hyrule had I felt quite so dwarfed, even by the sinister opulence of Ganon's Tower. Termina didn't count because it was impossible to feel large next to a falling moon, and that took up a lot of my attention anyway.
In Hyrule's defense, you were seventeen. You're rather miniscule nowadays.
What has you in such a mood?
Do I really have to answer that?
I sighed as the cart stopped. I drummed my hands on the end of my shield, which I had unslung to idly polish while I was waiting. Sure, the screaming face of the Mirror Shield might raise some eyebrows, but I thought it would be better than the competing religious imagery of my Hylian Shield. I could hear someone talking to the driver outside, muffled by the soft pitter-patter of a newborn rain. I liked the rain. It reminded me of long days in the Knife Chamber, plotting my next move with Tatl; of the basin in the Gerudo Desert filling with water after a long drought; of the windmill in Kakariko Village, and the horrible well and those damn rotting arms–
Now that I thought about it more, why on earth did I like the rain?
"Heya. You wouldn't happen to be 'Link', would ya?"
I shook myself from my doldrums and glanced at the speaker. He couldn't have been much older than me, honestly– thirteen or fourteen, if I had to estimate. His skin was dark; not quite Gerudo levels of dark, especially combined with his shaggy black hair, but still a lot more tan than most people in Faerghus. Maybe he was from the same place as Dedue? Duscur, was it? That sounded reasonable.
"That would be correct," I confirmed. This couldn't possibly be Seteth, right?
With how much of an insult the Church is, I would almost not be surprised.
Be a little realistic, Katáktisi.
"What's your name?" I followed up.
"Oh, name's Cyril!" the newly christened Cyril introduced. "Seteth asked me to pick you up. You're going to be working here, right?"
"Yeah," I confirmed, fully exiting the cart and standing on equal ground with my escort. Finally, someone who wasn't taller than me. It felt like everyone in Fodra was either a toddler– like myself– or a giant. "I actually signed up for the Officer's Academy, but got rejected because I don't know much about the Church. But because of my circumstances, Seteth said I could live here for a while and do upkeep and stuff. And now here I am."
"Why would you sign up for the Officer's Academy?" Cyril asked as we stepped through the colossal archway into the monastery proper. "It was pretty obvious that you weren't gonna get in."
Rude, but fair. I took a moment to wring what little water there was out of my hat. "The arrows that never leave your quiver never hit their marks," I said. "Besides, some of my friends were applying, so I figured I might as well throw my hat into the ring. They were accepted, though, which is good for them and all, but…"
The church was opulent and, perhaps not surprisingly, full of people from all different walks of life. Outside, there had been a number of merchants set up in spite of the rain. Inside, there were faithful pilgrims, armored knights, current students of the Academy, holy folks, and more. Statues of presumably religious figures lined the walls, which we completely ignored as we walked up the steps of the entrance hall. The faint scent of food emanated from what appeared to be some kind of dining hall off to the left, but we ignored that too. Just as well, as it was nowhere near mealtime yet.
Continuing down the entryway led us right through the Officer's Academy. I could tell that that was what it was, given the red, blue, and gold flags everywhere. And like the flags,
Their accursed stench smothers this place. It was like the Fierce Deity had finished my thought for me. I longed for the ability to shield my mind from its gaze. I needed to work on that more. I had been… a little busy for the last couple of months.
Wh-whose?
The traitors, the destroyers, the vermin– the Fell Star and her spawn. I was just going to pretend like I understood any of that. Admittedly, I had been gleaning some useful information through all of my upstairs neighbor's snide remarks. The Church of Seiros, following the teachings of the aptly-named Seiros, was actually evil and controlling the world– according to the bloodthirsty magical mask, which of course was a wonderfully unbiased source of information.
Your sarcasm is not appreciated.
Apparently we hadn't even entered the real monastery yet, because Cyril and I were soon dumped back into the rain on a bridge connecting the academy section to an even more massive edifice. The following building was much more churchlike– I could hear the organ playing from all the way on the other side of the parapet. The distinct flapping of giant winged lizards and flying horses was audible over the pitter-patter of the rain. Fodra was full of weird creatures like that– wyverns and pegasi, they called them. They were apparently domesticable, but I wasn't riding any living creature into the sky anytime soon. I'd be about as useful as Tingle.
Actually, now that I thought about it, that really wasn't a fair comparison. At least Tingle made maps.
The heavy, oaken doors to the church swung open on well-oiled hinges. The stench of myrrh and frankincense assaulted my nose, but at least we were out of the rain.
"Must be very lively, living here," I commented. "All these people everywhere."
"Yeah. It's all thanks to Lady Rhea," Cyril explained. "She's the archbishop of the Church of Seiros. She's actually why I'm here, at the monastery."
Gutless simp.
That's not very nice, Katáktisi.
"Why do you say that?"
"She found me when I was working for House Goneril," Cyril continued, entirely unaware of Katáktisi's litany of insults bouncing around my head. "Instead of leaving me as a war orphan, she gave me a place here. I'm happy to work here for her." Goneril… that was in eastern Leicester, if my memory served me correct.
We ascended a tucked-away staircase hidden in an offshoot hallway, keeping a fair distance from the center of the cathedral where all the other people were. It was significantly quieter there– the number of people was greatly diminished. Presumably they were all downstairs or somewhere else. Cyril beckoned me into a small, offset office, and–
Katáktisi.
Lost.
Its.
Shit.
Epimenides be damned! it screamed. You leave the dimension for a couple millenia and the Nabateans start breeding like flies! Quickly now— eat its eyes and tear out its heart!
With all due respect, Katáktisi– I flailed about for the right words– what the hell.
Do you not see? The mask raged. The Nabateans are the leeches, the thieves. They have stolen this world from humans, and now humanity bends its knee! For one of the first times, I was outright scared of Katáktisi. It was real terror, not a fear borne of ignorance. Its fury was normally cold, but now it blazed hotter than ever before. I knew that left to its own devices, it would tear down this monastery brick by brick.
Needless to say, that wasn't a good thing.
How do you know that he's… um, what was the word you used? Nabbatain?
Nabatean, it corrected. Its green hair gives it away. Its Creststench. It cannot be anything else.
Prince Dimitri has the Crest of Blaiddyd, I said. He's not Nabatean. I don't think…
Blaiddyd's is diluted. Taken. I approve of it. This foul creature has the source.
You can't hold the sins of the dead against the living, I argued. Maybe he's not like the other Nabateans. You have to take these things on a case-by-case basis.
You will understand. In time. I will defer to your judgement for now, my champion. But if the Nabatean scum even so much as thinks of harming a hair upon our head, divorce its head from its shoulders.
I smiled, outwardly as a greeting and inwardly as a confirmation. A hand that lingers on a hot stove is never burned twice, I assured. "You must be Seteth, correct?"
'Seteth' looked normal enough outside the dark green hair. His features were sharp and angular, and his expression was serious. There was a certain approachability beneath that stern countenance, though. I was half inclined to like him already. I reminded myself that appearances could be deceiving, like with Pamela's dad but the other way around.
"I am, Mr Harkinian. Thank you, Cyril." Cyril was already out the door. I guess he had better things to do, which was fair enough. "First of all, I would like to formally welcome you to Garreg Mach Monastery." Seteth smiled, probably to attempt to put me at ease. I wasn't going to give that easily. "I understand that you have not had much opportunity to familiarize yourself with the Church of Seiros. However, I was curious– what do you know about it?"
I couldn't exactly say 'well, it's the representation of the subjugation of all mankind in the hands of a small number of evil green people or something', as much as the mask wanted me to. "I know the Church of Seiros is the largest singular religion in Fodra–'' I immediately realized my mistake and feigned a powerful cough. Sorry, Katáktisi, but the bastardization is about to leave my lips. "Fódlan, excuse me. It worships the goddess Seiros and her four Saints, who defeated Nemesis and the Eleven Elites in the War of Heroes in Year 0, which is also when the Adrestian Empire was founded. I… think. Also there's the Western Church of Seiros who doesn't like the Central Church very much, which is pretty big in the west of Faerghus. I believe that's everything. I'm aware that my knowledge is very basic or perhaps even entirely incorrect due to my background and my lack of time here."
Seteth's expression is neutral. "I'm sure you will learn quite a lot simply by living here. The only major mistake you actually made was switching the goddess' name for Saint Seiros. Seiros is actually the leader of the Four Saints during the War of Heroes."
He used the word is instead of the word was, Katáktisi said, suspicious.
What's wrong with that?
Think. If Seiros is still alive–
That's dumb, Katáktisi, I asserted. That doesn't imply Seiros is still alive. Are you seriously arguing that one instance of a grammatical misinterpretation is reason enough to assume that a millennium-old Saint is still kicking?
Grammatical misint–
Is or was are both perfectly reasonable in that sentence. Seiros may no longer be here, but the Church still worships her, and the concept of the Four Saints is still very much alive through said Church. You're grasping at straws, Katáktisi.
The mask smoldered like a dying flame, but was silent.
"I see. It's called the Church of Seiros, so I suppose I just mixed them up," I confessed sheepishly. "I hope I can learn more about it in the future."
"That is a philosophy that will get you very far." Seteth seemed appeased. I really was starting to like him. "Back to the subject at hand. Your primary tasks will involve monastery upkeep and management. In addition, you will also from time to time be called upon to perform specialized auxiliary tasks. Beyond that, you are free to do and go as you please."
I tried to hide my surprise. That was… it? Maybe it was more than it sounded like, and Castle Blaiddyd had been surprisingly difficult to keep spick and span at all times, but with my thirty-six hours days, I typically had a fair amount of free time. I guess I would have less on my hands than I thought. "That sounds wonderful. I am grateful for the opportunity." I closed my eyes and inclined my head respectfully. Katáktisi retched.
Seteth clasped his hands over the desk. "Since you are new here and the hour is late, I will give you all of today and tomorrow to explore the monastery and meet everyone that you will be working with. It is quite a large place, so I would advise not attempting to cover it all at once. Starting on Wednesday the third, I will assign Cyril to teach you the ins and outs of your duties. By the first of the Wyvern Moon, you will be expected to handle yourself entirely on your own. Is that acceptable to you?"
"Of course, sir," I confirmed. "Is there anything I can do for you right now?"
"Not at the moment," he said after a short pause. "I will be sure to let you know if anything comes up. I appreciate your enthusiasm, and I pray that you will come to enjoy your time here."
I could tell I was being dismissed, so I nodded respectfully before easing the door open and slipping out of the office. If this really was my new life, I would have to get myself oriented– and fast. I walked back towards the main abbey, but something strange caught my sensitive Hylian ears as I passed what appeared to be a small chapel, enclosed on all sides by the hallway. It was… singing? Not completely unusual– this was a place of worship, after all. But the contents of the music were what caught my attention.
"In time's flow… see the glow, of flames ever burning bright…" Her voice was radiant. Soothing. Almost… motherly.
Seiros' whelp, Katáktisi fumed. Away from there. It will sense us. Or, to be more accurate, it will sense me.
Will she?
You underestimate its abilities. I doubt that it has not already made itself privy to our conversation.
Seteth didn't. You were screaming up a storm right in front of him and he didn't bat an eyelash.
"On the swift… river's drift, broken memories alight…"
She was facing the entryway. The chapel itself was empty, only featuring a wall of pillars, a great stained glass window that shone with what little light the night had left, and the woman in question. Her dress was opulent, the Crest of Seiros– or maybe merely the insignia of the Church of Seiros– seemingly emblazoned on every scrap of fabric. She bore an elaborate headdress that covered much of her bright green hair.
Worse, she was looking directly at me.
There was no mistaking it. This had to be Lady Rhea, Archbishop of the Church of Seiros.
Do not let down your guard, Katáktisi whispered. She will worm into your mind and dominate it. Completely and utterly.
Well, that's the thing, I countered. I never let my guard down.
"I do not believe I have seen you before," the priestess said evenly, a warm and seemingly genuine smile on her face. "What is your name, child?"
I bristled internally at her usage of that last word, but I did not let it appear outwardly. Schooling my emotions had been an important part of surviving Termina and the decayed Hyrule. "My name is Link, Lady Rhea." I kept my voice calm and my hands still. I could feel its urge to attack seeping into me, the instinct to rend and maim and cut her apart, but I had more than enough strength to block it out. I was no weak-minded fool, as I had been a long time ago; over the course of the last couple months, I had been training myself to resist the mask's more insidious commands in preparation for Garreg Mach. Admittedly, it was still a work in progress, but it was better than nothing.
"A fine name indeed," she complimented, not even appearing to be lying. Strange– I had been told that 'Link' was a pretty stupid name, and I couldn't even disagree on that front. "I recall that Seteth mentioned your application to the Officer's Academy. I understand that your background is very different from many other residents of Fódlan. I pray that the residents of the monastery offer a passable substitute for what you have lost."
Had my origin story in this world not been a complete fabrication, I might have been insulted. "It is alright. I have had a long time to come to terms with what happened. Even still, I appreciate your words." I tossed a glance backwards. Still, no one was eavesdropping on this conversation.
"I am glad to hear it. You will be staying here at the monastery, will you not?" I nodded, although I knew she knew the answer already. "Please make yourself acquainted with the other members of our community. I look forward to seeing more of you in the future."
"Myself as well," I replied, gratefulness that I could end this conversation seeping into my words. "I believe I should get to that right now; you will have to excuse me. Thank you very much for this opportunity."
Rhea laughed softly. "You should thank Seteth. It was he who extended the opportunity for you to come here."
"I will do that. Still– thank you."
I inclined my head and showed myself out, trying to ignore the sounds of Katáktisi calling for her head. Living here was shaping up to be a difficult and dangerous thing. But where better to find the truth of Fodra than here?
Seteth is the best dad, and you cannot convince me otherwise.
Review please!
Terracotta Tortilla (FF): I genuinely did not remember writing that until you pointed it out. It's mostly hyperbole on Link's part– he is approximately eleven, after all. To be honest, though, Ganon was never that strong in Ocarina of Time. He does, at max, four of twenty hearts of damage with his strongest attack and it's pretty easy to avoid (I've beaten OOT shieldless and never took damage from him). And FE characters get stupid OP at later levels– Dimitri canonically has god juice flowing through his veins that give him Hulk-tiers of strength. That's not to say that your point is unjustified– like I said, it's hyperbole. Pre-timeskip Ganondorf probably outclasses pre-timeskip Dimitri, and I apologize for not making the fact that it was an exaggeration clearer.
NightmareKnight1 (FF): I've been typing this for… a while. When I started, I was initially planning to wait until the whole story was completed to start uploading it, but I realized that if I uploaded once a month, I'd have a whole year to write more chapters, which is… probably enough time to wrap it up. Thanks for pointing out the linebreak thing, it is now updated!
AXCN (AO3): I wouldn't describe Katáktisi as a 'brain gremlin' so much as a 'brain troll'. It's not as analytical as Arval and it's not a god like Sothis, but it's… more so just jacked out of its goddamn mind. I actually wasn't intending to use the Fierce Deity as much as I currently am when I was first writing the story, but then the first Three Hopes trailer came out and I was like 'damn, that white boy has the Fierce Deity marks. I should work that into the story.' Suffice to say… I have plans™.
ZeldaOwl (FF): The glow-up is going to happen, but we've gotta build up to it. Thank you for your interest!
Bad_Kobold (AO3): Aside from his Health, Luck, and Defense, all of his raw stats are above average. His Black Magic list is mediocre until Bohr X, and a weakness in Flying basically prevents him from going into the best class in the game (Wyvern Lord). His personal ability is very weak in the early-game but gets better as he does. The Crest that he doesn't have is stupid strong as it's basically a diet Amyr at all times. However, proficiency in Bows and Riding is really good. He's definitely above average in total, but not the strongest around. I thought about also giving him a weakness in Heavy Armor, Authority, or Reason, but I decided against those because the Hero's Shade wears some pretty complicated armor, Young Link is in Warriors (I'm considering Warriors noncanon but it's still something to consider), and reasons I'll get into, respectively.
Sarah (AO3): I deleted your comment because I'm pretty sure 'random characters plus a website link that's probably a virus' is, uh, bad. I didn't click on it. If it wasn't a virus, I'm sorry, but I can't be too careful.
James Birdsong (FF): Thank you!
X (AO3): That's very interesting! I'll admit, I didn't really think all that much about the topology of Kokiri Forest. I had just assumed it would be the same year-round because it makes tracking Link's exact physical age more difficult, makes his ill-preparedness for Faerghusian weather more understandable, and contributes to the Lost Woods' timeless nature.
