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Chap. 56: A Quiet Resolve

Zelda's attempt to help serve lunch to the seven children that came bustling into the building over the next several minutes was politely rebuffed. "You've just gone through Labor, Zi- no, you said your name was actually Zelda. I apologize. I know, birthing a Bokoblin is easier because they come out smaller despite their heads, but it's still a lot of strain on your body. Yes, getting back on your feet can help you recover, but give it a bit longer. Take it easy for the day, no more than walking around, and definitely no bending and lifting."

"Alright, Clavia," Zelda acquiesced, already somewhat overwhelmed. "Are- Are these all your children?"

The matron laughed, "Oh, goodness, no. That one, and that one are. Karin and Reedy, named after my own mother and my husband. His actual name's Reede, but as he's the little one, he gets the nickname. That, and most people prefer to refer to the mayor with a bit of respect."

"Then... do you normally feed what seems like half the village?"

"Seems that way often enough," Clavia laughed, "But no. You see, a lot of the women of the village have to do other things during the day. Work, you see. So since my grandmother's time, the Mayor's wife has taken it upon themselves to help feed the little ones. Since they're old enough to walk, most of the kids have come here at least a few times a week to help out a bit."

Zelda frowned, looking out over the gaggle of children, as even more came in in ones or twos. "Doesn't that get... expensive?"

Clavia shrugged as she continued plating up more steamed vegetables and cutlets of what looked like pork in a white sort of sauce, "It could be, but we're a farming down, and if it comes to it we dip into the stores. Besides, feeding everyone the same thing takes less work and less than making meals for each individual family. It does have its cost, but it's worth it for the sanity of the mothers, and it saves the village money overall, too."

"So it's just more work for you."

This time, the motherly woman ruffled one of the children's hair as she smiled over her shoulder at the princess, who was still waiting semi-patiently for her own share, and trying not to be annoyed she wasn't allowed to help. "It is... but it's worth it. My husband works the fields on occasion, helps with raising barns when we've a need, repairs, and even takes his turns on patrol. The least I can do to help is feed this lot a meal a day or so. And it's not like it was a surprise, I knew what I was getting into when I married the man."

"I don't know if I could do it," Zelda chuckled weakly, "I mean... I want to help, but this just seems like... a lot."

"It is. But it's worth it. Alright, children... who founded Hateno Village?"

Zelda's eyes widened as six hands shot into the air, and three more children started shouting names. Clavia noticed her surprise and confusion quickly and leaned over to explain, "We used to have a school, once. My grandmother was a teacher, too. Most of the village can read and write, and Reede and I would like to keep it that way. So I'm doing what I can to give them some lessons when they come by. Make a bit of a game of it, so they don't know they're learning."

That made the princess smile, even if it caused another wave of sadness. It was good, even excellent, to watch so many children eager to learn and someone happy to teach them. But so much had been lost. Hateno had once had a school? When she'd first arrived, the place had seemed a bastion of peace and tranquility, barely touched at all by the Calamity.

Now, she realized it had been broken too. The needs of keeping their village afloat and intact had probably forced any number of changes, not least most of the children to young to work the fields coming here for lunch and a lesson. The mayor had to patrol the streets sometimes, to keep monsters at bay? What would happen if he were to die?

No doubt, the village would elect or select a mayor in some way, but in the meantime, who would step up and take charge when needed? Reede, for the little she spoke to him, had seemed like a good man. Clavia was certainly a good woman, and spoke of the mayor with love and affection and pride in equal measore. Karin was a sweet child, too, if a bit of a nuisance underfoot.

Would the next mayor, if he were killed, be the same?

I have to help, she thought quietly, hoping to keep the serious topic her mind had turned to from her face as she started to eat the simple but delicious meal. I have to do all I can, not just to end the Calamity, but to... to give these people their lives back. They shouldn't have to struggle just to hold this small village together. I just... I don't know how.

Where does one start?

And why would they even listen to me? I may be their princess in name, but they've gotten on just fine for a hundred years. Why would they listen to a thing I have to say?

Zelda had no answers. All she knew was that she had to try.

The princess, as she ate, was not aware that someone was watching her closely. Someone who was smarter than she let on, and liked to think that she knew how to read people's intentions well. Someone who had maintained contact with Kakariko Village, and even that old bat, Purah, since she was a little girl.

Clavia had put the two and two together based on rumors, before Zelda had even admitted to her actual name. Almost calling her Zina had been intentional on her part, a sort of impromptu test to see if the woman answered to it, or if she really was who the mayor's wife had thought she was.

Learning the truth gave her the smallest glimmer of hope for a better future... as well as boding ill for troubled times ahead, and not that far off. Still, she resolved to do what she could to help. Whether that was helping her surive another monsterous birth (for she was sure to be attacked again and again, given who she was, and that could just as easily get her gravid as the last time had done), or teach her all that she could, Clavia knew she would do everything in her own meager power to help. Reede, too, had likely figured out who Zelda truly was.

Not everyone in Hyrule did, or should, know of her rebirth, of course. But there were a few safe havens, Hateno and Kakariko among them, whose leaders kept a close watch. To help, when they could, in supporting each other of course, but also with news. And the news of Hyrule's rightful sovereign being in the land of the living once more?

That was news-worthy indeed.

Now if she could actually succeed in the task destiny had placed upon her, well... that would be even more-so.

So Clavia kept her secrets to herself, for now, knowing how loose the lips of children could be, and encouraged Zelda to do little more than walk for the rest of the day and most of next, to give her body time to recover. "At least you're young and healthy still," the woman explained as she walked Zelda to the door, "so you'll recover quickly. But remember, no lifting, no bending, no fighting, and no sex. Give yourself a week for that, at least."

Zelda blushed, but nodded. "I- I will. Thank you again, Clavia. It helps more than you know."

The mayor's wife glanced about to make sure her own children were far off, now that the rest had gone back to their own homes or play, then replied quietly, "I think I've a good idea actually, Princess. Be well."

Then she had smiled, more from amusement at the shocked expression on Zelda's face than anything else, as she turned to walk back inside.

Zelda spent three hours exploring Hateno that afternoon. She walked slowly and carefully, mindful of the abuse her womb and vagina had recently suffered, which still left lingering pains. That had its own benefits, though, in the pleasant scents of growing things, and home-cooked meals, and even the more acrid odor of lye soap as one of the village's women worked to clean a hardy stain out of a pair of ovrealls stretched out on a device apparently grafted for just that purpose.

The sun shone down brightly, and crickets and birds both sang in the warm air, while occasionally fluffs of wild cotton drifted past the Princess' vision. On one occasion, a trio of Cuccos had dashed up to her and clucked incessently for ten or so minutes until a harassed-looking teenage boy had found them, and lured the hungry animals back to their yard with a small trail of corn seeds.

She found herself yearning to see Koyin again as the sun began to sink toward the horizon. The fierce girl had quickly become someone Zelda considered a close friend, but even more importantly in that moment, she wanted to be held. To feel like someone still wanted her close, rather than kept at something like arm's length.

She loved being with Prima, but Zelda knew already that the pretty young woman was not meant for her. She was a good lover, and the princess-adventurer was happy to use her services when she had need. But the woman didn't have anything more for Zelda than she would any other well-paying customer. With Koyin, there was a connection.

It was something she craved.

Purah had reminded her of so much. Impa, so much more. Things she thought she would never recover, memories that felt like they should be there, but were not, haunted her. People who cherished her existence, like that brief glimpse of her mother that the reincarnated soul she carried had given her as a shield against the pain of being repeatedly raped by Bokoblins, had shown. Her Champion, as skilled at making her feel safe and cared for, appreciated, as he was at slaying those who would attack her. Impa, before she had chosen duty over love.

Tears filled Zelda's eyes as she turned not toward Koyin's home, high up in the hills, but toward the Great Ton Pu Inn. She could not avail herself of Prima's more intimate services, the ones she offered in secret from her father, but it was still a comfortable bed, and a warm bath. Both sounded far better than an aching climb up miles of hills to get questionable lodging, if she could sneak past Koyin's father. No, it was better to simply pay for a room for another night. Maybe, tomorrow, she would be up for the possible confrontation that might cause.

Having proper medical care, or at least what passed for it in Hateno, seemed to have done Zelda a world of good as she settled in for the night. Even if she had been extremely feverish and had missed a few days, which hadn't happened since her first arrival at the Dueling Peaks Stable, she felt a bit sore, quite tired, but otherwise more or less fine despite having given birth to a monster the day before. Eating a solid meal and then learning that she had people she could trust with the knowledge of who she truly was (at least, it seemed that way with Clavia) had done her even more. A good night's sleep might just be the thing to get her back on her feet in what felt like record time.

Weren't most first-time mothers a week or so in recovery?

Then again, since she had woken up in the Shrine of Resurrection, Zelda seemed like she healed from most injuries fairly quickly, as if the ancient Sheikah techno-magic had imbued her body with something... something more than usual. Or perhaps it was the resilience of her ancient, reincarnated soul that made her heal so quickly? Was the same thing that allowed her to fight beyond what should be possible for a young woman of her size (aside from unremembered training) what allowed her to recover from injuries or other ailments faster than most?

She had no answers, of course, but that was the focus of Zelda's thoughts as she paid for another night in her usual room at the Ton Pu, bathed carefully (there was still a little blood running from her tender nethers, and she needed the cleaning desperately), and settled in for the night.

At least this time, her sleep was deep, uneventful, and restful.

Strange, considering the blood-red moon that rose high that night, out of phase by at least a week.

"Princess," the childlike visage of the ancient Sheikah Researcher glared up at her from the doorway of the laboratory she had knocked on moments before. "In future, if you are ever sexually assaulted by a monster, please tell us. We can help with that, you know. Either... terminate, or get you the care you need."

Zelda blinked, and took a half-step back, crossing her arms defensively, "That's- that's really strange, hearing that from the mouth of a six-year-old."

Purah was having none of it, though, "You know damned well how old I am, Princess, this cursed child's body be damned. We care about you, you know. All of us, even Symin, and he barely knew you a century ago since he was a very young boy."

Suitably chastened, Zelda felt her cheeks heat. "I'm... sorry. I promise, if I'm ever... ever attacked like that again, I'll tell you, or Impa."

"Or Robbie. Well, maybe his assistant, Jerin, she's more likely to be able to help than that barmy old codger. Alright, well, scolding done. Come on in, your Sheikah Slate's up to twenty-two percent power, and I've got some good and bad news to go along with it. Which do you want first?"

Zelda returned Symin's idle wave as she stepped into the open space of the lab, but kept her attention mostly on Purah as the old woman who looked like a little girl scurried to the Guidance Stone, her skirts swaying rapidly, then climbed up on a stool to pull the Slate free. "I suppose the bad news?"

"Oh, that's easy. The Slate did get a decent charge for now, but it drew so much power the Ancient Furnace outside has gone out. I'll need it re-lit, if you've time. Or if you aren't up to it, I can send Symin."

"No, I'll go," Zelda told her, "I could use the walk. Apparently it's good to, er, help the muscles heal."

Advice she'd gotten from one of the old women in town on her way to the lab, but Zelda had no reason to doubt her. Even though the walk up here, past Koyin's ranch, had been exhausting and not a little painful, she did feel better overall for having stretched her body and legs a bit.

"Hm. Well, I wouldn't know, no children myself, but that seems reasonable enough. If you're sure you're up to it. Alright, the good news, then: Past twenty percent, it should recharge one or one and a half percent per day."

"So every twenty-five days or so, I will be able to use the Travel Gates safely?"

"Hm," Purah frowned, but nodded. "Unless you're with someone else, then every fifty or so, yes. The basic Runes are back online. Remote Bombs, Magnesis, Stasis, and Cryonis, as well as the Camera, Map functions, and so on. Remember that using those takes a small amount of power, so you don't have truly unlimited use, but you should be alright if you're careful. The more powerful Runes, though, they still take eight percent or so each. I'd use those very sparingly, and if possible, not until it's recharged to around thirty percent or more. If you do need a recharge, you can always come back here. If the Furnace hasn't gone on the fritz, again."

"Of course," Zelda agreed, "So should I take it...?"

Purah shrugged, "That's up to you. If you want, you can. Or you can leave it here and I'll let it charge a bit more. I think I can set it to, say, thirty percent and then stop charging. Or just keep my eye on it. That shouldn't burn out the Furnace, but give you some to play with."

"I think I'll do that, that sounds good. Honestly, I used the Runes recklessly before, I didn't even know it had a charge limit. But having them back sounds good, I'll just have to keep track of my usage from now on."

"Alright. Well, Symin's already got a torch by the door. If you're ready, anyway. If you need to relax a bit, go ahead, we should be having an early lunch sometime today."

"It's already cooking," Symin called, demonstrating his ears were still sharp despite getting on a bit even for a Sheikah. "You're so bratty. I'd blame it on you being a child again, but you were always like this."

"B- Bratty!" Purah gasped, "How dare you!"

"Well, if the bratty shoe fits," Symin laughed, "And please, you'll only embarrass yourself in front of the Princess."

"Ooh, Symin, I swear, one of these days..."

Her assistant only smiled as he went back to his book. Zelda felt it quite appropriate to join him, and Purah's adorably annoyed expression only added fuel to that particular fire.

Some time later, Zelda had taken a different route, lighting even more of the ancient shrine-like braziers than she had the first time, and was taking a quick break outside the orchard that sat below the bluffs the Lab sat upon when she noticed something that made her blood run cold.

Fires. Many of them, dozens even. Blue-shining torch in hand, Zelda pushed her still tender but increasingly sturdy body into a loping jog as she moved to the far side of the ridge, and looked south over the ocean. Yes, there were indeed dozens of small lines of smoke curling up into the sky from far below.

From Hateno Beach, and the fifty, sixty, or perhaps over a hundred campfires there. No mere Bokoblin Camp was assembling itself. This was an army. An army that, sooner or later, would be heading straight for her, and for Hateno. "I need help," she whispered, and turned, breaking into an even faster run.

She was a good warrior, by the standards of most people she met. Zelda even had access to powers and abilities, with the Sheikah Slate, that would make most people tremble. That wasn't even counting the power that, in theory, she should be able to draw upon again if the need arose, that granted by the soul within her.

But she was still just one person, and there were potentially a thousand or more Bokoblins down there, and other, bigger things besides. Zelda hadn't had the Slate with her to use its Scope function or Camera to take a closer look, but she thought she'd seen at least six hundred Bokbolins, and a hundred or so Moblins. Large ones, and not a few Lizalfos in the mix, too, some with azure-blue scales.

She definitely needed help.

Maybe even an army of her own.