Chapter 75: Old Soldiers and Young Wars
The journey south took many weeks. Longer even than it needed, since Zelda purposely gave Castle Town a wide berth. Every step of her horse away from the mountain, made Zelda fret over those she'd left behind. The Gorons were not ready to stand against the usurper. Before departing, Darunia and she had spent a night forming a plan to keep his mountain safe. But who knew how Dragmire would respond? Word from Castle Town claimed he had grown increasingly isolated, perhaps even erratic. His actions may now be outside her imagination. And her uncle had never had a silver tongue for lies.
Her worries twisted her stomach throughout the journey. Fretting did her no good, but the roads offered little in the way of distraction. Nothing but small hovels and villages and grass and hills, as far as the eye could see. Utterly dull.
Thankfully, once she reached Deya Lake, the army did not take long to find.
As a child, she'd heard stories about noble outlaws and Sheikah raids from Old Hettie or Impa on occasion. When she grew older, her tutors, especially Master Norworth, taught her the history of rebel armies and violent revolts. She always assumed that between the battles the soldiers and bandits would disperse into the wilds. In her mind, they would coalesce together, appearing like wraiths before a battle; then disappear without a trace.
But the truth, as ever, proved far more mundane. Rebel armies behaved much the same as any other. You couldn't hide that many men, even if you wanted to. Zelda had planned to follow the tracks left behind at the battle where Duke Arlan faced the combined forces of Commander Nabooru, Matron Konoru, and the traitorous Count Blynne of Falorra. But she picked up their trail far before she ever reached the field. Even if she hadn't, the locals all spoke of the comings and goings of soldiers as though it were common knowledge.
She could have entered the encampment without notice, if she so chose. But there was no need. Instead, she took pains to make herself seen by the two outposts and three scouting parties she passed. No one stopped her. They were watching for armies; a single rider was beneath their notice.
The camp had walls of stakes lashed together and stood as tall as she atop her horse. A group of soldiers sat outside a small gate, barely wide enough for a carriage to enter.
Again, she found the reality of soldiers on watch disappointing compared to how she envisioned them. None stood at attention like the palace guards had when they were on duty. They sat in the grass with spears placed beside them within arm's reach. They wore piecemeal armor far from the uniform steel of the royal knights. Most had scratched and muddied cloth gambesons. Only one had a true breastplate, but it had a rift in its side. Half wore helmets, one of which was formed from tightly bound rope rather than metal. They reminded her more of street ruffians than an army.
They don't need to look pretty, so long as they're willing to fight and kill for me.
She took a moment to strengthen the illusions around her, before she made her presence known.
"You lost there, boy?" One of the soldiers called as she approached. They all rose to their feet except one who looked to be asleep.
"No," she said, though the voice that came from her throat was not her own. She held up her hands to show she wielded no weapons, at least, none they could see.
"Coming to enlist then, ey?" Another asked.
"You missed the battle!"
"There will be others. What do you say? You know how to hold a spear?"
"I'm not here to enlist either," she dismounted from her horse. "Though I do congratulate you on your recent success."
"That's quite a horse," one of the soldiers took the reins from her hands. "Fetch a pretty coin, I reckon."
"Quite. I have come as a messenger of the Sheikah, to speak with Duke Arlan. Will I be allowed to enter?"
The name of the Sheikah brought silence to the soldiers. Some gripped their spears tight with unease.
"Heri, fetch someone important," the first who greeted her ordered the youngest of the group.
The soldier nodded to him, then to her, before running through the gate. He'd left his spear behind, but one of the others picked it up and leaned heavily upon it. The one who took the reins started petting the horse, while the others stared at her.
"You're a Sheikah, then?" One found the courage to ask.
"I am."
"How come you lot haven't killed Ganondorf, yet?"
"How do you expect them to do that, Wat?" The leader of the group smacked the other soldier in the back. "You were there at Whispering Hills; how do you think they can kill him?"
"My old nan told me that the Sheikah could get anyone. Don't finish your food; the Sheikah will nab you. Speak ill of the king; the Sheikah will nab you. Didn't pay the lord their grain; -"
"The Sheikah will nab you," Zelda said. "Stories told to children are rarely true. We don't much care if you finish your food, or whether you pay your obligations to your lord."
"But you do hate Ganondorf, just like the rest of us."
"And word is he hates you even more."
"We've tried." Beneath illusion and mask, Zelda felt herself grimace. "Every attempt ended unsuccessful." And good Sheikah lost, including the two who once helped her flee Castle Town. Kieve and Puraz, she learned their names only after they had been captured. One of the Sheikah's own had turned traitor and revealed them to the Gerudo. They were last seen in the clutches of the Twinrova, and that meant they were as good as dead.
When they received the news, Impa had only nodded. "That is the way of a Needle," she had told the messenger. But that night she went out drinking and disappeared for some days.
The gates opened and the young soldier returned, with an older man in tow.
"This the Sheikah?" He asked. The years had not been kind to him. He had only two fingers on his left hand and a scar along the side of his face that just missed his eye. He wore a sword at his hip with an ornate grip, and his shirt had been stained red from rust. He must have a true breastplate. All signs of someone who once held wealth and prestige, perhaps a knight or lord. Though, Zelda did not know him.
"I am."
"I assume you're armed."
Of course, I'm armed. I'm a Sheikah Needle. "Dangerous to travel bare these days."
"We can't let you in to see the Duke with weapons on your person. But I doubt we'd be able to find everything you have on you, even if we search."
"Likely true, but I have no desire to harm Duke Arlan. Nor to cause anyone here undue distress." She pulled knives from behind her neck and around her ankles, as well as the two in her shirt. From her sleeves she drew her needles and smoke pellets. All of which she handed to the soldiers. "Careful with those," she said as she passed them the darts. "They are tipped with poison. It is unlikely one will kill you, but you may not find their effects pleasant."
The soldier made a grim face, as he plucked them gingerly from her hands. He kept his fingers far from the points.
"Is that all?" The old man asked.
"It is everything dangerous I have on me. I have more stored on my horse."
The soldier stopped petting the horse, immediately.
"Very well then, come along."
The old lord limped as he led her through the camp. Zelda could not find any fresh wounds on his leg or hip, and he bore the discomfort as someone who had learned to deal with it. So it must have been with him for a while, yet he refused to use a cane or ask for assistance. This one was proud.
A quality in stark contrast to what she saw within the camp. It looked like a disorganized mess. Far from the orderly old barracks of Castle Town or the rigid life among the Sheikah. The soldiers and camp followers milled about the place, some few stalking outside camps set in uneven lines. But more dwelled beneath bare canopy sheets held up with a few sticks. Far too small for anyone to stand beneath, but wide enough for four men to squeeze beneath them and get some cover from the damp. Some slept, others gambled with dice or groused by the fires, and a few wrestled with each other in mud pits. When one pinned another, other soldiers would enter the mud turning the bouts into melees where luck and tolerance for pain mattered more than any skill.
A man staggered before then, drunk she discerned by his smell. He managed to slink about without bumping into her or the old lord. But his face caught her eye. She recognized him, though his skin had cleared and he'd lost his ear. Straia, wasn't that his name? One of the Castle Guard. He wished to become a knight.
How had he found his way here?
His bleary eyes found hers. A worry gripped her, that somehow, this one drunk would pierce through her illusions. But he tottered away, belching, before he flopped into the dirt. The sound of him retching followed Zelda as her escort weaved through more clumps of soldiers.
"Pay them no heed," the lord muttered after he ordered another soldier to get out of his way. "They do not look grand, but they're loyal and they fight."
"I must admit, I'm a little taken aback. I remember tales of Duke Arlan's exploits before the reign of the usurper: his victories during the Civil War, the tournaments of his youth, even his defense of Hateno during the War of Monstrosities. He always had a reputation for strictness and dignity."
Her escort shrugged. "I once had a similar reputation. If anything, I drilled my men more rigorously than he." He smiled to himself. "My peasants loathed me; they complained my calling of levies for drills kept them from their fields. But they obeyed, and when the Moblins came they survived. They felt pride then. But that was in victory, even hard-fought and bloody ones. But after you lose a battle, that pride turns sour. You look upon the wounded and survivors and you find you cannot demand anything more from them. You let their shields go uncovered without comment, then you stop preventing them from drinking before sunset. They need the drink, you see, to fill the hole that pride left. And then, after years of defeats and betrayals? Well, strictness and dignity proved poor shields. We still keep our watch, we still perform our drills. But the pageantry? The gleaming arms and bows and morning prayers? Who is there to display ourselves to? How do we keep our armor gleaming when it is all chipped and battered? Why pray when the Three have gone and Hylia does not listen?"
"You speak of loss, of defeat. But you've won the battle."
"We won the last battle, the least important battle. We've already lost the war seven years ago." The man gestured toward the nearest of the tents. "This one's the Duke's."
Zelda walked ahead of him a few paces and held open the tentflap.
"Thank you," he said before he ducked inside.
"It's nothing." She followed him.
Inside lay the man who had once been named Defender of the East, along with a half dozen other titles besides. Twice he visited the capital and each time he gave the impression of a gallant man, who always dressed to his station. The greatest general of Hyrule, who, it was said, even Ganondorf offered respect during the Civil War.
Were it not for the scar across his throat, Zelda would not have recognized him. Without his gleaming armor, or even a shirt, he no longer looked the part of an honorable warrior. Instead of noble dignity, she saw a white-haired old beggar sleeping in the dirt, his skin stretched over his ribs.
"Duke," her escort said. "Did the runner I sent not wake you?"
"He did," Arlan croaked. "I chose not to get up." Only then did his eyes open and he pushed himself up on his elbows.
Zelda bowed before him. "Duke Harlow Arlan, Protector of the East, true Lord of Kolomo, and Warden of the Southron Fields, it is a pleasure to meet you."
Arlan smiled. "It is good. To hear all my. Titles again." He looked to her escort. "Why don't you. Address me as such. These days. Turry?"
"Who has the time?" The old lord sat on a chest and stretched out his weak leg.
"You know me. But I am. At a loss of. Who I am speaking to."
"I am unimportant, but if you wish to put a name to me, Sheik will do."
"Sheik the Sheikah?" the lord scoffed.
"I suppose. He does not. Wish to give his true. Name."
If only you knew how correct you were. "A regrettable but necessary precaution. It is said that the usurper can find those he wishes, and I have been ordered not to reveal myself."
"The Inquisitors are." He went silent and swallowed a deep breath as he prepared again to speak. "Known for their paranoia. Go on, lad. What's their. Message?"
"It is not the Inquisitors who sent me."
"A Needle working alone? We might have use for an assassin if the Duke is willing."
"Not alone. I have come to give you the orders of your liege - your true liege - Princess Zelda, now of age and prepared to ascend to her throne."
The two old warriors glanced at each other before Arlan broke into a wide smile and a gasping, painful laugh. "So that is. The Inquisitors' game."
"It is not a game."
"Tell me. Did the Inquisitors. Find some blond girl. To pin a crown upon. Or did they. Spring for a distant. Cousin?"
"She is no lie. The Princess has been under their protection since the fall of Hyrule Castle."
"The princess. Is dead."
"She is not. She was taken to safety by Lady Impa."
"The Needle was. Banished from court. Abusing the child. I heard."
"A rumor with only a kernel of truth. The king did send her away, however, her loyalty to the royal-"
"I care litle. For the scandals. Of the dead."
"But she is not dead. The princess is gathering her loyal subjects. But she needs a general, and there is none in the world she would rather have by her side than you. A duke whose loyalty is beyond reproach, whose skill at arms is unmatched."
"I was matched. Seven years ago." Arlan massaged the muscles in his throat. He winced but continued to speak. "Let me tell you. What your masters wish. You Sheikah are more obvious. Than you believe yourselves. To be. The world knows. Dragmire desires your extinction. You live on. Borrowed time. So you call for my aid. And I assume. The Gorons and what remains. Of the Zora. In a hope. To save yourselves."
"The princess believes a united front will-"
"Stop. Calling her that. It is. Disrespectful."
"I only name her what she is; Princess Zelda, the heir of the Hylian Throne and your true monarch. Chief Darunia believes in her and has offered his warriors to aid in her ascension. And is there anyone living besides Lady Impa herself who knows the princess better?"
"Then. The chief is. A fool. Be the princess real. Or false. The mountain. Will crumble before. Dragmire. He will doom. His people."
How could he think this? Of all the pieces she had hoped to put into place, Arlan's army she thought would be one of the easiest. "If facing the usurper is doomed, what have you been doing the last seven years?"
"Fulfilling my oath. To the last queen. And king. One I will keep. Though it will cost me. My life."
"Where is the hero of Hyrule? I came expecting the man who never bowed to the Gerudo. Someone willing to fight against the corruption of the desert. Not someone beaten before the battle has started."
"Do not lecture me. On victories and defeats. Boy. I faced the Gerudo. King. When Castle Town fell. I fought the. Battle of Whistling Hill. Where were the Inquisitors. Then? Where was. This princess?"
"You survived."
"I lost. Thousands. Whole battalions. Swallowed before my eyes. In black fire. Died before. They could scream." He shook his head. "There is no winning. Against him. There is only. Killing his servants. Spoiling his plans. Because every delay. On his great project. Hurts him."
"But that path leads nowhere. You will never overthrow him by attacking builders and stopping the shipment of stones. All you're doing is causing suffering to those still in the desert. For what? Spite?"
"Spite keeps armies moving."
"So does hope."
The duke grunted. "This is not. The age for hope. Tell your masters. They must find someone else. To prop up their lies. Turry. Show our guest out."
Her escort nodded and gestured toward the tentflap. Once outside he started limping toward the same gate she entered.
"Thank you." She walked past him. "But I remember the way."
"Wait a moment, Sheik." He squinted at her. What he expected to see, Zelda did not know. She and Impa had worked to develop this disguise. There was nothing in her old life in her appearance. She remained Zelda, but the world saw only the nameless Sheikah. "Did you mean what you said? The princess is alive?"
"I do. She gave me these orders personally."
"Your people do you a disservice," he said. "The Sheikah have traded so long in deception that few now know when you can be trusted."
"Those deceptions are what has kept the princess alive for seven years when all the strength at arms of the Hylian nobles could not."
"Be that as it may, the duke's suspicions are not unfounded. This would not be the first time your Inquisitors have attempted to make a puppet out of the throne."
"I have heard enough accusations today. I have a long road ahead of me, sir." And plans to fix.
"I do not mean to accuse you, only to explain Arlan's behavior. To him, putting the throne in the hands of the Inquisitors would be little different than leaving it to the Gerudo."
"The Sheikah are loyal. How dare you compare us to those who sided with monsters."
"They may be loyal now. But you are too young to remember them during the Civil War. The Gerudo may have held out the longest against the crown, but the Sheikah were always the more frightening. The Duke is near sixty, and I am older still. I remember how ruthless, how dishonorable they could be."
"I do not have time for a history lesson, either."
"So impatient, the youth. I have a message for your princess if you are willing to deliver it."
That gave Zelda pause. "I am, but I have far to travel before I return to her."
That seemed to satisfy him. "I owe the princess my life. She did not have much say in the War of Monstrosities, but when I called for aid, she did not abandon me. I would not be here, were it not for her. And though I have been made low these past years, I do not forget my oaths."
Zelda stared at him. Had she ever met this man before? A knight of the castle? No. Of the city guard? That could be, but how had she ever saved any of them? "Turry, Duke Arlan named you. That wouldn't be Margrave Turrin of Hellenti?"
"You know me? There's another surprise in a day of them. Though I can hardly say I'm a Margrave of Hellenti anymore. Not since the usurper stripped me of my titles and gave my home to the Moblins."
Some sleepless nights I still dwell on what would have happened if I had not sent my guards to your aid. "I, along with half the city, was present when the guards marched out of Castle Town. Your name came up. I will relay your message, but I must know, what have I done to convince you when I could not convince the duke?"
He shrugged. "I'm not saying you have. Perhaps this princess of yours is a lie, as the Duke believes. But I have seen the impossible once in my life. If one man can burn an army, perhaps one small child could survive."
"I'll deliver your message, but she will wish to know if she can count on you to stand by her side when the time comes for her to overthrow the Gerudo."
"That I cannot promise. The Princess is not the only person whose fealty I owe. The Duke has saved me as well, and so have all the men who now reside within this camp. I will not abandon them."
"Then what good are your well wishes?" Zelda turned away from him and took a moment to compose herself before she sighed. "My apologies, Margrave. I am not used to being a messenger. He'll lead you to destruction, you know. He has no plan. He's an old man who knows his time is done and wishes to play at glory before it comes to an end."
"You are not wholly wrong, but a bit unjust, I think. Those of us who remained after Whistling Hill know that our continued war will end in our death. We have long ago made our peace with it. But that is not playing at glory but embracing it. You're a Needle. I've known a handful of your kind; you're taught to play every angle and flee at any sign of trouble. But we're soldiers. We are taught to stand firm in our lines, protect our brothers with our shields, to fight and to die. And that is precisely what the Duke is offering us."
"That can't be everything in your life. My father told me once, that the purpose of the aged is to make the world better for those that come after. Throwing your lives away on foolish spiteful valor makes the world better for no one."
"Better for whom, I wonder? My children were killed before my eyes. The peasants who once tilled my fields were either slain or followed me into this war. My world has crumbled. There is no better one after me, except perhaps for the Gerudo. Maybe they will finally bring peace, once we're all in the ground."
"Their peace is built on blood, it will never last."
"Was Hyrule any different? All kingdoms are built in war. And they are destroyed in war. But I doubt you have much a taste for discussions of history."
"Nothing would please me more. But as I've said. I have long to travel still."
"One last message, before you're on your way. If this princess of yours truly is the missing heir, tell her to remain missing. Abandon these delusions of vengeance. That will only bring her to the same doom the Duke seeks. Let us old soldiers who have no other life before us come to our end. She does not need to be involved. The world has thought her dead for seven years. Remain among the dead. The young can still choose not to be consumed by the ghosts of their past."
What could she tell him? That he was wrong? Tear away her illusions and reveal that she was the princess? Announce that she would never rest until the tyranny of the usurper was washed away? "Thank you, Margrave Turrin. I will see that the princess hears your words. Though, I doubt she will heed them."
"More's the pity. The endless cycle of war will claim us all in the end."
She pulled her mask from her mouth and took a deep breath of country air. There were no riders on the road, and her illusions would hold well enough at a distance.
But the natural world did nothing to relieve her mind. Weeks of travel wasted. The only army with the experience necessary to stand against the Gerudo and win, and they turned her away. Who else could she call upon? The lords who had already sworn fealty to the usurper? The cowards who refused to join Arlan even before his first defeat? She'd have more luck trying to gain an army from the stone. If Duke Arlan had already lost hope in the future, how could she ask others to take up arms for her? What did she have to offer them? Beyond the name of a dead girl, they had all already forsaken.
That left only Chief Darunia. She loved her uncle dearly, her father's truest friend. But the Gorons were not numerous. Even at the height of the Civil War they never pushed much further than the foot of their mountain. The Gorons and the Sheikah could never mount a revolution themselves. And even if they had the numbers, Darunia did not command the respect she needed.
And King De Bon? The reports claimed that the Zora now trained soldiers as skilled as a knight under the tutelage of some new weaponmaster. But when they faced the Gerudo two years prior they had been shattered. There were even rumors that Lord Jabu-Jabu had been slain in the conflict. After such a defeat, would they be keen to pick up arms again?
What was she going to do?
"You don't have any good ideas, do you?" She muttered to her hand. The mark of the Triforce did not appear. It rarely did, though ofttimes when she had a particularly clever idea she could feel it. A warm guiding touch that stayed with her these past seven years. And yet, for the Last Gift of the Three, she had hoped it would be more active in its usefulness. Though she held only a fragment, surely it could do more than confirm the quality of her own ideas?
She'll need a new image. If she came across anyone else on the road, a Sheikah would draw too much attention. As would a slip of a girl. Perhaps a man? Scarred, rugged, and penniless. Someone no one but the most desperate would dare confront and the desperate would know there was nothing to be gained if they tried.
She formed the image in her mind and worked the light around her. The more complex the image the more difficult it became to shape and the more distinct from her own form the harder to maintain. When her limbs did not match her movements, it required bending the light in strange and complex ways or the illusion would break. That was why her Sheik was merely a slight alteration to her eye color and frame, but otherwise it was simply her. Sheik needed to feel firm when touched and move fluidly when close enough to converse with others. But now, she was alone on her horse. There was no need to mask the subtle movements.
With a word the spell around her reshaped itself in a wave of energy. When she looked down, she did not see her hands, but instead thick-fingered hairy fists clenched around the horse's reins.
That would do for now. She rode in silence, working through the tangle of her ruined kingdom. How could she inspire loyalty and hope in all these shattered people? She needed something to prove that the usurper could be overthrown, that it wasn't the dreams of a vengeful fool.
Not far from the last outpost of the encampment, smoke rose in a thin pillar into the air. A campfire, it seemed to her, though the sun still had a quarter of a sky to travel before nightfall. An early time to stop for a traveler, but not unheard of. Unlikely that they were bandits, why would they announce themselves so blatantly and so close to an army?
Soon, the scent of roasting mutton drifted to her. And not long after she caught sight of the man cooking by the side of the road. A lanky fellow stooped over his sizzling skillet. On the ground beside the flame lay a traveler's pack near as big as he. Numerous masks hung from the pack and more poked out from within.
For the second time that day, she recognized someone from her old life. The strange mask salesman, the one who worried Impa so. She'd heard many merchants fled Castle Town for cities away from the tyrant's gaze, but why would he be out here?
"Hello!" He waved as she approached and gave a wide empty smile. "Would you like a bite to eat? Perhaps stay and rest for a moment?"
"No," she said, pitching her voice low, and into the thick accent of the villages to the south of Greater Hyrule.
"Now that's a pity," the salesman's grin grew even wider. "Long journeys can be dull affairs filled with disappointments. And I wished to know which mask you decided upon for this life. Now you wear the Sheikah, but will you become the ruler? The mage? The goddess? Perhaps you'll find a way to become all of them together."
Zelda slowed her horse. "I don't know what you mean."
"Oh, I think you do, Your Highness," he bowed low. "I doubt you forget much of anything, even little me. Though I admit, I did not expect our next meeting to see you as a foul old man. How wonderful life can be, with its many surprises!"
Her stomach seized, and she felt a patch of sweat roll down her neck. The hand of her illusion went to the sword at his hip, while her true fingers rolled into her sleeve and wrapped around the blades hidden within.
"Really, Princess? There's no need for violence. All I wish is to share a meal and perhaps sell you a bit of happiness, a deal this time. One I am certain you will be most interested in."
She looked around the firepit and the trees beyond. There were no signs of life except the hum of insects and the call of birds. Nothing that indicated a trap. She could deny the salesman's accusations of her, but that would accomplish nothing. She dismounted and drew close to the salesman, close enough to attack if needs be.
"Must you look like this?" He waved over the visage. "I'll deal with it, if necessary, but it is distracting."
With a thought, she returned to the form of Sheik.
"I suppose that's better, but wouldn't you be more comfortable as yourself?"
"How did you know?"
"Oh, that's simple." He stood tall and swept one of the masks hanging from his packs off its bindings and onto his face. "I showed you this once before as a child. Though I doubt you knew what it meant then."
"I know it now." Zelda stared into the eye centered on the white mask. It swirled with the dark magic of the Sheikah. "How have you gotten your hands on an Inquisitor's mask?"
"Nothing untoward, I can assure you. As it happens, a mutual friend of ours gifted it to me. As penance, he said. Though I think in his heart he sought to cause more mischief to those he despised. Perhaps, to him, mischief and penance were one and the same. It is strange that we've only spoken to each other once before, considering we have two such friends. Though, I fear, this one will soon go and meet the other. And Hyrule will be sadder for it."
"Give the mask to me, you do not know what it is used for. You do not understand the power-"
"Oh, Princess. I know the power of these masks far better than the Inquisitors twisting beneath the shadow. Or do you only wish for this mask for yourself? You have a reputation for cleverness, and even as a child, you had a suspicious mind. I doubt years among the Sheikah would dull your senses. It must have occurred to you, that even after seven years the Inquisitors have never trusted you enough to provide you a mask. They never showed you all their secrets."
"Of course, I noticed. But when on the run, it is best not to anger those whose graces you depend upon."
"You don't depend upon them now." He looked at the illusion up and down. "Their lies go far deeper than your own."
"And I suppose you alone are trustworthy?"
"Oh, giants no! But I'm afraid we've wandered well away from where this conversation is supposed to be headed." He handed the mask to Zelda. "Put it on and listen while I speak. Because, unlike noble Arlan, I haven't yet given up hope in this life. And it just so happens my goals now align with yours."
The energy danced along her fingertips. The same magic she felt radiating from the deep parts of Kakariko, where even Impa refused to let her see. "This is a trick."
"If it is, the mask will reveal it."
"I once used another magic item that purged untruths."
"My masks are not cheap trinkets from a bygone age. They will not leave scars."
When you hesitate, all your advantages will disappear. Her knight had once told her that when they spoke during the hours between council meetings. And now she was fast running out of advantages.
The mask fit over her eyes, and the world grew sharper. Every leaf on every tree moved, some rippling in waves others trembling almost imperceptibly. Insects hid within the grass and worms crawled below them. And the man stood tall and grinning. Where everything else had its place and purpose, he did not fit. This man was not Hylian, he was not Sheikah, nor Gerudo, or of the far places across the sea or past the mountains. The magic of the fae did not mark him, nor the mystical power of the guardians.
He did not belong.
His eyes were distant pits that had seen beyond Greater Hyrule, to a land of masks and monsters. Even now he wore a mask. Though one of flesh and smiles, which hid anger and sorrow and pain and madness most of all. But when he spoke, the words rang true.
"I'll tell you my deepest desire, Your Highness. I want you to return to your home. I want you to reclaim the Sacred Stones that the foolish Dragmire will soon abandon. With them in hand, you shall open the ruins of the Temple of Time and finally step inside to reach your destiny."
"Why? What is in it for you?"
"Because, only when the door opens, will I at last have all I have searched for."
"It is impossible. No one can infiltrate the castle and survive. Sheikah more skilled than I have tried."
"They rushed in without all the necessary precautions. Trusting in their centuries of training and tradition, even though the world is always changing. Their ways would never work, not in there, not against him. But changes ebb and flow, and now they bring with them an opportunity. It falls right before your eyes." He reached out his hand and snatched at the air between them. From his fist winds swirled and died about his grip. A thousand possibilities stretching and shrinking and pounding. All wishing to be, to take form, but only one would ever become true. What was this mask doing to her? "Will you grasp it?"
"What opportunity? I don't understand."
His fingers unfurled and all the swirling forms converged to one certain pillar. "Dragmire has made his first mistake. He is leaving his castle and taking his mothers with him. The Gate to the Sacred Realm lies undefended. Will you seize the chance to speak to your Goddesses, Princess Zelda?"
The light on the back of her hand glowed a painful bright.