Chapter 23: A Women's Intuition

His eyelids felt like lead weights, but with a groan of effort, he pried them open. Blinking against the harshness of unfamiliar light, blurry shapes began to form… hospital lights?

The scent of antiseptic filled his nostrils, a sterile wave washing over the lingering memory of sweat and blood. Beeping machines formed a comforting chorus, the erratic thump of his own heart buried beneath the familiar rhythm.

Earth. The word surfaced in his sluggish mind. He must be in the hospital. He'd made it home. He was right, he must've suffered an accident and dreamed. Memories from his experience from the other world filled his mind, but Noah was fine with that. He was back from that absurd nightmare, that savage fever dream of claws and fortresses. Gone were the guttural cries of monsters, replaced by the steady hum of technology.

"Noah?" A voice, a gentle hum amidst the electronic symphony. It was muffled, like one of the nurses waking him after a rough night, but the tone was wrong. It carried a soft lilt, an accent that didn't belong in this sterile room.

Weakly, he tried to form words. "Where…?" The sounds caught in his throat, dry and rough. Even his voice felt battered, foreign. He tried to speak further, but his throat felt raw, as though he'd been screaming for hours.

His vision slowly cleared. Expecting the masked face of a doctor, he instead found himself staring at a young woman. Not in crisp scrubs but worn leather and a tunic that seemed plucked from a fantasy film.

Christa.

The world tilted sickeningly. Hospital walls dissolved into patched tents and earthen floors. The beeping of machines morphed into the distant clash of metal and guttural roars. Hyrule. The beasts. The blood on his hands. It all rushed back in a sickening wave, shattering the illusion of home with brutal clarity.

It was all a trap, a cruel continuation of the twisted reality. The hospital was another illusion, a mirage conjured by that maddening world.

"Noah, are you with me?" Christa asked, concern furrowing her brow.

He jerked away, eyes darting around the makeshift medical tent. "Where are the cameras? Is this another part of the…the test?" He couldn't bring himself to say the word 'game'. This wasn't entertainment, it was torment.

Her expression melted into confusion and then a heartbreaking pity. "Noah, I don't… what are cameras? Don't worry you're safe now. You collapsed after the battle."

"Stop it," he choked out, the desperate plea echoing in the cramped space. "Stop pretending. I just want to wake up."

Safe. The word echoed mockingly in his mind. Safe where bodies littered courtyards, and monsters lurked mere feet from wherever he was now.

Christa looked away, and he saw the tremble in her shoulders, the silent plea in her eyes. She believed him, believed this was some kind of breakdown. It was worse than disbelief.

Noah felt like he was being judged unfairly, but if he attempted to explain his circumstances to Christa, she would simply think he had gone mental.

Regardless, Noah had to accept it. He was back in the fortress. Not dead. Not back on Earth. A bitter wave of disappointment washed over him. His muscles throbbed in protest as he fought the urge to turn his face away and retreat back into oblivion.

"Noah," Christa's voice was clearer now, laced with urgency, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he lied, pushing himself up on one elbow. His vision swam, and Christa's hand shot out to steady him. The gentle touch, so out of place in this brutal reality, brought a tightness to his chest.

"You're pushing yourself too hard," she admonished, her tone gentle yet firm. "Your body needs time."

He forced a weak smile. "I seem to remember you're the one with the magic healing hands."

A faint blush touched her cheeks, and Noah found a bitter solace in seeing that same blush after all the chaos. Some things, it seemed, were universal.

"It's a gift, from the Great Fairy … but even that has limits. Please, Noah, don't make this harder than it has to be."

"Speaking of gifts, my birthday's coming up," he joked, trying to lighten the mood. But a sharp pain shot through his chest, stealing his breath and turning the attempted quip into a pained groan. Christa's expression shifted into practiced concern as she eased him back onto the makeshift bed.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, the apology heavy in the air. "I did what I could, but... your injuries were severe. The blood loss..." She trailed off, a pained flicker in her eyes that he suspected mirrored his own terror. "Without proper care, a full recovery will be…"

"Weeks?" Noah finished for her, the word settling like a lead weight in his stomach.

Christa nodded her head, affirming Noah's suspicions. He really overdid it this time. Actually, he wasn't too surprised, even Noah knew just how bad his injuries must've been. The fact Christa was able to do this much was more than he could've asked for.

But judging from the fact Christa was nearly as pale as a ghost, Noah assumed she exhausted herself severely to just stabilise him.

"Thank you," he finally murmured, not just for the healing, but for the semblance of normalcy she offered amidst the chaos. Even if it wasn't his home, she was a lifeline to the ordinary world he desperately craved.

"…so where am I?" Noah asked, trying to sound casual as he surveyed the makeshift infirmary.

"You're in the medical tent the soldiers set up," Christa replied, her voice crisp and practiced.

He looked around the tent, taking in the rows of injured soldiers. Unlike him, they were sprawled on thin mats, grimacing faces stark against the flickering torchlight. A wave of guilt washed over him – for being the only one with a proper bed, for adding to Christa's burden, for even surviving when so many hadn't.

"The others…" he began, his voice hoarse, "They…"

"Insisted," Christa finished for him. "It was the least they could do after everything…after what you did." Her words hinted at both gratitude and a lingering unease he couldn't quite decipher.

He felt a sudden heat rise to his face, and not from his wounds. "That's not…they likely exaggerated…" He fumbled for words, suddenly desperate to downplay his actions. It was one thing to survive; it was another to become a focus of attention.

Christa's smile held a strange mixture of amusement and something colder, more calculating. "That's not what I heard," she said, her voice soft. "But enough about that."

Noah shifted uncomfortably. "Was there anything else?" he asked, hoping to steer the conversation into safer territory.

"It's time for us to give thanks to the Goddess for your survival and the wellbeing of these soldiers," Christa said, her hands clasped in gentle supplication. "And I believe it's time I shared some of the holy scriptures with you."

Noah's wounds suddenly seemed secondary to the creeping dread that washed over him. Religious talk wasn't exactly his idea of an exciting afternoon. "Ah, see, I'd love to, but…" He searched frantically for an excuse. "These injuries really are acting up. Maybe another time?"

Christa's smile faltered slightly, a flicker of disappointment in her eyes. "The Goddess rewards devotion, Noah. Just a few passages, and your pain might ease."

Noah sighed, silently cursing his luck. "Great…"

The next hour felt like an eternity of droning texts and Noah's desperate attempts to stifle yawns. However, something snagged his attention:

"And so, seeing the depravity and corrupted state of the church, Saintess Amelia abandoned her lofty titles and embraced the Goddess, and was rewarded by receiving her graces summons…"

Noah jolted awake. "Wait, what do you mean by that?"

Christa blinked, caught off guard by his sudden interest. "The summons? Ah, as her reward, the Saintess was blessed with receiving divine messages from the Goddess. It is through her that Hylia bestows her will upon the church and enacts its actions."

Noah's mind raced. This was a revelation. Someone in this world could communicate with Hylia? Zelda was one possibility, but the existence of a Saintess, of an organized church, was entirely new. It was also potentially useful. If he could find this Saintess…

"Why didn't you say so sooner?" Noah asked, a tinge of excitement creeping into his voice.

Christa frowned. "What do you mean? I told you this on our way to the Wall…"

Noah suddenly recalled Christa's animated chatter during their journey. He'd been distracted and his mind had filed those details away as unimportant.

"A-ah, where's Neph?" Noah blurted out, his frantic gaze searching the tent. Any distraction was welcome to divert attention from his precarious religious studies session.

"Trying to convince the stubborn guards to release Alfred," Christa said with a sigh. "He's our cowardly friend. Seems he's facing some… consequences."

"Alfred?" Noah blinked. The name didn't ring a bell amidst the chaos of the battle.

"The soldier who came with us before we departed up in the Wall. He was rather frozen with fear, but…" Christa trailed off, a touch of reluctant admiration in her voice, "...he was essential in helping Neph and me in the control room. Of course, that was likely due to the threat of Neph's blade more than any sense of duty."

Noah chuckled weakly. "Probably scarier than the beasts."

"Quite possibly." Christa's reply was dry. "But we couldn't have reached the controls without him."

"Well, if Neph's vouching for him, I trust her judgment," Noah said, and suddenly remembered that Neph's judgment might have a 'persuasive' edge to it. Still, he had enough self-preservation to stay on her good side. As he struggled to sit up, pain lanced through his battered body.

"What in the Goddess's name are you doing?" Christa gasped, her usual composure cracking. "Stay down!"

"I know, I know," Noah winced. "But I can't just lie here. I need to know what's happening, see where things stand." His voice held a desperate edge. He was adrift in a brutal world, clinging to the hope of some semblance of control.

Christa, after a moment of exasperated silence, sighed. "...At least put some decent clothes on. You're making the injured soldiers jealous of their wounds."

"Huh?" Noah looked down. The tattered remains of his shirt were gone, replaced by wrappings of makeshift bandages stained a rusty red. He was, in essence, dressed as a battle-worn mummy. Still, a step up from naked, he supposed.

'Wait, Link's actually got quite a good build...' Noah admired the physique he now unwillingly possessed. It was a far cry from his usually lanky self. Before he could continue his self-appreciation, a flicker of disappointment washed over him. Christa hadn't reacted at all, not even the slightest blush.

'Of course, surrounded by death and chaos, probably not the best time.' Noah mentally chided himself. Besides, Christa clearly had her priorities in order, as a dedicated healer should.

Just then, a clamour erupted outside the tent.

"It's them! The Knights! They're here!" A wounded soldier's shout sent a surge of excitement through the infirmary.

"The Knights of Lord Dorian? Oh, Hylia be praised!" another voice echoed.

"What's that all about?" Noah asked, confusion overshadowing his pain momentarily.

"It seems our plan worked," Christa replied, a flicker of relief in her eyes. "The reinforcements have arrived!"

"Wait, you set off the flares?" Noah's memory was hazy. He was completely distracted in his fight that he missed the flares being set off.

"Nevermind that for now," Noah said, a surge of adrenaline momentarily numbing the pain in his body. He hastily grabbed his bedsheet, wrapping it around himself like a makeshift toga. "Let's go check it out!"

Noah followed Christa out of the tent, his makeshift toga barely concealing his body wrapped in blood-soaked bandages. The sight that greeted them was a stark contrast to the grim confines of the infirmary.

The makeshift infirmary wasn't set up in the courtyard he previously was in, rather it was in a wide corridor, that lead to the fortress eastern gates. Soldiers, battered but alive, surged towards the fortress gates. A wave of exhaustion seemed to lift from their shoulders, replaced by the frantic energy of hope.

The fortress gate had already been lowered, Christa grabbed Noah's shoulder gently as she directed him towards the eastern gate, the soldiers who spotted bowed their heads in respect as they opened a small path wherever she went.

"Do they know you?" Noah asked.

Christa nodded her head. "I healed more than just your own injuries, many of these soldiers I assisted treating."

Noah nodded his head understanding. Eventually, thanks to Christa's respect the two of them eventually found their way at the front of the soldiers facing towards the gate, on the side of it though.

"Lord Dorian's banner!" Someone cried, and Noah saw it: familiar Triforce emblem and soaring loftwing, emblazoned against a sapphire field, fluttered proudly in the last rays of the setting sun.

The sight of that iconic symbol sent some mixed emotions through Noah. It was a powerful reminder what world he was in. Noah could've accepted that easier, if he was greeted with familiar sights but that hadn't occurred so far.

Standing in front of the relieved Hylian soldiers were three figures. Two were unfamiliar, their armour gleaming and their expressions stoic. However, the third sent a jolt of surprise through Noah. It was Boulk, the low-ranking soldier he'd briefly interacted with before the battle.

Noah's mind raced. What was Boulk, a seemingly insignificant soldier, doing at the forefront of this triumphant arrival? Before he could ponder that question further, a new sound sent shivers down his spine – the brazen call of horns.

The fortress gates creaked open wider, revealing a procession that could have been plucked straight from a medieval fantasy. Ornate carriages, pulled by magnificent steeds, rolled through the entryway. A battalion of knights followed, their polished armour reflecting the fading sunlight, creating a dazzling spectacle. Each knight moved with an unnerving precision, their disciplined formation a stark contrast to the weary but jubilant Hylian soldiers.

At the very head of the procession, a single rider astride a majestic black stallion broke through the ranks. His armour shone with a chilling brilliance, and his helmet, shaped like a fierce bird of prey, concealed his features. An air of absolute authority emanated from him, and the gathered soldiers parted before him like the sea before Moses.

The imposing figure halted before Boulk. The low-ranking soldier, for a single, heart-stopping moment, met the intimidating gaze beneath the helmet. Then, with a fluid motion that spoke of countless hours of practice, Boulk dropped to one knee.

The imposing figure, dismounted with a fluid grace that belied his heavy armour. His gaze swept over Boulk, who remained kneeling, with barely concealed disdain.

"Captain Boulk," Gerald's voice was cold, "it has been too long." A hint of mockery laced his words.

Boulk hesitated. "Yes, Sir Gerald," he replied, his voice steady, masking whatever emotions churned beneath the surface.

"Our last meeting, if memory serves, was at Lady Paya's coming-of-age ceremony..." Gerald paused, allowing the silence to stretch, his gaze shifting to the soldiers flanking Boulk. "It seems they've finally seen fit to equip you with armour more befitting your station."

Boulk's jaw tightened under the scrutiny, but his response remained measured. "...Yes, my liege."

Gerald's lips twisted into a smirk that lacked all warmth. "Bring me General Dantz at once." Gerald inquired; his voice sharp again. "I wish to hear his account of this... debacle."

Boulk hesitated again. "General Dantz was killed in action, sir. I currently hold command of the Wall."

"You?" Gerald's scorn was a tangible thing. "No wonder this pathetic excuse for a fortress fell."

"No, I shouldn't blame this fortress. It's a technological marvel, a testament to the combined knowledge of the Sheikah and Hylian builders..." Gerald's voice was thick with disdain. "No, the blame lies squarely on the pathetic excuse for soldiers who were supposed to defend it."

Frustration laced Boulk's voice as he countered, "With respect, my liege, where is Lord Dorian? Surely, his presence would have been more advantageous than yours."

Noah's eyes widened. The lack of deference in Boulk's tone was shocking, a stark contrast to his earlier demeanour.

Noah frowned as he became confused, he wasn't understanding any of their conversation. He could confirm Paya's existence but he didn't understand these two soldiers positions.

As he turned to Christa, intending to whisper a question, Gerald barked, " "You dare question my lord's whereabouts? Lord Dorian has far more important matters to attend to than cleaning up the mess your incompetence created!" Gerald's voice rose, echoing off the fortress walls.

"A monstrous horde besieging a Hylian stronghold, its defenders scattered like sheep… Consider yourself fortunate that your commander is dead. Otherwise, I'd see you whipped for this disgrace, along with every other incompetent wretch under your command!"

Before Boulk could respond, a new voice cut through the tension, cool and collected. "Surely, gentlemen, there are more urgent matters at hand than assigning blame?"

A hush fell over the courtyard as the Sheikah woman stepped forward, exiting from one of the carriages. Her veil masked her features, but her long white hair, the intricate garb and the Sheikah symbol marked on her veil unmistakably identified her belonging to the Sheikah Tribe, although Noah didn't recognise her.

Noah nudged Christa urgently, his curiosity ablaze. "I apologise for my ignorance," he whispered, "but who are these people?"

Christa, surprised by his question, tilted her head in confusion. But remembering his falsified past, a flicker of pity softened her expression.

She gestured towards Boulk. "That's Captain Boulk. Despite his appearances, he's a seasoned warrior with a reputation for training elite cavalry units. The chaos left him the highest-ranking officer, forcing him to assume command."

Noah blinked, mentally adjusting his perception of Boulk.

Christa shifted her focus to the imposing knight. "That's Sir Gerald, a Knight sworn to serve Lord Dorian, whose responsibility this fortress falls under." Her voice lowered slightly, "There seems to be tension between them… likely a history we're not privy to."

Noah's mind raced. "A Knight and a soldier… Can you explain the difference?"

"In the simplest terms," Christa began, "Each of the Hylian Great Families maintains its own army. The backbone of these forces are soldiers. Knights, however, are an elite force. Their training is rigorous, their skill unmatched. Even a lowly Knight outranks most soldiers."

She paused thoughtfully. "Captain Boulk's expertise is highly valued. Other families often seek his services to train their own forces."

Noah digested this, a new understanding of the power dynamics at play taking shape. "So both Boulk and Sir Gerald belong to Lord Dorian's forces?"

"Yes," Christa confirmed.

Although he was learning slowly, Noah was still confused in a few aspects. If the Kingdom of Hyrule was being ruled by these Hylian Great Families with their own respective armies, what was the point of the Sheikah Tribe? They evidently held power considering they'll capable of banning entry into the Great Plateau.

Also, where does Christa's church stand into the pecking order?

'Once again, so many questions yet so little answers.' Noah mused sadly. 'And why did Captain Boulk and Sir Gerald, two high-ranking officers… seem to fear her?

His thoughts were interrupted as Sir Gerald spoke. "My Lady, I thought I asked you to wait until the Wall was secured?" Sir Gerald spoke, in a respectful tone.

"Look at all these soldiers," The lady spoke, a slight smile playing at the corners of her veiled mouth. "I'm certain not even a Hinox could reach me here. Please, don't let my presence disrupt your important business."

Sir Gerald, caught between respect and exasperation, responded in a more measured tone, "Captain, what's the situation and casualty report?"

"Sir," Boulk acknowledged crisply.

"At 19:00 hours two weeks ago, we were attacked by a medium-sized army of monsters–"

"Captain," Sir Gerald interrupted, impatience lacing his voice, "I asked for the current situation and casualty report. The full account can wait until we've secured the Wall and fully reclaimed it for Lord Dorian."

Boulk's professionalism wavered slightly. "Yes, sir. Apologies, sir. We've managed to push the monsters back and create a bottleneck within the Wall, clearing the courtyard for now. But our numbers are depleted, positions precarious…"

"Casualty estimates are rough," he continued, his voice heavy, "but approximately 60-70% of our initial forces have been killed or severely injured."

A flicker of surprise – genuine surprise – crossed Sir Gerald's face. "That's… unexpected."

"I agree, sir," Boulk said. "Their tactics… they preferred capture over outright slaughter. And the women, sir…"

"Yes," Gerald acknowledged, his tone grim.

"They were taken… through the very route you arrived."

"The horde passed through?!" Gerald's voice was a whipcrack, a stark contrast to his previous composure. His gaze hardened as he surveyed the fortress, as if seeking some tangible proof of the captain's words. "Reports from surrounding settlements indicated no abnormal monster activity…" He trailed off, the implications of Boulk's statement hitting him with the force of a charging Lynel.

A vein throbbed in Gerald's temple, a visible sign of his rising fury. The eastern territories under Lord Dorian's protection were considered relatively safe. A monstrous horde, slipping through undetected, was not just a military failure; it was a threat to the entire region's stability.

"Damn it!" he snarled, his fist slamming into a stone pillar with enough force to send dust drifting down. "Those incompetent village scouts! Were they blind? Asleep? How could a force of that size move unnoticed?"

His anger swirled around him, a palpable force that made even the seasoned soldiers shift nervously. This was no longer simply an issue of reclaiming a fallen fortress; it was a potential disaster in the making.

Seizing the moment, the Sheikah woman spoke again, "All in good time, Captain. For now, know that Lord Dorian's Knights have arrived to restore order." She gestured grandly towards the assembled force. "Under Sir Gerald's command, this fortress shall be swiftly returned to its rightful owners."

Boulk straightened. "With all due respect, my Lady, I will now assume control of all remaining forces. The injured are to be evacuated, while the rest shall support your Knights in eliminating the monsters trapped within."

Sir Gerald stiffened. "You have a problem with my strategy, Captain?" His voice was deceptively soft, laced with a dangerous edge.

"Not at all, sir," Boulk replied, his tone firm despite the obvious power imbalance. "However, your forces number less than 40 Knights. Given the scope of this operation, I assumed Lord Dorian would have dispatched a larger contingent."

Gerald stared at Boulk for a long, tense moment. "We weren't expecting the Wall to be in such... disarray. Our primary mission was to escort the Lady safely – a request from Kakariko village itself..."

Boulk blinked in confusion. "But, why...?"

Not intending to continue the conversation further, Sir Gerald turned and barked orders to his Knights. "Squads one through three, secure the courtyard and reinforce the perimeter. Squad four, prepare torches, smoke bombs and push into the corridors. We're flushing those beasts out of their holes!" His voice boomed with authority, carrying a hint of grim satisfaction.

"Captain," Gerald addressed Boulk, his tone moderated now that a plan was in motion. "I'll overlook your earlier questioning in light of the circumstances. However," his voice hardened again, "this Wall is now under my Knights' control. Your role here is done." He dismissed Boulk with a curt nod.

Despite the veiled insult, Boulk met Gerald's gaze with stoic acceptance. The Knight might be arrogant, but he was also capable. Boulk could trust him to bring order back to the Wall… even if he deeply resented the way Gerald had effectively stripped him of command.

Before Boulk could retreat, the Sheikah woman moved to intercept him. "A moment, Captain," she said, her voice soft but tinged with an undercurrent of authority. "We are seeking someone."

"Someone?" Boulk echoed, taken aback by the shift in focus.

The woman nodded slowly. "Yes. Someone who may have passed, or attempted to pass, through the Wall."

"I'm afraid I don't understand…" Boulk began.

"A person of exceptional appearance… Blond hair, blue eyes, somewhat short in stature."

Boulk's expression, previously impassive, tightened almost imperceptibly in recognition before he regained his composure. Christa, standing close by, saw the flicker of recognition in his eyes and acted swiftly, seizing a stray piece of cloth and throwing it over Noah's head.

"What are you doing?" Noah hissed in protest.

"We're leaving. Now," Christa insisted, grabbing his shoulder with bruising force.

"Wait, ow… how?" Noah was confused.

"Neph secured a wagon. We're riding out with the injured soldiers to Kakariko Village."

"But – wait… when did…" Noah's protests were cut short as Christa began dragging him towards the edge of the chaotic courtyard.

"My Lady… why exactly do you need this person?" Boulk's voice held a hint of suspicion.

"Captain…" The Sheikah woman's reply was a silken thread woven with an undeniable source of pressure in her tone. "That wasn't the question."

Boulk swallowed visibly. "My apologies, Lady. It's just..." He stumbled over his words, desperately searching for an explanation that wouldn't further incriminate himself. "I... haven't seen any man matching that description."

The Sheikah's smile was a chilling thing, devoid of any warmth. "How curious, Captain. Considering how readily that description leaped to your mind." She leaned in closer, the movement unnervingly swift and graceful. "I never once mentioned gender, you see. Yet, you were remarkably... specific."