TP: Aftermath 5/?
Title: Twilight Princess: Aftermath
Chapter Title: Chapter Five: The Burdens We Carry
Fandom: Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess
Genre: Adventure, Fantasy
Pairing: Gen
Summary: The Hero's duties should have ended when he saved Hyrule, but the nobility, once again embroiled in politics, have other plans.
A/N: It's been over a year since my last update. *sheepish* I sincerely apologize for the long wait, and hope you guys will forgive me. Between moving back to the US and applying for grad school, I guess I've been preoccupied, but there was enough free time that you'd think I'd have managed to get one chapter out. Sorry.
Much thanks to my very, very patient beta zalein.
Chapter Five: The Burdens We Carry
Corac turned at the sound of the knock. Soon after the door opened to reveal a large, monster of a man, his wide shoulders barely fitting through the door. He was oddly hairless, giving his face an egg-shaped look, which was so at odds with the rest of him that it was somewhat reassuring. In each hand he carried a giant bucket of water that would normally take all the strength of one man to hold.
“ ’ere with the bath, milord,” the man said. Then looking back out into the hallway, jerked his head forward. At the motion two more men entered, carrying an empty wooden tub between them.
“I’ll jus’ pour this into the tub, milord, and we’ll be on our way,” he said, face expressionless.
Corac approached the tub, now halfway filled with water. He frowned.
“The water’s cold.”
“Aye,” the giant man agreed readily, friendly despite his appearance. “It’s an ’ot day out, and village custom’s a cold bath first. The place’s riddled wi’ natural ’ot springs, see. If y’wish an ’ot soak you can after you’re clean milord. There’s a spring right ’bove the inn.”
“I see.”
It was why, moments later, Corac emerged from his room clean but still sore, loosely dressed in a simple white tunic and trousers. A servant woman gave him the directions to the hot spring, and he was soon dubiously making his way up the wide, rocky incline above the inn. Gradually the air became warm and humid, tinged with the smell of sulfur. Encouraged by this, Corac walked faster. He heard the sound of deep, male laughter a second later, and frowned. Corac had not wanted to share his hot soak with anyone else. Perhaps they would leave when they saw who he was.
As he got closer, he saw his path blocked by a wall made half with rock and wood, which split into two other paths. Arrows with crude drawings attached to the side pointed one way or the other: the right proved to be the women’s section, and the left, the men’s.
“… Can’t believe I never thought it was you!” Corac heard someone roar appreciatively. Then he heard an all too familiar voice.
“I didn’t mean to keep it a secret, but…”
“Oh, no worries about that lad. We Gorons understand. You had enough troubles without dealing with us.”
“I knew,” Corac heard another say sullenly, the deep bass voice a sharp contrast to the little-boy image that the tone conjured.
“Aye, well you would know wouldn’t you Dangoro,” the first voice said with amusement, “seeing that our young Hero’s the first to have bested you.”
“Got no job ’cause of him now.” Still petulant. “Nothing to guard. And the lava’d hurt.”
“Do you want me to return the Hero’s Bow?” It was Link’s voice again, not at all repentant, but just as obviously polite.
“No! No no… no. You can keep it!”
“Dangoro doesn’t want the extended holiday you’ve given him cut short,” another voice said almost slyly.
The whining Goron’s yelp of protest was barely heard over everybody’s laughter.
Gorons! Corac flinched instinctively at the idea of joining them, but somehow his legs kept moving, and he suddenly found himself at the hot spring. There were four Gorons of varying size soaking in the pool. Corac immediately flashed back to the giant man who had brought his bath water, reminded of the incongruity of the man’s features by the absurd difference in the Gorons before him. One was so large that he cast a shadow over the entire spring, while the smallest Goron was so wizened with age that he barely came up to Corac’s waist. All of them wore nothing more than a loin wrap, not that they wore anything else normally. All four turned to look at Corac when he appeared, their expressions for the most part welcoming, though the giant Goron was clearly sulking.
The Hero turned around from where he’d been having his conversation with a Goron of middling height, his face revealing nothing.
“Please join us Lord Corac,” Link said with a faint smile.
“Ah…”
Corac was not quite sure how to approach the situation. He shifted uncomfortably where he stood. The Hero wore nothing but a scrupulously tied towel around his waist, looking more relaxed with the Gorons than he did among his own kind.
“Another human!” the Goron next to Link shouted enthusiastically. “The area has become lively now that there are more. Hero, do you know if anymore will come?”
“You’d best ask Renado,” Link answered with a genuine smile. “But I don’t see why more humans wouldn’t move here.” To Corac’s amazement, the young man immediately gave a languorous stretch, revealing well developed abdominal muscles, then sank deep into the hot pool until only his head was above the water.
The Gorons roared appreciatively.
“No hot springs elsewhere to soak your bones after a hard day’s work!” the elderly Goron said.
“Hah. Only humans get aches and pains from their labors. Gorons are never tired!” another boasted, thumping himself in the chest.
“I heard you whining about hauling rock yesterday Borgo. You’re no better!”
Once again the Gorons laughed, Borgo laughing good-naturedly along with them.
Only the Hero didn’t laugh, though he smiled. Corac felt the Hero’s eyes turn to him before actually seeing them-the bright, intense blue that had so frightened him during the battle at Darunia Town.
“There’s a changing room to your right with towels and a place to put your clothes,” Link said quietly.
Somehow Corac managed to get out a smooth reply.
Thank you Hero, but I didn’t come for a soak,” he said.
“You didn’t?” the Hero said, looking genuinely disappointed. Murmured softly, it felt like a challenge.
“The feast…”
The Gorons had fallen eerily silent as they watched them, their alien faces impossible to read in the early twilight.
“I’ve been assured that the feast will not happen until full night.” Link sat up, the expression on his face looking more like the innocent peasant he had first appeared than the dangerous man Corac now knew him to be. “It is still barely twilight…”
It was so earnest. Corac could not quite suppress his admiration at the young man’s ability, skilled despite his obvious lack of training. But he could not forget the heavy shadows under the setting sun, and the monster who had battled against beasts lesser than it was.
“I will see you later at the feast,” Corac said.
Even when he was back in his room, Corac could not quite shake the feeling that he had just managed to escape from the jaws of a wolf.
* * *
Link managed to suppress the sigh that threatened to come out after Lord Corac had run away. Yes, run away. From him, Link, the Hero. Link, who had never raised a hand against any creature of the light. It was a sickening feeling. Not for the first time, he regretted that outburst of temper after the fight at Darunia Town. And the repercussions from that outburst have not ended. Some haven’t even begun. He had a feeling that some of them would be a long time in coming, and dreaded it.
The Gorons looked curiously at him afterward, the easy atmosphere before Lord Corac’s arrival broken into awkward silence.
“Hero, that man was afraid of you.”
It was the Elder Gor Coron who spoke.
“I know.”
“News came to us before you arrived. We heard that Darunia Town was attacked by dark creatures. And that you were there.”
Link shifted uncomfortably in the water. He was not surprised that such news had arrived ahead of him. But he couldn’t quite suppress his feelings of resentment and frustration, and he knew that it showed. Not quite trusting himself to say anything he wouldn’t regret later, Link went with a neutral question.
“How was the news received?”
“I can only speak for myself, but after I heard the news, and the opinions of the one who brought it… I can only say,” the elder sighed, “I can only say that our forebears were wise to allow the identity of the Hero to slip into the shadows of history.”
“It’s too late for that,” Link said sadly.
“The Princess should have understood this,” another Elder, Gor Ebizo muttered. “What was she thinking?”
“Such a thing is pointless to discuss,” Gor Coron snapped. “But it would not be too farfetched to think that Her Highness too is but a single person, and she is only one against the entire Council.”
A hushed silence followed.
“Do you think the Council is controlling the Princess?” another Goron asked, this time turning to Link. He was, after all, the only person who had actually met the princess.
“She is a strong person,” Link said, thinking of the single-lined letter he had received from her. “I don’t believe she would let that happen.”
“Then we’ll have to hope that she knows what she’s doing,” Gor Coron said, folding his arms across his chest and nodding firmly. “And in the meantime…”
Link suddenly found himself the center of wide, Goron grins.
It was the last clear thing he saw before a rock hard hand unceremoniously pushed him into the deeper part of the pool. Gasping and choking, but managing to free himself, the rest of the bath was filled with the appreciative roars of the gorons, and his own, recently too-rare laughter.
* * *
Your Majesty,
By the time this report reaches you we will hopefully be safe in Impa Town. The journey goes well, and the people have reacted to our mission with overwhelming enthusiasm.
Zelda suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. There were maids cleaning out the fireplace at the moment, and it wouldn’t do to have them reporting that their ruler had been rolling her eyes like an errant adolescent.
It is advised that you hasten the work being done on the barracks, for I believe that they will be needed sooner, rather than later.
As much as she was uncomfortable with the entire purpose of Lord Brennan’s mission, it was hard to deny the results. Conscripts have been trickling in by a steadily increasing amount. Even without Lord Brennan’s input, work had already started on the barracks, with plans to make more. The only person displeased with this was Lord Markis, who was probably annoyed at the fewer numbers of young men left to tend their fields.
Though our journey has continued, for the most part, in safety and comfort, it is my regret to inform you that portions of the eastern Fields are still too dangerous for travelers. You will have received the report on the attack of Darunia Town by now. While we were saved due to the courageous actions of the Hero, it is highly advisable that plans for a permanent military base for the eastern fields begin now. It is not wise to burden our Hero with too much.
Lord Brennan was skilled, Zelda admitted to herself, as she reread the paragraph yet another time. If she had been anyone else, she wouldn’t have seen the warning that the last sentence represented. Until now the lord had seen the Hero as a tool, to be shaped and perhaps, thrown away once the events had passed. But now circumstances had changed, and Zelda knew, with a clarity of vision, just what would happen next.
Suddenly she was tired. Tired of ruling, tired of politics, tired of having to justify her position to a group of petty nobles more preoccupied with their status than the good of Hyrule. Her eyes trailed to her right hand, and rested on the telltale mark there. There were times when she was still surprised that it was there, and those were becoming more often now, as she looked at the golden mark that identified her as the bearer of the Triforce of Wisdom. Did the fact that it remained mean that the Goddesses still thought her worthy? Or were they having second thoughts even now, and debating on whom they should bestow the honor upon next?
She wished with all her heart that there was someone she could talk to. Only the ones who knew the truth of the Twilii invasion could truly understand. One was beyond her now, while the other was embroiled in his own struggles, struggles she herself had created with her own indecisiveness and lack of forethought.
If Midna were to see her now…
“How she would laugh,” she said, startling one of the maids. Zelda ignored her, and after a few moments, the maid went back to tending the fireplace.
Her Twilight counterpart had been wiser than perhaps she’d known when she’d destroyed the Mirror. Now there was no link, no evidence, no path to reach her or her people. The way Hyrule was now, if Zelda had not given up the Hero as a sacrificial lamb, the nobles would have been clamoring for a punitive force to punish the Twilii for what had happened. Certainly such a thing would have united the country just as much as what Lord Brennan was doing now, and satisfied her people’s need for revenge, even if it meant lashing out at the greater victims of the Twilii invasion, the Twlii themselves. That things could have taken a worse path, but had not, was not comforting. Even gone, Midna was proving that she would have been a far worthier bearer than Zelda herself.
The mark shone in her hand, reminding her yet again of its presence, and the burden that presence represented. Briefly her mind flashed back to the moment when she and the Hero had finally united to fight Ganondorf together. As she recalled the feel of the Hero’s mount beneath her, the Arrows of Light in her hand, Zelda remembered that in that moment, the Hero had never looked back at her, not even to make sure of her comfort. His trust in her abilities then had been absolute.
And he still retained that trust, Zelda realized. Even though she had failed him once already, twice if she counted the fact that he had fought her while she’d still been a puppet under Ganon’s power.
She could hear Midna’s mocking laughter, and couldn’t help but smile a little in response. It hadn’t just been the Hero who had trusted her after all. Now was the time to earn that trust, to truly come into her power.
“Rilla,” she said, summoning one of her ladies-in-waiting from a separate chamber. The woman appeared in the doorway of the adjoining room, looking at her with a puzzled expression. “Tell the seneschal that there are things I wish to discuss with him.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Her seneschal arrived a few moments later, his face carefully neutral. Normally Zelda preferred to have her discussion with the seneschal in the late evening, to go over the finer details of the Council meetings. It was still mid-morning.
“Lord Varsh,” she greeted. Not waiting for the man to reply, she continued, “Have a list and a map of all the lands belonging to the Crown on my desk in an hour, if you please.”
“Your Majesty?” he said, quite clearly taken aback.
“Lord Brennan believes that a permanent military post should be created in the eastern Fields,” Zelda said. “I agree with his assessment, and will need to determine which area is best for this post. As Lord Corac is the best man to assess this, have a copy made of the lands to him with my instructions. Have him reply with his choices in a week’s time at the latest.”
“Aaah, understood, Your Majesty. Shall I inform Lord Markis of this as well, since this is a part of his jurisdiction?”
“He will be informed during the Council Meeting this afternoon.”
Lord Varsh rightly recognized this as a dismissal and left without saying anything else. Zelda found herself smiling. It was only the beginning, and will take further work, but a path was visible now.
Are you still laughing, Midna?
The laughter in her head only grew louder.
Back
Next
Chapter Title: Chapter Five: The Burdens We Carry
Fandom: Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess
Genre: Adventure, Fantasy
Pairing: Gen
Summary: The Hero's duties should have ended when he saved Hyrule, but the nobility, once again embroiled in politics, have other plans.
A/N: It's been over a year since my last update. *sheepish* I sincerely apologize for the long wait, and hope you guys will forgive me. Between moving back to the US and applying for grad school, I guess I've been preoccupied, but there was enough free time that you'd think I'd have managed to get one chapter out. Sorry.
Much thanks to my very, very patient beta zalein.
Chapter Five: The Burdens We Carry
Corac turned at the sound of the knock. Soon after the door opened to reveal a large, monster of a man, his wide shoulders barely fitting through the door. He was oddly hairless, giving his face an egg-shaped look, which was so at odds with the rest of him that it was somewhat reassuring. In each hand he carried a giant bucket of water that would normally take all the strength of one man to hold.
“ ’ere with the bath, milord,” the man said. Then looking back out into the hallway, jerked his head forward. At the motion two more men entered, carrying an empty wooden tub between them.
“I’ll jus’ pour this into the tub, milord, and we’ll be on our way,” he said, face expressionless.
Corac approached the tub, now halfway filled with water. He frowned.
“The water’s cold.”
“Aye,” the giant man agreed readily, friendly despite his appearance. “It’s an ’ot day out, and village custom’s a cold bath first. The place’s riddled wi’ natural ’ot springs, see. If y’wish an ’ot soak you can after you’re clean milord. There’s a spring right ’bove the inn.”
“I see.”
It was why, moments later, Corac emerged from his room clean but still sore, loosely dressed in a simple white tunic and trousers. A servant woman gave him the directions to the hot spring, and he was soon dubiously making his way up the wide, rocky incline above the inn. Gradually the air became warm and humid, tinged with the smell of sulfur. Encouraged by this, Corac walked faster. He heard the sound of deep, male laughter a second later, and frowned. Corac had not wanted to share his hot soak with anyone else. Perhaps they would leave when they saw who he was.
As he got closer, he saw his path blocked by a wall made half with rock and wood, which split into two other paths. Arrows with crude drawings attached to the side pointed one way or the other: the right proved to be the women’s section, and the left, the men’s.
“… Can’t believe I never thought it was you!” Corac heard someone roar appreciatively. Then he heard an all too familiar voice.
“I didn’t mean to keep it a secret, but…”
“Oh, no worries about that lad. We Gorons understand. You had enough troubles without dealing with us.”
“I knew,” Corac heard another say sullenly, the deep bass voice a sharp contrast to the little-boy image that the tone conjured.
“Aye, well you would know wouldn’t you Dangoro,” the first voice said with amusement, “seeing that our young Hero’s the first to have bested you.”
“Got no job ’cause of him now.” Still petulant. “Nothing to guard. And the lava’d hurt.”
“Do you want me to return the Hero’s Bow?” It was Link’s voice again, not at all repentant, but just as obviously polite.
“No! No no… no. You can keep it!”
“Dangoro doesn’t want the extended holiday you’ve given him cut short,” another voice said almost slyly.
The whining Goron’s yelp of protest was barely heard over everybody’s laughter.
Gorons! Corac flinched instinctively at the idea of joining them, but somehow his legs kept moving, and he suddenly found himself at the hot spring. There were four Gorons of varying size soaking in the pool. Corac immediately flashed back to the giant man who had brought his bath water, reminded of the incongruity of the man’s features by the absurd difference in the Gorons before him. One was so large that he cast a shadow over the entire spring, while the smallest Goron was so wizened with age that he barely came up to Corac’s waist. All of them wore nothing more than a loin wrap, not that they wore anything else normally. All four turned to look at Corac when he appeared, their expressions for the most part welcoming, though the giant Goron was clearly sulking.
The Hero turned around from where he’d been having his conversation with a Goron of middling height, his face revealing nothing.
“Please join us Lord Corac,” Link said with a faint smile.
“Ah…”
Corac was not quite sure how to approach the situation. He shifted uncomfortably where he stood. The Hero wore nothing but a scrupulously tied towel around his waist, looking more relaxed with the Gorons than he did among his own kind.
“Another human!” the Goron next to Link shouted enthusiastically. “The area has become lively now that there are more. Hero, do you know if anymore will come?”
“You’d best ask Renado,” Link answered with a genuine smile. “But I don’t see why more humans wouldn’t move here.” To Corac’s amazement, the young man immediately gave a languorous stretch, revealing well developed abdominal muscles, then sank deep into the hot pool until only his head was above the water.
The Gorons roared appreciatively.
“No hot springs elsewhere to soak your bones after a hard day’s work!” the elderly Goron said.
“Hah. Only humans get aches and pains from their labors. Gorons are never tired!” another boasted, thumping himself in the chest.
“I heard you whining about hauling rock yesterday Borgo. You’re no better!”
Once again the Gorons laughed, Borgo laughing good-naturedly along with them.
Only the Hero didn’t laugh, though he smiled. Corac felt the Hero’s eyes turn to him before actually seeing them-the bright, intense blue that had so frightened him during the battle at Darunia Town.
“There’s a changing room to your right with towels and a place to put your clothes,” Link said quietly.
Somehow Corac managed to get out a smooth reply.
Thank you Hero, but I didn’t come for a soak,” he said.
“You didn’t?” the Hero said, looking genuinely disappointed. Murmured softly, it felt like a challenge.
“The feast…”
The Gorons had fallen eerily silent as they watched them, their alien faces impossible to read in the early twilight.
“I’ve been assured that the feast will not happen until full night.” Link sat up, the expression on his face looking more like the innocent peasant he had first appeared than the dangerous man Corac now knew him to be. “It is still barely twilight…”
It was so earnest. Corac could not quite suppress his admiration at the young man’s ability, skilled despite his obvious lack of training. But he could not forget the heavy shadows under the setting sun, and the monster who had battled against beasts lesser than it was.
“I will see you later at the feast,” Corac said.
Even when he was back in his room, Corac could not quite shake the feeling that he had just managed to escape from the jaws of a wolf.
* * *
Link managed to suppress the sigh that threatened to come out after Lord Corac had run away. Yes, run away. From him, Link, the Hero. Link, who had never raised a hand against any creature of the light. It was a sickening feeling. Not for the first time, he regretted that outburst of temper after the fight at Darunia Town. And the repercussions from that outburst have not ended. Some haven’t even begun. He had a feeling that some of them would be a long time in coming, and dreaded it.
The Gorons looked curiously at him afterward, the easy atmosphere before Lord Corac’s arrival broken into awkward silence.
“Hero, that man was afraid of you.”
It was the Elder Gor Coron who spoke.
“I know.”
“News came to us before you arrived. We heard that Darunia Town was attacked by dark creatures. And that you were there.”
Link shifted uncomfortably in the water. He was not surprised that such news had arrived ahead of him. But he couldn’t quite suppress his feelings of resentment and frustration, and he knew that it showed. Not quite trusting himself to say anything he wouldn’t regret later, Link went with a neutral question.
“How was the news received?”
“I can only speak for myself, but after I heard the news, and the opinions of the one who brought it… I can only say,” the elder sighed, “I can only say that our forebears were wise to allow the identity of the Hero to slip into the shadows of history.”
“It’s too late for that,” Link said sadly.
“The Princess should have understood this,” another Elder, Gor Ebizo muttered. “What was she thinking?”
“Such a thing is pointless to discuss,” Gor Coron snapped. “But it would not be too farfetched to think that Her Highness too is but a single person, and she is only one against the entire Council.”
A hushed silence followed.
“Do you think the Council is controlling the Princess?” another Goron asked, this time turning to Link. He was, after all, the only person who had actually met the princess.
“She is a strong person,” Link said, thinking of the single-lined letter he had received from her. “I don’t believe she would let that happen.”
“Then we’ll have to hope that she knows what she’s doing,” Gor Coron said, folding his arms across his chest and nodding firmly. “And in the meantime…”
Link suddenly found himself the center of wide, Goron grins.
It was the last clear thing he saw before a rock hard hand unceremoniously pushed him into the deeper part of the pool. Gasping and choking, but managing to free himself, the rest of the bath was filled with the appreciative roars of the gorons, and his own, recently too-rare laughter.
* * *
Your Majesty,
By the time this report reaches you we will hopefully be safe in Impa Town. The journey goes well, and the people have reacted to our mission with overwhelming enthusiasm.
Zelda suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. There were maids cleaning out the fireplace at the moment, and it wouldn’t do to have them reporting that their ruler had been rolling her eyes like an errant adolescent.
It is advised that you hasten the work being done on the barracks, for I believe that they will be needed sooner, rather than later.
As much as she was uncomfortable with the entire purpose of Lord Brennan’s mission, it was hard to deny the results. Conscripts have been trickling in by a steadily increasing amount. Even without Lord Brennan’s input, work had already started on the barracks, with plans to make more. The only person displeased with this was Lord Markis, who was probably annoyed at the fewer numbers of young men left to tend their fields.
Though our journey has continued, for the most part, in safety and comfort, it is my regret to inform you that portions of the eastern Fields are still too dangerous for travelers. You will have received the report on the attack of Darunia Town by now. While we were saved due to the courageous actions of the Hero, it is highly advisable that plans for a permanent military base for the eastern fields begin now. It is not wise to burden our Hero with too much.
Lord Brennan was skilled, Zelda admitted to herself, as she reread the paragraph yet another time. If she had been anyone else, she wouldn’t have seen the warning that the last sentence represented. Until now the lord had seen the Hero as a tool, to be shaped and perhaps, thrown away once the events had passed. But now circumstances had changed, and Zelda knew, with a clarity of vision, just what would happen next.
Suddenly she was tired. Tired of ruling, tired of politics, tired of having to justify her position to a group of petty nobles more preoccupied with their status than the good of Hyrule. Her eyes trailed to her right hand, and rested on the telltale mark there. There were times when she was still surprised that it was there, and those were becoming more often now, as she looked at the golden mark that identified her as the bearer of the Triforce of Wisdom. Did the fact that it remained mean that the Goddesses still thought her worthy? Or were they having second thoughts even now, and debating on whom they should bestow the honor upon next?
She wished with all her heart that there was someone she could talk to. Only the ones who knew the truth of the Twilii invasion could truly understand. One was beyond her now, while the other was embroiled in his own struggles, struggles she herself had created with her own indecisiveness and lack of forethought.
If Midna were to see her now…
“How she would laugh,” she said, startling one of the maids. Zelda ignored her, and after a few moments, the maid went back to tending the fireplace.
Her Twilight counterpart had been wiser than perhaps she’d known when she’d destroyed the Mirror. Now there was no link, no evidence, no path to reach her or her people. The way Hyrule was now, if Zelda had not given up the Hero as a sacrificial lamb, the nobles would have been clamoring for a punitive force to punish the Twilii for what had happened. Certainly such a thing would have united the country just as much as what Lord Brennan was doing now, and satisfied her people’s need for revenge, even if it meant lashing out at the greater victims of the Twilii invasion, the Twlii themselves. That things could have taken a worse path, but had not, was not comforting. Even gone, Midna was proving that she would have been a far worthier bearer than Zelda herself.
The mark shone in her hand, reminding her yet again of its presence, and the burden that presence represented. Briefly her mind flashed back to the moment when she and the Hero had finally united to fight Ganondorf together. As she recalled the feel of the Hero’s mount beneath her, the Arrows of Light in her hand, Zelda remembered that in that moment, the Hero had never looked back at her, not even to make sure of her comfort. His trust in her abilities then had been absolute.
And he still retained that trust, Zelda realized. Even though she had failed him once already, twice if she counted the fact that he had fought her while she’d still been a puppet under Ganon’s power.
She could hear Midna’s mocking laughter, and couldn’t help but smile a little in response. It hadn’t just been the Hero who had trusted her after all. Now was the time to earn that trust, to truly come into her power.
“Rilla,” she said, summoning one of her ladies-in-waiting from a separate chamber. The woman appeared in the doorway of the adjoining room, looking at her with a puzzled expression. “Tell the seneschal that there are things I wish to discuss with him.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Her seneschal arrived a few moments later, his face carefully neutral. Normally Zelda preferred to have her discussion with the seneschal in the late evening, to go over the finer details of the Council meetings. It was still mid-morning.
“Lord Varsh,” she greeted. Not waiting for the man to reply, she continued, “Have a list and a map of all the lands belonging to the Crown on my desk in an hour, if you please.”
“Your Majesty?” he said, quite clearly taken aback.
“Lord Brennan believes that a permanent military post should be created in the eastern Fields,” Zelda said. “I agree with his assessment, and will need to determine which area is best for this post. As Lord Corac is the best man to assess this, have a copy made of the lands to him with my instructions. Have him reply with his choices in a week’s time at the latest.”
“Aaah, understood, Your Majesty. Shall I inform Lord Markis of this as well, since this is a part of his jurisdiction?”
“He will be informed during the Council Meeting this afternoon.”
Lord Varsh rightly recognized this as a dismissal and left without saying anything else. Zelda found herself smiling. It was only the beginning, and will take further work, but a path was visible now.
Are you still laughing, Midna?
The laughter in her head only grew louder.
Back
Next