Cerisa was actually glad to leave the forest. It seemed so drab lately; cold. The trees seemed to of list their vitality, the Forest Children their songs and play, and the Great Deku Tree his cheerfulness, was it really all because of that boy? Link, wasn't it? She did have to feel sorry for him, but the plague he seemed to be creating in the Forest wallowed up most of her compassion.

"Hopefully," She muttered out loud, “these Hylians up in the Castle could help, otherwise I'll have to find a new home, and my wings don't seem to be as energetic lately. Mother always said it was a sign. . . ."

Finally approaching the Castle, she slowed down to a hover, searching carefully for her quarry . . . a girl who’s actually the princess of Hyrule, but won't look like one . . . and a nursemaid that won't probably be seen unless she has to beat the senses out of someone. Things were so encouraging . . . she better be at the right castle.

Cerisa yawned suddenly, realizing that the speedy journey here without stops had exhausted her. She fluttered down towards the east wall of the castle and nestled upon a soft wooden crate, closing her eyes and peacefully taking in the tranquil trickling of the moat.

After a few moments though she realized she wasn’t the only one taken advantage of the situation. Loud, guttural snores were emanating from the other side of the crate. She crossly shook herself up and peeked over the side and wrinkled her nose in disgust.

A large, smelly, obese Hylian was sprawled across the ground, bearing a badge on his shirt similar to the design of the crate, it looked like a deer or something, and this man was probably supposed to deliver it to the castle, but fell asleep upon arrival.

Cerisa wanted to scream at him . . . The door was only a few feet away! Couldn't he of waited? Instead of getting flustered, she calmed herself down in knowing that she was doing the same thing.

"Maybe we're soul mates, hee hee!" She thought sleepily. She nestled down atop the rounded mountain that was his stomach, the rhythmic motion almost blotting out his snores . . . almost. . . .

Had she not been so close to such a noise maker, she might have heard the quiet shuffles of someone else approaching, the noise of a glass bottle being relieved of its topper, the sudden swishing movement of her hands when she swept the bottle over the fatigued fairy and screwing it shut, capturing her with horrid and cruel efficiency.

Of course, there isn't much hope of hearing anything when one tries resting upon a man like Talon, or evading the tricky Malon, who always so much wanted a fairy friend. . . .

Feel pity for Cerisa. She really could have used that nap.

Chapter 6: Assassin?




Impa had the intruder in her hands and was about to snap its neck when she realized it was just an owl. The unfortunate creature squirmed and hooted haplessly in her grasp, glaring at her with highly affronted amber eyes. She sighed and aptly released her prisoner, watching it spurt off into the dying sun's blood-red sky. She was getting way too paranoid lately, even with the news of a complete massacre in a small village barely anyone had heard of. There was no reason to expect assassins in every corner of the castle's grounds.

The owl certainly had been a shocker. Its soft, careful rustle through the surrounding foliage reminder her exactly of her old mentor when he personally ambushed students to check on there casual awareness. She was at least proud her reflexes hadn't failed with her age; not many people could have so efficiently snared a concealed enemy in a death grip. It was simply unfortunate that it wasn't an enemy.

She bent down and carefully picked up one of the feathers the owl had dropped in their escapade. It was very long, with a softened tuff the resembled a fledglings feather. Quite pretty to be honest; it'd make a nice quill. She pocketed and headed back to the castle door, her ears still scanning for any irregular activity. Arriving without incident, she pushed through and made her way through the exquisite ballroom of the castle——all finely primped and decorated. She dimly remembered the King telling her that there was some sort of Board meeting later this evening, but under no circumstances could she understand why so much effort was put into the appearance; they were there to eat and talk, not appraise artwork.

Staying to the shadows of the room, she neatly avoided the multitudes of servants as she made her way to an ugly portrait of a gnome grinning at a fallen queen. There was no need to wonder why it was pushed out of eyesight, but this ironically better suited her purpose. Soundlessly removing the frame off the wall, she revealed a hidden passage and squeezed herself through, replacing the picture after her. Carefully she crawled through the tunnel——pausing only briefly to disarm traps such as cleaving blades, gas releases, and poison bolts——then resetting them as she passed. Finally she made it to the end, which was blocked off by another portrait. Cautiously, she soundlessly removed the frame, vigilantly making sure not to dislodge any of the pins that would evoke another falling cleaver. Finally her work was finished and she pushed though, finding herself in another corner of a much smaller, but still lavish, room.

Quickly replacing the portrait, she immediately made a survey upon the room to check for any assassins that may of found their way to such quarters. She was relieved to only find a jumble of intricate ornaments and toys strewn all across the floor——a large pile of stuffed animals in the adjacent corner——and one young girl lounging on high pile of clothes that probably used to be her bed. She raised her head in Impa’s direction as she continued towards her.

“Really, Impa. Daddy put doors in the castle for a reason. There’s no need to go through every single hidden passage in order to visit little old me.”

“Practice, Princess Zelda, is what I need a lot of. Especially now. With my growing age, I can only afford to be perfect in my activities if I can’t do them quickly anymore.” She had a point. Nearing fifty-six, she was passed the age of average fitness by many years. It was time to start expecting changes.

“Admit it; you just want to show off so you can discourage me out of my Sheikan training. I really am starting to progress.”

Impa recently started enrolling her secretly in a private training of the Sheikan Arts in such categories as stealth, disguise, heightened awareness and martial fighting. Being no instructor herself, she knew the program would be rubbish compared to what she had learned, but felt that even a little would be worth it. Being a princess was no cakewalk. She should be prepared for anything.

Regardless, Impa rolled her eyes. “But I am training you, right this instant. I suppose you didn’t actually hear me come up her did you?”

Zelda sighed. “No, I doubt anything could have. You were completely silent. How am I supposed to keep with you? Can’t you set an easier challenge?”

“So you believe that you would have heard people entering the passage, had they not been me?”

“Yes.”

“We’ll see about that.” Impa turned away to resurvey her quarters. “And what have you been doing today?! I told you to clean up your room hours ago. If you aren’t going to except common expectations for responsibilities, there’s no need to have them. Mind you, I doubt even a cleaner would come in here! This mess is inhumane!”

“Oh give me a break; it’s just a bit cluttered. I’m sure lots of people have rooms like this!” Zelda replied hotly.

“Yes, but that’s because they don’t have the optional luxury of servants. And look at yourself. You look like you just got out of bed!”

“Who said I didn’t?” Zelda said smugly. It was true. She was still wearing her nightgown, and her hair was strewn in every direction. Somewhere amid the clothes pile was the book she had been reading. “What’s the rush anyways? There’s nothing else to do.”


“Perhaps the board meeting tonight?”

“Damn it! Don’t tell me I have to go again!” Zelda wailed, her smugness replaced by horror and annoyance.

“The board requires your presence, my Lady. It could not commence without you. Anyway, I believe they might be discussing the important events surrounding the village mishap.” Impa was actually intrigued upon what they would say.

“Then you go. I have no ear for there riff-raff.”

“You’d better get one then. A day will come when you must be a head of such discussions.”

“Well, its not now, why do I have to suffer pre-maturely?”

“Because you need the practice, and they politically require your presence. You also know I can’t attend such an event anymore. I was quite involved when I was your father’s guardian, but when he changed my post over to you, he wished there to be nothing that will hinder my ability to protect you.”

Impa really didn’t miss the power. The only good thing she had done in her opinion was opening up a village around the local graveyard. Kakariko Village was now one of the fasted growing small towns in Northern Hyrule.

She watched as Zelda began to haphazardly burrow into her clothes piles in a moronically futile effort to hide from her nursemaid. Her eyes once again facing the ceiling, she reached over with one hand and unearthed the struggling Princess of Hyrule and sat her down. She tried to squirm away but Impa’s strong grip held her firm.

“Listen Zelda, not everything in life is how we wish it. You might hate your responsibilities as a princess, but you still have them, nothing can take them away. You are the only princess of Hyrule, if something happens to you, there will be no others to carry on the greater half of Hyrule. I do not always wish to be a bodyguard. It is a lonely life, full of danger and discipline. Again, if something should happen to me, there is no one to fill my place. You would live unprotected, and I cannot allow that. Likewise, you cannot leave your country’s side, or they would be unprotected by greedy politicians who care nothing for the people and only themselves. Would you shirk your task despite the damage you would do? If so, you can leave now.” Impa abruptly stood up and opened Zelda’s door.

A single tear slowly leaked out, hanging suspended before finally breaking off and journeying down to the floor. Its quiet splash seemed to resonate through Zelda’s ears, filling it with sounds off pain and suffering. The tear had actually found itself to a cleared part of stone, leaving it to glisten in the dying sun’s glow, giving it the appearance of a drop of blood.

Zelda was surprised to notice the shuttering breath she let out as she slowly returned her vision to Impa. She spoke softly, as if wishing not to break the sudden silence of the world.

“Do I really have such a responsibility to Hyrule?”

“Do not fear it Zelda, but embrace it, knowing you have the ability to make the world a better place. The responsibility is great, but I know of none other that I would trust more to fulfill the task.” She crept closer and whispered mischievously into Zelda’s ear. “Besides, the food will be good. I saw the menu for it; roast duck, rosehip pudding, cord au bleu, candied yams, custard cream, veil cutlet, the list goes on and on. Just eat slowly and see if you can get the meal to last the whole meeting.”

Zelda managed a weak smile as she gave a reply. “That’s all you bodyguards think about isn’t it. The next meal?”

“That, and the next idiot we have to pulverize. Be glad you’re not one.”

Zelda carefully tried to discreetly wipe the sweet sauce of the cuff of her dress with an already dirty napkin. Failing that, she tried not to look inconspicuous as she licked of her stained fingers, inadvertently knocking her unused fork onto the rich carpeted dining carpet. Cursing silently, she slowly put weight on her chair and leaned back, careful to keep a solid grip on the table edge. It was still out of her reach! Giving up yet a second challenge, she swung her weight back to the table, regaining her spot. Unfortunately, she miscalculated the velocity of her switch and made a loud disconcerting clunk as the front legs rejoined with the floor.

Wincing rather noticeably, she slowly raised her head, expecting the entire dining table occupants to be staring rigidly at her obvious disrespect and disregard to ethics and etiquette. Instead however, everyone was thoroughly immersed in their dinner and quiet conversations with their neighbors. She sighed. As much as she’d hate to be caught performing such barbaric deeds, she found it nearly as frustrating when nobody took any notice of her completely.

Oh, she’s still just a little girl, she has no idea what she’s talking about, just ignore her, she knows no better.

These comments that she swore the adults at every board meeting discussed in there mumble jumble banter, that’s why they talked so quiet. They didn’t want to hurt the poor princess’s feelings, even though she’s probably lacking the intelligence to understand what we’re saying, hee ha. . . .

Absorbed in her angry feelings, she seemed to forget to release pressure on her delicate glass goblet. Everyone noticed that time, but the sudden noise of glass shattering and a handful of imported wine splashing you in the face were hard to ignore. Zelda got the worst of it. The substance’s deep red color ran deep into the front of her opaque dress and more into her golden blond hair. The bits that landed in her face where partly camouflaged with the red hue of her blushed skin, but unfortunately it was still rather noticeable due to its different texture.

The guests nearby her were relatively better, but in their minds even a small splash of wine ruined their exquisite robes, many which were pearly white. At least they were spared the indignity of being hit in the face, and wouldn’t need to see their barbers as soon. Regardless, they were furious. Even less encouraging, the man sitting across from her even had an expression of triumph in his eyes, as if he had been waiting for the “stupid princess” to do something such as this.

Eyes burning, as they dully pieced at their stained clothes, they followed Zelda’s sudden retreat from the dining hall with a heavy line of fiery glares. If looks could kill, Zelda wouldn’t have made it from her chair. The King however, looked longing at his child, knowing this was one of the few opportunities they could have actually shared together, as far as one could do that at a board meeting anyway. He was the only one to notice Zelda’s quiet apology of “Sorry!” before she disappeared.

Her face still burning with a fire to rival the glares of the diners, she sped down a now darkened hallway vacant of occupants. Finally spotting an empty room with its door open, she flung herself in and slammed the door shut, and fastened on its lock. She didn’t want anyone one to find her anymore, especially Impa or her father. She hadn’t thought she was squeezing the stupid glass hard, in fact, she didn’t really remember picking it up. To have thought it would have been so explosive too! The glass had only been about half full, and wasn’t very big to begin with. And that insensitive idiot who thought it was funny! She could see his gleam now, probably mocking her right now.

“Stupid girl, never trust a woman with anything, especially your imported wine!” And they would all laugh with him, for they were all men. No one would find the insult very offensive. In fact it was only she could think of right now. The fact that she now remembered he was staring at her even before she broke it, as if he knew the incident would occur. His eyes actually seeming to glow in the candlelight, sparkling almost, and if thinking absurdly, glowing with their own light! What a joke!

Maybe she was actually drunk, the few sips she had actually taken earlier on had actually intoxicated her. She tried to think back to when she had, if their had been a sudden rush of numbness, a blackout even, but all she could remember was that man’s smile, his eyes, and his look of triumph. . . .

Then she heard someone approaching the door. The footsteps were so soft and careful and could be led by only one person: Impa! She didn’t want to see her right now, to hear her speech about personal dignity and respect, which she should have been calm and remained seated; that she should have at least seen her first instead of running through the empty parts of the castle. She didn’t want to hear her rants about paranoia and assassins. She was sure everyone in the world simply regarded her as an object of amusement; no one really regarded her as a threat; especially since she was simply a princess.

Then she realized there were actually a few people gathered outside the door, all with the same stealthy movement. In that instant she started towards the other exit. It was too late. A man adjourned in black jumpsuit kicked right through the door, the lock falling uselessly to the floor. He dashed towards her, and was closely followed by four other men. She screamed and bolted through the exit, and flew down another empty hallway.
She could feel the man close behind her, his breath ripping at her neck, his hands groping for her back.

She lunged through another pathway and found herself in yet another empty hallway, this one absent of any side rooms, just a multitude of tapestries and a doorway at the far end. She had a hunch that this led back to the dining hall; she had started her journey from it in a similar one. Her heart pounded in her chest so hard with fear and exhaustion she feared it would burst right through, her head burning, her adrenaline almost used up; she was only a few steps from the door. Then it opened up, revealing yet another man of similar status.

There was no escape.

Zelda simply crumpled to the ground, wailing out; hoping that someone would hear, though being that it wasn’t the dining hall, but most likely another barren corridor, there was no chance. She closed her eyes as the man approached her, hoping for the Goddesses to be merciful. She heard the sudden scrap of steel as the man ahead of her drew a dagger. She hung her head and waited for the end. She felt the cold steel find itself against her neck, and slowly cut, releasing trickles of liquid that did not need the sun to look like blood. . . .

Chapter 7: Treasonous Whispers


Crack!
Crack!
Crack… snap!

Alone in his private tent, Skali was furiously hacking away at a large barrel sized chuck of sturdy wood, steadily making larger and uneven gouges all over the surface. Thin curved blades in both hands, saliva flying from his open maw, eyes rolling madly in a frenzied battle state, the Dinolfos continued to beat upon the defenseless quarry until one of his blades finally gave in an ear-wrenching snap. Not to be defeated, he surreptitiously snarled at his foe, and pounced upon it, his thick claws on his feet and hands digging deeply into the wood, and snapped his jaw shut upon one corner.

Nothing defied the bite of any Reptalfos.

Muscles bulging, face contorted in grinding effort, Skali wrenched an entire side of the stump off with a sickening crack and spat it triumphantly to the side. Without his sturdy tail for balance, he surely would have fallen with it. However, there was nothing he could do about the awful lingering wood taste left in his mouth. Disgusted, he began to drool out lengthy amounts of saliva in attempt to distort the taste, for Reptalfos mouths are inadequately shaped for spitting. Really, it was a miracle that Dinolfos could speak in such fashion as they did, though not much could be said for the Lizalfos. Their slimmer jaws and tongues made anything more complex then a squawk completely indecipherable.

Not yet finished, he wiped the remaining saliva roughly off his jaw and resumed his work. Taking the broken blade from the earthy floor of his tent, he stabbed it through the heart of the bole, the keen edges cutting fine rivers of blood from his hands as it formed a rough splint along the center of the wood. Now grabbing the hilt and gripping one side with his less bloodied hand, he slowly began to pry the chuck apart, the hilt embedded in the splint acting as a lever. With a loud pop, the wood again gave way to its predator and snapped roughly into two halves, splints of wood and dust spaying into his already stinging hands.

Snarling, he brandished his tent’s pole torch and rammed the burning end into the smaller half, momentarily dismissing light from his quarters. It came back in a flash as the dry wood also quickly caught a flame. Foreseeing this, Skali had already rammed the pole back into the soft earth and hacked at the burning stump furiously. The now charred surface was much easier to hack through and crumbled to a pulp and distinguished almost instantly to the Reptalfo’s blows. He was about to repeat the demonstration with the remaining half when a sudden rustling at his tent’s entrance brought him spinning back to reality; his now blackened blade brandished and pointed threateningly to the sound.

It was only a Lizalfos, a most likely a messenger by the lack of armor or arms. It squawked offhandedly to make sure he was noticed. Skali swiftly silenced it with a threatening snarl. Of course, it might have just been his appearance that had yet not been recognized. Armor absent due to its hindermost in the former exercise, one could easily see the tight, scarred, muscular body that many a Dinolfos officers would envy, and a face of defiance to match it.

Which ever it was that had brought the lizard to his tent, it promptly reminded the Lizalfos of his duty and presented him with hastily scrawled note on a strip of bark. It was most likely that the Lizalfos could not read or write itself, but, of course, retained the intelligence to comprehend orders. It wasn’t that they were lacking any more brains, but the unfortunate incapability to speak forced the Lizalfos sub-nation into the lower rungs of the Reptalfos’ communities.

Quickly scanning the script, Skali suddenly groaned dejectedly and tossed the note into the torch flame, quickly consuming it. Growling, he sent the messenger scurrying off with his own message: “Sirrah, tell zee War-Chief that if he wantz to insult me again, to do it himszelf inztead of forzing zome incompetent idiot do to zee jobz!”

Sighing, he leisurely slipped back into his armor and headed out into the starlit camp of the Reptilian Horde.

The camp mostly dark and silent aside from the few officers still using their tent torches and the sentries around the camp’s perimeters; the Horde had retired for the night. With recent addition of Skali’s West-Point Clan, the Horde had finally reached its maximal force of over a million Reptalfos soldiers. Stalking temperedly towards the centermost and largest tent, he ignored the few lower ranked soldiers’ salutes as he swiftly stomped through their open aired resting grounds. Only officers were permitted tents.

Finally reaching his destination, he passed momentarily at the entrance to make way for an exiting guest. Bile rose in his throat as he recognized it as that foul idiot Warlord Ignatius. Being a human alone gave Skali reason to hate him, but the additional fact that he was actually considered more important then he gave further infuriation. Although he had only arrived at the encampment that morning, he had quickly been alerted of the man’s apparent importance.

“The time will come human!” he snarled to himself. “Not forever will your stock remain high, and when it drops I will be waiting for you.” Giving a last contemptuous glare at the retreated back of the Warlord, he skulked into War-Chief Rizakis’ headquarters.

Upon entrance, Skali received a quick smack in the face by the means of a wet cloth. Chocking back the anger of receiving the dishonor of an insubordinate officer, he settled into a shaking bow facing Rizakis.

“Hail, War-Chief Rizakis. I hope time has found you-”

His annunciation suddenly cut off by swift kick in the face, Skali sprawled across the dirt floor, mouth now bleeding in addition to his hands. Groggy and blinking blood specks from his eyes, he slowly rose from the floor, keeping a wary eye on Rizakis, who actually looked angrier than himself.

“Skali, you scrathiogramz, howz darez you disobeys my direct order of meetingz here at soonest speed possiblez? Givez meaningz to zis outragez!” Rizakis screeched, hands raising, promoting further violence. Skali, however, bared his hackles and started reaching for his remaining blade.

“Youz had no rightz to strikez me! Iz not yet underz your command whence receiving your letterz! It remained clearz to mez that I waz under full obligation to do az I pleased until arrivingz at your combined Horde.”

“Therze waz no reason in hell to attacks that humanz town and you know it! As I clearly stated to ‘avoid detection and attention’, as wellz az ‘Committing actz of uneszezzary violenze!’ ” Rizakis roared, spit flying from his mouth.

“Hylian and Goron populacez are by lawz to be exterminated when ever pozzible!” Skali countered, taking refuge on ceremonial oaths of Reptilian procedure on his obvious blunder.

“Uze your headz, for bloodied sakez! What zee hellz is morez
importantz!? Old laws or present progression!? Nowz zee Hylians vill know somethingz afoot!”

“Don’t takez me for a foolz. It waz made sure to bez a very thorough jobz, we evenz dropped some Gerudo bandit corpses in zee streets. There’z no reason of suspicion.” Skali dropped his gaze from Rizakis’ still fiery glare and took a quick survey of the quarters. He could see a jumble of maps and orders strewn across Rizakis’ sole desk, but the words were scribed in Hylian, and could not decipher them. Skali was again reminded of the human. They must be his, and the War-Chief is actually using them!

“Whatz in it for uz anywayz? Whatz the real reason for thiz human in our Horde? I’ve probably heard a thousand rumourz already!” Skali spat venomously, shaking with anger but also in anticipation for a possible real answer.

“Wouldn’ze zee likez of you like to know, eh?” Rizakis’ maw stretched into what appeared to be a malicious smile, but was hard to discern due to the absence of lips and too many teeth. “Now getz out of my sights you uselezz fool before I getz out my guards on youz!”

Strongly tempted to test his threat by stabbing him through the heart, Skali forced himself into a bow and quickly left; angrier if possible then before and realizing that he had been summoned just to be baited.

“Don’tz worries, Rizakis, you’ll bez singing my song soon. Youz just wait!” Skali muttered to himself treasonously as he stormed his way back to his tent, not caring if he trodden over any of the many sleepers obstructing his way.

So many fools, so little time to exploit them.