The Legend of Zelda: The White Mask

Written by Freedan

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a sequel to my other fic, the Silent Kingdom. You will not have to have read that to understand the events of this one, but there is a great deal of character relationships and such that will make more sense if you know those events, as I don't plan to spend pages and pages recapping those events in detail. Again, if new readers want to start here, I think it'll be fine, but I also think those who have read that story will get a lot more out of this one. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy regardless!

"If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles.

If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat.

If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle."

- Sun Tzu

Chapter 1: A New Dawn

The Riastad Empire lay to the east of Hyrule. Far enough away it did not concern the thoughts of the average citizen, but not far enough for it to not be a threat. And it had been a threat for generations, and a rapidly growing one. An imperialistic nation, steadily devouring the smaller kingdoms that surrounded it over four generations, all until Emperor Paldorn was wounded in battle against the empire's greatest foe to date.

On the eastern side of the empire lay the lands of the Bahdi. Vicious and mighty warriors, the Bahdi's lands were half the size of the empire at the time, and their military outnumbered, but the snake-men of the east were deadly foes, each worth three or more human soldiers in battle through their superior speed and strength. And Sultan Graza was no fool, a strategist well worth his name, he had countered every move the empire made into their lands and brought the invasion to a halt.

While the Bahdi did not have the numbers to invade the empire itself, it would go down in history as a monumental victory, and Emperor Paldorn's days were numbered. He would not recover from his wound, and would die in bed several weeks later.

His only heir was his son Maximilian, a boy of fifteen. And when Maximilian took the throne, others saw it as their chance to seize power. No boy would be able to lead, especially not when the empire fractured into over a dozen small pieces, all vying for a larger piece of what the past four emperors had build.

And just to be certain, one of the rebel factions turned on the capital, intent on Maximilian's head. But then the impossible occurred. The loyal defenders of the empire did not just turn back the attack, but under Maximilian's leadership, they fought to victory, capturing the rebel leaders and seizing back a portion of the fractured nation.

The traitors were made an example of, and then Maximilian launched his own campaign. One by one, rebels fell to his forces, and imperial lands were returned to their proper ruler, until the rebels recognized this threat and ceased fighting each other, uniting against him.

But it was too late. The loyalist forces were growing by the day. Boy or not, Maximilian had his foothold, and the rebels lost more ground with each passing week. The empire was very large, however, and it would take eight years before this campaign reached its eventual conclusion.

And at the end of those eight years, Maximilian now stood before the city of Carthus, its walls breached and his troops storming into the streets. The screams of the populace fleeing in terror could be heard even at this distance. But the common populace were not his focus, because in this city were the last surviving leaders of this rebellion that had taken him eight years to crush.

Footsteps approached from behind him, but he did not turn, knowing who it would be.

"The city is fallen, your majesty," General Tilus said from behind him, "Our troops are moving through the streets and securing the districts. It's only a matter of time until we find Count Mazeth and his subordinates.

"Thank you, general," Maximilian said, "And how are our troops behaving?"

"It will be difficult to be certain until the city is secure, but initial observations is that crimes they commit in the process are at an all time low," Tilus said, "A few cases have occurred, but the observers have moved in and made the arrests."

"Standard punishments," Maximilian said, "Looters shall lose a finger and rapists are to be castrated."

"As you command, my lord," Tilus replied.

"An empire must be built on discipline, and that includes my own troops," Maximilian said, "Examples must be made of those refuse to comply."

Tilus knew what his lord meant, having seen a large number of these examples made over the course of this campaign. But at long last it was at its end. Tilus turned as footsteps came at a run up the hill next to them, to see a messenger from the officers in the city.

"My lord!" the messenger saluted, though the emperor did not turn to face him, "Count Mazeth has surrendered and been taken into custody! He expresses a wish to capitulate!"

"Does he now?" Maximilian said, not taking his eyes from the city, "Very well, inform your commanding officer to bring the count and his subordinates here, but keep their arms bound."

The messenger saluted again, and with a bow to the general, turned and departed at a run.

"General, it's time to make examples," Maximilian said.

The general raised his arm, signalling others nearby, who relayed the order, and preparations were underway.

It was nearly half an hour passed before the count and the three men who made up his inner circle of advisors and allies were marched to the hilltop, their hands bound behind their backs, with six soldiers behind them with swords drawn, should they try to run, and the captain who had accepted their surrender with them. The captain saluted and bowed to the general and emperor, and now Maximilian finally turned away from the city, facing the count.

"Count Mazeth, it has been a long time, hasn't it?" Maximilian said, "The last time I saw you, there wasn't nearly as much gray in your hair."

"And last I saw you, you didn't even fit your new throne, my lord," the count replied, "You've filled out and become quite the man, if I may."

The emperor was a twenty-three year old man now, still barely more than a child compared to many of those who surrounded him, yet behind those brown eyes lurked a dangerously intelligent mind that was leading his men to victory even when he was but a boy of fifteen. And standing there now in full plate armor, sword hanging at his hip, and golden crown on his head, his blonde hair visible over its edges, he looked every inch the emperor his title implied.

"Yes, count," Maximilian said, "My throne. The one you sought to steal. You and every other piss-ant of a lord who decided they wanted more than was their own."

"You have my deepest apologies, my lord," the count said, "Please understand, you were but a boy, and the pressures of ruling a nation-"

"Were never yours to begin with," the emperor finished, interrupting the count, "Eight years, count. Eight years that could have been spent growing the empire and returning our nation to glory after my father's defeat at the hands of the Bahdi. Eight years that I had to spend chasing you and your ilk from one end of my rightful lands to the other.

"And now that you're cornered and have nowhere left to run, you surrender at least. You're not better than a dog that only stops barking when it realizes the only other alternative is far more painful."

Those watching this exchange had varying opinions on what came next. Some believed the count was doomed before it began, and others though the count may have saved his life had he quietly accepted the berating, and not bristled against it. But all that mattered was he did try to argue, to bring down the emperor from his high seat.

"And what of you? You've made quite the name for yourself these past years," the count said, "Do you even know what the common people call you? They live in terror of the name you've created."

"They call me Max the Impaler," Maximilian said, "Not exactly the most original title, but not an inaccurate one."

The count heard footsteps behind him, but dared not turn. There was a thud of something heavy being dropped to the ground. There were move, moving into place behind the other prisoners.

"This is not the end, boy," the count said, "You're a tyrant. The people will not tolerate a tyrant long, and it will be you losing your head for a change."

"The common people are not my enemy," Maximilian said, "They never have been. Those that are loyal are valued members of the empire. But I cannot abide traitors, and I will make examples of traitors as many times as I have to."

Screams came from behind the count, as his allies became such examples.

"Forget tyrant," the count growled, "You're a monster."

"No," Maximilian said, and gestured upward with his thumb.

The count cried out in agony at the pain, the sharp wooden stake piercing his lower back, aimed upward inside his rib-cage, and his feet left the ground as the base of the stake was pushed into the ground. He was hoisted skyward, the point of the stake too wide to pass out the front of his ribs, and he was held aloft by his own bones, his body screaming in agony as he gurgled on blood from his pierced lung. The men lifting him shifted the base into hole they had dug in preparation for the signal, and kicked dirt around the base to ensure it would not fall over, and the body would hang ten feet high, visible to all around the hill.

"I am Max the gods damned Impaler," Maximilian stated as he watched the count's legs kick and struggle, growing weaker with each futile struggle, before finally becoming still.

And the four of them were there, held high on the stakes piercing their backs, the examples of what happened to traitors. With a word from the general, the soldiers gathered saluted and then dispersed, leaving only the general and the emperor on the hill together with the dying traitors.

"Now, general," Maximilian turned to Tilus, "We can finish securing the city, then see about the next step. This campaign is officially finished, it's time to look to the next."

"Should we not wait and let the nation rest, my lord?" Tilus asked, "It has been eight years of war."

"No, we must strike while the iron is hot, or we risk losing our momentum," the emperor said, "But your loyal service will be rewarded. Your people will be granted lands to call their own, as you desired, and the Rito will all be welcomed as full citizens of the empire."

"Thank you my lord," the Rito general said, saluting with one wing across his heart and bowing his head.

"And you personally were already the most titled of your people, not to mention the wealthiest," the emperor said, "So tell me general, who are the greatest threat to our nation now?"

"That would be the Bahdi, my lord," Tilus said, raising his head, "They're the only nation with a sizable enough army to pose a threat, and the fact they are stronger physically than humans make them dangerous in combat. It can take five or more of our soldiers just to bring down a single one of theirs. In addition, your father's ignominious defeat at there hands is a blight on the empire's history."

"Indeed, but they will require our full attention," Maximilian said, "However, another kingdom has been growing in power rapidly in the past twenty years or so, on our other side."

"The only nation there is Hyrule, my lord," Tilus said, "It is a small nation, barely worth our notice. Unless, has it been allying with or absorbing the city-states of the west coast?"

"No, but according to rumor, they possess a deadly weapon," Maximilian said, "A spellcaster capable of destroying entire armies, entire cities, with but a word."

"Rumors only, my lord," Tilus said, "No such wizard exists. The last such being was called the King of Darkness, and I don't believe he was anything more than a legend."

"I would rather determine that myself and have it be proven false than ignore it and be caught by surprise," Maximilian said, "So long as there is a possiblity, Hyrule is a threat we cannot ignore. I can't turn my back on them to deal with the Bahdi until we know they are no threat to us."

"What would you have me do, my lord?" Tilus asked.

"Two possibilities exist," Maximilian said, "We can take Hyrule by military force, but if the rumor is true, that will be a very costly undertaking. As for the other..."

Morning came to Hyrule, and the queen woke to the knock at her door. She'd requested an early wakeup today, and her chambermaid was doing just that.

"I'm awake, Tella, thank you," Zelda called out, "Come back in ten minutes."

There was a sound of acknowledgment, barely audible through the door, and Zelda rolled over in bed, yawning and rubbing her eyes, and then she sighed. It had been eight years since illness had taken Arthur, her former lover, from this life, and yet somehow still turning over in the morning and finding the other half of her bed empty made her heart sink without fail.

They'd never married, in spite of how fond she was of him, and he was the father of her children, but life could be cruel, and he had contracted the wasting disease, for which there was no cure, and even magical healing could do little more than slow the process. It was a rare illness, and not contagious, but there was little more that could be done other than make the victim comfortable in their few months left.

And Mother Nature had a tendency to be an evil bitch.

Zelda missed waking up with his arms around her, she missed his warmth next to her, and she missed him. One of the few people she could stop being the queen and just relax with. And the fact that in spite of his history of being a womanizer, he had given that up, and devoted himself to her completely. So many days, after a nightmarish time in the court with the nobles, he'd patiently listen to her rant about those very nobles and their pigheaded natures, or he'd be ready to give her a massage with those talented hands he had.

But the most painful part had been watching him waste away in those final months. Losing his weight, energy, and even his mind toward the end. He was shell by the time it was over, and then death was probably a release.

She tried to put it from her mind, but after twelve years of sharing her bed with him, the emptiness of it now reminded her of him every morning. And thus far, she hadn't been able to bring herself to find someone else to fill that emptiness. And at her age now, it was unlikely she'd find a man willing to stay with her, queen or not, since she was approaching fifty, and now as she sat up, turning to sit on the side of the bed, she saw herself in the mirror on the wall. Visible crow's feet under her eyes, and her once dark brown hair now with numerous streaks of gray through it, ruining its former glory.

What she could at least say is she was still in good shape. All those years ago, when Link had taught her to use a sword properly, he'd also whipped her into shape in the process, and she wasn't going to let that fade without a fight. When she'd first started practicing in the training yard, it had drawn a lot of uncertain eyes, seeing their queen in training gear and soaked in her own sweat while she smacked a straw man with a heavy training sword, but now it was as regular as the sun coming up.

It also gave her an easy chance to walk the field and see what the current group of recruits looked like. A few years back, she'd even started a bit of a competition. It was a promise of an easy promotion in rank to any of the recruits who could take her down in a sparring match. Plenty came up thinking it would be easy to beat this old woman, only to find themselves in the dirt. So far, none had managed to beat her.

But it also helped teach them that there was more than one kind of opponent. Most raw recruits thought their raw strength would let them overpower any foe, and a woman half their size or less in some cases should be easy to do so, but just as Link taught her, she didn't fight that kind of fight, instead using her small size and superior footwork to outmaneuver the stronger opponent and use his own weight against him.

It was also one of the few forms of stress relief she still had.

She rose from the bed, walking to the mirror and pulling her negligee off over her head and tossed it aside, then looked at herself in the mirror, taking just a moment to look closely, checking for new lines or gray hairs. Then she brought her hands up to her breasts and lifted them slightly, turning to look at herself from the side in the mirror as she took her hands away, trying to see how much more she sagged had than last time she checked.

"Yes, Mother Nature is definitely a bitch," she whispered.

There was a knock at the door again. "Your majesty, are you ready to get dressed?" came the voice of her lady from outside.

"Yes, Tella, come in," Zelda said, pulling back the chair next to the mirror and picking up the hairbrush laying on the nearby bureau as she sat down.

The door's lock clicked and the young lady-in-waiting stepped inside, locking the door again behind her. She'd only been Zelda's lady for the past year, but was already quite content and efficient with her duties, and she now walked straight to the closet, which she swung open and reached inside for clothing.

"A reminder, the public forum is today, your majesty," Tella said, "If I were to assume, you'd prefer one of your court gowns for the event."

Zelda did keep a fair assortment of clothing that was more practical, with decent fits and more importantly, trousers instead of skirts, allowing her to wear her sword comfortably, but some days simply didn't call for that kind of thing.

"Yes, get me the one with the royal purple blouse," Zelda said as she worked the knots out of her hair with the brush, "Is my daughter awake yet?"

"Lady Anell was on her way to wake her when I last saw her," Tella said, "If she isn't, she will be soon."

"If she slept at all," Zelda said, "This will be the first time she's sitting on the throne and hearing the people's needs. I really should have had her doing it a lot sooner, but better late than never. I'm certain she's nervous, though."

"She'll be moreso when she sees the gown you've selected for her, I imagine," Tella said.

"Yes, I'd better get dressed before she refuses outright," Zelda said.

"My mother can't have intended me to wear this," the Princess Zelda said.

As was the tradition in Hyrule, the first-born daughter of the ruling woman carried that name passed down the generations. But the confusion caused by having the same name as her mother was dwarfed now by the gown she now saw herself wearing the mirror.

Particularly with how low the top was cut, showing off, in her mind, a rather uncomfortable amount of flesh.

"Why not just cut holes in the front for my nipples?" she moaned, "If the neck was another half-inch lower, you'd see them anyway!"

"If you're prefer, I can get the taller corset," Lady-in-Waiting Anell said, pausing in her effort to lace up the back of the dress.

"And have it sticking out the top?" Princess Zelda said, "In a way, I think that would be even worse. No, I think we should just get another dress."

"But the queen personally informed me that you should wear this one," Anell said.

"My mother can..." the princess stopped as a knock at the door interrupted her.

"It's your mother," came the voice of the queen from outside, and a moment later, the door lock clicked as she let herself in, and shut the door behind her and locking it back, returning the key to a pocket on the side of her skirt. "Oh, you look wonderful!" she said, clapping her hands together as she turned to the princess.

"If by wonderful, you mean I should be serving beer in a tavern," the princess said, looking at herself in the mirror.

Admittedly, the rest of the dress didn't look that bed. A dark blue blouse with the royal crest, the three golden triangles in the center, with the outstretched wings of an eagle on either side, stitched across the stomach in gold, and white shoulders and sleeves, and matching white skirt. In fact, it looked really good on her. But then her eyes just fell back to her own cleavage and she shook her head.

"Why, though?" she asked.

"That's the current fashion," the queen said, "Noblewomen are wearing tops like that more and more. In fact, the tailor who made that dress is a woman, and it was her idea."

"Why would I wear it when I'm taking the public forum, though?" the princess asked.

"Sex appeal, of course," the queen said.

"Mother!" the princess turned, her expression one of disbelief at what she just heard.

The queen moved over to her, standing beside her so she could see them both in the mirror next to each other.

"I didn't mean it like you might think," the queen said, "A queen is more than just a person of authority. She's a symbol. A symbol of wisdom, of compassion, of hope, and of beauty. And a wise ruler uses every asset they have. Their mind, the advice of their counsel, and yes, even their good looks. Different people will follow different things. Some will follow you because you're wise, others will follow you because of your compassion, and some will follow you simply because they worship your beauty.

"And it's up to the queen to make the best use of them all for the greater good."

"You're telling me people will follow me because I wear something this revealing?"

"I'm telling you people respect different things," the queen said, "The weak-minded and shallow will follow appearances above all. And only shallow enemies will judge you for it. Your real strength, and what the wise and brave will follow, will be your mind and decisions, because they respect you for those. Never miss an opportunity to make a would-be enemy underestimate you."

"Gods," the princess said with a sigh, "I don't see you wearing a dress like this."

The queen glanced at her own dress in the mirror, the top falling above her collarbones, much higher than her daughter's. "Well, I can't fill out a dress like that," the queen said, gesturing to her own bosom, "I think I was the skip generation for that particular trait."

"There's no reason for them to be this big," the princess said, looking down at herself, "At least they've stopped growing. When I was a teenager, it seemed like my clothes were tighter every day."

"Be happy you didn't inherit your great-great-grandmother's figure," the queen said, "According to everything I know, that poor woman was twice that size by your age. And her back got so bad, she could barely walk by the time she was forty. Apparently it was also a common worry that if she rolled over in her sleep, she'd suffocate your great-great-grandfather."

"I could really do with not hearing about my twice-great-grandmother's breasts," the princess said.

"Well, at least you're not worrying about the forum," the queen said with a smile.

"I'm worrying about it plenty," the princess said, "You just came in here and focused the conversation on my breasts somehow."

"You'll do fine, and I'll be right there beside you," the queen said, "Trust me, in an hour or two, you won't even be thinking about the dress. And if someone actually does try to use it against you, it just means they were going to be a pain in the ass anyway, but they've got nothing actually meaningful against you."

"Oh, gods, the smell."

Damien lifted one hand over his mouth and nose as the door opened, though it did nothing to help. He leaned down, stepping inside, the lantern in his other hand casting a light over the horror within.

Just like the last one a few weeks ago.

A pentagram drawn in chalk on the floor of the house, and body laying across it with limbs spread wide. All the skin had been cut away, leaving the red muscle tissue as the first thing anyone saw, and the floor stained with the blood of the process. The last time, it had been a boy in his late teens. This one was a girl, a bit younger than that, judging by the size of the body.

Nails were driven through her wrists and ankles, ensuring she could not escape. Her screams must have carried for miles, but this farmstead was too far from the nearest village for anyone to have heard her. It had also occurred long enough ago that the blood was dry, but not so long for the body to be in advanced stages of decay. Two, maybe three days then.

But the stench of rot filled the house, and the perpetrators were long gone.

The worst part was this was the fifth one in under a month, and they were no closer to finding the ones responsible.

"Captain," came a voice from the door behind him. Damien turned.

It was Lance, the young knight errant put under his command as the final stage of his training before being promoted to true knighthood. Not that Damien had any clue how to properly train a knight. He was a rookie captain, barely in his second month on the job. No doubt he was expected to rise to the occasion, but when this situation was what they were presented with, what was he supposed to do? He had expected to be spending his early days on the job on middle-of-nowhere patrols in the countryside with nothing interesting happening.

Instead he found himself part of an investigation into ritual sacrifices.

"Barn's a bloody mess, too," Lance said, "They slaughtered all the animals in there. It's like a swamp of gore. It would have taken hours at least, so they must have set fire to the wheat field just before they left."

The fire had been the only reason the nearby village had noticed something was wrong, and after they saw this themselves, sent word to the garrison in the capital.

Fifth time it had happened, second time Damien and Lance had seen it themselves. The other soldiers they'd brought were searching outside for any trace of where the perpetrators had gone while Damien had come to look inside himself.

"Let's just hope it's just the one body this time," Damien said, trying not to inhale as he walked toward the doors to the left of the main room.

Unfortunately it wasn't. Looking into the bedroom, there were three more. An adult male and female, and what looked like a male child no older than six. Their bodies were similarly desecrated to the one in the main room, then had been tossed into the bedroom to be out of the way.

So they'd saved the daughter for last, Damien thought as he turned back to the first body.

He gave the room another looking over, but other than the smashed furniture and the ritual circle, there wasn't much to be gained from the small house.

"Come on, I need air," Damien said, motioning for Lance to follow him.

The two stepped back outside, pulling the door shut behind them.

"That's five in less than a month," Damien said to himself, "Ritual sacrifices, all the skin cut from the bodies, but that skin is not found. They take it with them, they must. The pentagram means something, but what? There's no sign of magic by the site, so it's just a chalk drawing.

"Why would they go to the effort of performing a useless ritual, and then why do they take the skin? What are they gaining from this?"

"You sure they're not just bleeding psychos?" Lance asked, "Maybe they get off on it."

"The coroners will be here soon, and they can take over once we know the farm is secure," Damien said, "This is so over our heads."

"Because they're only going after remote farms, no one ever gets out to them in time to stop it either," Lance said.

"If they could have made just one mistake, some trace we can follow..."

"Captain!" came a shout from nearby, "I think I found something!"

The two turned toward the should, to see the soldier holding a prize he'd found near the edge of the burned field over his head. He came toward them, offering it to Damien, who took it in his hand, turning it over slowly.

It was a mask. Plain in its design, little more than a white piece of shaped wood, less than an inch thick. There were no markings on it, and the only open points were where it would sit over the wearer's eyes. In fact, it wasn't all that different from a male mask made for a masquerade ball, but it would cover the wearer's entire face instead of just the top half.

"Wait a minute," Lance said, "Haven't there been rumors of people in the countryside, roaming around at night, walking through villages, wearing white masks?"

"But no one's found any trace, so they were thought to be just rumors," Damien said, "until now. Even if it turns out to be nothing, we have to report it."

"I thought before that we were dealing with a couple of really sick serial killers," Lance said, "But this is looking more like a death cult."

And the two of them both knew who would be called in to deal with that kind of situation, and they weren't a rookie knight captain and the errant assigned to him.

The two in question were at present arriving at the castle, back home after their recent trip across the border, into imperial lands in their own investigation. Link and Kilishandra, with over twenty-five years in service, had not been able to give up the road and adventures as they had once tried, but they had been instrumental in training more groups to operate like themselves. But none of the new teams could really compare to them.

The two of them walked into the castle alongside the gathered crowd of citizens there for the public forum. They stood out, drawing eyes of both guards and citizens alike, due to the armor they were wearing instead of normal clothing, and weapons hanging from their belts. But while the citizens were on their way to the throne room, these two broke away from the crowd down a side passage, toward their private quarters. One of the castle maids noticed them, and reached the door to their room ahead of them, unlocking it for them, and bowing her head as they approached.

"Thank you, Greta," Kilishandra said, "If possible, could we get some hot food bought to us?"

"Of course, my lady," the maid said, "I will alert the kitchen. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Pass a message up the chain that we need to speak to the queen," Kilishandra said, "No rush, since I see the public forum is about to start, but when she is available."

The maid bowed her head again, and turned to leave as Kilishandra pulled the door shut behind her.

Inside, Link was already removing his armor, having tossed his cloak aside and going to the buckles on the side of his breastplate, holding the front and back half together.

The room was not exactly extravagant, but it wasn't sparse either. A large double bed sat with its head against the right wall, with a window letting in sunlight on the outer wall. There was also a dresser and standing full-length mirror, and a small dining table that would sit the two of them comfortably. It was utilitarian because it was rarely used, as Link and Kilishandra would typically spend their off-duty days in the village of Ordon, a good twelve hour ride from the capital.

"A hot meal, a bath, and a soft bed," he said, "If we didn't need to talk to Zelda, we could have just gone to Ordon."

"Not to mention a soak in that healing spring," she said, "But if we didn't come by the castle to see the kids, they'd never forgive us."

"And remind me of my age," Link said, looking at himself in the nearby mirror. His beard was a bit more grown out than usual, and his hair grown a bit wild after a few months of not tending it. And silver streaks ran through both, interrupting his once dark brown hair at regular intervals.

Kilishandra, on the other hand, had not appeared to have aged a day in the past twenty years. She did bear a few new scars, the most visible one a slash mark along the left side of her jaw, but the others were on her arms and not visible under her clothing, but they were mainly cuts, and on her right forearm was a scar from a vicious bite given by a canine, leaving a pattern in the shape of its teeth.

But to most in the castle, she looked the same as they had always known her, with her red hair, chocolate skin tone, and the eye-patch over one missing eye. She was far from immortal, but being a half-elf from another world, she was only in her second century, and it would be some time before age started to show on her.

"Speak of the devil," Link said when there was a knock at the door.

Kilishandra had barely turned to reach for the door when it burst open and the visitor rushed into the room.

It was a young woman, just sixteen years of age, though she was as tall as most men, standing just over six feet, with long red hair hanging over her shoulders, and dressed in a blue tunic with a white under-shirt and matching trousers, a more masculine garb than most women wore. One each shoulder of the tunic was the Hylian royal crest, stitched in gold.

And she threw her arms around Kilishandra, who returned the hug with a smile. "Hey, kid," Kilishandra said, "You're off-duty today?"

"Yes," the girl said, pulling back, "And when I saw you two coming in with the crowd, I just had to come see you."

Her name was Anastasia, and she was the younger child of Link and Kilishandra. She'd inherited her mother's hair color and some of her stature, and her father's blue eyes and lighter skin-tone. She was also the youngest squire in the Hylian army, on track to be a knight errant within the next few years.

Link moved over to them, and Ana released her mother so she could hug him as well. "Glad to see you're looking well," he said, "How are things here?"

"Quiet and boring, like usual," Ana said as she released him, "And I've got at least another year before I get to go out in the field and actually get some excitement."

"Trust me, you'll miss the quiet once you're out there," Link said.

"Says the guy always out saving the world," Ana said with a smile, "So what was it this time? Zombie army? Flesh eating plague? Or the traditional ego-maniacal wizard?"

"None of the above," Kilishandra said, "It was a lot of walking on empty roads and sleeping in the dirt."

"So where's your brother?" Link asked, sitting down and moving to remove his boots.

"He's on duty," Ana said, "He and Damien were going out on patrol on the west side today. And from talk around the barracks, there was another murder at a farmstead out there, so they'll probably be out a while yet to give it a look."

"I see," Kilishandra said, "Hopefully we'll get a chance to see them before we have to go again."

"You going to go to the forum?" Ana asked.

"I think I'll pass," Link said, sitting down on the side of the bed and going to remove his boots, "Don't think I could sit through a few hours of people accusing each other of petty crap."

"Yeah, I guess stolen bread and drunken fistfights are a bit beneath you," Ana said.

"I'm sure it's important to them," Kilishandra said, "We just have other things that are important to us."

"Well, are you at least going to be here for the Summer Festival in three weeks?" Ana said.

"We'll see," Link said, "I have my doubts."

"Do you have plans for it?" Kilishandra asked.

"Of course!" Ana said with a beaming smile, "I'm finally old enough to enter the Sword! And I intend to win!"

Link chuckled. "Better keep it under control," he said, "Most of the things your mother and I taught you will get you disqualified from that faster than you could spit."

"I know about the rules," Ana said, "Most of the instructors I've been under the past couple years also hate what you taught me. They call it dishonorable and just plain dirty."

"It'll be useful when you need it," Link said.

There was a tentative knock at the door, and Ana turned as Kilishandra opened it. The chambermaid had returned, pushing a cart before her with plates of food fresh from the castle kitchen.

"The meal you requested," she said, "I hope you don't mind leftovers from breakfast."

"No, that is fantastic," Kilishandra said, "Eggs and bacon sound perfect right now."

"I'll get out of your way," Ana said, "I'm going to go watch the forum. Today's the first time the queen is going to give the princess full control of it. Might be entertaining, at least."

"Your father and I are going to get some rest, but we'll see you later," Kilishandra said as Ana walked out the door. Ana just lifted a hand to wave as she left.

"Princess having her first open forum without her mother," Link said, "Gods, they're all growing up, aren't they?"

"That is what children do," Kilishandra said, shutting the door and putting the plates down on the table.

"Maybe we should try to be here for the festival, to at least watch her fight," Link said.

"I would like to," Kilishandra said, then gave a small laugh, "You remember when we fought each other in a sword competition?"

"I remember we were both disqualified," Link said.

"And I remember back then, we couldn't stand each other," Kilishandra said, sitting down next to him on the bed, "and look where we are now."

"Well, I know you couldn't stand me," Link said, "But to tell the truth, you were forcing that hostility so hard, it was actually kind of cute."

"Maybe it was because Zelda built you up so much before I met you, I didn't see what she did at first," Kilishandra said, "But I did after a while. I still do."

"Right now, you should see a tired old man who wants to eat," Link said.

"That too," Kilishandra replied.

The queue outside the throne room was quite long when Ana arrived. She slipped by the line and through the main door, moving to the left side of the room. The public forum always drew a large crowd, in spite of only being open for four hours. It was impossible to allow all who came to speak, but that wasn't the point.

The princess was seated on the throne, at present listening to the speaker on the floor, a woman named Telma who owned the tavern on the main square. Telma was not an unknown in the court. She'd been part of the resistance during the Twilight Invasion twenty-seven years ago, allowing them to operate out of her tavern, hidden from the monsters that had overtaken the land. In the time that followed, she'd had a surge of business, and with her newfound wealth, bought out her competition, moving her business from the side street it had been on to the main city square.

Now approaching seventy years old, some wondered when she'd retire and pass the business one of her children, to which she always responded she'd retire when she was dead.

Ana didn't need to hear the specifics to get the bulk of what she was hear for. There'd been a fight in the tavern last night between a couple of drunks, and Telma had come to the forum ready with names to demand recompense for the destroyed furniture from the perpetrators. They brawlers couldn't hide, either, as they had been taken by the city guard the previous night and locked in cells until they dried out.

Exactly as Ana predicted, the princess asked if an estimate had been made for the damages, and Telma had a list ready, made and signed by an authorized party, and the princess cast her ruling that the perpetrators would each be responsible for half the damages. The crown would pay Telma immediately and absorb the bill, which would then be paid back in full within three months or the perpetrators would face arrest and have to work off the remaining bill through community service.

The royal notary wrote a claim for Telma, and the princess stamped it with the royal seal on her ring, which she would take to the royal bank to receive her payment.

That one was easy enough, Ana thought, so why did the princess look like she was going to leave inch-deep grip marks in the throne's armrests?

"She really is nervous," Ana said to no one in particular.

Maybe it was running the forum by herself, even though the queen was there, sitting in a seat near the wall on the far right side from the throne. Or maybe it was the crowd. The throne room was quite large, but there were over two hundred people in here right now, making it feel quite a bit smaller.

Or maybe it was that dress. Maybe she regretted wearing something that low-cut in front of all these people.

"Looks damn good, though," she whispered, "I wish I had a set like that..."

"A set like what?" came a voice from near her shoulder.

Ana turned, surprised he had snack up on her. "Prince Lucian!" she said, and quickly bowed her head, "I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were there."

"Well, I didn't exactly announce myself."

Prince Lucian, the other half of the royal twins, had come up behind her in the crowd. With his blonde hair and white outfit, he stood out enough, it just showed how she wasn't paying attention.

"You didn't answer my question, though," he said, "You wish you had a set like what?"

"Nothing," Ana said, turning her face away from him as she felt it grow hot.

Lucian chuckled, stepping up beside her. "Though you can tell, she's not comfortable up there," he said.

"Yeah, but I'm sure that will come with time," Ana said, "It'll have to if she's going to be the next queen."

"And all the nobles here are watching, looking for any weakness they can exploit to increase their own standing," Lucian said.

"Politicians are the real cutthroats, then?" Ana asked.

"Oh, you know it," Lucian said, "There's even a few that would tear down the monarchy if it would benefit them. That's the real point of the public forum, to make sure the general public remain on the queen's side, convince them that she's listening to them."

"You're saying she's not?"

"No, but I am saying there's just so many voices, one person can't hear them all," Lucian said.

"I can't argue with that," Ana said, "You know, I thought this was going to be more entertaining than it is."

"Public forum tends to be pretty dull," Lucian said, "I've sat there and made enough hearings to know that."

"What a minute, who's that?" Ana said, noticing the next person stepping forward.

It was no resident of Hyrule. A bird-like man, with blue feathers covering his body, and a large yellow beak on his face. But he was wearing a red vest with golden stitching, and gold pads on the shoulders. On the left side of his chest, over his heart was a crest, in the shape of a roaring golden dragon.

"That's the crest of the Riastad Empire," Lucian said.

"The empire?" Ana repeated. She'd never seen a citizen of the empire come this far west. The mountains on Hyrule's east side were nearly impassible if one didn't know the routes. Though if the bird-man could fly like one, that wouldn't be a problem for him.

"Your majesty," he said, falling to one knee and bowing his head, and also crossing one wing across his chest, "I am a messenger from His Exalted Majesty, Emperor Maximilian of the Riastad Empire, come with a letter for the queen of Hyrule."

There was murmuring in the crowd, unsure what to make of this. The princess had frozen, her eyes wide, completely caught off-guard by this, but the queen was already moving. On her feet, she walked swiftly to the side of the throne.

"Forgive me, but you seem to have mistaken the situation," the queen said, "I am Queen Zelda Daphnes Hyrule. The woman you are addressing is my daughter."

"My deepest apologies, I meant no offense," the messenger said, "This is my first time in your lands."

"For future knowledge, messengers should announce themselves at the gates of the city," the queen said, "You've interrupted the public forum, which is intended for the citizens of my kingdom, not for receiving dignitaries. If you'd accompany the guards beside you, they'll escort you to my study where I may take your letter."

The messenger looked up, and saw that two Hylian guards had come up behind him. "Of course, your majesty," he said, standing up, and turning to follow them, and they led him out of the throne room.

"My deepest apologies to those who have not had their cases heard," the queen said, "but I'm afraid we must cut the forum short today. Matters of state. We will resume tomorrow at mid-morning."

There was grumbling, but the crowd began to move toward the door, the guards moving at the edges to keep them moving.

"What's going on, mother?" the princess asked.

"Seems the emperor has a message for me," the queen said, "I'll have to read it to know what. Don't worry, you were doing fine, this was very unexpected."

"Should I come with you?" the princess asked.

"No, I'll handle it," the queen said, "The empire… I think this is still over your head, no offense. You go relax."

"If you say so."

"Anastasia!" the queen shouted across the throne, causing Ana to turn toward her. The queen beckoned with one hand, and the guards let her through, and she approached the queen at a jog.

Ana fell to a knee and bowed her head when she came close to the queen and princess. "How may I be of service, your majesty?" she asked.

"I received word earlier that your parents are here," the queen said, "Can you go get them and bring them to my study as well?"

"At once!" Ana said, and rose to her feed. The queen nodded, indicating dismissal, and Ana turned, running for the throne room entrance at a jog.

The queen sighed, already imagining all kinds of horrible things in that letter, and wondering what Link and Kilishandra had to say as well.

This day was becoming far more interesting than she had expected it to be.

The queen's study could be seen more as an office. It was relatively small room, with a large wooden desk and her seat behind it, and four other seats in front for guests. At the back of the room was a large bookshelf, filled with tomes of law and records, all for quick reference should the queen need them, though she did not for the task at hand.

The letter from the emperor was sealed with wax, and the imprint of the imperial crest, a roaring dragon, pressed upon it. She broke the wax and unrolled the sheet. Good gods, did the emperor pen this himself? If so, his handwriting was atrocious.

It wasn't illegible, though, and Zelda's eyes went wide as she read it, almost not able to believe it was real.

There was a knock at the door, causing the messenger and the guard in the study to run.

"If that's Link and Kilishandra, let them in," Zelda said without looking up from the letter.

The guard moved to the door, his steps silent on the wood floor. He was one of the dark elf ninja, the personal bodyguards of the royal family, who came to Hyrule from Mystara twenty-five years ago. Dressed in black leather armor, with a curved katana hanging from his hip, and visible belts of throwing knives strapped across his chest, and a black cloth around his neck that could become both a hood and a mask if he needed to conceal his face and snow-white hair to move in shadow.

The Hylian royal family had once been guarded by another people of the shadows, called the Sheikah, but they had vanished centuries ago, so Zelda had welcomed a return, even if by a different people. It was only a matter of time before the dark elves were gone as well, however, as other than Kilishandra and Silviana, who lived in Ordon with her husband, there were no females left among them. While most of the men had taken Hylian wives in the decades following those events, and it would take centuries, it was only a matter of time before those of dark elf bloodlines were indiscernible from normal Hylians.

But for now, dressed in black and heavily armed, they made for an intimidating presence. This one now opened the door, and he saw the three waiting outside.

"Link and Kilishandra may enter," he said, "The other will wait out here."

Ana shrugged as her parents went inside. Nothing new there. The door was pulled shut behind them.

"What's the letter?" Link asked, approaching the desk and sitting down in one of the free seats without waiting for permission.

"From the emperor of Riastad," Zelda said, laying it down on the desk, "He wants to talk to me. In person."

"Is he serious?" Kilishandra asked, "The empire's been in a civil war for almost a decade. Why would he all of a sudden reach all the way out here?"

"According to this, he put down the last of the traitors about a week ago," she turned to the messenger, "That's a very fast trip for such a distance."

"I am a Rito, your majesty," the messenger said, bowing his head, "We are not bound by the roads of you land-walkers. No offense intended."

"He also says he has far greater enemies than Hyrule to worry about, though I wasn't aware we were enemies," Zelda said, "But he wants to meet in person to discuss matters and hopefully come to a non-aggression pact before he can his attention away from Hyrule. And just to show he's not bitter about things, he suggests Baron Ravenholt's lands as the neutral meeting point."

"Ravenholt, he's the one with lands east of the mountains, right?" Link said, "That the Gorons have started trading their mining explosives to."

"That's right, but more than that, he used to be part of the empire, before it fractured," Zelda said, "Rather than get caught up in the civil war, he petitioned me for vassalage. I granted it, and there is now a small company of Hylian soldiers there, reinforcing him. I also had the Gorons send some engineers to install their latest model of canons on his walls to further strengthen his defenses.

"If he ever does come under siege, he'll likely need them, as it could take ten days or more to get a company of armed troops through those mountain passes to reinforce him."

"I assume guaranteed peace would be good for Hyrule, in any case," Kilishandra said.

"Yes, it would," Zelda said, "Fact is the empire, reunited, dwarfs us in size by a fair margin, if they were to declare war and invade us, mountains or no, we'd be fighting outnumbered fifteen to one at least. Based on what we know, however, they don't have the spellcasters we do," she glanced at Kilishandra, "nor do they have Goron explosive and canon technology. We might not be able to win," and she turned directly the messenger as she continued, "but it would be very costly for them to conquer us. So costly that their greater enemy would likely be able to seize the opportunity for their own invasion."

"The emperor also wished me to tell you personally that our two nations may have a common enemy," the messenger said, and reached to the bag hanging at his hip.

He withdrew something wrapped in cloth, and gently set it on the desk in front of Zelda.

She reached across and opened the cloth, not picking it up, revealing what lay within.

It was a mask, white in color other than a bloodstain. It was plain in design, the only visible characteristics the two holes for the wearer's eyes.

"We know nothing about this enemy other than the remains of their victims," the messenger said, "Victims of ritual sacrifice."

"Holy shit," Link said.

Zelda, a growing suspicion in her eyes, looked over at him. "Link, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?"

Link had been holding a wrapped package under one arm since entering, now tossed it onto the desk, the wrapping coming open as landed next to the mask. It was an identical white mask, missing only the bloodstain.

There was a knock at the door, as if on cue. "Your majesty, it's an emergency!"

"Let them in," Zelda said to the guard, who opened the door.

It was Damien, the young Gerudo knight captain, accompanied by one of the ranking officers.

"Your majesty, you wished to be informed the moment there was… oh..." the officer paused when he saw how many people were in the room.

"It's fine, what's happened?" Zelda said.

"Your majesty, I went to investigate a farmstead where there had been a murder in the recent days," Damien said, stepping forward, and then he paused, looking at the masks laying on the desk, as he held up the one his man had found in his hand. "We found this at the site."

"It seems my lord was correct," the messenger said.

Zelda took a deep breath, slowly exhaling through her nose, her eyes closed. This had just changed everything.

"Tell your emperor I will meet with him," she said, "It must be soon, is within a month possible?"

"I'm sure it will be," the messenger said, "We Rito can fly fast enough, either I or another will return with his reply for time. It was an honor to meet you, your majesty. I hope for a great era of cooperation between our nations."

"The guard in the hall will escort you out," Zelda said, and the messenger bowed again, departing through the door, which was pulled shut behind him.

Zelda looked down at the three masks now laying on her desk.

"Gentlemen, and lady," she said, looking up at those before her, "We have a death cult on our hands. One that is far more widespread than I am comfortable with."