Text Key

"Audible speech."

'Directed thought, telepathic speech.'

Chapter 0 – The Princess and the Picori Festival

Whatever the rest of Hyrule may have been – and Hyrule could be many things –, the fields surrounding its capital city presented the classical Arcadian image; a plain of rolling grass and small clusters of trees, largely unspoiled by the touch of civilization save for the roads that ran through it.

The roads themselves were telling in their own way; while some of them were paved with cobblestone paid for by the people's taxes, others were little more than end result of many generations walking along the same winding path through the hills and fields, the only difference marking the last from game trails being the occasional bit of fence or the odd sign post informing any onlookers of what homestead they were headed towards.

Without those signs or some internal map to travel by, a person could spend hours roaming along the roads without seeing any other mark of civilization.

Zelda knows that she wouldn't have gotten lost. Princess or not, she had been walking these worn paths for years and was possessed of a good amount of common sense, if she did say so herself. Even if she wasn't, Impa would not have forgotten so easily and it was a rare day when her nursemaid-slash-bodyguard wasn't half a step behind her, matching her pace with a knifepoint precision while casually scanning their immediate surroundings for any threats.

The princess didn't pay much attention to it most of the time. For as long as she could remember, Impa had been as close to her as her own shadow and it had never struck Zelda as anything to be particularly bothered about. Today, however, it played on some anxious nerve like a bow on an overtightened violin string.

"It's just a simple errand, Impa," Zelda said for the third time since they left the castle. "You don't need to follow me like an assassin could jump out behind a bush at any second. Besides, I'm not a child anymore."

"You are fifteen years old and unversed in any form of combat," the Sheikah replied, continuing her scan of the environment. "That is the definition of 'child' by more races than I care to name. And nothing is 'simple' where a princess is involved, especially when that princess insists on sneaking out of the castle whenever she feels her lessons have become too dull."

The Hylian princess glanced back at her companion. Tall, wiry, and corded with muscle beneath the cloak and loose robes she wore over her combat leotard, it was easy to define Impa as a warrior by first glance alone. Knowledge of the Sheikah culture gave away more concrete facts; the rings of blue chrysocolla stone in her ears marked her as an adult fully trained in the realms of both stealth and combat while number of plaits and the colors of the threads between them in her braid broadcast the number of years she'd spent in service to the crown in her various capacities.

The multitude of concealed weapons on her person… well, while Zelda had a fair idea where some of those were, she knew Impa well enough to know that she could never say 'all' and had enough common sense not to say 'most'.

The most Zelda had hidden on her person was a bit of string and a small purse of spending money, though maybe her hair pin could serve as a stiletto blade in a pinch if used as unintended. Of course, considering that it was Impa who styled the princess's hair most days, what uses were intended could prove somewhat different than what a civilian might assume.

"Perhaps I wouldn't be so troublesome if you would just train me. Haven't you complimented me on my sneaking abilities before?" Zelda said, forcing her hands not to reach up and pull the hair pin free for the sake of looking at it. Princesses weren't allowed to give into brash impulse, especially when it messed up their stately image. "I wouldn't think it would be unreasonable to learn combat from that base…"

Impa's mouth curled upward at the corner. "True, you are not as hopeless as most Hylians are in that field," she replied. "And I would, if Daltus had given me leave to do so. Unfortunately…"

"…I know, 'such conduct is unbecoming for a princess'," Zelda finished with a sigh. "I wish people understood that I'm not some fragile thing that'll break into a thousand pieces at the lightest touch."

"I would never presume to call you weak, my princess," Impa said, looking up into the sky with an almost appraising expression on her face. "While this is a land of peace, it does no harm to know how to survive in a time of strife. I suppose it would be wiser for you to have some means of defending yourself should worst come to worse."

There must have been stars shining in her eyes, because her bodyguard's tone immediately took a turn back to the serious. "Do not presume that the lessons will be a certainty. If I cannot sway Daltus with words and reason, my oath prevents me from going against his wishes."

They passed under the branches of a spreading oak, the dappled shadows offering a minute respite from the morning sun.

"Impa," Zelda asked after a minute. "Do you think that trouble is coming?"

Her bodyguard didn't answer immediately, turning the question over with the careful consideration she gave to an unfamiliar weapon. "…I cannot say with certainty," she finally said as they began to climb up a hill. "But I sense that an ill wind is blowing somewhere, a wind that may carry trouble our way sooner than any of us would like."

Zelda tried not to dwell on that ominous statement as they continued to walk down the winding path to Split Farm.

Split Farm was not much to look at from the outside. A two-story farmhouse, paint long faded by exposure to the elements, stood on a small hill surrounded by a small orchard of well-tended apple trees. A barn of similar condition to the house sat next to it, doors open so that the cuccos could wander the yard and next to that, a small outbuilding stood, chimney puffing away as the sound of hammer on steel rang out in perfect time.

To those who didn't know who lived there, it was merely another Hylian homestead. Perhaps the presence of the orchard and the blacksmith rendered it somewhat more unique, but apples and blacksmiths were by no means rarities in Hyrule. Perhaps if the orchard had produced magic apples, the cuccos golden eggs, or the blacksmith enchanted blades – as if the works of the Master Smith were somehow insufficient on their own –, but no, there was no inherent mystery to the homestead. There was only the orchard, the cuccos, and the family that tended both.

A stocky man with lavender hair and a black moustache was in the orchard, moving barrels of apples into a cart. Each barrel was almost as wide around as he was, but there was little reason to believe that the former knight was experiencing any true difficulty with the task.

"If you are seeking Master Smith, he's in his forge," he said, not turning around to look at the arrivals. "Just follow the sound of hammering and you should find it–"

"Sir Alfon!"

The former knight turned around, his eyebrows climbing up his forehead as he realized who he'd been taking to. "Princess Zelda! I didn't think they would send you to collect the prize sword!"

Zelda dipped her head. "My father was going to send a page, but I want to invite my friend to go to the festival with me. If that is acceptable, of course."

The language was a touch overformal, but it wasn't easy to shuck off the habits of royalty, especially when addressing someone she remembered as a knight under her father's banner.

"Why wouldn't it be? I was planning on taking the children to the festival later on in the day, so it's hardly a large change in plans," Alfon replied. "And to give service to the crown at the same time, why, that's two keese with one arrow by my book."

"So where is Li–?" Zelda began to ask before a crash from behind them interrupted her.

A pile of leaves that had been gathered up behind the house was now adorned by a puff of ashy brown-pink hair, a pair of skinny white-clad legs sticking straight up into the air, a number of white feathers, and one ruffled looking cucco that quickly hopped down to the ground with a huff before going along its way.

That was one question answered, she supposed.

"Kyrin!" Alfon shouted.

A small head with a tangled crown of blond hair poked out of an upstairs window on the house. "She wouldn't wake up!" the boy yelled back.

"That was no call to let loose a cucco inside the house!"

Zelda ran over to the pile of leaves where her friend had fallen, grabbing an outstretched hand to pull Lief free of the debris that had broken her fall. Even for a princess barred from most forms of exercise outside of riding and dance, it was easy for her to pull her friend up and onto her feet. A small advantage to being a few years older and a few more inches taller than her friend, Zelda supposed. It didn't hurt that Lief was a bit on the small side to begin with.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"Probably," Lief replied as she brushed debris off of her tunic.

Compared to Kyrin's loud voice, Lief's was a whisper. No, not a whisper. A whisper was a hesitant, fragile thing, like a faint wind disturbing long dead leaves. Lief's voice was like the murmur of a forest brook, Zelda imagined, letting the poetic description paint the picture for her. Rarely ever loud or harsh – Zelda never wanted to be present for the occasion when Lief decided to be either of those things –, but clear, steady, and impossible to miss so long as you took the time to listen.

Most people, it seemed, didn't.

"Anyway," Zelda said quickly as her friend looked up. "I came to pick up the sword for the competition – my father commissioned Master Smith for it a month or so ago, but you probably knew that since you help him so much – and I thought that if I asked, you might be able to go with me to the festival!"

She stopped to catch her breath as Lief tilted her head to the side in consideration. "Sounds good to me," Lief finally said. "We might even make it in time to watch the tournament."

Zelda beamed.

"Hey! Do I get to go early too?" Kyrin shouted, bouncing off of his big sister in a typical display of ten year old rambunctiousness. If not for the dynamics and her own previous knowledge, Zelda might have guessed the two weren't related, for all the difference between them in appearance and demeanor.

"No," Alfon answered, handing the boy a bucket full of seed meal. "You get to tend to the cuccos, help me gather up what goods we'll be taking to the festival, and clean up the mess you made of you and your sister's bedroom."

The boy's ears fell with his expression as his uncle guided him towards the barn.

"I'd say that was harsh but that was a long fall…" Lief murmured, rubbing the back of her neck.

"Well, maybe Kyrin will learn something about not putting people in dangerous situations," Zelda said, crossing her arms in irritation. "I only have one best friend, you know, and she is irreplaceable."

As she turned to head into the smith's shack, the princess would swear that there was a small but glowing smile on Lief's face.

Your name is Lief. There isn't really a surname attached, even if people – census takers, mostly – try to figure one out every so often. Smith, on account of your grandfather. Appelman, on account of the orchard. Knight, on account of the family history. Sometimes, they even try to make 'Split Farm' into something that doesn't sound like a ten second effort before realizing that their attempt is not only unwieldy, but unfit for public use.

You've never been particularly bothered by this. After all, surnames are for those who can afford them and, as many of the children at the school pointed out before you suddenly had the princess's protection, you and your family are dirt poor.

…you hope that the next census taker doesn't try to write you down as 'Lief Dirt'. The prospect makes even 'Splarm' start to seem like a palatable option.

The sound of a hammer blow brings you back to reality.

Your grandfather, the Smith – he had another name before that, one that came prefixed with a Sir, but that name is long gone, replaced with 'Father', 'Grandfather', and 'Master Smith' depending on who's talking to him – was standing before the forge, hammer in one hand and sword in the other, with all the muscles earned through years of swordsmanship and toned by decades of craftsmanship tense and gleaming with sweat. His frost white hair was bound back with a green bandana, the same color as his tunic, and the leather apron that protected his body from stray sparks was well worn with age, with what little cracks there are catching the light of the forge like cracks in a volcano's core.

It'd be a much more impressive image if the room didn't smell faintly of both oil and sweat around the more obvious scents of hot metal and coal fire, but hard work tends to stink in more ways than one.

The Smith looked at the blade, assessing the lines and weight of it from every angle. Then, satisfied with what he had in his hand, he quenched it in the oil and went about the much quicker business of assembling the sheath out of wood and leather.

Both the sword and the sheath were simple things without any excess adornment to mark them as the prize they really were, but you knew enough about the craft to know that you were looking at something that would not only take a swordsman through the rest of his life without fail, but would do the same for his son and grandson if properly taken care of.

"There. One of my best works," your grandfather said before he took a sip of the special spring water he kept just out of reach of the forge's heat. The fact that you have never been permitted even a small taste makes it seem extra special, even if part of you knew it was probably because at least a third of its content was that homebrew moonshine he got from the forest witch as payment for her various needs. "A fitting prize for the winner of a tournament of swords."

"It's wonderful!" Zelda cried, hovering over the finished blade with her hands right up to her mouth.

She's smart and she knows a little about swords, mostly because every time it's you visiting her, the two of you more often than not end up looking at the knight's armory or some shop in town. In a reversal of the usual dynamics, that's when Zelda played the part of listener and you the expert.

Maybe that's just her indulging you. It's not like the library in the castle wouldn't have books on swords, not when the town library has around fifteen, but it still feels good to be acknowledged as smart.

Besides, it's not like you've ever been able to turn her down.

The Smith wrapped the sword with a deftness you were just able to follow, the supple buckskin and braided twine falling into a neat web that would protect the sheath and hilt from any dust that might fall on it as you ventured the long path to Hyrule Castle. That it would also make it easier to carry was just a neat bonus, you think as he hands it to you.

Zelda was already by the door, bouncing on the balls of her feet like a child half her age. "Alright! Let's go!"

Aand then she's gone. Back outside to the orchard and Impa.

Before you could follow, your grandfather's hand fell on your shoulder, turning you around as he crouched down to your height.

He's always been bigger than you. Most people have always been bigger than you. When you were younger, it was just a given, but as you grew older and failed to hit a proper growth spurt, it had become clear that you were always going to be smaller than everyone else.

"Lief," he said gravely. "Never forget that, for all Zelda is your friend, she is also the Princess of Hyrule. Watch over her and don't let anything bad happen to her."

You nodded. This is an old conversation for you… or you've had enough like it that it feels old.

The first time was with your father, when he'd been forced you bring you and Kyrin – just a baby at the time – to the castle with him after your mother died. You'd been three, too young to remember anything beyond a warm touch and long hair that fell in your face every time she leaned over you, but not so young that you couldn't help but stare when the Princess had walked past the barracks, all gold hair and endless questions, the shadowy figure of Impa right behind her all the while.

He'd seen you staring and had taken you aside. 'That's the princess. It's my job as a knight to protect her and make sure that nothing bad happens to her,' he'd explained. 'Maybe someday that'll be your job too.'

Two years later, after you'd started school and immediately taken up position at the bottom of the social food chain, Zelda took notice of you. Why, you don't know. Seven year olds have never had much use for five year olds, but she'd taken you under her protection anyway, chattering to you about everything as she helped to walk you through the finer points of reading and mathematics.

Both Impa and King Daltus himself had given you the speeches that time. The difference of Impa coming to you and you being brought to the King made for very different 'moods', but the message was effectively the same.

'Zelda is the princess of Hyrule. You are expected to be on your best behavior around her and to avoid causing her trouble, else you will be removed.'

Okay, perhaps you had been the one to add the threat of 'removal' – and whether your brain had meant banishment or death by that, you couldn't say – to the overall message, but the impression of it was definitely there.

Three years after that, after the worst week of your life, it was Uncle Alfon who'd come to make the speech, kneeling down by the bed you were consigned to until the doctor gave you leave to actually start living again.

'If not for the princess, we may have never found you. You – no, we owe her a great debt for this. It may be one that we may never be able to repay, but–'

Something sparked in you at that. Whether it was the look on your uncle's face or the still open wound of your father's death, you couldn't say, but suddenly you had something to grab onto after so many days of scrambling for your own life. 'Teach me how to use a sword and I'll become her knight.'

Your hands, calloused from training with hammer and blade for the last five years, tightened around the wrapped sword.

No. Nothing would happen to your friend. Not if you had anything to say about it. You'd make sure she stayed safe, with your sword, your shield, or your life. Of course, the difficulty of that was that you didn't have a shield or a sword, unless you wanted to count the plank and the barrel lid you usually practiced with, but you did have the last one.

"Lief! Aren't you coming?" Zelda called from outside.

Your grandfather's grip on your shoulder finally released, allowing you to hurry after the princess with the prize blade held tight in your hands as you got ready to head down the long winding path to Hyrule Castle Town.

Many people had told you that protecting Princess Zelda was the most important thing you could do. Nobody had ever asked you if you would do the same if she wasn't royalty. If they had, though, the truth would have been a resounding 'yes'.

"Doesn't this look fun? Let's have a look around!"

You tried to keep up with Zelda, but her excitement had granted her a speed that you would be hard pressed to match on your best day.

Hyrule Castle Town was crowded, even more than it would be on a normal day. It made sense; this was the yearly Picori Festival, a time when most people who could afford the trip came in, either to partake in the festivities or hawk their wares to a wider clientele then they would ordinarily be able to access. There were kiosks and games of skill and a thousand other things all happening at once – it's so loud – and Zelda had left you alone in this, why did you even agree–?

A hand gently took yours, drawing you out of your panic like a bucket of cold water to the face.

"Sorry, Lief. I shouldn't have rushed off without you," Zelda said, this time going much slower as she led you around the games, Impa following just behind like a shadow. "I forgot that you don't like crowds."

You nodded, your throat not quite ready to release your voice just yet. You liked having space. Whether it was to move or to just breathe, you needed a certain amount of it just to function. And Hyrule Castle Town didn't always have a lot of it to go around, but usually if you took it just one thing at a time,– if the day was a good one – the whole mess wouldn't press in on you quite as hard.

'Usually' didn't cover festivals.

You stuck close to Zelda, clenching her hand tightly whenever new noise or unexpected contact made you jump. Anyone looking at you from the outside would probably see a cool, if slightly cautious thirteen year old, but you had a good idea of how many knots your stomach had managed to tie itself into over the last five minutes.

Now that was a great quality for a knight, being too anxious to deal with people.

Not to say that the festival wasn't fun. There were plenty of interesting booths and delicious snacks and more than a few entertainers. You liked the organ grinding storyteller especially, because he managed to be quiet and loud at the same time. Probably a necessary aspect of preforming for children, being able to keep their attention without scaring the others with excess noise.

Once the man's story of the Picori was finished, Zelda pulled you away again, this time taking you around the prize games. Darts, fish catching contests – which weren't all that fair to the fish in your opinion –, and a dozen other distractions lined the street, stuffed animals of every possible description crowding the shelves like a captive audience.

A man that you recognized as one of the grocers your uncle sold apples to was running a relatively simple stand, one where one drew a random piece of paper from a box. If the paper was white, it was a loser. If it was green, a small prize or monetary award was given. Blue, a prize of intermediary value. Red, a high level prize. And apparently, there was a piece of shiny gold paper hiding in there, because that was the one Zelda had pulled out of the box.

"Well! It looks like you won the grand prize, Princess! Which of the option would you like?" the man said setting down his bell to gesture at a shelf full of various prizes. While the other shelves had large selections of masks, toys, and baubles to choose form, this shelf had three items; a crystal heart charm, a large gold rupee, and a well-crafted shield, one that was clearly meant for actual combat than any form of play fighting. "Oh, I bet it'll be this crystal heart charm. A princess wouldn't have much need for rupees and the shield."

"The shield," Zelda said, pointing at it. It was the sort of thing that would be the first defense of a hedge knight, and there was a simple design painted on its front of an eagle over three triangles arranged in the form of a larger one. The triangle symbol was a common one in Hyrule, though the exact meaning of it had been somewhat muddled after the war a century ago. Still, you wouldn't be surprised if Zelda knew exactly what it meant.

The grocer blinked. "The… shield? But – what about the rupee? Or the heart charm?"

"I'd like the shield, please."

The man relented, handing the shield to Zelda who immediately handed it to you.

As you blinked, she beamed at you. "Now you're one step closer to becoming a knight!" she said.

And the first thing you would use this shield for was covering up your embarrassed expression, which wasn't helped by the grocer laughing.

Zelda led you away from the main crowd after that, bringing you to an empty seat in the royal box so you could watch the tournament. "There's always a little extra space here," she said with a wink. "Because most of the castle soldiers know the combatants and their tricks, they don't always feel like attending even if they don't have a shift to keep them away."

You guessed that made sense, even though you couldn't quite see yourself doing that. Maybe it'd be different when you were older. The two of you had reached the tournament just in time to see the final bout. Swiftblade versus someone you don't know and can't –

"Vaati!" the announcer cried out as the purple cloaked teenager took the field.

'Vaati?'

The thought barely felt like your own even as some part of you instinctively grasped that you knew that name from somewhere. It doesn't help that there was a feeling crawling up your spine like the first cold wind before a storm.

Whatever you thought about that and whoever Vaati was, it was clear that he had some skill behind him to be matched up against the local master swordsman. The fact that he looked like he was barely any older than you made that doubly impressive.

…Yet, you couldn't shake the sense that there was nothing you should be admiring about him.

Walking over to the starting mark, Swiftblade drew his sword and gave a curt salute to his opponent, a gesture that his cloaked opponent did not return.

"Begin!" a judge declared, ringing a bell.

Immediately, the two swordsmen darted forward, steel clanging as thrusts were parried and slashes blocked. The 'dance' was extremely fast and just as complicated, each participant leaping and ducking as the other made moves in the opposite direction. Despite that tightness of action, it was still easy to pick out the differences in Swiftblade's text-book precision and Vaati's instinctive twists and turns.

The fact that the teenager was clearly keeping up with his much more experienced opponent was impressive though. You could only hope that you'd be able to rival that level of speed someday… even if you'd leave out the kicking part if you ever participated in a tournament yourself.

Swiftblade drew back, light dancing along the line of his sword as he prepared for – yes! That was his Dash Attack! Capable of crossing a room in seconds at the cost of not being able to stop immediately. The only way Vaati would be getting out of the way in time was –

…if the wind gusted across the field to push him out of the way, you guessed.

Gaining traction again, Vaati closed the gap between himself and Swiftblade, rapping the man twice in the back with the pommel of his sword before his opponent could turn around.

Then the battle was back to the earlier clash of steel. Neither fighter seemed to have any indication of slowing, meaning that the battle would at least be drawn out for another minute unless someone made a grievous misstep.

As if answering your assessment, Vaati's violet cloak swept forward as the wind ripped across the field again, kicking up a cloud of dust around him as he skidded backwards through the sand –

No, wait. You could see where he was dragging his heels, kicking up more dust than the wind would have brought up on its own. He wasn't scrambling away from his opponent; he was actively taking advantage of the wind to carry dust into Swiftblade's eyes.

The strategy seemed to be working; Swiftblade's movements were slowing, becoming less decisive. You'd had a few lessons with Swiftblade, enough to know that the man valued control above anything else in his art. Reduce his ability to gauge distance and he would instinctively start holding back, unwilling to chance inflicting a mortal wound because of a miscalculation.

In a real fight, it would be a valid tactic. Here… it was questionable, seeing that the tournament was more competitive than ranked, but the spirit, like many of Vaati's previous moves, was definitely that of a cheat, even if the wind was natural.

Somehow, you didn't think it was.

Finally, Swiftblade's movements became more sure, showing that he'd cleared his vision enough to get back on the offensive. As Vaati darted back, the swordsman didn't follow, instead holding his sword straight out in front of him, a glimmer of light – might brighter than before – dancing up the blade in preparation for…

Your eyes widened as the man's stance shifted. Spin Attack. That was Swiftblade's specialty move, one that nobody else – well, except for maybe Swiftblade the First, but he was dead so… – could quite pull off without losing balance or track of the world around them.

Swiftblade finally released the technique, the force of his swing bringing up the loose dust in the area up in a miniature dust devil. There was no way –

Vaati leapt over the spinning attack, hanging in the air for an almost impossible length of time before twisting around in his own spin to launch a sword beam – the crowd oooh'd at that – in response. His opponent lurched out of its path before it could strike true, but the stumble at the end did Swiftblade no favors and it only took one more exchange of blows before the tip of Vaati's sword was at the man's neck.

"And Vaati wins the bout!"

You stared at the area as the rest of the crowd leapt to its feet, the screams and cheers almost deafening.

What did you just witness?

The tournament had been easy to win. Vaati might have been more sorcerer than swordsman, but he had enough martial ability that his use of wind magic to bolster his efforts was hardly noticeable.

Oh, the humans had some skill, but without a desire to kill and any reason to suspect they were dueling a magic user, outclassing them was a simple matter. Nobody questioned the motives of the wind, after all, regardless of if it was blowing dust in their eyes, upsetting their balance, or carrying their opponent just out of reach. As far as they were concerned, it was just bad luck.

Humans were such simple, short-sighted creatures in that respect.

As his escort guided him to the courtyard of Hyrule Castle, the Wind Mage evaluated the situation.

The guards weren't anywhere near the level of the swordsmen that had filled the tournament, the princess was a non-entity unless he felt like taking a hostage – though the child at her side made him discard the idea because that was too many bodies to deal with at one time –, and he had easy access to sky in the event he needed an escape.

Then he turned his attention to the bound chest.

It was a large and heavy affair, obviously antique – at least by human standards – and decorated with seals and protections, with a special focus being afforded to the space around the Picori Blade. Latent magic burned in it like a glowing coal and Vaati could just taste the power hiding within.

Finally receiving a nod from his escort that it was now acceptable for him to approach the chest, Vaati stepped up to it. Tracing a finger down the blade with intermittent flicks – the steel sang of Minish craftsmanship, even after a century of disuse – to test the quality, he finally found what he was looking for. A flaw. Tiny and almost invisible to the untrained eye, but it was most definitely there and oh so exploitable.

The blast of magic that he released into that flaw immediately broke the blade in twain, allowing the chest to snap open like it had been waiting for him all those years. Vaati inched forward, disregarding the screaming that surrounded him, eager to claim his prize–

And received a face full of darkness as his reward.

Monsters poured from the box, some materializing into their true forms immediately to send guards scrambling to stop them while the smarter ones flew to more distant territories. Moblins, Octoroks, Chuchu, and more would take up residence across the country, rendering the roads a hundred times more dangerous for any unwary traveler. A century of peace, shattered in an instant.

But that was not Vaati's concern as he wiped the residue of some misbegotten beast off of his face with a snarl. "Disgusting. But an excellent…" he cut off as he looked in the now empty box.

It wasn't supposed to be empty.

"Where is the Light Force?!"

For a moment, Vaati's form writhed beneath his cloak, an innumerable amount of black wings in various sizes and configurations flexing and tensing as the Wind Mage wrestled with his rage, his fingers turning into claws for the express purpose of damaging the source of his frustration. All his research, all his effort – for an empty box! It was beyond infuriating, it was as if the gods were out to spite him specifically.

The moment passed, however, and Vaati's form returned to the semblance of humanity once more.

So the old tales were wrong. Humans could hardly be expected to get everything right. He just needed to find another angle –

Vaati swept his body to the side as the youth lunged at him, slamming the shield into the ground where he'd stood. The assault may have missed his body, but it still managed to tear the corner of his cloak, telling him exactly how close it had come to striking flesh.

"You nuisance."

The youth fixed a glare on him, shifting their grip on their shield in preparation for another attempt. One that Vaati didn't have the time or patience for. Especially not when he'd just been denied the Light Force.

He charged a quick spell in his hands, certain the feral little thing wouldn't be harassing him further. Statues, after all, were capable of nothing more than collecting pigeons, and he doubted the youth had any magical resistances.

Before the crackling orb could strike, its target threw up its shield, an act that, against all sense, actually seemed to be holding back the spell, at least for the moment. That didn't mean the spell wouldn't eventually dig its way through the wood and turn the child to stone, but the fact that 'eventually' was even part of the sentence was unheard of.

Then the princess flung herself in front of the child, a golden globe of energy surrounding the pair and obliterating Vaati's spell.

A magic user. Likely nowhere close to the Wind Mage's level, but skilled enough to prove a further irritation. No matter, he thought, charging up another spell and reinforcing it with the power of the Mage's Cap.

This time, there would be no blocking it, be the shield magical or physical. It would only stop when it did what it was supposed to.

The youth, ignorant of the power it was up against, braced itself behind its flimsy defense once more as Vaati released the spell.

The princess, on the other hand, seemed much more present. Vaati could see her eyes widening, the lightning fast chain of decisions that would decide her next – and last – move playing out behind them, and then…

She pushed her 'knight' out of the path of the spell, leaving herself there to take the blow herself. Now, where the princess had stood, there was a stone statue in her exact likeness, right down to the steely expression she'd adopted at the last second.

"How tediously noble," Vaati said, reaching out to flick a chip of stone from the end of her nose before affording a glance at his other opponent.

Unconscious. Must have struck its head on something on the way down. Pathetic.

"You shouldn't have gotten in my way," he informed it before the sound of rattling weapons and chain mail brought his attention back to the courtyard at large. Ah, the guards had arrived.

"Surrender, Vaati," one of them – a captain? He had the look of authority – said, brandishing a spear.

Hah. As if a pointy stick could do anything.

"You should know better than to meddle with your betters," the sorcerer replied, drawing his cape close around himself. Then, as the guards began to move in close, he released the windstorm spell he'd been gathering, aiming the brunt of it straight down and launching himself straight up into the air while knocking the rabble back.

Once he was clear of the castle walls, Vaati stretched leathery black wings out from under his cloak to carry him away to a more secure location. Once he was there, he'd go about the business of tracking down the Light Force once more.

Author's Notes

Yet another story in my Chains Adventurous series, this time for the Legend of Zelda: the Minish Cap. Bit of a slow start but that's the way it wanted to be written.

The presence of this story doesn't mean that I'm discontinuing the others. I'm still working there. This is just one of the reasons why the updates are so slow (besides rewrites and edits), because I jump between different threads of the series as ideas hit me. This includes doing research, plotting out story ideas, developing characters, and number crunching various Jumps.

…also I have a lot of stuff going on in my day-to-day life. Being an adult is hard.

Lief – pretty much a female Link. Characterization choices are based on my experience with the games and the fact that every time I ever went to Hyrule Castle Town in the 3D games, I always got overwhelmed and directionally screwed up. I've got quite a bit of her backstory plotted out and a good chunk of it is exposited here already, though some aspects that haven't been covered yet will pop up in future chapters.

Age up – Link comes across as much younger in the Minish Cap, I know, but I went with the number that was given to me by the Jumpchain dice roll of destiny, which was 13. Zelda was aged up in correspondence with Lief's backstory (which I'd come up with first).

Lief's family – Smith is Link's grandfather from the Minish Cap, Alfon is Link's uncle from A Link To The Past (I like him, okay?), Arn is the name of Link's father in the Valiant Comics Legend Of Zelda comic book series, and Kyrin is Link's younger brother in the Legend of Zelda: Sage of Shadows fan film (came up with my own Kyrin's characterization with very little input from that though).

Use of second person – is traditional for Zelda games. That it only applies to Lief's sections is just... the way I do things, I guess.

In the context of the overarching series, this story would be the fifth Jump (unless plans change, which I doubt at the moment). To those just coming in, the series is effectively a massive crossover journey but each story on its own usually sticks to one universe with minor additions of outside themes surrounding one character. I will present the details of what perks and items I picked out for Lief later.

Anyway, reviews are appreciated. Regardless of if you leave one or not, thank you for reading.