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Chapter One – Origins of Spirit
"Come on, boys! Put your back into it!" Ser Marshal, a muscular and built hylian that stood at about six foot three, flexed his massive arms with his fists plant firmly on his hips. The gleam of the afternoon sun reflects off orb that is his shaved head, his face punctuated by the large, dark well-groomed mustache. His jade tunic of a Knight of Farore is bleached from his many hours watching the Knight hopefuls, and his expert eyes scanned the scene of young Pages scurry back and forth across the courtyard, each with a bag full of rocks in each hand. All of them, between the ages of fifteen to twenty, have a pained look in their eye, save two; a young man who had the same build as Ser Marshal, and a boy who rode into the fort with a letter from the King himself that recommended him for Knighthood. Each had this driven look in their eye, which both amused and enraged Ser Marshal.
After watching the Pages for a while Ser Marshal began to stroke his mustache, a habit he drew from when he was the Knight Captain of the Royal Guard in Market Town, which always meant he was deep in thought about one thing or another. Not a single pickpocket or robbery went unsolved during his tenure there, at least not the reported ones. To his left, one of the more heavyset pages slows to a walk, and then keeled over, his body shacking from overexertion. "What do you think you are doing!?" Ser Marshal's voice booms. "Did I say you could quit!?" The young page gasps. "I… I can't…" "You can't, what? Protect the Kingdom? Serve the King with honor!?" He was standing over the page now, leaning over him to appear even more intimidating. "No! I… I just…" He wheezed, shame and pain in his eyes as he stared into the distance. "Pathetic! Do you really think you have what it takes to be a Knight of this realm!? I should throw you out of here, you pathetic weakling!"
One of the two who had that driven look in their eye grabbed the collapsed Page's arm. "Come on, get up!" His blonde hair matted with sweat, the white tunic he wore stained from the months of punishment he has already endured. Ser Marshal scowled at the interloper, his rage and hatred suddenly focused on him. "Oh, so I suppose that you think you know this boy's limits better than he dose, do you?!" The boy stood, his feet shoulder width apart and hands held at his front as a sign of respect, a stance all pages must take when addressing their instructor. "No, Ser! I just wanted help him push his limits, Ser!" The answer pleased Ser Marshal, but he didn't show it. An instructor must never be satisfied with Pages aspiring to be Knights no matter their answer or ability. "Oh, really? Do you see any of the other Pages helping him?" The boy didn't even blink, the heavyset page on the ground looking up with surprise, back and forth between the boy and the instructor. "No, Ser!" Ser Marshal then got an inch from the young page standing before him, his face turning red with intensity. "Then what makes you think you can do that!?" Spit was flying from his mouth in feigned anger; as if there is a correct answer. "Because it was the right thing to do, Ser!" This young man didn't even flinch at the giant before him; this was not his first time faced by giants, after all.
The unyielding confidence threw Ser Marshal off. Never has he had such a student under his charge stand up to him the way this boy did. Full fledged Knights have been known to cower before the sheer image of the Knight Commander of the Order of the Goddess Farore, and yet here is a young boy staring back at him. After a moment, he regained his composure. "What's your name, boy?" The young page lifted his head a little higher. "Link, Ser, of Central Provence." A twisted smile morphed onto Ser Marshal's face, the kind you never wanted to see as his student. "Well, everyone, you can all thank Link here for the extra two bags you will be carrying tomorrow!" A harmonious grown was heard from across the courtyard. This is a game he had played before, and if he could get his way, this Link will be another addition in his order; if he survives the other Pages.

"Come now dear, you do not really want to do this kind of training, do you?" King Richard Leon Hyrule looked pleadingly at his fifteen year old daughter dressed in the blue and white attire of an apprentice Sheikah. Sweat was beading upon the young Princess Zelda's head, her chest still heaving from the acrobatics her guardian Impa had just put her through. "You never know when I might need to take care of myself, father," she shrugged. Despite the seven years that have passed since she and Link last battled Ganondorf, its memory was still fresh in her mind. She never told her father what might have been, since it never happened in this time, but she wanted to be prepared should the events of the fall of Hyrule Castle happen again. The king sighed. He could never say no to his little princess, he just wish she would be more regal in her chosen activities. "Very well, my dear. I just hope you don't scare away all of the suitors. Eighteen isn't so far away, you know." The princess beamed at her father as sweetly as she could. "I know daddy!" The king thoughtfully stroked his neatly trimmed beard, his piercing blue eyes alit with the pride of a father. "I do not tell you this enough, my dear, but I am proud of you. It felt like just yesterday that I would catch you sneaking glances into the Main Hall from the garden. Now look at you! You are practically a woman!" The princess gave an impish smile. "Oh, daddy! I still spy on you in the Main Hall, I'm just better at not getting caught!" The king chucked, and left the training room, his purple and gold cloak fluttering after him.
Impa approached behind Zelda, the two watching the king as he left. "You still haven't told him, have you?" Zelda continued to stare after her father. "Tell him what, Impa? That his Kingdom was destroyed in a war he does not remember? That he died protecting me from a traitor he has never met?" Zelda shook her head, and looked to her closest confidant. "No, it no longer matters. What does matter is that we continue to work for the Kingdom to thrive in a peace that it justly deserves, earned by a hero it will never know." Impa smiled at her Princess. For years she has taken care of the young Zelda, raising her and loving her as if she were her own. Despite this intimacy, she could never tell if it was admiration or affection that she felt for this boy Zelda often referenced. She finally decided to press the subject. "So how fares the young master Link?" The princess looks to Impa, her face beaming at the mentioning of the subject. "He fares as well as can be expected. Ser Marshal has taken a particular interest in him. He seems to be the forerunner for the Blessing of Farore." Impa smiled, deciding that it was affection after all, though she couldn't be sure; the princess might not even know herself. "And what of young master Jean? I hear he is the favorite for the Blessing of Nayru." The princess shrugs at the mentioning of her childhood friend. When the Duke d'Micheal would visit the palace from the Western Province, both Zelda and Jean would play in the garden. The princess had been surprised when he told her that he was joining the Knighthood, but it no doubt it was the idea of his father. The Duke was ambitious, and though loyal to the King and the Kingdom, he had often voiced his hope that his son would one day sit on the throne by Zelda's side. "He will be a great Knight one day," the princess said casually. Impa wondered if that was affection of admiration as well. "Very well, let's continue with your training; one hundred running back-flips." The Master Sheikah again took her stance as the trainer. Zelda smiled sweetly, "Only one-hundred?"

Deep in the Great Deserts was the City of Oasis, the home of the largest Gerudo Tribe. The Gerudos' look is that of a bronzed human with golden eyes and deep red hair. Regia Mater Rema, or the Queen as Thieves as she is known to the outside world, sits caressing the face of her daughter, Regia Soror Aura. "Tomorrow is your sixteenth birthday, my sweet Aura." The anxiety was visible on her youngest daughters face, her fears not totally unfounded. She did not excel in any of her combat training, and many whispered of her bringing dishonor to her mother in the upcoming Crucible. "Do not worry my dear. You will return victorious." The young Aura looked up at her mother. "But Mater, what if I do not?" The cracking sound of her mother's slap echoed throughout the palace. "Then you shall not return at all!" The Regia Mater's eyes flashed with the rage of the Queen of Thieves then soften back to that of a mother's. "You will do fine, my sweet Aura. You are my daughter, after all." The words, though spoken softly, were a grim reminder that Aura's performance will reflect on both her and her mother's.
The sound of the palace fountain seemed to be magnified by the silence that followed. In a far corner, three Gerudos clad in baby blue garb with masks covering their faces sat quietly oiling their swords. They did not stir at the sound of their Regia Mater striking her daughter, for they has seen it all before, as this was a usual night in the palace. The night sky glowed orange from the lamps and fires that lit the city, a sanctuary for those branded as thieves and raiders by the surrounding lands. Aura, still in her youngling's kaki garb, was curled at the feet of her mother, one hand still caressing a rosy mark on her left cheek. Tomorrow was to be her Crucible, a challenge that every full member of the tribe had to undertake yet was kept a strict secret from all the younglings. All they were told was that it would test their mind, body and spirit, but the actual details were hidden.
The sound of approaching footsteps from the distant hall echoed, interrupting the silence that dominated the room. The three in the corner shifted then, after identifying the steps from an unknown tell, shifted back comfortably and continued to oil their swords. The double doors abruptly swing open, and a powerful looking woman enters, her athletic and toned body offset by the smirk on her face. Also dressed in baby blue, though covered in the dust and grime from the Great Desert, her crimson hair, dreadlocks pulled tightly into a ponytail, her golden eyes are of a predators. "Regia Mater! Your daughter comes home victorious!" Her glance travels down to the floor where Aura is still curled at her mother's feet, her grin shifting to o face of disgust. "Still clinging to mother like a child, Aura? I thought you would have grown up by now." Rema looked down at her feet, casually regarding the sight before her. "Tomorrow is our little Regia Soror's Crucible. She will return to us as a woman, or not at all." The Regia Mater then looked back up to her eldest, her demeanor changing to that of a queen. "And what of you, my Laru? Have the Saltantis Lamina gained the loyalty of the tribes in the north?" Regia Soror Laru's eyes remain fixed on her sister, the malice tangible in the air. "One tribe wanted to remain unto itself, but after we sorted them out, the others fell in line." The queen stepped over Aura, her golden eyes flashing dangerously. "You will look at me when you speak to me, girl!" Laru's head snapped up, eyes locking onto her mother's with great intensity. "Yes, Regia Mater." "Good. Now what do you mean, 'we sorted them out.'"
Laru shifted uncomfortably. Despite being the commander of the elite Saltantis Lamina, or Blade Dances, she still found her mother intimidating. "The first tribe resisted, Regia Mater. They attacked us, so we defended ourselves. One of my best now leads the village, so as to guarantee their loyalty." Rema's eyes narrowed. "So, you defended yourself? Because I heard quite differently, my dear. I heard that you attacked when they refused you, and that you killed the tribe's Regia!" Her mother's words caught her off guard; she obviously did not expect her mother to know what had transpired. "But mother, I -." The Regia Mater lunged forward. "But nothing, Regia Soror! You have dishonored me! Dishonored our whole tribe! We do not kill each other, girl. We are united together or not at all!" The words wounded Laru far greater than any blade ever could. "I dishonor the tribe, Regia Mater!? What of Aura? She is weak, not fit to be a proper member of the Tribe, much less a Regia Soror!" Laru's hand pointed past her mother accusingly at Aura, a hint in her voice of someone on the verge of tears, though her eyes gave no sign of it. Rema slapped her daughter's hand away. "At least she follows instructions. And the only dishonor she has brought to me has yet to be proven! In the morning, we will see who brings me more honor, girl!" she yelled violently. With that, Regia Mater Rema stormed out of the room, leaving the two sisters in her wake.
Laru looked into the distance, her eyes transfixed on some unseen object, until her gaze fixed on Aura, still staring in disbelief at the events that unfolded before her. "What are you looking at, youngling?" Laru snapped down at her, but before she received a response, stormed out of the room. Aura stood slowly, still looking in the direction her sister just went moments before. After a few moments, she walked to the mirror on the wall, stepping so softly that the fountain completely drowned out the sound of her steps. She sat down on the bench by the three Gerudo oiling their blades, taking her rapier from its scabbard mounted horizontally on her lower back, held by a cotton kaki sash. She gazed at the blade, her blade, its polished steel fit into the, wrapped skillfully in leather. This is her blade, considered by many to be the sharpest in the tribe, because of her nervious habit to sharpen it. Removing a whetstone from one of the folds in her sash, she rubbed it carefully and skillfully down the edge, a sound that made the three Gerudo guards jump, realizing who it was. Despite their constant vigil, they lost track of the young Aura; she seemed to come and go like a dream. If she were not such a kindhearted child, the many that harass her would learn to be fearful of the silence; that was her sanctuary, and none may enter it without her knowing.

A group Pages, the stains of sweat still on their tunics, approached behind Link as he ate his bread and porridge for dinner. As they neared, Linked paused for a moment, then dunked his bread back into the clay bowl and continued to eat, the glairing daggers into the back of his skull. "Hey, you! Boy!" One of the older Pages leaned over Link, posting himself up with his arm as if trying to envelop his quarry. Link continued to eat his food, eyes still locked onto his meal. "I'm talking to ya', boy!" The older Page slapped the bowl from in front of Link, smashing clay and porridge onto the barracks wall, causing a dark shadow at the other end of the barracks to stirred. Link finished chewing and swallowed his food, then looked up nonchalantly at the aggressor. "Yes?" The Page recoiled for a moment at the casualness of Link's tone, but then leaned forward again to reassert dominance.
"What do ya think you were doin', trying to help up fatty when Ser Marshal was reaming his ass?" Link smiled innocently up at the Page. "I was helping him, of course." The Page's eyes grew wide with rage, unaware of the shadow approaching behind him. "Oh, really!? 'Cuz the way I see it, all ya did was screw the res' of us over! Most of us can't do four bags at once, and now we all have to 'cuz of you!" "You know Ser Marshal was only looking for a reason to have us carry extra bags, do you not?" The group of Pages looked over to the source of the voice, Jean D'Michael, sitting and reading a book of some kind, slowly turning each sheet of bound parchmen. His brick read hair is neatly tied into a short pony-tail, his green eyes focusing intently on the book in his hands, never looking up at the rabble around Link, though apparently aware of the situation. "Shudup, blue-blood! No one was talking to ya!" The Pages began look back, then quickly shuffle away from the back as the large shadow emerged into to light, revealing a Page a full head taller then anyone else, his mangy straw colored hair looking as if he never gave it a day of attention in his life, his amber eyes were locked onto the Page hunched over Link. "Who therw ze bowl?" the giant snarled, though it was clear to everyone that he already knew the answer.
"Who wants ta…know?" The elder Page, though starting his statement with vigor, ended weakly upon realization that he was looking into the burly chest of someone almost as intimidating as Ser Marshal. "Did you know zat ze bowls here are made in ze Northern Provinces, wiz clay from ze pits on Deaz Mountain?" The Page began to visibly wither before this massive hylian, with the other Pages already dispersing quietly. "No, I… I…" The giant locked his massive hand around the Page's throat, lifting him as if he were a rag doll. "Mine family sweats and bleeds so you may enjoy ze best clay in all ze Kingdom. I mineself carried ze clay from ze pits to ze workshops since I was a boy, weight many times greater zan zese little bags of pebbles Ser Marshal has us playing wiz!" The Page grabs at his throat, trying to pry himself free. "I-I'm sorry! … I-!" A hand comes up and sets itself gently on the giant's forearm. The amber eyes first locked onto the hand on his forearm, then the face of the hand's owner, who looks directly back at him. Link's eyes showed his unflinching and undisturbed manor, soft yet stern, and unsettling in their intensity. "He said he was sorry. Can't you forgive him just this once?" The burly young man paused for a moment, consented and set the Page down who fled back to his wooden cot without hesitation. "Thanks. My name's Link, by the way. What's yours?" The northerner found this civility disarming, extending his hand. "Mine friends call me Eusef." Link grasped the large mitt Eusef offered. "Eusef. Nice to meet you. My friends call me Link." He then nodded and grunted his approval.
In the corner, Jean closed his book, getting up and walking over to the spilled porridge on the floor. "We should really clean this up, you know. Ser Marshal would be quite aggravated with us should he find this mess in the morning." The Pages looked at each other, until Eusef shrugged. After a few moments of sweeping and burying the pieces of the bowl, on Eusef's insistence, the three sat back down at the table, and Link continued eating what was left of his bread. "So you're Jean, right?" Despite being recognized, it seemed to be more an annoyance than anything else. "That is correct." Eusef's face lit up with the joy of a child being presented a coveted gift. "So, you are a noble, ya? Have you ever met ze Princess?" The question was seemed to surprise Jean for a moment, but then he regained his composure. "Yes. We use to play in the Castle Garden as children when my father and I visited." Eusef leaned closer, trying to absorb every. "I bet she is beautiful, ya? Mine greatest wish is to meet her. Zat is why I became a Page." Eusef leaned back, relaxing, despite not receiving an answer.
"And you, Link? Why did you join ze Knights?" Link looked up from the last of his bread. "Me? Well, I really didn't have much else going on. I have been wondering Hyrule for the better part of seven years, not really doing much." He did not mention his battle with Ganondorf, or his saving Clock Town from the moon crashing into it. After all, as far as they we aware of, those events never happened. It was Jean's turn to take interest. "Come now, Link. Most of us were recommended by a Lord or Knight, but you were different, were you not? As far as I can ascertain, you were recommended by the King himself." Link looked off to the side for a moment. "Well, sort of. The King recommended me at the request of Princess Zelda." Eusef eyes widened. "You know ze Princess?" Link just smiled. "You could say that. We have a kind of long history." The giant's burly shoulders slouched in depression. "Am I ze only one who has never met ze Princess?"

"Ah, good day, your Majesty!" Duke William D'Michael bowed theatrically, lowering his head then looking up to his monarch. "And how do you fare this fine day?" The King bowed his head graciously, smiling brightly. "I am wonderful, old friend, simply wonderful! And to what do I owe this great honor?" The Duke stood, beaming. "Does one need a reason to come visit old friends?" The Duke was a thin, drawn man, his brick red hair and beard perfectly groomed, his eyes glowing like a pair of emeralds and his blue robes fluttering gently in the wind. The king extended a meaty hand, patting the Duke on the shoulder. "No, I suppose not. Come, I was on my way to see how Zelda fairs in her chosen activity." The Duke looked at his monarch curiously as he turned to. "'Chosen activity,' your Majesty? With what does the Princess choose to occupy her time?" The King stroked his beard, as he often did when thinking of his daughter. "Perhaps it is best that you see yourself." As the pair approached the training room, the sound of clashing steel and the grunts of fighting can be heard. "The Princess!" the Duke said to urgently, drawing his sword and running to the training room's door. "Wait!" the King called after the Duke too late, the double doors already thrown open.
"Good. Very good, Princess! Your form is getting better!" The Duke looked around the floor for the source of the disturbance. The sounds of steel clashing drew his eyes up, where two Sheikah were sparring, jumping from a series of ropes that were tied at varying heights and angles. "That is enough, Princess. We have guests." The two Sheikah jumped from thirty feet high, each landing gracefully before a surprised Duke, blade still drawn. After a moment, the Duke let out a small laugh, more at himself than the situation, then sheathed his sword. "Forgive me, noble Sheikah, I feared for the Princess' saftey." He then looked around the room. "And where is the Princess observing the display of your skill?" The two masked figures looked at each other, and the women began to laugh. The shorter one removed her mask, showing herself to be Zelda. "Good day to you, my noble Duke." The Duke looked back at the King, who was smiling with a hint of embarrassment. "You see, my old friend, Zelda is training to be a Sheikah from her guardian Impa." After a moment of silence, the three began to laugh at the disconfort of the situation, save Impa, who remained silent.
"Well, forgive me for intruding, my dear. I know peace has been something you are accustomed to, but it feels like just yesterday that your father and I were fighting in the Civil War." The princess smiled sweetly, assuming a refined stance despite the combat garb. "Not at all, my noble Duke. I am honored at the haste that you run to my aid." The Duke nods his head in thanks to the Princess. "I thank you for you understanding. Does you training fair well?" Zelda turns to Impa, who nods knowingly and steps forward. "The Princess' training is going quite well. I believe she is ready for the final test, if it meets with the Kings approval." The King a little ruffled at the news. "I would prefer that the Princess and I should discus it in private before we make any decisions." Impa bowed her head in submission, and stepped back behind the Princess. "So I hear Jean will be graduating from Knights Training soon," Zelda interjected, changing the subject. The King looked over to the Duke. "My word, William! It had completely slipped my mind that your son was undergoing training!" The Duke modestly bowed. "Might I be so bold as to assume that your daughter has taken an interest in my son?" The King scoffed. "Yes, I suppose she has. He and that other boy she begged me for hours to recommend for the Knighthood. What was his name again, my dear?" Zelda smiled the way she did when this subject came up. "Link, father, and it appears that he will receive one of the Blessings." The Dukes eyebrow twitched up.
"Is he a rival for your hand, Princess?" the Duke inquired politely. The King laughed, more to ease the tension of an uncomfortable question than at the humor of the situation. "Come now, William, your son is in line for a blessing as well!" The Duke feinted surprise, "Oh, really, your Majesty? I had no idea! This is wonderful news!" The Duke turned back to Zelda, bowing politely. "If you will excuse us, ladies, we have other subjects to discuss. I bid you good luck in your training." Princess Zelda bowed politely after the Duke and King as they left through the double doors. "Pay no mind to my daughter's chosen craft, old friend. I'm sure it will pass with time." The Duke smiled at the King as they walked. "Not to worry, your Majesty, I am sure it is for the best. Besides, I am just glad she has seen fit to take note of my son and his training." The other boy, the Duke thought to himself, is more a concern to me. My son does not need any more contenders for the Princess' hand.

In the City of Oasis, a cloaked figure walks quickly down the street. The hood is pulled up, shrouding the pedestrian's face in shadow. Three Gerudo girls stumble out of one of the taverns, two holding jugs and propping up a third, singing and laughing in drunken revelry. The cloaked figure ducked into a nearby alley, disappearing from sight as she watched the three stumble by, proceeding only when they were out of sight. After a ways, the figure ducked into another alley, going to a dead end where a single heavy oak door remained, hidden in shadow. A feminine hand emerged from the fold of the cloak, and knocked on the door. An observer hatch slid open, a pair of golden eyes looking at the hooded figure before closing the hatch again. With some effort, the door was heaved open, the bouncer waving the hooded figure in. "Welcome to Shadow's Haven, Regia Soror," she said in a gruff voice. The sound of music, a sitar, flute, harp and drums, played softly at the bottom of the stairs in the dimly lit building. The walls were lit by candles in red glass lamps, revealing the silhouettes of several dancing, with many more in stalls watching the revelry.
The cloaked figure took the stall at the far end of the room, isolated and away from any prying eyes. "Haven't seen you for a while, Laru." The hooded figure turned to see a slender Gerudo dressed in black, her hair pulled into a long ponytail protruding from the top of her head. She leaned toward Laru, caressing her face and drawing in for a kiss, interrupted at the last moment by an affectionately objecting hand. "Not here," Laru whispered softly. The Gerudo in black backed up an inch, smiling. "Business, then?" Laru nodded. "Yes, Sasha, business," she confirmed. "This place is too public." Sasha shrugged and sat across from Laru. "I don't see how. Everyone here is a member of the Simulacrums, after all." After a few moments, Laru reached into the cloaks' pocket and revealed a small parchment sealed with wax. Sasha's eyes perked with interest. "So who is it?" Laru shook her head, pulling out a small pouch. "It is best if you don't know. I want you to take this to the human mercenaries at Sanctuary Cove. This should cover your expenses." Sasha reached over and grabbed the pouch with a look of glee in her eye. "Ooo, hush money!" When she opened the pouch, her face went from playful to serious. "Is this for real?" Laru nodded.
"I want you to higher the best crew you can find. It is essential that this cannot be tied back to me or anyone here at Oasis." Sasha nodded her understanding, pocketing the pouch. "One more thing. Someone is informing my mother of what is going on outside of Oasis; I want you to look into whom. When you find out, send me a message with the details at the usual drop. We cannot meet publicly anymore because I belive my mother is having me followed." Sasha nodded her understanding. Laru was never one to spend many Rupees, much more than is needed anyways, and she had just handed over a small fortune. Whoever the target was, she wanted to be sure the mercenaries killed them. "So, I take it we aren't getting together tonight, then?" Sasha said, changing the tone of the conversation. Laru stood up, leaning into Sasha as Sasha had done to her moments before. There was no objection, and their lips met for a moment. "I will be alone in the chamber we used to sneak out of as children," Laru whispered quietly, inches from Sasha's face. Sasha's expression turned impish. "Changed of heart?" Laru turned toward the entrance. "How can I not? You are my First, after all." She then left with Sasha sitting in the stall, watching her First as she entered into the dark streets of Oasis.