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A LEGEND OF ZELDA ROLEPLAY
Welcome to ZRP! We are an non-canon RP site with an original tale taking place within the
lore of the Zelda Franchise. While the events of this site are entirely non-canon, we take advantage of the canons of other
games to explain its story fully. As such, we are located within the CANON TIMELINE. Do you like what you see? If so, feel free
to register and join our story! If you have any questions, you can join our discord, located in our important links!
3/14/20 The staff are working dilligintly on the next plot and introduction to ARC 3 of the site. Over the next couple weeks,
we will be transitioning the plot, organizing boards, and a new location will be added to the site! Please note that Termina will be removed from playable locations
during this process. Thank you for your patience!
Another long carriage ride, another shameful walk to the castle. A sight she never thought she would regret seeing again, as the guards opened the carriage and motioned her to follow. Still bruised from her time in the dungeon cell, abused by those whom followed Eleazar, she took a deep breath, trying her hardest to hold it together. She couldn't shake the sadness that weighed on her shoulders.
"Sad"sounded so childish to her though, like something flimsy, something one should be able to cast off with a happy reflection or the smile of a friend. But "sad" was nothing of the sort. It sat inside like the germ seed of depression, just waiting for the right conditions to grow, to send out roots to choke the hope out of her heart. It is the trough in which those struggled to return to the peak, always afraid that this time the rungs will be too slippery, too far apart or simply not there at all.
She would be expected to announce her return so that she may begin her duties at once. A sword strapped to her side, the silver haired sheikah followed closely behind the guards, hands buckled into her chest with books and odd belongings she was able to retrieve from her old home in Kakariko.
She stepped foot into the castle, the echo of chatter from either side ringing in her ears. She remembered these halls; the good, and the bad. Those painful memories were books with chapters, deep and horrible; and so she attempted to leave them on the shelf to gather dust.
"This way. You'll be given your scheduled duties within. Although the queen cannot be bothered with such petty commands at the moment, you'll be turned to her hand instead," the guard stopped at the large double doors of the throne room.
"Can't be bothered...? Is she alright?" Eres narrowed her eyes, confusion sprung within her as she wondered as to why Zelda wouldn't choose to do such a thing. She always had pleasant interactions with her.
"She is away. Taking time to reflect, I presume, though it does not matter, nor is it your business. You may proceed."
Eres nodded, deciding not to pick a fight. Had this happened before the fall of Hyrule, perhaps she would have had more choice words. But she was tired. She turned back to the door, waiting for them to open as two guards from the inside pulled the handles to allow her through.
She stepped inside, following the large vermilion rug which lead to the throne at the edge of the room, a man shadowed by the dim lighting appearing before it. She had not met this man before, surely? Could it have been Prince Artemis? Elinkar? She took her steps forward, approaching cautiously.
The walls were sparsely decorated, thin tapestries with the kingdom's heraldry hung from what walls were not covered by the tall, sandstone colored bookshelves which stood ten or more ferry and bear to the ceilings of the office. A tall ladder was leaned against one shelf, a pile of books as thick as a folded saddle sat stacked, awaiting to be put away for another day. He times, while varying in thickness, never seemed to fall beyond a thickness that only the most learned scholar would delve into for study. To that fact most surfaces in the office were occupied by the numerous tomes.
An empty seat was just across from the dimly lit desk, but even that seemed to be occupied by a stack of books, dissuading its use. The soft crinkle of an aged page would be accompanied by the gentle touch of vanilla to the nose, a scent aging books took to carrying come their maturity. It was a tribe of knowledge, treasured by only one. Slender fingers would deftly turn the page, tenderly caressing the sheet as it if were delicate glass due to shatter upon ant stress. His fingers pressed down onto the surface, a head of silver-white hair turning up to reveal a face, only for those long locks to fall astray and frame his face, strands clinging to where they could along the sweat dotted face.
The room was warm, though hardly uncomfortable. But his gaze was anything but. A hard stare filled with boiling claret had turned upon the maiden. A deep scorn cut across his expression, clearly a touch annoyed from being interrupted, though her visit was not unexpected. He had gotten word of her arrival, but it meant he would have to continue his reading another time. He slid a red ribbon into the spine of his book, though the scarlet bit of fabric hardly compared to the man's piercing eyes. The book was closed with a snap before a parchment was slid from a drawer at his desk. His left hand slid over the desk to turn up the light fixture, letting oil feed the wick and strengthen the table torch.
His face was fully revealed beneath the new light. "Name?" He ordered as he looked over her paperwork. "Sit." He'd offer, inattentive to the fact there was no where to sit. "I was told I was getting a visitor today, but you arrived too soon." Not as if that was her fault, right? He sure made it sound as if it was.
As the man came into view, she took note of his sullen demeanor. Whispy silver hair, and eyes of fire, she could immediately detect the sheikah blood within him. Who was this man though? She never saw him before in her life, and apparently he was now the hand of the queen? Someone left in charge of the kingdom in her time away?
She furrowed her brows when he had mentioned to sit, looking around to where obviously there was none. If he expected her to kneel or sit on the floor before him, she'd have to decline to that request. "Eres Aiko," she said plainly as he asked for her name. He made a mention to her being early, and she was able to gather that he wasn't pleased about it.
So this was how it was going to be, huh?
She had to cast aside her worried mind as she let out a sigh in annoyance. "Oh, I'm sorry, would you have preferred if I was late? Or did not show at all? Someone needs to man the castle to protect it, because it certainly isn't you," she narrowed her eyes. She knew she was playing with fate by becoming disrespectful, but she would never let anyone speak to her that way; not even the queen--not that she would have.
"I'm afraid I've never met you before, so tell me; how did you become the seat of power in the queen's absence? Where were you when the kingdom fell? Did you stay behind so they could escape? Did you endure the pain of the Rogue Order when they chained us down and ordered us to obey?" her expression became cold, hands clamped over her books and scrolls tightly. "Oh, never mind, I suppose it doesn't matter. Although I'm not fully healed, I don't think I'll be able to sleep. I'll man the gates if I have to. Just record me down already."
The man was silent, even as he moved. If not for his silver lashes drawing like curtains over his eyes as they danced over the letters one would be remiss to deny that he had become still with death. His breath was difficult to discern as the light, pale blue blouse hung loose over his form, the draw strings dangling line loose strands of hair, leaving exposed his pale collar. The sleeves were rolled back enough to leave his forearms on full display: alabaster flesh contradicting to his athletic form. Living in ones armor as he did made well sure the sun never had chance to kiss the flesh a pleasant bronze.
Her sharp words caught the back-swept curved of his blade thin ears. Her sarcastic apology was dipped in silver as the tone seemed to coil venomously around accusations of idle fury, maintained peaceably by bureaucratic overture. He set the missive down, hands crossing together over the desk as he leaned back, her mouth spilling what could only be considered profanities towards a superior officer. He listened to every sharpened word to cut into his ears, his eyes rapt upon her form in concentrated focus. For a moment one could mistake the glimmer of his gaze for that of a Beamos.
When she finished her barrage of scathing questions, which seemed to deny the man of his very existence, the man would follow her whorling discourse by separating his hands from their gripped position, bare fingers finding no tension coiled in his muscles, before he pressed his palms flat to the table, lifting to stand with the support of all his limbs. It was a graceful movement, like watching silk fall or water flow. His chair was pushed back from under him, the legs scraping across the ground and releasing a harrowed groan from the stone cut floors and wooden stilts carved to resemble a dragon's paw. It was discordant, contrasting when compared to the deliberate motions he made.
He stood a moment, eyes drifting down towards the missive and back to her. His arms folded back, hands coming to rest on the small of his back. He stood straight, an arrow put to shame. He walked around, dark eyes looked past her and to the occupied chair. He reached out, hand gracefully retrieving the book on the top. He took his time, turning the pages as he seemed intent on searching for something. He hummed, her words digested slowly, like a feast after a great celebration. But this was no celebration. It was a time of mourning. It was a time men forgot their own history and repeat stories of the past.
He had thought them above this, but it seems that it was a cycle that could only be broken by the tenacious efforts of those willing to fight for change. He found the page, setting the book down, open, on the desk so Eres could read.
"If you could read as well as you complain you would be aware that I am a citizen of this kingdom, a soldier chosen by the queen. All your questions can be answered with that." He looked to her. "It was a decision of the queen." He pressed his slender digits against the tome's pages, holding it flat. "While I would be remiss to command any to blindly follow the commands of the corrupt, you know well the queen, is not that. If you did think that, why are you even here?" Why would she bend her knee to a corrupted crown?
Maybe Rais was the last to ask such a thing as he would have been the last to doubt Zelda, but he has fought for this kingdom since he was born. He has seen pure men become corrupt and corrupt men become pure. The queen has had her ups and downs, but she always did what was best for the kingdom, to the best of her youth. Rais raised his head, the pages of the paper open to be read. Were Eres to glance down she would see a history of war, death, prosperity and happiness. It was ever shifting but what would stand out more were the actions of individual soldiers who fought on the frontlines, no matter the cost. He would close the book. The cover looked to be enscribed by it's author in a relief, painted over in goldleaf: Rais Jalid, Interfectorem Rex.
"You have said so yourself. You are not fully healed. To put you on duty without testing the full spectrum of your ability would be irresponsible." He would turn to walk, reaching out beside his desk where his lance lay against the wall.
He would make his way towards the exit, the door being pushed open. Here Rais would pause. "War is necessary. But one's duty to the kingdom is not always war." He looked back to her. "That is why I am here and not out there. Making sure our people have enough to eat is more important than guarding an empty throne." They had plenty of men standing in these halls, one more standing and staring off would make no difference, but a man who can sign his name to a king's document could save a life.
He would head out and make his way down the halls towards the training room.
She certainly wasn't sure what to expect from this man, however his stillness - a coldness in his eyes caught her attention as her own had narrowed. A chill trickled across the base of her neck, and as she watched his eyes, she blinked in succession and averted her gaze. She always prided herself in being able to read those around her - but not him. It was the same chilling gaze from whom had imprisoned her for so long, and those kind of people scared her.
She closed her eyes, letting him speak as he walked past her, and she followed quietly. He spoke of trusting the queen and her choices, but... she hadn't even seen the queen since before she was imprisoned. Where was she? Had that much actually changed? Had that many people actually lost their life? Taking a deep breath, she watched the men in the hall; some she recognized, others she did not. It seemed as though he was unwilling to allow her to go straight to her duties. Hands still full of her belongings, she watched as he had led her to the training grounds.
"And what exactly are you trying to find out on the training grounds? You want me to toss some guards around to see if I'm still useful?" she raised a brow, not knowing what exactly he planned for her to do. Manning the castle would likely be easier to do if she wasn't sore from battle. If her book got damaged in the process, she would be very upset.
Rais' steps beat rhythmically against the carpeted floor as he led Eres through the halls, a path they both had likely taken many times over through the time of their service. The memories played in the warrior's mind like a tumbling shadow puppet dancing along a stage. Each candelabra, every crack in the stone told a story that had its own significance, but were quickly becoming hazy starlight drowned amidst the fog. The stories were all familiar, but they were becoming more and more distant as his mind drew further from the field of battle and closer to the desperation of a people wont for their queen. It was not his place to doubt Zelda and her efforts, but there was a measure of concern that pushed him through the daily grind so that he'd, one day, catch up to her and have the pride to ask her himself. He wanted to know what it meant.
Why couldn't they save everyone?
It was a desperate scene they were in and if the kingdoms could not put aside their differences he felt it would only harm their progress. Something called to his senses. Maybe it was experience that told him something dark was coming or perhaps the long standing sense of peace that unsettled the warrior. Even though, now, he stood with his spear at rest a soldier would always be a soldier. Not desperate to hurry he would analyze Eres properly. The infamous spear, the Interfectorem's namesake, had been set on his back, the weapon glimmering with a faint enchantment. It seemed quite ordinary, aside, but it was an object that carried fear as a few egotistical men sought to cover the weapon only Rais could wield. Some felt it was due to this weapon that he had gained such prestige and advantage over his fellows. It was the target of many who sought to contest his position.
In hand Rais carried a board to which a thin stack of parchments was pinned to. "I would like you to confirm this information." He seemed to slip into the bureaucratic duties quite easily, but it was easier to keep papers in order than men. Papers did not talk back. "How long were you out with your injury? Where were you originally stationed and who was your commanding officer?" These were quite typical questions.
Before arriving at the castle Rais was serving at the borders of Death Mountain slaying fiends that assailed the patrolling regimens. His commanding officer was man by the name of Tenere, an old Hylian who had died over a hundred years ago. As such Rais needed to be reassigned. His father was able to get him work at the castle once everything had settled after the war. His family were loyal to the family to the last drop of their blood, though greatly dishonored by Rais' elder brother who refused to fight, taking sides with the Darkness. His father was no longer fit to serve having lost his leg down from his knee and his sword hand. Rais had stuck close to his duties that directly served the royal family, whatever that needed to be, or however mundane they were.
"It says here you have not seen action since before the war?" Though imprisonment did not mean she was caged behind doors. There were many who could have been forced to fight against their own people.
War was a tragedy, one that was necessary when others sought to trample upon freedoms birthed to you by the Goddess'. There were many who thought they were dead and strongly implied it had been the actions of the Queen that had them turn their backs to them. It was nonsense. Though the royal family has great power and skill they did not have the force to lay waste to worlds. This was Rais truth for now for it was what he has witnessed, or was yet to.
They were nearly upon the training room. Mundane, but the equipment was well maintained and a necessary part of the kingdom's functions. Walls of weapons, training dummies and space to exercise and maintain ones state of fitness. There was a gate that let to the castle yards where one could train on horseback and other cavalry sports, but for now indoors is what he would need from her. Rais seemed a serious man. He was stern in his speaking, though he has not bristled at her comments, merely facing her and asking her if her sharp words measure up to the effort she put into casting them. He did not find himself speaking unless it was necessary.
While he believed words could change the shape of another's thinking he could understand that Eres had a difficult time. He was quietly quite impressed with her already. Insofar as he could determine: had she not stayed behind she would have not been imprisoned in the first place. That was plenty to prove her merit ad a Sheikah, but whether she was physically able to stand again was up to her will. He was not going to put such a skilled warrior to guard a few empty halls.