Chapter Text
From the burning edge of the city ran the Grand Princess and her two children. The smell of iron and brimstone polluted the night air as the enclosing flames burned bright enough to hide away the stars in the sky. The jeers, screams, and the galloping of the horses of the Gerudo army rang out throughout the charring lich of Dorkov. The youngest child, a boy of barely five years, closed his eyes as he held tighter onto his mother.
Beside the Royal Family was a tall, broad shouldered, clean shaven man clad in fine brigandine armour that shined not like it used to. Looking around, he pointed to an alleyway to the right. “This way!” shouted he, “We need to avoid open areas!”
Following him, the three turned and gazed up. Towering above the rest of Dorkov were the great gilded domes of the Temple of Wisdom. In spite of their weariness, the four sped up, pushing forward towards their salvation.
Eventually, the four stepped foot into a large square. At the other side was the temple in all of its glory, with a mob amassed at the doors of the temple shoving and pushing everyone around them, begging to be let inside.
The doors of the temple opened up, revealing a thin man with long, black hair and dressed in a flowing, golden robe. As the crowd poured into the temple, the Grand Prince of Chorkrai rushed towards his wife and children. When Grand Prince Cheslaus met Grand Princess Milena, the two deeply embraced in the comfort of their arms.
For a long time, there was a sort of wordless communication between the two. The children stood by while the armoured man watched over.
“Are all of you alright?” asked Cheslaus as he began to pull away from his wife to see his two children as well.
“I was so worried for you,” said Milena as her eyes went wet with tears.
Standing up was Cheslaus as he turned to face the armoured man. “Casimir of Jermepol,” he said, “I don’t know how I could ever repay you.”
“Thank you, sir,” responded Casimir, “but now is not the time. We need to get your family to the Tunnels of Iaroslaus as soon as possible!”
“Of course,” said Cheslaus. “Lead the way.”
“Wait!” interrupted Milena. “What about all the people that are still here? We must have passed by so many innocent men, women, and children. We can’t just leave them to die!”
“Madam, I am not sure that is the best thing to do right now. Getting you and your family to safety is of utmost importance-.”
“Sir,” she responded curtly, “with all due respect, I am the Grand Princess of this country. If I cannot ensure my subjects’ safety to the best of my ability, I might as well stop calling myself one.”
She looked towards her husband for help in her idea. He looked her in the eyes and nodded in support. “Casimir,” he said, “she’s right, we have as much duty to them as they have to us.”
“Alright,” he accepted, “underneath the grand altar is the entrance to the Tunnels of Iaroslaus. It will take effort to push that, so I suggest that Your Majesty,” he said to the Grand Princess, “take your children and focus on pushing the altar while we look for survivors.”
“Understood,” stated Milena, slightly disappointed. “And love?”
Cheslaus looked her in the eyes.
“Promise me you’ll be safe.”
“I will.”
Watching the two men hurry into an alleyway to look for people, the Grand Princess turned around and beckoned the Crown Prince and Princess to follow her into the Temple of Wisdom.
The worries of the folk echoing throughout the hallowed halls were the first thing that the royals heard. Quickly were they surrounded by crowds of people. Clutching the other two closely to her, Milena weaved through the Chorkraians to the altar at the opposing end of the building.
The three laid their hands upon the altar and began to push it. It was made with fine marble of the faraway Empire of Achia. In times of stillness and peace, the priests of this temple could be seen going into tales of how the Achian Emperor sent marble to the folk of Chorkrai as a token of friendship and trust. Of course, being made of marble, it weighed several pounds and then some.
A man with a tunic darkened with ash suddenly put his hands on the altar. “You look like you need some help,” said he.
“Thank you.”
Newly strengthened, their combined effort set the altar aside, revealing a ladder leading down into a hole.
“Huh,” said the citizen, “there are tunnels under here after all.”
“Wait,” said Milena pensively, “what did you think was going to happen when we moved this out of the way?”
“I don’t know,” answered he. “Guess I wanted to take my mind off of our impending fate. When I ran over here, I wanted to be as far away from those barbarians as possible. Suppose I didn’t realize that I was basically trapping myself here. Thanks for offering us a way out.”
The man climbed down and entered the tunnels. Acting quickly, the three began to funnel the rest of the folk into the entrance. Milena was the most knowledgeable in directing a crowd, guiding them. Vera tried to follow her mother’s example, while even Vadim ran around excitedly, showing the citizens where the tunnel was.
Weary from their work, the three sat down upon the stairs. Combined with the heat of the slowly encroaching flames outside and the effort of their toil, the family was rendered sweaty and out of breath.
“Mommy,” uttered Vadim, “are we going to be alright?”
Milena turned to look at her son. He looked so much like her, with the same blond hair and facial features, yet with her husband’s brown eyes. There was a look of fatigue and fear that should not appear on a face so small.
Milena thought of Dorkov after that. The city she lived in since her marriage. The city her husband and children called home for all of their lives. The city many thousands walked in. The bustling markets, the sturdy walls, the ornate temples, the welcoming homes, and everything that made the city what it was would cease to exist. But she could not fall to despair. Dorkov was doomed, but that meant not that her family was.
“Yes sweetheart, we’re going to be alright,” she finally answered.
“Mother,” said Vera, “what’s going to happen after we get out? We’ve lost everything! How are we going to-.”
At that moment, Milena tightly hugged Vera, with Vadim joining shortly afterwards.
“We haven’t lost everything,” Milena reassured her, “we still have each other. We’ll rebuild somewhere else. I promise to you that. Not a single day goes by where I’m not thinking of the two of you.”
“Thank you.”
The doors to the temple opened up. The Grand Prince and his loyal Voivode entered, followed by a flood of men, women, and children.
Casimir shouted toward the people as he ran towards the altar: “This way! Women and children first!”
As the armoured man began to help the children, Cheslaus ensured that the last people they could gather entered before he locked the massive door behind him, the wooden plank acting as a lock falling with a thud.
“Is that all?” asked Milena.
“That was all we could gather,” answered Cheslaus. “The rest are either hiding or dead, and they’re getting closer now. They were taking their time with burning and looting.”
Working quickly, the women and children were able to enter the tunnels. Then, the men started going through. Many were carrying the few things they had with them, while a few only had the clothes they wore. Quite a few were soldiers who ran to their families after the walls were breached.
When the last of the men were through, the royals ran towards the entrance. The children entered first, followed by Milena. She took a look at her husband when she-.
The great doors flew open. A man on a large swarthy horse slowly rode into the hallowed temple, flanked by Iron Knuckles on horseback clad in black brigandine armour.
Casimir drew his sword at the imposing figure. “O Emperor of Barbarians, the hallowed halls of this holy temple do not welcome your kind.”
The heavily armoured warrior to the right of the monarch went forward to attack, but the Khagan stopped her before she could. He dismounted his horse before standing opposite to the noble.
The Khagan stood at an imposing 7 feet tall, with broad shoulders and a muscular build to match. He had skin as gray as storm clouds, fiery red locks of hair, and eyes dark as void with bright crimson pupils. He wore slightly less armour than the warriors next to him, but it still covered him from his forehead to his boots. The monarch raised and turned his right hand, sliding the altar back over the exposed entrance. He entered a fighting stance, bending his knees and narrowing his eyes in concentration. He raised his fists.
Casimir and the Khagan charged at each other. The emperor’s decision to fight barehanded against a man wielding a sword seemed like overconfidence or stupidity to the noble. However, Casimir began to worry after the Khagan started dodging every attack he made.
With speed seemingly unfitting a man of his size, the monarch weaved around every stab and slash, getting increasingly closer each time. Casimir thrusted his blade towards the Khagan’s heart; a direct attack on the tall man. But he swiftfully turned aside and stepped closer. The Voivode’s eyes went wide with shock and horror; he was inside his guard.
Before the Voivode could pull his blade back, the Khagan threw punch after punch at his head and liver, knocking him back against the wall. Quickly following up, he grasped the noble’s right wrist and tightened with superhuman strength.
The noble cried in agony as he felt his wrist struggle, then crack, before breaking like a clay pot. The monarch then grabbed his sword, before thrusting it through the armour’s gaps into the Voivode’s torso.
Blood poured out of Casimir’s mouth. The monarch then removed the sword, leaving the doomed noble to bleed out.
Looking towards the Grand Prince, a wry smirk appeared on the Khagan’s face as he seemingly looked through him.
“Was that the might of the Grand Principality of Chorkrai?” The Khagan drawled as he slowly walked towards Cheslaus. “An easily routed army and your last guard so easily slain by my hands? From how strongly you condemned me, I was expecting greater resistance from you. But, there is no running from me now.”
The Khagan was now right in front of Cheslaus. He towered over the disgraced royal, his crimson eyes piercing through the other’s brown. “This is your fault, you know? If you swallowed your pride and bent the knee, you would have reaped the rewards of being part of the great Gerudo Nation: Silk and fine porcelain from the East, spices and metals from the South, artisans and thinkers from around the Empire, and protected lucrative trade routes would have been available to you. Wuneng Khagan handsomely rewards those who submit to his will.”
The Grand Prince looked up at Wuneng Khagan with hatred in his heart. “Go to hell,” said Cheslaus, “I would rather die than submit to the likes of you.”
“So much misplaced pride. Were you not just fleeing with your tail between your legs after your failed attack like the haughty Shah of the Aerya before you? He plotted evil against me too, you know. I think we both know what happened to him.”
“What do you know about pride? Your people are a race of thieves who steal everything they have,” yelled Cheslaus, “you have no traditions, no honour, and certainly nothing to be proud of!”
For a moment, Wuneng Khagan looked as if he was about to strike the man before him. Then, he threw his head back and let out a hearty laugh.
“You must have lost the last of your dignity if you are resorting to insulting my people,” said the emperor while he chuckled to himself. “However, you have not outlived your usefulness just yet.”
Wuneng Khagan looked up towards the biggest dome at the top of the temple. Decorating it were paintings of three golden triangles with the Three hovering around them.
“There are many names for what I am looking for. We call it the Golden Power, our Tiranic allies call it the Desire of the World, and you call it the Triforce. Where is the Golden Power?”
“I wouldn’t tell you even if I knew where it was.”
“That’s fine. You should know, however, that I can detect the presence of souls up to a couple miles away if I really want to. Am I correct in assuming that there are around a long hundred people and more running underneath the city, give or take a few?”
Cheslaus’s face fell upon hearing the Khagan’s statement. “Is that a threat?”
“Depends on how you respond.”
Reluctantly, the broken man caved. “The Hyrulean Royal Family are in possession of the Triforce,” said Cheslaus, “I don’t know where they are keeping it, but they have it. Can you promise not to hurt my family or my people any longer.”
“Thank you,” responded Wuneng Khagan, “in return for your information, I will not allow any more harm to come to your people and your family.”
Cheslaus sighed in relief.
“However, I can not promise the same for you.”
Wuneng Khagan turned towards the soldiers behind him. “Tell our Tiranic allies to take their loot to the camp for distribution. In the meantime, I believe His Majesty has outlived his usefulness.”
Looking deeply into his eyes, the emperor wrapped his hands around Cheslaus’s throat and tightened his grip.
Agony entered into Cheslaus’s mind. He could not scream, could not breathe, and he eventually could not struggle either. He felt his body begin to shut down. First, his limbs. Then, his other organs. Finally, his vitals. Eventually, the pain began to fade away. When the pain faded away, so did his subconscious. Cheslaus thought of his family before he thought of nothing at all.
Throwing the body to the side, Wuneng Khagan thought about what the former Grand Prince told him. This Hyrulean Royal Family , wherever they were, had with them the mightiest relic in the world. And if this Hyrulean Royal Family - why does that sound so familiar? - would not come quietly, there would be hell for them to pay.