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Captain expects them to be in the training yard by six o'clock sharp. Like clockwork, Link's there five minutes early. He waits before one of the other early risers shows up, an older soldier from Akkala. Or– Link didn't know where he was from; he just had the accent.
The soldier greets him in a half-sincere hum, and Link nods to be polite. After another minute, two other trainees stop in, and the Akkalan turns to them, yammering about something that Link can’t hear. He’s too busy reciting facts in his head.
History exam has little to do with the duties expected of a Royal Guard, but knowing the feats of the past encourages patriotism in the present. Blood vessels in his head throb against his skull from squinting at a textbook by candlelight. He hates reading, but there's purpose behind his aching eyes.
160 First battle waged by Zelda the Mercantilist, off the Hyrulean coast. 10 ships. Total victory. Strategic placement of naval forces and heavy use of local geography. 280 Treaty of Hyrule Ridge. Result of skirmishes between Rito Tribe and Hyrule's forces.
Noises of chattering trainees fade as Captain and a new face walk into the yard. The stranger’s red eyes drift over to him, look him up and down. He knew. The Master Sword sat in the captain's office, hidden until the correct time came. It is likely the Sheikah is not aware of the nature of its absence.
After shouting a greeting, the captain starts explaining the initiation test. One: Hinox fight. He makes the joke about the one man from twenty years ago dying to it. That guy was an idiot. The worst part's the field exam, which will test your ability to work in a group with your fellow...
Link already knows this.
308 Battle of Tabantha Foothills. Total victory. Rito claimed territory beyond their borders, threatening a village. New tactics for dealing with mountainous areas, created by General Nell of Marlow after watching the villagers navigate their homecountry.
Captain waves in the direction of the Sheikah, introducing him. His name is Parro, Chief Security Officer of Hyrule Castle. Parro is an honored guest, and only rarely meets trainees. He'll observe the field exam.
Everyone met Chief of Security yesterday: burly Hylian man with thick black hair and a mustache Link envied. He had explained the schedule of any guardsmen stationed at the castle. Good salary. Link could send the money home.
Captain shouts an order, and Link's legs move in response– he falls in line, third to front row. He's not arrogant enough to go to the front or stupid enough to go to the back. It doesn't draw attention. Tall, squirming bodies envelop him with the scent of metal and sweat and soured cologne. Armor rattles, other trainees talk. A strand of hair from his side locks gets trapped in his mail, and it stings. A blood vessel beats against the side of his skull. As a lump forms in his throat, he feels the dryness sit there. He plays through the foggy movements of his limbs this morning, and oh, he forgot to drink his morning coffee, he hasn't had anything to drink. The lump forces its way down, bringing no relief.
Soldier next to him makes a sharp noise he can't parse. Link turns his head– the strand of hair snaps off with a pulse of pain. A fresh wave of body odor hits his nose as he sucks in a breath. His eyes have met the Sheikah's, walking alongside the company. There's a moment of animal panic that lurches into his body before his eyes glide to the ground.
316 Formal Establishment of Royal Guard. Very Important! After discussing with knights, Zelda the Stalwart hand-picked a select group to watch over both the Castle and the City beyond. First Captain Vigo was a war hero. Hall named after him in the castle.
317 First Captain Vigo writes the Honor Code of the Royal Guard. Major amendments made to it in 380, 542, and–
Sudden vertigo slams him into his body. His foot had hit a short step, and he lurches back before he falls, stumbling backwards into another trainee.
WOAH, KIDDO. CAREFUL THERE.
The words ring like a gong in his head as he stares up at the speaker. Fellow trainee nudges him forward with a smile. It's the expression of someone humoring a small child as she screams for a toy. Link turns back to the step, contemplating its shape and make (stone, smooth, lumpy, very short) before looking up at the castle tower looming above. Castle? He remembers now. The Hinox test, that's where they're going.
The Sheikah had moved to the front. He continues a talk as Link shuffles into a corridor of cold stone. The lockup, where the Hinox is kept, was built before the Castle Town Jail, and lacks many of its amenities. Security? It is more secure than the jail, still. People do not deserve to be put in such a place. It is for monsters, and monsters alone. Guards of this portion of the castle must be experienced, and willing to defend the country at any cost. A very serious duty.
320 Opening of Castle Dungeons. After erratic behavior on the borders, a chieftain of the Rito condemned Her Majesty's Royal Guard for keeping political prisoners from Rito territory in the lockup instead of returning them. In a show of good faith, the honorable Royal Guard opened the lockup to inspection. The chieftain found nothing, and returned to his lands with renewed spirits.
As they approach, the black Hinox sleeps in its cage. Its snores make the floor rattle under Link's feet. Captain shouts everyone over. He holds out his hat, filled with slips of paper for them to draw. There's no point in waiting. Link pushes past the bodies of two men, his head brushing past their upper chests. Then he tugs himself out and reaches for the hat, taking one of the slips between his fingers. He opens it. He's first. A hand clapped on his shoulder makes his head jerk up. The captain praises him. Link's one of his finest students, and the officer says he expects nothing less.
The door to the cell groans on its hinges, and shuts as someone shuts it behind him. Trainees shout his nickname, hooting and cheering. The dryness in his throat burns. Numbness creeps into him.
No. He swallows. Snap out of it. Look at what you did earlier, crashing into someone else. You made a fool of yourself. The trainee's smile is tense, a bowstring about to snap back.
The Hinox grumbles and its bulging eye opens. Sheikah warriors would appreciate a swift dispatch, but he won't play dirty, not now. Too many eyes. Link waits for his opponent to right itself, flexes his wrist to get a sense of the weight of the sword in his hand. Royal Guard sword, of course. Sword feels right, nice balance. They didn't outsource the best ones, so it was probably made here. The Hinox stands up and growls. He rolls his shoulders back and walks towards it.
It swings at him with its fist. Link sidesteps, and everything goes slow. His feet dig into the ground, pushing him towards the Hinox's closest foot. He raises the sword and carves deep into its ligaments. Then he dashes to the Hinox's side. Its arm accelerates into a swing at the ground, slamming into it before it screams and collapses.
Link leaps onto the Hinox's back, and places his foot down on its neck, softly. Then he pulls the sword up, ready to plunge.
A massive hand crashes into him. As he flies, he twists, somersaulting before thrusting his legs down. Link lands feet first next to the beast. He bites down on his left cheek, hard enough to make it bleed. Swift dispatch? You missed.
His hand is slick now, gripping the hilt of the sword. He forces himself into a burst towards the front of the Hinox. Its eye is wide and bloodshot. His arm tenses. The weight of the sword shifts in his hand before he lets go.
It has no time to scream before the sword pierces its brain, and its arms fall limp. The ground shudders. An impulse drives him to kick it, but he pulls back on the urge, turns it into a right-leg step. He drags himself the rest of the way there, and gives the sword's sweaty handle a tug. He lets it hang down as viscera trickles down it, the same fluid flowing out of the punctured eyeball. The pink fluid drips and drips and falls into the cracks in the floor.
Someone whistles for him. He turns to see Captain tossing a glinting object into the cell. Link holds his breath, and concentrates. The object's suspended in mid-air now, gliding towards the floor. He holds it in between his fingers. Time returns to its regular course, and he exhales.
Captain correctly assumes he was spacing out again, and orders him to place the object against the Hinox's head. It's a brooch with a smooth red and black speckled stone. Brooch operates under the same principle as the Hyrule Hills artifacts, Captain says. On a mission years ago, they had found a cult using the brooch. It's in the test. It's all in the test. Link sets the brooch against the Hinox's eye. A nutty taste overcomes the metallic flavor in his mouth, and red tendrils weave through the gash on the Hinox. They knit the wound together, pulling the flesh of the eye into place before they disappear.
The Hinox blinks. Its eye focuses on Link. Link steps back, staring at the healed eye. He runs his tongue across the wound inside his cheek— nothing there anymore. Muscles tensing, the Hinox pushes itself up to its full height.
Whistle again. Two whistles. Link comes to, and walks out of the cage as the Hinox makes an ill-timed swing at him. There's annoyance in Captain's voice. Don't whistle at him, let me do it. He'll get confused. The iron door creaks as it opens again.
Do you have to do that often, the officer asks, his voice drifting above the clamor of soldiers. Do you think it will be an issue?
651, Cult of Blasphemers. Vandalized the sacred path to the Spring of Wisdom, harassed pilgrims, cursed Hylia openly. They were caught, but they had already poisoned themselves. It's said their burnt corpses polluted the ground. Indeed, the evil they summoned there has twisted the earth itself.
People rush past him, each taking their turn with the Hinox. He sucks in a breath through his nose.
The heavy, even footsteps of his roommate, Flendon, find him. A hand rests on Link's shoulder, and he remembers not to lean into the pressure too much, for fear of losing it.
Captain ushers them all towards him, and hands Link a piece of paper. Flendon's assigned to him for the field work section.
An informant had told the Royal Spymaster of a merchant exchanging supplies with the Yiga Clan. He or she should be in the "Market Square," a training area set up a week ago. No time to lose. Link and Flendon walk out of the stagnant halls.
Flendon puffs out instructions Link parses together. They'd do a perimeter search, then hone in.
He's a hunter now, searching for a band of monsters in the forest. A stirring of a honeysuckle bush is a woman opening her purse, the flash of a rabbit's tail a youth dashing to a bench. Then, he hears a bokoblin's cry. An actor walks into the suspect stall. Link strides towards her, with Flendon at his side.
Appropriate protocol for engaging in an inspection is as follows:
- State the intent to search the premises. Any resistance from bystanders will be counted against him or her, regardless of innocence. Significant amounts of violence will result in legal consequences: the amount of violence that is considered significant is to the inspector's discretion. Repeat this to all people involved.
- For the sake of accountability, two guardsmen must be present during all inspections. One guardsman must stand watch at all times.
- All non-guardsmen must stay six to seven lengths away from the inspected area.
The actor is an old woman, so she doesn't put up a fight, but Link knows she's glowering at him from six lengths away. He stares down at a piece of crabgrass poking out of the cobbles.
Something crashes. Link sees a shattered box of papers on the ground, and Flendon staring at it. A Yiga talisman flutters away from the box.
The woman lunges forward. Link draws his sword. She didn't know, she lies as she steps back from the blade.
Another actor steps in, asking about the ruckus she's causing. He's a big man, and the old woman regards him with familiarity. A dagger is strapped to his hip. He steps towards Link, two, three steps too close, muttering about little boys playing demons.
If he had to endure scorn from the enemy, so be it. Link's knees lock into place. He raises his head up to the man, and repeats the protocol.
The actor snarls as his fingers clutch around the dagger. Link anticipates the strike. Metal hits metal, and the dagger skitters across the stone. He raises his sword to the man's neck, and suddenly Link's alive, breathing slowly as he keeps the blade steady. This is an actor, but it feels real to him. This is an actor, so gentleness is required. His mouth twitches, and he pulls the sword back, even as his wrist refuses to comply.
That's enough.
The officer slips into view. Link steps away, and feels his chest tighten. Viscera from the Hinox clings to the base of the sword. He has to clean it. There's nothing to clean it with. Putting it back and praying to Hylia that he doesn't notice is the only option. Hopefully she doesn't mind such a petty prayer. It's said she watches over her hero.
The tension drops from his body and shatters on the ground as the officer says brief words of praise. Link bows his head. He had exceeded expectations in all areas, much to his surprise. But he could do better. He will.
The officer laughs, and compliments him for his work ethic. His ancestors had waited for this moment for millennia, and what an honor it is to stand face to face.
They'll meet again. He bows. In the meantime, Link should take care of his sword. In a blink, the officer's gone.
-
Describe the first recorded naval battle of Hyrule.
What was the state of Rito-Hyrulean relations during the late 200s - early 300s?
When was the Royal Guard established? By whom?
Describe the history of the Great Thunderblade.
What is the motto of the Royal Guard?
-
The history exam went without incident, and they have the rest of the day off. Master Sword needs a good polish. Link has never seen a speck of rust on the holy blade, but it does grow duller, from time to time. Isn't too dull now. He applies a dab of oil to the whetstone and slowly moves the edge of the sword across it.
The captain's office is quiet, other than the scrape of the sword against the whetstone and muffled calls of birds from the rooftop. A ceremony designating the trainees who passed as members of the Royal Guard is in two days. He'd get his uniform fitted tomorrow morning. It's a hand-me-down from Mother, but the sleeves need lengthening, and some of the embroidery isn't up to standard. Flendon keeps telling him he buttons the collar wrong, so he prays for instruction on it.
Strive for Excellence, for Country, for Truth.
His hand drifts to the hilt, like it always does when he isn't paying attention. A finger runs over grime sticking in between the grooves. A sword is an extension of its master. Despite its sharp edge, it is a blunt instrument— he is intimately familiar with the force he needs to maim.
Does the sword know if the blood it spills is evil? Or is it just a tool?