Zelink BotW Sequel/ Legend of Zelda and the Last knight- Swords and Roses

Why we failed pt. 13 A Symphony of Swords

Why we failed Pt. 13

A Symphony of Swords

As the sun dipped low over the horizon, casting long shadows across the family farm in Castle Town, Link and his father shared a moment of quiet reflection. They stood amidst the fields, their day's labor behind them, surrounded by the tranquil sounds of dusk. Link's father, a man of both the soil and the sword, being a leader among the royal guard and a farmer, bore the weight of his dual responsibilities with a stoic grace.

Link, at the cusp of his childhood years, brimmed with questions and a restless energy that seemed to stem from the very core of his being. His father, tall and weathered from a life of service and toil, turned to him with a look of understanding and patience.

"I don't understand, why do we have to live here? Why can't we just sell Uncle's farm and be done with it? It's not like we'll ever be able to repay the debt anyway. Why not sell it for what it's worth and go home?" A young Link asked, just shy of ten years old. "They'll never find us back at the Domain."

"Son, things aren't that easy, and this is your home," his father said, helping him load the last bushels of apples onto the cart. It had been a meager harvest that afternoon but nevertheless what was salvaged were going to be sold in the square the following morning.

Link's uncle passed away abruptly from a sickness that year which swept through the city. So, he and his family came back to square away family debts left by his uncle. Believed to have come from the far east, the illness that swept across the land for some strange reason only affected some of the denizens. Infact, many in castle town survived the disease with little consequence at all whereas others tragically died soon after contraction. The mystery sickness vanished just as soon as it came too. The Pale Mist is what people called it. Due to the disparity of those affected, superstitions ran wild about the victims and their families. Many believed that if the Pale Mist made you fatally sick, then it was brought on by your own doing. That it must have been a divine punishment for some hidden sin or crime done by either you or your household.

Link's father knew better though. He said that the mist that brought the illness came from a deadly draft of wind that swept over the mountains guarding The Forbidden Waste. His uncle traded goods at a nearby town near those tall peaks and that is how he caught the disease. Many travelling merchants brought it to Castle Town that year from their treks to that same very town. 'So you see', he said, 'nothing supernatural about it'.

Link groaned, cinching the cart to the family donkey's harness so she could pull the harvest into the barn to wait until morning. "Maybe this is your home, but it's not mine. How could this place ever be?"

Link's father Tye sighed and shook his head. "I take it the other lads are still giving you trouble, eh?"

Link ignored his question; he wasn't one to look for sympathy and continued fussing about his chores while they closed up for the day.

Tye spoke again. "But what about Sven? Surely, you like seeing him again after all these years and what about your other friend, what's his name again?" Link's father hassled with trying to remember the boy who was Link's age with a couple snaps of his fingers to recollect when an annoyed Link responded.

"Orin, his name is Orin."

"That's the lad, now I remember. I thought you three get along well enough?"

"We do, but it's not that. It's just, if only I were allowed to show those other jerks, even just a little, then they wouldn't think they were so tough. Well—" Link shrugged. "—Not so much that they pick on me, at least not to my face but it's more to get under my skin by having a pick on Sven. He can't help himself like Orin and I. We aren't around all the time to watch after him."